by Janet Eaves
“I think it’s time for me to take a cold shower.”
Needing to drench the fire raging within and to take back control, Graham stood up, kicked off his shoes, stripped off his shirt and shorts and dove headfirst into the lake.
Chapter Six
As evening settled over the valley, fog cloaked the lake in a white mist. The children and spouses had gone home and only classmates remained around a blazing campfire, its yellow light illuminating individual faces in the darkness.
Jane shivered. The damp night air made her regret once more her choice of clothing. She sat alone on a rough log, part of the bonfire circle, but somehow isolated from the group. A few feet away, Graham squatted next to the fire, his body bracketed by firelight. She savored her view of his broad shoulders, his deltoid muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. She flushed when she remembered his earlier plunge into the lake.
What a surprise! First, she’d thought Graham was stripping to take care of his promise right then and there. Second, he wasn’t naked, wearing a pair of black Lycra Speedos. The tiny scrap of material left nothing to the imagination with the masculine bulge in the front. As Dawn, she succeeded all too well in making Graham want her.
Jane’s heart twisted hard at the irony. And once again she shoved aside the consequences of her pretense, preferring to consider the man by the fire. Who’d have thought conservative, cosmopolitan Graham Winchester would wear something as daring as a pair of Speedos? He’d developed into a seductive, sensual hunk of male, and she boldly took in every erotic detail of his body. The Graham of today was nothing like the scrawny kid who haunted her life for fifteen years. Who was he now? Had he changed more than his looks? Did he have the same generous spirit? The same love of laughter and learning?
He seemed at home in front of the fire, as if toasting marshmallows and drinking beer with the gang was an everyday event in his life. But that didn’t mean he’d stick around.
Graham stood and came toward her. “Here you go.” His roguish gaze bore into hers.
Jane shook her head. “No thanks. I can’t eat another bite.”
“One more.” Graham pulled a toasted marshmallow from the coat-hanger and gave her a compelling grin. “I don’t like being turned down,” he said playfully.
“Okay.”
“It’s cool enough now. Open up.”
Jane complied, and Graham popped the confection into her mouth.
“Mm.” Jane slowly chewed the super-sweet goo. “Gee, thanks.”
“No problem. Anything else I can do for you, sweetheart?” He dropped the coat hanger and licked his fingers.
As she watched his tongue touch his fingertips, an erotic rhythm pulsed within. Gracious! With her body betraying her and her mind slipping so easily into the gutter, Jane’s patience was strained. She shook more from excitement than from the chill in the air.
“Yes.” She patted the hard log with the palm of her hand. “Sit down and keep me warm.”
“Are you cold?”
“I’m freezing.”
This time Graham gave no hint about warm body parts. Jane thought about them, though, and a wave of heat burned her face as she considered the appealing possibilities.
As tentative as she felt at the moment, she was glad for his silence. Graham simply sat next to her and draped his arm around her shoulders. She wiggled nearer. Why did this feel so natural? As if she’d always belonged in the crook of Graham’s arm—snug, safe and protected.
It was a troubling insight, but Jane tried not to let it bother her. She wanted to enjoy the moment—Graham’s strong hand against her bare shoulder, his comforting warmth.
“Better?”
“Much.” Jane surveyed the sparks of light from the campfire, her mind vaguely aware of the activity around them. Yet her senses were keenly attuned to Graham—his subtle male scent, the rise and fall of his chest.
They sat quietly together. Companions. No words needed. Just the cool night surrounding them along with the laughter and quiet banter of old friends.
Graham released a breath of what he could only call deep contentment. The realization briefly startled him, for somehow it seemed right to have Jane cuddling next to him. At the same time, he didn’t want to explore his feelings, preferring to savor the moment. He was a writer, and the contrast between the black night and the glowing fire pleased his senses. A misty dampness touched them, subduing the group’s earlier rowdiness and leaving those around the campfire with a heavy sensation of melancholy.
Fifteen years had passed for them. So had their youth—some of it misspent, granted, but some of it full and productive. It was time for taking stock, and those left understood that. So when Clint lumbered into the circle carrying a metal footlocker, everyone grew silent in anticipation.
