Efrem Page 5

  * * * *

  When they finally left the water for the last time, Lisa was exuberant. “Surfing is much better than swimming when you do it right. Ride the wave all the way to the beach and your hair doesn’t even get wet!”

  “I told you. And your sense of balance is fantastic! I never saw anyone take to the board so fast.”

  “That’s from horseback riding. You need balance and strong legs to do that, too. Maybe you’d like to try it someday?” For, even though Efrem had petted a few of the horses and let them lip apple slices from his hands, he hadn’t ridden one yet. He’d said he would try, but Lisa wasn’t one to count her foals before they dropped. Right now it was getting dark and they had a dinner date. “With your sense of balance from surfing, you’d be a natural.” She said this with her back to him so he wouldn’t see her smile.

  “You’re smiling, aren’t you?”

  Wiping the evidence from her face, she turned. “No, of course not.”

  But she grinned then shrieked when he scooped her up and pretended to throw her back in the water.

  “Let’s rinse off and eat. I’m starved.” Lisa followed Efrem to the boardwalk and a fresh water rinse. The shallow groove that marked his spine was straight and deep. His muscles clenched and released with each step he took. Lisa stumbled over the first step to the boardwalk.

  “Watch it,” Efrem said, holding out his hand. She took it and stepped under the outdoor shower. They were completely alone since it was so late in the day, and they splashed each other while they rinsed off. Efrem headed back to the truck with a promise to return with the food. Lisa went back to the dune line where she pulled an old blanket out of her beach bag and pulled on a cover-up. Efrem walked toward her. His muscled legs pumped in a smooth motion but the cooler hid the stomach action. How disappointing is that?

  “What are you staring at?” Efrem asked. “Is my zipper open?”

  “Your trunks don’t have a zipper.”

  He raised an eyebrow and Lisa grimaced. “You’re very observant.”

  “I left myself open for that. Ha-ha.”

  “I’ll forgive you if you help me serve this food.” He put the cooler down and flipped open the lid.

  “This,” Lisa explained, “is the best nourishment after a day of hard surfing.”

  “What is it?” Efrem dropped to his knees beside her. “I’ll eat anything.”

  “Peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches.” She kept her face averted as she put the plastic storage container on the blanket. “And this is Gatorade. Naturally.” She peeked through her lashes and fell on her side laughing at Efrem’s comically unhappy face. “You said you’d eat anything.” She squealed when he caught and hooked her ankle to keep her from scrambling away.

  “What is it?” He had a devilish look in his eye. “Tell me or I’ll be forced to make you confess.”

  She laughed. “Ooh, I’m so scared.”

  He dug his fingers into her ribs and together they rolled around on the blanket.

  “I give! It’s chicken. Fried chicken.” He stopped the tickling, but he didn’t look convinced. “I swear. Let me up and I’ll prove it.”

  He kept an arm around her stomach—which only postponed dinner more—while she got back on her knees and pried open the plastic lid to reveal the crispy fried chicken she’d made that morning. Satisfied, he let her go and they both devoured the food. Efrem sighed with satisfaction over the imported beer she’d packed for him and gallantly held the bottle to her lips for her to taste. Inevitably, some of it missed and dribbled over her chin and down her neck. As if mesmerized, Efrem stared at the path the golden liquid made on its way between her breasts. He offered her another taste—but most of it went the way of the previous taste.

  This time it was Efrem’s tongue that followed the shiny wet path until his face was buried between her breasts. Her top came off and the cover up settled around her hips.

  “Someone might see us,” she mumbled.

  Efrem made a noise in his throat. He stood up, pulled her to her feet and strode toward the dune line. He hesitated then grabbed his surfboard and plunged ahead.

  “You can’t go in there,” she whispered fiercely while clambering up the dune and clutching her cover up against her breasts. “The dunes are protected.”

