He sits down beside me on the bench and I breathe in his intoxicating fragrance. I desperately want this man to kiss me.
And then he does.
He slides one hand under my hair and grasps the nape of my neck, making me shiver with anticipation. He leans in. The split second before he captures my lips with his own, time slows. I close my eyes and let my mouth open and soften. His lips press firmly against mine with a passion that surprises me with its intensity. The world falls away and I moan with desire. I have waited for this first kiss too long and my body is now in charge. We are playing with fire. I have no right to encourage him, with the rules and plans that are in place. But I throw caution freely away with both hands as I reach up to pull him closer.
He thrusts his tongue inside my mouth. I desperately want him to enter more places with that talented tongue. I let him ravage my mouth, wishing he would just take me. I don’t want this moment to end. Ever. The kiss’s perfect harmony and pitch draws me in. I feel myself creaming and opening like a flower, needy as hell.
He reaches for me. Tight against his broad chest, my breasts swelling from the hard touch of him, my breath stills while his closeness arouses me further. His fragrance fills my nostrils. I can feel his heart pounding in my own chest, beating in perfect rhythm with mine. One of his hands pulls my hands up over my head, locked together, while the other roams freely over my upper body, rubbing my sensitive nipples to distraction. Masterful. Whoa. I moan aloud as my body succumbs to the urgent need to be touched by him. Tearing my clothes off and feeling unencumbered of material rubbing against my sensitive body is essential. I want his naked flesh against my naked flesh. Making me his own.
His breath caresses my face as he lays a trail of kisses on my cheek and down the side of my neck. I shiver with anticipation. Yes. More. Please. My brain focuses on what my body wants. What my body wants so badly…
Then my hands are suddenly free. The mood is broken as he abruptly pulls away, leaving me bereft and confused. He speaks as if nothing untoward has happened, as if we haven’t just shared the world’s greatest kiss.
“You play as if you’re part of the instrument. I’m in awe. Did you not think to have a career in music?”
I try to gather my scattered wits. How did he do that? Manage to pull away? I know I couldn’t have done it, even if the room were on fire. Maybe he was just testing to see if I’m a good kisser? If I can respond to a man? Some kind of initiation for the agency perhaps? I decide to play it cool as well, not wanting him to think less of me for not understanding the business. I’ll let him lead the way. At least for now. But all bets are off. Two can play this delicious game and the woman usually wins according to Sally, my resident expert on all things male.
“Business seemed a safer choice. But I am grateful that I have music in my life. I’ve missed playing since I’ve been in LA. My old upright piano is back home in Harlan County.” I’ve impressed myself with how normal my voice sounds. I’m so edgy with pent-up desire I was certain it would spill over and I’d sound like a lounge singer with a whiskey-tinged voice. That is, if I was lucky and I didn’t sound like a squeaky toy.
“You should have a piano to play every day. Will you play some more?”
“Much as I would like to, I think I’d better see the apartment you’ve been going on about.” I pretend to be far cooler than I feel. My acting classes are really paying off now. Was he used to kissing all the women that way? That thought helps contain my raging libido.
“Of course. Will you join me in a glass of wine first?”
Alcohol and this hunk? I think not. I shake my head. “No, I’ll pass.” For some reason playing the piano has left me melancholy with thoughts of home while the kiss has left me antsy and ready to jump into bed. He just missed out on some awesome sex, I console myself.
“Okay, I’ll just get the key.”
Jonathon leaves the room but is back almost immediately, key fob in hand.
“Shall we?” he offers and we head for the elevator.
He presses the button for the fifth floor, ten floors below his, and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least there will be something separating us.
The effects of the music and the kisses are still with me and when I glance over at him he looks like he might be feeling them too. He looks confused, as if he’s uncertain of his next move. I’ve not seen him like this before. Even during the robbery he looked large and in charge. It endears him to me whether I want it to or not. But in the next second his blue eyes bore into mine as I catch his eye. I look hastily away. He must be feeling some of the lust I’m overwhelmed by, but I’ll not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I want him.
Chapter Eight
He unlocks the apartment door by buzzing the key fob at it and gestures for me to precede him. The apartment is a far smaller version of his. It’s got a similar bank of windows, though the drapes are drawn. I don’t feel any pressing desire to live in such luxury—never expected it in my lifetime—but if staying safe is the only way Jonathon will allow me to keep this job, so be it.
I walk through the galley kitchen to the single bedroom. My heart beats quicker and with realization dawning, I open the walk-in-closet and see the clothes I tried on yesterday hanging there.
“What?” The single word escapes me and Jonathon gives me a sheepish look as he hovers by the doorway.
I glare at him and yank open the dresser drawers, finding my underwear laid out in neat stacks.
“I guess you thought I was a sure thing.” I sound huffy, but I’m royally pissed off. Excuse my French, Gran.
“It just seemed easier to arrange this than to have to store your new things until you found a place.” His voice is all reasonableness as he watches me. “This was easier for me too. I do have other businesses to run, Tess.”
