The Sweetest Revenge (12 page)

He took my arm. I wondered if he
could feel the heat coming off of my body when he touched me. My
heart was thumping wildly in my chest. I chided myself for being so
unprofessional. I tried to calm myself down, stop my heart from
beating so fast.

But it did no good. I suddenly
wished I had bought a dinner dress at the lodge store, one that would
show off my cleavage.

The maitre d’ led us to a
corner table lit only with a candle. Keith sat down across from me
and the light flickered across his handsome face. I smiled at him. I
was beginning to feel giddy.

Keith smiled back. The waiter
brought a carafe of wine to the table, along with a plate of stuffed
mushrooms. I realized I was starving. As I got a mushroom, I heard
the tinkle of a piano. I noticed for the first time that a young man
sat at a piano in a corner of the room.

“
So, tell me about yourself,
Amy,” Keith said.

I chewed my bite of mushroom and
swallowed a sip of wine before I started talking.

“
There’s not much to tell,”
I said. “You know where I work. I’ve been there for over fifteen
years. I was married and now I’m divorced.”

Now why’d I say that? But he
wanted to know.

“
I’m sorry,” Keith said.
“Was it recent?”

“
It’s been a few months,” I
said. I really did not want to talk about Jim or my divorce. I just
wanted to look at Keith’s gorgeous face. I wanted to look at his
strong hands as he drank his wine. I wanted his hands to touch me
again.

The waitress brought menus,
saving me from having to discuss my failed marriage further.

“
The trout amandine is the
specialty here,” Keith said.

I looked at the menu and saw the
trout came with a honey citrus sauce on the side and was served with
wild rice and sautéed sweet peas. We both ordered the trout.

Keith didn’t press me about my
marriage. The conversation became easy after that. He told me about
growing up on the mountain, his early marriage in his twenties that
his mother had disapproved of.

“
My ex-wife couldn’t take the
isolation on the mountain,” Keith said. “It only lasted a couple
of years. The only thing I regret now that I’m forty, is that I
don’t have any children.”

I regretted that for myself, too.

“
But better not to have them if
I’m divorced,” he finished.

I nodded agreement. That was
better. I was starting to realize that Keith and I were both lonely
in our lives. Maybe not a great thing to have in common.

There were two other couples in
the dining room, and near the end of our meal, they both got up and
started to dance. I looked over at them and wondered why they were at
the lodge and not with family on Thanksgiving.

“
We usually have people staying
at the lodge over holidays,” Keith said.

“
We?” I asked.

“
Oh, well. Richmond Industries
owns this lodge.”

“
Oh,” I said. Of course they
did.

We had finished our meal and were
on our second carafe of wine. Keith stood up and asked me if I’d
like to dance. I blushed. I had not danced for years. Jim and I used
to dance sometimes, but not often.

“
I don’t really dance,” I
said.

“
Of course you do,” Keith
said. He held out his hand and I took it, feeling the electricity run
through my body when I touched him.

He led me to the area where the
other couples were dancing and took me in his arms with authority.
Even though I was wearing my heels, he towered over me. The piano
player was playing some classics that I recognized but couldn’t
name. Keith moved me expertly around the dance area. I loosened up
and put my head on his chest. I could smell him through his jacket.
He had an earthy smell, like woods and spice, mountains and fresh
air.

We danced through three songs. On
the last dance, I looked up at Keith and he looked at me with those
magical silvery eyes. I smiled at him. He lowered his head and
brushed my lips with his. It was like lightening. I didn’t pull
away and he brushed them again before he settled and parted my lips
with his warm wet tongue.

My tongue met his and we twirled
our tongues together as he moved me gently around the dance floor. I
was glued to the power of his kiss. Sealed to his lips. When he
finally pulled his away—agony—I looked around and saw that we
were the only couple in the room.

My legs were weak and I felt a
longing coursing through me when Keith led me back to our table.
Chocolate soufflés with whipped cream with chocolate curls were on
the table. Keith poured more wine into my glass. I picked up the
spoon and ladled soufflé and whipped cream to my mouth. I ate it,
looking at Keith the whole time. I licked the cream off of my mouth.
I felt so brazen in my desire for him, but I didn’t care. I giggled
just a little and he laughed softly.

He smiled at me. We smiled at
each other as we ate our soufflé. And then he stood up and took my
hand in his. We left the dining room and walked up the stairs to my
room. A bottle of champagne was in an ice bucket on the dresser.
Keith popped the cork and poured two glasses into tall flutes. He
picked up a fresh strawberry that was in a silver bowl and pressed it
against my mouth. I parted my lips and took a bite.

Keith leaned down and took
possession of my mouth, which was juicy with strawberry. Our tongues
found each other again in a rhythmic circling that never let go. He
found my side zipper and slipped it down. I was momentarily
terrified. My old fat self was mortified at being nude. But I told
myself I wasn’t fat anymore as my slacks slipped to the floor.

Keith pushed up against me and I
could feel his hardness. I reached down my hand and felt it, rubbed
it, as it strained against his pants.

And then he surprised me by
picking me up and carrying me to the bed. I couldn’t believe he
wasn’t huffing and puffing and straining, but he wasn’t. He laid
me gently on the comforter and reached for the elastic waist of my
panties. He pulled them off before he unbuttoned my suit jacket and
removed it. After he pulled my top over my head, I reached for his
zipper, pulling it down and touching him through his boxers.

He stood and removed his pants
and boxers, then his jacket and shirt. I was pleased to see
well-developed muscles in his arms. Muscles that would be enfolding
me as I gave myself to him.

