Shine Your Love on Me (22 page)

“Really? You know me better than I do?” she
panted.

“Hell, yeah.”

She raised one leg and hooked it around his
waist. Pushing up with her hips, she hoped to urge him to take her.
She wanted him with every nerve in her body.

He eased a finger in her, then another, and
rammed them in all the way. She jumped, gasping. “Like that?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He repeated the action and kept doing
it, while he repositioned himself further down on the bed. Pres
fastened his hand under her knees and pulled her toward him,
raising her legs until her heels were resting on his shoulders.
“That’s better.”

He sat and stared at her for a bit.
Embarrassment crept up Brooke’s neck. She squirmed.

“I’m gonna look all I want to. It’s gonna be
a while before I get to see this beautiful sight again. Don’t rush
me.”

“Pres, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Get over it. Men like to look at women, all
parts of women. And your parts are amazing.”

She flattened her palms on her cheeks to
check for heat. She knew she was blushing, but she couldn’t stop,
and he wouldn’t. As she was about to protest a second time, he
lowered his head and made contact with his tongue. She gasped then
shut her eyes. The intensity of the sensation robbed her of speech.
She could barely breathe. Pres held her bottom in his hands and
licked her until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m gonna come!”

“Say it.”

“I’m gonna…”

“Say it…”

“Pres!” she screamed, as the volcano inside
her erupted, pouring the hot lava of pleasure through her.

He repositioned her and plunged in. “Oh,
God,” he muttered, pumping in deep.

Brooke’s hips moved in tandem with his.
Tension grew in her as he stepped up his speed. It coiled like a
rattler waiting to strike. He kept pumping, faster and harder.
“Pres!” she hollered again, as the tension exploded in another
orgasm. Her muscles clenched and relief flooded through her. She
clutched his back, fastened her lips on his shoulder, and
sucked.

Pres moaned as he thrust in and out of her.
She pulled his chest to hers, her hard nipples poking his pecs. He
groaned loudly. “Brooke,” he said as he found his release. Pres
rested his sweaty head on hers. He kissed her nose then her lips.
Pushing up on his elbows he allowed his fingers to play with her
hair. “That was intense.” His blue eyes looked directly into
hers.

“Oh my God. Never before. Nothing like
that.”

“Me, too. I love you, kitten. “

“I love you, too.”

He rolled off to the side. Relaxation
loosened her control, and tears flowed. She hid her face in the
pillow.

Pres stroked her hair. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve never cried after sex before.”

“I’m sad you’re leaving.”

“But I’m coming back. To you.”

“When you see all those sexy women in
bikinis, so tan, with big boobs falling in your face…”

He chuckled. “Yours are the only boobs I want
falling in my face.”

“You say that now. But when they throw
themselves at you…”

He kissed her. “I’m not like that. You’re the
one I’ve been looking for. Give me a little credit, will ya? I’m
not a man whore.”

“Every man is a man whore, with the right
temptation.”

“I won’t be at the beach. I’ll be working my
ass off, so I can get the script done and get home to you.”

“Really?”

He crossed his heart. “I swear.”

“I love you,” she sighed.

Buddy barked and jumped up on the bed. He
licked Pres’s face then Brooke’s.

“Buddy!” she yelped, wiping her cheek with
her hand.

Pres laughed and grabbed his dog. There was a
tussle, Pres with the furry creature, he hugged the pug. Buddy
panted, smiling and looking from Pres to Brooke and back again.

“He’s so cute,” she said. “And he’s gonna be
mine for a couple of months. Maybe he won’t even remember you,” she
teased, cocking an eyebrow.

“He’s my buddy. He’ll always remember
me.”

“Oh yeah?” She jumped on him, tickling his
sides. Pres reacted, wrestling her into submission. Brooke was
laughing so hard she could hardly breathe.

He glanced at the clock. “Bedtime.”

“Okay, okay. Come on, Buddy. Playtime is
over.” They each washed up then slipped under the sheet. “Hold me,
all night. Please?” she whispered.

“You don’t have to ask. I’ll never let you
go.” They cuddled up together. Pres folded her into his
embrace.

