Loving Jilly

by Sylvie Kaye

  "Good.” Henry wiped the kiss off his cheek.

  "I'm done over here.” Zack signaled to Ann.

  "You two run along.” Ann shooed Jilly and Zack from the building. “You've stayed late enough,” she told Jilly. “I'll explain the mishap to Henry's parents as soon as his father comes in from parking the car."

  Jilly hugged Ann before leaving. Once outside, she breathed in the rain-fresh air. Across town the air might be scorched from the fire, but here it smelled clean and cool.

  "You're still shaky.” Zack braced her spine with a firm hand.

  His touch steadied her. His voice soothed. He stroked her arm. Somehow he was managing to stop her world again, make it feel different. Protected, grounded, sound.

  She wasn't certain if she liked that. Not the sensation of being safe and sane, but that he was the one to secure it. She was capable of providing her own security. Maybe not right now, but in the future.

  His hand lingered, warm and comforting, and for a time, her universe became a solid, serene place. But she didn't have it in her to keep still for long. She shrugged away from him even before he opened the door to the truck, and her familiar chaos returned in a flash.

  When he asked, “Why don't we go somewhere for a drink or a coffee?” she replied without a thought, “I told my aunts I'd be right home. They'll worry."

  He shrugged. “A call should calm them."

  His invitation sounded tempting, and she apparently needed a drink. Otherwise why had she reacted so needy to his mere touch a moment ago? But her aunts came first. Now wasn't the opportune time. “I couldn't. With the thunder and lightning and the sirens from the robbery and the fire, Aunt Adele's blood pressure must be sky high.” Jilly climbed into his pickup under her own power, freeing him to toss his toolbox into the back of the capped vehicle.

  "We can check on her first.” As he slid behind the wheel, he smiled over at her. “Sure I can't change your mind?"

  Their eyes connected and her thighs quivered with one need she was willing to let him handle. Cocking her head toward him, she felt her lips pulse with her want. The word, yes, clung to her mouth like a wish, waiting for him to claim it.

  She paused, giving him every chance. When he didn't, her responsible side spoke up. “I'd better stay home. The storm hasn't passed yet. Suppose it starts back up and Aunt Vinny has another spell like the one she had last night."

  Zack didn't disagree. He started the ignition, put the pickup into gear, and pulled away from the curb. The ride home was silent and fast. In no time he double-parked in front of the carriageway to the house and swung the door to the truck open so she could hop out.

  "Aren't you coming in? The least I can do is feed you.” She stared into his gray eyes. She could get lost in their foggy depths if she had the time.

  He glimpsed the sky. “I should check on the job site after the storm. I'll see you Monday."

  Monday seemed a long way off. Jilly looked up at the sky when he drove off. Rain clouds were forming again. Below the clouds, in the balcony window boxes, red petals glistened with dewy raindrops in the last dash of the waning sunlight. Further below, she stood, aching for Monday.

  She shook her head. She'd bet Henry would be back before Monday if Molly asked to feed him. Maybe she could pick up some pointers from the girl.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Six

  Friday night, and Jilly had no carpenter and no date.

  By the time the clock chimed ten, she had no aunts either. After relaying all the details of the crisis at the daycare, and watching the TV for news about the fire and storm, Aunt Vinny tucked away her tatting to retire for the night. “Thunder following a funeral means a dead person's soul has reached heaven."

  "Lucky for Cousin Neville,” Aunt Gloria said.

  "Amen.” Aunt Adele bowed her head and everyone followed suit. Jilly wasn't so sure an amen should follow a superstitious belief but she added hers anyhow.

  After good nights, Jilly doused her hair with an herbal hot oil treatment and wrapped her head in a fuzzy pink towel. While her blonde locks conditioned, she manicured her toenails and fingernails and read over her notes from class.

  She didn't know why she bothered with the personal maintenance. She had nothing doing for the weekend. Well, something, but not anything involving a man with strong arms and sexy lips.

  Saturday, she'd spend the morning cleaning and wrecking her coral creme manicure. Later in the day, she'd stick her newly conditioned head of hair into a book on income tax accounting.

  Pretty dull stuff by Ann's standards, and Jilly's, and probably anybody's but her aunts'.

