by Kim Karr
At the end of the hall was another flight of stairs. That article I had read online about Rosewood so many years ago had spoken of a secret room. I wondered if what they had written was true. Since this wing appeared entirely unoccupied, I decided to find out and hoped that cliché about curiosity killing the cat wasn’t true.
The stairs were narrow and the lighting dim. I jumped a few times when the boards beneath my feet creaked, but once I got to the landing, I breathed a sigh of relief. There was only a short hallway with two doors. No ghosts or goblins or trap doors. Both of the standard-looking doors were slightly ajar, but not entirely opened.
I should have taken that as a sign that privacy was required.
I didn’t.
In my quest to see if these rooms were also blue, my fingertips nudged the door open just enough to see the wall, and yes, it too was blue, but not the same as the others.
Then again, it was the bathroom, not the bedroom, and the sound of water running should have sent me running.
It didn’t because I could see the reflection of who was under the spray in the mirror.
Perfectly.
I gasped and jumped to the side. In my direct line of sight was a huge glass wall and he was just beyond it.
My pulse was beating so hard I could feel it pounding at all my pulse points. I needed to leave. Yet, I couldn’t move. Or maybe it was more like I didn’t want to.
Steam hovered in the air, but there was not nearly enough of it to obscure anything. He was naked. His eyes were closed. And his head bent as the water sluiced over him. With one hand on the wall, the other was sliding slowly down his belly, and it landed between his thighs.
Oh, God.
Now I really couldn’t move. I was frozen in place. His hand was on his cock. I swallowed the noise my throat tried to make, but I was sure I didn’t do a good job of it. Thank you, Jesus. He didn’t seem to notice. No, he definitely didn’t notice because oh, my God, he was stroking himself. Slowly. Deliciously. Up, then down, and a twist of his palm around the head of his cock.
I shouldn’t have been watching, and yet I couldn’t look away. This was private. For him only. Not for me. And definitely not for my viewing pleasure.
When he moved his wrist faster, I had to stifle my sudden harsh breath with my hand. My eyes were glued to his body, and although I should leave, I didn’t.
Jake, doing this to himself, was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. The only thing that prevented me from reaching between my own legs to get myself off was my perverted fascination with wanting to watch him come. Oh, and of course the terror of getting caught.
Like the cake incident wasn’t unfortunate enough.
His mouth opened, water filling it and overflowing when he tipped his face into the spray.
I watched him.
Soon he was fucking into his fist with a deliberation that made me weak at the knees, and still I watched. I watched the way his muscles corded in his arms, the way his cock moved within the confines of his fist, the way his face contorted into pure pleasure.
I watched.
Looking at Jake about to come made him seem like the sexiest man I had ever seen.
His cock disappeared inside his curled fingers, and this stroke seemed somehow more determined. Up, down, a twist around his crown, and then another twist. This time his hand dipped down, and then lower still.
I pressed my thighs together to ward off the ache of arousal that was flooding me. I couldn’t hear him, but I wished I could. I knew what he was feeling, though, because I could see his mouth open and his face twist with satisfaction. He was close. I could tell. And then soon enough, his taut belly strained, the muscles in his legs bunched, and then it happened—his desire jetted out.
Oh, God.
I watched.
Never in my life had I wanted to make myself come like I did at that moment. Still, it was all kinds of wrong. I shouldn’t have been watching him. I knew this, of course. Chiding myself, I licked salt from my upper lip and slowly, cautiously took a step back.
Guilt washed over me.
This was so wrong of me.
When had I turned so bad?
“Miss Easton, is everything okay?”
That voice. I knew that voice. It was Roger.
Oh, God!
No. No. No.
Before I even dared shift my gaze, I took a step and then another, and another still away from the door. My heart was beating like a drum. And although my sight was a little blurry from looking through the steam of the bathroom, I forced myself not to appear petrified as my head snapped in the direction of where Roger was standing.
He had no idea Jake was in there.
Right?
No idea what I was doing.
Right?
I couldn’t look guilty.
Couldn’t.
On trembling legs, I made myself walk toward him. “Oh, Roger, I got lost, I was looking for another way down.”
The look he gave me was sympathetic and not at all suspicious. “Madam, this way. Follow me.”
My escape was slow and unsteady.
Oh, my God.
The image of Jake was still in my head, and my body wouldn’t stop trembling. However, way too soon I was standing at the bottom of the staircase in the grand foyer, and I had to pull myself together.
But what I had seen changed everything.
And I knew I’d do whatever I had to in order to make things right between us.
Sitting on the Fence
JULES
THE HOUSE WAS AN AUTHENTIC mansion.
And the room I was about to enter with flushed cheeks must have once been a parlor. A place where the young women received gentleman callers and the two of them sat properly while they sipped iced-tea and spoke of polite, but boring things.
Nothing taboo was allowed.
Definitely not masturbation.
And they most definitely were not permitted to discuss the idea of watching someone masturbate.
I looked around and wondered how many women had broken that rule. Watched the man of the house like I had.
There were silk draperies and oriental carpets and more oil paintings, if only they could talk.
