by Joan Hohl
Karla hated it. After the sweeping beauty and freedom of nature’s eerily silent solitude, the noise, the lights, and the crowds gave her a smothering, uneasy feeling of claustrophobia. And since Jared evinced not a shred of interest in contributing any of his money to the casinos, Karla didn’t hesitate to inquire about the length of their visit “I booked the rooms for two nights,” he replied, then satisfied her curiosity concerning the vague statement he’d made while they were at Bryce Canyon. “From here we go to Hoover Dam, then straight through to the main attraction.”
“The Grand Canyon?” Karla asked, suffering conflicting feelings—anticipation of the most acclaimed of the Seven Wonders of the modern world, and reluctance to stand on yet another canyon rim so soon.
“Yes, the Grand,” Jared confirmed. “The arrangements are made, but I can change them if you’d prefer to spend just one night here in Vegas.”
“No,” Karla said quickly. “We’ll stick to the original schedule and stay two nights.”
As it turned out, they were fated to stay only the one night in the city of blazing neon.
The room they were escorted to in the large casino hotel was decorated in Twenty-first Century Decadent style. By avoiding each other’s eyes, Karla and Jared successfully contained their amusement until the bellboy finished fussing and departed, smiling in a superior way over the size of the tip Jared placed in his boldly outstretched hand. But their laughter exploded seconds after the door was shut with a gentle click.
“I feel positively immoral!” Karla gasped, choking on another burst of laughter.
“Yeah.” Jared leered exaggeratedly. “Would you be open to the suggestion of a private orgy?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I can call room service and order champagne and caviar.”
Karla’s responsive leer was as suggestive as his had been. “Why don’t you do that? It sounds like fun.”
It was.
While many of the hotel guests played games of chance in the casino, Karla and Jared play games of a sensual nature on the enormous round bed in the suite he had taken in exchange for their two single rooms. Their loving play, begun with laughter, swiftly escalated into passionate intensity. They shared the caviar, the wine and their bodies with fervor and abandon, reveling in the joy and wonder of being together.
Strangely, it was in this artificial setting that Karla also abandoned her inner self to her lover.
“I was very young and very impressionable, and I believed myself very much in love,” Karla said abruptly, staring at the ceiling.
They were lying side by side on the circular bed, replete and exhausted. Karla knew Jared was awake; one hand was stroking her thigh soothingly. His hand stilled at the detached sound of her voice. She felt the mattress shift as he rolled onto his side to gaze down at her. A frown knitted his brow; concern darkened his eyes.
‘The memory still hurts?”
Karla didn’t look at him as she considered his question. Then, at the realization that she felt nothing—not a lingering shred of pain, humiliation, or remorse—she turned her head on the pillow and smiled at him.
“No. I think I’ve finally outgrown the effects.” Satisfaction shimmered through her as she caught the faint sound of his relieved sigh.
“Do you want to tell me about it? ... about him?”
Her smile slanted wryly. “There’s not much to tell, about either it or him. And there’s certainly nothing new about the story.” She managed a shrug. “I was an afterthought. My parents were middle-aged when I was born. Their only other child, my sister, was fifteen, and they were all less than thrilled with the demands of an infant. When I met him”-Karla never mentioned him by name; Jared didn’t ask—”I was a freshman in college, and starved for love and affection. He was more than happy to provide both, for a price.”
“A price!” Jared exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. “What sort of price?”
Warmth spread through Karla at the scowl of outrage on his handsome face. She blinked against a sting in her eyes and swallowed to clear her throat. “My independence, my freedom, and my studies,” she answered tightly. “I quit school to support him, I devoted my life to him, and in exchange he told me he loved me ... oh, at least once a week, whether I needed to hear it or not. When I realized I didn’t need it, or him, I left.”
“The bastard used you shamelessly,” he snarled.
“Yes,” she agreed calmly. “But if I haven’t learned anything else, I’ve learned one truth.”
