Window on Today

by Joan Hohl

  Karla hardly noticed his brief nod and expression of approval of her tasteful blending of earth tones on the walls and draperies and in the carefully selected pieces of furniture. However, she did notice how appealing he looked, and she admired the contrast of his expertly tailored suit on a rangy frame that seemed more suited to jeans and boots.

  “Excellently done. Vivid yet soothing.”

  Jared’s concisely stated opinion shouldn’t have affected her in any way, yet it successfully dissipated her distraction and snagged her attention. Karla felt a spark of annoyance at the warm sensation of pleasure that swept over her. She didn’t give a rip whether or not he approved of her decorating skills. So why was she standing there blushing like a teenager? The realization that she was blushing—a phenomenon she had not experienced for some years—deepened her annoyance. Resentfully silent, she stared daggers at his broad back and fought for control of her stupid sensibilities.

  When she didn’t respond, Jared turned to pin her with dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “I can see you’re impressed.” His appealing mouth quirked into a sardonic smile as one neatly shaped eyebrow lifted in a chiding arch. “You don’t really give a damn what I think about your place, do you?”

  “Should I?” Karla countered, suppressing a sigh of relief at her minor victory over her involuntary response to his compliment.

  “Possibly.” He took one step toward her.

  “Why?” She took one step back.

  Jared’s expression enveloped her like a warm spring shower. “The simple fact that our tastes are similar” he explained, taking two long strides.

  His move had halved the distance between them, instilling an odd sense of claustrophobia in Karla. Fighting a sensation of incipient panic, yet determined to stand her ground, Karla raised her chin and put a chill into her voice, “In what way are our tastes similar?”

  “In the most basic ways.” He smiled when she stiffened. “Colors.” He moved one hand negligently to indicate the room. “Art genres.” He motioned toward the western prints on the walls. “Attraction to the opposite sex.” His lips curved into a sexy smile as he ran a devouring glance the length of her tension-taut body.

  “Attraction to the ...” Karla’s voice evaporated in the heat searing her throat.

  “You deny the mutual attraction?” One more long step brought him within scenting distance of her quivering nostrils.

  “Certainly!” Karla exclaimed, groaning silently at the lack of strength in her voice.

  “You’re afraid of me.” Sheer male satisfaction was woven through his soft voice.

  It was true, but Karla would have choked before admitting it. “You delude yourself,” she retorted, in what she hoped was a tone of dismissal.

  “I think not.” In a move calculated to bring his body into contact with hers, Jared took another step.

  The light touch at chest and hip created havoc in every nerve ending in Karla’s body. Stubbornly refusing to retreat before his sensuous advance, she clenched her fingers and glared at him. “Back off” she said in a gritty snarl.

  Jared didn’t take offense at her demeaning order, nor did he snap back at her. Without a word or signal of warning, he dipped his head and captured her anger-tight mouth with his warm lips. A shocked gasp parted her lips beneath his. He was quick to grasp the opportunity, slipping his searching tongue into the moist heat of her mouth while molding his lips to hers.

  Karla’s senses exploded. Electrical impulses danced a shimmering, erratic tattoo from the nape of her neck to her thighs. Stunned by the intensity of her reaction to his prodding mouth and probing tongue, she stood motionless, unresponsive to a command from her dissolving consciousness to end the sweet torment by pushing him away.

  She was helpless; she knew it, and she didn’t care. For the moment, Karla’s entire reality revolved around this man’s mouth and tongue and the arms he closed tightly around her.

  The restless movement of his hands caressing her back created a static spark from her jacket. Karla felt the tingle transmit itself from the surface of the material through the receptive silk of her blouse, then splinter to spear into her skin like tiny pinpoints of erotic pleasure.

  It was unbearable. It was wonderful. She wanted to stop, and prayed it would never end.

  “Where?”

  The husky sound of his voice pierced her bemusement, even though the meaning of his one-word question eluded her. Forcing open the eyelids she couldn’t recall closing, Karla gazed at him from sensuous, cloudy eyes. “What?”

