Ecstasy

by Gwynne Forster

  “You don’t think my doctor is being overly cautious?”

  He pulled her back into his arms, and she welcomed it, loved the feel of his hands stroking her back.

  “No, I don’t. Hell, he wouldn’t approve of the heat you turned on there either.” His grin sent her heart into a dizzy trot. “Woman, you pick the damndest times to put me on a rack.”

  “Are you going to spend the night?”

  His rueful smile touched her heart.

  “That’s right. Turn the knife.” His demeanor darkened. “Jeannetta, I do not claim to be a saint, and I’m starved damned near to death for you.”

  She sucked on her bottom lip and glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes.

  “The guest room?”

  He glared at her. “You’re pitching hardball, honey; I’m going home.”

  “Of course you are. Tomorrow morning. Right now, you’re going to eat a sandwich, drink a glass of milk, and get some sleep. What’s so funny?” she asked when his booming laugh reverberated throughout the house.

  “Just the right touch. As soon as you see reason, I’ll let you tell me when to get up and when to go to bed; I may even eat oatmeal for you but, tonight, baby, I’m going back to New York.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Does the sun rise in the east?” He got his medical bag, took out the sack of peanuts, and asked her, “Where can I warm these up?”

  “You don’t want a sandwich,” she asked him, walking toward the kitchen.

  “We will not discuss what I want, Jeannetta. I haven’t had any hot roasted peanuts in ages, and this is a good time for them.”

  “You won’t get to New York until after midnight.” He dumped half of the nuts into the pan she gave him and put them in the oven.

  “True. But I’ll like myself when I get there.”

  “What about the sunrise?”

  “There’ll be others, plenty of them.”

  She watched his face bloom into a smile, as though reflecting a cherished idea.

  He had, indeed, been thinking of the two of them, she knew, when he said, “Ever since my parents died, I wanted to live in a big house high on a hill with the world visible from every direction.” His smile slowly ebbed. “You could have your sunset, and I, my sunrise.” In that second, she had a glimpse of him as the man she needed and wanted for herself, and she wouldn’t settle for less. Go on, let it out, she wanted to shout at him when he concentrated on removing the nuts from the oven. She let her right hand cover his left one so he’d know that she understood his need, but he avoided her eyes, took her hand, sat down, and focused on the peanuts.

  “What’s that?” he whispered. Goose pimples broke out on her bare arms as she caught his tension. “Any wild animals around here? There it is again.” He jumped up from the table and raced toward the front door.

  “Mason, wait. That sounds like Casper.” The low growl grew louder and more ominous.

  “My Cougar is the only car out there. What do you think he’s after?” He doused the lights in the living room and looked out of the window. The growling intensified and, when a loud yell rang out, she clamped her hand over her mouth.

  “Steady, baby. Do you have a gun around here anywhere?” She shook her head.

  “I don’t know. I c...c...couldn’t u...u...use it if th...there was one.” She had never had a need for the big dog’s protection, and needles pricked her whole body at the sound of his increasingly loud and angry growl.

  “I’m going out there; he could kill somebody.”

  * * *

  It had never occurred to Mason that Jeannetta could move with such speed. In a second, she was between him and the door, facing him with an expression of defiance that he would not have associated with her.

  “You’re not going out there. Period.” He checked himself when he would have moved her aside and summoned control.

  “I can take care of myself, and you, too, if necessary. So please step aside.” She didn’t budge.

  “David said Casper won’t mortally wound anybody unless the person tried to get in the house or attacks someone who lives here, but if you go out there...” The growling had ceased, and he thought he heard scratching and whimpering.

  “Is that Casper?” She moved quickly, grabbing his hand, and he followed her to the back door. He opened the door, but the dog didn’t enter.

  “I think he wants us to follow him,” he told her. “You stay behind me.” They saw a youth dragging himself away from the house, and Casper ran ahead and stopped him.

  “What were you up to?” Mason asked the boy.

  “I didn’t know he’d bite. I...I was going to take him home with me. I thought maybe he was a hunting dog. I wanted a pet.”

  “How old are you?” Jeannetta asked the boy, who was favoring his arm.

  “Sixteen.”

  Mason looked at Casper to make certain that the dog trusted him. Satisfied, he told the boy, “I’d better look at your arm; come on inside.” They started back to the house and Casper blocked the way.

  “I can’t let him go off like this; he could get an infection, gangrene. Try to get Casper to walk back to his house with you.” He could see that Casper wouldn’t cooperate, took the little phone hooked to his left side, and dialed nine-one-one.

  “We’ll stand here until we get help, because this dog has no intention of letting the boy in the house.”

  “He’ll be in trouble,” Jeannetta said.

  Pity was not what the boy needed, he told her, as he recalled Skip’s desperate efforts to avoid getting into trouble; this boy needed discipline. “Better now than later.” He looked directly at the young man. “The next time you want a dog or anything else, find a job, go to work and, get it honestly.” When the police arrived, along with an ambulance, Mason dressed the boy’s shoulder wounds, gave him an antibiotic and a stern lecture, and stood with Jeannetta and Casper until their intruder and the others were out of sight. Casper wagged his tail, and Mason knew that morning would find him in West Tiana. Probably sleeping on the porch, he murmured to himself, fighting off the onset of an ill temper.

