His Four Poster Bed (Bedroom Secrets Series Book 2) (3 page)

“You didn’t mean to show me your bedroom?”

“You’re the one who wanted to see it.”

He stood in front of me only inches away, and I no longer wanted to fight the attraction. “Would you just shut up and kiss me.”

We crashed into each other with an intensity and a need that I had never felt before. His lips were strong and firm; I felt him harden as he pressed his body against mine, his arms around my waist and on the back of my head.

“It’s not midnight,” he whispered, taking a breath.

“I don’t care.”

He nodded and I moaned softly as he kissed me again. At the touch of his skin against mine I felt a bolt of electricity move through my body straight to my core. My legs weak and my pussy wet, I knew right then that my future with this man would contain more than a single kiss. I turned and looked at the four poster bed. It called to us like a siren.

And then there was the sound of heels on the stone floor and a woman’s voice.

“Excuse me Marco, or is this a bad time?”

Breathless and reeling with desire, I pulled away from Marco to find myself staring at a tall, thin African American woman. She was willowy and beautiful wearing a long red dress and a set of black pearls around her neck. She stared at us, her expression unreadable, bored almost. I was so embarrassed.

Marco glanced between the two of us. “Of course it’s a bad time,” he said, his voice tense.

“I can go,” I said, moving.

“No, don’t.” Marco grabbed my hand, but I shook him off.

“I apologize,” the woman said, her voice accented and lilting, South African. “I did not expect you to take a guest home tonight. Do you think that wise?”

“I’m leaving,” I said, slapping Marco’s hand away when he reached for me a second time. Suddenly I felt foolish for thinking a man like Marco would be uncomplicated and not a liar. It was clear that Marco and this woman shared a history. She knew him well and I was just some idiot he’d picked up at the party downstairs. I had no problem taking a lover when I wanted but I demanded total honesty. I would not be betrayed by some hot billionaire even if he was sex in a tuxedo. I didn’t care how good he kissed or how big his cock was, and from the bulge I had felt in his pants, it was pretty damn big.

“Good night Marco,” I said, making it to the elevator and hitting the down button before he could reach me. The doors opened.

“Christ Veronica,” I heard Marco mutter then shouting. “Odessa, please wait,” he called to me. The clock above his mantle began to chime.

“Happy New Year,” I said, as the countdown to midnight began. Like Cinderella I wanted to escape the ball.

As the doors closed I believed my short lived relationship with the lying, cheating Marco Amador had come to an end; little did I know that things had barely just begun.

The first gift arrived the next morning.

I awoke to a gentle rapping on my door. It was 9:00 a.m., I usually rose early and went for a morning run before my shift at the hospital, but I suppose the Sapphire Blue’s and late nights at the hospital had finally caught up with me.

I thought of Marco as I walked to my door, the memory of his kiss stirring up a range of emotions from desire to anger. He had gotten me so turned on and pissed off in such a short amount of time. I was glad I had a day of work to distract myself.

Someone rapped again.

“Coming?” I said, pulling on a short robe.

Billie, the building manager and my friend, stood outside my door holding a large black box in her arms, two other boxes sat at her feet. Her dark hair back in a ponytail, she wore a flannel shirt and orange vest. She looked as though she were about to head out for a day of camping or hiking, which was quite likely. I liked the idea of camping but knew myself well enough to know that high heeled boots were frowned upon in the great outdoors. It was not my scene.

“Happy New Year sunshine,” Billie said, grinning. “Special delivery.” Billie handed me a large black box topped with a thick white bow.

“This isn’t from UPS,” I said, feeling confused and sleepy. Billie had so much energy I often felt terribly lazy in her presence. She’d probably already painted one of the units and baked some homemade granola for an endurance hike with her gorgeous boyfriend, Vincent.

“Nope,” she said, smiling. “It is not UPS.” Billie walked past me stacking two of the packages under my window.

“Where exactly did these come from?” I asked as she walked past me to retrieve the last box.

“You tell me,” Billie said, wiping her hands off as if they were dusty when everything was inside my apartment. “You have an admirer from last night’s party?”

My head throbbed for a moment as the memory of Marco bubbled again to the surface. It had to be him, there was no other logical explanation, but how had he found me? Didn’t billionaires have a way of finding what they wanted? After all he said he collected beautiful things.

My cheeks flushed and I felt a wave of rage roll through my body. How dare he track me down. I was not something to be collected.

“Who delivered these to the building if it wasn’t UPS?” I asked.

“Well, a woman came by this morning in a limo.” Billie slowed her pronunciation of limo, eyebrows raised.

My body tensed. “Wait . . . A woman?”

“Yes, really pretty. Tall, African American. She looked like a model. Are you going to open them or what?”

The memory of being awkwardly interrupted was just as strong as the memory of Marco’s kiss. What a bastard.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with them,” I said, wrapping my robe tighter around my waist. The woman in the limo had to be Veronica, which made no sense. She had not seemed pleased at all to find us lip locked in his bedroom. I had assumed she was his lover, or his sometimes lover. Either way this was bizarre. Why was she delivering gifts to my apartment?

“Did she say anything when she dropped off the boxes?” I asked.