She took a deep breath and let peace flow
through her veins. Something about being curled up with him made
her feel safe. It didn’t make sense, but she enjoyed it and didn’t
try to overthink.

They drifted off to sleep.

The alarm at six o’clock seemed to ring only
a few minutes after Brooke had closed her eyes.

Tears kept coming, long after the taxi
whisked Pres away to the airport. Brooke walked down Central Park
West to The Huntington, trying to control her emotions with no
success. People walking by stared at her. Still, she couldn’t stop.
When Rocky opened the door, Brooke ducked her head to avoid his
questions and kept going.

Nan was having a cup of coffee in the dining
room with Harry when Brooke opened the door. Freddy and Ginger ran
to her, barking their greetings. She knelt down and buried her face
in their fur.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Nan rose from the
table.

“Pres has gone to California,” she
sniffled.

“For how long?”

“Two months. Maybe three.”

“You’ve got a lot to keep you busy. Two
months’ll fly by. You’ll see.”

“Maybe he’ll be home for Thanksgiving,” Harry
said.

“Maybe. I do have a lot to do. This week,
we’re adding Sunday night, too.”

“Wow, you’re up to three nights.”

“I upped the ante, for you. Folks are payin’
fifteen. Geez, this would cost a ton more if they went to a
restaurant and movie theater,” Harry said.

“I don’t want anyone priced out,” Brooke
said.

“No tax. No tip. They can afford it. It’s
cheap, even at fifteen.”

Brooke put her dress away then poured herself
coffee and joined Nan and Harry in the dining room. “Let me run
some of these movies by you guys.” It wasn’t long before she was
engrossed in planning for the three nights. She moved a white board
into her room and divided it into months then weeks, so she could
keep track of what was served and shown when.

Monday night with the Dinner Club was a
welcome relief for Brooke. She was dying to get feedback from her
friends on Pres and her small, growing business.

“I’ll share my mom’s recipes with you, since
you taught me how to make apple pie.”

“How sweet! Maybe you’d come back on the
show? The producer loved your segment last time. We could make one
of your mom’s recipes there. You’d get some publicity, too.”

“I’d love to. But I’m not a professional or
anything.”

“That’s what’s so great, why that segment
worked so well before. You made the audience understand that anyone
can cook.”

The two women pulled out their calendars.
Bess made several tentative dates, contingent upon approval by her
hardass producer. The others drank Moscato while they waited for
Bess’s special stew to reheat and the garlic bread to brown.

“So, what’s happening with your new guy?”
Rory asked, taking a sip of her wine.

“I need help.” Brooke explained her
situation.

“Sounds good to me,” Bess said.

“Do you think we can keep it going for two
months?”

“I do. Whit and I did.”

“I think so, too. You’re really into this
guy, aren’t you?” Rory asked.

“It’s love, right? Not like with Lloyd,”
Miranda asked, giving a shiver at the mention of the former
boyfriend’s name.

“I thought I was in love with Lloyd, but I
wasn’t. Never was. He couldn’t commit. When that client wanted me
off the business because she wanted to sleep with him, he folded
like a tent. He never stood up for me.”

“You think Pres is different?”

“I do. He’s got…integrity. He’s honest.”

“Then, you’ve hit the jackpot, and there’s no
reason to doubt him,” Miranda said.

“A lot can happen in two months.” Brooke
chewed a nail.

“He’ll never find another woman like you,”
Rory said.

Bess raised her glass. “To Brooke and Pres.
May they be together forever.”

They clinked glasses as the timer went off.
Miranda set the table, and Bess ladled out the stew. Brooke smiled
to herself.
I have the best friends in the world.

On her way home, she decided to keep busy
planning and cooking to avoid calling Pres five times a day and
worrying about their relationship.
Taking this time to focus on
myself, on something besides him is the right thing.

Tuesday afternoon she got her first call from
him.

“Hey, kitten. How are you?”

“I’m good. How’s the script writing
going?”

“These guys are tough. But I’m holding my
own. Missing you like crazy.”