“And that is... ?”
“The only way one person can use another is with the other’s consent.” Recalling Anne’s description of Jared as a user, Karla looked him straight in the eyes. “I will never consent again, Jared,” she said in a cool, steady tone.
Jared’s eyes flashed with anger. “Are you accusing me of having used you this past week?” he demanded.
“No.” As she made the denial, Karla lifted her hand to smooth the scowl from his face. “I’m saying I understand that, for now, and with mutual consent, we are using each other.” Curling her hand around the back of his neck, she drew his head down to hers.
“Karla...”
She flicked her tongue over his mouth. “I’m tired of talking,” she whispered. “Why don’t you shut up and use me some more?”
Jared didn’t have to be coaxed. But before he succumbed to the headiness of passion, he made her a promise ... a promise that had the sound of a threat.
“We will talk about this tomorrow. I think there are a few more blank spaces that need to be filled in.”
But they didn’t have the discussion. Their sight-seeing jaunt came to a jarring end with the shrill ring of the telephone early the next morning.
* * *
Chapter 10
The rental car Jared had arranged for was waiting for them when they landed in Phoenix. Her mind whirling in reaction to the swiftness of events, Karla followed in his wake like an automaton. There had been little time for discussion, or even for rational thought Jared’s command had been “Move!” and, repressing the questions that had flooded her mind, Karla had rushed to obey; his harsh tone of voice precluded any other response.
But once they were inside the privacy of their car on the last leg of their journey home, with Jared maintaining his stoic silence, Karla had time to collect her whirling thoughts and reflect on the reason for their precipitous flight.
It hurt like hell, but there was one fact of which Karla was certain. Their tryst, or affair, or whatever it had been, was over, ended by that pre-dawn phone call. Fighting tears and an overwhelming need to scream in protest, she avoided looking at Jared’s rigidly set profile by staring out of the side window at the sun-splashed scenery racing by. Trying to bring her thoughts into a semblance of order, she recalled the events since he had answered the phone.
She had been hazy and only half awake when she’d heard Jared speaking softly. The sudden change in his voice from sleepy relaxation to alert tautness had dispersed the haziness, jolting her into full wakefulness. Karla had registered little of his side of the brief conversation, other than the terseness of his replies. When he cradled the receiver and turned to her, she had found herself staring at a stranger.
“We’ve got to leave,” he’d said flatly, giving her neither explanation nor option.
“What?” Scraping her tousled hair back from her face, Karla had struggled to free herself from the tangled covers and sit up, “Why? What’s wrong?”
Headed for the bathroom, Jared had paused to give her a bleak look and an abrupt answer. “I must get back to Sedona. My father’s dying.” His expression didn’t change with her shocked gasp. “I’d appreciate your help,” he went on in a tone that belonged to the stranger he’d become. “While I shower will you call the desk and ask for express checkout?”
“Yes, of course, but—” That was as far as he’d allowed her to go.
“Later, Karla, please,” he’d interrupted impatiently, turning away to stride into the bathroom.
/> Later never came; there was neither time nor the proper circumstances. Before she stepped into the shower, Karla heard him speaking rapidly into the phone. By the time she was bathed, dressed, and packed, he had completed his arrangements and was waiting at the door, his body taut with the need for action.
Though concluded swiftly, Jared’s arrangements were comprehensive. His car was left at the parking garage near the airport. Seats had been secured for them on an early morning flight out of Vegas. A rental car would be waiting for them on their arrival in Phoenix.
Jared’s plans fell into sequence like clockwork. There was only one thing missing—the time or opportunity for any clarifying explanations. He informed her that the call had come from his father’s physician advising him to return to Sedona as quickly as possible, and he outlined his arrangements, but beyond that, Jared had offered her no further enlightenment, least of all on his emotional state.
Karla had been left to flounder in the dark with her guesswork. Without any information from Jared to guide her, the answers she was arriving at were far from reassuring. She felt deserted, bereft, deprived of warmth.
