Cassadaga Moon Page 3

  Years of growing up in a Catholic environment led her to believe that a body like hers was cursed. Her grandmother insisted that she wrap her chest with tape in middle school to hide her size. For years she wished that she had a body like Cindi’s, one that wasn’t destined for sin. She shook her head in an attempt to forget the memory.

  Grandmother.

  Mia continued to study Cindi as she primped in front of the floor-length, brass mirror. Her friend’s cropped shade of magenta hair complemented her sapphire-colored eyes.

  “You’re staring again, Mia.” Cindi chuckled right before she flashed Mia her right boob.

  “Cindi!”

  “Geez, girlfriend…take a chill pill. It’s just a tit.” Mia’s mouth hit the floor. She tried to squash the image of the small hoop fastened to Cindi’s nipple. “Your nip—”

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  “Pierced? Yeah, I know.” Cindi’s mirrored image arched a brow.

  “Drives the men absolutely wild.”

  At five foot two inches without shoes, confidence radiated from Cindi’s small frame. Mia’s best pal reminded her of the deadly elfin assassins that her favorite author, Krista Kane, wrote about in her romance novels.

  Cocky.

  Beautiful.

  Deadly.

  “Did it hurt?” Mia willed her mouth to close. It refused.

  “All sorts of good pain. The kind that makes you want to—” The crude hand gestures Cindi made almost sent pee down Mia’s leg.

  “Stop already. I get the picture.”

  “Do you now, Catholic girl?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  Still chuckling from Mia’s obvious reaction, Cindi reached for her hot-pink lipstick, silently moving her lips. Mia bet she was teasing her under her breath.

  With a chuckle at her own uptight reaction, she slid her gaze over the hotel room, thinking Cindi’s job must pay her well if she could afford a room like this. The Egyptian-cotton bedsheets, which Cindi had made a point to discuss the previous night over cocktails, had a thread count of two thousand. The teak armoire and circular table and chairs carried intricate designs carved meticulously into the wood.

  After she applied her lip color, Cindi’s gaze moved across the room. It stopped on Mia. “Hey, grab me my black leather belt from the red suitcase.” She secured a black-onyx choker around her neck.

  Fulfilling her best friend’s command, Mia tossed her the leather accessory. Confident Cindi drove the belt through the loops of her denim low riders, then fumbled in her cosmetic bag.

  “Shit, I need to run down to the gift shop for a minute. I forgot my contact solution.”

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  “Okay.” Mia placed her hand on the novel beside her. “I’ll read while you’re gone.” God forbid if you had to wear your glasses.

  “Take your time.”

  Cindi nodded. “If you insist, you little bookworm.” Mia picked up the book and returned to the section she bookmarked, reading a few lines before her throat was tight and her pants tighter. Wow, why can’t I find a man like this one? Tall, dark, and deadly. She gazed at the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes had passed since Cindi had left. She turned the page and gasped. Her hands held the book like it was the Holy Bible, her gaze glued to the text.

  Hovering in the doorway, Cindi’s soft-pitched chuckle filled the room. “You seem pretty enthralled in that book.” Mia glanced up. “Oh sorry, I can’t seem to put it down. Want me to read a part?”

  “If you insist,” Cindi replied at the same time she rolled her eyes.

  Mia bounced off the bed and cleared her throat. Her inner actress emerged. Planting herself in the center of the room, she gestured in front of her, Cindi’s cue to take a place on the bed. Cindi plopped down on the bed, contact solution in hand.

  “Now close your eyes. I need you to experience the full effect of the dialogue,” Mia insisted.

  Cindi obeyed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mia’s dramatic gene took center stage. “He stood near the bar, and she carefully watched his every move. His dark-brown hair cascaded over one of his hazel eyes while full, pouty lips beckoned her to ravage them. Moistness settled between her legs. She wanted to climb on him, attack and grope every inch of his chiseled body. Sasha’s lust mode was overbearing, and Darian’s body begged to be taken. She turned herself away from the sexual tension gripping her from the inside out, and glanced at the menu on the wall.” Mia took in a breath for creative effect before she continued.

