Show Me the Danger: The Past Life - Book 2 Read online

  “Boys, boys,” Ali teases. “You mean to tell me you aren’t clamoring to compare china patterns?”

  “I’m all about cooking and serving up a nice dinner,” Liam says, “but I have zero opinion about the design of the plate my food lands on. I’ll leave it to the ladies who do care about that sort of thing. It’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

  “I hear you,” Ali says, smiling. “I could see that about you back in our first cooking class together. You know, the one where you told me I should meet your nephew, that big George Hartmann?”

  “I know the one,” Liam says playfully. “And I know what you’re going to say next.”

  “You certainly do,” Ali adds. “The part where you never introduced us and we had to meet in the food court of a mall on our own two years later.”

  “Are you ever going to let me live that down?” Liam asks with a laugh. “Shouldn’t there be some sort of statute of limitations? Or something?”

  “Never,” Ali and I say simultaneously, laughing together.

  “Ah, well,” Liam continues. “It all worked out in the end.”

  “It did,” I say. “For the very best.”

  We’re still standing in the front room when the caterer and his team arrive to set up for dinner. Ali waves them around to the side entrance closest to the kitchen. They were here for a consult once before we booked them, so they already know exactly where to go. The door is unlocked. It makes me a little nervous to leave it unlocked. But it is unlocked. I realize that’s a necessary step when we’re hosting a party with a caterer and musicians. We checked everyone out as best we could before hiring them. Fingers crossed, we won’t have any problems. I take a deep breath and tell myself it will be alright.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention that our friend Isabel Madera will be here for dinner as well,” Ali adds. “She’s actually our family physician, which is a little weird, but we think it’s okay.”

  “Small town,” I add. “What are you going to do? She took care of Mom and John Wendell for several years before we moved home. And Ali and I both feel like we’ve known her longer for some reason.”

  “Okay,” Liam replies. “Sounds good. I’ll be glad to meet her. Anybody else?”

  “I invited Mom, of course,” I say. “She’s been out of sorts for a while now though. I’m not sure she’ll show up for dinner. Hopefully, she will.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Liam says. “I could run over and pick her up if you think it would help.”

  “It might,” I say. “Let’s play it by ear.”

  Liam nods his agreement.

  “And last but not least,” Ali says, “my college friend Taye is coming in for the night with his son.”

  “Nice,” Liam replies. “I didn’t get to see Taye for long in January either. It will be great to spend some more time with him and to meet his kiddo. Malcolm, right?”

  “Good memory,” I say to my uncle.

  “He’s twelve,” Ali adds.

  “Alright,” Liam says. “Definitely too old to think Sara is a peer. She’s eight, right?”

  “Turned nine in May,” Ali says. “Would you believe I haven’t even seen Malcolm since he was a baby? I think he was something like seven months old when I met him.”

  “Time goes by fast these days, that’s for sure,” Liam says. “No worries though. I’ll find something to chat with Malcolm about and will make sure he feels comfortable.”

  “My man, Liam,” I say. “How is it that you’re always in the right place at the right time?”

  “What can I say?” my uncle asks, faking a sheepish grin. “It’s a gift.”

  We laugh together a while longer, then split up to get ready for the evening festivities. I help Liam unload his luggage from his truck and escort him to his same old room in the basement. Lady follows us. It’s cool in the basement despite the summer heat thanks to being partially underground, so Liam will again be able to sleep deeply and peacefully. He probably needs it after his time in Egypt.

  I prep the room down the hall for Nicky and Luis and the one beside them for Sara, just like I did the night of the break-in back in January. Marjorie and Roddy will take their usual spot upstairs. It’s eerie to be going through the same motions and putting everyone in the same rooms. The break-in and attempted abduction of Ethan rattled us to the core. The only difference in the overnight guest count tonight will be the addition of Taye and Malcolm, who are sharing a room upstairs on the other side of my in-laws. Having Taye here gives me a little extra peace of mind since he’s the former FBI, high-end security guy who assessed our setup and assured us we’re safe in our home. If for some strange reason there were to be a repeat event, I like the idea of him being here to help out.

