Samhain Publishing Ltd, Ebooks and Books in Print

Chapter One

“…too bootylicious for you babe!” Felicity belted out the chorus to the old song on the radio for all she was worth. Tonight she and Cheryl were going to hit the town, blow off some steam and celebrate.

So her steps were a bit wobbly as she danced around the room, did she really give a damn she was about to topple from her stillettoed perch? Hah!

In the span of one day she’d gained the chance at a new life and lost 175 lbs—kicked him to the curb. Buh-bye Stuart.

As for the other thing, the thing she hadn’t even shared with Cheryl… She stopped dancing and hugged herself, recalling the phone message she’d picked up earlier—

“Hello, this is Elise, I’m a tutor with the Metro Toronto Library Adult Literacy Program and I’m calling to let you know your application has been accepted.”

The message went on to leave times, dates, contact info and other stuff she’d been too stunned to deal with. This was it. A first step towards a better life, more importantly a better her. Wisps of doubt curled in Felicity’s chest, echoes of the old taunts, “retard” and “stupid”, that she’d endured till she dropped out of school—

She inhaled, squeezing her eyes shut. Nothing was going to steal her joy at the moment, and no way was she coming down to earth closer than her four-inch heels. She got back to some serious booty-shaking.

When a series of knocks sounded at her door—Cheryl, finally!—she gyrated across the living room and flung the door open with one last shimmy thrown in for the hell of it.

“I don’t think you’re ready, for this—” Her hips stopped in mid-wiggle as two pairs of male eyes focused her.

“Hey, hey, Felicity, you wanna dance!” Mr. Lombardi raised his arms above his head and moved the bottom half of his roly-poly body in an extremely distressing fashion.

Wincing, she looked away from the landlord’s seizure-rhythmic boogie-down to the man who stood behind him. The stranger was dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck that made his shoulder-length hair look impossibly blond; as she watched, his mouth curved in appreciation while his cool green gaze swept her from head to toe, slowly. A shiver scrabbled down Felicity’s spine and her lungs stalled on the next breath.

Alrighty then. She obviously hadn’t thought this tight-jeans, high-heels thing through, hadn’t covered all the contingencies. For instance, the way this guy’s interest was making her feel like she had on way too much clothing for his liking. And not enough for her own. She took a tottery step back.

“M-Mr. Lombardi, what are you doing here?”

“Yeah, yeah, yesterday I say I gonna come by, for show Daniel around. Don’t tell me you forget.”

Okay, she wouldn’t tell him. Her gaze drifted back to Daniel. Phew. Was it hot in here, or was it just him? What did Lombardi just say, something about repairs?

The buzzer sounded, partially snapping her out of her hormone-induced stupor. She gestured the men in, then pushed the intercom button. It was Cheryl.

With her brain still on reconnaissance in Blondland, it took Felicity two tries to hit the open button for the front door downstairs.

“I hope you no mind we come now?” Lombardi asked.

And what if she did mind? What if she didn’t want this Daniel, with his hot bod and suggestive stare, leaving hot-bod footprints all over her flat?

“No problem at all.” Really what was she gonna say?

Mesmerized by Daniel’s rolling gait and compact butt, she watched the two men walk over to the small kitchen area of the main room.

“So, who’s Tarzan?” Cheryl, newly arrived, whispered in her ear.

Felicity spun round. “Holy shi—”

Cheryl raised an eyebrow, a reminder of their recent bet that Felicity couldn’t flush the potty-mouth routine.

For too many years growing up, swearing had been her first response to the name-calling, and it had worked too, on all but the most sadistic of her tormentors. Now she was determined to clean up her act.

“You scared the daylights out of me,” she amended.

“‘Daylights’? Girl, you better go back to swearing your damn fool head off.”

“Nope, I can do this; ‘daylights’ works just fine.”

Cheryl rolled her eyes just as Lombardi called out, “Helloo, Cheryl.” He wiggled his fingers at her.

“Hi, Mr. L.” Cheryl, one Sweet-’n-Low packet short of nauseating, wiggled her fingers back.

