Best She Ever Had (9781617733963) (13 page)

All those times Cynthia had wondered if Korey would finally decide he was tired of keeping up the farce. Maybe one day he would conclude that all the sneaking around and secrecy wasn't worth it anymore, dump her, and move on to a girl whom he could date in the open.

Cynthia slowed as she approached the dining room's exit.

“Admit it. That does sound a bit insecure,” the voice in her head argued.

Maybe,
she thought, glancing over her shoulder to look back across the restaurant.
But that doesn't mean I'm still that way.

“So prove it,” the voice in her head insisted. “Don't storm out and let Korey think seeing him with that woman got to you. Don't prove him right!”

Cynthia groaned. She clenched her fists. It looked like she would have to go back.

Muttering again, she walked back across the restaurant, feeling as if her shoes were made of lead or concrete. When she approached his table, Korey looked up at her, sucking up a string of linguini that was hanging out of his mouth.

“Forget something?” he asked mockingly between chews, raising his brows.

She lowered herself into her chair, primly crossed her legs, and adjusted the hem of her skirt over her knees. “I went to the bathroom. Now I'm back.”

“Uh-huh,” he uttered, obviously not believing her.

“So can we finally discuss what we came here for? I told you about the gondola ride. What do you propose we do about it?”

“We still don't know where or when they're taking this boat ride though, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “We know it's at the Venetian Hotel. That's about it.”

“Well, how about we find out more?”

“And we would do that by . . .”

He lowered his fork and thought for a second. “Can you pretend to be Clarissa and call the company? Tell them you want to confirm the time of your ride.”

Cynthia's scowl immediately morphed into a grin. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“My sexy good looks?”

“Not likely,” she said dryly. She lowered her sunglasses from her crown to her eyes. She then ran her fingers through her blond tresses. “All right, I'll find out the time and place and let you know. We'll meet around there about a half an hour before that.”

“Okay.” He started to eat again. “But if I'm late from my date with Shino, go ahead without me.”

She did a double take. “You're joking, right?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Korey, you're not seriously going to miss the one last possible opportunity we have to find the kids because you have a date with Shiba Inu?”

“That's the name of a dog.”

“Whatever!” She pushed back her chair and stood. “Look, enough of this! I'm done arguing with you! I didn't take a nail-biting flight and endure only eight hours of sleep in two days for you to play the love connection in Vegas. I'll meet you by the dock at the time we're both supposed to be there. And if you're not there, Korey Walker, so help me God . . .” She furiously shook her head. “You don't want to see what will happen!”

She then turned and strode away, not giving him a chance to reply.

L
auren took the pan of beef tenderloin out of her Wolf convection oven just as she heard her husband, Crisanto, shut the front door behind him.

Good,
she thought as she placed the pan on a wooden block on the kitchen's granite countertop and closed the oven door. Cris's timing was perfect. The meat only needed to rest for another five to ten minutes before it would be ready to cut and serve.

“Hey!” he called out. His keys jingled. She could hear the sound of his heavy footsteps as he walked across the travertine tile in their foyer and headed toward the kitchen. “Is that dinner I smell?”

She stirred the pureed potatoes. “It is, indeed, baby!”

Lauren then turned and glanced at her fuzzy reflection in their stainless steel refrigerator door. She hoped she looked just as delectable as the entrées she was preparing. To surprise her husband, she had made him a home-cooked meal and decided to serve that meal in nothing but an apron, oven mitts, a lace thong, and four-and-a-half-inch heels.

Lauren was a chef, but she had to admit that she rarely cooked for her husband nowadays. She was often too busy at the restaurant. Even tonight it had been a challenge to do this. When she had told her sous-chef she was skipping the dinner rush for yet another night with Cris, the young man looked like he was about to bust a coronary. But she had to, especially with how badly things had gone at the Paytons' party yesterday. Lauren felt like she had to make it up to Cris somehow. After all, a large part of the grief that he was now enduring had to do with her and her family drama.

Speaking of family drama, there would be no talk of any of it tonight. She wouldn't tell him about the hourlong phone conversation she had had with Stephanie about Steph's weight gain and whether Keith still found her sexy despite her “double-wide behind.” She wouldn't tell Cris about her mother's ongoing hunt for yet another rich husband. Yolanda was currently in Nantucket with her new boyfriend. He was a particularly good prospect since he seemed to be near death's door. (He was on oxygen and spent most of his days in a wheelchair.) Lauren would skip over mentioning that Cynthia had officially left Chesterton twenty-four hours ago and still had yet to find Clarissa. In Lauren's opinion, it was almost certain that her niece was now Mrs. Jared Walker, whether the family liked it or not.

No, tonight the focus would be solely on Cris.