  “POV change,” she added, then continued.

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  “He lifted himself off the barstool and moved with ease across the floor for a better look at the raven-haired beauty. Inches from her, he whispered, ‘Looking at you from so far away is killing me.’ She turned to face him, her gaze smoldering.

  “‘Perhaps it’s time we bring you back to life.’ Desire pulsed through him as he pulled her against his body and licked his lips in anticipation. Leaning in, he kissed her soft ruby lips. Tonight he planned to explore her most intimate places. Without a doubt, she would be his—guaranteed. Very soon, he would rock her world.”

  Mia finished the last line, forgetting for a moment Cindi was in the room with her. Embarrassed by losing herself in the book, she hoped and prayed she didn’t look as flushed on the outside as she felt inside. Author Kane knew how to write romance. Mia devoured her books the minute they appeared in the bookstore. She loved the stories because what she was afraid to experience in real life she could experience within the pages of Kane’s novels.

  She closed the book and stared at Cindi. “Well, what do you think?”

  Cindi held a questioning gaze. “What do I think? Well, let me see.

  My best friend is reading the pages of a romance novel to me with desperation and need in her voice.” Tapping her fingers against her leg, her questioning gaze turned into a serious one. “What’s going on, Mia?” She snatched the book from her grasp and studied the cover.

  Flipping the book in her hands, Cindi’s lower lip curled into a slight smile. “Why are you still reading this stuff?”

  “It’s the latest Krista Kane novel, and you can stop with the facial expressions,” she added, determined to win the upcoming romance books suck debate. She was sick of having to defend her choice of reading to Cindi. But she knew Cindi was right. Reading about something was not the same as doing it.

  Cindi grinned before her preaching tone took over. “You need to let yourself experience some of the down-and-dirty lust you keep reading about. You know what? I know you hate when I say this, but 30

  that Catholic upbringing of yours has really done a number on you.

  Oh wait, I mean Nona Christini has done a number on you. That nasty woman is still affecting you from the grave.” Mia was well aware of that fact.

  “Please don’t disrespect my Nona. She couldn’t help her beliefs.”

  “Trust me, Mia. I’m not disrespecting her, just telling it the way it is. She was a bitch. I haven’t forgotten the nights in college that you cried yourself to sleep because that woman said unthinkable things to you. If I had it my way, I’d have stopped her years ago from hurting you.”

  Mia wasn’t prepared to go into a lengthy discussion about her upbringing. Not now. The knives burrowed in her gut were dormant for the time being. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was feel them twist again.

  Desperation begged her to change the subject, before the words and feelings she buried deep in her heart ran wild. Flashing back to Cindi’s original comment about experiencing the romance she read about in books, she said, half serious, “Are you kidding me? Down-and-dirty sex?”

  “No, I’m not kidding. You need to let yourself go with a man, just once. At least before the white-wedding day.” Mia glanced down at the black Jimmy Choo stiletto Cindi slid her right foot in. “Nice shoes.”

  A deep, throaty laugh erupted from Cindi’s tiny frame. “Thanks, but you’re not changing the subject that easily. Where were we? Oh yes, you and some down-and-d
irty, hot-and-sweaty sex.” Cindi slid her left foot into the other shoe.

  Sweat trickled down the back of Mia’s neck. “I would love to experience the sexual fantasies you mention, Cin, but do you really think that what happens in these types of books can happen in real life?” she questioned innocently.

  At the almost-erotic flash of Jamison, a gush of feminine awareness washed over her. Could she really have her very own

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  dream man come to life? She had thought she was close with Jamison Rierson, but he shot her feelings down as if she was the embodiment of some deathly disease. His rejection still splintered her core.

  Continuing to wallow in her disappointment over Jamison, she reached out and tried to grab her book from Cindi’s grip. But little ol’

  Cindi snatched it out of the way in one quick movement, so she gave up the urge to get it back and continued, “I mean I tried to reconnect with Jamison. We went out on a couple of dates, kissed, and when I told him how I felt and asked him about his feelings, he told me that the kiss was a mistake. Then he went on and on about how he really cares about me, but not in the way I want him to care. So, if I can’t get anywhere with him, how can I experience anything with anyone?”

