T is for Temptation

by Jianne Carlo

  “Shall we head to the kitchen?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Food, remember? You need energy.”

  “I think even Tricia will agree to the location. And it’s the dry season, so we don’t have to worry about rain.”

  An idiot-in-love grin possessed his mouth, and Jake listened to her ideas and fixed them ham and cheese sandwiches. She didn’t seem aware of anything mundane like chewing, but wedding plans bubbled up and spilled over. By the time they finished eating, she had the whole event mapped out, and a sweet ache constricted his chest.

  Damn, how’d he get so lucky? Almost ready to pinch his forearm, and half-convinced the last few weeks had been the cruelest tease, a snatched hint of paradise; he flinched when the cuckoo clock against the wall clucked nine.

  The frenetic energy keeping Tee awake dissipated in front of his eyes, and she sank down in the chair and blinked a couple of times.

  “Time for bed,” he ordered and scooped her up, ignoring her feeble, muffled protests.

  She fell asleep before he finished tucking her under the blankets, and he watched her for a while, entranced and apprehensive. First thing in the morning, he had to tell her about his visions. Almost convinced their problems had been solved, he drifted off.

  Tee tickled him awake.

  Her soft fingers slid down his rib cage. He pretended to sleep, but couldn’t prevent a groan when her mouth followed the trail. His morning erection thickened under her ministrations.

  “I’m supposed to begin here,” she whispered, and her hot breath cocooned one testicle. She licked, tracing her tongue over every inch. “Did you know eighty percent of taste, according to the PBJ book, is smell?”

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” His hips arched off the mattress of their own accord, and the last word came out on a gasp.

  “You certainly are.” She blew on his wet testicle, and it tightened.

  “Damn, I’m so close, and you haven’t even sucked my cock yet.”

  Tee’s enormous brown eyes peeked at him, and the sight of her there, head between his thighs, breasts pushed together around his bollocks, mouth inches away from his crown, almost did him in.

  “Uh-uh,” she said and shook her head. “Not yet. I’m supposed to do this when you get too close.” She squeezed his glans, and his head sank back into the pillow.

  “Ouch,” she yelped.

  He shot onto his forearms. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  But pain etched her features.

  “You hurt your shoulder.” He scooted down the bed and lifted her onto his lap. “It’s bleeding. Until the stitches come out, no more fooling around, deal?”

  “But, Jake—”

  “No, no buts. I want you healed for our wedding. Let’s clean this up.”

  He stalked into the bathroom, set her down on the toilet lid, and rummaged in the cabinets under the sink.

  “Elaine told you about my visions, didn’t she?”

  “Pardon me?”

  He moistened a cotton ball with peroxide. “This may sting a little. The night I first met you, I had one. It was so clear, but I discounted it because of the vasectomy.”

  Un-taping one Band-Aid from her shoulder blade, he patted away the red staining her skin and glanced up when her breathing stilled.

  “Go on,” she whispered, pupils dilated so wide the amber formed a thin halo rimming dark pupils.

  Focusing on the tight line of black stitches, he dripped a trickle of peroxide down it.

  She winced.

  “I’d never had visions about me. Up until then it was always other people and events.” Jake wasn’t sure why telling her was such a big thing, but it was—his last secret. “You bowled me over. That first night, I couldn’t sleep, laid in bed struggling to think of something other than you. Nothing worked. Around four, I gave up and poured myself a stiff Scotch, and after a couple of drinks managed to fall asleep. I woke up to a vivid image playing in my mind. You and me lounging on a large bed with a little baby girl between us kicking her chubby legs in the air, like if she’s riding a bicycle, and she coos.”

  His eyelids flickered up and he found Tee’s rapt face inches from his. The amber halos of her eyes flashed like fireflies winking on a dark night.

  Jake kissed the tip of her nose. “You are the first woman to ever star in my visions, and a baby, that had never happened before. It stunned and confused me.”

  “A girl?” she breathed. “Elaine said bring my granddaughter to see me when she’s able to travel.”

  She captured his free hand and drew it to her stomach.

