Follow the white pebbles

by Lillian Summers

  Justin pressed the interphone button to talk to the chauffeur as the gates to the property slid open. “Take me around to the back, would you?”

  He badly needed a hot shower to relax his strained muscles and then to change into a tux suitable for the black tie occasion. Maybe he’d find Jimmy in their apartment.

  He was disappointed when he didn’t. There was only a faint scent he couldn’t recognize, the reminiscent aroma of perfume. His sister must have dragged his wife out of hiding. Frustration heated his temples, and he strode to the shower to cool off.

  Ten minutes later he was walking down the corridor toward the reception room. A gust of voices and classical music blasted him as soon as he opened the double doors. His father was standing just yards away with Amanda holding onto his arms, happily supervising the crowd.

  “Justin,” Marcus called out merrily, staring at him with a gaze slightly glazed by one too many glasses of champagne. “Glad you made it back in time.”

  “Hi, Mom. Happy birthday, Dad.” Justin gave him a short embrace, patting him on the back.

  “Don’t even say it.” Marcus shook his head. “My poor heart is growing too old to bear the thought that I have to count so many birthdays.”

  “Well, you’ll have to get accustomed to it someday. You know the saying, there’s no cure just yet for the common birthday.” Justin smiled.

  “True, true.” Marcus pursed his lips. “But you know that other saying. You can’t avoid growing old, but growing up is optional. You didn’t sign up for that one.”

  Justin arched a questioning eyebrow. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

  Marcus took a small sip of his drink, staring at his son over the rim of his champagne flute. “Because you remain crude at mind, still unable to figure out which is an ugly duckling, and which one is going to grow into a beautiful swan,” he answered. “Cheers!” He raised his glass then steered his wife away, leaving Justin behind him, open-mouthed with confusion.

  “What do you mean, Dad?” Justin called out. His voice was swallowed by the surrounding chatter and his question went unheard. Oh, well, he mused. The champagne must have gone to his father’s head.

  He started sweeping the crowd with his gaze. Jimmy was nowhere to be seen. Then again, why would he expect her to be indoors, mingling with these people? She was probably curled up on a seat by the pool or lying on a thick branch of an old oak, her leg dangling in the air, swinging back and forward in a rhythm she alone understood.

  “Looking for someone, brother?” Krissie’s crystalline voice caressed his ears.

  He turned his head and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Uh-huh. I’m looking for my wife,” he answered.

  “She’s right there.” Krissie tipped her chin slightly to point forward.

  There was a subtle tone of pride that didn’t escape Justin’s attention, but he dismissed it, eager to look in the direction she had indicated.

  He could only see a cluster of elegant guests, a few men and women from the high society who had rounded up for small talk, most probably chattering about the weather forecast, celebrities gossip and fashion trends.

  “Where?” he asked with impatience.

  “Right there.” She pointed again toward the same spot.

  He raised his chin to gaze between the bodies that clustered together. Jimmy was nowhere to be seen.

  “Krissie,” he snapped, leveling an irritated glare at her.

  She bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a smile. “Hey, Jimmy,” she called out, ignoring her brother.

  One of the women from the group turned her head to look. Glorious mahogany locks streamed over her shoulders, caressing them. She saw Justin and slowly whirled on the heels on her shoes until she fully faced him.

  He gasped. “Oh, my God!”

  There was so much vulnerability in her exotic, amber eyes when she looked at him. Justin’s heart leaped painfully in his chest. She was a Madeline thirty years younger, the queen of all queens, so beautiful and fragile, wearing a shimmering dress that hugged her voluptuous lines. A child in a woman’s body.

  “The ugly duckling always turns into a beautiful swan,” Krissie murmured next to his ear then walked away with leisurely steps, without looking back.

  Lizzie drew her upper lip between her teeth and took a few tentative steps toward her husband. He looked breathtakingly handsome in his tux, oblivious to the fact that his bow was slightly crooked. But what a sexy imperfection. God, how much she’d missed him. And how she dreaded his reaction. He was staring at her with unreadable eyes, not moving to close the distance. Just waiting for her to bridge the chasm between them.

  She started walking toward him. His gaze was locked on her in fascination, following her every move. She was staggering on her stilettos, and each step was taking more of her concentration. Her left ankle twisted awkwardly when she was just a couple of feet away, and she lost balance, landing in his arms.

  “Damn things,” she muttered miserably, looking down at her high heels. “I think I’ll need nine lifetimes like a cat to get used to them.”

  Her gaze stopped at the level of his bow just as her face turned pink. The helpless expression of a frightened deer took hold of her features.

  He caught her chin between his fingers and gently tipped it up.

  “Look at me,” he murmured.

  She blinked fast a few times, biting hard on her upper lip.

  “Look at me,” he repeated.

  Her eyes finally left his bow alone and gazed straight into his eyes. Eyes of blue sapphire. Burning into hers with an intensity she couldn’t withstand. She tried to pull away from the grasp of his fingers. He didn’t let go.

