by Ariana Dupre
She kicked the loose board back against the wall then stood up. “I'm in the library."
He poked his head in the doorway. “Working hard I see."
"Hardly working,” she joked.
"Just wanted to let you know I'm going home now. I couldn't find the Boss to tell him."
"Okay. See you tomorrow, Burt."
She waited for him to leave then snatched up the journal and ran with it to her room.
* * * *
Chapter 8
It had been hard to leave the journal behind, but Angie knew that if she had brought it with her the steam from the water might damage it.
Now, in the otherwise dark bathroom, the fragrance of lavender and jasmine permeated the air and glimmers of light flickered from short columns of wax. Angie lay in the hot perfumed water, eyes closed.
She hadn't been able to concentrate after the incident with Eddie. Most of the day she'd sat staring at swatches of material, her mind endlessly replaying the scene with the young man she'd always seen as her friend. And then the excitement of finding the journal had added to her stress.
Finally, she had given up and ran a bath. Now that her nerves were beginning to calm, she thought about growing up with Eddie. When had his obsession begun?
Everything was fine until that time after he went away to college.
Naturally, they had drifted apart. But when she moved to Roanoke without telling him, he had shown up on her doorstep one afternoon, mad as a hell.
I thought that was strange, she remembered. But not strange enough to prepare me for what happened today.
He must have inherited his mother's illness, she finally decided. Like I need any more craziness in my life.
But it was sad, and it hurt to lose a childhood friend. Maybe she should reach out to him, try to help. But the thought made her uncomfortable. After all, he could take that the wrong way, too, and then what would she do?
Angie sighed and, pulling the plug from the drain with her toe, rinsed the last of the bubbles from her warm reddened skin.
After drying off, she wrapped her body in an oversized towel, her hair in a smaller one. Pattering down the hall to her room, she ducked inside, grateful she hadn't run into Jared. She put on a T-shirt and shorts then towel dried her hair.
As she brushed her still damp locks, her stomach growled.
I'll run downstairs and have a bowl of cereal; then read more of Theodore's diary. Maybe I'll find entries about Clyde and Ruby. There's nothing better than a hot bath, full tummy and snuggling into bed with a book to end a bad day.
But when she reached the kitchen, she had to rethink her plans.
In the dim light, Jared leaned against the counter, sipping a glass of what looked like champagne. The khaki slacks, white shirt and dress shoes he wore were a stark contrast to his usual daytime attire of T-shirts, jeans and sneakers.
Angie drew in a sharp breath. He held a glass out to her, and her stomach tightened. Speechless, she walked to him and curved her fingers around the narrow stem.
Several tall candles illuminated the room. Soft music emanated from a little clock radio. Fresh flowers, arranged in a water glass, served as a centerpiece for a table set for two.
Jared had removed the ice bin from the refrigerator. Inside was a bottle of champagne, partially covered by a white cloth napkin. A skillet simmered on the stove. Whatever was cooking smelled delicious.
"Jared, what is all of this?"
"After everything you've been through today, I thought you should eat more than a bowl of cereal tonight."
Great! How did he know that? “I like cereal."
"Or you don't like to cook.” Grinning, he put down his glass, took her by the hand and led her to the stove. “Take a whiff of this,” he said, lifting the skillet's lid.
She did as he asked. “Ummm, what is it?"
"My grandmother called it roasted chicken in garlic mushroom sauce.” He scooped a bit of sauce into a spoon, held it out to her. “I call it dinner."
Angie smiled at the mischievous glint in his eyes. She had never expected such a sweet and generous gesture from him. She tasted the sauce, found it delicious. “This is really good. Did your grandmother come over to cook it?"
Jared put his hand to his chest and rocked back on his heels. “You wound me to the heart."
Laughing, Angie leaned against the counter and sipped her champagne. “So, you're a chef too? Because you know, Mr. Maxwell, I believe you could serve this dish at a five-star restaurant."
