Love Talk By Dakota Carson
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Love Talk Copyright © 2008 Dakota Carson ISBN: 978-1-55487-046-2 Cover art by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books Look for us online at: www.extasybooks.com
To lovers everywhere, especially those who have survived a seemingly “impossible romance”. Love Talk is proof that sometimes, even the impossible is possible—especially when lust and love merge, oh-so perfectly!
Chapter One
I
n her exhausted sleep state, Destiny wasn’t on a train, but in a huge four-poster bed in a Milan mansion, screwing two Italian models at the same time. Benito and Carlo had made her the meat in a sex sandwich, one right side up and teasing her vagina with his dick, the other upside down and sucking her tits. In the dream, she’d been gyrating and lifting her hips, moaning “Adesso, Benito, adesso…” But the Fabio look-alike didn’t do it now because, God help the goofy young guy, he didn’t understand a word of English. As for Carlo, if he kept licking her nipples that way— A disturbance a few seats up woke her, and she glanced around to see if her fellow passengers had heard—or God forbid—seen anything. Satisfied that she’d kept her lust to herself, Destiny exhaled a relieved breath and sat up to see what all the commotion was about. There stood the stiff-backed conductor, rubbing his thumb across his fingertips. “Prezzo,” he 1
Dakota Carson demanded of the gorgeous passenger up front. The dark haired man stuttered a hesitant “Queant, ah, tratiene di, uh, di commissionie?” Smacking a palm to his forehead, the conductor inhaled sharply and, drawing an invisible spiral beside his temple, muttered, “Chiami un polizia, un medico, qualcosa!” Obviously, Handsome up there hadn’t paid his fare, and didn’t have a clue how to do it now either. No wonder the conductor silently prayed to the railroad gods to send him a shrink…or a cop. “Quanto trattiene, um, di commissionie?” repeated Handsome. Another sigh escaped the ticket-taker’s lungs as he appeared to search his memory for a word this touristo might understand. “Liere, si? A-h-h, dinero, okay?” He’d used nearly every word in the Italian-American handbook that meant money and still the visitor didn’t seem to understand. It reminded Destiny of a line from an old Steve McQueen movie—what we have here is a failure to communicate. Shortly after boarding the Eurail in Rome, she’d seen the tall, good-looking guy saunter onto the train and, with a quick scan of available seats, choose one near the door. Five minutes into the trip to Florence, he’d yawned expansively and folded his edition of Gionale Italia, then leaned 2
Love talk back and closed his eyes. It was as good a way as any to pass the time until they arrived in Florence, she’d thought, mimicking his actions. Far better than going back to sleep and taking the chance that this time she’d cum right there on the train. Now, Destiny looked around at her fellow passengers. Some appeared mildly interested in the ruckus, others paid no attention at all. She sighed heavily, wondering why things like this were always happening around her. Two weeks ago, for example, she’d witnessed a traffic accident. The teenage girl had clearly been at fault, but the middle-aged man had no cause to shake his fist and shout obscenities at the poor kid. So Destiny marched up to the stranger and, hands on her hips, said, “I certainly hope you don’t kiss your mother with that disgusting sewer of a mouth of yours!” It had been enough to quiet him until the police arrived. In the grocery store a few weeks before that, a customer had lambasted an elderly lady for getting into the Ten Items or Less line with twelve cans of cat food. The old dear’s eyes filled with tears and not even her trembling apology seemed to satisfy the lady in the purple suit. Destiny tapped the businesswoman on the shoulder. “Let’s hope nobody ever talks to your grandmother that way.” Red-faced, the woman began explaining her long and harried day, and apologized. 3
Dakota Carson On her way to the airport earlier, she’d ducked into the mall to grab a few pairs of pantyhose, because for some-odd reason, she was forever snagging her nylons. As she searched for an open cashier stand, a pitiful little voice captured her attention and, following the sound, Destiny spotted a boy—no more than four—cowering near the register. Between sobs and sniffles, he’d explained, “M-my m-mommy is l-l-lost!” Though it very well could have caused her to miss the plane to Italy, Destiny led the child to the mall office and sat with him until his grateful mother showed up. It seemed weird, but just now, Handsome’s expression reminded her of that little boy. Surely, the conductor knew as well as she that the man spoke little or no Italian. What did he think he was, a French conductor! Annoyed by his unwelcoming lack of patience, Destiny walked purposefully up to him and opened her bag. “Quanto le devo?” She gestured to the passenger who hadn’t paid his fare. The passenger who, she couldn’t help notice, looked an awful lot like Carlo, the swarthy cover model in her dream. Why would you want to pay his way was the question written on the conductor’s face. He tucked his black-billed cap under his arm and bowed slightly. “Cinquantatre.” She’d expected him to say five dollars. Ten, 4
Love talk perhaps. But fifty-two? “Why, that’s highway robbery!” Handsome stood, grasped her hands and grinned with gratitude. “Omygawd, you’re, you’re American!” Waves of pleasure that began in her hands rocketed straight toward her crotch. Destiny blamed it on the dream, instead of his dilemma. Get hold of yourself, you idiot, she chided herself. In an attempt to get her mind off her throbbing cunt, she made herself notice things about him, like the bronze highlights in his dark hair and the slight growth of whiskers on his powerful jaw. “Maryland born and bred,” she said, meeting his dark gaze. “And you?” “I live in Annapolis.” “The state capitol? You’re kidding.” The conductor cleared his throat, loudly, as if to remind them he still hadn’t been paid. Hand extended, he wiggled the fingers of his empty palm. “How much does he want?” Handsome asked. Destiny tucked in one corner of her mouth. “Fifty-two dollars,” she said, frowning. “Hoo-ha!” he sputtered, brow furrowing as he opened his wallet. “That is highway robbery!” He fished out several bills and handed them to the conductor who jammed his cap back onto his head, nodded smugly and headed for the next car. 5
Dakota Carson Cupping one hand beside his mouth, Handsome said, “Whew. I feel sorry for the folks up there.” And smiling, he put the wallet back into his pocket. “Mind if I join you?” “Not at all. I’m right—” “—across the aisle and three seats back.” He winked. “I know.” So he’d seen her after all. Destiny felt the beginnings of a blush in her cheeks, and to hide it, turned toward her seat. Had she done something during her torrid dream to get his attention? Grimacing, she could only hope not. “Name’s Frank,” he said, sitting beside her. “Frank Brady.” He extended a big hand. She put hers into it. “Destiny McShane.” He chuckled. “What’re you, a stripper or something?” Frowning, Destiny clucked her tongue. “Good grief.” Moments ago, she’d stripped for Carlo and Benito, and enjoyed every body exposing moment of it. “Of course not.” Again, heat flooded her cheeks as she remembered that old line from Shakespeare—Methink thou protest too much. “A playboy centerfold, then,” he persisted. Destiny faced the front of the train and ground her molars together. If she had to guess, she’d say he had seen or heard something while she dreamed about being sucked and fucked and massaged and— 6
Love talk “This must be my lucky day.” She swallowed, hard. “Why?” “Gorgeous li’l Italian-speaking gal comes to my rescue and it turns out she’s Irish.” He winked. “Like me.” She tucked in one corner of her mouth, and kept silent about his obvious flirtations. “I’m only halfIrish. My mom’s Italian. And I’m not a Playboy model, by the way.” “Well,” he said, eyeing her, “you sure as hell could be.” Inhaling a please don’t let me slug him breath, Destiny shook her head. “My mother is Italian, too.” Frank settled back, smoothed the newspaper across his knees. “So tell me, Destiny McShane, what’re you doing in sunny Italy?” She would have bet her next teaching contract that his practiced charm turned lots of female heads. He’d sure as hell turned hers. Destiny did a little ogling of her own. “Sightseeing,” she answered. “All by yourself?” She nodded. “I’ve been here twice before.” “Alone?” There was no mistaking the note of disbelief in his voice. “It’s perfectly safe,” she defended, “if you practice common sense.” He blew a puff of air between his teeth. “Then I 7
Dakota Carson hope what the sages say is true.” The sages? What could they possibly have to say about a single woman, traveling Europe without a male escort? “Practice makes perfect,” he said, answering her unasked question. “Because a pretty little thing like you could get into some serious trouble, roamin’ around Rome, all by her lonesome.” She stifled a grin. Wouldn’t it be fun to find out exactly what kind of trouble she could get into with him? Odd, but this conversation was beginning to sound way too much like the one that had taken place at her parents’ house, the Sunday before she left for Italy. “Dez,” her big brother Ben had said, “why do you insist on driving us all crazy with worry, taking these trips alone all the time?” He’d quit pacing long enough to add, “And Italy again, of all places. Didn’t your ass get fondled enough the last time you were there?” “Yeah,” Liam had agreed, his hand mimicking a lobster’s claw. “The guys over there are famous for their pinchers. “All I can say,” her dad put in, “is you know very well how I feel about these solitary trips of yours.” Her mother’s sigh had punctuated her father’s statement. “Every time the phone rings while you’re gone, I think it’s going to be the U.S. 8
Love talk Embassy in whatever crazy place you’ve decided to visit this time, calling to say you’ve been robbed. Or raped.” She covered her face and said from behind her hands, “Or worse.” She came out of hiding to repeat, yet again, “I’m sure Bonnie would love to go with you.” Her best friend hated to travel and made no secret of the fact. Besides, ever since Bonnie started seeing Al, there was no separating them. “Bonnie has a life of her own,” Destiny had said. And just for fun, she’d tossed in, “If she came to Italy with me, and saw what’s available over there, no way she’d come home wanting to marry Al.” She let the comment resonate for a moment before adding, “Now how mean would that be, considering how long it took Bonnie to find her Mr. Right.” Cody blanched, making it clear he thought it was high time to change the subject. Sort of. “I think she’s doing all this to prove something to Toady Travis. Ever since he called off their engagement, she’s been determined to prove how independent she is.” Bristling, Destiny hated how close to the truth he’d come. But she’d be damned if she’d admit it! “Look you guys,” she’d said, “I know you all mean well. And I love you for it. But…” She looked at each one of the McShanes and smiled. “I’m twenty-eight years old and I’ve been self9
Dakota Carson supporting for five years now. So I’ve earned the right to ask you to start treating me like an adult.” So, all that considered, if her seatmate continued on this same path of pretending to know what was safest, smartest and best for her, well, she’d waste no time telling him where to go. “I’ll have you know I can scream police in four languages.” “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?” Changing the subject usually worked with her brothers, but it had fallen flat with this guy. In an instant, she’d changed from a horny woman, wondering if his lips would feel as good on hers as they looked, to a pissed off half-Italian bitchy broad. But she’d never see this idiot again. What did she care what he thought? Why not enjoy the rest of the trip to Florence? “I teach Italian back home, so being here gives me a great opportunity to speak the language.” He gave her a look that hinted you’re not foolin’ me. “So where’s ‘home’, exactly?” “Columbia.” “You mean to tell me we live less than thirty minutes apart, and I had to come all the way to Italy to meet you?” He shook his head. “Go figure.” Grinning, they shared a moment of compatible silence. “So, you’re an Italian teacher, eh?” 10
Love talk “Well, only part-time, at the community college. Full time, I teach high school Biology and Earth Science.” “Must be my lucky day,” he said again, counting on his fingers. “You’re cute, Irish and Italian, a natural-born caretaker—as proven when you came to my rescue—and you’re smart, too.” You oughta see me in the sack, she thought, smirking. “Let me do something to repay you.” He held up a hand to forestall her protestations. “If you hadn’t stepped up when you did, that conductor would have robbed me blind. Or tossed me off the train. Or both. And for all I know, I mighta ended up in an Italian prison, eating pasta until my innards burst. So, how ‘bout letting me buy you dinner?” First, it would be dinner. Then maybe some wine and slow dancing. And before she knew it, she’d be buck-naked and riding him like a stallion. The thought made her crotch quiver with desire as her nipples hardened inside her lacy bra. Destiny cleared her throat. “I, ah, I was only happy to help. So dinner isn’t—” “Are you kidding? I saw you open your little knap-sack there. You were all set to pay the fare to save my ornery hide. So yeah, I’m afraid it is necessary.” “But I’m staying in Florence and you’re—” 11
Dakota Carson “Staying in Florence.” “But I’m at the Hotel Baglioni, and—” He held up a room key, emblazoned with a golden curlicue B. “If the coincidences keep mounting up at this rate, we’ll need a shovel to dig our way off this train.” Frank laughed. “Then maybe it was our destiny to meet today…Destiny.” She could only wonder how many women he’d seduced with that dark eyed stare and oh-sokissable mouth. And she wouldn’t mind a bit, hearing that delightful baritone, whispering sweet nothings into her ears as he pumped away at her. Get real, Dez. He’s a player. It’s written all over that delicious face. Still, she was curious as hell about his private life. Was he over here, trolling for babes in fresh new waters? Had business brought him here? Destiny suppressed a gasp. What if he was here on vacation with his wife? Hell, he could be on his honeymoon, for all she knew, like the guy she’d met in a Monte Carlo hotel bar who’d boinked her after ordering a bottle of icy champagne for his suite. It wasn’t until he whispered a hurried farewell that he admitted it was his wedding night. But what the hell. She hadn’t come over here to get married, for the luvva Pete. Curiosity killed the cat, she warned herself, then shrugged and 12
Love talk said, “So when did you arrive in Italy?” “Just over a week ago. But mine isn’t a pleasure trip, like yours.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I own a small import-export company, and every now and then, I like to choose the goods myself, instead of sending a buyer.” Her eyes widened. “Ooooh-la-lah,” she said in a thick French accent, “a reeeech Americahn beeez-nessman.” Frank chuckled.… The sound of it tingled, from her nipples to her crotch. “My shop is barely more than a hole in the wall, down on the Annapolis docks.” “Will you be visiting other countries in Europe, to find, ah, finds for your shop?” “Already made stops in London and Paris,” he said matter-of-factly. “Another week here and I’m homeward bound.” “You haven’t done any sightseeing?” “Not unless you call scrounging around in the shops sightseeing.” Hmmm. Maybe instead of a playboy, he was one of those boring all work no play types. And honestly, Destiny didn’t know which was worse. “I can’t understand how you bargain with the shopkeepers when you don’t even speak the language.” Another chuckle. “I brought my secretary along 13
Dakota Carson for that. She’s second-generation Italian. Most efficient assistant I’ve ever had. Speaks six languages fluently, keeps the books, makes my appointments. Even brews perfect coffee. But I’m sure you know the type, one of those place for everything, everything in its place kind of people. My office has never been more organized, and you should see my warehouse. She runs that place like a Marine drill sergeant.” Evidently, Mr. All Work and No Play found time to fuck around, thanks to Ms. Perfect Personal Assistant. Destiny didn’t even know the woman’s name, and already, she disliked her. Intensely. “Bet her husband appreciates her, ah, skills even more than you do.” “She isn’t married.” Dammit! Destiny thought, even though it made absolutely no sense that she was jealous of that damned secretary…even though she’d only known him a few minutes. She’d never been the Green with Envy type. So why now? “Maybe you oughta snap her up, before somebody else does. She sounds like quite a woman.” “Too late,” he said on a sigh. “She met a guy in Rome. Fell in love like that.” He snapped his fingers. But…why had he sighed after saying it? Was he having regrets, for not having popped the question before Ms. Perfect’s apprentice did? 14
