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Madam Mom
Madam Mom Read online
Contents
Dedication
Publisher: Sweetwater Publishing Company
Author: Lynda Rees
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
About Lynda Rees
Also By Lynda Rees
Author Note
This story is dedicated to my husband, the
hero of my personal story.
Mike, you bring joy to every day.
Sunshine follows wherever we go.
It’s an honor growing old with you,
even if we never seriously grow up.
I adore our motto:
More fun faster.
Thank you for the love we share and for
never boring me.
Yours,
Lynda
Publisher: Sweetwater Publishing Company
6694 Ky. Hwy. 17 North, DeMossville, KY 41033
https://sweetwaterpublishingcompany.wordpress.com
Copyright © 2018 by Sweetwater Publishing Company
Edited by Melinda Williams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photo copying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author. To request permission to use text excerpts, you may contact the author at [email protected].
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. An eBook may not be sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the book, please do so through proper retail channels. If you are reading the eBook and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for you, please return it and purchase your own copy. Please respect the legal rights and hard work of the author.
Characters and some locations in this book are fictional and figments of the author’s imagination. Historical characters, locations or events portrayed fictionally associating or interacting with fictional characters in the story are portrayed in ways that could be feasible, however their experiences are fictional and of the author’s imagination. Any similarity of fictional characters or events in this book to actual characters and events is purely conjecture on the part of the author, for the sake of entertainment only.
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Author: Lynda Rees
Edited by Melinda Williams
Publisher: Sweetwater Publishing Company
6694 Ky. Hwy. 17 North, DeMossville, KY 41033
https://sweetwaterpublishingcompany.wordpress.com
Copyright © 2018 by
Sweetwater Publishing Company
CHAPTER 1
Tisha McClain snapped to reality as she reached the front of the security line. She flipped her carryon bag onto the conveyor belt, removed her Gucci® pumps and placed them to follow her Prada purse into the X-Ray. In a daze, she awaited her turn to walk through the electronic scanner. She smiled automatically at the guard. He gave her the go ahead.
Tisha blindly listened without words registering to the man behind her talking on his cell phone.
“I dread taking the account Dad dumped on me. I’ll man up and won’t complain to him, though. Dad won’t allow me to shirk it off with her mom a longtime client and a friend of his. He expects me to carry on with her spoiled, rich-bitch brat of a daughter and make it easy on her. Far as I can tell from their file, easy is the norm for her. The pampered, protected heiress is my latest nightmare.”
He raked a hand through unruly blond hair determined to live on his forehead and tossed his bag on the ramp across from Tisha’s literally bumping into her.
What a jerk?
“Sorry, Lee, I’ve got to go—security. See you when I get there. Bye.” He snapped his phone shut and turned toward Tisha. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m sorry.” He returned to the process of clearing security efficiently.
“Forget it.” Well-formed muscles and slim physique are wasted on a moron with a ruggedly handsome face—if you like the Shaggy from Scooby Doo type. Tisha didn’t want any type at the moment, having sworn off the opposite sex. She hadn’t meant to express contrition, but it spat out that way.
Dabbing tears springing forth uncontrollably, she stepped into the scanner and waited for the guard to wave her through. Moving quickly, her things emerged from the box and she began gathering belongings as she sniffed. Slipping her heels on, she tousled forward, bumped from behind.
The flustered deep voice behind her came from the towering, fine-looking man. “Excuse me. I’m sorry. I’m a klutz.” At the sight of her tears he winced. “Are you okay?”
He steadied Tisha by the shoulders with a gentle grip. Startling sapphire-blue eyes showed sincere concern. The striking, blonde’s demeanor touched him. Tears flowed harder. One rarely found kindness from a stranger, especially in New York and certainly at the airport. Her instincts reacted poorly to the foreign experience.
Bumping into her didn’t give the stranger license to insinuate into her personal life. Dabbing at the flurry of tears, she refused to smile. Shrugging her shoulders, he released them; she snatched her things and tucked them away turning her back to him.
“Fine.” She snapped away instantly regretting her hasty, gruff, ill-mannered words, nastier than intended when the guy extended kindness. He eased past to where his possessions plopped onto the beltway.
She should apologize for behaving poorly and felt ashamed, yet automatically rejected the notion. No time. He’d get over it, and she’d never see him again—might as well forget it.
“Are you sure you don’t need help? I should mind my own business. But I’m a sucker for a woman in distress after living with a houseful of sisters.” His adorable blush surprised Tisha as he fingered a stray blonde lock into place.
Attempting a meager smile, it came out strained and hostile to the sexy stranger. “Thank you for your concern. I’m fine. I can handle my own problems.”