  He let out a bark of laughter. “Don’t worry too much, Miss Alayne. I’m not going to do anything to the dunes.” They crossed the first dune and descended into a natural low spot. They couldn’t see the ocean or the boardwalk. Scrawny sea grapes bobbed in the evening breeze and the whip-like grasses danced in the air around them. She was aware of their surroundings but stayed focused on the look in Efrem’s eyes as he watched her in the moonlight. She dropped the cover-up and slid out of her bikini bottoms.

  Efrem put his board down, wet his whole finger in his mouth, cupped her and slid it between her labia. Another moment and he wouldn’t have had to do that much more. He slipped his suit off. They dropped to the sand, but Efrem laid her out on his board.

  It was her turn to laugh when Efrem, staring at her spread out on the board, said, “I’ll never think of Sex Wax the same way again.”

  Straddling the board he pressed a hand flat on her stomach and nudged her legs apart with his knees. His erection pointed at her and he watched as he moved one finger in, then out, two fingers in, then out. Lifting his hand from her stomach, he spread her lips open and lightly pinched her clitoris between his slick fingers.

  She squirmed. Moaned.

  Efrem bent and whipped his tongue around and around that tangled bundle of nerves, once, twice, ten times.

  She bucked.

  Slowing his tongue—but not releasing her—he thrust his fingers in and out of her, mimicking the act of love. She came twice before he let her go and, by then, his hips were straining forward, the head of his penis seeking the dark wet warmth of home.

  Eased by Lisa’s wetness, he slid into her but remained resting on his heels. His butt cheeks grazed the waxed board. Again he watched while he held her legs wide open¸ her feet at his shoulder level. The base of his cock pressed at her entrance, seated as deeply as possible. He watched as her pussy tightened around his dick, milking him without moving her hips. He felt sweat break out on his brow. Restraint and patience were not his strong suit where she was concerned.

  “Please,” she whispered and clenched his cock with her vaginal walls.

  He groaned as she tried to pump her hips. She didn’t succeed, but it drove him to pull out of her, slowly, watching as his dick withdrew covered with her juices. He stopped before the head appeared.

  “What do you want?” he asked, his voice deep and raspy with passion.

  “You. Just you. Come here. Come to me.” A delicate but strong hand reached for him, but he ignored it.

  At last. Here’s a woman I understand, Lisa Alayne. She wants me. To love her, protect, help her. And I want her.

  He smiled as he pushed inside her again, watching every inch disappear into her slick, swollen channel. Then he was pumping rhythmically. His hips rotated right going in, left as he pulled out. At each change of angle she whimpered and lifted her hips more. The wet, sucking sounds of their lovemaking jangled his nerves. Picking up speed and adjusting his angle, he made his nuts slap her on the ass hovering in the air over his board.

  I’m going to bronze this board.

  He released her ankles and grabbed the sleek globes of her ass. When she was on the verge of coming again, he leaned over and let his dick drag across her clitoris. She exploded, flooding him to his pubic bone. He returned the favor.

  * * * *

  She would have been satisfied with another fast-food run like their after-sex dinner the day they spent at the beach. Sand between her butt cheeks notwithstanding, she had enjoyed every minute. But no, the man wanted to take her to a nice place for dinner. The king of burgers and the clown of kid’s meals were nice enough for her. But Lisa had to admit, the man had style.

  Efrem showed up
in charcoal-gray slacks, light-gray shirt, and a black satin vest. In honor of her profession he wore brand new, shiny black cowboy boots. The vest showed off his broad chest and shoulders, tapering in to emphasize a narrow waist. Her heart beat take-me-take-me-take-me inside her chest, making the filmy material of her new dress flutter ever so slightly.

  “Whew! You look good enough to eat.”

  He laughed and hooked an arm tight around her waist. “That’s later, darling.”

  “Promise?”

  She turned to catch his eye and share the joke. But there was nothing amusing about the look they shared. Afraid of the intensity of that look, she slipped from his grasp and headed out the door. She distinctly heard, but chose not to acknowledge, “Coward.”

