Champagne Rules. Susan Lyons
it from outrageous69 not your regular e-mail account—and ask him about himself. I’d consider even asking for references.”
Jenny raised a brow. “To say he’s still a great lover?”
“No!” Ann glared at her. “To say he’s a trustworthy person.”
“I agree you should play it cautious,” Rina said, “and sleep on it, Suzie.” She stood up. “I have to go, I’ve got an early morning.” Her expression suddenly went dreamy. “But here’s something to think about. Should I try to find Giancarlo, using the internet?”
Jenny grabbed her hand and yanked her back down. “What? You mean we’re going to write another ad, for the magic fingers piano-man who made you come three times on top of a piano?”
Rina freed her hand and stood up again. “Or I could use the normal internet search tools. After all, I do know the guy’s name.” She shot a pointed look at Suzanne.
“Oh!” Suzanne picked up the e-mail printout and read it again. No, he hadn’t mentioned his name. He hadn’t said where he lived, or what he did for a living. Or if he was single.
She toyed with her baklava, then put her fork down.
“You eating that?” Jenny demanded.
Suzanne pushed her plate over, and Jenny, whose hundred-pound frame never gained an ounce despite the huge amount of food she consumed, dug in.
Later that night, Suzanne’s caveman came to her again in a dream. Afterwards, her body damp with sweat, the throbbing still pulsing through her, she smiled at knowing the memory was true.
And what the hell was wrong with great sex?
Suzanne left the bed to Melody and Zorro—a tangled heap of gold and black atop the pale green duvet—and went over to turn on her computer. She hoisted Mouse from his sleeping spot, opened caveman’s e-mail and clicked REPLY.
I remember Lord Chatterley, she typed. And I remember wishing we’d picked some of those tiny flowers that bloomed on the hillside. But you said fingers would do, and it was true. Your fingers were so amazing. You touched me with strength, yet never hurt me. You made my body sing.
Suzanne stopped. What was she doing? She should be asking for information so she could decide if she wanted to see him again.
She wished she could remember their final conversation. Had he told her his name, where he lived, what he did? Had he said he was married, and she’d gone into shock?
Whatever he might have said then, that was four years ago and the facts might be quite different now.
Mouse was insinuating himself across the keyboard. She nudged him away before he could click any keys, and typed: You could be anywhere in the world, yet you say you’ll come to me.
She thought about the two of them walking toward each other. What if the magic really did belong to—depend on—that beach in Crete? Meeting again could be a disaster.
“Nothing can ruin a memory, Mouse,” she murmured, stroking the sleepy cat. “If I decide to see him and it doesn’t work out, I’ll still have that first memory.
“And if I meet him in a public place, and don’t give him my last name, address or phone number, I can’t come to any harm.”
Mouse butted his head against her hand.
Why would she want to see the man, if she had to take so many precautions? And yet, excitement fizzed through her. The element of mystery was in itself arousing. If caveman was just a perfectly nice guy, like the vets at the clinic, she wouldn’t feel this same sense of adventure. She might, in the future, contemplate a loving marriage. But with caveman, what she had in mind was, as Jenny called it, a walk on the wild side.
Wild, but she honestly didn’t believe it would be dangerous. If he hadn’t hurt her in that cave, when she’d been so vulnerable, he wouldn’t hurt her now. The only thing she really needed to know was whether he was involved with another woman. For her, adultery was taboo.
My name is Suzanne, she typed. I live in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, and I’m single. How about you?
She clicked SEND before she could have second thoughts, then shut down her computer. “All right, Mouse, the keyboard’s all yours.”
As she tumbled back into bed, she wondered how caveman would react to her garbled message, such a peculiar mix of sexuality and practicality. Of outrageous69 and boring-girl.
On Monday night, Jax got home from the office around eleven. He shared the apartment with Tod, a visual merchandiser—i.e., window dresser—at Saks Fifth Avenue, and Levi, an accountant with Rothstein Kass. One thing you had to say for him and his roommates: They worked in some of the classiest businesses in town.
Another thing you had to say: They weren’t exactly homemakers.
He cleared Chinese takeout containers off the rickety coffee table in front of the wide-screen TV, and crammed the empties into the overflowing garbage bin under the kitchen sink. Then he opened the fridge door, and grinned. Someone had remembered to buy beer.
He cracked open a can and headed through to his bedroom, where he stripped off his suit jacket and tie and glanced at his computer.
Since Saturday night, he’d monitored his new caveman e-mail account obsessively. By now he was figuring it wasn’t really his blonde. Still, he wished she’d reply, so he could stop wasting his time this way.
Oh, what the hell, just once more. No way would he get to sleep until he did.
And there she was.
He grew hard as he read her words. Yeah, he sure as hell remembered his fingers threading through her golden curls, teasing the moist, swollen flesh below.
This time he ignored his hard-on. Instead, he began to type.
Suzanne. What a perfect name for such a beautiful, sexy woman. My name is Jaxon. I’m single too. And as it turns out, we’re almost neighbors. I’m in San Francisco. It would be easy to come visit you—or you could come here, if you wanted.
What was he doing? Wasn’t he the guy who never took time off work? And yet…
Come. God, I want to come again, with you. I want to hear you come, feel you come around me. To caress your lovely breasts, see the pleasure on your face as I touch you. Just the thought of it…
He stopped typing. Should he be saying this stuff? Would she be offended? No, of course not, not outrageous69.
He resumed:…makes me hard. I want to taste you again, Suzanne. Everywhere…
He broke off again, so aroused he felt like he was going to burst.
He stared at the screen. A first draft. He should edit it; he always edited things before he sent them.
But that was the lawyer side of him. Tonight he was just a man. A horny man. Quickly he typed, Say you’ll see me. I want more sexy memories.
He clicked SEND and stared at the screen.
Suzanne. Her name was Suzanne.
4
Suzanne couldn’t get back to sleep. After an hour of trying, she flicked on the bedside light, tossed back the covers and again evicted Mouse from the keyboard.
Even knowing the odds were slim, Suzanne’s breath quickened as the computer started up. She accessed her outrageous69 account and found three new e-mails, but none were from caveman. Idly, she skimmed, shaking her head in bemusement. Cave sex sure seemed to turn a lot of guys’ cranks.
Damn, she hadn’t cancelled the personals ad. She found the instructions Jenny had given her, and deleted her ad.
Just as she was about to exit from e-mail, a message popped up on her screen. From caveman! She gripped the mouse with a shaking hand and clicked