by Dara Girard
“Sorry about that,” she said.
He ran a tired hand down his face. “No need to apologize. Neither of us slept very well last night.” He blinked at his watch. “I’d better get back to work.”
She smiled wistfully, not wanting the time to end, not wanting him to leave her. She shyly took his hand, and he curled his fingers around hers. “Thanks for lunch,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” He didn’t move from where he was sitting. She didn’t move either.
He nudged her. “See those two squirrels by the tree? Let’s see if I can call them.” He made a high-pitched squeak between his teeth. The two squirrels stopped and stood on their hind legs, listening. He made the sound again, and they came towards them, as if greeting old friends. Kenneth reached in his pocket, pulled out some nuts, and tossed them to the squirrels.
Jessie laughed. “You still carry nuts in your pockets?”
A squirrel jumped up next to him. Kenneth gave him a nut. “A bad habit of mine, I guess.”
“Aren’t you afraid they’ll bite you?”
“They’ve never bitten me. We’re old friends.” A secretive smile appeared on his face. “When I was a kid, I used to—” He suddenly stopped. He couldn’t share his past. He liked Jasmine, but he couldn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust anyone. Everybody thought he was Mr. Perfect, and that was the image he had fought to maintain. He had to, since he had nothing else. “Never mind. We’d better go.” He got up, tossed the rest of the nuts on the ground, and walked toward the street.
Jessie followed, wondering why he had suddenly wanted to leave. “Are you okay?”
He halted so abruptly that she crashed into him. It was like hitting a brick wall, and it took her a few moments to reorient herself. He turned to look at her and then glanced at something in the distance. He frowned.
Jessie glanced in the same direction, but only saw a group of kids. “What is it?”
“They won’t let him play,” he said, watching a group of children dismiss another child from their group. The child held a soccer ball under his arm. “Excuse me for a minute.”
Kenneth jogged towards the boy. He tapped the boy on the shoulder and asked him some questions. The boy only nodded. Kenneth pointed to himself and Jessie. The boy at first looked suspicious, then smiled.
Kenneth came back over to her. “I need you to do me a favor—”
“Yes, I’ll do it.”
Kenneth smiled wickedly. “You know, that’s a dangerous practice.”
“What?”
“Saying yes to a man when you don’t even know what he wants.”
“I know what you want.”
He quirked a brow. “You do?”
She ignored the teasing tone. “You want me to be referee.”
He tweaked her chin. “I like a woman who can read my mind.”
She tweaked his chin. “I know.”
He took off his jacket, dropped it on her head, and went to the boy. Jessie took the coat off her head and hugged it close to her. Damn, damn, damn. She really liked him. She enjoyed having Kenneth as a friend. It wouldn’t stay this way—it couldn’t—but she would treasure it for now. She wondered if Gran Sonya had felt the same conflict about the German she had seduced. Had there been any regrets? Any heartache? She shook her head. She didn’t wish to dwell on it. There was no turning back this deep in the game. She swung the coat over her shoulder and approached the pair.
In the distance, Tracy watched her, then raced to her car.
* * *
“What do you mean you saw Kenneth and Jessie in the park together?” Deborah stared at Tracy, shocked. “Get off of me,” she told the seamstress pinning her dress. The woman took her pins and hurried away.
Tracy kept her voice low, not wanting to draw attention from other customers. “I was taking a walk around the fountain and I saw them,” Tracy said. “They seemed really cozy. Her charm seems to be working.”
“You must be wrong. You saw him with someone else.”
“It was definitely Jessie. I could recognize that wispy hair anywhere.”
Deborah folded her arms and began to pace. “What was she wearing?”
“A regular blouse and jeans.”
Deborah gathered the billowing skirt of her dress and sat on the platform. “It’s impossible. How could that plain little…” She looked up at Tracy and narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure–?”
“Positive.”
Deborah ran her fingers through her hair, her mind racing. She could not allow plain Jessie Clifton to upstage her. There was no way she—Deborah Elizabeth Wester—could lose. How could she tell her dear Aunt Rhonda—the aunt she hoped would leave her a hefty inheritance upon the unfortunate event of her death—that she had lost the Sapphire Pendant in a bet with one of the crazy Cliftons? It would be so humiliating. She had to think of something.
At that moment Stephanie Radson came into the store. Deborah looked at the woman with growing interest. She’d been to a few of her parties, but they were far from close. Fortunately, that wasn’t essential to making her plan work. Nobody could say Stephanie was as pretty as her sister, but she had all the qualifications (education, family connections) to be a catch for the right man. Besides, Stephanie always seemed to be at Kenneth’s side for business; why not for pleasure as well?
Deborah raised her voice a notch, just enough so Stephanie could hear, but not enough to be gauche. “Thank you for telling me about Kenneth Preston, Tracy. It’s so nice to know what he’s been up to.” As she had hoped, Stephanie tilted her head in their direction.
“Why are you talking so loud?” Tracy whispered.
She stood, smoothing out the skirt of her gown. “I mean, if Jessie can convince Kenneth to take her to the Hampton Charity Ball, then she wins the bet and the pendant. That’s only fair. There’s nothing I can do. He’s just a pawn in our little game.”
