by Mia Caldwell
“That’s enough, for now,” he said.
Slowly and deliberately, he swept the dress off her shoulders, pushing it down around her elbows. He toyed with her bra straps, running his fingers beneath them, tugging them slightly to either side until they dropped over her shoulders, clinging to her upper arms.
He traced a fingertip over the top of the lacy cups, sending shivers of delight across Jada’s skin. “Exquisite,” he said.
Jada watched his strong, tanned hands move over her soft, coffee-creamy skin which contrasted with and peeked through the snow white lace. She could have watched him touch her forever.
Ian touched her not only with need; any man could touch with need. But this man, Ian, touched her with the boldness of owning that need, both his and hers. It was a level of control Jada had never experienced. And his control freed her.
In a quick motion, he slipped her bra down further, fully revealing Jada’s breasts. He fell on her then, pushing her backward until she lay flat, rising over her and lowering his head to her breasts, tasting and enjoying her body at will.
She moaned, closed her eyes, ran her hands over his hard chest as best she could with arms still partly restrained by her dress. She sought out his buttons, and quickly opened his shirt so she could glide eager hands over the hard, ridged contours of toned pecs and abs.
Ian’s skin shivered as she touched him, and she was thrilled with her power to please him the way he pleased her.
One of his hands roved down her side, over her hip and played along the edges of her skirt, tickling her upper thigh.
“Oh,” she gasped, as he lightly nibbled her nipple.
He licked and sucked, and played feathery kisses across her sensitive skin. His other hand slipped higher under her skirt, seeking and finding the lacy edge of her panties.
He ran a finger under the stretchy fabric, moving toward her hip, then back in, toward her center, toward the overheated part of her that was aching to be discovered. Then he reversed course, back toward her hip, and back again.
Jada closed her eyes and moaned at the tease.
“Is this what you want?” he whispered, moving his finger under her panties so close to his ultimate goal that she almost couldn’t find the wits to tell him, “Yes, yes that’s what I want.”
And then it didn’t matter what she said.
They heard it at the same time, a rustling coming from the underbrush in the woods. Ian and Jada froze. Several more snapping twigs and crunching dry leaves followed. It sounded like footsteps.
Ian’s head snapped up and his eyes searched the forest while Jada struggled for enough space to try to grab the sides of her dress together.
Ian felt her struggles, mumbled a sorry, then lifted up slightly to help her pull up her bra and yank her dress back together.
“Hell,” he said, dropping down onto her, ensuring that whoever came out of the woods wouldn’t see more than the side of a small woman squished under a big man. No naked flesh to see here, nope. Move along, please.
Jada squinted into the dark forest. She thought she saw movement. They heard more rustling.
From behind a particularly ancient and large tree, out stepped the intruder—a whitetail doe.
“Seriously?” Ian asked, loud enough that he startled the shy creature.
The deer raised her head, sniffed the air, then turned and bounded away, white tail flashing, crashing through deadfall into the forest interior. The sound of her flight faded quickly.
Ian lifted himself off of Jada. “We’re going to forget that ever happened.”
She nodded, then realized she was still clutching her dress together when Ian pulled her hands away.
“It never happened,” Ian said. “Never happened.”
And in a few moments, it felt as if it hadn’t. Once more, Ian was attending to her breasts, she was delighting in his firm chest and stomach, his hand crept ever closer to the point of no return, and then—
More rustling.
“Son of a damned—” Ian sputtered, jerking his head toward the woods again. He dropped quickly onto Jada, shielding her. “If it’s that deer again, so help me, I’ll ...”
A bush at the tree line shook, and a multi-colored furry head poked out between the leaves. It looked straight at Ian and Jada.
Jada blinked, and blinked again. Her initial reaction was to throw a rock to run it off, but she knew she’d never do it. She shot a nervous glance at Ian, who was glowering sourly enough to make a Mongol warrior cower in fear. Oh boy.
It was Ms. Kitty.
