Lovin' Blue

by Zuri Day

  14

  “Eden.” The big smile on Jansen’s face could be heard in his voice. He waited. Nothing but silence from the other side of the door. “Found a snake instead of a frog this time, huh, little girl?” Still nothing. Jansen tried the door. Locked. He wasn’t surprised. Eden had run out of his room like her pants were on fire, but real-life flames couldn’t have covered the creamy brown cheeks that winked from the bottom of those shorts. Nor could any fireman’s hose douse the ardor that now hardened his shaft. His hastily donned shorts couldn’t hide his desire. Jansen didn’t care. Dare be damned, he wanted Eden Anderson. At this moment, in his mind, all bets were off.

  Jansen leaned against the door. “Eden, open the door.” His voice was low and silky. He mindlessly massaged nine inches of pulsating flesh. “C’mon, now, baby girl. Quit playing.” He waited a beat. And another. “We’re not kids anymore, Eden. And this isn’t about the dare either. Let’s stop denying what we both want. Did you hear me, Eden? I want you, too, all right?”

  Eden sat in the middle of Michael’s bed, chin resting on the hands that cupped her knees. They might not be children anymore, but right now Eden was feeling rather childish. Here she was, a grown-ass woman of thirty-four, acting out a dare, only to have her seduction plans blow up in her face. But one look at Jansen’s glorious dick, swinging between his legs like a Louisville slugger, and rational thought had fled Eden’s head, along with what she thought had been a well-thought-out plan. In her mind, the scenario was supposed to have played out a different way. . . .

  Jansen would walk out of the bathroom, the towel secured firmly around his waist. He’d see her sitting in the middle of the bed and stop, shocked. He’d take in her silky hair, loose and hanging around her shoulders, the creamy orbs teasing above her lacy pink top, and be mesmerized.

  Eden had planned to run her fingers through her hair while looking at Jansen seductively. “You want this,” she’d purr.

  “Yes,” he’d whisper.

  “Well, come and get it.”

  She envisioned Jansen taking one step and then another, crawling onto the bed from the end of it, invoking images of the panther he reminded her of. And just when he reached her, and closed his eyes for a kiss, she’d scamper out of the bed. “I’m not seducing you, am I?” she’d ask, flinging the question over her shoulder as she sauntered to the door. She’d give Jansen a peak of her goodies before walking to her room, falling across her bed and reveling in her victory.

  The reality of what happened hadn’t resembled her vision at all.

  “Eden.” Jansen waited a couple more seconds and then walked away. She heard his footsteps as he walked downstairs.

  After waiting a few more seconds, Eden got off the bed, shed the skimpy pink short set, and donned jeans and a cotton blouse. At six PM, it was still hot outside. Shorts and a tank top would have been more appropriate. But after being exposed to Jansen’s bedroom eyes (and by the teasing manner in his voice, Eden knew he had seen a fair share of her backside), she wanted to cover up as much as possible. Right about now, she would have worn a Quaker’s dress if she’d had one. And put on the bonnet, too! Eden put on earrings, slipped into her sandals, and reached for her purse. She didn’t know where she was going, but she was definitely putting some distance between herself and her temptation. I can’t wait to get out of here. That’s it. I’ll go to the house. If the gods are kind, the contractor will tell me it’s ready and that I can move in tomorrow. Eden was filled with optimism as she bopped down the steps and out the door.

  Four hours later, Eden eased into Michael’s driveway, feeling much better after dining at her favorite eatery, RFD, and taking in an art flick at Laemmle Theatres. She’d thoroughly enjoyed the Swedish flick with English subtitles from Stieg Larsson’s best-selling Millennium trilogy. The movie provided a perfect escape—getting caught up in the thrill of the chase as the heroine in the movie worked to clear herself of a murder charge was exactly what she needed. But thinking of the movie title, The Girl Who Played With Fire, reminded Eden of how she’d done the very same thing just that morning and had almost gotten burned.

  Jansen’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway. Good, he’s gone. Eden smiled. Then she thought of where he could be. Visiting his mother? Hanging with the boys? Or was his snake languishing in someone else’s garden? Eden’s smile faded. She didn’t even want to think of someone else licking on that gigantic Tootsie Roll. “It’s none of your business,” Eden mumbled to herself, opening the door and then locking it behind her. “A few more days, and you’re out of here.” Eden ignored the fact that this thought didn’t make her feel better.

  Eden fixed herself a smoothie, went to her room, and pulled on the pair of safe, cotton pajamas she’d purchased between her home visit and the show. Then she pulled out her phone. She knew she’d missed a couple calls while in the theater and had gotten caught up in an NPR talk show on her way home. Even though it was the weekend, she hoped one of the calls was a potential employer. She’d sent out several résumés over the last few days but so far had no responses. She’d planned financially to handle four to six months without employment, but Eden knew that getting back to work wasn’t just about the money. It was about reestablishing a life for herself and not having so much time on her hands.

  After scrolling through the missed messages, she hit her phone’s fave list. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hey, Eden. What’s up?”

  “Nothing, returning your call.”