"And now you give me a wonderful compliment. I don't know what to make of you, Angie."
"I just can't believe you would go to all this trouble for me. Thank you, Jared."
"It's the least I could do. Now let's eat. I'm starved."
Over dinner, they discussed the progress of the renovation. Jared was a week ahead of schedule because of the extra men he'd hired. Angie had to wait for the clean up crew to finish before she could start the hardest part of her job. Still, she was on schedule.
They did the dishes together, Angie rinsing and Jared stacking them in the dishwasher. After they finished, he refilled their champagne glasses, and led her to the courtyard.
The night air was just beginning to cool. They sat down in the lounge chairs, and allowed a comfortable silence to fall between them. Quietly, they enjoyed the sound of crickets and cicada's. Occasionally, a breeze played lightly over them and a Bobwhite called in the distance.
Angie was aware that Jared was watching her every move. Strangely, this time, it didn't make her self-conscious.
In a short while, he stood and rubbed her shoulder. “Let's go in. The mosquito's are out."
"Hmm?” she looked up at him to see his blue eyes darkening with desire. She could feel heat coming from her own eyes, and looked down quickly. While he walked to the porch, she stayed in her chair.
"You coming?” he called, turning toward her.
Angie nodded, stood, swayed, and steadied herself against the chair.
Whoa, too much champagne! She glanced at Jared. His back was to her now. Thank goodness, he didn't see me stumble. Time for bed, she thought, following him inside the house.
She set her glass on the counter, picked it up again and put it in the dishwasher.
Jared had disappeared without saying goodnight, so Angie headed straight for her bedroom.
Halfway up the stairs, Jared came behind her, scooped her into his arms, and carried her back down.
"What are you doing?” Angie inhaled the musky scent of his cologne. Lightheaded, she found it hard to focus on anything but his face.
"You'll see. Patience, my dear."
As much as Angie tried to fight it, the champagne wouldn't allow her to do anything but give herself up to this moment, this man. She snuggled against his neck, breathed deeply, and then sighed.
How could I have lost my heart to a man who may do me harm?
Right now, it didn't seem to matter.
* * * *
Jared carried her into the ballroom and put her down. He turned to an old record player and soon the graceful strains of a waltz filled the air.
"May I have this dance?” he asked, bowing deeply.
"Why, yes you may, kind sir.” Angie curtsied, then smiled broadly when he took her into his arms.
They glided around the room, Angie looking deeply into the bluest pair of eyes she'd ever seen. She felt no fear now, only longing. So lost in his gaze was she, she didn't even notice when the music stopped.
Jared watched her closely. He wanted to take his time, to treasure the woman in front of him. But those lips ... they were just too delicious, too tempting. He lowered his mouth to hers, gently at first; then demanding more as Angie matched his ardor with her own.
I want you, Angie. All of you.
Reaching down, Jared slipped his arm behind her knees and lifted her, cradling her against his chest. This time he carried her up the stairs to his room, laid her across his bed, and kissed her deeply.
Kissing Angie was like kissing the wind. It blew into him a magic he never would have believed possible before this moment.
As his heart whispered her name, he knew it was too late to save himself. He was lost in her. She was the only person in the world who mattered.
Still gently brushing her lips with his own, he unbuttoned her shirt and moved it aside. The jasmine scented softness of her flesh intoxicated him as he kissed his way down her neck. When he reached her breasts, he buried his face in their valley while cupping them in his hands. She felt just as he'd imagined she would—silken, warm, firm.
Angie sighed his name.
Moving his mouth to her swollen lips, Jared slipped his hands around her back.
Damn. No hooks.
He rolled over, pulling Angie on top of him, then sat up with her in his lap.
Locking his gaze with hers, he brought one hand up between her breasts. She didn't protest, so he released the front clasp of her bra, and drew in a quick breath at the sight of the pale orbs that spilled from the lace. His fingers curved against the soft roundness of her bosom as he stroked her, then teased her nipples between his finger and thumb, feeling them harden at his touch.
