A few minutes later, she was back with a cluster of blooms. She wasn’t sure what type of flowers they were, but the colors were bright and cheerful.
“Oh, no,” Jake muttered as they drove down a quiet residential street a few minutes later. “They’re still here. Or they came back.”
Vivien had seen Maxine’s car a moment before he spoke. “I almost died in that vehicle earlier today,” she said when they parked next to it. “No joke.”
The two of them were greeted like long-lost friends by the Tuesday Ladies, Doug Horner, Hollis Nath, and Ricky DeRiccio. From the looks of the deck, they’d been sitting there eating and drinking and talking for hours.
“There she is!” said Maxine. “Vivien, we need to tell you what we’ve figured out. Sit right here.”
“About what?” she said, taking the chair Maxine indicated while innocently ignoring the wild and silent plea in Jake’s eyes: No, no, don’t do it!
And damn, he looked good in the white linen button-down that fit his broad shoulders just right. Waaay too good. His hair was damp as if he’d just showered, and he’d pulled it back in a short tail so he looked far too much like Antonio Banderas as Zorro. Not to mention how delicious he’d smelled when she sat next to him in the car. Whew.
Vivien figured a stop-off at the parents’ house (so to speak) might settle her hormones a little, because right now they were all up in her business and very interested in submitting to a medical exam by the handsome doctor.
And she just wasn’t sure if that was a good idea.
“So if there’s a ghost haunting the theater,” Iva was saying as Vivien dragged her attention up from Jake’s muscular legs, “that means it’s upset about something. It needs to be put to rest, you know.”
“Iva thinks she knows everything about hauntings,” Maxine said. “My granny used to tell me all about what they did down south, you know, back when she was little and they had all them haints down there. Painted the porch ceiling blue, they did—you ought to paint the ceiling at the theater blue, there, Vivien Leigh. Mebbe that’ll keep them ghosts away.”
“That’s an interesting idea,” Vivien replied, and felt Liv brush against her left arm. She had a feeling her twin was laughing.
“Anyway,” said Iva, raising her voice in an effort to be heard over Maxine, “as I was saying, a ghost means a soul is not at rest—usually because some wrong has been done to them and they need to set it right before they go off to the afterlife. So we need to find out if someone died on the grounds of the theater, and then we can determine how to make things right.”
Vivien was more than a little concerned about all of the “wes” in that speech, so she demurred. “I’ll definitely check into that. But I haven’t heard anything about anyone dying at the theater, so I don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s built on a Native American burial ground,” said Juanita. “And that’s why it’s never been a successful business. You ever hear about any ghosts before this, Maxie?”
“Not a one. But who knows? Wicks Hollow’s kinda like that Hell Mountain thingy from—what’s her name? That skinny blond girl with the stick?”
“You mean Buffy?” said Ricky, surprising all of them. “What?” he demanded when everyone stared at him. He was just not the target audience for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “I liked that show. She kicked some serious butt.”
“And it’s the Hellmouth,” said Juanita. “I swear, Maxine, you say the wrong things on purpose just for attention, don’t you?”
“Memory ain’t what it used to be,” grumbled Maxine. “Don’t need to be mean about it. At least I can see and hear all right…unlike some other people around here. Juanita,” she added in a stage whisper.
“All right, then,” said Jake, standing purposefully. “We’ve got to get going now.”
“Oh, but wait—I wanted to tell you one more thing,” said Iva.
“What’s the hurry, Elwood? Sit back down,” said his father. “Always running off and leaving me. Did I tell you he took over two hours to get me dinner last night?” He cast a sly wink at Vivien, who giggled at the consternation and mortification on Jake’s face.
“Come on, take a load off, son,” said Hollis Nath, who was sitting very cozily next to Iva. He was a little overdressed for hanging around outside on a summer afternoon, in creased slacks and a suit coat, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. “What’s the rush? Where’s the fire? Have a seat, Elwood.”
“I’ve got steaks sitting on the counter defrosting,” Jake said weakly, but he sat.
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you that when the ghost—it was a female, did I tell you that?” Iva began.
