Waiting On You Read online

  Waiting On You

  Dexter & Robin

  Z. L. Arkadie

  Z.L. Arkadie Books

  Copyright © 2018 by Z. L. Arkadie

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-1-942857-33-4

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Prologue

  One Year Ago

  Robin Hester sort of hated the fact that her cousin Sonja had invited Dexter Frampton to dinner. That was why all night long Robin had been purposely giving him the cold shoulder. Something about him made her want to resist being sucked into his allure. His appearance wasn’t the culprit; it was something far deeper.

  She had met Dexter two days prior at Jay West’s house. Jay and Sonja were writing a TV show together based on their grandmother, Lorraine Hester’s, secret past. The two of them were returning from their trip to Texas and would be home at any minute. Robin wanted to be there to confront Sonja as soon as she walked through the door. Sonja and Jay had pulled scars off old wounds without Gran’s knowledge. Sonja could be careless in that way. Robin hated the duplicitous nature in which her cousin had operated, but the fact that she had agreed to keep their little mission hush-hush made her just as culpable.

  When Robin arrived at Jay’s house, it was Dexter who let her past the gates and greeted her at the front door. She was caught off guard by how strikingly attractive he was. At first, she thought he was one of Jay’s actor friends. She’d heard Jay would let his loser friends throw explicit parties at his house sometimes. At least that was what his ex-girlfriend, Plume Ashbury, had told her. But when the houseguest said his name, Robin realized the tall, well-built man with piercing blue eyes and honey skin was Sonja’s new writing partner. Usually, a man had to be more than good-looking for Robin to give him a second thought. She was reminding herself of that as they sat across from each other in the den, waiting for Sonja and Jay to arrive.

  They sat in silence for longer than she was comfortable with. Robin had never been good at small talk, so she was feverishly trying to think of something to say.

  “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” Dexter finally asked.

  Robin looked up from her sweaty palms. She’d been trying to focus on everything else in Jay’s sparsely decorated and sterile room instead of Dexter’s face. The white cabinets, tables, and empty glass vases revealed just how lonely their childhood friend, who’d just recently reconnected with his family, had been for the last fifteen years.

  She set her gaze on his alluring smile. “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “You look familiar. Do we know each other?”

  It took her a moment to stop studying all the perfect lines and angles of his face. She was searching for an imperfection, but there were none. “I don’t know. Do we?”

  He turned his head slightly to the right. “It’s just that you look familiar.”

  “Well, Sonja and I favor each other, so…”

  “No. I’m aware of that.” He shook his index finger. “You’re Robin Hester. My daughter likes your art.”

  Robin watched him cross his legs as though he were proud of himself for figuring out the mystery of her identity. However, his face continued to hold her in captivity. She couldn’t look away from it no matter how hard she tried. “How old are you?” she blurted.

  He sat up straight. “How old am I?”

  “Yes.” There was a sense of desperation in her voice.

  He pursed his lips, frowning.

  “I’m asking because you look pretty young to have a daughter old enough to appreciate my art.”

  Then he grinned again. “I thought good art had no restrictions when it came to admiration.”

  She was trapped in his smoldering gaze and was amazed by how easily aroused she felt in his presence. It usually took a lot more than a sexy face to get her juices flowing, and that was still the case. So it had to have been more than all the variations of his attractive expressions. It was something more that she found so captivating about him, but she still couldn’t put her finger on it.

  He cleared his throat and adjusted in his seat. “My daughters are—”

  Robin jerked her head. “You have more than one?”

  He raised two fingers. “I have two.”

  She frowned, thinking they must be very young or he had exceptional genes.

  “Maribel and Mariana. That’s their names.”

  “Humph,” she said.

  “You don’t like kids?”

  She realized she was having a conversation with herself and not saying much to him. That was something she did often, which made people believe either she was a snobbish artist or not playing with a full deck.

  She shook her head fervently. “I mean, I like kids… for the most part.”

  “For the most part?”

  “It might be quieter when they’re not around. But I guess that depends on the kid.”

  With his arms folded across his chest, Dexter grinned at her as though he were thoroughly amused. “Can I ask you something?”

  She groaned woefully. “Please do, especially if you’re about to change the subject.”

  “I am.”

  “You are?”

  “I’m about to change the subject.”

  Pull it together, Robbie. She sat up straight, composing herself. “I’m all ears.”

  “So, what made you want to become an artist?”

  Robin had a practiced answer for that question, which she had been asked numerous times during her career. But his entrancing blue eyes made her forget it. Or maybe it wasn’t the color of his eyes but the way he looked at her that discombobulated her. Or perhaps it was something else—that unidentifiable thing that made her want to experience him in all kinds of ways, especially sexually.

  She could feel the tension in her face from frowning. “I don’t know.”

