Kennedy felt the runaway beating of Lydia’s heart under his splayed fingers. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed a kiss on the sweet-smelling strands. He loved her. He loved her so much that he feared blurting out what lay in his heart.
Lydia opened her eyes, smiling. “Please let me go. I need to get ready.” She didn’t have time to take another shower, but knew she had to wash away the evidence of the erotic pleasure Kennedy had roused in her.
Lowering his head, Kennedy brushed his mouth over the nape of her neck. “I’ll wait on the porch.”
Once he released her, she walked over to the chest of drawers, selected a pair of panties, and retreated to the bathroom.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lydia stepped out onto the porch, unable to meet Kennedy’s gaze. He knew she had no control over her traitorous body, knew that all he had to do was touch her and she’d melt like a pat of butter on a heated surface.
She, Lydia Charlene Lord, who’d prided herself on being in total control at all times, had surrendered the will of her flesh to a man whom she had fallen for and did not want to love.
She had accepted the position as chef for Camp Six Nations to test her culinary creativity, to prepare nutritious meals for what she considered the world’s toughest critics: children.
She’d planned to spend eight weeks in western Maryland’s unspoiled wilderness perfecting her craft, not preparing to spend the night with a man who made her forget her vow never to become involved with an athlete, or in Kennedy’s case a former athlete.
They were four weeks into the camp season with another four before it ended, and Lydia told herself over and over that she could engage in a summer romance and then walk away with her emotions intact. That she would enjoy whatever she and Kennedy shared, then relegate it to her past, because her sole focus was setting up her restaurant.
Smiling, she pointed to the bag decorated in a needlepoint design resting near the recliner. “Light enough?” She’d packed underwear, a nightgown, T-shirt, shorts, a pair of sandals, and her grooming products.
Bending down, Kennedy picked up the bag, testing its weight. It was very light. Straightening up, he turned and stared at Lydia, his eyes making love to her face. Her hair, parted off-center, framed her face—a face that bore the slightest trace of makeup that subtly enhanced her natural feminine beauty. She’d tilted her chin slightly, staring up at him through a fringe of long, full black lashes that framed her incredible sherry-colored eyes.
His eyes moved lower, caressing the graceful column of her bared neck, the soft swell of breasts rising and falling above the décolletage of her form-fitting dress that outlined every line of her slender, curvy body. He stared at her long bare legs in the heels that put her over the six-foot mark.
“You look incredible, darling.” His voice was low, reverent, and blatantly seductive.
Lydia stared at the strong brown throat above the starched collar of a white shirt. “So do you.” Taking a step closer, she took a deep breath and whispered, “What are you wearing?”
Kennedy lifted his eyebrows. “You want to know who designed my suit?”
She shook her head. “Not your clothes, Kennedy. What fragrance are you wearing? You always smell so delicious.”
“Is that what you’d asked me last night?”
“No. Last night I wanted to know literally what you were wearing.”
“I’m wearing Burberry Brit, and when I called last night I was in my birthday suit.”
Curving her arms around his neck, she brushed her mouth over his. “Happy birthday.”
Kennedy did not move, not even his eyes. “Who told you today’s my birthday?”
“You just did.”
His free arm curved around her waist. “I did not.”
“The night at the fair you told me that you were going to be thirty-six next month. This is next month. And the fact that you asked me to go out with you on a Sunday night tells me that today is special,” she said with an attractive pout. “Now, tell me I’m wrong.”
Tightening his hold on her body, Kennedy lowered his head and pressed a kiss along the column of her neck. “You’re not wrong, baby.”
“You should’ve come clean with me, Kennedy. I could’ve gotten you something special for your born-day.”
“I have all that I need. I have you.”
Lydia sobered quickly. “You’ll only have me for the next four weeks. I wanted to give you a small gift to remind you of our summer together.”
“Do you really want to give me a little something?”
“Yes.”
“When I take you to Cabo San Lucas I want to make it an extended stay.”
A wave of momentary panic swept through Lydia, gnawing away at her confidence. She knew Kennedy could feel the runaway beating of her heart against his chest. What exactly did he want? Did he want to continue their liaison beyond the camp season?
“Extend it how?”
“A week or two.”
Pulling out of his embrace, Lydia stared at Kennedy as if she’d never seen him before. “I can’t,” she said, shaking her head.
“Why not, Lydia? It’s not as if you have to get up in the morning to go to work.”
Her quick temper flared. “The last time I checked I was certain I didn’t have someone hovering over me monitoring my daily comings and goings.”
Kennedy knew he had made a grievous faux pas. Lydia had changed before his eyes like a reptile shedding its skin, and he wanted to shake her until she was too breathless to lash him with the whip she called a tongue. There was a time and place to argue, and he knew this time wasn’t one of those times.
Fixing her with a lethal stare, he said, “I’m sorry, Lydia, if you misconstrued my meaning, but I would never attempt to monitor anyone’s life, and certainly not yours.” His tone was neutral, conciliatory. “You told me that you don’t expect to open your restaurant until next spring. I interpreted that to mean you would have some free time before the end of this year.”