“Yes, I believe you did,” replied Vivien, deliberately avoiding Jake’s attempt to catch her eyes. Inside, she was still giggling.
“All right, so when the ghost was talking to me—well, she wasn’t really talking, she was just sort of…leading me, I guess you’d say—”
“Leading you to the stairs where you might have fallen down into the pit,” Vivien said darkly, and had the pleasure of seeing Hollis straighten up.
“What’s this? You didn’t tell me about that, Iva! Now that puts a whole different spin on things. Maybe you shouldn’t be messing around with this supernatural business if you’re going to be in danger—”
“Now, darling, please don’t get your boxers in a twist,” said Iva in her prim voice as she patted his knee. “I was in no danger whatsoever. I knew exactly where I was all the time, and if Vivien wouldn’t have stopped me, I was going to go down the stairs—they led to the orchestra pit? Very interesting—and see what she—the ghost, was trying to tell me.”
“I heard music,” said Maxine, wresting the group’s attention from Iva.
“So did I,” Iva snapped. “That’s what I’m trying to tell her—”
“I didn’t recognize it until we figured out that—”
“—it was from The Nutcracker.” Iva was fairly shouting to be heard over her friend. She stopped and glared at Maxine, who glared back and adjusted her thick glasses.
“Took you long enough to spit it out,” Maxine muttered.
“We’ve been sitting here all afternoon trying to figure out what it was,” Juanita said in a modulated voice. “Everyone was humming it—some of us better than others”—she looked Maxine—“and that’s what we wanted to tell you.”
“Did you hear music too, Vivien?” asked Iva.
“Maybe.” Vivien thought she might have, but she’d been so anxious and freaked out that she hadn’t paid it much attention. “I was a little distracted trying to stop the three of you from being possessed by a spirit, you know.”
“Oh, pish,” said Iva. “The spirit— I really wish I could give her a name; hopefully we’ll figure out who she is soon enough. Anyway, the spirit was quite benign, all things considered. She just wants her story to be heard and understood, that’s all. It was very clear to me, Hollis, that she had no intention of harming me.”
“While she was leading you down the stairs into the darkness,” Vivien reminded her.
“Now, Iva,” Hollis began, his voice stern and his eyes wide.
“Vivien, it’s time to go,” Jake said, desperation in his voice as he bolted to his feet. “Really. The steaks will be ruined. It’s been great seeing you all—and thank you so much for all the information about the ghost—”
“You know about the ghost, Elwood?” Ricky said, standing up. “Have you seen it? You?”
Jake froze, and Vivien would have convulsed with laugher if he hadn’t looked so incredibly pathetic, all frustrated and trapped and trying to be polite—and if she hadn’t felt her heart smoosh and flutter for him.
Damn. She was beginning to think even industrial-strength shampoo wasn’t going to help her wash him away.
“I’m really hungry, Elwood,” she said, rescuing him. “I think we’d better get those steaks in the oven before they’re ruined. Mr. DeRiccio, I hope you’re feeling better,” she added, and, with the piè
ce de résistance that she knew would be their escape hatch, she leaned over and kissed Jake’s pop right on the cheek, just above his soft mustache. “Enjoy your flowers, Mr. D. I’ll be checking on them to make sure they aren’t drooping tomorrow, all right? So get them in a vase right away.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow afternoon at the book signing, right, Vivien?” said Iva, in an obvious last-ditch effort to keep them there.
“Oh, right—yes, thanks for the reminder. I’m looking forward to meeting TJ Mack,” Vivien said cheerfully. “I’m a huge fan.” And without giving any of the older folks a chance to waylay them again, she took Jake by the arm and towed him off the deck.
“Make sure you go into Hot Toddy beforehand,” Iva called after them. “It’s right up your alley.”
“Will do,” Vivien hollered back. “Quick, let’s go,” she said, diving into the passenger seat of Jake’s car.
