by Joan Reeves
"Oh, and what better man to select for this lesson than the one you loved who betrayed you? After what you've told me, I must admit that he had it coming. It's just a plus that he's so damned hot." Alva giggled. "So how did you go about this moral lesson?"
"I kind of led him to believe that I had feelings of inadequacy. I asked him to help me conquer my sexual inhibitions," Jennifer looked away and finished in a mumble, "kind of be my sexual tutor."
Alva burst into laughter. "Only a man would fall for that crap. So you decided to turn him on, tie him in knots, and toss him out on his ear when I arrived to break up the intimate tutoring session. Right?"
"Something like that."
"Well, that still doesn't explain why you were doing the lateral mambo on your living room couch. How far had you gone when I rescued you?"
"We'd just kissed," Jennifer mumbled, not wanting to discuss the afternoon's events with Alva. Talking about ancient history was one thing, but this was too fresh.
"Then I'd say you're in big trouble, Jen. If I had been five minutes late, you'd have been minus your panties."
"I know," Jennifer mumbled gloomily. "I don't know how things got out of control. One minute I was teasing him, and the next, I wanted him so much I ached. I've never felt this way before, Alva."
"You're in over your head. Sounds to me as if that puppy love you had for him has matured into the adult kind with lots of lust added in."
Jennifer was afraid to even consider what Alva said. The prospect was too frightening.
"So what are you going to do now?"
Jennifer walked over and looked out the patio doors that opened onto a balcony. "Stay as far away from him as possible."
"You know, from the little I've seen of Matt, I'd never have thought he was the type to trade boasts with somebody like Wyman." Alva shrugged.
"I must admit that you do have a point, but then in high school, I wouldn't have thought he was the type to take a bet like that and then spread lies about me."
"Well, people do change. He was only a kid, and kids do dumb things. Especially kids afflicted with testosterone." Alva sighed. "Even if you wanted to see him again, you'd always run the risk that he might recognize you. You'd have to watch every reference you made to your youth. If you introduced him to your mother, you'd have to make her promise not to tell. You'd have to lie about where you went to high school. Sheesh! You sure created a mess when you decided to get your revenge."
"You're telling me." Jennifer was more depressed than ever after hearing Alva's assessment.
"Well, I need to run along, Jen." She hugged Jennifer. "Don't take it so hard. Maybe he'll never recognize you as that girl."
Jennifer laughed for the first time. "Sometimes I'm surprised my own mother recognizes me. If you could have seen me in high school, you'd know what I mean. Glasses, long hair with long bangs covering my eyebrows. About the only similarity is my bust size."
"That in itself should be pretty memorable if that was all he was interested in."
"Obviously not."
"Why don't you call him and explain everything. Make it sound funny, like a joke. I'm sure he would understand."
"Would you understand if somebody did something like that to you?"
"No, but then I'm not a horny man after your bod. You know, I've often wondered. Do you think gynecologists know special things about pleasing a woman?"
Jennifer didn't know how Matt measured up, so to speak, in bed. She didn't think she could stand to even think about it. But she knew when it came to kissing, the man was a master. "Alva, you're impossible. Go home."
"Well, if worse comes to worse, you can always use some of the techniques written about in that book of erotica. If I remember correctly, chapter nineteen should do the trick." She winked. "Confess everything, then follow up with the whipped cream."
Chapter 7
Matt tapped his gold pen against the file that lay open on his desk. Daydreaming about the subject of the file, he tilted back in his black leather chair and propped his feet on the cluttered desktop. The dry facts listed in the file couldn't begin to describe the Jennifer Monroe with whom he'd become acquainted.
Other than the address of her next of kin, her parents who lived east of Dallas, the file hadn't told him anything new. He already knew that she was healthy, not overweight, and her approximate height. Oh, and she liked to fish, he thought. How rare to find a woman who enjoyed that.
