A Hunka Hunka Nursing Love (Women's Fiction) (17 page)

Did Keith notice? If he did, he didn’t question it. As soon as the door shut, he slipped his arms around her from behind and murmured in her ear, “I promised not to break any bones, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to jump them.”

All thoughts of Pam and Wanda and Ethics vanished as she turned around to face her Golden Boy. They kissed with the abandon of two teenagers who finally got the chance to be alone, but also with the passion of two adults who knew exactly what they wanted.

This would be the first time they’d made love since she’d gotten her cast off, and her body yearned to express her sensuality with its newfound freedom. She didn’t want to remain vertical much longer, but she also didn’t want to end up in the standard locale of the bedroom, so she broke the kiss. He resembled a frustrated child who’d just lost his lollipop.

“Hang on a sec.” She went to the door to lock it, closed the living-room curtains and turned off the lamps. The kitchen lights provided just enough illumination to set the scene for what she hoped would be a close encounter of the best kind.

She sauntered over to him, untucked his peach polo shirt, tugged it over his head, and tossed it aside. His eyes were onyx in the dim light. He tried to embrace her, but she shook her head and pushed his arms down. “Uh-uh. You just stand still.”

She unbuttoned his jeans and lowered them as she herself descended until she was on her knees. She helped him step out of the jeans, then ran her fingertips up the backs of his legs. The bulge in his white briefs suggested her efforts were having the desired effect. Maintaining a feather-light touch, she brushed her fingers over all of his exposed skin before lightly grazing what strained to be released.

His breathing quickened. She removed his last piece of clothing and continued torturing him with whisper-soft strokes, his aching moans creating a longing between her own legs. Just as she was about to replace her fingers with something else, he cried, “No!” and stepped back. “It’s too much. I can’t, not yet.”

“All right.” She was content with having driven him to beg for delayed gratification.

“Stand up.”

She complied, and he kissed her with vigor as his hands moved to the front of her shirt and slid the buttons free. He removed the blouse and paused to get an eyeful of her cleavage. The black satin push-up displayed her wares nicely, but it wasn’t long before he had that off as well.

He fondled her breasts with one hand while using the other to pull her lower half against his, making her most intimate flesh quiver as their kisses grew deeper. He tasted like the stout he’d been drinking, and the smell of that mingled with his clean, masculine scent. Then he slid one of his legs around behind hers, and he tripped her, caught her falling body, and gently laid her on the floor. It happened so fast she scarcely had time to react, save for a brief cry of shock and some nervous laughter. 

“Now I’ve got you where I want you.” He grinned and resumed kissing her. His fingers deftly unfastened her pants, and he sat up to remove them. Then he tickled the bottoms of her feet, and she squealed in protest.

“Foot massage, yes. Tickling, no.”

“All right.” He made himself comfortable and began kneading her feet.

“Oh, I wasn’t serious.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and enjoy it.”

She started to object, then realized now would be an excellent time to do as he said and live in the moment. “Okay, boss.” She saw a brief flash of his white teeth before she lay back down, closed her eyes, and savored the magnificent rubbing and pressing. He attended to each foot for a good five minutes, and she moaned her gratitude. Then he began running the ends of his fingernails over her feet, creating marvelous sensations along the edges and in the arches, and shooting jolts up her legs and beyond.

“Oh, that was fantastic,” she gushed when he finally returned to her side. “How can I ever repay you?”

He yanked at her black satin panties. “You could start by taking these off.”

“Aye aye, captain.” She gave a little salute and followed orders. But when he tried to move on top of her, she took command.

“Uh-uh,” she said, shoving him back down against the floor as she slid over on top of him. “I’m gonna ride you to Utopia.” She doused his grin with a fiery kiss and guided him into her paradise.

Reveling in the liberty to now maneuver without restraint, she gyrated like an exotic dancer. How could she not adore him, this wonderful man who seemed intent on nothing but bringing pleasure back into her life? Every impulse in her body and her heart truly wanted to take him to Shangri-La.

Their bodies fit together beautifully, with their movements creating friction in all the right places, for both her and him, or so it seemed, judging from his carnal grunts. She knew her pursuit of gratification would please him as well, so she kept grinding her hips into his as hard as she could until he groaned surrender. She opened her eyes just enough to see his pained expression, which she knew had nothing to do with discomfort. But she didn’t stop, continuing to ride faster and faster until her own voice cried out, and every nerve in her body exploded with tingling bliss.

