"Want me to drive?"
"Oh, yes, would you? I'm not very experienced, and I've decided I hate Connecticut's traffic more than New York's," she said, handing him the keys. He opened the passenger door and she slid in with a sigh of relief.
Chapter Seven
Sabrina didn't want to alarm Rose, so she didn't tell her that Jay came to Pennsylvania, too. He whistled as he drove down the shady street lined with Victorian mansions. "Pretty town," he observed. "Nice houses."
"Eaton was a wealthy town in the 1800s," Sabrina explained. "Many of the coal barons lived in these mansions, competing with each other to see who could build the fanciest house. Most of these homes were designed by the same architect."
Jay grinned. "You sound like a tour guide."
"I like history. On my twelfth birthday, Grandmother sent me the official county history. It was written in 1894, so it's not exactly current."
She guided him to the alley and he parked in the garage. They walked to the front of the home so Jay could see Rose Windham's house from the street. Sabrina glowed as he admired the professionally painted gingerbread trim and the white wicker furniture on the expansive front porch. The gardener updated the landscape for the summer, placing lush ferns along the balustrade. A hammock slung on a metal stand and a swing swung on the porch. Floral pillows graced the furniture.
Jay inwardly flinched. He couldn't prevent himself from comparing the wealth, beauty and ease that Rose Windham enjoyed while his own grandmother, Faye West, moped in a small, one-story tract house with faded vinyl siding, a broken garage door and an air conditioner that worked sporadically. He silently vowed to visit Faye on his return and tend to the chores he'd neglected.
Sabrina unlocked the front door and punched a code into the alarm system. The panel flashed green and she closed the door behind them. The house was hushed and gloomy. Sabrina walked through the first-floor rooms and lifted shades, opened curtains and let the sunshine pour into the stylish interior. Jay said nothing, his mouth grim as he followed Sabrina. He was careful not to touch any of the precious vases or statues, and wondered how someone could live in a house full of elegant antique furniture.
"She likes roses, doesn't she?"
"It's a theme," Sabrina explained. "All of the Victorian mansions along this street are part of the historic preservation plan for the town and are open twice a year for the historic homes tour. They do it once in November, with houses decorated for the holidays, and again in the summer, when the gardens are in bloom. This house has an English country garden and a rose-themed interior. The house next door is a Tudor style with heavy, dark British furniture. It belongs to Dr. Finkelstein, who teaches English at the college, so his theme is Shakespeare. It has a large corner lot, so the community theater stages Shakespeare in the Park plays during the summer."
Sabrina continued, "Across the street is Alfredo Dante's house and it has an Italian design. See, each house is different and decorated along a theme that is unique to the owner."
Jay nodded. "Sounds nice," he said. "But why are you nervous?"
"I'm not. Really, I'm fine. Let's go upstairs. I'll show you my room."
"That's what I've been waiting for," he joked and picked up their bags. He kept his eyes on her rear as she mounted the steps. When she opened the door to her bedroom, he squinted.
"It's yellow," was all he could say, overwhelmed by the femininity. He dropped the bags and turned his back to the bed. "Come here," he murmured, pulling Sabrina into his arms and pulling her on top of him as he collapsed on the bed. He rubbed his hands on her rounded bottom, clutching her to him. He groaned in pleasure and his mouth sought the opening of her shirt.
Sabrina planted her hands on his shoulders and sinuously squirmed against his pliant body. "You're the first boy I've ever snuck into my bedroom," she whispered.
"Ever?" he mumbled against her shirt, pulling buttons loose with his teeth. He refused to let go of her bottom, gently maneuvering her against his aching groin. His tongue snaked beneath her bra and laved a hardened nipple. Sabrina hissed appreciatively.
"You shouldn't tease me," she said, rising to sit astride him. He watched interestedly as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt and removed it. She reached behind and unsnapped her bra, let it slide down her arms, then tossed it into a corner. Jay sighed deeply, admiring her honey-hued breasts crowned with cinnamon. Sabrina leaned over him, her hands beside his ears, and let one breast swing close to his lips. He lifted his head, opened his mouth and encircled her nipple. His hands slid up her belly and reached for the snap at the waistband of her jeans.