To her surprise, he didn’t say a word during the eight-minute drive to his house. She wondered if she’d somehow offended him or upset him—even though she knew he wasn’t that touchy sort of person. At least, he hadn’t been eleven years ago…
He was still silent when they got to his house, and Vivien was beginning to think she’d really effed things up somehow when he got out of the car wordlessly and strode over to open the front door without even looking at her.
She went inside, feeling more and more awkward and unsettled by the moment, and watched as he moved swiftly to the kitchen counter. He picked up the meat package there and tossed it into the fridge, then turned to her.
“Jake—” She barely got the syllable of his name out when he had her plastered up against the door—the nearest upright surface—gripping her hips, his mouth on hers, drowning out whatever she’d been about to say.
“Oh my God, thank you, Vivien,” he said after an eternity of slick, deep, lustful kissing while she melted under his touch.
He began to nuzzle his way down the side of her throat, making her brain turn even mushier. Her knees buckled embarrassingly, but fortunately, he was holding her against the wall with his solid, warm body. She gripped his arms, reveling in the solidness of his biceps and the texture of his lips and tongue along her neck and shoulder as heat and pleasure sizzled through her.
“I thought we would never get out of there…” he murmured, sliding his tongue lazily around the rim of her ear as she shivered against him. “And have I mentioned how sexy you look in that little blue dress you’re wearing?”
His lips were doing amazing things to her, and she could hardly hear the words coming out of his mouth between nibbles, nuzzles, and nips as he slid his hands up beneath her skinny-strapped sundress, sliding them over her quivering belly.
“Jake,” she murmured, barely able to form thoughts, but needing to taste him, too, to touch him… It wasn’t fair that he had his hands all over her and she couldn’t pull herself out of the hot pleasure haze to do more than cling to him so she didn’t collapse onto the floor. What he was doing to her was…well, it was insanity.
It was as if no days or years had passed between the last time they’d had their hands on each other more than a decade ago—he smelled, tasted, felt the same—and yet it was new and fresh and different—and hot as hell. Dear God, she was so hot and wet and swollen, and he was only kissing her.
“Jake,” she said again, twisting her face away so she could think.
“Vivien?” He stilled, looking down at her with an arrested expression.
“Bed” was all she could manage. “Please. Now.”
He growled agreement deep in the back of his throat and swept her into his arms. Moments later, she was tumbling onto the massive bed, Jake following.
His weight atop her was a pleasure she welcomed, a feeling she remembered: the way his leg slid just so between her thighs, pressing up against her at the warm, throbbing juncture there…the way he propped himself up on the left side, just enough to keep from crushing her, but close enough that he could capture her mouth as his right hand slid up to cover her breast, to find her nipple through the lacy bra she’d chosen, and to rub his thumb over it. He knew—remembered—just how to tease her, how she liked it, how even the gentle pinching and flicking of that tight, sensitive tip made her hot and ready and desperate for more.
She fumbled the buttons of his shirt free, suddenly needing to move her hands over his warm, taut chest, and to cover the corners of those square, muscular shoulders with her palms. She sighed because it was so familiar and yet different, and her eyes stung a little when she realized they’d lost so much time.
So much time.
He seemed to feel the same way, for all at once, impatience took over for both of them. In a few frenzied moments, they dragged away all the clothing—shirt, shorts, dress, bra, panties, briefs—and at last…at last…Jake slid his warm, smooth, hard body along hers, covering her, skin to skin, curve to muscle…and Vivien suddenly felt home.
“Oh, God, Jake.” I’ve missed you. She was sobbing a little against his warm, salty throat as he slipped his hand between them to find the hot, swollen, oh-so-slick-and-ready part of her. She cried out and arched a little, pressing up into his palm as he found the place, his fingers as deft and sure as they’d always been.
He groaned into her ear, low and husky and needy, sending more delicious shivers down to her center. She felt the thunder of his heart against her palm as he played with her, teasing and coaxing as she whimpered a little, reaching…reaching…and then she came, fast and hard, with a little rush of tears.
“Vivien?” He must’ve seen or felt the tears on her face, for he hesitated. “You okay?”
“I’ll be better once you suit up and start riding, cowboy,” she managed in a rough voice.