  Lady seems to know what I’m thinking because she leans on my leg from the side and looks up at me intensely. Her wounds may be patched up, but emotionally, we’re both still healing.

  As I finish the ground-floor bedroom prep and walk up from the basement, Ali and Liam are waiting for me in the living room.

  “George, buddy,” Liam says, looking perplexed. “I talked to your mom.”

  “Okay,” I say, wondering what’s up with the strange look on his face.

  “I spoke with her, too,” Ali adds. “She sounded a little odd. Said she’s coming to the dinner party tonight and asked if she could bring a guest.”

  “What?” I ask. “One of her coworkers from the hospital maybe? Or one of the ladies from her book club?”

  “I don’t know,” Liam answers, “but she says she has an announcement to make.”

  2

  Same Stars

  The sun is still strong in the sky as people begin to arrive. Members of the catering crew use handkerchiefs to wipe sweat from their brows as they shuttle deliciousness out of the kitchen to the various food stations which stand waiting obediently on the main level of the house. The musicians set up near the back door, ensuring coverage of the open concept indoor area and the large screened porch and deck outside. They’re a group from Ithaca College, much like the one that played at Yellow Cob during John Wendell’s going away party. That’s what we’ve decided to call it now that we’ve had time to reflect on his intentions.

  Skies are clear this evening and it doesn’t look like rain will threaten the festivities. As usual, the lake is sparkling and beautiful as blue peaks and valleys dance together in their ancient, mesmerizing rhythm. I’m proud of the lake and our view of it. It’s almost as if this lake is an old friend I’m introducing to others. Every time a member of the catering crew or one of the musicians stops to admire the lake from our house, I feel like a proud papa. This is going to be a night to remember.

  Marjorie and Roddy are the first guests to show up. Once inside, they take their bags to their room upstairs, then freshen up and change their clothes for the party. They return to the main level looking surprisingly put together for having just been on the road from Manhattan for more than four hours. The first thing they do in party mode is to sample the food and compliment the caterer. I suppose it’s their obligation as huge foodies and amateur chefs. They’re both excited, dancing with Ethan and Leo along to the music even though the musicians are only beginning to warm up. Marjorie checks out the string bass and plays a few notes when offered the chance.

  I love to see my in-laws having fun. Mom isn’t the fun type, exactly, so I’m especially glad to have unabashed fun flowing from the other side of our family. I think it’s important for the boys to see. It’s one of many reasons I’m grateful for Marjorie and Roddy. Those two soak up every last bit of enjoyment from all they do. I want my boys to remember that being a kid was fun. And I want them to grow up feeling free enough to have fun as adults. Having their Mama Marjorie and Papa Roddy around will ensure that it happens.

  I’m wearing a suit and a crisp white dress shirt, per my wife’s emphatic instructions. I’d have been happy in shorts and sandals with maybe a polo shirt for the special occasion, but she wanted us to take it
up a few notches. I get it. She loves to dress up and dress me and the boys up to match. We’re like her real-life dolls. We don’t mind playing the parts.

  With the killer body Ali has, she probably ought to be wearing slinky, low-cut summer dresses every chance she gets. I know I certainly wouldn’t mind. She’s looking amazing this evening. It’s all I can do to keep my hands to myself. Now that Marjorie and Roddy are here to help entertain and watch over the boys, I can’t help but sneak into the bathroom where Ali’s putting the finishing touches on her makeup hoping to see a little pre-party action. If she’s in the mood, of course. I close and lock the door behind me, then lean back against it as I feast my eyes on my ravishing wife.

