I noticed the way Henri was smiling as he watched Margie’s progress up his leg. I quickly grabbed her hands. “Stop, Margie, he’s fine. Probably just tired from all the exercise we did yesterday.” I let go of her hands and stepped back.
Henri gave me a dirty look.
“Yes, perhaps that’s it,” Margie agreed as she stood up next to Henri’s chair.
“Why don’t you call it a day?” I suggested.
“If you think that’s best.” She nodded and her pretty blue eyes worriedly scanned Henri’s face. “You’re sure you’re all right, Mr. Gaspard?”
Henri grinned for Margie. “Fine,” he answered.
Margie nodded to me. “I’ll just get my bag.”
“I’ll see you out,” I told her.
After I got the overly compassionate Margie on to her next appointment, I went back into Henri’s room to find him still sitting in the chair where I had left him.
“What in the hell were you trying to do to that poor girl?” I whispered as I shut the parlor doors.
He waved toward the doors with his good hand. “The silly cow tripped me. It’s not my fault.”
I went to his chair. “No, but it sure looked like you were taking advantage of the situation once you had the girl pinned beneath you.”
“Can I help it if she finds stupid men attractive? She’s been hot for me ever since she arrived here.”
“Shut up, Henri. Get up and get back in your bed.”
He struggled to rise from his chair, but then once on his feet he walked slowly to his hospital bed. I listened as his tennis shoes squeaked along the hardwood floor as his right foot dragged alongside him. When Henri sat down on the edge of the bed, he held out his arms to me.
“Are you going to inspect me all over for bruises? I know where you can start.” He playfully raised his eyebrows and then let his eyes travel down to his crotch.
“Spare me.” I folded my arms over my chest and kept my distance from the bed. “Don’t go molesting the therapists. If you do that again, they will want to put you away in a psychiatric facility.”
“You would love to see that happen, wouldn’t you? Sorry, Nora, but I’ll be out of here before any more horny therapists try to have another roll on the floor with me.”
“When exactly did you plan on leaving?”
“I figured by next Wednesday, Thursday at the latest, my foot will be good enough to drive. If not, I’ll use my left and just steal automatics.”
“Can you use your foot?” I inquired as I stepped a little closer to the bed.
He raised his right leg and bent the foot about forty-five degrees up and down.
He winced slightly as he lowered his leg. “I figure that’s good enough for driving. Another few days and it will be stronger.”
I pointed to his right hand. “What about the hand?”
He held his right hand up but I did not see any movement.
“This is as good as it gets, I’m afraid. I’ll just have to become a lefty from now on.” He cupped his right hand with his left, then his eyes returned to me. “So, now you know my plans, what are yours?”
“What do you mean?”
“What are you going to do about Jean Marc and that fiancé back in New Orleans?”
“Ex-fiancé. I’ve already called John and canceled the wedding.”
Henri cocked his head to the side. “Giving him back that rock?”
I nodded warily.
“Why don’t you give it to me?” He smiled, or should I say leered. “I could use that to make my way out of the state.”
“What about your money? I would have thought being an enlightened leader of a cult would have been a lucrative venture?”
“It was, but by now the gentlemen who set me up in the spiritual business have raided my apartment on Royal Street, taken all the cash I had hidden away, and made off with the best of my clothes, jewelry, and anything else that might have struck their fancy. Besides, if I go back they will know my memory has come around, and I can’t have that.”
“What if I try to get you some money?”
He stared at me, his black eyes filled with doubt. “Why would you do that? Just give me your ring. I can hock it at a place I know outside of Baton Rouge.”
“I can’t give you my engagement ring. It belongs to John, not me.”
He shrugged his bony shoulders. “Just tell John I stole it. Once I’m gone, who cares what happens?”
“I care, Henri.” I shook my head and turned away from him. “I’m not going to hurt people who have been good to me. I’m not like you.”
