by Sylvie Kaye
Zack glared at the man and continued to clean his paintbrushes. Purposely, he shoved the pan of acrid smelling turpentine closer to Eric.
"Staying for dinner?” Eric asked with a wriggle of his nose.
Zack tossed the intruder his best whatz-it-to-you stare. The unblinking kind that caused arguments in barrooms and pissin’ matches in men's rooms.
"Thought not.” Eric sipped his lemonade, smiling.
"You thought right.” Zack zipped his thumb over the bristles of the paintbrush he was cleaning. White speckles splattered the tip of the guy's yuppie canvas shoes.
He grinned up at Eric, hoping the guy would get tough with him. One smartass remark was all Zack needed. He'd love to punch him on his designer nose. Hell, his nose probably wasn't original anyway. He'd only get another, sleeker one from some other designer plastic surgeon.
Truth was Zack was jealous of the time Eric spent with Jilly. The guy even had the aunts’ blessings. Not that Zack needed their blessings. What he didn't need was their constant interference.
"Jilly, my roommate Ken, and I are eating at The Tarnished Angel restaurant tonight.” Eric pointed at Zack with his glass. “You're more than welcome to join us. Unless you'd rather dine with the old gals and Sister Maria Louisa and stay for the prayer meeting afterwards."
Zack stood up. He towered over the younger man. That made him feel better.
Eric continued smiling though. “The restaurant is on Chartres Street near Bacco's. See you there around quarter to seven.” He strolled away, thin, lanky, and cocksure.
Zack scratched his head. Now what in the hell was that about? Two against one? If Eric wanted to showoff his muscle in front of Jilly—with or without his roomie's help—he'd oblige him. Zack would be there if he had to run barefoot over hot macadam all the way.
He finished cleaning up the brushes, then loaded up his tools and left. After a quick stop to shower and change, he entered the restaurant promptly at six forty-five. A tarnished, burnished angel stood in the center of the foyer while rusted or tarnished metal sculptures adorned the rest of the place. Backdropped by the pristine white walls and tablecloths in the dining room area, the artwork made a stark, appealing contrast.
The maitre d’ led him to the best table in the house, overlooking the dining room, yet out of the way of other diners and the kitchen. Its best feature was Jilly, sitting there in her low-cut sundress, beaming ideas his way that had nothing to do with food.
She greeted him with a big smile. “Hello again."
"Hello seems all we're able to say to one another lately.” His tone dared the other two men at the table to say otherwise.
"That's why we invited you here this evening,” Eric's friend said. “By the way, I'm Ken.” He reached out his hand.
Zack shook the man's hand. What the hell, he had no beef with Ken...yet.
"Sit here.” Eric popped up from his chair like a jack-in-the-box. He signaled Zack to take the seat next to Jilly.
Zack sat down, full of suspicion. Why would Eric give up his prime spot next to her?
"I'm the chef and owner here,” the smaller man across from Zack said. “That's the only way I could get a kitchen with appliances and counters that are the perfect height for me.” He laughed.
Zack gave him a grin. Ken seemed okay.
Eric popped up again. He sure was jumpy. “Ken's my roomie. I said that before, didn't I? Something needs our attention in the kitchen."
"Maybe we'll see you two later.” Ken stood up as well. “Order without us. It's on the house."
Ken shook Zack's hand again. Then Eric offered his. Zack glanced over at Jilly. He hated to wipe the happy smile from her lips so he shook Eric's hand, squeezing just a little too hard and long.
When he let go, Eric's tanning-booth bronzed hand was a lot paler. Zack smirked as Eric strode off.
"Alone at last.” Jilly shrugged her feminine, bare shoulders. Shoulders that looked ideal for stroking. And tasting.
"Been awhile.” He'd waited way too long to see Jilly without her aunts lurking.
He normally preferred Tantra, the spiritual art of love founded on Hindu mysticism. Although the tantric method encouraged a slow pursuit of pleasure, he wanted to rush her. Kiss her lush lips, right here in the restaurant. Or better yet, drag her under the table.