Restless and more than a bit sexually frustrated last night, he'd lain awake, thinking about Jennifer. The shape of her lips as she nibbled on the ripe strawberries. The breathless way she spoke when desire glazed her eyes. And he knew desire when he saw it. He groaned. The taste of her mouth when he kissed her. He knew all that and more about her. In fact, he probably recognized aspects of her personality that she wasn't consciously aware of. Like her sensual nature.
Everything in her home pointed to a passionate personality that delighted in anything that appealed to the senses. The rich, vibrant colors. The lustrous gold, deep burgundy, dark emerald, the jasmine scent that seemed to float on the air, the soft sexy music in the background, the pleasing textures of velvet and damask, linen and silk.
Then, the most revealing evidence of all. The way she savored a glass of wine or the sweetness of a strawberry, the way she seemed to try to absorb his touch through her skin. He found himself getting aroused just thinking about her. Did she revel in the senses at home because she had to be so conservative and professional in appearance for her career? Or was it an over-compensation for the sexual repression she said she felt though he was beginning to wonder about that. At least he was in the sane moments when he was away from her.
Could it be possible that he was the first man who'd ever unleashed the sensuality of her nature? If that wasn't true, what possible reason could she have for lying to him?
He'd bet that her bedroom was a true sybaritic experience. One he'd willingly share, he thought, sighing. But as much as he desired her, he also enjoyed the gleam of intelligence in her eyes. Dumb women had never appealed to him. He couldn't understand how some men like his buddy Kevin could go to bed with a woman they couldn't have a conversation with outside the bedroom.
He yawned. When he'd finally fallen asleep, Jennifer had come to him as he'd slumbered. The buzzing alarm had pulled him from a breathless dream in which he'd been rolling around a strawberry patch with Jennifer. His yawn widened into a grin as he remembered the erotic fantasy.
Fortunately, Sylvia had returned early from her trip and was in the office to see patients today. Since his own patient load was relatively light, he was finished for the day.
He closed Jennifer's chart since staring at it didn't provide him with any answers to his problem. He wanted to see her again, but he didn't want her to think that he was only interested in sex. Sure, he wanted that, but he didn't want her to think that he only wanted to pick up where they'd left off. Okay, he did want to do that, but he wanted more than that from a relationship with her. Matt frowned, trying to identify what else he wanted. He didn't know if he liked the answer he came up with.
Matt swung his feet to the floor. What it all added up to was that he had to come up with a legitimate reason to phone her. So be creative, he thought, standing and pacing. Think of something she won't say no to. Even though she had seemed receptive to his calling her, he had to have a contingency plan in case she might regret what had happened between them.
Yesterday, she had responded to him, wildly in fact, but if she truly feared intimacy, then what had happened might scare her off. Though she'd said she wanted him to help her overcome her sexual repression, she probably hadn't intended for them to have such a hands-on approach. Again, he wondered how she could ever think she was repressed?
What if she didn't want to see him again? He shouldn't have waited so long to call her. He'd given her too much time to think about the incident. In fact, the longer he waited, the firmer her resolve to avoid him might grow. He couldn't let th
at happen.
Damn it, she just had to see him again. Matt thought long and hard, trying to figure out some excuse that sounded completely legitimate. Out of desperation, he opened the web browser on his iPhone and started checking out local events to see if there was anything going on that he could ask her to attend with him.
A concert by The Killers? No, she'd been playing classical music yesterday. Carrie Underwood? Would someone who liked classical also like a country chart topper? Hmmm. He kept looking. About the only thing he saw that could conceivably be something of interest to both of them both was an exhibit at the North Dallas Institute of Feminist Studies. Enslavement: A Woman's Perspective. Surely, as a psychologist and a woman, that might be the kind of thing she'd want to attend. And it was open until ten tonight. He just hoped it wasn't one of those male bashing things some women seemed so fond of. Still, for the chance to see Jennifer again, he could endure a little male bashing if necessary. No admission or reservations were required, only a donation at the door. Perfect for an impromptu date.
Matt punched in Jennifer's office number. Maybe she'd see him as a liberated guy, secure in his own masculinity, he thought smugly, not some Neanderthal throwback who was only interested in one thing from a woman.
