Mystery Man (Dream Man #1)(52)
Um… nice.
“Hawk,” I whispered, still holding on.
“Baby, let go, you don’t, I lose a client and no more fancy shoes.”
I considered this, weighing shoes against sex with Hawk in his cavernous lair.
Then I kept holding on.
He smiled, his arm giving me a squeeze, his mouth touching mine again then he let me go and stepped back. I moved to lean against the bar in an effort to hold myself up and he lifted a hand and ran the side of his index finger along the skin under my chin.
Um… nice!
“Later,” he promised.
“’Kay,” I replied.
His hand moved to my neck and gave it a squeeze then he moved away, dug in a drawer, pulled out a key which he dropped to the counter and then he strode to the stairs. I watched until he made it to the top and then I grabbed my coffee, sipped at it and watched some more as he opened and shut drawers on his dresser and the wardrobe and got dressed.
I heard the vehicles outside as he was sitting on the bed putting on his boots and me and my coffee mug wandered to the stairs as he came down them. He hooked me with an arm at my shoulders, guided me to the door under the bed platform, through it to another cavernous space that held his Camaro, a black SUV, a motorcycle under a cover and still there was enough space to park my car, my Dad’s car and a motor home.
He grabbed a box which hung from a cable and had two, big, round red buttons on it. He pressed one, the colossal door slid up, cold from the outside assaulted me but I only minutely felt it as he walked me to the end of the building, turned me to him, I succeeded in evasive maneuvering with my coffee mug right before he laid another hot, wet one on me.
He lifted his head and muttered, “Energetic.”
“Gotcha,” I replied, he grinned then I watched him prowl to one of three SUVs, seeing one of his commandos had jumped from the driver’s seat and was rounding the vehicle to get in on the other side as Hawk took the wheel.
I stood there in the cold, in his shirt, carrying a shiny, midnight blue coffee mug, completely unembarrassed because I was completely happy in my real life daydream and I waved the commandos off as they drove away.
None of them waved back though I got a couple grins and one amused head shake.
Then I grabbed the box, hit the button, the big door groaned down and I re-entered Hawk’s lair.
* * * * *
I was on the bed platform making Hawk’s bed when it happened.
The phone rang and, obviously, I ignored it.
Then the answering machine on one of the heavy, dark wood nightstands clicked on. An electronic voice asked the caller to leave a message then the caller left a message.
The minute I heard her voice, I froze mid-pillow-fluffing.
“Hawk?” Hesitant. Probing but unsure. “Honey, I hope everything’s okay. You didn’t show last night. I’m Thursday.” Pause. “I hope you don’t mind me calling.” Still hesitant. “But I’m worried. Um…” Pause. “Call me, okay?” Another pause then hurriedly, “Just so I know you’re all right.” Pause again then, “Um… okay, um… bye.”
There was a buzz because she’d hung up and then silence.
I stood there, pillow in hand, staring at the answering machine, something unpleasant sifting through my stomach.
She was Thursday?
Thursday?
What the hell did that mean?
She was Thursday. Yesterday was Thursday. She was expecting a visit from Hawk.
She was Thursday.
That something in my stomach slid up my gullet, filled my mouth and it tasted of acid.
Chapter Fourteen
Filler
Fang idled at the curb while I did my walk of shame up to my house. It really wasn’t a walk of shame but no one seeing me in the daylight hours in a little black dress and fabulous shoes would know that.
Fang, I found to my fortune, was not a master communicator. This was good and bad because this meant I could slide into my head and stay there the whole way from Hawk’s lair. This was good because I needed to be in my head to sort my shit out and this was bad because I didn’t want to be in my head and because I couldn’t figure out how to sort my shit.
I opened the door and saw Meredith, Camille, Tracy and Mrs. Mayhew all sitting on my furniture and drinking coffee at the left side of my living room. The furniture had been uncovered, the floors had been swept, the mist of dust on all surfaces had disappeared. The renovation equipment had vanished. The right side of the living room was just as tidy but it was empty. A peek through the glass doors to my once empty den showing it was now storage for tools, tubes, cans and equipment. The walls still needed to be re-skimmed, the floors refinished, the fireplace mantels stripped and redone and the light fixtures replaced but at least it looked like a living room
Jeez. It was ten o’clock. Meredith had been busy.
I stared at them and I loved them. I loved them all. And I loved that Meredith made my living room look like a living room.
But I wanted cookie dough. Aloneness and cookie dough.
No, I needed aloneness and cookie dough.
Like, a lot.
“Hey,” I called.
“Have a good night?” Meredith beamed.
“Um…” I mumbled.
“That’s a pretty dress,” Mrs. Mayhew complimented.
“Thanks, Mrs. M,” I replied walking in thinking she was being so Mrs. M, saying I was wearing a pretty dress when I’d walked into my house in the clothes I’d worn the night before which everyone knew screamed slut!