Love talk Destiny bristled a bit, then straightened her spine. “Guess you’re right. A woman alone in Italy isn’t safe, is she?” His brows drew together, and she needn’t have known him long to understand her comment confused him. “She didn’t escape marriage, poor thing, did she?” Frank nodded. “Ahhh, so you’re one of those anti-marriage feminists, are you?” He said it as if it was a four-letter word. “What’s wrong with feminism?” She was far from a card-carrying Women’s Libber, but she did believe in equal pay for equal work and stuff like that. “Not a thing,” he said slowly. “If a man wants to, ah, be with a woman who wants to be a man, that’s his choice.” He shrugged. “Been there, as they say, done that. And believe me, I ain’t goin’ back for a second helping.” “Ahhh,” she echoed him, “wounded by a ball buster, were you?” It surprised her when his cheeks flushed. And then he shot that heartstopping smile at her again. “I couldn’t have put it better, myself.” But the wide grin did little to hide the pain glittering in his dark eyes. Suddenly, Destiny felt awful for having brought up a sore subject. “Is this your first trip to Italy?” “Matter of fact, it is.” “Then I hope you at least got a chance to see the 15
Dakota Carson Coliseum while you were in Rome.” “From my hotel room.” “And the Vatican?” “Saw that from a taxi.” She frowned. “Do you want to see those things?” “Sure, I guess.” He regarded her from the corner of his eye. “Why…you volunteering to go back to Rome, be my tour guide?” She patted her knapsack. “If you have the time, I have the tour book.” “Consider it a date, pretty lady.” And then he winked. “But first, dinner at the Baglioni. I hear they have a rooftop garden restaurant with a view like you wouldn’t believe.” Should she wear that slinky little black dress, or the red strapless number? “I’ll be in Florence one more day. After that, I’m headed for Siena.” “No way.” “As my teenaged niece would say, way.” “Well, I’ll be damned. I have to check out some suits of armor and a couple of paintings.” “I just want to see where the Palio Festival is held. I missed it last time I was here, too, but I’ve seen pictures. It’s medieval and colorful, with parades and races and processions.” “When is it?” “July second. I’m afraid I’m going to miss it again.” 16
Love talk “Say, this isn’t the thing-y where they bring out banners and get into these ritzy costumes and—” “—and trumpets, macebearers, standardbearers, too.” “Hmmm. Maybe I can get my hands on some flags for the shop.” He paused, then said, “How long will you be in Sienna?” “I haven’t made any definite plans.” “Small world,” he said. “Yuck.” She giggled. “Yuck?” “Been to Disney World?” “Yeah…” “I hate that song. Hate it.” Laughing, Frank slapped his knee. “I can’t believe we have something else in common!” They sat quietly for a moment, listening to the clickida-clackida, clickida-clackida of the train’s wheels, chugging over the polished steel tracks. Late spring in Italy was beautiful. Destiny wished she could throw open the window to inhale the fresh, fragrant flowers of grapevines and apple trees blooming along the tracks. The rest of the trip passed in companionable silence, and when they got off the train, Frank placed his hand at the small of her back and walked with her toward the taxi stand. Two fingers between his teeth, he whistled for one. “Tell you what,” he said as she climbed into the 17
Dakota Carson back seat, “let’s skip the hotel restaurant.” Grabbing her hand, he added, “Helen told me about a place right around the corner from our hotel, where the locals go.” Biting her lower lip, Destiny hesitated. “Oh, c’mon. I’m sure to order Jail Sentence Al Fresco from the menu if you’re not there to protect me. And when I’m sitting in prison, thousands of miles from home, you’ll know in your heart that it’s all your fault.” Grinning, she gave his hand a squeeze. “Do you make a practice of mixing business with pleasure, Mr. Frank Brady?” Frank sat back, leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes. “As a matter of fact, there’s rarely time for pleasure of any kind.” With a flirty wink, he let go of her hand. “But tonight…” All too soon, the taxi pulled up in front of the Hotel Baglioni and Frank climbed out. “Meet you in the lobby in an hour,” he said, handing the driver a fistful of crumpled bills. Before she could thank him for paying her share of the fare, he disappeared beyond the enormous brass-and-glass doors, leaving Destiny to wish he hadn’t let go of her hand. **** Destiny inhaled the scent of a warmer-than-usual 18
Love talk late-May morning. Temperate breezes set newly budded leaves to bouncing on the tree branches that shrouded the Bridge of Santa Trinita—an ancient structure that was daytime home to Florentine artists—and cooled the sketch artists and painters gathered under its graceful arches. Frank insisted that Destiny pose while a young prodigy sketched her in brown charcoal on creamcolored paper. In Il Battistero, she and Frank ooohed and ahhhed at the detail in each panel of the gigantic bronze doors, carved by masters like Ghiberti, Pisano and Michelangelo. At the Straw Market, they rubbed the nose of Il Porcellino, the bronze boar. “Now throw a coin into the fountain,” shouted a merchant from a nearby stall, “and you will someday return to Firenze!” Frank had pressed a Centesimi into her palm, sandwiched her hand between his own and said, “Close your eyes and wish like crazy.” Swept up in his childlike excitement, Destiny obeyed, grinning when he tapped her hand and sent the dull brown disk somersaulting, until it hit the water with a quiet plop. “Hey, Yankee,” called the shopkeeper, “that wassa no’ reg’lar money. She wassa old, I tella you.” His pained expression was proof of his confusion. “You throw it on-a purpose?” 19
Dakota Carson Nodding, Frank slid an arm around Destiny’s waist. “Extra value, extra good luck,” he told the man. Hands extended and shoulders hunched, the man walked away shaking his head. “Stupido,” he muttered. “Stupido!” “What was that?” Destiny asked. “Was it really a rare coin?” “Sorta.” He winked. “But like I told that guy. Extra value, extra luck.” She’d never put much stock in luck. Especially not since that so-called medium she’d visited had predicted a long and happy life with Travis. “You don’t really believe in stuff like that, do you?” He pulled her close and whispered into her ear, “You bet I do,” then led her into the echoing interior of Galleria del’Academia. Destiny quickly forgot the coin, Travis and the phony medium as they stood in silent awe, admiring Michelangelo’s David. “He has a chipped toenail,” she observed, her voice a respectful hush. “Why didn’t I notice that last time I was here?” Frank pointed. “And there’s even a dink in the leather strap of his slingshot.” She liked the fact that he didn’t make fun of her love of fine art. And while it had been a silly waste when he’d tossed the collectible coin into the fountain, she liked the fact that a moment’s joy 20
Love talk was more important to him than the money he might have earned, selling it. Tired from their long day of sightseeing, Destiny and Frank agreed to skip the local eatery and decided on a quiet dinner in the Baglioni’s restaurant instead. From their rooftop table near the wrought iron railing, they saw miles of red clay rooftops illuminated by a bright Italian moon. In the street below, mopeds and mini cars zipped around pedestrians as drivers beeped and walkers shouted. Their affable waiter who spoke fluent English insisted they try the gnocchi. “You can manja the spagett’ when in America.” Squinting, he’d looked toward the star-studded sky and blew a kiss to the heavens. “What is it you say in you’ country, when in Rome…?” After only two bites of the airy potato dumplings in pesto sauce, they were glad they’d taken his advice. Destiny and Frank had both eaten gnocchi in Baltimore’s Little Italy. “It’s right tasty at Sabatino’s,” Frank said. And at Chiaparelli’s, too,” Destiny agreed. ”But for some reason it’s better here,” they said in unison. After dinner, he insisted on walking Destiny to her room. “I got here okay all my myself last night,” she teased as he unlocked the door. “But last night,” he said, tucking a tendril of 21
Dakota Carson hair behind her ear, “you weren’t with me.” Smiling, she felt the familiar swirl of excitement awaken inside her. She stared deep into his chocolate brown eyes and read desire smoldering there. Her fingers itched to reach up and trace the contour of his jaw, the outline of his generous lips. And so she did. Frank laid his own hand atop hers, then turned his face to kiss her palm, making her gasp softly. “So,” he purred, drawing her to him, “aren’t you gonna ask me inside?” Looking up into his face, she wiggled her eyebrows. “Double entendre?” Chuckling, he nuzzled her neck. “Oh, but you are wicked after a few glasses of Rosso Conero, aren’t you?” Feeling warm, and sexy and flirty, Destiny pressed her hips against his groin. Something in those round dark eyes told her she had nothing to fear from this tall, broad shouldered man. Unless, of course, she had the poor judgment to fall in love with him. The thought made her giggle quietly, because really…love? Already? “Ticklish?” he breathed against her skin. The low growl of his baritone snapped her to attention. Why not invite him in? It wasn’t like she’d ever see him once her Italian holiday ended. He’d go his way and she’d go hers. Even though they lived no more than a half hour’s drive from 22
Love talk one another, what were the chances either of them would make that drive? “A little,” she answered, kissing his ear. Using the side of his shoe, Frank shoved the door wider. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable inside?” Destiny glanced into the dimly lit room and saw that the maid had turned down the bed and put a chocolate mint on her pillow. Now if that didn’t look tempting, she didn’t know what did. She felt bold and brazen, there beneath the halo of the hall light. Standing on tiptoe, she linked her fingers behind his neck and tilted her head. “You probably ought to kiss me first, see if I pass muster.” She gave a little shrug as if to punctuate her statement. “No point taking time to—” One big hand behind her head, he pressed his lips to hers. She felt the tip of his tongue, easing into her mouth. Not too far…just far enough to tease and entice, and make her wonder if he used that other appendage—the one throbbing hard against her stomach—as expertly as he used this one. She heard herself sigh, felt her muscles relax as she melted into his arms. Destiny was about to pull back, ask him to come inside, when he scooped her up in his arms. His lips never left hers as he kicked the door shut and bolted it behind them. Ever so gently, he sat her on the edge of the bed 23
Dakota Carson and knelt between her knees. “Did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?” he rasped. “Only with your eyes.” Closing her own, she remembered the way he’d looked across the candlelit table at her, as if she were the only woman on the planet, the only woman for him. Slowly, he eased her skirt higher on her thighs, the satiny material making quiet husking sounds against her pantyhose. Fingers spread wide, he slid higher, higher, until his thumbs were kneading her vagina. And all the while, that marvelous tongue teased her own. She was sopping wet by the time he slid her zipper down, one agonizing tooth at a time. Destiny could only hope for the self-control and courtesy to wait until he entered her to come. She wanted him inside her. On top of her. Enveloping her with those powerful arms. Pulsing against her with his hard thighs. Had she spoken her wishes aloud? If she hadn’t, how had Frank known to remove her dress gently—so as not to tear it—and drape it over the bedpost, right at that moment? Her right shoe, then her left hit the floor, thud, thud. And then he helped her lay back, played with her hair until it fanned across the pillow. He was still fully dressed when he peeled the pantyhose from her, inch by tantalizing inch. And 24
Love talk when she wore nothing but the tiny diamond pendant Travis had given her for her last birthday, he stood beside the bed and started taking off his own clothes. “No,” she whispered, grabbing his thick wrist, “let me.” He cocked his head to one side. “I’ve never let a woman undress me before.” Destiny eased from the bed and pressed her nakedness against him. “You know what they say,” she whispered. Eyes closed, he shook his head. “What do they say?” “There’s a first time for everything…” She decided to leave his pants for last, for her sake as well as his. One finger inside the Windsor knot of his tie, she pried the blue silk from around his neck. Then one by one, she loosed the buttons of his starched white shirt. Destiny kissed his nipples, running her tongue in slow, lazy circles around them, then gently nipping the hard round ball it became. When he shuddered, and exhaled a gravelly sigh, she slid the shirt from his brawny shoulders and folded it neatly before laying it on the overstuffed chair beside the bed. “Take a load off,” she teased, shoving him onto the bed. And when he sat, she got between his knees and took her sweet time unlacing his shoes. 25
Dakota Carson One by one, she sat them under the chair, then rolled off each black sock and draped them across the shoes. And now he sat, naked, except for his pants— and whatever he wore beneath them—and since he’d already stripped her bare, she stood between his legs and, hands behind his head, brought his mouth to her right tit. Shoulders rotating as her hips ground against his chest, Destiny could hardly suppress a moan of desire. She’d fucked men before, but never a stranger, and certainly not on the first date. She was no prude, but there was a right and a wrong way to do things, after all! Well, what had the right way brought her, but heartache? Travis’s goodbye speech still ringing in her ears, she threw back her head and ground out, “Ready when you are, Mr. Brady…” Frank cupped her butt cheeks, one in each hand, and kneaded them until she thought surely she’d squirt cum right there on his feet and hers. She unbuckled his belt and tossed it atop the shirt and, wiggling her forefinger, invited him to stand. Eyes blazing with want and need, he stood, knees locked and jaw clenched tight, as if he, too, had to work to keep from spurting jism everywhere. It surprised her to see, once the expensive trousers puddled around his ankles, that he wore boxers to match his tie. That made her grin a little, 26
Love talk and to hide it, she parted the little pocket that hid his penis. It popped out as if it had been springloaded and she bent at the waist to wrap her lips around it. Cupping his balls with one hand, she stroked his dick with the other. And when she got that minute taste of pre-cum, bubbling from its hole, she straightened. He understood, somehow, that she intended to fuck him standing up. Lifting her off her feet, he hoisted her up and let her slide down his torso, until her juicy cunt slid onto his throbbing cock. She wrapped her legs around him, and locked them at the ankle, pulsing, thrusting, pushing him deeper, deeper into her. “Frank,” she whispered weakly, “Frank…” In one smooth move, he laid her on her back. In another, he was on top of her, inside of her, arms around her, kissing and stroking and murmuring into her ears. Then he rolled her over, holding tight to her ass so he wouldn’t slide out of her, and waited until she positioned one knee on either side of his chest. Limp with want, she brought his hands to her swollen tits, helped him stroke them as she went up and down, up and down on his cock, until she could have sworn she heard the music of the calliope as she rode her merry-go-round horse. Sex had never been like this. Certainly not with Travis! Destiny didn’t want it to end. Yet she 27
Dakota Carson wanted to let loose and come, then rest a while before starting it all over again. And again. Gripping her shoulders, Frank pulled her near. He held her so close that she felt the hard beating of his heart as his pecker pulsed inside her. It scared her a little, when he held her face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes. What had inspired the poignant, unblinking stare? Passion? Longing? Certainly not love… He clutched her tight then, and as the gyrations of lust escalated in heat and intensity, she felt him stiffen and shudder, heard the soft growl of ecstasy as he filled her full of milky ejaculate. In seconds, she joined him, then lay spent and sated in his waiting arms. There was a leak in the bathroom sink and the steady plink-plink of drops, splashing into the marble basin, kept rhythm with her heartbeat. Finally, her pulse returned to normal and drowsiness threatened to steal him from her. “What the hell was that?” he whispered, fingers drawing slow circles on her butt. Unable to speak yet, she shrugged. “I’ll be thirty-two in a few weeks, and I swear…” It had never been this way for him either? Destiny found that difficult to believe. A man like this—handsome, successful, wealthy—who could charm the leaves from the trees? A tiny chuckle 28