Her receptionist told him that Jennifer was with a patient. After all that agonizing, he was forced to leave a message. "Ask her to call me back when she has time please." He gave the woman his mobile number. Impatiently, he waited, killing time until two hours had passed. When Jennifer still hadn't called, he dialed again, but got only the receptionist. Sighing, he told her, "Just tell Jennifer I called again today." Frustrated, he turned off the light and left his office.
* * *
Cathy Zelig hung up the phone. "I've got to give that guy credit. He doesn't give up easy."
"Who are you talking about?" Jennifer asked, coming out from the inner office, with her briefcase in hand.
"That Dr. Penrose."
"Matt called?"
"Matt?" Cathy's delicately-arched brows shot up nearly to her carefully-dyed strawberry blond hair line. "So it's Matt now, is it?"
Jennifer blushed and busied herself with picking up her appointment calendar from Cathy's desk. She frowned and flipped through it, as if she were looking for something important. "I meant Dr. Penrose. Why didn't you put his call through?" She asked nonchalantly.
"Why?" Cathy sputtered. "Last week you told me that you never wanted to speak to the man. Remember? You asked me to lie for you."
"Oh, that," Jennifer said lamely. "Well, if he calls again," she cleared her throat and tried to sound casual, "put him through. Did he leave a message?"
"He told me to tell you he had called."
Jennifer's upbeat mood sank. She'd never thought to tell Cathy that Matt was in her good graces now. And here she'd waited all day for him to call.
"Sorry. Did I goof? Do you want me to call him back?"
"No, you didn't goof. Don't bother calling him back." She paused, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. Then she sighed, "Maybe it's for the best."
He had done his duty by calling. Maybe it was best if she let the whole incident slide by. She hadn't used very good judgment. Certainly not mature judgment in what she'd done in luring him to her home. He probably thought he could crook his finger, and she'd slide between the sheets with him. It would serve her right if he thought he could nail her without any of the usual effort such as wining and dining, sending her flowers, and all that.
Depressed at her thoughts, she decided to go on home as she'd intended and enjoy the evening with her parents for their weekly dinner together. She looked at her watch. They'd probably already arrived and used the house key she'd given them to let themselves in to her condo.
"Goodnight, Cathy." She turned and walked away. Before she got to the elevator, she halted. Damn. She whirled and raced back to her office. "If Matt calls back, give him my cell number," she told her surprised secretary.
She didn't wait for Cathy's incredulous reply. She felt enough like a fool without seeing that thought written on Cathy's face.
Jennifer drove straight home. Maybe her parents would take her mind off Matt. Almost every Monday night during football season, her mother showed up with dinner packed in a big picnic hamper, as if Jennifer only ate a good meal when she brought one. Jennifer grinned fondly. They'd eat then she and her Mom would talk while Dad watched the game on television.
Sometimes her mother brought dessert. Other times she whipped something up in Jennifer's kitchen. Then at half time, they'd eat the sweet concoction.
Maybe her mom had brought her special pound cake. She could use a big slab of cake tonight. With a scoop of Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream on top and a big drizzle of chocolate syrup. Jennifer sighed. Alva was right. She was in a rut, a comfortable rut. But suddenly, the sameness of her days made her restless for more in her life. Even comfortable ruts could be claustrophobic.
When she finally pulled into her parking lot, she saw her parents white Chevy Suburban SUV. With resolve, she consigned her discontent to the back of her mind and hurried in.
The smell of fried chicken greeted her when she opened the door. "Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. I'm home," she called, locking the front door behind her.
"Jenny, come give me a hug," her dad called from the couch.
She removed her black coat and hung it in the small closet by the door then walked into the living room.
Ed Monroe was stretched out on the sofa with the velvet throw pillows beneath his head.
Jennifer bent down and kissed him on the cheek. "Looks like you've settled in for the night." Fondly, she tweaked his nose.
"He has," Ronnie Monroe said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she came in from the kitchen.