  “Listen to me, girlfriend, you know I love you like a sister.” This compassion was a trait Cindi showed repeatedly in their friendship. A tender smile passed over her friend’s face, but she wasn’t fooled. She braced herself for the lecture she knew Cindi was about to let loose, and tried to stop it.

  “I know you do, and I feel the same way. But I know what you’re going to say, and it’s not what you think. I can forget Jamison. Even though he’s my boss, I’ve succeeded in ignoring him. I don’t talk to him at work, and I delete his messages. And give me credit. We didn’t talk for years after college.”

  “Really? You could have fooled me about forgetting him. I can see your feelings all over your face.”

  Damn, Cindi always could read her like a book.

  Mia couldn’t look her in the eye, so she glanced at the hem on her skirt.

  “You still care about Jamison, even though you are trying to forget him. I’m right, right?”

  Damn if the truth didn’t have a way of always biting her in the ass.

  Mia fidgeted under the correct Cindi assessment, crossing and uncrossing her legs, trying desperately to look like she was somewhat 32

  in control. She didn’t want to think about Jamison tonight. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, a gesture that usually calmed her when the warm sensation behind her eyes emerged. I have got to forget him.

  He doesn’t want me.

  But then she buckled and turned her gaze on Cindi. “Okay, you’re right, but I am trying my best to forget him. I know he doesn’t care about me the way I do him. Like I said, our last date was proof of that.” Mia stopped. “Just give me time. I’ll get over him.”

  “Good. Jamison isn’t the right man for you. He’s always played you like a tight-strung fiddle with his erratic feelings.” Cindi patted on the bed next to her, motioning for Mia to take a seat.

  Obliging, Mia laid the book on the teak nightstand before she moved toward the bed and plopped down next to Cindi.

  A comforting hand reached out and gripped hers. “When you meet a man who rocks your world, and that man is not Jamison, you will let that special man do anything and everything. You know, cross borders that you never considered a possibility.”

  “If you say so, momma Cin.”

  “Smart-ass.”

  Mia huffed, and Cindi added, “I want to show you something.” She reached into the drawer in the nightstand by the bed and pulled out a battery-operated phallic toy. “Meet my little friend, Holmes.” Mia’s eyes widened at Cindi’s sinister expression and dildo in the air. Oh my God! She had heard about vibrators but had never actually seen one that wasn’t in the pages of a book. Her heart quickened a beat. Was this excitement she was feeling? Oh shit, I’m in serious trouble now. “What are you doing with that thing?” Playfully, Cindi rolled her eyes then stuck her tongue out in a licking gesture toward the phallic toy. “Oh for God’s sake, Mia, don’t look so surprised. It’s a vibrator, top-of-the-line model. There are many ways to experience wild, juicy, raw sex even without a breathing body.”

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  With an expression she was sure was a cross between incredulous and excited, Mia stood, resembling a statue, gaze glaring at the hot-pink plastic penis Cindi waved through the air like a wand. Thoughts of Catholic school, nuns, and lectures on mortal sins rampaged through her mind. The nuns would have a field day with her if they could see her now, not to mention the tongue-lashing she’d be privy to if they could read her thoughts.

  “Girlfriend, sometimes you have to improvise. Make do with what is around at the moment.” Before Mia could reply, Cindi was standing at the small table near the bed, liberally dousing perfume all over her small frame. Nonchalantly, without skipping a beat, she kissed the plastic toy before slipping it into her red leather suitcase.

  Once the shock of her best friend’s plastic penis has passed, Mia’s mouth managed to move. “I just can’t picture myself doing some of the stuff or crossing the sexual boundaries that many of the characters in these books cross.”

  Cindi let out a short laugh and shook her head. “Of course you can’t, but you will. Trust me, that man is going to come into your life, and when he does, your so-called sheltered life is going to bolt out the door. That Catholic upbringing of yours will be flattened. And it won’t matter anymore that your mother wants you to go to confession on a regular basis or that she’s upset you didn’t become a nun. God, just think how she would really feel if she learned you haven’t been to church in ages and that we were having this conversation.”