Lydia stared at a spot over Kennedy’s shoulder. Shame quickened her breath, singed her face, and she was angry for being embarrassed because never had she been chastised so eloquently.
Pulling back her shoulders, she tilted her chin in a defiant gesture and affected a half smile as Kennedy stared at her under hooded lids.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. Will you forgive me…darling?”
Offering her a smile that sent her pulses racing, Kennedy cupped her elbow and led her off the porch. “I’ll think about it…baby.”
* * *
“I thought by now you would’ve cut me some slack.”
Shifting her gaze from the side window, Lydia stared at Kennedy as he navigated a narrow road bordered on both sides with towering pine trees. She’d been content to watch the passing landscape while listening to the seductive voice of Will Downing coming through the SUV’s speakers.
Kennedy had removed his suit jacket and laid it over the rear seats. The haunting scent of his cologne, the crisp fabric of the custom-made shirt with monogrammed French cuffs, and the heat from his body had become a sensual feast that ensnared her in a gluttonous web from which there was no escape.
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you still lump me in the same category as your ex?” Kennedy took his gaze off the road for a second. Lydia’s expression mirrored his confusion. “There are times when I must edit everything before I say it whenever I’m with you,” he explained softly, as he concentrated on the winding stretch of asphalt. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I feel as if I’m being punished for the indiscretions perpetrated by the men in your past.”
It was the second time in as many minutes that Kennedy had chastised her. Was he right? Was she punishing him for one man’s infidelity and another’s insensitivity?
Tears welled in her eyes, but did not fall. A tumble of confused thoughts and feelings weighed her down. Biting down on her lower lip, she tried to bring her fragile emotions under control.
Against her will, she had fallen in love with Kennedy Fletcher. He was everything she had sought in a man, yet he had become the receptacle for her frustration and disappointments.
“I’m sorry, Kennedy. It is not my intention to lash out at you.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Apology accepted.” He drove another quarter of a mile, made a sharp left, and continued along a one-lane road until he saw a sign indicating the number of miles to Pennsylvania.
“Do you want to tell me about him?” he asked softly.
“Who?”
“The jock that hurt you.”
Lydia wanted to openly deny she was still carrying the pain of Vincent’s deception, but did not want to lie to Kennedy or to herself.
She knew she had to stop punishing Kennedy because of her inability to move forward emotionally.
She stared out the windshield and exhaled. “I won’t tell you his name, because he’s still playing pro ball.”
“Which league?”
“NBA. I met John Doe in high school. He was a year ahead of me. He was a point guard and captain of the basketball team and I was captain of the girls’ softball team. To say he was popular is an understatement. He had looks, talent, and brains enough to get into Georgetown on a full scholarship.
“He never seemed that interested in me until he came back to speak at our annual sports award dinner. After I was selected best all-around female athlete he approached me and asked if I had a date for the senior prom. Up until that time, none of the boys had asked me because most of them believed the rumors that had been circulating for years about my brothers threatening guys with bodily harm if they even looked sideways at their sisters.”
“Did you go to the prom with him?”
Lydia nodded as a sad smile softened her features. “Yes. We saw a lot of each that summer. I’d applied to a D.C. culinary school, so that fall John and I continued to see each other.
“I talked my folks into letting me share an apartment in D.C. with my best girlfriend who had enrolled at Howard. She had her boyfriend and I had John. When we weren’t studying or when John wasn’t playing ball, we’d all take turns getting together at our respective apartments. I always wound up with the cooking duties.”
“How long did you date John?”
“Almost three years. I saw him for a year before going to bed with him. Meanwhile I’d bragged to my roommate that he was the greatest because he hadn’t pressured me into sleeping with him. She always told me that I was the luckiest girl in the world.
“However, my luck ran out. The NBA came knocking at John’s door, and he had to decide whether to finish college or turn pro. He opted to drop out. The lure of a multimillion-dollar contract with several product endorsements was too tempting to pass up.
“The day he turned pro, his agent held a press conference announcing John was planning to marry at the end of the month. My telephone never stopped ringing with everyone congratulating me on my upcoming nuptials. At first, I was pissed at John for using the media to propose when he hadn’t given me a clue that he wanted to marry before he graduated from college. He called me and said he needed to talk. The fact that he said he needed and not wanted to talk should’ve put me on notice. Well, shame on me for assuming the woman he wanted to marry was me.” Lydia closed her eyes, unable to continue.
“Who was she?” Kennedy asked after a prolonged silence.
“Who do you think?” she said, recovering her voice.
“Your roommate.”
A wry smile twisted her mouth. “Give that man a cigar,” she said cynically.
“What was his excuse for choosing your roommate over you?”
“Georgetown was one of the final four teams during March Madness, and I’d come down with the flu, so I couldn’t make it to an off-campus party. My roommate went in my place. John claimed he and my roommate had a little too much to drink and wound up in bed together. He tried to absolve himself when he said it was only the first time they’d slept together.”
Kennedy’s right hand covered the gearshift in a deathlike grip. “I thought you told me she had a boyfriend.”
