by Susan Fox
Her nipple tightened. A lick of heat raced down her body in an arrow from her breast to the place where her legs came together.
It was an odd, achy, enticing feeling, one she’d never felt before. She wanted to concentrate on it, but now he’d taken her nipple between his thumb and one of his fingers. He squeezed and released, squeezed and released, and more of those flames sparked through her body.
She heard a moan and realized it had come from her.
Jesse leaned forward to capture her lips. First he nipped the bottom one, then he ran his tongue around the edge of her mouth, first her top lip and then her bottom one. Her lips were parted slightly, but he didn’t invade them; he just ran his tongue sideways across the space between them, stroking top and bottom lip at the same time. Back and forth. Mesmerizing her . . .
His hand was moving from her breast, gliding down her body. Across her stomach, down farther into her wet tangle of curls, and down even farther.
She gasped, and his finger began to take up the same movement as his tongue, stroking back and forth at the opening to those other lips. His finger glided slickly, easily. Her body quivered with sensation, all centering around that amazing finger dancing over her intimate flesh.
“Maura,” he groaned, “you drive me wild.”
He was driving her wild, too, though she barely had the ability to form the thought, much less say the words. His finger, that daring finger, was flirting with the opening of her body, dipping in and retreating, then dipping back, farther each time. Stroking inside her, exploring secret places she’d never before been aware of, teasing and tantalizing her.
This was all so delicious and so new. Instinct told her to tighten around him, and her body began to move rhythmically, matching its tempo to his as he slid in and out of her. There were two fingers now, she realized. And his thumb was joining in, rubbing gently against the place where all that fiery sensation was pooling. Her clitoris.
“Oh, Jesse.” She was begging for something and didn’t even know what it was. She’d never experienced this overload of sensation, this agony of expectation. She couldn’t take it any longer. Something had to happen.
It was like being so happy that you’d burst if you couldn’t laugh out loud. And Jesse wasn’t letting her laugh.
“Now?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she answered, not knowing what he was offering.
His hand went away and she moaned her displeasure. This wasn’t what she’d meant.
But then he was back, probing at the entrance to her body, where she wanted him, but not with his fingers this time. My heaven, he was so big she could never . . .
But she did. He eased inside and her body opened itself to him.
“You feel so amazing,” he told her.
“So do you.”
Again he created a rhythm for them, and her body followed willingly, knowing he was leading her somewhere she very much wanted to go.
His lips sealed themselves to hers, kissing her the way those gorgeous actors and actresses did in movie love scenes. Romantic, passionate.
As he kissed her, he began to move more quickly and she squirmed, pressing harder against him, the tension within her almost unbearable—yet, oh, so pleasurable.
He pulled back slightly and slid his hand between them. Unerringly he found that little nub, her magic button, and began to rub it.
Her back arched and she cried out, feeling something inside her begin to come apart. He thrust harder, faster, taking her, possessing her, as she dissolved in surging waves all around him. Tremors rocked her body, and she almost sobbed from the sheer joy of the experience.
And Jesse, he . . .
He . . .
Where was Jesse?
Maura woke, one arm wrapped tight around the spare pillow. Her other arm stretched down her body, and her hand was deep inside her twisted pj’s, buried between her thighs. Her whole body was limp, pulsing with satisfaction, throbbing as if . . . as if the dream had been real.
Had she really . . . ? My gosh, could you bring yourself to orgasm in your sleep?
Good heavens, she really had learned how to do it. The M word. She pressed her palm gently against the damp folds of flesh, feeling her body begin to settle. Then she giggled, as a realization hit her. All those techniques in the book were wrong, at least for her. The trigger that loosened her inhibitions and freed her sexuality was the thought of Jesse Blue.
She grinned. Whatever the trigger, she wasn’t frigid. Definitely not. In fact, she might even be . . . hot. She giggled. A hot babe. Who’d have ever known that meek and mild Maura Mahoney had this astonishing capability for great sex?
What had she learned from this? Should she turn on the light and make notes?