Angie groaned. Jared's body pulsated with the sound of her desire.
"Angelina, you are so beautiful,” he whispered then flicked his tongue quickly across the hardened tip of her right nipple, finally taking it within his mouth, pulling and tugging.
* * * *
I've died and gone to heaven. The sensations Jared ignited turned Angie's insides to lava. She wanted to completely surrender to her own desires. She wanted to know what it felt like to make love to a man. This man.
She'd never gone this far before.
The need to touch ... to feel ... was so very strong.
Gathering all of her courage, she slipped her hands inside his shirt.
He pressed his hips against her. Angie felt something large and hard against her thigh.
What was that?
Lost in the surprise of the feel and shape of him, even through clothes, she didn't notice his hand slide up her leg and under the fabric of her knit shorts until he stroked her.
Oh my God! Sweet mother of ... “Oh Jared!” D—a—m—n!
No one had ever touched her there.
Heat scorched through her. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She didn't want him to stop. When his fingers dipped, she arched into his hand.
What the ... ? Her body tightened then exploded. Fireworks had nothing on this. A dizzying whirl of pleasure surrounded her, invaded her.
Jared's mouth covered hers, capturing her moans of ecstasy. Her body rocked with wave after wave of pleasure.
She grabbed his wrist. Sensitivity and embarrassment brought her back to reality. “Jared, stop."
"I want you, Angelina,” he whispered. He ran his hand up her hip to her stomach.
"Yes, but this has gone too far.” Way too far!
She never knew it was like this. So tender, so intense.
He must have been with a lot of women, to know how to make me feel this way.
The sudden thought made her heart sink, and she turned away, almost in tears.
This isn't special to him at all, I'll bet. She was just another conquest. She had to struggle not to let him see how hurt she felt, how disappointed. A fool that's what she was—a damn fool. “I'm sorry Jared, I can't. Please, let me up."
He rolled off of her and lay back on the bed. Angie closed her shirt over her exposed chest and sat up, fastening the buttons.
Their labored breathing filled the room. She took a minute to gather herself before she turned to face him. “Look, Jared, I enjoyed the dinner, and the conversation, but the situation got out of control. I can't do this with you."
"Why not?” He propped himself up on one elbow. “I don't understand."
"I never—” she muttered, “Oh ... you wouldn't understand."
He reached out, caressed a strand of her hair. “Try me."
"I can't do it because ... I ... I don't love you,” she lied, and fled the room.
* * * *
Chapter 9
It just didn't add up.
Jared lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his body so tense and tight he thought it would burst.
Since when did a woman turn down sex because of love? This was the twenty-first century, after all.
Try as he might, he couldn't figure out why Angie had run from the room. Was she just a tease? He didn't think so, not really. She'd seemed surprised by the spasms that rocked her body.
And embarrassed.
Almost as if she's never experienced an orgasm before.
He smiled as he thought of how much she'd enjoyed his touch. Her breathless whispers and the strength of her embrace had told him as much.
And if he didn't stop thinking about it, he was going to explode.
Getting off the bed, he went and opened the window. The cool night air chilled his sweaty body, cleared his head a little.
Angie thought he was a womanizer. That was it! He'd forgotten. She probably ran away because she thought I was adding her to my little black book. Or trying for a new notch on my bedpost.
Of course!
Relieved, he went into the hall. Maybe he should go talk to her.
But when he got close to her door, he could hear the sound of stomping inside. Raising his hand to knock, he was stopped by a string of curses.
"Damn him! Damn him! Damn him to hell! Why did I let things get so out of control? I'm such an idiot!
Jared lowered his hand and grinned. Burt had been right. Angie was a handful. He'd never heard her this angry. It sounded like she was angrier with herself than with him. She was so mad that she didn't even realize how loud her voice was. He could probably have heard every word from his own room.
