Disclaimer: All characters belong to Janet Evanovich, except the ones that are mine. I'm only playing with them and I promise to send them home unharmed, although Ranger may be a bit dehydrated.
Warning: Language, Smut Alert, Quotes from all 17 books, Bad writing, Absent Muse, Writer's Block, Real Life,You know the drill … Also I'm taking literary license here! I've given Quakerbridge Mall a few upscale stores that they don't really have.
A/N: Thank You to Miranda,Comma Correctionist and Hyphen Houdini, forEditing, and Beta-ing Love, to Kashy, Friend Extraordinaire, and to Lisa, Burggirl. Without your laughter and friendship, pep talks and support, as well as encouragement and letting me rant, I'd be living under a rock someplace.
And Thank You to Everyone who has read and reviewed Love … Love wouldn't be Love without you.
And a special 'Thank You' to the Cupcake who inspired this story.
What I Did For Love
Stayce
(XJerseyGirl)
Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart.
William Butler Yeats
"I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out."
Anonymous
Chapter 35: Love Machine!
Since Ranger, the mattress hog, slept catty-corner across the whole bed and there was no room left for me, I spent the night in his efficiency apartment on four. Not that I was planning on getting a whole lot of sleep, mind you. My brain was racing a million miles an hour, replaying everything that had happened. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, assumed my thinking position on the bed, and started to mull it all over.
Normally, Ranger never shows much emotion. I saw him walk into a room once, knowing he was going to get shot and maybe die, and he was perfectly composed. Ranger was a master of control. He could lower his heart rate at will and walk past a bakery and never be tempted. On the surface, Ranger would appear to have no emotion. It was anyone's guess what raged below the surface, but I was willing to bet, that tonight, I had found out exactly what was lurking there!
Emotion-less Ranger, could be damned frustrating. But emotion-al Ranger was down-right scary! Who knew he had a temper like that? The only place he'd ever displayed any kind of passion was in bed!
Oooooh! I think I just figured out what one of those secrets he had locked away in his safe was! Maybe Ranger had anger management issues in the past? After last night, that wouldn't surprise me at all!
With his blank mask torn off, I'd seen a side of Ranger that I never knew existed, one that he'd never even hinted at before … at least not to me! Kind of like an emotional Wheel of Fortune, he'd spun through jealous and vulnerable and fearful and furious until he stopped on lust. Let's face it folks, lust was the only Ranger emotion that I knew what to do with. All those others just sorta came out of left field and smacked me upside the head.
I mean, come on! Vulnerability and fear? Where the hell had that come from? Had it ever crossed my mind that Ranger would think I could go back to Morelli? Especially now that I'd agreed to give a relationship with him a try. Hell, no! But let's face it, if I pulled my head out of denial and looked at my relationship with Morelli from Ranger's point of view, I suppose I should have had that thought tucked away someplace in the back of my brain.
The reality was, that no matter what we fought about, no matter how many arguments we had, or who started them, or how many times we'd stomped away from each other … Joe and I always wound up back together. If I really thought about my on-again/off-again, move in/move out, love him/hate him, revolving door relationship with Joe, I guess it was a logical deduction, on Ranger's part at least, to think that I'd go running back … a-gain. He'd watched that particular history repeat itself … how many times?
After hours of staring at the ceiling, I came to the conclusion that it was a matter of trust. I mean, he knew that I'd never sleep with two guys at the same time. So, if I was sleeping with him, he'd have to know I wasn't having sex with anybody else, like Morelli, right? But even when I was sleeping with Morelli, I'd almost always let Ranger poach. It was only when I moved in with Joe that I drew the line and finally put a stop to it.
Could Ranger be thinking that now it'd be the other way around? That it'd be Morelli in the alley with his hands up under my shirt and his tongue down my throat?
I was giving myself a headache trying to figure out how to fix the whole mess. Maybe I should stop waiting for Ranger to make the first move? Maybe I should just grab him, yank his cargoes down around his ankles and ride him like a circus pony? Ooooh, I smiled around a yawn. I really liked that idea. A lot!
Okay … so, maybe that was a little out of character for me. I yawned again. What we really had to do was talk. Yikes! Where did that idea come from? That was completely out of character! For both of us. But yeah, that was exactly what we needed ... I yawned again … a little chat … one on one … with me on top … I smiled … and yawned.
Next thing I knew, I was laying on my stomach, drooling into my pillow, with a warm, hard body wrapping itself around me. Rip Van Ranger was finally awake. My hair was gently lifted off the back of my neck, replaced by silky soft that lips drifted over my skin. A hand slipped under my pajama top, cupping my breast, a thumb stroking my nipple, shooting delicious little electric shocks through my body. I dipped my head down to give him more room to work.
"Oh, Lester!" I breathed. "I thought you'd never get here!" Ranger froze, and I bit my lip, fighting not to laugh out loud.
"Lester?"
"Oh!" I said in mock surprise. "It's you!" I turned my head and batted my eyelashes innocently. "I thought you'd still be asleep!"
"Ouch!" he said and hugged me closer. "I guess I deserved that." He laid a trail of kisses down my neck.
"Mmmmm…." My contented sigh became a moan when his hand teased its way along the waistband of my pajamas, down over my hip and across my belly. I snuggled back against him. "I hope you came down here to pick up where you left off last night!" I sounded more than a little hopeful.
The tip of Ranger's tongue traced circles on that tender spot just below my ear. "I came to get you for breakfast," he whispered and nibbled my ear lobe.
I turned in his arms. "Get me for breakfast, or have me for breakfast?" I purred in my best sex kitten voice.
He gave me a wolf grin, pushed me onto my back, and attacked my pajama top. I laughed and let my hands fall onto the bed as Ranger popped open the little satin covered buttons with an expertise that had me wondering just exactly how he kept this particular skill so well honed. But then he kissed me, long and hard, and wiped the thought right out of my head.
Pulling the satin fabric off my shoulders and down my arms, he uncovered a whole new playground to amuse himself in. Ranger's hands and mouth were everywhere at once. The Wizard at work, stroking and kissing until I was breathless and my eyes were rolled back in my head.
"Oh, my God!" I sighed.
"Yes?" Ranger drawled.
I would have laughed, but he finally pulled a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. I swear I levitated right off the mattress. Every nerve ending I owned was throbbing in time with his mouth. I fisted my hands in his hair, holding him to me, and long, low, guttural moan escaped him. He switched to the other breast, lavishing the kind of attention with that magic mouth of his that had me writhing under him. I was so close to the edge that I could have come on the spot.
He was as breathless as I was. Stretching out on top of me, he fitted himself between my thighs, and kissed his way down my belly.
I pulled my legs up and slipped my toes under the waist of his sweats, then slid my feet down the backs of his thighs, pulling his sweatpants down at the same time.