The little tabby cat slipped out of the branches and trotted toward the blanket, tail high and proud. She pranced up to Ian, nuzzled against his arm, then lowered her head and rubbed a furry ear against Jada’s cheek. Having marked her ownership of the humans, she turned and sauntered over to the picnic basket, sat beside it, looked at Jada and Ian and meowed loudly.
“If we don’t move, will she go away?” Ian asked out of the corner of his mouth.
“Um, I doubt it,” Jada answered reluctantly. “She wants what’s in that basket.”
“If I give her all the fried chicken, will she go away?”
“You can’t give her the bones. She could choke.”
“Okay, what if I pull all the chicken off the bones and give—”
Ms. Kitty meowed again, impatient.
Ian sighed long and loud, and dropped his forehead onto her chest. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could just keep going.”
“In front of Ms. Kitty?” Jada asked. “Ew, no.”
“I didn’t think so. Would’ve hated myself if I didn’t ask though.” He sighed again, then hoisted himself off her, groaning as if he weighed five hundred pounds.
Jada hid a smile behind her hand.
“I know what you’re doing,” Ian said, sitting up then helping her sit up, too. “You have a little dimple that you’re not quite covering.”
“Oops.” Jada dropped her hand. “I can’t help it.”
Ms. Kitty meowed again.
“Hold your horses,” Ian said, “I’m getting to it.” He pulled the basket closer to himself and opened it.
Jada laughed while she squirmed to get her clothes back in order, Ian watching her efforts with regret etched on his handsome features.
In all, Ian was a good sport about everything, a better sport than Jada felt at first. He gave Ms. Kitty healthy helpings of meat and cheese, and refilled their own champagne flutes with cold bubbly and strawberries.
Ms. Kitty ate until she had her fill then leaned against Ian, licking her paws and grooming her face like the tidy cat she was.
“Lydia’s going to be disgusted when she finds out a cat got past her perimeter. I recall her saying a chipmunk couldn’t do it,” Ian said.
He never had re-buttoned his shirt, and it was hard for Jada to ignore all that bronzed goodness. “Don’t tell her,” Jada said. “I don’t want to turn Ms. Kitty into the enemy.”
“Trust me, no one will make an enemy out of that cat. She’s too friendly. When I was in the kitchen picking up the basket, she was sunning herself on a new window seat that Mrs. Best had Trevor build last night.”
“I bet that’s why Ms. Kitty’s here. She followed the scent of the picnic basket,” Jada said.
Ian scrutinized the small feline. “I don’t suppose she’ll go away after she’s done cleaning herself, will she?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s only that I wouldn’t mind another try at—”
Jada’s phone, which she’d tucked into a side pouch on the picnic basket, began to chime. Ian’s brows lowered.
“Sorry,” Jada said. “I was worried about Marina and afraid something might happen, so I didn’t turn my phone off.” She gave a dismissive shrug. “I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll ignore it.”
The phone chimed again, and again. Jada had to fight hard not to pull out the phone and see if it was Marina. She should have set up ringtones so she’d know without looking.
Ian looked up at the sky in surrender. “Go on. Answer it.”
“No. It would be rude.”
“It’s not rude. You’re worried. Go on. Please.”
“Thanks.” Jada smiled and leaned over, snatching the phone from the pouch. The number was unknown. She answered.
“Hello?”
A familiar voice said loudly, “Jada? Hello? Jada? Is that you? I don’t think it’s her. Jada?”
“Yes, it’s me, Mom,” Jada said, sending an apologetic glance toward Ian.
Ian, upon hearing the word “Mom,” had an expression that said he understood there was no longer a chance in hell of reclaiming their earlier intimacy. He buttoned up his shirt then relaxed on the blanket, propped on his elbows.
He petted the cat, who curled beside him and settled in for a nap. Jada’s chest tightened at the sight of him. He’d never been more handsome than he was right then.
She should have turned off her stupid, stupid phone.
Chapter Seven
“JADA? ARE YOU THERE? JADA?” her mother asked loudly, making Jada wince.
