Glazed (11 page)

She collected her scattered clothes and donned them hastily, feeling slightly out of place in Derek’s empty condo. It seemed unnervingly quiet without him there. Maybe that was just because of how loud they’d been the night before.

She grabbed her purse and reached inside to retrieve her cell phone, intending to call Derek and ask him whether they had plans for tonight. She had off work today, and she vaguely remembered him saying something about a movie. However, the details had been lost somewhere between the second and third time he’d used his skilled fingers to apply frosting to her body.

Her phone was dead, its battery apparently having waned to obsolescence overnight. She’d wait until she got home to charge it before calling him, then. Tucking it back into her purse, she exited the condo, locking the door behind herself. Her car, which was finally out of the repair shop, awaited her. She emitted a small sigh of relief – not having to walk everywhere still felt like a luxury.

Once home, she plugged her phone into its charger and began to strip off last evening’s outfit. She really should start keeping some extra clothes at Derek’s place if she was going to stay there overnight so often – dresses that’d been sexy the night before seemed odd when worn crumpled in the morning.

Her phone chirped, announcing a waiting voice mail. She dialed and punched in her passcode. It was probably from Derek. Would it be a reminder of their plans for the night, or just a sexy good-morning message? He’d taken to leaving those, and hearing his voice after waking from a fantasy night with him always made her knees weak.

“Kelly, this is Joan.” So much for a sexy good morning wish. But could it be something even better? She gripped the phone tightly, her heart racing as she silently prayed that this would be it – the call – the one where Joan announced that Kelly was about to be the owner of a brand new building. She had a bottle of champagne waiting, and she was more than ready to break it out, eleven o’clock in the morning or no.

“I need you to call me immediately. It’s about the property.”

Kelly’s heart hammered madly against her ribs. Had the seller accepted her offer? Before she could dial, the message ended and a second one began.

“It’s me, Joan again. I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Kelly’s stomach plummeted, and the phone actually creaked as she grasped it in a death-grip.

“The seller rejected your second offer.” Kelly took a deep breath, absorbing the news. It was bad, but she could make another. She’d get the place eventually – that was the important thing.

Joan’s recorded voice continued, and knocked the breath out of her in a sharp gasp as it delivered another revelation, this one like a physical blow. “Another buyer made an offer too good to turn down, and the seller only gave me an hour to get a hold of you to see if you wanted to make a counteroffer.  I tried to buy more time, but they wouldn’t let me, and you didn’t return my call. The building is off the market. Give me a call or stop by my office whenever you’re ready and we can look at some other available properties you might be interested in.”

Kelly crumpled to the floor, feeling suddenly hollow. Her phone slipped from her hand as the tears began to fall.

****

Derek tried to keep his expression neutral as he regarded the woman that had just sidled up to the counter with suspicion. She looked to be somewhere in her forties and was smiling, her blue eyes boring directly into his. Hopefully, she hadn’t come to request an autograph.

The autograph requests had started that morning with a group of college girls – the same group who’d left his nude photograph behind, he thought. They’d mobbed the counter in a rapturously giggling queue and shoved several copies of the image across the surface, tossing in a pen and asking him to sign the pictures. He’d been mortified and had refused. The last thing his business needed was to become a hub for nude photo autographs.

Still, two more women had already come in today, saying they’d heard he was signing pictures. They’d both been old enough to be his mother, but that hadn’t stopped them from giggling just like the college girls. He’d turned them away as politely as he could. Hopefully the message had gotten out by now – he wasn’t giving autographs.

“Are you the owner of this establishment – Derek Kerr?” the woman across the counter asked, her eyes gleaming.

Uh-oh. She definitely looked like she had an agenda. “That’s me.”                                          

“I’m Amy Richardson.” She didn’t extend her hand across the counter as she introduced herself, and what he’d at first taken for a friendly or even flirtatious smile now seemed more smug than anything. “I’m here on behalf of the First Baptist Church of Blue Mills, to let you know that our congregation is now boycotting your restaurant.”

Derek stared, dumbfounded.

“We don’t approve of your obscene antics, Mr. Kerr, nor the fact that you’re autographing pornographic images right here in a supposedly child-friendly public facility. We’ll be spreading the word about your activities, making sure everyone in Blue Mills knows just what kind of man you are before they make the decision to eat at your restaurant.”

“I’m not giving autographs,” he protested, but it was too late. The silver bell was already jingling, announcing her hasty exit.

The protesters showed up about an hour afterward, led by none other than Amy Richardson herself. They gathered on the sidewalk in front of the store, most wielding homemade signs emblazoned with phrases like ‘No Public Nudity in Blue Mills’ and ‘Boycott the Blue Mills Donut House’. Derek groaned when he saw them and retreated to the kitchen, leaving Barbara, one of his employees, in charge of the register. She was a no-nonsense woman of fifty or so who wasn’t easily bothered by anyone. All the same, he hoped the protesters wouldn’t try to expand their efforts indoors.