  A light rap on her door sent her hobbling across the room with cotton-stuffed toes. “Aunt Gloria.” Her aunt looked less rigid than usual. Tired.

  "I waited until my sisters were asleep. They might think I'm incompetent. You know how they jump to conclusions.” She shoved a shoebox at Jilly. “These are the bank statements and cancelled checks for the past several months. I haven't been able to balance our account.” She paused as if unsure how to continue. “You're so good with figures."

  Jilly took the box. “I'll look for the error. It will be like homework. You sleep now. Don't worry."

  "This will remain our secret.” Once Jilly nodded, she disappeared down the hall in a navy-blue chenille blur.

  By two a.m. Jilly had justified the bank statements. Her aunt had subtracted a few rent checks received from their tenant instead of adding. Yawning, she hopped into her pastel pink bed and snapped off the light, shutting out the pink walls and even pinker curtains.

  The room had been hers since she could remember and had never been redone. Actually, nothing in the house had ever been updated as long as she could remember. The mere mention of toning down the cherry blossom pink paint in her bedroom gave her aunts apoplexy, especially Aunt Vinny. “Everything must stay the way Mama and Papa like it."

  Jilly had to take her aunt's word on their likes and dislikes. Grandmama had died before she was born and Grandpapa had passed on by the time she'd turned two—but much later in spirit, thanks to Aunt Vinny's constant conversations about him.

  Sometimes when Jilly didn't fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pink pillow, she redecorated the bedroom in her mind. Rolling the walls in ivory, replacing the ruffled curtains with Aunt Vinny's lace panels. Even the crooked patterns would allow the moonlight to filter in on cloudless evenings.

  She'd trade the pink lamp and cutout shade for the Victorian lamp in muted florals from her mother's bedroom. Her white bed with pink hearts and matching bureau would get swapped for the iron bedstead and wicker chest of drawers in the storage room.

  Tonight when she fell asleep, she didn't dream of home furnishings though. In her girlhood bed, her dreams were anything but girlish. She envisioned racy images of her and Zack. Visions that didn't stop at hot kisses or wet tongues.

  His broad hands tantalized and teased her flesh. His callused, rough-tipped fingers hardened her nipples and tempted her in dark, wet places that desired more than touching. Her body ached for promises of fulfillment.

  But before she and Zack came, morning did with a startling blast from her windup clock. Who'd set the alarm for seven on a Saturday morning and interrupted the best sex she'd almost had?

  Tossing her pink pillow, she roamed down the hall in her cotton pajamas, following the pungent aroma of caffeine and the sweet scent of fresh-baked pastry into the dining room.

  "You're up.” Aunt Adele wasn't at all surprised. She handed Jilly a cup of coffee strong enough to grow hair on a bald-headed eagle.

  "Yes, but why?” Jilly sipped, letting the first dribble go down easy so as not to upset her empty stomach, and looked at her aunts who were already dressed and seated at the table.

  "I forgot to tell you Hannah and her nephew Eric are coming by to take us to lunch and the cemetery,” Aunt Adele said.

  "Vinnia wasn't able to get close enough for a good snapshot of his marker yesterday.
” Aunt Gloria lifted her white China cup from its saucer.

  "Neville's extended family was spread out all over the place,” Aunt Vinny complained, pouring herself just a splash.

  "We're going for a leisurely visit this afternoon,” Aunt Adele called over her shoulder on her way into the kitchen. “Hannah was nice enough to offer Eric as our driver."

  Jilly rubbed the sleep from her eyes and wondered if Eric knew what he was in for.

  "You know you're welcome to come along.” Aunt Gloria's arched pinky finger pointed to Jilly at a weird angle. “But I thought you'd prefer to stay home and catch up on your studies.” The shiny bird ornaments dangling from her hair sticks bobbed.

  "I'll stay.” Jilly nodded her head up and down in time with the birds.

  Not too often did she have the house to herself. The freedom of it boggled her mind with things she could do besides study. Run through the house in her panties and bra. Clip her nails in the parlor. Pluck her eyebrows at the kitchen table where the light was best. Jilly gulped down some coffee to kill her wild urges.