“She knew you lived in The Holiday but not the unit,” Billie said. “She knew your name and that you were a doctor. She described you to a tee. Down to your plunging black dress.” Billie grinned. “Who is she?”

“A very rich man’s girlfriend I think,” I said. I picked up one of the boxes untying the white bow. It was deceptively heavy. The box was made of thick cardboard. I’ve always had a thing for beautiful packages. Card stock, stationary, letters, it’s one of my indulgences.

I glanced over my shoulder at Billie as she stood watching me like a curious spectator.

“Oh, sorry,” Billie said. “You want privacy?”

“I don’t know what I want,” I blurted. I had to open that damn box. I took off the black lid. The box was filled with heavy tissue paper. I saw the glint of gold beneath the paper and pulled one of the bird cages from the auction. I was staring into the glittering black eyes of a yellow canary.

“A bird?” Billie said, wrinkling her nose. “I mean it’s pretty, but did you order a bunch of birds online?”

“No, I didn’t,” I said, moving to the next package unwrapping the parrot followed by the dove.

Marco had sent me all three birds. He had clearly bought his donation at the silent auction and sent the art to me. I placed all three of the cages on the wide window seat of my apartment that faces the alley.

There was a single card inside the last package embossed with an A.

“Amador,” I muttered under my breath.

Then this:

Allow me the opportunity to explain myself.

I would never betray or cage a woman as fierce and beautiful as you.

Marco

He’d written his phone number in parenthesis at the bottom of the card.

“Did some man send you birds?” Billie asked, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as she took in the sculptures in the room. “I mean it’s cool, but different.”

“Seems like it,” I said, not sure I wanted to reveal anything more about the mysterious delivery which I was most certainly returning as soon as I got home from work.

“Well, this is interesting.” I heard Shea’s voice and turned to see her standing behind Billie. Wearing work out gear, her long strawberry blonde hair in a high ponytail, she looked ready to meet one of her fitness clients. She had probably popped in on her way out the door. Shea tended to tack runs onto the start and end of her work day. She was in such good shape it was ridiculous.

“Is all this artsy shit from Marco Amador?” Eyes bugging she picked up the dove, her nose wrinkling. “What ever happened to flowers?”

“It’s not artsy shit,” I said, feeling like I had lost control of my personal life in a mere twenty-four hours. So much for New Year’s resolutions to keep things simple. “It’s art.”

“So, what are you going to do with your
art
then?” Shea asked.

“Return it,” I said, turning to face my friends. “But first, I’m going to go to work. Thanks for bringing this stuff upstairs Billie.”

“Hey, anytime,” Billie said. “I’ll see you girls later.” She walked into the hall closing the door behind her.

“I mean who sends boxes of birds after meeting a woman once?” Shea asked.

“A billionaire who is used to getting what he wants,” I said, going to my closet.

“Oh, I get it.” Shea followed me. “I see what’s going on. Marco Amador wants you and you don’t want to want him back.” She paused then tilted her head. “But you do want him, that’s why you’re being so pissed off and weird about this. What really happened last night?”

I’d given Shea some details but not all of them. I was pretty embarrassed about the whole situation to tell the truth.

“I don’t want him,” I said pulling my dark hair back with a headband and slipping on a pencil skirt and blouse. I made it a point to dress up for work unless I was assisting in a surgery.

“You are rattled by him,” Shea said, grinning. “Odessa Starr, used to being in the driver’s seat, met someone who she might not be able to control.”

“Please,” I said, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. Was Shea right? Was that why my heart was pounding at the memory of Marco? Was I afraid to be out of control? If I was honest with myself, I was conflicted about those damn birds. Half of me wanted to send the birds back, another part of me wanted to dial the number scrawled beneath his name and tell him to send the car and driver back right away. I wanted to hear his explanation. I wanted a date with this man in his four poster bed.

“I’m not afraid of him,” I said. “I thought we had chemistry but I think he’s a player and you know that doesn’t work for me.”

“Takes a player to know a player,” Shea said, rocking back on her heels.

I shot her a look, annoyed.

“I’m just saying, you aren’t exactly one to settle down. In fact you have broken hearts on a regular basis ever since I met you.”

“I don’t break hearts. I am very clear about what I am looking for.”

“And when it gets messy you leave.”

“I have to work,” I said, reaching for my purse and holding open the door.

“You always do,” Shea said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You know I love you. I just think it might not be the end of the world if you found a guy that actually rattles you a bit.”

“I’m not looking to be rattled.”

“Um, I think you are,” Shea laughed and give me a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you later chica. I gotta run.” As I watched Shea run down the hall I thought about what she’d said. I did enjoy men, I enjoyed having lovers and when the relationship had run its course I ended things.

I’d seen what happened when a woman gave up her identity for a man. I’d watched my mother collapse under the weight of my father’s affairs and their messy divorce. He’d been gone for over ten years and she still insisted he would come back to her bed someday. I never wanted to depend on someone like that.

As I walked down the hall to the back alley, where I parked my car, I reflected on how lucky I was. I had friends, a great apartment at The Holiday, and work that made me want to get out of bed in the morning.

And when it was time to take another lover, I would. It just wouldn’t be Marco Amador. I was returning those damn birds tonight.