But it wouldn’t be easy. Years ago she’d been in love with Jake. He set a standard that proved hard to match. Yet somewhere in the world there had to be a man for her. Her perfect soul mate. She just had to find him.
Jake watched as the light in Kerry’s room was extinguished. He sat in a chair in the yard, a beer forgotten in his hand. She’d come home an hour ago. Never even glanced in his direction. He almost called to her, but hesitated—too long. She’d slipped inside.
Staring at the dark house, he wondered where she’d gone after disappearing from the courtroom. He didn’t even know when she’d left. One moment he’d seen her from the corner of his eye, the next time he noticed, she was no longer there.
Had she grown bored? Litigation was a time-consuming, sometimes tedious task. He knew everyone didn’t find the same fascination with the subject as he did. But he had wanted to hear her views of the afternoon. See how it compared to her visit with Sally years before.
He admitted he wanted to see that rapt attention she’d shown Sunday night when he’d talked about his job. She’d acted as if it were the most fascinating topic under the sun. Grimacing briefly, Jake wondered how she did that. Had she added acting to her skills? Or had she genuinely been interested?
Expecting her to fawn over him at the close of the day, he’d been surprised to find her gone. Another unexpected view of the woman he was beginning to think he didn’t know at all. Lunch had been unexpected. Her conversation lately was different. Either she flirted just like she would with anyone or she hung on his every word. Heady feeling for a man who spent most of his evenings alone.
His life suited him. He would not open himself up to the fallacy of love. But sometimes he did get lonely. Did Kerry ever get lonely?
He rose and headed for her house. She’d proved she had unexpected impulses today with that picnic. He’d taken a bit of razzing when he returned to the office. But he wasn’t mad. It had been surprisingly fun. Maybe frivolity was something he’d been missing for a while.
Knocking on the back door, he waited impatiently. She couldn’t be asleep, she’d just turned off the light a few moments ago. Knocking again, he wondered if he was going to have to break into the house to see her.
The back porch light came on and Kerry opened the door a crack and peeked out.
“Good heavens. Jake! What’s wrong?” She opened the door and looked at him, then beyond to the dark yard.
Jake stared at her. Unless she’d changed in an instant, she didn’t wear sexy nightgowns to bed. Yet the soft cotton T-shirt that draped her suddenly seemed as exotic as any lace and satin creation ever could. Her breasts were firm and high, and clearly delineated beneath the shirt. Its hem reached her thighs, baring her long legs. Jake’s gaze traveled down the length of her and then slowly rose until he stared into her wide puzzled eyes.
“Jake?”
“Sometimes others can do the unexpected,” he murmured. Reaching out, he caught her wrist and gently pulled until she stepped forward. “Come on.” He had no idea where he was going, just that he wanted to be with this provocative woman. He wanted to hear how she liked his performance in court, tell her what he thought would happen when the case went to the jury, spend some of the magic of the midnight hour with her.
She resisted, but he kept walking until she half skipped to catch up. “Wait a minute. I’m not even dressed. We can’t go anywhere. Jake!”
“Relax, Kerry. We’re just going to my backyard. I missed you after court.”
“Wait a minute.” She dug in her heels and stopped. He stopped and looked at her, wishing there was more light. The faint illumination from her porch light didn’t reach this far. The starlight was too faint. Yet he could see her. Her hair looked tousled, and her eyes were shining in the faint moonlight.
“Is there a problem with doing the unexpected?” he asked silkily.
“Do you do things like this often?” she asked.
“Never have done it before.”
“A leopard can’t change its spots,” she murmured.
“Meaning?” He leaned closer, breathing in the sweet fragrance she always wore. He wanted to do more than stand in the cool grass and argue about leopards.
“Meaning what are you up to?”
“I find I have a penchant for kidnapping. Maybe it’s addictive.”
“It’s too late for a picnic.”
“But not too late for dessert. Mrs. Mulfrethy made apple pie today. We can heat it up and top it with ice cream.”
“It’s after eleven.” Did her tone waver just a bit?
“Ah, too late for a swinging New Yorker like yourself?”
“Out of character for a staid attorney?”
“Ouch, is that how you see me?” He pulled her closer. No man wanted to be thought of as staid. Unless maybe he was a hundred and three and couldn’t move. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her long and deep. She made no struggle for freedom and Jake took it for acquiescence. Teasing her lips, when she parted them, he plunged in to taste her sweetness.
To Kerry the world seemed to spin around. Jake’s touch ignited a blazing hot fire deep within. Her knees grew weak and desire rose wild and free. She loved the feel of him against her, loved the sensations that crowded, far too many to decipher. She didn’t want the kiss to end—ever. Eternity could come and go and she’d be satisfied to remain right here in Jake’s arms.
For an instant the thought bubbled up that he’d been reading Megan’s diary as well. He certainly was acting in an unexpected manner. But she was too consumed with the passion that rose between them to question it. Time enough for that when she could think coherently!
Finally he ended the kiss, trailing soft kisses against her cheek, along her jaw, tilting her head back to kiss her neck, pausing on the rapid pulse point at the base of her throat.
