Faded Cotton (Erotic Romance) Read online




  Faded Cotton (Erotic Romance)

  Title Page

  Preface

  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

  Faded Cotton

  by

  Lara Lee Sweety

  Copyright © 2013 Lara Lee Sweety

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved.

  Cover © 2013 Lara Lee Sweety

  Copyediting by ZouCrew Editing

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recorded, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  For information regarding permission, write to:

  Sweety Publishing, LLC

  [email protected]

  Faded Cotton

  Copyright © 2013 Lara Lee Sweety

  All rights reserved.

  Cover © 2013 Lara Lee Sweety

  Copyediting by ZouCrew Editing

  Published by Sweety Publishing LLC

  Faded Cotton is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To him,

  The most wonderful lover a woman could ask for.

  Preface

  Life is too damn short. My wish is that all women would learn the secrets of pleasing a man and being pleased early in life. Keeping your relationships vibrant and ever changing takes a little luck, a lot of creativity, an open mind, and the love of a good man.

  This is for all the girls out there that need a little encouragement for the bedroom. This is for all the women out there who need a sweet escape from everyday life. This is for all the ladies who want to go beyond where they are at now and experience their man completely. This is for all of you who believe making love is an incredible experience, to be sought often, and savored long.

  This is for everyone missing someone tonight, whether in service to their country, their state, or city, or town. This is for all you ladies missing a hard-working man that is pulling overtime, or who is out on the road, or working the late shift.

  Thank you to the man who makes me happy and puts up with my wild, creative side. Thank you to all who encouraged me to put this story to pen. Thanks to my editor, who is a dear, sweet, smart young woman and my cohort in crime. Thanks to the special people in my life, who make my life worth living, you know who you are.

  I wrote Faded Cotton for a lot of reasons, mostly, because it made me happy. I hope you enjoy the journey of Laurel MacClain and her extended family as much as I do.

  Regards,

  Lara

  P.S. For the best strawberry margarita mix ever, flip to the last page of the book for Grandma Maralee’s Margarita recipe.

  Faded Cotton

  by

  Lara Lee Sweety

  Chapter 1

  She was in the same booth she always sat in at City Creek Bar & Grill. Looking out across the grounds to the lake, she realized she was a mixed bag of emotions that day. Laurel MacClain was a little lonely, a little happy, and a little scared. The brakes going out on her truck and a barn fire, all in one week, were too much. Seeing G, so soon again, would be a rare treat that would make her happy.

  Rarely did one of the guys come to see her so soon after leaving the farm. Each had his own life, each had moved on at the right time and she had wanted it that way. Each one was a successful, driven man with purpose and confidence. Thinking of them made her smile.

  Sometimes she got post cards from far-away places or emails with pictures or a “how ya doin’ ” text. Still, there was no one to fill the “lonely” after the death of her husband, Jahn. He had been the love of her life. Thoughts of him engulfed her, intensifying the ache.

  Her gaze was held by the soft rippling water, but there was nothing soothing about it. The growing pit at the bottom of her stomach gnawed at her harder. The brakes, the fire, she was scared—an emotion she didn’t often embrace. After years of running a 1200-acre farm on her own, she didn’t have time for fear.

  Her senses pulled her back temporarily to her surroundings. Staff had been hurrying to set up a reception room for a party. Plates clattered to the floor somewhere in the back. She watched the bartender cleaning and straightening. Beyond the bar, she could see the tile in the café area being mopped. The entire place was meticulously kept. She looked back through the window to the bridge over the narrow section of the lake. It was a favorite of lovers and photographers. The restaurant was one of Laurel’s most satisfying investments.

  Laurel’s thoughts were adrift until someone plopped down in the booth directly behind her. She turned her attention back to the drink in front of her and savored the bubbly, fake-sweet soda she was so badly addicted too. She wondered what had kept her sister, Addy, from making it to their regular business meeting.

  Her lunch date was Gary Hoffson or “G” as he was known to his friends. She wasn’t sure how he’d managed the nickname, but it suited him. His grandmother had raised him. She was a sweet, fiery, lovely woman with Hispanic roots; he had inherited her spirit. He was average build, fit, 5’11”, with dark hair, a swarthy, tanned glow and dark brown eyes. Laurel had always thought of him as movie star material. She’d seen him work his bluff and bull shit on people, including her. He was so believable, no matter what came out of his mouth—and so damn good looking. He had worked at the farm while he finished college and the police academy. Later he came back to stay, working a big case that involved a local.

  The young detective slid in across from her so quickly it startled her.

  “Why Detective Hoffson, how nice of you to join me!” It was uncharacteristic of G to be so abrupt. He had always been the consummate gentleman, with polite, charismatic hellos.

  She looked up from her drink to focus on him. Her sarcastic smirk disappeared.