  “Cindi,” Mia warned before her lips tightened into a slight frown.

  “You know this is a touchy subject for me. Besides, the fact that I live like a virgin should be restitution for not attending church. My morals and beliefs have remained securely in place. Honestly, that’s all my mother really wants, anyway.”

  “Sorry.” A perceptive smile curved Cindi’s face. “Enough talk of religion. I’m so glad I was able to stop over and see you in between my research projects, and get to your students’ production of Chicago. It was nice seeing your parents and brothers at the play, but 34

  speaking of men…” Cindi cleared her throat, acting as if she were about to give a speech. Her smile changed her face, as if a Cheshire cat loomed behind her sapphire-blue eyes.

  Amused, Mia raised an eyebrow, waiting for her friend to continue, and wondered about the reticent expression on her face.

  When Cindi remained silent, curiosity over came her. “But speaking of men what?”

  “I’m really glad I didn’t have to go to South America right away, because the delay allowed me to meet Tristan.”

  “Tristan?” Mia gasped. No way. I only know one Tristan. He is trouble with a capital T. Was her best friend losing her mind? He was only eighteen years old, and in high school. She could go to jail for that thought! No, maybe she meant some other Tristan she met last night. Yes, I like that scenario much better. “You don’t mean my student Tristan?”

  “The one and the same. Smart mouth, cocky young man. Just my type.” Cindi’s words came across with a spark of eroticism, just before she let a devil-be-damned grin cross her face. “A nice piece of sexy caramel candy.”

  Mia shook her head. Tristan? She must have heard Cindi wrong.

  “Tristan…a piece of caramel?”

  “He reminds me of succulent candy with his toffee-colored, messy hair and rich, caramel-colored eyes. I didn’t think he was a student in the high school, so I introduced myself. He announced himself as the school rebel and entranced me with those eyes. Girlfriend, my heart almost stopped beating.”

  “Tristan.” Mia didn’t bother to hide her disbelief or shock.

  “Yes, Tristan. But enough talk about men. We have to get to the club before it clos
es.”

  “Oh…okay.” Could her best friend be serious? Tristan?

  Cindi coughed to cover up a laugh as they descended the lobby stairs. “Do you still journal everything?”

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  Mia placed a hand on the brass handrail. “Yes, but not as often as I used to. Life has become a bit rote, so I’ve seen no point in writing down the same thing each day.”

  “Well, my friend, I just gave you a nice bit of information to write about. My growing lust for Tristan. Once I bed him, you will have all the lusty details to put on paper. Plus, we are going to a club tonight and a party tomorrow that I believe we can make very memorable. In a few days, you will be able to journal your little heart out.”

  “Great.” Bed him? The mere idea made her stomach drop. Instead of the usual butterflies in her stomach, rocks were in her gut. She knew Cindi like the back of her hand. When she put her mind to something, she did it. If she wanted someone, he was hers. For a brief second, she played devil’s advocate in her own mind. He is eighteen.

  Yes, but he is still in high school.

  She hoped she had enough money in her savings for bail.

  * * * *

  They went arm in arm down to the lobby and out the front doors.

  The late-afternoon sky was blanketed in varying shades of black and gray, resembling the onset of a hurricane right after the eye of the storm made landfall. Clouds swirled and straightened in the dark heavens. Palm trees bent from the strong winds.

  Mia took off running for her car, calling out to Cindi to hurry.

  Slightly concerned with the elements, Cindi broke her gaze from the tempest in the sky and, heeding her friend’s advice, ran after her.

  Minutes later, she reached Mia’s vehicle, flung open the door, and scurried in. Secure in the car, her gaze remained transfixed out the window. “Mia, look at the sky. Shouldn’t we find shelter?”

  “Shelter?” Mia glanced from the road toward her. “We’re in shelter. My car. Get used to it. We’re in Orlando, and here, you’ll experience the most God-fearing thunderstorms you’ll ever live through. You scared?”