Inappropriate Thoughts (Victoria Wilde #1) (6 page)

As he got closer, Brian stopped in his
tracks at the sight of a woman lying face down on one of the lounge
chairs. He stood speechless while taking in the scene. She wore a
white micro-bikini bottom that must have only provided about four
inches of coverage at its widest point, near the top of her
perfectly-shaped rear end. Lower down, the suit's coverage quickly
dwindled to nearly nothing. The woman's skin was perfectly
tanned—not dark and leathery, but lusciously golden. Her dark brown
hair fell just past her shoulders. Brian's eyes took one more trip
down her supple body, lingering briefly along her trim waist and
long, toned legs. Then, as her arm slipped off the chaise to the
patio, he noticed the sides of her breasts were showing just enough
to reveal that her top was probably just as skimpy as her bikini
bottom.

His first thought was that this was Rob’s
girlfriend, but when he remembered that she was supposed to be a
blonde, he figured she must be Rob’s sister, although he couldn't
remember him ever mentioning he had one. After staring at the woman
for about thirty seconds, he said, "Sorry to bother you. I’m
Brian." When she didn’t move, he noticed the wires leading up to
the woman’s ears and realized she must be listening to music. Rob
came up quietly behind him and stood there shaking his head with
disapproval.

"Jesus, Mom," he said loudly.

Rising up quickly, Jillian looked a little
frightened. When she turned her head, she found Rob standing there
with an angry look on his face. Smiling, Jillian pushed herself up,
turned on her side, stood, and rushed over to hug her son. Brian’s
guess about the modesty of the bikini top was right on the money,
and Rob’s face confirmed it. Brian tore his eyes away from her
chest to avoid being rude and to also see if her face was worthy of
that body. He found that it was more than worthy. Jillian looked
young; she was in her late thirties or early forties, he thought.
Worst case, forty-two.

Rob asked, "What the hell are you
wearing?"

Jillian ignored the question as she grabbed
hold of him and squeezed tightly while he reciprocated
halfheartedly. Brian looked on, amazed. This was not your average
mother of a college-aged son, he thought. For some reason, he
momentarily pictured his mother wearing Jillian’s tiny bikini, but
he quickly shook off the image. His mother's bikini days were well
behind her.

"You look good," she said. "Looks like
you’re eating."

"Is that one of Victoria’s bikinis?" Rob
asked with a sneer.

Jillian looked down, noticed that the suit
was barely covering her chest, and turned to retrieve a large beach
towel from the chair. She proceeded to wrap it around her shoulders
so it draped over her breasts and the tiny bikini bottom front.

"Sorry." She widened her
eyes and gave them an embarrassed look. "I forgot I had on my
tanning suit. Oh, and it
is
one of Victoria’s. It’s too conservative for her
now, if you can believe that."

Rob said, "Mom, this is Brian Nash. Brian,
this is my mother, Jillian Grayson."

Looking at Brian, she smiled. "I’ve heard a
lot about you. We’re glad to have you here."

Brian returned the smile. "Nice to meet you,
Miss Grayson. Your house is incredible."

"Thank you. Please, call me Jillian."

Rob mumbled something to her about her
bikini bottoms, since her ass was still showing way too much for
his taste; the towel cover-up was only working to shield the front
of her.

Rolling her eyes at her son, she turned away
from them both, which re-exposed her perfect ass to Brian. Then she
removed the towel and wrapped a sheer sarong around her bikini
bottom. Brian’s jaw dropped. She draped the towel around her
shoulders and turned back toward them, fully covered. Brian glared
secretly at Rob.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"About four," Rob replied.

"You guys are really early. I didn’t expect
to be greeting you wearing this. As I said, this is my
not-so-family-friendly suit," Jillian said with a smile.

"I like the bikini," Brian said casually, as
he looked back toward the tennis court and began walking toward
it.

"Thanks," she said as she turned to follow
his gaze.

As he approached the court, Brian said,
"You’ve got Decoturf."

When Jillian heard those words, she trailed
after him, and they stood at the entrance to the court. Rob walked
over to join them.

Brian looked at her. "Did you put this in or
was it here when you bought the house?"