Love talk escaped her. His fingers quit sketching on her skin. “What…” “I think it’s sweet,” she began, levering herself onto one elbow, “telling all the girls you bed that this was the absolute best you’ve ever had.” She kissed him, partly because she wanted to, partly to erase that worried look from his face. “Hand to God, Destiny,” he said, frowning, “this was the best.” He stiffened, as if realizing how ridiculous it sounded, admitting something like that so soon after they’d met. Then he bracketed her face with those gigantic palms and kissed her soundly. “I’ve had it every which way, but never that way.” It had been a pretty ordinary fuck as fucks went. No handcuffs, no whips or chains, no high leather boots…though she’d considered, a time or two, trying it all and then some to keep Travis interested… “It was pretty darned amazing, I’ll grant you that,” she admitted as cold fear spiraled in her gut. She had remembered to take her pill that morning, but neither of them had thought to slide a rubber onto his pulsing pecker. She wouldn’t get pregnant, but what if he was lying? What if, as he’d done it every which way, Frank had contracted some disgusting disease? “Don’t worry,” he said, stroking her hair, “I 29
Dakota Carson was in Africa just a few weeks ago. Had a thorough checkup when I got back, and the docs gave me a clean bill of health.” His hand froze, inches above her head. “What about you, Miss Travels Alone to Foreign Countries?” If Travis had said such a thing, she’d have hauled off and smacked him. But coming from Frank… “I haven’t been with a man in almost a year,” she admitted, laughing softly. “Unless you count the stuff that happens in my dreams.” She felt his grin against her cheek. “Ahhh,” he said, “now I get it….” Destiny stiffened, fearing the worst… She would have asked him what he meant, if he hadn’t fallen asleep. **** The next day, after boarding a train in Florence, they’d headed east to Pisa where Destiny’s curiosity earned her a stern lecture from an Uzibrandishing soldier. ”I can’t believe you climbed over that rope!” Frank scolded as they walked away from the Leaning Tower. ”How else was I going to find out if it’s made of granite or marble?” she asked. “So, what’s it made of?” They both doubled over with laughter when 30
Love talk she admitted, “I have no idea!” Next, they traveled south to Siena, to tour the Piazza Del Campo, the Palazzo Di Guistizia Cathedral and stand on the cobbled streets where, in a few months, people from around the world would revel in the elaborate and picturesque Palio. Next, they went further south and returned to the ancient city of Rome. “I don’t know if I’m reacting to the tour guide’s speech or if it’s my imagination,” Frank whispered as they walked the brick path that separated two rows of lions’ dens, “but does it smell like wild animals in here?” She grinned. “Do wild animals smell different from other animals?” “Absolutely!” Frank insisted. “There’s the barn scent and the aroma of the zoo. This is definitely not Old MacDonald’s farm.” Destiny knew what he meant. She’d been to the Coliseum before, and both times had experienced a similarly strange and eerie sensation. She hadn’t been able to put a name on the feeling that enveloped her, standing amid the bleachers and staring into the huge circular arena that had been Center Stage to Roman audiences. But this time, with Frank at her side—giving commentary to every brick, every board, every metal bar—she could almost picture pagan throngs, cheering 31
Dakota Carson wildly as ravenous beasts devoured Christians. Despite his claims that this trip was business only, Frank had gotten caught up in the historic splendor of it, just as he’d been entranced by Florentine art, the planned festival in Sienna, the quaint little town of Pisa. “It’s probably just the cats,” she said in a not-so-veiled attempt to be the voice of reason. Frank squatted to scratch the ears of a scraggly feline that had been following him for five minutes or so—one of hundreds that roamed the interior of the ancient place. “I guess you’re right.” “Chester,” an elderly woman hissed to her husband. “Will you take a look at that! Didn’t the tour guide say these cats never allow themselves to be petted and that we shouldn’t try because they’re feral?” “Young folks,” her husband said, shaking his head. “You’re the reason Europeans call the rest of us Ugly Americans!” the old crone snapped at Frank. “Leave that mangy animal alone before you get fleas or lice…or arrested!” Destiny’s heart ached when she saw Frank’s brows rise in response to the woman’s hurtful words. “Excuse me, ma’am,” Destiny said, “but it really isn’t your concern if my friend gets scratched by one of the Coliseum cats, and I fail to see how his behavior makes all Americans look—” 32
Love talk Frank stood, and smiling patronizingly at the lady, said, “I apologize, madam. Thank the Good Lord there are busloads New York tourists in the parking lot to counteract my lady friend’s outspokenness.” “It just so happens I’m from New York,” she huffed. Frank shrugged and grinned. “Well, then, I’m really sorry.” Biting back a giggle, Destiny tugged at his hand. “And I thought I was the master of putting people in their places! C’mon,” she said, “I see a gelato stand on the other side of the piazza.” Frank smacked his lips. “I hope they have chocolate. How ‘bout you?” “You’re not going to believe this, but chocolate’s my favorite flavor.” He stepped into line at the ice cream stand. “Go figure,” Frank said, slipping an arm around her waist. “Go figure.”
33
Dakota Carson
Chapter Two
T
hey stood side by side at baggage claim, watching an assortment of luggage crank by like odd shaped horses on a silent, slow-motion merry-go-round. When Frank hoisted an elderly lady’s suitcase onto a rented cart, Destiny was reminded of the many similar acts of kindness he’d performed all over Italy. Small things like giving up his seat for ladies with children and senior citizens, and more generous gestures, such as the time he dropped a L.10,000 bank note into a raggedy gypsy’s mandolin case. On the flight from Milan to New York, he’d slipped his dessert to the little boy across the aisle, and when they boarded the two-propeller plane headed from Kennedy to BWI, he helped a white haired gentleman store his weighty carryon in the overhead bin. Frank is a good man, she told herself as he wheeled an old woman’s cart toward the pick-up stand outside. He’s a kindhearted, decent human being. When Travis broke off their engagement a 34
Love talk year earlier, she’d promised herself never to get involved again. One close call is one too many! Frank was beside her again, smiling and happy, but then there was nothing unusual about that. In the seven days they’d spent together, visiting museums and art galleries, walking through topiary gardens and over cobbled streets, taking meals in charming sidewalk cafes and the diner cars of fast-moving trains, she had seen Frank lose his temper once… They’d been in Milan when a swarthy fellow on a moped nearly ran her down as she attempted to cross the street. Angry as he was at the driver’s inattentiveness, the moment Frank saw how shaken she was by the near miss, he’d stopped shouting and shaking his fist at the offender and pulled her into a comforting embrace, right there on the busy street corner. “You know,” he said, rousing her from her reverie as he hefted a bag for a woman with stairstep toddlers in a stroller made for twins, “I’m really going to miss you.” Destiny’s heartbeat doubled as the heat of a blush colored her cheeks. Pocketing both hands, he faced her, head-on. “Promise me you’ll see me, for dinner or lunch sometime. I’ve got season tickets to the Orioles. Maybe we can catch a game or two, once we get home.” 35
Dakota Carson How like him not to mention how six of the seven nights they’d wiled away the hours in one another’s arms. Sort of. “I’d like that.” He seemed pleased by her response, and smiling, Frank straightened to his full six foot height and squared his broad shoulders. “If I ever find our suitcases, what do you say to lunch and a ride home?” “I, um, my car is here, in the Blue Lot.” Frank shook his head. “You’re never going to believe this.” She held one hand up. “Let me guess, your car is in the Blue Lot.” He nodded and grabbed her two big gray suitcases in one hand, then pulled his with the other. “I don’t mind telling you, I’m disappointed. I was hoping to have an excuse to stretch out these last few minutes together.” That’s what he’d said when he found out what flight she’d booked out of the Milan airport. It had taken three phone calls and nearly an hour, and cost him almost a hundred American dollars, but Frank managed to change his reservation so he could fly home on Destiny’s plane. Since he’d been a last minute addition to the passenger list, the airline had assigned him a seat near the flight attendants’ compartment. Destiny doubted she’d ever learn how Frank had convinced the gentleman who’d been seated beside her at the 36
Love talk start of the flight to switch seats with him, but if the winks and nods that passed between her former seatmate and Frank were any measure, it was probably better that way. Destiny wanted to stretch these last moments, too. “I always keep a supply of TV dinners in the freezer,” she told him. “You could follow me to my place, let me thaw you a meal.” “You mean it?” “Sure.” If only you knew how much I mean it! “Then let’s blow this pop stand,” he said with a grin and a wink. They rode in companionable silence as the shuttle bus lurched and bounced over potholed roads outside BWI’s newly constructed International wing, leaning into one another as the driver made wide, unwieldy turns. When the traffic light at the end of the airport entrance ramp went from yellow to red, the driver brought the vehicle to a jerky stop that nearly unseated Destiny. If not for Frank’s quick thinking—and strong arm around her shoulders—se might have landed on her rump in the middle of the aisle. Long after the near mishap, his arm still rested protectively across her shoulders, his hand still gently but firmly gripped her bicep. They located his car first, loaded the bags into his trunk and drove to Section B. As Frank transferred her suitcases into the back seat of her 37
Dakota Carson tiny sports car, Destiny scribbled hasty directions to her place on the back of one of Frank’s business cards. As she pulled into traffic, she wondered whether she’d remembered to run the dishwasher before she’d left. If she’d tidied the living room and straightened the hall bathroom. If she’d changed the sheets on her bed. Well, she told herself, it won’t be long ‘til you know for sure, since it’s only a fifteen minute drive home from the airport. She checked the mirror every other blink, it seemed, to make sure Frank was still behind her. Thank goodness for sunglasses, she thought, because if he knew how often you were checking on him, he’d think…. What would he think? Surely he couldn’t tell from this distance that she’d thought of little else than their passionate Italian interludes, that she’d daydreamed about his amazing sexual talents all the way from Milan to Baltimore. What began as a chance meeting had, for Destiny, become fullblown infatuation. And surely, it was just the sex, because she wasn’t an idiot. And it had only been seven days, after all. True, he was drop-dead gorgeous, with a voice was deeper and more resonant than any radio disk jockey on the air. Add to that the fact that he was one of the sweetest, most thoughtful men she’d ever known, well, Destiny believed 38
Love talk she’d need a heart of steel to keep from feeling something more than friendship for Frank Brady. She nosed her car into the driveway beside her townhouse as Frank pulled in beside her. In a heartbeat, it seemed, he opened her passenger door and began pulling her suitcases from the back seat. “Nice place,” he said, nodding toward the house. “Live here long?” “Almost two years,” she said, climbing the long white staircase leading to the front door. “You have one of those condo deals where somebody mows the lawn and stuff, don’t you?” he asked as she unlocked the door. Destiny stepped into the foyer and held the door open as Frank passed through with her suitcase. “Yeah, and there’s a company available to care for potted plants, for a fee,” she said as he put them at the foot of the stairs, “but I prefer the luxury of traveling to the extravagance of a gardener.” He winked. “Smart girl.” Grinning, he added, “But how do you keep it looking so neat, with your job and traveling and all?” “Easy care perennials and lots of bark mulch,” she said, laughing as she closed the door. “I live in a small apartment above my shop, but I’ve been thinking about settling into a house. This is a great area.” 39
Dakota Carson “Would you like the nickel tour?” They were at least five minutes from her bedroom, if she showed him the rest of the place first. So why were her panties wet already? Bowing from the waist, he extended his arm. “Lead the way, m’lady.” Thankfully, she had, indeed, remembered to clean up before leaving for Italy. Frank nodded his approval, saying things like Clean as a whistle and Neat as a pin in every room. “My Reasons to Like Destiny list is getting so long, pretty soon I’m gonna need a hand truck to cart it around.” Stomach fluttering, she headed for the kitchen. “I have some diet sodas in the ‘fridge,” she said, hoping to distract him from her flushed cheeks. “Or I can brew up some iced tea.” She pointed to the wine rack. “Or—” “Iced tea that isn’t from a jar?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m a fussbudget. Just ask my brothers. Instant iced tea and coffee? No way.” Smiling, Frank shook his head. “Mmmmmmmm-mmmm. Where have you been all my life, Destiny McShane?” The question nearly caused her to slam her fingers in the cupboard door. She filled a small saucepan with water, then proceeded to de-tag the tea bags. He was standing with his back to her, 40
Love talk staring out at her covered deck. God he casts an amazing silhouette, she thought, licking her lips. Next time she got him naked—if there were a next time—she’d get him to pose, just like that. Idiot, she scolded herself. For all she knew, he’d drive home tonight and never look back. Then again, he didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. Maybe she could squeeze one more fuck-fest out of him before he returned to Annapolis. “So when am I going to see this infamous shop of yours?” she asked, mostly because her throbbing crotch and hard nipples were driving her to distraction. Frank perched on a stool at the snack bar. “You pick a time,” he said, helping himself to a cookie from the tin on the counter, “I’ll be there.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Homemade, right?” Wincing, she nodded. “But they’re nearly three weeks old.” He bit into a cookie. “Turn off that stove,” he said, on his feet again. “You’re coming with me.” “Where are we going?” Frank led her to the front door. “You’ll see. Do you have a grill?” She locked the door. “You mean, as in barbecue?” Frank nodded and opened the passenger door of his four-wheeler. “Well, sure, but I’m out of—” “Charcoal. And milk.” He held out his hand. 41
Dakota Carson “Can’t enjoy a homemade chocolate chip cookie without milk.” He fired up the car. “Which way to the nearest grocery store?” Blinking, she buckled her seatbelt. “Left out of the driveway, through the stop sign, right at the first traffic light.” He blended smoothly into traffic. “We can’t have frozen TV dinners, not on our first night home from a place like Italy, for the luvva Pete. We need a couple of thick steaks. Some salad fixin’s. And a, a—” “A juicy apple pie for dessert?” she finished, smiling. Reaching across the console, he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Careful,” he said, “or I might never go home.” **** Frank stood on Destiny’s deck, poking the New York strip steaks with a long handled fork. “How do you like yours?” he hollered through the open kitchen window. “Medium rare,” she yelled back. “And I really like it when my steak is nicely charred on the outside.” “Hey. Is my name Dominick?” he called, reminding her of their waiter at Baglioni’s. “I should be so lucky,” she retorted, laughing. 42
