by Janet Dailey
“I'll be there at quarter-past seven. How's that?"
Her red gold hair was loose, lying in soft curls around her shoulders. Jarod twined a lock around his fingers, studied it for a moment, then brought his gaze to her face for an answer.
“Fine.” Amanda gulped silently, wondering where the adult in her had fled.
“Seven-fifteen, you'll be ready?” He seemed to breathe in deeply as the words hovered in the air, half command and half question.
“Yes."
His gaze raked her face and shoulders one last time, then Jarod turned and left the room while Amanda remained where she stood. She resisted the impulse to pinch herself to make certain she wasn't dreaming and gave herself a mental shake. She had to stop reacting to him with that childish infatuation she had once possessed. At the moment she was so confused that she didn't know if it was his potent attraction that was drawing her, or an image of the past. She had to stop confusing the two.
Chapter Four
THE REST OF THE DAY continued at the same frantic pace of the morning. The sunny June day had brought scores of people parading through Oak Run. It was half-past six before the last visitors left the grounds and Amanda could go home.
“You're late, dear,” her mother commented as Amanda walked in the door.
“You wouldn't believe the chaos today,” Amanda declared, turning her back to her mother so she could begin unhooking her dress. “Where is everybody?"
“Your father and brothers went fishing. There's cold chicken and potato salad in the refrigerator. You can help yourself."
“I'm going out to dinner and I only have about a half an hour to get ready,” Amanda replied, holding the gown up with one hand as she started to hurry down the hallway to the stairs.
“You didn't mention that this morning.” Her mother followed more sedately.
“I didn't know this morning,” Amanda tossed over her shoulder. “Be a dear, mom, and draw me some bathwater while I lay out my clothes.”
“Who is it that has you in such a dither?"
“I'm not in a dither. I'm just late,” she protested. She held the long folds of her gown in her hand as she mounted the stairs. Self-consciously Amanda added, “Jarod Colby asked me out."
“Jarod Colby? The Jarod Colby?” Amanda's reply had stopped Mrs. Bennett halfway up the steps.
“What about Jarod Colby?” Her younger sister, Bonnie, appeared in the doorway of her bedroom.
“I'm going out with him tonight,” Amanda answered, trying to make it sound like the most natural thing in the world while her heart beat a steady tattoo against her rib cage.
“You're kidding!” Bonnie squealed.
“I didn't know you even knew him.” Her mother had regained control after her initial start of surprise.
“I met him at the cotillion last night and he stopped at Oak Run this morning to ask me out.” Inside her room, Amanda stepped quickly out of her gown and began rummaging through her closet.
“Tonight? Isn't that rather short notice?” her mother murmured, a frown drawing her eyebrows together.
“I think it's terrific!” Bonnie sighed as she sunk onto the blue gingham spread covering Amanda's bed. “He meets you one night and the next day he comes looking for you because he can't get you out of his mind.” Bonnie turned excitedly to her sister, her short auburn hair bouncing around her face. “What are you going to wear?"
“This black dress, I think,” Amanda answered. It was cut on classically simple lines with a snug-fitting bodice flaring out to an A-line skirt. Only narrow strips of material crossed her shoulders.
“You look so sophisticated in that!” Bonnie agreed enthusiastically.
“It is summer, though ...” Amanda hesitated, looking back into her closet. “What do you think, mom?"
“Black is never wrong,” was her mother's answer. “What time will he be here?"
“Seven-fifteen."
“I'd better get that bathwater started,” Mrs. Bennett declared.
By some miracle Amanda was walking down the stairs when she heard the car pulling up out front. Bonnie had been keeping a vigil at the kitchen window and she came racing into the hallway.
“He's here, Mandy!” She tried to suppress the excitement in her voice and her words came out in a stifled shriek. “He's simply gorgeous!"
“Who's here? Who's gorgeous?” Her grandfather came shuffling from the living room. “Where are you going?"