Forget that.
What if they told on me?
The room was soft and light. Painted and covered in ivory, cream, taupe, and yellow with blue accents. It was as bright as the sunny day outside. Antique tables and tufted velvet sofas with wingback chairs were spread across the space in various seating arrangements, but the focal point was most definitely the huge marble fireplace.
And there were also dogs in the room.
Lots of dogs.
Seven, if I counted correctly.
“So,” Rory said, “What did you think?”
I think your brother is super hot and I want to jump his bones. “It’s amazing,” I answered. “The rooms are so big . . . I mean so grand.”
Whoops.
“Aren’t they,” she smiled. “My grandmother used to fill them with guests every weekend. She loves this house, almost as much as her dogs, and I guess I do as well. It just has so much charm.” Rory was crouching down petting one of the dogs.
“Yes, it does.” I had to get off the room topic, or the image of Jake in the blue bathroom was never going to leave my mind. “Was everything okay with Remy?” I asked.
“Oh well, it wasn’t quite an emergency. He just couldn’t decide what to pack for Fall Ball. I told him to bring his tuxedo. We are going all out this year. I’m going to wear a gown and the highest heels I can find.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It will be. So, anyway,” she said, “about my brother. Don’t you agree?”
“About which part?” My mind was still on his cock, and she most definitely didn’t mean that part of him.
“That you need to win him over.”
No, would have been my answer before the bathroom incident, but now, I honestly didn’t know. I wanted to win him over all right—rig
ht into my bed. That was so wrong, so I said nothing.
As Rory made her way around the room saying goodbye and petting each and every dog, I realized I had to be honest. This was about my career, not my libido.
I spoke up. “I think the best way to convince your brother I’m right for the job is to be straightforward and tell him my ideas. Let the plan sell itself.”
She scoffed as if she knew something I didn’t, and then she pointed to the enormous sable-colored German Shepard lying on the sofa. “This is Mr. Darcy,” Rory said, kissing the dog’s head.
He wore a wide black leather collar with spikes on it around his neck. I stepped over to where Rory had taken a seat on the sofa. “Well hello there, Mr. Darcy.”
I loved dogs.
As soon as I got close, he barked really loud.
Too bad they didn’t love me.
“Mr. Darcy, be nice,” Rory admonished, shaking her finger at him. “Jules is here to help us.” As soon as she gave him a small pet, he calmed right down.
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“He’s really a big softie. All bark and no bite. Don’t let his size intimidate you.”
Just as I bent to attempt to pet him once again, I heard the familiar sound of a husky throat clearing.
Rory and I both jerked our heads up to find Jake leaning against the doorjamb, holding a glass of orange juice and popping a grape into his mouth. The mouth I had seen open in ecstasy just moments ago.
I froze like a kid who’d just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I wasn’t prepared with the best way to address him yet, especially after what I’d just witnessed.
If I took Rory’s advice, all I had to do was pretend to faint, and he’d be sympathetic to my condition.
It was simple case of doctor, doctor.
Then again, I wasn’t much of an actress, and besides, what if I really hurt myself as I fell to the ground? The whole wolf in sheep’s clothing thing terrified me.
“You’re just like your brother, aren’t you, Mr. Darcy?” Rory cooed.
I wondered which part of what she’d said moments ago she was referring to. The softie, the bark, or the size. The last one had me blushing. He was big. No, he was huge. And I knew that firsthand.
My heart started fluttering as I thought back.
Shame on me.
Knowing I couldn’t avoid the well-endowed man since he was right in front of me, I lifted my gaze. Jake’s eyes might have been even more bloodshot than they had been yesterday, but that didn’t detract from his incredibly good looks. His hair was wet, of course, and he was in jeans and a T-shirt. I hated to even think the way I was, but God, he really was so sexy both in and out of clothes.
“Hey, you finally made it,” Rory said. “I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”
Oh my God, she’d engineered this meeting and hadn’t told me.
So much for the sweet girl routine.
Jake shoved his hands in his pockets and strode into the room. “You didn’t tell me you’d invited Juliette.”
Juliette.
I wanted to correct him, tell him my name was Jules not Juliette, but his glare was much too fierce for me to say anything but, “Hi.” I gave him a slight wave and wished the seeping flush to stop creeping up my neck.
He nodded or cringed, I couldn’t be certain. That was better than giving me the finger, I supposed. “I stopped to see Mimi first,” he told his sister.
Who was Mimi?
Another dog?
Rory stiffened, and her voice cracked when she spoke. “Is she any better? Last night when I went to see her, her stomach was bothering her, and she couldn’t eat.”
Okay, Mimi wasn’t a dog.
Stopping at the first dog he came to, Jake crouched down to pet him. “Nothing’s changed, but she wants to come home.”
Now I knew who Mimi was. She was Beatrice Crawford, their grandmother, and she was sick.
Rory rested her head on Mr. Darcy’s big body and hugged him tightly. “Will she be able to?”
Jake glanced over at her. “I’m doing my best to make it happen.”
Rory bolted up. “Should I stay home so she isn’t here alone?”