Love talk “I’ve been craving gnocchi all day long!” “Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to make do with me and my steaks.” That is definitely not a problem, Destiny thought, grinning as she gathered the items he’d asked for. “I do things plain and simple,” he was saying when she stepped on to the deck. The screen door banged shut behind her and she put the tray on the end of the picnic table nearest the grill. “Do you want me to set the table out here?” “There’s a chill in the air,” he said, painting sauce onto the steaks. “I don’t want you to catch a cold, so maybe we’d better eat inside.” She gave him a playful jab to the ribs with her elbow. “Hey. I live here, remember. If I get cold, I can put on a coat.” “Yeah,” he teased, “well what about me?” Destiny couldn’t say she hadn’t noticed that he’d worn a short-sleeved polo shirt with his blue jeans because she’d been ogling the bulging muscles of his biceps since they boarded that plane in Milan. The sun had set and the gentle breeze that had greeted them at BWI airport had picked up. Travis’s sweater is still on the shelf in the front hall closet, she remembered. It was the one she’d knitted for his thirtieth birthday, and since he’d broken off their engagement a week 43
Dakota Carson before the big three-0, it had never been out of the box. Travis stood five feet ten inches tall, a full three inches shorter than Frank, by Destiny’s estimation. But Travis had been a vain man who’d spent hours in front of the mirror, working with free weights. His work required her to add several inches to the pattern so the sweater would fit over his exercise thickened shoulders. It was the last Travis thing in her house, in her life. Once she tossed the multicolored Happy Birthday wrapping paper and ribbon, she’d be rid of him, for good. “I have a sweater that might fit you,” she said, heading inside. He held the steak fork in one hand, the saltshaker in the other. “One of your brothers’?” She stopped just outside the screen door, shook her head. “Your dad’s?” “No.” The well-arched, dark brows rose high on his forehead as understanding dawned. “Ahh,” he said, “it belonged to an old boyfriend, didn’t it.” “Fiancé,” she said, pulling open the door. “But that ended ages ago. Seems a shame to waste a perfectly good—” “He had an excuse to come back and didn’t take advantage of it?” It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “Sorry. I 44
Love talk don’t get it.” “He left his sweater here, right,” he said, more to himself than to Destiny, “so he could have called, said he was stopping by, to pick it up, y’know? And while he was here, he could have apologized for whatever asinine thing he did to— ” She stood in the doorway, a half grin on her face. “What makes you think it was his fault?” Frank chuckled. “Gimme a break. You couldn’t do anything to rile a guy. Not on your worst day.” He paused, tilted his head slightly. “Right?” She nodded, remembering how Travis had called her naive. Innocent. A babe in the woods. Travis had political aspirations and felt he needed a sophisticated woman by his side to help coerce the big wigs into voting for him. “He’s a jerk,” Frank grated. “I don’t want to wear his sweater. Some of his stupid might rub off on me.” That inspired a smile. “The sweater isn’t really his. I mean, I made it for Travis, but he, he broke things off before I got a chance to give it to him.” “What was…what was this toad like?” Destiny grinned mischievously, because ever since the breakup, Cody had only referred to her ex-fiancé as Toady. What was there to say, except good riddance to bad rubbish? Frank put down the steak fork and crossed the 45
Dakota Carson deck in three long strides. “Whoa,” he said, taking her in his arms, “lemme get this straight. You took the time to make the guy a sweater and he…and he left you anyway?” “It was supposed to be a surprise. For his birthday. He never knew I’d—” Frank tucked an auburn curl behind her ear. “Does he have any idea how few women these days even know how to knit?” She smiled. “I’m afraid I’m not up on the latest statistics.” He assumed a pompous, all-knowing expression. “It just so happens that only twentyfour percent of females between the ages of twenty and sixty even know how to thread a needle.” She feigned surprise. “I had no idea I was in such a minority!” “All I can say is, good riddance to bad rubbish.” With that, he placed a gentle kiss on the bridge of her nose. Why stop there? It took all the willpower she could muster to refrain from rubbing her hot, wet crotch against his zipper. He’d cited the rubbish line, for the luvva Pete. How many more similarities had to surface before she admitted this guy might just be The One? “I’ll just, ah, I’ll just go and get it. That way, whenever you feel like slipping into it, it’ll be here for you.” She started to 46
Love talk pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. His knuckle gently grazed her cheek as he slowly shook his head. “Travis is a complete ass.” And with no warning whatever, he kissed her. She closed her eyes when a quiet murmur escaped his lips as he ended the delicious moment. “I’ve wanted to do that all evening,” he said softly. “Only I was afraid we’d never get any food into our bellies once I did it.” “Guess this is a test, then.” His brow crinkled with confusion. “Test?” “Of our willpower.” She stared into his big dark eyes and sensed that Frank planned to do it again. And again, if she’d let him, right her on the deck, where all her neighbors could see. She had students who lived in this development. If their parents saw… Heart pounding, Destiny broke free of his delicious embrace and headed inside. “I, um, I’d better get the plates and napkins,” she said over her shoulder. “And silverware, and wine, and…and candles so we’ll be able to see what we’re eating.” Chuckling under his breath, Frank returned to the grill. “And the sweater,” he said through the open kitchen window. “Don’t forget the sweater.”
47
Dakota Carson
Chapter Three
F
rank punched his pillow, then punched it again, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Was it because his European travels had kept him away from his own bed for three weeks? Jet lag? Or was it because he’d fallen asleep in a strange bed? He needn’t search his mind for answers, because Frank already knew what had him tossing and turning, and his restlessness had a name— Destiny McShane. She’d slipped into his head, his blood, his heart, almost from that first moment in Italy, simply by being herself. Rolling onto his back, Frank clasped both hands under his head and stared at the night-darkened ceiling. He could see her in his mind’s eye, short and sweet, more beautiful than anything Michelangelo ever created. Her eyes, big, round and long lashed, were the color of cinnamon and warmer than an Italian sunset. And her hair, soft as velvet, reminded him of the chestnuts his 48
Love talk grandmother used to roast at Christmastime. But it hadn’t been her eyes, her curls or even her curvy little figure that had first caught his attention on that train. Her wide, winning smile was what captured his notice. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, he thought, grinning to himself, but that smile is what took me straight to her heart. Or, more accurately, took her straight into his heart. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she was a hellcat in bed. Frank whistled softly. He’d never seriously entertained the idea of marriage. But the promise of having that gorgeous little spitfire for a wife, offering sexual escapades like that on a regular basis, was enough to put the idea into his head. He’d traveled a fair amount in his lifetime—to Asia, Africa and numerous other countries when his mother was on location — to Europe and South America in search of products for his company. But he’d never appreciated the jaunts as much as the time spent in Italy, because Destiny hadn’t been a part of those trips. If she had, he might have brought home memories of greater value than the collectibles he’d sell in his shop. He hadn’t yet developed the film of photos shot in Florence, Milan or Pisa, but Frank didn’t need to see pictorial evidence of his enjoyment. He had images in his mind and the pulsing in his groin for that. 49
Dakota Carson Like the time in the city of Forte dei Marmi when Destiny stood on the Tirrenic coast and looked up at the snowcapped Apennines Mountains, then turned her big-eyed gaze to the aquamarine Ligurian Sea. She’d grabbed his hand, and smiling past the tears in her eyes, said, “Oh, Frank, it’s positively breathtaking! Michelangelo must have loved it here.” Her comment hadn’t been inspired by the artist’s quest for marble, harvested here in Mount Altissiomo’s La Mossa Quarry. Instead, she seemed to have shared the craftsman’s enthusiasm for the land that had held those boulders captive until he could rescue them with pick and ax and, by way of chisel, hammer and keen artist’s eye, turn rock into realistic renditions of humans and animals. And what about that day in Florence, as they walked beneath a canopy of olive trees and cypresses, following the cobbles of Torre Del Gallo, the street that led them to the Arcetri Astrophysical Observatory. They had an eagle’s eye view of Florence from that high perch, and Destiny, elbows leaning on a gnarled stone wall, pointed out churches, castles and fortresses that housed famous paintings and statues and stained glass. “This view is a masterpiece,” she’d proclaimed breathily. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and for the first time in his life, Frank thanked God for having 50
Love talk caught something from a fellow human being! Turning onto his side, Frank glanced at the red numerals of the alarm clock on her nightstand. Twelve forty-four. In a few hours, she’d wake, hopefully in the same come-hither mood she’d greeted him with every morning of their week in Italy. The notion put an immediate smile on his face. Just as suddenly, his exuberance faded. Careful, he warned, Destiny is different from other women you’ve known. She’s good, too good for the likes of you. God may have forgiven him for the wrongs of his past, but Frank hadn’t yet absolved himself. In his mind—and in his heart— those transgressions could only be vindicated if he lived life alone, devoid of romantic involvement. And so Frank had volunteered at area hospitals, putting what he considered his mediocre artistic talents to use by painting doggies, kitties and sailing ships on the pale cheeks of terminally ill children. It was why he put in a full day every weekend, doling out dinners to the hungry, and why he worked one evening a week at a homeless shelter, sorting donations of blankets and clothing into boxes earmarked for those in need. It was honest work, but until he found a way to right the terrible wrong he’d committed… Destiny’s angelic face moved closer as she turned over and her soft breaths puffed gently against his cheek. 51
Dakota Carson Too bad you didn’t find a way to fix your miserable self before you met her, he thought, frowning. Not having a loving woman in his life never bothered him before, mainly because he believed there was a lot of truth in the age-old cliché—what you don’t know can’t hurt you—how could a man miss something he’d never known? Well, he knew now! He’d just had a weeklong blissful, sex-crazed taste of it. Holding Destiny in his arms felt good, felt right. Looking into her trusting, innocent eyes had shown him exactly what had been missing in his life—to care for another more than he cared for himself. And oh, how he cared for Destiny! Trouble was, he believed he didn’t deserve her, would probably never deserve her, and the knowledge roused an ache inside him like none Frank knew to date. Teeth clenched, he sat up abruptly and tossed the covers aside. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” he whispered, padding softly into the hall. “There has to be a way…” **** Destiny didn’t know how he’d accomplished it, but as they watched the Orioles take on the White Sox, Frank managed to convince her father, and all three overprotective big brothers, that she would 52
Love talk be completely safe with him in California. When they came out of the family room, laughing heartily, arms slung over one another’s shoulders as they bickered good-naturedly about the ump’s decision to call the second baseman out, Destiny knew that Frank had become one of them, that they’d invited him into their tight circle. Last night, as the McShane men and their wives and children gathered around her parents’ dining room table, Destiny’s father passed a twentydollar bill down to Frank. “Buy me an Angels’ cap while you’re in California,” he’d instructed, grinning mischievously. Frank sent the money back to its owner with a promise to accept payment if he managed to acquire one. Hearing this, Sean, and Liam and Cody immediately—and enthusiastically—put in orders for memorabilia of their own, and received the same promise. He’d charmed her sisters-in-law and captivated every one of Destiny’s nieces and nephews. The biggest surprise of all came when, as they were leaving, her mother kissed Frank’s cheek. “You drive safely now, y’hear?” she’d said, patting his shoulder. The whole McShane clan had gotten up early, piled into Sean’s van and followed Frank and Destiny to the airport. Since they’d never endured 53
Dakota Carson the crowded parking lot or the time-consuming metal detector process to see her off before, Destiny could only surmise they’d come to say goodbye to Frank. The concept left her grinning and shaking her head. Frank insisted that she sit near the window. “I’ve seen the view too many times to count,” he said, settling into the aisle seat. “This way, I get to stick my leg out when the food cart’s not in the way.” That had been hours ago, before the snack, before the movie, before the light meal served up by the flight attendants. Now, the crackling baritone of the pilot broke through the highpitched whine of the 747’s engines. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Turner. Please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts, as we’re about to begin our approach to Los Angeles International Airport.” Through the oval portal, beneath a pelisse of opalescent nimbus clouds, Destiny saw the multicolored patchwork of farmer’s fields, housing developments and industrial parks. Here, neighborhood pools sparkled up from the ground, there, the many hued rooftops of vehicles gleamed in dealership parking lots. Inside the plane, she saw her fellow passengers scurrying around to prepare for the landing. But she couldn’t see Frank, because soon after 54
Love talk the flight attendant picked up the last of their meal, he fell asleep…with his head resting on her shoulder. He’d been dozing for nearly an hour now, his hushed breaths puffing into the crook of her neck, soft hair pressed against her cheek, big hand resting possessively on her knee. She half expected a man of his size to snore like a chain saw. Instead, just like every night in Italy, Frank’s steady, quiet breathing had lulled her into a near sleep state, too. The grinding whir of lowering landing gear told her they’d be on the ground soon. Much as she hated to disturb Frank’s peaceful slumber, she gave his hand a gentle pat. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she whispered, “time to wake up. We’re almost there.” His thick, dark lashes fluttered, then his big brown eyes met hers. After an exaggerated yawn and a luxurious stretch, he smiled. “How long have I been out?” He looked so much like an innocent boy roused from a nap that she wanted to take him in her arms and hug him, tousle his hair and kiss his sleep-wrinkled cheek. “Not long,” she said, acknowledging how cold her left side felt, now that he sat up. Knuckling his eyes, Frank ran both hands through his hair and leaned across her to peer through the window. “Landing gear is down,” he said, nodding as he checked his watch. “We’re 55
Dakota Carson right on time.” Then, in a colder voice, he added, “Wonder if my mother will be on time.” “I’m surprised she agreed to pick us up at all,” Destiny said. “There must be a million last minute details to tie up, what with the wedding being tomorrow and all.” “She has people for that.” She ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “Still,” she persisted, “I’m sure she’s nervous.” “With all the practice she’s had, she could do it in her sleep.” “But…but I thought you said this time your mother was hoping it would last forever.” His bitter chuckle grated in her ears. “I did say something along those lines, didn’t I?” Frank wiggled his brows and gave her a grin that never quite reached his eyes. “Newsflash. She says that every time.” Destiny tucked in one corner of her mouth as the uniformed flight attendant meandered down the aisle, checking to see that every tray was up, every seatbelt fastened, every overhead bin secured. “The way you talk, a person could get the idea you’re not terribly fond of your mother.” He heaved a deep sigh, and shoulders slumped, Frank said, “Sorry. Guess you didn’t know I’m a grouch when I wake up, did you?” “You never woke up grumpy in Italy, or the flight from Milan to New York,” she pointed out. 56