Graham hugged Jane to him as Claudia stood. The firelight cast an eerie glow upon the class secretary’s matronly figure. She held up her hand.
“This is the key,” she said dramatically. “Our senior year we all gathered in this same spot to contribute something of ourselves to our class time capsule. Only we couldn’t fit it into a bottle so we used this old trunk,” she added in a quick aside.
A smattering of laughter interrupted the general stillness.
Claudia continued, “Jane, will you do the honors? This was your idea.”
Jane started to rise, but Graham’s hand held her firmly in place. She gave him a startled look.
Dawn, as Jane, stood up from where she sat next to Clint. “Let Dawn do the honors,” she said with a mischievous grin.
The crowd of classmates agreed, cheering and clapping for Dawn. Graham felt Jane tense. She switched places. He couldn’t protect her now.
“Go on, Dawn.” Graham released his hold on her shoulder.
Jane climbed to her feet and made an unconscious grab at the cuffs of her shorts. Unfortunately for her, there was nothing to pull and no way to cover herself. Graham caught another enticing view of her generous curves peaking below the pink fabric, and his body responded with a quick, painful rigidity. Clint, Steven and the other guys around the fire had the same view and probably the same reaction. Graham frowned when he heard the whistles and catcalls directed at his Jane.
His frown deepened into a scowl. She wasn’t “his Jane.” Just a friend playing a silly game, and for the moment, he’d chosen to go along with it. Upset, he blocked out that train of thought, turning his attention toward Jane’s discomfort in front of her classmates.
Acting as Dawn, Jane took the key from Claudia. “Ladies and gentlemen, the key to our past,” she announced in a perfect theatrical voice.
The fire’s glow highlighted her scantily clad body, pushing him to the brink. Graham began to sweat.
His reaction to Jane was intense and confusing. Perhaps it was because he believed her deception was solely for him, and that tickled his ego. Most women didn’t flatter him, because he suspected their motives had to do with money. He had no clue to Jane’s real motivation and that bothered him.
Jane knelt beside the trunk, inserted the key, and dramatically flipped open the lid.
“Ta da!” she sung out as she stood and raised her hand high above her head.
The action raised the bottom of her silk top, exposing her tantalizing belly button and bare skin. Graham’s gut wrenched as the men in the crowd continued to show their appreciation with hoots and loud applause. Part of him wanted to jump up and cover Jane while another part wanted to sit there all night ogling her feminine attributes. He made a fist, furious at his own ambivalence.
“The first item is, drum roll please!” Jane reached into the trunk. “Clint’s number 42!” She plucked out a large black and gold football jersey and held it high for all to see.
“Let’s see him put it on,” someone called out.
To a hail of good-natured jeers, Clint retrieved his old shirt, one that obviously didn’t fit any longer.
“Dawn, how’s about a kiss for old time sake?” he asked Jane, favoring her with a huge wink.
She looked uncertain but stood her ground and puckered up. “Sure, why not.”
Instead of a chaste peck, Clint swept Jane into his embrace and planted a super long smooch on her lips. Graham’s jaw tightened. Fighting back the urge to snatch Jane out of Clint’s arms, he opened his fist and placed his palms down beside him on the rough log. The guy thought he was kissing his ex-girlfriend, he reminded himself.
“Clint hasn’t lost his touch,” she announced, which submitted Clint to a round of good-natured jeers.
Give the girl credit. When the ex-football player went back to his seat, Jane recovered beautifully. She flashed a sexy smile, still playing her role.
“The next item for inspection is this Darth Vader figurine.” Jane raised the Star Wars character.
“Who put that thing in?” Clint called out.
“What does it have to do with high school? That’s from middle school or even earlier,” someone pointed out.
“Nothin’.” Steven rose unsteadily to his feet. “It represents the culture of our wasted youth.”
“Wow. Give us a break,” another classmate taunted.
