Love Is In the Air Volume 1

by Susan Stoker

  "Hey, Mrs. Harris. I'm Thane. I thought you might need some help getting unloaded." His voice is a deep, smooth rumble that makes my awakening teenaged hormones sit up and take notice.

  "Please, it's Miss Harris, and you can call me Lily." They shake hands, and he removes his sunglasses. His eyes, which are a soft, mossy green, find my face. I feel his gaze like he can see inside me, and it's unsettling. Mom wraps an arm around my shoulders to pull me into her side. "My daughter Francesca."

  "Frannie." My voice cracks and dies on the last syllable. From the width of his shoulders and the dark shadow of beard covering his square jaw, he's probably in his mid-twenties. That's okay. I've always been into older men. Mom says it's because I grew up without a father figure. But I think it's because guys my own age can hardly hold a conversation. So, yeah, I've got Daddy issues. Big time.

  "Hey, Frannie." Thane engulfs my small hand with his huge one. His palm is rough in the best way possible. My imagination sprints into action, imagining how those calloused hands might feel on my body. Just once in my life, I'd like to be with a guy like him—one who knows what he's doing. Until now, my sexual experiences have been a few clumsy groping sessions in the backseat of a car. This guy—I'm pretty sure he knows exactly how to please a girl.

  "Why don't the two of you grab the boxes from the Bronco, and I'll get started inside?" Mom nods toward the house, drops her car keys into my palm, and leaves me alone with him.

  "Here. I've got it." Thane takes the keys out of my hand. The pads of his fingers brush lightly over my palm, sending gooseflesh along my arm.

  I follow him down the sidewalk and onto the driveway, trying not to stare at his broad shoulders or the way his faded jeans mold to his ass. I stumble over a dip in the gravel but catch my balance before he notices. Maybe I need to give Nashville a chance. If all the guys in Tennessee look like him, this is going to be a vacation instead of a prison sentence.

  "So, what do you think of the estate?" Thane asks as we carry the first load of boxes up the front steps.

  "I haven't really seen it yet." Looking straight at him makes my tummy feel weird, so I keep my focus on the ground. "But it seems beautiful."

  "I can show you around later if you want." He holds the front door open with an elbow to let me inside first.

  "That would be great," I reply, feeling heat rush into my face at the prospect of being alone with him.

  He jerks his chin toward the box in his arms. "Where do these go?"

  "My room. Upstairs."

  The steps creak under our footsteps. My bedroom is larger than the living room of our entire Indianapolis apartment and has a French door leading onto a balcony with a view of the creek. There are built-in bookshelves across the opposite wall to hold the dozens of treasured hardbacks I've brought along.

  For the next few hours, we unload and unpack. Mom uses Thane to rearrange the provided furniture and replace light bulbs. The last boxes are more books for my room. Thane's biceps flex as he lowers the heavy load to the floor. My gaze locks onto the thick vein running from his wrist to his shoulder. He has the sexiest forearms I've ever seen. I blush when he catches me checking him out, but he seems more amused than offended. From the nearest box, he picks out a leather-bound hardback of Asimov's Guide to Shakespeare and stretches across my mattress. The sight of his long, lean body on my bed is going to stick in my mind for a very, very long time.

  His eyebrow arches as he riffles through the pages of the book. "Have you read this?"

  "Sure." I can't look directly at him because he's too darn beautiful and might see the lust in my eyes.

  "I thought it was boring. Not my thing, I guess."

  "You've read it?"

  "Just because I'm pretty doesn't mean I'm dumb." He smirks, tosses Asimov aside, and digs in the box, reading the titles aloud in rapid succession. "How to Make Love to a Man, Seven Ways to Improve Your Sex Life, A Single Woman's Guide to Sex."

  A shockwave of horror rushes over me. "No!" I leap over an ottoman in an attempt to yank the book from him. "Those aren't mine. Those are Mom's. Really. I swear."

  He doesn't even try to hold back his laughter. Instead, he raises the book into the air, scooting across the bed to escape my clutching hands. "No, wait. This is fascinating." He holds the book open to read the contents while dodging my attempts to grab it away from him. "Well, this isn't accurate at all."

