Tell Me a Desire (The Story Series Book 2) (2 page)

“God, that was close. I almost came inside of you.”

His words snapped me back to reality and my eyes went wide. What if he had come inside of me? What then? I could have gotten pregnant. Were we ready to be parents?

I felt a bit raw between my legs, between the exam and the roughness of his penetration. What was I thinking, having sex so soon after an exam? Actually, I felt raw all over, changed somehow. What the hell was wrong with me today?

Caleb reached for a box of tissues in a steel holder at the end of his desk, then dabbed the wetness from my sensitive skin. I squeezed my lids shut in an attempt to stop the tears. I didn’t know what the intense emotion was all about or why I was feeling so odd.

Was it because of the doctor’s question? I considered whether to tell Caleb about what she had said, but I hesitated. After all, he’d repeatedly mentioned he hadn’t been sure he wanted children with his dead wife.

So why would he want them with me? And did I even want a baby?

I quickly closed my legs as Caleb toe-heeled out of his shoes, then let his pants and underwear fall to his feet. He was being uncharacteristically messy with his clothing. While he never did dishes or straightened a pile of books, he was very particular about his clothing. Usually he carefully removed his clothes before, during, or after sex. He shot me a lazy, wicked smile as I jumped up and plucked my underwear off the floor, trying not to let him see my eyes pool with tears.

But as usual, he was tuned into my emotions. Or maybe he couldn’t ignore my trembling hands or my loud sniffle.

“What?” he murmured, sounding totally at ease as he undid buttons to reveal his muscular chest. He had a post-orgasm dreaminess to his voice, so unlike his normal commanding tone. “You okay? What’s wrong? Did I hurt your wrists? I’m sorry.”

My mouth opened, and I was poised to tell him about the doctor. “No. My wrists are fine. Nothing’s wrong.” I shook my head so hard the tips of my ponytails were like little whips on my cheeks. What if this was some sort of temporary insanity—the question of whether to have a baby?

Ridiculous. No, I needed to keep this from him, at least for now. Until I was sure.

“Nothing?”

I shook my head again and stepped into my underwear, snagging them on the heel of my blue shoes before pulling them up to my hips.

Now naked, he wrapped his arms around me, and I inhaled his oak-vanilla scent mixed with his sweat. My fingers knew the path up and down his back, and I stroked his skin.

“Mmm. That feels good. I love you,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry. I do wish I could come to your costume ball, but I’ve got way too much work on the Brazil project. I’m going to shower and change and get back to it. If I get done early, I’ll stop by, but I’ll definitely see you here later tonight. Could you bring my clothes into the laundry room?”

“I don’t know about later tonight,” I mumbled into his shoulder, suddenly irritated he might not make it to my party that evening and annoyed that he wanted me to pick up his clothes. “I might go to my house to sleep.”

He pulled away and rolled his eyes. “Emma, why? It’s your birthday tomorrow. We have the antique auction in the morning, and we also need to get ready for the dinner party tomorrow night. Unless you want me to pull some strings and get a reservation. I can cancel the chef and the florist and the entertainment.”

Resting my forehead on his shoulder, I groaned because, between the party at my bookstore and the potentially life-altering conversation with my doctor, I’d forgotten about my birthday dinner. Caleb’s sister, who was dating my best friend Sarah, along with Caleb’s brother and his latest fling, were coming over to celebrate.

“No, I don’t want to go out.” Jesus. Could I sound any more petulant? I hadn’t wanted to make a big deal about my thirty-fifth birthday and had agreed to the dinner only at Caleb and Sarah’s insistence. They’d found a celebrity cookbook author in Miami and arranged to fly him to Orlando, all because I was a vegetarian and he was known as the best gourmet, meat-free chef on the entire East Coast.

I let out a long sigh. “I’ll come back here tonight so we can get an early start tomorrow. And can’t you bring your own clothes into the laundry room?”

“Good. And yes, I guess I can.” He broke away and picked up his clothes, shaking them out and folding each piece, then draping everything precisely over one arm. “I wish you’d move in here. It would be a lot easier for both of us.” His voice was too dismissive and it annoyed me. My earlier sex-centered, sublime moment of connectedness had evaporated. Now, instead of feeling like we could solve riddles together, it was as if I was a crossword in a newspaper and he was a Sudoku app on a smartphone.