He was getting closer and closer to the Promised Land and I was rubbing myself against him like a cat in heat. That's when the alarm on his watch beeped and he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Noooo! Not again!
"Sorry," he said, pushing the button to kill the beeping. "We don't have enough time for this now." He dropped a kiss between my breasts. "I have a meeting in a little while." The rat bastard rolled off me and flopped onto his back.
I lay there a minute, my brow crinkled as I tried to clear my lust-fogged brain. "You mean … you came in here and started something you knew you couldn't finish?" I turned my head to glare at him. "You got me all hot and bothered for nothing!" Frustration raised my voice at least an octave.
He shrugged. "Not for nothing. I had fun." The rat was smiling.
"You louse!" I sat bolt upright and smacked him with a pillow.
He grabbed it and tucked it under his head. "Turn about's fair play, Babe. Look how many times you've left me hanging," he sounded downright self-righteous. "Of course," he wolf-grinned, "if you want to make it up to me with a topless pillow fight …"
"In your dreams, Buster!" I huffed, and snatched the pillow out from under his head and held it against my bare chest like a shield.
I really didn't like this turn of events. I was supposed to be in charge here, not him. I gave him a pissy face and hunted around for my missing pajama top. Ranger just sat up and stretched, then leaned over to kiss my shoulder. Well, that wasn't gonna happen!
I shrugged away from him and tried to roll off the far side of the bed. "You better go have breakfast because it'll be a cold day in hell before you have me again!"
I should've known I wouldn't be able to escape. He wrapped his arm around my waist and hauled me back across the bed. We grappled for my pillow and, naturally, he won, tossing it onto the floor. I slapped at him as he slid on top of me again, but he just grabbed my wrists and pinned my hands over my head, then proceeded to kiss me stupid.
"Just so you know," his voice thick and lusty, "when I do "have you" again, I'm going to need hours … days even … to satisfy myself." He nipped the side of my neck and somebody whimpered. Me, probably.
I swallowed hard. "Promises, promises!" I sniffed, trying to act cool but failing miserably. "At the rate we're going, this new relationship is gonna be strictly platonic!"
He gave a low, sexy, chuckle. "Don't bet money on that." He let go of my wrists and slid down my body, his hands and mouth busy again. "I have a long list of erotic fantasies I need to fulfill," he murmured as he nuzzled me, plucking at my nipples with his lips.
Oh. My. God! Ranger had erotic fantasies? "You do?" I gulped.
"You have no idea the things I want to do to you!" he whispered, his mouth against my ear. His eyes glittered black, his breathing quickened. "Things you've never done," his voice dropped lower, "places no man has gone before …" His hand slipped under me, and he squeezed my butt cheek.
"Ummmm …" Words failed me. My eyes got huge, my mouth went dry and I forgot how to breathe. He was teasing again, maybe … probably ... I think.
"Maybe we should start now," he said. With a totally evil grin, he flipped me over onto my stomach, then pulled me up onto my knees.
Okay, so chicken-shit Stephanie was in the building. I really wasn't ready for butt stuff! I yelped and crawled away at warp speed. Ranger grabbed my waistband to pull me back, and between the two of us, I almost crawled right out of my pajama bottoms. So not good!
I had a death grip on my pajama waistband, a distinct disadvantage, as the two of us wrestled across the bed. We slid off the mattress together and landed on the floor at the foot of the bed in a tangle of arms and legs and sheets.
We just lay there, me trying to catch my breath, Ranger laughing his ass off. "You know, I usually spar with Tank, but I'm beginning to think that wrestling with you is better exercise. And it's certainly a lot more fun."
"Oh, kiss my ass!" I gasped.
"My pleasure," he quipped and planted a big smackaroo on my butt cheek.
Ranger humor. "Har-de-har-har!" I groused, and extricated myself from him and the sheets.
I spotted my AWOL pajama top hiding under the bed. With an arm crossed over my boobs, I bent over and fished it out from under the bed, buttoning myself into it.
"So, no wrestling. How about yoga?" Ranger suggested, his eyes riveted on my behind.
"Don't think so," I snorted. "We'd never get past 'downward dog'."
He chuckled. "True! You know I love your ass," he grinned and patted my satin covered rump.
"Apparently you didn't love it enough to keep you awake last night!" I gave him a pissy smile.
Ranger winced. "Okay! In my own defense, you were the one who wanted me to take those pain pills." He wrapped me in his big terry robe and pulled me toward the door. "Come on, breakfast is waiting."
He was trying to change the subject! No way was he gonna make his meltdown my fault! "Hey! You needed them!" I poked him in the chest with my finger. "And did I know you were gonna fly into a rage and then pass out on me? Uh, no-o-o!"
Ranger hit the elevator call button and scrambled the security cameras. Luckily, when the doors pinged open, the car was empty and Ranger hustled me on board, fobbing us up to seven.
"About that," he started, turning serious.
"What that?" I sighed. "The yelling, the falling asleep, or the bed hogging?"
The elevator doors slid open, and we exchanged "good mornings" with Ella who was coming out of the penthouse as we walked in.
"Stephanie, I'm being serious here," he said once the door was closed and we went into the dining room.
"So am I!" I lifted the silver domes off our plates and put them on Ella's serving cart.
"Look," I said to him. "Morelli and I yelled at each other all the time. It was our basic method of communication. I can handle yelling." Ranger pulled out a chair for me, and I sat.
"I can't," Ranger said. "I should warn you now that there won't be any yelling matches." He took the Business section of the paper and handed me the Entertainment part.
"Hmm, so you say!" I gave him a pissy smile. "Anyway, The Dick fell asleep on me on a regular basis. Of course that's because he was banging Joyce Barn-yard." I snarled and filled his coffee cup.
"He was a jack ass," Ranger grumbled. "Still is."
I snorted. "You should hear my father on the subject. Dickie thought he was lucky that I didn't kill him, but he'd have had heart failure if he had any idea what my father wanted to do to him."
"I like your father," Ranger said.
"Now, about this bed hogging ..." I took the glass of orange-pomegranate juice he handed me.
Ranger just gave me a look. You know, the one he usually reserved for Lester?
"Jeez!" I rolled my eyes. "You have no sense of humor!"
"There's nothing funny about this." He broke a warm croissant in half and buttered it.
"Yeah, but …" I started.
Ranger reached across the table and stuffed the croissant into my mouth. "Would you just listen?"
I glared at him, but mumbled, "Okay" around the buttery goodness.
"When I was a kid my temper got me into trouble … with family, school, the cops. The more trouble I got into, the angrier I got, the more I acted out."
"A vicious cycle," I nodded. "Been there, done that. My parents have the grey hair to prove it," I shrugged and held out a plate of fruit so he could help himself to sliced melon, strawberries, and kiwi.
"My little rebel," he said with his "almost" smile.
I narrowed my eyes. "Are you mocking me?"
