Walking across the glossy, black and mahogany linoleum flooring, Quent joined his wife at the sink.
“Marcy,” he pulled her back against him trailing his nose across her nape bared by her upswept hair. He felt her go pliant against him and smiled cockily in response.
“He’s headstrong and clever is all.” Marcella tried to keep a firm voice even as she melted against Quentin’s tall, massive frame. “You were a lot like him at that age…” she turned in his arms, fixing him with knowing eyes. “Need I remind you of all those trips to secluded fields where that old T-Model would always just happen to break down?” She noticed his onyx stare falter and shook her head. “Funny how it always started right up once you were done with me.”
“You could’ve screamed.” His nose trailed the curve of her jaw.
She tugged at his thin tie. “I did.”
“Ah yes, yes you did…and often…”
Marcella’s dark chocolate face burned a deep shade.
“How about I give him some small jobs at the business?” He patted her hip absently but no less possessively. “I’ll feel him out a little, see where he fits in.”
“Quen? You mean it?” Her fingers curled tight into the crisp sleeves of his dark suit coat.
He nodded, chuckling as she covered his face in kisses before they hugged. Quentin’s expression dimmed while he held onto his happy wife. Silently, he prayed he’d not regret his decision, though in his heart he knew that he would.
***
Carmen’s steps slowed when she saw Jasper Stone disappear behind the doors of Jeffries Café. She’d followed him since catching sight of his tall frame past the library windows. She often spent her summer afternoons holed up in the elegant, spacious building. After spotting Jasper that day she was no longer interested in losing herself amidst scores of books. She wanted to talk with him. She so loved talking with him but this time; for some reason, she hadn’t a clue what she’d say.
Something had changed since the cotillion. She had the distinct feeling something more was dwelling in his bottomless stare than he dared admit. Was he… attracted to her? Did he want to do with her the things she’d seen her brothers do with so many other girls?
Twirling the end of her ponytail braid about her finger, Carmen lost herself on the thought. Drifting into a daydream state, she never noticed the car approaching the narrow intersection as she crossed…
~~~
“Dammit!” The curse sounded loud to her ears and Catrina turned to see whether her mother had picked up her swear with her keen sense of hearing.
Sighing relief, Catrina resumed her daily task of scraping hardened grease from one of the eight roasting pans she’d been commissioned to clean until they sparkled. If only…Damon could see her now, she thought. Smiling a little, she warmed as his image came to mind.
In spite of her insurmountable tasks during the event, she’d wished the Ramsey party would have gone on forever. She could have stood there forever with him, not talking only…absorbing the quiet power in his dark eyes.
Suddenly, scrubbing the pan overheated her just a bit too much and Catrina stepped back to wipe sweat from her brow. It was then she noticed the girl attempting to cross the street.
“Hey!” Bolting toward the curb, Catrina waved her arms frantically. “Wait! Wait!” She closed her eyes, relieved when the girl jerked to a halt mere seconds before stepping into the path of an approaching car.
“Are you okay?” Catrina’s tone was breathless as was the rest of her when she met the girl in the middle of the street.
Carmen took a moment to answer- breathless as well.
“Come on.” Catrina curved an arm about her bare shoulders and guided her to the lot behind the restaurant.
Carmen was shaking terribly, rubbing arms bared by the calico sundress she sported. She was sitting on a tin barrel by the time she finally managed to nod that she was alright.
Catrina filled a silver can/cup with water from a spicket on the side of the building. “Here,” she urged, holding the can lest it topple to the ground between the girls’ shaking hands.
“Thank you.” Carmen sipped and then took a deep breath. “I’m alright, really.”
Catrina accepted the can and took a sip as well. Smoothing hands across her denim shorts she shook her head. “What made you walk out there like that?”
Carmen shrugged. “Daydreaming.”
Catrina smiled. “Understood.”
***
Kollette David smiled toward the timid looking young woman wiggling her knee and wringing her hands. “Would you like a glass of tea, darlin’?”