As they approached the environs of Sedona, Jared broke the silence, shattering her brooding introspection with a startling request. “Will you wait at my place for me?”
Wait? His place? The question fragments sparked a physical response. Turning around in her seat, Karla stared at him in blank astonishment.
“Jared, I don’t understand.” She shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs from her mind. “You have told me absolutely nothing! What is it you want me to wait for?”
“For me,” he answered, glancing at her. His expression comprised a mixture of regret and appeal. “I know I haven’t explained and I’m sorry, but there just wasn’t time.” He returned his gaze to the road, presenting to her a profile that was no longer harsh and forbidding; the stranger was gone; Jared was back. “And there still isn’t any time,” he added. “I’ll have to leave for the hospital as soon as I’ve dropped you off, but I promise I’ll explain everything to you when I get home.” He had to stop for a red light, and turned to her again. “Will you wait there for me?”
They were at a crossroad, figuratively as well as literally. Karla had the feeling that their relationship hinged on her answer; she knew that contingent to her response, Jared would either turn left to her apartment or right to his house.
When the traffic light flicked to green, Karla told him to turn right, and felt a deep sense of gratification tremble through her at the spasm of relief that was fleetingly revealed in his eyes and expression.
His brief display of emotion kept Karla bound to his house during the ensuing hours of waiting and wondering. Taking only enough time to carry their suitcases into the house, tell her to make herself at home, and kiss her hard but quickly in passing, Jared was gone, leaving her with her fears and speculations.
In consequence, it was a very long day, and an even longer night, for Karla. In an attempt to avoid conjecture, she employed herself with busywork, changing into jeans, a loose pullover top, and flat-heeled shoes before exploring the house, unpacking Jared’s and her own suitcases, and then carrying their soiled clothes to the laundry room. While the clothing swished back and forth in the water, Karla made lunch, consisting of a sandwich, which she didn’t finish, and a pot of coffee, which she polished off completely. After switching the clean clothing to the dryer, she dusted every piece of furniture and vacuumed every floor in the house. When the dryer shut off, she folded the clothes and piled them neatly on Jared’s bed. Occasionally—like every two or three minutes—she glanced first at the clock, then at the phone. The hands on the clock continued to move at a crawl. The phone remained silent. And it was that nerve-wracking silence that finally drove her from the house.
While exploring the uneven terrain around the house, Karla discovered a narrow path. Deciding to investigate, she followed the switchback trail to the base of the jutting overhang on which the building had been constructed. The path led to an open area that sloped gently down to the gurgling Oak Creek. Tall trees, still in leaf, stood sentinel along the creek banks, their leaves shimmering in the sunlight and whispering sighs in the light breeze.
Dropping to the ground in the dappled shade, Karla stared at the water tripping over the rocks in the creek bed, and surrendered to the questions running through her mind. Set free, the questions condensed into one all-encompassing thought.
Where did they go from here?
Karla was half afraid to even consider the probabilities. After nearly a week spent exclusively in Jared’s company, she had grown accustomed to, and almost comfortable with, the realization of the deep love she felt for him. And though she wouldn’t have believed it possible mere days before, she was ready to make a commitment to Jared.
Jared.
Karla sighed as his name whispered with aching longing through her mind. She was irrevocably in love with him and yearned to admit it to him and to the entire world. Yet, through all their days of lighthearted sight-seeing and all their nights of shared sensuous pleasure, she had bitten back the words of love that had trembled to her lips, waiting, hoping first to hear encouraging words from him.
Her wait had been in vain. Except for that one impassioned moment when he had said he loved her in retaliation for her glib remark about being “in lust,” Jared had not mentioned love again. Karla’s biggest fear was that he might never say those precious words again.