He moved to her ear and whispered, “Wait right here. I’ll get the dessert and we’ll have it on the patio.”
She nodded, speech beyond her. When he let her go with another quick kiss, she swayed for a moment, then sank to her knees in the cool grass. Pressing her fingers against her cheeks, she could feel the heat. What had Megan written? Something about understanding the man? Kerry now knew she hadn’t a clue to who Jake was, or what he was thinking.
Suddenly the game was on again and she was unsure of any of the rules. The only thing she was certain of was she’d never been kissed like that before. Even if she could stumble to her house, she wouldn’t have moved an inch. She wanted to see what happened next.
Growing cold in the grass, she rose and stepped onto his flagstone patio. The stones were warm beneath her feet, still retaining the heat from the sun. She sat on one of the lounge chairs, drew her knees up to her chest and covered her legs with her loose shirt. It was a balmy, warm night. The lights from various houses in the neighborhood cast a soft glow. The moon was low on the horizon, almost full. Providing enough light to see by, now that her eyes had adjusted.
She remembered other Southern summer nights. A long time ago, when she’d first started coming, she and Sally and the Simmons boys had rousing games of hide and seek long after dark, roaming all over the neighborhood, playing with all the other teenagers who lived nearby. As she’d grown, she and Sally spent time sharing confidences and dreams beneath the oak tree near the back of the yard—long after her aunt and uncle had retired for the evening.
“Apple pie à la mode.”
Kerry reached up for the plate and fork. She straightened her legs, letting the T-shirt pool around her. Taking a bite, she smiled as the taste of apples, sugar and cinnamon exploded on her tongue.
“Ummm, delicious,” she said, taking another bite. “Mrs. Mulfrethy still makes the best pie I’ve ever eaten.”
Jake sat in the chair beside her. For several moments they were silent as they savored the tasty dessert.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, setting his empty plate on the flagstone.
“I was thinking about being a kid here
, about all the fun we had after dark. You were too old to play hide and seek with us, but it was great. And then Uncle Philip used to barbeque. It was easier than heating up the kitchen, Aunt Peggy always said. Now I wonder if it was just easier for her having him prepare dinner. But to me, it was magical. My folks get enough of meals outside on their digs that they don’t find it appealing when they’re home.”
“Philip never seemed to mind cooking. They still barbeque several times a week in the summer. Some of the world’s best chefs are men.”
“Theirs is a good marriage, a blending of two lives that complement each other. And permit each other to do the things they like. My folks are a bit like that. Of course they both are consumed with archeology and anthropology, so that strengthens their tie.”
“You’re doing it again,” he said looking up at the stars scattered across the dark sky.
“What?”
“Bringing up long-lasting marriages.”
“Oh.” Kerry hadn’t meant to be obvious. Should she say something about his parents being the exception? To what end?
“Maybe I want you to consider that marriage isn’t such an antiquated institution. When I was thinking about it the other day, your parents are the only ones I know who separated. My friends still have their parents together, my folks and aunt and uncle…”
“So they are the exceptions.”
“Or maybe your mom and dad were, did you ever think of that?” When he remained silent for several minutes, Kerry could have bitten her tongue. Better just to keep quiet than try to change his mind.
“Why do you do that?” he asked.
“Do what? Bring up uncomfortable topics?”
“No, go silent sometimes. The Kerry I remember was a real chatterbox.”
“The Kerry you remember was also very young. I’m grown up now, Jake.”
“With different life experiences. What was living in New York really like?”
“I told you the other evening.”
“Not much, seems to me I’ve dominated most of our conversations. You told me about your job on the phone and about some friends you have there. But nothing about men. Do you date a lot?”
Her pie finished, Kerry set her plate on the flagstone and lay back in the recliner, conscious of her scanty attire, of the fact she wore nothing beneath the T-shirt except her panties. Yet it was dark. She could scarcely make out Jake’s silhouette against the night sky. He would not be able to see anything. And it was fun to talk with him, share a bit of her past few years. How odd that he zeroed in on her romantic past. Not that she planned to tell him about it—or the lack of it. She turned the subject.
“I really liked seeing you in court today,” she said. “You looked formidable, yet came across that you were on the side of the witnesses. I expect you are really very good at what you do.”
“It comes from years of experience, practice and some failures. But nothing comes without its price.”
“And what price did you pay?” she asked.
Jake thought about it for a few moments, then shifted on his chair, sitting up. “Being single-minded in one’s career doesn’t leave a lot of time for other pursuits.”
“Light on the social life?” she guessed, remembering how when she was in the throes of a big campaign she ruthlessly focused all her attention on the project to the detriment of her own social life. In fact her entire stay in New York led to little in the way of activities that didn’t complement her job.
“It certainly takes a backseat. You changed the subject—tell me about your social life.”
“Not much to tell. I’ve got to go, Jake. It’s really late and I’m starting to get cold.”
He rose and held out his hand to assist her. Kerry hesitated, then put hers into his. When his warm fingers covered hers, she caught her breath, her heart rate increasing again. Why did she have this reaction every time the man touched her? For goodness sakes, it was just Jake Mitchell.
