"Nice,” Jerrod said. “You look quite fetching, my dear. Attractive robe."
"A woman is always at her best after an orgasm. Thank you for that, incidentally."
"So, what happens now? It's not like we can pretend this never happened,” Jerrod said. “I will say one thing—you are one Hell of a welcome wagon."
"Better than a bundt cake, right? And, Jerrod, don't think I'm looking for a happily-ever-after situation. I'd settle for a happy-for-now and see how things go. It's been a long time for me, too. Even if we're not involved, I'm sure we'll be able to work together to the successful completion and opening of the bed-and-breakfast."
"Vesper, I am quite willing to explore any type relationship you care to have with me, save for one where I am bound and ball-gagged at the foot of your bed and beaten with a riding crop every three hours for good measure."
Vesper patted her robe pockets. “No riding crop here. And a stray dog ran off with my ball-gag."
"Good. I'd say our first course of business is to make a list of surfaces we'd like to rut upon in-between various repairs and needy guests. I guess we can cross off your bathroom floor,” Jerrod replied.
"No, only the bathroom rug. Not the floor."
"I stand corrected,” Jerrod replied making notes on an imaginary pad of paper in his hand.
Chapter Seven
The delivery driver knew the house. Knew the woman. Knew what could be in store for him. When she phoned, everything else got pushed aside. She always came first. No matter how busy it was. The moment the fiber optic lines connected her to them, she moved to center stage and nothing else mattered. She was the Dolly Levi to their Harmonia Gardens. Funny how no one gossiped about her—until she phoned. How could someone so hot go completely out-of-mind so quickly?
Tonight was busy, too. Too busy a night for him to think his trip to Mooncusser Cove would be anything but the delivery of a specialty pizza—but he was wishing. Wishing so hard he'd caused a rise in his jeans that any red-blooded American eighteen-year-old would be proud to display. He had a lot to offer a girl, or a woman like Miss Adaire. A red-headed Italian Stallion.
He pulled his black and Bondo late ‘80s Toyota Celica up to the cottage. The bulge in his pants throbbed and twitched as Vesper greeted him at the door.
"Jimmy, right?” Vesper asked.
"Yes, ma'am. It's twenty even. Special on delivery tonight. Just for you,” Jimmy replied. He hoped his breath smelled fresh.
Vesper took the pizza and passed it inside to Jerrod. She stepped across her threshold and pulled the door slightly closed behind her. “Hey, neighbor ... I left my checkbook in the car ... I'll be right back."
"Yeah, all right. I'm sorry ... all my cash is locked...” Jerrod replied.
"This one's on me.” Vesper shot a smoldering glance at Jerrod, then returned to her prey. “Jimmy, follow me to my car, will you, dear?” Vesper asked.
"Yes, ma'am,” Jimmy replied. All the blood left in his brain rushed to his member. He felt lightheaded, dizzy, overanxious.
Vesper took Jimmy's arm and let him escort her to her car. Draped under a tarp and hidden in the shadows, it was unlocked.
She slid into the driver's seat and pulled her checkbook from the visor. “Why don't you climb in the passenger side while I write the check, Jimmy?"
Jimmy dashed around the vehicle and climbed through the passenger door like an eager puppy, panting and wagging his tail. “What kind of car is this?” he asked.
Vesper smiled. “It's a Nineteen-Forty Ford Woodie. You know about woodies, don't you?"
Jimmy swallowed hard. “Yeah. I know about them.” This damned fine old car or mine?
"How are your college plans progressing?” Vesper asked.
Oh, man ... she must really like me. She remembers our conversation from last time. “I got accepted to Western. I start spring quarter. I'm going to work in town for another three weeks or so."
"Nice.” Vesper leaned toward Jimmy, giving him a head-on view down the opening of her robe. His hard gulp and pulsing Adam's apple told her all she needed to know. “I may not get a craving for pizza anytime soon ... and I'm going to miss you. Why don't we say good-bye now?"
"How's that, Miss Adaire?” Jimmy asked.
Vesper didn't have the time or energy to play “seduce the teenager.” She wasn't interested in dousing the fire-fever with teenage-boy love. But a snack might be nice.