"I'd like to apologize for my aunts.” She leaned in closer to him. Her blue eyes gleamed. She blinked, but only once. He was glad about the improvement in her eye tic. “I'm sorry but for some reason they seem to blame you for the mint julep I drank."
"I've noticed.” He kept his voice low. He didn't want to break the spell of her whispery nearness. “I tried to make amends with the daisies.” He touched her hand. Her skin felt smooth and silky, so unlike his sandpapery, callused palm. He stroked the flesh between her thumb and finger, mesmerized by its softness.
"They're overprotective of me, yet I hate to challenge them. Their old age and health problems are enough of an upset for them. You seem to present a threat.” She shrugged as if she didn't know why.
If she did know, he wondered if she'd tell him. She was loyal to her aunts above and beyond.
A waiter or a ghost of one discreetly left menus on the table.
Zack savored the feel of Jilly's hand for a moment longer, then let go to pick up the scrolled, parchment menu. He didn't want to talk about the aunts anymore tonight. “What's good here?” He unrolled the dinner fare.
"Everything. Ken's a grandiose chef."
If he was, that was the only thing grand about the much smaller man. On second thought, he might have a big heart. He did arrange this meeting and the meal. So did Eric, he guessed.
Zack peeked around the menu. “Is Eric an old friend?"
"No, he moved to Nawlins recently.” Jilly grinned. “That's how he says it with his Mississippi drawl.” Zack didn't like the fondness for the guy that twinkled in her eyes. If she was going to do any twinkling, he wanted it to be for him. “I ran into him in church with his aunt, Hannah, and we've become fast friends."
He nodded and went back to reading the entrees listed under seafood. If she'd only met Eric for the first time that Sunday, why had he been rumpled up on her couch while she dressed or undressed?
He lowered his menu and peered over the top of hers. “Looked as if he crashed on your sofa. Glad to see he finally got himself a roommate."
"Oh, he didn't crash. He and Ken have shared an apartment all along. The day you stopped by we'd been studying for hours for my final exam. Eric's an auditor and turned out to be a great help.” Jilly rolled up her menu. “Sorry I missed you."
"Uh-huh. Me too.” On the inside Zack was grinning like a court jester at a Mardi Gras ball. Eric was merely her study buddy. He liked that explanation a lot.
The ghostly waiter reappeared. Jilly ordered some fish dish and Zack ordered the same. What he ate wasn't important right now.
"How is the night class going?” He might as well use this dinner opportunity to get to know her better. Thanks to time constraint and a mint-flavored drink, he hadn't found out much that Saturday at the plantations.
"Right now, I'm done until next semester. I like working with numbers, and a better job will help me take care of my aunts. The older they get the more help they need. I want to be able to afford a companion for them.” She fussed with her white, starched napkin. “I also have a selfish motive. A companion would give me time to do the things I like."
"What kind of things do you like?” He hoped nothing as drastic as bungee jumping or as boring as bird watching.
"Oh, not much out of the ordinary. Eat out, go to the movies, take a vacation."
"Where to?” Their chat was going well. Jilly wasn't the evasive, mysterious type.
"I've never been out of New Orleans. I'd like to visit Florida, see Disney World, or Texas and the Alamo. The mountains, the dessert, the beach. Anywhere and nowhere in particular."
"Wouldn't marriage give you what you need?” he asked, wondering w
hy she was still single when she seemed so family-oriented. “A minivan, an annual vacation, and added support with your aunts?"
"Marriage presents more problems than it solves.” Jilly toyed with her water goblet. Her delicate fingers slid up and down the stem, each stroke making his gut clench until he tore his eyes away. “Marriage involves a great deal of trust. No offense, but the men in our family haven't been entirely trustworthy, aside from Grandpapa."
So Zack wasn't the only man the aunts didn't trust. They didn't trust any man with Jilly but Eric. Why him? Probably felt he was safe, somewhat like a brother, because of their close relationships with Hannah.
"No offense taken.” HHHe uncrimped the menu he'd just crushed. Eric may fool the old ladies, but he wasn't fooling Zack.
Jilly sipped her water. “According to Aunt Gloria, Grandpapa had his faults, too. Not that Aunt Vinny would ever admit to them."