"Never!" He held a chunk of honeydew to my lips. Yum.
"Anyway, when I was older, I tried to numb myself. Figured it would take the edge off the emotions. I told you I did everything, and I meant it," he watched me closely, looking for my reaction, I guess. "If I could drink it, smoke it, or snort it … I tried it. Didn't help, just caused more trouble. Alcohol, drugs, even legal meds, made it harder to maintain self-control. So, now, I don't indulge."
I was surprised he was so matter-of-fact about it. "Okay."
"It's why I joined the Army. I knew if I was going to amount to anything, I had to develop some discipline and focus."
"Well, obviously it worked."
"It did. But last night was living proof that just because I don't wear my emotions on my sleeve doesn't mean I don't have them or don't feel them." He buttered the other half of the croissant and handed it over to me. "Especially where you're concerned."
"So what are you telling me?" I asked. "That if I want to know how you really feel, I'm gonna have to drug you?"
"No," he shook his head. "You'll always know how I feel. Just without the emotional outbursts."
"I suppose you'll just send me a memo?" I teased. "You're such a hopeless romantic."
He barked out a laugh. "That's the one thing I've never been called."
I forked up a piece of waffle and chewed thoughtfully. "Don't sell yourself short, Mister," I said, waving the fork at him. "You're plenty romantic." I waited a beat. "In your own way, of course."
The skeptic cocked an eyebrow at me.
"Okay, you broke into my apartment to load my gun with bullets. You brought me The Cure when I needed it." I ticked off each point on my fingers. "You gave me cars … and Merry Men. You bled money and blood for me. You've never tried to change me." I pointed at my plate of Belgian waffles. "You let Ella pollute your apartment with salt and trans-fats and sugar for me." I looked at him and smiled. "And you love me. If that's not romantic, I don't know what is!"
He laughed. "A bullets-and-blood kinda girl who can be bought with a plate of waffles … what a woman!" He got up and came around the table, cupped my face in his hands and bent to kiss me into a stupor. "What are your plans for today?"
"Well, since I've failed to seduce you, I'm gonna call your real estate guy to see if he can find me an apartment. The forty-six days'll be up soon, and I don't want to be homeless again."
"You don't have to worry about that. As an employee, you're entitled to rent one of the apartments on four," he said, stopping in the archway. "I'm sure that you and your boss could work out some kind of a mutually satisfying deal." He winked at me.
"Not another deal?" I wailed. He just grinned and went toward the bedroom. "But if you want it to be mutually satisfying," I hollered after him, "you better pencil me into your busy schedule for some serious one-on-one time. And I mean that literally!" I yelled as an afterthought.
I had to admit that Ranger was handling this sexual frustration way better than I was. I added an extra teaspoon of sugar to my coffee, just in case.
I didn't know whether to blame it on Karma, or luck, or the alignment of the planets, but something was conspiring against us. Nothing had been mutually satisfying for Ranger and me since … crap … since the weekend before he'd gone in the wind that time. Now I wasn't just horny, I was depressed, too!
I took my time finishing my breakfast, then moseyed to the bedroom. I could hear Ranger in the dressing room, so I sat, cross-legged, on the bench at the foot of the bed, waiting for the Ranger fashion show.
A minute later Ranger strolled into the room and my eyes glazed over. He was in corporate attire. Black Armani suit, black silk dress shirt, black-on-black striped tie, black gun and shoulder holster. He looked like he had just stepped out of the Soldier of Fortune issue of GQ. The only time the man looked more gorgeous was when he was naked.
"Holy cow," I said to him. But I was thinking Holy Cow!
"I wasn't trying for holy cow," Ranger said. "I was shooting for respectable."
"Good luck with that one," I told him.
Ranger was strong inside and out. He was intelligent. He was brave. He was physically and emotionally agile. He was incredibly sexy. He was deceptively playful. But more than anything else, Ranger reeked of bad boy. It would take a lot more than an Armani suit and a silk tie to offset the testosterone and male pheromones that leaked out of him. I doubted Ranger would ever be entirely respectable.
"Okay," Ranger said. "I admit respectable was a stretch. How about successful?"
"Oh, yeah," I said. "You'd definitely be very successful with any female you came across." That earned me his full 200-watt smile.
"I've been thinking," he said, standing so close that I had to tip my head back to look up at him. "About that comment you made before. The one about penciling you in on my busy schedule."
"We have a high-dollar FTA to pick up in Delaware tomorrow night," he said. "If you came along, the men could bring the skip back to Trenton, then you and I could go on to DC and spend a couple of days there."
My eyes snapped to his. "Do you have a meeting in Washington?"
"No."
"A security job to check on?"
"Nope."
"A skip to pick up?"
He shook his head.
"Contracts to sign?"
"No."
"Meeting with your handler?"
By now he was smiling at me and shaking his head.
"Then … what?"
"Five star hotel, fancy restaurants, sightseeing, whatever you want."
"You mean like a … a vacation?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Three days?"
"Just us?"
He nodded.
"Honest?"
"Honest."
I squealed, "Yes!" and would have climbed him like a tree, but I was afraid I'd wrinkle him. Instead, I gave him a quick smack on the lips and did my "Happy Dance", shaking my booty all around the bedroom. "I need to start packing!" I sang, and practically skipped to the closet. "I have to get to the mall! I need those suede platform pumps and a dress and hose, and oh, I have to call Mr. Alexander, and get my fingers and toes done, and …"
"Steph!" Ranger caught my arm and swung me around to face him. "We're not leaving until tomorrow night."
"I know, I know," I groaned. "I just don't know how I'll ever be ready in time!" His laughter followed me into the closet. "I'll tell Hal to saddle up. He's your bodyguard this week."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He meant babysitters, not bodyguards.
I made my phone calls in order of importance … Mr. Alexander first, and then Lula and Mary Lou to see if they wanted to hit Quakerbridge Mall with me. I called Ray Collier, RangeMan's apartment hunter, and gave him all my information. He gushed over the opportunity to work for a RangeMan employee again, and told me he'd get back to me, ASAP.
Lula and Mary Lou were already waiting at the bonds office by the time I rushed in, and Connie had decided to come with us, too.
"Vinnie's gonna shit a brick when he gets here and finds the office closed," I said as she grabbed her purse out of the bottom desk drawer and pulled on her gloves.
"Do I look like I care?" Sarcasm dripped from Connie's words. "Vinnie, the rat, took Lucille to Atlantic City for their anniversary. He expects me to run the office and be on call 24/7, so he can just kiss my lily white ass in Macy's front window!" she snarled.
"So while the rat's away, you gonna play mouse?" Lula said with an evil grin.
"Hey! I'm running the office … I'm just running it the way I want for a change," she shrugged. "Anyhow, this is more important. It's gonna take all three of us to make sure Stephanie looks like she belongs on Ranger's arm."
