Lying in bed the next morning, trying to simultaneously remember and forget the feeling of Cal Spencer’s hungry hands roaming across her body last night, Winnie’s heart and body felt conflicted. There had been so much goodness in Cal’s proposition, and in those first tastes of the lessons in pleasure he could offer her with his hands. His lips. His tongue. With that hard length of his body pressed up against hers.
My God, if the man could melt her so thoroughly even through multiple layers of clothing, she’d be putty in his hands once they got naked.
Naked. One word, and her heart sank, all thoughts of pleasure replaced by something less desirable. She had more or less signed up to get naked with Cal Spencer, a man who might very well be sculpted from marble beneath all those sexy clothes.
Winnie’s hands involuntarily began to rub across her own body in exploration, over top the thin fabric of her nightgown. They roamed over the full slopes of her breasts. Soft, yes, and beyond a handful, but decidedly more wobbly when she reclined than when she stood. She pressed her hand into her stomach— not round, but far from flat. Pressing her fingers gently down against her midsection, she couldn’t think of a single word to describe the area other than squishy.
And she couldn’t fathom a world where a man found squishy to be anything akin to sexy.
Traveling farther down her body, she allowed her fingers to trace over the soft silk of her panties, feeling the intimate hair beneath, left mostly natural. She never thought about grooming there much beyond basic bathing suit boundaries.
A man like Cal had probably experienced every kind of woman. He probably preferred some kind of expensive, torturous body hair removal technique named after a tropical country known for its flawless women.
Naked.
Her heart skittered over itself, feeling nervous, anxious, but deep down, if she were honest with herself, she felt damn excited, too. And as her fingers traced along the thin underside of her panties, wet evidence of that excitement was more than apparent.
The fact of the matter was that she wanted the man with every fiber of her being, and he’d all but offered himself up on a platter for her to devour. It didn’t have to make sense. It didn’t have to reflect her assumptions about what men wanted in a partner or her own perceived shortcomings. She didn’t have to worry about a month from now, about what would happen “after,” not when the days rolling out before her had so much to offer.
From somewhere in the dark and conflicted depths of her brain, her mantra bubbled up to the forefront of her consciousness.
Winnie first.
And for the first time in her entire sexual history, a revolutionary thought occurred to her. A thought that a former version of herself might never have even believed possible.
I want him, and I should have him.
So simple, yet so world-altering.
Cal Spencer, despite his perceived perfection, didn’t have to find her perfect, because this wasn’t about him. Winnie wanted the man down to the tips of her toenails. She deserved a chance at him. He was willing. She was able.
And she was hungry in a way she didn’t even know possible.
Despite this personal epiphany, she had one small caveat for the universe: just give her a day or two away from the man to gather her wits about her. To prepare for the inevitability of needing to tamp down her desire for him in public and professional contexts.
Even if Winnie had come to peace with her desire for Cal, she still had no idea how she was going to subdue it in front of other people. Bree used to tease her relentlessly about her inability to hide one single emotion, even when doing so would benefit her enormously.
Bree. Oh, how she wished she could call up her best friend. How she wished they hadn’t placed this stupid communication moratorium. She couldn’t even count on indirect peeks into Bree’s life on social media because her friend was notoriously anti-technology. The woman didn’t even own a smart phone.
And yet, it was working. Winnie was exploring a new friendship with Evie, and a new friends-with-benefits scenario with Cal. Time and distance had dulled her sad memories from Chicago.
But oh, the stories she’d have for her friend when they reconnected. Bree might not believe her. Winnie might have to secure some photographic evidence of Cal’s vitality.
But for as much as she wanted to avoid Cal Spencer for the rest of the week, the universe, unfortunately, had denied her request, and when Winnie walked into the Guiding Star community luncheon on Thursday, she zeroed in on Cal immediately, despite the group of more than forty people gathered in the room. If her vagina was a compass, the man appeared to be her true North. Her draw to his body was damn near magnetic.
His eyes met hers instantly, and though he never stopped whatever conversation he was having with the older gentleman at the table where he sat, he shot Winnie a small, pleased nod that seemed to tug at a string attached deep within her womb.
My God, the man was stunning. His thick, golden hair was parted on the side, sweeping over his head in gentle waves tinted with a half dozen shades of blond before it curled around his ears and collar. A soft, chocolate-brown V-neck sweater stretched across his broad shoulders, and she could see a light blue collar and tie peeking out around his tan neck. He looked like the kind of sexy professor all the undergraduates would swoon over.
