Beatrice and Douglas (4 page)

“I need you to touch me.”

She closed her eyes to the heat.  The sparks were too
much in her present condition.  But then she became aware of the smell of
him, the feel of him. 

“You need me to touch you, too.”

“I don’t . . .”

“Touch me.”

Did she touch him?  It wasn’t clear who touched who
first; it hardly mattered when her arms locked around him, his hands fisted in
her hair, and their lips devoured.  It was like a lightning rod in sand,
everything shifted, heated, everything changed. 

“God, yes,” he said, his voice a heartfelt groan under her
teeth and tongue.  She was fire in his arms and all he wanted was to
burn.  He picked her up by the hips, pulling her up to his level for
better access.  She wrapped her legs around him for the same reason. 
When she pushed at his t-shirt, he accommodated her and nearly groaned again
when her hands were on his bare chest.

“You have the best body.”  She leaned back until she
could look at him, her hands petting him, her eyes caressing.  Then they
narrowed on his face and she wrapped one delicate finger around a bristly hair
and pulled.

“Ouch.  What the hell?”

“I’m not a brat.”

“The hell you aren’t.”  He pushed her back on the table,
and his mouth was hot on her neck.  His hands pushing up her t-shirt until
the only thing between them from the waist up was a scrap of white silk. 
She arched into him and the feel of her softness against his hardness was
enough to have him lose the little bit of control he had left.  He grabbed
the backside of her denim, pulled her closer with a grind that had her gasping
and pulling at the top of his jeans.

He reached down pulling off her boots, hissing when she
leaned up and bit him on the chin.  Then his lips were on hers again,
tongue against tongue, while his hands ripped off her white lace bra and dived
into soft mounds. 

Beatrice writhed against him.  He had incredible
hands.  Big and hard and . . . incredible.  Then his lips were
suckling and biting.  Her head arched back, her hands pulling him closer,
her hips thrusting.

“Now.  Damn it.  I need you now.”  She said
it with her words and then with hands that yanked down his jeans and briefs and
cupped him.  The man was big and hard all over.

“Oh, God, yes.”  His voice rough and on the edge of a
groan.

Douglas pulled jeans and white silk down her legs, then
moved back into the arch of her hips.  She led with eager hands that
squeezed.  He was there, thrusting, filling her so completely that she
wondered if she’d ever get him out again, ever want to.  Then they were
moving, eyes locked, they rode, in and out, friction building friction. 
Beatrice closed her eyes but Douglas just growled and shook her until she
opened them again.

“Look at me.  It’s me who has you.  Do you
understand?”

He thrust harder, pulling her hips higher.  “Do you
understand?  Say it.”  There was something primitive in his eyes, the
grim set of his mouth that she had never seen before.  He wanted something
more, something that should worry her, but she was almost beyond thought and
couldn’t quite figure out what it was. 

“Douglas, please . . .”

“That’s right, say my name.  I’m the one.  Say
it.”

The pleasure built and built, wave after wave, until she
thought she’d die from it, then she went over and his name was a scream muffled
against his lips.  She was lost and then with an oath so was he. 
They clung together, both of them knowing nothing was ever going to be the
same.

***

“Are you sure that’s him?”

“Absolutely.  There’s no mistaking the eyes.”

“He’s not what I was expecting.  Did you see his
hands?  They were coated with dirt.”

Benedict studied the blonde coldly.  He had always
preferred women with little brains and fewer scruples, but he occasionally
regretted it.  Today was a prime example.  He did not like to explain
himself.

“It washes off.  What I want to hear is that you can
play your part.”

“Of course.”

“Good.  With all the money you’ll get for this, you can
afford to get a little dirty.”

They were lying naked across the drafting table in the
middle of the day.  Anyone could decide they wanted a coffee break and
come in.  The door was not locked.  Still, neither of them moved.

Beatrice covered her eyes and sighed.  “This was a
really bad idea.”

