Read an Excerpt
Meat
By Opal Carew St. Martin's Press
Copyright © 2016 Opal Carew
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-250-11856-1
CHAPTER 1
Oh, God, I'm going to miss my flight!
Rebecca raced from the gate, trying to dodge past the slower passengers ahead of her. The flight from Florida to O'Hare was delayed, and now she had to get across the terminal to catch her flight to Minneapolis, but she had little chance of achieving that goal if she didn't run.
She saw an opening in the crowd and surged through, then raced forward, the wheels of her carry-on clattering along the hard floor. She darted to the right to get past a group of six people walking together and turned a corner.
Wham!
She ran right into someone. Her eyes widened as her body bounced back, throwing her off balance. A strong arm encircled her waist, stopping her from falling flat on her ass.
She glanced up to see the most gorgeous pair of eyes she'd ever seen. Cerulean blue with darker blue rims and tiny speckles of gold, like stardust. Set in the most masculine, sexy face, with a square jaw dusted with a shadow of whiskers, high cheekbones, full lips ... and eyebrows arched up quizzically. His dark brown hair was cropped very short all over.
"Oh, um ... I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I have to make my connection and I'm late."
He smiled, and the handsome-scale on that face shot up several notches.
"That's all right," he said in a deep voice that was smooth as silk.
She continued staring at him, a little stunned, then realized his arm was still around her. Their bodies pressed close.
And she liked it.
She cleared her throat and drew back. Then her left heel dropped from under her and she started to tumble backward. He caught her again before she went down.
"Are you all right?"
"Damn it. Yes, but the heel's broken on my shoe."
She eased away from him again, rather wishing she didn't have to. She leaned down and snapped the heel off the rest of the way.
"You'll probably be okay making your connection," he said. "With the bad weather, a lot of flights are delayed."
"Really? I hope so. I really don't want to spend the night in the airport. It's the last flight out, and I can't afford to take a hotel room for the night."
Why was she telling him that? He was just a stranger who'd stopped the crazy woman who'd run into him from falling on her butt. He probably wanted to get off to his home, or to whatever flight he was here to catch.
"There's a display just down here," he said. "I was just going to check my flight. Why don't I give you a hand?"
He slid his arm around her waist.
She knew she could walk on her own, but she rather liked him looking out for her. The feel of his warm, masculine body so close, his strong arm around her, felt wonderful. She knew part of it was because she was so vulnerable right now. So off-kilter because of all that had happened. Having someone look out for her was very ... welcome.
She walked with him past the stores and restaurants until they came to the video display with all the flights listed. She glanced up and found her flight number. Sure enough, it had been delayed about an hour.
"Thank heavens. I still have time," she said.
"Would you like me to walk you to your gate?"
She gazed up at his smiling face. She didn't know anything about this man — except that instead of yelling at her when she'd physically collided with him, he was kind and helpful, which in itself was saying a lot — but she knew she liked him. And trusted him. It was just a feeling, but it was undeniable.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, and, from the feel of his arms when he'd caught her, there was a lot of muscle under that shirt. Of course, just looking at him, she could see it was true. He didn't wear a coat — it was tucked over his carry-on — and the fabric of his light blue shirt was stretched taut over his broad chest and thick arms.
Then there was that gorgeous face ... and those heart-meltingly warm eyes of his.
Just being close to him set her hormones simmering. Was the attraction mutual?
"Thank you. You've been very kind, but I have another pair of shoes in my carry-on and I'm going to take some time to freshen up before the flight."
She stuck out her hand. "I hope the rest of your travels go well."
He took her hand, his big fingers enveloping hers. His handshake was firm. Solid. She could just feel he was someone she could depend on.
"And you. I hope we meet again."
His eyes glittered with his smile, and she wished she could just accept his offer and let him walk her to her gate. But as much as she'd like to get to know him, what was the point? They were two travelers crossing paths between flights. It's not like they'd have a future together.
And she didn't really feel like chatting.
She nodded, then drew her hand away and, limping on her broken shoe, headed to the ladies' room she'd seen back the way they'd come.
Once in the bathroom, she set her suitcase on the counter in front of the mirrors, then unzipped the case and pulled out her sneakers. If she was going to wear those, she might as well get out of her black suit and into something more comfortable. She slipped off her coat and pulled out her jeans and cozy sweater, then slipped the shoes on and tied them up. She unfastened the clip holding her hair up, letting her long, dark hair tumble in waves around her shoulders, and ran a brush though it.
Feeling much more stable, and actually glad to be out of the black high-heeled pumps, she tossed her coat over the handle of her case and walked back into the terminal, then headed for the gate.
