A Tantalizing Tuesday: The Zelda Diaries, #3

By Olivia Gaines

A month has passed as Zelda prepares for Scott's arrival to spend time in her 'Space."
The two draw closer as they began to realize how much they have in common, and began to visualize a life together. 
Scott meets her brother Michael, who doesn't know quite what to make of his sister's new man.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Davonshire House Publishing
• Release date: May 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386169123

Olivia Gaines

Olivia is a USA Today Best Selling and multiple award-winning author who loves a good laugh coupled with some steam, mixed in with a man and woman finding their way past the words of “I love you.” An author of contemporary romances, she writes heartwarming stories of blossoming relationships about couples not only falling in love but building a life after the sensual love scene. 2015 Swirl Award Winner, Best Erotic Romance, Thursdays in Savannah. 2017 IRAE Award Winner, Best Contemporary Romance, Wyoming Nights 2019 IRAE Award Winner, Favorite Series, The Men of Endurance 2019 IRAE Award Winner, Reader's Choice Award 2019 Nominee, Top Female Authors, The AuthorShow.com When Olivia is not writing, she enjoys quilting, playing Scrabble online against other word lovers and spending time with her family. She is an avid world traveler who writes many of the locations into her stories. Most of the time she can be found sitting quietly with pen and paper plotting more adventures in love. Olivia lives in Hephzibah, Georgia with her husband, son, grandson and snotty evil cat, Katness Evermean. Learn more about her books, upcoming releases and join her bibliophile nation at www.ogaines.com Subscribe to her email list at http://eepurl.com/OulYf Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/olivia.gaines.31 Twitter: https://twitter.com/oliviagaines Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/gaines.olivia/

Book preview

Chapter 1

AN EXCITED MORNING sun sprang up over the Houston horizon, welcoming the day and bringing with it another opportunity to get all the misplaced details correct.  Zelda had spent the last three weeks self-editing her life to ensure that when Scott arrived in her home, the narration matched the descriptions she’d given to him verbally.  She had spoken to him every day over the last three weeks, each time sharing more of her rather boring life with him.  He would call every other evening to wish her a good night.  She, in turn, would call every other morning to wish him a good day. Several times she’d been tempted to board a plane and pop in to see him, but after losing the argument with her panties to have some self-respect, her focus instead turned to her home.

The heavy travel schedule of the past few years really didn’t give her much of an opportunity for nesting. Most of the dishes in the kitchen were leftovers from her mother’s time in the home as the matriarch.  They had worn well, leaving her no real reason or need to replace them, until now. Those old dishes didn’t really represent her. They didn’t represent her style.

I’m going to change that, she said, looking about her living space.

The old brown couch, purchased when she’d graduated college, was now filled with wayward popcorn seeds and random stains from red wine.  It also kind of smelled. For some reason, the thought of Scott sitting on the old couch didn’t bode well with her.  Neither did the idea of him sleeping in the old bed with the lump in the middle of the mattress.  Since she slept alone, it was easy to avoid said hump by sleeping either to the left or right of the lump which seemed to grow an extra bump in the middle of the night.

This will never do, she said, looking at the drab drapes hanging about the windows like depressed dream catchers.  On Mondays and Tuesdays, she mostly slept, so dark heavy drapes were necessary.

He will be here in less than a week, she told herself as she dressed quickly and headed for the office.

For the damndest reason, the past week she had found herself watching home decorating shows as people with unlimited teams and resources fixed up old shacks with nice decorative touches. Zelda already knew she wasn’t much of a nester, let alone the stand by your man carry a baby on her hip type of girl.  True she wanted to be a mother and staring 37 in the face brought with it some challenges that would have to be addressed really soon. Today wasn’t the day to address those challenges.

Tomorrow didn’t look like it needed a place on her schedule either.

Nor did next week.

During her lunch hour, she found herself standing in a Pier One store, looking at plates, pillows, and place settings.  Thirty minutes later, a shopping cart full of items she knew she could buy cheaper at a big box store was abandoned at the register.

That is someone else’s style, not my own, she said to the sales girl who responded with a face full of attitude.

Truthfully, she didn’t know her own style, but she knew the feel she wanted for her living space. There was a little bit of time, in which after work, she headed toward a small strip mall that sat next to the world’s most hideous antique barn.  She’d come here years ago with Grandma Lula, who had a few items on consignment in the store. An hour later, she had a French Country wardrobe, matching headboard, secretary, and end table.  In the corner, she found a wonderful glass bowl for a centerpiece for the coffee table.

In the mood and feeling pretty pleased with herself, she headed to the linen store in the adjacent strip mall. The store had the perfect bedding set with matching drapes, coordinating pillows, bathroom rugs, towels, and shower curtain.  She even bought the solid colored soap dish with matching pump bottle.  As she loaded the items into the trunk of her Honda, Zelda looked up to see the air blown thin man who moved from side to side and up and down while he advertised the mattress sale happening now at what was labeled as the mattress warehouse.

Why not? she said, wandering into the store.

It took less than fifteen minutes to end her relationship with said lump which doubled as a bump in the middle of the old mattress.  Luck was on her side since the headboard and other items would be delivered on Wednesday and the mattress would arrive on Thursday.  Now, she only needed to find a new sofa and coffee table to arrive on Friday.

Scott was arriving on Sunday evening, staying through until Tuesday night, possibly Wednesday morning.  Luck was still on the lady’s side since he would be arriving after Sunday dinner with Grandma Lula.  She’d only introduced one man to her Grandma.  He was the last man she’d introduced to Grandma Lula Canterburg. Scott was ready to meet her after dinner. She didn’t know if she was ready for that step yet. No one person should have Grandma Lula unleashed on them unless the engagement ring was already in place.

Zelda had grown particular about the men in her life who made contact with her family.  Her last two boyfriends had met her brother but never stayed over in the house.  It felt creepy to her.  Michael knew she had sex. She just didn’t want to have him hear her doing it.

In her mind, she thought it would lessen her brother’s opinion of her. The thoughts of him hearing her have sex with Scott didn’t seem to bother her as much. Honestly, she didn’t care who heard her have sex with that man.

Odd, she thought, as she lay on the king-sized mattress in the store, staring up at the ceiling. It hadn’t seemed to bother her either to have a room full of people watch her make an ass out of herself to get a kiss from him as well. I am going mad with lust for this man.

I hope you are going mad for lust for that mattress. That is our best seller, the balding, round-bellied salesman told her, interrupting her private conversation with herself.  We also have a sale on couches, love seats, coffee and end tables.

Can those be delivered on Thursday with the mattress?

Sure can, Ma’am, he said.

Then I want the pretty blue couch with the small yellow flowers, the overstuffed yellow recliner, that small coffee table over there with the claw feet, and that matching end table.  Since I just dropped almost three grand, I think you should throw in that blue lamp over there, too, she told the salesman.

The lamp in hand, she walked out of the store, grinning from ear to ear.  Sunday, Scott would be sitting on that couch, sleeping in that bed next to her, and sharing stories from his life. She strapped the lamp into the front seat with a seat belt like it was a well-shaped child.

Spectacular, she said, climbing into the nearly full Honda.

MICHAEL FITZSIMMONS was tired. It had been one of those days when nothing went right and what went right turned left and became wrong. He’d worked at the engineering firm since he was eighteen and started as an intern the summer his parents died. He was a quick study and fast learner, which earned him a part-time job as a journeyman surveyor after his parent’s death. Several of the men in the company