Love talk “Or the plane trip from Kennedy to Baltimore.” He shrugged, as if to say there was no rational explanation for his grumpy mood. Maybe it was because he didn’t like LAX, or Los Angeles in general, or weddings. Or maybe, she told herself, he doesn’t like the idea that his mother is getting married for the fourth time! “Frank, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Head back and eyes closed, he wrapped his big hand around her small one. “Shoot.” “Were you raised in, um, did you feel this way about your mother when you were a little boy?” He opened his eyes and turned slightly in the seat to face her. “What?” She glanced at the plane’s ceiling, then met his gaze again. “You know, were things better when you two were with your dad?” Chuckling, he shook his head. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but…are you nuts?” He pointed out the small window beside her. “Take a gander out there, pretty lady, tell me what you see.” Destiny blinked, then frowned slightly. “What does the view have to do with—” “Everything,” he interrupted. “It has everything to do with whether or not there was a dad in my life. If I had a doting mother. What you see out there, it’s a sham, a facade, as fake as those storefronts in B-grade westerns. What you see is 57
Dakota Carson exactly what you don’t get in Hollywood.” He tucked in his chin and did a perfect W. C. Fields imitation. “Actually, m’dear, I’d rather be in Philadelphia.” “Do you realize how bitter you sound, Frank?” He looked into her eyes for a long, silent moment before his expression softened. “Sorry,” he said quietly, “it’s like I said, sometimes I wake up grouchy.” “When did you first develop this horrible resentment toward your mom?” Another grating chuckle escaped his lungs. “Gee, I kinda think I was born with it. But I hafta admit, I’m impressed that you noticed. What gave it away?” “Boy,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, “when you get into a snit, you don’t fool around, do you?” “Hey, I try.” Destiny harrumphed. “You know what Yoda said.” “What.” “‘Do or do not. There is no try.” “Yeah.” He looked away, and for the first time, he looked angry. “Your problem isn’t that you wake up grumpy. You’re frustrated, that’s what, because you know what parents are supposed to provide and you didn’t get any of that.” 58
Love talk He scribbled an invisible note in the air. “One more thing for the Reasons to Like Destiny List…she’s psychic.” “Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” He heaved a huge sigh. “Sorry. I get a little crazy every time I go to one of my mother’s weddings.” “It isn’t your fault, you know.” “What.” “I’ve read a lot of stories about your famous movie star mother. No matter what you might have done—or not done—she wouldn’t have behaved any differently.” She uncrossed her arms and sandwiched his hands between her own. “But it’s never too late.” “Destiny,” he said slowly, “don’t take this the wrong way, but…butt out, will ya?” She blinked in surprise, then lifted her chin, stubbornly determined not to let him rattle her. “Maybe this time things will be different for her. You know the old saying…you can lead a horse to water.” He grinned. “Don’t let my mother hear you calling her a horse. You’ll spend the next half hour hearing how she works out an hour a day and eats like a bird.” “Birds, for your information, eat as much as five times their own weight every day.” Her smiled softened when she added, “Just keep being 59
Dakota Carson a good son, Frank. Let nature take its course.” He looked away, shaking his head. Yet again, he reminded her of that little lost boy in the airport. She didn’t know what inspired it, but Destiny felt an urge to hug him, and so she did. “You aren’t responsible for what other people do, Frank. You’re only responsible for how you react to what they do.” She kissed his cheek. “All you have to do is keep on loving her with all your heart. She’ll come around. You’ll see.” He kissed the top of her head. “And if she doesn’t?” “I have a confession to make,” she said, grinning mischievously. Frank returned the grin. “I feel you oughta know, I left my white collar on my other suit.” She looked around conspiratorially. “I’m starving.” “After that belly filling meal they just fed us?” he teased. “You’re kidding.” Smacking her lips, she said, “I want a hot dog. One of those extra large jobs, with onions and relish and catsup and mustard.” Frank laughed. “Destiny McShane, you are one of a kind.” “Nonsense. Thousands and thousands of people like hot dogs.” “Yeah,” he said, his grin becoming a smile, “but they aren’t about to meet Martha Brady for the 60
Love talk first time…with onions on their breath.” She shrugged. “I have breath mints in my purse.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Really?” She nodded. Frank clapped his hands together, rubbed them briskly. “Well then, that’s a horse of a different color. ‘Cause it just so happens there’s a place on the way to Mom’s house that sells hot dogs so big and so greasy, you’ll need a bib!”
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Dakota Carson
Chapter Four
T
hroughout Europe, Destiny had visited castles and mansions, museums and art galleries— most that had once been home to kings and queens but Martha Brady’s estate put them all to shame. Smack dab in the middle of the Hollywood Hills, the property was surrounded on all sides by elaborate wrought iron fencing, partially hidden behind thickly twined rose hedges. Frank steered his rental car up a magnoliashaded drive that snaked from the road to the house like a concrete river. The moment he parked in the circular drive, a tuxedoed gent greeted them with a curt nod of his head, a polite smile and relieved Frank of the car keys. While the butler carried their suitcases into the house, Destiny faced the fountain, transfixed by bubbling water that trickled from a chubby cherub’s slender urn and fed fat goldfish in the pond. The scent of roses hung in the air, blending 62
Love talk nicely with the gentle sound of cascading water. She’d never seen a house like it, at least, not one where people actually lived. It was grand enough, she reckoned, to be highlighted on that old TV show that featured the homes of the rich and famous. Black shuttered, many paned windows offset the wide double doors on the first floor. A dozen tiers of blood-red brick steps led from the drive to the massive portico. Tall columns supported either side of the porch roof, which was crowned by a second, equally grand balcony that had been enclosed by a white picket rail. Four imposing chimneys were silhouetted against the blue, sun bright sky and two gigantic, budding oaks flanked the porch. A sea of roses of every hue lined the long flagstone walk. Destiny could only imagine how much more majestic things would be inside. Frank slipped an arm around her waist. “Impressed?” She took a deep breath. “It’s hard not to be.” But looking into his handsome face, she saw that he was anything but impressed. “But that’s the point, isn’t it?” Grinning, he gave her a sideways hug. “I knew you were the right choice.” “The right choice?” “I didn’t want to bring someone here who’d get all dewy-eyed and star-struck by the place, or the 63
Dakota Carson people. Something told me I wouldn’t have to worry that you’d leave here wishing you were one of them, because you’ve got both feet planted firmly on the ground.” Winking, he smacked his lips. “Yup. You’re quite a woman, Destiny McShane.” She was about to deny it when an all-toorecognizable voice floated to them from the front door. “Frankeeeeee!” The sound of it seemed to cause a physical chain reaction in Frank—back stiff and shoulders squared, his jaw tensed and his lips grew taut as he squinted both eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Surprisingly, though, in the next instant, he was all smiles as he strode toward his mother with arms outstretched. “Hi, Mom,” he said, gathering her close. “Good to see you.” She was everything Destiny had expected, and a whole lot more. Tall and lithe, her bleach blonde hair poured down her back like a golden waterfall. Destiny winced slightly, afraid that Martha’s long, red painted fingertips might gouge out Frank’s eyes as she wiped the imprint of a crimson lipsticked kiss from his cheek. “It’s good to see you, too,” she cooed. Facing Destiny, she tilted her head coquettishly. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your little friend?” Destiny knew Frank well enough to recognize a 64
Love talk strained smile on his face when she saw it. If his mother had been facing him, would she have known how uncomfortable he was in her presence? Destiny rather doubted it. The woman had spent decades in the spotlight—putting someone else’s needs first—noticing that someone else had needs—would be out of character for her. She wanted to throw her arms around him. Promise him things would be all right, eventually. But this was neither the time nor the place to offer him the comfort of a friendly hug. Smiling, she stepped forward and extended a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Brady.” Martha rolled her heavily mascara’d eyes and waved a well lotioned hand in Destiny’s direction. “Goodness, dear, please call me Martha,” she gushed. And as the star sandwiched Destiny’s hand between her own, she explained, “You make me feel like a dotty old woman, calling me Miss Brady that way!” Turning to her son, Martha added, “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” But before they could answer, she pointed a scarlet talon toward the sky. “I’ll just bet I know what you want,” she singsonged to Destiny. “You want a tour of my house, don’t you, dear?” Again, without waiting for a response, she faced Frank. “She’s simply adorable, darling. Wherever did you find her?” “As a matter of fact,” he said, the tense smile 65
Dakota Carson frozen in place, “it just so happens she found me, on a train in Italy.” Martha’s blue shadowed eyes narrowed. “Y…you found…where?” “She rescued me from the conductor, who would probably have kicked me off the train if Destiny hadn’t—” “Destiny? Your name is Destiny? Oh, what a sweet, sweet name! Destiny what? Smith? Green?” “McShane,” she said. Frank’s tension was contagious and tugged at the corners of her smile. Martha gasped, her bright blue eyes widening with admiration. “Not the Miami McShanes.” Grinning, she shook her head. “No.” “The Palm Beach McShanes, then?” “The Baltimore McShanes,” she said, shooting a playful grin in Frank’s direction. “And I’m afraid the only thing we’re famous for is multiplication.” “Ahhh,” Martha said, nodding. “The computer moguls.” Destiny bit back a laugh. “More like baby moguls.” A furrow creased Martha’s carefully made-up brow. “Babies? I’m afraid I don’t understand.” “I have three brothers, you see, and between them they have fourteen children.” Martha’s well plucked left brow rose slowly on her forehead. “Ahhh,” she repeated. And then, linking arms with Destiny and Frank, she led them 66
Love talk toward the house. “Well, now, how would you like that tour? I have half an hour to kill before my personal trainer arrives.” She chattered all the way to the porch, up the brick steps and into the foyer as, over her head, Frank mouthed I’m sorry. She shot him a look that said no problem, then sent a silent petition heavenward—please, God, she prayed, let me be what Frank needs me to be while we’re here, because something told Destiny she’d only seen the tip of the Martha Brady iceberg. **** The last time Destiny had seen this many stars, she’d been watching the Academy Awards on TV. Sitting alone in the front pew, she tried her best not to stare at aging stars of the silver screen and Hollywood’s newest faces. A quick glance at her watch told her that if Martha made her entrance on time, Frank would be seated on the aisle beside her in five minutes. Why did she get the feeling the seat would still be vacant in thirty minutes? Never one to waste time, Destiny looked around the church. Its silver faced altar and golden relics reminded her of the Duomo, located in Florence’s religious hub. The ceiling, a gold 67
Dakota Carson leafed polygoned dome, featured replicas of The Last Supper, The Madonna and Child, The Crucifixion, The Creation. Each wooden bench had been hand carved by a skilled carpenter, and the proof was the elaborate scrollwork that decorated each. Lime-white walls framed in gray stone had been adorned with stucco medallions and terra cotta figures. A dozen alcoves, each featuring its own pews, mini altar and muted frescos, had been cut into the perimeter. And underfoot lay a floor of gleaming marble. She took yet another peek at her watch. Any time now, Lord, she said to the dome, any time. As if in answer to the halfhearted prayer, music began overhead. No simple organ soloist for this wedding! Martha had booked a dozen musicians from the L.A. Symphony, who had been sequestered in the balcony, awaiting their cue to begin playing. They started with Marchionda’s The Greatest Gift and slid gracefully into Damian Lundy’s Love. Soon, Wherever You Go was echoing throughout the cavernous cathedral. The groom, outfitted in a white tux, stepped into place at the altar beside his best man. Destiny recognized both men immediately, for they’d costarred in a recent action-adventure flick set in the jungles of South America. Martha’s husband-to-be stood stiff-backed and grimfaced, posing—or so it 68
Love talk seemed—for the photographers positioned around the church. Every few seconds, he drove a sinewy hand through his honey blond hair, ran a finger under the starched collar of his front-pleated shirt and focused dark lashed blue eyes on one cameraman after another. Destiny turned slightly in her seat and immediately made eye contact with Frank. He stood arm in arm in the narthex with his famous mother, whose formfitting gown hugged her like a second skin, from its high lace trimmed neckline to the train that skimmed the floor like a stream of off-white silk. She’d drawn her platinum hair into a French braid and secured it with Baby’s Breath, and in her hands, she held one peachy pink rose. The muffled oohs and ahhs of appreciation for her beauty were punctuated by a new flurry of clicking camera shutters. But Destiny only had eyes for the young man beside the bride who, in his white tuxedo, looked positively princely, more handsome, even, than the groom himself! The moment the orchestra began playing The Wedding March, Frank slowly led his mother down the aisle, his gleaming black shoes in sharp contrast to the white sheeted floor and Martha’s pale shimmering wedding dress. His dark eyes seemed fused to Destiny’s. The closer he got to the altar, the more intensely they glowed. 69
Dakota Carson Finally, he stood beside her. He looked away briefly and gave his mother a light peck on the cheek. Ever so gently, he laid her delicately gloved hand onto the palm of her intended, took a step back, then joined Destiny in the pew. All eyes were on the bride and groom when he leaned over and whispered, “Thank God that’s over.” There was no mistaking the tremor in his voice—Frank was neither relieved nor glad about this wedding. But he was a grown man, powerless to stop his mother from taking what he believed to be another marital misstep. Later, Destiny would invite him to pray with her, for Martha and her new husband, for their salvation, for their future happiness. For now, she believed Frank needed nothing more than to know, that as his friend, she understood his concerns. To prove it, she sent him a loving smile, wrapped her hand around his and gave a tiny squeeze. “You’re a Godsend,” he said into her ear. “I honestly don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.” What had inspired it, Destiny couldn’t say, but she didn’t fight the urge to rest her head on his shoulder. The gesture, she hoped, would convey what words could not—I’m here, and I care. In the next moments, between strains of cello and violin, between the trill of flute and the 70
Love talk trumpet of French horn, Frank and Destiny stood hand in hand, listening in somber silence as Martha Brady spoke the words that made her Mrs. Marcus McCarty. The orchestra played Now Joined by God as the recessional song, Destiny wondered who had chosen the music and why, because every melody seemed as spirit filled and holy as the marriage vows themselves. Martha reached out as she headed for the back of the church, her fragile hand grazing Frank’s cheek as she passed. No one seemed to notice when he blinked a tear from his eye. But Destiny noticed. And her heart ached for him. **** Frank had his own way of judging a party—if tuxedoed caterers served finger sandwiches and the liquid refreshments were called beverages,, the occasion was too fancy for his tastes. Like every one of Martha’s galas, her wedding reception would go down in the books as an affair to remember. If only he could forget what was expected of him. He hated glad-handing big-name celebrities and cow towing to feed their never-ending vanity. 71
