by Dara Girard
“Why not?”
He ignored her. “And then there’s this woman who is trying to seduce me so that she can throw me over her shoulder like a chewed bone.” And then of course some board members want to sell the company or see him out of office.
“That’s not true. I wouldn’t do that.”
He didn’t look at her. “How did you know I was talking about you?”
She didn’t reply.
He turned to her. “I wasn’t talking about you, Jas. You could never seduce me.” Her gaze fell. Good. One point for the home team. He was surprised she didn’t argue...didn’t challenge him. It was rare for her to back down from a challenge. “Why are you here?”
“I thought you needed a friend.” She reached out to touch him. He grabbed her wrist before she could. “I am not in the mood to play your games do you understand? You will lose.”
“You’re hurting me.”
He immediately let her wrist go, amazed he’d been holding it so tight. “Sorry,” he muttered.
She rubbed her wrist. “I’m not playing a game. You were wrong at the cottage. I don’t see you as a trophy.”
Damn, she was good. One point for visitors. He returned his gaze to the fireplace. She came to him as the seductive Delilah, ready to use his weakness to destroy him and claim him as her prize. He knew she would do anything to win, he’d seen her play before. Fortunately, he was used to games. He’d played them all his life. He could feel the air tightening around him; the heat of the flames burned his skin.
Jessie slapped him on the back. He took a gulp of air.
“Damn it. Why do you do that?” she asked.
He had learnt the habit as a child to keep himself from crying. He had perfected it to keep himself from feeling pain, dreaming that he would pass out one day and never wake up. He always did. “You’re still here?”
“I’m not leaving without you. You need to go home and get some sleep. Your foul mood is probably a direct result of sleep deprivation.”
He shook his head and stared morosely at the flames. If he allowed himself, he could actually believe that she cared.
“Kenneth—”
He threw his hand up in an angry gesture and burst into patois, speaking so fast it sounded like gibberish, but Jessie understood every word.
She stared at him stunned, not by his words, but that he spoke patois at all. She never would have suspected perfect Kenneth Preston spoke, what her mother had called, the gutter language of Caribbean society. Her mother had banned them from speaking it at home, even though she and their father would slip into it when certain guests arrived. But Kenneth spoke it as fluently as a Kingston vendor selling jerk chicken by the roadside. She bit her lip, fighting the need to giggle.
Kenneth narrowed his eyes. “Don’t laugh.”
She covered her mouth with both hands her eyes beginning to water.
“I’m warning you.”
That did it. She threw her head back and laughed, slapping her thigh.
He frowned. “It’s not that funny.”
“Me never did tink—” she couldn’t finish, a fresh wave of laughter washed over her.
Kenneth rested his head back and covered his eyes, chuckling a little to himself. “Damn.”
She finally quieted. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
She decided not to argue; she reached behind the couch and picked up the basket with the puppy. She placed it on the space between them. “Here.”
“What is it?”
“Isa gift fi you,” she said playfully. “Tek it nuh.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in reluctant amusement. He glanced down at his watch and frowned. “Did I forget me birt-day again?”
“No, I just thought you’d like it.”
Kenneth opened the lid, half expecting rubber snakes to leap up at him, but instead he found a curled up ball with brown fur: a sleeping puppy. He felt warmth ripple over him. He reached down to touch it then changed his mind. He closed the lid. “I don’t want it.”
“Why not?” Jessie lifted the puppy out of the basket and set it on her lap. It yawned, blinked its eyes then went back to sleep. “You were wrong the other night. I did learn things about you and I remembered them. I remembered how you always wanted a house surrounded by trees, that you loved summer storms and that you feed the squirrels because when you were little you weren’t allowed to have a pet.”
Kenneth inwardly groaned. Score two for the visitors.
“It may have been a crush, but I did care about you as my friend.” Jessie held the puppy out to him. “Come on. Give him a chance.”
The puppy looked at him with sleepy golden brown eyes.
“I don’t want him,” he said trying to be firm though his voice was not.
Jessie sighed dramatically. “Then I guess he’ll have to go back to the pound. His original owners weren’t able to sell him because one of his legs isn’t fully developed so he limps.”
Kenneth flashed her a glare of disbelief.
“I’ll show you.” She placed the puppy on the ground, sat on the couch and called him. He came bounding towards her like he’d fallen into a distillery, weaving to and fro until he reached her. “I’m sure as he grows he won’t be as awkward.”
Kenneth felt himself weaken, but still said nothing.
“All the other dogs will probably recognize his weakness and terrorize him.”
The thought of the little puppy being bullied tore at him. “Give him to me.” Kenneth took the puppy and examined its crooked leg. “I’m sure that this leg just needs to be mended properly then he’ll be fine.”
“Right,” Jessie said. There was no need to mention that there was nothing a veterinarian could do.
He began to stroke the puppy’s fur, delighting in the soft feel. “I’ll only keep him until his leg gets corrected. Then I’ll give him away.”
“Okay.”
As if recognizing his new father, the puppy began licking his face. Kenneth held him out at arms length and stared at him. “I’m a busy man. I can’t own a dog.”
