Shades of Desire: 10 Sweet & Spicy Romances

by J. A. Coffey

  But then Anna tossed back her shoulder-length curls and shrugged and forced a smile. "He's throwing the ball in honor of my new job."

  Jess rolled her eyes and stomped away.

  Six weeks flew by, and here Jessalyn stood, the proverbial wall-flower she swore she would never become. But these weren't people her age; they were stuffy aristocratic fake shells of people who couldn't deem to be seen conversing with someone whose net worth was anything less than two point one mil. So here she stood, in the outskirts of Pelham, New Hampshire, literally in the middle of Peabody Town Forest, holding the wall in place, watching as the quadrille played across the ballroom in equal measures of black, white, and peacock pomp. She studied the ornate piece of furniture holding a giant vase of calla lilies and tried to forget that she'd never once danced with a man.

  "It's French Rococo, mid seventeen hundreds."

  Jess gasped at the English voice at her shoulder and spun around, feeling the breath crackle and freeze in her lungs as she faced a young man about her age. His eyes were chocolate brown, and dark brown hair seemed a bit tousled atop his head. His eyes were nicely spaced, and the look of sharp intelligence shone within them. She checked her emerald Empire waist gown, pushed up her glasses, touched her face to make sure she hadn't done anything stupid. Really, this guy was that gorgeous. "I, um, what is?"

  "This sideboard. It's from Louis XV period. The marble was custom-made and imported from Italy after this was purchased." He leaned over and traced one of the golden scrolls painted across the front. "See how asymmetrically this is done? And the leaves, they're called acanthus. Very common gild on Rococo furniture."

  The lilt and cadence of his voice mesmerized her, putting her in mind of ancient castles and knights in shining armor. As his words sunk in, she frowned a bit at him. "Are you into antiques?" He'd look fine in armor; she was sure of it.

  He almost rolled his eyes. "At first, no, but now I wouldn't own anything else. A few years ago I was forced to learn all about the different styles of furniture through the ages as part of my 'cultural upbringing.' I was told it would make me a better conversationalist." His eyes twinkled as he asked, "Is it working?"

  Dang, he was cute. "A little."

  They shared a secret grin, making Jess feel so warm and tingly she had to turn away. "This party sucks."

  "Yeah. Sorry."

  She drew in her breath when she realized she offended him. "I didn't, that is, what I meant was--" The balloon of opportunity deflated, making pbbbffttt noises as it zoomed all around inside her.

  "It's all right. Uncle Ollie forgets that people our age get bored. What can I say? He's never had children to entertain."

  Uncle? "Is he really your uncle?"

  "Yes, he is. And he's been a better father to me than my own." He eyed her. "Are... we related?"

  The balloon filled straight up with helium, making Jess stand tall. "Nope. He was Grandpa's best friend. Spoiled us throughout our childhoods." She stuck out an awkwardly rigid arm for him to shake her hand. "I'm Jessalyn."

  Her name elicited an, "Oh, yes. Jessalyn." But he didn't shake her hand. He took her fingers in his own and bowed over them. He bowed. Like an English knight. Those latex balloons flopped down to her knees, giving no support in their rubbery state. "Darius. A pleasure to meet such a pretty lass." He stood up and she watched his lips twitch. "Especially one I'm finally not related to, no matter how many times removed."

  She crooked a grin at him, sinking into those dark brown eyes and those waves of hair reminding her of the damp sand dunes on the warm beach of Good Harbor last summer. She could collect fistfuls of it and never let go.

  Maybe he'd kiss her then.

  He'd have to.

  "I don't always feel pretty." She pointed to her mouth.

  "An investment in your future." Darius offered her his elbow, and, feeling more self-conscious than ever, Jess wrapped her fingers underneath the way she had seen the miles of models doing all night.

  Darius smiled down at her and placed his warm hand over her suddenly-cold fingers. "There's a telescope outside. Have you ever seen Jupiter?"

  Muted by his touch, she could only shake her head.

  "Great. Let's find your parents, and make sure they don't mind me taking you outside. After all," he waggled his brows at her, "I've heard they're both armed."

  And Jessalyn knew that she would remember this night for the rest of her life.