“Yes—ah, Daniel, you come, I show you.” A crimson-faced Lombardi bustled towards the bedroom with the Yumminator following close behind.

And speaking of behinds… Felicity once again found herself paying close attention to the way Daniel’s butt did that clench and relax thing.

“So who is that?” Cheryl repeated, disrupting Felicity’s lust-a-thon.

“Who?”

“The luscious one with Lombardi the lecherous but loveable landlord. Say that five times fast.”

“That, that, that, that, that.”

Cheryl made a face and stuck her tongue out as Felicity herded her over to the second-hand couch that dominated the small living area. “He’s some contractor Lombardi hired. They’ll be done soon and then we can leave.”

The men returned from the bedroom. Felicity caught Daniel’s gaze, and all the air got sucked out of the room. At least it felt that way. Why else would she be panting?

“Yowzah!” Cheryl said in an undertone.

That was putting it mildly.

“Forget it. Yowzah is howzah I ended up with Stuart in the first place. Now that he’s out of the picture—”

“Uh-huh,” Cheryl interrupted and reached for a decorating magazine on the coffee table as the guys walked past, headed for the deck. She slowly licked a finger and absently flipped a page as she checked out Daniel’s ass.

Felicity leaned forward, blocking Cheryl’s view. “I’m serious this time. Stuart and I are over.”

Cheryl pouted, but she straightened up. “You’re serious every time. This week you and my boy Stuuu-pid break up, next week y’all are back together. Same ole, same ole.”

“This time it’s for real, I—” Felicity stopped. While Mr. Lombardi locked the deck door, Daniel stood a few feet away, staring at her from beneath half-lowered lids. Heat stole into her face, and other places.

“We’re having a personal conversation here, in case it escaped your notice.”

“Trust me,” his voice was a sexy rumble, “nothing…escaped my notice.”

“Now, Felicity, even I myself cannot help to hear some of what you talk about.” Mr. Lombardi gestured back and forth. “Daniel here no mean any disrespect. And your boyfriend he no deserve you, anyhow. Nice girl like you, go with nice boy. Get married, make lots of the bambini. Cheryl, you no agree?”

“Oh yeah, get married, make lots and lots of babies. Lots and lots and—hey!”

Felicity didn’t think she’d pinched Cheryl all that hard. Then again thinking clearly was out of the question, what with the way Daniel continued to eyeball her.

A sweep of thorny warmth tightened the tips of her breasts and his hooded gaze drifted lower, zoning in on those hardened tips, obviously thinking of the specific “lots and lots” involved in baby-making.

She watched the quick, discreet slide of his tongue across his lips, as if he could taste the pool of hot ‘n’ bothered she was sitting in.

One thing for sure, Lombardi wasn’t referring to Daniel.

He definitely was not a nice boy.

At least Stuart’s brand of self-confidence masqueraded itself as boyish charm. This one was just too sure of himself. She didn’t dwell on whether that confidence was earned or not.

“Okay, Felicity, we go now. Thank you for your time.”

“No problem, Mr. Lombardi.” She got up and followed them to the door.

Daniel paused as the men filed out, his broad-shouldered body filling the doorway and his citron aftershave teasing at her. Made her want to lick the delicious right off him.

If that were even possible.

“See you later, naked and spread-eagle—” Felicity blinked. What he really said was, “See you later.”

“Much.” She swung the door shut and leaned against it, heart beating like crazy, panties drenched, and nipples so stiff they could fly their own flags. She made a mental note never to be home when the repairs started.

Cheryl opened her mouth to say something, most likely outrageous and dirty. Felicity pointed a warning finger and said something that pretty much translated to temporarily losing their bet. Drinks were on her tonight.

Frig.

“I show to you the flat upstairs now.” Mr. Lombardi looked over his shoulder.

Daniel nodded, but his thoughts were still on the tenant in 2b, with her large gray eyes and lush mouth.

He almost walked into the little Italian when that man stopped suddenly. “Ahhh that Cheryl.” He flashed one hand back and forth. “Every time I see her, I feel like a-brand new. She is bellissima.”