“Maybe not one-hundred-percent like me, but I’d swear there’s a little of me in you. Only dirty angels ever make deals with the devil.” He snickered behind me.
“I’m no angel, Henri,” I assured him as I reached for the parlor doors. “I would kiss the devil himself, if it would get you out of my life.”
I quietly shut the doors behind me and then let out a long sigh. This was going to be harder than I thought.
Chapter 24
That evening, while Ms. Marie’s church friends came by to read the bible to Henri, I went to the back porch to see if Jean Marc’s cottage lights were on. The hot, humid air engulfed me as my eyes peered through the thick brush.
“He’s home all right,” Uncle Jack called from around the side of the porch. “I saw his truck drive down the lane to his place about thirty minutes ago.”
“You should have told me you were there, Uncle Jack.”
He came up to my side. “I didn’t know what you were doin’ out here at first. Then I saw where you were lookin’. Why don’t you go on over? I’m sure he’ll be just as anxious to see you.”
“I’ve got to get Henri ready for bed after Ms. Marie’s friends leave.”
“I’ll tell Ms. Marie you decided to take a walk before it got dark. I can help her get Henri ready for bed.” He nodded toward the cottage. “You go on. But don’t be keepin’ that boy up too late. I’ll be by early in the mornin’ to take him crabbin’.”
“Thanks, Uncle Jack.” I kissed his grizzled cheek and then took off toward the cottage.
When I arrived in the clearing in front of Jean Marc’s, I was surprised to find the cottage blanketed in darkness. Wondering why Jean Marc had not turned on any lights, I climbed the porch steps and pulled the screen door open. The old cypress floorboards on the porch moaned beneath my feet as I made my way to the front door. I lightly knocked and then tried the doorknob. The door had been left open, and I eased my way inside.
The lights were out in the living room and kitchen, except for a faint glow emanating from the upstairs hall.
“Jean Marc?” I called from the bottom of the stairs.
“Nora, I’m up here.” I heard his voice coming from somewhere on the second floor. “Make sure you lock the front door before you come up.”
After I secured the deadbolt on the front door, I made my way up the stairs. I followed the light to a door across from his bedroom. When I stepped inside, I found Jean Marc sitting in a high back black leather chair behind an old mahogany desk. The long desk had intricate designs of swirls and crowns carved into it.
“Hey, darlin’,” he said, glancing up from a letter in his hand.
I slowly approached the desk. “What are you doing?”
He dropped the letter on top of a small pile of papers in front of him. “Just going over some paperwork.” He watched as I traced a large swirl carved in the wood with my fingers. “Beautiful isn’t it?” He motioned to the desk. “It was my father’s; belonged to his grandfather, who shipped it over from France.” He ran his fingers reverently over the edge of the desk. “I brought it from the house. I didn’t want to take it to my office at the warehouse, it’s too grand.” He looked up at me. “I thought you would be coming by later, but I left the front door open just in case.”
“Uncle Jack offered to take over bedtime duties with Henri,” I explained as I eyed the papers on his the desk.
> “I take it he knows about us?”
I nodded. “Your mother suspects, too.” I hesitated for a moment before I went on. “I called John today and told him everything was off. He blames you. He always thought you were after me.”
He rested his hands on the top of the desk. “He was right. Male intuition.”
“God only knows what my mother thinks by now. John called her right after I hung up on him.”
Jean Marc knitted his dark brows. “I don’t really care what Claire or John thinks about us.” He cast his eyes to the papers on his desk. “At least Henri will never realize anything, and if he did, I doubt he would care.”
“Oh, you would be surprised what he can do,” I mumbled, rubbing my hand across my forehead.
He leaned back in his chair, observing me. “Is he recovering?”
Wanting to avoid his intrusive gaze, I directed my eyes to his desk. “Henri’s improving,” I told him. Desperate to change the subject, I motioned to the papers before him. “What is all this, Jean Marc?”