“I have a date tonight,” Amanda answered, deliberately ignoring his first questions. She brushed a kiss across the old man's face as the doorbell sounded. “I'll get it, mom,” she called.
“So she has a date. What's all the fuss about?” her grandfather demanded as his daughter-in-law walked into the hall.
Their voices followed Amanda as she hurried toward the front door. Her heart seemed to be in her throat at the knowledge that Jarod Colby was standing on the other side.
“Her date is Jarod Colby,” Bonnie informed her grandfather. “My sister is going out with Jarod Colby."
“Jarod Colby,” he repeated. “And you are allowing her to go, Bernice!"
Amanda heard her mother's attempt to shush her grandfather as she opened the door. She stared into the strikingly masculine face with its chiseled features while his gaze moved over her.
“Hello,” Jarod said quietly.
“Come in.” Amanda moved back, suddenly overcome by a shyness that was completely unnatural to her.
With embarrassing clarity, her grandfather's gruff voice pierced the air. “Do you mean to tell me that you're allowing Mandy to go out with that carpetbagging northern Yankee?"
“Keep your voice down!” her mother admonished.
Amanda glanced apologetically at Jarod, but he only appeared amused by the outburst. “My grandfather,” she explained quietly. “The Civil War ended only a few years ago as far as he's concerned."
“That's all right, I understand,” Jarod replied.
Her mother moved swiftly towards them, her cheeks tinged with scarlet color. Her hand was extended in greeting to Jarod, which he accepted.
“I must apologize for my father-in-law's rudeness, Mr. Colby,” her mother said quietly. “Discretion has never been one of his virtues."
“An apology isn't necessary,” said Jarod, bestowing a rare smile on her mother. “I've been called worse things than a Yankee carpetbagger."
Her grandfather was still mumbling in the distance and Amanda turned to her mother. “We'll leave now,” she said. “Don't wait up for me."
“Have a good time,” Mrs. Bennett called after them as Amanda and Jarod walked through the door onto the porch.
“Is your father averse to Yankees, too?” Jarod asked, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter as he helped her into the car.
“No, thank heaven,” Amanda smiled. “He's off fishing with my brothers."
“You have more than one brother?” The politeness of the question was overridden by the dark look he flashed at her, which seemed to say he was interested in anything that had to do with her.
“Actually there are six of us Bennett children. My oldest sister, Marybeth, is married with two lovely daughters. She and her husband live in Athens—Athens, Georgia, that is. Brian is a medical student, so he isn't home now. Teddy is studying law and Brad, the one you met last night, is going to be an architect. The baby of the family is my sister Bonnie. Thank goodness she's still in high school."
“Why do you say ‘thank goodness'?"
“It's a strain on my parents’ budget to have four of their children in college. Strain is probably an understatement,” Amanda smiled. “We all work to help the kitty, but the brunt of the tuition costs are met by mom and dad."
“What are you going to do when you graduate?” A brow arched satirically. “Get married?"
“Not right away. I suppose I'll teach for a few years to pay back my parents’ investment in me.” The subject of marriage was not something she wanted to discuss, not when he gave the imp
ression that he was listening to every nuance in her voice.
“You could marry a wealthy man and not have to worry about it,” Jarod suggested dryly. His leg brushed her thigh as he slowed the car down to make a turn.
Her pulse pitter-pattered along her neck as she let her gaze sweep out the window. “I suppose I could,” she murmured noncommittally. She didn't want him to think she was after him, although the prospect of having his arm around her was an increasingly irresistible thought. “But I'm not a mercenary person. Having money isn't among my list of priorities in life."
He glanced at her thoughtfully and with a look of skepticism in the dark eyes. Amanda could understand why. He had probably met many people whose only interest in him was his money.
“It's a lovely evening,” she sighed, glancing back to the view beyond the windshield.
“Yes, I thought we'd have dinner on the veranda."