  “We can’t make love standing here,” he said unevenly, the words spaced between tiny, biting kisses. “And since I’m too tall for the couch, I suggest we move to your bedroom. Where is it?”

  The words “make love” and “bedroom” hit her with gale-force impact. Karla could feel her eye growing wider with shocked disbelief. Had she given him evidence of willingness? she wondered vaguely. Of course she had, she acknowledged. Who, if not she, had been and still was pressed to him as securely as if she were attached with KrazyGlue?

  Feeling a smothering sense of self-betrayal, Karla slid her encircling arms from his neck to press her palms to the rigid line of his shoulders.

  “Let me go ... please.” Her voice crackled from her parched throat.

  Jared frowned but released her. “I don’t understand. A moment ago, you were like liquid fire in my arms, against my mouth.” His tongue flicked over his lips as if collecting the flavor of her. “Why are you so cold now?”

  Pure, unadulterated fear. Karla bit back the spontaneous response and drew a deep breath while gathering her defenses. “I agreed to share a meal with you,” she finally answered, shaking her head slowly back and forth in repudiation. “I didn’t agree to share either my bed or my body.”

  “Oh, Karla.” His voice held a sigh, his smile held a hint of pity. “Don’t you realize that you’re attempting to deny the inevitable?” He brought his hand to her face to trail the pad of a finger over her cheek and across her trembling lips.

  “No.” Karla shook her head to enforce her denial, and to dislodge his arousing finger. “I don’t believe in the inevitability of anything.”

  He gave her a tolerant look and stepped back. “You’re wrong, you know. We were fated to be lovers.”

  The scant inches of breathing space he’d allowed her gave her the strength to reply with firm conviction. “Sorry to disillusion you, but I don’t believe in fate, either.”

  Jared’s soft laughter undermined her renewed confidence. “Time will tell, my sweet” he taunted her gently.

  “But, for now, shall we go to dinner ... and appease one of our natural, inevitable hungers?”

  His verbal dart made a direct hit. Against her will, Karla was forced to accept the inevitability of the body’s craving for food every X number of hours. The undisputed fact sent a surge of embarrassed heat to her cheeks. Jared’s laugh of unconcealed delight intensified her color to a dusky rose. Wheeling away, she grabbed her cape from the closet and hurried out of the cloying confines of the apartment. His laughter trailed her to the car parked in the street in front of her building.

  The car was a distracting surprise. For whatever inexplicable reason, Karla would have wagered money she couldn’t afford on a bet that Jared drove a large, solid, probably custom-built, wildly expensive car. The vehicle he was in the process of unlocking was large and very solid-looking, but there the comparison ended. And although it had very likely cost a tidy sum, the vehicle was a sporty but rugged-looking four-wheel drive, go-anywhere arrangement of metal painted a gleaming black and silver.

  “Practical,” she murmured as he handed her into the plushly upholstered bucket passenger seat.

  “In all things,” he rejoined, swinging the door shut with a thunk. He slid behind the wheel seconds later and continued as smoothly as if there had been no pause, “From the selection of a car to the acceptance of the inevitability of certain potentially explosive attractions.”

  Karl
a turned in her seat to give him a level, narrowed look. “Don’t start that again.” Her voice had a tightly controlled edge of warning.

  Jared chose to ignore it. “Why not? I’m finding it a fascinating subject.”

  Her control broke. “Well, I’m not! So will you please just drop it?”

  “Your wish, and all that,” he said expansively, slanting a wicked grin at her. “What do you suggest we talk about?”

  Karla gritted her teeth. “Would it be beyond your scope to discuss the purpose for this dinner date you blackmailed me into?” she snapped, thinking about the painting he’d promised to haggle over with her.

  Jared shifted gears to accommodate the climb up the steep gradient before answering in a soft drawl. “Honey, that was the point of my discussion.”

  Karla was immediately on guard. “What do you mean?” she demanded, glancing around suspiciously as he brought the car to a jarring stop. A sigh whispered through her lips as she realized her suspicions were groundless; he had parked the car in a lot adjacent to a restaurant perched on the side of a humpback hill. She swiveled around to face him again at the now too familiar sound of his soft laughter.

