Zodiac Earth Anthology [Anthology]

133 Pages·2016·0.52 MB·English

by  Knight Dee S

Zodiac Earth
Dee S Knight, Emma Bruce, Cyndi Redding, Keira Ramsay
(c) 2007
ISBN 1-59578-242-7
Zodiac Earth
Dee S Knight, Emma Bruce, Cyndi Redding, Keira Ramsay
Published 2007
ISBN 1-59578-242-7
Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509
Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2007, Dee S Knight, Emma
Bruce, Cyndi Redding, Keira Ramsay. All rights reserved. No part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written
permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Liquid Silver Books
http://LSbooks.com
Email:
[email protected]
Editor
Terri Schaefer
Cover Artist
April Martinez
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of
the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual
events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Safe Sex
Dee S. Knight
Chapter One
Cynthia Williams, dressed to stun in three-inch heels, silk blouse and suede skirt,
walked into The Starlight Room. Incongruously, she carried a folded newspaper under
her arm and stood at the arch separating the lounge from the dining area, studying the
patrons seated at the dark mahogany bar along the wall. She searched for the man with a
newspaper under his arm. It seemed a cliché, really, to meet a blind date this way, but it
had been his suggestion and she’d thought, what the hell?
The bartender was efficient in handling the few early customers, spread out as they
were. No one occupied the tables dotted around the small area.
Cynthia immediately discounted the man moving his hand down a woman’s back to
her butt in what he might have thought was a surreptitious, seductive move. By the look
on his companion’s face, he was likely to discover soon that it was neither. The man on
the other side of the lone female customer prepared to leave by picking up a briefcase,
not a newspaper.
Next in line were broad shoulders enclosed in a tweed jacket. Elbows on the bar, the
man cradled a crystal glass holding two fingers of an amber liquid. His stare reflected in
the mirror behind the bar was dispassionate, but Cynthia found him intriguing
nonetheless. Perhaps because of the lack of emotion. Lines bracketed his eyes, indicating
he hadn’t sat on the sidelines of life, although he wasn’t old—maybe late thirties or early
forties. Short, light brown hair showed no gray. In the conventional sense, he wasn’t
handsome. Cheeks, forehead, chin and nose were all rough but strong, and that produced
a quality of handsomeness all its own. Cynthia found herself wishing he was her date, but
there was no newspaper under his arm. Damn!
Maybe her date hadn’t arrived yet, she thought, as she quickly examined the other
occupants. She first passed over and then returned to a slim man in a suit, sitting near the
end. Perched on the edge of his stool, poking his glasses up onto his nose and smiling at
no one in particular, he looked like a puppy anxious for someone to take him out. The
very antithesis of the other man. Oh, dear. The tell-tale newspaper was tucked securely
under his left arm.
Cynthia stepped into the bar to meet her fate. The man’s eyes lighted when he spied
her, and he hopped off the stool to approach. In addition to an argyle sweater vest and
plaid bow tie, the man had a cowlick on the crown of his head that looked wet. Evidently
he’d tried to tame the hair, but without success.
She held out her hand when he reached her. A wide grin split his face and he held up
the newspaper, proving he was the man she sought. As if she had any doubt—this was the
way her dating life had gone for months. Then he took her hand.
“Hello,” she said. “If you’re Vern, I’m Cynthia.”
“Who are you if I’m not Vern?” the suit asked, laughing at his own joke and giving
her hand a polite shake.
It was going to be a long night. “Out of here.” She allowed a small smile to brace
herself. Oh, if only, if only, if only…
He laughed again, a cross between a giggle and cackle. “Then I’m Vern. Pleased to
meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too.” I hope so, anyway.
Looking over her shoulder, he nodded to someone. “Our table is ready. Thank you
for being punctual. So many women aren’t.”
Yup, punctual, that’s me.
They followed the maitre d’hotel to their table and when he moved away, Cynthia
pulled out her own chair, too late realizing that Vern had moved behind her to do it.
Damn again! She hadn’t meant to be rude, but she was used to seating herself. One of the
problems with being independent was that it often intimidated men when she showed she
didn’t need to be pampered. From the look on Vern’s face, it had just happened again.
“Sorry,” she murmured, as he sat across from her. He frowned, then settled his
shoulders with a sigh and his face eased.