Almost adamantly, Jake shook his head. “No, I’m moving back into my old room. You know she wants you to finish school.”
The room at the top of the stairs.
Rory nodded and went back to petting the dog.
“Rory,” he said.
She looked up.
“I think you should move the wedding date up.”
“Why?”
The look on his face was heartbreaking. “She’s stopping her treatments.”
“I don’t understand. Why would she do that?”
“It’s making her sick, Rory, and it’s not working.”
“You can’t let her do this.”
“It’s not my choice.” His voice was barely audible.
“But her doctors said she had more time,” Rory whispered, wiping a tear away.
A few of the other dogs had gathered around Jake and he was showing each of them some attention when he glanced up at her with such sadness in his eyes I felt like I might weep. “I don’t think she does.”
“How long then?”
He stood and strode toward us. “I don’t know, but she wants to see you get married and I think we should give her that.”
“Of course we will,” Rory cried. “When should I move the date to?”
“As soon as possible. Labor Day weekend if you can.”
Labor Day weekend was less than five weeks away!
“Then I should just stay home.”
Jake had shoved his hands into his pockets. “Rory, she won’t come home if you do that. You know how important it is to her that you finish school and start working at Crawford Enterprises.”
Wondering if I should excuse myself, I went to stand up, except Rory put her hand on my knee to stop me. Staying where I was, I instead leaned over to pet the little sand-colored Yorkie that had somehow ended up at my feet. Her collar was hot pink and almost bigger than her. The jewel-encrusted nametag read, “Daisy.” Daisy was adorable. She licked my hand, and I let her.
Rory slid to the Oriental rug and kissed her, too. “It’s okay Daisy, Mimi will be home soon.”
Apparently, her grandmother had a great love for dogs, and it was also evident it was shared by her grandchildren.
More tears slid down her cheeks, and I felt a pain in my heart for her. A few moments later, she looked up at her brother. “If I go back to school, I won’t be able to plan the wedding. Will you work with Jules to plan the wedding?”
Wait!
What?
The pained look on his face was to be expected, but his single word response was anything but. In fact, it truly surprised me. “Yes.”
Rory reached up and grabbed my hand. “Jules, will you do it? Will you work with Jake to create my dream wedding in time for my grandmother to be a part of it?”
Uncomfortable with the fact those two sets of blue eyes were on me—one sweet and kind, the other hard and angry—I forced a smile to spread across my lips and then took a moment to ponder my answer.
It wasn’t as simple as it should have been. There were too many factors. I was supposed to work with Rory, not her brother. And this was supposed to be a hard sell. It wasn’t supposed to be a slam-dunk. Besides, what if I couldn’t do it?
Not only did I have to plan the wedding of the decade, but I also had less than five weeks to do it in.
My heart was pounding stupidly hard in my chest as I opened my mouth and said, “Yes.”
“Yah! I’m so excited,” Rory blurted out. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with. Oh, and I almost forgot why I brought you in here. Look,” she pointed to a large photograph sitting on the mantel.
There were many others scattered along the space, but that one stood out. “Who is it?” I asked.
“My great-grandmother in her wedding gown.
And I thought I might wear it.”
Surprised by this, I stood on shaky legs. I wasn’t looking at the ground as I walked, and I stepped right on one of the dog toys. I caught myself this time before tripping though, and other than my hands flying in the air, I hadn’t made that much of a scene.
Thank goodness it wasn’t one of the dogs that I stepped on.
Jake chuckled, low and deep in his throat, and although it shouldn’t have turned me on, it did.
Rory was kissing the dog with a big wide pink collar and hadn’t noticed.
With my head held high, I walked past Jake. To avoid one of the dogs, I had to sidestep though. When I did, I brushed the skin of Jake’s muscular arm, and those pesky butterflies took full flight in my belly.
I ignored them as best I could.
Over at the mantel, I picked up the photo and tried to calm my racing heart.
“I believe it was actually her mother’s.” Jake was standing next to me, and he smelled so good.
“It’s beautiful,” I marveled. And it was. In the photo, the elegant woman was sitting on the back of a vintage Rolls Royce, and her dress was long and flowing and made from pure silk and the most beautiful tulle. It was something right out of Great Gatsby.
“Do you think you can secure that place we talked about yesterday?” Rory asked.
Lost in thought, I blinked and looked over at her. “Where was this photo taken?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.” She glanced at Jake. “Do you know?”
He took the picture from me with the hand he’d used to jerk off and stared at it. “I think it was taken here.”
“Didn’t that place you talked about have an outdoor ballroom?” Rory asked.
I looked out the French doors at the beautiful view and wondered if the photo was taken here almost one hundred years ago. “Yes, it does.”
She had picked up one the dogs and was cradling her like a baby. “What was it called again?”
“Lanier Islands in Buford. And it has the most stunning lake views.”
“It sounds perfect,” Rory said dreamily, “Doesn’t it, Myrtle?” she asked the dog she was holding before setting her down.
“I can certainly call and inquire about it, but unless there has been a cancellation, it is highly unlikely they’ll have an opening.”