Sapphire and Shadow (A Woman's Life)

by Marie Ferrarella

  He knew, somehow, he knew. He was everything she wanted. Everything she needed at this moment. There were no strings, no tomorrows, no plans. No traps and no pain either. He just wanted to make love to her.

  And she needed him.

  She wanted to see his eyes, but there was little illumination within the interior of the van. The storm had wiped out the sun and left them in shades of darkness. It made the whole encounter seem that much more unreal, that much more forbiddingly wonderful. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the van, thunder rolled and lightning flashed, just as it had done time and again since the beginning. Just as it would until the end.

  “No.” The words escaped her lips in a breathy rush. “I don’t want to be safe.” And then she felt his lips cover hers, his tongue seeking out the boundaries of her mouth taking possession of all of her with a single thrust. Hungrily, she met his tongue with her own, touching, tasting, savoring. And growing more and more inflamed.

  This wasn’t a soft, dreamy thing. Not anymore. This was fast and real and hard, just as he was. The bold outline of his desire pushed against her, heightening her excitement to a fever pitch. She wanted him here, now, before she had to scream out with her need.

  She tugged at his shirt, pulling at it until the buttons were freed from their holes. She pushed it urgently off his shoulders, needing to touch him, to feel his warm skin beneath her fingers, to explore all that was him.

  She didn’t recognize herself. Had this wild passion always been there, just beneath the surface? She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

  His hands were everywhere, stroking, taking and making her feel as if she had never been touched before. And she hadn’t. Not like this. Not even that faraway first time with Harry.

  “You were meant to be touched,” he whispered against her ear just before he traced it with the tip of his tongue.

  Johanna shivered. A moan escaped from low in her throat as his hands went underneath her skirt. There was no groping, no clumsiness. The target assured, the aim true. He was not a boy feeling his way around, but a man made to love her. Her short gasps filled the air as Tommy worked his fingers beneath the scrap of nylon, stroking, probing, touching. Possessing.

  She grabbed hold of his shoulders to steady herself, afraid that she’d cry out. There was no one to hear them if she had. She buried her head against his shoulder, but one wild peak shuddered her body and she threw back her head in mounting delirium.

  “Tommy, please.” She wasn’t certain if she was asking for him to please stop, or please go faster.

  He understood her meaning far better than she. “Not yet. Not just yet.”

  Johanna rocked against his body, totally divorced from whoever it was that she had been when she had first met him this morning. Now she was a woman who needed to go forward, a woman who craved to go beyond the perimeters she had been so sure were permanently set within her.

  Her blouse had been peeled away, exposing her firm breasts and Tommy ran his tongue over them, cradling her to his body with one hand while he gently stroked her center of femininity with the other.

  She wanted to tear the rest of his clothes from his body, wanted to feel him, all of him, against her. With impatience fueling her every movement, Johanna tugged at his belt, pulling it free.

  She couldn’t catch her breath.

  This is crazy she thought. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be back at the hotel, safe, writing letters to people, making plans.

  She wanted to be here.

  The only thing that existed at this moment was this aching, wondrous sensation spiraling within her body that she would have died for.

  Johanna pushed his belt aside and almost broke the zipper on his jeans as she jerked it down. She heard Tommy’s deep, throaty chuckle and felt it ripple along her skin.

  “Easy, luv. Easy,” he whispered against her skin, only managing to fan the fire rather than to smother it. “Here.” He guided her hand down inside the waistband of his briefs. She was eager to comply, eager to push forward their union. Eager to touch him.

  He sucked in his breath as her fingers found him. This time, the moan was his and she saw the look of vulnerability in his eyes as her hand closed. It only served to heighten her passion.

  With a heady triumph, she saw his eyes half close as she moved her fingers in the same increasing rhythm that he was using on her. She wanted to excite him the way he did her. Their mutual fervor fueled the growing inferno.

