A Gentleman's Agreement

by Avery, Joy

  Eunice glanced at Blake. Women still did.

  Mrs. Farrington continued, “I couldn’t understand why, of all the women he had to choose from, he wanted me. I was chubby, shy, wore my sister’s hand-me-downs. So, on our first date, I asked him.”

  Eunice bit at the corner of her lip, anticipating the response. Blake appeared just as intrigued. Mrs. Farrington placed her hand over Mr. Farrington’s heart and smiled into the face of the man she’d loved for four decades.

  Eunice and Blake eyed one another. Something lingered in his eyes. Something tender. Something fragile. Something that made her desire him more than anything else she could imagine. Maybe Blake saw that desire because he broke their connection.

  “Are you two just going to keep us in suspense, or what?” Blake asked.

  Mr. Farrington brushed a lock of hair behind one of his wife’s ears and said, “I told your mother that in those other girls I see a night. But in her I see a lifetime. And that if she would be mine, I’d spend an eternity making her the happiest woman alive.”

  “And you stayed true to your word,” said Mrs. Farrington.

  For a moment, Eunice wondered if they’d forgotten she and Blake were in the room, because the two seemed to lose themselves in each other. Blake cleared his throat.

  Mr. Farrington took his wife by the hand. “I need to see you upstairs for a moment.”

  They excused themselves and hurried out the room.

  Blake groaned. “Oh, God. I don’t want to think about my parents having sex, but something tells me that is exactly what’s about to happen.”

  “I think it’s wonderful that they have such a healthy marriage. That after all of these years, your father still desires your mother.”

  Blake nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He pushed away from the counter. “Grab your coat and take a walk with me.”

  ***

  Thus far on this trip, Blake had experienced flickers, throbbing, and tightening. He could now add butterflies to his list of involuntary reactions that occurred each time he touched Eunice. But that didn’t stop him from gripping her hand and guiding her out of the kitchen. Something powerful had captured him and refused to loosen the stranglehold it had on him. This thing, these feelings, had him drifting in a sea of desire. And Eunice was the destination.

  Dry leaves crunched under their feet and wind howled through the trees as they moved along the path behind his parents’ estate. There was nothing more beautiful than the colors of fall.

  Eunice tightened her knee length coat around her. “Blake, it’s a little too cold for a nature walk, don’t you think?”

  “We’re almost there,” he said. When Eunice’s teeth started to chatter, he removed his scarf and draped it around her neck. “Better?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  The kindhearted look in her eyes told him she appreciated the gesture. A few feet more and the thatch of woods opened to a breathtaking waterfall. Water cascaded down a forty foot drop and flowed over a bed of rocks and along a stream.

  “Look familiar?” Blake asked.

  “Your mother’s painting. This was her inspiration,” she said more to herself than to him.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow. You grew up with this in your backyard.”

  “If you think this is amazing, you should see it in the summer. Colorful flowers everywhere.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Speaking of summer, we’re having my mother a surprise birthday party in August. You should come.”

  Eunice shifted to face him, appearing confused by his invitation. “I would love to, but do you think that’s a good idea?”

  Blake slid his hands into his coat pockets. “I guess it would be a bit awkward, huh.”

  Especially since their original plan was to tell his parents they’d broken up, but not until after the New Year. She studied him for a moment. If she had questions concerning his response, she didn’t ask them.

  Hugging her arms around her body, she said, “I’m freezing.”

  Without giving it much thought, Blake wrapped his arms around Eunice. Even when awareness of what he’d done settled in, he didn’t pull away and neither did she. “Better?”

  Eunice nodded.

  Their bodies lingered dangerously close. He desperately wanted to feel her lips pressed against his, capture the heat of her waiting mouth, but he did nothing. Eunice’s lips parted and he wondered if she, too, wanted the same. A trail of steam escaped from her mouth, but nothing more. No words, no objections, no sounds.