“As you wi—” His reply ended in a groan as she closed tight fingers around him. Delighted by the heat and heaviness in her grip, she took her time reacquainting herself with that part of him, stroking and thumbing over the hard but velvety softness until he firmly removed her hand so he could replace it with a condom.
He cradled her face with his palms, and she brushed his jaw with her fingers, and they were kissing—deep, tonguing, delving kisses—as he found his way. They exhaled matching groans of pleasure and relief as their bodies fit together…and then began to move.
The rhythm was slow and easy at first, as if they were remembering each other, memorizing the way it felt—so right, so perfect, so exquisite—until Vivien began to need more, faster and harder, and she urged him on with her body, and soon they were panting and groaning and crying out with release…and relief.
Relief.
It was the only word that sat with her as she lay there in a haze of ebbing heat and still-rippling passion, damp and warm against Jake, whose heart thudded strong beneath her cheek.
Relief, because now she was truly home.
Chapter Nineteen
“Vivien, sweetheart…” Jake said a long while later. They were curled up together in bed and he was playing with her hair, wrapping it around his finger. It was soft and silky and it smelled good—just like the rest of her—and he could hardly believe they were here, just like this again, after so long.
“Mmm?” Her eyelashes fluttered against his shoulder.
“I need to straighten you out on something you said earlier. It’s pretty important.” He was smiling as he said it, humor coloring his voice.
“What’s that?” she murmured, stretching long and languidly against him so that a breast just happened to slip into his palm. And he couldn’t ignore that, so he began to gently roll his thumb over the tip of her tightening nipple, smiling more as she shivered delicately against him. “I hope you’re not going to tell me Ricky’s lost interest. I brought him flowers and everything.”
He huffed a laugh and tweaked her so she squeaked in outrage, then kissed the abused nipple with a long, sensual swirl of tongue. He loved the way she sighed when he was touching her, all low and sexy.
“No, and I don’t kno
w why you’d bring my pop into this moment,” he said as he pulled away, and felt her lips curve into a smile when he cuddled her close again. “It’s a little disconcerting.”
“Oh, you’ll get over it,” she said, scratching his chest lightly with her fingernails. It made him want to purr, and for a moment, he just reveled. Then she stopped and said, “Well?”
“Oh, right. So…you don’t put steaks in the oven,” he said.
“What?” She propped up onto an elbow to give him a confused look. Her bourbon-colored hair tumbled over her breasts as she blinked matching eyes in confusion.
“What, meaning—what do you mean you don’t put steaks in the oven; I thought that’s how you cook them? Or what, meaning—what did I say, because you were so overcome with lust that you didn’t hear me?”
She chuckled, then sobered. “Steaks don’t go in the oven? Really? And why did you bring that up, anyway?”
“No, sweetheart, they don’t go in the oven. They go on the grill, or on a broiler—”
“But isn’t a broiler in the oven?”
“Technically it is—”
“Ah-ha!” She poked him in the belly. “So technically I was right.”
“Technically, yes—but when you say ‘in the oven,’ that implies something else—like baking or roasting. Like, you put bread in the oven, or a cake, or a roasting chicken, or meatloaf, but not steak. Never a steak. You’ll ruin it.” He couldn’t control a little shudder, thinking of the two-inch-thick filets he had waiting for them if they ever dragged themselves out of bed.
The sunset he’d promised her was long over with, and he’d been ignoring hunger pangs for quite a while in favor of other, more interesting pangs.
“And when did I say anything about putting a steak in the oven, anyway? I’d never say something like that. You know I’m allergic to cooking.”
“Earlier today, when you were engineering our escape from Maxine and my pop. You said something about putting the steaks in the oven, and I thought I’d do a little PSA just in case you got motivated to get up and start dinner in order to refuel me so I have the energy to jump your bones again. You wore me out, VL,” he said as she shook with silent laughter against him. “I’m going to need sustenance before I—”
Sinister Stage: A Ghost Story Romance and Mystery (Wicks Hollow Book 5) Page 22