Chapter 8
The next morning, I could have cut the air with a spoon. Mom fussed about in the kitchen as if nothing unusual had happened, and Tyler, Dad, and I pretended the same.
Mid-morning, Dad offered to drive me to the airport, and I said goodbye to Tyler, and we made promises to call each other soon. I hugged Mom and kissed her goodbye in the kitchen; she didn’t bother to walk me out to the car.
As we drove away, I had a distinct feeling this would be the last time I’d ever return to the home I grew up in. It surprised me that I was at peace with that notion.
“Dad, I’m sorry about what I did last night.”
He placed his hand on my leg. “You don’t need to be sorry. I do. We do. We should never have invited Xander. In fact, I’m terribly sorry that I even spoke to him after what he did to you.”
I sighed a huge sigh. “Thank you, Dad. That means so much to me. But Mom?—”
“Oh, pfft, don’t worry about her.” He flicked his hand. “She’ll get over it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. She just doesn’t like to cause a scene.” He started to chuckle. “You’ll be the talk of the town for weeks. Maybe months.”
We laughed together for a while, and it was really nice. Then I turned to him slightly. “He deserved it, Dad.”
“Yes, I know.”
I blinked at him. His response was perfect, and the knots in my stomach gently unraveled.
We pulled over at the ten-minute drop-off zone at the Mildura Airport, and Dad hopped out of the car with me. He lifted my suitcase from the trunk, and when he opened his arms, I stepped into his embrace.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” His voice was sincere.
My heart swelled. “Thank you, Dad. That means so much to me.”
We kissed goodbye, and I made my way into the airport terminal.
During the flight home, a jumble of mixed emotions rolled through me, but the overwhelming one was relief. However, as the miles drifted away, I acknowledged that I didn’t feel as much satisfaction over my public humiliation of Alexander as I’d thought I would.
The hurt and sadness he’d brought into my life had dissipated long, long ago.
A couple in the seat ahead of me snuggled into each other, and I smiled at how in love they seemed. That was when it hit me—I’d never been in love with Alexander. It had been an illusion. A pathetic, insecure, desperate illusion, and if we’d married, I would’ve been destined for a miserable life.
Now, though, I was the happiest I’d been in years. Maybe ever.
Dropping Alexander to his knees last night had nothing to do with that. I’d created my happiness. I was the driver behind my destiny, and as we touched down at Coolangatta Airport on the Gold Coast, I turned my focus to my immediate destiny, Hunter McCall, who I had the pleasure of meeting in about two hours.
By the time I’d unpacked, showered, and done my makeup, I was so ready for a session of red-hot sex with my handsome chocolatier that my weekend in Mildura already seemed like a distant memory.
With my blonde wig in place, I went to my closet and decided to wear the second dress I’d bought for my Friday night in Mildura. This outfit was the one Lolita had decided would be perfect for clubbing.
The idea of that happening in my hometown had been laughable, but I was still glad Lolita had insisted I buy it.
The dress was a cute coral color, short in length, revealing at the bust, and perfect for both Memphis and Hunter. I slipped it on, and added a chunky gold necklace, a bracelet, and long, dangly earrings the lovely sales assistant at the shop had talked me into buying.
For my shoes, I tugged a pair of colorful Mollini stilettos from the back of the closet. I’d bought these shoes with the very first paycheck I’d earned at the Hot Horizon Hotel.
The shoes had a little peep-toe at the front, and I was grateful I’d taken the time to paint my toenails before I went to Mildura. I did up the strap around my ankle, stood up, and glanced at my reflection in the mirror. It was perfect in so many ways.
This dress was so lovely on me that I decided even Jane would wear it.
I grabbed my Michael Kors black bag and tossed in my essentials. I was still a little early but decided to head downstairs anyway. The elevator took forever to arrive, and when it pinged open, he was right there. My hero.
“Just Memphis!” His lovely blue eyes lit up, and he wiggled his brows. Once again, I hadn’t thought to give Memphis a surname, and I was already kicking myself.
“Oh, hi, Hunter.” I tugged my lip between my teeth. Simultaneously, we both took a step forward, placed our hands on each other’s waist, and leaned in to kiss a cheek. He smelled divine, a masculine mix of soap and spice.
“You look lovely.”
“Thank you. So do you.” I was struck once again by how gorgeous he was. The two-day growth he’d had last time was gone; this time, he was clean-shaven, showing off the sexy dimple in his chin.