Looking over Vern’s shoulder, she found herself facing the bar and the stare of the
man who’d intrigued her. His look was anything but dispassionate now. In fact, lightning-
like heat arced the distance separating them. Her breath caught as he lifted his glass in
salute before turning around. Even then, his eyes met hers in the mirror, holding her
captive with their intensity. Just her luck to be seated so that she faced both her fantasy
and reality. Poor Vern. He might be a very nice guy but he could only suffer in
comparison.
“Cynthia?” Vern tapped her arm with his newspaper. “Cynthia, are you all right?”
“What?” With effort, she shifted her gaze to Vern’s. There was no heat, no earth-
shattering intensity displayed in his soft gray irises, only curiosity. “I’m sorry, Vern. I
thought I saw someone I recognized.” Only half a lie. In fact, the power in the stranger’s
gaze was much like she’d read about in romances, where soul mates knew each other
immediately, drew together and resisted any and all efforts to tear them apart. If she
believed in romance, or love at first sight, or soul mates, she’d be beside that man like a
shot. As it was, whatever attraction she felt for him made no sense. If she were going to
be fair to Vern, she’d have to keep her eyes off the man at the bar.
“Where?” Vern twisted in his chair to look behind him.
“Oh, never mind. It wasn’t anyone.” Cynthia picked up her menu. “This is a very
nice place. Have you eaten here before?”
Facing forward again, Vern smiled. “A few times,” he said. “As soon as I found out
your birthday from Julie I knew this was where we should meet.” He leaned forward. “I
know you’re a Taurus.”
“I am?” Smiling her thanks at the young man filling her glass with water, she fought
to keep from looking into the bar to see if he was still watching. Then she snapped her
head to Vern. “Julie told you my birth date?”
“Oh, not the year, don’t worry about that. But the month and day, sure. I had to know
if our signs were compatible. And we are—you’re Taurus and I’m Pisces. I know you
really enjoy the finer things in life, including candlelit dinners. I like romance, too, and
while I could have cooked you a gourmet meal at home, I thought you’d like this setting
better for our first date.”
Cynthia stared. He seemed so earnest she didn’t have the heart to tell him that dinner
from a hotdog vendor was romantic with the right person. For the two of them, even this
expensive, impressive evening would amount to nothing more than one event.
“I wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for you.” He pushed his glasses up and
blushed.
“That’s very nice of you, Vern.” And it was. For the right woman, Vern would be
quite a prize. Too bad it wasn’t her.
Feeling guilty, knowing the evening was going nowhere after all the trouble and
thought he’d put into it, Cynthia took in the setting. The Starlight Room was designed
with seduction in mind, whether for business deals or more personal propositions. Dimly
lit, with the tables spaced well apart and thick carpeting and curtained walls keeping
extraneous sound to a minimum, conversational privacy was ensured. Overhead, a
depiction of the night sky, a rich midnight blue dotted with stars—really hundreds of tiny
lamps inset in the gently rounded ceiling—continued the illusion. Soft lighting and
candles further added to the ambience. If only Vern could prove worthy of the
atmosphere. Like she somehow knew the man at the bar would.
Sighing, she resisted the temptation to check her watch, but not the lounge area. He
met her inquisitive glance, via the mirror. Surely the distance was such that she couldn’t
really see the glint of desire in his eyes or his head tilt back as though to seek her scent. It
was impossible. Yet, she would have sworn it happened. Self-consciously, she reached
her hand to smooth the chignon resting at her nape and tug the collar points of her
lavender silk blouse. She was awfully warm, but feared her elevated temperature had
nothing to do with the restaurant thermostat.
Forcing her attention back to the man sitting across the table rather than the one
calling her silently in the next room, she smiled. “So, Vern,” she started. “You’re
interested in astrology.”
“Oh, much more than interested.” He broke off when the waiter approached.
“May I take your order?” Cynthia looked at Vern.
He gave her a look that said, “Watch this.” His chest puffed out as he adopted an
authoritative tone, ordering dinner, the wine, even dressing for the salad, all without
consulting her. And in French, which she wasn’t sure the waiter completely understood.
Of course, she had to admit the wine he’d chosen would be superb with lapin. But
couldn’t he have asked if she preferred rabbit to chicken? Irritation competed with guilt
as the money he was spending on their date mounted.