“What are you going to name him?”
“I’ll let Syrah decide.”
Jessie shook her head. “No. He’s yours for now, you decide.”
“Dionysus.”
“No.”
“I thought you said—”
“You are not naming him after the god of wine.”
“Dion then.” He put the puppy down and watched it explore the room, but it tripped and bumped its head on the leg of the coffee table. It laid down and began to whimper. Kenneth picked him up and rubbed where it had hit its head. “Silly thing.” He put the dog down again and it bumped into the couch. Kenneth turned to Jessie.
He sent her a black look. “Let me guess, he’s blind too.”
“Only mildly. They think he has a slow eye or something. The room is probably too dark for him.”
Kenneth shook his head and swore. “Figures you would give me a deformed mutt.”
“He’s not deformed.”
He frowned. “That’s true. Right now he’s using my coffee table as a toilet.”
“He just needs to be housebroken.”
“Just what I was looking for,” he muttered. “Something else that needs me.” The puppy came up and stared up at him, his gaze a little cross-eyed. Kenneth instantly loved him.
“If you really don’t want him, I’ll take him back.”
“You knew damn well when you brought him in here that I would keep him. Nuh try fi mek a poppy show of mi.”
“No, when I saw him I thought of you.”
His brows shot up. “You see me as a partially blind puppy with a limp?”
“No, someone who needs a friend.”
“And you’re one of my friends?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yes.”
Shit. The problem was he wanted to believe her. Hell, if she planned to use him then he would use her too.
He knew once he placed his
lips against hers that she was his addiction. She was the one thing he could not seem to deny himself no matter how harmful she was. His body craved her touch, craved her acceptance, craved entrance into her secrets so that he could divulge his own. His lips descended to her neck: a proud column of rich cocoa skin. He knew he was overwhelming her with his need—displaying and admitting his weakness for her—but he didn’t care. He delighted in the sweet torture as her body rubbed against his erection, that tormenting ache to be inside her. He groaned in delight and despair, knowing she would soon pull away.
She didn’t. She held him tighter. “Kenneth, what’s wrong?”
It unnerved him how well she could read him. He used to be so good at masking his feelings. He lifted his hand to caress her cheek and tell her he was fine. He was horrified to see his hand trembling like his brother’s had. He didn’t answer her, just opened her blouse and captured her breast in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the nipple. He pulled down her jeans and placed his hand between her thighs, feeling the gathering moisture. He felt her hands on his zipper. They were ready for each other.
He abruptly stopped. “Shit.”
Jessie looked at him alarmed. “What?”
“Are you taking anything?”
She hesitated. “No.”
“And I don’t have any condoms.” He let out a low growl.
She shifted underneath him. “Look I—”
“For God’s sakes don’t move,” he ground out between his teeth. “I need a minute.” He took a deep breath, gathering whatever control he had left. He straightened, adjusting his trousers. Damn, he was still hard. How could he chastise his brother when he put himself at the mercy of someone who could destroy him? Wasn’t he being just as suicidal, knowingly tearing out his heart, risking his secrets for a few moments of pleasure?
“What you have can be treated,” she said.
He stared at her. “What I have?” He glanced down. Hell, was he showing that much?
“Yes. I’ve seen it before.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Big Sibling Syndrome. You feel it is your duty to repair the lives of your family. Don’t worry. You’re not alone. Michelle has it too. You help people, but you never ask for it. You offer advice, but you rarely take any. You fear failure more than death.”
“What’s the treatment?”
“Sharing. Opening up and letting others help you carry your burdens.”
Kenneth turned to the fire. “You don’t know very much about men.”
“What?” Jessie stood.
“If you knew what I was thinking, you wouldn’t be lecturing me right now.”
Jessie could tell by his tone that he was offering her a warning. He had controlled his body, but there was still a hunger in him that he wanted satisfied. She grabbed Dion and left.
He stared at the flames that mirrored the anger in his eyes.
Chapter 21
Nathan glanced around the bar, taking in the cigarette smoke filtering through the dim lights. The smell of sweat, too much perfume, and liquor clogged the hot air while the sound of a ceiling fan hummed noisily, but offered no breeze. He looked at the quiet man sitting in front of him. When Kenneth had called him up to meet here, he had expected a lot more excitement than this.
“I know men aren’t supposed to be talkers, but you’re taking this to a whole new level. At least order a beer.”
Kenneth glanced at a woman in yellow fishnet stockings. “I don’t drink.”
“Then it’s strange that you would suggest we meet in a bar.” Nathan caught the woman’s eye and winked.
Kenneth shook his head. No, it wasn’t strange. He wanted to test himself; to prove that he was not weak. Although he was surrounded by liquid and carnal temptations, he would resist them. He was strong, no matter how much Jasmine made him feel otherwise. He glanced at a man lighting up a joint. “I need a vice.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to kill a woman and I need something else to occupy my thoughts.”
Nathan nodded. “Murder would be a pretty risky vice.”
