All I Want Is You (Kimani Romance)

by Girard, Dara

  Monica kept her face averted. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You know exactly what I mean.” She started tugging at Monica’s head wrap.

  Monica straightened and stared down at the older woman. “What are you doing?”

  Nadine frowned. “You really should try a less severe style, soften your looks.”

  “I kept it loose especially for you.”

  Nadine shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. He likes you just the way you are.” She nodded as though coming to a conclusion. “Yes, he must see past all this the way I do.” She touched Monica’s sleeve. “Thank you. I haven’t seen him so relaxed and happy in a long time, and I worry…” She sighed, suddenly looking old. “I haven’t seen him smile like this since… It’s been too long. You’re good for him. Thank you.”

  “I haven’t done anything,” Monica said, shocked by the older woman’s praise. “It’s his work with Baxter that’s made him this way. He’s done wonders with that little dog, and Baxter follows him everywhere. Plus, he’s happy because you’re here. He truly cares about you.”

  “I know,” Nadine said with another heavy sigh. “But don’t sell yourself short. You’ve done more for him than you know. It’s a day I’ve lived for. He’s going to need you.”

  Monica was about to ask her about her somber words, but JD entered the kitchen and said, “I thought you might need some help cutting the pies.”

  “You mean you want to get your big share,” Monica said.

  Nadine picked up a tea tray. “I’ll take this into the other room.” She scurried out.

  JD watched Monica take the pie out of the oven. “Talking about me again?”

  “Your ego is amazing. There are other topics of conversations between two women.”

  “So that would be a yes.” He looked at the three pies. “She went overboard again.”

  “It makes her happy.”

  JD bit his lip. “Does she seem okay to you?”

  “She seems a little tired, but she’s still recovering from that bug that hit her.”

  “Hmm…she’s thinner than I remember, but I haven’t seen her in over a year.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. We’ll just ask her to stay the night and rest, especially after cooking like this.” Monica opened up a container of whipped cream.

  JD dipped his two fingers in. “Mmm…my favorite topping.”

  Monica grabbed his wrist. “Let me,” she said then covered his fingers with her mouth and sucked them clean. She lifted a brow. “Now you no longer have to wonder what it’s like to have your hand in my mouth.”

  JD’s voice dropped and he pulled her to him. “I’ll get you for that,” he said then gave her mouth something else to do.

  “Are you two coming?” Nadine called from the dining room.

  Monica pulled away. “We’ll be right there,” she said as JD’s mouth dipped to her neck.

  “Tell her the pies are still cooling,” he said, his breath hot against her skin.

  Monica pushed him away. “They don’t take that long to cool.”

  JD reluctantly released her and picked up a pie. “Fine.” He briefly kissed her again. “And remember, I always finish what I’ve started.”

  Chapter 7

  Night settled in slowly, taunting and teasing like a woman engaged in the dance of the seven veils—the sun turning the sky purple, pink, red and then a deep blue, letting the moon cast its radiant beams on the porch where they gathered. The scent of the recently eaten pies lingered in the air while the sound of crickets mingled in the cool, soft breeze. Monica stood in the doorway while JD sat on the porch railing and Nadine in an old wicker chair. Monica had made an excuse of having to find something so that she could give the pair some time alone. Before she left them she overheard Nadine complain about her appearance.

  “I don’t care what she says. I think she must be going blind, poor thing. I’ve never seen anyone so young having to wear big sunglasses all the time.”

  “Gran, she has sensitive eyes.”

  “And have you seen the way she dresses? At my age I’m not really into fashion, but if she added some color and stopped wearing those darn rags on her head I think she could pretty herself up some. I even offered to pay for her to see my hairdresser, but she refused.”

  “I like her just the way she is.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re not a little curious.”

  “Oh, I’m curious, just not about the same things you are,” JD said then changed the subject.

  And Monica would have stayed away, busying herself in the kitchen so that they could converse in private, if he hadn’t drawn her in with his music, which filtered through the open windows.

  Monica knew he played the guitar, but she hadn’t expected him to be a master. She felt mesmerized by each chord. It wasn’t just an instrument but a voice singing a song about beauty, sorrow and loss. At first he played Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven” then effortlessly slipped into the Spanish guitar classic “Recuerdos de la Alhambra.” Each note swept her away to Oklahoma and the house she’d grown up in before they’d moved East.

  She remembered the expanse of land and being able to look up at the sky and see only stars with no buildings blocking the view, of horses grazing in the distance and riders racing past. She recalled the happy times visiting her aunt Corleen’s house and eating fried bread while she told her stories and created jewelry to sell at the local roadside market for tourists. The music seemed to pull together pieces of her shattered soul and slowly glue them back together, reminding her of who she used to be.

  “Stop hiding in the doorway and join us,” Nadine said once JD had finished the song.

  Monica stepped out onto the porch. “I wasn’t hiding. I didn’t want to disturb you.” She looked at JD. “That was beautiful,” she said as he put the guitar aside.

  “Thank you.” His words were simple but his gaze made her heart turn over.

  “Has Monica shown you her studio?” Nadine asked.