She sucked in air while allowing the flickering images to fade away. When she opened her eyes, she saw tiny beads of sweat glistening on his upper lip. The corners of his mouth, still ajar as he caught his breath, inched up. “I think I’ll move to Utopia.”

Mission accomplished. “Maybe I’ll move there with you.” She eased off of him and snuggled up under his arm, relishing his warmth and musky scent.

“It sure is nice to have that cast off,” he said.

“You’re telling me.”

He rubbed her arm. “But you don’t want to overdo it.”

“I know, I know. Dr. Romack made that abundantly clear.”

“Still, maybe we could go for a little hike tomorrow.”

“Well, maybe. I need to do some research on a couple of alternative financing options for Triple-H.”

“On a Sunday?”

“I often work on Sundays.”

He growled. “Just because you do it often doesn’t make it a good idea.”

“No rest for the wicked.”

“Seriously, Val, I don’t think you allow yourself enough leisure time.”

Easy for him to say. “Virtually every business owner I know works at least sixty to eighty hours a week.”

“And virtually every person
I
know needs to have time to recharge their batteries to stay healthy.”

Was this about her health, or did he want to spend more time with her? “You’ll recall that it wasn’t so long ago I spent an entire week laid up in bed.”

“And if memory serves, you had your laptop and continued to work the whole time.”

“Not when I was flirting with you.” She looked up at him and smiled.

He returned her smile, but with a playful sneer.

“Honestly, though,” she continued, “that accident caused me to lose a lot of work time, and right at a point when I could ill afford to lose it. Plus Pam’s situation with her mom has taken her out of the office a lot, so I’ve had to pick up some of the slack there.”

He pulled her closer. “I know. It’s been a rough period for both of you. But that’s all the more reason to incorporate some down time to keep your strength up.”

Déjà vu. Didn’t she hear Greg say similar things about a million times? “All right.” She traced little figure-eights on his chest with a finger. “We can go for a
short
hike.”

“Good.” He put his chin on top of her head and caressed her shoulder. “I love hiking. I sometimes think of nature as my religion.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure about the whole God thing, but there are times when I’m in a really beautiful place, like in the mountains or a park or something, and I feel like . . . it’s all so magnificent that there has to be some kind of higher power.”

“Hmm. How is your meditation class going?”

“Pretty well. I don’t spend enough time meditating on my own though.”

“Have you learned much about Buddhism?”

“A little. The instructor suggested a lot of books, and she loaned me this one about how to find career satisfaction. The cool thing is that it focuses on how to find happiness in what you’re already doing, whatever that is.”

“So what’s the instructor like?”

“Heather? Oh, she’s about what you might expect. Kind of a counter-culture type. But she’s not flaky.”

“Is she cute?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Kind of. Why?”

Why, indeed? Her question had sounded jealous and possessive. But his response had made her heart sink. Time to act nonchalant. “Oh, I don’t know. Just curious.”

“So what about you? What are your religious beliefs?”

Thank God he dropped the Heather thing so easily. “Oh, I’m probably a pretty typical Christian. I was raised Lutheran, and I’m still a member of the same church I grew up in. But to be honest, I go with my mom on holidays and that’s about it. Much to her chagrin. She loves to say work is my real religion.”

He chuckled. “Why are you so driven?”

She breathed in deeply as she tried to pinpoint the genesis of her ambition. “I think it goes back to my dad. He built up a chain of grocery stores that was pretty successful. They eventually sold out to a major chain.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. That made a nice nest egg for my folks. So anyway, when I took over the Mother Hubbard chain, I got all kinds of positive reinforcement from my dad, and, believe me, I lived for that.”

“Oh, yeah? Daddy’s little girl?”

“To the max. I worshipped the ground he walked on.”
My how things change
. “I felt bad about not being able to give him any grandchildren, so I embraced the entrepreneurial thing with all my heart and soul. I sometimes think that made him more proud than grandchildren ever could have.”

“Hmm. Maybe. When did he pass away?”

“Two thousand. He was flying his little Beechcraft Bonanza up to an experimental aircraft show in Wisconsin and crashed.”

Keith’s body tensed. “Oh, my God. That’s awful.”

“Yeah, it was. But at least he died doing what he loved. He started flying as a pilot in the Korean War.”

“Cool.”

“What about your dad? Is he still living?”

He took an unusually large breath. “No. He died of lung cancer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“He was only fifty-eight.”

“What did he do for a living?”

“Chicago cop.”

“Ooh. That’s stressful.”

“It was. His real love was music. He played the sax in a jazz band.”

