The Temporary Mistress

By Elizabeth Griffin

Marla Kensington is a young, attractive comedian with the ability to make people laugh. It's her gift— her talent.

But, what does she do when she meets a man who refuses to smile? A man who cannot even see the simple humor in a funny joke.

Beau Brenton is a recent widower who has very little reason to laugh. His wife died unexpectedly and now he is raising their infant son.

Every morning is a struggle for the strikingly handsome father. And, every day brings him closer to the reality that he is all alone.

How is he suppose to cope without a wife? What does he know about taking care of a baby? And, when will the pain go away?

Beau Brenton is lost and confused. His heart has been broken and his mind is numbed until he encounters a bold, beautiful woman telling jokes on a street corner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gore Publications
• Release date: Jan 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9780970144737

Book preview

0

Prologue

Tabula Rasa— blank slate. The two Latin words lingered in Beau Brenton's mind as he stared at the pink marble headstone. The tears still came, but not as frequently.

The widower rubbed his eyes and then readjusted the wire-rimmed glasses as he stared at the name of his deceased wife. He still couldn't believe that she was gone.

Georgiana Brenton was his beautiful, loving partner of ten years and the mother of his infant son.

She was supposed to have been his life-mate, but circumstances had changed that.

Beau brushed the tears from his face as the flow increased. His life was much different now. His marriage was nothing more than memories.

He reflected briefly on his relationship with his wife. It hadn't been a perfect one, but it worked.

He and Georgiana had their problems— most young couples did but, it was the highs and the lows of their marriage that had strengthened it and anchored them together.

What am I going to do? the young father whispered into the quiet night air.

He was restless, anxious. He had to do something-- anything. He needed a distraction. He wanted to forget.

The cemetery was lit with the fading rays of the sun which cast an ethereal glow on everything that it touched.

The lighting hit the side of Beau's face and presented a striking figure of a man with majestic black hair and cobalt blue eyes.

Beau had been there for hours. He visited his wife every chance that he could. He'd somehow gotten into the habit of stopping by the cemetery and telling her about their son. Many times he'd laughed at the tales that he told, but not today.

Not this week.

Their baby, Lincoln Brenton, was everything a parent could want. He was healthy, smart. He seldom cried. He was a happy infant.

Beau sighed as he looked around.

He felt completely alone and miserable. He longed for the touch of his wife. He missed her kisses-- the warmth of her body.

He wanted his wife. His tiny son needed a mother.

Beau Brenton felt betrayed by life. He'd been robbed of too much too quickly.

He hadn't finished loving Georgiana.

They'd just begun to expand their family and he wanted more children.

The feelings of passion that he'd locked away in his heart yearned for an outlet. He longed to express them to his wife. He wanted desperately to caress her arm and grab her fingertips, but those desires were useless now. She was gone. Their lives were forever separated by the tragedy of death.

How am I supposed to start over? he sighed in frustration as the words tabula rasa crossed his mind again.

In a sense, his life had just become like the blank slates the ancient Romans used for writing.

His past had been wiped clean. His career was on hiatus. His future was unclear.

He was a widower with an infant to raise.

The young physician knew nothing about being a parent. He knew medicine. He'd studied it for years. He was an Infectious Disease doctor employed by a mega research hospital, yet with all of his accomplishments at that very moment he felt inadequate.

What did he know about nurturing a newborn? He was still having trouble changing diapers and burping after every feeding. Beau Brenton was on Paternity Leave, but a part of him wished desperately for the distraction of work. He longed to return to the lecturing circuit. He missed treating his patients. They depended on him.

Many of them were H.I.V. positive. He had been caring for them since their initial diagnoses. He'd been the first person to inform them of their test results and then counsel them about their illness. He was the one who'd encouraged them to continue living.

Dr. Brenton let them know that life was still possible. He'd forced them to fight for their future. He told them to never give up.

Beau talked to his patients about the medicines that were available which allowed people to live quality lives— longer lives.

The Infectious Disease specialist thought of Amy Fischer, a part-time waitress and mother of three. She'd contracted the deadly disease through unprotected sex with her husband.

In the beginning, Amy refused to believe that her spouse had cheated during their marriage. Neither she nor her husband had broken their wedding vows according to the woman, yet the Rapid H.I.V. test came back positive.