  “Oh, I didn’t want much; just checking in. Is Jansen still staying there with you?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because I want to know, that’s why! Don’t get all huffy with me, girl. You’re too grown and too far away for me to put on punishment, but I’m still your mother.” Phyllis chuckled, reveling she wasn’t half as mad as her words implied.

  “I’m sorry for snapping, Mom. It’s been a long day.”

  “What’s been so long about it?”

  Jansen’s snake. “Oh, just preparing to move into my place. I went by there today. Overall it’s looking good, and the new kitchen and master suite will be fabulous. I can’t wait to move!”

  “Why, so you can use your new gourmet stove or so you can get away from a different kind of heat?”

  Eden pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it, puzzled. What was her mother implying? Phyllis Anderson always did have that thing her grandmother called “mother wit”—what others called intuition. As much as she tried to hide her feelings, Eden’s mother always seemed to know what was going on—like when Eden had called, crying, to tell Phyllis she was getting divorced. She couldn’t get the words out. But her mother knew. “You’re better off without him,” she’d said amid her daughter’s tears. Eden’s healing began in that moment.

  But there were moments when Eden didn’t want her mother all up in her business. Now was one of those times. “You’re going to love my range, Mom! It’s self-cleaning, with a grill in the middle, all stainless steel. In fact, my whole kitchen is stainless steel, and my cabinets are this deep red cherry wood. The countertops are black granite. That seems dark, huh? But it really isn’t because the walls are ivory, and there is track lighting. It looks like a kitchen you’d see on HGTV!” Eden knew she was rambling but hoped mentioning one of Phyllis’s favorite shows would throw her off the Jansen track.

  “Sounds like you might be planning some romantic meals for two,” Phyllis continued in that calm, I’m-your-mother-and-I-know-it-all voice. “Do I know him?”

  “Okay, Mom. Obviously you’re getting at something. Out with it.”

  “I talked to Kathryn today. She said Jansen stopped by the house and mentioned how fine you’d gotten over the years. Told her you weren’t the weed he used to tease back in the day. Kathryn said he had that look in his eye when he was talking about you, like he was digging you or something. Is Michael’s best friend getting ready to be my son-in-law?”

  “Mom! Are you serious? Jansen tells his mother I’m cut
e, and you think it’s time to shop for a dress with a veil?”

  “For something that’s no big deal, to hear you tell it, you’re getting pretty riled up.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are, too.”

  Eden bit her lip to end the argument. She was getting riled up, and she knew why. She was trying to convince herself that Jansen was just an old acquaintance who happened to be her brother’s best friend. A guy with whom she had no personal feelings or romantic connection. The guy from whom Eden would be glad to put some distance, except Eden knew it was closer to, not farther from, Jansen that she’d like to be.

  “I’m kinda surprised you and Jansen never dated,” Phyllis continued in the same casual tone as one would use to discuss the weather. “He’s always been a good-looking boy. And while I know he was wild back in the day, I always thought he had a good heart. It’s been almost five years since your divorce, Eden, and in that time I’ve rarely heard you mention a man’s name. Now, maybe Jansen isn’t the one, but I think it’s time you entertained the idea of having a serious relationship again.”

  “Mom, I—”

  “I know, Eden. It’s hard to put your heart out there again, to risk being hurt or rejected. But the possible rewards outweigh those risks. You’re still young, vibrant, a lot of life ahead of you. Don’t you want to spend it with someone? Have children? I never thought I’d be almost sixty years old and still waiting for my first grandchild!”

  “Michael’s older than me,” Eden readily countered, jumping at the chance to take Phyllis’s mind off her daughter’s single status. “I think he’s the one you should be talking to about settling down.”

  “When he gets back here, maybe I will. But it’s you on the phone right now. I want to see you happy, baby. And while it’s true that you don’t need a man to enjoy life, they can be pretty nice to have around. Especially a caramel candy like Jansen.”

  “Mom!”

  “Kathryn e-mailed me a recent picture of him.” Eden listened, speechless. “Honey, if I had a little cougar in me, I’d go after that boy myself!”

  “Mom! Okay, really, this is too much information . . . okay?”

  “Okay, baby,” Phyllis said, laughing. “I guess I’ve shocked my daughter enough for one day. But because your mouth is already open, let me drop one last tidbit before you close it.”

  Eden closed her eyes. “I’m almost afraid to hear it.”

  “I’ve met a man. We’re dating.”

  Eden’s eyes widened. Had she heard correctly? As far as she knew, her mother hadn’t dated anybody since her divorce years ago. Her father had gotten married two years later to the woman with whom her mother believed he had been having an affair. But Phyllis had seemed content to work, hit the casinos every now and then, and take care of Grandma. Phyllis Anderson? Dating? It was all too much.

  “Eden, are you still there?”

  “Yes, Mom, I’m still here. I guess you can tell I’m shocked.”

  “Me, too!” Phyllis chuckled and shared a bit about her beau with her daughter.

  Eden relaxed as her mother recounted how she’d met Larry Bates and how their meeting for coffee at Starbucks had turned into a date that lasted five hours. Eden walked downstairs as she listened, laughing as her mother described trying to get into a Spanx Bodysuit for their second date, and how her refrigerator was now full of Jenny Craig, Lean Cuisine, and flavored water.

