Hot Buttered Rum: Standalone Romance (Silk Stocking Inn Book 4) (2 page)

Coco led me up the stairs and down a hallway with two bedrooms. She pushed open the door to one of the rooms and stepped inside.

The center of the room was filled with a beautiful antique bed that was overflowing with pillows and downy quilts. “Oh my, that is a bed that you could get lost in.” I walked to the window, where a cushioned window seat was filled with nearly as many pillows as the bed. The first patters of rain hit the glass. “Will Turner be all right out on his boat?”

“Oh sure. He’s spent his whole life on the ocean. His grandfather was a fisherman. He knows he can come back to the inn if it gets too bad out there.”

Coco headed to another door and opened it. “I suggest you have a nice long soak in a bubble bath to start your weekend.”

I walked forward and gazed into a richly appointed bathroom with a tub that was deep enough to swallow me up. The bathroom was more sumptuous than the bedroom. “I might just wrap myself in bubbles and sleep in that tub.”

Coco laughed. “Might get a bit cold. I’ll go downstairs and fix you something to eat.” She waved her hand around the cozy room. “Enjoy.”

Chapter 4

I lit three ivory colored candles, and instantly, a heady fragrant mix of jasmine and vanilla swirled through the steam rising up from the hot bath. I touched the water with my toe and then submerged my foot into the opalescent mounds of bubbles.

My body hadn’t even settled completely into the hot, soapy cocoon when I’d made the firm decision to buy a soaking tub when I got back home.

Heavy raindrops did a tap dance on the window pane just above the tub. I leaned back and bubbles wrapped around me like an airy cloak. The skeletal limbs of the oak tree growing below the window vibrated as a burst of wind sprayed the window with rain and leaves. As much as I would have enjoyed gazing up at a starlit sky from my luxurious bath, the stormy weather on the other side of the glass made the whole thing that much cozier.

My eyelids felt heavy from the long work week. I pushed away all the numbers and calculations that were usually scratched in my mind when I closed my eyes. Oddly enough, once free of work clutter, my mind went straight to the fisherman, Turner. When he walked into the bakery, I’d felt a weird sensation as a little voice in my head whispered, ‘he’s your happy ending’.

I’d quickly blamed it on the fact that I’d been talking about my lack of a happy ending earlier in the day. Not to mention, I was slightly intoxicated by the buttered rum cupcake and completely bewildered by the idea that I’d ended up at Silk Stocking Inn, a place that had seemingly popped up out of nowhere. The fact that Turner also looked the part of the perfect happy ending hero didn’t hurt either.

A sharp tap against the window made me look up. The tap was followed by a sharp screeching sound. I reached for the towel, and as I looked back, I was startled by a fluttering movement outside the window. A beady eye was staring in at me.

My heart raced with alarm as I stepped out of the tub and wrapped myself in the towel. It took all my courage to look at the window again.

Relief washed through me as the parrot’s green head bobbed up and down as he stared inside. “Dexter, what on earth—?”

I walked around the tub to the window and turned the lock. Dexter flapped his wings to stay perched on the sill as I slid the pane up. The second the window was open, the bird shot through in a flurry of wet green feathers. He landed on the vanity and immediately entertained himself in the mirror. He tilted his head back and forth, apparently quite enamored with his own reflection, rain-soaked and all.

I yanked down the window and plucked the plush pink guest robe off the door hook. I blew out the candles and opened the drain on the tub. Dexter’s little feet clicked across the marble topped vanity until he got to the edge and turned around. His squawk echoed off the plaster walls. Then he flapped his wings and headed right for me. Before I had a chance to shrink away or cover my face with my arms, Dexter landed softly on my shoulder. His tiny talons grabbed hold of the lush fabric, and he tottered around to face the same direction as me.

The bird made a sweet cooing sound as I reached up and rubbed its feathery chest with the side of my finger. “Guess you don’t need a towel when you’re wearing waterproof feathers.”

Dexter’s green head bobbed up and down as if he was nodding.

“I’ll get dressed. Then we better find Turner.”

“Aye matey,” Dexter muttered.

I laughed. “Right, matey.”

My new friend and I walked into the bedroom. The aroma of grilled onions wafted my direction. Even Dexter seemed to smell the deliciousness coasting around us. Somehow, without me hearing one footstep or plate being laid, Coco had set the small table in front of the bedroom window with white linens, a silver domed plate of food, and a chilled bottle of wine.

Dexter pushed off my shoulder and flew to the back of the chair. “Awk! pretty girl.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, so you’re one of those guys, huh? A little flattery, shiny black eyes and you think I’m just going to hand over my food.”

