Sin

by Violetta Rand

  “What?” I ask. “A bitch?” Because that’s all Julia is at this point—a spoiled, selfish little girl who wants what she can’t have.

  That makes her laugh. “I have my moments, too.”

  I slip onto the bed, gathering her in my arms. “I look forward to it.” I smooth her hair out of her face, marveling at this softer, more vulnerable side of the woman I’ve come to admire. “Let’s go dancing after dinner.”

  “Striptease?”

  “No,” I say. “I’m thinking more along the lines of a Texas two-step.” Though I can arrange for her to give me a table dance after my family goes to bed.

  “You want me to get my cowgirl on?”

  The thought is appealing. “Have any boots in that suitcase?”

  “As a matter of fact,” she says, rolling off the bed, “I do.”

  —

  After I wash my face and fix my hair, Joshua escorts me back to the dining room, where his mother is waiting for us. She looks me over, a soft smile on her lips.

  “Please,” she says, gesturing to the chair on her left. “Join me.”

  I do, once again comforted by this woman’s gentle demeanor. “I’m sorry for leaving the table so abruptly.”

  “You’re sorry?” Mrs. Camden looks shocked. “Julia Henderson is a physically attractive girl, but her beauty is only skin deep.” She picks up her wineglass and takes a sip. “It takes so much more to nurture a close relationship.” Then she looks at Joshua, who is now seated to her right.

  He grabs his mother’s hand and kisses it. “My thought exactly.”

  “Have you shown Macey the greenhouse?” she asks.

  I perk up. Joshua knows how much I love plants. “You have a greenhouse?”

  “Three, to be exact,” she answers. “Do you like roses?”

  “Adore them.”

  “I believe we should take a stroll after we eat this excellent pecan pie the cook made.”

  Did I miss something? I stare at the spot on the table in front of me, and sure enough, there’s a slice of pie with a scoop of melting vanilla ice cream waiting for me. I reluctantly pick up my spoon and sample the decadent dessert. Oh. My. God. I can feel the fat depositing in my body as I swallow. I take another bite, closing my eyes in complete ecstasy. “I can’t remember tasting better.”

  Mrs. Camden chuckles as she licks her own spoon clean. “That’s why we reserve dessert for special occasions only.”

  “This is a special occasion?” I ask stupidly.

  Joshua gives me an indiscernible look. “Very special.”

  Our gazes lock. “Thank you,” I say, finally tearing my eyes away from him and looking at his mother. “Are you ready for that walk?”

  “But you’ve only eaten half.” She gestures at my plate.

  “Half is too much.” I smile and stand, ready to get a breath of fresh air—needing to cool off because every time her son stares at me like that I nearly lose my mind.

  We exit through the front door, following a cobblestone pathway around the side of the house, passing under a stone and vine archway that opens into a formal courtyard with a palazzo-style water fountain surrounded by raised flower beds. “So peaceful.” I admire the exquisitely designed garden. “I’d spend all my time here.”

  “I often do,” she comments. “It’s the perfect location to read a book on a sunny day.”

  Joshua embraces me from behind, then kisses my cheek. “You’d look good sitting beside her.”

  His warm breath makes my skin tingle; so do his sweet words. The warning bell rings inside my head. He’s starting to think about me on a more permanent basis. Of course I’d be a liar if I denied how good it makes me feel. After dealing with someone as shallow as Wesley, I probably need this. Mrs. Camden coughs deliberately and Joshua lets go.

  “My roses are in the first greenhouse,” she says, disappearing down another narrow pathway.

  I follow her, Joshua walking behind me. The greenhouse is large and the warmth envelops me as I step inside. Mrs. Camden smiles proudly as I take in the details of her workspace. There’s a sitting area to the left, a wet bar, and a refrigerator. To the right, counter space with potting materials, gardening tools, and bags of soil. I’m completely impressed—my greenhouse is a quarter the size of this.

  “I’ve worked with world-renowned breeders to develop many new varieties of miniature roses. Over here are the Tabitha and Queen Esther.” She points out silvery white blooms and the palest yellow roses I’ve ever seen. I follow her down an aisle, careful not to touch her plants. “I utilize a bent shoot system, and all of my flowers are cultivated in raised containers using modified hydroponics.”