Against her desire and will, an echo of Anne’s voice rang persistently in Karla’s mind. Jared the ruthless; Jared the user. The accusations revolved in ever widening circles inside her head. Anne’s description of Jared was completely contradictory to Karla’s own observations of him. Either Anne or she was wrong. But which one?
Motivated by his admitted desire for her, had Jared deliberately, ruthlessly assumed a persona that he believed would appeal to her?
The question kept Karla awake most of that night. Only Jared himself could give her the answers she so desperately needed, and she hadn’t heard a word from him since he’d rushed to the hospital that morning.
Alone in the pre-dawn darkness, feeling small and lost in Jared’s king-size bed, Karla gave way to the tears stinging her gritty eyes. Crying softly, she drifted into a light, uneasy slumber.
* * * *
“Karla.”
Jared’s quiet voice awoke her mind; his gentle touch aroused her senses. A faint smile feathered her lips as she whispered his name. Then memory stirred. Springing upright, she searched his face with alarm-widened eyes. He looked utterly exhausted. His eyes were dull with weariness; his face had an ashen pallor; deep grooves bracketed his mouth. Karla had to force herself to ask what had to be asked.
“Your father?”
“He’s alive.” Sighing heavily, Jared sank onto the bed beside her. It was only then that Karla realized he was naked. She opened her mouth to question him; he silenced her with a plea she was helpless to refuse. “Not now, Karla, please. I need you so much, and I need you now. I’m so tired. I’m freezing. I need to be inside the warmth of your arms, your body. Karla, give me your warmth. Help me rest.”
In answer to his plea, Karla held out her arms in invitation and unconditional surrender. She loved him; she could not deny him the physical expression of that love.
Jared made love to Karla like a man driven by inner demons. There was a wildness riding him that ignited a corresponding frenzy in her. His hot mouth seared hers, crushing her soft lips while inflicting exquisite pleasure; she heightened the sensation by sinking her teeth into his lips and tongue. His hands didn’t caress, they grasped her flesh possessively; she gasped, but spurred him on with whimpering moans of encouragement. When his hands roughly parted her thighs, she arched her hips in a brazen demand for his invasion. And when at last he thrust his body into the depths of her silken warmth, she threw back her head, crying aloud for more.
Their combined furor produced the most incredible simultaneous
release imaginable.
Feeling shattered and nearly insensible, Karla forced her heavy eyelids open when Jared moved away from her. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of him. His face was a twisted mask of anguished shame and self-disgust. Without a murmur, he turned away from her, sprawled across the bed on his stomach, and immediately fell asleep.
Sleep was not in the cards for Karla. Dragging her aching body from the bed, she stumbled to the bathroom, then stood beneath a stinging shower, unmindful of the hot tears that mingled with the pounding spray that sluiced over her face and body. She stood under the beating water until it ran cold.
Feeling partially revived and almost human after her shower, Karla dressed, then wandered into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. It was to be the first in a day that overflowed with pots of coffee. Cup in hand, as if it had attached itself to her palm, Karla spent most of the day drifting aimlessly about the house and its immediate surroundings. She needed sleep, but her body refused to rest; she needed to think, but her mind refused to function.
In midafternoon, cradling yet another freshly brewed cup of coffee in her hands, Karla trailed listlessly down the path to the creek bank. Sitting cross-legged, she rested her back against the tree trunk and stared into the shallow water, intermittently sipping at the coffee. She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there when she felt rather than heard Jared sit down next to her.
“I’m sorry.”
Karla shut her eyes in acceptance of the tremor of pain and remorse that shook her body. Two tears escaped to slide slowly down her pale cheeks. Her eyes flew open when she felt him move and heard him murmur her name in a deep, agonized groan.
“Karla, don’t cry.” He was on his knees beside her. With trembling hands, he took the cup from her and set it to one side, then gently drew her into his arms. “I love you, and now I’ve hurt you, and after swearing I’d die before I hurt you.” A shudder tore through the length of his body. “I’m no better than my father ever was.”