No, she just wanted to fall back asleep and dream.
Maura woke up feeling almost aglow. She might be a late bloomer, but she was a sensual woman and one day she’d find the right man. Maybe, now that she’d awakened her sexual side, she’d discover new feelings for Edward on Friday night. Perhaps those exquisite tingles of arousal would dart through her. A girl could hope.
In her robe, she had breakfast at the kitchen table with the balcony door open to a fresh morning, and made her list for the day. Normally, she had Sundays and Mondays off, spending them on chores, reading, and enjoying her afternoon tea with Virginia Canfield. She’d lost her Sunday free time, what with Jesse Blue and the budget, and today she had a pile of chores to catch up on.
After showering and dressing, she got a load of laundry going, then she cleaned the week’s accumulation of odds and ends out of her purse.
The receipt from Sunnyside Nursery was there. She glanced at the total again, and it did seem amazingly low. Her accountant’s brain had taken note of the prices of several of the plants, and she remembered them as being more expensive than shown here.
She dialed the number shown on the receipt.
“Top of the morning,” a cheery female voice said.
“I was in yesterday and just reviewed my bill. Is there someone I could talk to?”
“Oops, did I mess up? It was busy yesterday.”
“Oh, are you . . .” Maura broke off before she said “Blondie.” Remembering the name Jesse had called her on the phone, she finished, “Chris?”
“That’s me.”
“Well, my bill looks a bit low.”
“Low? You’re calling because your bill’s too low?”
Maura shrugged. It was a pity if honesty was such a rare occurrence. “Yes. I’m Maura Mahoney from Cherry Lane and . . .”
“Oh, yes, Jesse’s friend.”
Maura opened her mouth, then closed it again. It would be pointless to explain. “I was in with Jesse Blue, yes.”
“I gave you a deep discount. Same on that quote for the pool.”
Maura frowned. Why on earth would she have done that? Unless . . . “Because of Jesse?”
“Uh-huh.”
Aagh! Maura—Cherry Lane—got a deal because a middle-aged blonde had the hots for Jesse Blue. She ground her teeth. “Did you get that approved by your employer?”
Chris chuckled. “I am the employer. My husband and I own this place. As for the discount, Jesse’s helped our boy a lot and we’re happy to pass on the favor.”
“Helped your boy?”
“Danny’s sixteen, kind of wild. The first day Jesse was in here—he came in with a landscape designer he was working with—Danny and his dad were getting into it. Shouldn’t have had the argument here at work, but you know how stuff happens. Danny, who never has time to work here, comes in asking for some money, and his dad lights into him over how he’s spending his time, hanging out with a bad bunch of kids to all hours.
“It’s getting pretty heated,” she went on, “and then Jesse asks Danny, all casual, if he’s interested in basketball. Suggests Danny drop by these Monday and Friday evening pickup games at Delancey Secondary.”
“Really?” Maura asked, fascinated. So that was why Jesse couldn’t work a
t Cherry Lane those nights.
“Yeah, and Danny thinks Jesse’s cool so he goes. Since then, he’s cleaned up his act. He’s working here on weekends—he’s one of the guys who delivered your order. He doesn’t see his old gang nearly so often and has some new friends we actually approve of though we don’t let on. You know how that goes.”
“I guess.” Not that she had experience with kids, or with friends for that matter.
“So, anyhow, we owe Jesse. He said your seniors place doesn’t have a lot of money and the old folks would really appreciate a nice garden, so I figured I could do my bit to help.”
“That’s very kind of you. Jesse didn’t tell me.”
Chris laughed. “He’s a man of few words. Let us know if we can do anything else for you.”
Maura promised to send her a tax receipt, then hung up, shaking her head.
As she switched laundry from the washer to the dryer, she mused over what she’d learned. So Jesse helped troubled kids as well as being nice to seniors.
And, completely unknowingly, he’d helped her, by serving as the unlikely spark to the steamy fantasies that had awakened her dormant sexuality.