“Now, back to astrology,” he said. “I consult a professional and never make a move
personally or professionally without consulting my chart.”
“I don’t know anything about charts or such. I’ve always considered astrology to be
such a f…” Just in time she stopped herself from saying feminine. “—fascinating topic.
Really, fascinating.” Cynthia had never before met a man caught up in such farce. But
she didn’t want to make him feel bad.
Vern preened at her words of interest. “It is indeed fascinating. Not many people
appreciate that fact. For instance, we’ve never met but I can tell you a great deal about
yourself.”
“Oh, like what?” Not that she believed, but if he talked, it would relieve her of
having to converse. She hated feeling mean, and truly tried to look interested. How could
she be so sure they had no chemistry, and Vern be so clueless?
“Like…” He stared at her, his fingers steepled under his chin. “You’re intensely
loyal, sticking with friends or ideas long after you should give them up, sometimes
missing other opportunities. You like luxury, romance and all of the accoutrements of
both, although…” he flicked his wrist, indicating The Starlight Room “—this is a bit
extreme since you’re also a thrifty person. I just wanted to impress you with the most
romantic spot I knew of, I guess.” He smiled. Guiltily, she smiled, giving him leave to
continue. “I’ll bet you routinely shop at the Goodwill.”
Cynthia cocked her head, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. “There’s nothing wrong
with the items at Goodwill. Why spend more than…” She squirmed in her seat. “Not that
I do, of course, but as a matter of principle…”
Chuckling, he continued. “Pinching pennies is okay, although chances are, your
perseverance will ensure you’re successful and don’t need to. Let’s see. You are stubborn
to the extreme and don’t like to be pushed into anything, preferring to come to terms with
change in your own time. I’ll bet you were the final person in your group to use a cell
phone, for instance. You’re practical and give sensible gifts, or gifts from the heart,
homemade.”
Somewhat impressed despite her skepticism, Cynthia thought of the number of bread
and cookie baskets she put together for Christmas every year for her friends.
“I’ll bet you’re in a job that requires attention to detail, right?”
“Banking,” she said. “I’m in banking.” A small stretch. Well, okay, a giant stretch,
but her job did require attention to detail.
“Excellent choice of profession. Taureans are generally quiet and a bit shy. I’m
almost surprised you go on blind dates, but I’m glad you agreed to meet me, Cynthia.”
In fact, she hated blind dates, but besides the fact that she often intimidated men with
her independence and drive, there was the problem of time. It took time to develop a
comfort level for a man to ask a woman out, and for months she hadn’t had that luxury.
At least now she knew why there had been no previous long-lasting relationships.
Obviously none of the men had been the right sign. Maybe if she consulted an astrologer
before agreeing to a date she could save a lot of headaches. Or not. After all, supposedly
she and Vern were compatible.
The waiter returned with an ice bucket and bottle of champagne, which he opened
and poured before leaving them. Vern held out his glass in a toast. “To the sensual Taurus
and the romantic Pisces. May each find joy in exploring the other.” He tapped his glass
with hers.
Oh, she thought, how sweet. He really was a nice man, and quite the gentleman. She
clinked her glass against his and smiled. Maybe this evening was going to be okay after
all.
Vern grinned. “And I really mean that, Cynthia. No bull.” His giggle-cackle rang
through the intimate, reserved dining room, causing wait staff and diners to turn toward
their table. “Do you get it?” he asked, gulping for air. “Taurus is a bull.” Set off again, he
could barely manage to add, “You may be a bull, but there’s something fishy about me.
Pisces, get it?” He almost slapped the table in his mirth.
Over Vern’s shoulder, Mystery Man was staring at her, his expression full of
amusement.
Yeah, she got it.
* * * *
After what must have been the longest hour of her life—it certainly had been of
his—Bill Hawk saw the woman rise and head toward the bathrooms. Tossing a twenty on
the bar, he swallowed the last bit of his Scotch and headed that direction himself,
determined before he left to do more than lust after her across a room. He wanted to lust
up close and personal.
When she came out of the ladies room he was holding the wall up, waiting.
“Oh!” Looking surprised, she stopped short when she saw him.
“Hello. I thought after the stares we’ve exchanged all evening we should at least
meet.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bill, and you’re…?”
She backed up a step. “With someone else.”
