A Patchwork Romance

by Jacobs, Ann

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  The hours crept by. Althea wondered if the day would ever end. She imagined Jared's quilt stretched over the big frame and pictured herself sitting in front of it, her needle darting in and out of the simple pattern she'd chosen for the borders around the small rectangles that made each colorful block. In her fantasy she saw him take the needle from her hand, catch it in the fabric, lift her in his strong arms and carry her up the winding stairs to his bedroom.

  Her cheeks grew warm. A flame kindled inside her body. Tonight, nothing would stop them. She'd open to Jared and feel him fill her with himself. She'd know the full pleasure of being a woman. No more waiting and wondering. No more putting off sexual satisfaction for a day that might never come.

  “Althea?”

  She turned and saw Bea Elder. Hopefully the woman hadn't developed the ability to read minds. “I’m sorry. I was woolgathering.”

  “No mind, girl. I just came to collect whatever you got for them two quilts. Wish you’d get our co-op off the ground. Don't know how I'm going to manage this winter. Leah and Sherry won't stop growing long enough to wear out their sneakers, and that's the truth.” When Bea shrugged, her shoulders looked even frailer than usual.

  “Children do grow, don't they?”

  “Those two sure do. Leah is not even twelve years old, and she's already taller than her mom.” Bea’s expression darkened, casting a shadow across her weathered face.

  “Speaking of Rachel, have you heard from her?” Althea hated to ask, yet thought it would be impolite not to. After all, she and Bea's daughter had both gone to the country school down the road, until Rachel had run off with a drummer from Augusta, the summer they were fourteen.

  “She called a while back, said she'd come to see the girls when she could. Lord, I don't know why God couldn't have given me a good girl like you.”

  “I’m sorry she hurt you, Ms. Bea.” Althea fidgeted, uncomfortable with the idea that folks thought she was a plaster saint.

  “Not your fault, child. Hear you've been seeing that city slicker who bought Big Bear Mountain, lock, stock and barrel.”

  Word traveled fast if it had gotten as far as the isolated group of cabins on Raccoon Ridge where Bea lived. “We’ve gone out a few times.”

  “Watch yourself, girl. Don’t you go getting’ taken in by his fast talkin’, the way my Rachel did. Can’t trust city men, no way.”

  Althea figured she could trust Jared just fine to give her what she wanted and not expect the forever promises a local single man would demand. But she wanted to ease Bea’s mind. “Jared's no city slicker. He was born on the mountain. He lived they are until he was twelve years old, before his mom took him to his uncle's in Atlanta. He told me his memories of living on the mountain haunted him and made him want to come back home.”

  Bea’s mouth tightened and her tired eyes took on a doubting expression. “All right, you just take care. I’d best be getting whatever money you managed to sell those quilts for. I promised the girls some meat for supper tonight.”

  Reaching into the cash register, Althea counted out three hundred sixty dollars, then added two more twenties. Although she hadn't found a way yet to fund the co-op, she could afford to give up her usual ten percent commission for selling those quilts. No question about it, Bea needed the forty dollars more than she did.

  “This ought to help you out a bit.” She handed Bea the money.

  “Thanks. I’ll spend a little of it with you. I need some batting and materials for the backing of a full-size quilt. Do you think it’ll sell faster than these two did?”

  “Nothing ready-made is selling very well this summer.” Althea hoped God wouldn’t strike her down for the outright lie. She wasn’t willing to hurt Bea by telling her it was nigh on impossible to find buyers for her work. Mountain women did their own quilting, and most tourists with money to burn demanded quality of design that Bea just wasn’t capable of.

  “Oh.” The woman the woman the woman fingered a bolt of hot pink cotton cloth. “The one I’ve got ready to quilt is a crazy quilt. I used up a bunch of my scraps to piece it. Wouldn’t this be nice for the backing?”