Rex headed to his gate, his mind still on the beautiful young woman who'd run smack into him. He wished she'd taken him up on his offer to see her to her gate. They could have stopped and talked, maybe gone for dinner, since he fully expected his flight to Minneapolis to be delayed again. Maybe even canceled, and then ... what possibilities, if he'd only had a chance to get to know her a little ...
With her hair pinned up, the black suit he'd seen under her open coat, and her simple black pumps, she looked like a present he'd love to unwrap. Often, a conservative woman like her was the wildest in bed.
He sure would love to find out.
He arrived at the waiting area for his gate and sat down. The snow was still falling heavily outside. He pulled out his book and started to read. It was an actual old-school print copy. He liked the tactile feel of a book in his hands. The smell of the paper. The sound of the pages turning. He enjoyed engaging all of his senses as much as possible in anything he did.
A while later, he glanced up to see a young woman pass by, with long, dark hair that flowed past her shoulders in shiny waves, snug jeans that showed off her delightfully round ass, and a sweater that looked heavy enough to be warm, but was snug enough to show off her full breasts.
She continued walking to the outskirts of the sitting area, finding a short row of three chairs that was empty. She sat down and set her carryon and coat on the middle chair.
He recognized that coat and suitcase. She was the whirlwind who'd run into him.
As he watched her, he felt a yearning build within him. To glide his fingers through her silky hair and breathe in the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms he'd detected earlier. To feel the soft yarn of her sweater under his fingertips. To run his hands over the softness beneath the sweater.
Damn it, his body was hardening just thinking about it.
He drew in a calming breath. He'd been highly focused on his new venture for the past few weeks, putting aside his sexual needs until things were more settled. But clearly that wasn't the best approach, since all he could think of right now was getting that woman alone and in his bed. The fact that her heart-shaped lips looked sweet and sensual — and eminently kissable — and that her brown eyes were large and doelike, giving her a charming innocence, just amplified his desire.
But he did not do one-night stands. He liked to spend time getting to know a woman. To understand her and discover what she enjoyed.
And to ensure she would be amenable to his particular type of sexual predilection.
She pulled out her phone and flicked her finger across the screen.
He fought his growing urge to go and talk to her, knowing he should probably let it go. Why torture himself — specifically his raging hormones — being near her when he wouldn't be doing anything about it? Even though they were both going to Minneapolis, he wouldn't have time to see her for a couple of weeks, and he didn't know how long he'd be staying in the city after that.
But as he watched her read from her phone, he saw her eyes shimmer and he was sure she was close to tears. He stood up, grabbed the handle of his bag, and headed toward her.
CHAPTER 2
Rebecca read the e-mail from her younger sister, Allie, thanking her for all the support she'd given her and their other sister, Gina, while Rebecca had been home visiting. While they'd spent long days and nights at the hospital. Going in shifts.
Watching their aunt die.
Rebecca had organized everyone — her sisters, cousins, and other aunts and uncles — so that Auntie Gail had several people by her bedside every hour. She'd even taken the lead with Auntie Gail's own children, who'd been struggling to keep it together. They had always looked to Rebecca as they would an older sister, ever since they were children, Rebecca being the oldest of the children in the two families.
She'd organized people to look in on them and help with meals and housework during the long two-week ordeal of their losing their mother.
Rebecca had been their rock, and through it all had not shed a tear. She'd stayed strong so they didn't have to.
But now, here, alone in this airport terminal, so far from both her new home and her old home ... she didn't feel strong. The touching words of the minister at the funeral this morning ... of the experiences everyone had shared of their loving aunt — the woman who had practically raised Rebecca and her sisters after their mother died when Rebecca was nine years old — all came tumbling back to her now.
She couldn't help herself. As the tears welled in her eyes, she clicked on the link for the memorial page, showing the picture of her beautiful aunt at the top. She hesitated, knowing if she browsed through the pictures posted on the site now, she'd start blubbering like a fool.
"Is everything all right?"
CHAPTER 3
Rebecca glanced up at the familiar voice. The man she'd bumped into earlier. The handsome and very kind man who'd been so nice to her.
She found herself shaking her head.
His compassionate blue eyes filled with concern, and he shifted her bag and coat to the next chair and sat down beside her.
"Tell me."
She hesitated, drawing in a slow breath.
Then it happened. All the pain she'd kept bottled up ... all the tears she'd left unshed ... flooded to the surface. To her horror, she felt droplets stream down her cheek and fall onto her sweater.
She turned her head away and tried to wipe them away with her hand, but he presented her with a tissue.
Then he slid his arm around her.
She'd never felt so in need of a shoulder to cry on. She rested her head against his broad chest and just let go.
