The woman took her hand tentatively as her eyes took in her surroundings first and then slowly settled back on Destiny. Without removing her expensive Persol sunglasses, she shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Is Mr. Ireland here?”
Destiny narrowed her brow at the tone of her request. “No, I’m sorry, he’s out of town for a few days. But I can help you. I’m Destiny, his house manager.”
Justine stepped past her as she looked around, walking into the library and looking side to side. She didn’t say anything until she turned back to Destiny. “Destiny, what a lovely name.”
“Thank you.” Destiny was a little curious at the woman’s cryptic demeanor. “Are you not Mrs. Watson?”
The woman didn’t’ answer, but her smug smile spoke volumes, as did how she carried herself. She had an air of superiority, and it was more than slightly irritating.
“Was Bill expecting you?”
“Bill?” she asked coyly, her smile growing.
“Mr. Ireland?” Destiny was now getting mildly annoyed. “I’d be happy to take down your name, or if you’d like to leave him a card, I’d be glad to give it to him.”
“I’ll bet you would, Honey.” Justine held onto the banister, leaning around it to look upstairs.
Just then Sydney emerged from her room. “Cookie time!” she exclaimed. She stopped when she saw the woman before her.
“Hi.” Justine’s demeanor softened. It was like looking at a picture of herself twenty years ago. Only Sydney’s face was that of a happy child, not one whose childhood was wrought with abuse—physical and emotional—by the hand of those who conceived her. She had the face of someone who was loved, not one of fear of and resentment toward those whose blood coursed through her veins. “What’s your name?”
“Sydney.” The girl reached out her hand, as her father had taught her.
Justine bent at the waist, taking the small hand gently into her gloved hand and holding it for just a moment longer before releasing it. Of course she knew the name. She had named her daughter the day of her birth, after her grandfather on her mother’s side. A man she had adored. The only person who had stood up to his own son when he found he was sexually abusing his granddaughter. Not that it did any good. His son had simply taken his wife and his two daughters and moved to another city, where no one seemed to care much about such things. As she rested her hands on her knees, she looked into the young girl’s face. “My, you are beautiful,” she said, tapping her on the chin. “You have your father’s eyes.”
Destiny reached over and put her arms around Sydney’s chest, pulling her backward to herself. “I didn’t catch your name,” she said as sweetly as she could muster.
“That’s because I didn’t give it to you, Dear.” Justine looked around once more, then added. “I’ll come back next week. What day did you say he’d be back?” she asked.
“I didn’t,” Destiny replied flatly.
Justine looked at her for a moment then smiled wryly. A worthy competitor. She bent slightly at the waist again and smiled at Sydney. “Nice to meet you, Sydney.”
Destiny stepped back, taking Sydney with her. She stepped around the woman and opened the door, the simple act speaking volumes. Justine stood there for a moment, smiling defiantly for effect, slid her hands back into her coat pockets and walked out without another word. Destiny closed the door behind her and locked it before peeking through the sheer curtains. She watched as the woman got into her car and drove away. “Well, that was weird,” she muttered to herself.
“Who was that?”
“Beats me,” Destiny replied, walking to the kitchen.
“You know? I saw her outside.”
“When?”
“Before, when I went to get the mail. She was taking pictures of the house. I thought she was a tourist,” Sydney replied, as she rooted through the refrigerator.
“You didn’t talk to her did you?”
“I just said ‘hi,’” she offered.
“Did she say anything back?”
“She said ‘hi,’” Sydney grinned.
Destiny pursed her lips. “Hmm. Interesting.” She glanced at the clock. “Three-thirty, Syd. Cookie time.” Nervously, she glanced out the kitchen window at the street.
“Gotcha,” Sydney said, taking out the cookie pans and the dough that Destiny had made that morning. “Can we do pizza for dinner?”
“That’s an excellent idea!” Destiny seemed relieved that she didn’t have to cook or clean up. “You call it in after we check in all our guests and tell them to have it here by five thirty. Sound good?”