Briselle could scarcely shake her head no.
“Want me to check on West again?” Kollette watched Briselle give a nervous tug to her burnt orange slim skirt.
“I don’t want to rush him.”
Kollette’s heart went out to the girl who looked completely out of her wits in the grand executive floor of the lobby. Leaving her desk, Kollette took a seat next to Briselle on the gray leather sofa and patted her hand.
“We’ll just wait for him together.” Kollette bumped Briselle’s shoulder and managed to draw a smile.
“Now you can go back to focusing on what’s really on your mind.”
Westin was just finishing up a meeting with warehouse supervisor Bradley Justice. Brad’s words sent the absent look from his face and replaced it with surprise.
“Obvious you’re a million miles away son.” Brad folded hands over his protruding belly and grinned.
“Damn Brad, why are women so tough to figure out?”
Bradley’s grin broadened. He’d wondered how long it’d take for the younger man to snap. He shrugged. “Makes ‘em more interesting.”
“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?”
“If she’s the one- then I suppose so, yeah.”
Westin was quiet for a long time. “Yeah,” he agreed finally.
The phone buzzed in West’s office, but Brad took it upon himself to answer.
“Are y’all ‘bout done in there?” It was Kollette whispering through the line. “West’s girl is out here and she’ll probably lose her nerve and leave if he isn’t free soon.”
“He’ll be out in a second Koll,” Brad set down the phone and snapped fingers at West. “The one’s waiting for you outside.” Brad’s laughter rumbled as West practically ran from the office.
As Kollette had predicted, Briselle had decided to turn tail and run. She was on her way to Kollette’s desk with intentions on leaving a message when she saw Westin rush out into the maple paneled lobby.
“I swear I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered when the distance closed between them. “I just can’t disappoint you.”
“I want to promise you things’ll always be just right between us.” West rubbed his thumb across the belt around her skirt. “I can’t be that arrogant though. Well…I could but…”
“I swear I love you,” he said when their laughter cooled. “Baby or no baby, going to Seattle’s a scary thought. Going without you, it’ll be terrifying. Please say you’ll come with me.”
Briselle reached for the hand he tentatively extended. “On one condition,” she tugged on the rolled sleeve of his shirt. “I go as Mrs. Westin Ramsey.”
West expelled the breath he was holding and helped himself to her kiss.
R
~CHAPTER FOUR~
“Why you so interested, man?” Charlton snapped when the chemistry lab ‘crew’ was seated around a back square table in Jeffries Café. Jeff Carnes had voiced his unease about the job Marcus had just laid out.
“Why’s it have to be a chem lab’s all I wanna know.” Jeff briefly waved a hand before setting it back wearily against his forehead.
“Jeff man, the shit in that lab’s worth a bundle.” Marc softly tried to explain to his oldest friend.
“I don’t like it.” Jeff rolled his eyes. “Shit like this… somebody could get hurt.”
“So what? With a
ll the dough we’ll make, so what?”
“This is big.” Jeff didn’t bother to look Charlton’s way. “A chemistry lab. If we get caught-”
“Do we get to keep any of the stuff we lift from the lab?”
The three arguing friends quieted. They all looked towards Jasper, not quite sure what he meant.
Jasper chewed away on his cheeseburger like he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. “I been wantin’ to get a closer look at the place since we took that field trip junior year in high school.”
“What the hell for?” Jeff asked.
Jasper only raised his brows, not wanting to discuss how fascinating he found chemistry. The discoveries, the possibilities, the power…
“Anyway, are we doin’ this or not?” Charlton challenged.
“You in or out man?” Marc asked Jeff. “You with us J? Are you with me?”
Jeff held Marc’s gaze for several heavy moments. At last he shook his head. “I love you like a brother man, but this…it’s too big for me. The chances of us getting caught,” he leaned back in his chair folding arms over his shirt. “What happens if we get caught is too scary for me. I plan on havin’ a life after all this pissin’ around and lookin’ over my shoulder for the rest of it ain’t in the plan.”
“Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit,” Charlton drawled, his wide mouth curved into what could easily pass for a snarl. “Take yo’ sorry ass on somewhere, man.”
Jeff stood without argument. “Sorry Marc,” he said while leaving the table.
“So you got another idea or we goin’ in three deep?” Charlton posed.
“I got it covered.” Marcus spoke without hesitation.
***
Carmen laughed when a glop of bubbly water dashed in her face. Catrina only shook her head.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” she sighed.
“What?” Carmen dried her face on a cloth lying nearby.
“That I’d meet another living soul who actually liked cleaning grimy pots.”
Carmen laughed wildly and shrugged. “It’s not that I like it so much, but it does help pass the time. Keeps my mind off stuff I’m better off not thinking about.”
Catrina let her hands rest in the sudsy water. “How old are you Carmen?”
“Thirteen.”
“Hmph,” Catrina was mildly surprised. “You sound older.”
“I get a lot of that.” Carmen strolled back to the wash bin.
“So I’m guessing it’s a guy you were daydreaming about?”
Carmen would only nod.
“Does he know you like him?” Catrina shook water and soap from the pot she’d just cleaned.
“He’s friends with my brothers.” Carmen chose another pot to wash. “Even if he knew how I felt, he’d never let on or give in.”
“So your brothers are the over protective types?”
“Only two,” Carmen smiled thinking of Westin and Damon. Then her hands slowed. “The other two could care less. You have any brothers?”
“I’m an only child.” Catrina smirked. “My parents got buckets of brothers and sisters though, so I grew up with tons of cousins.” She wiped the back of her hand across sweaty bangs then.
“Sounds nice.”
“Yeah, thank God for them- otherwise I’d be stuck cleanin’ every pot my daddy owns.”
Carmen’s onyx stare brightened with recognition. She realized she hadn’t at first put it together that Catrina was a Jeffries.
“Yes, my sweet, you’re looking at the heiress to all this you see!” She waved toward the restaurant.
“I should’ve guess with all the work you’re doing.”
“I know.” Catrina felt around in the deep tub for another pot. “I should be laid up on my ass like a real spoiled selfish heiress.”
“Yeah… that pretty much describes us, doesn’t it?”
“Huh?” Catrina stopped rooting around in the wash tub and watched her new friend extend a hand.
“Carmen Ramsey.”
“Ouch.” Catrina winced and straightened from the tub. “I’m sorry girl.”
“Please don’t.” Carmen’s lashes fluttered. “You just gave a perfect description of my big sister Georgia.”
The girls shared a hearty roar of laughter.
Catrina Marie! There’s pots pilin’!” Rosa Jeffries’ voice drifted out some time later.
“My mama lives for that.” Catrina groaned and then squinted up at the softening but still potent sunlight. “But it helps with the daydreaming, right?”
For a time, the girls focused on toiling away with the grimy pots and platters.
“So who had you dazed and confused?” Carmen asked when she’d triumphed over a grease-caked roaster.
Catrina washed and began to describe the dreamboat she’d met during the Ramsey cotillion. Carmen’s movements slowed as the description sounded all too familiar.
“Wow…he does sound dreamy.” Carmen fiddled with the edge of her braid. “What was his name?”
“Damon…” Catrina’s expression was sheepish when she shrugged. “He never gave me his last name.”
Carmen turned back toward the tub, effectively hiding her smile. If her brother wanted to remain anonymous, who was she to ruin it?
***
Josephine Simon made a mock attempt at dusting the framed portrait of her grandparents, while more avidly attempting to overhear her sisters’ whispering in the sitting room. Thankfully, Rosselle ceased her sweeping which allowed her conversation with Clea to drift in more clearly.