“I miss you, too. I’m preparing for this
weekend. Our first three-day dinner and a movie extravaganza,” she
said, chuckling.

“Extravaganza? Awesome! I’m sure it’ll be a
success.”

“I’m trying.”

“I’ll probably be working all day, every day.
But I can call you either early in the morning or at night.”

“Either works for me. I won’t call you during
the day then, right?”

“I’m afraid so. Phone calls piss these guys
off.”

“Okay. I’ll wait to hear from you.” Brooke
chewed a nail.

“I missed you last night. Sleeping alone
isn’t for me.”

“Me, neither. Just glad to know you’re still
sleeping alone.”

She heard a sigh on the other end. “I told
you—you’re the one. Besides, who could find someone so fast?”

“You could. Take a look in the mirror.”

He laughed. “That’s why I love you, kitten.
Relax, we have a ways to go.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

* * * *

Busy days rolled into weeks. Brooke worked
hard to prepare intriguing meals for her weekend dinner-and-a-movie
business. She made two appearances on Bess’s television show. She
even managed to squeeze in several conferences with Mike Lupin
about her lawsuit. She was relieved he had agreed to take the case
on a contingent basis, meaning he’d get a percentage of any money
she was awarded, but otherwise, there was no fee.

The balance in her savings account began to
dwindle. She tried to confine expenses to the small profit she made
from the dinners. Four years of earning a good salary had not
trained her to stop shopping or budget her money. Fear motivated
her to avoid stores, even on sale days—maybe especially on sale
days—and only carry a small amount of cash with her. She stowed her
credit cards in her bureau, vowing to use them only in an
emergency.

Her calendar was full, without walking the
dogs. But she had promised to take care of Buddy, and Freddy and
Ginger became her responsibility as soon as she had moved in with
Nan. Three pugs proved to be a challenge on the leash, as they
never wanted to go the same direction at the same time. Brooke took
them to the dog run, where they could run free, which seemed the
best solution. But she missed walks around the Great Lawn with Pres
and the pooches.

Phone calls with Pres were sporadic, as their
schedules rarely meshed. The three-hour time difference didn’t
help. He’d called her several times at one in the morning Eastern
time, and she’d woken him up at five o’clock in the morning his
time a few times. Frustration at trying to keep him current on her
life overwhelmed her. Some days, she gave up trying to speak with
him and simply sent a long text.

Pres was no better. While he tried to clue
her in to his hassles with the producers, who were trying to agree
on script changes and character arcs, he often had to do so in an
email. Brooke made time to read his lengthy diatribes on idiot
producers who couldn’t write a coherent sentence, but often she was
barely able to stay awake to finish and had to read the rest in the
morning.

Brooke was spinning out of control, taking on
too much. She was always overtired, short-tempered, and frazzled.
She dreaded the conferences with Mike about the dirty deal she had
received from her ad agency. The meetings distressed and upset her.
Mike tried to prepare her for an appearance in court or even a
deposition. He explained all the unpleasant things that the
opposing legal team might ask her, which included questions about
her relationship with Lloyd and other men.

The threads of her relationship with Pres
appeared to be unraveling. As her need for him grew, she became
angry at his absence. Loneliness and an overwhelming load of
responsibility depressed her. Leading a life that was a constant
to-do list, with little or no fun along the way, sapped her energy.
She hungered for time alone with Pres, to watch a movie, laugh,
make love, and sleep in his embrace.

She most regretted becoming short with her
grandmother, always seeming to snap at the older woman
unnecessarily.

“Give this up any time you want. Don’t blame
me, if you’ve over-booked your life.”

“I can’t give this up. There are forty-five
seniors counting on me every week. That’s a lot of pressure.”

“You do it so well, sweetheart,” Nan said,
brushing Brooke’s hair back from her face.

“I don’t want to give it up, but I’m being
pulled in so many directions. I need Pres here. He’s been gone a
month, and it seems like a year.”

Nan touched her shoulder. “I know,
sweetheart. He’s a great guy. This is temporary. Once the lawsuit
crap is out of the way, you’ll feel better.”

“That’s true. Can you help me pick a
movie?”