"I put it in," she replied. "How’d you know
it’s called Decoturf?"

"It’s what they play on at the Open," Brian
replied as he kneeled down to touch it.

"That’s one of the reasons I chose it."

"What else did you consider?"

Jillian smiled at Brian as he remained on
the ground, touching it and looking back up at her. She said, "It
was between the Har-tru or the Decoturf."

Standing, Brian looked over the court,
nodding. "You definitely made the right choice."

Rob rolled his eyes at the tennis
conversation and turned to look toward the pool.

She said, "I was worried about the fact that
it might be harder on your knees."

Brian looked back at her. "From what I’ve
read, I think the only advantage of the Har-tru surface over the
Decoturf is that it dries a little faster when it rains. Both
provide the player equal cushioning, but the Decoturf wins,
hands-down, with its truer bounce and surer footing."

Jillian gazed at Brian, captivated during
his court surface analysis, while Rob turned back and listened to
them gape-mouthed.

"What do you think of the color? I went with
the spring green on the inner and the Olympic blue on the
outer."

Rob breathed in deeply. "Excuse me, guys,
but I’m going to go in, turn on the gas, wait five minutes, and
then light a match."

Neither Jillian nor Brian looked Rob’s
way.

"All right," Brian said absently toward Rob
and looked Jillian in the eye. "I think it looks great, and there’s
just enough contrast between the blue and the lines, to make it
easier to call those baseline shots. Yet the blue’s not so
overpowering, you know?"

She nodded along with Brian as they
continued chatting. Rob was nearing the house with his eyes wide as
he could still hear the remnants of their passionate tennis
exchange. He thought if this was any indication of what the
conversation around the place was going to be like all week, he
would be spending more time with Laura than he had initially
planned.

Jillian prepared steaks and baked potatoes
on the grill and added a salad for dinner, which she and the guys
ate at the outdoor table. She had a glass of wine, and Brian and
Rob drank beer. Luckily for Rob, there was no discussion of tennis
surfaces at dinner, mainly because that subject had been worked ad
nauseam for at least twenty more minutes after he left the
tennis-obsessed nerds alone on the court. There was, however, a
discussion of the current state of men’s and women’s tennis and how
neither Jillian nor Brian cared very much for the Williams sisters.
They also discussed how, on the men’s side, the U.S. players had
been such a disappointment during the last decade. They agreed that
although Sampras dominated the game, he was a dull champion that
neither really rooted for. Roddick had some personality, and it
appeared that he would be the next great American star, but since
winning the U.S. Open in 2003, he’d been a non-factor on the tour.
Rob sat through it all looking bored while the two of them eagerly
exchanged opinions.

Jillian noticed the look on her son’s face.
"That’s probably enough tennis chat for the night. Brian do you
have a job lined up after graduation?"

"I do, actually. It’s with America Bank at
their headquarters in Delaware. I interned there last summer, and
they offered me a position in their management program. It’s not my
dream job, but the job market stinks right now."

"That’s fantastic!" she said.

"Rob tells me you’re a writer."

"Mostly romance novels. Somehow they sell
really well. Thankfully, I have a large group of loyal
readers."

Rob looked proudly at his mother. "Women
love her books. I tried reading one once and couldn’t make it
through. No offense, Mom."

She waved him off as if she agreed.

Jillian looked at Brian. "Rob told me he’ll
be with Laura for part of the week. So even when Rob’s not here,
feel free to use the pool and the workout room, and eat whatever
food you want. Make yourself at home."

"I appreciate that."

Rob said, "I spoke to Laura—I think the
three of us are going out tomorrow night."

"I usually wake up early, Brian," Jillian
said. "So, I’ll try to keep it down in the morning, if you’re a
light sleeper."

Rob scoffed. "He’s not a light sleeper at
all. He’s the heaviest sleeper on the planet."

Brian looked at her, a little embarrassed.
"Noise doesn’t bother me at all. I have to set my alarm to the
loudest volume for it to wake me."

"His alarm wakes up the entire building,"
Rob said with a grin.

"I turn it off quickly, so it’s not that
bad. Besides I only have an early class one day a week, so most
days I wake up before it goes off anyway. But I never get up before
eleven otherwise. My eyes just don’t open."

