by Noelle Hart
“We're taking a chance here, you know that, right?”
Her hazel eyes clouded with passion. “Stop your hedging. This has been a long time coming and it's high time we act on it. Right here, right now.”
It was good enough for him. She clung as he swept her off her feet and carried her to the back room where he sometimes took catnaps on a fold out cot.
“I wanted to take you out,” he murmured against her hair as he placed her gently on the cot, “make it special.”
She ran her hands over his chest, feeling his taut muscles bunch in reaction. “You're special.” Her hands traveled up to encase his face. “Please don't make me wait any longer.”
He dove in and feasted. No slow simmer here. It was all flash and sear as he followed his own recipe for sexual plunder. His large hands roamed all over her silken skin, exploring as he peeled off the final layer of her clothes, seeking out and finding her hidden pleasure points. A teasing nip here, just enough pressure there, mouth hot and wet and everywhere.
Jolene moaned and writhed and pressed up against him as though she wanted to meld with him. When he slid into her it felt sublime, a joining of body and soul, a possession that said, mine.
He found her sweet spot. And held her there in a continual, unrelenting assault as her breath caught in short pants and her eyes glazed over. Her high pitched whimpers mingled with his own deep moans, placing his barely-there control in jeopardy. The intensity weakened her, made her entire body liquify when he finally picked up the pace and brought them both to a grand slam finale.
They lay in a heap, limbs entwined, steam rising.
Bliss. Sheer, heavenly bliss, thought Jolene, just before her insecurities rose along with the steam.
“Please tell me this isn't a one time deal,” she murmured when her breathing equalized.
Lyle tightened his grip on her and tilted her head up. “We're just getting started.” He took her hand and guided it south. “Second serving coming up. Dessert comes later.”
Hours later Kim arrived to find them prepping the kitchen for the lunch crowd. He didn't need to ask. Their individual body languages spelled it out in the form of a quick smile or a random touch.
Kim went into the back room to change into his chef outfit. The cot was well made, the sheets hospital tight, the blanket neatly folded, pillow on top. The tell-tale sign was in the wet shower stall in the adjacent bathroom, the torn curtain a testament to how well it had been put to use.
Kim looked upward and mumbled, “Oh great and honored Spirit, let these two children find their way.” Then he laughed, at them and at himself. “Or I'll kick that horse's ass all the way to the Great Hunting Ground in the sky.”
*
Rita Lambert cooed over a rack of baby sleepers while Kylie sneaked glances at the expensive labels. It was Saturday afternoon and they'd just come from the obstetrician's clinic. She'd liked Dr. Lydia Barrymore with her firm instructions to take vitamins and lecture on the benefits of mild to moderate exercise. The baby's due date had been estimated to be late March, which had left Kylie wondering how she would explain to her boss her situation and handle her work schedule.
She needed to drag her mother out of Rock the Cradle, the trendy baby boutique where everything was overpriced. Whispering in Rita's ear, “Mom, don't you still have that big chest in the attic, the one with all my baby clothes in it? Let's go through that first.”
Rita longingly fingered soft, cuddly fabric, then let it drop and followed her daughter out of the store.
“Look, there's your roommate,” said Rita, nodding in the direction of a cyclist heading their way.
Jolene braked next to them, radiating sunbeams.
Kylie had it half figured out. Something had happened with Lyle. “How was your training session this morning?” she asked.
Jolene raised her arms in triumph. “I'm a conquered woman!” she announced. Her face infused with red. “Oh God. Mrs. Lambert. What I mean is...”
“I may be Kylie's mother but I'm also a woman.” Rita had gleaned from her daughter Jolene's absolute crush on Lyle Morris, the big hunky cook at the Village Diner where she worked. “I know what it means to be conquered.”
Kylie whacked her mother affectionately on the arm. “Mom!”
Jolene appreciated the sentiment. She held a fist dramatically to her heart. “We did it. Finally!” She let out a whoop.