  Alessandra Davies is a beautiful creature like none other. The party dress she’s chosen is a deep blue, sleeveless bohemian number with a plunging neckline which lands well below her perky breasts. Thin cotton straps meet at the back of her neck, secured with a single bow knot. A built-in elastic band frames her small firm waist and allows the loose fabric to fall seductively around her taut backside. The bottom half of the dress features a white and turquoise floral print with a flirtatious ruffle around the edge culminating in a v-line which climbs nearly all the way to the top of her long, exquisite legs. She’s standing in front of the mirror and she looks like an irresistible gift ready to be unwrapped. Her golden hair is pinned back above one of her temples, forcing the rest of the long, wavy strands to settle around the other side of her delicate jawline.

  She has the diamond necklace I gave her before little Will was born set out on the counter in front of her, so I move forward to pick it up and fasten it around her graceful neck. She arches her back as I lean over her shoulder to reach for the necklace, so I turn my face towards hers and let my lips brush lightly across her earlobe while I move past. I remember the mind-bending lovemaking we enjoyed the night I gave her this necklace. She closes her eyes and lets out a sexy moan in response to my touch and I know she remembers, too. I clasp the cool diamonds in my palm and draw my hand back, allowing my fingertips to graze the front of her bosom. Her nipples are stiff, protruding visibly through the fabric of her dress.

  I take the nape of her neck into my mouth as my hands work to fasten the clasp on the diamond necklace. I kiss her skin softly, breathing in her sweet, beckoning scent. When the clasp is secure, I place my hands firmly on her hips as I move my mouth along her collarbone and under one of the cotton straps holding her titillating breasts in place. She lifts her chin high and leans her head back on my chest while simultaneously raising one arm and placing it seductively behind my head and running her fingers through my hair. She’s ready. She wants me to devour her.

  I don’t waste any time. My manhood is swollen and throbbing hard as I touch my wife’s smooth skin and watch us move together in the mirror. I can feel the throbbing throughout my entire body, from head to toe. Ali is feeling it too, moaning and writhing against me with anticipation. We’re on fire for each other. The rest of the world fades while, from behind, I move one hand up to squeeze my wife’s exposed breast and circle her erect nipple. I slide the other hand over the front of her hip and right into the v-line of her party dress. She isn’t wearing panties yet. She must have known I’d want to be inside her once I saw that dress. Realizing this makes me even more wild with desire.

  The smooth, silky skin between her legs is dripping wet with passion when I touch it. It feels so good between my fingers. Familiar, like home. I desperately, urgently, want to get deeper into it. In one quick motion, I pick my wife up and spin her around before propping her on the makeup counter, legs spread wide open. I move down her body hungrily until I reach her sweet spot. I then chew ravenously with my lips and tongue as she stimulates her own breast with one hand and pulls my head tightly in towards her with the other. She yells loudly with ecstasy as my mouth slips and slides over every nook and cranny of the space between her legs. I love looking up from this vantage point and seeing her enjoy this. I take my time and relish the view.

  When I feel we’ll both positively burst without a release, I stand and unbutton my trousers to enter her. She grabs at my groin greedily as her mouth meets mine and she kisses me deeply, my lips still wet from her juices. The ruffles around the edge of her dress hug her exposed hips as she wraps her gorgeous long legs around me and I slide aggressively inside. Both of my wife’s breasts are billowing out now, and they bounce seductively against the diamond necklace as I push and heave within her. We grip and grind against each other until we reach that one transcendent juncture of pure bliss. I plant my seed deep inside of her very being while at the same time, her body contracts with pleasure as she welcomes it in. In this moment, we are one.

  The physical connection Ali and I have is mind-blowing, but our relationship isn’t only about the physical. When we make love, we ascend to another spiritual realm. Everyone should experience what we do when we’re in the heat of the moment like this. It defies all logic and reasonable explanation.

  Once we’ve caught our breath, Ali giggles and leans her head on my shoulder.

  “Look at me,” she says, gesturing down to her rumpled dress. “I’m a mess, Georgie.”

  “You’re a beautiful mess, my love,” I reply as I kiss her lightly on the lips. “This is the way I like you best: glistening with perspiration, face flush, and positively glowing with pleasure. Nothing makes me prouder than to make you feel this good.”