“Next time I kidnap you, I’ll do the blindfold bit,” he murmured, drawing her close, putting his arms around her.
Kerry braced her arms against his chest, but couldn’t resist the fluttering sensations that washed through her as he drew her tighter and tighter against his own hard body. And truth to be told, she didn’t want to resist. Slowly she raised her face, and met his kiss.
Eons later, or was it only moments, he released her. “Midnight madness,” he murmured.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
—Megan Madacy’s journal, Summer 1923
MIDNIGHT MADNESS. Kerry nodded. It was as good a name as any for what had just happened. She turned and walked swiftly toward her aunt’s home, thoughts and emotions and feelings all churning inside until she thought she’d go crazy. She was not going to fall for Jake Mitchell again.
But it was hard to convince herself when her body still tingled from being held by him, when she could still taste him on her lips. Maybe he’d changed. Maybe leopards did change their spots. No, she shook her head to dispel the notion. By his age, he was firmly set in his ways. It would take a miracle to change the man. And she was fresh out of miracles.
The dew was forming on the grass. Her feet were getting cold. And she couldn’t believe she wore nothing but her nightshirt. Her aunt would be scandalized. Even her very liberated mother would probably raise an eyebrow at her attire.
“Good night, Kerry,” he said when they reached the porch steps.
“Good night.” She dashed up the steps, pausing at the door. Looking at him over her shoulder, she impulsively blurted out an invitation.
“I’m making jambalaya on Saturday. Sally and Greg are coming for dinner. Want to join us?” She held her breath. If he said no, she’d invite Carl. But before the thought could even make itself known, he accepted.
“What time?”
“Sixish.” Committed, she entered the house and closed the door firmly behind her before she could do something foolish like turn around and fling herself into his arms. Proudly she resisted peeking through the window to watch as he walked back home. It would never do to show such an interest. Though what he thought of her after the way she responded to his kisses was beyond her. He had to know she would never turn him down.
And yet, maybe that was exactly what she needed to do. Instead, she’d invited him for Saturday.
Shivering slightly in the night air, she hurried up to bed. But sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. Her blood hummed through her veins. Her skin tingled and her heart rate was still out of control. Switching off the light, she tried to fall asleep, but it proved impossible. All she could do was remember his kiss, relive the touch of his skin against hers, his mouth moving, his tongue stroking, his hands molding her body to his.
Sitting up, she flicked the light back on and reached for Great-grandma Megan’s journal. If she couldn’t sleep for thinking about Jake, time she took her mind off him.
Mama seems to have an old saying or old wives’ tale for every event in life. Today she and I were preparing supper when she looked at me and winked. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she said. Daddy loves red-eyed gravy and so we were fixing one of his favorite meals that included gravy over rice. A happily fed man is content, and easy to be around, she added. So am I to cook for Frederick? I don’t see when I can. Except for maybe the box social that is usually held the Fourth of July. But that is months away. How can I show him what a good cook I am before then? I love getting all this advice from other women, but hate to let everyone know of my interest in Frederick. What if he never returns my regard?
I think Mama suspects, however. She did say maybe I should think about preparing a Sunday dinner soon. We could invite the pastor and his wife. And maybe Frederick. She didn’t say anything more, and it is a good idea. But I’ve never known her to include anyone else when we have the pastor and his wife for Sunday dinner. I already know Frederick loves fried chicken. Cousin Biddy says I make the best
fried chicken in the family. Wonder if Frederick will like it.
Kerry reread the passages she’d read that morning. Well, chalk up another one for Megan, she thought. Now if Jake liked her jambalaya—suddenly aware of where her thoughts were leading, Kerry tossed the journal aside and settled down to go to sleep. She’d think of how hard she’d worked in New York, of where she wanted to find another job, of what she’d wear on Saturday night.
Kerry went shopping Friday morning for the ingredients for her jambalaya. She spent the afternoon cleaning the house, though she planned for dinner to be served on the patio. Still, it was nice to mindlessly do tasks at her own pace. She had quickly bounced back from her feeling of listlessness after working so hard all winter and spring. In fact, she was beginning to get a little restless.
Monday, she’d seriously begin to look for that job. And maybe check out apartments in the Charlotte area. If she found something soon, she’d have to make a quick trip to New York to pack and arrange to ship her furniture and belongings south. Maybe Sally would take a few days off and come with her. They could take in a Broadway show and she could show off New York to her cousin before heading back.
Saturday dawned hot and humid. Kerry prepared the jambalaya early, wanting it to simmer all day to blend the flavors. She planned to serve a fresh mixed green salad and hot cornbread with pineapple upside-down cake for dessert—her aunt’s recipe. It had been a favorite of Jake’s. She remembered him stopping by when she was younger and eating huge pieces of her aunt’s cake.
Hearing a lawn mower, Kerry glanced out the window sometime later. Jake was cutting his lawn. Fascinated by the man he’d become, she watched for several long moments. He wore only those ragged cutoffs and tatty old tennis shoes. The sun gleamed on his skin—his shoulders and chest muscular and solid looking. The dark tan was still surprising so early in the summer, yet if he did all his yard work without a shirt, that explained it.
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