Daniel smiled in agreement, following as Mr. Lombardi resumed his climb up the stairs. Felicity’s friend, with her dark skin, long braids and even longer legs was definitely attractive.

But…his thoughts slid back to the very nice package of Felicity herself, from her silky brown curls done up in a sexy little do, to her painted toes peeking out of those ridiculously high, strappy heels.

Bellissima worked, but, he smiled, bootylicious was more apt.

Thoughts of Felicity continued to tease at the edges of his mind as he and the landlord entered the empty third floor flat. He walked around the space as Mr. Lombardi continued to point out various features and gloss over imperfections that Daniel had already pinpointed with an experienced eye.

He opened a closet door, automatically gauging the dimensions and figured that if Felicity grabbed on to the bar overhead and wrapped those lean legs around him while he pumped—

What the hell was he doing?

Daniel slammed the door shut, literally and on all his pervy fantasies. He had enough on his plate between winding down his role at the law office and juggling construction projects with Rob, without adding more complications.

He refocused on the point of this visit. The place had good bones, and already he could picture it after the extensive renovations needed to convert it back to a single family home.

He and Rob would make a nice profit on the flip. Daniel turned to the little man and smiled. “I think you have a sale.”

* * *

Something sharp ricocheted off Felicity’s ass.

“Oh f—frak!” She jumped back from the spray of water and almost lost her footing. A minute later she identified her butt-missile as a tiny piece of plastic from the showerhead.

That was the last straw. She punched off the water, stomped out of the tub, and stalked into the bedroom.

Nude, dripping and pissed off, she grabbed the phone and punched in the number for her new landlord. Did it help that it took her a couple of tries to get the number right?

That she had to remember to calm down and focus on the frickin’ buttons so she wouldn’t get the freakin’ 6 and frickin’ 9 mixed up?

That sixty-nine was not a number she wanted to think about just as she was calling her super-hunky landlord?

The phone stopped mid-ring and a low male voice slid into her ear. “Hello.”

“Daniel.” She put just enough “pseudo” in her pseudo-chirpy tone to make the chirpiness suspect. “It’s Felicity. Do you know when you’ll be able to fix the shower? I just got hit in the ass.”

“In the shower?”

“No, in the ass. I-I mean yes, in the shower.”

There was a long uncomfortable pause until he cleared his throat. “Do you want to clarify that for me?” The timbre of his voice deepened, sweeping prickly heat over her drying skin.

Felicity became keenly aware of her nakedness. Her knees gave out and she plopped down on the bed, hugging a pillow to her stomach.

“The showerhead is broken; a piece of it just hit me in the—uhm, look I told you it was loose last week. You said you’d be by to fix it and take a look at the roof—which started leaking again when it rained on Monday, by the way.”

“So, I did.” A loud blast of air came through the phone.

The man actually had the nerve to sigh.

“Look, I’m on a job right now. I’ll be over later.”

“When later?”

“What time are you home?”

She checked the bedside clock-radio with its extra-large LCD numbers for easy readability. Shit, she was going to be late for work again.

“I won’t get home till late. Can you come by tomorrow, between twelve and three? No wait!” She had a tutoring session then. “Make it after four.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Look, I’m tied up at the moment. I’ll come by when I can.”

“Gotta go” was her only warning before the dial tone whined in her ear. How did she ever think the man was good-looking?

In the short time it took her to dress and pack her gear, an impressive combination of curses were birthed. Any friggin’ ideas she’d had that her friggin’ habit wasn’t firmly friggin’ entrenched were dispelled. Loathsome man.

Frig.

Pain-in-the-ass woman. Daniel shook his head, snorting at the unintended pun. Then for several moments he contemplated the exact dimensions and shape of the delectable ass in question.

“So how’s the little lady?” Rob cut into his thong-n-baby-oil daydream.

“Annoying.” Daniel scowled as he clipped the cell back on his belt. “Are we going to stand here yakking all day?” He bent and got a good hold on the newly delivered cabinet beside him.

Rob smirked, but squatted and grabbed the other end of the unit without further comment. “Ready?”