"Once he was dating this girl—" Rob
started.

"She doesn’t—" Brian interrupted, shaking
his head.

Rob continued anyway, "She was trying to
wake him up and tried all the normal stuff, you know, but nothing
would work. So she finally sat on top of him and bounced up and
down. We all watched. It was hilarious. And he still didn’t get up.
Wait... I have a picture."

Pulling out his phone, Rob began searching.
Brian said, "She doesn’t want to see that."

"I do," Jillian said, smiling.

Rob handed Jillian the phone. She looked at
the picture and laughed.

"Wow, that didn’t wake you up? She’s a big
girl. How tall is she?" she asked as she handed back the phone.

"She’s five-eleven and on the volleyball
team," Brian said. "I remember, that night I couldn’t sleep so I
took Tylenol PM. When I do that, I’m out cold."

"I have trouble falling asleep, too, but
sometimes an Ambien helps. But no matter what time I go to bed, I
get up about six hours later. I wish I could sleep late. You still
dating the volleyball girl?" Jillian asked.

"No, I’m kind of dating this girl, Natalie,
sort of…" Brian said.

Sighing, Rob glared at him.

"What?"

"I thought we weren’t going to talk about
her."

"She asked," Brian said defensively.

"She really didn’t. She only asked about the
tall girl," Rob shot back.

Brian exhaled. "Would you rather we talk
about tennis?"

"God, no! Tell her the whole story, then.
Continue torturing yourself," Rob added as he sat back in his chair
and took a sip of beer.

Jillian looked at one and then the other.
"Relationships can be hard work."

Sitting up once more, Rob frowned. "Some are way
more than others. This girl is messing with his head. He fell in
love with her simply because she can do this ballet move where she
keeps one leg on the ground and points the other toward the
ceiling. She can hold it there for, like, an hour."

"She’s really talented," Brian announced
proudly.

Shaking his head, Rob scoffed.

Jillian smiled. "A ballet dancer, huh? I
used to take gymnastics back in middle school. It’s similar, with
the balancing and all. That sounds like a very advanced
position."

"You see," Brian said, looking pointedly at
Rob.

Rob nodded, unconvinced. "He’s obsessed with
her, and she’s telling him to wait for her, while she’s running
around with other guys."

"I just want to give her a little more time
because she asked me to wait, so—"

"Wait? Wait for what?"

Brian looked down at his plate for a moment,
then back to Rob as he opened his mouth to speak, but he had
nothing.

After looking around uncomfortably,
Jillian's eyes brightened. "Let’s have dessert."

She got up, went into the house, and
returned a few minutes later with a small birthday cake with
twenty-one lit candles. She placed it on the table in front of Rob
as he frowned at her in embarrassment.

"I know your birthday isn’t until tomorrow,
and you didn’t want me making a big deal, but I figured you’d be
with Laura, so..."

"Just no singing, okay?" Rob said before he
blew out the candles.

"Happy birthday," Jillian said with a proud
smile.

"Happy birthday, dude. No more fake ID for
you," Brian said.

Jillian gave Brian a mock-angry look and
then smiled. "Yeah, Brian, weren’t you the one corrupting my young
son? You got him that ID when he was only a sophomore."

"Mom, knock it off."

Brian looked at her, confused. "He said I
got it? He got me mine. He’s the one with the connections."

Raising her eyebrows, Jillian looked at
Rob.

"So, I lied. I didn’t want you to think I
was going crazy at college," Rob explained sheepishly.

She said, "I’m scared to ask what other
connections you had back then."

"
My
connections? What about your
connection—Victoria?"

Jillian shook her head like she didn’t want
to go there, as Brian sat on the edge of his seat. This definitely
wasn’t like a typical dinner with his family.

Rob chimed in, "Victoria
is my mother’s crazy friend. If you need
anything
, see her."

Jillian scoffed, "She’s
not that crazy. She’s just..." She caught Rob making a face and
added, "Okay, she's a little fun—yeah
fun
is the word." Jillian looked at
the table and said, "We need plates." She left the table and headed
back into the house.