  “Here. Our daughter’s here, growing inside of me.” She sniffed and her voice wavered. “You’ve made all my dreams come true, darling.”

  “You are my dreams, Tee. The one temptation I couldn’t resist.”

  “Temptation,” she whispered. “Thank God for it.”

  Loud, quarreling male voices broke the peaceful moment.

  “They’re back.” She flashed him a wan smile.

  “Yeah. You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll deal with them.”

  “No way. I want to hear what happened.”

  “Time to dress, then.”

  Someone battered the door. They moved to the bedroom and began gathering clothes.

  “Jake, Tee, are you guys awake?”

  “If we weren’t before, we are now, Alex,” he replied, pulling on jeans.

  Spotting Tee struggling to button a shirt, he took over the task, batting away her fingers.

  “What about the vasectomy, Jake? Do you think it was a botched job?”

  “Haven’t a clue. Scotland Yard’s doctor suggested I contact the doctor who performed the procedure.” He dropped a kiss on her temple. “Do you realize that it must have happened that very first time in Trinidad?”

  “The raft.” Her lips curved. “Maybe we could honeymoon down the islands? What do you think?”

  “Works for me.”

  “Will you contact him, this doctor?”

  The change of subject dizzied him for a moment, and, belatedly, he grasped they were back to the vasectomy.

  “I should, I suppose. Although it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.”

  Her forehead puckered. “Who was it?”

  “Someone Father Murphy, the man who ran the orphanage, recommended. He was both a priest and a doctor. I think his name was Father O’Reilly.”

  “You know, I find it hard to believe a Catholic Priest would agree to perform a vasectomy. The church prohibits any form of birth control, and technically that’s one. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but Murphy knew I would do it anyway, and he figured it was better to go with someone he trusted.” He stroked his stubbled chin. “I remember being pleasantly surprised I wasn’t that sore. I wonder . . .” His voice trailed off.

  Rain pattered the window opposite, the wind driving moisture in sheets at a forty-five degree angle. The sky was a solid gray, charcoal edges rimming the dingy buildings lining the horizon.

  “You think it was a fake procedure?” She cocked her head to one side. “They couldn’t do that, though. It would be irresponsible. What if you got someone pregnant? After all, you didn’t need to use birth control.”

  He chuckled. “Father Murphy and the rest of the brothers were paranoid about AIDS, and as soon as we entered puberty, we had to sign a written contract promising to practice safe sex. While he preached abstinence, he was ultimately a practical man and knew we’d succumb to the pleasures of the flesh, as he so often said.”

  “You never used a condom with me.”

  “First time ever, it must have been a subconscious desire.”

  “Or the inability to resist another temptation,” she said, crinkling her nose. “I think you have your answer, darling. That doctor went through the motions.”

  “I’ll phone Father Murphy when things settle down. I need to know for the future. That pack of kids you want.”

  A cacophony
of noise erupted, and he glanced at the door.

  “Time to face reality,” she murmured.

  Everyone pounced on them as soon as they entered the living room.

  Henry kissed his daughter, a question in his eyes.

  “I’m okay, Dad, honest.” She assured him.

  Jake made her sit on the sofa and covered her legs with a blanket.

  Tiny handed him a glass of Scotch.

  “I didn’t expect you back. Why are we drinking hard liquor at eleven o’clock in the morning?”

  “We’re celebrating our victory, Laird.”

  “Really? Tell us what happened. Where are Tony and his henchmen?” Tee demanded. “How come it took you so long?”

  Alex’s complexion pinkened, and Tiny looked away, and neither man seemed inclined to speak.

  Finally, Henry broke the taut silence. “Elaine, delightful woman, your mother by the way, sent us back with another magical chest.” He glared at Tiny. “Unfortunately, when Gratnach opened it, Tony squirmed out of his grasp and threw himself on us.”

  “If pretty boy hadn’t closed it,” Tiny protested and shot Alex a venomous cut.

  “How was I supposed to know that was a no-no? And don’t forget, you’re the one who made the mistake by opening it again, too late.” Alex clamped his lips together and folded his arms.

