Closed Doors

by Nancy Radke

  "Fine." He put both into the changing tray, pushed the controls and adjusted the volume as the music swirled around them. "I do this to keep the mob settled."

  "A good idea," she said, then indicated the discs in her hand. "Where do these go?"

  "Lay them on the shelf there. I always include a few with the sound system. It helps 'sell' the yacht concept to others."

  She did so, and he stepped closer, reaching out to take her hand. His next step brought him to within dancing distance and Ellen felt excitement stir within her, highlighting the moment with vivid brightness. A swirl of sparkling effervescent energy bubbled up from her toes to the top of her hair... hair that came tingling alive with sensation when Jared casually tucked in a strand that had fallen loose.

  "Also, I don't want to have to repair the yacht afterwards," he whispered to Ellen, leading her out onto the deck and swinging her expertly into the dance. "Slow music keeps the troops quiet." Several couples joined them, then more.

  Held securely in his arms, Ellen tried hard to stomp on her feelings before they skyrocketed above the yacht's tall antenna.

  He's just doing this to set an example; to get others to dance, she told herself sternly. He told you so, plainly. It has nothing to do with you.

  Her reminder proved useless. His expensive cologne, with its hint of spices, was designed to stir a woman's senses and shatter her rationale. His personal charm and quiet authority further destroyed her defenses, so that she willingly relinquished herself to his magic.

  Soft moonlight did a dance step of its own on the calm surface of the lake. Black, highly-polished shoes matched her gray-green heels as Jared spun her into a circle of dreams.

  His hand, low on her back, pressed her firmly against him. Through his dinner jacket she could feel the strength of his body. He consisted of lean, rock-hard muscle and bones... in contrast to her soft yielding. The sensation overcame her mind's last lingering resistance and she laid her head on his shoulder.

  "Did I say how lovely you looked tonight" he asked, his mellow voice fueling the fire roaring within her.

  "Yes. Several times, thank you."

  "Then I'll say it again. That delightful smile you have made everyone feel welcome."

  "I'm glad I could help."

  "You did more than you realize. Three couples have decided to look at our yachts—the smaller ones—and several others expressed an interest."

  "But I didn't have anything to do with that."

  "Sure you did. They saw how much you were enjoying yourself and what a delight you took in showing things off; and they wanted to feel that way."

  Again she struggled, confused. She must not read into his words things that weren't there. This was a business occasion; he was talking business. He complimented her because she had helped his business, not because he loved her.

  "I was excited, I guess. It's the first time I've ever been on a megayacht. Not literally, of course; we were aboard her the other day, but she was still on land. Once in the water, she acquires a life of her own."

  "And is that the only reason you look so radiantly happy?"

  "Why, yes. At least I think so. What other reason could there be?"

  He sighed. "If you don't know—-"

  "Know what?"

  The music stopped and they stood where they were, facing each other. "Never mind. But I thought..." He drew his hand roughly through his hair, wiping out the suave neatness of the business man.

  "Don't talk in riddles."

  "I guess I feel I still have to. Anyway, riddles were made to be answered. And I mean to have an answer to mine before this night is over. Now, please see to our guests, a little longer."

  *19*

  Confused by Jared’s words, Ellen sidestepped a young man headed her way and retreated to the table set at one side of the deck. The hors d'oeuvres were no longer beautifully arranged, but there was substantial food left and she helped herself.

  It was just something to take her mind off Jared. He was dancing again, this time with Vanessa. That—if anything—should have taken the wind from her sails, leaving her becalmed, her hopes lost forever.

  For she had been hoping, just the tiniest, that she would be the one to put an end to all those names in his book. Hoping that he talked to Vanessa about her because he could not keep his mind off her anymore than she could him.

  Hoping he might fall in love with her.

  Ellen smiled automatically at the young man who had approached the table, nodding "yes" when he asked her to dance. He was a talker, and her efforts to return his chatter kept her whirling thoughts at half an arm's length... for a few moments. It did nothing to calm her emotional turmoil, and she marveled that it was so easy to appear in control when she was so totally out of it.

