Gypsy Love: A Gypsy Beach Novel (5 page)

The fevered heat that colored her cheeks spread downward to streak her delicate neck and settle on the top swells of her breasts, barely visible in the button down dress. “I can’t believe you understand that, and that we’re sitting here discussing sex and we haven’t even been out to dinner.”

John laughed. “I’m blunt as hell, just ask Ryan, and you’re easy to talk to. I’m kind of wishing I hadn’t agreed to go with Sienna to pick up Evie in a little while. I’d like to just keep on talking to you.” He analyzed his last statement. It had fallen from his lips without his permission. He prided himself on caution and calculation, and somehow in one conversation she seemed to have cracked just a little of his fortitude. It should have scared the shit out of him, but the quickening of his heart was full of undeniable lust and longing to keep this going.

He’d managed a six-month relationship a few years back. Maybe if the next two weeks went well, he could visit Birmingham occasionally. No reason they couldn’t keep each other’s beds warm until the attraction died down. He refused to acknowledge that single plaguing synapse in his brain that wondered if there could be more to this.

“I think it’s really sweet that you spend time with Evie. She clearly loves you. My godfather disowned me when my second novel came out. Of course, he’s my uncle on my mother’s side, so that’s not particularly surprising.” She sighed.

“Damn, woman, anybody in your life besides your dad not been a bitch about your talent and your work?”

This time it was her laughter that was haunted. “No, not really.”

He begrudgingly checked his watch. He needed to get a shower and get ready to go get Evie, and there was something else he wanted to check before they went out that night. “Well, add me to the list with your old man, and I’ll pick you up in your room around six. That sound good?”

“It sounds perfect. Thank you for helping me. I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

“Me, too. You staying out here, or can I walk you back in?”

“I think I’m going to stay out here. I don’t really want to run into Kent and Donna again for awhile.”

“I definitely get that. Hey, do you want me to bring you some sunscreen? I don’t want you to get that beautiful skin burned. I plan to rub my hands over it all very soon.”

Arley prayed that he hadn’t noticed her entire body shiver from the thought alone, but his extremely pleased smirk said he had. “Thanks. I won’t be out much longer. I promise.”

With a nod, he gently squeezed her hand. His thumb made a few languid glides along hers, making her weak before he forced himself to return to the Inn.

John spent the afternoon with Evie at the park. When Sienna declared it time for her nap, he took the opportunity to do a little research. Generally, he refused to look up women he dated online. If you couldn’t tell if a woman was bitchy, crazy, or an all-out psychopath after you’d talked to her for an hour or two, then you need better conversation skills and to quit thinking with the head below your belt.

He knew Arley was a very genuine, extremely intelligent woman, not to mention the fact that she was beautiful, but he wanted to see what he could find out about her before their date that night.

He scrolled through her social media accounts. She used them to advertise her books, but her posts had dried up about the time her books had become property of the publisher’s creditors. There were a few articles she’d had written for some literary blogs and magazines. She’d given a few interviews about her father’s influence on her work. She was inevitably asked what he would have to say about what she wrote. That had to take its toll.

At the end of the second Google page, his stomach seized. She wasn’t well enough known for it to have made it to the top of the search, but he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Chase Masters recently ended his 6-month relationship with fledgling author Arley Copeland, citing her disturbing preferences in bed and insatiable sex drive as two of the main reasons for the breakup.

“Dude, what the hell?” John settled on his bed and read intently. When he came to the line,
‘She often wanted to have sex in the mornings before I had to be at work and then again a few evenings a week. She never seemed to understand that the men she writes about are fiction,’
he laughed out loud.

“What kind of moron complains about that?” He scoffed as he continued to read that Chase found it disturbing that Arley wanted him to be more dominant in bed, and that she’d once suggested visiting a sex shop on the outskirts of Birmingham. He’d alleged that he didn’t feel his mother would approve of such activities and had therefore ended the relationship.

“Okay, ass wipe, now you’re just making us all look bad. I bet you still live at home with your mama, don’t you?”

No wonder she’s sworn off men.
He shook his head. Her declaration was incorrect. She’d sworn off prepubescent assholes that wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like Arley Copeland in bed if she wrote them out a scene of detailed instructions and a script of dirty talk. No, it wasn’t men she didn’t want—it was boys. She needed a man that knew what the hell he was doing, not some moron with an anemic cock and half a brain cell.

