“Viv,” he said quickly, his voice deep and soft. His arms went around her “I don’t give a rap-crap whether or not you can milk a cow.”
“You probably say that to all the teat-challenged girls.”
“I just thought you’d like to learn about farm life.”
“I got a real kick out of it,” she said dryly.
He looked at her somberly, from under his eyebrows. She gazed up at him just as somberly. They started snickering at the same time. He bent his head to hers. She gasped as the tip of his tongue flicked her skin. He was licking the milk off her cheeks.
“You taste good,” he murmured. Remarkable sensations began to drift down Vivian’s body.
She leaned against him and slid her arms inside his open jacket, curving them around his waist. “If you still think it’s a smart idea to get mixed up with a city slicker, kiss me.”
He did, his tongue transferring its movements delectably. Many seconds later, when their mouths parted, his ragged breath touched her closed eyes. “We’re good together, Viv, no matter whether we’re here or in the middle of Atlanta.”
She opened her eyes slowly. “I want to know more about you,” she whispered. “All of you.”
He nodded, and they rested their foreheads together. Just then the mellow, sweet sound of a dinner bell reached them from its source on Aunt Vanessa’s front porch.
Their arms around each other, they walked out of the barn and headed toward the cozy house nestled in the hills.
THE FIXTURES IN the small upstairs bathroom were old, but scrubbed clean. They included a claw-foot tub and a green, metal medicine cabinet. Faded green tiles covered the bath floor, and ancient, flowered wallpaper covered the walls. Jake and Vivian stood on either side of Aunt Vanessa and listened while she told them which faucet was hot water and which faucet was cold water. She went through a litany of instructions for opening the latch on the medicine cabinet in case they needed an aspirin.
Jake nodded and said “Yes, ma’am,” repeatedly, and Vivian got caught up in the hypnotic sequence of it and started nodding and saying “Yes, ma’am,” too. Aunt Vanessa divided a stack of towels and washcloths and put them on separate sides of the Formica-topped sink.
“Left is yours, Jake-honey, and right is Vivian’s,” she explained.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Vivian echoed.
The bathroom was centered between the two upstairs bedrooms and it had two doors, one to each room. Aunt Vanessa clasped her hands to her bosom and turned to Vivian with concerned eyes.
“You just lock Jake’s door whenever you come in here,” she told her. “And you won’t have to worry about a thing.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She turned to Jake. “And you lock Vivian’s door when you come in here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said solemnly.
“Well.” Aunt Vanessa hugged each of them. “Happy dreams, my little chickies.”
She clasped her hands in front of her chest again, and twisted to gaze at Jake.
“Good night, honey.”
Jake’s carefully obedient eyes flickered to Vivian’s amused ones and back to Aunt Vanessa. It was clear that he was being ordered away. Aunt Vanessa wasn’t leaving until he was in his room with the door locked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said gruffly. “Good night, Vivian.”
“Good night, Jake,” she replied primly.
After he clicked his door shut, Aunt Vanessa guided Vivian into the other bedroom and locked the bathroom door for her.
“I hope you’ll be warm and comfortable in here honey. I’ll bring another space heater up if you want it.”
The old rooms were medium chilly, but the four-poster bed was piled with enough quilts to keep an army warm. A ceramic lamp with cherubs on it provided soft, yellow light from a long-legged night table.
“I’ll be just fine,” Vivian assured her. Lonely and horny, she added to herself, but just fine.
After one more hug, Aunt Vanessa glided out the door that led to the hall and left Vivian alone with the whoooo of mountain wind sweeping under the eaves outside. She looked toward the bathroom door mournfully. Jake was only about two dozen feet away, in a bed similar to hers—alone.
Vivian sighed and retrieved a Georgia State sweatshirt from her overnight bag. She shivered out of everything but her white panties then put on the sweat shirt along with thick athletic socks on her cold feet. Her floor-length terry robe had never been so welcome. Vivian had just finished turning the soft collar all the way up around her throat when she heard Jake’s bathroom door open.