  The cobbled path was lined with ambient light and long swags of ankle-high black chain. Flower beds turned their faces towards the soft glowing orbs, offering pools of blue and yellow warmth between them and the inky looming hedgerow.

  "It's up in this clearing. Right there, can you see the top of it?"

  Darius pulled her so close to his side their temples touched. But, true to his word, the telescope poked through the circular hedges, aimed at the strikingly clear sky. "Oh." Was that it? Was that the extent of her vernacular? What was wrong with her?

  Darius released her fingers and began playing with the knobs on the telescope, swinging the unit around and tinkering until he finally called her over. "Sorry, I haven't used this in a long time. Come. It's right here."

  One large unblinking star seemed to dominate the sky, and Jess fumbled with the scope until she could see it. "Wow, this is gorgeous."

  "I'm glad you like it. Would you care to see the North star? Or Andromeda? Or Pleiades?"

  "How about Venus?" She grinned. "And maybe after that, you can teach me more about furniture."

  A trio of wandering minstrels with violins stopped in the middle of the clearing, their tune the same as the one emanating from the house in the distance. Jess watched with longing as two couples came off hidden benches and waltzed across the lawn.

  "Do you dance?"

  "Not formal, never." She pushed up her glasses.

  The bedazzling grin she received almost knocked her off her feet. "Then, may I have this dance?"

  How could she refuse? His tuxedo shirt blazed a white column between his black double-breasted jacket, giving her a beacon to step near. She noticed a streak of dirt and wondered what he had been doing to get soiled. Arms outstretched, Darius collected her and placed her hand on his shoulder.

  It was a very nice strong shoulder.

  Pbbbfffffttttt.

  Right back down to her knees.

  Whispered words in her ear only made Jess' gulp seem even louder as Darius drew her close to him, counting for her benefit, "One, two, three. One, two, three."

  A few turns later, Jess squeaked out, "Am I waltzing?"

  "Beautifully."

  She closed her eyes, embracing the chicken-skin poking out all over her arms as his continued counting tickled the hair nearest her ears. His fingers splayed along her back, drawing her nearer.

  Then his cheek pressed along hers.

  And when he stopped and leaned back, Jess opened her eyes, heart racing as he smiled and bent and almost touched his lips to hers.

  Time stood still as she stretched that last impossible, wonderful, agonizing inch to seal the kiss.

  Pfffffbbbbbttttt.

  It was the sweetest, most exciting, most memorable, romantic moment of her entire life.

  "You are adorable, Jessalyn. I have never had such an enjoyable time at a ball."

  Me either sounded lame. Thank you sounded arrogant. She pushed up her glasses and opted with, "You're the nicest guy I've ever met."

  Instead of pleasing him, something hard snapped into place. "Don't let my father hear that. He thinks I should be tough and unforgiving like him. But I'm not."

  She blinked at his vehemence, snapped taller. "No?"

  "No. I never want to be like him." His eyes softened, and she watched him take a deep breath, kind of center himself. "I never want...he's just...." she watched his chest heave once more, and his expression turned serene, calm.

  "Wow," she whispered. "I've never seen anyone do that."

  "Do what?"

  She shifted, sh
oved her glasses up her nose again. "It's like you're controlled. No, I don't like that word, it's too mean. It's like...I don't know, like you're really disciplined. In a good way. Like you don't get rattled."

  He crooked the cutest grin at her. "Oh, I get rattled all right." He winked and continued, "Especially right now."

  Did he mean with her? A full-body ripple tripped down her, from her shoulders to her toes.

  "But I have a fantastic mentor helping me center my emotions, store them for better times." He kind of shrugged. "I don't know, sometimes I think he's wacko, with all his Zen/ Buddha/spirituality hoopla, but other times I think it really helps me get through the day."

  "I've never met anyone able to do that, just...suck it all in, like it never happened."

  Just when she thought he couldn't possibly get any cuter, he cocked his head at her. "You like it? That I can control my emotions like that?"

  She gave one long, slow nod and squeezed his shoulder, where she hadn't yet let go. "A lot."

  "Even if I had to learn to do it because my father is the most miserable person on the planet?"

