A Perfect Mistake, page 11
I accepted the bite, the sweetness and Nica’s interaction making it damn hard to care about my work interruption. “You saw me eat today.”
Nica dug the fork back into the pie. “This isn’t about food, this is about you taking a much needed break. And about me dealing with your mother.” She took a bite of the pie, determination on her brow.
“I’m sorry about her.”
She waved her fork in the air and then dropped it into the pie pan. “Don’t be. I’m glad she wasn’t the one taking care of your grandma.” Nica shuddered. “She would have been the caregiver from hell.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “And what was I?”
Nica paused while picking up the fork before digging it into our dessert. She fed me a bite. “You were one of the better caregivers. Concerned and involved, which was strange since you were never around during the day.”
“You don’t have to be around to be involved.”
“True, but I never knew quite how much you were.”
Her eyes held mine, and I struggled to swallow my food, barely tasting it with her right there, looking at me like I was important.
Nica set the pie on the coffee table and shifted closer. She placed a hand on my cheek, eyes large and welcoming. A few more inches and our lips would touch. I wanted to close that gap but kept my spine straight, waiting on her. Her thumb stroked my skin but she didn’t retreat. Eyes flickered between mine, as though she had a lengthy conversation in her head. Her lips moved. “I can’t fight… anymore.” Before I could figure out if she meant for me to understand her or not, she leaned in and brushed her lips against mine. Mixed in with the apple pie, Nica’s sweetness created an intense sugar high. I wrapped my arms around her, grateful she initiated and didn’t leave me hanging in lust by myself. She melted into me, her curves against my muscles, as though we were two puzzle pieces fusing together. No doubt about it, this woman felt right in my arms.
I ran my hands up her sides, angling my head, licking at her lips, wanting more of her taste and texture. She opened for me, ratcheting up the heat, until I didn’t care about anything but her in my arms. How we managed to resist this, to refuse us, I’d never understand. But none of that mattered, not when she straddled me, taking the kiss deeper, eradicating any thought that didn’t involve her. I clutched her hips, the curves that were heaven to me. Familiar, too, like coming home from a long time away—that’s how she felt.
Nica drew back, staring down at me, her curls framing her face.
I released her hips so I could sign. “I don’t want to fight this, either.”
“I shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. But—” she licked her lips “—I can’t deny I want you.”
I yanked her to me, kissing her with everything I had. She settled against me, body to body, squirming against my overeager erection. My broken heart fused back together at the sight of her so enraptured, so taken with me, when we’d just started.
She shifted up, slow moving fingers working at unbuttoning my shirt, determined to drive my patience. She leaned forward, kissing and licking as my skin was exposed, igniting that raging inferno our chemistry wouldn’t let die out. Even with all the space circumstances kept placing between us.
I caught her wandering hands and sat up. I didn’t want this to be a stolen moment. I wanted an honest chance with her. “What are we doing here?”
She glanced at the outline of my dick with a coy smile.
I tipped her chin up to mine. “We are more than sex.”
She settled beside me. “Yes. We are.”
“Date me.” My heart pounded in my chest, the intensity of my need for her foreign and unfamiliar and wonderful and scary.
A world of matching emotions swam in her eyes, the now familiar internal struggle I brought out in her. I waited her out. “All my ethics somehow go out the window whenever you are around.” She brushed her fingers over my cheek, tangling them in the ends of my hair. “I can’t stay away from you. Yes.”
I claimed her mouth again and nothing else mattered. Not my grandmother, not my parents or the funeral or even my job. Just this wonderful woman in my arms. She clutched me to her, hands moving with desperation over my shoulders and under my shirt. I scooped her up and headed to her bedroom.