And Winnie felt ready for a hands-on lesson, right then and there. Her heart raced as she forced her focus somewhere else, anywhere else, after Cal’s attention returned to the people at his table. He seemed to be able to act like a normal human being around her, so why was she frozen in her tracks, dumbstruck?
Luckily, Betty Jean Finnegan pulled Winnie out of her lustful reverie.
Now there was a thought she would never have imagined having. But for once, Winnie felt grateful for the woman’s meddling. It worked better than a cold shower.
“I’m glad you finally arrived,” Betty Jean chirped, her voice sweet, but with a bit of accusation, just for good measure. Winnie glanced at her watch and internally groaned. She had a solid ninety seconds before the luncheon was scheduled to begin, which counted as incredibly early for her.
“I knew you’d show up, though,” Betty Jean continued. “Why on earth would you miss it? If you want to know the movers and shakers in this town, if you want to be privy to the latest and breaking news in Bloomsburo, then this is the place you need to be every Thursday at noon.”
Winnie thought about how to proceed. When she’d flipped through archived copies of The Bloom, she was shocked to see how much coverage the weekly Guiding Star Luncheons received in the paper. Nearly every meeting story was run on the front page of the paper with multiple photos despite the fact that it was essentially a social club.
This was a reporting trend she didn’t want to perpetuate. On the other hand, Winnie was desperately new in town. Though Gloria and Evie could surely help her find sources for her stories, she would need to create her own network, too, and these weekly meetings weren’t a bad place to start.
“Betty Jean, I agreed to attend the luncheons as often as I can,” Winnie replied with caution. She didn’t want to make any promises she wouldn’t be able to keep. “But I will not guarantee any coverage. I will pay dues, just like the other Guiding Star members, and participate as a community member, not as the editor of the paper. If something newsworthy is brought up at a meeting, I will consider it a tip and then pursue it as a separate story, not in any way affiliated with the luncheon.”
Betty Jean’s brows narrowed ever so slightly, finally betraying her forced pleasantness.
“Well, though I’m glad that we can count on your membership, I must say I’m sad to hear that the citizens of Bloomsburo can no longer read about the good and important work we do in your paper,” she said, looking down at her brightly polished finger nails, “a paper that seems so, well, hungry for news.”
Winnie took the dig in stride and stood her ground.
“Well, think of it this way,” she said. “You’ll no longer be giving away the milk for free.”
Betty Jean looked up at Winnie, confused.
“If people can just read about the weekly luncheon in the paper,” Winnie continued, “why would they spend the money to become official members? If they are as interested as you say in what goes on at the luncheons, they’ll surely join once they realize The Bloom won’t be providing a weekly play-by-play. Your membership numbers will shoot through the roof.”
Betty Jean cracked a stiff smile.
“Well, that would be a lovely side effect,” she said. “Now, please take a seat before you hold up the entire event.”
Winnie huffed as she scanned the room. Granted, she wasn’t late, but with only a few seconds left before the luncheon began, she hardly had her choice of seats in the crowded banquet hall. Luckily for her Cal’s table was full so she didn’t even have to consider that possibility. Her eyes caressed the man once more, watching the casual way he worked his table, the way everyone around him seemed enchanted by him.
Her included.
Making her way to the back of the room, she noticed one seat open and she felt herself relax when she saw who it was next to.
“We meet again,” Chief Carter Conrad said with that dazzling smile he had. With his bright white teeth, strong jaw and dark hair, Carter had a serious Superman vibe about him. That sexy uniform stretching over his wide shoulders didn’t hurt the situation at all. He had to be close to six-and-a-half feet of bulky muscle.
“May I?” Winnie asked sweetly, gesturing to the open chair next to him. He was up in half a second and pulled out her chair for her. Gentlemanly, too, she mused.
“Sorry you’re stuck sitting with me again.” Winnie laughed, setting her purse beneath her chair and grabbing a drink of water. The men in this room were leaving her parched.
“I’m grateful for the company. People tend to avoid me at these sorts of things. I think they’re afraid that they’ll accidentally incriminate themselves during small talk over lunch and I’ll have to take them out in cuffs.”
Winnie snorted.
“Oh, not on Betty Jean’s watch, I’m sure.”
Now it was his turn to laugh.
“Yeah, the woman does think she’s the law around here.”
“Well, I don’t think I’ve broken any laws lately, so I feel pretty safe at your table.”
“Is that right?” he asked, unconvinced. “My friend over there sure seems to think you’re doing something suspicious.”
Winnie followed Chief Conrad’s gaze, shocked to find Cal’s eyes on her and the chief, flashing with something like annoyance.
Hot damn, could she have made the man jealous? The possibility made her feel giddy and a tiny bit mad with power.