He stood from his chair. “Faxes and e-mails from several insurance companies. I took your advice and started getting quotes on different insurance plans for the business.” He came around the desk to my side. “I also went grocery shopping on the way home; thought I would cook us something really great for dinner.”
I slipped my arms about his waist. “What?”
“Chinese.”
“You can cook Chinese?” I asked, somewhat surprised.
He nibbled at my earlobe. “No, but I can put it in a microwave and warm it up.”
“Sounds wonderful,” I murmured as his lips inched their way down my neck.
“For dessert, I have something really special,” he whispered against my skin.
“Mmm. What?”
His teeth grazed the nape of my neck. “Me.”
I leaned back and grinned. “Well, then to hell with dinner, let’s get right to the dessert.”
“Excellent choice.”
He picked me up in his arms and deposited me on top of the pile of papers on his desk. His hand went straight to the zipper on my shorts.
I glanced down at the papers underneath me. “But this is your father’s desk.”
He stood back from me and pulled at the buttons on his shirt. “Yeah, wouldn’t Dad be proud.”
He threw his shirt to the floor and reached for my legs. Pulling my hips to the edge of the desk, he quickly removed my shorts and underwear. He ran his callused hands up and down my thighs, making my skin prickle with excitement.
I tossed my T-shirt and bra to the floor and then began to explore the curves of his broad chest. I kissed his neck gently at first, but then I started teasing him with my teeth, leaving little kisses down his neck and chest until I sank my teeth into his left nipple.
“Oh, you little…” He reached his hands under my thighs and pulled my hips high in the air.
My body fell back against the desk. Before I could wiggle free of his grip, his teeth began nipping their way down my inner thigh. I reached my hands behind me and gripped the edge of the desk as his mouth closed over my sensitive folds. I moaned with pleasure as his tongue began to tease my flesh.
“Oh, God, Jean Marc,” I cried out.
My back arched and my insides ached with need as my climax drew near. Jean Marc’s tongue made me feel as if I would explode if he did not stop. My nails dug into the edge of the old desk, my body began to pulsate and soon I lost all sense of the world outside his office door. I screamed when the orgasm overwhelmed me.
Relaxing on the desk, I tried to catch my breath, and then I felt the press of a stapler against my back. I sat up and was about to grab at the stapler, when Jean Marc pulled my hips to his.
“Don’t get too comfortable, darlin’. I’m just getting started.” He lowered his lips over my right nipple and his teeth clamped down hard on my tender skin.
Then I heard the distinct sound of his zipper being lowered on his black trousers. He wrapped my legs about his waist as his pants and briefs fell to the floor. He stopped teasing my right nipple and he looked into my eyes.
“It’s my turn,” he whispered as he eased slowly inside me.
I sighed with pleasure when he entered me. He pulled completely out and then pushed his way into me once more. I raked my nails along his chest as he began to increase the speed of his thrusting. Jean Marc groaned and slammed his hips harder into mine, going deeper than before. Grabbing at the papers around me, I struggled to raise my hips higher to satiate the frenzy taking over my body. I closed my eyes as my climax came barreling up from my groin. He thrust again and again, bringing me to the edge. Then, my whole body began to tremble as the orgasm rocked every inch of me. His breath came hard and fast against my neck as he arched his body and grunted into my neck.
I went limp against the desk and he relaxed on top of me.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he mumbled, catching his breath.
I giggled. “I know the feeling.”
His body tensed. “Damn.”
“What is it?”
He sat up and his deep brown eyes gazed worriedly into mine. “I didn’t use a condom. I guess I got so carried away, I forgot.”
I traced my fingertips over the red marks on his wide chest. “I forgot, too. I guess that means we’re both in trouble.”
His features darkened, but his eyes shone in the light of the room. “Are we?”
I nodded. “Could be.”
His fingers stroked the valley between my breasts. “I’d love to get you pregnant. Then we would have to marry right away.”