  And then, in an instant, he gently pushed her to the floor. He lowered his mouth to her belly, his tongue tracing a hot, moist path downward as she jerked and moved beneath his. Spasms shook her. The strokes became harder, more sweeping, his tongue plunging deeper. Johanna bit her lip hard.

  With a surge of desire, Tommy deftly pulled her panties off. And then his body was over hers, his face hovering just above her own.

  His eyes didn’t close as he entered her. He watched her face. He wanted to memorize it, to keep this moment with him forever.

  It was gentle. It was fast and furious. It was all things. A rollercoaster that took her on a ride of deep, plunging curves filled with exquisite agony. Again and again, until there was nothing left of her.

  Reaching out, Johanna pulled his head down to her, wanting his mouth on hers, wanting to bury the scream that was rising within her throat.

  One explosion after another racked her body and still the pleasure continued. The ride went on. She wanted to cry, “Stop!”

  She wanted it to go on until she died.

  When he finally stopped, sated, neither one of them could move. Not if it meant their very lives. Not if the van was on fire.

  She had had a fire of her own just now and the revelation it presented to her about herself left Johanna in awe, numb.

  And grateful.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Tommy had showed her the world. In the circle of his arms, within a dark, secluded van, he gave her back her self-esteem and her pride. More than that, he brought her back to life. All these last months with Harry, she began to realize now that, subconsciously, she had thought it was somehow her fault, that she was undesirable. That whatever was wrong it was because there was something missing, something lacking within her. And all the while it had been Harry. It had really been Harry. Tommy proved that to her, silently, with tenderness and a fire that only the passion of the caring could create.

  Johanna lay in his arms, listening to the rhythm of the rain as it beat a timeless tune on the roof. The storm had passed and now there was only the gentle rain. Gentle and steady. Johanna felt contented, alert, yet drowsy. Wonderful. She wished, just for a moment, that time could stand still.

  Tommy kissed her shoulder tenderly. “Still feel too old for me?”

  With her cheek on his chest, Johanna could feel the question vibrate against her skin. She raised her head, her hair cascading down around her. “No.” She smiled, tracing his lips with her fingertip.

  He took her hand and kissed her outstretched finger. Johanna felt a tightening in her stomach. The renewed desire, hot and urgent, astounded her. “You were incredible, Johanna.”

  “Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you.” She rolled over on her stomach, propped her head up on her upturned hand and looked at him. Her hair fell forward like a silken curtain on either side of her face, ends just brushing against her breasts, tempting him. “You’re still Ivanhoe.”

  “How so?” Tommy reached out and ran his hand through her hair. Even in the dim light, it sifted through his fingers like spun gold.

  “You’re still doing good deeds for damsels in distress.”

  Was that what she thought, he wondered. That this was just some act of kindness on his part? “This was no selfless good deed, Johanna.” Lightly, he ran his fingers along the hollow of her cheek, watching the pulse in her throat jump. “I think I wanted you the first moment I threw your body so unceremoniously against a wall.”

  Johanna stirred, unable to shut out what he was doing
, how much he was affecting her. “And saved me from getting crushed.”

  “Saved you for myself,” he corrected. He dropped a kiss on her lips. “I didn’t know then that you were the boss’s wife.”

  “If you’d known, would you have been as quick?” Her eyes teased him.

  He gathered her closer to him, bringing her to his chest. Johanna rested her head against the hard muscles there, her hair fanning out and tickling him. Tommy played with the ends of her hair. Like pure gold, he thought. The word pure seemed to fit very well.

  “Just as quick. You’re too beautiful a woman to waste even if you belonged to someone else.” Johanna caught the emphasis on the word “belonged.” “Just looking at you would have been reward enough for me.” Then he grinned, boyishly, with a gleam in his eyes. “Of course, this has a lot to speak for it.” He raised her head until their eyes met and he kissed her.

  She sighed contentedly. “We can’t stay this way.” Even as she said it, she wished it wasn’t true.

  “No,” he sighed. “I suppose not.”

  “I promised I’d be home tonight.”

  He nodded. “Jocelyn.”