  The line he’d promised himself he’d not cross blurred in the seconds he held her snug against his body. This was the perfect setting, with the perfect woman, in an imperfect situation. Tell me you want this, he willed to her. Eunice rested her hands on his chest, her eyes searching his. For a brief moment, a glint of desire danced in her brown eyes, but faded.

  “We should make it back. I’m sure your mother is looking for us,” she said, then pushed out of his embrace.

  What the hell was that? She wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her; he was sure of it. So why didn’t she? Hell, why didn’t he? He’d never been one to allow opportunity to simply slip through his fingers.

  Eunice tried to move away, but he captured her hand. “There’s obviously something happening between us. What?”

  Turning to face him, she stared at him for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe we’re just caught in the moment. Everything will go back to normal when we’re back in New York. It has to. There’s no other option.”

  She attempted to pull away, but his hold on her remained. “I don’t think this is just a moment, Eunice.”

  Eunice snatched her hand away. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to—” She stopped abruptly. “You’re my boss, Blake. Or have you forgotten that? There are reasons why we can’t work.” She moved her hands back and forth between them. “Why this can’t work.” She stormed away.

  On her heels, Blake said, “Tell me you don’t feel something for me. Tell me you don’t want me just as much as I want you. I can see the desire in your eyes. And I know you can see it in mine.”

  Whipping to face him again, Eunice said, “I do. With every breath, I want you. But I don’t want to be a quick rebound screw, Blake. I want more. More that I can’t have with you.” Then, she was off again.

  “Whoa.” He rushed ahead and blocked her path. Something about her words set him on fire, but not in the scorching flame of desire type of way he’d experienced moments ago. “You don’t get to just toss something like that at me and then run off. Is that what you really think I’m doing? Trying to get a quick rebound screw?”

  Eunice folded her arms across her chest, but remained silent.

  “You know me better than that, Eunice. Or so, I thought you did.” He massaged his jaw as if she’d socked him in it. Which—in a way—she pretty much had, if he considered her words. “Do you think I haven’t fought what I’m feeling for you? Do you think it’s easy for me to lay beside you every night? Do you have any idea how much I struggle with not snatching you up and kissing the hell out of you every second we’re together? Don’t think you’re the only one suffering here. Not being able to have you is killing me, and not softly.”

  “Blake—?”

  “We should get back, Eunice,” he said, stepping aside to allow her passage.

  Protest sparked in her eye, but gradually fizzled. Clearly, his words had staggered her. Hell, they’d staggered him. He’d actually admitted his feelings for her. And out loud. Wow. What he chose not to mention was the fact these feelings hadn’t just started in Norfolk.

  As they moved along the path in deafening silence, Blake replayed Eunice’s words in his head. Quick? Rebound? Why did the labels tear at him?

  When they reached the house, Eunice turned to him. “Blake—”

  “For the record, I’m not looking for a rebound screw. And just so you’re a hundred percent clear, if we would have ever m
ade love, there damn sure wouldn’t have been anything quick about it.”

  Eunice swallowed hard, shifting her body weight from one foot to the other. Obviously, he’d made her a little anxious.

  He took a step closer to her. “I’d take my time kissing every inch of you. I’d slowly drag my tongue along every spot I believed would make you moan. I’d savor the sweet taste of you. And when you begged me to make love to you, I’d spend however long it took to take your body to places it’s never been before. I’m not about quick screws, Eunice. I’m about lasting impressions.”

  Chapter 11

  Things had been tense between Eunice and Blake since they’d returned from the path three hours ago. Actually, that wasn’t wholly true. Blake had carried on as if he hadn’t revealed his feelings, his desires to her. The confession had thundered through her like a…train. It would take a roll of wallpaper to list the numerous reasons why she should have packed her suitcase, called a cab, and fled as far away from Blake as she could get. Yet, here she was.

  Refocusing on her Thanksgiving Day duties, Eunice pulled the peeler over one of the red skinned potatoes. Of course, it didn’t take long for her thoughts to find their way back to Blake. Why in the hell did he believe he could say those things to her, then pretend all would be normal between them?