She looked away from the Adonis reclining on the picnic blanket, the only way she’d be able to maintain a coherent conversation at the moment. “Yes, Mom. I said it’s me. How did you get this number?”
“Marina gave it to me. She said you lost your phone. Is that true? Did you lose your phone? Never mind. I don’t know. Hold on. Your father is driving me crazy asking me questions while I’m talking. What? What do you want me to ask her?”
Jada waited. There was nothing for it. They were always that way, though her mother sounded more keyed up than usual.
“Okay, honey,” her mother said after a lengthy pause. “I’m going to put you on speaker phone so I don’t have to harm your father for interrupting me. Hold on.”
There was a click and the line went dead. Jada rolled her eyes and looked at the screen. Sure enough, the call was lost.
“Done already?” Ian asked.
“No. Give it a second.”
Sure enough, the phone buzzed. Jada answered. “Hello, Mom.”
“What happened? Did you hang up? Jada?”
“No, you ended the call. You must have pushed the wrong button again.”
“I don’t think so. But whatever. Hold on. I’m going to put you on speaker now. Don’t hang up on me.”
Jada expected her to lose the call again, but this time she lucked out.
“Can you hear me, Jada?” her mother asked.
“Hi Jada!” her dad called.
“Yes, I hear both of you. You don’t have to talk so loud.”
“I told you I could do it,” Jada’s mom said. “Something must have happened on her end, Monty. You should be less critical.”
“So anyway,” Jada broke in, “what’s going on? Why are you calling?”
“If your phone was stolen,” her father said, “you need to report it to the police right away. And did you call the phone company?”
“It wasn’t stolen, Dad. And I didn’t lose it either. I just switched over to this one for now. Don’t delete my old number, okay?”
“Too late,” Jada’s mother said. “I replaced it with this one. Why did you get a new phone if your old one still works? I don’t know. This is all very strange.”
“Tell her why we called,” her father said. “We want to know about the TV.”
Jada flinched. She hoped this wasn’t what she thought it was.
“Right, exactly,” Jada’s mother said. “So we were at a truck stop this morning, getting fuel. It was a good price, which is why we stopped, even though we weren’t going to stop for another few hours until we got to the truck stop with one of our favorite buffets. I think I’ve told you about it, Jada. It’s the one with all the fancy jello molds and a bar of desserts.”
“Mmm-hmm. You’ve told me, Mom.”
“Would you get to it, Kenya?” her dad asked.
“This is important,” she said. “We might have never seen Jada on TV if we’d gone on to the other place. They don’t have a TV in that store like they do at the other one.”
Jada heard her father sigh.
“We saw you on television,” her dad said. “An announcer said you’d married some rich man. Got your mother all worried.”
“Please, honey. I’m so worried. It can’t be true. You would never have kept something like this from us, would you?” her mother asked.
“No, of course not, Mom. It’s not true, Dad. It’s a big mistake. A huge misunderstanding.”
“I told you, Kenya. How would one of our girls meet a billionaire, let alone marry one? It’s ridiculous.”
“But it’s on the news,” her mother said.
“That doesn’t make it true,” her father said. “I always say you can’t believe most of what you see on TV.”
“Well, it’s not really the news,” Jada said. “It’s more like gossip. Anyway, it’s not true.”
“We saw all those reporters outside your house, Jada,” her mom said. “Are you still trapped in there?”
“No, I’m not. I’m hiding out.”
“Good girl. Tell us where you are. We’re coming to get you,” her father said. “The press will never be able to find you if you’re with us. Hard to hit a moving target.”
Jada grimaced. “Actually, I’m perfectly safe where I am. Thanks though.”
“We’re already on our way,” Jada’s dad said. “We’ll be in Springers Glen tomorrow.”
“No, don’t do that. I’m not in Springers Glen. I swear, I couldn’t be more safe where I am.”
“Where are you?” her mom asked. “Please tell me so I won’t worry.”
