Dare To Be Wild (28 page)

Livia kept her back to him as she continued to wipe the table, hoping that he'd get his crackers and get the hell out of the kitchen without laying eyes on her. Her ears were pounding and she felt the heat of embarrassment creep through her body.

“Excuse me, miss. She needs something to eat now. Please. She's feeling nauseous. I'd get it myself but it's kind of crazy in here and I don't want to mess anything up.”

It was now clear that Mitchell was speaking to her. Short of acting like a deaf mute, there was nothing she could do but turn around and help them out.

“I'll see what I can find,” Livia mumbled, walking over to the counter without looking up or into his face. She located a box of crackers, put several on a plate, poured a glass of water from the Poland Spring cooler, and walked them over to Naomi's daughter, maneuvering her body so her back stayed toward Mitchell.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you. After six months, I thought I'd be done with this morning sickness.”

“I hope you feel better,” she said and attempted to walk away.

“ 'S'cuse me,” the woman blurted out, covering her mouth, as she bolted toward the bathroom off the kitchen, leaving them alone.

“Hello, Quincy.”

Hearing her name exiting his mouth again forced her head up and her eyes to his face. She tried hard not to notice how fine he looked in his tuxedo. “Mitchell.”

“You didn't think I'd recognize you or your voice?”

“It's been a while.”

“Too long. How are you?”

“Good. Looks like you're doing well,” she commented with a touch of sarcasm.

Surprise at her tone registered across his face. “I must be doing something right to run into you like this,” Mitchell said, writing her coolness off as a cover for some kind of misplaced embarrassment. “I was hoping I'd hear from you when we got back.”

“I figured what was the point? It was a fling that got flung. That's it.”

“Well, that might work for you, but I can't stop thinking about you.”

Mitchell closed the distance between them and took her hand in his. His touch felt like a torch on her skin. What she really wanted to do was to lean in and press her body against his so she could once again feel the arms she fantasized about each night. But what she actually did was remember the situation for what it was, and stepped away. Livia felt the heat of desire morphing into hot ire. How dare Mitchell come on to her while his pregnant girlfriend was throwing up in the next room? Class act. But what did she expect from a man who trolls the beach looking for strange women to pick up and screw?

Do you really believe that?

Livia felt a tear threatening to escape from the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure if she really believed those things about Mitchell, but angry thoughts and over emotional accusations at this moment seemed to be the perfect inoculation against his proven charm and persuasive powers. He'd so obviously moved on. Why was he pressing her like this?

“I have to go,” she said, picking up her bag.

“Well, hopefully that's the last of that for today,” Naomi's daughter said, stepping out of the bathroom looking recovered and ready to go back and join the party. “Mitchell, we've got to get back out there. You've got to do the toast.”

Livia took the opportunity to nod her good-byes and head for the door.

“You're Livia, the cake artist,” she stopped her to say. “The cake looks amazing, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“Livia?” Mitchell said with a huge question mark in his voice, as he stepped in front of her.

“You two know each other?”

“No, apparently not,” Mitchell said, wearing a quizzical look on his face.

“Congratulations, you two,” Livia said, looking him in the eye before she walked out of the house, leaving Mitchell and her heart behind.

She climbed into her car, threw everything into the back seat, and did a three-point turn so she could quickly get out of Dodge. Livi drove around the back of the house only to stop suddenly. The bride and groom's limo was parked at the other end of the driveway, effectively blocking her escape.

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” she screamed into the air as she pounded the steering wheel in frustration. She exited the Lexus and walked
over to the limousine, hoping like hell to find the driver sitting in the back. Her frantic taps on the window were answered with silence. Other than driving up on the lawn, Livia had few options. She could either wait for the chauffeur to return, which may not be until after the reception was over, or she could go back inside and look for him.

Livia decided to be proactive. She grabbed her keys from the ignition and trooped back up the driveway to the kitchen door. This time, however, the anxiety she'd arrived with had been blown up a hundred fold.

She returned to the kitchen, which now with the reception in full swing, was a flurry of activity. Livia immediately checked the breakfast nook, but was met with disappointment. “Have you seen the limo driver?” she asked the caterer.

“You're back.” Mitchell stepped in to answer before the caterer could speak.

Livia could hear a mixture of surprise and gratitude in his voice. It thrilled and at the same time irritated her that Mitchell seemed almost relieved to see her again.

“Are you looking for me?”

“I'm looking for the limo driver. His car is blocking the driveway.” Her tone was much more clipped and curt than Livia intended, but being rude seemed the only way to defend herself against that damned sexy smile of his.

“I'm thinking that this can't be a coincidence. That somebody upstairs is doing me a huge solid, and yet you seemed pissed off to see me. I don't understand why all this attitude.”

“Look, Mitchell, we had a great time in St. Bart's but let's leave it there.”

Confused disbelief traipsed across his face before morphing into an inexplicable anger. There was no true basis for his feelings. Livia
spoke the facts when she described, in the broadest of strokes, their time together in the islands. But the truth was hidden in the fine lines. Something had happened between them. Something big. Something powerful. Something definitely worth investigating further. This woman—Quincy, Livia—whatever her real name was, had gripped his imagination with a force unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. Mitchell had begun to lose hope when Livia had not contacted him in the months since their return, but they'd somehow been brought together again. And instead of feeling the same excitement he did, she was giving him attitude and dismissing him like a pesky fly. The entire thing was totally pissing him off.

“Oh, now I get it. Like the phony name, the rest of your story was bull, too. What? Are you married with a couple of kids? Went on vacation with your freak list and a fake name, got busy with some sucker, and then came home to resume being a proper wife.”

“Are you kidding me? I'm not the one who is being totally dishonest here.”

“What are you talking about? I was never dishonest with you.”