Kenneth wrote letters on the table then noticed he was spelling “Jasmine” and silently swore. “She’s playing games,” he said in a low voice. “Trying to twist me up inside.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter. I want to hurt her, make her feel this—” He stopped before he said pain. It wasn’t pain, it was something else. “Betrayal.” He rubbed his chin. Yes, that was the right word. That’s was what had caused the rage and hurt that fought for dominance inside him. It clawed at the control that had always been his greatest protection.
Nathan tapped the table. “I know. Give her something she really wants then take it away.”
Kenneth sat back and began to smile. Perfect. He knew exactly what he could do— Jasmine had given him the rules of the game. He planned to use them to his advantage. He’d let her win the pendant and then set the price she would pay.
* * *
Freda was not pleased with the new member of the Preston household. Syrah, however, was thrilled. She set off immediately trying to housebreak Dion. She played with Dion in the yard while Jessie sat in the kitchen and stared at the phone. Three days until the ball. She would have to call Deborah and tell her that she had won. Then she would tell Kenneth. Or maybe she could tell Kenneth first then Deborah.
The phone rang.
“Hello, Preston residence,” she said.
“Are you free?” Kenneth asked.
She swallowed, just the sound of his voice did funny things to her. “Uh, yes.”
“Good, I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
“In my office.”
His office. Her danger zone. “I’ll be right there.” Jessie hung up the phone. She would meet him, but this time she’d be prepared. She went to Freda in the kitchen. “Could you watch after Syrah and Dion for a while? I’ll pay you back.”
Freda frowned but nodded. “I don’t mind the girl, but the dog will cost you.”
Moments later, Jessie stood in a grocery store aisle, chewing her nails while she stared at the selection of condoms. She hadn’t realized there was such an assortment: colored, large, extra large. How was she supposed to know his size?
She turned and saw a man about Kenneth’s height. She pointed to the display. “Excuse me, sir, which size do you wear?”
His face spread into a leer. He looped his thumbs in his belt holes. “Baby, you want to find out?”
She glanced at him. A small. She turned away. “Never mind.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
She picked up a box and read the label. “And neither do you.”
“You’re not pretty anyway,” he muttered and left.
Jessie ignored the remark, folded her arms then grabbed the gold brand. Gold signaled the best and Kenneth was Mr. Perfect after all, right? She bought her selection and dumped them in her bag for easy access then headed to his office.
A handsome man in a loud red blazer stopped her on the way to Kenneth’s office. “Jessie Clifton?”
“Yes?” she asked cautious, feeling as though everyone could see what she had in her bag.
“I’m Nathan Phillips, a friend of Kenneth’s. Are you here to see him?”
“Why? Do I need permission?”
He grinned. “I’m just offering you a word of warning. Mr. Boss is in one of his moods.”
“Okay.” She gripped her bag. Nathan’s warning disappeared when Jessie walked into Kenneth’s office.
“What happened?” she asked, looking around the room where various vases and plants sat.
“You happened,” he said blandly.
“Me?” She closed the door behind her and stepped further into the room.
Kenneth twirled a pen between his fingers. “Yes, it seems you’ve started a trend.”
“The flowers?”
He nodded.
Jessie laug
hed. “You mean these are all from women?”
“Let’s just say I hope so.”
She bit her lip. “You never know.”
“I know that the local florist is very happy about this.” He tossed his pen down and shook his head helplessly. “I’ve given some away, but more keep coming.”
Jessie read the card sticking out of one of the pots. “To Kenneth. I love you a bunch.” She turned to him and smirked. “How original.”
He reddened a bit. “Can we get down to business?”
“So this is what I smelled last night.”
“Probably.”
“You didn’t sleep well, did you?”
He rested his elbows on the desk. “Can we get down to business?” he repeated.
She picked up a flower and smelled it. “Certainly, Mr. Boss.”
“You’ve been talking to Nathan,” he said grimly.
“Interesting guy. Very charming and attractive—”
Kenneth drummed his fingers on his knee. He didn’t want to discuss Nathan. “I need you to do me a favor.”
Jessie walked towards him. “What?”
“I need a date for the Hampton Charity Ball and I’d like to take you.”
Her mouth fell open. She missed a step and tripped over the rug. This time she didn’t catch herself. She fell flat on her face. Her handbag dropped, spilling the condoms like candy from a piñata.
Kenneth stood. “Are you okay?”
She jumped up, gathering the items. “I’m fine.”
“What the hell are these?” He lifted one of the condoms and winked at her. “I’m flattered.”
She snatched it from him. “You were saying?”
“I’d like to take you as my date for the Hampton Charity Ball.”
She stared, speechless. Oh no. He was doing the unthinkable. He was asking her to the ball. She could win.
“Think of it as your rain check for the prom.” He sensed her hesitation. “Don’t you want to go?”
“I’d love to go.” Her voice cracked. She sank slowly into a chair. The pendant was hers; she’d won back her family’s honor. But if Kenneth ever found out... She bit her nails. She would just have to risk it.
“Good.” He gave her the once over, taking in her jeans, blouse, and flyaway hair. “You’ll need to undergo a makeover of course.”