The confirmatory H.I.V. Western Blot also came back positive.

Amy had been stunned, but with Dr. Brenton's gentle coaxing and kind words, the woman confronted her husband. Then the truth came out.

The man confessed to having multiple affairs and agreed to be tested.

Of course, he too had the disease and his other sexual partners had to be informed. That had been an emotionally trying day for all...

The doctor allowed his thoughts to return to his wife. She had loss so much. She would never see their son walk or hear him say his first words. She would not know the laughter of her child or the bliss of his love. It had all been snatched away from her.

Beau rose from his kneeling position at the grave site. He gazed at the enormous floral display of white roses, peonies and tiger lilies. The colorful flowers rose from a large vase which beautified the grounds surrounding the memorial.

I will never forget you, he said softly and leaned forward. He placed a light kiss on the cold, rough surface of the gravestone. Rest my darling. Rest in peace.

1

Chapter One

Marla Kensington stood on the corner in front of the Comedy Shack. It was a Friday night and she was soliciting customers for the upcoming show.

She'd been telling jokes for an hour and making people laugh.

It wasn't difficult considering her personality. The passersby could not resist the attractive woman with the dazzling smile, sexy haircut and lean figure.

Marla was stunning. She was dressed in white denim shorts, a vest and heels. Her long brown legs and bare arms were a rich dark color that drew the eye instinctively.

She enchanted the onlookers. She mesmerized men and women with her Nubian beauty.

Admission is free, enticed Marla. And all jokes are on the house.

A man attempted to walk pass, but Marla sent him a disarming smile and asked, When was the last time you've laughed, Sir?

Beau Brenton hesitated before stopping. He gave her a curious look, and then he answered, I stopped laughing a long time ago.

His response startled Marla, but it drew her immediately to him, Why is that?

Life hasn't been particularly kind to me, he said surveying her body with very clinical eyes. I've stopped doing a lot of things lately,

Marla heard seriousness in his statement. She thought she also detected pain in his voice and a deep sadness.

Such as? What aren't you able to do? Marla questioned. She realized as she spoke that she was being drawn away from her fun task of providing laughs to the passing crowd, but she couldn’t resist the urge to question this man.

She felt like she was gently being pulled into an intriguing, mysterious world of curious looks and daring confessions.

One glance into the stranger's metallic blue eyes caused a tingling sensation to prick her fingertips. She felt her breath quicken, but she couldn't explain why.

Marla gazed at his thick black waves of hair that was trimmed and stylish. She ran her eyes over a white shirt, dark trousers and polished shoes.

The man concealed his wealth in a modest way. His clothing was classic, yet understated.

The comedian noted the linked gold chain dangling from his waist and trailing to his pant pocket. She also caught sight of a signet ring on his right hand as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Your question deserves a modest answer so I must decline. My words wouldn't be appropriate, said Beau as he began to walk away.

Wait! What were you going to say? I'd like to hear it, Marla was surprise at how quickly she opened her mouth and the words rushed out.

No you don’t, he assured her. You might consider my comments vulgar, and obscene.

The stranger's words provoked a curiosity in the comedian which hadn't been peaked since Kevin. She felt warmth suddenly shoot through her.

What was happening to her? Were her legs becoming weak? Was she experiencing a shortness of breath?

Marla stared at the handsome stranger. She waited for him to speak.

I haven't slept with a woman since my wife died. I look at you and I am tempted. All I can see is sex--

Marla gasped slightly. Her eyes widened in amazement. No, she hadn't expected to hear those words, but she also wouldn't have thought that they would invoke such an erotic, sultry scene in her head.

The man continued speaking, All I can feel is desire. I know what lies beneath those shorts. I can envision that sensual place between your legs—

He was blunt, but the power of his crude words was amazing. The thought of sexing the stranger hit her hard. The impact was immediate and the idea was frightening; however, one seductively spoken phrase from the handsome man had planted the notion in her head. His comments stirred a deeply buried longing in Marla.

"Wow," was all she could say, but she didn't turn away from the man or try to run. She stood rooted to the spot and stared.

Beau Brenton gave her an inquisitive look and continued speaking when he realized that his words were not received as offensively as he'd believed they would be.

I can see right through your clothes. Your waist is tiny, your torso long. I even know your breast size, double C—.

Marla blinked several times and then stared harder. I am shocked, she admitted. Do you always feel comfortable saying whatever comes to mind?