  She smiled, enjoying how he joked with her. "I like you just the way you are."

  The veneer of his face softened. "Come." He collected her hand in his. "I don't want your parents to come looking for us. I'll show you around. Do you know I spend my summers here?"

  Three minutes later found them back inside, Jess being given her own personal tour of the foyer, ballroom, game room, music room and library, craving and devouring each minute with Darius and his boundless knowledge of European antiques.

  "I've never seen anything like these pieces before. None of my friends have anything like this, and certainly no one in my family."

  "Yeah," he kind of blushed a bit, she thought. "I was always told this belonged to the upper echelon of society."

  She thought that was a weird kind of compliment to Ollie but said nothing about it. "I just think stuff like this should be shared. I know if I had something this beautiful, I would want all my friends to see it."

  "I can hear Ollie having a heart-attack at the very thought," he joked. "Or, more likely, my father."

  "No, really." Jess touched his arm. "I know rich people like expensive things, but some of these should almost be in a museum, they're so beautiful." She eyed a gilt-edged mirror. "I'll be the first to admit I know nothing about how things age, but some of these look so perfect and untouched that they should be someplace where people would want to use them."

  "Things don't need to be used to be appreciated, Jessalyn."

  His words were very soft. "Just knowing something is in a safe place can be enough."

  "I still think Ollie should sell off some of these, just to get them back out in the public eye. These are gorgeous. More people should be able to own them."

  He studied her face the whole time she spoke. "You really feel strongly about this, don't you?"

  She shoved up her glasses. "Well, yeah."

  "Unfortunately, I can promise you that will never happen. Ollie loves his belongings and takes great pride in them. He wouldn't sell them off, I guarantee it."

  Jess felt her lips settle into a thin line.

  Darius scrubbed her arms and smiled. "The upper bedrooms are styled mostly in Victorian, very fussy and highly ornamented. And this is English rosewood they used, not American walnut. Would you care to see them?"

  "I'd love to see them." Did she just sigh? She honestly didn't know which was better- learning about these gorgeous pieces of furniture or being taught them by a gorgeous guy.

  So they had a slight difference of opinion about possessions; how important was that, in the long run?

  There really was no down side to this night.

  She paused at the Eastlake chair at the foot of the stairs, smiling that she had already learned the style. She pointed to it and said, "You're a really good teacher, you know that?"

  He made a face at her. "The last thing I'd want to be in life is a teacher. What if I had a roomful of students like me?" He shivered, and Jess laughed.

  "Well, maybe you should be an instructor, then. I could see you teaching people. I bet you'd be great at it."

  "You think?"

  "I know."

  She loved the appreciative smile he gave her. "Follow me," he quipped, grabbing her hand as they headed for the stairs.

  Behind them they heard, "Darius, where are you going?"

  Jess stopped as Darius turned around and faced a hard and handsome man who was obviously his father. They shared the same eyes, same sun-kissed beach hair and square jaw. But the resemblances ended there. Jess could see that he would be taller when he finished growing, that his frame was lithe, not stocky, and that, while both gazes showed intelligence, the one belonging to Darius tempered to gentleness. Under her fingers, she felt Darius tense. "I'm giving Jess a tour of the rooms and teaching her about the furniture."

  Based on his tenseness, Jess decided to offer some back-up. "It's true. I've learned about Rococo, French Empire, Federal, Queen Ann and Neoclassical. I've even learned how to recognize a Chippendale chair."

  The older version of Darius sniffed down at her. "Young lady, in our realm, we do not speak to nobility unless addressed. You are obviously a commoner and should not be mingling with the future Baron of Insley." Then he turned to his son. "You know better than to take up with a girl of no worth. Were you headed up to the bedrooms? What if someone saw you? With her? How would you avoid the scandal?" He yanked Darius out from under her arm. "Good evening, miss. Darius, say your goodbyes to our host. We're leaving."

  She managed to touch his outstretched fingers before he was dragged off and swallowed by the crush of attendees. He turned once, twice, each time his eyes agonizing and flashing angry looks at his father's back.

  And then he was...gone.