  “Yes,” Monica cut in before JD could respond, remembering what had happened there.

  “I was impressed,” JD added.

  Nadine nodded, pleased. “You should be. It’s in your blood. Your heritage.”

  “Heritage?” Monica asked, confused.

  JD shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “Gran, not now.”

  Nadine widened her eyes, amazed. “You mean he hasn’t told you about his mother?”

  Monica leaned forward, intrigued. “No.”

  JD picked up his guitar. “How would you two like another song?”

  They both ignored him.

  “She’s a renowned jeweler,” Nadine said to her captive audience. “As was her mother. Crystalline is an exceptional artist and is known for integrating precious stones with molded metals. Her work is still exhibited in some of the biggest art museums around the world. She’s a natural. By the time she was in high school, she was making some of the most beautiful artwork seen by someone her age.”

  Monica turned to JD, stunned. “Crystalline is your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you even know what his initials stand for?” Nadine continued.

  “No, she doesn’t,” JD said in a cutting tone. “And she doesn’t need to right now.”

  Nadine stopped, knowing that it wasn’t wise to push her grandson too far. “I’m sure you’ll tell her one day.”

  Monica stood, not knowing what to do with herself. He was related to Crystalline? She was a giant in the world of jewelry design. When he’d said he liked her work, was that pure flattery? Empty praise? “I can’t believe you pretended to be so impressed with my little studio when your mother’s work is internationally known.”

  “Monica, I wasn’t pretending.”

  She paced, not hearing a word. “Making me put my little trinkets on when I’ve worn your—I mean, I’ve seen your mother’s work worn on the most beautiful women in the world. Her gift makes my work seem like the efforts of
a kindergartner.”

  JD grabbed her hand. “I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. I don’t flatter people to stroke their ego. I said I liked your work and I meant it. And I expected better than that from you. Now sit down.”

  Monica slowly sat, perplexed by his disappointment. “What do you mean?”

  “Humility doesn’t become you. You know you’re good. You stay isolated in this little town selling your creations like they’re dollar trinkets because you want to. Not because you have to.”

  That’s where he was wrong. She didn’t have a choice. “I’m still not in her league.”

  “You don’t need to be. You’re in your own. If you took some of my advice, I could turn you into an international sensation.”

  The thought made her shiver with anticipation. She could picture her work seen by millions, worn by VIPs around the globe, an enterprise based on her skills, not just her looks. But she couldn’t risk the exposure.

  She wanted to tell them about an aunt and a cousin who had taught her the art of making turquoise and silver jewelry. She wanted to share her background as a model, but she knew that she couldn’t. “I don’t want that.”

  JD pointed at her, his voice hard. “Then that’s your choice. Don’t put yourself down again.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And never call me a liar.”

  “I didn’t—” His harsh gaze stopped her words. “I won’t.” She glanced at her watch, eager to leave them. “It has been wonderful, but I really should get to bed.” She stood and kissed Nadine on the cheek. “The extra room is all ready for you. See you in the morning.”

  “Good night,” Nadine said then waited until Monica was gone before she looked at her grandson. “I’m so happy she’s here. At first I wasn’t sure I wanted to rent to her, but now I’m glad I did.”

  JD picked up his guitar and strummed a few chords then said, “What’s really going on?”

  Nadine tensed. “I don’t—”

  He shook his head, his voice becoming hard. “Don’t lie to me. I know you too well. Your face is pale, you run out of energy easily…”

  Nadine hung her head. “I’d hoped to keep it from you.”

  JD glanced away and sighed as though the weight of the world had fallen on him. “How long have you got?”

  “A couple months.”

  He turned to her. “Have you gotten a second opinion?”

  “A second, third and fourth.” Nadine flashed a sad smile. “My time is running out.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything? I could have had you seen by the best. I could have—”

  His grandmother reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’ve lived a full life. It’s okay.”

  JD shook his head. “Don’t tell me that.” He chewed his lower lip. “Are you in pain?”

  “Some days are better than others.” She squeezed his hand. “But I don’t want to talk about me. Right now I’m happy and I want you to be happy too, and when I’m gone promise—”

  JD stood, breaking her hold on him. “Don’t ask me to promise anything. I failed my father and I’d fail you, too.”

  “You haven’t failed, you just haven’t realized that there’s more to life than work and duty. Joy, love and happiness are not just words. They are real.”

  “Happiness,” JD said, sounding out the word as if it were a curse. “Happiness in my life is always fleeting.” He held up his hand before his grandmother could speak. “And it’s nobody’s fault. I’m not feeling sorry for myself. That’s just the way it is, and I accept it. Whatever you want this summer, I’ll do. You want a helicopter ride, I’ll make it happen. You want a gourmet meal, a trip to Disney World, anything. Just let me know. But don’t ask me for what I can’t give you.” He set his guitar aside and walked down the porch steps and into the dark night.

  Nadine blinked back tears. “One day you will know that happiness can be yours.”