Daniel nodded. They rose in unison and walked the unit across what would be the recreation area of the basement renovation. Working efficiently with the ease of long practice, they secured the unit to the wall.

When they were through, Rob slapped him on the back. “You can’t say I’m just another pretty face.” He batted his long lashes, the ones all the ladies went ga-ga over, at Daniel.

Rob was about six-three and topped 230 pounds easy; with his wildly curling black hair and a neatly trimmed goatee, the eye-fuck was the stupidest damn thing Daniel had witnessed in a long while.

“No I can’t say that at all, partner.” He looked around. “Hey, didn’t we get those lights in?”

Rob pointed to a stack of boxes near the stairs, and the both of them headed over.

“So how is your favorite tenant?”

Rob used to pick his scabs as a kid. Now he metaphorically picked other people’s.

“It’s all your fault she’s on my case.”

“Whaddaya mean it’s my fault?”

“You said you’d take a look at her shower by Wednesday. And someone should’ve checked out the roof by now.”

“I’ll try and do it by the end of the week. Promise. Don’t know why I haven’t made it over yet. She’s kinda easy on the eyes.”

Daniel pushed aside the unease he felt at Rob’s speculative expression and pried open a corrugated box to inspect the fixtures. “She’s a looker all right. Too bad all you can look at are her tonsils ’cause her mouth is always flapping.”

Rob chuckled. “Sure you don’t want to go yourself? I thought I was picking up on something between the two of you.”

“Try picking your nose next time. Any heated glances she’s throwing my way would fall under the category of burn-in-hell. She acts as if I’m at her beck and call, like some kind of handyman.”

“You are some kind of handyman.”

“Hey, thanks for pointing that out.”

“I could also point out that you wouldn’t be dealing with tenant complaints if you got moving on the plans for the reno.”

“Yeah, well, you can blame my old man for that. He’s riding me hard on this last merger. Anything to delay me leaving. And every time I turn around lately, seems like something else is wrong with the Southview property.” Daniel shook his head. Of course he’d seen it happen time and again on other renovation projects. He’d just been hoping to hell it wouldn’t happen with this one. “I’ll get on with the plans for Southview soon. But we might as well keep the tenants for now to cover the mortgage payments.”

Rob shrugged and nodded, but Daniel could see his partner wasn’t totally convinced. He couldn’t blame him. If he were completely honest with himself, he’d admit that his foot dragging might have something to do with the kissable lips that made up the complaining mouth of one pain-in-the-ass tenant.

* * *

Felicity arrived uptown at The Uptown. Late. Again. Moving quickly, she kept her head down, shoulders trussed with tension, eyes averted from the stage.

She braced for Tony’s first sarcastic salvo as she scurried past the bar with an apologetic smile. He didn’t smile back. Instead she felt his guillotine gaze, multiplied repeatedly in the mirrored walls, track her progress to the Employees Only area in the back.

The tiny change-room cum storage-room was in a state of chaos as usual. Girls in various states of undress; clothes, shoes and jackets strewn around the place. Makeup, curling irons, hairsprays and hairpieces scattered on every available surface. The air was blue with smoke and thick with a miasma of warring perfumes.

Cheryl, wrapped in a silk kimono robe and perched on the space-hogging meat freezer, looked up from checking her face in a hand mirror. “Fil baby, you’re late.”

Felicity dropped her knapsack, then unzipped her jeans, kicking her shoes off at the same time. “Thanks for the tip,” she said, turning sideways as Tasha, a skinny dancer with a silicone addiction, squeezed past her.

“Tony’s in a bad mood today,” Tasha warned over her shoulder, then started pounding on the bathroom door. “Marie, ya been in there forever. I gotta go!”

“He’s liable to rip into ya like toilet paper at a diarrhea convention,” Cheryl added.

“So what else is new?” Felicity wiggled out of her jeans.

“That would be one-ply,” Cheryl clarified.

They all burst out laughing and Felicity felt some of her tension ease. This feeling was still new to her, being part of the group if not exactly friends. Sharing the camaraderie, if not her deepest secret. Then again, she sensed that they all had their secrets.