  "After breakfast we're starting in on the weekly cleaning so we're done before noon,” Aunt Gloria said.

  The early alarm made sudden sense.

  "Why don't we skip the usual big breakfast to save time?” she asked, more tired than hungry.

  Aunt Vinny's voice rose. “Papa insists we eat a hearty breakfast of pancakes and sausage on Saturday mornings."

  As if on cue, Aunt Adele hustled from the kitchen, carrying a large serving platter. Jilly should've known the ladies wouldn't break with tradition, but it had been worth a shot. She pushed aside her fork and knife to gulp down the coffee and get on with the day. The knife slipped from the table and clattered onto the floor.

  "A dropped knife means a man is coming to visit, Jilly Boo."

  She smiled at Aunt Adele. “My guess is it's Eric, Auntie."

  By the time she washed up and dressed, Aunt Gloria was working over the parlor with a colorful feather duster.

  "I put the accounting box on your bed,” Jilly whispered. “It's all taken care of."

  Her aunt glanced to the balcony where Aunt Vinny stood in her gray sweatsuit shaking out a small mound of lacy antimacassars. “Thank you for your discretion, dear."

  Jilly nodded. “I'll start mopping now."

  From the kitchen, Aunt Adele hummed along to the strains of Mozart while Jilly joined her amid the smells of Bon Ami cleaner and vanilla. After filling a bucket with water and pine detergent, she mopped the flour-specked floor and daydreamed, and then scrubbed the bathrooms and daydreamed some more.

  Her daydreams were a lot tamer than her nighttime dreams. She imagined weekends at the beach, yearly vacations, security and companionship for her aunts.

  Which all began with a better job. She quit dawdling and started vacuuming the oriental rugs so she could attack the books as soon as her aunts left.

  The drone of the old Hoover drowned out all sound and Jilly almost missed Hannah's nephew, but Aunt Gloria pulled the plug. The sweeper whirred to a soundless stop. “Jilly, this is Eric."

  Eric had recently moved into the area from Mississippi and looked to be about her age. He had friendly green eyes and blond hair, cut short to show off its thickness. He sported a well-groomed mustache, making her speculate for a brief moment on what it must feel like to kiss a man with hair on his upper lip.

  She reasoned Zack didn't have a mustache and she could hardly handle her hot-lip images of him.

  With a smile, she tucked a stray strand from her ponytail behind her ear and tugged on her raggedy jeans and T-shirt. “You'll have to excuse me. I'm not dressed for company."

  He was kind enough to say otherwise. “You look beautiful, dressed or not...” His voice trailed off. “On that note, I'd better take off."

  He held the door open and her aunts hustled out. Dressed in black and white they looked like a group of penguins.

  "Have fun.” Jilly waved them off and locked up.

  Tempted, she leaned her back to the door. Running through the house nude was out of the question, but indulging in a long, hot bath and cramming the books later wasn't.

  No. She had to stay focused. Bubbles and baths would come with her degree and paid help with her aunts.

  She stashed the Hoover in the pantry and headed for the freshly scrubbed bathroom. After a quick sprinkle in the shower and a few tussles with a wet, imaginary Zack, Jilly settled in at the secretary desk wearing a pair of linen shorts and a clean tank top.

  No sooner did she clear her mind of her Zack fantasies and wrap it around taxes and accounting than the doorbell chimed. She jumped up hoping Aunt Vinny hadn't gotten ill again.

  When she swung the door open, there stood Zack. And it wasn't even Monday yet.

  Fantasy time was back with a rush. Looked like her dropped knife at breakfast knew when a man was coming to visit.

  Today he looked nothing like a carpenter. He had on Khaki shorts. Geesh, but the man had great legs. He had muscular thighs and calves with just the right amount of hair for friction. She sucked in her breath at the thought.

  "Hi,” she said in a purr. He looked good enough to eat, well, lick anyway.

  "Hi.” His low voice reverberated through her with an enticing ripple. “I think I might've left a tool here."

  Zack looked as if all his equipment was where it should be.

  "We just cleaned and I didn't come across any tools. But you're welcome to come in and have a look around."