  He’d never felt so cold. JD returned to the still, quiet house, feeling numb. The warm breath of the summer evening couldn’t pierce the chill that filled him. He felt nothing. He walked to the spare room where his grandmother slept and peeked his head inside. When he saw her sheets falling to the ground, he crept in and pulled them over her. He remembered how she and his father could laugh at anything. They could see the bright side of any sorrow. He hadn’t gotten that gift. He remembered how she’d been there for him after his dad’s funeral—plying him with good food, giving him errands so that he could feel important and leaving him alone when he didn’t want to talk. Yes, she’d lived a full life, but she deserved a peaceful end, not the same one that had taken his father.

  JD left her room and headed for his own, his legs feeling like lead. He felt old, worn. His Gran wasn’t gone yet, but he already felt the weight of her loss. He stopped in front of his bedroom door and fumbled with the handle. Baxter pushed the door open and JD trudged after him, heading directly to his bed without turning on the lights. He collapsed on it, facedown, and waited for sleep.

  “JD?”

  He paused at the soft, almost mercurial voice, but he didn’t move.

  “JD?”

  It sounded almost real and close. He lifted himself on his elbow and turned. He saw a female silhouette in the doorway, the hallway light behind her emphasizing her soft curves and ample figure. Every part of him came alert—painfully, like frozen limbs forced into hot water. He wanted her. Every part of him called out to her. He wanted her to come closer and share his bed, but all he said was, “Did I wake you?”

  “No.” Monica hesitated then stepped into the room, becoming part of the darkness. “I had my window open and heard what Nadine said. I’m sorry.” She paused and studied him.

  “Close the door and come here.”

  She quietly shut the door then crossed the room to him. “Yes?”

  “You could have turned on the lights.”

  “I can still see you.” She sat on the side of the bed. “You’re shaking.”

  “It’s nothing.” He took her hand. “I just feel cold.”

  She began to stand. “I could make you some coffee or tea or—”

  He pulled her down next to him. “No, you could do something else for me. Please,” he whispered when he felt her stiffen. “I feel so cold. It’s like something in me is dying and I want to feel alive again.” He gathered her close. “Just warm me up a little.”

  Monica didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You are alive.”

  “Sometimes I wonder.”

  “You won’t after tonight.” She pulled off his shirt. “I’ll keep you warm,” she said, surprised by how cold he felt. It frightened her. His muscles felt hard and rigid, as if he were frozen. His lips that had once felt so soft were unyielding. She’d have to be careful, because he was on the abyss of shutting down both emotionally and physically. She knew it. She had felt it herself after Delong died and Anton had imprisoned her. Her limbs no longer felt as if they were her own. Her heart had solidified to stone. She couldn’t feel anymore, but then she’d escaped and had learned to feel and live again, and she would help JD to do the same. She removed her robe and then her nightdress. “Touch me.”

  “I am.”

  Monica tried not to wince at the coolness of his fingers. She knew that would change soon. She saddled his waist then took a deep breath and set her glasses aside. “Kiss me.”

  He did. His bare chest pressing against her, his mouth hot and wet. She let him run his fingers through her long hair, slide them down her side and between her thighs. She felt his temperature rise, felt the silken sheen of sweat on his body. He reached for the side table.

  Monica grabbed his hand. “No, no lights.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s better this way.”

  “Oh, right. Your eyes.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” He pulled open the side drawer. “I’ve never wrapped him in the dark before.”

  “I can do it.”

  J
D handed her a condom. “Please yourself.”

  “I plan to please you, too.” Monica opened the package then groped for him in the dark.

  “Um, that’s my leg,” he said with amusement.

  “I know it’s your leg.”

  “You’re supposed to say you couldn’t tell the difference.”

  “If you were that big I wouldn’t be here.” She rolled on the condom. “You’re just the right size.”

  “Do you have night vision?”

  “I don’t need to see it to know.”

  JD laughed. “I wasn’t talking about that. I mean can you see me, because I can sort of see you and you’re absolutely beautiful.”

  “The moonlight helps.”

  “You don’t need moonlight.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of this foreplay.”

  “You have a problem with compliments.”

  No, she’d been told she was beautiful before. It was nothing new, but she didn’t want to tell him that so she grabbed his intimate part and said, “Do you need me to help guide you?”

  “No, I can find my way.”

  “It’s dark. I wouldn’t want you to miss.”

  “I never miss. I’m as precise as a pilot landing on an airstrip, or a captain docking his ship.”

  “Your modesty is admirable,” Monica said with a grin.

  JD laughed then entered her as smoothly and expertly as he’d bragged he would. “Well done, Captain,” Monica said. “Any passengers can now debark.”

  “Poor devils won’t be getting far.”

  “But I can take you farther,” she said, opening up and welcoming him deeper inside her. It was a snug, tight fit then he hit a spot that filled her with ecstasy. Their rhythmic motion made their shared desire rise to a frenzied passion. Like a tinderbox he caught fire from her flame. He was no longer cold, but hot, burning hot. She cried out his name, and they both sank into bliss. Afterward JD rolled away with a sigh of satisfaction.

  Monica reached over and felt his forehead. “Good. The patient seems to be stabilized. You’re no longer in danger of freezing and your temperature should soon return to normal.”