A Jar of Dreams Page 8

  He took a sip from his glass, recalling well the days when his father and Philip Mullen had a falling out over some business issues when he was sixteen years old. In his rage, Andrew had packed up his family and relocated them back to New York. Nicholas had thought he would never see Anne again. And as time went by, he had eventually settled into thinking that she would be nothing more than a pleasant dream. Philip Mullen could not only be a ruthless business man but an extremely strict and stubborn family man. He would have done everything in his power to keep Nicholas away from Anne, even if that meant hurting them financially with sly and menacing business tactics. Unfortunately, the Bradley’ business took a turn for the worse. They would have lost everything, had Nicholas not got a wind of a problem Philip Mullen was having with one of his own contracts. A few contacts later, he had stood in Philip’s office as the older man ran his eyes carefully over him.

  “How can I trust you to settle the matter with Hayworth Industries? The bastards are already preparing to take this to court. They’ve put a caveat on the Oakville estate and they’re going to sue the heck out of me.” Philip Mullen let out a grunt of disgust.

  “I can’t expect you to trust me,” Nicholas said slowly. “All I can ask is that you do. You yourself said you’re on the brinks of losing this case to Hayworth. Whatever I do, can’t make it any worse than it is. If anything at all, I could give you some breathing space- an opportunity to gain some leverage.”

  Philip sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers on his expensive mahogany desk.

  “You have three months to show me what you can do,” he said finally.

  Nicholas remembered how he had taken a deep breath. In forty-five days, he had discovered a loophole in the contract; Hayworth Industries had dropped their lawsuit and relented to Mullen’s conditions. Seven months on, he had won over the old man and pulled his family out of his father’s accumulated debts. However, he had never expected the fondness Philip had started to feel for him and most certainly, never the marriage proposal he would bring to him later.

  His father had jumped at the opportunity of merging the two families together. He, on the other hand, had placed one sweaty hand into his pocket, while the other reached out to massage the throbbing pain in his temples. He had wanted Anne, but this was not how he had envisioned he would get her.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he told his father, ignoring the reproof in his dad’s face.

  He put down his glass quickly before the older man could stop him and skipped out of the room and into the lobby. He managed to find Anne embracing the little girl tugging onto her skirt. Anne was laughing, her wide smile lighting up her face. This was definitely not the mood in which she had met him a few minutes ago.

  He stalled at his feet, reluctant to interfere into their seemingly delightful conversation. She wouldn’t like it. It was already quite obvious she hadn’t liked him much at all.

  She slammed the door shut behind her, mumbling to herself.

  Eric ambled out from the corner of the living room, watching her grumble. He arched his brow and peered once again through the window blinds. He was certain it was the same chauffeur who had dropped her off. Who then had put her into a temper?

  She began to climb up the stairway, heading towards her bedroom. He was glad that she was home again. He had waited patiently for her return, his concern for her only seeping into him in the last couple of hours. It was closing towards midnight and the wait for her had slowly taken a torturous turn.

  But she is home now, he told himself as he strolled lazily up after her. However, his jealousy tugged at him, wondering how she had fared with the man called Nicholas Bradley. Probably not all well, he thought and a smiled pulled at the corners of his lips.

  He watched her enter her room and then headed towards his own. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. He threw himself onto his bed, contented that she was by now tucked into her own.

  He made sure that he had risen before she had this time. He poured himself a glass of cold orange juice. He needed it, especially after the much needed stretches his body had craved for early in the morning.

  He moved swiftly and quietly through the kitchen. She was an early riser. And as expected, he heard her alarm shrilling through the silence in the house, shaking her out of her sleep. Her bed rustled as she climbed out of it. Her shower ran a few minutes late and he knew he still had time to clean the remnants of his breakfast before he could make a dash up the staircase and back to his room. His heart though longed to see her before he would disappear from her side.

  He wiped dry the kitchen sink and then strolled over hesitantly towards the living room. Maybe, he should stay a while, he deliberated. She wasn’t in the best of moods when she had returned from her father’s party and he wanted to be sure she was feeling better now.

  He hung about the living room, waiting impatiently to make her appearance. His phone vibrated silently, alerting him of an incoming call. He picked up his phone, studying the number on his screen. It was a new phone and the only one who had his number was Anne. He frowned. Was she still upset? Was she sick? He was tempted to race into her room and ask her himself.

  He bit his lips and answered her call. “Hello?”

  “Eric?” Her voice came through as steady and calm. What did he expect? That she would be weeping and begging him to come and console her in his arms?

  “Eric, hi,” she said nervously. “How are you?”

  “I’m good.”

  “That’s… good.” She grew quiet and he wondered if he had lost her. But then she spoke again. “I went to my dad’s party last night.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, mustering a little spirit into his voice. “How was it? Did you… enjoy it?”

  “Yes, yes, it was beautiful.”

  “Yeah?” He couldn’t help feeling slightly glum. He hoped she had enjoyed it, so why then didn’t he like hearing her say that she did?

  “Eric, I called you because… because…” She was stammering for words.