The door chime rang.
Deborah turned to the entrance and smiled with triumph. Stephanie had gone. She had succeeded in leveling the playing field.
Chapter 16
“Daniel, this is my friend, Jasmine,” Kenneth said, rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves. Jessie began to correct him, but decided to let it pass. “You can call her Jas for short,” he continued.
Daniel smiled, lighting up his chubby face. His round, gray glasses framed eyes the color of molasses and stood out against his pecan skin.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, his voice higher than she’d expected. She supposed his large build disguised the fact that he was probably a preteen.
After introductions, the game was underway. At first, Kenneth was lenient with the boy, but he soon discovered that in spite of his size, Daniel was a good player. While Jessie was watching, two girls came up to her.
“Can we play?” one asked.
Jessie glanced at Daniel and Kenneth, then shrugged. “Why not?” She turned and waved her arms to get their attention. “Hey, guys! We have new players.”
“Let them come,” Kenneth said. “Daniel and I can take them.”
Soon more kids started to come and ask if they could play. Before they knew it, Jessie and Kenneth were organizing twelve kids of various ages and sizes into two different teams. One kid brought a football, so tag football was born. An older kid offered to referee, giving Jessie the opportunity to play. To even the playing field, Kenneth and Jessie played on different sides.
At one point, Jessie got a hold of the ball and was close to making a goal when Kenneth tackled her to the ground.
“Hey, this is not tackle football,” Jessie said, trying to push him off her.
“Oh, it isn’t?” He wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “Sorry, forgot about that.”
Naturally, she had to seek revenge for such forgetfulness. While he was running to catch a toss, she stuck her foot out and sent him flying forward. He looked up at her and grinned, his eyes bright. All he said was “Touché.”
Jessie’s team won, and soon the sou
nd of the ice cream truck caught everyone’s attention.
“Ice cream for everyone!” Jessie announced. “It’s on us.” She patted Kenneth on the back and mouthed, Meaning you.
All the kids cheered and ran towards the white truck covered with pictures of summer treats.
“Still up to your tricks,” Kenneth said, walking towards the truck and the crowd of kids.
“I knew you would offer anyway.”
He took out his wallet and counted the bills. His spirits dampened slightly. Of course she knew. He was Mr. Dull, Mr. Nice, Mr. Perfect. “I’m predictable.”
“No, I can read your mind.”
He stopped and stared at her. “What am I thinking right now?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re thinking, ‘I want to buy Jessie a Firecracker Popsicle.’” She opened one eye for confirmation.
He grinned. “Not even close.” He jogged towards the ice cream truck and created order amongst the kids, who were eager to get their requests heard. He looked like a troop leader, except he didn’t seem frazzled or impatient. He made sure that every kid was serviced, remembering their names and their orders. He accepted their thanks as they walked away.
When he returned to Jessie, he found her in an alcove surrounded by bushes. She sat under a large oak tree, enjoying its shade. He handed her the Firecracker, then stretched out next to her and rested on his elbow. He watched a cardinal dart through the sky and the clouds floating past with their white sails flying.
“You’re dripping ice cream down your arm,” she said.
He looked down and saw white drops falling from the bottom of his cone.
She handed him a handkerchief.
He frowned at it. “What is this?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what it is. Didn’t your mother make you to carry one around?”
He wiped his arm. “Yes, I just didn’t expect you to have one.” He sucked the bottom of his cone, then quickly finished it. “That was good.”
“Mine was better.”
“At least my lips aren’t blue.”
She made a face.
He rested his head back, closing his eyes as the sunlight fell through the trees. It scattered across the ground like diamonds. Jessie stared at him, the arrogant slope of his nose, the feathering of dark, curling lashes against his cheeks. He looked beautiful, taking the simple pleasure of lying on the park lawn. She wondered why he didn’t always look like this, why there always seemed to be a shield between him and the rest of the world. No matter how genuine the smile, he seemed far away, but here the real Kenneth seemed to slip through the mask. Why did he feel the need to pretend?
He suddenly opened his eyes; they clashed with hers. She meant to look away (Look but don’t stare, she heard Michelle say), but she couldn’t. Her eyes wanted to drink him in before the mask was set in place, to marvel at the amber specks in his brown eyes, at how large his irises were.
He sat up, but their gaze never wavered. For the first time, she didn’t see him as a crush or a pawn or an enemy to conquer. She saw him as a man, a man she wanted—desired in a purely feminine way. This was no schoolgirl crush, with thoughts of holding hands and sweet kisses on the bay. This was carnal lust rushing through her veins. She wanted to ravish his full, sensual lips, to run her hands up the contours of his chest and find out just how perfect he was.
He was close enough to touch, but she didn’t move. She’d never even kissed a man before. She had tackled a man, even wrestled one, but kissed one? Never. And she had never been given the opportunity to practice. She had practiced once by using the inside of her elbow, but she was sure the real thing wasn’t the same. She would probably make an idiot of herself and end up kissing his chin again. She was almost willing to risk it. But what if he pulled away like before? She licked her lips. She would have to find out.
