On the Edge

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Oh, dear lady,” he said softly. “Your mind is certainly goin’ in little circles. Could it be you drank too much’? Mr. Lamar will never forgive me if I don’t make sure you get home safely.”

  She seethed. Sweat broke out on her back. “If there’s one thing I don’t have to put up with, it’s a fuck-and-run artist.” Half expecting him to push her away, Sally reached for his bow tie. “Υοu can run, honey, but I’m getting one for the road. And if you expect to last around here, I’ll get it again and again.”

  Ben didn’t stop her from wrenching his tie undone and pulling the studs on his shirt free. He did push the bruised blossom nonchalantly inside her dress. He kept his hand inside and kneaded a breast until she fought to tear his shirt aside, panting in her hurry, angling her pelvis toward him.

  “Mrs. Lamar,” he said, the tone of his voice unbelievably even, “you really should try to control yourself, you.”

  He plucked at her nipple, rolled it, freed her breast from the dress she’d imagined him taking off her.

  “Oh, Ben, Ben,” she said, “you have a kinky sense of humor, but I could come to love it. Don’t stop. Oh, don’t you stop.”

  “You’re not yourself.”

  “I am very much myself. And myself is getting better every second. Help me get your clothes off. I want to see your body shine in the dark.”

  She didn’t have to guess if he wanted what she wanted. He was hard enough to make holes in concrete. Sally pressed her thighs together and dipped, reveled in what she felt while she got his pants undone.

  He removed his hand from her breast.

  “I told you not to stop,” she said, gasping and looking up at him. He pushed out the tip of his tongue, pulled it in again, and grinned. “You are teasin’ me, you beast.”

  Laughing, she released him and struggled out of the halter top of her dress until she was nude to the waist. Hands on hips, she backed away, turned sideways, always looking at him while she posed, knowing the moonlight shone on her breasts.

  It also shone on Ben’s strongly muscled chest, and on a beautiful promise that rose from a thick mat of pubic hair. His pants clung at the level of his massive thighs. He stared, and that thrilled her, but he didn’t make a move toward her.

  “I do believe we’re going to hold a little lady’s-choice.” Giggling breathlessly, Sally inched her abbreviated skirt upward until it joined her bodice and revealed the tiny black G-string she wore.

  Ben beckoned with a single finger. He held his tongue between his teeth now and ate her with his eyes.

  “Yes,” she told him. “Oh, yes.”

  He wasn’t passive anymore. With one arm he swept her up and planted her on the bench. With the other he held her to him while he buried his face in her breasts. He took as much of her as he could suck into his mouth. It hurt, but she liked it that way.

  She ripped the G-string away herself, and gasped when he turned his face up to hers. He was every bit as beautiful as she’d ever thought he was. Another powerful move and he had her legs wrapped around his waist while he took her to the only paradise she cared to visit. How could one man have so much? Every part of her ached and clenched. He stretched her, and she loved it.

  With a great burst of motion, he made her come. He did it, and did it carrying her while he rammed her up and down. And he didn’t come out of her when he was finally still. Waves kept right on blasting all those good places.

  “Careful,” he said. “Hold on to something, please.” And he backed against the bars.

  Sally giggled and bumped up and down until she felt him growing hard again. Ben let her go and she squealed, clinging to her handholds on the bars. When he raised his hands again, he held two fresh blossoms. He licked each one slowly, smiling at her all the while. Then he crowned each of her nipples with his damp tributes that stuck to her skin, and she closed her eyes.

  Α snick sounded, and something sent light across her closed eyelids.

  “What was that?” she said, opening her eyes and twisting around.

  “Oh, no,” Ben said. “Stop it. You, get away. you.”

  Α camera strobe flashed again, and Sally screamed.

  Chapter 20

  Celina had never felt more aware of being alone with a man than she did now, here in Jack’s home, and with the knowledge that he knew she was there because she’d wanted to be with him.

  He’d shown surprise when he’d opened the door to her, but then she’d been almost certain he was pleased she’d come. But people often saw what they wanted to see.