Graham hardly heard the gibes as he watched Steven take the plastic figure from Jane’s hand, and without ceremony grab her, drawing her into his arms. Unlike Clint’s kiss for fun, Steven appeared serious. The other man clasped one hand on Jane’s half-exposed buttocks and secured his mouth firmly on hers in a prolonged lip-lock. Jane squirmed under his insulting contact.
Graham’s fingers gripped the log for about fifteen seconds until he stomached enough. Jumping up, he strode to the fire and grabbed Steven’s collar.
“Get your hands off me.” Steven jerked away from Graham’s grasp.
“You’re out of line, buddy.”
“I’m just sampling the wares like Clint.”
“The lady doesn’t want your attention.”
“Who are you? Her white knight?” Steven’s voice was full of sarcasm.
“Yes,” Graham answered.
“You bastard, you’re just after her yourself.”
Blood roared in Graham’s ears. “That’s no concern of yours, especially since you’re dating her sister.”
“Was dating. Past tense, you bastard.” Steven shoved him. “Hell, just because you’ve made it out of this one horse town, doesn’t mean you can lord it over us.”
At that moment, Clint inserted his two hundred plus pounds between them. “You’re drunk, Ridgeway. Don’t spoil the evening.”
“He’s the spoiler. I was just having a little fun.”
“Call it what you want,” Clint said. “You’re outta here, man.”
The ex-football player grabbed him by the arm and ushered him unceremoniously away from the campfire. Steven wasn’t any match for Clint’s burly body or iron grip.
“You okay?” Graham turned toward Jane. She was visibly shaking.
“Yes.”
In a haze of fury, Graham could hardly hear her breathless reply. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“But the time capsule.”
“The party’s over for us. Jane can take over.”
Graham placed a possessive hand on Jane’s arm and drew her away from the firelight. She came willingly, letting him take her hand and guide her through the darkness to the car.
For whatever reason, Graham couldn’t shake the anger that erupted so swiftly within him. Jane must have sensed it, for she trailed behind him in silence. Unlocking the car door, he opened it for her. Before she slipped into the seat, she turned her doe-like gaze upon him.
Damn her for looking so innocent and sensual at the same time.
“Get in,” he said gruffly.
Jane followed orders and Graham slammed the door. Behind the car, he paused to take a deep breath, and slapped his palm on the top of the trunk. His heart thudded hard. What was wrong with him? Steven was a jerk. Always had been. Nothing new there. It was Jane. Prancing around practically undressed, just asking for trouble. From Dawn he could expect that kind of behavior. He wasn’t sure he could take it from Jane.
Graham made another fist. The rage he felt was more than anger at Steven or Jane. He couldn’t lie to himself, realizing his anger was directed inward. Just a few weeks ago, he vowed never again to be taken in by scheming females. And here he was falling prey to Jane’s curvy little body and guileless eyes. Her game had gone on long enough. It was getting her into trouble and wasn’t cute any longer.
Setting his jaw, Graham continued around to the driver’s side and opened the door.
He slid in. “I’m taking you to Aunt Harriet’s. We need to talk.”
To her embarrassment, Jane couldn’t stop shaking. The combination of the damp fog, her lack of clothing and the heightened tension in the car, puckered goose bumps along her arms and legs. Her teeth chattered.
What could Graham want to talk about? Jane puzzled over his directive for the full twenty-minute ride. The atmosphere in the car was charged with electricity having nothing to do with the sexual awareness that punctuated their earlier trip. Although he didn’t voice it, Jane felt Graham’s anger. Heck, he didn’t need to say he was mad. The way his fingers clutched the steering wheel and his jaw locked firmly in place were enough to clue her into his discontent.
Could he be angry because of the kisses? Was it that male ego thing? Could Graham feel possessive toward her? What an irony if that were the reason. In a day fraught with strangeness, Jane had succeeded in making him jealous.
Correction. Dawn had made him jealous. The implications of the swap caused a new set of shivers to sweep through her body. Had she really believed she could pull this off?
Graham aimed a quick glance her way. “We need to get you warm.” He spoke for the first time.
“That would be nice.” They pulled into Aunt Harriet’s driveway and Graham got out.