Incompatible.

“Easier for you. Maybe I
would
move in if you made a commitment.”

His eyebrows shot up. Okay, so my voice had taken on an unusually edgy tone, surprising even me. “What commitment is that?” The way he asked, all clueless, almost made me feel awful. Almost. Then I wondered if he was playing dumb.

Men.

I snorted. “If you can’t figure it out, it’s not worth discussing right now. I’ll text you later.”

Because I wasn’t a total monster, I leaned up to brush my lips over his. Then I grabbed my fake-fur capulet and hurried to the bathroom, not wanting to talk about the real reason for my confusion and anger.

O
nce at my store
, I was in my element. The smell of books always had a soothing effect on me, and I inhaled the scent of paper and ink when I walked in.

My shoulders lowered as I passed through the stacks, greeting friends and the other owners of the quirky, non-chain stores on the block. I’d invited a few dozen people to the costume ball, all to celebrate a huge comic con in Orlando. My best friend Sarah—she was still the bookstore’s manager for a few months until she finished her graduate degree—had commandeered the sound system with an endless loop of St. Vincent. She looked hot, dressed in a Mad Hatter steampunk costume with bell-bottomed brown pants and a tall hat. I stood before her and curtsied, trying to be my usual, bubbly self, although inside I was still a little anxious and scattered after my exchange with Caleb. Sarah would put me at ease, though. She always did.

“That hair. Gorgeous,” she remarked, staring at me.

“You decorated perfectly.” I hugged her. She’d set potted palms and bright red, spiky bromeliad plants around the store and wrangled high-top tables into corners and covered them with white cloths. On each table was a mini tropical flower garden, little framed photos of anime characters, and scattered glitter hearts and stars. I spied a few tiki torches, thankfully unlit, in beach buckets filled with sand.

My eyes landed on little green cupcakes with red balls stuck on red sticks. It all was funky and kitschy, but I loved it.

“Are those
Plants Vs. Zombies
cake pops on top of green cupcakes?”

“Fucking brilliant, right? Our new bookseller, Gina, is also a cake-pop maker.”

“Love them.” I plucked a red ball off a toothpick and popped it in my mouth. “Mmm.”

I swallowed the delicious, red velvet cake bite and searched for another, wondering how I’d manage without Sarah at the store. Ever since Caleb had bought the building and renovated it—and helped me financially—I’d delegated more of the day-to-day business to Sarah. We’d hired two new employees and I spent more time marketing and getting involved with independent bookstore issues on a regional and national level.

“Your taste, as usual, is impeccable. Thank you for all this. I see reporters from both local newspapers are here.” I peeled the paper off a green cupcake.

“A TV station’s supposed to stop by, as well. Consider it my early birthday gift to you. Oh, hey, someone called today. I tried ringing you about it, but you didn’t pick up. It was a woman. She mentioned she met you at the book fair, and she wants to talk more about collaborating on the new bookstore.”

I practically squeed out loud and set the cupcake on the table so I could hug Sarah. This was one of my latest projects—opening an all-romance bookstore somewhere in Florida. An indie bookstore owner near Daytona had loved the concept and wanted to join forces, hopefully somewhere near Orlando because I didn’t want to be away from Caleb too much. “Oh, God, if this really happens, it will be incredible.”

“You’re unstoppable, Emma. I always knew you would be, ever since I laid eyes on you on the seventh floor of Fletcher Hall, berating those frat guys for playing their shitty music too loud.”

I grinned at the memory of when Sarah and I had met. Joined in our indignancy, we’d become inseparable. In so many ways, we were opposites. I loved men; she loved women. She was analytical to my fantastical. But we were both only children and both had been quirky, lonely kids. She’d been at my side during my dark moods—like when my mother died of a heart attack our senior year in school—and during my achievements, like when I’d gotten a community arts grant to start the bookstore.

Now, I opened my mouth to tell her about the doctor, about Caleb, and about my looming deadline for having a baby, but sealed my lips. It was time for me to stop spilling my guts and my thoughts to her before thinking things through. Before telling Caleb.