Determination armored itself in his chiseled musculature. He could be that for her. He’d make her forget she’d ever let whoever Chase Masters was anywhere near her beautiful body.

He’d take her to all new heights, in bed and out. She needed to be worshipped like the goddess she was. He could sure as hell be dominant, but only after he found out if that’s really what she wanted. Something inside of him told him that Chase hadn’t been lying. He was looking to make a quick buck off Arley’s slight success and wanted to get back at her for more than likely pointing out that he was nothing more than a virgin schoolboy with no clue what to do with a woman in bed. He wasn’t creative enough to have come up with that on his own, but he was clearly a vindictive asshole. If John ever had the pleasure of running into Chase …. A wicked grin formed on his features.

Slamming the laptop shut, he set out to make certain that the next two weeks of Arley’s life made up for just a few of the ones she’d endured in the past.

Too frantic to do anything but pace, Arley checked the clock on the mantle again. What was the likelihood that somehow the universe had delivered her the world’s most perfect man and that he could help her get the rights back to her books? It all seemed too good to be true. She fluctuated between John being some kind of heavenly gift sent to her by her father and him actually being some kind of lowlife reporter that was here to somehow prove Chase’s claims and further her utter humiliation.

“Wow! How egotistical are you? You aren’t nearly famous enough for someone to do that to.”
Oddly, that thought brought her comfort. The only people who’d even cared about Chase’s interview had been her family and the tiny town of Tilldale, who were thoroughly shocked that one of the Copeland girls would want such things or would write the kinds of things Arley wrote.

Shaking her head, she went back to what to do about John. She was already falling for him and that would only lead her to more heartbreak. She wasn’t sure she could survive anymore of that. Her weary heart couldn’t withstand one more blow.

If she allowed John Rowan to entertain her for the next two weeks, what happened after that? Could they still be friends? Would he still want to work with her on her contract insanity? She thought that he would. He was logical and extremely intelligent. It was herself she was worried about. Her heart got involved far too easily. Maybe this time, she could really take it a day at a time and not get in over her head. Whatever happened would happen. The prospect of going through the next few weeks without John was very bleak, so why not enjoy his company, and maybe even his bed? With a resolute nod, she vowed that she would not fall for him.

Just as she made herself that promise, he knocked on the door to her room. She smoothed her dress checked her make-up. “We’re just having fun, figuring out my career options, and talking literature.” She ordered herself in the mirror.

When she opened the door, every single order and vow she’d made sank right to the floor, along with her stomach. John Rowan, dressed in the perfect summer suit, stood holding a beautiful bouquet of pink tulips.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to get me flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“You look drop-dead gorgeous, Arley, and I wanted to bring you flowers. I started with pink roses but that seemed clichéd. I will, however, vow not to make the two-lips on the organ joke about these.”

She giggled in spite of herself. John looked very pleased as she stepped back and he entered the room. His eyes swept over her suite as he situated the flowers on the mantle near the clock. Something about her suite pleased him.

“Shall we?” When he gallantly offered her his arm, she knew she was in deep trouble.

He guided her out of the Inn after shooting warning glares at Ryan, who was sporting quite a smirk. “So, he’s gonna give you hell the next time he sees you without me, right?” She couldn’t help but giggle.

“Leave it to an author to notice every little thing. Should’ve known that; I guess.” He opened the passenger side door of his Porsche, and her mouth gaped.

“I’ve never ridden in a Porsche.”

John smirked. “Just like any other car … only
so
much better.”

The ride in his fancy car didn’t last very long. There really wasn’t much to the town.

“Look! They have a bookstore!” She exclaimed as she pointed to the now-darkened Bandana Books that sat past the dock and entrance to Havens’ Charter Boat Rentals.

“We’ll have to explore the town a little.” He guided her towards the dockside restaurant. “Ryan’s helped rebuild most everything here. He redid this place a few months ago. They added on a new dining room out over the water and a bigger kitchen.”

Arley studied the restaurant as she stepped inside. Ryan had done an outstanding job of keeping the eclectic qualities of the charming town while expanding the space to suit patrons looking for a nice meal on the water. She was fairly certain that John slipped the maître d two twenties while he thought she was distracted. They were seated quickly in a quiet, intimate corner with a stunning view of the incoming tide and the brilliant sunset over the soothing waters. Giving in to just a moment of self-care she stared out at the incoming tide and longed once again to somehow live on the water at some point in her life. The water used to help her write. She’d tried a little this afternoon, but had gotten nowhere fast. Shaking off that feeling of impending doom yet again, she moved her focus to John.