Once there I deposited her on her bed. I stole a moment, soaking in the site of her. Those blond curls framing her face, the curve of her hip, the way her shirt separated from her pants, exposing a strip of delectable skin. I started there, kissing her stomach, raising her shirt as I moved higher, before taking a cotton-covered nipple into my mouth. Need pulsed deep in my veins, a near tribal beat to claim. But she wasn’t a conquest. She was light and joy and pleasure. And life. She arched into me, hair tumbling behind her, so damn beautiful. It wasn’t enough. Needing her, all of her, now, I stripped Nica out of her clothes before shedding my own to the floor.
“Impatient much?” She signed, propped up on her elbows, naked body enticing every last ounce of my control. Her gaze slid down my body, stopping where I pointed and throbbed in her direction. “I guess so.”
She shifted on her knees, kneeling in front of me, before taking me deep into her mouth. I shifted my feet, needing some grounding, before I fell over at the pure pleasure of her lips on my dick. She sucked and licked, as though I were one of her desserts. My balls pulled up tight, every nerve ending I owned trained on what her talented mouth did to me.
But I wasn’t coming in her mouth; I had plans for tonight. Big plans. I tapped her head and she let me go, a shit-eating grin on her lips. I claimed her mouth with my own, angling her back against the bed. Then I kissed a path down her body, returning the favor. Her taste the best damn thing I’d eaten in days, and the way her body squirmed under me my own proverbial frosting.
She writhed, her hands fisted in the blankets, head back against the pillows. A damn angel with the powers to stop my heart. I could look at her, only her, forever.
I paused long enough, soaking in the sight of her, that she grabbed hold of my shoulders. “Now.” She hauled me to her, kissing me so deep I felt it straight down to my toes.
When I broke free of her clutch—that one was sure to leave scratch marks on my back, lucky me—she reached for her nightstand and collected the box of condoms. I rolled one on. She had her bottom lip in her mouth, denting the plush curve. My job. I leaned over her, taking the lip in mine instead. Her body rose up to mine, part invitation and part seductress.
She was flush, her body almost trembling with need. Mine. I had no right to think such thoughts. No right to assume, not with my own issues. Yet I wanted to. I moved over her, sliding inside, closing my eyes at how right she felt. Her legs wrapped around me. I stayed there, fully in her warmth.
I lowered my head and ran circles with my tongue around her nipples. Her nails dug into my back, again, as her body shook around me. I knew I was lost in her. All the stress and sorrow of the day, of the week, vanished. There was only me, only her, only this erotic moment.
I moved within her, her face flush, a slight smile on her lips. The age old dance different with her beneath me. Our bodies moved as one, each writhe of hers pushing me harder and faster. I needed this more than I needed anything else, needed this moment with her. Pleasure mixed with comfort, in that strange something we created together. I tried to slow down, make the moment last. Her hips urged me on, coaxing me to give her what we both needed. And I did until the pressure building inside was too much to resist. I burst and fell down into her arms, resting my head in the crook of her neck.
She held me, running her fingers through my hair. I shifted up and pressed my forehead to hers. “Better,” she signed.
Yes, this was better. I rolled to my back and held her close.
Chapter 12
Nica
The following morning I awoke on my stomach with an arm around my middle and my feet against a sturdy, hairy leg. Cam. I lifted my head and found him fast asleep beside me. Mouth half open, dark eyelashes brushing his cheeks, a sense of peace on his face. I waited for the guilt to creep in, for this feeling of rightness to evaporate. It didn’t. Of course, I still knew it was wrong to tangle with Cam, but with Cassie gone and our attraction only growing stronger, I had to give us a try. In Cassie’s honor.
I could all but see her grinning down at us. Which was really creepy so I shook that thought aside. I needed to move and get ready for work, but being so close to Cam had all my good parts nearly purring. On the thought of purring I sat up, finding Oreo curled up between Cam’s legs.
At least she approved.
I placed a hand on Cam’s shoulder, trying not to get lost in the texture of his skin and all the many reasons I could be late for work, and gave a little shake. His eyelids flickered and the grin he gave me would have melted my panties if I wore any.
“I need to get ready for work, you going to be OK?”