My jaw dropped. "Excuse me?" I said, sounding huffy.
"No offense," Connie held up her hand. "But if you're going to a five star hotel and fancy restaurants, you should look like you belong there. You go dressed like that," she curled a lip at my jeans and boots, "they'll think you're a panhandler and toss you out on your ass."
I looked down at myself. "Oh, come on! I don't look that bad!"
"Not if you were a ten year old boy!" Mary Lou replied. "Chocolate ice cream stains?" she plucked at my sweatshirt sleeve. "And what's this?" She poked a finger at my chest.
"Jelly donut filling," I mumbled.
"Honestly, Steph! I don't know what happened to you!" Mary Lou grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a little shake. "When you were a buyer, you always looked fantastic! Even when you weren't at work, you always had style, were polished and put together. You took pride in how you looked. I know you hated wearing "the pantyhose and business suit working woman's uniform" every day … I get that! But now, honey, you look like a Dumpster diver."
"For crying out loud," I whined. "I'm a bounty hunter! I chase guys covered in Vaseline, I get set on fire and rolled in garbage. Sometimes I am a Dumpster diver. You really think I'm gonna wear nice clothes?"
"You'e not bounty hunting now," Connie retorted. "You're going shopping with your girlfriends. Frankly, you've taken "Business Casual" way too far."
"Hey! I got it!" Lula snapped her fingers. "I bet you're gonna play Pretty Woman, an' Ranger's gonna take you shoppin' an' pick out new clothes for ya just like Richard Geer and Julia Roberts!"
"What? No! I can buy my own clothes!" I think I had just been insulted. "Ranger doesn't have to pick them out for me!"
"Pffftt! Well, somebody better!" Lula shook her head, making the neon colored beads in her braids clack against each other. "White Girl, you look like shit! How you gonna get a man dressed like that?" She opened her arms wide. "You need a outfit like this! Make a man sit up an' take notice."
Lula put one hand on her hip and the other behind her head, then struck a pose, showing off her painted on, poison green, spandex micro-mini skirt, black fish-nets, thigh-high zebra print boots, and hot pink faux curly lamb jacket. If I dressed like that, I'd get noticed all right! And picked up by the cops for crimes against fashion.
"You living with that fine lookin' man, an' you run around lookin' like a bag lady." Lula pointed at my clothes. "No wonder he ain't jumped your bones yet."
"Hey, how do you know he hasn't … we haven't … uh …"
"Oh, please!" Connie flapped a hand at me. "We figured that if Morelli sex could put a stupid grin on your face, if you and Ranger were doing the horizontal hula, you'd be laughing your ass off! So, as your friends, it's our mission to get you laid!" Connie and Lula and Mary Lou all high-fived each other.
"Come on," Mary Lou looped her arm through mine, then turned to Lula and Connie. "Ladies, we've got our work cut out for us."
We marched out of the office and all waved at Hal and Sybo, who were double parked next to me. We climbed into my SUV, and took off for the mall, the big black SUV following right behind us.
"You do realize that no matter how you dress me up, every woman will still be staring at Ranger, wondering what he's doing with me!"
"The women will," Mary Lou said. "But you want Ranger, and every other man, to look at you, and think what a lucky stiff Ranger is."
Well, okay. Put like that, she did have a point. If Ranger looked like he belonged in a fashion magazine, I guess I shouldn't look like a Salvation Army Thrift Store reject.
My "personal shoppers" hit the mall with the same military precision that those Navy Seals used to get Osama. Splitting up to scout the stores, they blew through Macy's, scoped out Lord & Taylor, Ann Taylor, Coach, VC, Michael Kors, and every other high-end store in the place, selecting everything they thought I should try on. Meanwhile, Sybo, Hal and I followed our noses to Cinn-a-Bun.
In store after store, armloads of clothes were hauled into dressing rooms by ecstatic, commission driven sales ladies, who decked me out in one get-up after another, then shoved me out to be critiqued by my fashion coordinators. Even Sybo gave me a thumbs up or thumbs down on each outfit.
Caught up in the shopping frenzy, I admit I went a little nuts. I did a great imitation of General Custer … galloping through the mall, waving my credit card like a sword, and yelling "Charge!"
Three exhausting hours later, I had a whole new wardrobe. I also had a maxed out Visa, and I was looking at a lifetime of minimum amount credit card payments. I was gonna be fifty before I paid this stuff off, but in the meantime, I was gonna look damn fine!
I collapsed in the Food Court, surrounded by all my loot … boxes and bags of shoes, boots, belts, trousers, purses, sweaters, skirts, dresses, and a positively obscene amount of sexy lingerie, most of which I couldn't even remember trying on.
Poor Hal. Every time I even got near a lingerie department, he turned bright red and tried to become invisible, hiding behind columns or potted palms. I think if I had so much as held out a pink VC bag to him, he would have passed out cold. I had to wonder what he'd done to deserve Bombshell Duty.
Sybo, on the other hand, must have been a fashionista in another life. He even pointed out a black lace bustier for me. Well, actually, he looked at it and clutched at his chest, like he was having a heart attack. I thought that was a pretty good male reaction, so I bought it… and the matching panties, and garter belt, and the black thigh-highs with the seam up the back..
The girls had lugged enough mall food back to the table to feed a small third-world nation, and since I was wearing one of my new outfits, Mary Lou tucked a napkin under my chin and cautioned me not to spill. She's such a mom! I was too tired to even roll my eyes.
The shopping frenzy turned into a feeding frenzy, and we were shoveling food into our faces at lightening speed when my phone rang. It was Ray Collier, the apartment hunter, calling to tell me that he'd lined up a bunch of places for me to see that afternoon. Apparently my friends decided that if I couldn't pick out clothes by myself, I certainly wasn't capable of choosing an apartment, so they all volunteered to come along, too.
A Chick-fil-A meal, a corn dog, a slice of pepperoni pizza, two egg rolls, an Italian ice, and four Tums later, we met Ray at the bonds office. I swear the man started his spiel even before the car doors closed. He'd found some nice, bright, clean apartments, in nice, clean, desirable neighborhoods. He made them all sound like heaven.
Sadly, that sales pitch sounded familiar. I'd heard it from every salesman at Crazy Iggy's Used Car Emporium, the only car lot in Trenton that would extend me credit. I had to wonder if Ray ever worked for Iggy.
The first apartment he took us to was just off Rt. 1. Maple Hills was a series of ugly yellow brick bunkers entirely surrounded by even uglier parking lots, with neither a maple tree nor a hill in sight.
While we all hopped out of his Suburban and started toward one of the buildings, Lula scanned the parking lot. "Hold it!" she ordered. "You can skip this place!" We all stopped and turned to look at her.
"How come?" I asked as she waved our little group back to the SUV.
"It's the middle of the afternoon," she said. "And look at all the cars in this here parkin' lot. Don't look like nobody works a regular job, just a whole lotta irregular ones."