She flipped her dark, soft hair to one side, an ebony waterfall that flowed onto Jay's shoulder. She supported herself with one hand and used the other to reach between them and unbutton Jay's jeans. Soon, she freed him from his boxers and encircled him with eager fingers. She stroked him, sliding her hand up and down until he felt like steel.
Meanwhile, Jay's fingers were on their own quest, pushing her jeans down her hips and pushing aside the wisp of fabric between her thighs. She was wet and warm against his palm. Sabrina's hips began a rhythmic surrender. With their jeans pushed to their ankles, they arched towards each other until velvet enclosed steel. Raising his hips, he entered effortlessly and their bodies sealed.
Sabrina's knees clasped his hips, her hands splayed on his chest. Jay supported her with one hand on the small of her back while the other stroked her belly and breasts. His fingers traced back to the dark triangle between their sweating bodies and he caressed her. Sabrina frantically increased her pace, sliding up and down and squeezing until Jay gasped and went rigid. She nearly screamed her pleasure, biting her lip at the last moment and groaning instead.
Slowly she sank, her flushed cheek resting against Jay's chest, still covered with his black T-shirt. The absurdity of their loving struggle, the fact that they refused to take the time to undress, made her giggle.
"I amuse you?" Jay murmured against her hair, stroking her naked back.
"Yes, you do," Sabrina said. "We're crazy, don't you think?"
"Probably. It would explain how I ended up in a yellow frilly bedroom with my pants around my ankles with a woman I've only known a week."
Sabrina giggled again and struggled to sit up. Instead, she rolled over and straightened her clothes. While she reached for her discarded bra and shirt, Jay recovered his jeans and snapped them easily. "Wait," he said, pulling her towards him. "Don't get dressed yet."
Sabrina paused, her shirt and bra in one hand, her other securely in Jay's palm. He settled her between his knees and rubbed his face on her belly. She dropped her clothing and wrapped her arms around him tenderly.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, resting her cheek on the top of his head.
"No, honey, everything's just right," he said, nuzzling her heavy breasts. "This is nice and you smell great. You're so beautiful; I can't keep my hands off of you."
"That's good. I want your hands on me," she whispered, closing her eyes as he sucked tenderly on one breast, then the other, rolling her firm nipples between his lips. "And your mouth," she added.
"You like it when I touch you, don't you?" he gently teased.
"I love it." Her passionate response startled him at first, then he felt a rush of possession.
Sabrina cupped his face and lifted it to meet her lips. She kissed him deeply, pouring her heart into the gesture. "But you'd better let me get dressed, or else…"
"I think 'or else' is a better idea. I could use a nap about now; couldn't you?" he bent over and untied her shoes and tugged them off, and then unsnapped her jeans again and slid them down her hips. "I think a nap is exactly what you need," he affirmed.
When he had her naked, he pulled her lush body against his and stretched out on her bed. "What about your clothes?" Sabrina asked.
"I'm fine," he said, yawning. He closed his eyes and explored her bare skin. Sabrina felt erotic and wicked, lying atop the bed nude, her skin tingling at the touch of his lightly
callused hands and clothing. His T-shirt was soft to the touch, his jeans worn smooth.
"Quit wiggling and go to sleep," he said, a teasing smile tugging at his mouth.
"I can't," she confessed. "You're doing this on purpose."
"Doing what?" he murmured, his eyes closed.
"You know very well what," she said and tucked his hand between her thighs. She pushed against his palm and sighed rapturously when his fingers began their feathering tempo.
She wiggled up his body until his face was buried between her breasts and rubbed sinuously. "Kiss me," she demanded, her hand cupping the back of his neck.
Jay complied, kissing and suckling one breast then the other, gently tugging and biting her engorged nipples while his fingers stroked Sabrina into submission. The slow and sensuous caress drove her to the brink and over, and she hugged him tightly.
"Okay," she conceded, fluttering to earth. "I'll take that nap now."