Jada steeled herself. There was no getting around it, not if she didn’t want them showing up in Springers Glen and banging on every door in town looking for her. “I’m at Ian Buckley’s lake cabin.”
Silence on the other end of the phone. It stretched on.
“Hello?” Jada asked finally. “Are you there?”
“Soooo,” her father began, “you actually do know this Ian Buckley person?”
“Oh, honey. What do you mean, a cabin?” her mother asked.
“It’s not actually a cabin. It’s more like an estate with a mansion and everything. They just call it a cabin. It’s a rich people thing,” Jada said.
Ian grinned and turned on his side, watching her.
“A rich people thing. What does that mean?” her mother asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” her father said.
“Anyway,” Jada said, “Mr. Buckley has been kind to me and has assured me he’s got his people working on figuring out what happened, how this story got started and how to stop it. They’re going to get it all sorted out tomorrow when the courthouse opens.”
Ian raised a brow at her and mouthed silently, “Mr. Buckley?”
She waved him off.
“You mean to say, you’ve met this man, this ... this ... billionaire?” her mother asked, her voice an awed, half-whisper.
“I have,” Jada answered.
“Is he with you now?” The identical question came from her parents at the same time, but with very different tones. Her mother said it with longing uplift at the end, clearly hoping the answer would be yes. Her father, meanwhile, said it deep and low, with suspicion, and obviously wanted the answer to be no.
“He is here, at the estate, with me,” Jada sad. “We had a picnic today.”
Again, silence fell on the line.
“Well,” her mother finally said, her voice cheery now, “I see no reason to hurry home, Monty. Jada is obviously well-cared for, safe and sound.”
“I don’t know,” her father said. “Nothing about this seems right. Are you people aware that Monday is Memorial Day? What kind of billionaire doesn’t know the courthouse won’t be open on Memorial Day? And what about you, Jada?”
A short laugh burst out of her. “Oh no! I forgot about that. I was going to go into the office anyway, so that’s probably wh
y I didn’t realize it. Ha!” Her spirits soared with the knowledge that the holiday might guarantee her one more day with Ian.
“None of that matters, Monty,” her mother said. “Listen honey, you have a good time. Enjoy yourself. Get to know the billionaire. I mean, get to know Mr. Buckley. Ian. It was Ian, right?”
“Fine,” her dad said. “But remember, Jada. You’re a good girl. Don’t let some high-flyer take advantage—”
“Shh! Don’t be ridiculous,” her mom interrupted. “I’m sure Ian is a lovely man. And we’ve got to take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves.”
“Kenya!”
“Ignore him, Jada,” her mother said. “We love you, honey. Enjoy your picnic. And have fun.”
“But not too much fun,” her father added.
“I love you both, too,” Jada said. “Drive safely, back to wherever you were going before you had the idea of coming to get me. Okay?”
Her mother laughed, her father grumbled, then they all said goodbye. Jada ended the call relieved it had gone as well as it had.
“How are your parents?” Ian asked, sitting up. “Are they worried?”
“They were, but I think they’re okay now.”
“You going to tell me what was funny?”
“Funny? Oh yeah. So, I think we may be stuck together a little longer than we’d thought.”
“You don’t say. How so?”
She searched his face, hoping he’d be as pleased with the news as she was. “Well, it’s kind of silly that we both forgot. The courthouse won’t be open tomorrow. It’s Memorial Day.”
A big smile stretched across his handsome face. “You don’t say.”
Chapter Eight
IAN HAD BEEN MORE DISGRUNTLED than he’d shown when the deer and Jada’s cat interrupted his tryst with Jada. Hearing that Monday was Memorial Day helped soothe the ache in his loins. More time with Jada was exactly what his body ordered.
Jada chatted gaily about her parents, but Ian had difficulty following the conversation. That had been happening more and more each time he talked with her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interesting. She was. It wasn’t that she wasn’t clever. She was. And smart. And funny, too. The problem was that each time he saw her she got more beautiful, and it was damned distracting.