Dakota Carson He didn’t like going from table to table, grinning like the Cheshire cat, pretending to be interested as one egocentric scriptwriter after another recited lines from their latest screenplays. He found it especially annoying when young, would-be starlets threw themselves at him, hoping that by aligning themselves with the son of The Queen of Hollywood, they might garner a part in one of Martha’s upcoming movies. If his mother had even the slightest idea how distasteful all of this was for him, she wouldn’t repeatedly ask why he’d moved east and settled in Annapolis. At the moment, Frank was trying to figure out how to break free from the latest empty-headed beauty. A heartbeat after introducing herself as Buffy Belle, the young woman in the black sequined mini-dress slid an arm around Frank’s waist and rested her head on his shoulder. If not for loyalty and devotion to his mother, he would have found a way to evade her. “Franky,” she’d said earlier, “our little Miss Buffy has been draping herself all over my Marcus like a wet blanket.” She’d kissed his cheek. “Be a dear and keep the lovely leech occupado?” He’d opened his mouth to say, But Mom, Destiny doesn’t know a soul when she patted his shoulder and said, “That’s my baby boy!” and disappeared. 72
Love talk He was paying the price for that loyalty now, every time Buffy combed her fingers through his hair and laugh loudly, tossing her honey blonde mane as she batted glued-on eyelashes. He could only hope that later, when he and Destiny could be alone, he’d be able to make up for all the time she’d been forced to spend without him. “Oh, Franky,” Buffy was cooing now, bright red lips a millimeter from his ear, “I just don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t agreed to keep me company. I hardly know anyone here!” But he knew better. If she weren’t somehow affiliated with one or more of the guests, Buffy wouldn’t have been invited at all. Frank had met her type before—too many times to count—and believed he could predict what she’d do if he were to point out that he hadn’t agreed to keep her company. First, her lower lip would jut out and her green eyes would fill with tears. The minute Buffy’s huffing and puffing captured the attention of those within earshot, she’d blurt out how unkind and unfair he was to hurt and humiliate her that way and go running from the room. And he’d be lucky if she didn’t slap him a good one first! Hiding a scowl as he pictured the scene, Frank told himself the scene would be good acting practice for Buffy. On the other hand, Martha 73
Dakota Carson would never forgive him if he allowed the girl to upstage her. It was his mother’s big day, after all. Frank took a deep breath and assumed a grin and bear it attitude, and prayed somebody would see fit to rescue him—soon—from the clutches of this latest Hollywood hopeful. A petty girl is like a malady, he mused, grinning as Buffy told him about every part she’d tried out for since moving to California or when she described the way she’d hitchhiked from Gary, Indiana to L.A. when a customer in the diner where she’d waitressed insisted she oughta be in movies. If you had a dollar for every time you heard a story like that, he thought, wincing inwardly, you’d have a pocket full of bills! He looked at Buffy, really looked at her. He doubted she was old enough to vote, and yet this naive and starryeyed kid from the Midwest wanted nothing more than to be in the movies. She might have been a cheerleader in high school, or First Chair in the orchestra. He wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn she still had a collection of stuffed animals on her bed. His heart went out to her though, because her chances of becoming a hit were slim to none. Like so many who’d come west before her, leaving good families and nice homes behind in the hopes of someday seeing their names up in lights, she’d 74
Love talk go home with a broken heart and a shattered spirit, if she went home at all. And they call it this City of Angels, he thought dismally as Buffy rambled on because in his opinion, there was nothing angelic about a place that more often than not, turned dreams into nightmares. He needed fresh air, and an arm’s length distance between him and the next wannabe who thought he had the power to help them become stars. Once upon a time, Frank had abused that power too many times to count, a fact that would have him feeling guilty and repentant, probably for the rest of his life. This was only one of the reasons he felt undeserving of a woman like Destiny. And speaking of Destiny, Frank hadn’t seen her in awhile. He hoped she hadn’t gotten herself cornered by some droning has-been, the way he’d allowed himself to be trapped into spending the past half hour with a wishful wannabe. He scanned the crowd of well recognizable faces, hoping for a glimpse, at least, of her. The moment he spotted her, his heart thumped wildly and he smiled involuntarily. She looked so pretty, far more beautiful, in his estimation, than the women all around her who’d shrouded themselves in spangles and satin. Her tailored dinner suit quietly bespoke class and elegance—its 75
Dakota Carson sea green material setting off her ivory skin and auburn hair, and making her golden brown eyes look bigger and browner—if that was possible, he thought. Backlit by the city lights, she stood on the balcony, chatting with some of Hollywood’s heaviest hitters, most of whom had been earning an L.A. living for years. In the days before Martha’s wedding, the ladies in the group— knowing Martha’s wedding would provide numerous opportunities for publicity—had no doubt scoured the boutiques along Rodeo Drive in search of their gowns, had spent hours—and hundreds of dollars—in their hairdressers’ shops. And long before today, they’d invested small fortunes in acting classes and voice lessons to learn how to smile, how to speak, how to pose. Destiny’s education had not included such instructions. But look at her, Frank thought, smiling, just look at her! There she stood, laughing and talking with the Beautiful People, seemingly unaffected by their wealth and fame. In her simple suit and tasteful haircut, with her genuine smile and her honest eyes, she stood out like a beacon in the night. She’s one of a kind, he told himself as Buffy prattled on. At first, he felt sorry for the girl, but pity was no reason to be with a person, and he began looking for a way to shed this clinging vine. 76
Love talk Frank wanted to be over there on the balcony, looking out at the city with Destiny, not standing here in his mother’s parlor with this vapid, star focused girl. Even an alphabetical recitation of the spices in Destiny’s cupboard would be more intriguing than anything poor Buffy could possible think up! Suddenly, his jaw tensed and his heart began to beat double-time when he saw Prentice Brogan put a hand on Destiny’s shoulder. That old codger had better keep his mitts to himself, Frank fumed. He watched as the aging British actor leaned in close and said something into Destiny’s ear, something that made her throw back her head and laugh. The music of it apparently affected Brogan exactly as it affected Frank, because the man moved in closer and slid an arm across her shoulders. Brogan had spent decades earning his reputation as a ladies’ man—surely, Destiny had read about his romantic escapades in the supermarket tabloids. Any minute now, she’d give him the old heave-ho, Frank was sure of it. Soon, she’d shove his beefy arm off her shoulder and tell him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t his type. “Franky,” Buffy said. He barely heard her. And so Buffy stood on tiptoe and grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Franky,” she 77
Dakota Carson repeated, “would you mind getting me a refill?” She held her glass aloft and gave it a little shake so that the ice cubes tinkled against the crystal. “Sorry, Buffy,” he said, trying to see around her mass of blonde curls. Frank pointed toward the balcony. “There’s someone over there I want to—” Her eyes narrowed as she followed his gaze. “Who? A woman? Where is she?” Buffy hissed. When at last he managed to peer around her, Frank searched the balcony. He felt as though someone had sucker punched him, right in the gut, because Destiny was gone, and so was Prentice Brogan.
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estiny couldn’t remember feeling more hurt and disappointed, not even when Travis called off the engagement. Maybe the family is right, maybe you’re too naive to be allowed out in public without a chaperon. Her parents and her brothers had warned her about Travis, and they’d been right. The lesson it taught her was to let them stamp Final Approval on anyone she was interested in. But Frank had fooled them, too! She made certain assumptions about Frank Brady, and obviously, you were dead wrong on every count. She made the mistake of believing all the things he’d told her, like the fact that he’d moved east because he detested the jet set Hollywood lifestyle, that he hated big, fancy parties, that he didn’t like the way girls clung to him at every function, for no reason other than that he might provide them with an introduction to Martha, her agent, someone in Tinsel Town who could put them in the movies. 79
Dakota Carson You missed your calling, Frank Brady, Destiny had thought as she watched him from across the room. There he’d stood, grinning and nodding, looking intrigued by every word that came out of that pretty blonde’s mouth. He sure didn’t look like he hated the Hollywood hype! When he’d made one of his half dozen apologies for leaving her alone, Destiny had laughed it off. “Nonsense!” she’d told him, “it’s your job to be a good host, to visit with your mother’s guests.” He asked her to walk along with him as he saw to everyone’s needs, but she insisted it would reflect better on Martha if he attended to his duties without a tagalong stuck on his arm. “I’ll be just fine,” she assured, “and I’ll be waiting right here when you’re finished.” The look he’d given her had said, Thanks, you’re a doll! It had sent a warm flutter through her, until she saw him give that look to every one of the beautiful women she saw him with after that. And there must have been dozens of them. Was he aware, she wondered, that he sported three lipstick prints on one cheek and two on the other? If so, the only assumption she could have come to—when he didn’t wipe them off—was that the imprints were proof to every woman in attendance of his magnetic prowess. He’s a natural at this mingling stuff, she thought, peeking through the lacy curtains beside 80
Love talk the front door. Frustrated that the taxi hadn’t arrived yet, she let them fall back into place and returned to her seat on the overstuffed sofa against the opposite wall. If he loves it so much, why did he leave it behind in the first place! If he’d been honest with her about that, she wouldn’t have come to L.A. with him. If only he’d told the truth, she wouldn’t be sitting here now, sniffling and red eyed in Martha Brady’s elegantly furnished foyer, waiting for a ride to the airport. You little ninny, she scolded herself. He’s the son of The Queen of Hollywood—surely, he inherited some of her acting abilities and you’re not even savvy enough to recognize a well-rehearsed line when you hear it! Pride, more than anything else, had dictated her behavior for that last hour. If he looked her way, she didn’t want him to see her standing alone in some corner, pouting because she didn’t fit in with his family and friends. It had been a last-ditch effort to preserve some semblance of dignity, at least, to mingle, to laugh and talk, so that when he saw her he wouldn’t feel embarrassed about bringing a country bumpkin to the party. They were wrong for one another. She had known that the moment the big haired blonde attached herself to Frank’s side…and he’d done nothing to prevent it. Destiny had never been the 81
Dakota Carson jealous type, but she didn’t believe she’d ever develop a hide thick enough to deflect overt advances like that pushy blonde’s! She decided to go out with a bang, leave Frank wondering if maybe he misjudged her. And so she made the rounds, laughing at jokes she didn’t get, nodding at stories that would have put her nieces and nephews to sleep, pretending to be engrossed in how I made it in show biz recountings. After about thirty minutes of faking and fawning, she faced the cold hard fact—it was over between her and Frank before it actually began. She doubted any woman in the room had enough acting talent to pretend that didn’t matter. It’s a good thing you went into teaching, she thought now, blowing her nose, because you’d starve to death if you had to depend on your dramatic abilities for a paycheck! “What’s this?” asked a deep, English accented voice. “What’s wrong, cookie?” Destiny smiled shakily. “Just waiting for a cab.” “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.” He gave a cursory glance at her suitcases, standing beside the door. Prentice Brogan sat beside her on the brocade-upholstered sofa, slid one arm around her shoulders and patted her forearm with his free hand. “Tell Uncle Prentice all about it.” She shrugged and stared at the ivory satin 82
Love talk purse in her lap. “There’s nothing to tell, really.” “Nonsense. A beautiful young woman doesn’t get all teary-eyed over nothing. It’s that cad Frank Brady, isn’t it?” Prentice’s gray eyes narrowed with anger. “If he were my son, I would have tanned his hide years ago. Who does he think he is, trifling with the affection of young girls?” Destiny looked into his handsome face and grinned slightly. “How long have you been in L.A.?” “Left jolly old England when I was in my twenties, why?” “Then you’ve been here long enough to have heard the old saying look at the pot calling the kettle black” Prentice chuckled. “Indeed, and I must say, touché.” Another chuckle. “But it was different with me.” She stood, looked out the window again and, with a disappointed sigh, sat beside Prentice once more. “Different? How so?” “Everyone knew I was a rake. It was expected, don’t you know, for me to, shall we say sweep the ladies off their feet.” He wiggled his dark, wellarched brows mischievously. His look darkened when he added, “Frank’s another matter entirely. It’s downright offensive, I say, because he’s nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Let me hazard a guess. You never saw it coming, did 83
Dakota Carson you?” Fighting tears, Destiny shook her head. “I feel like such a little fool. We only just met a few weeks ago, yet I fell like a ton of bricks.” Prentice grabbed Destiny’s hand and led her to the front door. “Chin up, cookie,” he said, yanking it open, “because your old Uncle Prentice is going to see that you get back to your hotel safely. You’re at the Hilton, down on Wilshire, am I right?” “Actually,” she said, nodding toward the wide, curving staircase, “mine is, was, the third door on the left.” She nodded at the front door. The cab—if it ever gets here—will take me to the airport.” He picked up the suitcases. “It’ll give him a boatload of satisfaction, you know, knowing he has the power to break even your heart.” Even my heart, she repeated, confused. Well, if it made Frank happy to know he had the lines down so pat that he could use them to hurt her, he’d sleep with a satisfied smirk on his face tonight for sure! “Are you absolutely sure you want to leave?” She thought about it during her last hour at the reception as she watched Frank flit from female to female like a hungry mosquito. Thought about it some more as she blubbered like a schoolgirl in the lavish bathroom attached to her private suite. Thought about it still more as she tearfully packed 84
Love talk her things. “I’m sure,” she said softly. “It’s all settled then. My car is right out front.” He jangled the keys at a teenage boy in a red uniform. “It’s the silver Porsche convertible, parked over there under the trees,” he instructed. When the valet returned with the sports car, Prentice tossed her suitcase into the tiny trunk and held out a crisp twenty-dollar bill. “There’s a taxi on the way,” he said, tucking the money into the boy’s hand. “When it arrives, tell the driver the lady is terribly sorry, but she’s changed her mind.” The kid smirked, as if he and Prentice had just shared a dark secret. “Now, now, I’ll have none of that, young man,” he scolded as he helped Destiny into the passenger seat. “My friend is a lady, through and through, a rare commodity around here. I suggest you take a good long look at her,” he said, sliding behind the steering wheel, “so you’ll be able to recognize one, if you ever see a lady again in this town.” He quirked a brow and grinned, started up the car and drove off. “That was a very nice thing to say,” Destiny told him. “Thank you.” “Goodness gracious,” he huffed, “you’ve just proven my point, don’t you see? There’s no need to thank a man for telling the truth.” For the next few minutes, they rode in 85
Dakota Carson companionable silence. “You know,” Prentice said, cracking the quiet, “I’ve never held Frank Brady in particularly high regard, but I’ve never felt any ill will toward him, until tonight.” She focused on the famous profile of Prentice Brogan and couldn’t help smiling a bit. “What’s this?” he teased. “A smile? Go on then, tell Uncle Prentice what’s got you tickled.” “My mother is one of your biggest fans. If she could see me now, sitting here in your silver Porsche convertible, being escorted to the airport, she’d faint dead away.” He sighed heavily. “You feet-on-the-ground types do have a way of keeping a man’s ego in check.” And chuckling, he added, “But then, I guess it’s true, I do appeal to the middle aged set far more these days than to the youngsters.” She gasped. “Oh, Prentice, I didn’t mean it that way,” Destiny admitted. “I only meant—” He patted her hand. “Never mind, cookie. Now tell me, if we can get you booked on a flight out of town tonight, where will you be heading?” “Baltimore.” She slumped low in the seat and bit her lip to stanch the flow of tears that burned behind her eyelids. “He’ll follow you, you know,” Prentice said after awhile. “Of course he will. He only lives a few miles 86