  As on her two previous visits, he settled her in his study, but the phone in the hall had rung before anything could be said, and he was talking to someone. She felt more gratified than she should that he’d made no attempt to find privacy for his conversation, but she soon realized he was talking to Tilly about Amelia. Why would he want privacy for that?

  “Put her on,” he told Tilly after a series of exchanges, then he said, “Hi, squirt. You havin’ a good time with your grandmother?”

  Celina eased out of the chair and went to study photos on Jack’s desk. They were all of Amelia—at various ages—apart from one of a very young woman who was so like Amelia that she was obviously the child’s mother.

  “I have told you not to go up there, young lady,” Jack said. “No. And I am not amused that you’re makin’ a scene like this in front of your grandmother. She looks forward to seeing you, and it isn’t kind to make up stories to try to get home the minute you get there.”

  He’d raised a little girl who, understandably, adored her daddy and didn’t want to be with anyone else. He was also responsible for her storytelling penchant.

  Looking into the older version of Amelia’s face made Celina deeply sad. How could someone with so much decide to leave it all behind?

  “Amelia Elise Charbonnet, there are no witches in this house—no, no, right, no witches across the street, then. And no ghosts with binoculars either. Sweetheart, I have told you to stay out of the attic. You could fall and hurt yourself up there.’’

  Celina glanced at the windows. It was dark outside, but the moon iced grillwork on galleries overhanging sidewalks across the street. She moved closer.

  “You haven’t seen the people who live there because they’re very old." Jack sounded less patient. “Two old ladies who never go out. No they aren’t witches, Amelia. And that’s enough. What? No, you don’t turn into a ghost when you get real old, and their food must be delivered. Now—You imagined little red lights, squirt. That’s it, Amelia. Now be kind to Tilly and your grandmother. I love you. Good night.”

  It took Jack several more firm instructions before he could finally hang up.

  Celina parted the curtains and stared at the windows opposite. They were all dark. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” she said when he returned to the room. She nodded at the buildings they faced. “They do look closed up, don’t they? I expect Amelia’s been practicing the skills she’s inherited from you.”

  “Why don’t you come and—”

  “Sit down?” she finished for him. “And stay away from the windows, maybe?”

  “I didn’t say that, you did.” He sounded aggrieved.

  “So I did. I have absolutely no right to intrude upon you, and I’m not going to dream up an excuse. You get the truth. Cyrus has decided to try to please our parents by going to the Lamars’ party, and I didn’t want to stay in Royal Street on my own. I left a note to say I’d be here with you and asked him to call when he gets back.”

  “I wanted you here with me.”

  She smiled nervously. “Thank you.” Since Rose left, there hadn’t been a moment’s respite from the struggle to decide what to do about the information she’d been given, the evidence of bestiality she’d been shown.

  “Antoine’s wife was a surprise.”

  Celina was startled. She said, “She wasn’t what I’d expected.”

  “What’s the excuse for Antoine’s absence? Is he ill? Did she say anything about hi
s visit to Dwayne—or about what he thinks he saw?”

  She could tell him, ask him what she ought to do. “I’m still not sure about why he wasn’t at work today.” Her mouth was dry. Rose had been so adamant that Celina not tell anyone anything.

  “The woman was edgy. I thought maybe she was afraid of something.”

  “I don’t think she liked coming to me. She...she didn’t say anything much.”

  Celina saw the instant when Jack lost interest in Rose. He said, “Are you hungry?”

  “I’ve eaten. And I’ve had juice and milk. And I took some vitamins.”

  “You need prenatal vitamins.”

  He made her smile again. “You aren’t my daddy, Jack.”

  “Thank God, chère. I am your future husband, your soon-to-be husband. And I’m going to be that child’s father.” He indicated her stomach. “That’s part of the deal. I’m not takin’ it on lightly. But I am in a hurry. I have to think of Amelia. She needs to be made part of the whole baby sibling thing, and I don’t want it sprung on her a couple of weeks before you give birth.”