Yet he had, as he’d admitted himself, beat a man up. He had that bad boy edge, and she’d seen things in his face that troubled her. Things that excited her, too, but that was a whole other issue.
For two days, she’d been his supervisor, she’d let him mingle with the seniors, but she didn’t really know what kind of man he was. She had assumed Louise Michaels wouldn’t let a hard-core criminal do community service at Cherry Lane, but maybe Jesse’s lawyer had put a spin on the story. Maybe Louise had been distracted by her and Don’s efforts to adopt.
Suddenly, Maura had to know the full truth about Jesse. Besides, if Louise and Don really were new parents, she wanted to offer her congratulations.
She dialed Louise’s cell phone. “Hi, it’s Maura. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“No, it’s fine. And it was only Braxton Hicks contractions yesterday, or I’d have called with the news. But it could happen any moment now. We’re with Brittany now, and we’re all so impatient.”
“I bet.”
“We met the dad, too. He’s a good boy. They’re still dating, but no way do they want to settle down at their age. Thank heavens for us!”
Maura was about to tell her how happy she was for them when Louise rushed on. “Did I tell you the baby’s a boy? The four of us all talked about it, and we agreed on the name Jeff. With a J not a G. Well, Jeffrey, actually.”
“It’s a great name.” Maura wondered if—hoped that—one day she’d be doing this herself: choosing a baby name. This morning, she felt more hopeful about marriage and children. She was a sensual woman and on Friday she had a date with a really nice guy. “I’m so happy that it’s working out for you.”
“So am I. Oh, gosh, so am I.” Louise’s voice sounded teary.
They were both quiet for a moment, then Maura said, “I hate to bother you, but I’ve got one quick question.”
“Oh! Oh, of course. I forgot all about Cherry Lane. How are things going? How are all my sweeties?”
“Everyone’s great. It appears that Fred Dykstra and Lizzie Gilmore may be an item.”
“Aw, good for them.”
“And we’re getting a garden in the courtyard.”
“What! You don’t say. The Board approved it?”
“I haven’t had to go to them yet because so far the expenses are low, and within our budget. I put your community service project to work.”
“Great idea. What’s he like?”
“Uh, he’s—” Pure sex, walking. Maura cleared her throat.
“A hard worker, and he gets along well with our residents.” She wouldn’t mention Fred Dykstra’s motorcycle ride; she’d handled that problem just fine. “The only trouble is, we can’t find your file on him.”
“Oh, really? Let’s see, I would have labeled it with either his name or ‘Community Service.’ ”
“So we figured, but Gracie looked in your filing cabinet—”
“Wait! I know where it is. Oh, no, I can’t believe I did this. There’s a stack of stuff on the credenza in my office. Things I was dealing with just before I left. You’ll find the file there, and would you mind taking a look at the other things, too? I think there’s something I wanted Gracie to do, but beats me if I can remember now. My brain’s so focused on the baby. And, Maura, those are HR files and should be locked in the cabinet. Please do that right away, or get Gracie to.”
“I will.” She’d drop into Cherry Lane while she was out grocery shopping. Gracie, the only other person with authority to deal with confidential files, wasn’t working today. “By the way, do you recall why you agreed to have Jesse Blue do his community service with us?”
“Let’s see . . . His lawyer, Barry Adamson, and I are friends from Toastmasters and I often talk about Cherry Lane. About how great our residents are, and all the life lessons they’ve learned and are willing to share. Barry mentioned this client of his, who could stand to learn a lesson or two.” In the background Maura heard what sounded like a knock.
“Do you remember what offense Jesse was charged with?”
“It was assault. I know that sounds terrible, but Barry told me the whole story and assured me this young man would never endanger our residents or staff.”
Assault. So Jesse hadn’t lied to her. “The whole story?” she echoed, encouraging Louise to go on.
“Let me remember. There was a girl, and she—” She broke off.
In the background Maura heard a high-pitched female voice squeal, “The baby’s coming!”