Love talk away. That doesn’t mean we’ll see one another.” “He’d follow you even if he still lived in Martha’s mansion. I know I would, if I could fill his small man shoes.” They rode in silence again until they turned onto the airport road. “No need for you to fight all the traffic, just drop me off at the terminal,” Destiny said, “and I’ll—” “Out of the question,” he interrupted, parking the car. “I intend to personally escort you to the ticket counter, and I’ll not leave your side until your plane is Baltimore bound.” He held up a hand to forestall her objection. “And I won’t hear another word about it.” They were standing at the ticket counter, side by side when the ruckus began. Prentice had volunteered to hold her ticket so that Destiny could tuck her credit card into her wallet. Just as she snapped her purse shut, they were suddenly blinded by a flurry of flashing lights. “Prentice,” a photographer shouted, “what’s your girlfriend’s name?” “Girlfriend!” he spouted. “Are you daft, man? She’s young enough to be my daughter.” “So were your last two,” hollered the reporter who stood beside the cameraman. He stuck a microphone under Prentice’s nose. “So tell me, where are you two lovebirds headed?” Prentice picked up her carryon bag in one hand, 87
Dakota Carson grasped Destiny’s elbow with the other. “Ignore them, cookie,” he said, leading her through the airport. In a voice loud enough for them to hear, he added, “They’re like rabid bears. The only way you’re safe from them is to lie down and play dead.” Beyond the safety of the metal detectors now, Destiny and Prentice sat side by side in a row of black vinyl chairs at the gate, facing the wide windows overlooking the tarmac, chatting quietly like old friends. If the people sitting around them recognized the famous movie star, they showed no sign of it. “Flight two-forty-two is now ready for boarding passengers,” spoke a gravelly voice from the overhead speakers. Destiny stood, grabbed her purse and carryon. “Thank you so much, Prentice,” she said, smiling gratefully. “You probably hear this all the time, but, you’re a very sweet man.” He shrugged and blushed slightly. “Actually, I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard that, and have fingers left over.” A merry chuckle punctuated his admission. “But really, it’s only because I’m British, you know. Helping ladies in distress is in the blood,” he said, winking as he tweaked her cheek. His grin faded when he added, “Promise me something?” “If I can.” 88
Love talk He withdrew his wallet and pulled out a business card, then scribbled a telephone number on the back of it. “Haven’t the foggiest notion who this bloke is,” he said, handing the card to her. “But that’s my private line on the back. If you ever need me, for anything, I want you to promise you’ll call. All right?” She stared at the neat row of digits, then met his steady gaze. “Now put that in a safe place. You mustn’t lose it.” Why me? she wondered. “Because you’ve had a strange and amazing effect on me, Destiny McShane,” Prentice said as if he’d heard her silent question. “And I’m not the only one, you know. I couldn’t help but notice you tonight. You’re different, and while I couldn’t say how, exactly, I think it’s that difference that draws people to you.” He kissed her cheek. “I don’t know what it is, but I feel as if we’ve been fast friends all our lives.” He laughed. “Here’s one for the books. I feel protective and brotherly, and have absolutely no romantic feelings toward you!” “Gee,” Destiny said, “you English chaps sure know how to flatter a girl.” “You should be flattered, cookie. I’ve never had a female friend before, not once in all my fifty-five years.” He leaned close to whisper, “And if you tell anyone my true age, I’ll have to cut out your 89
Dakota Carson tongue.” Feigning fear, she zipped her lip and imitated his English accent. “Mum’s the word, hip-hip, tally-ho, cheerio and all that rot.” Smiling, Prentice drew her into a warm and affectionate hug. “When you get home, I don’t want you to give that cad Brady another thought, do you hear?” She nodded. “Take care, Prentice.” “You take care, Destiny,” he said. She entered the tube that connected the airport to the jetliner. And settling into her window seat, she smiled, despite the events of the evening, because Destiny knew that tonight, she’d made a real friend. **** He’d searched the house for half an hour before deciding to check her room. A small sheet of notepaper, folded in half and leaning against the brass lamp on the night table, caught his attention. Immediately, he recognized Destiny’s handwriting on the front. Mrs. Marcus McCarty it said. He opened it and read: Dear Martha, I’m sorry to have left in such a rush, but I’ve had something of a personal emergency and must return to Baltimore immediately. It was a genuine pleasure meeting you, and I thank you so much for your 90
Love talk hospitality. I hope you and Marcus will enjoy many happy years together. All my best, Destiny McShane. Last time he saw Destiny, she’d been standing on the balcony, giggling at whatever that ladies’ man, Prentice Brogan, was whispering into her ear. Had her personal emergency had something to do with him? Frank read the P.S. You were by far the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. If ever have a wedding day, I pray I’ll look half as lovely! Oh, she’d have a wedding day, all right. And nothing could have shocked Frank more than his next thought: If she’ll have you, that is. He glanced at his watch. If she’d been able to book a redeye flight, she’d probably be snug in her own little bed by now. Well, he thought dismally, at least she’s protected from Prentice Brogan’s charms. Although, she hadn’t appeared to need protection. In fact, it seemed to Frank that Destiny had enjoyed hobnobbing with the rich and famous. How many people had come up to him and said “Your little girlfriend is positively adorable, Frank!” or “That sweet young thing you escorted to the wedding is so pretty!” and “Wherever did you find her Frank? She fits in like a native Californian!” She fit in, all right, fit in like she’d been born to 91
Dakota Carson the life! And he needed to find out why, so the moment his mother and Marcus drove off to begin their three-week honeymoon, he packed his bags and headed for LAX. He and Destiny had planned to stay in L.A. for a few days after the wedding, so he could show her around Tinsel Town. Though he’d seen every tourist attraction half a dozen times, Frank believed it would all look different and new, with Destiny at his side. Without her, what was the point of staying even another hour in California? He plunked down the extra eighty bucks to cancel his original airline reservation and book a seat on the next flight to BWI. On the way to the gate, Frank stopped in an airport shop to see if they had the latest Dean Koontz novel in stock. The moment he saw it, his heart began beating like a parade drum. Unable to believe his eyes, he took the tabloid in trembling hands. Brogan’s Cookie said the bold red headline above the fiveby-seven color photo of Destiny, smiling up at the aging actor, and Prentice Brogan, one arm possessively wrapped around her slender waist, looking longingly into her face. Beneath the picture, in inch high black letters, the caption read Prentice Brogan’s Latest Conquest…He calls her Cookie…but will she crumble? Jaws clenched tightly, Frank wadded the 92
Love talk newspaper into his fist and stomped out of the store, unaware that he’d left his bag near the counter. He was too busy remembering the night they’d returned from Italy, when she’d said flat out that Prentice Brogan was not her type. Was this ache inside him punishment for all the hearts he’d broken? If so, he was sorrier than ever for having taken advantage of those wannabe starlets’ desire to become one of the Beautiful People. He wished he’d remained friends with just one of them, so he could ask how long it would hurt this way.
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nough self-pity, Frank thought. Just pick up that phone and ask her straight out what she was doing with Prentice Brogan, and while you’re at it, you can explain what you were doing with Buffy. He wrapped his hand around the receiver and lifted it to his ear, thinking he was fully prepared to dial Destiny’s number, a number he’d known by heart since the night he grilled steaks on her deck. She’d been a huge and important part of his life for four weeks now, the happiest time of his life to date. Oh, there were other times when he’d thought he was happy. Take that first month after his mother married for the second time. Creig had played Martha’s son in a movie, and she’d married him on location. Only eleven at the time, Frank felt it would have been disloyal to his father’s memory if he had immediately accepted the young man into his life. It didn’t take his good94
Love talk natured stepfather long to break down Frank’s defenses, and he began seeing Creig more as a big brother than a stepdad, and soon, he became a friend. But all that changed on the night the newlyweds celebrated their six-month anniversary, when Frank stumbled into the library and overheard their whispered conversation. “But darling,” Martha had said, “if we go to Europe, what’ll we do with Franky?” “Boarding school, or better still,” came Creig’s reply, “a military academy. It’ll make a man of him.” A week later, they’d dropped Frank off at the Brookshire Academy in southern Virginia, where he stayed—holidays and weekends and vacations—while his mother and Creig toured the world. Three months later, just when he’d begun to accept his fate and started finding things to like about the school, his teary-eyed mother dragged him back to California, saying she needed him to help her get through the divorce. He thought he’d put the bitter taste of Creig’s betrayal and his mother’s self-centeredness behind him. But seeing Destiny’s picture splashed all over the tabloids had awakened the stinging sensation, and Frank felt abandoned, rejected, resentful all over again. Frank dialed Bob Josephs’s number instead of Destiny’s. He’d never met a man as dedicated to 95
Dakota Carson the poor as Bob. He spent every spare minute of his free time heading up committees to help those less fortunate. Believing the inner peace that was evident on Bob’s face and in his voice had been put there by a generous volunteer spirit, Frank did his best to emulate the man who’d been the closest thing to a friend Frank had ever known… …until Destiny. “I need more to do,” Frank told him. “Doesn’t matter what job or which shelter, put me wherever you need me.” “No can do, Frank,” Bob said pointedly. “I can’t in all good conscience let you use these people again.” “Use them? Again?” Frank swallowed. Hard. “What’re you—” “I’ll tell you what I’m talking about. Every time you fuck up, you hide out at the homeless shelter or in the soup kitchen. Somewhere along the way, you got the cockeyed notion that by shutting yourself off from the real world, you can avoid the nearer occasion of sin. Well, I’ve got news for you, Frank. You can’t conquer your fears by hiding behind charity cases. You’ve got to face your fears head on and stand up to them.” They’d had a similar conversation when Frank first volunteered to work with Bob. The man warned him against doing right for the wrong reasons. “You’ve always called one mansion or 96
Love talk another home,” Bob pointed out. “When you’ve never gone without, not once in your life, it might be harder than you think to identify with people who never even had a home of their own.” Frank remembered thinking at the time that Bob had a lot of gall, saying a thing like that, because what did he know about Frank’s life? He’d gone without, plenty of times—not materially, of course, because how would that have made the Queen of Hollywood look—but he’d learned firsthand what neglect and betrayal and abandonment felt like. It was true that he’d lived his life in a mansion, but since it had never been a home, how far a stretch could it be to identify with those less fortunate? He’d thrown himself into his volunteer work, as much to prove something to Bob as to divert his attention from everything that was wrong in his own life. The harder he worked, the harder he wanted to work, because the feeling that something was missing refused to go away. What’s wrong with me, Frank wondered time and again, that even with all the riches I grew up with, even with all the comforts I have now, I’m still not happy! Bob had promised that if Frank got honest with himself, once and for all, he’d find satisfaction and contentment. So far, peace and contentment had eluded him. 97
Dakota Carson Had he been hiding out at the shelters? Had he been avoiding sin by evading temptation? In a word, yes. He’d all but given up the jet set lifestyle, stopped pretending he might be able to grant future celebrities their fondest wishes, sold his fancy sports car and the ritzy condo, and refused to take a handout from his famous mother. He’d learned a thing or two about art and antiques over the years—would have been hard not to, growing up as he had in a near palace. So, with a make it or break it mindset, he’d planted himself on the east coast, intent upon living a cleaner, healthier existence than he ever lived to date. Maybe Bob had a point. Maybe his discontent was rooted in the fact that while Frank had most definitely ‘fessed up about some things, he hadn’t gone the whole nine yards. He might have been able to pull it off, this whole do it your way life, indefinitely…if he hadn’t met Destiny. “Thanks, Bob,” Frank said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, as usual.” “And as usual,” his friend said, laughing, “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Suddenly, it dawned on him. A sense of rightness washed over him, and Frank sensed that Destiny hadn’t fled California like a deer with a hunter on its trail for no good reason. There was no doubt a perfectly rational explanation for that 98
Love talk front-page story in the tabloid, too. And he intended to find out what. **** The doorbell interrupted Destiny’s one-woman pity party. She grabbed a tissue from the box on her nightstand and wiped her eyes as she headed for the foyer. She took a quick peek through the peephole and saw Frank standing on her porch, hands in his pockets and facing the house across the street. Destiny stood stock-still and silent. If he thinks you’re not home, he’ll go away, she thought. She didn’t want to see him, not now, not ever again, because it would simply be a painful reminder of her foolishness. Destiny had admitted something to herself last night on the flight back to Baltimore—she’d fallen in love with Frank Brady—a hard truth because she was certain he could never return her feelings. From that very first night, she’d behaved like a wanton harlot. And what had it gained her—aside from the obvious? It’s your own fault that you’re hurting, she scolded herself. You promised never to get involved again. If you’d stuck to your guns…. As she concluded the thought, Frank turned, and rang the bell again, startling Destiny so badly 99
Dakota Carson she thumped her head against the door. Another check of the porch told her he heard it, for now his dark eyed gaze was zeroed in on the peephole. “I know you’re in there, Destiny, I can hear you breathing.” Did he realize what the very sound of his voice was doing to her? Destiny sighed heavily, then straightened her spine and lifted her chin. This would be the end of it, then, once and for all. She’d tell him, straight out, about her decision to live the rest of her life alone. She opened the door. “Frank.” “Destiny, have you been crying?” The look on his face warmed her to the soles of her feet. If only she could believe he was everything he seemed to be. “I was cleaning,” she lied. “Allergic to dust….” Their gazes met and held, connecting them one to the other like an invisible cable. Oh, how she longed to throw her arms around him, admit that even though it had only been twenty-four hours since she last saw him, she missed him more than she had ever missed anyone! Frank’s hair was slightly windblown, and it took every ounce of her self-control to keep from gently combing it back into place with her fingertips. There were dark circles beneath his big eyes, too—lack of sleep and too much rich food had taken its toll, but he was still as appealing as ever. “Come in, Frank,” she 100