  "For the love of God. Please, stop." I'm no match for his height and agility, so I sink onto the ottoman and bury my face in my hands during what has to be the most humiliating moment in my life.

  "You know, the best way to learn what a guy likes is to ask him."

  I peer through my fingers to find him staring at me, a mischievous grin curving his thick lips. He's enjoying my misery way too much. I grab the pillow next to my feet and hurl it at his head. He ducks. The pillow collides with the lamp on the bedside table. The lamp crashes to the floor, shattering into a dozen pieces.

  "Frannie? What's going on up there?" Mom shouts at us from downstairs. "Are you okay?" Her footsteps thud on the steps. Thane hops off the bed, shoving the book behind his back.

  "It's fine. We're fine," I shout, but it's too late. Mom jogs into my room, out of breath and flushed.

  "I accidentally knocked over the lamp," Thane says. He hands the book to me, careful to hide the cover and spine. His eyes meet mine. Once again, I'm lost in the way the sunlight illuminates his irises. I could stare into those long-lashed eyes for hours and never get tired. His gaze dips to my mouth before sliding over to Mom. "I'll grab a dustpan and clean this up."

  Mom crosses her arms over her chest and stares knowingly at me while Thane rushes out of the room.

  "What?" I ask, mimicking her pose.

  "He's too old for you, Frannie."

  "I'm seventeen, Mom."

  "Exactly my point. You're still a child, and he's a—well, he's an adult."

  I roll my eyes so hard that my temples hurt from the strain. "As soon as I turn eighteen, you won't be able to boss me around anymore. What will you do with all that spare time?"

  She closes the door, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. "Listen to me, young lady. That boy is way too advanced for you. I've dated enough men to know trouble when I see it."

  "You don't know that," I mumble.

  "I'm your mother. I know everything."

  I snort. "You didn't know your boss was married. Or—by your logic—you did know and chose to sleep with him anyway." The words escape my mouth before my brain has time to stop the transmission.

  In two strides, she crosses the room, takes me by the shoulders, and shakes me. "Don't you ever talk to me like that, do you understand?" Her voice trembles, and the color drains from her lips. "I won't have it."

  "I'm sorry." I don't know why I say things like that. Sometimes, I feel like someone else has control of my emotions and speech. Tears burn my eyes. I hate myself for hurting her. She was only a year older than me when she got knocked up. My dad died before I was born, leaving her to raise me alone. She's done the best she could to provide for us. Somehow, in our darkest days, she always managed to find the money for the important things like food, braces, and clothing. So—sure—she's made a few bad choices when it comes to men, but she deserves my respect.

  Her brown eyes, so different from mine, soften. "Don't cry, baby." She covers my hand with hers, drawing it to her heart, squeezing my fingers, her deep skin tone contrasting with my lighter one. "I know it's been hard on you, but things are going to get better. I promise. This is an amazing estate with horses and cows and lots of fresh country air. You're going to love it."

  Her description sounds like a nightmare. I drag my hand away and slump onto the ottoman. "I doubt it." I cross my arms over my chest and turn toward the window. Deep down, I'm a little bit intrigued by the prospect of something new and different. And Thane.

  Thane taps on the door then pushes it open, a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other. He glances from Mom to me,
searching my face. "Am I interrupting? I can get this later."

  "No. It's fine." I jump to answer before Mom can embarrass me. My voice is calm and quiet.

  Mom gives me a sad smile before disappearing downstairs. In silence, I watch Thane sweep the broken glass and porcelain into a dustpan, feeling like my life has spiraled out of control. I didn't want to move—again. This makes ten moves in five years. We've never stayed in one place long enough to make friends. Every time I started to get close to someone, Mom packed our bags and hit the road.

  From a crouched position, Thane pivots. The movement puts him at my feet. He places a fingertip beneath my chin and tilts my face up to his. "Are you okay?" His eyes search mine. "Is there anything I can do?"

  "I'm fine." Immediately, I shore up the walls of my inner defenses. "Just—parents—you know." The sun moves from behind a cloud, sending a ray of light through the curtains. I blink, temporarily blinded by dust motes and bright yellow light.

  Thane sucks in a shocked breath. His finger is still on my chin. "Your eyes. They're two different colors."