Mary Lou, Connie, and I looked around and then looked at Lula, all of us clueless. She just rolled her eyes. "You can tell a lot about your neighbors by lookin' at their cars. Those big old boats at your old place yelled "seniors", right?"
We all nodded like a bunch of bobble-heads.
Lula pointed out a row of vehicles parked next to the building. "These here cars say dealer, dealer, dealer, pimp, customer, dealer! How long you think a skinny-ass bounty hunter'd last here?"
Hal and Sybo were nodding. Without another word, we all did an "about face" and hustled back to Ray's vehicle, with Ray in hot pursuit sputtering, "But … but … but…" We checked out two more apartment complex parking lots without ever getting out of Ray's SUV.
"Well," Ray said. "Maybe apartment complex living isn't for you. I have a couple of other options to show you," he said optimistically.
Ray turned off Rt. 1 and into another driveway. "There's a place back here you might be interested in," he was saying as he pulled past a sign that announced The Shady Grove Trailer Park.
"Umm, really Ray," I gave him a weak smile. "I don't see myself living in a trailer park." My mother would have a plotz.
"Humor me, Ms. Plum. We're already here. Just take a look at this one place. It really might change your mind."
He pulled to a stop in front of a double-wide with a big attached awning. "See," he was wearing that oily salesman smile again. "Covered parking!"
A sign posted in the window announced that it was for sale or rent by owner. It looked clean enough, and someone had stuck plastic flowers in pots by the front steps in an attempt to cheer the place up. Against my better judgment, we all got out and trooped inside.
Lula looked around. "This here place feels familiar. I ain't been in a trailer since that time we went to Diggery's shit hole," she whispered and turned to the girls. "His twenty-foot snake tried to eat me for lunch."
"Oh, I remember that," Connie nodded. "Diggery's pet python!" She and Mary Lou shuddered.
"There's a note here," Ray said, examining his paperwork. "The family pet went missing and they want everyone to keep an eye out for it. It doesn't say what kind of pet it is, though."
We all exchanged looks. "Well, relax," I said. This can't be Diggery's place. It's way too clean!"
"I still smell s-s-s-snake!" Lula hissed, her eyes darting around. Connie pulled open a closet door and a mop fell out at Lula.
"Snake!" Lula screamed. "Snake, snake, snake!" And she ran out of the trailer with Connie and Mary Lou hot on her heels.
"It was a mop!" I yelled after them. I turned to look for Ray and found him flat on the floor, with three sets of footprints across his back.
"Let me guess," Ray said without lifting his head. "This place is out, too?"
"Oh, yeah." I said, looking over my shoulder for the python.
Ray clambered to his feet, his glasses crooked, his Donald Trump comb-over standing on end, and plastered a smile on his face. "Well, plenty more places to see!" And he ushered me out of the trailer and back to his Suburban.
We nixed Punky Balog's place. I swear I could still see his greasy old Vaseline ass print on the front window. I passed on the apartment above Pleasure Treasures, and not just because Caroline Scarzolli took one look at me and grabbed her shotgun.
"I have a very nice duplex to show you. It has its own entrance, and there's only one common wall, so there's a real sense of blah, blah, blah." I tuned Ray out, thinking instead about how Ranger would react to the black satin cami and thong I'd bought.
I was so lost in thought, I never noticed when Ray passed Gino's Tomato Pie and parked on Moffatt Street. "The neighbor has the key, so I called ahead. This is a perfect opportunity to meet …" Ray never got to finish his sentence because the front door flew open with a bang. Mary Alice and Angie tumbled down the steps, screaming at the top of their lungs. Valerie, carrying the baby on her hip and holding Lisa's hand, followed behind them.
Mary Alice and Angie were wrestling over the key.
"I wanna give them the key!"
"Give that back! It's my turn!"
"No it isn't! It's my turn!"
"My turn!"
"Mine!"
I powered down the window, and the girls saw me.
"It's Aunt Stephanie! Aunt Stephanie!" they shrieked.
"Are you going to live next door to us?"
"Where's Rex?"
"Are you gonna bring Bob?"
"Can I sleep over?"
"I wanna live with you!"
"No, me! I'm the oldest!"
"No! You're just the meanest!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Take that back!"
"Don't have to!"
Angie yelled, Mary Alice whinnied, Lisa wailed, and the baby started to howl. It was bedlam.
"This is why I'm not having any more kids!" I heard Mary Lou mutter.
"This is why I'm not having any kids!" Connie retorted. "At least not until they come up with a new improved model that has an 'off' switch!"
"I want a dozen kids," Lula said. We all looked at her like she was demented.
"Oh, Steph!" Val had to yell to be heard over the screeching, brawling kids. "This will be so wonderful! We can hang out and cook and do laundry together. The girls can visit you anytime they want. You can take them to school and help them with their homework and have sleep-overs and you'd see Mom practically every day!" I put a finger to my twitching eye. "She'll help you make curtains for the whole place, and we could even set up one of the bedrooms as a nursery so the baby can stay with you …" The sound of my blood rushing in my ears drowned out the rest of whatever she was saying.
"Let me just take the kids inside and get them settled. I'll be right back! I can't believe that you're going to live right next-door! Albert is going to be so thrilled!" Valerie herded her screaming brood back up the steps and into the house. We could still hear them after the front door closed.
I turned to Ray. "Floor it, Ray! Get us the hell outta here!"
Ray put pedal to the metal, and the Suburban screeched away from the curb, laying rubber halfway down the street.
"Wow!" Ray said, wide-eyed and clearly shell-shocked. "The owner told me he was having trouble keeping tenants in the other half of the house. Now I know why!" He took a deep breath and plastered on his salesman smile. "But don't worry, little lady," he reached over and patted my hand. "I have lots of other places to show you!" Swell!
Our next stop was at a two-story row house on Rockwell Street, a block from the button factory. Back before this became an up-and-coming neighborhood populated by "Yuppies", Morris Munson had lived here. He'd run down his ex-wife, beaten her with a tire iron, and raped her. He'd soaked her body in gasoline and was trying to get his Bic to work when a blue-and-white happened to drive by.
Vinnie, the weasel, had bonded him out and Munson promptly went FTA. When I'd attempted to apprehend him, the SOB had set my shirt on fire. He'd also paid me a middle-of-the-night visit, breaking into my apartment and threatening to cut off my nipple and set me on fire. Lula and I finally hauled him in, but I reminded him of his wife, so there was no love lost between us.
"The new owners bought most of the houses on this street and are refurbishing them one at a time," Ray said. "This one's almost done. All they have to finish is the kitchen."
I had to admit it looked really nice. Even the Merry Men nodded, and gave it the RangeMan seal of approval. New yellow siding, white trim, flower boxes, little railing on the stoop, it looked nothing like it had before. Every house on the street looked cute and cozy.