  “From what your mother can determine”—Henry took up the tale—“in between the openings and closings, according to Elaine, Tony’s stuck in what she calls a time void, hovering between this century and 1501.”

  “A time void?” A frown furrowed Tee’s forehead.

  “’Tis much like a space between two walls with no entrance or exit.”

  “So he’s stuck there forever?” Tee asked, her voice breathless, tone hopeful.

  “Aye.”

  “You’re absolutely positive?”Jake asked.

  “Your mother is,” Alex replied.

  “Hell, what a perfect resolution. I’ve spent the last two days trying to come up with a plausible explanation for everything, but I knew Tony would ruin it, and we’d all look like looneys.” Jake tugged his earlobe.

  “We still have to come up with something to tell Arthur,” Henry said. “The man’s no fool. I know him well, m’boy.”

  “Is that all?” Alex waved a hand. “Not to worry, there’s a lawyer in this little group. We’re experts at weaving plausible lies.”

  “Lead on, Macduff.” Tiny invited.

  “Macduff?” Alex’s deep baritone emerged as a growl. “How in damnation do you know about Shakespeare?”

  “Mayhap I didn’t mention it. I apprenticed with Master William for a few years.”

  “Don’t,” Jake barked and splayed his fingers. “Don’t get into that. Neither of you. Save it for another time. Arthur’s due here in less than fifteen minutes. Where are Tony’s thugs?”

  “Your brother, Stephen, offered them to the Ramsays. They accepted. Have you spoken with Arthur?”

  For the millionth time, Jake wondered if anything fazed Alex. “Yeah, he came to the hospital, but the surgeon interrupted us before he could start drilling me. All I said was that Tony had shot Tee and Henry called the ambulance.”

  “Heck, you’re making this too easy. Tony delivered the pizza, he held us up, there was a scuffle. He shot Tee, and in the confusion, he escaped. How’s that?”

  “A trifle simplistic, perhaps.”

  “Henry, trust me, the best lies are simple. Throw in curves, and someone will trip you up.”

  “Alex is right, but we’ll let him tell the story since deception is his admitted area of expertise,” Jake said.

  “It sounds as if you planned to come back, Tiny. Is that true, or was it an accident like the last time?”

  “Nay lass, not an accident. Lady Ferguson wants a firsthand account of your marriage ceremony. And I’m instructed to learn as much as I can about your time.” Tiny scratched his ear. “But, I’m not to expose myself to anyone else, only those who have already seen me.”

  “Why?” Tee slipped her hand into Jake’s. “And how are you going to see the wedding if no one else can see you?”

  “I’m to use the chest to travel,” he replied. “You and Jamie—Jake—are to give me a hidden position where I can observe everything.”

  Tee looked daunted, and she turned to him. “Can you think of anything?”

  “Let’s get to that later. I’m sure we can arrange it.” He checked his watch. “Arthur should be here any minute.”

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

  Henry murmured, “I’ll get it.”

  The two older men exchanged pleasantries at the door. After refreshing everyone’s drink, Henry took a seat adjacent to Arthur on the couch.

  Sir Arthur requested a summary of their adventures.

  Alex spoke, “I’ll tell the tale, gentlemen.”

  After he finished the succinct, but most convincing summary of events, Alex took a lawyer’s tact. “What about your investigation? Any news?”

  “We seem to have met the proverbial wall. Wherever Leandro, the caretaker, and Constantine are, they’re not using credit of any kind. No attempts to obtain any of the money in their bank accounts. For the last twenty-four hours, we haven’t had a single valid tip on the hotline. And unless something turns up soon, we’ll have to shut it down. Budgets and that sort of thing.”

  “What about the information I requested?” Jake queried.

  “Ah, the e-mail yesterday.” Sir Arthur sipped his Scotch and then answered. “Not an area we haven’t explored since Constantine’s exposure as a mole. Research cannot confirm Constantine’s missing years. From the time he was eight until after he turned seventeen, there are no records on file. His father is a Swiss citizen, his mother German, but they lived in Italy, and that was his first language. There is no pre-war information on either parent, and records only appear on them around late 1947.”

