The Lonely Apprentice (The Lonely Girl Series Book 1) Page 4

  But I still saw her beautiful face when I closed my eyes, didn’t I? There was a familiar wet throbbing down below that wasn’t going to go away until I did something about it. Giving into it was probably the only way I’d have any peace. It’d probably help me sleep, too. With a sigh my hand went to my mound and I gasped when my fingers made soft circles over my clit. When my imagination took over it was easy to see her lying there with me, covering my mouth with soft kisses, shyly letting her own hand trail down my belly and to my slit.

  I hadn’t needed a fantasy to get myself off in a long time, but Delia’s lovely face made it easy. My fingertips circled my nub faster and it wasn’t long before I was panting and writhing under my own touch. When that wasn’t enough I slipped my fingers inside, where the emptiness had grown unbearable. A low moan escaped me and I bit down hard on my bottom lip. I worked myself into a shameful frenzy of lust that had me whimpering with a longing for release, even as I silently cursed the girl for what she was doing to me. I bucked my hips up uncontrollably and rode the wave that was quickly taking me close to the edge. It seemed every muscle in my body clenched tight and went into spasms of pleasure when I reached that point of ecstasy and climaxed hard, so hard that when the last ripples faded I went limp with exhaustion.

  Feeling completely incapacitated to do anything else, I closed my eyes and tried to forget that I was alone, with no one snuggled up against me, radiating a delicious heat I could cozy up to in my sleep. In fact, when I stretched an arm out across the mattress it felt tauntingly cold. The last thought I had before I drifted off to sleep was, Yes, that girl is going to be a problem.

  Chapter Six

  I slept most of the afternoon away. It was out of character for me to do such a thing, but I hadn’t behaved as my normal self at all that day. I woke up around 3p.m. and dressed, still fighting grogginess. I opened the French doors that led out to my balcony and stepped onto it to take in the scenery. I was high above the surrounding woods and I loved that view. I’d insisted upon it when I’d first spoke with the contractors about constructing the house. They say we’re living in the new gilded age with new billionaires being made every day online. We are new money and we don’t quite know what to do with our vast fortunes, so we spend them in a craze of greed and hedonism. I had to admit that sentiment was true of many of my business colleagues. They bought private jets. They bought fleets of cars. They bought mansions sight unseen. They didn’t even live in them. Some interior decorator they’d never met in person coordinated them like a display house and sent them a hefty bill. Their houses were simply items on a long list of assets. They owned houses all over the world, but they didn’t have a home. Not me, though. I owned one house and I’d been involved in every step of its origination. I hadn’t planned to lock myself away in anything less than an absolute dream house. My home was my finest creation after my brand.

  How many nights had I sat on this balcony and sipped the finest wine while staring down at the breathtaking imagery nature had provided me? A few miles beyond the trees was the lake, lined thick with trees that would boast an array of vibrant color in the fall when the leaves changed. Of all the places a Texan could settle, they could worse than the Austin Lake. I considered getting into a pair of jogging shorts and taking a run to the water and back to wake up and clear the foggy residue of sleep that still gripped me in a semi state of listlessness. I gave up on the idea when I failed to muster up the energy and went back inside. I dressed and headed straight down to my office, entering seconds before the phone rang.

  “Hello?” I answered, easing myself into my chair.

  “Nadine, it’s Jack.”

  “It’s good to hear from you. I thought you might be calling. You’re curious about the interview with Delia Goldstein, I imagine.”

  “I’m more than curious. I’m hoping you have good news for me.”

  “Can I ask why you’ve taken such an interest in her?”

  “She’s one of the few students who actually seemed to take anything I say in class to heart, I guess. And she has a raw talent you don’t find too often. Other than that, she’s a good kid. I’d like to see her get a break. I’m telling you, one break and that girl will run with it.”

  “You sound as if you really know her well,” I said. He paused and I silently screamed at him in my head. Fucking elaborate, already. Tell me everything you know about her. Talk, you sonofabitch.

  “She’s gone out of her way to stay in touch. We meet for coffee once a month or so. I’m expecting her to call me with the results of the interview any minute, so what’s she going to tell me? Is it good news or bad?”

  “I hired her.”

  “Excellent. You won’t be sorry.”

  I was sure he was wrong about that, but I didn’t say it out loud. “She’s young. What do you know about her personal life? Is she the type to let it get in the way of her work? Girls her age do like to have their fun.”

  “Look whose talking. You spend plenty of time out on the prowl. You kind of have a reputation for it. You’re the most sociable recluse I’ve ever met,” he chuckled.

  He had me there. I might not have a family, or many real friends, but I got out and about. “I’m not a recluse. I’m simply not looking for a serious relationship. But you see, I can afford to have my fun. I’m the boss. I hold my assistants to an entirely different set of standards.”

  “For fuck’s sake, give her a chance. She hasn’t even started yet. She’s a sweet thing and no, she won’t have trouble committing to the job.”

  “Calm down, Jack. I never said I wasn’t going to give her a chance. I hired her, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but you don’t sound especially happy about it. Is there something about Delia that puts you off?”