  “You sound happy, Mom,” Eden said sincerely as she leaned against the counter and munched on a bowl of grapes.

  “I am, Eden. Maybe that’s why you and Michael have been so on my mind lately. I want you both to find your mates and be happy, too.”

  Eden’s response was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

  “Is that Jansen?” Phyllis asked as if she could see through Eden’s eyes.

  “Yes.” All the tension that yoga had worked out of her body came back full force and settled around Eden’s shoulders. It’s just Germy Jansen, she told herself. No big deal.

  “Then, baby, I’d better let you go.”

  “No, that’s all . . .” The rest of the sentence died on Eden’s lips as she realized the call had ended. She turned to find Jansen staring at her and knew for certain that things between the two of them were about to change.

  15

  “Hey.” Jansen breathed the word into the atmosphere. His deep brown eyes were almost black with unveiled desire, drinking her in like water. There was no teasing in his tone. Instead the word held warmth and promise. Jansen noted that striped cotton pj’s had replaced the lacy pink number he’d seen earlier that day. But it didn’t matter. Changing the wrapping didn’t stop Jansen from imagining what was underneath. What he’d seen . . . and felt. . . .

  “Hey.” Eden’s voice was low and soft. She felt shy and vulnerable, like the fourteen-year-old who used to watch with puppy-dog eyes as he strode up and down the basketball court. She used to stare at his picture in her brother’s yearbooks and even daydreamed about their being together, married and everything. But those were fantasies, nothing more. Eden knew it would do her well to keep this in mind. Especially since Jansen stood there looking like “oh, my goodness” and “Lord, have mercy” rolled into one. The black jeans hugged his legs and emphasized their length, while the beige silk shirt caressed his muscles and brought out the bronze tone of his skin.

  “I think we need to talk.”

  “Me, too.”

  Jansen walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. “You want some water or juice or something?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “No, I’m good.” Eden took her bowl of grapes into the living room and sat in the black leather recliner that sat adjacent to the couch.

  Jansen plopped down on the couch, unscrewed the cap from his bottle of beer, and took a long swallow. “Dang, Eden, I’m not going to bite you. Why don’t you come over here so I can hear you?”

  “This room isn’t that big. I’m fine right here.”

  Jansen shrugged his shoulders and took another swig of beer. Then he sat up and put the bottle down. “Okay, little garden, it’s like this. I’m digging you. And this isn’t about the dare, or me being competitive, or none of that. This is about me acknowledging that I have a thing for you, and that I’d like to take you out.”

  “A date?”

  “Yeah, you know—dinner and a movie, concert, or stroll on the beach.”

  Eden had been prepared to discuss the little tryst that had happened that morning, even seeing Jansen à la nude. But she hadn’t expected declarations of “digging her,” much less to be asked out on a date. And how had her mother been so on the money with her suggestion to consider going out with him? Either Phyllis Anderson was turning into Miss Cleo, or Jansen had told his mother more than Phyllis had shared.

  “Jansen . . . you know that’s not us.”

  “Oh, here we go with the you’re-like-a-brother-to-me routine?”

  “Well . . . you are!”

  “Am I really, Eden? You have the same thoughts about Michael that you have about me?”

  “Hell, no!” The outburst happened before Eden could stop it.

  The merest of smiles scampered across Jansen’s face. His eyes sparkled. “So what kind of thoughts do you have about me that are different than ones you’d think for your brother?”

  “I’ve never seen my brother’s . . . I’ve never seen Michael naked before, for one. Well, not since we were, like, six and nine years old and both had the chicken pox.”

  “I’ve seen you naked, too, you know.”

  Eden’s head shot up. “Excuse me?”

  “I have,” Jansen said laughing. “Now, I wasn’t a peeping tom or nothing, but one time I saw you getting out of the shower. You must have been twelve, thirteen years old.”

  “What? I don’t believe you, Jansen. There’s no way you would have seen my booty and not teased me about it.”

  “Yeah, well, believe it. I’d come into the house looking for Mike. I
called out, but nobody answered. That’s when I heard the shower running. I thought it was Mike and started to walk into the bathroom. You’d just gotten out of the shower and were toweling off. I caught myself before saying anything and backed out of the room.”

  “You. Are. Lying.”

  “Swear to God, Eden. I didn’t tease you, because it messed with me, to be honest. Here I was a fifteen-, sixteen-year-old player, or so I thought, getting turned on by my friend’s kid sister? That shit surprised me, I’m not going to lie. But you were standing there, all smooth and creamy, little dimples winking from the top of that round backside. . . .” What Jansen didn’t tell her was that he’d had to go home and relieve the hard-on that instantly resulted from seeing Eden’s ass. He’d had to do the same this morning.

  “Jansen!” He had seen her. Eden did have dimples just above her rump, dimples that the boy shorts had covered. “You pervert!”

  “You were beautiful then,” Jansen replied, once again serious and sexy. “And you’re even more beautiful now.”

  Eden studied the handsome face of the man in front of her, a man she’d known almost her whole life. “How do I know you’re serious, that this isn’t some standard line you’ve used a million times to talk women out of their panties?”