Her breath caught in her throat. She listened intently and heard what sounded like a tall man trying to tiptoe across an old floor. He knocked on her door. She tiptoed to open it, but even her light feet made audible noises. The door opened with all the subtle silence of fingernails on a blackboard. Vivian winced.
“Hi!” she whispered when the door was open enough to see him. She leaned against the doorjamb in weak admiration. Jake wore a snug long-johns top tucked into his gray sweat pants, which were soft and clingy. White socks covered his feet, too. He had more clean, honest sexual charisma than any man she’d ever known.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he whispered coyly. “I just wanted to write down that word you told Aunt Vanessa, before I forget it. That Italian word for milk.”
“Oh.” She could barely repress her smile. “Latte. L-a-t-t-e.”
“Thanks.” He bent over quickly, brushed her lips with a warm kiss and started backing toward his door. The floor was both chaperone and birth control device. Creak, creak, creak. “Good night, Viv. We can’t make a single move up here without Aunt Vanny overhearing. She knows it, too.”
Vivian made a needy, whimpering sound and shut her door.
Ten minutes later, she pried it open again and slowly slid her feet along the bathroom floor. The floor said ungh uh, ungh uh, with every step. Immediately, she heard Jake’s bed frame rattle, and then quick squeaks as he crossed the room. His door inched open, and he looked at her distraughtly.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Oh, I’m so silly. I just wanted to know if the rooster will crow in the morning. Ssssh. Forget it. Good night.”
She turned away, her head down.
Jake’s broad hand snaked through the space in the door and circled her forearm. He bit back his laughter. His blue eyes were dark with interest. He inched the door open, and they stared at each other, breathing hard. Then the pressure of his fingers began to draw her toward him. The floor reported every step. She slipped her arms around his neck, and his went around her lower back.
Their mouths met gently, open and giving. He groaned in pleasure and tightened his hands against the top of her hips, urging her to press closer, which she did without hesitation. The hardness she found against his stomach was no surprise. The floor protested again.
“How can we possibly . . .” she rasped.
“Somehow, someway,” he said gruffly. “I’ll carry you to my bed.”
The room was dark except for a square of light from the open bathroom door. Jake placed her on the bed and stretched out beside her, his hand on her stomach as she drew his head down to hers for another long kiss.
Long minutes passed in which they lay perfectly still, just kissing and touching, their hands running over and then under the clothing that separated them. Her robe was now undone. Jake’s fingers slid between the sweat shirt and her warm skin then began a tantalizing journey upward.
“You’re quiverin’,” he said, his lips against her ear.
“I want to move, Jake. You make me want to move, and I can’t.”
As if a reminder, the bed’s box springs squealed. Jake’s callused fingertips reached her breasts and rose slowly over them, an in
ch at a time, barely touching her but igniting tendrils of pure desire at every point of contact.
His thumb scrubbed languidly over a nipple. Vivian moaned and arched her back. Her legs stretched out, toes pointed, and kicked the footboard.
The whole bed shook, and the headboard whacked the wall.
“Jake,” she whispered. “This is torture. And not in a good way.” He nodded against her shoulder, withdrew his hand, and drew her quickly, impatiently against him so they both lay on their sides. The bed shuddered and thumped the wall again. Breathing hard, he buried his face in her hair, and she eased one leg over his hips.
Five seconds later they heard Aunt Vanessa coming up the stairs.
“What do we do now?” Vivian begged. “She’ll hear me if I try to go back.” “Stay here.”
A delicate knock sounded at Jake’s door. He looked down at Vivian one last, plaintive time, ran his hand down her body in good-bye, and climbed off the bed.
“Yes, ma’am?” He called gruffly. He pushed the suspicious-looking bathroom door shut and padded to the hall door. Then he opened it a few inches and did his best to look as if he’d been asleep.