“The Veranda?” she repeated. “Is that a new restaurant? Being away at the college most of the year, I'm not too familiar with all the new places."
A soft chuckle rolled from his parted lips. “I told you last night that I would take you somewhere where we could be alone.” His gaze physically caressed her before it turned back to the road. “I was speaking about the veranda at my house, not a restaurant."
“Oh,” in a very small voice.
“Do you still want to have dinner with me?” Jarod challenged mockingly.
Her hands were folded in her lap, feeling suddenly clammy and cold. At the same time, she felt hot and light-headed. It had never occurred to her that he would be taking her to the Winter House. If she refused to go, she would seem very juvenile and prim. But the idea of sharing an intimate dinner with him, alone in his house, was a bit frightening. Then she chided herself for being so foolish. He wasn't the type to force himself on a woman.
The smile she gave him was bright and confident, not exactly a true reflection of the way she was feeling inside. “I do hope you have a good cook. I'm ravenous!"
His gaze slid over her, lingering for brief seconds on her mouth. “So am I,” Jarod agreed. The wry note in his voice made Amanda believe that he wasn't talking about food, and the air in the car became very stifling.
* * * *
“THAT WAS DELICIOUS,” Amanda sighed, leaning determinedly back in her chair. “I do love strawberries."
“And whipped cream,” Jarod added as he exhaled a puff of smoke from his cigarette and watched it swirl in front of him. “I always thought Southern girls ate before going out so their dates would think they had very small appetites."
“That was true in the olden days, but not anymore,” she said with a smile.
“You can clear everything away, Hannah,” he told the older woman as she walked through the open door into the screened extension of the house. “I won't need anything else tonight."
Not wanting to interfere with the housekeeper's work, Amanda rose from the table and wandered idly to the mesh wall, aware that Jarod was following her. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a residue of shimmering golds and pinks behind.
A billow of smoke blew over her shoulder through the mesh screen into the coming night and she knew Jarod was standing behind her. The scent of tobacco and intoxicating masculine cologne seemed to wrap around her as she heard the housekeeper wheeling the serving trolley with the remains of their dishes out of the veranda.
She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that they were alone. He had dismissed the housekeeper for the evening and already explained that his aunt now lived in a small house in Oak Springs. With the sun down, it seemed to grow darker with each passing second. There was a need for movement, so Amanda turned and found herself staring into his face, dark and unfathomable. The corners of her mouth turned into a faint smile as she found she couldn't think of anything to say.
“It's growing dark. Would you like to go inside?” he asked, a hint of mockery vibrating in his voice.
“Yes,” Amanda agreed hesitantly as he stepped to one side.
The screened patio led into the living room. A single light was on, sending a streamer of white across the floor. It was a large, masculine room, done in warm oranges and browns with a splattering of yellow gold for color.
“Would you like some music?” Jarod had walked over to an expensive stereo set before glancing over his shoulder to ask.
“Yes."
Immediately a soft, languid melody permeated the room through concealed speakers. Unsure of where she should sit, Amanda tried to appear interested in a large painting hanging on an interior wall. It was of an old clipper ship buffeted in storm-tossed seas, a collection of opaque grays, greens, ivory and brown.
“Does the painting interest you that much?"
The voice that came from directly behind her was husky and cynically amused. Amanda turned, unconscious of the hands clenched tightly in front of her. His gaze was dark and brooding as it traveled the length of her body and stopped at her face.
“Are you nervous?” The harsh planes of his face, browned by the sun and made darker by the coal black of his hair and eyes, increased the primitive attraction that drew her to him.
“A little,” she admitted, spreading her fingers and rubbing them together in an effort to relax.
Jarod Colby watched the movement with indifference, subtly making her aware of the breadth of his shoulders and his intimidating height. The throbbing of her pulse echoed loudly in her ears as coursing heat spread through her body. The soft music in the background added to the disturbing air of intimacy. The silence between them was threatening to suffocate her.
