Sex and Key Lime Pie (14 page)

He snaked his arms around her waist from behind and pulled her against his chest. Soft hair brushed his cheek. She twisted her body, trying to free herself, but he just held her tighter. “I owe you an apology.”

“I don’t want it.” She pried his hands apart.

He nuzzled against her neck. “Too bad. I’m giving it to you anyway.” He lifted her and carried her to the couch, holding her cradled against him as he sat. She wriggled in his lap, each turn arousing him until he was hard and throbbing.

Once she realized her movements had the opposite effect than she intended, she stilled. Her cheeks glowed a healthy shade of pink and her breathing quickened.

She rested her head on the arm on the sofa and gazed up at him warily. “What are you afraid of, Luc?”

“What makes you think I’m afraid of anything?” Other than exploding right out of his skin. He couldn’t get within ten feet of her before he ached to possess her again.

“Men only apologize when they’re afraid of losing something.”

He tapped his fingers playfully against her stomach. “That’s an interesting observation.”

With feigned annoyance, she tried to push his errant hand away. She didn’t try very hard.

“But true. So what is it you don’t want to give up?”

God, she had him pegged. How had she gotten to know him so well, when he consciously and intentionally closed her out of his life?

He leaned forward and took his anticipated dessert from the coffee table. “Lucky for me, I don’t have to choose.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “I may be too tired to argue right now, but don’t take anything for granted.”

He grinned. Sex and key lime pie. She filled his two most basic needs. To maintain their tentative truce, he would play the game. He would even play by her two simple rules. Treat her with respect and be nice to her son.

The only rule he would not accept—she decided when the affair ended. Nearly a decade had not been enough time to get her out of his system. Two months wasn’t going to do it either.

****

Cheyanne drifted peacefully between dreams and consciousness. Warmth and comfort surrounded her like a fleece blanket. She sighed. Life was wonderful—except for that annoying tapping on her arm.

“Mom?”

The word barely penetrated her sleep-induced fog. Slowly, she raised her heavy eyelids. A glow from the television illuminated the darkened room. Sam stood above her, with a pained expression.

“What’s wrong?” Other than your mother sleeping in a man’s possessive embrace, a sight her son had never witnessed before.

Luc seemed to be the least of Sam’s concerns. “I’m sick.”

“Bathroom.” She jumped from the sofa to follow him. She knelt next to him and cupped her hand over his forehead. “Sam, what did you eat for dinner?”

“A hot dog and Coke.”

Neither of those foods was normally associated with food poisoning. “Anything else?”

“A pretzel, um...funnel cake, cotton candy, and ice cream.”

“Is there anything you didn’t eat?” The poor kid overdosed on junk food.

He groaned painfully. “Am I going to die?” True to his gender, he was melodramatic when it came to discomfort.

“No. You’ll feel better soon.” Which he did, two minutes later when the entire menu from Pier 51 came out of him. Motherhood had some wonderful moments. This wasn’t one of them. “Wash your face and brush your teeth. Then change into your pajamas. I’ll make you some tea.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.” She kissed the top of his head. “But I bet you’re mad at yourself.”

“Oh, yeah.” He folded his arms over his stomach. “Are you mad at Luc?”

“Was it his fault?”

“No.”

“There’s your answer. I’ll go start the tea.” When she returned to the living room, she found Luc awake and still in the house. She’d expected him to bolt at the first sign of a sick child.

He walked toward the kitchen, barefoot, disheveled and looking thoroughly sexy. Why did men look so damn good when they woke up and women look like something the cat dragged home? She filled a teakettle and set it on the stove. He leaned on the counter, watching her with the same boyish grin Sam often wore when he’d done something wrong.

“I guess you’re never going to trust me with your son again,” Luc said.

“Why? Did you force feed all that junk into him?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you’re off the hook. I’m big on personal responsibility. He did it to himself.”

“Don’t be mad at him. I was the adult; I should have paid more attention.” His sense of guilt, although completely misplaced, proved he cared. “Because it is so easy to say no to a child, right?”

“No, it isn’t. But...”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you two a tag team? He tells me not to blame you. You tell me not to blame him.”

The kettle whistled. She put a chamomile tea bag in the cup with some hot water, and then dropped in an ice cube to cool the brew.

Sam stumbled to the counter and leaned across it, exactly like his father. Two sets of gorgeous dark eyes focused on her. A priceless sight! The only thing more priceless was the look on Luc’s face when the monkey on Sam’s shoulder reached over and grabbed his ear.

“What the hell...” Luc straightened and hit his head on a pendant light.

Pele screeched and leapt into Cheyanne’s arms. Both mother and son laughed at Luc’s bug-eyed stare.

She tried unsuccessfully to school her features. “No one told you about the monkey.”

“I thought they were talking about a toy.”

“Pele is a member of the family.” As if to prove her point, the thieving little animal grabbed a couple of grapes from the fruit bowl as if he had every right.

“And he looks just like you,” Luc noted.

“If you meant that as an insult, you’ll have to do better. I think he’s adorable, so I take it as a compliment.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You would.” Sam took his pet from her. “So, everything’s okay now? No one’s in trouble?”

“If you don’t get yourself back to sleep pretty soon, you’ll be too tired for your first game tomorrow. Then I think the two of you will be in big trouble with the coach.”

“Can Pele and I sleep in the recliner?”

“Not tonight.”

“Why? You and Luc get to sleep on the couch.”

She let out a choked cough. She had hoped he’d been too sick to notice. “That wasn’t planned, Sam. We fell asleep watching the television.” She turned to Luc for help, but she should have known better. He just arched his eyebrow and let her take personal responsibility.