Felicity pulled on a pair of black satin short-shorts, what passed for a uniform at The Uptown, then tried to work her foot back into a laced-up running shoe before giving up. “Shit.”

Cheryl pounced. “What was that I just heard from your born-again mouth?”

“Did you hear anything?” Felicity asked the other girls.

A chorus of negatives responded. She smirked at Cheryl. Their bet was back on.

She braced her foot on the freezer and undid the knot. Retying was trickier.

“What are you doing there, Fil, making them gift-wrapped?” Cheryl teased.

Heat washed over her and her fingers fumbled with the laces. It was grade school all over again, the things other kids found easy-peasy never failed to cost her twice as much effort.

She was always the last to finish the math sheet. Her spelling tests were always half-done. And she absolutely refused to read out loud, preferring detention instead. Feeling stupider and stupider until they finally figured out what was wrong with her. Dyslexia.

“Forget this.” She tucked the laces inside her shoes; she’d do them later without the audience.

“So why are you late this time?” Cheryl asked.

Felicity’s lip curled. “Daniel.”

“Oh?” Cheryl perked up. “What happened?”

She could only guess what gutters her friend’s mind currently waded through, Lord knew she’d charted enough of them herself. She bent and tucked the laces in the other shoe.

“It’s what didn’t happen. He was supposed to have my shower fixed. Sez he’s coming tomorrow. Gee, I’ve only been complaining about it for the last two friggin’ weeks— Friggin’ is not a swear word!” She rushed to make the save when Cheryl’s face lit up again.

“Not much of one anyways.” Marie finally exited the bathroom; Tanya scooted in.

Cheryl pointed to the room at large. “Y’all are conspiring against me.”

Felicity stashed her knapsack in her locker. “I’m outta here. See you up front.”

Before she reached the lounge area, she checked around, then carefully took her time to tie both laces into perfect bows. Feeling absurdly proud of her small accomplishment, she continued down the hall. Every little victory counted. She had never given in to the lure of Velcro, and she never would.

Felicity waved to Keith as she passed the DJ booth, then made a quick note of the stripper on stage. The more popular the girl, the more drinks were served. Which translated to more tips for the waitress. Even after a year, she was still tickled with the extra cash she was making. Not enough to save, but she was eating better and she’d been able to indulge in her one passion, decorating.

Where before she’d stuck with yard sales and Goodwill, lately she’d begun visiting a few secondhand shops. If you didn’t mind digging through the dust and haggling a bit, there were some good finds to be had.

Speaking of finds, Felicity found some courage and approached the bar where Tony’s massive presence presided like one of those creepy Easter Island statues—ready to topple her ass flat.

He picked at something caught between his teeth with a long pinky nail, while holding the ever-present cigarette between thumb and forefinger. His raisiny eyes peered out at her from the smoky nimbus that wreathed his head.

Felicity tried to slip past him to grab an apron from under the counter, but he seemed disinclined to move his bulk out of her way.

“Look, I’m sorry I’m late. My shower broke and…”

He stopped picking and flicked away his findings. Felicity didn’t look where, afraid she’d see the thing scuttling off. The cigarette now clamped in the corner of his mouth, Tony began pulling a draft.

“Dis is for table tree.” He jerked his head towards the main seating area. “Den go see what Al’s doin’ wid the wings for table ten. I already told him I want none of this gore-may shit. Just cook the bird till it stops clucking an dish it up.”

“Sure, no problem.”

He placed the mugs on the tray with the rest of the order.

“And tell Tasha to get her ta-tas up here. She’s on next.”

Felicity nodded and made a move for the aprons again. Tony braced his muscular arms on either side of the narrow aisle, blocking her. Right. She’d get one later.

“Oh, and Felicity.” He sent two plumes of smoke streaming from each nostril. “Your shift starts at five.” He pointed to the beer-can shaped clock behind him on the wall. “That’s five my time. Capisce?”

“Understood.” She grabbed the tray. When she was safely out of Tony’s hearing, she said a few more things under her breath that he would capisce.