Sydney hugged Destiny. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Destiny smiled, stole a ball of cookie dough from the pan and popped it into her mouth.
“Hey!” Sydney exclaimed. “Omah says that’ll give you worms.”
“Then I’m sure my belly is full of slimy, slithery, wiggly worms by now,” she said, leaning over and tickling Sydney’s stomach. “Because I’ve been eating dough all my life.”
“That’s disgusting.” Sydney made a face.
“No, disgusting is that new sauce recipe your dad tried for the chicken the other night,” Destiny remarked, glancing toward the street through the curtains again.
“Um. I’m going to tell him you said something he made was disgusting.”
Destiny grabbed Sydney and tickled her again, not letting her go. “I seem to remember that you scraped all yours off and didn’t eat much chicken, either.”
Sydney wriggled and laughed. “That’s because it was disgusting,” she finally conceded.
Destiny released her. “Uh-huh.” She pointed at the fridge with the knife she used to cut the dough. “I think it’s time we accidentally pour that sauce down the garbage disposal.”
Sydney smiled. “I’m with ya!” she exclaimed, moving to the refrigerator and taking the sauce out. She popped the lid and poured it into the sink.
“Aww,” Destiny whined dramatically. “What a waste.”
Sydney giggled and walked past Destiny, who grabbed her and swung her around the kitchen several times before releasing her. Had she looked out the window once more she would have seen the same steel gray BMW that had driven past the house several times pass by once more.
Chapter 45
Bill smiled to himself. He remembered lifting Destiny from the swing and carrying her to the room Jessie had prepared for her. It was directly across from his. He remembered thinking she would be too close to resist, much like at home. He remembered how as he lay her on the bed that Destiny took his hand and held him then pulled him down next to her. Bill laid beside her, his breathing quickening as she rolled against him and wriggled under his arm. Destiny snuggled against his chest; her arm draped over him. He remembered how good she felt against him. Bill could feel Destiny’s heart beating, her soft, steady breathing against his side. He could feel her unbound breasts through the thin shirt she wore, pressing against him.
He remembered how hard it was to be so close to her and not be able to kiss her—to undress her. To make love to her. Bill hadn’t been with anyone since Justine. He loved Justine, once, or, at least, he thought he did. He thought she was the one. Justine was the second woman he’d ever slept with; only he couldn’t remember sleeping much when he was with her. Everything about Justine was exotic, and Bill had instantly fallen for her. She had broken his heart and soured him from ever wanting to be in love again. The only love in his life from that point on had been Sydney. His whole life had been her. Well, her and the Kemper House.
Until now. Destiny changed all that. From the moment he first saw her across the concession counter ordering margaritas for two silly old men, he felt his heart come alive again, alive in a way that he didn’t even believe possible. And then, when she spoke, her velvet voice reached his ears and touched his very soul.
He remembered leaning over and kissing her forehead as she nestled closer into his arms. He reached over and held her hand, his fingers toying with hers; so
small and so cold, soft to his touch. His hands slowly explored them, gently embracing them, then moving over the long sleeves of the t-shirt she wore. Destiny stirred just slightly.
Bill jerked awake suddenly as the plane shook. The turbulence through the whole flight had been rough. Thankfully, he wasn’t one of those who suffered from motion sickness. He glanced at his seatmate, an eighteen-year-old Boston student heading home for the holidays. He looked out the window and checked his watch. Another hour. He would never have considered leaving during their busiest time of the year, but he had heard about an old B&B in Canada that had closed years ago. It was a run down property that had deteriorated and was on the auction block, an opportunity he just couldn’t pass up. Bill leaned back in his seat again and closed his eyes, resting on his trusty self-inflatable Brookstone travel pillow. His breathing steadily slowed and within minutes, he was back asleep and dreaming of Destiny.
No, this time, Bill was going to do it right. He was going to wait. He wasn’t going to rush her; wasn’t going to push her. He knew Destiny would be worth waiting for; and then he was going to propose to her. And then he was going to marry her, and they were going to have children together. Destiny would be his “happily ever after.”