We turned to face the mirrored doors, and I tried not to stare. Hunter was about four inches taller than me, his shoulders were broad, and his bone structure was strong and symmetrical. His tanned flesh finished off his already striking Adonis look.
“Did you have a nice weekend?”
I huffed as I rolled my eyes and instantly regretted it. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Alexander.
“Ooooh, maybe not, huh?” The softness in his gaze made my heart melt, and in the time it took the elevator to reach the lobby, I swear the tiny, mirrored cube heated up several notches.
The elevator doors pinged open, providing the perfect distraction from his question, and as we walked side by side to the Triple H Bar, I resisted looking over at reception.
As if we’d planned it, we both headed toward the barstools we’d sat in last time. He pulled one out for me to sit and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Would you like a wine? Shaw Smith, isn’t it?”
He remembered!“Yes, please.”
Hunter turned away, and it was impossible not to admire his bottom as his cheeks bulged and flexed beneath his khaki chinos.
He leaned on the counter to place his order with Tania, and despite his checkered button-up shirt, the toning in his arms was unmissable. He smiled, and once again, I was reminded that Hunter McCall could be the lead actor in one of those survival shows.
Carrying an ice bucket with a bottle of wine in it and two wine glasses crossed over at the top, he returned, placed it on the bar in front of us, and slipped onto the stool at my side. Our knees touched, and my heart fluttered at the familiarity of this simple move.
He filled our glasses, handed one to me, and held up his own glass. “Cheers.”
We chinked them together. “Cheers.”
As I sipped my wine, I studied Hunter’s hand around the stem of the glass. His fingers were strong, manly, and his nails were neatly trimmed. I couldn’t wait to get those hands on me, in me. I nearly giggled at my naughty thought.
“What are you smiling at?”
“Oh, ummm . . . nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.” He raised one eyebrow, and I had a feeling he could wait out my answer all night.
I decided on the truth and hoped like hell I wouldn’t seem like a fool. “I was just thinking how glad I was that I called you.”
When he smiled, his whole face lit up, and his eyes twinkled in the discreet bar lighting. “I didn’t think you were ever going to call.” He reached his hand forward and placed it on my knee just below the hem of my dress.
His hand was warm, and my heart did a little dance. Hunter had a hint of a warrior in him, a man who”d do anything to save a loved one, yet he combined that with a visible softness.
“Did you want to tell me about your weekend?” His eyes were vivid blue, and in the red lighting, the edges faded to an interesting violet color. But most of all, his eyes showed his genuine interest in my answer, and after a quick mental debate, I decided I wanted to tell him.
I wanted him to know everything about me.
But that was impossible. Hunter knew me as Memphis.
Fighting a knot in my throat, I said, “I had to go home for my dad’s sixtieth.”
His dark eyebrows drew together. “You don’t get on with your parents?”
“They’re okay, but they invited my ex to the party.”
“Oh.” He clicked his fingers. “The cheating bastard ex-fiancé.”
I burst out laughing. “Wow, you have a good memory.”
“Yes, so I’ve been told. What happened?”
As we sipped glass after glass of wine, I relayed everything that had happened, from the heated encounter with Chelsea-Lea to dropping Alexander to the kitchen floor.
Hunter was a great listener, and it felt so right telling him about my whole weekend. But at the end of my story, I sipped my wine and wondered if the brutality of my two encounters over the weekend made me sound like a psycho nutter.
“I’d say you had a great weekend.”
I blinked at him. “Really?”
“Sure. I’ve always wondered what I’d say to my cheating ex if I ever ran into her again. Especially now that I’ve had a few years to think about it. You must feel immense relief.”
I nodded. His insight was a blessing. “Actually, I do.”
He put his glass down and slipped forward on his stool, positioning his legs on either side of mine. “You know, sex is also the perfect cure.”
I giggled. “Cure for what?”
The blue and violet medley in his eyes captured me in so many ways. “Just about everything.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh-huh. And chocolate. Chocolate fixes everything, too.”
I laughed, a deep, hearty laugh, and after my crazy weekend, it felt so good. “In that case, I think you should take me to your room and rescue me.”
He leaned over, and I closed my eyes, silently begging him to kiss me. Barely a breath later, my wish was granted, and I melted into his caress. His hands curled up my thighs, and as our breaths mingled, every brick of angst from my weekend fluttered away.