* * *

Felicity shifted in her seat. Her butt hurt from sitting on the hard plastic library chair and her feet still throbbed from last night’s shift.

“Let’s finish this chapter.” Lise tapped the page Felicity had been struggling through. “You’re doing so well with your consonant blends today.”

“Whoo hoo.”

“Felicity,” Lise chided.

She hunched her shoulders and stared down at the page. Attempts at sarcasm aside, a little glow came to life inside her at Lise’s praise. She was making progress.

Sometimes it didn’t feel that way. More like just one continuous struggle. Felicity renewed her focus, breaking down the syllables of the next words, sounding them out. The glow dimmed. Progress was not only slow, it was boring.

She rubbed damp palms against her jean-clad thighs and keeping her voice low, read on. Even though she and Lise had a fairly isolated table by the windows, Felicity was aware of the people in the stacks who were blithely choosing books that she could barely skim through.

Instead, she was stuck reading The Grimm Brothers’ Fairytales. Felicity squirmed in her seat again, a coil of despair twisting her gut. She flipped ahead a couple of pages.

“Is there a story in here about a princess who ran away from home, looking for adventure, but ends up working for an evil chain-smoking ogre?”

“Then her Prince Charming arrives on his white steed?”

“With a satchel full of books on tape.”

Lise laughed and sat back in her chair. “I guess that means we’re done for today?

“Well to answer your question, no. Because the princess didn’t run away to have adventures. I’d guess she ran away from a lot of unhappiness.”

Felicity dropped her gaze.

“But there is a happy ending. The princess realizes her full potential so when Prince Charming does show up, she can read the pre-nup he tries to foist on her.” Lise chuckled and added with a tiny grimace, “Sorry, just a little lawyerly humor.”

“You’re a lawyer, too?”

“Oh dear me, no! I used to teach, as I mentioned before. There’re enough lawyers in our family.” Lise’s expression sobered a bit and she fiddled with a heavy gold knob at her ear.

“Although there’ll be one less soon.” A frown pleated her brow momentarily, but just as quickly she pasted on a bright smile. “Speaking of careers, how’s work?”

“Fine.” Felicity wasn’t exactly ashamed of Tony’s, but the less said about it the better. In fact she was a bit bemused over how Lise had managed to get so much personal information out of her already.

“It’s a bar uptown, isn’t it? You know, I wouldn’t mind dropping by for a glass of wine one day.”

Lise, with her discreetly expensive clothes and swingy salon hair at The Uptown? Even more laughable, Tony serving a wine that couldn’t also be used as a stain remover? “Er, I don’t think you’d feel comfortable there, Lise. Really.”

“How bad could it be? Yonge Street is quite nice up there.”

Agreed. The north Toronto neighborhoods were very nice. But every apple had its worm, and Tony had composted his little piece of real estate just fine.

“It’s a real guy’s place.” Felicity kept a straight face.

Lise wrinkled her nose. “Oh, you mean sports. Well, we’ll meet for coffee, then. We could even go now.”

She bit back a groan. In the months since they’d started the sessions, Lise had made several attempts to take their relationship beyond student/tutor. The friendship thing didn’t come easy to Felicity. Not even with Cheryl had she completely let her guard down.

Then again, maybe that was the best argument for having a cup of coffee with Lise—she knew Felicity’s little secret.

Yet, Felicity couldn’t quite shake off years of conditioning. Lise was poised, educated and well-off. Tick the “not” box for each of those items on Felicity’s list of accomplishments.

“Maybe next time?” she offered, thankful she had a real excuse for begging off. “My landlord is finally coming around to do some repairs.”

Lise masked her disappointment at being brushed off again. “Then we’re definitely on for next week. Promise?”

She accepted her fate in the face of Lise’s steamroller determination. “Promise.”

“Besides I wouldn’t want to keep you from being home when your pathetic excuse of a landlord shows up. From what you’ve told me about him, he wouldn’t come by again for another month.”

Felicity pursed her mouth. And clenched her thighs. Daniel had that effect on her.

Lise patted her hand. “Poor dear.”