“Tea?”
“I think a cup of tea is an excellent idea,” she managed, “though I really am very comfortable and happy right where I am.”
“Jane, I have to know your story. How did you come to live here? This place is incredible, the pieces you have here, where did you get them?”
He felt her stiffen, and instantly regretted his questions, but a moment later she straightened up and looked directly into his eyes.
“I understand that you have questions, I do,” she said earnestly, “and I will tell you certain things, but I, uh, I can’t tell you everything, not all at once.”
“That’s fine, tell me what you can, when you can,” he nodded. “Mostly, I need to know about you.”
“Do you think, before we go and have our tea…?”
“Before we go and have our tea, what?”
“Could you kiss me again?”
“You don’t need to ask twice,” he sighed, feeling a wave of joy ripple through his body. “At least, not this time.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll find out,” he murmured, and taking her head in both his hands, he crushed his lips against hers.
Chapter Seven
It had been two days since Henry had stayed overnight and Jane had said goodbye to him on her front doorstep. She could not stop thinking about him. His kiss had lingered on her lips long after he’d left, and in spite of feeling under the weather, she’d daydreamed about how it would feel to be naked with him, to have his mouth explore her body, and be curled up in his arms. They’d exchanged phone numbers, and when her mobile would ring, she would jump to answer it, hoping he was the caller. He had been checking on her regularly, for which she was truly grateful. Hearing his voice made her feel better. She was still suffering the dizzy spells, but they were slowly waning in both severity and frequency, and the small amount of Dramamine she’d been taking had taken the edge off her nausea.
But Jane had a problem. She needed to find a solution, and quick. She was supposed to be meeting up with Sylvia, Susan, and Amanda the following evening, and if she wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, the show must not go on! That was the rule.
“I’m so close to the end of this job,” she grumbled, rising from the kitchen table. “I want to see it through!”
Wandering into her bedroom, she closed the drapes and turned on the lights. Closing the curtains was a precaution, one Bernie had insisted upon, though she’d thought it unnecessary. She still did, but she’d promised Bernie she’d continue to do what he’d taught her. The windows overlooked the backyard, which was surrounded by a high brick wall covered in thick bougainvillea, a thorny, prickly plant that was an excellent deterrent should anyone think about trying to climb over it.
“I haven’t spent a single day behind bars,” Bernie would declare whenever Jane suggested something a bit daring, “and you’re not going to either, as long as you remember that you must be vigilant. Go the extra step, and you’ll be able to make the same claim when you’re my age.”
Moving into the walk-in closet, she pushed aside her long dresses and coats and pressed her palms against the wall. As if by magic it swung open and a light came on, revealing a secret room. As she walked inside, it closed behind her, and she immediately powered up the five small monitors. They sat on a complex set of shelves against the wall, and were fed by hidden cameras situated in various areas, starting at the front door, throughout the house, and overlooking the backyard. Anytime she went into the room she was required to turn them on so she could see if anyone happened to stop by, and to make sure everything was working as it should.
“You must always make sure the equipment is functioning properly,” Bernie had told her. “You don’t want any surprises. I’ve only had to use this room once, but that one time mattered.”
The area was the size of a small bedroom, and offered an under-counter refrigerator, a single bed, and a tall metal cabinet that Bernie referred to as his pharmacy. It contained all manner of medications. The contents were cross-referenced on two separate lists: one naming the drug, the other, conditions and sicknesses. Bernie had started the system before computers were in everyday use, and Jane had chosen to continue using it. The lists worked. She’d found the Dramamine quickly and easily, as she had any other medications she’d needed. Cam kept her well supplied, and she did a periodic check to throw out expired medications, which Cam would replace.
There was a theatrical makeup table, a cabinet that held her collection of wigs, and then there was a tall, eighteenth-century secretary with myriad drawers, some of which were secret. Lowering the writing desk, she pushed an intricately engraved lion’s head and it popped out, revealing a compartment lined in green velvet. Lifting out a plastic bag, she stared at the gold nuggets. There were seven left. Bernie had bought two dozen many years before, and had made his money back many times over. The nuggets were used as a convincer, proof that a goldmine existed. Jane had worked the scam with Bernie twice, and when she’d met Sylvia Parker, it had immediately come to mind.
Meeting the actress had been completely accidental. Jane no longer sought out marks, she didn’t have to, but rarely did she walk away when one fell in her lap. She’d been indulging in afternoon tea at The Georgian restaurant at Harrods, and the egotistical actress had been holding court at one of the tables. Sylvia had been loud, obnoxious, and rude to the wait staff, and her two friends, who Jane learned were Susan Braithwaite and Amanda Duncan, were equally disagreeable. Jane had decided to take on all three of them.
As a matter of habit she glanced across at the monitors, and was surprised to see a delivery boy standing on the front porch holding a large bouquet of flowers. Putting the nuggets back into their drawer, she hurriedly left the room, pulled her clothes back into place, and walked briskly through the house.