  He looked surprised. “You don’t?”

  “I guess because painting and drawing has always come easy to me. Then when I’m in it, something speaks.” She closed her eyes to feel the emotions soaring through her. “No. It yells, it screams, it says, ‘I’m here.’ But I can never hear the voice unless I’m creating.”

  Dexter watched her with his mouth open. Robin felt like hiding inside her skin. She had definitely said too much. Thank God the alarm system announced the rear parking door had opened.

  Dexter’s blue eyes gleamed at her as though they were saying more than his words could convey.

  “Dexter, are you in there?” Jay called.

  “We’re in the den!” he said.

  “We?”

  Dexter grinned. “Robin and I.”

  Finally, Sonja and Jay appeared, and Robin said goodbye to Dexter to have it out with Sonja about nosing around in their grandmother’s past.

  After leaving Jay’s, Robin drove to Mars MacAvoy’s house. Mars was an actor who, for the last two weeks, had been her secret obsession. She went to see him on a whim, hoping that one look at Mars would get Dexter’s beautiful blue eyes out of her head.

 
Mars didn’t live that far away from Jay. However, when Robin made it to the security gates of his property and called the house, Lourdes, his housekeeper, said he wasn’t home and would be gone for a week on business.

  Robin frowned. “Funny, I spoke with him this morning, and he never mentioned that to me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Lourdes replied. “That’s what I know.”

  Robin could hear the frustration in Lourdes’s tone. She’d only met the woman twice, and the way Lourdes avoided looking at her face was a clue that the housekeeper knew Mars was involved with other women and loyal to none. But Robin already knew that and didn’t care. When they had sex, Mars had an intoxicating way of making her feel as if she were the most desirable woman on earth, not loved or cherished, but desired. Although as soon as their sex ended and he came, there was never any petting, cuddling, or pillow talk. He would make up an excuse to get away from her as fast as he could. He was no good for her or any other woman. She knew Mars couldn’t be changed; he was too messed up in the brain to change. It had been two days since she’d driven away from Mars’s gates, and she still hadn’t heard from him.

  Before arriving at her cousin Elaine’s house for dinner that evening, she had forgotten about Dexter Frampton and his intoxicating energy. Throughout the evening, every time her eyes found his baby blues, they were already watching her. More than a few times, his smoldering stare made her thighs quiver. There was something about Dexter that was different from Mars. She was quite certain Frampton wasn’t a love-them-and leave-them type of guy. Robin had never had one of those kinds of guys before. The men she chose to get involved with had the sort of mommy issues that made them impossible to take seriously, and that went for Mars too.

  Dexter Frampton was the real deal—the sexy, smart, and more importantly, healthy real deal. Mars was junk food, and Dexter was a Michelin-star four-course meal.

  Dinner ended minutes after midnight. Robin lingered to use the bathroom. She’d had two glasses of wine then two cups of coffee, and all the liquid had gone right through her. By the time she was done in the bathroom, everyone but one person had already left. As she walked down the hallway to the front door, she could feel a presence behind her. Robin stopped. She knew it was Dexter. Her heart pounded like crazy. She closed her eyes in an attempt to silence the voice inside her that was telling her not to deny this man the pleasure of having his way with her. In that moment of complete honesty, she inhaled deeply, held the air, then pushed it out of her lungs. Robin whipped herself around.

  There was something wildly lustful in Dexter’s pale-blue eyes as he continued taking deliberate steps toward her. Then their mouths crashed into each other. His soft, warm tongue eagerly swirled around hers.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Robin whispered, taking his hand and guiding him. She made it two steps before he tugged her against him then pressed her against the wall and kissed her deeply.

  Robin’s head spun like a top. Her panties were drenched, and her pussy throbbed for more. It felt as if her body would explode if he didn’t take her right there and then.

  “Let’s stay here,” he said, searching over both shoulders for anyone else who might be around. “I want you now.”

  “Me too,” she said breathlessly.

  “Well then, stay at your house. I don’t care,” Elaine said loudly. She wasn’t in sight, but the sound of her footsteps was getting closer.

  “I have a morning meeting in downtown LA. I don’t want to fuck with PCH and the 10 Freeway in the morning,” Gary, Elaine’s fiancé, whined.

  “You said that already. Three times. Why do you feel the need to say it again? Are you lying?”

  “Jeez, Laney. I can’t fucking win with you.”

  Robin and Dexter stepped away from each other and made themselves appear cool, calm, and collected as the bickering couple rounded the corner.

  Elaine halted, glowering at them as if they had stolen the silverware. “Robin? You’re still here?”

  Robin could feel her eyes expand. “Um, we were just talking, Dexter and I.”

  Elaine bolted toward them. “Well, you have to go now because I’m setting the alarm.”