She reached around Jimmy's neck and pulled him into an almost motherly embrace, her cheek to his shoulder.
His inexperienced hands went directly to her breasts, fondling them like he was turning two doorknobs.
Vesper took one of Jimmy's hands and placed it over the rise in his jeans, suggesting that he caress himself through the fabric.
The poor kid spilled in his shorts, and Vesper consumed his sexual energy by uploading it through the palm of her hand. His fresh, young, barely-tried sexual energy.
She pulled away, leaving the boy shaking and dazed. “Thanks for the pizza, Jimmy. Have fun at school. No need to lock my Woodie. Just cover it back up with the tarp when you leave."
Vesper giggled with renewed vigor as she exited her car and sauntered around the corner.
The slit of moon in the sky cast a knowing beam of light in her path. This was the kind of night the children walked the shore, watching the great fire, guessing what treasures the night would bring them.
Vesper cursed under her breath, “Mock me not, Moon, for I am stronger than thee. I am constant whilst thy face is ever-changing."
She didn't turn to look as Jimmy's loud engine roared to life.
Vesper calmed herself by taking a deep breath, and re-entered her cottage.
"Hey! I hope you don't mind, but I rummaged a bit in your cupboard and got a couple of plates. This pizza smells amazing,” Jerrod said as Vesper slinked in through the front door.
"It's handmade crust and sauce. Nothing better. Goes good with red wine,” Vesper replied.
"You pour, I'll serve,” Jerrod suggested.
Vesper retrieved a bottle of Australian shiraz and two wine glasses. “I'd like to make a toast."
Jerrod smiled. “All right. I usually toast absent friends—but tonight has been anything but usual."
Vesper finished pouring and raised her glass. “To the Mooncussers! Beach-kin and ruffians of old. May the dark of the moon bless our souls with wealth and bring an end to our bitter fast!"
Jerrod clinked his crystal against Vesper's. “Great toast! Is that a regional thing? I need to write it down for the book!"
"I thought you might.” Vesper sipped her wine. “It's carved on the mantle in the grand dining hall."
"You refer to the Mooncussers as ‘the kin.’ Why?” Jerrod asked.
"They were more than just land pirates, wreckers, and even the more romantic terminology for them, Mooncussers. But you must know this. The kin are mentioned a time or two in history books. And quite often in the local lore. They were a wealthy coastal family, generation after generation of which kept the family business intact. Highgate House is full of memories—and memorabilia."
Jerrod choked. “Memorabilia?"
Vesper raised her left eyebrow suggestively. “Lots of memorabilia. Sacred Mooncusser artifacts."
They fell into silence, eating their slices and downing the entire bottle of wine. Jerrod felt pretty full—every way a man could.
"Vesper, thank you for the remarkably lovely evening, but I think it's time for Moonie and me to sack out."
"You're not heading back to town are you?” She pouted. “I want you to stay here.” Vesper asked. She glanced at Moonie. “Your dog is snoring, Jerrod."
"I'd never get any sleep over there. All I'd do is wander around the house with my t-square and pipe wrench."
Vesper laughed. “Then stay here, with me. It would be ashamed to move Moonie. She's so sweet."
Jerrod mulled over his thoughts. He wasn't sure he wanted to admit what could be construed as a weakness to Vesper
. “Look, truthfully, I sleep quite fitfully. I toss and turn and cry out. The doctors say it's due to the head injury, but I know it's more than that. I take medication to sleep, and I left it at the hotel. I'm kind of embarrassed telling you this."
"Don't be. I don't think you'll be any less effective as a maintenance man, writer or lover because you have trouble falling asleep."
"Thanks, Vesper. I had the same problem off and on as a kid. It's one of the few things I remember clearly from growing up. The nightmares."
"Well, I thought maybe you could share my bed—but if you'd prefer, you can sleep on the sofa next to your dog.” Vesper paused. “Want to tell me about your nightmares?"
"I don't think I can—at least tonight. I'm about ready to drop. Long drive. Long, very exciting and very rewarding day. Too much wine."
"There's a blanket and pillow in the chest behind the sofa. I'll keep the bathroom light on for you. Good night."
"What? No kiss?” Jerrod asked.