A few heads turned on the street. “Let's take this conversation home, shall we?” suggested Kylie. She linked arms with her mother. “C'mon Mom, we'll have girl talk over afternoon tea. See you there, Jolene.”
Rita snorted. “Is tea all you've got?”
“You and Jolene can have wine. I'm drinking for two now, remember?”
They rallied at the apartment where Jolene, arriving first, had already poured two glasses of Chardonnay and put out a platter of cheese and crackers. A pot of Chai tea steamed, a jar of honey by its side.
Rita put her feet up on a hassock and lay back, wine in hand. She sighed appreciatively.
“Spill,” she directed Jolene. “Give us all the dirty details. Kylie, don't give me that look. We're all females here. Age knows no boundaries when it comes to hot sex.”
“Mom! Please, before we go any further, I don't want any details about you and Dad.”
Rita sipped her wine and savored its tart crispness. “I know where to draw the lines. Jolene...?”
Unabashedly, she obliged. “Lyle took over my training session today. Let me tell you, he taught me a few things! On the cot in the back room, twice, and then again in the shower.”
“You have a shower in the back room?” asked Kylie.
“Well of course they do,” supplied Rita. “We have one in our back room at the Hardware store too.” She winked at Jolene, her rich laughter raucous, filling the room.
“Mom! What did I just say?”
“Oh stop. We didn't grow you in a cabbage patch. Isn't that right, Jolene?”
“Right on,” piped in Jolene. “For God's sake, Kylie, you're pregnant and your guy wants to marry you. Why so glum?”
“I'm not glum.”
“Yes you are. You've been moping around all week. What's going on?”
The weight of her dilemma suddenly felt overwhelming. Maybe this was what Dr. Barrymore should have prescribed, thought Kylie, a heart-to-heart with the two most important women in her life.
“Drew had me over for dinner last Sunday night. It didn't go well. I don't think marriage is in the cards for us.”
Rita sat forward, alarmed. “Oh honey, he hasn't hurt you, has he?”
“His temper flared at anything I said that conflicted with his own viewpoint. Throughout the evening he reined it in over and over, and at one point I thought he might physically lash out at me, but then he controlled it.”
She had their rapt attention, their expressions brimming with concern. “Go on,” Rita encouraged her.
“That one night we spent together, it was like I wasn't even there. He was in his own world, his own head space. Wouldn't back off when I practically yelled at him to stop.”
“Oh my,” injected Rita.
“He has our whole future mapped out without any of my own input. Wants me to quit my job and cater to him like a good little wifey.”
Both women looked aghast.
“I knew it from the start,” said Jolene. “There's something off about Drew.”
Kylie frowned. “Am I being paranoid? Is this hormonal?”
“I think it's time we meet this young man,” said Rita. “Your father is a good judge of character. He'll know the right questions to ask. Ferret out his personality traits, good and bad.”
Kylie poured her tea, stirred in honey. “I should be over the moon right now but Drew just plain freaks me out.”
Her cell phone belted out the first bars of a popular song indicating a call coming in from Drew. She held up the phone for the ladies to see. “Speak of the devil. I'm going to take this.”
Sh
e went outside on the balcony overlooking the street and punched the talk button. “Hi Drew. What's up?”
“You haven't forgotten about dinner at my parent's house tonight, have you?”
She'd assumed it wouldn't happen since he hadn't called her all week. “Um, is that still on?” she hedged.
“My mother is going to a lot of trouble to impress you. You don't want to let her down, do you?”
Guilt. Another Drew tactic.
He persisted. “I know things didn't go that great last Sunday, but with this baby on the way I really want you to meet my folks. Afterward we'll talk it out, make plans.”
Whatever sincerity he was shooting for was lost to the whine in his voice. She didn't think she could ever get used to his quick change-ups but she was going to be diplomatic and meet her future child's grandparents. Then she was going to tell Drew what she did, and didn't feel for him.
“Alright. I'll be ready when you get here.”