  “My purpose in blackmailing you into having dinner with me, my sweet,” he said easily, “was to convince you of the inevitability of the affair we are about to engage in.”

  Determined not to betray the shocking shiver of anticipation she was suffering, Karla shrugged and calmly unlatched her seat belt. “Oh, is that all?” she tossed back carelessly. “And here I was, worried you were going to try to talk me into selling that painting to you.” His silky voice arrested her hand as she reached for the door release.

  “Oh, I plan to acquire the portrait of my grandfather as part of the deal.”

  Grandfather? Deal? What? Karla’s mind was racing too fast to allow coherent sentences to gather on her tongue. And while she was immobilized by speculation, Jared was all motion. After stepping from the car, he circled it and pulled her door open.

  “I don’t know about you, honey,” he said briskly, urging her out of her seat, “but I’m starving.”

  Bemused and confused, Karla permitted him to usher her across the parking lot and into the restaurant. She didn’t catch her breath until they had been seated at a secluded corner table by a wide window, and she found herself in possession of an oversize gold-scripted menu. The minute she came to her senses, she decided to end the charade.

  “I’m not hungry,” she said, setting the menu aside.

  “Of course you are,” Jared retorted, handing the menu back to her. “And not only for food.” He gave her a contemplative look. “I can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since you’ve been intimate with a man,” he mused, watching her intently.

  Forewarned by his expression, Karla was prepared to meet his thrust with a cool parry. “I can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since you’ve displayed a modicum of tact.” She offered him a cool little smile.

  Jared’s laughter rumbled from his chest. “Touché, babe. You’re a worthy opponent. If I had a glass, I’d raise it.”

  “You could raise the white flag instead,” she suggested in a sugar-coated tone.

  “Surrender?” Jared managed to look astounded, even around the grin revealing his white teeth. “Not me. I said you are a worthy opponent; I didn’t concede victory.”

  Karla would have launched an offensive had the waiter not appeared at their table at that moment. Conserving her energy for the next skirmish, she ordered a drink and a meal, and promptly forgot about both. While Jared discussed the merits of the entries with the waiter, she glanced out the window and felt her breath catch in her throat.

  The bright fall moonlight bathed the landscape in a silvery glow and cast the jutting rocks and cliffs into stark relief. Below the restaurant, gold lights twinkled from homes and street lamps, lending the scene a fairyland aura.

  “Pretty, hmm?”

  “Beautiful,” Karla replied, relinquishing one spectacular sight for another, as she turned to gaze into Jared’s dark eyes. “I’m continually thrilled by the splendor of the rocks and cliffs of this canyon.”

  “It is pretty impressive. Nothing like the Grand, of course.” Jared shrugged.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Karla admitted. “I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon.”

  “Never seen it?” he repeated, frowning. “How long have you been in Arizona?”

  “Not quite six months. I came to Sedona to look around for a location to open my gallery in late May, a week after graduation,” she explained.

  Jared looked puzzled and was about to ask a question when the waiter arrived at their table with their drinks. He drummed his fingers lightly on the tabletop until the waiter served the drinks, along with a condiment tray, and departed.

  “Graduation?” His eyebrows arched: “Graduation from what?”

  Karla’s smile was wry. “College.”

  The puzzled expression remained on his face. “You were working for your master’s?”

  She sighed. “No, I was working for my bachelor’s degree.” His sharpened gaze probed her face, and anticipating his question, Karla answered it before he could ask. “Due to circumstances, I began college a little later than most people do.”

  “What circumstances?” Jared fired the question at her the instant she finished speaking.

  Telling herself she should have known he’d demand a fuller explanation, Karla toyed with the stem of her glass, while carefully considering her reply. Her personal life was really none of Jared Cradowg’s business and ... Her thought train derailed as she became aware of the sensation of cold moisture against her fingertips. Curious, Karla glanced down at the glass, her eyebrows drawing together as she stared in disbelief at the frothy contents.