I suddenly fill with guilt though what he’s done causes me other concerns. How did he manage this? I haven’t authorized anything. Of course, in his defense, he’s been giving me the five-star treatment and he’s only helping out with his sister’s business in his spare time. It will be easier to step away if I haven’t signed a lease. That thought just piles on more guilt.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, buster, but I want to be consulted from now on.” I let the “buster” fly to show how I feel.
“Sure. Now, how about that drink? We need to celebrate your new job and your new place.”
What’s to celebrate? I ask myself. Selling my soul to the devil?
It’s not as bad as all that, another voice peeps up. I’m a Gemini by birth and I’m certain I have two different people warring within me. The one who sees everything in black and white and the one who sees the world in shades of gray, the side that the imp usually takes. I’m never sure who’s right.
“Just a quick one. I have to be getting home. I have a final exam in two days,” I acquiesce. It’s hard to say no to him ‘cause I don’t want to say no. A huge part of me wants to say yes.
Back in his condo, I sit down on the fine white leather sofa and look at all the lights twinkling through the glass. He pours us each a glass of white wine from the bar on the wall near the windows. It slides open at the touch of a finger, all glistening stainless steel.
I take a sip, realizing from the wine’s cold, fresh crispness that the bar must also house a small refrigerator.
“Very nice,” I compliment him as he sits down on a winged back chair covered with a damask fabric in white and cream stripes across from me. It feels like being inside a Better Homes and Gardens photo.
He smiles his gratitude and tastes his wine and then places it on a coaster atop the glass-topped side table. I quickly swallow a few more sips that tantalize my taste buds. I don’t want this final moment of the evening to take very long, but he notices and comments.
“Don’t rush it, Tess, a wine of this caliber is meant to be appreciated.” He gives me a searching look and asks, “So what other talents are you hiding from me? You’re a remarkable piano player—fa
r more accomplished than I am.”
“My parents and then my Gran insisted on what was available. Let’s see, some baton twirling and singing—that was about it.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“No, though I’ve often wished for one. How many do you have?”
“Just my sister Katherine. She’s full of surprises, that one.”
“How so?” I am intrigued. Just how did a woman from a well-off family end up in the escort business anyway?
“Her choices have always been a little out there. But she loves to make money and the Rosemère Agency certainly supplies her with it.”
“What other business are you in, Jonathon?”
“I’m chiefly involved in computer security systems. My company develops and sells software to commercial clients looking to protect their business from hackers. With so much private information being sent over the internet, it’s become a very lucrative business. It’s challenging to keep ahead of those wishing to harm big business. But keeping our monetary systems safe feels very worthwhile to me.” He shrugs, but I can see that he is proud of his accomplishments.
I nod with approval. “I would guess that your business would also be of some use to your sister with her transactions being—ah—rather sensitive.” I finish lamely. I don’t know the right words.
“Yes, she’s made use of our software exclusively since she started the company. And we have managed to keep her clients secure and her safe, I’m happy to say.”
“When did she start Rosemère Agency?”
“Let’s see, I’d guess,” he pauses for a moment, “just over five years ago. This is her first baby. I don’t know how much longer she’ll continue now that she’s starting a family. I’m personally hoping she gets out and stays home to raise her children. I imagine that sounds rather old-fashioned.” His grin is self-effacing, making it very endearing, but his comments fit his gentlemanly style. I’m not certain I approve of any of this, though I do know I want the freedom to choose to work when and if I have children someday, but I think better of judging him. I mean, look at what I’m doing.
“Then I guess I’d better make my money and get out,” I tease.
“You know, a girl with your many talents—” He leans in closer making the space between us vanish. The moment suspends and I lick my lips, willing it to happen, the wineglass all but forgotten in my hand.
A hard knock on the door startles us both. Guiltily I swallow the last of my wine, knowing it’s my cue to leave. I set the wineglass down and move to the edge of my seat in preparation as he goes to answer the door. I’m facing the windows and look out discretely, studying the view. I don’t want to be nosy about his visitor. I just work for the man after all.
“Jonathon! Thank God you’re home.” In those few words I sense a world of agitation. I cannot help myself and I swivel my head round and see a woman looking distraught as she grabs at Jonathon. Her face is pale and her dark blonde hair is untidily swept back into a ponytail.
“What’s wrong?” He hugs her back and I can see the woman’s face clearly before she registers that I’m there watching her.
“I’m sorry—you have company,” she apologizes and clams up. I see her face realign itself as she grabs better control. It’s like a mask descends while her eyes shutter.
“You shouldn’t be here, Katherine. You know what the doctor said. It’s not good for the baby.”
The visitor is his sister. What’s so wrong that she had to come to her brother, perhaps endangering her baby?
“Yes, but I need to speak with you in private, Jonathon. It’s very, very urgent.”
Again I can hear a streak of what sounds like fear charging her tone. I chew at my bottom lip as the negative energy passes from her into the room and washes over to me.
“Okay.”
He takes his sister’s arm and assists her across the foyer and into another room and I hear a door closing. In that brief moment when she’s in full view I can see her round tummy pushing against her red maternity top over the dark washed jeans. She’s tall for a woman, only a few inches shorter than Jonathon, and I can see the resemblance. They have similar coloring, though she’s highlighted her hair a few shades lighter.