“Oh, wow. Now
that
is cool.”

He chuckled. “He was a cool guy.”

“Your mom is still alive, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yeah. Still living down in Cicero. Guess what she does?”

“Uh . . . I don’t know. A nurse?”

“Right!”

“Oh, so it runs in the family.”

“Not really. We’re the only two.”

Valerie loved this kind of pillow talk, even though she wished she actually had a pillow. She lifted the arm he had around her. “I need to lie on my back for a while. My neck’s killing me.”

“Okay.”

“You know, Pam attended nursing school for a while.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. Her mom was a nurse, too, but she’s the one who talked Pam out of it. Said it was too much work for too little pay.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that, even though it has improved.”

“Don’t you think they make a cute couple? Pam and Wanda, I mean.”

“I guess. I don’t know a lot of lesbian couples, but they do seem like a good match.”

She studied the vein-like plaster designs on the ceiling. “I just can’t understand people who think gay couples are somehow evil or dangerous. I mean, we’re all so different biologically that it makes sense to me that some men would happen to prefer men, and some women would prefer women. As long as they’re not hurting anyone, why shouldn’t people be free to love whoever they want to love?”

“Sounds good to me.” He rolled onto his side facing her and positioned his head above hers. “Can we start now?”

What a guy. “I don’t see why not.” As their mouths joined, she enjoyed the warm, wet kisses he delivered with just the right combination of urgency and tenderness. She wanted them to last forever. She wanted everything about this relationship to go on and on, and yet . . . wasn’t that too much to hope for? Didn’t her good sense suggest otherwise? Her stomach churned ever so slightly.
Fools rush in, Valerie. Don’t be a fool.

Chapter 14

Valerie normally had difficulty focusing on what her employee Jake Taglioli said, because her female instincts wanted to lose themselves in his intense, cola-brown eyes, and her fingers wanted to glide up his brawny arms and play with his wavy black hair. But the look on his face when he entered her office, along with what he was telling her and Pam, sent tremors all the way down to Valerie’s gut.

“She had feces all over her back end, and I was trying to help her clean it off,” Jake said, obviously straining to keep his voice at a level pitch. “Then she started screaming that I was molesting her. She went nuts!”

“Do you normally help her with bathroom tasks like that?” Pam asked.

“Yes! I have been for weeks—at her request—and she’s never had any problem with it. Then all of a sudden today, she freaks out on me!”

“Okay, try to relax.” Valerie held her hands up in a ‘calm down’ posture. “We have no reason to doubt you’re telling us the truth. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll go over exactly what happened.”

Jake sat, took a big breath, then exhaled. “Okay, so I arrived at the house at the usual time. She didn’t answer the door, so I went in, and I finally found her in the bathroom. I said, ‘Ruth, are you all right?’ She didn’t answer, but the door was open enough that I could see she was a mess. So I went in and started helping her, which, as I said, I’ve done lots of times. But this time she freaked! She said, ‘Stop it, you animal. Stop molesting me! Leave me alone!’ I said, ‘Ruth, it’s me, Jake. You know I’m here to help you.’ Then she started yelling, ‘Get out! Get out!’ So I did, because I was afraid somebody might hear her and call the cops.”

“Well, you’re a licensed home health worker, so you wouldn’t be arrested,” Pam said.

“Are you sure?” Jake asked. “I mean, she used the word ‘molest’.”

Valerie and Pam exchanged glances, and Valerie realized they weren’t a hundred percent sure. One more thing they needed to discuss with their nurse manager and their lawyer.

“Did you call a family member?” Pam asked.

“Yes, that’s the first thing I did after I left. Her closest relative is her niece, so I called her, but she didn’t answer. I still haven’t heard from her.”

Valerie turned to Pam. “I think we’d better go over there right now. I don’t like the idea of just leaving her alone in that situation, and maybe she’ll respond differently to us since we’re women.”

Pam agreed, so they got the address from Jake and headed over to Ruth’s house. On the way there, Pam called their lawyer to discuss the legal ramifications if Ruth did accuse Jake of assault.

“So what did he say?” Valerie asked as soon as Pam ended the call.

“He said the charges probably wouldn’t stick, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be arrested.”

“Oh, fuck. This is the last thing we need right now.”

“What do you mean ‘right now?’”

“I mean Eric thinks he has a new investor lined up for us. This could blow the deal sky high.”

Pam gave a frustrated huff. “Not to mention the whole business concept.”

“Please. I’m frantic enough as it is.”