He just grunted and continued to nuzzle her sensitive neck,
one hand wrapped around her neck and the other on her hip.

“Well?”  Her voice was a whisper of sound.  She
cleared her throat.

“Yeah.”  He grumbled it against her neck.

“We should get up and get dressed before someone comes
in.  This was really unprofessional.”

“Absolutely.  Unprofessional as hell.”  His hand
pulled her closer as his mouth found her collarbone, and trailed warm lips
across it.

“Obviously, we needed to get that out of our system and now
we can just forget it ever happened.” 

“Consider it forgotten.”  But his hand on her hip was
pulling her closer to what was an impressive display of desire and she forgot
what they were talking about and straddled him.

He groaned.

“Don’t let this go to your head,” she said right before
biting his lip.

“Whatever you say.”

But she didn’t have much to say after that for some time.

***

Beatrice was pulling on her clothes, doing her best not to
look at him across the table doing the same.  Never in her life had she
hummed with completion.  At the same time, she also felt awkward as
hell.  This was Douglas Bruce; they worked together, they saw each other
at family holidays and on Superbowl Sundays.  Her Uncle Jack had raised
him, which meant that he had managed to be both the bane of her working career
and family gatherings as long as she could remember.  How much more
terrible would it be now that they’d had sex on a worktable?  Twice.

She looked up and almost groaned aloud.  It could be a
lot worse.  Now ‘The Bruce’ was looking at her with a satisfied and
possessive gleam to his eye that immediately made her want a drink.  A
strong one.  At least he was dressed again.  The man naked should be
outlawed.  Who was she kidding?  Fully clothed or in a burlap bag, he’d
still be hot.

“Well, now that we got that out of our systems we should
probably get back to work.”  When he just continued to watch her with that
knowing gleam, she figured blasé was not going to work.

“Is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Out of our systems?”

Beatrice looked up and met his eyes, suddenly licking her
dry lips.  “I’m not having an affair with you.”

“What do you call this?”

“A quickie?  A tension breaker?  A mistake?”

“Bullshit.”  His voice was soft but distinct.

“I’m seeing Charles.”  The air in the room went static.

“Bullshit.”  This time the softness was gone and his
voice became a blade. 

Douglas went around the table and pushed her back against
the edge, his hands going into her hair right below her ear and fisting
there.  “Word of advice, Beatrice.”  She tried to move away but he
held her still.  It gave him a huge amount of satisfaction to hold her in
place while he felt her body respond to him.  “Don’t push this game you’re
playing too far.  You won’t like the consequences.”

He could see the outraged protest forming in her eyes, so he
kissed her, thrusting heat into her mouth and feeling nothing but triumph and
male satisfaction when she finally melted for him. 

He pulled back, licked his lips, relishing her taste on his
mouth, and the way she quivered in his arms.  “Call him, break it
off.  After, I’ll take you to dinner, and then I’ll just take you.” 
Her eyes narrowed and he saw her get ready to blast him, so he kissed her
again.  Then when he had her melting in his arms again, he stepped back;
leaving her sagging against the table, he headed out the door.  “I’ll pick
you up at eight.”

He was out the door and had managed to get it closed before
he heard something thump against the other side.  He hoped she hadn’t
broken anything they might need later, throwing it against the door like
that.  He smiled.  Then headed back to work, whistling.

Beatrice clenched her teeth against the heat
simmering. 
That arrogant . . . s
he turned and dropped down into a
chair, huffing out a breath. 
Good lord, that man is straight up sexy.

***

Beatrice made it a point to escape the site early.  She
had a few decisions to make and was not above running away to see if she made
the right ones, outside of the Douglas Bruce sphere of persuasion.  As she
was driving away, she saw him step out of the house.  He was covered in
sawdust and clearly displeased with her quick exit.  Tough.  He was
so not the boss of her, and if that was part of whatever he wanted with her, he
was in for a rude awakening, and blue balls.

