Shine Your Love on Me (17 page)

“Hell, yeah. Can’t you tell?” He drew her
closer.

“Why? Because you want to grab me all the
time?”

“I don’t. I don’t. Well, maybe some of the
time. Okay, a lot of the time. Because I want to be with you all
the time.”

They clung to each other in silence until the
dogs started to bark. It was late.

“Stay tonight,” he whispered. She nodded.

They walked the pugs back. Pres waited on the
sidewalk while Brooke dropped Freddy and Ginger off. When she
returned, he draped his arm over her shoulder.

“Well? What did Ruth say?”

Brooke giggled. “She said, ‘it’s about
time’.”

The smell of fresh coffee and the soft
tap, tap, tap
of computer keys woke Brooke up the next
morning. The sheet had been pulled up to cover her chest. Buddy was
snuggled up against her. She opened her eyes to sunshine and
stretched her arms. A grin planted itself on her face and wouldn’t
leave. After petting Buddy, she rolled over. She spied Pres,
wearing nothing but shorts, sipping coffee and sitting at his
computer. She glanced at the clock by the bed.
Six
forty-five.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

She yawned. “I like you in nothing but
shorts.”

“And I like you in nothing.”

She giggled, threw down the sheet, and padded
naked to the bathroom. Pres turned to whistle at her, making her
laugh. The face of a happy, satisfied woman stared back at her from
the mirror. The night had been glorious. Wrapped in Pres’s arms,
she had dozed, only to wake, find him there, smile, and fall back
to sleep cuddled up to him.

Career had always taken precedence over men
in her life. Did she want to get married? She hadn’t decided. But
she had made up her mind to become president of an ad agency
someday. Now, everything was turning around. She found creative
satisfaction in the kitchen, sexual satisfaction in Pres’s bed, and
emotional satisfaction all around, especially with him. With his
unassuming, low-key manner, he seemed the perfect fit for a type
“A” like Brooke.

She shoved thoughts about Los Angeles out of
her mind.
We’re meant to be. He’ll be back. He’s not staying.
Just for a meeting.
She loved seeing him every day, walking
with the dogs, talking, laughing. She could tell him anything, and
he didn’t judge her. He was the total opposite of all the men she
had dated before. Mr. Anti-corporate America. Still, she loved
him.

He handed her a mug of coffee when she came
out. A T-shirt of his was laid out on the bed.

“I know it’s way too big, but you can wear it
like a dress.”

She slipped the white shirt over her frame
and joined him. Standing behind him, she massaged his shoulder with
one hand and held her cup with the other while she read.

Pres pulled his laptop closed. “No way. No
one reads this yet. It’s not ready.”

She leaned over to whisper in his ear. “You
were right. I loved spending the night.”

“I woke up, thinking I was dreaming, to find
out it was real. You were there.” Pres picked up his laptop and
carted it to the living room. He kissed her cheek. “Now, it’s work
until I walk Buddy. Plop that tempting body over there.” He
gestured to a comfy seat across the room.

“Breakfast?” Brooke rooted around in his
fridge. “God knows how old these eggs are. Let’s try ’em.”

She whipped up scrambled eggs. Curling into
the overstuffed chair, she pulled out her list for the week. She
read it over while she ate. Peeking over the paper in her hands,
Brooke stared at Pres. He was totally focused on his computer
screen, typing away. She’d never seen him so intense.
He’s
always so laid back.
His six-foot, two-inch frame was folded
into the large chair. A crease formed between his eyebrows, and his
mouth hung open a tiny bit as he wrote. Brooke liked this side of
him.
He’s creating. It’s sexy.
She sighed and returned to
her task.

* * * *

On Monday, Brooke leashed the pugs and went
to Bess’s house, armed with a list of questions about cooking.
Miranda uncorked a bottle of Cabernet, and Bess placed her
stroganoff casserole on the table.

“Is Whit eating with us tonight?” Rory
asked.

“He’s having dinner with a college
friend.”

Miranda turned the attention to Brooke. “So,
what’s going on with you and your new guy?”

“Nothing. He’s gone to L.A.”

“How come? Weren’t you two… on the verge of
moving in or something?”

“Or something…” Brooke toyed with her
food.