  “Shit, Gary, what’s wrong?” Detective Hoffson was having the worst day of his young career and it showed on his face.

  “Laurel...you are going to be arrested.” He hadn’t planned on any of what was about to happen.

  “What? Why? What the hell for?!" Laurel was loud.

  “Keep it down Laurel!” He hissed, scowling at her.

  Hoffson looked as if he’d run a marathon. He was red-faced and nearly dripping with sweat.

  “The brakes, the fire, they aren’t coincidental. Roll with what is going to happen next. This is for your own protection. All I know is that you’ll get out of this. Whatever this mess is, it’s big and involves a lot more people.” He was stern; his tone cut the words out with precision. She knew he was serious.

  “Gary, you are scaring the shit out of me! What do you mean, arrested? What for?” Gary swallowed hard seeing the terrified look on her face.

  “Just trust me. Don’t say anything. You’ll be out of t
he station quickly.”

  “For God’s sake, G! What the hell?” Laurel was shaking. Gary Hoffson looked sideways out of the corner of his eye and lowered his voice even more. Leaning forward, he gritted his last few private words to her through his teeth, “Keep quiet Laurel, please whatever you do.”

  That was going to be hard to do, she thought, feeling panicked, as she watched a bead of sweat drip from his face. She would have never dreamed she was being investigated. It made no sense.

  “Gary, please I...,” but the last few words were lost when she heard the distinct click of pistol chambers being filled. The form that had sat down behind her swiveled up out of the seat, grasped her wrist, and cuffed her.

  “Laurel MacClain, you’re under arrest....” The Miranda Rights recited by Detective Bradley Johnson were covered by a loud, long list of expletives from Laurel. She strained toward the arresting officer trying to get him to meet her eye to eye.

  “Are you serious—are you fucking serious?” She was yelling at him. She searched for an answer, her head switched from Hoffson to Johnson and back again. Gary Hoffson’s jaw twitched as he watched the handcuffs snap in front of her, binding her arms together uncomfortably. Laurel hadn’t seen Bradley Johnson in a few years before he introduced her to Gary Hoffson. She knew that he and Gary worked together as detectives. Knowing him didn’t make her any less scared.

  Johnson and Hoffson moved to either side to escort her out. The two uniformed officers that had appeared out of nowhere, guns drawn, covered the two detectives from flanking positions, hands now on holstered weapons. Laurel was furious. The two detectives acknowledged it, exchanging worried glances as they took her out of City Creek.

  “If this is a joke, boys, I’m not having fun,” Laurel snapped sternly. What had she done that required guns drawn on her?

  “Mrs. MacClain, please come quietly,” Johnson said, trying to keep the official facade up. His face was expressionless, but his eyes pleaded her forward.

  “No one should come quietly!” She smarted off as her saucy side took over. It showed up when she was scared or mad. She snapped her head toward Hoffson. “You bastard, how could you lie to me like that?”

  “Watch your tongue, Laurel. It’s part of the job.” Hoffson snapped off. He was running out of patience.

  “Yeah, I know what you would like to see me do with my tongue, you conniving little prick!”

  “SHUT UP!” The directive came in unison from both Hoffson and Johnson as they ducked her head into the back of the waiting, unmarked sedan. Laurel could be hard to handle.

  “Uh, what do you need from us?” The taller of the two beat officers inquired.

  “Nothing,” retorted Johnson, “just sign the report.”

  Not looking to be on the bad side of one of the city’s most up-and-coming detectives, they looked at each other with raised brows, shrugged and strode off to their cruiser.

  “Hope we didn’t just step in a pile of shit,” the driver said to his partner and sped off.

  Chapter 2

  “Good grief, Laurel, you’ve never learned to shut up have you?” Johnson said as he slid into the driver’s seat. His words stung her. Yes, she spoke her mind regardless, but why he was he so aggravated with her, she didn’t understand.

  “Will somebody please tell me what in the hell is going on?” Laurel pleaded, her eyes now flickering from anger to fear. The car jerked as they hit a pothole.

  “Gary, I trusted you. I was nothing but loving and kind to you.” Gary Hoffson looked positively sick. Johnson swallowed hard. They both hated seeing her in distress.

  “Hey, I know this is weird. It’s time for you to trust us for once, instead of you running the show. Clam up. You’ll get answers soon, I promise.”

  A speaker cracked static as the police dispatcher came on and communication ensued. “69 do you copy? Do you have the suspect in custody?” The confident female voice interrupted.

  “Confirmed, and the subject is 5150.” Johnson fired back, smirking. He and Hoffson joined the dispatcher in hearty laughter. The dispatcher’s voice smiled over the speaker, becoming decidedly more personal.

  “Hey Johnson, Hoffson needs an escort. Tell him his wife is headed for Mercy General.” Gary caught it loud and clear.