* * *
A couple of hours later, Sabrina poked around in the kitchen while Jay took a shower. He came downstairs, his uncombed hair wet and shining. He tucked a clean shirt into his jeans, then raked his unruly hair.
"That's it? You're good to go?" Sabrina marveled. "Why is it that men can take a five minute shower, wear old, wrinkled clothes and look like a hunk? Women spend at least an hour getting ready and we still don't like the way we look."
Jay shrugged.
She slammed the cabinet door. "Well, there's nothing to eat except six cans of chicken noodle soup. That does it. I'm going to take a bath while you call for pizza."
She headed up the stairs, and called over her shoulder. "Would you check the wine cellar and pick out a bottle of red? Order extra cheese and pepperoni, too." As an afterthought, she added, "Please."
"I thought you wanted to get to the hospital," he stalled.
"I do, but visiting hours are from six to eight. We've got at least an hour," she replied from the landing. "The telephone number is on the speed dial. Just punch 'memory six.'"
The disembodied voice on the end of the line put Jay on hold for several minutes, then came back, repeated the order and told him it would be at least 20 minutes.
After he hung up the telephone, Jay searched for the basement door, finding it at the end of the hall. The staircase was steep and the walls musty and draped with cobwebs. He found a furnace, some rusty garden tools and a box of mildewed newspapers. No wine cellar. He hiked up the stairs to Sabrina's second-floor private bath, opened the door and perched on the side of the old claw foot tub.
"Okay, I give. Where's the wine cellar," he asked.
"It's in the kitchen pantry. Grandmother had a temperature-controlled unit installed in the kitchen years ago. Where did you think it was?" Sabrina relaxed in the deep water filled with fragrant bubbles. She dimpled. "Oh, you went into the basement, didn't you? Ewww; there are spiders down there."
She reached up and stroked his head. "You have cobwebs in your hair," she said, shaking her fingers trying to rid them of the sticky threads.
Jay contemplated pulling off his clothes and climbing into the oversized tub for his second bath of the day, but the doorbell rang. Sabrina brightened and stood, water cascading down her body. "Pizza!"
She tugged a soft towel from a nearby bar and wrapped it around her torso, tucking the corner over her left breast. She shoved at Jay, immobile on the side of the tub. "Quit staring and go get the pizza," she bossed. "I'll be right down."
Jay sighed then stomped down the stairs. He yanked open the door as the impatient delivery boy's finger hovered at the bell. Pulling out his wallet, he said, "How much?"
"Sixteen-fifty," the teen said as he leaned to the right, looking around Jay and at the beautiful young woman skipping down the steps in panties and a T-shirt. Jay glanced over his shoulder, then shoved a twenty into the kid's hand, grabbed the pizza box and slammed the door in his face.
Grinning, Sabrina tugged the box from his grip and headed down the hallway to the kitchen. She placed it on the table, then opened a cabinet and withdrew plates. Then she pulled a couple of wine glasses from a hanging rack. She nodded her head towards an oak door. "There's the wine cellar," she said. "What do you think? A shiraz? A zinfandel? Anything but merlot, please."
Jay flipped open the pizza box and watched as steam rose. "Couldn't tell you, sweetheart. I'm not a wine connoisseur."
She opened the wide, nickel-plated refrigerator. "How about a beer? We have lager or ale."
Folding a slice of pizza and lifting it to his mouth, he paused long enough to say, "Lager," then bit off half.
"Save some for me, piggy," Sabrina said, sliding into a kitchen chair. She twisted the caps off of two lagers and handed him one. Then she watched apprehensively as he lifted the bottle and chugged. "What's with you tonight?"
Jay set the bottle on the table and picked up his pizza again. "Nothing," he said. "I'm fine. Just not used to all this toff."
Once again Sabrina felt the stab of the haves versus the have-nots. "It doesn't really mean anything," she assured him.
"As I said before, money's never a problem for those who have it," Jay said nonchalantly.
"And I'm a 'poor little rich girl,' right?"