  Eric felt his heart beginning to clinch. What happened at the party, Anne? Damnit, just tell me what happened?!

  “Are you still looking for a place to stay?” She burst out suddenly.

  “Excuse me?” He swallowed, his thoughts thrown suddenly back off its course.

  “Are you still looking for a place to stay?” she repeated. “I was only asking because you mentioned something of the sort yesterday.”

  He paused, wondering where she was going with her inquiry into his accommodations. “Yes… yes, I was… um… still am… you know, looking.”

  “Would you like to rent a room in my house?” she asked slowly.

  He felt his feet growing riveted to its spot as his heart began to pound heavily from his concerns for her. What is she up to, inviting a stranger to share a house with her?

  “Anne, I don’t-” he started, feeling very apprehensive about her decision.

  “Eric, I know what you are thinking. That I am blind and you are a man I hardly know. Yes, I was a little daunted about letting you into my house yesterday. But I can tell if a man is a danger to me. Please, do not belittle me by saying that I need to have my sight to make wise decisions. I know I can trust you.”

  He grew quiet, not knowing what to say to her. That her instincts had failed? And that she should never trust a man like him? I am a murderer, Anne. I kill people for a living.

  “Eric, are you there?” she asked.

  “Yes… yes, I am.”

  “You did say you were going to be in town for a little while. And we did get on so marvelously well. I merely asked because… because…” She was stammering again. “I’d really appreciate the company. It’s not everyday a blind woman gets an opportunity to have a handsome man for company.” She let out a nervous laugh.

  He realized she was embarrassed about admitting such a fact and he ached to assuage her discomfort by telling her that he longed to be with her just as much.

  “You’re not saying a
nything,” she said, her voice dropping down a tad bit. “It’s fine. Listen, forget I said anything. I hope this wouldn’t ruin our friendship-”

  “When do you want me to move in?” he said, cutting her short. He felt her pain in his heart. The faster he could move in, the quicker he could get to hold her in his arms.

  “You…” Her breathing was growing rapid with excitement. “Are you serious? You will stay?”

  “Of course. I loved your house. And I don’t really have anywhere to plant my stuff at the moment. So yeah, I would love to move in.”

  She let out a thrilling scream that pierced through the walls of her bedroom and into the living room. He smiled as he looked up at her door.

  “I’m guessing that means I can move in immediately?” he teased.

  “Yes, yes!”

  CHAPTER 9

  She had tossed and turned all night, her father’s words reverberating through her mind. Her father was arranging her marriage with Nicholas Bradley. An arranged marriage… arranged marriage… no love, just an arrangement… a convenient business contract…

  She picked up her phone and tapped it against her palm. Maybe she should call Nicholas and tell him exactly what she thought about their arranged marriage plans! Clearly, he knew all about it. What had Andrew Bradley said? I hope Nicholas will help make a turn around? And he sure as hell gave his best shot last night- whispering into her ear, telling her he was sorry about all his childhood pranks. As if she cared about any of that!

  She would be a burden to no one- especially not to her father. She would show she could have a man in her life. But who? It couldn’t be William from her piano class. Even though she had not admitted it to Lucy out of sheer pride, but she had no faith in William herself. Who then could she use to pretend as a potential lover?

  She bit her lips as she hovered over the idea of Eric Tanner as a viable candidate. He had been the perfect gentleman, never once taking advantage of her vulnerability. Was that an act? She closed her eyes, running through every line of conversation she had had with him. There wasn’t one reason she could find to damn the man.

  She plucked up her courage and dialed his number.

  She took deep, panting breaths. He’s coming. He’s coming to stay.

  She ran her fingers through her thick blonde curls. How was it living with a man? She didn’t know one goddamned thing about living with the opposite sex. What had she done? And all because she was afraid of Nicholas Bradley? Angry, mad, she corrected herself.

  “Obviously, Boots, I have lost my mind along with my sight.”

  She ran her hands through her closet, picking out a dress to wear.

  “Beads, no. Short, uh uh. Elegant?”

  Boots meowed.

  “Yeah, I suppose not. Jeans and tee-shirt, jeans, tee-shirt.”

  She pulled open her drawer and picked out a pair of pants.

  “I don’t want him thinking I was dressing up for him. We’re housemates and that’s all we will be. Casual is the way to go.”

  Boots meowed again.

  “Oh, and no forming any close relationships with him either. You were shamefully overly friendly with him yesterday,” she growled at her cat. “No, no, mister. You belong to me alone.”

  Kurt Lynch tugged his tie loose. He glanced over at the framed pictures of his wife and two young daughters gracing one corner of his desk. Bright, bold, beautiful… bitches. They did nothing but shop, spend and squeeze every dime out of him.

  He rapped his pen against a pile of documents. Senator Gordon was gone. There wasn’t supposed to be an issue with the dam anymore. Senator Drew Patterson had assured him that he would take care of it. He studied the little clause in the document that had been tormenting him for the last three years. Patterson had better deal with it or he’d suffer a similar fate as his predecessor, Gordon.

  He pressed his intercom. “Alison?”

  “Yes, Mr Lynch,” his secretary spoke into it in her tiny, squeaky voice.