He pulled back and ran his tongue over his lips. “Would you like to come to my room?”
I nodded; certain my voice wouldn’t work. With our fingers knotted together, we strode from the bar to the elevator. The doors opened, and we stepped in, turned, and faced the mirrored doors.
He nudged his shoulder to mine, grinning, and I smiled, too.
Hunter turned to me, curled his fingers around my neck, and brought his lips to mine. Butterflies danced across my stomach, and I pressed my hands to his chest. The muscles I found there were chiseled to perfection.
I reached up on my tippy-toes, and as his thumb glided across my cheek, our tongues explored. Just like everything about Hunter, his kiss was perfect.
My heart wept when the doors pinged open and our lips parted. With my hand in his, he led me to his room. He opened the door and stepped aside for me to walk ahead of him.
As the door clicked closed, I placed my bag over the back of the chair and turned to him. Hunter took my breath away.
He ran his hand through his blond waves. “Would you like to try my chocolate again?”
Sensing that he had some kind of plan, I nodded. “I’d love to.”
“Okay, take a seat.” He pulled out a dining chair, and as he strolled to the kitchen, I ran my tongue over my lips, tasting him again.
Hunter fussed about behind the counter for a minute or so before he returned with a glossy black chocolate box and a bottle of wine. He placed them on the table and fetched two wine glasses from the cupboard over the microwave.
“I want to introduce you to my European range.”
“Oh, okay. Sounds like fun.”
“I did a three-week tour around the Italian Riviera in August and discovered some fascinating new techniques. You’re one of the first to try them.”
His eyes were electric with anticipation, and I felt incredible pressure to please him. He lifted the box, and I enjoyed both a beautiful presentation of carefully crafted chocolates and delightful aromas. “Which one would you like?”
“Hmmm. How do I pick? They all look incredible.”
“You chose the one that appeals to you the most.”
I surveyed the delectable selection, and after much deliberation, I pointed at a miniature dark chocolate corrugated cup that was topped with a chocolate lid that looked like it’d been painted in red wine by a master artist.
“Taste it.” His tongue flicked over his lip, and my heart fluttered at how sexy he was.
I plucked the chocolate from the box, and under his watchful gaze, I bit into it. To my surprise, it had a liquid center, and I just managed to catch it before it dribbled all over me. It was a flavor explosion of chocolate and lemon, sweet and tart and utterly delicious.
“You missed some.” He leaned forward and ran his finger over my lower lip and then licked his finger. It was a highly erotic move that had my heart thumping. It took all my might not to jump into his lap, wrap my arms around him, and kiss him until we both gasped for breath.
“Did you like it?” The pleading in his eyes confirmed how important my response was to him.
“It was delicious. The flavor was interesting, complex.”
“That was my lemon meringue. Limoncello and a touch of coconut meringue in a dark chocolate cup.”
“Wow, yes.” I ran my tongue around my mouth, savoring it all. “That’s exactly what I can taste.”
He handed me a glass of wine, and the deep red color of the liquid caught in the down-lights.
“Tell me about Italy,” I said.
His eyes lit up, and as I sipped the liquid heaven, he mesmerized me with tales about all the wonderful people he’d met and how complete strangers had welcomed him into their kitchens to share their family recipes.
He spoke with passion and with his hands. His stories were interesting and fun, and I could have stayed there and listened to him all night long. We drank the wine, we savored the chocolates, and the more stories he told me, the more I wanted to hear. Hunter was living my dream, and every new place he mentioned convinced me of what I already knew: I needed to travel.
Hunter’s perfectly kissable lips couldn’t be ignored any longer, and I leaned forward, placed my hands above his knees, and kissed him. It wasn’t an innocent kiss, like shy Jane would do—this was a Memphis kiss, filled with a fiery passion that would leave him with no doubt that I wanted more.
Our tongues danced in a delicious tango, and when he moaned, I slipped off my chair and hoisted up my dress. As I straddled his hips, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he opened his mouth, allowing my tongue to explore him more.
He ran his hands up and down my back, and our passion became more heated by the second. Before I knew it, we were both naked, and he was rolling a condom onto his enormous erection.
I led him to the bed and pushed him backward. He chuckled as he fell onto the sheets, his cock bouncing up and down with the momentum.
I crawled up the bed and straddled him. As he squeezed my breasts and his cock prodded my butt cheek, I kissed him, driving my tongue into his mouth, determined to taste more of him.