I walked over and lifted the dome. The rich smell of onions and grilled cheese filled the room. I tore off a piece of the tomato wedge on the salad and held it out. Dexter danced across the back of the chair and plucked the tomato from my fingers just as someone knocked on the door.

I glanced down at the robe and pulled it together tighter. With her amazing timing, I assumed it was Coco. She’d know what to do with Dexter.

I swung open the door and just as he’d stunned me when he walked into the bakery, Turner struck me speechless again.

Rainwater dripped off his long black hair. He was entirely too tall and too big for the Victorian sized hallway. But he looked just roguish enough to be from a different century, a century when dashing men were considered just a little more pleasing if they added a touch of scoundrel to their personality. While this man was, in essence, a complete stranger, something assured me he fit the bill perfectly. My theory was immediately proven when his blue eyes brazenly scrolled down to my cleavage. I looked down, only to find that the robe had parted open enough to show the swells of my breasts.

I shifted my shoulders and drew the fabric closed, but only after allowing him to have a good long look. A look didn’t hurt, after all.

My prim behavior pushed his mouth up in a slow grin. He pulled a wet piece of paper out from behind his back. It had a crude stick drawing of a parrot with a talking bubble that said ‘pretty girl’.

“Have you seen this chatty bloke?” He lifted his hand up above his shoulder. “He’s about so high and wears a lot of green.” Turner leaned over to look past me. Dexter was still busy with the tomato. “He also has no shame when it comes to asking for treats. Oh, and he has an affinity for pretty girls.” He tapped his chest. “That he learned from me.” He finished that declaration with a beaming smile.

I stepped back and swept my hand around to point at Dexter. “You know your bird, sir.”

Turner looked down at his wet shoes. “I’m going to be hearing it from Coco. I’ve already tracked rainwater through the house.” He stepped into the room. Dexter peered up from the tomato clutched in his toes for a brief second and then returned to his treat.

“It’s strange,” Turner said as he faced back to me. “He never takes off like that. Especially in a storm. He’s lucky he made it back to the inn safely.” He had no qualms about letting his eyes travel over me from head to toe. In the business world and at work, it was a behavior that would have angered me, but standing in the middle of my sumptuous bedroom at the inn, I allowed myself to take pleasure in it.

Turner seemed to appreciate what he saw. I know I was feeling the same way about him. Even dripping wet with rain, gazing at him was like looking at the mouthwatering cover of a romance novel.

Then something about it all, me, standing completely alone with a tall, wet stranger, a stranger who looked as if he was more than curious about what I was hiding under the plush robe, made me feel just a little naughty. And, sadly, I couldn’t remember the last time a man had made that hot curl of steam swirl through my body. This man definitely had.

I couldn’t stop myself.

I lowered my shoulders a smidgen. As planned, it resulted in the robe parting just enough to give him a much better view. His hot blue gaze went straight to my cleavage. I hoped my movements had been too slight for him to think I’d done it intentionally, but when his mouth kicked up in a cocky grin, I realized he’d seen right through my motive.

The heated flush that had swept over my body rushed down to concentrate almost solely between my legs. My pussy tingled as if subtly trying to remind me that it was down there and in bad need of some personal attention.

As if Turner could read my thoughts, he moved closer, shrinking the gap between us. He was close enough that I could feel the cold rainwater evaporating off his clothes, skin and hair. I inadvertently licked my lip, and I could taste the ocean salt floating in the heated air between us.

“How was the bubble bath?”

His question surprised me. “How did you know I’d taken a bath?”

Without the slightest hesitation, he leaned his face close to my neck and inhaled deeply. He hadn’t touched me with more than a tendril of his warm breath, but my body reacted as if he’d smoothed his, no doubt, callused hands over my skin.

He straightened and the blue in his eyes had darkened. “Hair tied up in a loose bun, fragrant soap on the skin and the fizzling sound of dying bubbles coming from the next room.”

I smiled. “Ah, that’s how.” I inclined my head in the direction of the parrot who was busy pacing the chair and staring at my plate of food. “I thought maybe you two were working as a team or something since Dexter just happened to land on the window overlooking the bathtub.”

“Did he?” He cast a proud glance in the direction of his pet. “He does have an amazing sense of direction.”

“I’ll take him back to the boat before he loses the tiny bit of self-control he’s holding onto and jumps on your plate.” Turner stepped back, and I worked hard not to show my disappointment. I wasn’t completely sure where I thought this unexpected visit was going, but, apparently, my lascivious subconscious had been waiting for something more than him breathing in the scent of my skin.

Turner walked over to pick up his bird. His wet shirt clung tightly to his skin and I couldn’t stop from gawking at the width of his shoulders. The warmth surged through me again. All these years I’d been writing romances, and here I was, standing in the same room with one of my fictional heroes. Only this one was real, dark long hair, magnetic gaze, blazing smile and all, and he was about to walk out of my room.