The minutes tick away and stretch my nerves to the limit. I don’t handle this kind of stress well. It’s always better to know what’s wrong. Though of course this is none of my business.
Then I hear a door and Jonathon comes back into the room alone.
“I’ll take you home now, Tess,” he announces, grabbing his keys from the dish on the side table near the door.
“Is everything all right?”
“Fine. She worries too much about business. But we should go.”
“I can take a taxi. It’s no problem,” I say, not wanting him to leave his sister alone.
“No, I’ll drive you,” he responds sternly, his face as shuttered as his sister’s, and I know in my queasy stomach that something is very wrong.
I pick up my purse and we are out the door and in the elevator in quick time. It’s a silent ride back to my place. I don’t want to bother him for I can see whatever is wrong weighs heavily on him.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Tess,” he says tersely though he manages a quick smile for me as he pulls up in front of my building.
“Thanks. I hope things work out okay,” I mumble and clamber out, not giving him time to come around and open my door. He drives off as soon as I close the car door. I stare at the car receding in the distance for a moment and wonder what’s gone wrong.
Chapter Nine
Good grief. I hold up the scraps of fabric that make up the fancy maid’s costume. A courier delivered it just minutes ago. I can feel myself blushing from tip to toe. I’ve taken a break from studying for my final exam to open the package, very curious to see what it contained. Now I wish I hadn’t. Because after my exam tomorrow I’m scheduled to see my first client. Though “see” isn’t exactly accurate as I’ll be the one he watches over the surveillance system. Creepy or what? How am I going to concentrate on studying now?
The entire costume consists of a perky white cap, a French maid’s uniform so short it’s indecent, thigh-high black stockings that stay up on their own, a white lace thong and a red feather duster. And of course the mandatory sky-high black heels. Like anyone could do actual housework in these. I slip them on to see if they fit. Of course they do.
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, as Gran was fond of saying. I shuck my jeans and tee shirt and pull the uniform up to my hips and then slip the sleeves up over my arms. The buttons are too tight at my boobs making the top bulge open, exposing a whole lot of me. O—kay. Well at least my nipples are covered. I pull on the stockings making a mental note to self to shave my legs and underarms tomorrow morning. I totter into the heels and then try a practice run across the carpet of my bedroom. I’ve locked the door because there is no way I want Sally seeing me in this getup.
I manage not to break my neck, which is a good thing, and then pick up the feather duster and give it a go. The explicit instructions on the email had said I was supposed to spend a lot of time bending over. I find myself feeling grateful for the thong, what little there is of it. At least it affords some privacy. Okay, I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
I hurriedly strip off the costume and hide it away in a bureau drawer under a stack of freshly laundered tees. I head to the kitchen for milk and a snack. My brain needs glucose. I stand at the sink and eat the three Oreo cookies dunked in milk, carefully pulling off the top cookie first and eating it, then licking off the icing of the second cookie before consuming it. It’s a ritual I’ve had since childhood. Finished, I rinse the glass and set it aside then place the cookie package back in the cupboard. The actions soothe me and I head back to my bedroom to resume the studying marathon.
* * * * *
As I leave the exam room I feel I’ve done pretty well, managed to answer most questions on the three-hour exam. I mentally pa
t myself on the back, glad to escape the large auditorium that houses dozens of students bent over their papers like ancient monks transcribing the Bible. Checking my watch, I see that I have time for a quick lunch before my shift at the campus bookstore. I totally ignore what comes after. I’ve been compartmentalizing my life of late and it’s working for me.
The cafeteria is quiet. Exam week is like this. Students who have finished are gone and schedules are weird. I get a container of milk from the bored attendant and head to an empty table bathed in late morning sunlight. I throw my backpack on an extra neon-orange plastic chair and plunk myself down. Pulling my peanut butter and jam sandwich from the backpack, I peel back the plastic wrap and take a bite, washing it down with milk. Going over my answers in my head, my mind is in the clouds.
“Earth to Tess. How did you do on the exam?” Monica, a fellow classmate, asks loudly as she plops down on a chair across from me. She pulls out an apple and takes a big bite, obviously waiting for me to answer her.
“Good, I think. I studied a lot.”
“Of course you did. That’s your modus operandi right?” She nods her head sagely, her shiny dark hair cascading around her shoulders, her brown eyes alight with mischief. “By the way, I love your hair. Who did it? It doesn’t look like Sally’s work,” she squints at me, appraising it.
“A salon downtown.” I’m vague in my response, not wanting her to think I can afford to go to Marco’s.
“Well, they sure matched your color nicely. Even the golden highlights look right.” She lowers her voice to a stage whisper, “I have to admit it looks way better than the bleached blonde, no offense to Sally—she’s just learning.”
I defend my friend. “It was fun to be a blonde for a while.”
“Well, I’d keep her away from it now. You look gorgeous, my friend.”
I automatically look for something to compliment her in return. “Thanks, Monica, you’re looking hot yourself. I love the red lipstick. Very vogue.”
The Power of Tess Page 5