  He stepped around her and held the car door for her. Tucking in her legs, she let him close the door.

  “Whew,” she said again once she was alone in the car. She took a deep breath and managed to greet him with a smile as he got in and started the engine. The knowing look he gave her said a lot, but she didn’t respond.

  The Shack was situated on the banks of the Indian River Lagoon. Moonlight tipped the gentle waves, which didn’t distract the large crane standing motionless in the water. He stared at the water with one gimlet eye, the other turned toward the dark sky. She figured they’d be eating long before the crane.

  Along with their drinks came easy conversation. They talked about things people do when they’re getting to know each other.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “What about college?”

  “What brought you to Florida?”

  “Who’s Trey?”

  She chuckled. “You’re not going to let me slide on that one, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  She sighed. “Okay, the short version.”

  “Unless I have questions.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she said, “You’re getting pretty demanding all of a sudden.”

  He narrowed his own eyes. “Not any more than when you’re lying under—”

  “To start with, Trey is Dan’s nephew.”

  He chuckled. “That I know.”

  “Stanley Hightower is a lifelong friend of my grandfather. He’s the executor of the will which put him in charge of the ranch until I turn thirty.”

  “But you’ve been working the ranch since your grandfather died, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. Uncle Stanley doesn’t even like getting his shoes dusty never mind covered with…well, you know.”

  He grinned. “I do know. First hand.”

  She smiled and reached across the table for his hand. He turned his palm up and accepted her touch. “At least you had a soft landing place.”

  “Cost me a pair of hundred-dollar jeans.”

  “I told you to buy Levis.” Smiling, she scratched a pattern on her napkin. “Thank you. You’ve been a big help.”

  “What did I help you with?”

  Studying the pattern she was tracing on her linen napkin, she debated how much to say. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

  “Lisa. Look at me.”

  She lifted her gaze, wondering if he was going to push her.

  “Who, or what, was Trey to you?”

  He’s gonna push. How much to tell.

  “Tell me everything.”

  She repressed a shiver. Everything would take hours.

  “Trey and I were lovers.” There, get it all out in the open.

  “I know that.”

  Startled, she lifted her eyes to his. “How do you know that?”

  “There’s hurt in your eyes whenever you mention his name. I figured he broke your heart, so you must have been lovers at some level.”

  “You’re right.” She couldn’t look at him while she talked, so she stared at the big crane still posing in the water. “Trey said he loved me. And I loved him. At least I thought I did.” Stop right there. “Anyway, he was the restless type. A few weeks on the ranch and he had to take off for a week or two. To shake out the willies, he said.” She rolled her eyes. “Like I believed that.”

  Problem was, she had believed it. Until I found that picture of two big-haired blondes showing off their silicone…with Trey attached.

  “What did he do?”

  “Hmm,” she said, turning to look at Efrem. His eyes were focused intently on her. She couldn’t remember if Trey had ever looked at her that way. The rodeo results maybe, but not me. This man, sitting across from her with a tenderness she had trouble recognizing, always seemed to be focused on her, even in the middle of something else. Like when she had confronted Dan. Efrem had followed her, stood beside her, stepped in front of her when he thought Dan would actually lay hands on her.

  “What did he do besides betray you to his uncle?”

  “He cheated on me.”

  One of Efrem’s black eyebrows rose. She’d never seen it move independently before and was fascinated.

  “Once?” he asked.

  “Doubt it.”

  “Did you catch him?”

  “Kind of. I found pictures someone had taken of him and two chesty blondes.”

  “Geez, what an asshole.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  He scoffed. “For what? Calling an asshole an asshole?”

  Their combined laughter covered the approach of a distinguished gentleman who looked remarkably like Colonel Sanders of fried chicken fame.

  “Lisa? It’s wonderful to hear you laugh again.”

  “Uncle Stanley!” She got to her feet and, gentleman that he was, so did Efrem. She gave the old man a soft hug conscious of age and arthritis.