  “No, I’m never happy. You know that. I’m open to letting you try to cheer me up, however. We should have dinner soon.”

  “We should. It’s been awhile since we’ve gotten together. On the down side, if I bring my wife along she’ll pick your brain the whole time trying to get a sneak peek at the new line your working on.”

  “Bring her. I might give her just one little peek. I trust Peyton to keep a secret.”

  “Okay, then, I’ll call you soon. And if it sets your mind at ease, I really believe you made the right choice with Delia.”

  “I’m sure I did. You know me, if there’s no drama I’ll create one.”

  “Actually, that sounds like the opposite of you,” he replied.

  “Depends on the mood I’m in. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Don’t wait too long.”

  I hung up the phone and gave my computer a look of disdain. The day had gotten away from me and I was behind now. That made the idea of getting back to work more daunting. That’s why I never took a day off and I sure the hell didn’t have any vacation plans set for the near future.

  “I really think it’s time for you to eat something,” Eva said, poking her head into the doorway.

  It was hard to chastise her for not knocking when she sounded so motherly. “Not just yet, Eva.”

  “I insist.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Yes, I’ve made you a pork loin sandwich and I fried up some potato chips myself to go along with them.”

  “Careful, woman, your Irish is showing.”

  “When doesn’t my Irish show? Now, please, you’ll eat?”

  “All right, it does sound good, though fattening as well.”

  “You could use a few pounds. You don’t model your clothes yourself. There’s no reason for you to stay so skinny.”

  “I’m chicly thin, not skinny.”

  “Skin and bones, that’s what you are,” she shook her head at me. “I hope Ms. Goldstein has a decent appetite. I’m tired of all my cooking going to waste.”

  “It won’t go to waste today,” I assured her. In fact, I realized I was starving. My mouth was watering at the idea of biting into a hot sandwich. I was so lagging in my daily tasks that another break wo
uldn’t change much. I’d be up until past midnight whether or not I took the time to eat, so why not enjoy?

  In the kitchen, Eva had my plate setting in my usual place. She poured me a glass of iced lemon tea and started throwing dishes into the sink as I stuffed my face.

  “I chose the room next to yours for Delia. How does that suit you?”

  “Not a good idea. I don’t want her so near me.”

  “That’s an odd way to put it.”

  “I meant that in a house this size we could both expect to have more privacy. Put her somewhere at the other end of the hall.”

  “Fine then, I’ll have the staff begin preparing it tomorrow.”

  “Do you think I’ve made a mistake asking her to move in?”

  “I already told you I think it’s going to be fine. I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal over it. I live here. We’ve had landscapers use the guest house in the past. Why is this girl any different?”

  I took another bite of pork loin without answering. There was no answer that I cared to share.

  “It will be a good thing, having her here. You’ll see,” Eva said.

  “And if it isn’t?”

  “You can ask her to leave as easily as you ask her in,” she reasoned.

  I looked at her. She continued stacking dishes into the washer, unaware that she’d struck on the heart of the matter. I didn’t believe for a second that asking Delia to leave would be easy. If it came down to it, it might prove to be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do.

  Chapter Seven

  Delia

  I called Cheyenne as soon as the interview was finished. I only made it a mile up the road, headed towards the highway, when I pulled over to the side and hit her number on my cell. A lot of people looking in on us might have claimed I was too reliant on her, she being my ex-girlfriend and all. In reality, she was more than that. Best friends call each other with news, good or bad, and she knew she could call me at any time as well. It’s just that she didn’t need me as often as I needed her. Cheyenne had a family, whereas she was my family.

  It bothered me from time to time. Growing up as a foster kid hadn’t sucked as hard as some would have believed. I spent my childhood and adolescence with many different families. My father had died of tuberculosis when I was ten and my mother had been killed in a car crash three years later. At thirteen, finding placement for me wasn’t as tough as you’d think because I was generally a good kid with solid grades. My social worker was able to tell my potential foster parents that I gave no indication of being one to cause any mischief, which could be a major concern of a couple looking to take a teenager into their home. I was easily placed and had never spent more than a night or two in a group home. Being accepted, however, wasn’t the same as connecting with that family. At that age, no one was looking to adopt me, or even parent me. The state paid them every month and they in turn did their charitable duty and provided for me. I was always well cared for and didn’t suffer any of the horrors you hear about like creepy foster dads sneaking into my room at night. On the other hand, I didn’t form any lasting bonds, either, so when I left for college on a scholarship, I was on my own. I had no family, no one at all, until I met Cheyenne.

  “I got the job,” I blurted out in a gush.

  “Awesome. I knew you would. We should celebrate. Meet me at Connie’s around eight o’clock?”

  “No, not there. Pick another place,” I said. The last thing I wanted was to run into Nadine again, especially if I’d be with Cheyenne. I don’t know why I thought that’d be awkward, considering that Nadine didn’t even seem to remember the night before, but it seemed like something I should avoid.

  “Okay, there’s a new place that opened up last week on 4th Street. We could check it out. I’ve been meaning to anyway. It’s called, The Sanctuary.”

  “I’ll find it and see you outside the doors around eight.”

