A Few More Nights (Slice of Life) Read online

  Slice of Life Series Book 5

  Davonshire House Publishing

  PO Box 9716

  Augusta, GA 30916

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales to persons, living or dead, are entirely a coincidence.

  © 2013 Olivia Gaines

  Editor: Patriotic Poodle Productions, Summerville, SC

  Proofreader: Amanda Beaty Chambers, http://bit.ly/NdyHOs

  Cover: http://koougraphics.net/

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address, Davonshire House Publishing, PO Box 9716, Augusta, GA 30916.

  ISBN-13: 978-0615841663

  ISBN-10: 061584166X

  Printed in the United States of America

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 10 9 8

  First Davonshire House Publishing July 2013.

  What Readers Have Said

  Letter to My Mother

  I read “Letter to My Mother..." tonight. Excellent! …. It had me spellbound from the beginning! I thought I'd read a few pages, then finish in a day or two---but I couldn't put it down! And the length was perfect! Looking forward to reading the others! – Dorothy Wheeler Johnson

  I must say, I never get a chance to sit down and read any other books except the bible. I am now reading a letter to my mother which has captivated my attention until I just want to sit home and read this book on Kindle and my tablet. I am in tears. - Dellavon McCurdy

  Lizzie’s Vengeance

  I love the fast pace of your story line, getting to the points with enough detail to describe, and the words painted a picture in my mind then moved on … – Dora James

  Two Nights in Vegas

  I'm glad I got this wonderful short read. I WAS BREATHLESS and loved this so much I hope to read more about Marc and Nadine. I so loved this thanks for making me hot and bothered Olivia Gaines! – Sharon Bell

  I love it. It was raw sexual, hot and tantalizing to the imagination. Can't wait to read what happens with the second chapter of Nadine and the mystery man. – Dora James

  The Perfect Man?

  The "I just don't have time to read" excuse is null and void now. Olivia Gaines writes for the busy reader. She'll keep you engaged from cover to cover without the extra fluff. – Ruebena Thomas

  DEDICATION

  For Ruebena, thank you for being a bibliophile.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To all the fans, friends and supporters of the dream as well as the Facebook community of writers who keep me focused, inspired and moving forward.

  Write On!

  Table of Contents

  Let’s fall in love…………..

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter One

  This was not real. It could not be real. Nadine sat in her car sweating profusely, as if she were pinned under a heat lamp. The air conditioner was on full blast, but she felt cold, scared, and unable to move. The paper bag which had held some fruit from the market had now become a breathing apparatus to slow the hyperventilating which was threatening to rob her of all oxygen. Her mother’s words flashed before her eyes, “What is done in the dark, always comes to light.”

  The dark deeds she had performed for two nights in Las Vegas had just walked into her office and bit her on the ass. Well, he also bit her on the ass in Las Vegas too, but damn it, he was now standing in her office! He was her boss’s brother, and he now knew her name, where she worked, and was going to tell her boss that she was a nasty little woman. Breathe, breathe, breathe, slowly, Nadine, inhale, exhale, slowly, you can do this. Nadine wasn’t sure which was worse, the feeling of being outed as an undercover skank or the realization that her panties were equally as wet as her body at the sight of that man. She yelled at her crotch, “You skanky traitor, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

  The bag, now on the seat, became a companion that she was chatting with as she exited the parking structure, made a right onto La Brea and headed towards Sunset. Within minutes she had reached the elementary school and pulled into the lot. Cell phone in hand, she punched in the numbers to call her best friend. Bena answered on the third ring, unable to decipher what Nadine was saying, until she screamed she was sitting in the parking lot.

  Minutes later, Bena exited the side door after asking her teaching assistant to keep an eye on the class, climbed in the car, and took a good look at her usually well-composed friend. “What happened to you? Your hair is a mess, your skin is ashen, and you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

  Nadine started to cry, “I have, and it just walked into my office.” Bena allowed her friend to blubber for a minute then asked what happened. Nadine explained the whole sordid affair. She started with the excitement which had caused her to leave town for the weekend.

  Last week, in an effort to avoid a little old woman, she had driven her car into a fruit stand. The police officer had sided with the old woman, given her a ticket which made her late for work and two meetings. The office assistant had ordered lunch, but mixed up the orders giving her the one with peanut sauce. Since she was allergic to peanuts, she ended up in the emergency room, face swollen, then had a reaction to the drug to counteract the anaphylaxis, and nearly died. Her idiot boyfriend broke up with her, a cute doctor walked in and saw her end of the month hot pink granny panties, she yelled at her boss, offended people in the office, then took off for Vegas for the weekend. Okay. That part she could handle. It was Monday, she still had a job and a modicum of her boss’s respect.

