Shine Your Love on Me (16 page)

He pulled her in closer and brushed her lips
with his. She buried her face in his neck and got lost in his
masculine scent and spicy aftershave mixed with the mouth-watering
food aroma. The blend had an aphrodisiac effect on her. Running her
hand down his abs, she stopped to slip her fingers under his
T-shirt. His belly flinched at the skin-to-skin contact.

She wanted him, right there, that minute, on
the kitchen counter. Brooke pressed her hips against his and
discovered he was having a similar reaction. She pushed him away,
turned the chili down to simmer, and grabbed his hand. She led him
behind the crowd of seniors totally engrossed in the movie and into
her room, clicking the door closed quietly.

Pres picked up the boxes on the bed and
tossed them on the floor. Brooke ripped the blanket down. Pres
yanked her T-shirt over her head and unsnapped her bra. She
unzipped his jeans and shoved his shirt up to his shoulders. The
two lovers finished undressing in record time. Pres took Brooke in
his arms and kissed her while lowering her to the mattress. When
she wound her fingers around him, he was almost fully erect.

“A quick starter,” she mumbled, running her
tongue down his pecs

He chuckled as he cupped her breasts and
kissed his way down her chest. Breathing was labored as the lovers
attacked each other’s bodies with a ravenous hunger. Pres parted
her thighs and tasted her. Brooke closed her eyes and moaned.

“Shhh. The TV’s loud, but not that loud,”
Pres said, raising his head for a moment.

She giggled. “Quiet sex. Don’t know if I
can.”

“Try.”

She put a pillow over her face as he
continued to heat up her body. After moving up, he slipped a long
finger inside her, and she gasped. “Oh, God. Pres, please.
Please!”

He clamped his lips over hers to stifle the
sound as he got into position. A quick thrust, and he was inside.
Brooke lifted her legs, bringing her knees halfway to her chest as
he plunged into her. He filled her, moving slowly then picking up
speed.

He lifted his head, allowing her to breathe.
She sucked in air, panting as he pumped into her. The itch inside
her grew and grew, tension coiling, until she thought she’d
scream.

“No screaming,” he hissed into her ear, as if
he could read her mind.

Brooke fastened her lips on the soft part
where his shoulder met his neck. She let the sound flow from her
mouth to his body, sending vibrations through him.

“Don’t do that. I’ll lose it,” he whispered.
Moaning, he bent his head to mute his sound in her hair.

“The sound has to go somewhere. Oh, God,
don’t stop, Pres, don’t stop!”

As quickly as the tension hit volcanic
levels, it exploded. Brooke bit down on Pres, stifling her moans as
her hips moved rhythmically with his. She let out a breath as he
reached his climax. His body shook for a moment, and he groaned
into her hair.

Pres rolled off her and lay back, his chest
sweaty and heaving. Her breasts moved up and down with uneven
breathing, drawing his gaze. “Beautiful,” he murmured. She turned
onto her side, resting her palm on his pecs.

“You’re amazing,” she said.

“That was incredible.”

Brooke pushed up and swung her legs over the
side. “We’d better get dressed. The movie will be over soon.”

Once they were clothed, they headed back to
the kitchen. Brooke finished the salad and put it on the table. She
cut up the cornbread and put out butter. Then, she ladled the chili
into bowls.

“Pres!” Ruth called. “The movie’s over.” He
trotted out to the living room and removed the DVD. The seniors
ambled over to the table.

“This looks great,” Betty said, taking a
seat.

“Yeah, Fridays at the center. Ugh. Fish
sticks. What do they think we are? Middle school kids?” John sat
down and placed the napkin in his lap. “This is more like it. Looks
great, Brooke.”

Before Brooke and Pres joined them, he stole
a quick kiss from her in the kitchen. Eagle-eyed Harry didn’t miss
it. “Lovebirds, come eat. Can’t live on love alone.”

“We’re coming, Harry. Can I help it if I
can’t keep my hands off her?”

Harry blushed a deep red. “What you kids do
behind closed doors is none of my business.”

“We’re coming, Harry, we’re coming,” Brooke
said.

The men and women from the senior center dug
into the food as if they hadn’t eaten in a week. They finished the
cornbread and left only two portions of chili to be put away. The
salad was gone, too. They took a break while Brooke got the
pie.

