Breath of Scandal

by Sandra Brown

  Sobering instantly, Neal set his drink on the coffee table. “Her son.”

  “That’s right, boy. The Patchetts might be wounded, but we’re not dead. First thing tomorrow, you’re going to make a phone call and extend an invitation… to Myrajane Griffith.”

  * * *

  Dillon was manning the patio grill. “Good-looking fish,” he remarked to Graham, who was assisting.

  “Thanks,” he replied, smiling proudly. “Every time I go to that spot in the channel, I catch at least one.”

  “How’s school?”

  He had been enrolled in Palmetto High School for two weeks, and so far everything was going well. He told Dillon so. “I hope I make the soccer team. Tryouts are next week.”

  “No sweat.” Dillon flipped over a fish filet. “Do you miss New York?”

  “Not really. I kinda like living in a small town. Do you?”

  Before answering, Dillon glanced toward the house. Graham followed his gaze. They could see his mom through the kitchen window. “Yeah, I like it here,” Dillon said, bringing his attention back to the grill.

  “What’ll you do when the plant is finished? Will you stay here or go somewhere else?” Since the subject had come up, Graham welcomed the opportunity to ask Dillon about his future. It would be great if Dillon’s future somehow coincided with his.

  “The plant is a long way from being finished,” Dillon said. “Years. After that, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I don’t plan that far ahead.”

  “How come?”

  “I found out that it didn’t do any good.”

  Jade poked her head through the back door. “Everything else is ready. We’re waiting on you menfolks.”

  “Not anymore. The fish is ready,” Dillon called back. “Graham, turn off the gas, please.”

  “Sure.” His mother’s interruption had come at an inopportune time. Dillon’s last statement puzzled him because it contradicted his mother’s belief that one should set specific goals and work toward them no matter what setbacks arose. He would also have liked some guarantee that Dillon would be around for a long time yet.

  “Be sure the knob is shut all the way off,” Dillon cautioned him.

  “I will.”

  Dillon dished up the fish filets and carried the platter through the back door, which Jade was holding open for him. Graham watched as she bent down and sniffed the grilled fish, licking her lips in anticipation. Dillon said something that made her laugh.

  Suddenly feeling buoyant again, Graham carefully turned off the gas and followed them indoors. He always liked having Dillon to dinner, but tonight there was a party atmosphere in the house. He wasn’t sure what they were celebrating and didn’t care. All that mattered was that his mom seemed more relaxed than she had been since leaving New York. Maybe she was taking to heart what he had told her a few weeks ago about being too uptight. Tonight she was plumb bouncy.

  She had changed clothes when she came in from work and now had on an outfit made of some soft, floaty, white material. Friends told him all the time that his mom was hot-looking, and it was true. As they sat down to dinner, she looked exceptionally pretty.

  He was asked to say grace and mumbled a hasty prayer of thanksgiving. As they were filling their plates, he asked, “Can we play Pictionary after dinner? Dillon and me’ll be partners again like before.”

  “Not on your life!” Jade exclaimed. She clutched her knife and hammered the handle on the table. “You two cheated last time.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to call their hand signals cheating,” Cathy said diplomatically.

  “It was cheating,” Jade said adamantly.

  “I take exception to that. Take it back.”

  Dillon reached across the corner of the table and slid his hand beneath her hair, squeezing her neck. Reflexively, she raised her shoulder and tilted her head to one side, trapping his hand between her cheek and shoulder.

  There was an instantaneous change in her expression, Graham noticed. She couldn’t have looked more stunned if Dillon had gotten up on the table and started dancing naked. Her head popped up, and she turned to him.

  “I take it back.”

  Her voice sounded funny, too, like she had just swallowed a shot of straight whiskey. Her cheeks turned red, and she was breathing like she’d been doing calisthenics. They continued looking at each other long after Dillon slowly removed his hand from her neck. When they finally broke their stare, Dillon began buttering his corn on the cob. His mom seemed at a loss. She stared down at her plate and fiddled with her silverware like she’d never seen any before and wasn’t sure how to handle it.