He drew her in closer and stroked her hair. She was worried that others must be staring at her, but then realized that with the way he'd positioned his body, and with them facing the window, probably no one even noticed.
He slid his other arm around her, too, his chin resting on the crown of her head. Anyone watching would probably just think she was napping.
She let the tears fall, allowing her sorrow its release. But after a few minutes, even though the tears faded, the pain was still there, searing her heart. She continued leaning against his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat.
It was nice like this. In his big, strong arms. Feeling protected.
Her hand was resting on his shirt, and she realized she'd crumpled the fabric in her hand. She drew away a little and saw that she'd drenched his blue cotton shirt. He handed her another tissue, but instead of drying her eyes, she patted his shirt with it.
He captured her hand and drew the tissue from her fingers, then gently wiped her eyes.
"Don't worry about my shirt."
She gazed up at him, then bit her lip and nodded.
She reached for her purse and took out her compact. Her eyes were red and puffy. Great — here she was sitting beside this sexy, attractive man and she looked like a bug-eyed monster. Not that it really mattered after colliding with him on their first encounter and blubbering all over him on the second.
"The flight's been delayed again," he said. "Apparently, the plane hasn't arrived yet. I suspect we'll be waiting a couple of hours. Why don't I take you to dinner and we can talk about what's bothering you?"
"But I look a mess."
He smiled. "Actually, you look beautiful."
At the sincere look in his warm eyes, she almost believed him.
"Shall we?" He stood up and offered his hand.
She took it and stood up, too.
"My name's Rex, by the way," he said as he put his bag on top of her carry-on. Then he laid her coat on top and grabbed the handle.
"Hi." She smiled. "I'm Rebecca."
She grabbed her purse and he led her through the terminal, still holding her hand.
It felt good around hers.
He led her to an upscale steak house and had them seated in a quiet corner. He ordered a bottle of wine — something French — telling the waitress they'd order after she brought the wine. Once she was gone, he took Rebecca's hands in his.
"Now, tell me."
She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I don't usually burst into tears in the middle of an airport. Or sob all over a stranger."
"No need to apologize. Just tell me what upset you. Did you receive some bad news?"
She shook her head. "No, the bad news came a few weeks ago, when I found out my aunt was dying. She had bone cancer and the doctors told the family she only had about four weeks or so. I went to visit her right away, planning on making several visits over the following
month ..." Her lip started to quiver. "But when I saw her ... I knew ... it wouldn't be long." She shook her head. "I had to stay. I'm lucky my boss was so wonderfully understanding. He gave me the time off, and he even insisted I take another week off when I get back."
And she knew she needed it. She hadn't been sure before, thinking that maybe getting back to work would be the best thing for her. But what had just happened made it very clear that wasn't the best choice. She'd spent all her energy being there for everyone else. The next week would allow her time to grieve on her own terms.
"The funeral was this morning and ..." Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, not really seeing them. "I guess it's all just sinking in now."
He squeezed her hands. "I'm sorry for your loss." His kind eyes were filled with compassion. "I wish there was more I could say."
"No, that's okay. I really appreciate what you did ... I mean, letting me cry all over your shirt and all."
He smiled. "Any time."
The waitress arrived with two stemmed glasses and the bottle of wine. He released her hands as the waitress filled the glasses.
Rebecca took a sip. Although she managed a restaurant, she didn't know much about wine. She didn't have to, really, because in the hotel she worked at, the chef decided the wine they carried on the menu and made recommendations for which wines went well with each meal so her staff could offer the best advice to their customers.
What she did know was that this wine was spectacularly delightful.
She sipped again. "This was a wonderful choice."
"I like it. And it's a perfect choice with the Steak Florence, which is a specialty here. They rub a New York sirloin with pink Himalayan salt and freshly ground pepper, cook it exactly to your liking, then serve it with a cream sauce made with chanterelle mushrooms. Have you ever tried them?"
She shook her head.
He smiled, and his eyes lit up. "Ah, then you're in for a real treat. They are the most delectable of all mushrooms." He looked wistful as he raised his hand to his face and rubbed his fingertips together while breathing in, as if experiencing some wonderful aroma. "They have a fruity smell ... like apricots ... and a mildly peppery taste."
"That sounds wonderful. You know a lot about food."
"I enjoy gourmet cooking."
"A man who cooks. You'll be a wonderful catch for some lucky woman." Her eyes widened in horror. Had she actually said that? "I mean, not that you want to be caught."
He rested his hand on hers and laughed. "I don't mind the idea of being caught ... if it's by the right woman."
At that moment, the waitress showed up and asked if they were ready to order.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Meat by Opal Carew. Copyright © 2016 Opal Carew. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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