  Things weren’t normal. Things were far from normal. Hell, they could stand on a thousand foot ladder, gaze through a high-powered telescope, and still not see normal.

  Blake had certainly put her in her place. And revved up her libido in the process. A vision of him making unhurried love to her played in her head. Her nipples tightened at the idea of his warm lips kissing her breasts ever so gently. Damn you, Blake Farrington.

  “Eunice, sweetie. Everything okay?”

  Mrs. Farrington’s soft voice tore into Eunice’s thoughts. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  A smile curled her lips. “Yes, dear. I asked if you were okay. You’ve scalped that poor potato.”

  Eunice glanced down. “Oh, no. I’m…” She couldn’t exactly say “thinking about making love to your son,” so instead said, “…just so excited, I guess.” What kind of explanation was that? She blamed Blake. The man had her brain fried.

  “Eunice?”

  Speak of the devil and his imps will appear. Eunice rotated to face Blake. Though he couldn’t be labeled her favorite person at the moment, the sight of him sent a ripple to her core. Why in the hell did he have to wear sexiness so well?

  Eunice dried her hands on a dish towel. “Yes?”

  “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  “Sure.” Turning to the other women in the room, she said, “Excuse me.”

  Following Blake upstairs unnerved her. Alone with him—especially in the bedroom—was the last place she needed to be.

  Once inside, Blake turned to her, his demeanor much more welcoming than it had been hours earlier. He closed the distance between them until he stood directly in front of her. He slid his hands in his pockets; she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been done in an attempt to keep from touching her. Okay, maybe she was over thinking it.

  “I think I owe you an apology.” He closed his eyes briefly. “No, I know I owe you an apology. I placed you in an awkward situation. I’m sorry. I’ll understand if you want to leave. I can call you a car. And don’t worry, the office is still yours.”

  Did he really believe she gave a damn about that office? Did he want her to leave? “If that’s what you want.”

  Fine lines crawled across his forehead. “What?”

  “Blake, you don’t have to use child psychology on me. If you want me to leave, just say that. I’ll understand.”

  His face contorted. “I don’t want you to leave. I just thought… I mean after what I said… ”

  Eunice folded her arms across her chest and smiled. “Blake Farrington, in the three years I’ve known you, I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed you stammer over your words.”

  He chuckled. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  Eunice’s eyes lowered to the floor. “About the things you said—”

  “You were right; we were just caught up in the moment.” He shrugged. “And like you said, I’m your boss. It could never work between us.”

  Talk about throwing her words in her face. But what she’d wanted to tell him was she felt the same way. Now, it didn’t seem necessary. Wasn’t this what she wanted? For things to at least mimic normal until they flew back to New York.

  New York.

  How could she not have considered what it would be like when they returned home? Would their working relationship be strained as a result of this debacle? A sense of false calm poured over her. Of course it wouldn’t. Blake was a professional.

  “I’m going to tell my parents the truth about us.”

  That was all it took to snatch Eunice back to reality. Without thinking, she rested her hands on his solid chest, but snatched them away when a jolt nearly paralyzed her. “What? No. You can’t do that, Blake. Why would you want to do that?” Yes, she’d toyed with the idea of telling his parents the truth, but Thanksgiving Day didn’t seem like the right time to drop such a bomb. “Your mom will simply be upset with you; she’ll hate me.”

  Blake slid his hands from his pockets and mimicked her crossed arm stance. “My mother could never hate you.”

  “Psshh.” She glanced away from him. “Easy for you to say.” She eyed him again. “We can’t. Not now. Please.” Blake ran an open hand over his lips, and she envied his palm.

  “Okay. We won’t tell them.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are we good, Eunice? For some silly reason, I don’t like not talking to you.”

  Eunice smiled. “Yeah. We’re good.” Or as good as they could get under the circumstances. Her eyes slid to his mouth, and her bottom lip quivered thinking about how close she’d come to tasting him. “I should probably get back to the kitchen.” Blake nodded and stepped aside. “Are you coming?”