  “You are so matter-of-fact.”

  “What...sorry. I’ve been organizing my own life for a long time.”

  Celina shivered a little without knowing why. She crossed her arms. “You were going to ask me what I expect other than a no-nonsense approach to this. And you’re right. I’m going to keep on being direct, Jack. If you’re sure about this marriage, then I’m sure. Part of me keeps whispering that I want you because you’ll give me and the baby safety. And that’s true. But I can be good for you too.”

  His sudden wicked grin confused her. “I know you can be good for me, chère,” he told her. “I know we can be good for each other—and with each other.”

  Men were unbelievable. “You aren’t talking about sex again. You can’t be.”

  He shrugged and appeared the slightest bit abashed. “I might be, Indirectly, of course. But it was accidental, honestly.”

  “Of course it was.” To hide her smile, she turned back to the window. She shouldn’t be having a moment’s rest or cheerfulness when she knew Antoine was being held prisoner by some depraved creatures and Rose was beside herself with worry over her husband. The bloody shirt had been terrible, but the tooth had reduced Celina to trembling horror.

  “Would you like to see the rest of the place?” Jack asked.

  Rose had made her promise not to tell anyone what she now knew. Talking to Jack about it would be such a relief. Surely she should ask someone for help.

  “Celina? Can I show you around? I think it’ll work out just fine. There’s plenty of room, and with Tilly’s quarters upstairs, I don’t see any problems.”

  If she broke her word to Rose and something happened to her, and Antoine...and their boys... She couldn’t say anything, not yet. Maybe Cyrus was the one to talk to. He was accustomed to keeping confidences.

  She didn’t know Jack had come up behind her until he touched her back and turned her to face him.

  “Do you want to share what’s on your mind?” he asked.

  This was the time to tell him. “No. Except that everything is so strange. If we go ahead with this, it’ll be a modern-day marriage of convenience, won’t it?”

  “Not entirely. Not anymore. And we are going ahead with it. I asked you. You’ve accepted. By sometime next week you’ll he my wife. I expect you’ll want to keep your own name.”

  “Moving right along?” Somehow she didn’t feel like laughing. “Would you prefer that I keep my own name?”

  He raised his brows. “Isn’t that back to front? Aren’t you supposed to ask me if I’d prefer you to take my name, then politely suggest you’re a thoroughly modern woman who would never consider such a thing?”

  No more games. “I think Charbonnet is a lovely name. If you feel comfortable, I’d like to take it. And I’ll expect to sign a prenuptial agreement. It shouldn’t be hard to get it drawn up. I have no right to anything of yours. You’re already giving me a great deal.”

  “I’m getting a great deal,” he said, silencing her entirely. “But I appreciate your being sensitive to sensitive issues.”

  She would speak to Cyrus. Perhaps she should return there now, just in case he’d got home and hadn’t seen the note.

  “Celina?”

  “Yes,” she said sharply. “Yes, Jack. Thank you. Whatever you say.”

  He became quiet and the lamp on his desk picked up the gold flecks in his eyes. No man she’d ever known could look quite as serious as Jack when he was serious.

  “Well, if we’ve covered everything, I should get home.”

  “This is going to be your home. And you’re waiting for Cyrus to call, remember?”

  “I was. I’ve already intruded long enough.”

  “Not nearly long enough. Tilly and Amelia are gone until tomorrow.”

  “And you must be looking forward to a little peace. We all need that from time to time.”

  “I hated that discussion we just had.”

  For an instant she wasn’t sure what he meant. She watched his face and suddenly knew exactly what he’d been talking about. “It’s necessary for us to cover these things sensibly. I understand that.”

  Jack bowed and tapped the end of her nose with a forefinger. “It’s not necessary to be cold about something that should be warm. I’m attracted to you. If I weren’t, I would be worried about what we’re going to do. I’m not worried.”

  She considered only a moment before saying, “I’m not worried either.” This should all feel outrageous. Perhaps it did, but she wasn’t backing away.