“Good. Wear that blue dress with the lace collar.”
She bristled but said nothing and ended the call.
Back inside she reported to the women. “Looks like I'm meeting his parent's tonight. He wants me to wear that navy blue dress.”
Rita's eyebrows rose. “He tells you what to wear? I stopped doing that when you turned eight and decided you were going to live out the rest of your life in a tutu.”
“Now there's an idea.”
Jolene winked at her. “What time is he coming? I'll dress you in appropriate attire.”
Kylie laughed. “You already did that once and look what happened. Mom, I'll let Jolene fill you in on that story. I have to get dressed.” She stuck her tongue out at the phone still in her hand. “Appropriately.”
*
Kylie would be damned if she was going to wear that matronly blue rag again, and besides, he'd given rise to a small rebellion.
Stepping out of the shower she examined her body in her full length mirror. She refused to think of the inevitable bulge as the popular, trending baby bump. Smoothing her hand over her belly, she thought about the tiny human developing in her womb. Thus far very few maternal instincts had surfaced. This was all such an unexpected mind bender. But now she felt an inkling of wonder at the entire process of giving life, of how her body would change, would create. The impact a child would have on her life, and vice versa. It felt, and this surprised her, amazing.
She rifled through her closet and settled on sleek black slacks over low suede pumps, topped off with a simple white blouse. Keeping her makeup light, she wore the sapphire studs her parents had given her last Christmas and coaxed her hair into a sleek, refined up-do.
When Kylie stepped back into the living room both Rita and Jolene stopped in mid conversation and gave her a solid ten on her choice of appropriate wear.
“If he's not happy with this then he's a fool,” said Rita. “You're absolutely lovely. And I have to go. Thank you both for a very relaxing afternoon. Kylie, bring Drew with you to brunch!”
Jolene gave Rita an impulsive hug and sent her off.
Kylie's mind was preoccupied. Damn it all, if she wasn't nervous. Again. Ridiculous. But she sensed a battle was about to be waged.
Promptly at six Drew called up to the apartment and asked her to come down as he was double parked. He got out to open the door for her and stopped in his tracks. “Where's the blue dress?” he snapped.
No hello, how are you. No ten points for dressing not only appropriately but well. For someone who was supposed to be winning her over, he was systematically blowing it. She'd reasoned with herself that meeting Drew's parents was something she should do for the sake of the baby, to give them the opportunity to be part of the child's upbringing. It would be their grandchild after all, regardless if she and Drew were together.
In even tones she answered, “This is what I'm wearing. Take it or leave it.”
He nodded and opened her door. Wondering if she should turn back now while the turning was good, she slid into the seat of his car.
In the driver's seat, Drew sent her a side-long glance. “You do look good. I'm just not used to having my suggestions ignored.”
“Your suggestions sound like orders.”
Concentrating on traffic, he merely grimaced.
“Why don't you tell me what's going down at this dinner tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
“Will there be mention of the baby?”
Drew hit the horn when the driver in front slowed suddenly for a turn. “Fucker! Did you see that? No signal. Could've hit him!”
“I thought you didn't like foul language.”
He eased the car past but not before glaring at the other driver. “It's expected of men, but women should hold their tongues.”
Ah. A double standard. She let it lie, waiting for his answer to her question.
“Here's the thing, Kylie. I've already told my mother I want to marry you but not about the baby. Let's just keep that little tidbit under wraps for now, okay?”
“I thought this little tidbit was what meeting your parents was all about. You're making assumptions without much thought as to what I think or want.”
“Which is?”
“I want to find the right man to spend the rest of my life with.”
He took her hand. “I'm him. I'm the right man.”
“I'm not convinced. I'm just now beginning to see sides of you I hadn't known about.”
Drew yanked back his hand. “Don't spoil this Kylie.”
They were arriving into the Uplands where the homes were stately and magnificent. Worth millions. If Drew wasn't enough to intimidate her on his own, this certainly filled in any gaps.