She knew she had to break up with Charles, she had already
made that decision, but that didn’t mean she was going to jump into some kind
of whatever it was with Douglas Bruce of all people.  She had watched for
years while he went through women like they were Chiclets.  She was not so
anxious to be added to his collection of past lovers, even if he was so good at
it he could be labeled the eighth wonder of the world.  She was pulling up
to the bed and breakfast with the picture of the line up in her mind, the great
pyramids, Niagara Falls, Douglas Bruce with that cocky smile on his face and
nothing else. 
Hmm.

She walked in the doors, still focused on the wicked fantasy
of Douglas Bruce wearing nothing whatsoever, when Mrs. Peal interrupted her
musing with an exuberant greeting.

“Ms. Blue.  I am so happy to tell you, your young man
finally showed up after all.  And, my, has he planned a wonderful romantic
night for the two of you.  Gives me goose bumps to picture it.”

“What was that?” 
Please let that not mean what I
think she means.

“Beatrice, there you are!  I was hoping you would leave
work before I had to come drag you away.”  Charles stepped out of the
parlor with a cup of tea in his hand and an indulgent smile on his face. 
Still dressed in his suit from work, he was smiling indulgently her way. 
Clearly, he was expecting her to be happy to see him.  This was going to
be so bad.  At least Douglas was still at the worksite.  As soon as
she had that thought, the front door opened with a crack and Douglas Bruce
stomped inside.

“Since when do you duck out of the worksite without any
notice?”

Looking from a confused Charles to an irritated Douglas
Bruce, she started shaking her head. 
This was going to be so bad.
 
One thing at a time.

“Charles, I don’t think you’ve met the carpenter, Douglas
Bruce, have you?  He works for Uncle Jack.”

Douglas froze and looked from her to the good looking suit
standing at the door to the parlor.  He took him in with a glance. 
Sandy-haired, brown eyes, slick, and polished. 
Did she just introduce
me as the fucking carpenter?
 He narrowed his eyes between the two of
them.  “What the fuck is he doing here?”

Beatrice gritted her teeth.  “Charles thought he would
surprise me by showing up for a night out.  We have not had a chance to
talk.”

“Isn’t it romantic?”  Mrs. Peal said from the desk,
beaming at them and completely missing the tension arching the room.

“No.”  He gritted out.  “Not going to happen.”

She narrowed her eyes in clear warning for him to back
off. 
Yeah, good luck with that one, sweetheart.

“I have not had a chance to talk to Charles yet.  I
would appreciate a few minutes now.”

“Not going to happen.”  

“This is not up for discussion.  I need a minute with
Charles and you are going to give it to me.”  This time she snapped it,
clearly fed up, but she wasn’t the only one.

“Not going to fuckin’ happen.  You can say anything you
have to say with me here.”

“The hell I can.”  There was that sting he was used
to.  “Leave.”

“Not this time, Bumble Bee.”  By now, they were toe-to-toe
and had managed to forget the audience watching with varying degrees of
confusion.

“You are the most obnoxious man I have ever had the
misfortune to meet.”

“Yeah.  That changes exactly dick.  I’m staying.”

“What exactly is he staying for?”  Charles finally
broke in, the suspicion clear in his voice.

Douglas looked at the put together business suit and
clean-faced good looks.  He saw red, or more likely, green when he
snapped.  “She’s moving on.  You should do the same.”

“Are you out of your mind?”  Beatrice screeched because
it was either go totally shrew or commit bodily harm.  She turned and
looked at Charles, who had frozen. 

“Is this true?” he asked.

She swallowed her anger and reached for control.  “I’m
sorry, Charles.  I was going to call and tell you tonight that I didn’t
think this was working between us.  You deserve better than this.”

“You’re leaving me…for that?”  He pointed at Douglas
Bruce in bewilderment and anger.  Fresh from the jobsite, he was clearly
not a suit.

“Yes,” Douglas bit
out.