“Honey, would you go check the attic for me?” Aunt Vanessa said anxiously. “There’s so much noise up there that I think that family of raccoons must be back. If they don’t quiet down, I’m gonna get my shotgun to ’em.”
Vivian stuffed the edge of a quilt in her mouth.
“I’ll sure do it, right now,” Jake told her solemnly. “You go back to bed. I’ll chase those critters out of there.”
“Do you think Vivian’s scared from all the strange noises?”
“No, ma’am. She was real tired, and I ’spect she’s sound asleep.”
“Good. Night-night, honey.”
“Night-night,” Jake replied drolly. He shut the door. He crossed back to the bed, took her hand, and sat down. “Sleep here, darlin’. I’ll just get in your bed. It’ll be quieter that way.”
“What are you going to do now?” she asked with concern.
He sighed.
“I reckon I’m gonna put my coat on and go bump around the attic for a while,” he said sadly.
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered. Jake arranged the rumpled covers over her and tucked her in. They kissed wistfully.
“I’ll use the time to think about you,” he promised. Vivian strained her eyes to watch him until he went out the door.
Then she grabbed an old wind-up alarm clock off the nightstand beside the bed and set it to ring at five a.m. With a plan brewing in her restless thoughts, she burrowed under the covers and waited for morning.
Chapter Eight
JAKE AND AUNT VANESSA sat at the kitchen table and sipped their second cups of coffee as if they’d been awake for hours, instead of just thirty minutes.
“Ooooh, I hate it when I oversleep,” Aunt Vanessa complained.
They heard the clumping sound of footsteps on the side porch off the kitchen. Jake walked to the door and swung it open.
“What the . . . Viv?”
“Good morning,” she said with a tired smile, her breath rising in clouds against the cold morning darkness. She had bits of sawdust in her dark hair and a stain on her coat in the shape of a cloven cow hoof. She handed him a stainless steel bucket full of Claire’s bubbly milk. “I did it.”
Aunt Vanessa came over and stared at the bucket along with Jake.
“Miss Vivian, I didn’t know you could milk a cow! ’Specially my cantankerous old Claire!”
“We had a talk. I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.” Vivian pulled a handful of sugar packets from her coat pocket. “I tried to fake her out with Splenda, but she only went for the full monty.”
Jake lifted her off the floor, hugged her, kissed her lightly on the mouth, and whirled her around in a circle. “You’ll be a farm wife yet.”
“Put me down. You’re churning my cream.”
“Jake, you’re embarrassin’ her,” Aunt Vanessa scolded.
Chuckling, he set her feet back on the yellow linoleum floor.
“Breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes, chickies,” Aunt Vanessa piped. “Vivian, you’d best go get cleaned up. Jake-honey can you slice some bacon for your Aunt Vanny?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said dutifully. Vivian gave him a tentative, odd smile that he didn’t understand. Jake’s own smile faded a little.
“You feelin’ all right, Tough Stuff? Did Claire kick you more than once?”
“She wouldn’t dare. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Farm wife,” she murmured to herself as she went upstairs, wincing as one hand went to her back.
“WAKE UP, BEAUTIFUL,” Jake urged gently. She was curled against the truck’s passenger door, her head pillowed on her folded tweed coat. The street lights of Atlanta flashed by her dozing profile. The night had turned colder, and rainy. “We’re almost home. Another minute and we’ll be at your place.”
When she didn’t respond, he patted her shoulder. She gave a soft cry of pain and arched away from his touch, fully awake in an instant. She looked at him with hazel eyes narrowed in a squint of discomfort.
“Viv, what is it?”
“Nothing. I just had a muscle cramp.”
“What’s wrong with your back?” he asked firmly.
“Okay, there’s a spasm in my tail. I need to uncurl it for awhile. And the pointy red tip is sticking me in one hip. No problem. Just a Democrat thing.”