  Graham smiled to himself. If his mom and Dillon didn’t want to have sex, then he didn’t know shit from Shinola.

  * * *

  “I still can’t get over it. Every time I remember it, I want to pinch myself to make sure it really happened.” Jade turned to Dillon, who was seated with her in the porch swing she had recently installed. “It did, didn’t it? This isn’t a dream?”

  “Undoubtedly a dream for the Parkers. More like a nightmare for the Patchetts. You’ve got them running scared.”

  “Oh, I’m real scary, all right,” she said, laughing.

  “You can be. You scared me spitless that night you got me out of jail.”

  “Me? You were the one with the heavy beard and dark scowl.”

  “But you had control of the situation. I hadn’t had a grasp on my life since Debra died. Your cool competence intimidated me. Why do you think I behaved like a macho pig?”

  “I thought it was an outgrowth of your charming personality.”

  Smiling wryly, he shook his head. “Stark fear.”

  Jade gazed out across her front yard. Through the dense branches of the trees, moonlight cast patterned shadows on the grass. Crickets chirped. The breeze smelled faintly of seawater.

  “I wish my mother knew about what I did today.” There was no bitterness in her voice, only wishful thinking.

  “I’ve never heard you mention your parents. What happened to them?”

  “You’ll wish you never asked.” Jade spent the next half-hour telling him about her awkward relationship with her mother. She told him about her father’s suicide and how differently it had impacted the two women. He was dismayed to hear that Velta had held Jade partially responsible for the rape.

  “You’re wrong,” he told her when she concluded with Velta’s desertion. “I’m glad I know. I’m also glad I never had an opportunity to meet your mother.”

  “All my life, I wanted her to love me. She never did. She was unhappy when I came along, and it never got any better.”

  “Truth be known, she was probably jealous of you, Jade. And even though she wouldn’t admit it, you probably had her grudging respect.”

  “Maybe you settle for respect when you’re thirty. But not when you’re three, or thirteen. Or even eighteen. I never could be what she wanted me to be.”

  “What was that?”

  “A simpering Southern belle who would make a good marriage—and in Palmetto that meant nabbing Neal Patchett.”

  Dillon swore.

  “My goals went so far beyond hers, she couldn’t even see them, much less understand them.”

  “Well, wherever she is, she’s bound to know she was wrong, Jade. She probably regrets what she did.”

  “I wish I could see her and talk to her. I don’t want an apology. I’d just like for her to see how Graham and I fared. I’d like to know if she finally found something or someone who would make her happy.”

  “You sound as if you’ve forgiven her.”

  Jade pondered the word forgive and decided that it didn’t apply. Her mother belonged in another lifetime. Velta no longer had the power or authority to hurt her. “I’d only like her to know that I have accomplished what I set out to do. Whether she’s regretful or whether I’ve forgiven her is immaterial. That belongs in the past. After today, I want to look forward, not back.”

  Dillon left the swing
and moved to the railing that enclosed the veranda. Without them noticing, it had grown late. Behind them the house was quiet. Cathy and Graham had already retired. Dillon seemed to be in no hurry to leave. He braced his hands on the railing and leaned forward from the waist.

  “I’ve been thinking about the past a lot lately.”

  “About anything in particular?”

  “Yeah. I’ve come to the same conclusion as you. It’s time to let it go. Move forward.”

  He turned and braced his hips on the railing, facing her. “All my life I’ve been operating under the theory that if an individual is good enough, that if he works hard enough, that if he doesn’t rock the cosmic boat, he’ll be rewarded. Things will go right for him.

  “The flip side of this philosophy is that if he screws up, he pays dearly. Bad things happen to him. Lately, I’ve begun thinking this theory is wrong.”

  She felt his eyes touching her out of the silvery darkness. “You’re talking about your wife and son.”