When they arrived at Ruth’s house, a woman too young to be Ruth answered the door. “Yes?”

“Is this the home of Ruth Devlin?” Valerie asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“Hi, I’m Valerie Palka, the owner of Home Health Hunks, and this is our business manager, Pam Goldblatt. Our employee, Jake Taglioli, was here about an hour ago and had a problem with Ruth . . .”

“Yeah, he called me. I’m Ruth’s niece, Abby.”

“Is it Jake?” a weak voice called from another room.

“No, it’s someone else from Home Health Hunks,” Abby replied.

“Oh. Well, invite him in.”

Abby smiled at Valerie and Pam, who couldn’t help smiling back. “As you can see, she likes the hunks. And Jake didn’t do anything wrong. She was just embarrassed and didn’t want him to see her like that.”

Valerie inhaled a full breath for the first time in the last hour. “Oh, well, that’s understandable.”

“But Jake said he’s been assisting her with bathroom tasks for a while,” Pam said.

“Yes, but this time was the worst I’ve ever seen it.” Abby kept her voice low. “And to be honest, I should have told him her behavior has been a little odd lately. She’s been more forgetful, and there have been times when she didn’t seem to recognize even me.”

“Hmm.” Valerie nodded. “Sounds like we need to do a re-evaluation of her care needs.”

“Yes, and I need to get her into the doctor to see what’s really going on,” Abby said. “It’s just that between working and trying to deal with my own kids, it’s hard to stay on top of things.”

Whenever Valerie heard someone talk about the challenges of being in the “sandwich generation,” she felt a weird combination of envy and relief. The older she got, the more the relief edged out the jealousy. But her maternal yearnings never went away completely.

The three women agreed to arrange a reassessment meeting, and Valerie and Pam got back into the car to return to the office.

“We sure dodged a bullet there,” Pam said.

“No shit.” Valerie slipped on her sunglasses. “We probably need to do re-evaluations on a more regular basis.”

“I agree. But that’s one more thing that’s going to increase our costs.”

As she eased the Beamer away from the curb, Valerie said, “Yes, but better that than a lawsuit.”

“Oh, God, don’t even say that word.”

Valerie chuckled. “Why, are you afraid I’ll jinx us?”

“With the way our luck has been going lately, yes.”

An ebony feline about twice the size of Sylvester ran in front of Valerie’s car, and she slammed on the brakes. The cat turned tail and ran back into the bushes.

“Oh, no.” Pam’s voice had a resigned air of doom.

Valerie had no idea Pam was so superstitious. “Now he didn’t technically cross our path because he ran back. And besides, I think I saw a little white bib on his chest.”

Pam’s eyes were as big and dark as black olives. “You wish.”

Helen cut the pie as neatly as possible and scooped out a big piece for Charlie. She’d never made banana cream pie before, but she seemed to recall him saying it was his favorite, and she wanted every detail about the dinner to be perfect. She wanted to prove their relationship could still be completely fulfilling without them living together.

The rack of lamb had gone over well, as had the potatoes au gratin, and the asparagus with hollandaise sauce. Of course, he had accused her of trying to give him a heart attack, but a rich meal every once in a while never killed anybody, did it? And now the pie would be the
pièce de résistance
.

She carried the dessert plates into the dining room and placed his in front of him with the pie slice pointing directly at his belly.

“Oh, my, what’s this?” he asked.

“Banana cream pie.” She didn’t want to gloat over her accomplishment, so she set her own small piece down and turned back toward the kitchen. “I’ll get the coffee.”

He gently caught her arm. “Wait a sec. Can you sit down for a minute? There’s something I want to say, and . . . I feel like I’d better say it before I lose my nerve.”

Oh, dear. Was he going to push again for living together? “All right.” She sat down.

He took one of her hands in his. The rims of his eyes were a bit redder than usual. “I just wanted to apologize for trying to pressure you to move in with me. I shouldn’t have been so pushy, and, uh, I should have respected your boundaries.”

Oh, how sweet! She suspected one of his daughters may have coached him with that last line. “Thank you, Charlie. But I think I may owe you an apology, too. I should have been more honest with you about why I don’t want to leave this house.”

“That’s perfectly all right.” He raised a hand to indicate she didn’t need to continue. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to explain anything to me.”

“But I want to. I want you to understand why I feel the way I do.”

His brow furrowed, but he said, “Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am.” At least she had been sure . . . Oh, well. May as well get it over with. She drew in a deep breath and took hold of both of his hands. “Stanley and I moved into this house when it was newly built in 1964. When he died in 2000, being here was the only thing that made it seem . . . bearable.”