“They talked too fast, I couldn’t understand
everything,” John said.

“That’s the idea. They were supposed to talk
that fast,” Betty said.

“Rosalind Russell is no Sophia Loran,” Harry
said, cupping his hands in front of his chest. “If you get my
drift.”

Everyone at the table laughed. “Harry, your
mind is always in the gutter,” Peggy said.

“Yeah. Right next to yours, honey,” he
responded.

Peggy nudged him in the shoulder then
chuckled. “You know me too well.”

“Actually, not well enough.” Harry wiggled
his eyebrows. That brought another round of laughter.

Pres got up to join Brooke in the kitchen.
“These old people are raunchy as hell,” he said. Brooke stood
holding the pie while a tear slipped down her cheek. “What’s the
matter, honey?” Pres put his hands on her shoulders.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped
at the tear with the back of her hand. “Sorry. Just having a
flashback moment. I’ll be all right.”

He hugged her to him and kissed her hair.
“It’s okay. I get it. No worries.”

She smiled, took a deep breath, shrugged, and
turned around to face the crowd.

“Here it comes!” John said.

“The crown jewel!” Harry said.

There was silence as she walked into the
dining room and placed the pie on the table. As she cut the first
piece, every eye was on her. When she managed to get it all on the
plate, the company burst into applause. Ruth’s eyes were
shining.

“Mary Lou would’ve been proud, Brooke,” her
grandmother said.

Brooke smiled at all the “oohs” and “aaahs”
from the satisfied diners. She had to admit the pie was
delectable.

Pres closed his eyes with each bite. “This is
amazing. Best pie ever.”

“Brooke, this is a masterpiece,” Harry said.
He stood up, walked over to her, and kissed her hand. “I kneel in
the presence of the Queen of Apple Pie.”

Another round of applause made Brooke grin.
“You guys are great to cook for. You loved everything.”

“We know what’s good,” Peggy said, taking
another bite.

Only Pres, Harry, and John had room for
seconds on pie. By nine o’clock, the guests were sipping the last
of their decaf and arguing about the movie.

“Of course, he could breathe in there,” Betty
said.

“How do you know? Ever been locked in a roll
top desk?” John asked.

“That’s a stupid question. Of course not!
Have you?”

“No, but I’d imagine the air flow would be
pretty limited.”

“Why was Ralph Bellamy such a jerk? Didn’t he
see Hildy loved Grant?” Betty asked.

“I think he was supposed to be a jerk. He was
pretty funny,” Ruth said.

Pres helped clean the kitchen. He picked up a
towel to dry the dishes Brooke washed. She couldn’t stop
smiling.

“Well, you did it. Made dinner for eight and
survived.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“And you did it with style.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, making a small
curtsy.

“I’m proud of you.”

“It was fun.”

Once the dishes were done and the coffee
finished, the guests got up to leave. Harry took Brooke’s hands in
his and gazed into her eyes. “So, when’s the next shindig? Next
week? Always on Friday? That would be good because the food at the
center is really lousy on Friday.”

Brooke’s mouth fell open. Before she could
answer, Ruth stepped forward. “What a wonderful idea, Harry. Next
Friday, it is. I’m sure Brooke will create something just as
special as this week.”

Everyone gave Brooke a hug before they filed
out. After they left, Brooke turned to Ruth. “What the hell was
that, Nan? Next Friday? I don’t think so.”

“Of course, dear. You were amazing. Mary Lou
would be so proud. You’ve got her blood. They loved it, and it’s
the perfect way to pay me back.”

“But—”

She patted her granddaughter’s hands. “Don’t
worry. I’ll pay for the food. They sure do eat a lot, don’t they?”
Ruth hugged her, bid them both goodnight, and went off to her room.
The pugs jumped off the sofa, stretched, yawned, and followed Ruth
into the bedroom.

Brooke turned to Pres. “Every week?”

“Hey, it’s a job. It’s like working for the
rent.”

* * * *

Brooke cooked every Friday in July for a
growing group of seniors. Five had quickly become ten when word got
out what a good cook she was. She spent hours poring over her
mother’s recipes. She sorted her movies, showing a Jimmy Stewart
one week and Bette Davis the next. Pres convinced her to add the
one about Jackie Robinson and a few more recent films to the mix.
The crowd voted on which was watched by a show of hands.