  Had she actually ordered the margarita? she asked herself in amazement. Though it was true that occasionally Karla thoroughly enjoyed the flavor of the pale lime-flavored concoction, she was well aware of the potency of the tequila mixture, and its potential for loosening the tongue and relaxing inhibitions.

  Scowling at the innocent-looking icy bomb, Karla reflected that the absolute last thing she needed while in Jared’s company was a stimulant containing the power to relax her inhibitions. Warning herself to keep her thoughts together, she raised the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip.

  “What circumstances?”

  Karla winced at the rough impatience edging Jared’s low voice, and covered the reflex by touching the tip of her tongue to the salt-encrusted rim of the glass. The salt lodged in the gasp that caught in her throat when she glanced up to encounter his smoldering gaze riveted to her mouth.

  “Ah ... umm ... ahem.” Karla was forced to take a sip from her water glass to ease the sting at the back of her throat. “I... ah, that is ...” A low growl from Jared put an end to her inane attempt at speech.

  “Don’t do that again.”

  Karla started in surprise. “That? What?” She shook her head, dislodging several silky strands of dark hair, which settled like wispy feathers against her neck. “Don’t do what again?”

  Jared groaned. “Either or.”

  Baffled, and completely unaware that she continued to hold the margarita in one hand and the glass of water in the other, Karla exclaimed, “Either or what?”

  His expression an odd combination of exasperation and amusement, Jared reached across the table to relieve her of the glasses and set them on the table. “I’m beginning to suspect that you might be a trifle flaky,” he observed dryly.

  “Flaky!” Karla bristled. “Me? I? What do you mean?”

  Jared’s mouth quirked into a teasing smile. “I only mean ...” He broke off as he caught sight of the waiter, large tray balanced on one palm, approaching their table. “Forget it. Here’s our dinner.”

  Forget it! Karla repeated to herself. Ha! There was no way she’d forget it. She certainly was not the least bit flaky, and she had every intention of setting Mr. Bigtime Artist straight on that scor
e the minute the waiter removed himself.

  Suddenly as parched as if she had flung the angry spate at him aloud, Karla grasped a glass and drank thirstily. Unfortunately, the glass contained the icy margarita.

  “Going at it a little strong... aren’t you?” Jared was unsuccessful at controlling the twitch of amusement tilting his lips.

  Karla glared at him. “That’s my business—and I’m not at all flaky!”

  Jared choked back a burst of laughter, which was wise, as Karla would very likely have flung the remainder of the drink at him. Correctly reading her mood, he locked his features into a somber mask.

  “Yes, I understand,” he said in a gentling, soothing tone.

  “And don’t patronize me!”

  He lost the inner battle; the laughter erupted, but his long fingers curled around her wrist before she reacted by showering him with the cold liquid. “You do have a temper” he said mildly, applying pressure on her wrist until she was forced to set the glass on the frilly cocktail napkin. Then he waited, with obvious deliberation, until she released her grip on the glass, before continuing. “So do I,” he murmured in a tone meant to reach only as far as her ears. “We’re going to be great together, in and out of bed.”

  Growing stiff with outrage, Karla raked her mind for a crushing reply. Her rattled brain wasn’t quick enough; Jared effectively defused her anger with a blandly voiced query.

  “Don’t you think we had better eat our food while it’s still reasonably warm?”

  Distracted, Karla blinked and lowered her gaze to the large dinner plate the waiter had set before her. Good grief! she moaned inwardly. What had possessed her to order so much food? In a strange state of fascination, she took silent inventory of the plate: prime rib, end cut, awash in its own juices; baked potato, extra large, drenched in butter and sour cream; asparagus, thick, white, six spears, dressed in a Cheddar cheese sauce. Karla did a swift computation of calories and groaned aloud.

  Jared frowned. “It isn’t what your ordered?”

  How should I know? Karla thought—but prudently kept the question to herself. “Er... I had no idea the portions would be so large,” she improvised. “I never eat this much food at one sitting.”