Love talk said in a carefully controlled voice. “I just made a pitcher of iced tea. Would you like a glass?” “You know me,” he said, grinning as he stepped inside, “I’m a sucker for anything homemade.” Destiny closed the door and led the way into the kitchen. “I suppose you’re wondering why I left California so suddenly.” “Actually, I know why you left.” Hands still pocketed, he shrugged. “I read your note.” She raised one brow. “It was addressed to your mother,” was her scolding reply. “She says to tell you you’re a doll.” Then, “Don’t look at me like that. I only read it because I was worried about you. Last time I saw you, you were in the arms of that old coot, Prentice Brogan, don’t forget.” “I’ll have you know he’s a gentleman, through and through.” Frank pulled a folded sheet of newspaper from his shirt pocket. “Well, you can’t prove it by this.” He handed it to her. She put the pitcher down and unfolded the tabloid. Eyes wide and mouth agape, Destiny gasped. “They’ve made it look as though—” “Welcome to my world.” Another gasp. “What if my mother has seen this!” Her gaze darted to the telephone. “I’d better call her, tell her the real story.” 101
Dakota Carson Frank took her free hand and nodded at the article. “I have a feeling that if your mother had seen that, she’d have called you by now.” She bit her lower lip. “I suppose.” “Destiny,” he said, leading her to the table, “I have to talk to you.” She chose the chair nearest the sink and he pulled up a seat beside her. Elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and stared into her eyes. “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” he began, “and I want to set things right.” “May I explain this first?” she interrupted, holding up the tabloid. “No need for that. Prentice called me last night.” “He…” Frank nodded. “He read me the riot act,” he said, grinning, “told me he had a good mind to show me what a fifty year old man is capable of doing to a guy my age.” Destiny could only shake her head in amazement. You’re a lucky woman, she told herself, to have made such a good friend in such a short time. “I’d never hurt you—at least, not deliberately— I hope you know that.” He seems genuine enough, she thought. But if she really believed in his sincerity, she’d be in L.A. 102
Love talk with him now, touring the sights. “I suppose I deserve that silence,” Frank said quietly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront with you all along.” She got up, filled their glasses with tea and returned to the table. “And I’m sorry I ran off like a spoiled little girl.” “I’m sorry my behavior made me look like— how did Prentice put it—a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” They went back and forth that way for a few minutes, Destiny explaining her fears of making faulty decisions because of her naiveté, Frank admitting how he’d been hiding behind doing good works. Destiny was about to admit how exhausted she was, how much she longed for a hot shower and a long night’s sleep when he scooped her up and kissed her. “I’m taking you upstairs,” he said, heading into the hallway. Instinct made her wrap her arms around his neck and, nodding, she rested her head on his shoulder. Maybe she was crazy, but dammit, she loved this man. Loved making love to him. So he was a playboy. At least he’d made it clear he intended to scribble her into his little black book. She’d vowed never again to make a long-term commitment, so the way she saw it, this would be a win-win arrangement for them both. But if she 103
Dakota Carson really felt that way, why were tears stinging her eyes? In her room, Frank gently deposited her onto the neatly made bed. “I hope you don’t mind,” he whispered, “but we’re about to make a mess in here.” For the first time since they’d met, Destiny couldn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t very well take the chance he’d find out how she felt—love didn’t seem to be something Frank had any interest in. If she wanted him in her life—and she did—she’d just have to make sure the sex stayed as hot and spicy as it had during their week in Italy. “Did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?” he rasped. He’d said the very same words on their first night together. And she’d said only with your eyes. “You were a little busy,” Destiny said, hooking a finger into the knot of his tie, “entertaining blonde bombshells.” Closing her eyes, she remembered the way he’d looked at her across the candlelit table that night, as if she were the answer to his prayers. Slowly, he lay down beside her, pulled her on top of him. “You were the best looking thing there.” Destiny could only sigh and shake her head. God, but he was smooth. Did he really expect her to believe he thought she was better looking than 104
Love talk super models and Hollywood starlets? “Gee,” was her gritty reply, “thanks.” He stopped kissing her, but only long enough to say, “There’s just one reason I can think of that you can’t look, and that’s ‘cause you have a guilty conscience.” That got her attention. “I have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about,” she snapped. Hopefully, this moment of ire would hide her true feelings for him because, dammit all to hell and back, she’d gone and fallen in love with the gorgeous bastard. Smirking, he traced the contour of her jaw with one fingertip. “Then maybe you’d like me to blindfold you this time.” That inspired a sarcastic chuckle to pop from her lips. “Sure. Why not. And while you’re at it, why not tie my wrists and ankles to the bedposts, take me spread eagle.” Apparently, Frank’s arousal had diminished his ability to distinguish humor from sarcasm, because in one quick move, he removed his tie and, on his knees beside her, covered her eyes with it. “Be right back,” he said, running both hands down the entire length of her body. “Don’t you move, you hear?” She might as well play along. Worst thing that could happen was she’d have half a dozen monumental orgasms, same as every other time 105
Dakota Carson they’d fucked. Destiny heard him rummaging in her vanity drawers, no doubt searching for something suitable to bind her hands and feet with. Should she tell him there were hair ribbons and silk scarves in her closet hanging beside her belts? No…much more enticing for both of them if the moments were extended. All the better to keep him coming back, right? Finally, he returned to the bed and she felt the mattress dip under his weight. Seemed he’d found something to tie her up with, all on his own…. Then, the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered, shoes hitting the floor, one at a time, bare feet padding across the hardwood floor, followed by the clicks of lamps being turned off, one by one. It was all she could do to resist the urge to gyrate, to press her thighs together and massage her already swollen clit. Thankfully, he finished undressing and joined her once again in bed. “Help me out here,” Frank said. “I’ve never, ah, done this before. Do I undress or tie you up first?” “Please,” she said on a giggle. “Don’t insult my intelligence.” “No, really…hand to God, I’ve never tied up a woman before.” Good thing he couldn’t see her eyes, because they’d have been a dead giveaway just how little she believed him. “Okay, so let’s presume that isn’t a big fat lie…seems to me if you undress me 106
Love talk first, the bindings won’t get in the way, um, later?” “God I love a woman with brains.” His tongue traced the outline of her lips, then thrust deep into her mouth. Next, he raised her skirt. Somehow, he managed to grasp her clit through her pantyhose, through the lacy thong. Arching her back to make it easier for him—and her—Destiny bit her lower lip. She couldn’t help wondering what in hell he was waiting for. She’d been ready since he whisked her off her feet in the kitchen. Again, it seemed Frank could read her mind, for he slowly, methodically began removing her clothes. “Classy,” he said as her skirt hit the floor. “Elegant,” he added as her white satin blouse joined it. Now, lying there in nothing but a barely-there white lace bra and matching thong, she grit her teeth. The last thing she wanted to do was admit how much she wanted him, needed him…and not just sexually. “My God you’re beautiful,” he husked. She opened her mouth to protest, but his thick forefinger silenced her. After painting nearly every inch of her with that amazing tongue of his, Frank positioned her, spread eagle, on the mattress and proceeded to tie her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. “Your 107
Dakota Carson wish,” he whispered, “is my command.” If that was true, and he really could read her mind, maybe he’d put her out of her misery and shove that glorious dick of his into her, finally! Frank unfastened her bra and slid it upward, exposing her tits. “I’ve never seen nipples like yours,” he said, nipping one, then the other. “They’re like pencil erasers.” She inhaled a sharp gasp every time his teeth made gentle contact, tossing her head left, then right. Oh, what was he waiting for? Did he want her to beg him? He chose that moment to hook both thumbs into the elastic waistband of her panties. It seemed to take forever before he pushed them down, down. “And this bush of yours,” he said, flicking his tongue against her clit, “it’s barely there. God,” he growled, jamming his tongue inside her, “I love it.” If he knew how much she loved it, would he love it less? If he suspected she loved him, would he gather up his clothes and run out of here as if a pack of wolves were dogging his heels? Frank cupped her butt cheeks, lifting her off the mattress, his tongue still deep inside her. “You smell as good as you taste. I want you to come in my mouth.” If he kept this up, she would. No doubt about 108
Love talk it. But Destiny didn’t want that. She wanted his hard, swollen dick inside her, wanted him to spurt seed into every fold of her, so that when she stood up later, it would leak slowly from her, snaking down her thighs like warm syrup. Cupping her tits in his hands, he lay atop her. Instinct made her strain against the restraints in an attempt to hold him close as he nestled himself between her legs. He teased her with his dick, with his balls, with both hands, with his tongue, until every inch of her screamed out for sweet release. “God, Frank,” she croaked, “are you trying to drive me insane?” Chuckling, he pressed sweet kisses to her throat. “Shhh,” he said, lips against the tie that hid her eyes. “Shhh….” She felt his cock, throbbing hard against her pussy, and wanted to wrap her legs around him, lock them together until he was so deep inside her, she could taste his cum. “Frank,” she whispered weakly, “Frank…” In one smooth move, he was inside her, arms around her, lips against hers, whispering something unintelligible beside her ear. Limp with want, she said, “Come in me, Frank. For the luvva Pete, come in me!” Gripping her shoulders, Frank pulled her near. Held her so close she felt the hard beating of his 109
Dakota Carson heart against her tits. He tore the blindfold off, tossed it carelessly aside. With only the moonlight to illuminate the room, Destiny watched a myriad of emotions flicker across his beautiful face— uncertainty, lust, longing…and fear? But what would Mr. Hollywood have to fear from the likes of her! Frank removed her wrist bindings and said, “Hold me, Destiny, please?” As her arms wrapped around him, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, pumping fiercely, gripping the pillow so tightly she thought for sure feathers would blanket the room like soft snow. As his passion built to a fevered pitch, she came. On the heels of her grateful sigh, his entire body went rock hard, his breaths coming in quick gasps. He straightened his arms, tipped back his head and, eyes shut tight, he winced and filled her with cum. In the silence that followed, Destiny blinked back tears. Surely, there was something she could do, trade or promise, to encourage God to make Frank love her as she loved him. Because there was no denying how amazing sex between them was…but how much more gratifying would it be if love, not lust, bound them? “Hand to God, Destiny,” he said in the quiet night, “you are by far the best.” But her best wasn’t good enough, was it? She’d 110
Love talk have to work hard to stay awake, because what were the chances he’d still be here in the morning? Frank got onto his knees just long enough to undo the rest of her bindings, then cuddled up close to her side. “Don’t worry,” he said, stroking her hair, “I’ll be here in the morning.” His words should have comforted her. Instead, longing and dread swirled in her heart. Luckily, he fell asleep before the tears started. **** She woke to the scents of bacon frying and coffee perking. Wrapping herself in a silky robe, Destiny padded down the stairs and followed the delicious aromas. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he said as she entered the kitchen. “Hungry?” “Actually,” she admitted, “I’m famished.” Frank chuckled. “After that performance last night, I’m not surprised. You must have burned off a thousand calories.” He stepped up to her and wrapped her in a warm hug. “All I can say is…amazing.” He punctuated the statement by pressing a kiss to her temple. “So sit,” he instructed, using the egg turner as a pointer. “Everything is ready.” Like an old married couple, they dined in companionable silence, sharing the morning 111
Dakota Carson newspaper, passing food and condiments before the other even expressed a need. Then, with no warning whatever, Frank grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his lap. “I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes in my life,” he said, “but letting you get away isn’t going to be one of them.” Bracketing her face with both big hands, he added, “All my life, it seems, I’ve been looking for…I didn’t know for what…but I made a lot of mistakes looking for it. Last night, when you disappeared, I knew what it was.” Frank cupped the back of her head with one big hand and forced her lips to meet his. “You are It, Destiny McShane, and I love you. If you’ll have me, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” She didn’t think her heart had ever beaten as hard. Dare she believe him? One look into those enormous dark eyes was all it took. He really did love her! “This must be another one of those incredible coincidences of ours,” she said as tears of joy filled her eyes. “I love you, too, Frank. I love you, too!”
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Epilogue
“S
ee there?” Destiny’s mother said, pointing to the autographed picture of Prentice Brogan on the mantle in her living room, “there’s your namesake!” The baby gurgled contentedly and bounced up and down in his grandmother’s arms. “Have you heard from Prentice lately?” she asked Destiny. “Got a letter from him last week, as a matter of fact,” Destiny said, grinning. “He says he’d be delighted to spend the Christmas holidays with us.” Her mother clasped both hands under her chin and flushed, inspiring Destiny’s dad to grumble good-naturedly, “I’ll never understand what she sees in that man.” Frank went along with the feigned jealousy and slung an arm around his father-in-law’s shoulders. “Not to worry, Dad. Prentice is harmless.” “Easy for you to say, he was your best man, and it isn’t your wife he’s taken a shine to!” 113
Dakota Carson Destiny and Frank exchanged knowing grins. “Think we oughta tell ‘em?” Frank asked. She nodded. They filled the McShanes in on the latest in the movie star’s life. It seemed Prentice had a favor to ask of his newly adopted family. “After seeing how happy your marriage is, he went back to Liverpool, looked up his first love and discovered she’d isn’t married.” “But that’s all gonna change on Christmas Eve,” Frank put in. “He’s bringing her here, to make her his wife.” He drew his mother-in-law to him with his free arm. “Prentice wants you to play the organ at his wedding, Mom. And Dad, you’re gonna be the best man.” Destiny grinned at her brothers. “He’ll need to borrow a couple of the kids, as ushers and flower girls.” “And what about little Prentice here?” her mother asked, kissing the baby’s cheek. Frank blew a raspberry on his son’s chubby tummy. “He’s gonna be the fat little pillow where we put the wedding rings,” he said, inspiring a giggle from Baby Prentice and a round of laughter from the rest of them. He wiggled his eyebrows and winked at his wife. Later, baby, said his smoldering expression, love talk, you’n’me, got it? 114
Love talk Smiling, Destiny nodded. Something told her little Prentice would have lots of brothers and sisters…
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About the Author Best-selling, award-winning author Dakota Carson has, for decades, tantalized and titillated readers with lusty stories of faerie queens, shapeshifters, and banshees who prefer human companionship over making love to ‘their own kind’. Dakota shares a remote log cabin deep in the American West with her four-pawed best friend, Prentice…and the occasional visitor from The Otherworld. To join Dakota's group:
[email protected] Dakota can be reached at this email:
[email protected] Dakota’s website is located at: http://dakotacarson.googlepages.com/home