Harry began collecting money to pay for the
food. He said it was too expensive for so many people. Each person
kicked in five dollars. Some brought wine along. Slowly, the
regular crowd at the senior center dwindled on Friday nights. No
one said anything, but those who remained questioned why their
friends all seemed to get sick at the same time.

Miriam Grand, the director of food and
entertainment at the senior center, asked a few people, but no one
gave Brooke away. Ms. Grand was heard questioning aloud what had
happened to her Friday night dinner crowd.

Ruth and Brooke drew the line at fifteen
guests. They served buffet style. Pres uncorked and served the
wine.

“My own personal sommelier,” Brooke cooed
into his ear as she copped a feel of his butt.

“Making a pass at the help?” Pres gazed at
her with hot eyes. “You can uncork my bottle anytime, pretty lady,”
he whispered.

“You’re getting pretty good at this,” Nan
said, taking a salad bowl from Brooke’s hands.

“It’s a challenge.”

“We’ve got a regular café kinda thing going
here. I love it. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Happy to do it, Nan, and the standing
ovations don’t hurt one bit.”

The last Thursday in July, Brooke met Pres at
the park at ten for their late-night walk. He looked uneasy, jumpy,
as they strolled side-by-side.

“I’m going to L.A. Sunday,” he blurted
out.

“L.A.?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a meeting with a couple of
producers about two of my pilots. My agent set it up. This could be
big.”

“Fantastic!” Brooke swallowed, hoping the
lump in her throat would disappear.
L.A. You’re going to
L.A.?

“It’s not a done deal or anything. They just
want to talk. But Max said they were interested in options for both
shows. Even if they don’t produce anything, they pay you well for
the option.”

“Congratulations. If they decide to do the
pilot, will you have to go to L.A.?”

“I don’t know.”

“How long will you be gone?” Brooke moved
into the shadows, happy to have her expression masked.

“I don’t know. Could be a couple of days.
Could be longer.”

“Oh.” She shot him a small smile. “You’ve
been waiting for this.”

“Max said they read the treatments because
I’d sold a script already. They didn’t even care who bought it,
just that I’d made a sale.”

“Well, then. That’s good, right?”

“I have a favor to ask.” He stepped closer to
her.

She turned to face him.

“Will you take care of Buddy while I’m
gone?”

“Of course. I love Buddy.” At his name, the
sturdy pug came over and licked Brooke on the leg. “He’s family.”
She took a deep breath.
If I have Buddy, he has to come back,
right?

“You’re okay with this?” he asked.

“With what? Buddy?”

“Me going away.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Liar.

He stiffened, pulling away from her. “Pardon
me. I thought you might be a little…uh…sorry that I’ll be
gone.”

“But you’re coming back, right?”

“Right.”

“No biggie.”
Liar.
Turning from him,
she blinked rapidly, forcing her tears back.

“Oh. Hey. Okay. I guess you just think of us
as fuck buddies. I didn’t expect that.”

“Fuck buddies?” Her voice rose an octave, and
her tight rein on her temper slipped. “I never…fuck buddies? How
dare you say that?” She spread her feet wide, hands on hips, and
glared at him.

“You don’t seem to give a damn whether I’m
here or not. Just good for warming the bed.”

“How can you say that?” Her control burst.
Tears poured down her cheeks. “How can you say that?” She sobbed,
turning away.

Pres dropped his leash and pulled her into
his embrace. “That’s better. Much better.”

“I never…you bastard,” she said, crying and
pounding on his chest. “You think of us as fuck buddies?” She
raised her tearful face.

“No, no, I don’t. I just thought. I mean…when
you didn’t care that I was going. I think of us as much more.”

“How could you use that, that term? I love
you, and you say that to me.”

Pres tightened his grip on her. “You love
me?”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” She shook
her head.

“Say it.”

“No.” She scowled at him.

“You love me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m shocked. And happy.”

“Good. That makes one of us. Fuck buddies. I
should kick you where it hurts.”

“I’m sorry, Brooke. Really sorry. I love you,
too, kitten.” He kissed her wet lips.

She broke from him and hid her face in his
chest. “You love me?” The words were muffled.