“Are you sure this time?” Louise asked, her own voice excited.
“My water broke!”
“Gotta go,” Louise said into the phone, then hung up before Maura could wish them all luck.
Quickly, Maura hung up the clothes from the dryer, then headed for her car.
When Maura entered Cherry Lane, Ming-mei was chatting with one of the physical therapists, a pleasant young woman her own age. It looked like the shy receptionist was making a friend.
“Maura,” Ming-mei said, “what are you doing here today?”
“I need to do a couple of things.” She paused and said to the two of them, “By the way, cross your fingers for Louise. The baby’s coming, and it’s for real this time.” She knew that Louise, who was much more sociable and popular than she was, would love to know everyone was rooting for her.
In Louise’s office, Maura found a stack of files and papers on the back corner of the credenza. “Aha!” Halfway down the pile was a folder neatly labeled JESSE BLUE.
She sank into Louise’s chair and began to read. Halfway through, she gasped and clutched at her chest. Yes, he’d beaten a man up, as he’d told her. But she’d imagined a bar brawl, a few punches thrown. In fact, the man had broken ribs, an injury to his spleen, a broken arm, several broken fingers, and a broken nose. There were no pictures in the file, thank heavens, but Maura’s imagination supplied an image of the poor victim, Gord Pollan.
Hands shaking, feeling nauseous, she dropped the file on the desk. How could the Jesse she knew have done such a thing? This was . . . sheer violence. It was inhuman.
When she regained her composure she read on, but the file was too brief to provide much illumination. Louise had said a girl was involved. Jesse had beaten this man almost to death over a girl?
She locked up all Louise’s HR files and wrote herself a reminder to go through them when she was in tomorrow, then went to her own office and found Barry Adamson’s card. The receptionist at his firm put her through to his voice mail. She gnashed her teeth, left her cell number, and asked him to call her as soon as possible.
Maura hurried through her grocery shopping, then headed home. Working methodically through the chores on her list, she tried hard not to imagine Jesse, his face flushed with anger, punching and kicking another man.
It was noon when Barry Adam
son phoned. “Sorry I missed your call, but I’m in court today. Is there a problem with Jesse?”
“He nearly killed a man.”
“What?” he bellowed. “Who?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. I’m referring to Gord Pollan.” That name was etched in her mind.
“Huh? You already knew about Pollan, from the file. I’m not following.”
“I didn’t know about him. Louise did, and obviously the two of you discussed it, but she didn’t have a chance to fill me in. I’ve only just seen the file, and I have to say, I don’t understand what you were thinking, you and Louise. This is a seniors facility. These are gentle old people. We don’t want someone violent here.”
“Oh, uh, Jesse hasn’t been violent, has he?” he asked cautiously, confirming her fear that Jesse very well might be violent.
“Not yet,” she said darkly. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”
“I doubt that. I mean, the fact pattern certainly isn’t going to repeat at Cherry Lane. It was a very unusual one.”
“What, exactly, was the fact pattern? That wasn’t in the file. I gather a girl was involved?” Sometimes Maura wished she were more attractive to men, but she’d never ever wished that two would fight over her.
“This jerk Pollan was harassing a friend of Jesse’s. An ongoing pattern of abuse. So Jesse, uh, put an end to it.” To her astonishment, the lawyer sounded admiring, like a little kid looking up to a hero—except in this case his hero was the playground bully.
Men! Honestly. Okay, maybe the fight hadn’t been over a girl, in the sense she’d first thought. Jesse had apparently thought he was protecting a friend. But what a stupid, caveman way to go about it. “Violence is hardly the way to put an end to abuse.”
“Well no, not usually, but . . . Oh, sh-oot, I’ve got to get back into court.”
He hung up on her.
Maura buried her face in her hands and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, realizing she had a headache. Jesse Blue had distracted her from her schedule all weekend, and now he was ruining her one day off. But the fact was, she couldn’t get the picture out of her head: big, strong Jesse using those very masculine hands to attack another man. To beat him to a pulp.