  She maintained the act all the way north to Kirkland, her smile pasted on her face for everyone to see.

  There they dropped off the group, including Vanessa. Just the Van Chattans, Larry, and the crew remained aboard with them. As they sailed westward across Lake Washington, Ellen turned her attention to the trays of food, taking out the few remaining items and transferring them all to one large platter.

  "Let me help." It was Jared, his jacket gone, holding a plastic garbage bag into which she threw the unsalvageable items. The simple act, working beside him, was enough to whirl her off into the clouds again.

  She didn’t know how she was going to survive their closeness and hide her attraction to him. He was not blind. He had already been questioning the stars in her eyes with his riddles earlier. Or at least, she thought that was what he had been doing.

  "That was quite a party. If Vanessa was a little younger, I'd have spanked her—a little older, I could have snubbed her. How're you doing?" He tied a knot in the bag and set it on the floor, then washed and dried his hands. He appeared cheerful, unaware of her happy reaction to his words, unaffected by her presence.

  "Fine. I guess. Just don't ask me to smile for a week."

  "Jaw ache?"

  "Yes. I can't imagine it ever feeling relaxed again."

  "I know. Mine feels that way, too.” He lowered his voice, stepped intimately closer to her. “It's this area, back of the jawbone, right?" Reaching out, he touched her cheeks and the lobes of her ears, his fingers brushing both sides of her face with a gentleness that set her heart tripping over itself in wild anticipation.

  She nodded, breathing in the soap’s clean fragrance which lingered on his hands, afraid to speak and break the spell.

  "Want me to make it better?" he asked, his fingers sliding along the ultra-sensitive areas behind her ears and through her hair.

  Ellen's heart pounded with rapid applause, urging him on. "Oh, yes," she whispered, barely able to breathe, all her hopes returning. Her heart cast off its mooring lines. She was going to take her own pleasure cruise, following the wind and waves to see where they carried her. “Yes!”

  "Good." He kissed each cheek then paused, his hands cupping her head, fingers gently stroking along the nape of her neck, the feather-light touch rocketing her senses, impelling her onward. One more kiss to each spot, then his lips brushed against hers in gentle exploration.

  Jared pulled back and Ellen opened her eyes to find him studying her slightly parted lips. His gaze lifted to lock onto hers before he leaned forward to once more kiss her with the very barest of contact—then drew back again, as if testing the waters.

  Too slow. Much too slow. She wanted every inch of him. Unsatisfied, her lips aching to touch his, she pushed against his restraining hands, seeking to quench the desire that surged within her, begging for more.

  He still hesitated, his hands holding her captive, his thumb brushing her lower lip in tantalizing strokes of fire.

  Her body suffused with heat, her breathing quickened as she reached out for him, the deep need pulsating from within. Her hands, pressed against the fine fabric of his shirt, moved upward to clasp around his neck, trying to hold him still so she could reach his lips: the objects o
f her frustration. Why wouldn’t he kiss her?

  Instead, he shifted one hand under her chin and moved the other through her hair, loosing the coiled braid, then ran his fingers through the length so that the strands fell soft and wanton across her shoulders, making her feel more feminine and desirable.

  "I want to do this every time I'm with you," he murmured, stroking its red-gold glory.

  She became liquid copper in his hands, waiting to be molded into a sculpture of unsurpassed beauty.

  "Precious," he whispered, again meeting her lips in the fleetest of kisses, teasing her senses into an overwhelming blanket of desire.

  "Jared."

  "Yes?"

  He stepped backwards and she moved with him, her mind focused on his lips hovering just out of reach, her entire body hungry, burning with sensation, demanding the release of her love. “Stand still. You keep moving—”

  “As you wish.” He caught her lower lip with his, drawing it into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue. He held her closely, his arms surrounding her with an energy every bit as fierce as his demanding possession of her lip.