He blinked, and I saw the moment reality hit him, that there were two reasons he was still in my apartment. He rubbed his face. “I’m fine, you get to work.”
I nodded but didn’t move, not wanting to leave him. One side of his mouth quirked, and I knew he got it, he got me. I leaned forward, giving him a quick kiss, before sliding out of bed and heading to the bathroom. I all but felt his laser gaze track my every move and did my best not to sway my hips, too much.
My happy mood faded the minute I arrived at my desk and saw the afghan covering the back of my chair. Cassie had given it to me. I hadn’t accepted it, not at first. Took until a third visit which had the afghan being passed back and forth like a hot potato. I wasn’t supposed to accept any gifts due to my job. But every once in a while I had to weigh the impact the gift giving would have on my client. In Cassie’s case she loved to knit and reported that each family member had too many of her afghans to accept any more. For Cassie, it was important to give something back. Her persistence had the afghan laying on my chair, and her grandson in my apartment.
This whole situation was going to bite me on the ass.
Rebecca dropped her bag on the floor the minute she saw me. “How did yesterday go?”
A shuddery breath worked through as I paused with my fingers on my keyboard. “His family thinks we’re dating thanks to a matchmaking attempt. His mother isn’t amused.” Well, we were dating, now, but I couldn’t summon the strength to admit that, not yet.
“Yikes.” Rebecca scrunched up her face.
I swiveled my chair and faced my friend. “Cam claims his mother hates all dates he or his brothers bring home, but this is worse.” It didn’t help the feeling was mutual.
Rebecca sipped from her travel mug. “You don’t have to tell me. Question is, does she know how problematic this is for you?”
I sucked in a breath. “Let’s hope not.”
As I continued working I caught Cassie’s name in my system. I let out a long sigh. The case was still active. I forgot to close it down.
Dammit. I clicked open the file and went into the notes. I titled it: Case Closing. In the body I typed a simple message: case closing effective for date of death. I called Cassie’s homemaker vendor to update her. I cancelled all future services and went through the tedious twelve-step process of deactivating Cassie in the system.
In my drawer, I found her file in the section roped off for suspended cases. My thumb brushed over the name on the tab: Cassandra “Cassie” Thompson. Absently I opened and flipped through the pages. Services from the last six years were chronicled here, Cassie’s shaky signature at the bottom of several forms. Cam’s information listed several times, both as emergency contact and caregiver. I closed the folder and rummaged around my desk until I found Cassie’s obituary. A picture from several years ago, of a younger and vibrant Cassie, graced the newspaper clipping. I attached the obituary to the front with a paper clip. The folder weighed heavy against my heart as I placed it on my supervisor’s desk.
One hand lingered as I parted with the folder, parted with my professional connection.
Back at my desk I stared at my screen for a while, unsure what I was feeling. Numb was the closest I could come up with. Cassie’s name was now italicized. When I hit refresh the name would disappear. Cassie was really gone. She was no longer a client of elder services. Did that make things any less complicated between Cam and me? I wasn’t so sure.
Desperate for comfort, for a confidante, I grabbed my cell phone.
“Hello?” came a groggy voice.
I cringed. “Sorry, Mom, did I wake you?”
“No, you didn’t sweetie, making my coffee now.” An elongated yawn came over the line that had me following. “What’s wrong?”
“You’ll still love me even if I play with ethical landmines, right?”
“What?” She laughed.
I verified my pod was empty. “Your daughter, your flesh and blood, your only child…has found herself in an unethical situation.”
“Veronica, you’re scaring me, what happened? Are you having problems at work?”
I should be. “Not quite.”
“Veronica,” the stern voice prodded.
I lowered my voice. “I accidentally…dated one of my client’s grandsons.” It wasn’t a date, per se, but I wasn’t about to tell my mother this fact.
“So you went out on a date with a guy and then learned he was related to a client?”
“Yup.”
“I’m waiting for the problem.”