When she tried to slip by him, his training took over automatically. He hadn’t been a
Marine for nothing. If he couldn’t stop a beautiful woman from escaping him in a narrow
little hall, then he should just hang his head and tell people he retired from the Army
instead of embarrassing the Corps.
“Yes, so I’ve noticed,” Bill murmured, blocking her exit. “Your companion seems
okay for dinner and a few laughs…” he caught her sardonic look “—but you’ve eaten and
had coffee and you can call it a night with Mr. Fun Guy. Are you ready to leave with a
real man?”
“Know where I can find one?” She cocked her brows over penetrating green eyes
and crossed her arms.
Aha, a challenge. “Without doubt.” If it was a pissing contest she wanted, well, he
could piss with the best of them. But a pissing contest was most definitely not what he
wanted, not with this woman.
She snorted a laugh, then looked up to meet his gaze. The laugh faded away.
Admittedly, even after the heated looks they’d exchanged all evening, he wasn’t prepared
either for the fire that threatened to singe them. He leaned down, letting his eyes drop to
her lips. His target.
“I’ll meet you outside after you get rid of that guy.” Scant millimeters separated
them. Her breath was soft on his mouth. The tease of a fragrance rose with her body’s
warmth. She was going to kiss him. He was going to kiss her. It was inevitable and right.
But… She pulled back. “I’m with someone. He’s been a gentleman and a pleasant
dinner partner. He comes recommended by a friend and the stars. All you’ve done is stare
at me all evening. Who recommends you?”
Straightening, he struggled to come up with a good answer as well as to force his
cock into good behavior. “Well, I don’t know any Hollywood types like your friend does,
but I have managed to get you invited to a very important party. My friends—not stars
but all members in good standing of San Francisco’s elite middle class—will be happy to
put in a good word for me, I’m sure.”
She smiled. “It’s not those kind of stars.” Easing away, she didn’t break eye contact.
“I’m not sure I could take the word of your friends. Not exactly unbiased sources. Party,
huh?”
“Yes, it’s May 30 and you know what that is.” At her headshake, he pretended to be
appalled. “Well, we really must fix that. Sergei will love having someone new for his
birthday celebration. Come with me.” He tried for coaxing, seductive, and hoped he
didn’t sound anxious, instead.
Taking her bottom lip between her teeth she seemed to be considering the offer. Mr.
Dick stirred once again as Bill took in the sight of her luscious lip gently held between
her white teeth. He edged closer, hoping against hope to do the same.
“It’s tempting, but…” she pursed her lips, making them even more appealing than
they had been a short minute ago “—have I mentioned that I’m with someone?” God, she
was stubborn. Once more she tried to brush past him, and once more he intercepted her
path.
Tilting her head back, she gazed at him. Her emerald eyes revealed the acquiescence
that her words hadn’t, and he knew in that instant that she wanted to come with him
regardless of what she said. So why was she insisting on staying with that other guy?
There was a time for loyalty and a time for destiny. Whoa! Back up a step, guy. Destiny is
a big word.
What was it about this woman that made him think destiny? She was delicate. Tiny,
compared to his height of six-two. With the peach tinge in her fair complexion, that
black, black hair tied in a knot on her neck, and the soft, flowing blouse she wore
buttoned to the neck, she seemed prim, almost virginal.
The tension in his groin ratcheted up another notch. He wanted to take her in his
arms and protect her from all the bad stuff in the world. He wanted to make sure she had
all she needed and all she wanted. He wanted to … fuck her senseless, and then take care
of her and provide for her. And then he knew he’d want to fuck her senseless again.
Bill looked up the hall and down, then pushed open the door to the ladies bathroom.
“What are you doing,” she gasped.
With one hand on her shoulder, he spun her around and nudged her back where she’d
come out of seconds ago. Thank God no one else was in there.
“You can’t come in here.” She sounded so affronted that he couldn’t help but smile.
“Really? Looks like I’m already here. Come with me.”
The privacy afforded to customers in the dining room was carried through to the
bathroom, with each stall its own little room. He hurried her toward the last stall then
pulled her in behind him and threw the latch. It was small but adequate.
He looked down to see her forehead screwed up in a frown and that bottom lip
between her teeth again. Jesus Christ, he was out of his fucking mind. What in hell had he
done? If he’d misjudged and she started screaming or something, he’d be up shit creek
for sure. But he couldn’t have misjudged, not the fiery looks they’d shared or the
invitation in her eyes a few seconds ago.