  “If you're going to sell it you'd be better off backing a crazy quilt with the neutral color. Maybe playing unbleached muslin.” Althea could imagine the color dissonance Bea had probably created by piecing scraps of random materials and random shapes into a quilt top. Best to tone it down, not give it a backing that wouldn't go with at least ninety percent of people's bedrooms. “It's cheaper, too.”

  Bea’s rheumy gaze focused on the hot pink material. “I like this. Lord knows, I'll be looking at it long enough while I'm doing the quilting. I'll take enough for a double bed quilt. Batting, too. Lord willing, I'll have the quilt finished and back to you in a few weeks.”

  Althea watched Bea scurry out to her battered station wagon. Hoping the ancient vehicle hadn't breathed its last in front of her store, she listened to it choke and wheeze. When it came to life with a roar, she let out a sigh. A cloud of smoke hovered in the parking lot as Bea turned onto the highway.

  Would Bea and the other women like her be able to hold on until Althea found a way to finance the co-op? Or would they give up and move to the city to take the kind of dead end job Jared's mother had endured?

  She wondered if she'd ever be able to regain community support for the co-op. If she didn't, she might never be able to fulfill the dream she'd shared with bill — to help women on their own to succeed while doing what they did best, to stay in their mountain homes and still make a decent living.

  The few thousand dollars she'd managed to save wouldn't go far, not even far enough to let her buy that deserted gas station Harriet Tucker had been trying to unload for years. Although the site was far from ideal it would give the co-op place to start.

  Althea’s thoughts slid back to Jared. He'd seemed interested when they talked about the co-op. She could ask for his advice…

  No. She'd relied on Bill. When she'd lost him, she'd vowed never again to count on anybody but herself. She couldn't let herself think of Jared as anything but a passing fancy — an attractive man who would touch her life for a little while, breathe life back into it. And disappear without taking her heart with him.

  The clock finally told her it was closing time, so she turned off the lights and checked the doors to be certain they’d locked. At her cabin while she changed clothes a few minutes later, she focused on Jared and the hot, sensual way he made her feel.

  His magnificent body, all strength and sinew and impressive maleness. His heated green-gold gaze and sexy smile. No doubt about it, Jared was all man, but yet she occasionally glimpsed remnants of the boy who'd grown up on Big Bear Mountain.

  She was catering to that boy when she took a peach cobbler and a quart of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer and added them to the basket of sandwiches she'd made. Raindrops spattered her as she took their meal out to her car.

  Chapter Ten

  Jared stepped onto the porch and listened to raindrops slamming onto the cedar shingles as he watched for Althea’s car. Anticipation sluiced through his veins, warming him despite the dampness and a chill in the air that was unusual for summer, even this high on the mountain.

  The gentle stream had become a raging torrent of water pounding at the rocks on its banks as it raced down the mountain toward the river. A summer storm, here now gone within the bleak of an eye.

  He remembered weather like this from his childhood. Soon raindrops would glitter in the sunshine that would peek out from behind deep gray clouds. Leaves of maples and hardwood trees would sparkle. The mist in the valley below would gleam with golden moisture in the twilight.

  From his spot under the porch roof, he took a deep breath. The fresh smell of the forest and the rain heightened his senses. His pulse quickened when he spotted Althea's Pathfinder winding its way up the mountainside.

  When she pulled up next to the porch, he bounded down the stairs and opened her car door. If
it hadn't been for the split-oak picnic basket she thrust into his arms, he'd have kissed her where they stood, heedless of the rain pounding down on their heads.

  Instead, he hurried her inside to his bedroom and stripped off her wet clothes. When she was dry he wrapped her in his thick, terry cloth robe. “Are you warm enough?”

  She smiled at him when he began taking off his own wet slacks and shirt. ”I am now. I need to put some of our supper in the oven to heat.”

  “Go ahead. I'll change and meet you downstairs.” He could wait. When they finally made love he wanted to go slowly, savor each moment and each sensation. He didn't like the idea of rushing because food might be burning in the oven. He changed into dry jeans and a sweatshirt, then took the stairs two at a time.