“No.”  She glared at ‘The Bruce’ speaking at the same
time.  “I’m ending things because I can’t give you what you want. 
He,” She pointed at Douglas who was standing with his arms crossed and a
belligerent look on his face, “has very little to do with this decision.”

“I don’t understand this.  We had plans.”

“No,” Beatrice said gently.  “You had plans.  I
have never remotely suggested that I wanted anything but a casual dating
relationship and friendship.”

“I thought you were just being careful.”

“Careful of what?”  Now she was the one who was
confused.

He suddenly looked exasperated.  “Of scaring me away
with demands.”

Douglas snorted.  Beatrice blinked, fighting the need
to roll her eyes.  “I get it.  You thought I was being coy, saying I
didn’t want marriage because I’m a woman, and that’s what we do to trap
unsuspecting men?”

“Something like that, yes.”  Now he was looking angry.

Ugh, men suck so bad. 
“Nope.  No games, no
plans.  Just straight up.  What you see is what you get with
me.  I was actually telling you the truth all this time.  Sorry.”

Charles looked a little shell shocked and a lot angry. 
“Then, if you aren’t a game player, what is this?”  He pointed to Douglas,
who thankfully and amazingly held his tongue.  “And how long has this been
going on behind my back?”

“That is not how this was, and I am sorry you had to find
out like this, but I was going to call you tonight and tell you it was over
between us.”

“I see.  Well, I suppose I should apologize for
breaking into your weekend tête-à-tête.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Save it.  If you want some boy toy you can boss
around, you are right, I’m not that.”  She was careful not to look at
Douglas, who was so far from a boy toy it was laughable. 

“I’ll find my own way out.”  Charles turned to do just
that, his movements jerky.  “You may have time to waste on whatever you
are doing but I have important adult work to do.”

Then he stomped out, obviously trying to make her feel
childish and immature, and he succeeded.  She had the overwhelming urge to
stick her tongue out at his stiff departing back, proving beyond a shadow of a
doubt that she was a terrible person.  Despite being seriously obtuse, he
really was a nice guy and deserved better than to be ambushed like this.

Douglas Bruce looked from the departing man to her shaking
her head in the hall.  “You want to tell me why you ducked out at work?”

Beatrice gritted her teeth, wondered if it was actually
possible for her head to explode.  To counter the pressure, she spoke
softly.  “First off, I do not punch a clock for you anymore than you do
for me.  So, me leaving five minutes early is really none of your concern,
especially when I am usually one of the last to leave.  Second, when I ask
for a minute with a person I care about, I expect a little privacy and respect
for that person, and not to be bombarded with angry male posturing and
rudeness.”

“Bullshit.  You were running out of there today and I
want to know why.”

“Maybe, I just needed some time to figure out what the hell I’m
doing with you, and after what just happened here with Charles, I still have
not got a blessed clue.”

“You want to explain that?”

“Absolutely.  I don’t think I want to be with a man who
doesn’t have the courtesy to step back when I need him to.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would really bust your ass.”

“Especially when I am trying not to hurt someone I care
about.”

“You mean you expect me to be a gentleman and let you talk
to your ex in private.  One you, quote, unquote, care about.”

“Exactly.  That would have been a lot more helpful then
World War Three, don’t you think?”

He moved forward so stealthily that she did not realize she
was backing up until her back hit the front desk.  Neither of them
remembered Mrs. Peal was still watching them wide-eyed from the other
side.  Douglas leaned over her until, recognizing her predicament, her
eyes widened and she started trying to push back.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Bumble Bee,” he said, leaning
over her and caging her between hands that gripped the counter on either side
of her, “I have never been, nor will I ever be a gentleman.  Not if it
means standing around with my thumb up my ass while your ex tries to make time
with you.  I have waited years for you to get a clue and wake the fuck up
and
see
me.”

Beatrice opened her mouth but he picked her up, sweeping her
off her feet before she could speak.  They were suddenly
nose-to-nose.  The look in his green eyes was so intense that it stopped
the words in her throat.