  “Shit, how far apart are the contractions?” Gary Hoffson was now looking a little freaked out.

  “Hi Gary—close—just get there.”

  Before dispatch remembered to cut out, laughter could be heard in the background mixed with mock calls of distress. “Nice.” Gary Hoffson winced. Arresting a woman he was very fond of and having his wife go into labor all in one day was a little hard on a guy.

  Bradley Johnson grinned at his partner, “I don’t know how I’ll explain this one, but I’m running you to Mercy first. I’ll take care of Laurel. The hospital is on the way.” Winding their way from the restaurant, which was on the outskirts of the city, to the hospital, to downtown St. Louis would take some time, but there was no way Bradley was going to let his partner and friend miss the birth of his first-born.

  “In labor, well congratulations, Gary. So when did you get a wife? Before or after?” Laurel spat, happy for him and mad at him at the same time. Hoffson hung his head and wiped the sweat off his brow. “After.”

  “I trusted you and you were doing exactly what?” Flustered, she was trying not to be reduced to tears again.

  “Investigating you,” he said with an apologetic grin.

  “Yeah, you investigated me all right,” Laurel sniffed, “bastard.” Both men chuckled at that. Laurel shot them a hurt look.

  “Laurel, hang in there.” Bradley said. “This is going to get real hairy, real quick, so sit down, shut up, and hold on, okay?” He was trying to be funny to get her to relax. She rolled her eyes.

  Her mind was firing in ten different directions. Laurel MacClain had been arrested only one other time in her life. Drinking and driving was not a smart idea, she had agreed with the judge. He’d let her off and she’d never done it again. She was a good wife, a good mother, a good businesswoman, paid taxes—lots and lots of taxes. Her mind was swimming looking for a reason for this absurdity. Protection?

  The busy highway, filled with rush hour traffic, was finally opened up by sirens and lights. Pulling up to the emergency entrance of Mercy General, Johnson cut the noise and flashing, then addressed his partner.

  “Have you talked to Alena? Have you explained about Laurel?” He asked hesitantly. “No.” Gary replied with that nervous twitch in his jaw again.

  “It’s gonna be harder now. Tell her,” Johnson looked him in the eye. Hoffson nodded and jumped out. He leaned back in the open window with a tentative glance at Laurel. She averted his gaze.

  “Well, good luck, man. Tell Alena, congrats for me. I’ll see her and the baby as soon as I can,” Johnson gave his partner a big smile. Gary Hoffson slapped the door in a thank-you-farewell and ran into the hospital.

  “He loves you, you know,” Johnson looked in the rear-view mirror at Laurel. A tear ran down her face. She nodded. G was special to her. She just couldn’t process being arrested without an explanation.

  Seeing the emergency entrance to Mercy General had triggered some painful memories and Laurel’s stomach churned. They rode in silence toward the downtown police headquarters. She saw the top of the tall, gleaming steel Arch in the distance. Somehow, she knew the quiet wouldn’t last.

  Chapter 3

  “Mrs. MacClain how do you feel about the charges you’re facing?” Microphones were shoved in both half-opened windows in the back of the unmarked vehicle. Reporters threatened to topple one another as they struggled to match pace with the car. Laurel MacClain wasn’t exactly famous, but she was well known in local circles as part owner of the popular City Creek Bar & Grill.

  “Ohhh shhiit!” Johnson drug out the words, running his long fingers through his hair as he carefully crept through the crowd, trying to get to the underground entrance of the new police headquarters. Thi
s was going to be a lot harder than he had imagined.

  “Bradley, please, get me out of here!” He hadn’t heard her call him Bradley in a long time. He moved past the main entrance to the station, using sirens to slip through the swarm of media. Johnson found the unmarked entrance to the underground garage.

  Twenty-six stories of modern, earthquake-proof architecture, the new police headquarters was daunting. Despised as one of the city’s worst economic decisions in recent history, costing nearly three-quarters of a billion dollars to take it to its over-budget completion, it was finished two and a half years later than was expected. With as many perks as problems, the building was fitted with state of the art electronics and a hearty dose of granite.

  The off-site additional entrance was unique. Vehicles just disappeared behind a building and no one could get in without prior authorization. It kept the media chaos of a big arrest down to a dull roar.

  “How could you, Bradley?! How could you?” She demanded, bristling. “You told me Gary needed to be in the area for an investigation.” Bradley Johnson straightened his 6’11”, pro-basketball style frame, ran long fingers over his tanned, bronze forehead and through his brown hair before he stretched a long arm to span the seats. He angled his head over his shoulder a little toward Laurel.

  “Laurel, you know too much about too many folks. This isn’t your fault. It’s politics and power and corruption. I can’t tell you anything else right now. Gary didn’t do anything wrong so don’t hang him just yet.”