Used to being alone and doing for herself, she depended on no man. The concept sounded alien even if she needed it. Tisha wiped a tear away with a sniff. The one person she depended on was gone. Who to count on now—herself? The weight of the world rested on her shoulders, and she could hardly breathe.
The fella stepped backward, retrieved his briefcase then disappeared.
♥♥♥♥
He did it again—stepped in where not welcome. When would he learn?
“Sorry, I never know when to mind my own business.” He spun and ran toward the tram toward his gate.
He loved stretching his long, lean muscles in physical activity running for
the train. He’d spend the next couple hours cooped in a tight plane seat. His muscles bulged against his leather bomber jacket as it hung open, tails flapping while he sped forward. Exertion helped stall disappointment at the beautiful woman’s hostile reaction.
A shame she acted rude. He didn’t deserve the brunt of her frustration, but then again, maybe he did. When would he learn? Too bad—she was a looker. Even with that sad expression shoulder-length, dark-brown hair perfectly framed her porcelain face. Deep pools of brown sadness soaked with tears ripped any sane thoughts toward her from his mind.
Sam boarded and stowed his bag in first class. The stewardess handed him a mimosa, and he settled into luxurious comfort of the extra-wide, leather seat.
♥♥♥♥
Moving in rote and semi-catatonic, Tisha scurried toward her flight. She’d been this way since receiving the call. Walking in a dream-state, she wished she’d wake and find it a nightmare.
Tisha woke to watch the city come alive, a normal Monday. She loved early morning in New York, the magnificent city of her dreams. The view from her bedroom window took her breath away. Excitement sent an electrical surge through her veins energizing her with anticipation for what the glorious spring day brought forth. She breathed a long, cleansing gasp of the fresh fall scents uniquely New York.
Her neighborhood and art gallery on Mercer Street in SoHo Village near Bar 89 became her domain where she thrived with work as her life and liked it. It fit her to a tee. One phone call and she’d fled the city like it was on fire, leaving her precious gallery in capable hands of her best friend and manager, Kelle McGee.
Tisha absently locked herself into the seat in first class and began sipping the cool drink as the plane backed slowly from the gate. Waiting in a long line for takeoff, she had plenty of time to finish the drink. It was tasteless in her numbness. Disoriented her body wasn’t functioning properly—except for the eyes—they functioned more than well and refused to stop tearing up.
A hand from across the aisle nudged her elbow. Twisting toward the intruder, an outstretched hand offered a cloth hanky. With it she dabbed moisture, as her head rose acknowledging the kind gesture. The handsome, blonde fellow from security smiled. Sparkling whites and deep-set, blue eyes crinkled in the most adorable way when he engaged them.
Whatever emotion registered on her face, put him immediately on the defensive. “Sorry I’m a bother again, Ma’am. You teared up and need the hanky more than I.”
Dumbfounded, mouth open, she gasped and sobs broke loose with a vengeance. Ringing in her ears blocked ability to think straight. She’d been holding her breath without realizing it.
“Thank you. I must apologize for my actions. I’m generally not ill-mannered and intolerable.”
That smile grew deeper as his lips pursed. The baby-blues held compassion as his brow wrinkled beneath the sandy mop falling across it. “No worries, Ma’am. I’m sorry for whatever caused such a lovely woman’s sadness.” He relaxed into his seat observing her.
It wasn’t like Tisha to share, but nothing was as it should be. Words flowed without her mind’s approval. “My mom died today. I’m headed home to see to her funeral and take care of my aging grandmother.”
“That’s tough to handle. I’m sorry for your loss. Obviously this came as a shock. You must be devastated.”
“Yes.” Her body hummed in a stunned detachment. Shaking experienced earlier when she’d feared she’d swoon had worn off leaving her in a delirious, otherworldly condition, observing instead of participating in the day. Moving in another dimension where everything slowed and nothing felt real, her head felt full of cotton, disoriented operating in rote.
“Where is home?” With him determined, she had no strength to be nasty again. She gave up.
“New York, but Mom and Gran live in Ft. Thomas, Kentucky where I grew up. That’s where I’m heading. You?” She didn’t care, but felt obligated to ask.
“Likewise, I live in New York, but my parents, sisters, and their families live in Cincinnati. I’m headed there for a visit combined with work at the family business in northern Kentucky.”
“Nice. Combine business with pleasure.” Someone else taking the trip for pleasure helped Tisha. Life went on when you didn’t want to participate.
Family business—she didn’t know what Mom did for a living, except for owning another gallery in Cincinnati, but she had a manager for it. Tisha would figure it out depending on how it impacted her and Gran. Gran’s welfare became Tisha’s utmost priority and responsibility. Time would tell if she could handle it.
