Page 3 of All Hale the Queen

My gaze drops down his body, finding him just as muscular as he’s always been. His frame is so large, he blocks out the afternoon sun, and I’m pretty sure he could squash a watermelon with his thick thighs.

I’ve always thought of Antonio simply as Remi’s driver and security person, but now? Now this big man has my attention in a completely new context. He’s wearing a suit that has to be custom-made to fit the breadth of his shoulders and chest, and I’m pretty sure Urban Dictionary would label him as a “zaddy.”

Antonio greets my sons before turning his attention to me. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Hale.”

I blush like I’m some kind of damn teenager instead of a fully mature woman with grown children.

“Oh, please. Call me Ophelia,” I say, anddid my voice sound a little breathy?I take his outstretched hand, finding mine dwarfed by his much larger one.

“All right, Ophelia,” he replies, a hint of a smile peeking out from that dark beard. I do my best not to swoon at the way his Irish accent rolls my name off his tongue.

His green eyes seem glued to mine, and I find myself staring right back. Until Remi’s voice breaks the spell, and I pull my hand away, my skin instantly chilled, despite the warm September afternoon. I briefly wonder how rough those hands would feel against other parts of my body.

“I’m riding back to the office with my brothers. Do you mind driving Mom home?” my son asks, and I mentally shake myself.What in the world was I thinking, having thoughts like that about Antonio?

“Of course. Do you still live in the same place?”

Clearing my throat, I nod politely. “Yes, the same place.” When he goes to open the back door for me, I stop him with a hand on his forearm. “I’ll ride up front, if that’s okay.”

“Certainly, Ms… Ophelia.”

My laugh sounds entirely too flirty. “Just Ophelia.” I glance at my sons, but they didn’t seem to notice my coy tone.

“Bye, Mom. Thank you for lunch,” Remi says a bit grudgingly since I’d outargued him for the bill. He gives me a hug, followed by Helix doing the same.

Phoenix, overexuberant as always, wraps his arms around my middle and lifts my feet from the ground. “Love you, Mom. I’ll call you tonight.” Then he plants a smacking kiss on my cheek before setting me back down on the sidewalk. Phoenix has always been my most affectionate child.

A minute later, I’m in the passenger seat of the SUV beside a man that I’m suddenly very attracted to. What in the world is going on with me? Is this some kind of menopause symptom… this magnetism I’m feeling toward Antonio? Maybe I need to speak with my doctor about hormone therapy. Or perhaps she could just hose me down like an overly frisky dog.

I’m not sure, but I need to get my crap together before I embarrass myself. Antonio is completely off limits. First of all, he works for Remington, and second, he’s got to be at least seven or eight years younger than me.

But there’s an undeniable pull between us. At least on my part.

Calm down, Ophelia Oakley-Hale. There’s no way Antonio would ever be interested in you.

Chapter 2

Antonio

Idiscreetly pretend to scratch my nose so I can sniff my fingers like some kind of goddamn creep. A groan threatens as I smell the scent I’d only gotten a whiff of earlier when shaking Ophelia’s hand. Jasmine and maybe citrus?

It suits her, delicate and sweet. It must be her hand lotion. And she most certainly uses lotion because her hand was smooth and supple in my rough one.

I like that her scent is subtle. Ophelia doesn’t douse herself in perfume or lotion like the women that hit on me in bars. Not that I really go to bars anymore. The tedium of getting all dressed up to go out and find someone to warm my bed for a night has gotten old, only to end up being disappointed later.

I’ve found that as I've gotten older and gained more gray hairs, the women who are interested in me have gotten progressively younger. Not sure why they’d be interested in an older man like me. Daddy issues, maybe?

Maybe it’s their lack of maturity, but I can’t stand talking to most of them. Their fakeness and high giggles grate on mynerves, but thankfully, the majority of them are fine with a single night of the pleasure I can bring them.

They’re definitely eager in bed, though I’m left mostly unsatisfied. I mean, I have orgasms, but that’s it. There’s no deep satisfaction that makes me want to spend more time with her, to pull her against me while we fall into an exhausted sleep. I can’t remember the last time I spent an entire night in bed with a woman. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I even got laid.

Racking my brain, I force the memory. Her name was Kylie or Kaylie or something. I think I tried to block it out when she told me afterward that she was twenty-five years old. Jesus, that’s over twenty years my junior. I’ve never ordered a ride home for a woman more quickly, feeling disgusted with myself. It’s not like I went out looking for a woman that young, but she approached me and was very forward. To my credit, she appeared to be in her thirties. That was around seven months ago and marked the last night I’d been to a bar.

I drag my hand over my facial hair, hoping to preserve a hint of Ophelia’s sweetness there so I can enjoy it later. Yep, I’m definitely a creep.

Ophelia laughs at something on her phone, and the sound is so alluring, a deep, genuine laugh that makes me smile. She’s the kind of woman I need to be with. She’s real and…

No. That can’t happen, you arsehole. She’s Remi’s mother.