  The weekend portion is what is less than respectable. While in Vegas, she had met a hunky white guy, who smelled like an afternoon of sin and debauchery. They made eye contact but she was smart; she had walked away. Hunky white man drove up on a bad ass motorcycle, she got on the back, they headed downtown, ended up in a strip club and he had used his fingers to get her off while some big-boobied woman gyrated on his lap. Breathe; it’s not so bad. Hunky guy then took her to dinner, suggested she order a salad, then they strolled into a really cool night club. The club was hot, he suggested they venture out to the balcony to cool off. It only got hotter as he bent her over the railing and took her from the back, all the while whispering in her ear that he needed more room to work. Inhale. Exhale.

  In his room, they went at it all night; he was rather large and slightly tore her cupcake but she is wanton and can’t get enough of him. At four in the morning, performing the walk of shame, she had slid into her own bed, and slept until noon. She did not know this man’s name, who he was, or what he did for a living. Was she nuts? Evidently, crazy like a fox, because Mr. Loverman found her again, gently persuades her to have dinner with him, and they enjoy a lovely, sexless meal. She had noticed he wasn’t much of a talker, but it did not feel odd; it felt, well, rather comfortable.

  The adult playdate at the sex club wasn’t very comfortable, which is where he had taken her after dinner. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. In the sex club, she had made out with a woman, had some little man suck her toes while hunky sex god had made love to her. That man was like the energizer bunny on meth. He even had more to give when they had returned to his hotel room, where she again tiptoed through the walk of shame at
five in the morning.

  That was supposed to be it, two nights in Vegas, and nothing more. No name, anonymity, and simply some fun for the weekend. Nadine was freaking out. Her anonymous weekend just walked into her office. If it had not been so ludicrous, she would have sworn it was fate and this man was part of her future. To hell with that! She was going to pray away this incubus and get a grip on herself and her cupcake, who by the way, was reacting to the recounting of the tale; she yelled at her crotch again, “Calm down, Traitor!”

  Bena, always the epitome of cool and collected, smiled at her friend. “Nadine, it’s not so bad.” Nadine didn’t see it that way, she needed Divine intervention and asked Bena to pray with her. Bena was always the pragmatic one of the group, calmly told Nadine, “No, I am not going to do that.” To her surprise Bena’s response was eloquent, simple and empowering.

  “I am not going to tie up the line praying for your indiscretions and poor moral judgment. Take off those wet panties, put on a fresh pair, and go back there and handle your business.” She opened the car door, let herself out with a parting shot, “Nadine, maybe, there is more to this, you need to find out. This is way too coincidental for you to dismiss. Call me later and have a great day.” Bena blew her a kiss and before she entered the school door, she whispered to her distraught friend, “Oh, and stop having conversations with your cooter,” she added, a love you, a mean it, and went back to work.

  Well damn.

  Chapter Two

  Marc Deasley was a practical man who dealt in reality, technical issues, and was renowned as one of the best energy engineers in the country. What he was not known for was folly, flights of fancy, or being a believer in fate; that was, until today. Rolland was his older brother by six years, and after the passing of their parents, he took on Marc. Somehow his big brother managed to finish college, get a job and then help put Marc through school with the help of creative financing, proper usage and investing of their parent’s savings and life insurance, and the two had done well for themselves.

  Rolland worked at several advertising agencies and ten years ago, he started some small freelance projects on the side. His brother had spoken several times of working with a young hotshot that could package and sell sugar to a diabetic. The two worked side by side on several indie films and garage businesses which netted them a small nest egg to start a company. Initially, the hotshot wanted no part, went her own way, and Deasley & Associates was started. A year later, the hotshot was wooed back to the family. In less than six months, they had more accounts than they could handle and needed a new office. Rolland made Nadine Jordan a senior partner, with a big office and room to work her magic. In the eight years that he had known Nadine, there had never been any sign of her personal life with the exception of some flowers, or one of her girlfriends picking her up. On a few occasions she had dinner with him and his wife, but he never got involved in her personal life, nor she in his. His little brother was about to change the dynamic of his relationship with his right hand.

  Over lunch, Marc searched for the right words to say to his brother, but at the moment none came to him. Finally, after a bite of his steak salad, “Rolland, you never told me that Nadine was a black woman,” Marc added casually.

  “I never mentioned it because it was not relevant,” Rolland replied.

  “Is that how you feel about her in general, or all people?”

  Rolland wasn’t sure what his little brother was beating around the bush about, but he gave him leeway, “It is how I feel in general, people are people, good, bad, brown, or green.”

  “I’m glad to hear you feel that way, Big Bro, because I’m going to marry that woman.”

  Rolland’s fork stopped midair, “What woman?” he asked as he looked about the room.

  “Nadine—what was her last name?” Marc shrugged, “Doesn’t matter, her new last name will be Deasley.”

  Rolland still sat there with his fork in suspended animation, totally confused, slightly angered that his brother would waltz in and attempt to steal his right hand. “Why, how, what you just met her…what are you basing this on, what I have told you about her over the past years?”