Vesper shook her head. “You know damned well that if we start kissing, we'll end up doing the nasty again. I think any smooches will just have to wait until morning."
"When you show me the mansion?” Jerrod tossed in.
"Perhaps. Good night.” And with that Vesper sauntered out of the room.
Jerrod heard a latch click on her bedroom door. A lock. To keep him out, or keep her in? God, I am drunk. What an odd thing to think. Why would she need to lock herself into her room at night? Like, have another glass of wine, Jerrod. You're not quite drunk enough...
He drained the contents of his glass and stretched out on the floor beside Moonie. He fell asleep in minutes.
* * * *
Jimmy had delivered to Mooncusser Cove before. He only vaguely recalled his past experiences with that old coug Miss Adaire, but tonight—man—he could still smell her perfume. Driving with the windows down didn't diminish her scent-trail one bit. She'd gotten under his skin. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to wallow and fantasize about her. He was wearing her on his sleeve, as his hat, like a bandit's bandana across his face. Something wasn't right. In fact, something was terribly wrong—and it felt so damned good. Sinfully good. Tribally good. Like he should be running through the countryside in pieced-together squirrel furs, chewing on livestock, baying at the moon.
* * * *
Vesper sat in her darkened bedroom staring out the window at the moon. Its gentle light reflected off the white sand beach just enough to cast an eerie glow on her beach. Waxing crescent. Fifteen percent of full. “Comes the time of hunger,” she recited. It was a song from her childhood. A song to help the kin keep clear heads while waiting for an overcast night as the heavens traveled the path to the next new moon.
Comes the time of hunger
When a waxy moon slivers and stabs the heavens.
Comes the time of hunger
When the moon quarters toward full, too slow, so painfully slow.
Comes the time of hunger
When Gibbous kisses the sky, more than half, but less than full,
With its promise of glorious dark nights to come,
Waning heralds wrecking, feasting, joy for the kin.
The time of hunger ends as the new moon crosses the field.
The kin continue in the dark of the eternal moon.
The kin continue in the dark of the eternal moon.
Chapter Eight
Vesper awakened to the sound of heavy rainfall and a soft knocking at her door. “Vesper? You awake?"
"Yes. I'll be right out,” she called.
Jerrod was soaking wet, but offering her a cup of steaming hot coffee. “I took Moonie out for quick stroll and got caught in a cloudburst. So, I made a pot of coffee. I hope you don't mind."
"Thank you for this. How did you know I take cream, no sugar?” Vesper asked.
"The half-'n'-half in the fridge and the lack of sugar jar next to the coffeemaker clued me in."
"You are observant,” Vesper replied.
"I'm a writer and photographer. I notice everything."
"Well, Mr. Big Shot, your fly is unzipped. Notice that?” Vesper asked.
"Actually, yes. I thought maybe after I'd plied you with hot coffee we could..."
Vesper kissed Jerrod quickly. “Your seduction by java sounds fun, but I have things to do this morning."
Jerrod nodded. “I'd like to inspect my property. Will you take a walk up the beach with me? The rain is warm, and it looks awesome rolling in off the bay."
"I think I can manage to fit that into my busy schedule.” Vesper paused. “You know, your parcel of beachfront is just about the best in this area. You're on the crescent leading to the spit. All white sand. No crags. I'm hoping to build a platform there. And add a boardwalk from the mansion to it."
"Ah, you want to appropriate my land?” Jerrod asked.
"Yes, and your talents. I saw your design for the bridge over a troubled pond in your first book and got the idea,” Vesper replied. “I'm wondering if we can work out a lease or percentage of the profits deal, perhaps."
"And now the true reason why you wanted a Paladin to return to Mooncusser Cove is revealed.” Jerrod slipped his arms around Vesper's waist. “You need my piece of land."
Vesper sunk into his embrace. “Yes. I do. But it goes deeper than that."
Jerrod chucked. A low, throaty man's chuckle. “It did last night."
"It certainly did.” Vesper slid out of his arms and took a sip of coffee. “And thank you for that, too."
"My pleasure, Miss Adaire. I'd like to poke around in the bed-and-breakfast, make some notes. Maybe before we walk up the beach?"
"I like that,” Vesper replied.
"What?” Jerrod asked.