  “Yeah, but how did you come through with nothing out of place but your zipper and belt buckle?” she says with a chuckle. “I’m all disheveled.”

  “I think my hair is a little messed up,” I tease while turning my head to one side. “In the back. See it?”

  She laughs as she shakes her head from side to side. I like to make her laugh.

  “We’ll get you put back together,” I say as I lean down and place my mouth gently around one of her nipples.

  “Come on, now,” she replies, teasing. “I’ve already yelled so loudly that the others probably heard me. We’ve got entertaining to do. No time for a round two just yet.”

  “Oh, I’m just giving you a taste of what you have to look forward to tonight when the party’s over and our overnight guests have gone to bed. You know your parents will probably keep the boys upstairs with them.”

  “Oh, you are, huh?” she asks me, as she reaches one hand down to stroke my groin. My blood rushes again, instantly, at her touch.

  “Did you really think you’d be able to wear that dress and get away with making love to your husband just once tonight?” I ask playfully. “It will take every ounce of self-control I have to keep my hands off of you while our guests are here.”

  “Well, I didn’t say you had to keep your hands off of me entirely,” she replies coyly. “By all means, help yourself if we get a moment alone.”

  “That’s a promise,” I say. “I’ll be counting the minutes until I can feel you against me again.”

  “I love the way you adore me,” Ali says as she continues to move her hand around inside of my pants, stroking me just the way I like.

  “It’s not an act,” I reply. “I really do adore you, babe. So very much. You make me the single luckiest man in the world, Alessandra Davies.”

  We hold each other like that for a few moments, then straighten ourselves up and exit the bathroom just in time to see Taye Jackson and his son Malcolm pull up out front.

  They’re already dressed in their party clothes even though they’ve been on the road from Western Massachusetts. Stockbridge is a closer drive than my in-laws had from Manhattan, but not by much. Perhaps Taye stopped somewhere in town so they could change before driving the last leg to our house. Malcolm looks like Taye’s mini-me as the father and son duo steps out of their black SUV and struts towards the house. They look good and they know it. Taye is wearing a black blazer with a vibrant pink button-down shirt underneath which shows off his muscular physique. Seeing him always reminds me to keep up my workout routine. Malcolm is wearing a sim
ilar blazer in navy blue with a mint green button-down shirt. Their strides are deliberate and powerful as they walk up our long driveway and into the front courtyard area. Their body language screams cool confidence. No hint of shyness or hesitation on either of their faces. Malcolm looks especially proud to be here. I have a hunch these two will have some impressive dance moves on display this evening. I look forward to getting out on the dance floor with them. Maybe they can teach me a thing or two.

  Taye and Malcolm are just inside the front door when Isabel Madera pulls up in her orange Jeep and parks along the curb in front of Liam’s truck. She has all the doors and windows off. I assume that’s so the warm summer breeze can move unencumbered throughout her vehicle. I leave Ali inside to catch up with Taye and Malcolm while I step out to greet Isabel.

  She’s an interesting mix of contradictions, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t have necessarily pegged her as a Jeep person. Maybe it makes sense though. She has a rough and tumble quality about her that’s different from Ali. Isabel’s long, dark hair isn’t pinned carefully. Instead, it swirls freely around her head and shoulders. She’s wearing a curve-hugging summer dress of her own, but it’s a low-key khaki color halter top without ruffles, v-lines, or floral patterns. She isn’t as elegant and refined as my wife, but there’s something attractive about that. Differently attractive. I prefer Ali by a long shot, but Isabel is a beautiful woman in her own right. There’s an attraction Ali and I both feel for her. I don’t know if Isabel feels the same way about us. I’ll probably never find out. And that’s for the best, I’m sure.

  The midwives told Ali and me that our romp in the unisex bathroom at the hospital the night Will was born helped to get labor going full-steam ahead. We didn’t mention how our sexy time that evening was inspired by one Isabel Madera. That would have been entirely too embarrassing. Some things are better kept private.