He opened the side door and offered his hand. Jane grasped it, and felt an uncanny connection to him. As if they belonged together. Like soul mates.
Yeah, right. Graham was connecting to Dawn. Not to Jane, the “other” sister.
Chagrinned, Jane avoided eye contact when he helped her out of the car. He kept her hand in his, and walked her to the front porch where he unlocked the door and switched on the lights.
Harriet Winchester’s small living room stepped out of the past, comfortable and familiar. Lace dollies draped over the back and arms of a blue print sofa. Colorful throw rugs softened hardwood floors, and a polished antique cabinet displayed the retired teacher’s fine porcelain and crystal. A cozy aroma of cinnamon permeated the room.
“Cowboy cookies?” Jane turned in surprise.
He grinned, his mood seeming to lift. “Harriet baked cookies this morning before she left for Europe.”
“Just like the old days.”
“Yeah, like when we were kids.”
The admission startled Jane, for this was a memory she, Jane, shared with Graham. No one ever caught Dawn snitching cookies from Aunt Harriet’s cookie jar. She’d always feared it would ruin her willowy figure.
Graham must have recognized the difference, for his gaze fastened on hers, his eyes scanning her face as if he tried to read her mind. Jane shuddered in response to the look of bafflement and need. Her body felt extra sensitive.
“You’re still cold.”
“No.” Jane flicked her hair from her eyes. “I mean yes.”
“I have extra Tshirts in the bureau drawer upstairs. Help yourself. I’ll fix us some hot coffee and cookies.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“Go on,” he prompted when she didn’t move. “I don’t want to be accused of causing your death from pneumonia.”
Jane smiled at the attempted joke. His anger with Steven had eased. She sensed it. She had only a few more hours as Dawn, and maybe if she carefully played her part, she’d achieve her goal tonight and seduce Graham into keeping his promise.
Jane lowered her voice and her eyelashes in her best sultry manner. “I�
��d rather you keep me warm.”
Graham frowned. She saw her miscalculation immediately.
“Just go get dry clothes on. I told you we needed to talk.”
Jane fled up the stairs. What had she done to annoy him? This time his aggravation was surely directed at her. Chilled to the bone from her own blunder, she couldn’t stop shaking. She found the guest room and shut the door. Leaning against it, she caught her breath. Now what?
Her options were to confess or to carry on. With her stomach doing flips, Jane slowly crossed the bedroom floor. Beside a double bed covered by a wedding ring quilt, she noticed Graham’s suitcase. She paused a moment to touch its expensive Italian leather.
Graham didn’t belong in Legend any more. He wasn’t going to stick around. If she confessed, she’d miss her only chance. She didn’t know why it meant so much to find out if that night long ago had been a fluke. There was no way sex with any man could be that good. She only knew she still “carried the torch” for Graham, as her mother used to point out. That torch burned brightly for fifteen years, and she was reluctant to put it out until she discovered the truth.
Sighing, Jane pulled open the top drawer of the antique dresser, and found what she was looking for. Men’s plain white, cotton crew neck Tshirts. Size XL. She lifted one out of the drawer, dizzy at the thought of this touching Graham’s buff body. It would be plenty big on her. Big enough to cover the skimpy tank top and long enough to hide her naked bottom.
Jane raised her weary eyes to the oval mirror above the dresser top, and almost fainted at her disheveled reflection. All of Dawn’s careful makeup application was a mess of running eyeliner and smeared lipstick. Her skin glowed bright red from too much sun, and her curls stood in a frizzy rat’s nest from the damp evening fog.
Jane groaned. No man would want her this way—even if he thought she was a famous movie star. She’d probably looked okay by the firelight, but the incandescent light downstairs would show all her faults.
Jane turned her back on the mirror. Now what? She felt sticky from a day of sweating in the heat, and the skin under her breasts ached from the pinching bra Dawn made her wear. To top it all, her hair looked like Albert Einstein’s. She needed a shower. Coffee and cookies would have to wait. She wouldn’t go back downstairs until she returned her body to some semblance of order. Until she once again felt comfortable inside her own skin.