"That you called the mansion a bed-and-breakfast."
"Better get used to it.” Jerrod clinked his mug against Vesper's in a mock-salute. “We're going to be hearing those words a lot soon enough."
"My dream come true,” Vesper replied. “My salvation rests with those words."
"Is the B and B unlocked?"
"Yes. But do use caution."
Jerrod finished his cup of coffee. “Mooncusser secrets? Booby-traps? May I ask if there are any off-limits areas in the manor?"
"Only those places that might frighten you. There's a corridor closet on the third floor that reeks of apparitions. You might want to avoid that—oh, and the potato bin in the kitchen. Nasty spirits live there, too."
"So, other than the haunted potato bin, I can explore?"
Vesper nodded. “The manor will not readily give up its secrets, but you're welcome to try."
"And the Mooncusser artifacts?” Jerrod continued.
"Are all over the place. If something looks old—it probably is. For example, some of the brass in the house was reclaimed from a shipwreck in the eighteen twenties. And the books—oh, my. There are ships’ journals in there going back to the seventeen eighties. One of them, as I recall, is even bloodstained. Seems the captain took a musket ball to the chest while holding his log. The library isn't easy to find, however. It's hidden beyond a secret door. I do know it protected runaway slaves at one point—and before that, I'm sure the room had a more sinister mission. It stored pirate's booty."
"I like the pirate's booty,” Jerrod said, reaching around to pat Vesper's backside.
"Not that kind of booty. You know what I mean. Saleable items. Items of value farther south. One of the kin traveled as a merchant up and down the colonies."
"Selling boots taken off the body of a wrecked sailor,” Jerrod replied.
Vesper nodded. “Yes. Though we'd more than likely keep the boots and sell things like sacks of salt or flour. I remember when a cargo of sugar cane was...” she stopped.
Jerrod laughed. “You remember? Like it was yesterday and you were there, huh?"
Vesper hesitated, knowing she was too close to revealing her true nature. Not quite what she had planned. At least not yet. “I've read the journal so many times, it's as if I
lived the life, you know?"
Jerrod kissed her quickly. “That's good. I like older women, but damn—two hundred years older is a bit much.” He paused. “See you in a couple hours? Maybe by then the rain will have stopped."
"I've got some pre-opening agenda items that need attention. Leave a trail of bread crumbs for me, huh?"
Jerrod pecked Vesper quickly on the lips. “All the better to find me with, my dear."
Vesper stretched. “I can hardly wait."
"Then get about your business and I'll see you in the kitchen next to the haunted potato bin before the clock strikes eleven,” Jerrod replied.
Vesper smiled. “I can't just spend my days making love with the new neighbor. We have work to do!"
Jerrod shot Vesper a beguiling smile—or one that he hoped would at least make her want to wander over and have sex with him again. New relationships were such a pain in the ass. He couldn't be certain if she was a sure thing yet or not.
As he dashed into the rainstorm, Moonie under his arm, he realized that a woman who screws a man with such gusto hours after meeting him might just be game to have another go on another day. Thank God.
Chapter Nine
Vesper flipped open her laptop. She tapped her foot with impatience as her link to the outside world whirred to readiness.
She sorted through a stack of magazines on her desk. The ads for her B and B were scheduled to appear in regional and national travel publications this week. Tourist season was coming. She'd purchased print ads and web ads to the tune of nearly forty-thousand dollars of Mooncusser Trust funds.
Her web ad on Cape Cod Travel showed the lighthouse with a gentle, pink and golden setting sun behind it. With the use of some HTML code, the ad designer had created a slowly sliding series of panels displaying the attributes of Vespers by the Sea.
She nearly spit coffee on her computer screen as a clearly touched up photo of the master suite rotated by. She'd taken high-resolution photos of the interior and sent them to the designer. The magic of PhotoShop could help even an old mansion like hers shine.
Very soon, her fortress of passion would be set, and her invisible safety net against angry villagers would be in place. She was about to become hostess, cook and chambermaid to weekending couples in heat. Just what the doctor ordered. When the aura of sexuality became so thick one could cut it with a butter knife and spread it on thick, she would need only fill her lungs to feed. No more stealing blood. No more sex upside the house.
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