  “Efrem, I’d like you to meet Stanley Hightower. Uncle Stanley, this is Efrem Mantz, the computer genius I told you about.”

  “Mr. Hightower. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “I hope it was complimentary.” He laughed, making the lines around his eyes deepen with amusement.

  “Every bit of it, sir.” They shook hands.

  “I’ve heard a good bit about you, too, son.”

  “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at Lisa.

  “I only told him about the computers.” Her face flamed as she realized what she’d admitted.

  Efrem chuckled, and Hightower covered a laugh by clearing his throat.

  “I was going to call you tomorrow, Lisa,” Uncle Stanley said. “I need to speak to you about the will.”

  “I’ll call and set up an appointment.”

  “No, just come by the office first thing.”

  “I’m in no hurry to finish off the paperwork.”

  “It’s not about the ranch ownership paperwork. Something has come up.”

  “What is it, Uncle Stanley?”

  He looked around the restaurant. The surrounding tables were mostly empty. “I’d rather do this at my office but…”

  “Please, Uncle Stanley. I won’t sleep a wink knowing something’s wrong.”

  “There’s a challenge to the will.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Dan Morris.”

  A laugh burbled up her throat. “He’s got nothing to challenge the will with.” The deadly serious look on Uncle Stanley’s lined face squashed her laughter flat. “Does he?”

  “That’s for the court to decide. But he does have witnesses that say your grandfather promised him half the ranch.”

  Dread filled her stomach. “But that’s ridiculous. Granddad would never have said anything like that.”

  “I agree.”

  “Who are the witnesses?” Efrem asked.

  Uncle Stanley looked at Efrem, then back to her. She didn’t like that one bit.

  “Trey Adams…”

  She scoffed at that.

  “Bob Lynch…”

  “Bob who owns the feed and seed in St. Cloud? That’s easy to understand. The ranch owes him money.”

  “And Ben Khouli.”

  Shock didn’t cover what she felt. “Ben Khouli? Why would he…” She broke off knowing the ans
wer.

  “What?” Efrem asked. “Does the ranch owe him money too?”

  Forcing a smile she said, “I’ll fill you in later.” The last thing she wanted to get into was how Dan had purchased feed and supplies without telling her. The two checks—one to Lynch, one to Khouli—had bounced. And at $4,000 and $5,500 respectively it was a big deal. Both agreed not to prosecute as long as she paid off what she owed. She had thought the incident was behind her. Obviously, she’d been wrong.

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Uncle Stanley said. “We’ll fight and we’ll win.”

  Seeing the edges of her dream, of owning the ranch outright, running a successful business—never mind the horses themselves—fade around the edges, she sighed. “Thanks, Uncle Stanley. I’ll meet you at your office tomorrow first thing in the morning.”

  “Good.” He gently touched the side of her face. “We’ll keep your ranch.” He headed for a table where his companions were already seated.

  Some secrets were necessary.

  “Have a seat,” Efrem said, holding her chair.

  She sat and watched as the crane struck like lightning at his fresh fish dinner. He lifted his head, flopping fish clutched in his beak, and took to the air. His large wings flapped in tandem with the struggles of the dying fish.

  “Wow.”

  “Huh?”

  “That big bird. He caught a fish.”

  A moment of silence, then she laughed. Out loud. Uncle Stanley glanced over and smiled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

  “Okay. But you have to tell me what was so funny about the bird.”

  Laughing again, she took his arm and let him lead her out.

  Chapter Six

  The smell of her skin drove him crazy. The scent drove his hormones into overdrive, attack mode.

  So he attacked her. He braceleted her hands behind her back and dragged his open mouth along her collarbone while tugging at her clothes. She groaned and twisted, trying to reach his mouth. He let her. Fused together at their lips, moaning for more contact, he let her hands go and finished taking off her clothes. A wisp of cool air—her room was very well air-conditioned—made him lift his head. His shirt was gone.