  She pressed against him, entrapped in magic, wishing this would never end. She wanted him; needed him.

  Did he need her in the same way, with all those other women? She must remember them. She must not be added to his list. He needed her until he learned to read, but that alone could not keep love alive. A clear image returned—of his back, as he turned away from her in the restaurant parking lot. She stiffened slightly, trying to deny the surging power of her love.

  "Relax." He drew one finger across her sensitive lips, encouraging all the emotions she struggled to subdue.

  Reaching up, she caught his hand and held it away. "Don't do that. I can't think—"

  "Awful, isn't it." He chuckled and his voice dropped into a low murmur. "You've blown my concentration all night. Every time I glanced around, I searched for you. And when I'd finally spot you, you were always looking back."

  "I...." She stopped. It was true. What defense could she offer?

  "Kiss me again. I know you want to. And you have to know by now, how much I want it."

  "I can't—"

  "Yes, you can."

  "I shouldn't—"

  He chuckled softly once more, eyes smiling, his delight in her evident. "Yes, teacher. You should."

  He touched his lips to hers again, then kissed her, hungrily.

  Her love swelled like an incoming wave, surging as restless as the sea. She found herself pliable in his arms; susceptible to his every movement, unwilling to stop their flight to the stars. It was evident one learned by experience when Jared taught the course.

  The teacher was being taught by a master—and his instructions were thorough; a liberal education with the major course of study being romance. He was well past the introduction and she was learning fast.

  He was very experienced, she reminded herself as she returned his kisses. All those other women. Would he ever want to commit to just one?

  At that moment Elenora walked into the room and they jumped apart like startled children. "Oh, there you are," she said, looking flustered. "I need you to show me how to work the stereo system. There's a garden show I listen to on Saturday mornings. I don't want to miss."

  "Of course. Ellen can help you with it."

  "I don't know anything about radios, Jared," Ellen protested, her heart pounding. The interruption had startled her, further confusing her senses and she struggled to regain control of her mind and body. "My stereo looks nothing like this one. You show her."

  He laughed. "We'll find the manual and go through it together, all three of us.” He turned to Elenora. “Then if you have any problems, you'll be able to look it up again."

  "Why don't you go ahead while I finish cleaning up in here," Ellen said, wanting a few more minutes to compose herself—and to cherish what had just happened. She couldn't switch emotions as fast as he could.

  He smiled at her as if amused, shaking his head slightly. "No. I insist. I'll point out the features while you," he slowed his words, "you read the manual... out loud. That way, Elenora will have a better chance to learn it."

  "Oh!" A hot flush of embarrassment swept over her face. How could she have forgotten? She clasped her hands together, speaking brightly. "You're absolutely right. Why didn't I think of that."

  "Uh... I hope, uh... I wasn't interrupting anything,” Elenora said, looking more closely at the two of them, as if just seeing them for the first time.

  "No. Nothing," Jared said, still smiling broadly. "We can help you right now."

  “If you insist.” Giving them one last suspicious glance, Elenora walked out the door. Jared winked at Ellen before he turned to follow.

  He's treating my lapse like a huge joke, Ellen thought. Well, maybe it was. There were lots of times lately when she had forgotten he couldn’t read.

  She caught up with him in the passageway.

  "So Elenora interrupted ‘nothing,’ huh?" she asked, in an undertone.

  "Nothing that can't be finished later," he whispered to her. "It takes a while to go through the locks."

  By the time they finished tuning the radio, the yacht had stopped to signal the bridge tender to open the Ballard Bridge. The signal, one long blast and one short from the yacht's horn, reminded Ellen she had heard similar signals earlier. They had already passed under four other bridges, each one having to stop traffic and raise its span for them to go through.

  After Elenora thanked them and excused herself, Ellen stepped over to the window to watch the opening of this bridge. Soon they would be entering the Government Locks which linked the fresh water lakes with the saltwater of Puget Sound.