It was a bad habit I had, telling Sarah things before I told Caleb.

But tonight was for revelry. It was my last night of being thirty-four, and I needed to loll in my misspent youth. If I still felt the same way about a baby when I woke up tomorrow, Sarah would be the first to know. Well, the second, after Caleb.

“I love you. And the champagne is…where?” I asked.

She grinned in response and pointed to our counter, near the cash register. It had been turned into a mini-bar. Julia, who ran the café, was the temporary bartender. She was dressed like a character out of
Sailor Moon
, and six people were lined up, ready for drinks. The place was packed, so I waited until there was a lull in the bar line.

“What will you be drinking, Ms. Price?” Julia asked as I walked over. It made me laugh, knowing she was referencing my favorite Stephen King novel. “The usual?”

She held up a bottle of champagne.

“You know me too well.” She poured two plastic glasses of champagne, and we touched them together.

Julia and I had known each other for years, since we’d each started our stores in the building the same year. She was a couple of years older than me, married, and had a three-year-old daughter.

I casually began asking questions, barely aware I was steering the conversation into baby territory. “So how’s your family? Your daughter? You know, I admire you so much for juggling the café and a husband and a toddler.”

“Jeez. I’m exhausted, Emma. I mean, the first few months were really rough. Worse than now, I think. Remember how tired I was? How I’d bring the baby in to breastfeed? It’s getting a little better now she’s in daycare.”

I did vaguely recall how the dark circles under her eyes had appeared one day and hadn’t vanished. Now I was rapt and asked question after question as she refilled my glass with bubbly.

“Why did you go with daycare versus a nanny? How did you decide on a daycare? Is there a website you can go to check out who owns the daycare to make sure they’re not criminals?”

Julia nearly spit out her champagne with laughter. “Someone is looking to get pregnant, I think. I’d say you were already pregnant, but probably not considering you’ve drained your champagne glass and are already on your second.”

I grinned, then raised my empty glass toward her. “About to be my third.”

Julia leaned into me. She was a little wobbly, and I could tell she was happily tipsy. I laughed, feeling like I was bonding with her on a whole new, adult level. “Emma, whatever my experience with having a baby was, yours will be unique. Way different than mine. You’d be a great mom, and you’re in an excellent position.”

This made me shake my head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not going to have to struggle with child care or time off or anything. Caleb’s loaded. You’re going to be able to do anything you want. Work, not work, whatever. You’ll have so many options. Enjoy those blessings.”

I nodded, thinking of my plans to open a new bookstore. How would I start a new business and have a baby? Would I be able to? It was a big undertaking, opening another bookstore. But I’d always had plenty of energy for new things in the past, I figured. Why not a baby and a new business?

I glanced around at all of my quirky, awesome friends. Would I still be able to do things like this with a baby? Would I want to?

None of this mattered, of course, if Caleb wasn’t on board.

“Right. I guess the only thing is, do I want a baby? And will Caleb want a baby?” I asked, more to myself.

She studied me knowingly. “Well, that’s another matter altogether. And speak of the devil.”

I followed her eyes to the front of the bookstore and spotted Caleb walking in. He wore a black tuxedo and a confident grin. His presence didn’t go unnoticed by the costumed young women in the store, who followed him with their eyes. In his tux, he was like James Bond surrounded by a sea of
Pokémon
characters.

I burst out laughing as he ambled up to me. “I thought you had to work.”

“I love it when you look astonished.” He kissed me full on the mouth, and I nipped at his bottom lip with my teeth. He trailed his nose up my cheek, and I took in his spicy, oaky vanilla scent. The spot behind his ear smelled vaguely like the cake pop, only with a touch of masculine edge, and I longed to lick him.

“You astonish me daily.”

He stepped back to stare at me, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “Well, when we were, ah,
together
in my office earlier, I did say I would consider attending your party if you obeyed a few of my commands. And you obeyed so well I felt you needed to be rewarded.”

I giggled and openly ogled his dimple, the crinkles around his eyes, how his body filled the tuxedo. My boyfriend was so unusually handsome. “You know I adore your commands. And I’m glad you’re here. Do you want a cake pop?”