Pulling into a circle drive that led to the front doors of a massive, contemporary home surrounded by fussily manicured gardens, Kylie took a deep breath and prepared to be dazzled.
She wasn't disappointed. The ornate front door was opened by a uniformed Philippine woman who informed Drew that his parents were in the receiving room. Kylie glimpsed a sweeping redwood banister and a modern copper and glass chandelier as Drew led her quickly into the interior.
The receiving room was as big as Kylie's entire apartment. She wanted to gape but quickly neutralized her expression as she took in rich Persian rugs over dark hardwood floors, gilt-framed paintings in muted colors, a crackling fireplace with an expansive, carved mantle. The furnishings could only be described as eclectic elegance; deep upholstered chairs, a rose colored settee, a curving chaise lounge, all flanked by softly gleaming wood tables. Every inch tastefully, artfully put together by someone with a deep pocket.
It was likely that someone was walking toward her now, hand extended, warm smile in place. Kylie took inventory of well coiffed ash blonde hair, porcelain skin and rheumy brown eyes. Although somewhat petite, she had presence.
Drew stepped in. “Kylie, this is my mother, Olivia.”
Olivia's handshake was firm and friendly. “Welcome to our home, Kylie. Please call me Olivia.” She beckoned to her husband. “This is Stanley.” Kylie felt a distinct drop in temperature as he approached. His shake was measurably harder, bordering on painful. He said nothing, simply swept her persona with an assessing once over, then stepped back to the fireplace where he'd left his drink on the mantle.
“You have a lovely home, Olivia,” she offered.
Drew made his way to a side bar and poured himself something strong. He didn't ask what she wanted, simply poured her a glass of white wine. When he handed it to her she raised her eyebrows and he whispered in her ear, “One isn't going to hurt.”
Seeing Olivia looking at her, she swallowed the retort on her lips and accepted the glass, sitting on a long couch facing the fire. She took the tiniest sip and then put it down on a side table.
Stanley Hammond perched on the edge of an adjacent chair, drink in hand. By comparison to his small wife he was a giant with close-cropped silver hair and wire-framed glasses over ice blue eyes, which he now fixed on Kylie.
>
His smile didn't make it to his eyes. “Drew tells us you work out at Valley Farms running their greenhouse operation. It's a big spread, but how do they survive the winter months once they close down The Big Red Barn?”
She figured he already knew the answer and this was some kind of test. “The Barn is open to the public from May to September, but our greenhouses produce all year 'round and we sell to retailers all over the island and the mainland. We're now producing organic crops, some grown hydroponically. Last year we put up solar panels to be entirely energy efficient.”
“Interesting,” commented Stanley, taking a swig off his glass. “You're a supervisor? Does that pay well?”
Olivia sent him a withering look. “Stanley... “
He cut her off. “It's a fair question. After all, this young lady is important enough to our son to bring home to meet us. I just want to make sure her heart is in the right place.”
His eyes bored into Kylie's, unwavering, daring her to show weakness.
Kylie met his stare with a steady one of her own. “Mr. Hammond...”
“Stanley.”
She took a deep breath. “Stanley. My job pays me well enough, and I own shares in the company that are on a steady rise. My being here is merely out of respect to Drew's wishes that I meet you both. If you're implying...” she waited a beat to see if Drew would come to her aid but he remained silent, staring into the flames at the fireplace with intent concentration, “...that I'm seeing Drew for some ulterior motive, then rest assured I'm no gold digger.”
She left it hanging and waited, watched as Olivia blushed deeply and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Glancing sideways, she saw that errant muscle in Drew's cheek do a hard core work-out. It was easy to see how this household operated.
Stanley maintained steely eye contact with Kylie over his cut crystal glass. The ice cubes tinkled merrily as the steel gave way to grudging acquiescence. “Point taken. Thank you for being so direct. I can admire that when it comes to business. To my mind however, women belong in the home and once they're married, should dedicate themselves to domestic pursuits.”