Клео Коул - Latte Trouble

“But she’s hanging with friends who do drugs,” Matt pointed out, “which is why I’m going to have a long, straight talk with her.”

“That’s a very good idea. She’ll listen to you.”

Matt grunted and rubbed his eyes as if he were trying to ward off a monumental headache.

“She worships you, Matt, you know that, don’t you?”

Matt stopped rubbing his eyes and looked up. “I’ve never heard you say that before.”

“Sure you have.”

“No, Clare. What I usually hear is how I wasn’t around enough for her, which was completely true. And I honestly can’t see why Joy would want to listen to her old man when he’s just an ex-drug addict…a fuck-up.”

“Matt, stop. Of course she worships you. You’re her father—her exciting, larger-than-life, super-cool, globetrotting, no-fear father. I reached out and underlined those very words on his shirt. He caught my hand.

“Matt…”

“Are you just saying that because I’m so pathetic?” He brought my hand to his cheek, kissed my palm. “I mean, did you hear me on the phone?” He lowered his voice to a ridiculous octave. “‘Your mother is understandably upset.’”

I smiled. “That’s the thing about parenthood. No matter how cool you think you are, you are doomed to one day channel Ward Cleaver.”

As I spoke, his lips moved, touching the inside of my wrist and elbow. Then he shifted closer on the bed, pulling my arm around his waist, he angled in to nibble my throat, my ear, my jawline…

I sighed. It felt good. Too good. “Matt,” I said softly. “I don’t think—”

“Clare, sweetheart,” he whispered into my ear, “please…don’t think.”

Then his lips were on mine, warm and gentle, like an espresso, relaxing and rousing at the same time. The weight of his body pressed me farther into the sea of pillows. I closed my eyes, and I was floating once more. It felt like a dream, but not a bad one…and I let it carry me away.

The dawning sun streamed in with a blinding vengeance. I yawned and arched my back, wondering why I hadn’t drawn the drapes. Beside me Java trotted across the clean, white sheets and arched her back, too, then she butted her coffee-bean colored head against my arm in her usual demand for attention. As I petted the silky length of her, a Technicolor scene from Gone with the Wind flashed through my sleep-addled brain. I saw Scarlett awakening and stretching like a cream-fed feline the morning after Rhett carried her off to bed.

Now what brought that to mind? I innocently pondered. Then my hand stilled on Java’s fur.

Oh, god .

I sat up, the sheet fell down. I was naked.

“Good morning, sweetheart!”

A bare-chested Matteo strode through the master bedroom door as if we were still married. I snatched up the sheet to cover my naked breasts and realized with an appalling jolt that what had happened between us last night hadn’t been a dream.

Oh, no, I thought. No, no, no!

Matt wore gray sweats and nothing else. In his hands were two mugs of freshly brewed coffee. The aroma told me at once he’d broken into his special reserve Harrar for what he undoubtedly presumed was a “special” occasion.

He set the mugs on the rosewood nightstand, dropped onto the bed beside me, and immediately began to nuzzle my neck. “Mmmm, Clare, sweetheart…it’s been so long…”

“Y-yes.”

“You’ve changed, you know…”

“Changed?”

He pressed closer, the heat of his naked chest penetrating the thin layer of sheet between us. “You were so…different last night…”.

“Different?”

“Less inhibited…more open…passionate…” He continued to nuzzle my neck, my ear, moved to brush my lips. “You even taste different…like vanilla…”

I squirmed. “Must be the new shampoo and body wash. It comes in comfort food flavors. Strawberry ice cream, butter rum, gingerbread…”

“Mmmhmm…good to know…I like variety…”

I closed my eyes at that. Matt may have changed in some ways, but I knew he would never change in others. That’s always been our problem, Matt, I thought. You like variety a little too much. I touched his chest. As gently as I could, I pushed him away. “You made me your special reserve, didn’t you? I can smell it.”

He nodded, reached for one of the mugs and handed it over. As we sipped in silence, enjoying the incredible flavors, I tried not to panic.

Giving in to Matt had been a big mistake. Huge. And I should have known better. Notwithstanding the fact that our getting back together was something his mother had wanted for years—as well as our daughter—I had been through the mill too many times with my ex to want to risk getting my heart ground up again. Besides which, our relationship was changed now. We were business partners in the Blend, and I didn’t want that disturbed. Matteo was the best coffee buyer and broker in the business as far as I was concerned, and the Blend couldn’t lose that.

Stupid, stupid, stupid , I railed at myself. My resistance to Matt’s physical charms had failed only a few times since our divorce over a decade ago. Usually, I could rely on one of my memories of Matt’s extracurricular sexual romps to break “the mood” more effectively than an icy spike through my spine. But last night I couldn’t see Matt as a betrayer, only as a father and, shockingly, as a maturing man. He’d been hurting and open and unbelievably vulnerable. I wasn’t used to seeing him like that, his cockiness stripped away, his need so raw. It got to me…that and the fact that this mattress hadn’t seen any action for quite some time.

“Might as well enjoy the Harrar while you can,” Matt said, interrupting my thoughts. “Since my kiosks are a bust.”

“Oh, god, Matt. I’m so sorry—”

“It’s not your fault, Clare. My mother’s a stubborn old bird, and I obviously screwed up the presentation by going after Lebreaux—”

“No! Listen to me,” I told him. “The reason I’m sorry…I was waiting up to tell you, but then the whole thing with Joy at that nightclub happened, and then we…you and I…”

“Wait, back up,” said Matt. “What slipped your mind?”

“Your mother confided in me last night, while you were waiting on the taxi line. She thinks the future of the Blend is ours to decide, not hers. She understands what you’re doing and why. She’s not going to stand in your way.”

“Jesus, Clare. Why didn’t you tell me that last night!”

“Because at first I thought she should be the one to tell you, in her own words, but when I saw how hard you were taking it, I knew it was something you shouldn’t have to wait to hear—and then I…I got distracted. I’m sorry. But, Matt, I know she thinks your work in Ethiopia is phenomenal. And I do, too, by the way.”

His outraged tone softened. “She told you about the Harrar wet-processing?”

“Yes, and it’s just astonishing. You know, your mother will help hook you up with investors. She’s kept in touch with all of Pierre’s old contacts. You won’t have to go it alone or trust Tad to…”

My voice trailed off. The mention of Tad brought back all the things I’d witnessed on the Fortune the night before—not to mention my dream of Tucker drowning. And I realized with a sickening stab of guilt that while I was enjoying amazing coffee in the luxury of an elegant bedroom, my good friend was alone and afraid in a Riker’s Island jail cell.

I threw off the covers and got out of bed. I was totally naked, and I felt Matt’s eyes on me as I darted around the room, dressing for the day. But I didn’t care. I didn’t have time to.