  “It’s definitely too late...” Jeannetta began. He looked at her, shrouded in bright moonlight and her come-hither dress. Not that the dress made a difference; she would have enticed him if she’d been draped in a sackcloth.

  “Go to bed, Jeannetta,” he told her, “that way, we’ll both stay out of trouble.”

  “But where will...?”

  He arched both brows and seared her with a libidinous stare, exposing his need for her.

  “Alright. Alright,” she said. “The guest room’s upstairs to your left at the end of the hall. See you in the morning.”

  He watched as she wasted no time getting up the stairs. He took a coat from the hall closet, walked out on the screened-in side porch, pulled off his pants, shirt, and shoes, and stretched out on the chaise lounge. He threw David’s coat over himself to ward off the cooling air. Not for money would he go up those stairs; he didn’t think he’d ever walked in his sleep, but there was a first time for everything.

  * * *

  Jeannetta looked down at the dress pooled around her feet. Did she dare to walk back down those stairs? He’d welcome her; she didn’t doubt that. But she also knew that he wouldn’t hold her in high esteem if she seduced him into violating his principles. And he had made it clear that, where her health was concerned, the doctor ruled the man. She walked to the window and looked out at the moonlit garden, its plants already adjusting to the changing season. She ought to be grateful for what she had, and she was, but the man she loved was bunked downstairs somewhere while she prowled in her bedroom, hot enough to ignite a furnace. What she felt bore no relation to gratitude. She wondered if it would help to scream.

  “Girl, you’re getting
yourself shook up,” she muttered aloud, as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off the thongs. She stretched out on the coverlet, hoping he’d forget about honor and open her door.

  She awoke with the thought that if Mason really had made love with her twice, the experience hadn’t exactly blown his mind. She showered, dressed, and went downstairs. When she didn’t see him in the den or the living room, she rushed to the window and let out a long breath. Thank God. His car was there. She found him in the kitchen, shirtless, stirring pancake batter. Her eyes rounded and her bottom lip dropped, before she could gather her composure, and she battled a wild urge to run her hands over his naked shoulders, biceps and every inch of flesh not hidden by his undershirt.

  “Good morning.” She knew he’d caught her ogling him, and ducked her head in embarrassment. “Where did you sleep?”

  He looked up at her and grinned. “Hi. I slept on the porch. Do you know that’s the first time I ever slept outdoors? The air was wonderful, and after a while all the night creatures went to sleep and you never heard such quiet...” His voice trailed off into a dark whisper. “Like what you see?” He set the cup of batter on the counter and started toward her, but she backed up and put the table between them.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. The next time you start a fire in this house,” she pointed to herself, “you are going to put it out.” Her pulse raced as he looked down at her and smiled, the slow, intimate beauty of it dulling her senses.

  “You’re the one who started that hot scene last night,” he said, his smile broadening and lights dancing in his eyes. “All I was after was a kiss, but you pulled out the stops and, honey, I’m a hungry man.”

  She nodded toward the stove and the smoking frying pan. “Is that why you’re making pancakes?”

  He rounded the table, pulled her to him, and covered her lips in a quick, demanding kiss before releasing her and walking back to the stove.

  “I’m making these things because I always eat breakfast, and that’s all I could find, but pancakes and nothing else that goes in my stomach are going to satisfy the hunger I’m talking about. So be a smart gal and stay away from the subject of my appetite. Where’s the butter?”

  “Butter? I’d think a doctor would be concerned about cholesterol.”

  “Absolutely. Where’s the butter?” She got it for him, and her eyebrows arched at his practiced performance when he shook the pan and flipped over a cake.

  “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

  “Working in dozens of greasy spoons. I hope that stuff over there is maple syrup.” He pointed toward a bottle.

  “It is. Where’d you grow up?”

  His head came up sharply. “San Francisco. Would you rather eat in here or on the patio? The sun’ll be up in about half an hour, and I’d hoped we could watch the sunrise together.”

  “I love it out on the patio early in the morning; give me a minute to set the table.” She went in the pantry for the linens and flatware and leaned against the doorjamb, certain that all she longed for had slipped through her fingers. Maybe she asked for more than he could give.

  * * *

  He took her hand as they walked down to the beach after breakfast with the early morning breeze whipping around them. Contentment, peace, enveloped him, and he let his right arm circle her waist and bring her closer to him.

  “When I didn’t see you in the living room or the den, I thought you’d left.”

  “That isn’t my style. No offense meant, of course,” he added, stopping and tweaking her nose. “Not like some people I know.”

  She showed no remorse for it, and he asked her whether she deserved some punishment for putting him through hell with her international escapades.

  “I am not going to let you drag us into a fight and ruin this perfect morning.”

  They reached the beach, deserted but for them, pulled off their shoes, and walked along the water’s edge as the sky welcomed the dazzling colors of the rising sun.

  “If I wasn’t dressed, I’d stretch out here.” He pointed to a spot in the sand. “I love the feel of sand and cool breeze on my body.”