  I’m somewhat familiar with the technology. “Has it made a difference in the overall health of the plants?”

  “It’s reduced parasitic kill by eighty percent.” Joshua joins the conversation, taking his mother’s arm and leading the way down the next row. “Our roses have been featured in Texas Magazine and graced the desk of the governor.” He glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at me.

  He loves his mother so much—I can tell by the way he holds her hand and does whatever she wants. I wish I could have enjoyed such a tender relationship with my own mother. By the time we finish exploring, I’ve counted a dozen different species of roses, all beautiful. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

  “My son informed me how much you enjoy flowers. I couldn’t be more pleased.” She kisses Joshua’s cheek. “Please stay and choose whatever blooms you like to make a bouquet to take home with you tomorrow.” She stops in front of me, cups my cheek, smiles, then leaves us in the greenhouse.

  “Does that mean she likes me?”

  He clicks his tongue. “Likes you?” he repeats. “The only other women who get bouquets of her roses are in the hospital.”

  I laugh. “Should I take that as a bad omen?”

  “No,” he chuckles. “She approves.”

  I can’t think of a comeback. Instead, I nod. Surrounded by fragrant flowers, the sultry heat, and the man who makes my insides mush is doing something to me. And to him…

  He steps closer, lifting my chin so our eyes meet. “No more tears?”

  I can’t believe I cried over Julia Henderson. “Sorry for the girl moment.”

  “Stop apologizing, Macey.” He looks so serious now. “I want you here. Hell.” He kicks at the dirt. “I want you now…”

  He half tackles me to the ground, straddles my hips, unbuttons my blouse, then cradles my breasts with both hands. I writhe underneath him, his hot hands eliciting moisture between my legs.

  “Macey…” He captures my mouth, his tongue sliding between my lips.

  I spread my legs as he shoves himself backward, positioning himself between my thighs. We’re going to fuck right here in the dirt and I don’t care. It feels so right, so unbelievably primitive and natural. When he exposes his erection, I squeeze it with both hands, massaging and enjoying the feel of his smooth skin. He throws his head back, a strangled groan of pleasure escaping his lips. Then he looks down at me and hikes my skirt above my waist.

  “No panties?” He shakes his head. “What were you thinking?”

  “Of this…”

  He sucks in a breath as his fingers skate over the moist folds of my pussy. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, Ms. Taylor.”

  Before I can take a full breath, Joshua buries himself inside me. He stifles my cry with his mouth, stealing my breath and feeding me every glorious inch of his cock.

  Chapter 20

  We attend mass at Saint Gertrude’s Parish on Sunday morning. I haven’t been to church in fifteen years. The sanctuary is modest, but I especially like the dozens of stained-glass windows that line the whitewashed walls. The Camdens have their own pew and I feel strange sitting with them front and center, the priest occasionally looking directly at Joshua’s mother and smiling. As the observances continue, I scan the nearby seats.

  I nearly jump when I discover Julia and Bishop sitting wi
th an elderly woman a few seats back. I face forward again, trying to lose myself in the sermon. But it’s no use—my hands start to shake and I’m suddenly grateful that I’m sitting away from Mrs. Camden on the far end of the pew, between the wall and Joshua. Julia won’t go away. And Bishop—I’m beginning to think he’s suicidal, the way he keeps testing my boyfriend.

  Joshua cradles my hand. “What’s wrong?” he whispers.

  “Nothing,” I fib, unwilling to draw attention to myself. “Just getting a little restless.”

  “The service will be over soon.”

  A few minutes later, the benediction is read, and then we head to the banquet hall for a pancake breakfast. There are about seventy people milling around, greeting each other, and speaking with the friar. But I can’t keep my eyes off Joshua’s ex or Bishop. Finally, Joshua spots them.

  “Is that what spooked you during the service?” He grasps my hand. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  I stare at the carpeted floor. “Just trying to keep the peace.”

  He scrubs his face. “We don’t have to stay here, Macey. I’ll tell my mother you have a headache. She’ll understand.”

