The Taming of Billy Jones

by Christine Rimmer

"Milk," Billy said, after the first bite. And she thought of Jesse, pounding his fists on his high chair tray, demanding, "Meeook, meeook, meeook!"

  She went and got the milk and poured them each a big glass. He toasted her, then drank down the whole thing in one long gulp.

  They started kissing again as they were rinsing their dishes and putting them into the dishwasher. Billy untied the sash of her robe and pushed it to the floor. The counter tiles felt icy against her bare bottom when he hoisted her up there. But soon enough, Prudence forgot the discomfort. She looked down at Billy's head, which was buried between her open thighs. She could see very clearly what he was doing, as he'd let her keep her glasses on this time.

  She wondered, could this really be her, Prudence Wilding, doing these naughty things with bad Billy Jones?

  But then Billy did something impossible with his tongue. Prudence held onto his head, closed her eyes – and forgot everything but his endless, incredible, forbidden kiss.

  At the end, after he pushed her right over the edge, she looked down at him. And he looked up at her, his green eyes gleaming with a devilish light and his lips all swollen and wet from what he'd been doing to her.

  "You even taste like roses," he said.

  And her heart just lifted up inside her chest. She cupped his face and bent over and kissed her own wetness right off his lips. He whispered her name. And then he stuck out his tongue and licked the corner of her mouth.

  "Peanut butter," he said.

  She wiped the spot. He caught her hand, rising up, so they were face-to-face. He set her hand on his shoulder, felt for the other one and put it there, too. Then he laid his own hands on her thighs. Gently, in long, feathery strokes, he caressed the tops of her thighs, from her knees to the place where her hips joined her torso. He leaned in, fitted his mouth to hers and kissed her until she forgot where she was and let her head fall back to bump against the cabinet behind her.

  He made a noise of concern and pulled away enough to meet her eyes. "Hurt?" She thought of Jesse, asking, "Boo-boo?"

  She rubbed her head. "I saw stars."

  He laughed, and then the laughter faded. He looked at her, and went on looking, at the same time slowly caressing the tops of her thighs.

  She stared back at him, a half smile on her lips to match the one he wore. And something happened. Something shifted deep inside her. Awareness dawned.

  Twin creases formed between his dark brows. "What?"

  She scanned his face, her gaze moving from his slightly crooked nose to his finely shaped mouth to the beard-shadow on his cheeks and chin. Her skin burned a little, on her face and in more private places. Beard burn. Randi used to say that, Beard burn. And then Randi would rub her tender, reddened cheek and smile, a satisfied smile. A smile that said it had all been worth the minor pain.

  Billy was still frowning at her. "What, Prue?"

  Prudence thought, But this is a lot worse than beard burn…

  She heard Randi's words in her head: "I like him. I want him. I'm gonna have him. And then I'm gonna end up paying the price… He's a no-strings kind of guy. He's gonna hurt me…"

  This is bad, Prudence thought. This is trouble. This is a man even Randi couldn't handle…

  Billy lifted his hands to cradle her face. "What's wrong?"

  I've gone and let myself fall in love with you, Billy. "Nothing. Kiss me."

  For once, he simply did what she asked.

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  « ^ »

  They went back to Prudence's bed soon after that. They used two more of the condoms that night. Just before they dropped off to sleep, Billy murmured, "Twenty-one to go."

  She woke to gray daylight, Billy's caresses and the sound of rain drumming steadily on the roof.

  She suggested on a sigh, "We should check on Jesse."

  "I just did. He's still asleep."

  "But not for long."

  "Let's not waste time, then." He pulled her closer and immediately began doing things that made her sigh some more.

  * * *

  They didn't leave the house that whole day. Of course, with Jesse around, they weren't able to spend all of it making love. But they had their own kind of nap time when he took his – and they ended up in bed again within a half an hour of the moment that Jesse's little head hit his pillow that night.

  By the time they went down for breakfast the next morning, the rain had let up a little. While Billy put Jesse in his high chair and mixed up his oatmeal, Prudence poured herself a cup of coffee and wandered over to the window that looked out on the backyard. Beyond the big walnut tree in the middle of the lawn, the sky was like a sheet of gray steel. Everything looked misty and cold.