  “We haven’t had a fun night out in forever.” She sounded accusatory, as if it were my fault, as if I hadn’t gone out of my way to spend every moment she’d allow me to have with her.

  “We’ll make up for it tonight. I’ll see you there.”

  I hung up and steered the car back onto the road, speeding down the pavement, anxious to get back to the downtown city limits. I couldn’t help but feel a bit out of my element. The only houses I knew of in Westlake were mansions. Nadine’s was the biggest and grandest of them all. Perhaps that’s why she’d set hers so far apart from theirs. Even the filthy rich were riff raff compared to Ms. Nadine Robertson. Driving in the area in my old piece of shit had me paranoid that I might get pulled over by a cop curious as to what someone of my caliber was doing there. I didn’t have anything to hide, but I wasn’t in the mood for the hassle nor the ticket. I had a busted tail light.

  When I got back to my own area near downtown I pulled over again and called Jack Mason.

  “Professor Mason, it’s Delia. I’m calling to let you know I got the job with Nadine.”

  “Yes, I spoke with her earlier. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you so much for your help.”

  “I’m glad it worked out for you.”

  “We haven’t had a coffee in a while. Do you have time?”

  “I don’t have a class until late afternoon. I can do better than coffee. I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “That’d be great.”

  “Don’t get too excited. I thought we’d hit the campus cafeteria. The menu isn’t what you’d call gourmet. I’m sure you remember how awful the food is.”

  In every school I’d ever attended the student and faculty alike made jokes about the cafeteria food. In truth, when I’d attended the university I’d thought it was rather good.

  “I’m on my way,” I said.

  Why Professor Mason and I had hit it off so well four years ago, I couldn’t say. Staying in touch with him had been my doing and we were sort of friends now, though I’d never called him by his first name. Professor sounded so formal considering the length of time we’d known each other, but the title had stuck. My first semester at the university, I’d been in way over my head. Having done well enough in high school to earn a scholarship, I’d foolishly anticipated skating through my college years with the same ease, but I’d grossly underestimated how different the two levels were. I had twice the class load in college and half the time to cram in the studying between working at the coffee shop on campus. The professor had taken an interest in my academic achievements right away. I’d mistakenly suspected he was hitting on me in the beginning, but he never did anything out of the way in that regard. Whenever he called me into his office after class it was to discuss my designs, make suggestions on how to improve them, bring more originality to them, and that was all. If it weren’t for him I wouldn’t have such a strong grasp on what it meant to brand my line. After I’d move on from his class I’d still drop in to ask his advice and that’s how we got into the habit of grabbing a cup of coffee once in a while. After graduation, we still met occasionally and I sometimes had dinner with him and his wife, Peyton. They both adored Cheyenne. Peyton had generously allowed me to cry all over her the night Cheyenne and I broke up. I even wondered if the professor had hooked me up with Nadine in order to get me concentrating on something other than my broken heart.

  I saw him as soon as I walked into the cafeteria. He was sitting at the first table near the door and smiled when he saw me.

  “I’m starving,” I said when I approached him.

  “I think the entrée is meatloaf today, unless you’d prefer a sandwich or junk food. Some might even say the chicken salad sandwich is junk food.”

  “No, meatloaf sounds good.”

  “I thought you were a vegan anyway.”

  “I was for about a month. It was Cheyenne who decided we were vegans,” I explained.

  “Ah, I see. Do you often let others tell you who and what you are?”

  “Only one person, but that’s over and now I like meatloaf,” I shrug
ged.

  “Me, too, or rather I can live with it. Let’s go grab some before it’s gone.”

  We went through line and he paid for both our trays. As we sat back down I looked around at all the new students who’d started the university since I’d left.

  “It’s weird. I’m only twenty-five, but I feel old.”

  “Missing your school days, huh?”

  “A little. Growing up is hard to do, especially being under all this pressure with the new job.”

  “How much pressure could you have? You haven’t even started yet.”

  “I have a lot to do before then. Nadine wants me to move into her place, if you can call it a place. That feels like an understatement.”

  “That’s a hell of a house she had built for herself,” he agreed.

  “And I’m going to live there, which means moving out of my apartment and giving notice to the shop. I manage the place. They prefer a month’s notice from someone in my position, but I can only give two weeks. My boss won’t be happy.”

  “That’s okay, because she won’t be your boss anymore,” he pointed out before taking a bite of mashed potatoes.

  “That doesn’t make it less irresponsible of me.”

  “If your boss doesn’t understand that you can’t let an opportunity this big slip through your fingers, they don’t deserve you.”

  I hesitated before responding. I didn’t want to sound like I was complaining or ungrateful, but I figured he could give me some insight into my new employer if anyone could. “Nadine seems like she’ll be tough, a real hard ass.”

  “She comes off that way at first, but she’s a softy once you get to know her. Don’t tell her I said that,” he pointed a finger at me.

  “I won’t, but I have huge reservations about believing what you’re telling me is true.”

  “You’ve got what it takes. Work hard and you’ll be fine.”

  “It’s a big step, giving up my apartment. If it doesn’t work out what will I do?”