  “Yes.”

  “When an accident like that happens, Dillon, isn’t it human nature for us to search for an explanation? And isn’t it also customary that—because we have to blame something—we blame ourselves?”

  “But I made a science of it. It started when my folks got killed. I remember worrying myself sick over what I had done to get God so pissed off at me. That was before child counselors knew to tell kids that when things go wrong, it isn’t their fault.”

  He turned up one of his palms and examined the calluses at the base of his fingers. “If you start thinking that way when you’re a kid, it carries over into adolescence and adulthood. I was constantly juggling to keep good deeds in balance with mistakes so I wouldn’t get out of favor with fate. If I did something wrong, I waited for the hammer to fall.”

  He turned his head, giving her his profile. “When Debra and Charlie died, I figured I’d fucked up real bad.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “It’s the height of conceit to believe that you control other people’s destinies, isn’t it?

  “But for all these years I’ve taken the blame for their deaths. I figured it was retribution for something I had done or had failed to do.”

  Jade crossed the veranda to stand near him at the railing, but she didn’t interrupt. He shook his head with chagrin. “The bottom line is that shit happens, just like the bumper sticker says. Shit happens. Tragedies befall good people. Fortune smiles on pond scum.” His eyes connected with hers. “I can’t tell you how good if feels to be out from under that burden of guilt.”

  “Debra and Charlie were victims of misfortune, Dillon. And so were you.”

  “Thanks for helping me to see that.” He raised his hands to either side of her head, letting her adjust to the idea that he was about to touch her. Then the backs of his fingers swept dark tendrils of hair away from her cheeks. “You’re beautiful, Jade.”

  She became very still and quiet on the inside. Because she wasn’t experiencing the clamorous alarm she usually did when a man touched her, she didn’t want to do anything—not even blink, swallow, or breathe—that would set off her clanging terror.

  Instead of concentrating on herself and her reactions, she tried directing all her attention to Dillon. What did he see when he looked at her with those intense gray-green eyes? Did her hair feel silky against his fingertips? Was he subject to the same breathless anticipation as she?

  Anticipation for what? she wondered.

  It was a jarringly disruptive thought, so she impatiently shoved it aside. She would take this one heartbeat at a time, and, for right now, she didn’t want anything disturbed.

  He extended his right arm at shoulder level, bracing himself against the support column behind her. Trapped between it and him, she felt a flurry of panic. When he spoke her name, however, his deep, calm voice was reassuring.

  “Jade?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m about to do something you’ve told me repeatedly not to do.”

  Her stomach rose and fell weightlessly. She felt his breath, warm and dewy, on her face. She kept her eyes open for as long as she could, before they closed involuntarily. His mustache tickled her upper lip. He flicked the center of her lips with the very tip of his tongue, so lightly that, at first, she thought she had imagined it.

  “I’m going to taste you now, Jade.”

  Tilting his head, he aligned his lips with hers. Shockingly, her lips parted receptively. He made a low, wanting sound and pressed his tongue into her mouth. He applied a safe and nonaggressive amount of pressure to her lips and a delicious suction to her mouth. His tongue moved inside it, but it didn’t feel invasive.

  The dark heat of the night descended over her along with the deep mystery of his kiss. Feeling lightheaded, she reflexively reached for support. Her hand curled around his arm, which was still supporting him against the column. He sighed her name and relaxed his elbow, which brought him close enough for their clothes to touch.

  Tentatively, he placed his other hand at her waist. His lips nuzzled and nibbled hers. He brushed them with his mustache. He gently drew her lower lip between his teeth. He ducked his head and kissed her neck.

  She gave a little gasp. “I’m afraid.”

  “Of me?”

  “Of this.”

  “Don’t be.”

  Jade closed her eyes and tried not to think.

  Dillon waited. “Is it all right?” He raised his head and looked into her face. “Jade?”