“His grandmother passed away.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.”
“His mother doesn’t like me.”
“She’s grieving, don’t read too much into it.”
I shook my head, a pointless thing to do during a phone call but one I did anyways. From everything I knew about Rhonda, grieving didn’t appear to be her thing. “Cassie was her mother-in-law, I don’t think she’s grieving too much. And with her stance against ASL I doubt the two ever got along.”
“What do you want me to say, Nica?”
I leaned back and sighed, the italicized blue lines from Cassie’s deactivated case taunting me. “I sat Shiva last night with a man I’ve known a week and a family that knows how complicated we are.”
I wasn’t expecting Mom to laugh. “A week? You really are smitten.”
It was pointless to deny the inevitable. “Yes.”
“In times of sorrow, in times that are difficult, a person’s true colors are shown. You’re showing yours. If his mother doesn’t like you, then at least you know now and don’t have to play footsies with niceties.”
Anyone who played footsies with Rhonda probably ended up stabbed. “It’s worse than that. Cam communicates in ASL, but his mother forces him to speak to her. Who does that? Would you do that?”
“Sweetie, you’ve told me stories like this from your studies, from your Deaf friends. Why is this any different with Cam?”
I opened my mouth but no words escaped. I did know many people who grew up like Cam. Those stories didn’t infuriate me like this one did. “Because he had Deaf grandparents. His father knew better, his mother should have known better.”
“Do you have any idea how invested you sound?”
I paused and thought over my words. How did I end up so invested in Cam? I’d been holding back, knowing I shouldn’t have tangled with him at all. Somehow he snuck in, between any protective barriers I placed. And I gripped on tighter than I ever had before. No longer safe territory, not even close. I lay my head on my desk. “I’m in over my head, aren’t I?”
“Yup. I’ll be waiting on my invitation to meet this man. I think I remember a few of those signs you taught me, so you better not complain. Besides being a grandson of your client, tell me about this guy.”
I leaned back. What did I know about Cam? Turned out I knew a lot. I told my mother about his job, and those long work hours that kept us from meeting. About Cassie raising him and him caring for her in return. About his two brothers who were a decade older and either picked on him or got him into trouble.
But my mother wanted to know other details. “Good looking?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and saw Cam’s smiling face. “Tall, brown hair the shade of a rich caramel, deep hazel eyes…”
Lips more bitable than brownies. My breath kicked into choppy beats. I forced my eyes open and away from lust-filled daydreams.
“You only use food references when you really like someone. And you seem to know an awful lot about him in such a short time.”
Yeah, yeah I did.
*****
Cam
I wandered around my aunt’s house, investigating all the pastries on the table. Scones and muffins in multiple flavors had the intrigue of sawdust. Shiva was supposed to be a time to heal. All I wanted to do was get this over with. Maybe if anyone else appeared truly affected by Grandma’s death, then I would feel some sense of belonging. Instead I felt more like an outsider than ever before.
My father, with his bifocal glasses and his suit that tugged on his expanding waistline, walked over with a lazy gait Grandma claimed we both had. “Same legs, same walk,” she used to sign.
It was the biggest connection we had.
Dad placed a hand on my back. “Where’s that…?”
I blinked, trying to put the words together, enough to guess, and failed. “Where’s what?”
“… that girl…”
Nica? “She’s at work.”
“Nice that she…” Dad always mumbled the end of his sentences, drove Grandma up a wall. Me too, if I was honest. I wanted to use my hands. The man understood ASL at one point, why did I have to play the speaking guessing game?
I wasn’t quite sure what he said and didn’t care. “She’s grieving, too.” I focused on the torn black ribbon Dad wore. It was my heart that was torn. I should have a ribbon. Instead Dad would probably stop wearing it once Shiva was over, rather than the month custom dictated. As it was we were only sitting for two days, ending before Friday as required and not resuming for the rest of the week, although I welcomed the quick end to get away from my family.