Bill remembered opening his eyes, but Destiny’s were closed, her breathing steady. She slept peacefully. He smiled sweetly, then kissed the end of her nose before reluctantly sliding from the bed, knowing he couldn’t stay—knowing that he shouldn’t…
His eyes never left her as he rose. Only suddenly she was no longer asleep. The moon beyond the windows reflected in her eyes, the light entrancing him, pleading for him to stay, to hold her, to touch her… and more. Her arms reached for him and pulled him back to her side where she pressed herself against him. Slowly she slid her hand under his shirt, discovering the treasure trail of hair from his jeans and following it upwards to the matting of brown hair that adorned his chest. She touched and toyed with his chest, her fingers tracing his nipples, then moving upward to his neck, where they lingered, delicately dancing against his late evening stubble. They caressed his cheek on their way to his mouth. His lips.
Tentatively, her fingers brushed over his lips, the simple gesture taunting him. Destiny raised onto her elbow, leaning more on his chest. He closed his eyes as he felt her firm breasts pressed against him. Though there were two layers of shirts between them, in his mind there were none. Her fingers continued to toy with his lips, then she kissed his cheek, turning his head toward her. He opened his eyes, her eyes still on him as she leaned further onto him. Her lips parted just enough that when she gently kissed him, he felt the moist heat of her mouth. Of her breath. They traveled along the side of his mouth and his cheek; her tongue darted about, daring his to join hers. Then she kissed him again, and again, never fully kissing his lips. His heart fluttered, his skin tingling at her slightest touch. God, it was unbearable.
“I never meant to fall in love with you,” she said, without him seeing her mouth move.
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you,” he whispered, without opening his mouth.
Destiny leaned against him, her warm breath teasing him, driving him mad. She brushed her lips over his once, then again. When her tongue flitted across them, he could bear it no more. Bill grabbed her hair and pulled her forcefully to himself, kissing her hard, kissing her deeply, with such passion that he thought he would explode. Suddenly she leaned back, breathlessly, gasping for air. Her hands moved to his shirt and frantically removed it. Bill lay there expectantly, his heart feeling like it was going to beat out of his chest. She slowly crossed her arms on her stomach and began to remove her shirt. He watched as the gray material slowly revealed her bare midriff. It felt like she was moving in slow motion, so he rose to help her. Then she smacked him square in the nose with her elbow.
Bill sat up with a start.
“Sorry, buddy,” the young man in the seat next to him said, as he picked his backpack up off Bill’s lap and handed him a Kleenex.
Bill looked at the tissue in his hand as blood dripped onto it, suddenly realizing his nose was bleeding.
“You were really in a deep sleep. Must have been some dream,” he said with a smirk, motioning with his eyes at Bill’s lap.
Bill looked down and quickly jerked his travel pillow into his lap and looked back up, red-faced.
The young man leaned over the seat next to him and held out his fist. “Fist bump, dude! Guy your age! Way to go!”
Bill, still disoriented, stared at the fist and then the rugged teen. He balled a fist and hit the young man’s hand.
“Way to go,” he repeated with a shake of his head as he tossed his backpack over his shoulder and then joined those deplaning.
Bill glanced around to see if anyone else noted the exchange or the reason for it. He held the Kleenex to his nose as he looked out the window. Maybe it was a good thing Bill didn’t finish the dream, or he could have been way more embarrassed than he was at that very moment. As he stared out the window, he chuckled to himself. A guy your age? He shook his head, and slowly a smile crept up the side of his lips. He casually balled his fist, and discreetly fist bumped his reflection in the window. “Way to go, old man,” he murmured to himself, as passersby grumbled and talked to themselves, anxious to get to their next flight or to their final destination, oblivious to the proud moment Bill was sharing with himself.