Bess squeezed Brooke’s arm. “Hey, lady.
What’s up?”

“I don’t know. He’s out there for meetings on
his pilot scripts.”

“That’s good, right?” Miranda asked.

“I guess. If he makes a sale, he might have
to move there.”

“What about you?” Rory asked, taking a
forkful of beef, dripping in sauce.

“I don’t know. We didn’t talk about it.”
Brooke refreshed her wine.

“Do you want to?” Bess asked.

“I don’t know. I love him, but his life seems
to be in flux right now. So is mine. How can we get together when
we don’t know where we’re going?”

“Can’t you plan to go, wherever you go,
together?” Miranda asked.

“I guess. He hasn’t asked. He wanted me to be
upset that he was leaving, but we didn’t discuss anything else. I
don’t want to think about him moving to L.A.”

“Couldn’t you go with him?” Bess asked.

“Can’t leave Nan. She’s almost eighty. I’m
all she has.”

“Except for that group at the center, from
what you’ve said,” Bess said.

“You mean those crazy people?” Brooke
laughed. “They’re her friends. But I’m family.”

“You’re having fun with this dinner and a
movie thing, aren’t you?” Miranda asked.

“I didn’t think I’d like it at all. But her
friends are a hoot. And they love my food.”

“Go with the flow. You’ll know more about
what to do in a few months,” Rory advised.

“I have to. No other option. I don’t see how
I can make a career out of what I’m doing, but I love it. Is that
bad?”

“How about you coming on my show as a guest?
We could cook something together. Maybe you could even invite some
of the gang from the senior center,” Bess said.

“Oh my God, that would be fabulous!” Brooke
pushed to her feet. “Can you do that?”

“It would be a great program. Cooking for the
more experienced palette, say. Or some such. I bet the producer’d
love it. A different kind of program.”

“If you could do that, Bess, I’d be so
grateful.”

“That’d be great. I’d watch,” Miranda said.
“And so would my mom.”

“You’d watch no matter what because you’re my
friend.”

Miranda gave her a hug. “Yep. Got that
right.”

The women cleared away the dishes while Bess
pulled out half of a huge, coconut layer cake.

“Holy crap! Look at that. I didn’t think I
had any room left, but this…I’ve gotta have some of this,” Rory
said.

“You’ve got to teach me this one,” Brooke
said.

“Hold on, ladies. One at a time!” Bess
chuckled, slicing off healthy pieces. Rory prepared coffee while
Miranda passed out the cake and Brooke retrieved forks. The room
was silent as the women ate the delectable confection. Lip smacking
was the only sound to compete with the snoring of the pugs.

“Have you spent a weekend with Pres yet?”
Rory asked.

Brooke shook her head because her mouth was
full of cake.

“Maybe you should. That’s one way to know
about a guy,” Miranda said.

“Hell, yeah! If you can’t stand him for a
weekend, then you know what to do,” Rory said.

“I know! Why don’t you use our house?” Bess
piped up.

“What?”

“The stone house in Rye? Whit’s owned it
forever, and I decorated it last Christmas. Remember?”

“I do,” Brooke said.

“It’d be perfect. We’re taking Dumpling and
Homer to a bed and breakfast upstate the second weekend in August.
Why not go then?”

“If Pres is back by then, that’d be great.
I’ll ask him. Thank you, Bess.” Brooke hugged her hostess.

“No problem. A shame for the house to be idle
during the summer. It’s right on the beach.”

“And we’ll expect a full report,” Miranda
said, sipping her coffee.

“Including details. Don’t leave anything
out,” Rory said, wiggling her eyebrows as she cut another piece of
cake.

“You guys are the best. What would I do
without you?” Brooke misted.

“Fortunately, you’ll never have to find out,”
Miranda said.

A yawn, a snort, and two snores interrupted
the women. The pugs stood up, stretched, and then trotted over for
their nighttime treat.

A whole house to ourselves on the beach.
How romantic.
Brooke smiled as she washed dishes and handed
them to Miranda to dry.

* * * *

Seven o’clock on a Saturday morning, on the
New England Thruway, Brooke rolled down the window in Pres’s dad’s
chocolate brown Bentley. The sunroof was cracked open, and the
breeze cooled them, despite the August sun.