  Marc was chomping happily on his steak, “Nope, not true. I met her Thursday in Vegas.”

  Rolland dropped his fork, “So, you honestly expect me to believe that in a city that literally has a million visitors every weekend,” he paused to catch his breath, “that you, fresh off a plane from Bumfuck, Alaska, run into my right hand?”

  “That’s what I am saying.”

  Rolland was still shaking his head, trying not to use his actual right hand to slap the shit out of Marc while trying to comprehend the plausibility of what he was hearing. “You expect me to believe, that my uptight, rigid, follow the rules, church-goingevery-Sunday Senior Partner, and you….in Vegas?” Marc noticed his brother’s mouth was turned in a disapproving frown, he was uncertain of what that meant. He gently nudged his brother to obtain some clarification on the expression.

  “You unleashed six months of Alaska oilfield sexual frustration upon that beautiful, gentle-spirited woman?” Marc adjusted his posture to match his brother’s anger.

  “Wait a second, Rolland. Anything that happened between me and my future wife was consensual.”

  “Stop saying that!”

  “I can’t, Roll. I think I might be in love.”

  “Stop saying that as well! Get a grip on yourself!” Rolland needed some time to sort through the implications and ramifications of this; wait until he tells his wife Janice.

  Marc planted the seed, “I am a gentleman, but I will say this: you have not asked me why I was two days late getting to Los Angeles.”

  Rolland called the waitress over to refill his glass of ice tea. He called her back and requested a stiff drink instead, and exhaled a calming lungful of air, mumbling under his breath, “I don’t ever need to know.”

  “Well dammit, you are going to listen to me!” Rolland stuck his fingers in his ears making blah, blah, blah, sounds. “Roll, what that woman put on me required two days’ worth of ice packs.”

  Rolland took his fingers from his ears, “In your mind, is that enough to base a marriage, a relationship—did you even know her fricking name before today?”

  Marc could see his brother’s frustration with him. He remembered that look when he bought his first car, which was a lemon that broke down every other day. Rolland gave him the same look when he brought home a stray puppy that infested the whole house with fleas; or the time he picked up a sofa from the side of the road that was crawling with bed bugs. Rolland made him burn it in the back yard. He smiled, he was a mere child then, he was a grown-ass man now, and he knew what he wanted.

  In no uncertain terms, he told his brother, “The odds of staying at the same hotel, having that kind of chemistry, magic, and ability to communicate with someone is very rare.” Rolland saw the conviction on his face and softened. “I spent some very amazing time with her, and to walk in and find her in your office, is not just a coincidence; she is meant to be mine.”

  Rolland was really proud of his little brother. When he initially took the job with Exxon, he had some doubts, but Marc moved up in the ranks pretty quickly. After his fiancée was killed in a car accident, Rolland thought his little brother would never date, or love another woman. He could not count the number of objections he had to Marc taking the job in a remote part of Alaska, but he promised to come to the lower 48 every six months, and true to his word, he did just that, but this……

  “My contract runs out in six months. I am not planning to renew it.” He added that he was 35, tired, and wanted a family and someone to call his own, “I want her.”

  “Will you at least try to get to know her with your clothes on before you marry the woman?”

  The two brothers talked some more about Marc’s plans to open a small consulting business in L.A., pick up some smaller contracts, buy a home, and settle down. They returned to the office a little after one. The
first thing Marc looked for was Nadine. She sat in her office, gazed fixed on the monitor; he found himself mentally willing her to look up.

  Nadine could smell him when he entered the office and every hair on her arms stood up. She thought a few stood up on her cupcake as well. “Keep typing,” she cerebrally forced herself to not look up but her cupcake was aware he was here, and was now begging her to ask for some icing. He tapped on the door frame, “What time is dinner?”

  Chapter Three

  When Marc asked if it was safe to enter her office, Nadine pointed to the chair in front of her desk. For a few minutes, he sat there, and took her all in, hair pulled back into a chignon, shirt buttoned up to the neck, everything covered up. Damn, what a magnificent woman Nadine—whatever her last name—was.

  Nadine broke the silence, “So, you are the little brother Rolland is always going on about that lives in Alaska.”

  “And you,” he exhaled with a loud gust of air, “are “his” right hand, his Nadine, the woman he swears he cannot run this company without.”

  Nadine closed her laptop and looked him square in the eyes, furrowed her brow and was totally at a loss for words. Instead of finding the right things to say to him, Marc took the lead and said everything that should, needed, and begged to be stated.

  “In the past five years, I have only entered this building three times, including the two times today. It was a fluke that his assistant mailed my new keys after I left Alaska and I had to come and borrow Rolland’s. Can you imagine my surprise to walk in and see you standing there? I spent most of Saturday evening looking for you and felt as if I had lost something so precious that I would never recover from the emptiness of not being able to find you.”