  Jeannetta picked up a handful of yellow grains and let them sift through her fingers, reminding him of other times he’d seen her do it. He wondered at its significance.

  “You ought to burn your red bikini swim trunks—if you could call them that; they’re indecent.”

  He stopped and gently turned her to face him. “You still think about that. Maybe you should have followed your instincts.”

  Her heavy lashes flew upward, and she looked into the distance. “Have you ever been... Has any woman ever...well...just taken you?”

  “You mean have I ever been raped?” He had to laugh at the idea.

  She nodded.

  “Well, noooooo. Of course not. I’m rather big for that, don’t you think?”

  She looked out across the ocean, wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, and then met his gaze. “You came pretty close to it that morning on the Lido beach.” He couldn’t have moved if disaster had threatened them. If she’d wanted him a full two months before they made love, it was small wonder that she gave herself with such abandon.

  “What stopped you?”

  “I told you; I came to my senses. I still can’t believe I got so close to committing such an awful crime.” She stared, tongue-tied, as his laughter reverberated through the trees.

  “A crime? We won’t discuss what my reaction would have been, at least not so long as I’m still dealing with self-imposed celibacy.”

  Her gape of amazement was followed by a smile so dazzling that he had to believe she prized beyond measure his admission to wanting only her. He glanced at his watch. Seven forty-five, and time he headed back to the city and checked out things in his office. They strolled arm in arm to the house, and as they reached the patio, the ringing of his phone jarred their quiet world.

  “I’ve got to get back. Mabel is worse, and she wants to see Skip and me. Come back with me. After what I saw last night, I don’t see how I can leave you here.”

  “Please understand, Mason. I can’t leave the house, Casper, my work. You saw that Casper will protect me, so don’t worry.”

  “I need some tests on you, though that can wait a couple of weeks. But, honey, this place is deserted. Casper is a powerful dog, but could he handle two or three thugs, especially if they had guns?”

  “The police were here within minutes after you called them last night. I have to stay, so please don’t make me displease you.”

  “I don’t want you out here alone where I can’t protect you.” What had he said to get her back up? He looked down at the fist propped on her hip and shook his head. If he lived to be a thousand, he’d never understand women.

  “Now what?”

  “You want to protect me, but it isn’t protection that I need; I need you.”

  He frowned.

  “What are you talking about? I’ve offered myself to you, and you’ve made it clear that you’ll have me as a lover, but not as your husband. What does that make me in your estimation?”

  “Oh, Mason, if only I could make you understand.” He had to go; Mabel had about used up her resources, and time was of the essence. He phoned Laura and told her to send Skip to New York.

  “I’ve got to go.” He turned and looked at her. “You may wear your hair combed over that wound when you go out but, at other times, keep it uncovered.” He grasped her hand. “Come on.” She walked him to his car and stood on tiptoe for his kiss. She had to sense, to feel the pain that he couldn’t hide from her. “I’ll call you.” As he drove off, he glanced at the rear-view mirror to see her white gauzy dress billowing in the breeze, and Casper standing close to her side, wagging his tail.

  Chapter 12

  Jeannetta couldn’t work; her
mind clung to her tepid parting with Mason. She remembered how her parents had shared everything, had discussed problems, painful and pleasant, with Laura and herself. As far as she knew, they never argued and, with the wisdom of adulthood, she believed that their peace and congeniality sprang as much from knowledge of each other as from love. So she didn’t think she had erred in holding out for the best of Mason. If she only knew why he wouldn’t share himself with her, she’d know where to begin.

  She walked out into the still, cool morning and released Casper. He stood obediently while she hooked a chain to his collar, and wagged his tail in anticipation of his morning frolic on the beach. It amazed her that the big dog didn’t use his strength against her to force his will, but always waited patiently for her direction. After twenty minutes of chasing behind him, she brought him back to the house, took off the chain, fed him, and was about to put him in his house when his tail stood. She turned to see a Lincoln Town Car pull into the driveway.

  A tall, well-dressed, and obviously furious man rushed from it, but Casper’s angry growl brought him to a sudden halt. For the next half hour she dealt with a surly and indulgent parent who automatically took her for a maid. Upon learning that she wasn’t, he demanded that she have the charges against his son dropped and his record cleared. It cheered her that Casper’s presence tempered the man’s belligerence. A bully, that’s what he was, but not with Casper. He ranted and bellowed at her but, with each glance at Casper, he took a step backward.

  “You ought to be thankful that my visitor was a surgeon who took care of your son’s wounds. Your boy got a good lesson for trying to steal a dog. When my friends get back, you may speak to them about the charges; it’s their house and their dog. Now, please leave.”

  “How dare you...”

  “Do you intend to leave with or without Casper’s help? You’ve got thirty seconds.” After shaking his fist in the air, the man bolted for his car, got in, and rolled down the window.

  “I hope I don’t find out that you’ve bought the place because, if I do, you’ll be looking for another one, and you’ll have a hell of a time selling this.” He backed out, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if the speed with which he did it had split his tires. She went inside and called Laura.