"Hell will freeze over before I sleep with a conniving man like him. How could I have been such a fool knowing what he's going to do to me?"
Jared stilled. She knew that he wanted to buy her out? How did she find out?
Grinding his teeth together, he stalked angrily back down the hall to his room, and shut the door behind him.
His plan was ruined.
* * * *
Angie plopped down across the bed on her stomach. What was her problem anyway? She'd let Jared touch her and damn it all, she wanted to make love with him.
Since when had a good-looking man been able to shatter her resolve? It must have been the champagne, she reasoned. But there is no way I'm giving up my virginity before I'm married. I made that decision years ago after Kimmie was raped, and Jared Maxwell isn't changing my mind. I'll just be more careful, that's all.
She got up, opened her door and peeked down the hall. Thank God he didn't hear me ranting like a lunatic.
Tomorrow she would talk to him, but not tonight. Right now she needed to straighten out all these mixed up emotions she felt.
She got into bed and tossed and turned for what felt like hours before falling into a dreamless sleep.
* * * *
Thank you, champagne, for a dreamless night, Angie thought as she got up the next morning. Smelling a familiar fragrance, she stopped suddenly to look around.
Was that Aunt Martha's rich earthy scent filling the room?
Impossible! Her wild imagination was off and running way too early today.
A car door slammed, startling her. She went to the window and looked out to see a cleaning crew unloading supplies. She'd forgotten all about the cleanup this morning. And there was Jared, walking across the yard to meet them.
She couldn't face him yet, not after last night.
What a disaster, she thought, turning from the window.
Theodore Slayton's journal lay on her nightstand. Angie picked up the leather bound volume. It wouldn't hurt to read a little more of it before she went downstairs.
* * * *
Jared and Burt, standing on the top of tall ladders, were painting the upper trim of the house w
hen the porch door slammed shut. Jared watched as Angie rushed toward them, holding a book, her face flushed and excited.
"Jared, can you take a break?” she yelled. “I need to talk to you."
He didn't answer.
She called again, louder this time. “Jared! I need to talk to you. Can you please come down for a few minutes?"
"You're being summoned, Boss,” said Burt.
"Yeah? So what. I'm busy."
Burt rubbed his forehead with his red bandanna. “You know, Boss, if I had a beautiful woman begging me to come to her, I don't think I'd stay busy for long."
"Well, she's not calling you, is she?” snapped Jared. Laying down the paintbrush, he looked at the older man. “I'm sorry, Burt. I shouldn't spout off at you when it's her neck I want to break."
Burt laughed. “So you got a taste of the little lady, did ya? And now you're suffering."
"Jared?” Angie called again.
"Hang on, I'll be down in a minute,” Jared replied. “What would make you say that, Burt?” Jared considered Angie tapping her toe, waiting for him to descend the ladder.
"She's got a fiery temper, when it erupts,” said Burt. “There's been a few men who'd have sold their soul for one night with that charming little lady. But she's not gonna give it up until she finds true love. She's stubborn as a bull."
Jared's eyes widened. “You mean she's still a virgin?"
Burt laughed aloud. “Yep, Boss. Sure as you're born, that's ‘Dansburg's Oldest Virgin’ standing down there. Rumor is, all she'll do is kiss.” He dipped the paintbrush then stroked it across the wood. “My boy dated her about seven years ago, never got past first base. Angie told him that no man would touch her until she found true love, and then not until their wedding night. One time they argued and she punched him in the eye. That's the last time they went out."
"Why did they argue?” Jared narrowed his gaze at Burt. “It doesn't sound like Angie to hit someone, unless she was provoked."
"Now don't go getting riled up. He just tried to get in her britches, so she nailed him in the eye. Got himself a girlfriend right after that. They're still together.” Burt winked. “I told you she was a feisty little thing. She's got high standards too."
"A twenty-six year old virgin?” Jared looked down at Angie in amazement. He couldn't believe it, but Burt's words made last night crystal clear. “That explains a lot."