Heather Rainier

by His Tattooed Virgin

  “Was this the reason why you turned me down when I wanted you to take my virginity?” His nod confirmed her suspicion. “I can appreciate why you felt that way a little more now. But the memory I have to look back on is a precious one, I promise. No regrets.”

  “The thought of a woman being taken advantage of, whether she’s willing initially or not, doesn’t sit well with me. The woman they used for that video will look back on that night for the rest of her life with pain. She’s not the only reason I feel that way. Lucy was hurt by a guy from her days in high school, humiliated in a way that was hard to come back from. It was hard to know she was hurting and there was little I could do to make it better, beyond paying a visit to the asshole. Your circumstances were different but I still didn’t want you hurt.” Jayne frowned to think of Lucy suffering in any way at the hands of some jerk.

  “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you several times, but the timing didn’t feel right for various reasons. I don’t want to miss another opportunity.” Deep emotions were woven into the husky quality of his baritone voice.

  “What’s that?” Her heart sped up at the seriousness of his tone.

  The trail of kisses he laid down the column of her throat nearly made her purr as he drew out the moment then whispered, “I love you.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes as a burning sensation engulfed her heart. “I love you too. But you need to know…”

  “Know what, sweet Jayne?” The feel of his warm lips and breath on the skin over her collarbones threatened to distract her as she tried to gather her thoughts.

  “That I’m not the best risk you could take for loving someone.” She hated to say it but he needed the reminder, even though she wanted his love more than she wanted air.

  “I don’t care. I love you. My heart knows what it wants.”

  Mine wants you too. She was afraid to say the words for fear of making them prophetic. “The cancer could come back—is likely to—in the coming years. My prognosis is—”

  “A guess, at best.”

  “Yes, but an educated guess.” She hated playing devil’s advocate. She prayed and implored God for a long respite from more years spent in stasis, fearing her life might end. She wanted Seth, wanted his love, and wanted to live.

  * * * *

  Lucy walked in the studio door with two coffees from Divine Drip and a white paper sack. Cutting off a yawn, Seth thanked her and groaned with delight as he opened the sack and was greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of fresh kolaches. Divine Drip had developed quite a following for their baked goods. Lucy moaned as she bit into one of the savory pastries.

  “Oh, man. This right here is reason enough to move to Divine. But I’ve gotta get my own place.” With her mouth stuffed with kolache it’d sounded more like, “Ah gah get moan pace.”

  Seth chuckled as he took a huge bite, anticipating the arrival of an important client. “You’re just bummed that you’re not having sex that freaking good right now. Come with us to The Dancing Pony again and I bet I’ll be beating the men off with a stick again.”

  Lucy grew quiet and slumped on the stool behind the reception counter. Her demeanor changed right before his eyes. Her lip curled as she finished chewing, and she dropped the rest of the kolache back into the white paper bag with what seemed like regret.

  “What’s that look? What?” It seemed he’d hit a nerve. “I thought you were having a good time dancing with that guy—what was his name?”

  “Vance. Yeah, nice guy. But he’s a total player.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s entitled, as handsome as he is, but not what I want. Not at all.”

  “Why do you say that?” Seth wondered if he needed to pay Vance a visit. “Did he pull something?”

  Lucy was several years younger than him, and he’d always felt very protective of her, and being the baby in the family, she’d come to him with her problems. Whatever Lucy’s issue was, it was also a nice distraction from wondering what Tamar wanted to talk to him about.

  “When we were dancing, I happened to slide a finger into his back pocket.”

  “Okay?”

  “I could feel a stack of Trojans. Not one, but several. He just wants to get laid and I’m done playing. I want…”

  “What?”

  “I want what you have with Jayne. I want a man who gazes at me with such love in his eyes that I…melt.”

  Nodding, he said, “You deserve someone like that. What about those two guys you were talking to at the bar? I noticed them watching you and that they seemed to draw your attention.”