He didn’t pull away, but the kiss proved to be a disappointment. That was it? Two lips pressed against each other? She drew back.
The corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin. “You’ve never kissed a man before.”
She took a deep breath. Her face felt as though it was on fire. “Go ahead and laugh.”
“Why would I laugh? I feel honored.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“This is going to be fun.”
“Fun?”
“Yep.” He cupped her chin and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “Open your mouth a little.” He began to smile. “I said a little: like this.” He demonstrated. “Understand?”
She did. “I feel silly.”
“You won’t in a minute. You’re going to enjoy this. Now kiss me again.”
The difference was a puddle versus the ocean. She delved into the sweet softness of his lips, the warm wetness of his mouth. Her hunger grew with each passing moment. She leaned into him, her fingers running through his hair, her hands sliding down his spine and roaming the expanse of his back. Although his mouth was as soft as the grass beneath them, his body was rigid as steel.
It annoyed her that at such a moment of pleasure, he still could be distant. She wanted him to lose control. She darted her tongue in his mouth. His resulting groan only hinted at the passion she’d tapped into. He wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her close, the buttons of his shirt biting into her chest. He suddenly pulled away and stared at her, his eyes a storm of conflicting emotions.
“Trust me,” she whispered against his lips.
His mouth covered hers like an avalanche—overwhelming, fast, and furious. She fell backward, her fingers grasping his collar and bringing the heat of his body on top of her. She could feel the tiger prowling, pacing back and forth, still locked in its cage. Despite his control, she could feel her body respond to him, feel the hardening of her nipples, the gathering moisture between her legs. She wanted him.
“We should go,” he murmured.
She nibbled on his lower lip. They quickly forgot the comment. The loud honk of a passing car jerked him back, reminding them where they were.
He jumped to his feet and pulled her up next to him in one effortless tug. “We have to go now.” He picked up his jacket and walked away.
She followed.
Oh, God, what must he think of me? She was supposed to be subtle, suave, charming, yet she had jumped on him as though he were a new mattress. No, that was a bad analogy; it only led to dangerous thoughts. What had happened? What was wrong with her? She would never be able to look at him again without thinking of his mouth. What a mouth! She wouldn’t mind having it explore all her erogenous zones. She squeezed her eyes shut.
She didn’t expect to be like that, a woman that thought about sex every time she looked at a man. She didn’t love him or anything, and she wasn’t brought up to want a man solely for his body. It wasn’t proper. She was overexcited because it was her first time with a man, any man. She had to make allowance for that. She just wasn’t sure how to act. She glanced at him—the granite jaw, piercing eyes. The mask was back in place. She would be casual about it.
“It was the weather,” she muttered as they rode the elevator. It had to be the heat and excitement of a game.
He turned to her. “What?”
She stared ahead, still unable to look directly at him. “I left my sweater in your office. I was just reminding myself.”
“Oh.” Kenneth stepped out of the elevator, then held the office door open for her. He should apologize. She had offered him a simple kiss, and he had turned it into much more. Too bad he wasn’t going to; he didn’t feel in the mood to be a hypocrite.
Jessie grabbed her sweater off the back of the chair, eager to leave, then she stopped. She wouldn’t run away from him. She had to behave as if it were no big deal. She looked at a stack of memos on his desk, then leaned over to see what he had on the screen.
Kenneth sat down and offered her a dry smile. “Can I help you?”
She looked at him. “You’re typing letters?”
“Yes.”
&
nbsp; “Why? Don’t you have someone to do that for you?”
He glanced down and saw a grass stain on his shirt. He would have to change. “I can do it.”
“That doesn’t mean someone else can’t. Ask Mrs. Mathew.”
“I’m sure she has better things to do.”
“Then ask Janet, Claire, or Brooke.”
He rubbed his chin. “It’s complicated.”
Jessie rested her hands on the table and leaned forward. “How complicated?”
He hesitated. His eyes focused on the way the front of her shirt fell forward, revealing her cleavage. “Take a seat.”
“Why?”
Why? Because when you lean over my desk that way, I can see right down your blouse, and it’s damned distracting. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He tried to glance away, but his eyes kept returning to the delicious crevice between her breasts. He saw a trickle of sweat make a river down her neck and rest in the ravine. He wondered what she tasted like there.
“Let’s just say that I’m doing someone a flavor—” He shook his head. “A favor.”
Jessie leaned closer. “Meaning?”
He decided to stare at the computer screen. “Okay, to be honest, a guy who helped me with some capital asked me to hire his daughter and her friend. Their résumés looked strong, so I said sure.”
“And they’ve been a useless piece of furniture ever since,” she concluded.
“I wouldn’t say that. Stephanie and Brooke came as an extra bonus.”
“Because their father owned the company?”
He nodded.
“It’s not fair.” Jessie pushed herself off the desk. Kenneth sighed, wiping the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead. “I work hard, trying to go above and beyond my duty, and I get fired, while they get cushy jobs.”
He shrugged.
Jessie looked at the pile of papers on his desk. “I can do them for you.”
“No, I can do them myself.”
She gathered the notes together and took them. “You’re welcome.”