“You don't think it's dishonest to pick up a woman, seduce and sex her up for four days, give her your phone number—”

“A phone number you never used, and perhaps if you did—”

“I did use it. And you know what I got? A wrong number. You come off like such the good guy and it was all part of your make 'em feel safe, get 'em into bed and tell her you'd like to see her again so she doesn't feel like a slut or a whore for doing all those things with you, plan. You pulled the oldest trick in the book and gave me a wrong number.”

“I didn't do that. I wouldn't have done that because I really wanted to see you again.”

“Why? So you could fuck me when your pregnant girlfriend doesn't feel like it?”

Mitchell's brow frowned with confusion before his cheeks were lifted in laughter. “Woman, you are so off base that it isn't even funny. Nora is not my girlfriend; she's my sister.”

Relief washed over Livia in a tide that felt strong enough to knock her down. She was unable to control the look of joy that his clarification had put on her face. “Your sister? Really?”

“Yes, really. Now can I give you a proper kiss?” Mitchell moved close enough for her to smell the mint on his breath. The close proximity of his body to hers was kicking Quincy into hyper drive. Knowing Livia had tried to call him, that she wanted to see him again, had his heart doing happy backflips.

“Come with me,” Mitchell said, grabbing her hand and letting her know he was not taking no for an answer.

Well aware that there was a houseful of important guests and clients nearby, Livia allowed Mitchell to lead her down the hall to the opposite side of the house. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry as he took her past the same spot where she had stopped to pleasure herself and into the den.

He closed the door, locked it, and then pushed Livia against it, before devouring her lips with a series of hot and hungry kisses. Kisses he'd been wanting and waiting to deliver for months.

“You have no idea how many times I have dreamed of kissing you again,” Mitchell admitted while playing with the curls around her face.

Livia smiled, feeling strangely like she was home. She wanted nothing more than to lock lips, hips and private parts with Mitchell again. And though her body was ready to submit, Liv's heart was reluctant to commit, realizing that she still knew very little about this sexy man.

“And you will, in a minute. I have a few questions.”

“Okay, but hurry up and ask. My lips are impatient.”

“Nora is your sister?”

“Yes. Half-sister to be exact, but we don't play the fractions.”

“Naomi is your mother?”

“Yep.”

“Are you married?”

“Not anymore.”

“Engaged?”

“Nope.”

“Girlfriend?”

“It certainly is beginning to look that way,” he admitted with a devilish tilt to his lips. “At least I'm holding out hope.”

Livia's face broke out into a huge, happy smile. It still felt surreal that she was here, that she and Mitchell were together again, and if things kept going in the direction Quincy was pushing, she was about to make love in Naomi Maddox's house!

“In that case, there are a few things you should know about me.”

“Besides the fact that you smell like sugar and vanilla?”

“Yes, like my real name is Livia Charles. Quincy, is, well, my vagina's nickname.”

“Oh, I'm definitely in love with the right woman,” Mitchell said, laughing.

In love? Did he just say in love?
His words delighted and disturbed her.

“And I'm fifty years old.” Livia bit her lip out of nervousness, not seduction.

“And getting finer by the day,” he said, nibbling on her neck.

“You don't care that I'm sixteen years older than you?”

“No, not now, and I doubt I will ten years from now. But we're at the beginning of our journey. Let's see where it goes. Who knows, you may decide you don't like babysitting.”

“True,” she said, smiling broadly, her anxiety beginning to abate.
“Which brings up the fact that there are some things I need to know about you, Mitchell Maddox.”

“That's not my last name.”

“See, a girlfriend should know her boy toy's name.”

“Point taken. It's Jenson. Maddox is my stepfather's name. Any more questions?” he asked while snacking on her earlobe. “God, you even taste like cake.”

“Do you have a pen?”

“Yes, and I also have a rock hard dick that's been wanting to be inside you since I got back from St. Bart's. Which do you want first?”

“Is this a test?” Livia asked.

“More like an offer.” Mitchell pulled back in order to get a full-on view of her face.

“In that case, have a seat,” Livi said, pushing Mitchell into the yellow chair before straddling his lap. Quincy could feel his hard dick through his tuxedo pants, and giggled in response.

“It's a shame that you didn't get to see the rest of my list,” she told him as she cradled his face in her hands and brought her lips to his ears.

“Did you finish it?”

“Thanks to you, I got through all but two: having a nine-and-a-half-week food fuck, and well, it looks like I'm about to take care of number ten right now.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, number ten is all about this very chair.”

“This chair?” Mitchell, queried, confused by her comment.

“Yep.” Livia went on to explain how the yellow leather chair had made its way on her fuck-it list. “Eww, I think I saw your stepfather getting his porn on watching a nice little girl-on-girl fantasy.”

“Guess again, baby. I think I might be the one you caught with his pants down. You said it was a party for my grandmother's birthday?
I was staying here then,” Mitchell revealed, once again turned the fuck on by this incredible woman's sexual boldness.

“I don't know who it was. All I saw was a thigh. I'd like to think it was you,” she flirted. “How crazy is it that we ended up together in St. Bart's.”

“Fate knows what the fuck he's doing.”

“She's
doing,” Liv teased as she undid the buttons on his shirt.

“I'll go with that.” Mitchell ran his fingers up her bare leg, dipping in close to tickle her pink box. He could feel Livi's body tingle in response.

“Mmmm. You have no idea how many times I have had my way with you in this chair,” Livia confessed.

“Well, there's no time like the present to make your fantasy come true.”

“I can definitely go with that,” she concurred, unbuckling his belt and pulling the zipper down on his pants. “Do you have a condom?”

“In my wallet.”

“How convenient.” She laughed as she waited for him to retrieve it.