“Are you Jane?” the young delivery man asked when she opened the door. “Sorry, there’s no last name here.”
“Yes, I am. Thank you. Where do I sign?”
“Right here,” he said, handing her a clipboard and a pen. “One of these days the boss will invest in one of those tablet tracking pads,” he remarked, as Jane scribbled her unreadable signature.
“I hope not,” she smiled. “I rather like the pieces of paper.”
The blooms were wrapped in pink cellophane, and he handed them over with a ceremonious bow.
“Thank you,” Jane grinned. “You just made me feel like a prima ballerina.”
“Those were the best we had in the shop. The gentleman insisted on it. I know, because I was there when he came in.”
“They’re beautiful,” she beamed.
“Enjoy them.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
Closing the door, she stared down at the pink, white, and yellow roses in disbelief. It was the first time anyone had ever sent her flowers, and almost overwhelmed, she moved into the sitting room, sat down on the couch, and lifted the pink envelope from its holder. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the card.
Jane,
You are extremely distracting. I’ll explain over dinner. How about tonight? Call me.
Henry
Laughing out loud from the sheer joy of the amazing surprise, she carried the fragrant flowers into the kitchen, laid them on the table, and pulled her phone from her pocket.
“Henry! I don’t even know what to say,” she exclaimed the moment he answered the call.
“Say yes, tonight is fine, assuming you’re feeling better, of course.”
“Yes, tonight is fine,” she repeated, “and thank you, thank you so much. They’re absolutely beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
“Like them? I love them.”
“How would you feel about coming to my place tonight?”
“You know how to cook?”
“I don’t need to know how to cook, I know how to make a phone call.”
“That’s funny,” she laughed. “Can I steal that line?”
&
nbsp; “Why? Don’t you know how to cook either?”
“A few things, but I need an entire day to get it together.”
“What sort of food do you like? French? Italian? Indian?”
“Ooh, French. I haven’t had French food in ages. Sole almandine?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” he replied, “but tell me, are you sure you’re feeling better? I want to see you regardless, but can you manage a full meal?”
“Today I’m feeling really good. I took a Dramamine this morning just in case, but I haven’t been eating much, and for the first time since Sunday night I’m feeling hungry.”
“Feeling hungry sounds like a good sign. Does six-thirty work for you? I’ll send a car.”
“You don’t have to. Just give me your address. Believe me, I know how to catch a taxi as well as you know how to get dinner delivered.”
“I’m an old-fashioned gentleman, Jane, and I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, but it still doesn’t feel right. I’ve invited you, and I’m sending a car, no arguments.”
“If you put it like that, I suppose I have to agree.”
“You’re a fast learner.”
“So I’ve been told,” she giggled.
“I’m afraid someone’s calling me. I have to run, but I’ll see you later.”
“Thank you again for these gorgeous flowers. I really am totally blown away.”
“It’s my pleasure. See you tonight.”
Ending the call, she let out a happy sigh, then set to work searching out the perfect vase and arranging the roses. She was almost done when she suddenly realized she’d forgotten about Sylvia, Amanda, and Susan. It was startling. When she was working a job, it remained in the forefront of her mind at all times. Dropping into a kitchen chair, she stared at the remaining flowers waiting to be placed in the vase.
“This is very odd,” she muttered. “How did I allow myself to become so distracted?”
The moment the words had left her lips, she remembered what Henry had written in the note. You are extremely distracting.
Had she been interfering with his focus too? Is that what he’d meant?
“Bernie, I wish you were here!” she mumbled. “Am I falling for this guy? I mean, really falling for him? Maybe I should cancel tonight; maybe I shouldn’t see him until after this job is over.”
But even as she’d said the words, she knew nothing would stop her seeing Henry, and she couldn’t wait.
* * *
Jane had been on Henry’s mind constantly, and he’d felt a burning need to see her. He had been on his way to meet a friend for lunch when he’d passed the florist, and had impulsively marched through the door, selected the flowers, and written the card. As he’d walked outside and hurried on his way, he’d thought his behavior very peculiar indeed. He wasn’t an impulsive man. Through his lunch, and when he’d returned to his office, he’d second-guessed himself, hoping the gesture wasn’t too much. When his phone rang and he’d seen her name, his heart had literally bounced in his chest. Praying the roses had been well received, he’d actually felt nervous when he’d answered the call, and when he’d heard her happy excitement and gratitude he had been both relieved and overjoyed.
He’d spent the afternoon whistling around the lab, covertly watching his serious-minded underlings exchange worried glances. Their esteemed leader never whistled, but he didn’t care. Jane had loved the flowers, and he’d be seeing her very soon. It was when he was finally home, and had just finished ordering their meal from his favorite French restaurant, that it hit him.
His logic had given way to emotion.
Stunned by the epiphany, he wandered into the living room and stared out at the park across the street.
“Good heavens, I really care about this girl. Is that possible?” he muttered. “I barely know her, but I miss her. This is very disconcerting. What the blazes is happening here? I don’t do these things… but that kiss… and that dream.”