“She did when we moved in together. After a while she began complaining about him because he would never have the earning potential John would. Poor Curtis finally had enough of her bitchin’ and moanin’ and moved on.”
“Which opened the door for her to go after your man.”
Lydia nodded, sighing audibly. “I suppose he wasn’t my man if I was also sharing him with another woman—or maybe even other women. My roommate never came back to the apartment to pick up her things. I eventually packed everything and shipped it to her parents. I kept the apartment while I completed the internship; then I gave it up just before I went to Europe. My brother Quintin accused me of running away, and in a way I suppose I was. Living abroad forced me to grow up faster than I would have in the States. The other plus is that I’m fluent in three other languages.”
“Whatever happened to your John and Jane Doe?”
“They were married, and she had a son, then a daughter a year later. Her fairy-tale marriage fell apart when her philandering husband was hit with a paternity suit not from one, but two women within the span of three months. He admitted to sleeping with both of them, so aside from baby mama drama he lost most of his endorsements, because he’d tarnished his role model image.”
Kennedy winced. Whenever celebrities lent their name to a product, it always came with a caveat—behave! That was the reason he hadn’t had a knock-down, drag-out brawl with Lumel McClain. Although he’d opted out of his football career, he had subsequently amassed a small fortune from endorsements and investments.
“Are they still together?”
Lydia smiled. “Oh yeah. I doubt if Jane would ever leave him, because it would mean not living as grand as she is now. They now have four children, and someone told me there’s another one on the way. Seven children before you celebrate your thirtieth birthday must make John feel like quite the man. And I’m willing to bet he’ll have a few more baby mamas before he finds himself broke. All of his children need a full-time father, not someone who’ll drop by a couple of times during the year to play Santa when the mood hits him.”
A pregnant silence filled the vehicle. The compact disc had finished, and there was only the slip-slap sound of the tires on the roadway.
“I’d like to ask you something, Lydia.”
She glanced at Kennedy, wondering why his voice sounded so ominous. “What is it?”
“Do you still love him?”
Lydia was as startled by the question as she was with Kennedy’s impassioned query. “No,” she said softly. “I don’t love him.”
There was another moment of silence before he said, “Good.”
* * *
A plethora of sounds and delicious smells greeted Lydia as she and Kennedy wound their way through a maze of small round tables in the dining establishment in rural southwestern Pennsylvania. The Music Shack catered to every musical genre from classical to zydeco, seven nights a week. Sunday nights featured classic and modern jazz.
A sax player went down on his knees amid rousing applause, holding a high-pitched note for more than two minutes as a chanteuse crooned a Dakota Stanton ballad.
“How did you find this place?” Lydia asked Kennedy once they were seated. The table was perfect. It was close enough to the stage and far enough away from the other diners to ensure a modicum of privacy.
The glow from a small votive on the table was flattering to his features. Lydia found herself transfixed by the hollows in his lean face, by his strong chin and penetrating large dark eyes.
“I found it by accident. Once I moved here I used to take day trips to check out the area. The night I found this place they were playing Delta blues and serving catfish fritters, fried okra, and hush puppies. It was enough to make me forget that I was in Pennsylvania and not Mississippi.”
“Are you saying that the menu coincides with the music?”
&nb
sp; Kennedy nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Zydeco night is Cajun and country is Texas-style ribs and fried chicken.”
“What other types of music do they offer?”
“Pop, R-and-B, and Latin.”
“They bring in a different band each night?”
Kennedy reached out and held her hand. “No, sweetheart. The same band plays every night.”
“They’re that versatile?”
“Not as versatile and talented as you.”
Amusement flickered in the eyes that met Lydia’s. “You keep talking like that and I’m going to wind up with a swelled head.”
He tightened his hold on her slender fingers. “You are incredible, Lydia.” In and out of bed, he mused, holding her gaze. A momentary look of discomfort crossed her face before it faded behind a beguiling smile.
“Chef Lord thanks you.”
Kennedy sobered quickly. “I’m not talking about your cooking, Lydia. I was referring to you.”
She attempted to extract her hand, but the fingers clasping hers tightened like manacles. “Don’t, Kennedy.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make it harder on me to leave you at the end of the summer.”
“You, Lydia? Is this all about you? What about me? What about us?”
“I didn’t know there was an us,” she countered.
His eyes widened. “The night you came to my cabin and slept in my bed we became us.”
“You know why I came to you that night.”
“Yes, I know. But the moment you asked me not to leave you, the moment you opened your legs for me, it was no longer you and I, but us.”
Lydia gave Kennedy a long, penetrating look. “What are you saying? What do you want?”
“We’re a couple, Lydia. And to answer your second question—I want you.”
“How?” she whispered, although there was no one close enough to overhear their conversation.
“That will have to be your decision.”
“What if all I want is the summer? That at the end of the camp season I leave whatever we’ve shared together here?”
Shrugging a broad shoulder under his jacket, Kennedy lowered his gaze and his voice. “If that’s your decision, then I have no other choice but to respect it.”
All My Tomorrows Page 15