Addicted To Him (Man Season) (3 page)

“All right, Fleet … it was nice
meeting you. I know
Tegan
thinks I can’t handle her
seeing men because I lost her dad so recently, and she believes I’m afraid to
be alone but I’m not.”

“Mom …”

“
Shh
! I
know,
too much information. But as long as we’re airing our
dirty laundry I thought I’d add that. Goodnight, you two. Don’t forget to clean
up!”

She winked then exited through the
living room door.

Tegan
started collecting dishes; Fleet
helped her.

“You really should try to put the
past behind you,” she sighed.

“I have tried, but it’s a problem my
heart refuses to resolve.”

“That must put a damper on your love
life.”

“What love life? You’re the first
nibble I’ve had in two years!”

“Is that all I was, a nibble?”

He smiled. “Well, more like a feast
for the starving!”

“Tell me, now, why you’ve been so hesitant
about meeting me. Do you think I’m not good enough for you?”

“No, that isn’t it at all! You’re too
good for my lot. Though, I really don’t have any family left except my uncle,
Ned Grant. And he’s a doctor so he wasn’t around much. I was raised by an
English couple, the
Digbys
.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She moved to touch his cheek. He
stared deep into her eyes. The tension stirred between them; he slipped his
arms around her and sunk his lips into hers. His tongue fondled hers, arousing
her.

“Wait, please, not here.”

“Come with me, then. I want you,
Tegan
.
Right now.”

She nodded, fled with him out the
front door. They hurried into the Jaguar, remained silent, singeing each other
with desperate glances as they rode through the tangle of freeways towards the coast.
They traveled north towards
Santa Barbara
then Fleet pulled into the gated
drive of a seaside mansion. It was dark, creepy, like something you’d see in
ghost stories.

He settled the car into a low level
garage then led her up a winding flight of stairs past an indoor pool and into
a humongous hallway flanked by dark paneled walls and a wide, elegant
staircase. A dapper fellow with gray-streaked hair entered from a back room,
greeted them with a bow.

“Good evening, Fleet, young lady.”

“Hello,
Digby
.
This is Ms. St. Clair.”

The man nodded his hello. “What can I
get for you?
Dinner?
A drink?’

“Nothing,
Digby
.
We’re going up to my room.”

“I see.”

Tegan
felt embarrassed, realizing the man
would know they were up there, together
, making
love.

“Don’t worry about
Digby
,” Westcott whispered as they took the stairs. “He’s
discreet.”

“Is he the only other person here?”

“Yeah, his wife, Martha, died last
year.”

They made the landing and stepped
into a cavernous room that overlooked the ocean. As
Tegan
ventured towards a large oval window to admire the moonlit view, a bevy of bats
flew across the scene. She squealed.

“This place gives me the creeps! I
fully expect Scooby
Doo
and his friends to pop out of
the woodwork and call you out on some crime you’ve committed!”

He laughed. “I never thought of my
house as a cartoon setting, but now that you mention it, it fits. Come to bed.”

“Shouldn’t we relax a bit first? I’m
pretty spooked right now.”

“I’ll fix that.”

He began to strip with his back to her.
The sinuous lines of his all-over tan body overwhelmed her with desire, erasing
any other thought or feeling she’d had. He turned towards her, revealed that he
was hard and ready.

Tegan
gasped, scooted out of her skirt and
blouse, shaking as she started to unclip her red bra. Westcott smiled as he
admired the bra and its matching panties.

“My car was so dark, I had no idea
you were wearing something provocative. You’re a closet sex fiend, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.
Would you like to take them off for
me?’

“You know it!”

She giggled as he swept her up and
onto a gigantic black canopy bed. The silk, champagne-colored sheets were cool
against her back. He unhooked the bra, flung it onto the floor and began to
kiss her through the panties.

“You’re going too fast. Take it slow,
please?”

He nodded, peeled the panties from
her hips and tossed them.

“It must be wonderful to wake up here
every morning.”

He was caressing her breasts with his
lips. “No, not really,” he stopped to say, “not when I’m always alone. Things
are only wonderful if you have someone to share them with.”

“Would you like me to stay here all
night, and share the morning view with you?”

“I’d love it!
But
what about your mother?”

“I’m a grown woman. I can do as I
please. I guess I have been a little too worried about her. But even if I
caught hell for being here, I wouldn’t care!”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No, it’d be worth it!
Especially if you keep doing that!”

His magic fingers were working their
spells on her, raising her up to heights of desire she’d never known existed.
His mouth captured a nipple, she jumped with delight. Then he rolled his tongue
over her breasts. She felt the welcome tightening that meant she was about to
explode.

Westcott moved down to ease his
tongue inside her. She didn’t think she could bear it – it was too good. The
orgasms went off like fireworks. He smiled and lifted himself up above her.
Then he thrust himself into her and wound her up all over again. He groaned in
utter submission as he came – the force bouncing her up off of the bed. They
wailed together until both were sweating and completely spent. Then
Tegan
turned over on her side, trying to hide the flood of
tears that were pouring over her face.