  “Yes, Jocelyn.”

  He sat up. Her hand glided down the rippling muscles of his chest, resting lightly there. He bent his head and kissed her again. “Then I’d better make love to you quickly this time.”

  She laughed, delighted, as he pulled her on top of him and then covered her mouth with his own.

  Mary turned her head at the sound of Johanna’s key in the lock. She was curled up on the sofa, dressed in a white silk lounging outfit and barefoot. Her small, delicate feet sported nail polish that was blood red. It matched the polish on her fingers. She and Jocelyn were nursing twin cups of hot chocolate despite the fact that it was the latter part of August. The hotel air-conditioning system was doing its part to make the evening bearable. Mary’s green eyes took in everything, gliding over Tommy with approval and coming to rest on Johanna’s glowing appearance.

  Johanna was different. She knew it, felt it. Mary saw the change instantly. And even Jocelyn felt that something was different without understanding what or why. Johanna was lighter, more confident. Happier. It was in her eyes, her walk, her manner. Every fiber of her being had undergone a metamorphosis.

  “Well, I don’t think Pop’s got anything to worry about anymore.” Mary nodded, pleased. “You always manage to land on your feet, Jo, no matter what. C’mon, kid.” She rose slowly, unconsciously stretching her body. “Let’s continue talking girl talk in my room.” Mary put out an arm and waited for Jocelyn to join her.

  Tommy held up his hand. “Please, don’t leave on my account.”

  “Handsome, on your account I would stay, but what we’ve got to talk about is strictly for female ears.” Mary winked at Tommy and walked off with Jocelyn. The girl looked rather reluctant to leave.

  “I like your sister.” Tommy kissed Johanna lightly and put his hands on her waist. It was clear that Mary was already forgotten.

  “Me too.” Johanna rested her hands on his arms. She liked touching his forearms. They felt so strong, so capable, as if he could handle anything. He probably could at that, she mused.

  “Soon I’d like to show you some more of my work,” he told her.

  Sharing this with him was touching and intimate. “I’d love to see it.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers and breathed in her fragrance. “Tomorrow?”

  Mary would still be here tomorrow. There’d be someone to care for Jocelyn, to keep her daughter from feeling as if she were being deserted. Mentally, Johanna blessed her sister and the father who had sent her. “Tomorrow,” Johanna echoed.

  Tommy kissed her again before he left. Johanna savored it and every shred of the day that had gone by.

  “So?” Mary asked late that night as they shared a cup of coffee together. Jocelyn had long since fallen asleep, but Johanna had remained up in more ways than one. It didn’t take a genius to know why.

  “So?” Johanna questioned, her mind immediately latching on the one topic that had possessed her since she had returned home. She felt her cheeks burn, but purposely pretended ignorance on the hundred to one shot that Mary was referring to something else.

  “Did you?” There was only a hint of impatience in Mary’s voice.

  “Did I what?” She raised her cup and drank, though there was only a drop of cold coffee left to linger over. She was stalling.

  Mary set down her cup. “You did,” she said with a self-satisfied grin. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be talking in circles.”

  Johanna shifted uncomfortably. Though what she had done was wonderful, felt wonderful, she still wasn’t comfortable about the way it might seem to others. “Mary, I don’t know—“

  “Ah, but I do. I know you like a book, big sister.” She rose. “Don’t worry, there aren’t fifteen puritanical seamstresses rushing off to their machines to sew a big red ‘A’ on your designer clothes.” Mary placed a hand on Johanna’s shoulder and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Personally, I think it’s wonderful. Welcome back to life.”

  Johanna relaxed a little. “Is it that evident?”

  Mary nodded. “Yup. You’re smiling again. Really smiling, from the inside out. That’s pretty terrific in my book. ‘Night.”

  Johanna watched as her sister walked out of the room. She ran her fingers along her mouth. The smile was still there. And it did indeed feel wonderful.