“Will you be leaving very early in the morning?” Amanda asked, trying to make her voice sound natural and not betray the tension that held her by the throat.
His eyes flicked back to her face. “Early enough."
“It must be hectic to commute back and forth."
“Yes."
His clipped reply sent her wildly searching for something else to say. How could she pursue a conversation that he wasn't willing to take part in? She broke away from his compelling gaze. Perhaps he didn't wish to discuss business.
“You have a beautiful home,” Amanda murmured.
The comment passed unnoticed by him as he held out his hand to her. For a minute she blinked at it uncertainly, then hesitantly placed her own hand in it. The large hand closed warmly around her fingers, pulling her to him as an arm moved around her waist. He carried her fingers to his lips while he guided her to the slow tempo of the music. The brooding expression in his eyes didn't change as it moved possessively over her face.
Last night when they had danced, her hooped skirt had kept considerable distance between them. Now Amanda was held tightly against him, her legs burning with the brush of his thighs while the softness of her breasts felt the imprint of the buttons of his shirt. She hadn't been prepared for the contact of his body, hard and muscular and very male. Her head was tilted back, exposing the bareness of her throat as she watched his lips move over her hand in a caress that had her whole arm tingling.
There was an unreal quality about the moment, a dreamlike magic that sent her senses spinning. The hand resting near his shoulders could feel the taut muscles in the arm that circled her waist. The nibbling of her fingers ceased as he turned her hand to expose her sensitive palm and pressed a warm kiss in its hollow. The sensual touch of his tongue against her skin released an avalanche of churning emotions inside her. Exhaling slowly in surrender, Amanda dipped her head against his chest, all resistance flowing out of her weakened limbs.
Leaving her hand against the shaven smoothness of his face, Jarod trailed his fingers firmly down her arm and up to her shoulder, caressing her flesh with controlled firmness. Of its own volition, her hand remained on his face, her fingertips exploring the jutting line of his jaw and the sharp cheekbones. There was no urgency in the languid passion between them, even though the slow-burning flame kept growing hotter as his mouth trailed down her face to the lob
e of her ear.
After interminable minutes his mouth sought hers, not in a gentle probing caress but in a demanding, hungry kiss. Her hands were locked around his neck as she stood on tiptoe, instinctively arching her back to be closer to the lean hardness of his body. In sweet ecstasy, Amanda knew she had been kissed with passion before, but she couldn't recall returning more than a small part of it until now. A warning bell rang in her head, pulling her out of the whirling ache of desire.
“Jarod, please!” Her lips moved in protest against his mouth. Her senses felt drugged by his kiss, unable to function without the union of their lips.
He let her move partially out of his arms, the smoldering fire in his eyes nearly sending her back into them. “What is it?” he demanded.
His voice was hoarse and his breathing was uneven, and Amanda could feel the iron control he had over his emotions. Oddly that hurt. She wanted him to be as destroyed by her touch as she was by his.
“The music's stopped,” she murmured, suddenly at a loss to admit how deeply she had been affected by his embrace.
A scowl of annoyance flashed across his face, quickly replaced by an enigmatic look that Amanda couldn't fathom. His hands dropped to his side and he turned away, leaving her standing on wobbly legs that hadn't recovered completely from the devastating weakness of the previous moments.
“Go and change it, then.” Jarod ordered smoothly.
She heard the snap of his lighter and saw the smoke rise above his head. Forcing her trembling legs to support her, she walked to the stereo and flipped the record to the other side. When she turned around, she saw Jarod pouring liquid from a crystal decanter that had been sitting on one of the tables. His eyes met hers across the room.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
Amanda shook her head. “No thank you."
There was a brief arching of a dark brow as he took a hefty swallow of liquor, then refilled the partially empty glass and walked to a large chair, where he sat down. Amanda remained beside the stereo, unable to feel the nonchalance he was exhibiting. His eyes studied her with a penetrating thoroughness that sent a tidal wave of heat flooding over her.