“
Tegan
,
what is it? You’re crying!”

He twisted her around so he could see
her.

“It’s nothing, really,” she said.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it’s kind of hard to come
down so fast after being that high. You just about flew me to the moon!”

He laughed, held her close. “Next
time I’ll fly you to Mars!”

He yanked a handkerchief from a
nightstand drawer and dried her tears.

They laid in the dark afterwards for
hours, talking quietly about love and pain and everything in between. He
finally drifted off to sleep in her arms; a troubled sleep, full of nightmares
that made him toss and moan.

Tegan
watched him until her eyes would not
stay open then she joined him in sleeping, wondering what excitements the new
day would bring.

CHAPTER THREE

Tegan
woke alone in the big black canopy
bed. The harsh morning light glared in her eyes; she rose, puzzled,
drew
the drapes shut. Then her vision cleared and she saw
the note on his pillow.

It said; “
Digby
will drive you home.
Had an emergency at the studio.
So sorry, my darling flower girl.
Fleet.”

She felt like the wind had been
knocked out of her sails. She’d conjured a fantasy of spending the morning with
him, lounging in his room, munching on fruit and pastry – and each other – then
maybe taking a stroll on the beach below; even jumping into his indoor pool for
a naked swim once
Digby
was off to do errands.

Now she had to dress quietly and be
driven home like a child from camp, miserable and hungry.

She dragged herself into the
bathroom, searched the cabinets for a fresh toothbrush. She could barely find
anything among the clacking bottles of pills; rows and rows of painkillers and
sedatives and anti-anxiety drugs. And every one had Fleet Westcott listed as
the patient.

“Why would he need all of these
pills?”
Tegan
wondered aloud.

A firm knock on the bedroom door startled
her; she wrapped herself in one of Fleet’s robes and rushed to answer it.

“Good morning, Miss,”
Digby
said with a smile. “I’ve been instructed to make you
breakfast. Would you prefer it in bed, or in the dining room?”

“Oh, please don’t go to any trouble,
Mr.
Digby
.”

“It’s simply
Digby
,
and it isn’t a bit of trouble.”

“Well, could I eat in the kitchen
then? I could keep you company while you cook it.”

“All right.”
He seemed amused at her suggestion.
“I’ll be getting things ready. Would you prefer a quiche with bacon, or
waffles?”

“A quiche, if it isn’t a bother!”

“It isn’t. You can take a shower
first, if you’d like.”

“Oh, yes, I’d love to! I’ll be down
soon!”

“Excellent!” he nodded then stepped
lightly down the hall.

Tegan
threw off the robe and entered the
shower in Fleet’s magnificent stone bathroom. The shower stall was curved in an
arch, with a matching window overlooking the sea. She had a modest moment when
she noticed a yacht passing by but realized the sailors would need binoculars
to see her.

As she rubbed the musky bath gel into
her skin, she caught the scent of it – it smelled like him, like Fleet. So
that’s where that intoxicating fragrance had come from. She breathed it in, let
it envelope her senses. If only he were there to enjoy what that fragrance was
doing to her. She couldn’t bear it one second more – gently slipped her hand
between her thighs and played her fingers upon her flesh until she burst in a
fit of rapture. All the while she was seeing Fleet in her mind, imagining him
there beside her, kissing her, molding her to serve his needs.

She cried out softly, “Fleet, where
are you!” then she gave her body over to the urges within her. It was good, but
ultimately unsatisfying without him to finish the job.

Breakfast was a lovely affair.
Digby
was quite a talker; had her in stitches relating
stories of his family in England, especially his great uncle
Smythe
who’d been a cook for the Queen Mum back in the day.

“Please, no more,”
Tegan
begged, tears ruining her mascara. “You should do stand
up, you’d be a smash!”

“I’ll consider it, if I ever lose
this position.”

He began to load the dishes into the
dishwasher.

“May I help?”

“No, no, you’re a guest here.”

She stood, stretched her legs;
admired the fresh sunshine streaming through the glass-paneled door. Just
outside she could see a garden full of bright red and pink flowers.

“Your gardener is talented! Some of
those flowers are really hard to grow. Believe me, I know. I’ve tried and
failed, with several of them!”

“I am the gardener, so I thank you
for the compliment. It’s a restful occupation, helps me think out my troubles.”

“My mom says the same thing. I’d bet
you two could really hit it off, if only …”

“If only what?”

“She isn’t looking for companionship
yet. My dad died last year following a long, tough battle with cancer. She was
a trooper through the whole thing but life kind of lost its joy for her after
that, you know? I wish she was ready for dating. I’d certainly steer her in
your direction if she was!”

“I haven’t thought of finding someone
else, since my dear Martha died. But a chap does get lonely.”

“
Digby
,
tell me about Fleet. He seems so miserable and confused. I’m not sure what to
make of him.”

“Neither do
I
,
frankly. The young man has had a hard life. I don’t know how much of his past
he has told you …”