To Catch a Casanova

Excerpt From: To Catch a Casanova

For the last five minutes, I’d sat on this park bench listening to the birds, watching for my best friend, Aubrey Rice, to arrive with my Sunday afternoon delight, and searching for a politically correct way to tell her that her fiancé, Troy Fletcher, was cheating on her.

At last, across the park, I saw her. When I’d first met her, she was a skinny little kid of six. At twenty-five, she had definitely filled out and was now all womanly curves. If you asked her, she’d say she was fat. But to me, she was perfect, with a Jane Russell figure, the face of a goddess and a sweet and trusting nature.

“Hey, Luke!” She slid onto the seat beside me and handed me a triple scoop strawberry cone.

I opened my mouth to take a bite of ice cream but instead the words just spewed out. “Aubrey, I think Troy is a turd.” Despite all my mental gymnastics, that was the best I could do? Shit.

She turned to me with a puzzled expression on her face. I tried staring into her vivid green eyes but instead found my gaze dropping to the ice cream she held in her hand. I watched as a small drip of vanilla ran down the chocolate-dipped waffle and onto her thumb. It took every bit of my willpower to resist the urge to pick up her hand and lick that drop. But I knew if I did, it wouldn’t be enough. My cock leapt to life at the mental image of Aubrey lying naked in the grass with a scoop of ice cream covering each breast. How I’d love to melt the pink polar ice caps with my mouth. Then, when I’d uncovered her dusky peaks, I would suckle them until she begged for me to taste every inch of her. I shifted a little and sighed.

“I thought you liked Troy.” Aubrey’s voice sounded puzzled.

I snuck a peek at her face and could see I’d hurt her. As her best friend, my approval of her marriage meant a lot. I just needed to tell her what I’d seen, but my tongue got tangled around the words I wanted to say. Instead of spitting out the truth, I limped around it. “I just hope he makes you happy.” It was a lame statement.

Her eyes lit up as she smiled. “Oh, he does make me happy. He really does.”

Aubrey leaned against me, her shoulder pressed up against mine. I longed to put my arm around her and press my lips to hers. While we kissed, I’d slip my hand up under the baby blue cashmere sweater she was wearing. Her skin would be warm and her nipples would bud in my palm at my touch. Somewhere along the road to getting her totally naked and taking her right here on this park bench, I’d make her forget all about Troy.

“You don’t have to doubt it at all,” she added.

But I did. In fact, I’d had doubts all along that Troy was as perfect as Aubrey said he was. But I’d never had any proof until the previous night.

I was cleaning tables during last call when I saw Troy’s bright red Lexus coupe pull up in front of The Sand Dollar. I held my breath, waiting for a glimpse of Aubrey’s wind-tousled blonde hair. Instead, a tall brunette ‘working girl’ approached the passenger window and flirted with the man in the driver’s seat. After a couple of flicks of her hand and a laugh, she opened the door and climbed in. For a second I hoped I’d been mistaken about the identity of the driver, then I saw the license plate. TTYL XO. It was definitely Troy’s car. Then I was glad, really glad, it was Troy. I finally had concrete proof that he wasn’t the person Aubrey thought he was.

Since the direct approach of telling Aubrey failed, I tried a different tack. Perhaps discussing their sex life, or lack thereof, would get Aubrey to thinking about why Troy hadn’t been in any hurry to bed her before they wed.