  “I’ll be down in a bit.”

  She could see it in his eyes. Something still troubled him. Normally, she would have inquired, but she wasn’t sure she could handle his response. “Okay.”

  This whole charade was supposed to be simple. It was anything but. She tossed a glance over her shoulder. Blake stood rooted to the floor, his eyes pinned to her. The look on his face revealed she had company in the land of confused.

  A few more days. I can do this.

  Yes, she could do this. As long as she figured out how to separate her two selves: The Eunice who wanted to help a friend, from the Eunice who wanted nothing more than to catapult into Blake’s arms?

  ***

  Thanksgiving dinner went off without a hitch. They’d feasted on turkey, ham, and all the fixin’s. Eunice made sure not to stuff herself as she’d done at The Farm. She definitely didn’t need a repeat of that. Although, the thought of Blake laying by her side again almost made the idea of gorging worthwhile.

  After dinner, they’d all gathered in the family room. She observed the Farrington clan. Their love for one another was evident and refreshing. What she wouldn’t give to experience this every year.

  Her gaze drifted to Blake. To her surprise, his eyes were already settled on her. She lifted her glass of homemade apple cider in a mock toast; he reciprocated. Instead of looking away—as her body urged—she held their connection.

  Why did she get the feeling he was challenging her? After a minute or so, a smirk tilted his lips and he turned away. She expelled a puff of air.

  That was intense.

  “Eunice, sweetie, would you mind grabbing a bottle of white wine from the kitchen?” Mrs. Farrington asked.

  “Sure.”

  After retrieving the bottle, Eunice caught a glimpse of movement inside the space Mr. Farrington referred to as the cigar room. Had Casey sneaked away again? That kid had the energy of a Jack Russell Terrier.

  Inside, she searched the dimly-lit spa
ce, but it wasn’t Casey she found lurking. “Aunt Belle?” The tiny woman jumped at the sound of Eunice’s voice, but didn’t face her. “Aunt Belle, what are you doing?”

  Aunt Belle fumbled with something. “I’m just… Dang-it.” She finally turned, holding a bottle of Captain Morgan.

  “Aunt Belle! You shouldn’t be drinking that,” Eunice said in a whisper, tossing a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming.

  “I’m seventy-eight years old. How do you think I made it here?”

  To be senile, the woman sounded pretty lucid right now. “What about your medication? Won’t it interact with the alcohol?”

  Aunt Belle laughed. “Thelma gives me those pills, and I flush them down the toilet.”

  “Flush them…?”

  “I don’t need those stinking pills. One day everybody woke up and was convinced I was senile. And without even asking me. So, hell, I played along. There are perks to being senile. And when you’re senile and old...”

  Eunice laughed. This little lady was something else. “But…isn’t that wrong? To pretend you’re senile when you’re not.”

  Aunt Belle shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose one could say that. But…you keep my secret, I’ll keep yours.”

  This sobered Eunice. Making an attempt at clueless, she said, “Wh…what secret?”

  Aunt Belle wagged a finger at her. “You two playing boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  “How did you—” Eunice caught herself. Blood whooshed in her ears, the shock of Aunt Belle’s knowledge raising her blood pressure.

  “Chile, Aunt Belle hears everything. You and my nephew aren’t the only one’s keeping secrets in this house.” She shook her head as if she’d been offended by her own words.

  Of course Eunice wanted to ask what she meant, but didn’t.

  Aunt Belle took a sip from her red cup. “A bit of advice, dumplin’. If you’re gonna run a ruse such as this, you should probably be more careful to not discuss it at the kitchen table.

  Eunice thought back to her and Blake’s conversation a few days ago. Shit. Had anyone else heard them? Nah. Surely, they would have said something by now. Right? Or were they waiting for her and Blake to confess. Jesus. She recognized the churning in her stomach.