I decided to blame it all on the hot bath and the surprising turn my weekend had taken as I reached down and loosened the belt on my robe just enough to show my naked skin all the way down to my belly button. The sides of the robe parted and stopped just before exposing my nipples.

I drew in a long, deep breath and waited as Turner coaxed the bird away from the chair and onto his shoulder. He turned around. Under the glow of the room lights with the backdrop of the storm outside, he looked every bit the pirate.

His smooth dark brow rose slightly as he gazed appreciatively at the newly exposed skin. I bit my lip and silently wondered if I had completely lost my mind as he walked toward me. I should have pulled shut the robe. I should have backed up and shown him that this wasn’t me, that the wanton, wild woman standing in front of him was just an imaginary character from one of my stories.

But my feet didn’t move, and my hands didn’t pull shut the robe. The whole weekend seemed like a fantasy, the inn, the hostess and the man standing just inches from me. That made it that much easier to tamp down any of my usual inhibitions and give into my desires.

Turner flicked the parrot away. The bird gladly returned to the chair to keep watch over the dinner plate.

Turner moved so close that I felt the wet tip of his shoes against my toes. His dark lashes curtained his eyes as he gazed down at my body. I held my breath as his hand, still slightly cold from the rain, slipped past the edge of the robe and came to rest on my waist. The plush fabric moved aside enough to expose my nipple. He slid his hand along my side to my breast. His thumb swirled around the nipple, tightening it to a rose colored bud and at the same time filling my pussy with a rush of hot moisture.

The breath I’d been holding flowed out on a long sigh as he lowered his mouth and teased my nipple with his tongue and teeth. My skin grew hot with a flush. I pushed the robe off my shoulders to be cooled by the air in the room. His hands parted my robe completely and he lifted his mouth away from my nipple to gaze down at my now exposed pussy.

He grinned appreciatively. “Definitely not a red head.” His hands swept over my shoulders to push the robe off my arms. It pooled at my feet. I was stark naked in front of a man I’d hardly exchanged more than a dozen words with, yet the notion of picking up the robe to cover myself never even edged into my mind.

I should have felt embarrassed or ashamed of my behavior, but I wasn’t. I was, just like the heroine in my story, so starved for passion it was easy to ignore societal rules.

Turner’s long hair was still damp from saltwater as I tangled my fingers in it. The cold wet fabric of his shirt rubbed against the nipples he’d made tender with his teasing. His strong hands circled my waist, and my feet hovered just above the ground as he lifted me and pushed me up against the wall.

My back pressed against the cool plaster, a stark contrast to the fire burning between my legs. I was nearly out of my mind with the physical need to be satisfied. It was absurd timing, but in my haze, I tried to think of another occasion where a man had made me this delirious. I couldn’t find one.

When Turner’s mouth covered mine for a long, deep kiss all the surroundings fell away, and I was transported into a dream-like world where nothing existed but the two of us. The erotic dream was abruptly shattered by a loud squawk. I stiffened in Turner’s arms, but the sound didn’t slow him at all. His large hand smoothed over my bottom.

I pulled my mouth from his. “But what about Dexter?”

“He can get his own pretty girl. This one’s all mine.” His mouth covered mine again.

One hand firmly gripped my ass as the free one returned to my breast. Turner pushed his shoe between my bare feet and wiggled it back and forth to part my legs. He peeled away from the kiss and gazed down at me with a dark, hungry gaze that sent a shiver through my body, a shiver that straddled the line between fear and excitement. On the one hand, I was tight in the grasp of a tall, muscular stranger, who could be just as dangerous as he was handsome, which gave me some pause. But on the other hand, I wanted to be right there in his powerful arms, completely his captive to do with what he liked.

Captive. That word flashed through my mind, and I thought about the perfect man I’d described to the very persistent website, Coco’s website, the website that seemed to know everything about me.

How was any of this possible? Was I dreaming this? Were my stories coming to life in my daydreams? Was I making a big mistake? The questions were like a splash of cold water. I straightened and backed away from Turner’s body as much as the wall behind me would allow.

Turner reluctantly lowered his hands, and I groaned in disappointment. I swallowed hard trying to figure out how to come out of this without seeming like a terrible tease. I had, after all, been the one to start it by opening my robe.

“I suppose that’s my cue to shove off, eh?” he said. The hitch in his deep voice proved that he was equally disappointed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just the bubble bath and the—” I stopped myself realizing that I was just looking for an excuse.

Turner leaned his forearm against the wall and leaned as close as he could get without actually touching me. “You know what I think?”

I peered up at him, waiting for his response.