  Robin knew her cousin well enough to know that Elaine was embarrassed that she and Dexter had heard the couple arguing. The more Elaine tried to make it appear as if she and Gary had a healthy relationship, the more evidence she provided to the contrary. However, Robin took Elaine’s interruption as a sign from above.

  “Got it. Good night.” Robin made a mad dash toward the front door and didn’t stop as the warm August night gushed across her face.

  “Robin,” Dexter called. “Robin,” he said louder.

  She pressed the button to remotely unlock her car then stood by the driver’s door. Her eyes closed tightly when she felt Dexter’s presence wash over her. “That was…” She cleared her throat. “We were about to make a mistake.”

  His hand massaged her shoulder, sending a surge of desire racing through her. “That didn’t feel like a mistake to me,” he said.

  She refused to turn and look at him. If she did that, then she would lose all her will to resist him. “I just can’t.”

  “You can’t?” He sounded disappointed.

  “No,” she whispered and immediately wanted to take it back.

  He must’ve stepped away from her because Robin could no longer feel him near.

  “Okay,” he said. “How about dinner tomorrow night? I could…”

  Robin squeezed her eyes tighter. “No. I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t.” She swung her car door open.

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying I have no chance here?”

  A picture of Mars came into mind and remained with her as she finally faced Dexter. His face caused her to skip a breath. Looking at him made her picture shit that always terrified her, like love, loyalty, and happily ever after. Her mother was the worst at being in a stable relationship with a really good guy. Robin was certain her mother’s bad habits had rubbed off on her. She would ruin everything that was good about Dexter Frampton. He would end up hating her. Not only was he Sonja’s writing partner, but he was Elaine’s client. No matter what, he was going to be in Robin’s life long after she gave into her lust, made mad, passionate love to him, and broke his heart. She would rather exist with him in peace than in enmity.

  “No, I’m not saying that.” She groaned as she sighed. “Let’s start slower than having dinner tomorrow night. Plus, aren’t you flying to Vancouver in the morning?”

  He blew his cheeks out and released the air. “Ah shit, I forgot.” He folded his arms. “But I’m curious. How do you start slower than dinner? Coffee?”

  She snorted at his astute comeback. “How about I call you sometime? We’ll talk and get to know each other better.”

  He tilted his head slightly. “On the phone?”

  “Or text.”

  He rubbed the side of his head. “If you’re not into me, Robin, then say it. Don’t bullshit me.”

  She could look in his eyes and tell that he’d been hurt before. All she had to say was, “I’m seeing someone else, and our timing is off. That’s all.” But that wouldn’t have been the whole truth. She was seeing someone, but their timing wasn’t off. She was just scared as hell of him.

  “Let’s just be friends, cordial,” she said.

  “I see.” He studied her. “I’ll call you sometime. How about that?”

  She sighed with relief and nodded.

  They exchanged numbers then parted ways. As Robin drove back to her apartment complex, which she currently managed, she was struck by inspiration. It had been so long since she’d had some artistic vision. She’d lost count of how many months she had been creatively blocked. Everything she painted was utter shit. But an installation had come to mind. She saw lights blasting out of her heart. She saw those particles split and become matter. The vision was calling her, asking her to please make it real. So instead of heading hom
e, she went in the opposite direction. Tonight, she would head to her Venice Beach studio and create what her heart could not deny.

  Chapter 1

  Robin Hester

  Robin Hester frantically brushed on mascara and dropped the tube back in the overnight case she’d been living out of for the past three weeks while in New York City. She was going to be late to her own art exhibit, which really pissed her off. Her gran had always taught her to be prompt to even the smallest affair, and that night was big. She would be showing her light installations to the public for the first time.

  Mars, her date for the evening, was supposed to have swung by and picked her up a half hour ago. But he’d called at the last minute to say he would meet her at the venue. He’d given no explanation for his sudden change of plan and had ended their call before she could ask for one.

  Her cell phone rang again, and she knew it was either Claudia François, her new manager; Sonja calling from Vancouver to wish her good luck; Elaine calling from LA to remind her to own her success and not to let them see her sweat; Theresa calling from Seattle to say she wished she could be there; or the taxi service.

  After looking at the face of her device, she answered it. “Hi, I’m on my way down.”

  The service rep for the cab company thanked her.

  Robin sighed after taking one last look at herself in the mirror. Makeup was never her friend. It always made her look like a seven-year-old pageant queen. With only seconds to spare, she grabbed her tube of facial cleanser and washed her face.

  “There,” she said after towel drying her skin. She felt like herself again, almost. Claudia had convinced her to wear a long black dress, which made her look like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, from the neck down. If only she had enough time to change into her black pants and white T-shirt. She fought the urge to do just that and instead grabbed her small purse and headed out.