  Despite it being summer, dampness had cooled the dusky twilight air. While Althea worked in the kitchen he knelt by the fireplace and laid kindling and logs in the grate. He lit the kindling and blew on the flame until it began to spread.

  He felt Althea come up behind him. “I love a fire,” she said as she knelt beside him.

  Turning, he looked at her and smiled. Swathed neck to toe in his shapeless terry robe, she shouldn't have looked sexy, but she did. Earthy. Wanting. So beautiful she took his breath away. In slow motion, he prodded the fire then set the poker on the hearth. When he stood he held out both hands. “Sit with me.”

  He noticed after they sank onto the sofa that she'd fastened the quilt top onto the frame he had assembled earlier. Centered between the fireplace and a floor to ceiling window, it lent a warm personal touch to the room.

  Some fruity, spicy smell wafted from the kitchen. It tickled his taste buds and made his mouth water. His house felt like home tonight. Althea’s warm body, tucked close to his, soothed as much his aroused him. “What’s cooking?”

  “Peach cobbler.”

  “It smells great.”

  She snuggled closer, nuzzled his neck and slid her fingers under the neckband of his sweatshirt. It'll be a half-hour before supper's ready.”

  “Nowhere near long enough for what I've got in mind.” He wanted to take his time. He needed to drive her as crazy as she was making him. “Let's relax and listen to the rain.”

  She nipped at his earlobe then pulled away and looked him in the eye. “The rain is almost like a song, you know. Sometimes wild, other times as soft as whisper.” When she paused and leaned against the back of the sofa, he noticed her eyelids flutter them close. “It's a lovers’ rain tonight. Our rain.”

  The storm was letting up. Pounding raindrops gave way to gentle taps against the roof. Soft droplets tingled against the window panes. A rising moon shone silver against crystal raindrops and made them glisten like ice in the firelight.

  “You're right.” He rubbed the unbelievably silky skin on the inside of her wrist.

  How could he ever have thought Althea anything but beautiful? Jared met her pale blue gaze. When he did, he sensed her desire. Desire for him.

  There was something about her. Something that made him believe that with her he could be twice the man he'd ever been. He'd be damned if he knew what it was, but he sensed she could bring out whatever it was that he'd kept locked up inside him — that elusive quality no woman, not even Marcie, had ever managed to unleash.

  Suddenly he knew. For the first time in his life, his hormones had gotten tied up with his emotions. That was what had him panting after in Althea like a teenage boy about to have his first sexual encounter.

  He found himself wanting to do more than satisfy her in bed. More than enjoy mindless sex, however pleasurable that might be. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, to take care of her. He wanted to make her forget the boy she'd loved, who’d died and left her all alone.

  He wanted to give her a sensual banquet, a feast that would make everyone she'd had before him pale in her memory and leave her savoring only him. The sight of them locked together as close as a man and woman could ever get. The sound of him saying her name when he erupted deep inside her. Their mingled tastes and smells, and the feel of his body around her, inside her. When his sex began to swell and harden, he fought to maintain control.

  Thirty minutes later, Althea watched Jared lift the last bite of dessert from his plate. He brought the peach cobbler, dripping with remnants of melting ice cream, from the bowl to his lips. When he slowly closed his mouth around the sweet treat and swallowed, she imagined how his lips would feel on her. And when he captured one last taste off the corner of his mouth with his tongue, she wished he were sampling her instead.

  The grin he shot her as he got up from the table was positively predatory. Her breath caught in her throat. Did she really know what she was asking for? Suddenly she wasn't as certain as before that she wanted to do this. More specifically whether she could give him her body but not her heart. “Would you like for me to make coffee?” she asked to fill the void of conversation.

  “No.”

  She'd noticed the six pack of beer in his refrigerator. “Want a beer?”

  “No.”

  “More dessert?”

  “Sweetheart, what I want now is you. All night with no interruptions. Just the rain, the firelight and the two of us.” Slowly, deliberately, he pulled back her chair. Then he lifted her into his arms.