Her heartbeat raged in her ears ready to burst from her skin any moment. She stared out the window into space. Her eyes filled and tears clung to her lashes, crying openly using the stranger’s hanky. Finally spent, her head rested against the seat as the plane lifted from the ground. With it her freedom disappeared.
Heading to Kentucky to run the family, small as it was, she’d take over her mother’s estate, whatever it was.
Her face tingled strangely. She blinked several times. Her eyes itched madly. Skimming backs of her fingers across her face, she bolted upright. She snatched her bag from beneath the seat in front of her, against the rules because the captain hadn’t flashed the clear sign yet. The stewardess seated nearby to the front glared a warning. It registered on her face.
Tisha frantically searched depths of her bag for a mirror. She whipped a small compact out as the uniformed woman approached her seat. “Are you okay, Ma’am? You don’t look well.”
Her reflection formed a knot in her throat, and she coughed. Her eyes swollen and red from crying, her cheeks welted with puffy lumps forming, and her lips swelled.
“Are you allergic, Ma’am?” The nervous woman shifted leaning over her.
Nodding without meeting the woman’s eyes, she thought for a second then spied the handkerchief in her hand holding the compact. She dropped it as though it caught fire. The stewardess retrieved the hanky and glared questioningly.
Tisha shot the man across the aisle a heated look shooting daggers his way. “It’s his.”
The woman returned his handkerchief with a dubious expression on her face. “Sir, does this belong to you?” Nodding, he accepted the fabric, folded it and stowed it in an inside-jacket pocket. “Yes, thank you. Is there a problem?” He glanced Tisha’s way and caught her panicked expression combined. Her skin blotched wildly. His mouth flew open, and he gasped.
Geez. She must look a sight.
Her hands flew to her heated cheeks, and Tisha moaned. Itching worsened becoming uncontrollable. Her eyes kept blinking to find relief. “I’m allergic to perfumes. Did you wash that thing in Gusto laundry detergent? I’m allergic to its heavy scents and cheap perfumes.”
The dumbfounded man nodded. “Yeah, sure, it’s a leading brand and smells great. Is it what caused your face to—” His eyes and mouth went wide. “Damn. Ma’am, I’m sorry. I had no way of knowing.”
“Forget it.” She spat the words as she spun in her seat. “Neither did I.”
The stewardess focused on Tisha. “Ma’am, do you have medication?”
“No, I usually avoid cheap perfumes and don’t normally need meds. What can I do?”
“I’ll get ice packs and Benadryl. Can you take it?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.” The woman sped away returning with a small tray containing an ice pack, a wash cloth, a bowl of ice, a cup of ice water, and a box of medicine. “Here you go. Let’s get some of this into you and see if it helps enough to get you off this plane comfortably. We’ll keep an eye on your breathing, and an ambulance can meet us at CVG if you experience more discomfort.”
“Thank you. I’m fine.” Tisha swallowed a triple dose of meds with a sip of water, put cold compresses on her face, then laid her head on the headrest and fell asleep. A couple hours later she awoke to the kind woman’s hand on her wrist.
“Wow, you made an incredible recovery. You’re back to normal except for a slight lip swelling.”
Pulling out her mirror again, Tisha checked. Her assessment was accurate. While Tisha slept like a drugged baby during the flight ice and meds did the trick. She felt much more herself than since receiving the attorney’s call earlier in the day.
“We’re getting ready to land. Please pull your seat into an upright position.” The woman disappeared taking the tray of goodies with her. Tisha glanced at the gentleman slightly behind her.
“Hi, I’m sure glad you’re doing better. I feared I’d scarred your gorgeous face permanently. I’m sorry for causing you harm. It’s the furthest from my intention.” He had the most engaging smile she could imagine. She wanted to stroke those tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes to see if the skin felt soft or firm. When he smiled that way, slight dimples formed to the sides of his mouth, and she wondered how kissing those tempting lips and nibbling over to explore the depth of those tiny dips.
Wow. Where had it come from? Today her libido, normally well-guarded and in check, entangled emotions with actions. Nothing fired as it should, beyond able to control sparking senses, no matter how inappropriate.
Sex appeal oozed from each breath he expelled. Pheromones struck a happy, hot dance in her veins. As they stopped and the Seatbelt On sign blinked off, he extended a hand. “I’m Sam Finch.”
Tisha shook it firmly. Heat from his skin melted clasped together as their eyes locked and spoke more than words could.
“Nice meeting you, Sam Finch. I’m Tisha McClain.” The sultry words came out, with a life of their own, expressing more about her needs than her name.
Sam blinked, cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, keeping their gaze locked together as though trying to read her intention.