I did warn you.

Yes, you did. But, do you make it a habit to say such things to the women that you meet on street corners?

The stranger raised his eyebrow in amusement, "What are you suggesting? This isn’t a red light district--"

"No, not that, laughed Marla defensively as she quickly realized where his mind had gone. Definitely not that."

I am not soliciting you. I do not pay for that kind of entertainment. I am simply making an observation, he stated.

And what an observation, she thought.

Marla refused to gawk, but she was spellbound. The man was unbelievable. The things he said were outrageous.

She knew that her protective guard should have been going up all around her, but she wasn't afraid of him.

Maybe it was the manner in which he spoke that allayed her fears. His tone had been low, his voice soft, seductive.

Actually, he continued. You are the first woman that I have spoken to in this way. I usually do not speak so bluntly in public— not with a complete stranger, he admitted. I would not even be saying these things now, but you wanted to know.

She conceded gradually with a nod, I'll be more cautious in the future, but you, sir, have a very powerful little tongue. You should be careful how you use it.

I haven't had any problems in the past, he said daring her to take the conversation further.

"Ooohhhh you are really good, she laughed. I thought I was the entertainer, but obviously you have skills of your own. Keeping talking like that and I won't be able to concentrate when I go on stage tonight. I'm the opening act."

Really.

"Ah Huh," she admitted as she inspected his eyes.

A charged silence surrounded them. It buffered them from the outside world. They appeared to be completely alone and distracted with one another— they were two unique strangers locked in a private moment.

Then Beau laughed without warning. The sound tickled the night air and vibrated strangely over his eardrums. The noise was pleasing, refreshing.

He stared at the woman before him.

She'd actually made him laugh. She’d momentarily eased the grief that encased his heart. He was surprised.

The laughter lingered in the air around them as Beau moved a bit closer to Marla. He examined her face, he concentrated on her eyes.

You've got my attention, he stated. Who are you?

Just a woman with a sudden desire to know if your actions are more scandalous than your words.

Would you like a demonstration? It's dark enough and I've got the time. No one will notice if I discreetly went exploring, he said glancing directly at her breasts.

The couple was now standing inches apart. Beau was slightly towering above the confident, playful comedian.

I do bite, he warned. But it makes everything feel so much more intense, he was now eyeing her taunt nipples pressing against a vest.

Marla felt the beginning of an orgasmic rush. Her body was physically responding to the stranger. A sigh almost escaped her mouth, but she trapped it between soft lips.

She instead leaned forward and whispered in the stranger's ear, "Mmmmmm, that felt good. Really good, but I have to go. However, I think you should know that you are the first man to talk

dirty to me since my husband passed away. Thanks for the treat, she said brushing her lips against his cheek. I'm going to sleep good tonight.

And, with those hushed words, Marla Kensington left an astonished stranger standing alone on a street corner.

2

Chapter Two

Beau was tempted to follow the woman into the Comedy Shack. He watched her pronounced, well defined butt move sensually beneath the tiny white shorts. He studied its perfectly rounded double-u shape which fascinated him.

He imaged tracing the outline of her bottom with his hand and scripting the alphabet repeatedly over its smooth surface.

His eyes swept across her tall form. The posterior view of her body ignited a primal desire for sex— he didn't believe in one- night stands— he didn't practice unsafe sex, but he wanted her.

The thought startled him. How could he be so aroused by this woman after only uttering a few suggestive words?

He’d flirted with women before— women other than his wife, but it hadn't meant a thing. And, he certainly had not acted upon it.

But tonight was different.

Perhaps he was lonely. Perhaps he was looking for an escape— a way to forget his grief. He hadn't slept with his wife in over eight months— not since the cancer diagnoses— not since the first trimester of her pregnancy.

He missed the intimacy of his marriage. He longed for the comforting arms of his wife, the softness of her body.

Beau tugged at his pocket watch and glanced at the time displayed on its face. It was later than he thought. Tucking the timepiece back into his trousers, the single father walked the distance to his parked car with thoughts of the attractive stranger in his head.

Who was she?

Beau recalled her revealing words. She was a widow. How long ago had her husband died? Could it have been recent?

Her words haunted and enticed him. He was the first man to have spoken seductively to her since her spouse had passed. Was she also lonely?