The ghost of a waiter slid their dinners in front of them and disappeared. The savory aromas of seafood and wine sauce didn't interest Zack as much as Jilly did.
"Isn't this delish?” She flicked at the sauce on her lip with the pink tip of her tongue.
"Yes.” Her tongue and lip and mouth were delish all right. He'd love a taste. Maybe tonight was the night for a sample.
He didn't think he'd ever waited this long for a simple first kiss. Bob would laugh, then squint in disbelief. But Zack had learned an important lesson from yoga, meditation, and Tantra. Patience. Jilly was pulled taut with her aunts, work, and classes. The last thing she needed thrown into the fray was an impatient boyfriend.
Boyfriend? Was that all he wanted to be to Jilly?
He'd have to wait and see.
"Going back to what you said earlier before the food arrived. Have you dated much?” he asked.
She rested her fork on her plate. Her eyes looked dark blue and mysterious. His interest piqued, along with a tightness in his crotch. “I'll tell if you tell."
"I haven't dated many women,” he found himself saying. “I was engaged for a period of time though."
"Was? What happened?” She leaned in close. Her sweet scent overtook any desire he had for food. Need flooded him.
"We found out we didn't want the same things."
"What do you want?” Her lips were close to his and her words muted.
What Zack wanted was Jilly. With her lips and scent filling his senses nothing else would do. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, and know her, intimately. How had the conversation gone from her to him?
"I want to work with my hands.” He looked at his hands and then her body. She blinked several times and his mind flashed back on tract. “My aim is to quit construction by the end of the year. I don't intend to end up like my brother Stan, unhappy and underappreciated. I've had it dealing with the grumble of construction, work crews, and my father. I plan to build furniture."
"Why didn't the fiancee fit in?” She tilted her head. The dim lighting in the room glinted in her eyes, giving them a soulful appearance. His soul responded.
"She was more interested in my father's profit margin than in me. I want to share what I build and who I am with someone who feels the same."
"That's beautiful in theory. But that kind of sharing takes a lot of trust.” She picked up her fork and went back to eating her dinner.
"Isn't that what love is about? Trusting another to want what is best for both of you beyond individual needs."
"Sounds more like compromise than love.” She nibbled at her fish.
"I suppose if both people trust each other, love becomes the ideal compromise."
She toyed with the dessert menu, browsing the contents. “How about we compromise?” She handed him the menu. “After dinner we'll share dessert."
"Okay.” For now, dessert would do.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Fifteen
With the awkward conversation about love and trust behind her, Jilly found Zack even more companionable, right down to sharing their chocolate bread pudding and Cafe Brulot, an after-dinner spiced coffee.
Sipping from the delicate China cup, she was surprised. “The coffee's strong and tasty."
"Everybody's coffee is tasty compared to your aunt's.” He took the cup, resting his lips where hers had been. Her lips pulsed to reclaim the spot while it was still occupied. “The liqueur helps the taste.” He clinked the cup onto its saucer.
"Liqueur?” She laughed. “My aunts will have Mickey Muller, our local policeman, give me a sobriety test. You'll never get out of Dutch."
"Eric gets the blame this time.” Zack smiled. He had such a sexy, welcoming smile. She'd like to sit and bask in it all night long.
"At this rate we'll never get out from under house arrest.” She shoved the gold-rimmed cup and saucer his way.
"I think your aunts might be more understanding when it comes to Eric."
"Eric figures he's like next of kin through Hannah."
"So that's what I need. To be adopted.” He leaned in close. He smelled of soap and willing man.
This was her opening. Should she wait for Ken and Eric to return like they'd practiced? Suppose they didn't come back?
"There's a simpler way.” Her tongue clung to the words.
"I'm game.” He spooned a mouthful of airy, chocolate bread pudding into his mouth and then one into hers.
He leaned in so close his hair tickled her forehead in an enticing manner. The gray in his eyes enveloped her like a fog. His tempting mouth remained just out of reach, yet within kissing distance. A hot glow flushed her skin.
"There's always sneaking out,” she whispered in a husky voice.