  She flatted her hand on her quickening chest. “I can’t breathe.”

  One corner of his mustache tilted up. “Is that a good sign or a bad one?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll take it as a good one.”

  “Okay.”

  “Relax.” He eased her back until she came up against the column. “Breathe deep.”

  Like a child, she did as she was told. Eyes closed, she drew in calming drafts of air. When she opened her eyes, Dillon’s face was bending close to hers, and she became breathless all over again. “I feel so foolish.”

  “You shouldn’t. You’ve got a woman’s worst nightmare to overcome.”

  “I want to overcome it.” The words tumbled out. “I really want to, Dillon.”

  “Good. That’s good,” he said thickly. “We’ll work on it. What I have in mind is a long weekend spent alone together. No strings. No expectations. Just isolation from everything familiar so we can relax. What do you say?”

  “No.”

  He dropped his hands and stepped away from her. His expression was a mix of anger and frustration. “Then I can’t go on kissing you, Jade. Because sooner or later I’m going to lose my head. My cock will start doing my thinking for me, and I’ll end up making you afraid of me. I won’t have that.”

  He turned away from her and jogged down the steps. She caught up with him before he reached his pickup. “Dillon, you don’t understand.”

  “I do. I swear I do. It’s just…” He raked his hand through his hair. “Christ, I can’t take anymore.”

  She grabbed his sleeve. “No. I mean, you don’t understand what I was trying to tell you. I don’t want to wait for a long weekend. I want to try tonight.” Nervously wetting her lips, she looked up at him imploringly. “Now, Dillon.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Where are we going?” Jade asked. “I mean, I know where we’re going, but why?”

  “Wait and see.”

  The headlights illuminated the tunnel of trees that eventually came to a dead end at the plantation house Jade had recently purchased for GSS. Except for the deepest shadows beneath heavy foliage, the yard was bathed with moonlight. The house looked white and stately, faring better than it did in harsh daylight.

  Dillon smiled secretively as he took a flashlight out of the glove box. “Come on. It’s all right. The owner is a personal friend of mine.”

  Together they made their way across the deep yard and up the front steps. The ancient planks creaked beneath his weigh
t. “I need to fix those before somebody gets hurt,” he remarked as he fished a key out of his jeans pocket.

  “Where did you get a key?”

  “If you don’t stop asking questions, you’ll spoil the surprise.”

  “What surprise?”

  “That’s another question.”

  The musty smell peculiar to vacant houses greeted them as he pushed open the front door and ushered Jade into the wide vestibule. He switched on the flashlight and swept it across the Italian tile floor.

  “This is quite a showplace.”

  Jade hugged her elbows. “I like it much better in the daytime. This is spooky.”

  She was confused and vaguely disappointed. When they had left her house, she had assumed he would take her directly to his trailer. Staying at her house had been out of the question. Even if they could sneak him past Cathy and Graham, she would feel awkward, knowing that they were in nearby rooms. She didn’t need anything contributing to her inhibitions tonight.

  Given time to think about this, she might lose her nerve. This rambling old house, which had stood empty for years, was hardly putting her at ease. She was also a trifle miffed over the delay. Was his ardor that easily cooled?

  “Take my hand and watch your step.”

  She gave him her hand. He started upstairs, surprising her by avoiding the steps that were damaged and could have been hazardous. “You’ve been here before?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Without me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “When?”

  “Careful, there’s an exposed rusty nail.”

  When they reached the landing, Dillon turned right, sweeping the hallway with the flashlight. The doors to all the rooms stood open, except one at the end of the hall. It was to that door that Dillon led her. He looked at her expectantly before turning the porcelain knob and swinging the door open.

  Jade crossed the threshold and stepped into the room. Unlike the rest of the house, this room had been cleaned. There were no cobwebs in the corners of the tall ceiling or clinging to the crystal teardrops of the overhead chandelier. The finish on the hardwood floor was dull, but it had been swept free of dust and debris.