When Cris stepped through their expansive kitchen's entrance, she greeted him with a flourish. “Ta-da!” she sang, throwing out her arms.

He stopped in his tracks. His eyeballs nearly popped out of his head.

“Did I surprise you, honey?” she asked as she walked around the kitchen island toward him.

Cris nodded as he slowly looked her up and down. “You . . . you certainly did.”

“I'm making you beef tenderloin with garlic mashed potatoes . . .
your favorite!
”

He didn't respond. Instead he seemed riveted by her current ensemble—or lack thereof. He hungrily licked his lips. Judging from how he was staring at her, she suspected the mashed potatoes on the oventop weren't the only thing he was hungry for.

“And I'm
finally
wearing the apron your mom sent!” She fluffed the lace edging. The words “Mrs. Weaver” were stenciled on the apron's pink and white damask front.

Her mother-in-law had given it to her as a birthday gift, along with a set of matching oven mitts. Lauren had told her that she loved cooking. Somehow Cris's mom had misinterpreted that as her being a homemaker who wore God-awful aprons like this one. Whenever she put it on, she felt like the black Donna Reed. She had decided, this time, that if she was going to wear the ugly thing, it would look so much better if she was topless underneath.

“So what do you think?” she asked.

“You look good. Damn good!”

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” She held the edges of the apron as she did a little curtsy.

He walked toward her with his arms extended, like he was about to wrap her in an embrace, but he suddenly paused, then glanced over his shoulder. “Wait! You're not dressed like that while the nanny is here, are you?”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Of course not! I gave her and the rest of the staff the night off.”

“So where's Cris Jr.?”

“With my sister Dawn.”

“With
Dawn?
” he choked.

Lauren slapped his shoulder. “Don't say it like that! Dawn's a responsible woman. Besides, Xavier is helping her out. I think he talked her into offering to babysit tonight. He thought watching Little Cris overnight might help convince her they should have a baby. She's hoping that it'll convince him of the opposite.” Lauren laughed.

“Well, I . . . I guess it's okay then,” Cris said, though he still looked a bit uncertain.

“Our baby will be fine, honey. Trust me! I've got a nice evening planned for you, and I'd hate to have to change things by bringing Cris Jr. back home. There's beef tenderloin and mashed potatoes for dinner, strawberry shortcake for dessert, and uh . . .” She stood on the balls of her feet, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him close. “There's a little surprise after that.”

“Why don't we skip the dinner and dessert and go straight to the surprise?” he whispered against her lips.

“Why did I have a feeling you were going to say that?”

They kissed, and Lauren felt the same heady thrill now that she had felt the first night Cris had kissed her and the same tingle that had made her heartbeat quicken and her knees weak. She opened her mouth and Cris languidly slid his tongue inside. Dual waves of heat and pleasure surged all over her body. He pulled her even closer. It was a struggle of willpower, but she tugged her mouth away, making him grumble with disappointment. She grinned.

“Oh, stop! You still get your surprise. I just want to give it to you upstairs.”

“I'm just as happy to have it down here,” he said, pushing her back against the kitchen island and easing aside the front of her apron to fondle one of her breasts.

Lauren laughed again, before tugging his hands away. “
Upstairs
, Big Boy.”

He waited as she turned down the temperature in the oven and put the tenderloin back inside to stay warm. She led him to their winding staircase and then to their bedroom.

Lauren had turned off the overhead lights and lit candles all around the room—tea lights, pillar candles, and scented candles. Red and pink rose petals were strewn along their off-white bedspread. Candles were also placed in the bathroom, where a warm bubble bath waited for them. Two champagne glasses sat on the tiled edge of the whirlpool tub.

He slowly looked around him. “You've been busy.”

“I aim to please,” she said seductively.

“You're not about to lay some bad news on me, are you? You didn't total the car? I don't have to bail one of your sisters out of jail?” He paused. “Did Cindy start a small war in Las Vegas?”

“O, ye of so little faith!” she exclaimed, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders. “The only surprise you're about to get tonight, sweetheart, is what's about to happen in that bathtub—as soon as you get out of those clothes.”

Cris cocked an eyebrow. It didn't take him long to accept her challenge. He quickly loosened his tie, then tugged the garment over his head before tossing it to the hardwood floor. He unbuttoned his shirt and discarded that too. He took off his slacks. Within seconds, he was tugging at his boxer briefs.

He may have been retired from the NFL, but that didn't mean Crisanto Weaver's body was any less sculpted than it had been when he played on the football field. His nutmeg-brown skin glowed in the flickering candlelight, and Lauren's eyes were instantly drawn to his tattoos: the winding Chinese dragon on his right forearm and the jersey number on his left pec. When he took off his boxers, her gaze dropped to his burgeoning arousal. He went from half-mast to full attention in ten seconds flat.

