Under different circumstances Victoria would have luxuriated in the black satin sheets on the king size bed. But as the sky glowed a tangerine sunrise, the reality of the situation lay naked in the morning light. She had spent a night of passion with a man she had met in The Clouds Rooftop Bar, and now she was alone in his bed. Abandoned? A one night stand?

A knock at the door interrupted the anxiety attack. Andrew pushed the door open with his bare foot and stepped into the bedroom. “Hey there, Sleepyhead, I made breakfast. I had no idea what you might like, so I took a chance on a Greek omelette, bagel, orange juice and coffee.”
“Mmmmm. I could go for a little breakfast.” Victoria eyed the offering. “ Wow! You made this omelette? Mine always end up scrambled.”
“Well, cooking is my hobby. I’m pretty good in the kitchen, if I may say so.”

And better than pretty good in the bedroom, Victoria thought as she fluffed up the pillows and reached for the breakfast tray.

Andrew slid in next to her and devoured his half of the omelette before she had even taken a bite. He caught Victoria’s astonished sideways glance, shrugged his broad shoulders and grinned. “What can I say? I cook. I eat. I know what I like. I don’t mess around.”

Victoria took a minute to savor the taste of spinach, and feta cheese as she considered the ‘I don’t mess around’ statement. And she took another minute to drink in the handsomeness of the man beside her. A stranger, yet their intimate encounter in this bed on these black satin sheets had been the stuff of romance novels. She confessed, “I don’t cook much. I don’t eat much. I’m terrible at making decisions. I try to make everyone happy. I’m the Billy Joel song; you know the one about too high or too low, I go to extremes?”

Andrew nodded his head slowly and lifted Victoria’s face with a finger under her chin so she had to look him in the eyes. Oh, those deep sea eyes just melted her heart and soul. Please, please, please, don’t let this be a big mistake, she thought.

“So, just how extreme was last night?”

Victoria exhaled and closed her eyes. “The most extreme ever. The most daring, risky thing ever in my forty years.” She opened her eyes and focused on Andrew. “I’m tired of being alone. I told you my story last night. Now, I want someone to take me to dinner, take me hiking, kayaking, adventuring, and . . . someone to stay home with, and work in the yard with, walk the dog with, go nowhere with-”

“Woah, there, girl, that’s a lot of togetherness.”

“Yeah, I know. I was fine until I started reading novels about this place in the California mountains. All the characters are desperate to get away from troubles and they move to this town and they walk into the only bar and immediately fall in love with the most gorgeous guy or woman. They have amazing sex, get married, live happily. Those books messed with my mind and made me want more.”

“And you seriously left the bar with me? Like a scene from a novel?” Andrew shook his head. “Well, I’m not much for reading romance novels.”

Victoria felt her heart squeeze and her high hopes plunge off The Cloud Rooftop. She was sure Andrew’s next words would be, ‘It was fun. See ya around,’ and she hoped she wouldn’t cry in her orange juice.

“I’m more of a numbers kind of guy.” Andrew spoke deliberately. “ Look, I’m out of town on business for the next two weeks. If you give me your number, I’ll call. You can read me a few pages from that California novel you like.” He was teasing now, and Victoria smiled. Andrew felt his high hopes soar. He’d looked far too long for a woman in his league, and this could be the one.

“Is it ok if I don’t drink the coffee? I have never acquired a taste.” Andrew’s answer was a long, slow kiss. “I’ll take that as yes,” she whispered.

Andrew’s voice was husky. “You better. Because when I get back, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, no coffee included. And . . . I think there’s more here than black satin sheets.”
Victoria wanted to answer, but Andrew was kissing her again, and it was luxurious.

2 thoughts on “Black Satin Sheets by Lorraine Caramanna

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