  “Come in here a minute.”

  The woman could be heard pushing her chair back immediately, grating its legs against the cold tiled floor. Her heels clicked, growing louder as she came closer. She opened the door knob and stepped gingerly into the room.

  “Yes, Mr Lynch,” she said again.

  “How’s my schedule for the afternoon?”

  She opened her folder, skimming through her lists of events. “You have a meeting with Kirk Bridges at four in the afternoon.”

  Kurt nodded his head. He peered through the blinds of his office window. The rest of his staff was busily engaged in their tasks, an occasional conversation and a burst of laughter piercing through the officious atmosphere.

  He closed his blinds. “Lock the door behind you,” he said sternly.

  He glanced at the clock on his wall. “You said 4pm, did you?”

  “Yes, Mr Lynch,” the woman replied as she obediently turned to lock the door.

  “That’s four hours away,” he surmised thoughtfully. Outside, he could hear his other employees muttering cheerfully as they readied to go for their lunch. He walked up to her. “Are you ready for my lunch?”

  He grabbed her crotch from under her skirt, his hand feeling the lacy panties she wore for him each day.

  “Ummm… nice, soft, wet,” he murmured into her ear. He pushed her panties aside, slipping two fingers between her folds. “I want to eat your pussy for lunch, Alison.”

  She fell against the wall, groaning as he pumped his fingers into her. Her juices dripped down his arm and he knew she was ready for him. He dropped to his knees and glided his face up between her thighs. His eyes met hers as his tongue swept over his lips, licking them hungrily. “How do you want me to take it, Alison?”

  “Oh, just shove it in, Mr Lynch,” she begged.

  He grinned and flicked his tongue at her. “As you wish, my little bitch.”

  He pushed his tongue into her, lapping at her salty fluid. She groaned softly as he sucked on her clit and then pushed back and forth into her hole with his tongue.

  “Mr, Lynch,” she panted.

  “What is it, my beautiful whore?”

  “Fuck me… please.”

  He was hard as a rock and he needed his release. He wished she would take him into her sexy mouth so he could come into it. But her pussy tasted so good and wet, it would be a waste to have her juices fall onto his expensive carpet.

  He stood up and almost ripped her shirt apart. Her large breasts fell out and he hungrily caught one with his mouth. These were why he had hired her.

  Her legs winded at his hips and he shoved his cock into her. They went up her easily, sliding deep into her. He lifted her up and began pumping her roughly.

  “Talk dirty to me, Mr Lynch.,” she pleaded.

  “Yeah? You like my cock so much, don’t you whore? You like my big, fat thick cock.”

  “Yes… oh yes, Mr Lynch.”

  “I want you hear you say it, bitch.”

  “I love your fat thick cock.”

  “That’s good.” His orgasm was building inside him and he began to move faster. “Does your husband fuck you as good as I do?”

  “No, Mr Lynch. Fuck… me harder.”

  Her legs pulled tightly around him.

  “Oh … your pussy feels so good,” he breathed out hoarsely.

  “Harder, harder, Mr Lynch. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

  He pushed in one final time as his body constricted, his hips trembling as he released his come into her hole, filling her up.

  He squeezed her breasts and then slowly slid tiredly out of her. That certainly had briefly relieved some of his stress about Drew Patterson. He grabbed a handful of tissue and began wiping himself dry.

  “Bring me the file on Stuart Clarke,” he said firmly.

  “Yes, Mr Lynch,” she said between deep breaths as she quickly pulled her skirt down again.

  He arched an eyebrow as she darted out of his office. It was back to business and she knew it. This is was the one t
hing he liked about Alison Garrett. She knew when to work and when to fuck. Whereas bastards like Drew Patterson blurred their lines and fucked it up for the rest.

  Eric leaped over the back wall and skipped around to the front. The fact that she was sitting in the living room meant he couldn’t sneak out the front door like he would have preferred to. He had also wanted to wait for at least a few hours before showing up at her door without desperation practically oozing out of him. But the anticipation of seeing her freely and without all the secrecy was far too appealing.

  He stalled at the door nervously, deliberating how he should make his entrance. Just do it, do it, do it…, he repeated to himself. He pulled in a deep breath and then knocked lightly on her door.

  Two minutes felt like two hours, but she finally did open it. Her hair was tied up into a high ponytail and she wore a sleeveless flowery dress that fell just short of her knees. How did she always manage to look so elegant and beautiful?

  “Hi,” he muttered breathlessly, his eyes riveted to her face.

  “Hi,” she said almost with a whisper. She bit her lower lip, her fingers clutching the sides of her skirt.

  “So…,” he gulped. He was beginning to feel this was rather like a first date instead of a move into her place.

  “Come… come on in.” She moved aside clumsily, giving him room to walk into her living room. He could tell she was just as nervous as he was. “It’s not a big house, as you can see. It just feels like it because it is quite empty.”

  It did echo a tad bit because of the lack of furniture, he thought as he picked Boots into his arms.

  “Boots has taken quite a liking to you,” she said.

  “He has.”

  “Did you bring your luggage?”