He nodded, so she continued.

“You see, my eyes would play tricks on me, and I would see him sitting in his chair, just for a second, of course, until I realized it was force of habit that caused me to imagine I saw him. Or I’d glance out the window and think I saw him mowing the lawn, things like that. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy—”

“Oh, of course not! I’d never think that.”

“Well, you’d better hear me out first.” She took a sip of water and found it difficult to swallow. “After a while, I started talking to him. Just occasional comments now and then, at first. But over time, I began having complete conversations with him. Now I truly am not crazy. I knew he wasn’t actually here, and that he couldn’t really hear me, and I didn’t hear voices or anything like that. But after so many years together, I knew exactly what he would have said. So it was easy to speak my part and just know how he would respond.”

He glanced away for a moment but kept bobbing his head sympathetically.

“I know it’s probably not entirely healthy, but—” She looked directly into his eyes, which seemed to reflect the compassion she’d hoped to see. “His memory has become like . . . my security blanket. It helps get me through the tough times, the lonely times. Not that you haven’t been wonderful. You have! But we’ve only known each other a few months, and . . . I feel like I still need that stability. That anchor.” She paused. “Do you understand?”

His smile quelled her concerns. “Yes, I believe I do. Of course, my experience was much different. When Arlene died, my kids insisted I move out of the house. They were afraid the memories would be too much for me. I was in kind of a haze at that point, and what they said seemed to make sense. So I went along with it. But there were times when it felt like I’d suffered two losses instead of just one.”

“Oh, Charlie.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

After clearing his throat, he said, “I just kept telling myself it was all for the best. A fresh start. You know. But there are times when I would give anything to be back in that kitchen, just one more time, and imagine her at that stove, telling me what was for supper.”

She stood and hugged him, nestling his head between her breasts. She held him that way for a full minute. Then he withdrew and raised his face to hers.

“So you see, I think I do understand.”

She nodded. “I believe you do.” They resumed their embrace for a few moments, then she pulled away. “Now! I want you to enjoy that pie while I go get the coffee.”

But again he stopped her. “Wait. There’s one more thing I need to be honest with you about.”

Her chest froze. What now?

“I hate banana cream pie.”

A chorus of chirping birds woke Keith up. The curtains of their inn room were closed, but he could see the sun had already risen enough to promise a nice day. He turned toward Valerie, who remained fast asleep, her lips barely parted. What a switch. Usually she rose with the dawn, even on weekends.

When she had agreed to a weekend getaway, he’d decided to find someplace truly special. The 1850s inn on the shores of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, had not disappointed. The night before, they’d sat on the inn’s front porch facing the lake and watched a blazing orange sunset. Then they’d gone up to their room for a night of sex that gave him a hard-on just recalling it.

He was tempted to wake her up and go at it again, but he hated to disturb her peaceful sleep. She looked so nice in the soft morning light. Even with no makeup, she radiated a classic beauty. How could she ever doubt her appeal to men of any age? Her eyelashes squirmed like a centipede. She blinked open her crystal-blue eyes and smiled.

“Morning,” she whispered.

“Top of the mornin’ to ya, lassie.”

She stretched her arms and back. “Are we in Ireland or Wisconsin?”

“Well, it depends on what you want for breakfast. Do you want a cheese omelet or oatmeal?”

“Mmm. Both.”

“That reminds me.” He picked up the receiver of the antique black phone on the nightstand and dialed room service. “Hi, this is Keith Nuber in the Master Suite? We’d like to have our breakfast tray now. Thanks.” He returned the receiver to its cradle.

“Breakfast tray? Man, you do know how to spoil a woman.”

He raised a hand and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Not just any woman.” He moved to kiss her, but her hand flew up to block her lips like a goalie.

“No, no! Dragon breath.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve smelled your morning breath before. It’s not that bad.”

“No, I meant
your
breath.”

Before he could take retribution, she jumped out of bed, ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

“Very funny,” he called out. “No breakfast for you.” He got up and put on his pants so he could answer the door.

She peeked her head out of the bathroom. “I just realized I don’t want to brush my teeth
before
breakfast.”

“But I just told you, you won’t be getting any breakfast. So brush away,” he said with a sweep of his hand.

She stuck her bottom lip out like a pouting prima donna.

“Oh, for God’s sake. You remind me of my little sister. Here.” He picked up the lime-green polo shirt he’d worn the day before, balled it up, and threw it at her. “Put that on.”