  Mary whisked Jocelyn away to a matinee at the theater and an early dinner afterward, purposely leaving the day free for Johanna. Johanna had never been more grateful to her sister than she was these last few days. She knew that her idyllic time would end very soon. Not just because Mary would go back to the States. Johanna understood that what was between Tommy and her was temporary. Beautiful, breathtaking, but temporary. They existed in two different worlds separated by an ocean and by a culture that neither would have wanted to give up for the other. It was not spoken, but it was understood.

  And for the time being, for a few wonderful weeks in August, they belonged together.

  Tommy brought her to his home, a tiny apartment on the first floor of a house in the center of the small town of Camden, full of stone walls and green lawns. The cobble-stoned streets were alive with children and mingling, chatting people. In a funny way, teeming with life the way it was, it took her back to New York where she had once been happiest. There too she had felt the same free spirit vibrating in her and in the environment. It amused her to think how happy she managed to be in places that others might turn their noses up at.

  She met his father, Stewart, a proud, handsome man in his fifties who made her forget that he was hobbling around on crutches within a few minutes of his first comment. There was nothing about Stewart to feel sorry for. He was warm, witty and she imagined that Tommy would be just like him in another twenty-five years.

  “Taught him all I know, that’s why he’s so good,” Stewart Reed told her with an openly flirtatious wink that was as safe as if it had come from her own father.

  They sat around a kitchen table, talking over a round of warm beers. She thought of ambrosia and knew that the word applied not only to the drink, but to the ambience around it. There had been few times in her life that had been as rich as this. Certainly she had never experienced it at the parties Harry forced her to attend. The people there had a caricature-like quality about them. She always had the impression that she would find something else if she scratched at the veneer they showed to the world. None of them were as interesting as Stewart was, none had ever held her attention as well as he and the stories he was telling her, even though she knew by the twinkle in the man’s eye that they were exaggerations.

  Tommy finally rose, linking his hand with Johanna’s. “C’mon, luv, let me get you away from this old windbag.”

  “Windbag, am I?” Stewart cried, feigning indignation. “The lady fancies a man to talk to.”

  “With you she’s only listening,”
Tommy pointed out. He placed his hand on the small of Johanna’s back, guiding her away from the table. “I’ve brought her here to see my handiwork, not my sire.”

  “Of the two, I’d say I was more interesting.”

  “Yes, I know you would.” Tommy grinned as he took her out of the room.

  His workshop was a small room off the kitchen. Just before he opened the door, he kissed her. Johanna looked at him with puzzled eyes.

  “That’s for humoring my old man,” Tommy said as he opened the door.

  “I wasn’t aware that I was doing anything of the kind. I was being charmed right down to my shoes.” Lightly, Johanna ran her hand through his wheat colored hair. It fell into his eyes, the way she found so endearing. “I see where you get it from.”

  Tommy grinned, pleased and embarrassed by her compliment. “Here, I wanted to show you these.”

  He took her hand and led her to a cradle made of ash, with roses carved into the headboard. It was lovingly polished by hand.

  Johanna dropped to her knees and examined it slowly, in awe of the exquisite craftsmanship and the love that was displayed in every inch of the cradle. “It’s beautiful,” she said, looking up.

  “No, it’s good. You’re beautiful.”

  He took her hands in his and raised her slowly to her feet. Her body brushed against his and electricity flashed again, as sure, as strong as the first time, but now she knew what was waiting for her and the urgency with which her body responded took her breath away. She wanted him here.

  And then she looked over his shoulder. “Oh, what’s that?”

  He released her hand and turned to watch as she walked over to the window. Below the sill, catching the rays of the afternoon sun, was a hope chest he was almost finished with. It was something he was making for himself, something that he had had a need to work on.

  Hesitantly, almost afraid to touch it, Johanna ran her hand over the delicate work. “It’s exquisite, Tommy.” She turned her face up to his. “Who’s it for?” She thought of buying it, of outbidding the person it was intended for. It was so lovely, it almost made her heart ache. There was a pastoral scene carved into the lid. It reminded her of the Cotswolds. And them.