  "Yeah." A rush of heat blasts into my cheeks. His intent gaze gives me a ton of unfamiliar emotions and unexpected dampness between my thighs. "It's called—"

  "Heterochromia. I know. I read about it in one of my grandfather's medical journals." His stare cuts straight through my soul. I can't look away from his mossy green irises any more than he can look away from my freakish blue and brown ones. Downstairs, Mom turns on the stereo, blasting Billy Joel through the house. The music breaks the spell between us. He clears his throat, stands, and backs away. "I should get back to work."

  "Yeah. Me, too." I'm breathless like I've been running, even though I haven't left the ottoman.

  "I'll see you later."

  "Sounds great." My pulse skips a beat in anticipation of spending more time with him. For the first time in a long time, I've got something to look forward to.

  2

  A few minutes after five, Thane pulls up to the front porch in a golf cart, wearing a fresh white T-shirt and his sunglasses. Mom and I are sitting on the porch swing, drinking bottled water. He grabs a basket from the passenger seat then takes the porch steps two at a time. The bridge of his straight nose and the tops of his broad shoulders carry traces of sunburn. My pulse starts beating faster.

  "Good afternoon, Mrs.—I mean, Lily." As he speaks, he removes his sunglasses, glancing first at her then at me. "Francesca."

  I hate being called by my full name, but the way he says it—I might change my mind. I swallow and try to be cool. "Hey."

  "I brought you some snacks from the mansion in case you haven't had time to go to the store yet." He places the basket on the table next to him. It's filled with chips and chocolate and fresh fruit.

  Mom smiles at him. If the sparkle in her eyes is any indication, she thinks he's attractive, too. "You're right. We don't have anything. I was about to head that way. Thanks."

  "I thought I could take Frannie on a quick tour of the estate." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leans back against the railing. "You're invited too, of course."

  Mom's eyes narrow. "How old are you, Thane?"

  "Nineteen."

  "Really? You look a lot older," Mom replies, her tone skeptical.

  He shrugs and lifts an eyebrow. "It's that good Tennessee water, I guess." His voice has the slightest hint of a southern drawl, sexy and unassuming at the same time.

  I'm already out of the swing and heading for the front steps. "I'll be back in a little bit."

  "Well, okay." Mom bites her lower lip, a wrinkle marring the smoothness of her forehead. "Just be back before dark."

  "I'll take good care of her." Thane places a hand on the small of my back. My skin buzzes beneath his touch, even though there's a layer of cotton T-shirt between his palm and my spine. We climb into the golf cart. He starts the motor then smiles at me. "Hold on." He presses the accelerator. The golf cart rockets forward, making me squeal and grab for the handle on the dash.

  "I might have tweaked the engine a little bit," Thane says with a mischievous wink.

  "Be careful," Mom calls after us.

  We race down the driveway. The wind blows through my hair. Sunlight warms my face. The scent of flowers and freshly cut grass sweeten the air. I've been cooped up in a city apartment for so long that I've forgotten how nice the outdoors can be. We're surrounded by acres of rolling green pastures, whiteboard fences, and soft blue mountains.

  Thane drives around the entire hundred acres, remarking on the history of the two-hundred-year-old farm. We skip stones across the creek, pet the horses in the fields, and pick fresh tomatoes out of the garden. Our last stop is a gazebo near the edge of a pond. Two old-fashioned rope swings hang from the branches of a twisted oak tree. Thane sits on one swing and nods toward the empty swing next to him. I kick off my shoes and join him.

  "It's so beautiful," I say, staring over the glassy surface of the pond. In front of me, the sun lowers in the sky, casting swashes of orange and pink across the horizon, turning the color of the mountains from blue to lavender.

  "This is one of my favorite spots. I come here to think sometimes." He twists the ropes of his swing until he's facing me.

  "You're lucky to live somewhere like this. I've never lived anywhere but the city."

  "There are worse places, I guess." His tone hints at conflicting emotions behind the statement. I want to unravel each one of those feelings. A lopsided grin reveals a dimple in his left cheek. "It gets lonely out here."

  "If you don't like it, why don't you leave?"