The inside was freshly painted, and the hardwood floors had been refinished. New crown molding and window trim had been installed, and the house had a lot of charm. Ray just might have finally found a contender. Lula and I went upstairs to check out the bedrooms and when I saw the new bathroom, I was ready to sign on the dotted line.
"Oh My God!" I breathed to Lula. The bathroom was still small, but it had a spa tub and a rain type shower head, tiled floors, walls painted a pale ocean blue, a pedestal sink, and a little linen closet. And it could be mine, all mine. "Hey Ray!" I called as we came down the stairs. "Can I afford this place?"
"Oh, yes, Ms. Plum! Based on the salary information I got from you and RangeMan, you certainly qualify." He wrote the rent amount on a business card and handed it to me. "You could be in here by the first of next month. They're finishing the kitchen … cherry cabinets, granite countertops, stainless appliances," he wheedled. "It'll look just like a brand new house!"
Rex would love living in a kitchen like that! And I could tell you, from experience, that my peanut butter and olive sandwiches tasted lots better in Ranger's spiffy kitchen than they ever did in my old crappy one. I could live here!
I picked up the rental agreement that Ray had whipped out and reached for the pen he held out to me. I was poised to sign my name when Mary Lou came into the room.
"Hey! Look what I found!" She was holding up a tire iron in one hand and a five gallon gasoline can in the other. "There's a Walmart bag in the kitchen with about a hundred Bic lighters in it. What do you suppose that's all about?"
Connie, Lula and I gaped at her and then at each other, our jaws on the floor.
Connie jumped a little and pulled out her cell phone and read the text message. "M-Munson escaped from prison yesterday," she croaked out, turning to look at me. "He told his cellmate he was homesick!" White-faced, Connie swallowed hard and read on. "He said that there was a certain blue-eyed, curly-haired brunette he couldn't wait to see again."
The next thing I knew, I was in Ray's Suburban and I swear that Ray was bashing his head against the door jamb as he locked up the house.
I really felt bad for him, he was trying so hard to find me a place that I felt guilty when I passed on the apartments he had lined up in the Burg. And the one above Mario's Sub Shop. So when Ray begged me to go see just one more place, I caved.
This time we wound up in North Trenton. Ray pulled up in front of a red brick, single-family house that I immediately recognized. The trim had been repaired and repainted, but it was still mustard color. The small sign on the door on the enclosed front porch advertising Coglin's taxidermy business was gone, and so was Carl Coglin. It was my turn to want to bash my head against something.
Ray hopped out of the SUV and trotted up the walk to the front door. I heaved a big sigh as I watched him fiddle with the lock box. "You know, this isn't even funny anymore," I said to the girls. "I can't believe that almost every place he's shown me used to belong to a skip that I helped put back in the system." I turned to look at them. "If I didn't know better, I'd think this was a set up!"
Mary Lou made a choking sound and started to cough.
Connie let out a squeak.
Lula looked bug-eyed and said, "Huh?"
"Are you guys okay?" I looked from one of them to the other.
"Sure!"
"Yup!"
Oh, yeah."
I narrowed my eyes at them. I had the weird feeling that something was going on. I just didn't know what.
"Hey look! Ray's got the door open." Lula practically jumped out of the SUV. Connie and Mary Lou hauled ass up the sidewalk to the front door.
I shook my head to clear it. "They're all nuts," I mumbled to myself.
I dragged myself out of the SUV and trundled into the house. Coglin may have been gone, but his stuffed menagerie still filled the shelves in the enclosed porch.
"What the heck?" Ray said to Lula, looking around at the stuffed pigeons and cats and squirrels.
"He called this here stuff "urban" taxidermy, said he restored pets and found objects."
"Found objects?" Ray asked.
"Road kill," Lula said.
"Ahhh," Ray nodded, his lip curled.
I followed Mary Lou into the house which looked just like it had when Coglin lived here. I was standing in the kitchen, staring at the stain on the wooden table, right where that fresh opossum had been defrosting, when I heard a scream.
"No!" Lula shrieked. "Don't touch that switch!"
A second later … BANG! Something exploded. I was afraid I knew what.
Mary Lou and I raced out of the kitchen to find Lula slumped against a wall in the living room, clutching her heart. "I made it out alive!" she gasped.
Ray wasn't so lucky. He was out on the porch, still holding the remnants of an exploding woodchuck. His glasses were so covered in bits of rodent hair and skin and melted stuffing that we couldn't see his eyes. He said, "I…" and he twitched. "I…" twitch. "I…" twitch. I was pretty sure he was in shock.
Hal and Sybo helped Ray into his SUV, settling him into the passenger seat, while Mary Lou took wet wipes out of her purse and tried to clean the gunk off his glasses. I locked up the house, got behind the wheel, and we motored off, stopping at a liquor store to get Ray a pint of Scotch which he drank straight out of the bottle.
At the bonds office, Ray practically shoved me out onto the street and climbed over the console to get into the driver's seat, muttering, "He didn't pay me enough!" He peeled off, down Hamilton Avenue, with Lula and Mary Lou still scrambling out of the vehicle.
"Humph!" Lula said as we watched Ray skid around a corner on two wheels. "That's gratitude for ya! He didn't even say thank you or nothin'! I tried to warn about that woodchuck!"
I nodded, thinking that Ray was probably wishing somebody had warned him before he even answered my phone call.
Back at RangeMan, the guys helped me lug all my packages up to seven. I dropped my coat, kicked off my boots and fell onto the bed. I was out cold before my head hit the pillow. Ranger woke me for dinner, and I told him all about my apartment hunting adventures while we ate.
He listened sympathetically, but really, he looked a whole lot like he was thinking about smiling. "Don't worry. You'll find something you like soon," he said and answered his buzzing phone.
"We've got an apprehension tonight," he said, helping me load the dishwasher. "I don't know when I'll be back, but I'll stay downstairs so I don't cramp your packing. We're leaving at two sharp tomorrow." He grinned, "I saw all your shopping bags. Is there anything left in the mall?"
"Not in my size," I sighed. "I think I wore the numbers off my Visa," I grimaced.
He looked me up and down, took my hand, and twirled me around. I'd kicked off the new booties, but I was still wearing a new sweater and slacks. "It was worth it." He pulled me into his arms and pressed a kiss below my ear.
"Don't start!" I gave him a weak shove.
"Let me pay for your shopping spree."
"What? Why?"
"I want to buy you something."
"You want to buy me something, fine. Go to a store, pick it out, and pay for it. But you aren't paying for these clothes! You already feed me, house me, and employ me, to say nothing of the uniforms, transportation, and insurance you provide. You start buying my clothes, and I'll officially make the kept woman list!"
"What's wrong with being a kept woman?" Ranger gave me a grin.