  “The dishes. I should at least put them in—”

  “Forget the dishes.” He kissed her. His tongue slipped between her teeth and entwined with hers. Vaguely she realized they were leaving the kitchen, heading back toward the sofa in front of the cozy fire.

  He set her down then joined her. He covered her with his body, pressed her into the soft leather cushions. His kiss went on and on. It stole her breath and made her push aside the doubts that had flooded her mind moments earlier.

  He tasted like peaches, cinnamon and vanilla. And something else. A flavor uniquely his. As he slipped his hand inside her robe and cupped her breasts she realized she'd never again eat peach cobbler without associating it with Jared Cain.

  Sparks flew inside her when he pinched her nipple and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Like the rest of him, his fingers had a rough-smooth edge — hard and strong, yet gentle when he touched her.

  His heart pounded against her breasts. His breath came faster when he finally broke their kiss, and his eyes glowed in the firelight. His tanned cheeks glistened. When he met her gaze, she felt a sense of urgency in him that was what at odds with his leisurely exploration of her body. An urgency that matched her own.

  Did she look that way too? She felt a breeze and guessed she, too, had a sheen of moisture on her brow. Then he untied her robe and pulled the edges apart. When he dipped his head to her breast and took one aching nipple in his mouth, she couldn't think at all.

  She felt tight. Empty. Moisture built up between her legs and she tingled as though every nerve in her body were on fire. He nibbled gently on one breast, then gave the other equal time as he stroked her from neck to waist. He made her squirm with need for more. With yearning for all of him.

  The arousing touches she’d shared with Bill were only bittersweet memories. Jared was real. Alive. He was with her now, awakening sensations she’d never fully explored. Ones she’d soon know fully, because Jared had no hang-ups about waiting for some nebulous day in the future, a future which had never come for her and Bill.

  They would merge her softness with his strength, soon. Tonight. Not someday in a future that might never materialize. His hard sex nudged her belly Wanting to explore his body, touch that rigid flesh, she twisted around and reached for the drawstring of his sweat pants.

  He reached down and stilled her. “Not yet. I want you ready.”

  How much readier could she be? “I am.” She wanted to see him, explore his big hard body.

  Smiling down at her, he kissed the tip of her nose. “You aren’t ready yet, but you soon will be. Trust me.”

  She did. Implicitly. He’d give her pleasure, not pain. Leaning back, she gave him full access to he
r body as she savored the heat from the fire—and the feelings his touches evoked as he studied all the secrets of her body with his hands and mouth.

  She shivered. Every nerve in her body tangled. She wanted more. When he slipped a hand between her legs she parted them, anxious for his intimate touch. She closed her eyes, enjoyed the heightened sensations in the darkness.

  The sounds of the crackling fire and the rain outside blurred together, then faded. No sight, no sound, no taste. Just the musky scent of lovers and the feel of Jared's talented fingers coasting coaxing new, explosive sensation from the tiny nub of nerves no one else but she had ever explored.

  Arching her hips, she sought something just beyond her reach. Pressure built inside her, fiercely demanding release. He shifted, put his mouth where his fingers had been and flicked her with his tongue. Then he closed his lips and suckled, the way he’d sampled her breasts. Sensations mounted, almost unbearable in their intensity.

  “Stop. Please. Don’t…Omigod, don’t stop.” Althea’s world exploded in a kaleidoscope of rainbow hues. She gasped for breath, and when he did Jared lifted his head, met her gaze and smiled. Then he bent to her again and resumed giving her the most intimate of kisses. When she reached another climax, he lifted her, carried her upstairs and laid her on his bed.

  The rain beat gently on the roof of the loft, breaking the silence. While he undressed, he never took his eyes off her. As soon as he was naked, he shut off all but one dim lamp, slipped on a condom and stretched out beside her on the bed.

  Suddenly he was unsure of himself. What made him think he could measure up against the man she’d obviously loved, a man now invincible in death?

  “Are you sure?” He wasn’t going to last long. His cock felt as though it was about to burst as he stretched out over her and took her in his arms.