The simple and peaceful life she had built for Sam and herself had become complicated. How much should she tell him? She wasn’t sure where she fit into Luc’s life right now. He showed up when it suited him, stayed as long as he wanted and disappeared without a word. That was fine when she was eighteen. Now, she would not allow Luc to treat her any differently than he would want to see his sister treated. Especially not in front of Sam.

“Sleep in the chair if you want, Sam. I’m going to sleep in my room.” He scrambled into the seat as if he feared she would change her mind.

“What about me?” Luc asked.

“You own two houses in the Heights,” she reminded him.

“What if I’m too tired to drive all that way?”

All three miles!

Luc knew how to play an audience. He knew she wasn’t going to make him leave after he had been so generous to her son. “You can sleep on the couch, or in Sam’s room. And of course, there’s the monkey cage.”

Chapter
Ten

Cheyanne parked her car along the side of the road. Seaview Drive wound along the outskirts of Mystic Heights and had a spectacular view of the town below. Lush green hills cascaded down to the coast and turquoise water stretched to the horizon. This particular spot along the road gave her full access to the Waitley Mansion. Many nights in the past, Luc had dropped her off here and waited until she was safely inside.

She stepped from the car and sat under the shade of an old willow tree. Five minutes later, Rita pulled up in her Cadillac and joined her daughter. She spread a small blanket on the ground and sat.

“How was the cruise?” Cheyanne asked.

“Wonderful.” Rita smoothed her perfectly coifed hair. “Morris enjoyed himself as well. There is nothing like being pampered twenty four hours a day.”

Cheyanne could think of a thousand experiences more enjoyable, but her mother would never understand. “You didn’t have to come today.”

“Yes, I did.” Rita glanced toward the property below. The commotion around the house was reminiscent of a construction sight. Destruction sight was more accurate. The wrecking ball stood ominously by, waiting for the order to begin. “What time does it start?”

“According to the paper, eight o’clock.”

“And according to Lucien?”

“I didn’t ask him.”

“But you’re seeing him.” Her mother’s voice rang with accusation. Rita had expressed her concern when Cheyanne announced her intention to spend the summer in the Cove.

“It’s impossible to avoid him when I am friends with the rest of his family.” A long silence hung between them. She wrapped her arms around bent legs and rested her chin on her knees.

“Have you told him yet?” Rita asked.

“Told him what?”

“About Sam.”

“Sam is here with me. It’s not like I’m hiding him.”

Rita huffed impatiently. “Have you told him he’s Sam’s father? And please don’t deny it. I can count.”

She had promised herself that she would not admit the truth to anyone until she was ready to tell Luc. Still, she didn’t want to jeopardize her renewed relationship with her mother with a lie. “Okay, I plead the fifth.”

“I guess you don’t plan to tell him about the other thing either?”

“What other thing?”

Her mother shot her a scathing glare of annoyance and asked, “Does he know who owns Luz Brilhante?”

Cheyanne shivered. “What do you know about the company?”

“I know it’s the investor who lent those two young men a few million dollars with very favorable terms and absolutely no collateral. And although it sounds like it would be some kind of Portuguese American company, I was very surprised to find out the board members were none other than my husband and my daughter, with my grandson as the only stockholder.”

“Did Morris tell you?”

“No. He has been very tight-lipped about anything to do with Luc. But I do help with filing occasionally and I do know how to run an Internet search on articles of incorporation.”

“And naturally, you had to.”

“I didn’t see you, I didn’t hear from you. I never told Harlan anything about your affair. He’d hired a private investigator to keep tabs on Luc for years. I was being punished for something I didn’t do. Don’t you think that hurt? I was looking for anything that would tell me where to find you.”

To a certain degree, she understood her mother’s motive. But Rita had pried into her personal life about a secret she never intended to reveal.

“Don’t you think he should know your inheritance funded his success?”

“It was never my money. What I did, I did for myself, not Luc. I chose to disregard Harlan’s warning about my affair with Luc, so I was responsible. I never should have blamed you. For that, I’m sorry.”

“Luc never should have blamed you. It takes two.”

“He didn’t know about Harlan’s threat to disinherit him.”

“You can’t disinherit a person you never acknowledged as family to begin with.”

“You know what I mean.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I saw Harlan’s original will. Before he added you as a co-beneficiary, he had left everything to James. He was never leaving it to Luc. At least this way, he got his loan. You should tell him.”

“Not even with my last dying breath,” Cheyanne vowed.

Rita expelled a long sigh. “For two men who hated each other they were so much alike.”

“No way, Mom. Luc acted out of hurt. Harlan acted out of malice.”

“For the record, Harlan was driven by hurt. You never knew he wanted to adopt Luc. His mother wouldn’t hear of it.”

“He was a married man at the time.”

“Yes, he was. And when his wife learned the maid had given Harlan the son she couldn’t, she committed suicide. The guilt ate him up. Why else do you think he let you hang out at that house all the time? Just so his mother would have to see what could have been Luc’s if she’d let Harlan raise him.”

“I knew that.”

“Now I would never say Harlan was a good husband or stepfather, but if you are going to make excuses for Luc, consider his father’s side as well.”

Cheyanne leaned back against the tree. True, she had never tried to see Harlan’s side. For nearly twenty years he had owned everything and everyone in town, including her mother. She would never defend him, but at least she could understand him better. It was all moot anyway. In another few minutes, the last standing monument to his reign would tumble to the ground.