"Say again.” His warm, chocolatey breath touched her lips. His alluring mouth and tone brought on a rush of ideas that called for more privacy than the restaurant provided.
"How do you feel about dating in secret?” Her voice turned from husky to breathy.
"Are you good at keeping secrets?” His question prolonged the torment.
"If they're sealed with a kiss.” She blinked, shocked at herself for voicing such a silly superstition, even if his nearness provoked it.
He leaned in and pecked her on the cheek.
Not exactly the kiss she'd been panting after, but at least her scorched cheek felt satisfied. Her disappointment increased when she caught a flash of white coming from the kitchen.
Eric waved a napkin from the doorway while pointing to his wrist. Darn, her time was up. She glanced at her watch and then at Zack. “My Aunt Adele is taking a new blood pressure med at bedtime. I want to be home in case of a reaction."
"I'm on it.” Zack tipped their white-jacketed waiter, and within minutes they exited the restaurant and hopped into his truck. He gunned the engine and in no time was veering the truck onto her street. “I had a great evening."
"I did too.” Even though it ended too soon and with a kiss on the cheek, she held high hopes for next time.
He slowed down two doors from her house and coasted to a stop. “Want to get off here, out of aunt range?"
"You catch on fast."
He slid his arm across the back of the seat. In the street lighting, his handsome face was shadowy. So were his lips, but she remembered them all too well from the restaurant, even if they'd missed their mark.
Reaching out, he cupped her chin. As usual, his touch was time-stopping yet gentle, especially for a strong man with hardworking hands.
"I'll see you tomorrow.” His words were like wisps of a warm river breeze.
When he pressed his mouth to hers, soft and electric, her eyes fluttered closed, and she held her breath as sensation carried her away.
Slipping his hand into her hair, he stroked her, soothed her, and captivated her. He tasted lusty and consuming. Soon his ragged exhale became her inhale as they exchanged heated breathing. She was diving into the deep-end of desire yet felt suspended mid-leap.
This must be another of his time warps, but she wasn't about to settle for standing still. Her time
was too limited, too valuable. With a moan, she slipped her tongue into his mouth. The enticing kiss tasted more like the stuff her dreams of Zack were made of. Stuff involving heat and hard bodies and passion. She wanted more of him. She wanted him beneath her, now, never mind tomorrow.
She squirmed closer to him, pressing her soft breasts against his hard chest. She moaned again, her reaction proving to her just how badly she needed kissing. And more.
Jilly opened her eyes. The kissing had stopped.
"I don't want to keep you from checking on your aunt.” Zack dug through the glove box for a scrap of paper and a pencil. “I'll write down my cell and hotel room phone numbers."
She nodded, licked her lips. His kiss was steamier than the ones she'd dreamed of in her pink bed. How had he managed to beat out a dream? How could he not? He was an exceptional man, not only in size, but in lots of ways. So far.
With men there was always a so far. A man only went so far when it came to trust or promises, and so very far when it came to leaving, like her father had done. He'd gone so far away that they'd never heard from him again.
After tucking the note in her hand, he reached across her and with a loud creak the door to the truck opened.
"I'll call you.” She smiled into his handsome face one last time before slipping the paper into her bag and hurrying down the sidewalk toward home.
Yeasty, sweet smells of oven-baked goods greeted Jilly when she got home from Tiny Tykes the following day, along with her aunts, who sat on the sofa lined up like pigeons on a fence.
"You didn't forget the bake sale at the church tonight.” Aunt Gloria stood up as soon as Jilly entered the room.
"The fundraiser starts promptly at six.” Aunt Adele smiled sweetly. “We ate dinner already."
"Hannah will be here any minute,” Aunt Vinny said.
By the time Jilly finished washing up and changing her clothes, Eric had arrived with Hannah, who sported a new wristwatch he'd given her, with an alarm to remind her when to take her meds. “I'm going to sell-till-the-bell,” she chirped.
Jilly slipped on her sandals, and after Eric made a quick trip to the bathroom, they loaded the trunk and backseat of the Beemer with yummy-scented cakes and muffins. Looked as if the ladies were single-handedly supplying the bake sale.