  “Yeah…appearances can be deceiving, brother. That was a disaster.”

  “What happened?”

  “I walked over to say hello and ask if either of them wanted to dance and…”

  Seth hadn’t known Beck O’Malley and Patrick Owen that long, but recalled that Patrick was a single dad and Beck had recently been dumped by his girlfriend, but they were both good guys. “And what? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

  Lucy curled her lip again and shook her head as she flipped through a magazine. “After we chatted for a minute, I asked them if one of them would like to dance with me. The tall one—Beck, I think—said, ‘I think you’re more woman than I can handle, sweetheart.’” Her cheeks grew rosy, and she took a deep gulp of her coffee, burning her mouth in the process. “Way to make a girl feel good about herself,” she added, grabbing the soft flesh of her hip and then poking her middle. All the women in his family had hourglass figures, Lucy included, but she was healthy and in better shape than she was obviously giving herself credit for. Another thought occurred to him.

  “You know, that statement can be taken a couple of different ways.”

  “He looked me up and down when he said it, Seth. I think I understood his meaning. Do me a favor and drop it, and please don’t say anything to him. Some men really don’t care for pudgy women.”

  His next client pulled up to the curb, and a man got out of the older SUV and helped the woman out of the vehicle and onto the sidewalk.

  “You’re not pudgy, Luce. I think you misunderstood him. But there are other fish in the sea.”

  Resolutely, she shrugged. “I know. Looks like your next client is here. I’ll be right back. I’m gonna walk down the block and get a newspaper and start searching for rentals. I have a noisy roommate and need my own place.”

  She scooted around the counter with a giggle, avoiding his aim when he threw the balled-up kolache wrapper at her. She held the door for the couple, who were in their forties.

  Seth came around the counter and shook Hugh Collins’s hand. Bernice stood beside him, pale and uncertain. Her eyes darted around, like a nervous bird, searching for a place to land, until she made eye contact with him. Her pale-blue eyes were a little bloodshot, as though she’d been crying, and she bit her lip uncertainly. Seth noted the reassuring arm that Hugh settled around her shoulders.

  “Bernice, Hugh, it’s good to see you again. Bernice, how are you feeling today? Would you like a bottle of water or a soda?”

  “No, thank you, Seth.” Her voice quavered, but she cleared her throat and seemed to steel herself. The action was vaguely reminiscent of a certain lovely woman who’d decided to “go for it.” “It was hard to come here today. I won’t lie. But I’m ready.” She stepped forward as though her motion would move her past the hurdle she faced.

  Bernice Collins was a cancer patient, newly recovered from breast reconstruction surgery after a double mastectomy. The reason for her appointment with Seth was to have nipples tattooed on, because she no longer had any.

  Seth backed up and beckoned them around the reception counter, not giving a hint that he’d seen the glowing love in Hugh’s eyes as he gazed at his wife. She smiled tremulously at her husband as she followed Seth back to his private workspace and placed her purse on the counter. He provided a chair for Hugh, which he turned and sat in, bracing his forearms on the back, his eyes on Bernice the whole time.

  While operating out
of Jim’s studio, Desired Ink, in Morehead, he’d had a couple of clients who were breast cancer survivors who’d heard that nipples could be tattooed on reconstructed breasts, giving them a more normal appearance. They were deprived of the sensations in their nipple area by cancer, but that didn’t mean they had to look in the mirror and remember the loss. Those ladies had been part of a breast cancer survivor’s network. Since then, he’d done similar tattoos for a number of women, offering his services at a discount for those who were wiped out financially by medical bills.

  Bernice had told Seth in her previous consultation that Hugh hadn’t only taken time off from work to be with her in Houston for the surgery, but that he’d also taken her to her chemotherapy and radiation therapy appointments and been there for her in every way she needed. Seth imagined things were tight at home. He was doing Bernice’s tattoos at a deep discount. Her first question had been how much it would cost, and that had made up Seth’s mind on the issue.