“Now lean into me and laugh extra loudly,” Chief Conrad said, his head lowering closer to Winnie’s neck so that she could smell his sexy aftershave.
She did laugh naturally at his wicked suggestion, but she might have amplified it just a bit for the sake of their one-man audience.
“Oh, he’s pissed at me, alright,” Chief Conrad said with a laugh. “This is the most fun I’ve had all week.”
Winnie laughed and avoided the urge to look back at Cal once more.
“So you two go way back?” she asked, her eyes meeting the chief’s once more. They were so blue a woman could get lost in them. That she felt only friendly affection for the man spoke to the power of the spell Cal had cast over her.
“Only to kindergarten.”
“Then you probably have some embarrassing stories to tell about the Chamber of Commerce director then. The kind of stories a woman could tuck away until she needed them most.”
His eyes twinkled.
“Winnie, I could fill a book with them,” he promised with a grin, and she knew in that moment that she had a forever friend in Carter. Unfortunately, before he could share even one incriminating story about Cal, Betty Jean cleared her throat loudly at the microphone in the front of the room and began her introduction to the luncheon speaker.
“I’ll take a rain check on those stories,” she whispered to Carter, who nodded conspiratorially.
“It’s a deal.”
Maybe these weekly luncheons wouldn’t be such a drag after all, Winnie mused to herself. She looked upon Chief Carter’s handsome profile, and she had to laugh. If the only relief she could find from Cal Spencer’s sexiness was a flirty friendship with his handsome best friend, well, she’d just have to find a way to deal with it.
Much to her delight, Bloomsburo was growing on her.
~-~-~-~-~-~-
Sitting in his office a few hours after the Guiding Star luncheon, where Cal had watched his oldest friend flirt with Winnie Briggs like it was part of his job description, he reflected on just how much he’d wanted to interrupt them. To intercede. To at least text her to put himself back at the forefront of her mind.
Or maybe it was his asshole friend he needed to text, putting an end to Carter’s fun. His friend was loyal to a fault, but he’d still enjoy smacking him upside the head all the same.
This train of thought felt wrong. Cal wasn’t the possessive type. Hell, he’d never had to be. Most of his energy was spent avoiding the possessive types. The clingy women who called too much. Texted too often. Didn’t understand the “one” part of a one-night stand. He sure as hell didn’t have any claim over Winnie Briggs.
Yet here he was, fingers practically twitching where he sat in his office, just needing to reach out and contact her. To reassure himself that her desire for him was still as strong as it had been the night before.
The night before. He closed his eyes and suddenly he was right back in that restaurant parking lot. Hands full of Winnie’s hair. Her soft, full breasts pressed up against his chest as her arms wound into his suit jacket and pulled him closer.
The warmth of her mouth, so soft and inviting.
And those two words that had hitched in his chest. I’m terrified, she’d said, so honestly, as her face had buried into his shirt -- all the better to send the words directly into his heart.
As incredible as her body had felt, as hungry as her mouth had made him, those words had the greatest impact on his body last night. Although this experiment they agreed to was about pleasure, pure and simple, he had to remember that Winnie was far outside her comfort zone, and he had a duty to take care with the woman.
Even if she did flirt with his best damn friend right in front of him.
To hell with it. He wanted to connect with her, so that’s what he was going to do. Pulling out his cell phone, he typed a quick message, cutting straight to the point.
I’m thinking about you.
He saw three dots appear immediately in response. But then they disappeared. They showed up again, then disappeared. Damn how he wished he knew what she kept deleting.
Sorry I didn’t say hi over lunch. Wasn’t ready to face you in public yet.
He grinned.
Parking lot regrets?
More like parking lot memories. Not sure how to not pounce you when you’re within reach. Working on it.
He had to laugh, as she put words to his exact struggle over lunch. His entire body had risen to attention the minute she’d entered the banquet hall.
Please don’t work on it too hard. I’m a fan of this problem of yours.
:D
She typed another response.
Not knowing what’s next is killing me.
So let’s plan what’s next.
??
Hell, why put off what they both wanted?
My place? Tonight?
The dots appeared and disappeared a few more times. He liked rendering the chatty woman speechless.
Evening meeting to cover tonight. Tomorrow night?
He glanced at his calendar. Damn it. A guy’s night out – poker with some college buddies.
No good. Saturday night?
She responded with a thumbs up emoji.
Good. Well bad, but good.
Bad??? she responded.
Two more days of not touching you = bad.
He sent her a time and his address and took some solace in the fact that at least if he had to suffer through two more days before he could get his hands back on what he wanted, so did she.