Hunter was an incredible kisser, and I’d be happy to do this all night long, but my throbbing pussy wanted more. . . demanded more.
I reached down between my legs, wrapped my hand around his cock, and used his hard-on to pleasure my clit. As I squatted over him, I rubbed his cock along the length of my pussy.
His cock was hot and hard and teased my clit in all the right ways, and in a flash, I cried out as I climaxed.
Our eyes met, and the inferno of desire blazing in his enlarged pupils was mind-blowing.
Arching my back to get the right angle, I aimed his cock at my pulsing hole and sat down on him, impaling myself with his length. He filled me right to the hilt, and it felt so fucking good.
With my hands on his chiseled torso, I locked my eyes with his as I eased up and down. I pushed back as I lowered so his length was hard against the inside front of my pussy, and it was a delicious move that I repeated over and over.
Within seconds another orgasm hit me as his cock slammed into something truly exquisite deep inside me.
Hunter clutched my shoulders and pulled me sideways onto the bed. He remained inside me, and with my left side on the bed, he stayed on his knees and positioned us so I had my left leg between his legs and my right knee folded up to my chest. I played with his nipples, squeezing, flicking, and rolling the hard buds between my fingers.
In this position, I was able to rock my hips in time to his penetration, and his cock played with something new inside me that begged for more. He thumbed my clit, and I gasped as the sensation overload nearly shot me right off the covers.
With each thrust, he flicked my clit, timing it with intense precision. The orgasm building inside me was enormous, mammoth even, and I raised my leg, pointing my toes to the ceiling, giving him more to play with.
His thrusting hit fever pitch, and he rammed me fast and hard. I screamed out, and he released a guttural growl as he drove his cock deep, deep into me. After a few more thrusts with his jaw clenched and his fingers vise-like on my ass, he cried out as he came inside me.
We were both gasping for breath as he began to slow, and I was truly sad when he pulled his cock out of me. He crawled up beside me so we lay facing each other. I had a close-up view of my hero, and I loved what I saw.
He cupped my cheek. “I’m so glad you called.”
I chuckled. “Me too.”
He curled his arm under my neck, and I nestled into his chest. This simple move had my heart fluttering, and a wonderful sense of contentment enveloped me. I rested my hand on his chiseled abs, closed my eyes, and listened to the steady beat of his heart.
I’d officially fallen into heaven.
I started to nod off to sleep, and it required great effort to drag myself up from his side.
“Can’t you stay?” His request melted my heart, and I was seconds away from accepting, when I remembered I was Memphis.
The risk of getting through the night without revealing my horrible lie was too high.
Hunter wanted Memphis to stay, not Plain Jane, and the quicker I got out of there, the better. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
My heart broke into a million little pieces at the situation I’d put myself in.
I rolled off the bed and dressed as quickly as I could. With my shoes on, I turned to him. He was lying on his side, the sheet draped over his legs, his head propped up on his hand. “Thank you for a perfect evening.”
“I hope you don’t wait so long to call me next time.” His words were a beautiful melody and an utter catastrophe at the same time.
I blew him a kiss, and with one last glance at my sexy chocolatier, I grabbed my bag and walked out his door before I blurted out my dirty little secret.
It wasn’t until I was in my room that my racing heart began to settle. I undressed, had a quick shower, slipped into my pajamas, and brushed my teeth.
At my bed, I reached for my diary. I turned to the 22nd of October, and at the top of the page, I wrote Hunter McCall Room 17.
I detailed our wonderful date, taking immense care to describe our incredible sex.
I wrote about how much I’d enjoyed his company, and in particular, listening to his delightful stories about travel and food.
Hunter had not only made my heart skip a beat, but he’d captured my mind, too.
He’d saved me from dwelling on the tumultuous weekend in Mildura, and with that thought, I wrote My Raunchy Rescue.
I truly enjoyed being with Hunter, but the problem was he only knew me as Memphis.
After three times with him, how could I tell him that the woman he’d been sleeping with was a lying imposter?
I would need an ocean of ink to detail the crazy thoughts shooting through my brain. My tumbling emotions were insurmountable, and I couldn’t put them into the right words on the page.
After an eternity of scribbling, I gave up.
I flipped my diary shut, crawled under the covers, and as I closed my eyes, I pictured Hunter and every inch of his amazing body lying beside me.
Tears tumbled down my cheeks.
Would Hunter ever get to know the real me?