  She’d said it had been therapeutic to talk to Seth about it, and he’d been told that before in helping other cancer patients to regain a feeling of wholeness after breast removal surgery. The other reason for the consultation had been to give her a chance to get comfortable with him since he’d be holding her breasts while tattooing them. Bernice was the epitome of modesty, so doing this would be a stretch for her. He knew she was still sick and receiving treatment and wanted for this to be a positive step toward healing.

  “The receptionist will be back in just a minute or two, and I don’t have any other clients lined up until after lunch, so we won’t be interrupted.” As he spoke, he moved a folding screen to the end of the partitioning wall. He’d offered to use the extra workroom which had a door that could be closed for added privacy, but Bernice had said she’d feel too claustrophobic in it and preferred just the privacy screen. No one could see into his main workroom from the waiting area, but the screen added extra privacy from anyone venturing behind the reception counter.

  As if on cue, the front doorbell rang. “I’m back, Seth!”

  He sat down on the rolling stool and faced Bernice as she sat on the padded table with her husband nearby. Handing her the remote to the CD player, he said, “I put in the CDs you liked when you were here for your consultation and you control the volume and which song plays. I know you said that the nerves weren’t finished regenerating but if you need to take a break, just tell me.”

  She’d picked hard rock, which had been a surprise, because she didn’t seem the type, but the heavy drumbeats and guitars might help distract her from the vibration of the tattoo machine.

  Bernice released a deep breath as she took the remote from him. Seth gave her a slight smile. “First step is the placement and centering. I’ll give you a minute to remove clothing from the waist up. After we have the placement, we can drape you so you’ll be more comfortable.”

  Bernice nodded, and he exited the room. Lucy smiled at him from her seat, red pen in hand as she searched the rentals section of the local newspaper. Bernice called out a few moments later, and he reentered the room. Bernice’s jaw was set in grim determination as Seth picked up the nontoxic permanent marker and took his seat on the stool. It was no big deal for him to be in a room with body parts exposed, but he knew it was difficult for Bernice and definitely for her husband. He placed an open binder in front of Hugh on the end of the table and indicated the photos of nipples he’d tattooed in the past.

  “Hugh, tell me which is closest to the colors you’re used to. I can adjust them if need be. Bernice already decided on a semipuckered appearance and wanted to leave the color selection to you, since you’d be seeing them on a regular basis.”

  While Hugh peered at the book, Seth worked on marking the placement for the nipples, drawing the points of the compass on her exposed flesh. “I have a marksman’s sniper grid on my boobs,” Bernice noted with a chuckle.

  Seth winked at her and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Without further comment, he left the room to give them time to breathe and for Hugh to have a private moment with her to determine if the placement was right for him as well as her. Bernice had appreciated it during the consultation when he’d mentioned that he would do that. The whole point was for her to reclaim that womanly part of her that had been lost, and this was one more step toward healing. She still had chemo to get through, and recapturing some of what she’d lost in surgery would go a long way toward healing and beating cancer.

  He hoped that, although Jayne hadn’t struggled with breast cancer, that at some point in the years during which she’d battled with Hodgkin’s lymphoma that she’d encountered technicians and medical professionals that had done what they could to help her preserve her dignity and help her feel like she’d been more than just another appointment to them.

  Bernice’s cheeks were rosy, and she seemed happier and more relaxed when he returned five minutes later. Hugh appeared more relaxed, too, and not as uncomfortable with Seth in the room with her topless. His smile for his wife was loving and genuine. After a minor adjustment to the placement, he got her comfortable on the table and began the work as the rock music played in the background.

  Two hours later, Bernice and Hugh Collins walked out of Seth’s workroom, paid the bill, and stepped out into the August sunshine. It might have seemed like a minor thing, two small tattoos, but as he glanced up and witnessed Hugh gently embracing and kissing his wife right there on a downtown Divine sidewalk, Seth knew it was momentous to them.