The topic of conversation was of course Marcus Ramsey- as it had been since the Ramsey gala weeks earlier. She’d experienced an almost painful bout of shyness when he’d spoken to her parents. Josephine couldn’t help but be captivated by his manner and- God, his looks…
She’d felt a stab of something that could be described with no other word except scandalous. She could almost feel that potent black stare focusing on her, but that was crazy. After all, what could a man like that want with a girl like her?
Josephine smirked off the obvious answer. Clearly he was getting those things and much more from her sisters. She would’ve known Marc Ramsey anywhere by just using her sister’s descriptions to go on. Soft milk chocolate skin cascading over a toned 6’2” frame; a crop of thick curls covering his head in mounds of glossy black- and the eyes. That pitch stare that seemed to seer right into a person’s soul.
Josephine shook herself back into the present when she overheard Ross and Clea giggling. Rolling her eyes, she acknowledged the sexy Ramsey clearly liked foolish women if her sisters were any examples.
Then again; judging from their conversation, they were giving him anything he wanted sexually so, why wouldn’t he adore them? And why was she mourning the fact that she hadn’t had him sexually? What would a virgin like her even know of seducing a man?
Apparently, seduction wasn’t the path to securing a husband. Her sisters had opened their hearts; opened their legs actually, whenever the occasion suited them. Still, there were no suitors offering to make honest women of them. Josephine learned long ago that the way down the aisle was definitely not by way of the bedroom.
But God, he’d made her sizzle when she saw him. The promise of carnal delight practically hovered about him like a shroud. She knew a man like that would never want to be tied down with a wife, though. Not when he had his pick of any woman. Therefore, she’d be satisfied overhearing her sister’s exploits and pray that the chance to lose herself with Marcus Ramsey never presented itself.
***
Daphne rubbed her fingers through her mother’s silken bed coverings and recalled the scene she’d just witnessed. Babydoll had ordered her to change the sheets by 4 p.m. - in time for her next appointment. Daphne was partly sickened by the fact that the woman could receive another man (or two) when she’d just had a lewd romp with a town councilman and church deacon.
The men’s titles and the fact that both were married with children, wasn’t half as
stunning as seeing Babydoll take them both at once.
Still, there was something about it- something entrancing, hypotonic even. There had to be; Daphne thought. Why else would she be standing there trailing her fingers through linens soiled with the secretions of three adults?
There was power there, she told herself feeling her heart race beneath her pink and white halter. She recalled the scene through vivid flashes of the new memory. From the look on Babydoll’s face, there was no doubt she was enjoying herself. Daphne had to wonder though how much of that enjoyment came from the power she had to feel. The things she did with those men got her damn near everything she wanted. Daphne wasn’t so young she couldn’t grasp the concept. Those men left paying not only Babydoll Monfrey’s outrageous sex fees, but they left hefty tips in bulging envelopes on their way out the door. Their next appointments were already jotted in the woman’s book.
It took power to train men that way- to get them to pay anything for your time and keep them coming back for more Daphne realized. She’d often heard her mother say what thrilled her most- beyond the money even- was hearing a client tell her he couldn’t stay long due to business or family obligation and have him in her bed well past the time he swore he had to leave. Knowing a man had chosen her over a family obligation, gave Babydoll the biggest thrill. Daphne was dazed by the thought and still absently handling the sheets when her mother waltzed into the room.
“Girl, you ain’t got that bed changed yet?” Babydoll scolded lightly, choosing a perfume from a litany of bottles on the dresser. Slowly she dabbed a bit of a fragrance behind her ears while observing her daughter. “You uh…never finished telling me about meeting Marcella at that party.” She moved to the vanity re-checking the hairstyle for her next client.
“It was nothing much.” Daphne’s hands went weaker still on the sheets.
Babydoll smirked recognizing the intentional vagueness. “What’d you think of the great lady?”
“She is a great lady.”
Babydoll’s smile remained. Daphne’s response was still vague but there was no mistaking that she was clearly smitten by the Ramsey matriarch.
The Ramseys Boxed Set Page 159