  With his hands in his pockets, he checked the kitchen and the parlor, barely eyeballing the rooms. “Not here, it seems.” He shrugged. Instead of leaving, he leaned against the doorjamb to the foyer. His smoky gray eyes were tuck-me-in-your-bed sexy and torched her right down to her toes.

  She covered the scorched toes of one barefoot with her other. She was glad she'd thrown in a pedicure with her manicure last night, even if the coral enamel had melted.

  Did he sense he was the target of her walking, breathing, carnal flights of fancy? Gosh, but he was great to look at. Maybe he'd stand there in the doorway all afternoon and let her drool until she ran dry.

  No, he was moving already, shifting his weight from one manly hip to the other, and talking. “Would you like to go somewhere?"

  Yes, anywhere away from her aunts’ house. Take me to paradise. Take me to K-Mart. Take me to your leader, just take me in your arms. That's what the Jilly in her dreams would have said.

  Now wide-awake, her non-dreamy, sensible side said, “Maybe another time. I have to study."

  "The humidity's died down.” He tempted her with his smiling mouth. “It's too nice a day to waste indoors.” His seductive smile knocked her back on her heels.

  So she went with it. And counted off on her toes. Study. Zack. Study. Zack. Study. Zack. She wavered till her toes ran out and Zack won out. She'd study all night if she had to, and Sunday in between whatever plans her aunts might have. A date with Zack might be well worth a sleepless night or a hectic Sunday.

  She glanced up at him. Even slouched against the door his frame was tall and broad. “Where would we go? I can only spare a few hours."

  "Almost anywhere is good.” His sexy mouth made her bones jump at the thought of jumping his bones.

  She restrained herself for now. Bones brought to mind an appropriate trek. “We can take a cemetery tour. Burial above ground is a big tourist attraction. We can get a quick bite.” She grinned. “If you still have an appetite afterward."

  "Very funny. You're quite the tease.” The bedroom look in his eyes said he wasn't teasing.

  A different offer bubbled up in her throat. She swallowed, but the proposition merely trickled down to where her thighs met, pooling into a hotter suggestion that didn't end at a restaurant but a few feet further down the hall in her bedroom.

  She searched for a different point of interest, one that didn't involve the smell of lust in her aunts’ house. Sports, men liked sports. “How about the Superdome, home of the Sai
nts football team?” she croaked.

  "How about something outside of town? I borrowed a friend's convertible, actually my father's friend. I'm working on his hotel."

  "Let's see. There are beaucoup things to do.” She tapped a finger to her lips, keeping rapid time with her pulse. She really had to get control. But she seldom had time alone and an available man to indulge herself with. “I know where there's wild life away from Bourbon Street,” she said. “A swamp excursion."

  "Let's take a walk on the wild side another time."

  Now if that didn't sound promising.

  "How about the plantations? They're on the outskirts of the city."

  "Plantations it is.” He gave her another let-me-melt-your-toenails look.

  His gaze must've made her giddy. “Despite my tight schedule, I'll have to insist upon changing into my best hooped skirt,” she drawled and curtseyed.

  "Yeah, right.” He clasped her hand and tugged her toward the front door.

  For a change his touch didn't make time stand still. She guessed it was because he was on the move.

  "Wait,” she squeaked, tripping along barefoot. “I have to leave a note for my aunts. And get a pair of shoes."

  While she scribbled a memo, he peeked over her shoulder. When she rifled through a kitchen drawer for a magnet, he waited, crossing his arms. As soon as she attached the lavender note to the clean white refrigerator with a miniature Mardi Gras mask magnet, they strode from the room. At the front door, she snatched up a pair of straw sandals and grabbed her canvas tote bag.

  In no time, she was attempting to put lipstick on while her hair whipped across her eyes in a speeding convertible. The minor inconvenience didn't dull the sense of freedom she felt with the sun and wind on her face. The exhilaration was right up there next to her hot dreams of Zack from last night.

  "Your father's friend has an incredible car,” she said. “I imagine his hotel is just as remarkable."

  "Both of his hotels are. When Bigatowsky Construction finishes reconstruction on the one in New Orleans, they're building one from the ground up in Houston. I've seen the plans. Each hotel is a totally different concept in architecture."