  Billy came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms. "Happy Thanksgiving." He lifted her hair and breathed a kiss onto the side of her neck.

  "Same to you." She leaned against him, enjoying the feel of him at her back, thinking that tomorrow would be the last day of his two-week trial period. It would be time for the big talk.

  That was how she had started to think of it: the big talk. Something grim and enormous that would ruin the fantasy she had foolishly allowed herself to start living.

  Perhaps, now they were lovers, they could just go on as they were for a while, let the big talk wait.

  But for how long? A few days? A week? Not much longer than that, surely. Billy had his life in Southern California, after all. And decisions would have to be made.

  Billy asked, his voice a pleasant rumble in her ear, "What time do we have to be at Sam's?"

  "Around two."

  "Hmm. There'll be time for a little nap before we go." He lifted his hands and cupped her breasts. Inside her, everything turned molten, a delicious, hungry, burning ache. He must have picked up her body's response to him, because he let out a teasing growl.

  Behind them, Jesse pounded his chair tray and crowed, "Meeook, meeook!"

  "Hell," Billy muttered, dropping those wonderful hands away.

  She turned to watch him till the safety cup, her love a deep, warm, sad little secret down in a place she doubted she would ever let him see.

  * * *

  Perhaps because she was Delilah's friend, or maybe because Evie's stepchildren were her grandchildren, Nellie turned up at Sam's Thanksgiving party.

  "Look," Billy whispered to Prudence at the sight of the older woman. "It's the president of my fan club. Should I introduce you?"

  She gave him a poke in the ribs and a long-suffering sigh, which only made him laugh. Eden came over and led them to the downstairs bedroom, where they piled their coats on the bed with everyone else's. Billy set his guitar, which Prudence had urged him to bring, in the closet, where it wouldn't be disturbed.

  When they returned to the living room again, Sam appeared from the kitchen, his long hair tied back and a white apron around his waist. "Welcome. I hope you're making yourselves comfortable." He gestured at a table near the wall, where several Jones children lurked around a big bowl of something pink and a variety of chips and dips. "Punch and stuff's over there. If you want anything stronger, I set it all out on the kitchen counter. And there's hot spiced cider on the stove." He looked around, his eyes going vague. "Lilah's not here yet. But she'll come. I know she'll come." Without another word, he turned and headed back for the kitchen.

  Billy, who stood close to Prudence, muttered in her ear, "You get the feeling that means she told him she wouldn't come?"

  Prudence whispered back, "Unfortunately, yes."

  They shared a fond, knowing smile, after which Billy planted a quick kiss on her nose. Beyond his shoulder, she could see Nellie, watching, her thin lips screwed up tight in disapproval.

  "Dow, Da. Dow." Jesse had started to squirm in Billy's arms. Billy set him down.

  Prudence suggested, "I'll follow him around for a while. You go see if Sam needs any help in the kitchen."

  "The kind of help Sam needs, only Delilah can provide."

  "Still…"

>   "I know, I know. I'm going." He headed for the kitchen.

  Across the room, Nellie started on the move in Prudence's direction. At the same time, Jesse took off the opposite way. Grateful for small favors, Prudence turned her back on Nellie to follow the child.

  For the next hour, Prudence managed to avoid conversation with the older woman. She chatted with Eden and drank punch with Evie. Billy appeared and took charge of Jesse again. Relieved of her responsibility for child care, Prudence sat on one of Sam's big, leather sofas and enjoyed a nice talk with Heather Drury, who was Jared's daughter by an earlier marriage and who had sold Prudence the house on Prospect Street

  .

  But Nellie Anderson wasn't someone who could be avoided indefinitely. She was lurking on the stair landing, sipping a cup of hot cider, when Prudence emerged from the upstairs bathroom at a little after three. At the sight of her, Prudence considered heading for one of the bedrooms. She could lock herself in, and not come out until she felt certain Nellie had given up and gone away.

  However, knowing Nellie, that might never happen. So Prudence pulled her shoulders back and marched for the stairs.