He stood naked in front of her, eagerly rubbing his hands together. He gestured toward her apron.

“Your turn.”

She turned her back toward him.

“Can you help me with the strings?” she asked, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “The knots are hard to undo.”

Cris instantly stepped forward and undid the apron strings for her. But he couldn't take the teasing way she slowly let the apron slide down her chest and then to the floor. He lowered his mouth to her neck and began to nibble and kiss her before descending to her shoulder. She felt him rub and grind against her backside, and she closed her eyes, arched her spine, and tilted back her head to give him more access. While one of his hands roughly pulled down her underwear, the other reached for one of her breasts and held it. He caressed her nipple between his fingers.

She pulled his hands away again and turned to face him. “You're not going to make it to that bathtub, are you?”

His hands instantly dropped to her bottom, cupping the cheeks as he pulled her against him. “Not with all this temptation.”

“Well, let me put you out of your misery.” She playfully tapped his nose then stepped out of his grasp. She kicked off her heels and walked into the bathroom.

She climbed into the bathwater first, turned on the whirlpool jets, and instantly moaned. The hot water and massaging currents felt delicious. Cris climbed in after her.

“Bring your foot over here, baby,” Cris ordered from the other side of the deep-sunken tub.

Lauren raised her right foot from the hot, soapy water and languidly dangled it in front of him. He took her foot into his strong hands and started to rub it, kneading the ball of her sore foot and heel, making her moan again.

Lauren closed her eyes and sank farther into the vanilla-scented bubbles, not even caring if her hair got wet. She rested her head back against the edge of the tub, letting the whirlpool jets and Cris's hands soothe her. She could feel herself drifting off to sleep.

“Oh, no, you don't! You made some big promises about all that I was supposed to get tonight, Mrs. Weaver. You better wake up!”

She slowly opened her eyes. A smile crossed her pink lips. “If you don't want me to fall asleep, then you shouldn't rub my feet like that.”

“Fine. I'll switch ends then,” he said with an impish grin.

He lowered her foot back into the water, came to her side of the tub, and lay beside her. The instant he did, he was all hands and all mouth. Lauren knew she certainly wouldn't be falling asleep now.

He toyed with her and she toyed with him—until they were both panting and groaning. Finally,
she
couldn't take anymore. She straddled him and braced her hands on his shoulders. He adjusted her hips and himself before plunging inside her. Her grip on his shoulders tightened as she threw back her head and shouted out into the bathroom. Their hips moved rhythmically as they kissed and ground against each other. The pace of their lovemaking gradually increased, making the water lap over the edges of the tub and pool on the bathroom floor, taking out a few candles with it.

Lauren could feel herself getting close. She tore her mouth from his and buried her head into his shoulder. Her body clenched when the tremors started to overtake her, making her whole body quiver and her toes curl. To stifle the shouts of her climax, she nipped his shoulder and dug her fingernails into his back.

His arms tightened around her. She heard a low guttural growl and felt him jerk. His arms then went slack and fell into the water with a loud splash.

When Lauren finally regained her breath, she lifted her head and dazedly looked down at her husband.

“Thank you for my surprise,” he said, making her chuckle.

“You're welcome.” She kissed him again.

 

An hour and half later, they lay naked in bed together. The rose petals had been tossed aside and now lay crumpled and shredded on the hardwood floor. Many of the candles had either dissolved into a puddle of wax or were smoldering, filling the room with the faint smell of smoke and vanilla.

The now-empty champagne glasses and empty plate of beef tenderloin and pureed garlic potatoes sat on one of the night tables. The half-eaten strawberry shortcake sat on the bed beside them.

“Oh, damn,” Cris moaned as she fed him another forkful of whipped cream, strawberries, and angel food cake. “Good God, Lauren! It's like I've died and gone to heaven, baby!”

She grinned. “Is the cake that good?”

“It's not just the cake!” She licked traces of whipped cream from the side of his mouth, making him moan. “Do you know how many men's fantasies it is to be fed a home-cooked meal in bed by a beautiful naked woman who just fucked them six ways from Sunday?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“Too many to count!” He ate another forkful, then slumped back against the satin pillows behind his head. He closed his eyes. “Goddamn, that's good.”

“Well, I'm glad you liked it. I wanted to make up for what happened yesterday,” she confessed, making his smile disappear.

“You mean what happened at the party? None of that was your fault, baby.”

“Yes, it was!” She put the cake plate next to the champagne glasses on the night table. “Mayor Knightly was giving you crap because of me, because of what I've done in the past, and I just . . .” She cringed. “I just hate that.”

Cris shook his head. “No, that asshole was giving me shit because he was trying to embarrass me in front of a room full of potential voters. It wasn't about you, Lauren.”