  "It's complicated." With the tip of his shoe, he digs a trench in the grass. "Someone needs to protect Geneva." I have many questions about this remark, but I don't want to pry, so I bite my lower lip and concentrate on Thane. He sighs deeply then straightens. "I want to be a doctor. As soon as I have some money saved, I'm going to enroll in a university."

  "Really?" I twist the swing until the rope is tight, then let it send me in a circle. Thane would make the hottest doctor ever.

  "Yeah. I want to be one of those doctors who perform reconstructive plastic surgery on disadvantaged kids. Maybe volunteer some time in a third world country." He lifts an eyebrow. "What about you?"

  "I'd love to go to Harvard or Stanford. Or somewhere in Europe. I scored 1550 on my SAT, but I never applied anywhere. We don't have the money, so what's the point?"

  Unlike most of the people in my life, he doesn't laugh. "Have you looked into scholarships, grants, or student loans? With scores like that, you could probably get a full-ride somewhere."

  "I don't know. Maybe." My throat tightens with the threat of unshed tears. I graduated high school a year ahead of schedule. I planned to get a job and help Mom with expenses. She's the only family I have. The thought of leaving her brings a lump to my throat. Without me, she'd fall apart. Who would keep her feet on the ground? College is not in my future. "Maybe I'll write a book." Even though I'm seventeen, I've had enough drama in my life to fill an entire bookshelf.

  "Like what? Romance? Non-fiction?" He turns to face me, his irises made greener by the grass beneath our feet. "Is that why you have all those sex books?"

  It takes a second before I realize he's teasing me. I give his shoulder a gentle shove. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

  "Probably not." His gaze dips to my lips for the second time in five minutes.

  A strange fluttering starts in my stomach. I'm suddenly aware of everything; birds twittering in the trees, the rustle of leaves, the soft breeze, and the echo of my heartbeat in my ears.

  Thane leans toward me, his attention shifting from my mouth to my hair. "Don't move. There's a bee in your hair."

  "What? Get it out!" It takes all of my self-control to not flail my arms. I don't want to look like a baby, so I freeze.

  "Easy now. No need to panic." The confidence in his deep voice eases the tightness in my chest. He inches closer, extends a hand, then flic
ks his fingers. "There. It's gone."

  "I hate bugs." An involuntary shiver shakes my upper body.

  "Better get used to it. We have lots of them here." Instead of moving away, he stays next to me. His bare arm brushes against my shoulder. Goosebumps tingle along my skin. He smells like soap and fabric softener, two of my favorite scents. His voice drops to a whisper. "You know, I've wanted to kiss you all afternoon." He brushes a tendril of hair from my temple. "Is that wrong?"

  "I've wanted to kiss you, too." My heart hammers in my chest. He has to hear it.

  "Maybe just once." He sweeps his fingers along the shell of my ear, along the curve of my jaw, drawing my face toward his.

  I sigh as his lips press against mine. It's the perfect, sweetest kiss in the history of kisses. The setting sun, the quiet country sounds, and the peacefulness of the landscape are a flawless backdrop. The tip of his tongue teases mine—not in a forceful way—but gentle and tentative like he's not sure about my consent. I ease a hand around the nape of his neck, digging my fingers into his silky hair.

  Sparks flash on the backs of my eyelids. No one has kissed me like this before like I'm a woman, an adult. Thane shifts closer, sliding his arm around my waist. Our mouths open wider. I forget to hold back. His deep-throated growl reverberates through my soul. I need to be closer. I want his body against mine.

  He breaks away. "Francesca. Stop."

  Fire races into the tips of my ears. "I'm sorry." I jump out of the swing and jog to the golf cart. Thane follows me. I'm too embarrassed to meet his gaze, so I stare across the water at an imaginary object.

  "Wait." He wraps gentle fingers around my bicep. "Frannie, look at me." He turns me gently toward him.

  "I'm so embarrassed." I cover my face with my hands.

  "If anyone should be embarrassed, it's me. That was totally inappropriate. We're going to be living within a hundred yards of each other. A relationship could complicate things." As he speaks, my gaze locks on his lips made red from our kiss. "But, you've got to stop looking at my mouth. It makes me want to kiss you again."