Continuing to mutter to himself, he ambled into his bedroom to get ready, and standing under the shower, just the thought of holding her in his arms and pressing his lips against hers sent life into his member.
A little while later the food arrived and he meticulously followed the instructions to keep it warm, then set about opening the chilled Sauvignon Blanc, pouring two glasses, and laying the table. When the doorbell rang, he felt his pulse tick up. She’d arrived. His spacious home was two stories, and after trotting down the stairs he reached the door, took a breath, opened it, and to his surprise he found her holding a large package.
“What’s good for the goose,” she said, offering it to him.
“What on earth have you done?”
“I hope you like it. Um, may I come inside?”
“What? Oh, yes, of course, please do. My goodness, what is it? You didn’t have to do this.”
“You didn’t have to send me flowers.”
“I rather think I did,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “A beautiful young woman should be sent flowers. Take off your coat and come on upstairs.”
“So, are you saying you send a bouquet to every young woman you meet?”
“Cheeky girl,” he grinned as they started up the stairs, “but seriously, Jane, why did you do this?”
“Why did you send me flowers?”
“You have a rather maddening habit of answering a question with a question,” he remarked, walking with her into the living room.
“This place is wonderful,” she declared, looking around at the sleek, contemporary furnishings. “I didn’t take it in when I was here before.”
“That’s because you were looking at the floor most of the time,” he grinned.
“Did you decorate it yourself?” she asked, trying to ignore his comment and the blush that was suddenly moving across her cheeks.
“For the most part,” he replied, placing the large gift on the coffee table. “Should I open this now?”
“If you want to. I hope you like it.”
It was wrapped in glossy black paper with a silver bow, and as he carefully untied the ribbon the wrapping fell open.
“My goodness,” he exclaimed, staring at the box. “A telescope, what an amazing gift!”
“I was worried you might already have one.”
“I do, but it’s ten years old, and this one is much better.”
“I’m so glad you like it,” she murmured, suddenly feeling oddly embarrassed.
“What a treasure you are,” he sighed, moving across to her and taking her in his arms. “It’s an incredible gift, but what possessed you?”
“What possessed me?” she whispered, looking into his amazingly green eyes. “You did, or rather, you have. Maybe I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true. You said I’m distracting, well, Henry Gibson, you’ve distracted me too.”
“This is quite extraordinary,” he said, gazing at her. “You tried to steal my wallet, and now look at what’s happening.”
“Henry?”
“Yes, Jane?”
“Can you please stop talking and kiss me?”
“I’m going to do a lot more than that,” he declared, lowering his voice, “if you want me to.”
“I do, desperately.”
It was all he needed to hear, and sweeping her up, he carried her down the hall and into his bedroom.
Chapter Eight
Laying Jane on his bed, Henry had lovingly peeled off her clothes, and after kicking off his shoes, still dressed, he stretched out beside her and began traveling his hands across her body. As he circled her breasts with the tips of his fingers, she raised her chest to meet his touch, so he lowered his mouth, drawing in her nipples, and was rewarded with a long, low moan. He lingered, lustily sucking, then moved his lips across her chest and up her neck to warmly glide his mouth over hers. The kiss began to take on its own life, and she hungrily kissed him back, raising her arms and clinging to him urgently.
“Aren’t you going to get undressed?” sh
e asked breathlessly as they broke apart.
“When I’m ready,” he murmured, carrying his kiss back to her neck.
“Oh, please, won’t you take your clothes off now?” she insisted, grabbing at his sweater in an effort to pull it over his head.
Shifting back, he rested on an elbow, stared down at her, and locked her eyes.
“In this bedroom, I’m in charge,” he said firmly.
A rush of energy surged through her body, and speechless, she stared back at him.
“Can you handle that?” he asked, already knowing the answer by the avid look in her eye.
“Yes,” she whispered, “yes, I love it, but Henry, do you think we’re jumping the gun? I mean, is this too soon?”
“Too soon for what?”
“Just, sort of, in general.”
“It’s not too soon for me, but say the word and I’ll cease and desist!”
“I’m not sure,” she mumbled, a frown crossing her brow.
“Ah, then it is,” he sighed, but as he started to shift off the bed, she grabbed his arm.
“No… I don’t want to wait, not for a single second more,” she declared, wishing she could tell him it was not just a tumble between the sheets; it meant something, and she wasn’t hesitant because she didn’t want him—she was hesitant because she was scared.
“Only if you’re absolutely sure,” he said firmly, then pausing, he lowered his voice and added, “This isn’t casual for me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
His tone was soft, but carried a subtle strength, and she could see a steely glint in his gaze. This was the surprisingly self-assured man who had caught her when she’d attempted to lift his wallet, who had brought her back to his home and spanked her, and he bore little resemblance to the bookish, slightly awkward man she’d set her sights on as a mark. This man was confident and authoritative, and was curling her toes and making butterflies flutter furiously in her belly.
Reforming Jane Page 6