I gave him my own version of a wicked smile. "The only way I want you to keep me, is sexually satisfied!" I turned my back and pressed against him, then shimmied down his body and back up again.
"Now who's starting?" He spun me around, bent me back over his arm and kissed me breathless. "Woman, you're going to be the death of me!"
"Oh, I hope not!" I purred. "I have plans for you!"
At two o'clock the next afternoon, I'd been curled, styled, buffed, puffed, waxed, and polished at Mr. Alexander's Spa. I looked like a whole new woman to go with my whole new wardrobe. Ranger and I were seat-belted into the Mercedes, our bags were tucked away in the trunk, and a huge picnic type basket filled with all sorts of delicious goodies, courtesy of Ella, was on the back seat. We were on vacation!
Well, almost. There was still the little matter of a federal skip who needed to be picked up in Delaware. Two big black SUVs filled with Merry Men, and their gear, were already on the road. The take-down would be all set up by the time we got there. Ranger would supervise, and then we'd be on our way to the Ritz Carlton in Washington. Woo-Hoo! I was so excited I was practically bouncing in my seat.
By the time we merged onto the Garden State Parkway at the Belmar exit, it had started to flurry … big, fat, fluffy flakes. Ranger was in his zone, and I was trying to find mine. Between the comfort of the car and the classical music, I found myself dozing, dreaming that we were snowed in, 'forced' to spend our three-day vacation in bed. What a hardship! Lavish hotel, my own private sex slave, room service? Oh, my God! Life didn't get any better than that!
It was really snowing when we passed the Wildwood exit, the clouds so low, it looked like I could reach up and touch them. The winds were picking up, and the temperature was dropping like a rock. The Mercedes' satellite phone rang.
"Speak." Ranger's phone manners will never improve.
"We're at the ferry," Tank's voice filled the car. "Guy here tells me this is the last trip they're making until the storm passes. The latest weather report says those flurries are turning into a full blown blizzard and it's right on your back bumper. It's going to get a lot worse before it gets any better."
"Damn!" Ranger glanced over at me and squeezed my hand.
"It's okay," I told him. It really wasn't, but there was nothing anybody could do about it.
"Go ahead, and take the ferry. Find someplace in Delaware to hole up until we can get there."
"Will do," Tank said. "Tell Steph we're all sorry about the vacation. We know how excited she was."
"Thanks, guys!" I said back.
Ranger called RangeMan.
"Control Room," Hal answered.
"Hal, we're going to need accommodations someplace close, south of this location. If the storm's behind us, I don't want to chance turning back and trying to make it to Atlantic City." Ranger told him.
"Yes, Sir. Got you on GPS." We could hear him tapping on his keyboard. "Got a couple of places ahead of you." We heard more tapping. "I'm going to have to call them. I'll get right back to you."
Wind was blowing snow across the road and buffeting the car. They weren't lying about the weather; the storm was catching up with us. It was snowing so hard now that the windshield wipers couldn't clear the snow fast enough.
Hal called back and I took it so that Ranger could concentrate on keeping the car on the road. "I found you the perfect place! It's four miles ahead of you in Cape May." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Trust me, Steph. You're going to love it!"
"We're gonna love anyplace that gets us inside, out of this weather," I told him.
"I'll bet. I got you all checked in, and they're expecting you." I entered the address he gave me into the GPS. "You guys be careful and enjoy your stay at the beach."
"Har-har, Hal. Too bad I forgot to pack my bikini!"
We practically crawled into Cape May. The snow had slowed us down so much that it was dark. Between that and the wind and snow, the whole trip had been a little scary. The only other vehicles out on the road were snow plows that were whizzing along at breakneck speed. Other than an occasional street light or lit up house, all we could see was white. Good thing the GPS knew where we were, 'cause we sure as hell didn't.
Two fancy gas lamps marked the final turn, into a wide driveway, and Ranger pulled up under an elaborate porte-cochere on the side of a big Victorian mansion. We looked at each other and both heaved a huge sigh of relief. Okay, so Ranger didn't sigh … but he looked like he wanted to.
As Ranger turned off the car, a tall, slim man hurried down the steps to open the car door. "Mr. Manoso, Ms. Plum, we've been expecting you. Welcome to the Sea Witch. I'll take care of your luggage, you take care of your lady," he said to Ranger. "My wife is inside, waiting for you."
Introductions were made, and our hosts, Mike and Laura, took our coats then hustled us into the living room to warm ourselves by the fire. "Can I get you coffee, tea or hot chocolate?" our hostess asked.
"Or would you prefer something stronger?" Mike smiled.
We went for the stronger. Two snifters of brandy later, I was all warmed up, nicely relaxed, and seated at the dining room table.
"We really weren't prepared for dinner guests tonight," Laura said. "I'm afraid it's nothing fancy."
Let me tell you, that woman could cook. If lobster bisque and filet mignon with roasted mushrooms and white chocolate bread pudding were her idea of 'nothing fancy', I'd love to see what she came up with if she was going all out.
We worked off our amazing dinner when Mike took us upstairs to the third floor to show us to our room. "We've given you the rooms at the top of the house," he told us as we climbed up the sweeping stairway. "It has a fireplace for heat, in case we have to rough it for a few days," he said. "We do have an elevator, but in these high winds, we're likely to lose electricity, and that's no place to get stuck." As if on cue, the lights flickered. "There are flashlights and lanterns in the closet," he added, "and firewood stacked outside your door."
"Here we are," he said. "The Honeymoon Suite," he threw open the double doors. "Just as your office requested."
Ranger and I stood side-by-side in the hall, and I felt him stiffen. Without turning my head, I slid my eyes to him. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Hal is a dead man!" he muttered under his breath, then put a hand to the small of my back and escorted me into the sitting room.
I stepped over the threshold … and into another century. I had walked into a Victorian romance novel. The room was magnificent, with curved walls and floor to ceiling windows framed by heavy satin draperies with lace sheers. The furnishings were from another age … floral carpeting, marble top tables, overstuffed furniture, tiffany lamps, and a big antique armoire, which I suspected hid a TV.
The bathroom held all the modern conveniences, disguised as Victorian antiques. The ball-and-claw footed bathtub with the hand-held French shower was large enough for two people. Even the faucet on the pedestal sink looked like an original. Old-fashioned bottles and jars with bath salts and oils were on a shelf above the tub, along with luxurious towels and big, fluffy robes. It was the perfect combination of old and new.
But as beautiful as it all was, the centerpiece of the suite was in the bedroom. Across from the ornately carved marble fireplace was the most amazing bed I had ever seen. Topped by a silk feather bed and piled high with at least a dozen pillows, the massive headboard was an extravagant mix of swirls and curlicues and ribbons and vines and flowers made of brass, all entwined into a Victorian fantasy.
Above the headboard was a painting of a naked woman, lying in the brass bed. Her dark hair spilled around her, her lips parted, blue eyes half closed. With her hands over her head, her fingers were curled into the ornate brass of the headboard. It was practically obscene and positively seductive.