"Would I have ever met you if it weren't for your money?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Sabrina's head whipped. "Absolutely not! And you mean, if it weren't for Rose's money, because I don't have much of my own. She wouldn't have met Don Windham, either, without the money. They never would have married and maybe he wouldn't have built a boat yard with your grandfather. My father and I would never have been born. Perhaps you never would have been born. Who knows what affect money has and who knows where it begins or ends?"
She climbed into his lap, forcing him to abandon his beer and pizza. Snuggling against his chest, her arms draped around his neck, she said, "But we can choose how we let it affect us. In the past few weeks, I've learned some ugly truths about people abusing each other in the name of love and money. Don Windham rejected Rose's fortune, forcing her to break with her father. His obsession and selfish determination drove her into another man's arms."
Jay stiffened at her words. "That other man was my grandfather. Maybe her selfishness and greed drove her husband away. Don't for a minute think it was some tragic love story."
Sabrina sighed. "No, you're right," she said, softly kissing his cheek. "She knows she was wrong and she lives with the guilt. Their blood is on her hands. I believe she suffers."
Jay looked around at the opulence and scoffed. "This isn't suffering." He pulled her arms from his neck, pushed her from his lap and stood. "Being betrayed and then widowed is suffering. Living as a crack whore is suffering. Watching your own mother kill herself with drugs and alcohol is suffering."
"You're right; you win. Your family suffered while mine enjoyed their luxurious lives. A guilt-ridden widow shunning family and friends, a lonely, confused little boy shuttled off to military school, and a burdensome daughter that nobody wanted. But all of that's okay because at least we could cry into silken pillows, right?"
She shoved from the table and wrapped her arms around her stomach. "Why are we arguing? Because I suggested wine for dinner? Do you see how crazy it is, that one small thing leads to another and it just gets blown out of proportion."
She approached his back, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "We don't have to let their craziness affect us. I've just found you. Let's enjoy this. Enjoy being together. Don't push me away."
He didn't want to, but he could feel Faye's venom in his veins, the poison closing down his heart. How could he be here, amid the elegance and refinement of Rose Windham's home when Faye's old house was practically falling to pieces, the air conditioner a piece of junk, the lawn overgrown and full of weeds. And Faye, an anorexic, cigarette-puffing harridan, all because of a bored prep woman's whim. Seduce another woman's husband to make her own sit up and take notice.
As chaotic thou
ghts rushed through his mind, he felt Sabrina caressing his chest, tugging at his heart, as if her fingers could push through skin, through muscle and heal him. He turned in her embrace and clutched her, rocked her against him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered against her glossy head. "All my life, all I've ever heard is bitterness and hate for the Windhams. Not you. Rose Windham. Sometimes I think it's the only thing keeping Faye alive. Her bitterness."
Sabrina stroked his cheek and shed tears for the little orphaned boy who grew up with a twisted, angry grandmother. "You have to let the bitterness go," she whispered. "We have something special and I know it's too soon, but I can't help feel this way. I love you and I wouldn't want anything, or anyone, hurt you."
Her simple, heartfelt admission humbled him. He cupped her face and kissed her, a groan of defeat tearing his throat.
"I'm going to get dressed and go visit Rose," she whispered against his lips. "Do you want to go with me?"
He nodded, his forehead resting on her silken shoulder.
* * *
Jay stood in the doorway of the hospital room, watching as Sabrina knelt at the bedside. One hand clasped Rose's frail white fingers while the other gently smoothed the blanket, stroking the old woman as if she were a beloved pet. She ducked her head, glancing under her arm towards Jay. She murmured and nodded. Jay advanced slowly.
Rose's pale blue eyes lifted from her granddaughter to the giant towering over her bed. Tears filled then flowed down her sunken, wrinkled cheek. She lifted a wavering hand.
"You're so like him," she whispered. "You're so handsome."
Jay's eyes darted from Rose to Sabrina. He cocked an eyebrow at the word "handsome."
Rose continued, "So like her. Such a lovely girl, your mother." Her head lolled to the side sadly. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I took everything from you."
He didn't know how to answer so he stood silent, stoic. Sabrina reached for his hand and squeezed it.
West Wind Page 10