By late afternoon, most of the protesters had disbursed. Derek had been kept busy in the kitchen – the protesters had drawn curious spectators, more than a few of whom had apparently been tempted enough by the wafting aroma of fresh donuts to come in and purchase a few. He wondered if the protesters realized that, and hoped the effect would last as long as their picketing did. The last thing he wanted was a crowd of up-tight sign-wavers scaring away his customers.

Turning to deposit a half-empty carton of cream back into the refrigerator, he realized he’d been so busy he’d forgotten to call Kelly. They were supposed to see that new movie tonight, but hadn’t discussed which show time they’d go to. He dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number, which he knew by heart now.

“Hey baby.” He smiled when he heard her pick up, envisioning her as he’d seen her last night, sprawled across the bedspread, totally bare except for a few strategically placed patches of icing. His mouth watered as he remembered the doubly-sweet taste of her strawberry glazed pussy. He’d make an extra bowl of glaze today and take it home, where it would be ready when they returned from the movie.

“Hi Derek.” She sounded upset, her voice a far cry from the cheerful tone she usually used to answer his calls.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked as she replied, and he realized she was crying. Before he could say anything else she continued. “I lost the building. Someone else bought it right out from under me. My realtor called to see if I wanted to make a counteroffer, but my phone went dead last night and by the time I got the message it was too late.” A sob resounded over the connection, and Derek’s heart wrenched. He knew how excited she’d been about that building.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am too,” she replied, “because I can’t see you anymore.”

He resisted the urge to double over, feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut. The phantom sweetness on his tongue vanished, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “What?”

“I let a relationship get in the way of my dream, just like I was afraid it would. If I hadn’t spent the night at your place I would’ve gotten Joan’s message. It’s not your fault – it’s mine. I’m so sorry.”

She hung up, and he was left with his phone pressed against his ear, listening to the buzz of a broken connection.

Chapter 7

After breaking up with Derek, Kelly spent the rest of the day trying not to think about what she’d just done while also attempting to regroup from the disappointment of losing the building. She browsed online real estate listings, but her heart wasn’t really into it. She tried to focus her thoughts on her business plans, but they kept turning rebelliously to Derek. She remembered him more vividly than ever – his body and the way it had felt pressed tight against hers, his voice, his taste. The memories had been delectable just a few hours ago, but now that she knew they were all she had left of him, they were excruciating. That was what she got for being stupid enough to get involved in a relationship, for breaking the promise she’d made to herself. If she could just forget about it, she might still be able to pull things together and salvage her dream. It was much easier said than done.

She was sitting in front of her computer, wondering if she’d destined herself to a lifetime of waitressing, when a knock sounded at the door. She looked away from the Main Street building she could never afford to buy or rent that was displayed on the computer screen. She hadn’t really been seeing it anyway – instead, she’d been accidentally caught up in another memory of Derek. Her heart leapt at the sound. Could he be at the door? She silently berated herself for hoping for it. She’d have to turn him away if he was there, and her heart ached at the thought. Could she really bring herself to do it face to face? It had been hard enough – almost impossible – to make herself do over the phone.

She peered cautiously out the half-opened door and gasped. “Peter! What are you doing here?”

She hadn’t seen her ex for eight months, but there he was, standing on her doorstep with a grin plastered across his face. He was tall, but slender and blonde – the opposite of muscular, dark Derek. She’d made the comparison before she’d realized what she was doing, and her heart wrenched.

“I’m back in town on business.”

He’d moved to Baltimore nine months ago, after they’d finally broken up. His employer’s main office was located there. She hadn’t seen him since. “Oh,” she muttered softly, at a loss for what else to say. His clothing matched his explanation – he was dressed in a smart black suit, blue shirt and tie peeking from underneath, bringing out his bright cornflower-blue eyes.

“Can I come in?” He flashed a bright smile at her. It had been his smile that had originally attracted her to him, before she’d discovered how cruel his mouth could be. Now, she stared at him dubiously.

“I won’t impose for too long,” he said, flashing her another winning grin. “I just thought I’d drop by and say hello.”

“I guess there’s no harm in that,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. At the moment, she was so desperate to distract herself from painful, guilty thoughts of Derek and fruitless real estate searches she’d have let the devil come in for a chat if she thought it’d help clear her mind.

He stepped inside, raising a tall, slender gift bag aloft by the handle. “I brought you a little present.”

She took it from him, noting the cork protruding from the top of the bag. “Wine. How thoughtful.” She eyed it doubtfully, mentally calculating the social obligations the gift entailed. “Do you want a glass?”

He’d already hung up his jacket and plopped down on the couch like he was right at home. “Sure.” He propped his feet up on the coffee table, displaying a pair of immaculately polished loafers.