  “You’re a pretty great guy.”

  Gazing out the window, he replied, “Why do you say that?”

  “Because that hardly looks like the same woman who walked through that door just a few hours ago. You’re like…hero material or something.”

  Scoffing and rolling his eyes, Seth peered over her shoulder at all the circles on the classified section of the newspaper. “You find a place to live yet?”

  “Ready to get rid of your roommate?”

  “No, but she enjoys beating on walls in the middle of the night,” he replied, poking her ribs and making her jump from the stool to avoid more tickling.

  “Keep it up, moron. I’m telling Mom.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jayne could hear her phone ringing from inside her purse on Seth’s kitchen counter. She hurriedly dried her hands and reached for it.

  “Hello?”

  Lucy’s voice came over the line. Judging from the background noise, she must’ve been driving. “Hey, just checking to see if you got in the house okay.”

  “Thanks for leaving the key under the potted plant for me. Are you sure you don’t want to join us for supper? I’m making more than enough.” She’d planned to surprise Seth and Lucy with supper that evening and had called Seth’s sister to find out what he liked and if she’d leave the house key where she could find it.

  “Nah, I have rentals to check out this evening, so I can—you know—sleep at night.”

  A gleefully wicked giggle bubbled up inside Jayne. Seth had been right. Lucy hadn’t given her a hard time about the previous night’s pyrotechnics, but she’d overheard Lucy teasing the hell out of Seth when she’d turned off the shower that morning. “I’m glad you like Divine enough to move here. Sorry for your disrupted sleep.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I love giving Seth a hard time about it. I’m glad to see him so happy and…settled. He’s smiled more since he’s met you than he has in the last three years combined. You’ve been good for him.”

  “Thanks. I could say the same thing about him. Good luck apartment hunting.”

  “Seth just left the studio so you should see him in less than five minutes.”

  After ending the call, Jayne went back to washing the green leaf lettuce for a salad to go with the lasagna she’d made. She was removing the pan and turning off the oven when the doorbell rang. She ran for the door, ready to jump Seth the moment she saw him, wondering what he’d done with his house key.

  She yanked open
the door. “Did you—”

  The words stuck in her throat and turned to ash as she came face-to-face with one of the most ethereally beautiful women she’d ever seen. She was every catwalk model’s ideal. At least six feet tall, long, board-straight black hair, and darkly lined gray-blue eyes. Her lips were full and pouty, her coloring and facial structure dramatic, probably from Nordic roots. Her skin tone was a light olive, the kind of skin Jayne had always envied because it tanned so easily. She was clad casually, but had on extremely high and probably very expensive heels, which may have accounted for her height. The brunette eyed her up and down, and then her face relaxed into the barest hint of a scowl, her lip almost curling.

  On her hip sat a baby, who was twisting around, looking behind the woman and making cooing sounds. At that point, Jayne noticed the woman’s arms, which were sleeved in tattoos nearly identical to Seth’s. A painfully cold chill swept over her skin and tightened the muscles in her shoulders and neck until she was sure she’d have a headache later. If this woman had stood side by side with Seth, they would’ve been bookends.

  Just then, the black-haired baby, a boy, judging by his clothing, turned and made eye contact with Jayne. Piercing blue eyes, black arching brows, and high cheekbones. The mirror image of Seth. Seth’s son. He gurgled and grinned, then glanced at the woman and grew still. Wary.

  “Is Seth at home?” Her accent was definitely Texan, but she spoke with a frosty air that hinted at education in a loftier environment. “I need to speak with him privately.” Emphasis on the last word as though making sure Jayne understood. A cab waited at the curb.

  “No, but he should be here any moment.”

  The throaty roar of Seth’s Harley sounded from up the block, and Jayne wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not. Knowing a small piece of their history, Jayne couldn’t find it in her heart to correct her lapse in not inviting Tamar into Seth’s house.