  “Would you stay here with me tonight, Celina? Please?” He asked her a question, a particularly personal question—just like that?

  “I want us to be very comfortable together. This weekend will be the only opportunity we have to get a little used to each other before you move in permanently.”

  Dithery. Α simple question from a mature man to a mature woman, and that woman’s response was to feel like a dithery kid. “Perhaps we should put it off until Amelia’s had more time to get used to the idea.”

  “If things were different, I’d agree.”

  “If things were different, we wouldn’t be doing this.”

  He put his hands in his pockets. “I’m not so sure we wouldn’t eventually have been doing something together, Celina.”

  She had known her share of uncomfortable reactions, but Jack’s ability to make her throb beneath the skin ranked at the top of the intensity scale.

  “Surely, adversity threw us together,” he persisted. “Now. But I couldn’t have remained blind to what you really are forever.”

  “You don’t know what I really am. That kind of thing takes time.”

  “I’m terminatin’ this discussion. We are movin’ on. The front door is locked. There’s just you and me, chère. What do you say? Shall we see how we are together?”

  Celina cast about. She needed to sit down, to think, to regroup.

  “I am too cold,” he told her. “I am an ass. Tell me I’m an ass and you wouldn’t stay with me if I were the last man on earth. Shall we see how we are together? I’m sorry.”

  His frown revealed the vulnerability he usually hid completely. His frown and the worried set of his features, the way he ducked his head to study her face.

  “I’m not sorry, Jack. I’ll leave a message for Cyrus so he’ll know I’m not coming back tonight.”

  Once Jack Charbonnet hadn’t known a moment’s uncertainty with a woman. He didn’t feel uncertain now, did he? Strange, because the situation was strange, maybe, but not uncertain.

  He felt uncertain.

  In a quaint, old-world way, the two-floor apartment delighted Celina. She’d dutifully allowed Jack to show her around—more quickly than she would have preferred tonight—before ushering her into his bedroom. Two small rooms separated the master bedroom from Amelia’s little-girl-feminine domain. Celina had acknowledged to herself that she’d calculated the layout
of the rooms because she worried about sleeping with Jack and having his small daughter very near. The rooms between relieved her.

  Sleeping with Jack.

  They’d kissed. Danced in a courtyard in the sun. Held each other a couple of times. He’d “talked dirty,” to shock her—she smiled at that, while she observed how he drew heavy bronze-colored draperies over the windows. Their shared experience was almost nothing, yet he’d coolly asked her to spend the night, and she’d coolly accepted. Not coolly, but she had accepted.

  Jack faced her across the bed and thought that the colors in his room might have been chosen for her. Against the browns, beiges, and dull golds her skin took on a bloom, and the red in her hair became more obvious.

  “I haven’t been sleeping too well, Celina.”

  “It’s hard,” she told him. “We’ve been through so much.”

  “I wasn’t talking about what happened to Errol. I’ve spent plenty of time thinking about him, but you’ve been the one on my mind at night.”

  Her eyes were the kind that held a person’s soul. And if they were hiding a whole lot, he’d be surprised. She was full of hope, hope that they’d pull off a miracle and form a great relationship from the bones of a disaster. She wanted him to care about her, not just for her. And she wanted to care for him. He was sure those were the hopes he saw in her eyes. She’d give this thing her best shot.

  And he was turning into a romantic fool at the age of thirty-seven, when any man ought to know better.

  Romantic? Or had he deprived himself of a woman for long enough to make him mistake hormones for emotions. Dangerous stuff.

  He looked away.

  “I’m afraid to hope for anything,” she told him quietly. “I’m afraid we’re making a horrible mistake. I—From the first time I met you I’ve felt something. That thing you feel when—You took my breath away.” She laughed, and he returned his eyes to hers. “This should be taped and given to women in danger of making fools of themselves over men. It would save them.”

  “If it was taped and given to men who thought they didn’t need or want someone in their lives, it would change their minds.” He was stepping in too deep to climb out, but, hell, he was a big boy. If this was a giant error, he’d survive.