  “No.” I’m not ceding any power to Julia. She had her moment already. I cried, something I never do in public. As for Bishop, I’ll deal with him on my own. I’m starting to dislike him. “Let’s get in line and grab some pancakes and bacon.”

  Joshua piles food on his plate. I swear the man can eat a dozen eggs plus devour a stack of pancakes and still walk away hungry. As for me, my appetite is waning, but I’ll force-feed myself anyway. We search for a table. Joshua’s family is surrounded by other parishioners and there’s no room for us at their table, but we find one in a corner and sit down together.

  “Forgot syrup,” Joshua says, standing up. “Be right back.”

  Just as he leaves, Bishop appears. “Macey.”

  This isn’t a good situation; surely the doc knows it. Or is he willing to push my boyfriend to the limit because we’re at church? Pretty sure the turn the other cheek thing doesn’t impress Joshua. “Good morning, Bishop.” I don’t smile. “You need to return to your seat before Joshua gets back.”

  “I’m not here to cause any problems,” he assures me. “Just wanted to say hello and let you know I’ve been thinking about you.”

  I close my eyes, shaking my head. His pretentious attitude is anything but friendly. “Why?”

  He leans in, placing his palms on the table. “The dances on Friday night might have something to do with it.”

  Really? In church? Isn’t anything sacred anymore? “Inappropriate,” I hiss. “Aren’t you a sworn atheist?”

  “You wouldn’t deny me the right to find God, would you?” He smirks.

  “I think you worship yourself.” His controlled demeanor is infuriating. So are his perfect hair and eyes. His voice. And the way he stares at me—no, through me. I want him gone. “Go back to your seat—Joshua is on his way.” I point.

  Joshua’s gaze drills into Bishop. The doc straightens, adjusting his collar, then smiles. “Hope to see you soon.” He struts away.

  Joshua slams his plate down. “What did he say?” He throws Bishop another look, then stares at me. “Tell me.”

  I can’t. Not if I want his mother’s trust and respect. What would she say if she knew Joshua’s neighbor had a thing for me? She’d blame me. Old-school Texans always blame girls when men behave badly. “Blow him off,” I encourage. “It’s not worth your time.”

  “Not worth my time?” he repeats, sounding more than a little bit angry. “You’re worth everything to me.” He sits down, his emerald eyes raking over me, making my insides squirm. “And when someone tries to interfere, don’t ever say it’s not worth my time, Macey.”

  “Sorry,” I squeak, finally starting to realize how much I mean to him.

  I have no experience when it comes to anything permanent. My own family life never amounted to anything but heartbreak. And even when I lived with a man, I referred to myself as a long-term guest. It made it easier after we broke up. No real emotional investment means you suffer minimal losses in the end. Until Wesley, I hadn’t considered deeper commitment. Sure, I’d pledged my body. Look how that worked out. But now, with Joshua’s eyes sharply focused on me, I know that’s about to change.

  Even if we don’t last, my time with him is going to alter me, for the better. But it’s also going to leave me more vulnerable. One of the bricks in my defensive wall just crumbled.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks.

  My eyelashes flutter. “How perfect this weekend is turning out to be.”

  He gives me a double take. “Really?” Then he laughs. “If this is perfect, I’d hate to see broken.”

  Oh, I agree. Joshua comes from a perfect world. Even if he tries to play it down—his mother and siblings, the ranch, his education, the way he carries himself, the way everyone receives him at home and work. Even his sworn enemy respects him on some level. It all proves he’s from a different universe from mine. My life is like scorched grass. Dead. And I’m not sure I want to expose Joshua to the things that have molded me into the person I am.

  “Broken is broken,” I say.

  He frowns. “Broken means you fix it.”

  “No,” I disagree. “It means you buy a new one.”

  —

  Three days before Valentine’s Day I receive a formal letter from Julia Henderson begging to have dinner together.