Chapter 46
Sydney ran into his arms, her usual greeting, whether he was gone an hour or a day. She was getting bigger and heavier, but he didn’t care. He dreaded the day when she would come to the realization that it was no longer cool to hang with her dad. Until then, he would savor these special homecomings as long as he could.
“I missed you, Daddy!” she exclaimed.
“I missed you too, Sweetie.” Bill gave his daughter a multitude of kisses. He glanced up at Destiny, and blushed; his heart still holding his fantasy that he had dreamed while on the plane. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she smiled sweetly, her hands stuffed into the back pockets of her jeans.
Sydney went to check on the cookies she was baking for their afternoon arrivals.
Bill slowly walked up to Destiny, gently slid his hands through her arms and hugged her to himself. He gave her a small kiss as well. On the cheek. “Ouch!” he exclaimed, touching his nose.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was attacked by a rogue backpack.” Bill grinned and then kissed her on her cheek, more carefully, just catching the side of her lips. Reluctantly, he released her, picked up his bag and carried it down the hallway.
Destiny followed him. “How was your flight?”
“Rough.”
“Really?”
You have no idea; he sighed to himself.
She followed him into Sydney’s room. He suddenly stopped before turning to Destiny. “Where’s my bed?”
With a motion of her head, she begged him to follow her. So he did, to his room, where she opened his drawers and held out her hand. He looked at her, perplexed. His things were in their original places, and hers were no longer there.
“Deborah’s gone, so it didn’t seem fair that you had to keep sleeping on an air mattress,” she said, with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
“Oh.” Bill’s face fell, his voice expressing his disappointed. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Sure, I did. Isn’t that where your house manager stays?”
His face brightened just slightly. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you need me, I’ll stay. That is unless I don’t work out.” Destiny shuffled her feet. “Or you get tired of me.”
Bill dropped his bags and went to her, taking her into his arms. “I’ll never get tired of you.” He kissed her again, ever so gently.
Destiny lowered her head, wiped her lips and stepped back. “I don’t want this to be awkward, Bill.”
“Why should it be awkward?” he asked, brushing back her hair.
�
�I mean, if this… if we…” She hesitated, looking into his eyes. “If we don’t work out.”
“Oh,” he said, almost hurt, turning away. He put his suitcases on the bed and began to unpack.
“It’s just,” she bit her lip. “There’ve been some extraordinary circumstances surrounding you and me.” Destiny brushed the floor with her house slipper. “I just don’t want you feeling like if things change,” she stammered, “you have to keep me. I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“Are you kidding?” Bill turned back to her, taking her hands into his. “I’m in love with you.” Destiny looked up into his eyes as he spoke. “That’s never going to change. Never,” he whispered. Bill leaned over and kissed her forehead, holding it to his lips.
Destiny smiled at his touch, at his words. Only, the doorbell broke their moment, the silence.
“I got it,” Sydney chimed from the kitchen.
Bill smiled against her forehead, never wanting to let her go.
“Daddy, it’s for you!”
Bill raised her face with his hands. “Be right back,” he smiled, kissing her again. Destiny watched him disappear around the corner before she began unpacking his things. She sorted his clean clothes from his dirty ones and slowly put the clean ones back into his dresser. As Destiny placed his ties onto the felt-lined wood, she suddenly stopped and smiled. Her hand gently brushed across the fabric. It had been so long since she’d cared for someone else’s clothes. Another man’s clothes. Well, there were her brother’s, during her brief stay at his place, but that didn’t count. There was something unattractive about doing your adult brother’s skid-marked underwear when he was in his twenties and still single.
When Destiny had removed her clothes from his drawers earlier that morning, she had yearned for a day when they would lie together with Bill’s, when she would lie side by side with him, in his bed—their bed. She looked up at herself in the mirror. How can someone be so ready and not ready all at the same time? Destiny saw the hope that grew on Bill’s face when she walked him back into his room, saw it dashed when he saw that her clothes were no longer there. She took his folded undershirts and placed them neatly into the cedar drawer.
Destiny by chance: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel Page 25