Jennifer hugged her mother. "Is that fried chicken I smell?"
Her mother nodded. "Dinner's ready. Do you want to change first or go ahead and eat?"
"I think I'd like to put on something warm and comfy. Give me a few minutes, okay?"
Her mom nodded and settled on the edge of the couch next to Ed. "Take your time, Jenny. I'll pester your father for a while."
Jennifer grinned when she saw her mother lean down and kiss her father. Her dad reached up and cupped her mother's face. That's what she wanted, she thought wistfully. But true love had eluded her so far. She'd only found tepid relationships that ended with the same whimper with which they'd begun.
Her mother hadn't found lasting love the first time around either. Instead, Ronnie had found herself seventeen and pregnant. The boy, Jennifer's father, refused to acknowledge that he'd fathered Ronnie's baby.
Once again, Jennifer thanked the powers that be for Ed Monroe. He'd fallen in love with Veronica Thornhill and hadn't minded that a precocious teenager came with the attractive blonde. He'd never pressured Jennifer to accept him as a father. He'd just tried to be a friend to her. In so doing, he'd become the best dad any girl could ever have.
Jennifer kicked off her black ankle strap heels and peeled off the sheer black hosiery. Then she traded her black skirt suit for an old pair of gray sweat pants and one of her dad's old chambray shirts. She pulled on a pair of thick white athletic socks and grinned at herself in the mirror. What a different ensemble from yesterday's seduction outfit.
"Okay, let's eat," she said, walking toward the kitchen. "I'm starved." Though she'd seen her parents last week, she still found plenty to talk about with them. The one thing she omitted though was her run-in with Matt Penrose.
"Pass the mashed potatoes, Jenny," Ed said.
Jennifer handed him the big bowl full of buttery potatoes. "Dad, are we all set for the weekend?"
"You bet. Your mom and I are going down to the lake house Friday. I need to pick up the boat motor at the shop in Mabank. They worked on the carburetor and said the old Evinrude is like new. Maybe we won't get stuck out in the middle of the lake this time."
"Well, I hope they're right. The water's a bit cool to be swimming to the bank this
time of year," her mother said.
"If we get stranded again, I'll let you swim for it this time, Veronica," Ed said, a twinkle in his eye.
"Shoot! Not me. I'll sit there until someone comes looking for us."
Jennifer listened to their good-natured sniping and again thought about what was missing in her life. Affectionately, she grinned at them. "Did you enter the tournament again, Dad?"
"Well, I didn't want to, but your mother made me."
Ronnie hit him on the arm. "Made you? Why, you liar." To Jennifer, she said, "He entered you too, dear. He's positive one of you can land that striped bass you tried to catch last summer and win the trophy."
"Hey," Ed said, "They can keep the trophy. It's that ten thousand dollar grand prize I want to come home with. There's a motor home I've got my eye on. That prize money will be a nice down payment."
Jennifer patted his arm and started clearing the table. "Well, you might win this time, Dad. I'm going to ask Alva and her friend Bill Dixon to come up for the weekend if that's all right?"
"Sure. We always enjoy seeing Alva. She and your mother can keep each other company."
Jennifer smiled. "That's what I thought too. And her friend Bill is a fisherman so he'll go in the boat with us."
"Sounds good." Ed rose and finished clearing while Jennifer and her mother began loading the dishwasher. "Bring anyone you want, Jenny. You know we've got plenty of room."
After they'd finished, Jennifer and her dad went to the living room while her mother looked through the pantry and refrigerator for ingredients to make dessert.
Jennifer started to sit on the floor next to the couch when her eyes fell on the books on the coffee table. She'd forgotten to remove them yesterday. Peering at her dad from the corner of her eye, she wondered if he and her mother had looked through them. She hid her smile. She'd be willing to bet they had.
Without saying anything, she left her dad to the pre-game program and picked the books up. She carried them to her book-lined study and stacked them on the table next to the sage green damask chaise. Sighing contentedly, she climbed onto the chaise and plumped up the fringed pillows and lay back.