  Jared joined her. "The next signal you hear will be one long blast and two short ones. That alerts the Lockmaster to lower the salt-water barrier before we get there. It's just upstream from the entrance to the large lock."

  "What does it do?"

  "It keeps salt water—which is heavier than fresh—from going into the lakes. The barrier sticks up from the bottom, but it's hinged, so deep-draft vessels can get past it. Shall we go outside to watch the bridge open?"

  "Sure."

  Ellen followed him out onto the deck, feeling as excited as a kid at an amusement park. It was fun to be under the bridges, as the huge spans disengaged and lifted overhead with a rumble of their mechanical parts.

  They passed under the Ballard Bridge and across Salmon Bay, then paused to wait for the salt-water barrier light to go off and the green lock light to let them proceed. It was late, but traffic was heavy during the summer. A group of boats coming through from Puget Sound had to first file out of the locks and past the yacht. Their passengers waved and smiled up at them.

  Happy with the way Ellen had responded to him, Jared checked on Van Chattan's crew as they moved into the lock chamber at just over one knot. He wanted to make sure they did not mar the yacht's sides, tying up to the walls... or smash up another boat smaller than them. Most of the yachtsman he knew—including himself—had had at least one accident in the locks.

  "If it won’t mar your dress, you can help throw over the fenders," he told Ellen as the lock attendants caught the lines dropped down to them. The large lock had almost eight hundred feet of available space, but it still felt crowded. They were tied up first, then five boats were rafted together behind them, small boats that the yacht towered over, making the occupants look uneasily around the enclosed quarters.

  The yacht had the front of the chamber all to itself, so Jared relaxed slightly. "She'll soon be going out into the open sea," he said. "The wide, wide world."

  "You sound like a mother, overseeing your child," Ellen said as she helped toss the white fenders over the rails. The fenders dangled in mid-air, looking useless with the walls of the lock below them at the moment.

  Jared thought about her remark as he followed the lock attendants' instructions. It was the way he felt. "Father," he corrected. "Although our company did give
birth to her, so you could call it the mother."

  All of Mr. Van Chattan’s new crew were on deck, plus Larry and the Van Chattans, ready to spring to action. Jared took the time to make sure each crewman stationed at the cleats knew how to fasten the line in a figure eight so that it could be freely paid out as the water sank under them. Only one didn’t know, having never been through a lock before.

  The yacht appeared to be in good hands, so he joined Ellen at the rail where he could keep a close eye on the buoys. Her presence generated a greater pull than the yacht's. Which was a first for him.

  The gates behind them closed with the continuous ringing of an alarm bell, then the water slowly flowed out through the bottom pipes, carrying all the boats down to sea level.

  As they descended further and further into the chamber, its sides green with algae, Jared took Ellen's hand and held it, experiencing a rush of happiness when she squeezed his in response. She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with delight. He could not help but smile back, feeling the totality of his life focusing on this moment.

  He had been watching the Van Chattans all evening, the way they looked for each other across the room; the way their gazes met, their faces lighting up with the contact. That touch of acknowledgment, of "I'm here and you're close by; all's right in our world." Companionship. Love.

  That was what he wanted. A wife. A woman to share the moments of life with: to rejoice together, to weep together. As equals.

  And not just any woman. He wanted Ellen. He looked down into her rapt face, enjoying this moment through her eyes. She had brought new life to the party... and to him. He felt he could conquer any difficulties, as long as she stood with him.

  Supporting him—as a wife.

  What would she say, if he asked her? Would she turn him down? The uncertainty made every man hesitate, and Jared felt certain that Ellen still viewed him as incapable of taking care of her. Otherwise, she still would not spring to his defense all the time. He wanted an equal, not a mother, and the fact squelched all his hopes.

  He looked up at the concrete sides of the lock, the massive structure looming over him like an insurmountable barrier. A barrier as high as his reading problem.