  Nellie spoke up just as Prudence reached her – and before she could move on past. "Evie has told me I must learn to accept that your private life is none of my business."

  Well, Prudence thought philosophically, it was a better opening than some. She put on a smile. "Evie is right. And I believe I've told you the same thing myself, more than once."

  "I'm entitled to my opinion – my opinion, which is right."

  Prudence shook her head. "Oh, Nellie."

  Nellie gestured with her cider cup. "However, I know it's too late now. I can see by the way that man looks at you that the worst has happened."

  Prudence said nothing.

  "My warnings just never do any good." Nellie looked sincerely distressed. "I mean to be helpful and honest. A true friend."

  Prudence thought of Billy, of the love affair they were having that they probably shouldn't be having. Her wiser self agreed with Nellie. Bad Billy Jones hardly represented a wise choice in a man. "Nellie, it's good to be honest. But once you've made your point, you have to let people lead their own lives."

  Nellie hung her head. "I suppose." She straightened a little, sipped from her cup. "I was watching him, just now, with the child…"

  Prudence braced herself for the worst.

  Nellie surprised her. "I must admit, he actually seems quite good with the boy."

  Prudence relaxed a little. It just might be possible, over time, that she could learn to like Nellie. "Yes," she agreed, "Billy's turning out to be a real father, after all."

  * * *

  By four-thirty, when they sat down to eat, neither Delilah nor Oggie had appeared.

  To make it possible for all the Joneses to sit down at once, Sam had put four tables together, down the center of his large living room. He had borrowed china and silver from his sisters-in-law, but he'd cooked the huge meal himself, including the turkey and the ham and the mountains of potatoes and stuffing and vegetables. He had everything carved and piled high on platters, ready to pass. And when he sat down at the head of the table, with that empty chair opposite him way down at the other end, Prudence thought she had never seen a man look so sad.

  As soon as all the chairs but two were filled, Sam tapped his spoon against his water glass. Everyone fell silent, even Jesse and two other small Joneses, Diana and Eliza, in their high chairs.

  "I want to thank you all for coming," Sam said in his deep, rumbling voice. "I guess…" He hesitated, breathed in deeply and let the air out slowly. Then he made himself go on. "Well, I guess I thought some things would get worked out by now, for me. And for Lilah. That I would have what I most want. But as you can all see, that hasn't happened. Yet." A melancholy smile played at the corners of his mouth. "But still, sitting here, looking down this table, I figure I am grateful, after all. I might not be a Jones by birth, but when I look at all of you, and see you all came here for your Thanksgiving just 'cause I asked you to, well, I know I got a true family, no matter what. And I say, thank the good Lord for that."

  "Amen," said Jared. And down the table, the word was picked up and repeated, "Amen, amen, amen…"

  After the "amens" faded, there was silence. Outside, the rain had started coming down again. It drummed against the windows, as steady as a long, drawn-out sigh. Beside her, Prudence felt Billy shift a little in his chair. His hand found hers.

  There are moments a woman never forgets. Prudence knew she was living one right then. A moment that had everything in it. Sam's sad and beautiful little speech. The rain on the roof. The Thanksgiving feast. A roomful of Joneses – and Billy's hand in hers.

  Brendan, the youngest of the Jones brothers, announced, "I'm starved. Let's eat."

  Sam picked up the platter piled with turkey, speared himself a big slice, and passed it on. Within seconds, the room was filled with talk and children's laughter and the clink of silver against china plates. The doorbell rang about ten minutes later, after everyone had been served and they'd all settled down to some serious eating.

  At the sound, Sam's head shot up and his eyes went blank. The whole table fell silent, so the drumming of the rain outside seemed louder, more insistent again.

  Eden pushed back her chair. "I'll get it."

  Even the little ones stared as she walked the length of the four pushed-together tables and disappeared into the foyer. A moment later, she returned – with Delilah at her side.

  Eden returned to her own chair. And Delilah went and stood behind the empty chair opposite Sam.