  “I can’t imagine any mother allowing her son to be separated from her at such a young age,” Tee said. “Unless he went to a boarding school?”

  “We attempted to check his admission records at UCLA. They’re missing, and there's no record he graduated from any secondary school. We did manage to obtain a record of him sitting the SAT around that time, but that’s about it. From his entry into UCLA, we have piecemeal information on file, but there are several periods before he was employed by Interpol where he seems to have gone into hibernation.”

  “So nothing conclusive.”

  Arthur shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  “How does this impact Tee’s safety?” Jake asked. “She’s seen him.”

  “The man we know as Constantine has been in the public eye for many years, a great many people can identify him. I see no reason Tallulah is in any danger,” Arthur answered.

  “What about Graziella and the caretaker?”

  “As far as we can determine, after Trent’s purported death, someone tapped all of his electronic information. No clues on the source. It could be Leandro or her stepbrother, but it happened almost immediately, as if someone expected his death.” Arthur glanced at his watch. “In my opinion, you have nothing to worry about from that section. I predict the Uruguayan connection will lose interest in all of you. We’ll keep an eye on everyone for the coming month.”

  “My new position comes with 24/7 bodyguards and strict security for me and my immediate family. Between the Met and Trinidad security, I’m confident you’ll be fine, Daughter,” Henry stated.

  “Do you have any idea of how much longer you’ll be remaining in the UK?”

  “Actually, Arthur, I’m returning to Trinidad tomorrow on the evening flight. There are many details to be settled before my investiture as president.” Henry grinned. “You will, of course, be receiving an invitation to the event.”

  “Dad, when is the ceremony due to take place?”

  “On the last Friday of next month.”

  “Well, if there’s nothing else pressing, I’ll tak
e my leave.” Arthur rose to his feet.

  “We can’t thank you enough for your support and your help, Arthur,” Henry said as he stood. “I could never repay you for all you’ve done.”

  “Actually, old boy, the wife and I have always wanted to see your Trinidad Carnival.” The man’s cheeks reddened.

  “Consider it done and from the president’s viewing stand, no less. We’ll plan it when you come for the investiture.”

  Everyone murmured their gratitude and goodbyes, and Henry saw Sir Flood out the door.

  While everyone was busy, Jake touched Tee’s cheek and asked, “Are we going to tell them?”

  “About the baby or the wedding?”

  “We have to tell them about the wedding,” he replied. “If it’s going to happen in two weeks. That’s one month before your father’s investiture. Will you have enough time?”

  “The only thing Dad and Tricia have to do for the investiture is show up. Everything’s planned by government officials.” She grinned. “Tricia will relish something she can control, believe me. It annoys her to no end to that she’s uninvolved in the whole thing.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Henry sat opposite them and picked up his glass of Scotch.

  “We’re hoping to get married in two weeks, if that’s okay with you,” Jake explained. “Tiny will have to return to his time, and it will be difficult to keep his presence a secret for a long period.”

  “What bull,” Alex interjected. “You can’t stand the thought of being away from Tee.”

  “I won’t be,” he said smugly. “She’s coming back with me to Boca to help me arrange moving Trent and Mathews’ headquarters to Trinidad. I figure two days and then we head to T ’n’ T.”

  “You sound like a native already, m’boy.” Henry spoke jovially, his brown eyes glistening and radiating joy. “Welcome to the family.”

  A Pink-Ribboned Stallion

  Two weeks later; Callum Ferguson’s Land in Tobago

  From his vantage point on the rocky cliffs, Tiny used the modern tool, binoculars they called them, to observe the ceremony taking place on the beach below. The last two weeks had been a window on this modern world, and he was still uncertain the changes over the centuries benefited mankind. It certainly proved disastrous for Mother Earth. New concepts danced through his brain: global warming, mass transit, grocery stores, Kellog’s Frosted Flakes, and Tony the Tiger.