  “How did you do that?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  She suddenly forgot about her vulnerabilities and frowned. “Don’t you dare say a damn word about the swan or I’ll…”

  “I won’t.” He stopped her tirade, tipping his head to one side to look at the soft column of her neck and at her naked shoulders. “You don’t’ really look like one, anyway. Your neck is not that long.”

  She sighed with relief. “I didn’t do a damn thing,” she finally replied to his question. “Your sister got it into her head to torture me. This week was living hell, take my word for it. You don’t wanna know and I wouldn’ tell you anyway,” she corrected. “It’s so damn humiliatin’. She also made me promise I wouldn’ swear anymore.”

  He grinned. “And?”

  “I’m workin’ on it,” she shrugged.

  Justin let go of her chin at last. “So, why did you do it?” he asked.

  The question splashed her with a cold shower, making her shiver. Not that she didn’t expect it. It was just that she’d been thinking and tossing in bed every night for a plausible answer she could feed him when he’d ask. There was none.

  “Dunno,” she muttered, averting her gaze once again.

  She did know… For her to undergo such a transformation there must have been a major reason that went against all her beliefs and her upbringing, all she had cared for during eighteen years. Krissie couldn’t have convinced her to change even if she’d held a knife to her throat, because all she’d have gotten in response would have been the heel of a boot in her jaw. Jimmy Winters had been born a fighter. Justin smiled inwardly. There was no way on earth that he would let go before finding the answer.

  “Come with me,” he said, taking her hand in his.

  “Where we’re goin’?” she asked, but didn’t oppose any resistance.

  “I want to dance with you,” he answered and pulled her gently through the double doors out of the reception room and along the corridor toward the back entrance.

  The pool was shimmering azure blue, lit from within and surrounded by small lanterns hung from tall, slim poles.

  “But there’s no music here.”

  She looked at him disconcerted. Then she understood. He wouldn’t dance with her. It was just a silly joke he’d made to get her
away from the crowd, God only knew why.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him, holding her right hand into his.

  She gasped.

  His scent invaded her senses, a subtle aroma she couldn’t define, making her head spin. A scent that permeated her skin and sank to her core, making her melt into his arms.

  He started moving with her in a pacifying rhythm, as if a slow song wafted from invisible speakers, then tipped his head down to brush his lips very close to her ear. So close, she felt his warm breath tickle the sensitive skin of her neck, sending incandescent flames down her spine.

  “So, let’s play a game of Truth or Dare,” he murmured.

  She looked up at him confused. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  He bit back a smile. “We ask questions one to another in turn. Assuming you have asked me a question, I have the option to answer the question truthfully or decline. If I choose to decline, then I must perform a dare of your choice. The rule is that you can repeat or rephrase the question when your turn comes again, but you are not allowed to repeat the dare,” he explained.

  She pondered the proposal for a little while. That was a double edged sword he was handing to her to hold by the blade. He had already asked one of the dangerous questions. Then again, she could choose the dare, and she had a few questions of her own to ask as well.

  “Okay.” She nodded.

  “Ladies first,” he invited.

  She flirted for a moment with the idea of attacking head on. But that would mean laying her heart on the table.

  “How was your week?” she asked the most banal question she could think of.

  “Like yours,” he said. “Living hell. Although I didn’t have to go to beauticians, hairdressers, couturiers and God knows what other torturers you had to visit. By the way, this game is about asking embarrassing or intimate questions. My turn now.”

  She paled.

  “How was your first kiss?” he brushed his mouth once more past her ear at a hair’s breadth distance.

  A memory of his lips touching hers on their wedding day flashed through her mind, just as vivid and charged with emotion as the feeling itself had been back then.

  “It was the best thing ever,” she said, smiling at the thought.

  He felt a pang of disappointment biting at his heart. If her first kiss had been that good, she’ll probably consider his kiss like a second rated experience.

  “When did you fall in love for the first time?” she asked.

  “Uhmmm… when I was in kindergarten,” Justin replied. “You’re wasting your precious opportunities with decent questions, I hope you know that,” he warned, pulling her closer to him. His had been decent too, but only for starters.

  The heat of his body slipped through the thin fabric of her dress, sending her head in a spin.

  “My turn again,” he murmured in her ear. “How long since you’ve been intimate with a man?” he asked.

  She suddenly turned stiff in his arms. “I… it’s been a very long time,” she struggled to push the words out, breaking the rhythm of their slow movement without thinking.

  Justin tensed a little. He had touched a sensitive chord, he could tell. Maybe her first love, or her best. Whatever the cause of her withdrawal, he wasn’t going to push it. He rested his cheek against her temple and closed his eyes, inhaling the lilac scent of her hair while he coiled a soft lock around his finger. Her body started to relax against his after a little while, and just as he was about to apologize he heard a little chuckle coming from beneath his chin.

  “My turn now, if I’m not wrong,” she said, her voice triumphant.

  “Sure, go ahead,” he invited.

  She looked up at him, a mischievous smile curling her lips. “You said, no more damn decent questions, didn’t you?” She didn’t give him time to answer and started twittering again. “That day, the first Friday after we got married… Kate Pearce paid you a visit at your office.”

  He froze.

  “Tell me, is it true that when your mom called you, you were just about to screw Kate?” She stopped dancing to stare mercilessly at him.