“We didn’t have to come in a Bentley,” she
said.

“I’m not trying to impress you. Honest. The
rental places were all booked. It was dad’s car or nothing. You
wouldn’t want to miss this, would you?”

“Absolutely not! It’s going to be the perfect
weekend to be at the beach.” She smiled, warming his heart.

“And a whole house to ourselves.”
And all
night together two nights in a row.

“We can walk around naked.”

“You read my mind,” he snickered.

“Tell me about the meeting. We’ve been so
busy.”

“It went well. There are two producers.
Interested in different pilots.”

“You’ve got two pilots?”

He snorted. “Two? I’ve got five.”

“Five?” Her eyebrows shot up.

“Only three are any good.”

“So, one producer was interested in each
pilot?”

“That would be too neat.” Pres maneuvered the
car into the left lane to pass. The highway was almost empty.

“So? Tell me.”

“Both are interested in both.”

“What happens if they both want the same
one?”

“I’m not sure. Max said something about
bidding, or the first offer, or something. Hell, I’d be happy to
option one to one producer. That’d be huge.”

“Looks like you stand a good chance.”

“Maybe. From your beautiful lips to the Man
above.” Pres squeezed her fingers with his for a second before
returning them to the wheel.
And if I make decent money, we can
make this permanent.

“Would you move out to L.A., then?”

“To write the series? Don’t know. No clue.
I’ll cross that bridge when, and if, I come to it.”
Would you
come with me? Probably not. If I ask, and you say ‘no’…

Brooke chewed a nail.

“Let’s not worry about anything. Let’s enjoy
this time together.”

A bark from the backseat interrupted. Buddy
was sitting up. Freddy and Ginger were asleep. Nan agreed,
tearfully, to let the dogs have a romp in the country. So they had
taken them along. He wanted to bring the pugs so Brooke would have
someone to snuggle with in the morning while he worked.

“Buddy agrees. Okay. I’ll stop. It’s
just…”

“Just…stop. Come on. I’ve been looking
forward to this since I got your text. All I want to do is eat,
swim, relax, and make love. Not necessarily in that order.” He
glanced at her.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Buddy
barked again. “Okay, I’ll be laid back.”

“You’ll be laid all right.” He chuckled.

Brooke swatted his shoulder, but couldn’t
keep a grin from her lips. “You’re bad.”

“How about some music?”

Brooke turned on the radio and trolled around
looking for the best station. They turned off the highway then left
on Midland Road, following the directions from Whit. When they
pulled up in front of the cottage, Pres gave a low whistle.

Pots of blooming pink and white impatiens
hung from hooks on the dainty front porch. Tiger lilies still
bloomed along with Black-eyed Susans in circular areas designated
for wild flowers. The lawn was neat, and the flagstone walkway had
been swept. The house was looking good.

“This is great.” He took a deep breath of air
and smelled the salt from the Long Island Sound.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Once inside, they marveled at the fabulous
decorating job Bess had done. The place was cozy and inviting.
Brooke went into the kitchen with two bags of food while Pres
unleashed the dogs. Along the way, she stopped to crack open the
French doors. Then, Pres climbed the stairs with their luggage.
Brooke put down several bowls of water for the pugs. She was
putting away the perishables when he joined her.

Pres circled her waist with his arm, leaned
in, and kissed her. “This place is gorgeous.”

“Bess did a great job.”

“Let’s get to the beach as soon as we can.
I’ll make some coffee. We can take it with.”

The dogs trotted through the house, noses to
the floor, sniffing. Brooke filled the coffee pot then went
upstairs. Pres poked around, opening cabinets and drawers, when his
attention was drawn by the clearing of a throat. He looked up, and
his pulse took a giant leap.

“Holy shit. Wow, Brooke.”

She stood in front of him, wearing a
turquoise bikini that left almost nothing to the imagination.

“You’re wearing that to the beach?” He
gulped.
Every guy in the place’ll be all over her.

“Of course. Don’t you like it?” She turned
slowly in front of him.

His gaze didn’t know where to stop first. Her
luscious breasts, straining against the scrap of fabric covering
them, made his fingertips itch. Her slender midriff called to his
hands and lips, and her firm rear end, barely concealed by the
suit, begged to be squeezed.