  The sea of people undulated like cold waves, and her fingers felt icy now that Darius no longer held them.

  A girl of no worth.

  Jess forgot to breathe.

  And when she did gulp a lungful of air, the realization hit her. Darius would never be allowed to date her. Sweet, perfect, gorgeous, intelligent Darius was nobility. She was worthless.

  His own miserable father even said so.

  A girl of no worth.

  She didn't know which hurt more- the words of a stuffy aristocrat or the thought of never seeing Darius again.

  She tried to swallow around the hard rock in her throat as the sea of people around her became blurry. She dabbed her runny nose, then felt her chest constrict. Her cheek felt wet. Jess wiped it and found a tear.

  More were on the way, she could tell.

  A caterer nudged her elbow, indicated a tray of lemonade. "Would you like some, miss?"

  She backed away, shaking her head, and said something that sounded like, "Nemonade--" before running off like Cinderella at midnight.

  A million miles separated her from the front door, along with a million people who seemed intent on blocking her way. Vaguely she registered how many elbows she bumped and drinks she spilled as she slalomed her way across the ballroom floor.

  Fresh air assaulted her as she burst through the door to find the family car. Rivulets of pain and anguish painted her cheeks with their moisture, making her journey more difficult, more imperative.

  Five interminable minutes later, Jess yanked her way inside their empty parked car. She managed three shaky breaths before the flood gates opened to a torrent of uncontrollable tears.

  Chapter One

  Ten Years Later...

  Papers cluttered the corner of Jessalyn's work desk, including the $2900 rent check she hadn't yet written. The Manchester Gazette lay sprawled and opened to the obits, and she dropped her pen after circling a critical entry. She reached for the phone and dialed the Baker Funeral Home. When the line picked up, Jess said, "Hey, Mary, it's Jess, at Phoenix Furniture. Is Jeremy around? Sure, I'll hold."

  Jeremy picked up after a few seconds, "Hey, my favorite
darling. What's up?"

  She almost smiled as she recalled how she used to pray for such a welcome from him, but today her mission intervened. "I just learned the Rettenburg's lost their dear aunt Lottie. You know anything about this?" She let her voice waver, giving Jeremy the chance to spill any of his beloved gossip.

  She could see him hunching over the phone as his nasally voice pitched to a whisper. "That little hussy is putting the whole shebang up for auction. Boop! All gone. She's a nasty one, darling. Watch out for her." And he made a hissing sound.

  Heart racing, Jess leaned over her phone as well. "You gotta get me in there, Jer-Bear. She has a Bombay chest that was in the local paper four years ago. It's perfect. You hear?"

  "Darling, you know you're closest to my heart. If I can't sway them to you, it's because little Jasmine is nothing more than a stinky, rotten flower."

  That comment satisfied Jess. She leaned back in her chair, almost tasting the gild on that rounded bulbous chest of drawers. The sale of that alone would make a huge dent in her zoo contributions. "You da bomb, Jer."

  "I know, Cookie." And he hung up.

  A wide grin eased her tension. She clicked the button and started to dial Duncan with the news when Faith stuck her head in the office. "Was that Jeremy?"

  Jess cradled the receiver. "Yeah. He's going to sway the Rettenburg heiress to sell with us."

  Young Faith made no reply, but she leaned her shoulder against the doorway and drifted off to a happier place. "Jeremy is so hot. And single. And your best friend. Why haven't you two ever dated? You obviously like each other."

  Stunned, Jess could only stare at the shadow of her youth. "You really don't know?"

  That caught Faith's attention. But only long enough to prosecute. "He's gorgeous. Are you blind?"

  She chuckled. "Are you?"

  Faith frowned.

  "He's gay. Has been living with Robert for four years." She leaned back in her chair. "Then they went to Hawaii last winter to get married."

  All hope fell from those young cheeks. "Really?"

  "Jer and Robert are a married couple."

  Faith looked like she wanted to cry, so Jess leaned forward to share. "You're right, though. I did have a wild crush on him. Must have been eleven...twelve years ago...." She thought back. "Eleven. I was fifteen. Thought he was the hottest thing on two legs. All muscled up in shop class. Turns out he was man-shopping, too."