  "You're all wet," Sam said, his pale blue eyes taking in all of her, from the drops of water that gleamed in her wild black hair, to the high color and sheen on her cheeks, and the dark waterspots on her clothes. Prudence, in the seat directly to Delilah's right, could smell the rain on her, wet and fresh and cool, a smell of the forest, green, secret and dark.

  "I went for a walk," Delilah said. "Then … I couldn't stay away." She looked around the table, her black eyes soft and shining in what seemed to Prudence to be equal parts joy and pain. "This is beautiful, Sam."

  He said, "Sit down. Eat."

  She looked at him, and in those black eyes, Prudence saw that the pain had overshadowed the joy.

  Sam said, "It's all right, Lilah. It doesn't have to mean anything, if you stay. If you eat with your family, on Thanksgiving day."

  For a moment more, she hovered there, tottering on the edge between leaving and staying. At last, she pulled back the chair and sat down.

  One by one, they passed the bowls and platters to her. She piled her plate high. By then, everyone was talking and eating again.

  * * *

  After dinner, they cleared the plates and all but the youngest ones helped to scrape and stack. Then Sam brought out the coffee and three kinds of pies. They sat down again, for dessert.

  It was past seven by the time all the eating was done. Billy brought out his guitar. And Regina, Patrick's wife, sat down to the piano that Delilah said had once belonged to her mother, Bathsheba. They played together, and everybody sang, mostly children's songs, to keep the kids entertained. By nine, a few of the youngest ones had started to droop. Jesse sat in Prudence's lap, his little head nodding, more than ready for bedtime, but unwilling to let go of all the fun he'd been having. She kissed his warm, fuzzy head and looked up to meet Billy's eyes.

  He set his guitar aside. "Time for us to be heading on home."

  Jenny and Becca, Evie's stepdaughters, protested. "Just one more song," they begged. But the adults were already up and moving toward the downstairs bedroom, where all their coats lay in a high, rain-damp tangle on the bed.

  Prudence sat, rocking Jesse gently, and waited for Billy to comeback with their things. By the time he was standing over them, wearing his own jacket, holding out her coat, Jesse had slipped off into dreams. Carefully she traded the child for the coat, slipping her arms into the sleeves an
d buttoning up.

  The doorbell rang just as they were standing in the foyer, saying their goodbyes to Sam and Delilah. Prudence's heart leapt a little at the sound. Who else could it be but Oggie? The sight of him, safe and well and ready to meddle in everyone's lives again, would make the magical evening complete.

  Delilah, closest to the door, reached out and pulled it open.

  A big, gray-haired man in a khaki uniform stood there. The nameplate on his breastfront read Pangborn. And the patch on his jacket sleeve said he was the sheriff.

  "Mind if I come in, folks?"

  Delilah stepped back. Sheriff Pangborn entered the foyer. Delilah shut the door behind him, closing out the driving rain.

  From just beyond the foyer, Jack Roper caught sight of his colleague, "What's up, Carl?"

  The sheriff looked from one expectant face to the next. He shook his head. "I just got a call, folks. From the boys over in Tahoe."

  An ominous silence descended. Someone in the living room murmured, "Oggie…"

  Pangborn nodded. "I'm afraid so."

  "Where is he?" Delilah's face had gone chalk white.

  "Tahoe Forest Hospital."

  "What's happened to him?"

  "He blew a tire. It happened out on Highway 80, up near the summit early this afternoon."

  Delilah demanded, "A flat tire? He's in the hospital because of a flat tire?"

  Pangborn put up both hands. "Easy, Delilah. Give me a minute." He looked around at all the Joneses, then met Delilah's eyes once more. "Maybe we should talk alone."

  Jared spoke up from the arch to the living room. "Is this something the kids shouldn't hear?"

  Pangborn thought about that. "Well, no. I suppose they'll be finding it out, anyway."

  "Then you better just tell us. We're all family here, and we'll all want to know."

  A chorus of agreement went up.

  "Yes."

  "Tell us."

  "Tell us, please…"

  Pangborn eyed the group warily. "You're sure?"

  "Positive," said Jared.

  "Just tell us what you know," Delilah insisted.

  Jared spoke more calmly. "You said he blew a tire?"