“I wouldn’t force you to marry me if I got pregnant, Jean Marc.”
He eagerly embraced me with his strong arms. “You wouldn’t be forcing me, Nora. You would be saving me.”
I ran my fingers along the outline of his wide shoulders. “Maybe we can do it once more without the condom. What could it hurt?”
He nuzzled my cheek. “I like the way you think, Mrs. Gaspard.”
“Jean Marc—” But his hungry kiss silenced me, and my growing desire for him quickly swept all my doubts away.
* * *
The following morning I awoke in Jean Marc’s arms again and delighted in the feel of his warm body next to mine. But the peace in the bedroom was soon disrupted by the grating “beep, beep, beep” of the alarm clock next to the bed. Jean Marc rolled away from me and shut the alarm off with a slap of his hand.
He turned back over and wrapped me in his arms. “I don’t want to get up.”
I cuddled against his chest. “What’s the alarm for?”
“Jack’s taking me out to pull crab traps from the lake this morning; he wants to get an early start.”
“Then I should get going.” I made an attempt to get out of bed, but he only dragged me back to his side.
“Five more minutes,” he begged. “Better yet, I’ll cancel.”
“No. Don’t let Uncle Jack down. I’ll be at the house when you get back.”
“It’s Sunday, and Momma will be off to church early. You’ll be on your own with Henri.” He sat up in bed. “Will you be all right?”
“I’ll be fine.” I nestled back into his arms.
He pulled me close and sighed into my hair. “About last night, I meant what I said about marrying you.” He kissed my cheek and then he whispered, “I love you, Nora. I always have.”
At that moment, I knew all the animosity I thought I had harbored for Jean Marc through the years had simply been love hiding behind my fear. There was no great flash of light, no angelic choirs from above to signal my epiphany; there was only a profound sense of contentment permeating my soul. Odd, how you could know someone all your life and then, without warning, what you thought had been friendship turns out to be love.
I traced the dark stubble over his chin as my heart soared with happiness. “As long as it is a quick ceremony and there is no fancy reception, bridesmaids, or long guest lists.” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t go th
rough that again.”
“Here at the house, family, close friends, and, of course, your mother.”
“She’ll hate it. But it sounds perfect.”
He let me go and threw his covers aside. “We need to make this official,” Jean Marc proclaimed, jumping from the bed. He went to his chest of drawers, and after removing something from the middle drawer, darted back to the bed.
“What is it?” I asked as he sat down next to me.
He took my left hand and slipped something over my third finger.
“This will have to do until I can get you a proper ring,” he told me.
On my finger was the gold-painted aluminum ring covered with rhinestones that I had given Jean Marc all those years ago. The ring appeared so crude and childlike on my hand, but the emotion it instilled in me at that moment made it the most precious thing I had ever owned.
I lovingly caressed the rhinestones. “You really did keep it.”
“How could I throw it away? You made it for me.”
I leaned over and kissed his lips. Instantly, his arms flew about me and he pulled me down on the bed.
I pushed him away. “What about Uncle Jack?”
“You’re right.” He slapped my thigh. “You’d better get out of here before Jack shows up, or else I will have to marry you with his shotgun at my back before sunset.” He stood from the bed. “Tonight, we can make some plans.”
I climbed out of the bed. “I like the sound of that.” I paused for a moment and reached for his long-sleeved shirt strewn over the footboard of the sleigh bed. “Why is it when you talk about making plans, I don’t feel sick to my stomach?” I shrugged his white shirt over my shoulders.
“Sick? What do you mean?” He walked to his closet by the bathroom door.
“Whenever John talked about making plans for us, I would always get this burning feeling in my stomach.”
He opened the closet door. “That’s because you never really loved John, Nora. That was pretty obvious to everyone who knows you.”
“I tried to love him. I really did. I kept thinking he was good for me, that we would be good together, but it wasn’t enough.”
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