And then we were both completely
naked. He brought his body close to mine and rubbed himself against
me. My breasts felt so full; my nipples were aroused, waiting. He put
his mouth to one and grazed it with his lips. He caressed it with his
tongue, then sucked it gently before moving to the other one. It was
delicious! He touched me all over, his hands moving smoothly across
my body. I was on fire wherever his hand was and aching for his touch
where it wasn’t.

And then he parted my legs fully
and began to push himself inside. I welcomed him, pulling him in all
the way with my legs. He kissed me as he thrust, slowly at first.
Then he pushed himself up on his arms and began a rhythm that soon
became urgent. I pulled him with my legs and hands until we both
reached a hot and sweaty climax.

Afterward, Keith cradled me in
his arms. We both fell asleep, but woke up in the early morning hours
and found each other again. I wasn’t thinking about all the
consequences of my behavior with this major donor that I had come to
meet with the day before. I just let my thirsty body be my guide. It
had been over a year since I’d felt human touch, and that was too
long.

When I woke up, Keith was sitting
on the side of the bed wearing his clothes. I felt a little
embarrassed to be in the sheets naked.

“
I ordered room service,” he
said.

I felt even more embarrassed.
What did the hotel staff think about its owner bedding a woman and
then ordering room service? I hoped it wasn’t something they were
used to. I began to worry it was something they were used to.

I grabbed the sheet and wrapped
it around me. I picked my clothes up from the floor and went into the
bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. What had I done? I asked
myself. This couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And then I
remembered how Keith felt inside of me and a little moan escaped my
lips.

A rolling tray with covered
plates and a pot of coffee was in the room when I came out of the
bathroom. Keith lifted a silver dome and revealed a plate of eggs
benedict, the hollandaise sauce drizzling down a stack of English
muffins and egg. I was starving.

I sipped the rich coffee, then
dipped a stick of chocolate biscotti in it. I sucked in the soft warm
bread and let it melt on my tongue.

“
I’m kind of embarrassed,”
I said. “That the staff here knows you spent the night with me.”

He looked at me. “I’ve never
done anything like this before,” he said. “I guess it’s okay
since I do own the place. But I get what you’re saying.”

I was relieved that he’d never
done it before. I guessed I’d just have to live with the
embarrassment of it all. We were two grown people, after all. Still,
embarrassing.

I laughed then and Keith
chuckled. He pulled me to him and kissed me.

“
I know you probably have to
get back home, but if you don’t, could you stay for Thanksgiving?”

I had left Midnight plenty of
food. I saw the overfilled bowl in my mind.

“
My mother always had a
Thanksgiving feast for the workers on the mountain, but I didn’t do
anything this year,” he said. “I feel bad about that. But we
could go to my house and see what’s there.”

“
Let’s go see what you’ve
got,” I said.

“
Rosa does my shopping and
cooks for me,” he said. “But she’s off for the holiday.”

“
Who’s Rosa?” I asked.

“
She’s my housekeeper and
cook.”

“
Oh,” I said. Must be nice to
have a housekeeper and someone to cook your meals.

I gathered up my purse and the
plastic bag with toiletries and the nightgown and followed him out
the room and down the stairs. Keith waved at Paul as we walked
through the lobby and out the door.

“
Follow me,” he said. I
followed his beat-up truck up and down several roads until he turned
onto a dirt road with a mailbox at the entrance. The road was long
and curvy and ended at a log cabin nestled in the trees. A panorama
of mountains stood in the background.

When we walked in the door, my
eye immediately went upward to the vaulted ceiling. An intricately
woven rug hung over the second-floor railing. Like the inn, the walls
in Keith’s house were varnished logs. A plush gray sofa and two
Mission style chairs were grouped facing a large fireplace surrounded
by flat rocks. I saw a kitchen to the left that was open to the main
area, with a counter separating the spaces.

“
Let’s see what I’ve got in
there,” Keith said.

I put my bag and purse on the
couch and followed him to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and
peered inside, me by his shoulder.

“
It looks like some squash and
carrots,” he said. “Not much.”

I opened the freezer section on
the top.

“
You’ve got a whole chicken
here,” I said. “We could thaw it out. Do you have any potatoes?”

He turned and pointed to a basket
sitting on the counter near the stove. It held three large golden
potatoes. Another basket held several onions.

“
I can make us a meal,” I
said.

“
I don’t want you to have to
do that,” Keith said. “It’s your holiday, and that doesn’t
seem right. We can go back to the inn to eat.”

“
It’s okay,” I said. “I
don’t mind a bit. I cook all the time.” Well, that was partially
true. I used to cook all the time, when I had someone to cook for.
And now it looked like I had someone to cook for again—at least for
Thanksgiving Day.

“
If you’re sure,” Keith
said uncertainly.

“
We need to defrost the chicken
in the microwave,” I said, taking charge of his kitchen. I took it
out of the freezer and set the microwave on defrost.

“
You can help by peeling some
carrots and potatoes,” I said.

I found a peeler in the drawer
and handed it to him. He picked up a carrot and clumsily started to
peel.

“
Start from one end and go to
the other,” I said. He did as I instructed and peeled five carrots.
Then he moved to the potatoes, which gave him more trouble, but he
finally seemed to get the hang of it. I could take care of the pieces
of skin still lingering when he was done.

Somebody had stocked his kitchen
with cookware—Rosa?—and I found a roaster for the chicken and
placed it in the preheated oven. It was close to noon by that time. I
cut the potatoes and put them in a pot of water to boil, I cut the
squash and a little onion and started that sautéing in a skillet. I
cut the carrots into circles and started boiling them.

“
Time for a break,” I said.
Keith opened a bottle of wine. He had started a fire while I was
cooking and the room felt cozy. I sat on the couch and he handed me a
glass of wine before sitting beside me. Very close. He put his hand
on my thigh and the heat was delicious.