Ranger stood close behind me. "You look like that when you come," he whispered, so that Mike wouldn't hear.
I think I blushed. "You have a long memory," I whispered back.
"Some things a man never forgets." He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck then stepped away when Mike came back into the room.
"I see you like the bed," Mike said, bringing in a silver wine cooler with a bottle of Champagne. He put it on a table next to a pair of crystal flutes.
"It's something, all right," I agreed.
"Legend has it that the bed belonged to a notorious French courtesan. That's her portrait," he nodded toward the painting over the bed. "Painted by an admirer, no doubt."
I tore myself away from the bed to walk with Mike to the door in the sitting room. "If you need anything, just let us know," he pointed to the house phone. "We can send it up in the dumb-waiter in the hall. Good night, folks."
I said good night and locked the door behind him, then turned, leaned back against the solid wood and looked at Ranger. He was standing in the bedroom and had taken off his jacket, loosened his tie, opened the top buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves.
"I'm sorry we didn't make it to Washington," he said. "You would have turned every head in town." He took the Champagne out of the cooler and inspected it. "Cristal," he commented and walked out of my line of vision.
I wore a pretty sophisticated high necked, long sleeved, dark purple dress with a wide black suede belt, perfect for dinner in a fancy Washington restaurant. What I was wearing under the dress was another story entirely. The black corset and garters were trimmed with pink rosettes and ribbons, seamed black stockings, suede pumps, and those crotchless panties that Ranger was so fascinated by, all chosen with seduction in mind.
"Ranger?" I said softly.
"Hmmm," he answered from the other room.
"Ranger." I repeated.
He came to the bedroom doorway, working the cork out of the Champagne bottle, and glanced up at me.
"Guess what I'm wearing," I said and caught my bottom lip between my teeth.
I watched as realization hit him. His eyes swept over me, his gaze so intense it looked like he could see through my dress to what was underneath. His pupils dilated, his nostrils flared, and his lips curled up into a feral smile. Predator and prey, staring each other down. The question was, which of us was which?
Ranger dropped the Champagne bottle down on a table so hard the cork popped out and hit the ceiling. In a heartbeat, he was across the room and on me, all raw sexual power and need, pressing me back against the door.
Gripping me by the shoulders, he lifted me to his mouth, the kiss almost brutal. All of our defenses had been stripped away. All that was left was the primal hunger we had for each other. We tore at each other's clothing … his tie, my belt, his shirt, my dress … fell to the floor. We practically mauled each other in an effort to get to bare skin.
Ranger took a step back to look at me. His eyes slid down my body, from my face, to my throat, to my shoulders, to the swell of my breasts. His hands and mouth followed. His fingers drifted over the corset, the rosettes and ribbons, the garters, the small peeks of bare flesh. He pulled me flush against him, and I felt him harden, thick and pulsing.
I unzipped his pants, and he sprung free. I tried to take him in my hands, but he pinned my wrists over my head with one hand. With the other, he explored the slit in my panties. His fingers slid over me, then into me and my knees went weak.
And then he was on his knees in front of me, spreading my legs, spreading my lips, tasting me. My breath came in sobs, my fingers twisted in his hair, I couldn't think. I could only feel … his hot breath on my skin, his lips against me, his silken tongue circling, stroking, slipping inside me.
He wound me tighter, took me higher, held me on the edge until my whole body trembled. Every iota of my being was focused on that one spot between my legs. I pleaded, I wept, I begged … he ignored me, taking his time, taking his pleasure in the delicious torture he inflicted on me. I would get my revenge … later … much later.
I hung on the edge, somewhere between pleasure and pain, until he took pity on me. He gently took me between his lips … and sucked. I held my breath, every nerve ending on fire, every muscle clenched … tighter, tighter, tighter … until finally, I broke, shattered into a million shiny pieces and spun away, like the snow flakes outside the windows.
In an instant, he was on his feet, his hands under my butt, lifting me, impaling me with one stroke, filling me to bursting. I wrapped my legs around his waist, too weak to really hang on, my head lolling on his shoulder. I'd waited so long for this, he felt so good, so right, I thought I would die of it.
He pressed me back against the door, his fingers biting into my flesh while I pulsed around him. He groaned like a man in pain, then started to move, slowly at first, trying to make it last. Long, slow, smooth strokes that kindled the fires in me all over again. Barely through one orgasm, I felt another one building.
Slowly at first, we relished the friction of skin on skin, the sensation of him filling me again and again, our bodies remembering each other, welcoming each other home. He moved faster then, pummeling into me, both of us racing toward release. Ranger tensed, all his muscles quivering. He pumped into me once, twice, the third time he sank his teeth into my shoulder, and we exploded together.
Still holding on to each other, we slid down to the floor, me still straddling Ranger, and him still hard inside me. Gasping for air, we raised our heads and smiled into each other's eyes. He could see I was boneless, dreamy, spent, sated beyond words. I looked at Ranger. He was still hungry.
"More," he growled, and flipped us so that I was on my back on the luxurious carpet, and he straddled me. His fingers flew over the ribbons that laced the corset, and in seconds it was gone along with the stockings, the garters, and the panties. His hands cupped and kneaded, his mouth licked and nipped and kissed and sucked my bare skin.
A minute ago I would have sworn that I had nothing left to give, yet now he was moving in me again, and I was on fire. My nails dug into him, I clawed at him, urging him on. Blood racing through our veins, our hearts thundering, we lost ourselves in each other.
His breath on my face, his mouth at my ear, he whispered … how much he missed me, how good it felt to be in me again, how he never wanted it to stop. Each thrust came harder, faster, so deep it felt like he was touching the bottom of my heart. He said my name, over and over. "Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie…."
Finally sated, we collapsed in each other's arms, gasping for breath, barely able to move. When we could actually breathe again, we smiled at each other. And then we laughed. It just burst out of us, like the cork from the bottle of Champagne.
We wrapped our arms around each other and just lay there, laughing together, just for the sheer joy of it.
For the life of me, I couldn't tell you why I'd denied myself this man for so long, why I had wasted so much time. As he pulled me up off the floor and tugged me toward the bathroom for a long soak in that fantastic tub, I made myself a promise. I was going to make up for lost time, and I was going to make sure we both enjoyed every single minute of it!
TBC …
A/N: So, waddaya think? Was the smut okay? I always worry that my smut sounds like an IKEA furniture manual … you know, insert Tab A into Slot B. 'Bout time for those two to get together and start working on their relationship. We're almost done … next chapter wraps up the loose ends and answers all the questions. I hope I haven't forgotten any of them. LOL And personally, I think Ranger should thank Hal, not kill him!
As always, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing Love and feeding my inner review slut. Love wouldn't be Love without you!
Stayce