Before he could analyze his actions any further, she rose on her toes and twisted her
arms around his neck. She trailed her tongue across his lips and he parted them,
welcoming her tongue, sucking it into his mouth. Her groan penetrated the fog of his
mind, and he gave an answering call as his hands headed south to rub across the cheeks
of her ass.
“Oh my God, you taste good,” he said when he raised his head for breath.
“You, too,” she panted. “I—I can’t believe I’m dong this, doing this in here. I mean
I’ve never…” she gasped for breath as he struck a path with his lips along her jaw, then
unbuttoned her top three buttons to lick her neck and nibble the swell of her breast.
“I’ve never, with anyone like you. Do you know what you do to me?” he whispered,
and it shocked the hell out of him to realize that he meant it. He never had done
something like this with someone like her. Someone who defined sexiness and class and
desire. It changed the experience from one of lust to something more, though what,
exactly, he’d think about later. Right now all he wanted was to feel her on him and then
him inside her.
He placed her hand over his cock, which fairly jumped with excitement. “See?”
Pushing and pulling, he used her hand to stroke the ridge straining to be released from his
slacks. “I want you, want to be inside you. I’ve never wanted any woman in my life like I
want you right now. Can I…? Do you want me, too?”
Her breath was rapid. He had the feeling that if he didn’t hold her up she’d collapse,
so he kept his arm tight around her waist and close against him. On her own, she
squeezed him, making the friction from her strokes impossible to bear much longer. She
nodded against his chest.
“Yes? Yes you want me?”
She nodded again, then looked up at him with tears shimmering in her eyes. That
stopped him cold. Taking her hand off his shaft, he grasped for control to keep from
taking her, in spite of the tears. Instead, he kissed each finger and laid her hand over his
heart, hoping she felt more than the simple beat that he knew to be fast and hard.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to force you into anything.”
Shaking her head, she stared at him in amazement. “You don’t understand. It’s too
much, and so fast—but this feels right. Since I first saw you I’ve felt like we’ve known
each other, like there was something between us that could only come with…” She
stopped, then dropped her eyes as well as her voice. “What I started to say sounds stupid.
Anyway, I’m just being emotional. I don’t want to stop.” Stepping away enough to reach
his belt, she pulled it loose, then unfastened and unzipped his slacks. In one move, she
eased slacks and briefs down his thighs and squatted.
Bill braced his hands against the stall walls as she swirled her tongue over the head
of his dick before taking the whole mushroom-shaped bulb in her mouth. Pre-cum mixed
with saliva and served to lubricate her way. Her head pushed forward, taking more of him
in. One of her hands grasped the base of his shaft, where it waited to meet her questing
mouth. The other stroked and squeezed his balls until he thought he’d shout from the
pleasure. He did, in fact, moan and felt her mouth quiver on his cock, as though she were
trying not to smile.
Dropping a hand to her head, he sought to guide her, or at least hold her while his
hips moved involuntarily back and forth, into her hot, wet mouth and out, but there was
no need. She was a master at what she did and needed no guidance. Still, he felt the need
for contact with her, and her head was all he cold reach, so he held on for his dear life.
With each pass along his length, her tongue never stopped moving. She scraped him
tenderly with her teeth, providing the barest hint of pain before her tongue rasped over
the spot and her lips smoothed it. He’d never been given head like this before, and feared
he never would again unless he formed a relationship with this woman, and that was just
what he intended to do.
“I can’t hold back any longer,” he whispered. “I can’t…”
At that moment, the door to the bathroom opened and the rustling sound of clothing
sounded. Bill held his breath and looked down at the woman holding his dick in her
mouth. Summer-green eyes peered up at him just above the place where his cock
disappeared in her mouth. He barely suppressed a groan, and her shoulders shook in her
attempt to keep from laughing. She’d stopped moving but she swished her tongue across
him. He literally jumped in her mouth.
A toilet flushed, a stall door banged against the wall as the woman exited. Then
water ran and turned off. The stranger hummed for a few seconds before finally the door
opened again and closed on a soft whoosh.
The moment his companion’s lips compressed on his shaft and she moved, he
erupted, shooting streams of semen in her mouth and down her throat. Her head never
stopped its thrust and withdrawal, although her strokes were short. It felt like hours