  Dear Ms. Taylor,

  I know we didn’t meet under the best of circumstances. Please understand that Joshua and I spent years together. Getting used to the idea of him sharing his life with someone else has been anything but easy. I apologize for the way I treated you in Kingsville and ask for a chance to redeem myself. Bishop Singletary and I have found common ground and are pursuing a relationship. I hope this will convince you of my intention to change for the better. Please consider having dinner with me. I’d like a chance to offer you the olive branch in person.

  Sincerely,

  Julia Henderson

  —

  My gut reaction is to tear it up. Even her choice of stationery irritates me. Instead, I pour myself a glass of pink champagne and sit on my couch, reading the letter over and over again. Every saying I can remember about forgiveness and how hatred only consumes the hater runs through my mind. There’s no underlying bitterness in her words; in fact, they’re completely believable. And if true, a welcome change. I’ll do this for Joshua. Julia has been a part of his life—his family—for years. And if we’re going to be together, I’ll have to learn to tolerate her presence. Her cell number is included. Taking a deep breath, I grab my iPhone and dial.

  She picks up on the first ring.

  “Julia?”

  “Macey?”

  “Yes,” I confirm. “If you’re available today…”

  I hear her smile into the phone. “I’m glad you’re willing to try. Shall we meet at the Bleu Bistro downtown?”

  We set a time and hang up.

  A few hours later, I walk inside the restaurant. I haven’t been here in a while, but not much has changed. I always liked the décor, from the stainless-steel bar top to the floor-to-ceiling shelving containing their wine collection, which has European flair. Julia is waiting for me at a table. I’m glad I dressed to impress. She’s wearing a cream-colored cap-sleeve cocktail dress, her hair swept into an elegant French twist. I smile, then offer her my hand before I sit down. She accepts it.

  “I ordered a bottle of PlumpJack Merlot,” she says.

  “They have amazing salads here.” I pick up a menu.

  “Yes,” she agrees, doing the same. “Did you enjoy your weekend in Kingsville?” She peeks over the menu.

  I’m not sure how to interpret that question. She had a hand in setting the tone for my visit, but I decide to put that resentment aside. “Mrs. Camden is wonderful.”

  “Always a gracious hostess,” she comments. “And isn’t Raquel a beauty?”


  Joshua’s little sister is sixteen and a carbon copy of her brother, green eyes and all. “Yes.” I smile. “And Nathan,” I comment, “quite the little gentleman.”

  “I’d kill for his curls,” she says.

  We both laugh. And I start to relax, realizing that if I lost Joshua and he was the love of my life, I’d probably snap, too. I’m not making excuses for Julia, but if she had a Kardashian moment before and is now truly sorry, I might learn to tolerate her presence if we meet occasionally. It would surely make it easier for everyone. And what I want now more than ever is peace. And a chance to really get to know my perfect boyfriend.

  The server arrives with our wine and I order the pan-fried quail legs and breast with a mixed green salad. After she leaves, I sample the wine. It’s smooth and fairly expensive for Corpus standards. But nothing beats Champagne in Paris. I smile.

  “Do share,” Julia says, tapping my hand.

  “Reminiscing about my holiday in Paris over Christmas. Nothing too exciting.”

  “Paris not exciting?” She waves her hand at me. “I’ve never seen a better collection of handsome men in one place.”

  I almost confess how much I agree. But we both know Joshua is exceptionally beautiful. Frenchies fall short. “So tell me…” I move in for the kill. “Why did you want to see me?”

  “Have you and Joshua made plans for Valentine’s Day yet?”

  “No,” I answer, wondering why he hasn’t mentioned anything.

  “Good.” She wiggles her hips, getting more comfortable. “I’d like the both of you to join Bishop and me for dinner at his condo.”

  I set my wineglass aside, studying her face. Dinner with them? On the most romantic night of the year? “That’s asking a bit much.”

  She pouts. “I’m a gourmet chef, Macey. Ask Joshua. The menu will exceed anything you can find here. And the Champagne—believe me, my parents keep an impressive stock. Let me show you how serious I am about this. Once I set my mind to something, I won’t take no for an answer.”

  I’m not fully convinced yet, but intrigued. How many women are willing to make a gesture like this? “It’s not me you need to worry about. Joshua isn’t happy about the way things went in Kingsville.”