He gestured toward her window. “My God, would you look over there. I believe that’s Alicia Keys comin’ out of the CNN building.”
She pivoted toward the window. He knew she was a fan.
Jake tugged the back of her sweater up.
Vivian had a long, ugly welt on her back.
She shoved her sweater down and glared at him. “You punked me.”
“Looks like Claire did the punkin’. She got you with a horn?”
Vivian sank back on the seat. “Yes, but you should see my teeth marks in Claire’s ear.”
He frowned the rest of the way to her condo building. Jake swung the truck to a stop by the curb in front of the high rise and clicked off the engine. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I’ll rub some liniment on you.”
“Jake, I’m worried about us. You belong in Tuna Creek. You’ll go back there as soon as you can. It’s a sweet place, but I belong here instead.”
He looked at her as if she’d just taken his whole world apart. She avoided his eyes and began gathering her things. He said gruffly, “There’s got to be a way, Viv.”
“I can’t see it, at the moment.” Her voice broke. “I’m afraid we’re headed for a painful reality check. I don’t ‘do’ cows. You need a woman like Marleen, not me.”
“Nothin’ worth havin’ comes easy, darlin’.”
“Let’s back away from each other and take a deep breath and think about where we’re heading. That’s all I’m saying. Please?”
He followed her up the steps to the building’s entrance. She turned around and faced him, crying. “The world is screwed up. I see that in my courtroom every day. It’s not safe to love anybody too much.”
Jake caught her by the elbows. “You’ve got it wrong. The only way to survive is by loving as much as you can.”
“I have so many ugly pictures stored inside me,” she rasped, bracing her hands against his chest, pushing him back. “So much I’ve seen . . . so much I’ve heard . . .”
He pulled her toward him an inch at a time. “All you have to do is look at me, Viv.”
“I need . . .” she began, and wanted desperately to add you. But she just cried harder. “I need . . .” He cradled her face in one hand as he continued to bring her to him. The touch of his hand broke her. “I need you, Jake,” she sai
d at last. “I need you so much. Help me.”
And then she was snug in his arms, her face hidden in the collar of his coat, her hands clutching his shoulders. He held her as if he’d let no force on earth pull her away, and he twisted his head so he could press his cheek to her forehead.
Then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside the building.
AS SOON AS THEY stepped inside her dark living room, Vivian sneezed and her teeth began to chatter. Jake carried her to her master bath. He set her down before flicking the switch on the row of lights over the vanity mirror. Diffused light filled the cozy, luxurious bathroom, reflecting off the coral-and-cream décor to give everything—the dark wood cabinets, the oversized white tub, and the two of them—a pink glow.
“Where’s the thermostat?” he asked quietly.
“In the hall,” she murmured, hugging herself and wincing.
He turned a faucet and sent hot water whooshing into the tub. Next he grabbed a bottle marked Lavender Luxury and dumped most of the contents in the water. Scented suds exploded in the churning water. “Ease in and cover your goodies with the bubbles,” he ordered drolly. “I’ll come back in a few minutes with something warm for you to drink.”
She nodded stiffly. He dropped a kiss on her neck and left, his heavy coat rustling as he removed it. Vivian numbly shed her clothes. Her back throbbed. She crept into the frothing tub and sank to her chin under mounds of lavender bubbles.
“Damn, I can’t see a thing under those bubbles,” Jake said as he came into the bathroom. Vivian laughed wearily, the sound ending in a yip of pain. A current of silent communication flowed between unspoken questions, mingled with the wordless knowledge that this was good and natural, that they were fighting the world together, tonight.
He sat down behind her on the tub and rubbed the rough surface of a coffee mug against her bare arm. He rested his other hand—the fingers spread—between her shoulder blades.
“Take a couple of big sips of this,” he ordered, holding the mug closer. “What the bath can’t warm, this will. I found that bottle of bourbon you bought for me.”
Just a Little Bit Guilty Page 9