“This is really nice. I’ve been surviving on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the last few weeks.” She saw no point in lying. It was the truth, and she had little to no money. She was trying to conserve her meager savings, and didn’t want to run up her credit cards. This trip alone was going to eat up what was left in her checking account.

“Since you brought that up—and by the way, if it’s okay with you, I’d love a lunch and dinner date for the next week or two, my treat—tell me about your father’s will. You said your aunts had contested it?”

“I can’t let you pay for all my meals, John.”

“I’d enjoy the company, and once you’re past the age of like seven, PB&J’s get old pretty quickly.”

“They’re good with Lay’s potato chips.” She wrinkled her nose.

He laughed. “Agreed, but I’d still like the company.”

“Maybe sometimes.” She conceded.

“So, what happened with the will?”

A waitress appeared at their table before she was forced to get into the hornet’s nest that was her family.

“Want some wine, sweetheart?” His eyes smoldered over hers like he wanted very much to taste the wine from her lips.

Arley’s breath tangled in her throat.
Wow, sweetheart.
He skipped right over babe, honey, and sweetie, and went straight for sweetheart. She fought not to squeal. A fevered heat blossomed from her womb and then poured out towards points just south. It took her a long moment to remember that he’d asked her a question and that the waitress was waiting on her to respond.

“Oh, uh, only if you’re having some.”

John shot her a look that said he knew she was trying to keep her order less expensive than his, and that he wasn’t pleased. His eyes scanned the wine list quickly. “Fine, we’ll each have a glass of your best Cabernet.”

The waitress was suddenly far more interested once she realized that her tip that evening would be more than average. “Yes, sir. I’ll be right back with your wine and bread. Let me know if you’d like an appetizer.”

His piercing blue eyes turned back on her as soon as the waitress made her exit. “I asked you out, Arley. Please, get whatever you want. Let me take care of you.”

Her eyes flashed with heat. She was fairly certain he’d meant that in every possible way. She swallowed down raw need brought on by his commanding tone. It had been a very long time since anyone had taken care of her, and the last man that had ever cared enough
to
take care of her was dead and gone.

Refusing to agree with his request just yet, she drew an audible breath. “Let’s see here. You already know that I’d signed my contract before my dad died.” She tried to speak the words that always left her short of breath. He was the only person that had ever understood her. He was so proud of her work. He never batted an eye at any of her scenes. He even helped her improve them in the beginning. He taught her how to write and how to live. It killed her that she was certain he would be disappointed in the turn her career had taken recently.

John reached across the table and took her right hand in his. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. I was just thinking a contested will is much easier to solve than a Chapter 11 filing.” The warmth and substantiality of his voice and his caress allowed her to continue.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I just really miss him, you know?” She swallowed back another enclosure of emotion that had settled in her throat.

“I’m sure.”

“Anyway, my sisters and I were supposed to each get a few hundred dollars a month from his estate. He left everything else to my mom. Savannah and Charlotte get their checks each month, but my Aunt Judith is married to the probate judge in Tilldale, and they’re all so appalled by what I write that she picked some line out of the will about having to act in a manner my father would see fitting to continue to receive the check to hold up my inheritance.”

John rolled his eyes, but then another one of those sexy smirks formed on his lips. “Wait, wait, wait, your parents named you Savannah, Charlotte, and Arley.”

“It’s ridiculous! Isn’t it?” She was thrilled someone understood the insanity of that. “My mother insisted that we all had to be named after Southern cities. Daddy used to joke that they named us where they conceived us, but he just said that because my mom freaked every time he joked that way.”

Laughing over her tale, he shook his head. “Well, I mean, it could be worse. They could have named you Demopolis or Beaverton.”

It felt so good to laugh, Arley dissolved into giggles over the thought of that.

When she settled down, he was grinning at her sweetly. “Okay, Miss Southern City, your uncle is related to you, therefore he cannot preside over a hearing over the will.”

“Yeah, but this is Tilldale. He’s the only judge. We don’t even have our own police department.” She sighed.

“Then I will have a hearing moved to Birmingham, baby doll. That is not a problem, and we’ll get you your inheritance, but it didn’t sound like that was enough to get you back all of your rights.”

“No, it won’t be, but it’s something. I could maybe get the rights back to my last release that was pulled off the market before it really went anywhere, and then pay off a few bills and figure out what to do next.”