  He blinked a couple of times. “I’ll take the dare,” he said.

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Jump in the damn pool,” she issued the command.

  He dipped his hand inside his pocket. “Hold this for me, would you?” He placed his cell phone in her hand then dived head on into the azure blue water.

  “Omigosh! You’re crazy.” She covered her hand with her fanned-out fingers and burst out laughing.

  “No. Just compliant.” He resurfaced, lifting himself on the edge of the pool. The next moment he was standing up, water heavily dripping from his clothes and pooling at his feet. “Where were we?” he asked, pulling her back in his arms as if nothing had happened.

  She lifted her chin to stare up at him. His hair clung in wet tendrils as black as the night that engulfed the wilderness, and streams of water ran down his forehead, spraying little droplets on his thick eyelashes on their way down to his cheeks. God, he was gorgeous. The wetness of his tuxedo slipped through her dress, making her flinch at its coolness.

  “You soaked me,” she complained, yet she didn’t pull away.

  “You tried to drown me,” he countered.

  Her eyes narrowed once more. “The hell I did. It was your damn stallion urge that did it. And you were married to me, dammit. You know I could divorce you for that, huh?”

  He threw his head back and burst out in a peal of laughter. “Whoa, not that fast,” he exclaimed. “My dive doesn’t count as an admission of liability. My turn now. Let’s see…” He kept staring at her unashamedly amused, nibbling at his upper lip. “How do you feel about me?” he asked suddenly.

  She stared blankly at him, forgetting to move her feet. “I’ll take the dare,” she said.

  His gaze searched hers for a moment, penetrating and intense then dropped to her lips.

  “Kiss me,” he murmured.

  “What?” she gasped.

  He slid a finger underneath her chin and tipped it upward until once again his burning gaze bored into hers.

  “Kiss me,” he repeated.

  Her fingers dug into his wet tuxedo as she tried to stop her heart from thumping its way out of her chest in utter panic.

  “I… do you mean… like…” she stuttered miserably.

  “I mean like this,” he said.

  His knuckles brushed against her cheek, sending a bolt of awareness through her stiff body. He bent his head down until his mouth was a whisper away from hers. Her heart drummed in her ears as his lips drew on her contours in a slow, enticing caress as if he wanted to forever imprint them in his memory. He savored the moment, refusing to hurry, waiting for her to respond.

  “Kiss me back,” he murmured against her lips, and only then did she remember to breathe.

  Her lips parted on their own volition, taking in the feel of him, the magnetic call that whispered through her body and spread insidiously throughout her bloodstream.

  He delved inside the warm recesses of her mouth, sensuously coaxing her to respond. She slowly relaxed in his arms, drinking in his vibrant, sensual scent, responding to his kiss with passion and reverence all at once. His mouth kept slanting over hers in an arousing rhythm that left them breathless and clinging to one another.

  When he finally lifted his head and looked at her, she saw stark hunger smoldering in his eyes. Her heart kept thundering so hard, she felt her knees were going to buckle.

  “I think I need to go get changed.” She hastily peeled away from him, shaking like a leaf.

  His hungry gaze followed her as she almost ran through the back entrance and slammed the door behind her. She had responded to his kiss with passion and heat. He had felt the almost palpable desire that had washed over and through her like a raging firestorm. There was no doubt she wanted him. And she was going to be his.

  “What on earth have you done?” Krissie’s voice startle
d him.

  “I took a bath,” he shrugged, an absent expression plastered over his face.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Krissie took a step closer, scrutinizing his features. “What have you done to her? Why did she run away?” she started a new gust of questions when he didn’t reply.

  He finally peeled his gaze from the back door and looked at her. “I kissed her,” he answered.

  She sucked her cheeks in and exhaled sharply. “Don’t pounce on her, Justin, give her time. She had her fair share of pain.”

  His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean? I only kissed her. She’s my wife, for God’s sake. I don’t have to justify myself for what I’m doing with her,” he snapped.

  She puffed her cheeks and pushed out another deep sigh. “I know it’s not my role to tell you how to deal with your married life, Justin. But there are things you don’t know about Jimmy.” She stopped for a moment hesitating over her choice of words. “I’m only trying to say that she’s more vulnerable than what she’s allowing you to see.”

  He grabbed her by the arm and squeezed. “What do you mean?” he asked urgently.

  Her lips turned into a thin line for a little while. “She suffered a lot a few years back,” she said with reluctance.

  “Oh, I know.” He lessened the grip. “She told me about the beatings. I saw the scars too. They are horrific.”

  “Beatings? What beatings?” Krissie paled. “I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about…” She suddenly paused, scrutinizing his face.

  An unexplained panic grasped at his heart. “What is it, Krissie?” He tightened his grasp once again.

  “She’s been raped, all right?” she spilled it out in a shrill. “She was only thirteen.”

  Her words made him reel. “What?” he croaked.

  “You heard me,” Krissie muttered angrily.

  Justin stared wildly at her, waiting for the pain in his chest to subside. “By who?” he finally managed to ask. “By her abductor? Billy Wallace?”