by J. A. Coffey
His warm hand joined hers, holding hers in place. "Oh, she did. She stayed in the same barn, owned by another family. I even got to ride her from time to time." He smiled down at her, gentleness in his gaze, and asked, "How often did you ride?"
She smiled. "Twice per week. Eric took up motocross and I took up English. For two blue-collar parents, we certainly picked some top-notch expensive entertainment."
"So." He cocked a grin, studying her with a sideways glance. "It seems your family likes to...straddle things. Powerful things." He waggled his brows suggestively and she felt her face burn so hot she had to look away, making Darius laugh and crunch her to his side. He leaned close and apologized by saying, "Couldn't help it. The opportunity was right there."
She pressed her lips tight and shared a smirk.
He pressed another kiss to her temple before they resumed leaning on the outer rail to watch the two elephants being strapped into their saddles and led to a platform eight feet off the ground. Darius opened up the cotton candy bag and they finished it off in companionable silence.
"You ever want kids, Jess?"
Wow. The Big Date Question. Jess was not in the habit of lying about her goals and dreams and she certainly was not about to start now. "Someday, yes. But only with the right guy. My parents have a great marriage, and I won't settle for less than what they have." Her words came out as firmly as she planned.
He leaned on his side to better face her. "What do you consider great?"
She looked at him while she debated her words. "They are partners, truly and completely. Even at work. They briefly combined the two departments, and my parents worked beautifully together. They never undermined each other's edicts, they never let us kids play one off the other," she leaned forward, "and they always kept their marriage in the forefront of their minds. Dad always said it's too easy for the daily routine to center around the kids and lose a spouse in the meantime, so he always made sure he and mom had some grownup time. Every week. For as long as I can remember."
"Both cops, right?" He eyed her. "Both armed?" He made a face resembling dread.
She grinned. "Dad's a trooper."
"I'll tread carefully."
Inside, she groaned. Just like high school. All the guys feared her parents. Bravado made her say, "If you know what's good for you."
"Or," he neatly folded the empty cotton candy bag, which took all his concentration, "I could be that guy."
"What guy?"
"You know," his voice dropped as he folded it smaller and smaller into a square for his pocket, "that guy."
Inside, she thrilled at the prospect. But she had to push him, to know the truth. Reality bit at moments like this; it would be better to walk away jaded rather than hope for what could never be. "Even though you hate me for what I'm putting you through?"
"Oh, Jess." His shoulders dropped as he collected her in his arms. Like a ragdoll she collapsed against him, finding no working spine anywhere in her body to deny this man. His hands roved over her back, and his whole body softened as he cradled her. She had to admit, no one had ever gotten to her the way he did. Every touch, every glance, made her more malleable. "I could never hate you." He swallowed, then whispered, "In fact, it's quite the opposite."
He held her for another long minute, simply enjoying the feel of Jess in his arms, then leaned back and looked into her hopeful, expectant eyes. As part of his scientific experiment, he needed to test the atmosphere. Fighting a smile, he slowly kissed her forehead, lingering for some very long seconds, then moved to her temple, her cheek, her chin, taking his time to thoroughly nuzzle each location. When her mouth opened, he repeated it on the other side, taking his time. He really wanted this to be the kiss they would remember forever.
His hands cupped her face, and he felt her expulsion of breath on his lips. He leaned down and slanted his mouth against hers. A trumpet sounded, loud, right next to them, but he continued the second sweetest kiss of his life. His fingers buried into her hair, and when her mouth opened under his, he touched his tongue to hers.
And there it was. The jolt. Right down to his toes. He felt his entire body stiffen with it.
When it passed, he wrapped his arms around her back and drew her into him, tangling their tongues, covering her, coveting her, sheltering her from all the bad in the world, even that caused by him.
He wanted her, wanted to protect her, keep her.
Love her.
A rustling, noisy breeze along his cheek made him pull back. He squeezed her as he ended the kiss. He turned to face into the breeze. There stood the lone elephant, playing with a tree branch. "Man, she's close."
"We're closer."
All the love he felt for Jess probably glowed in his eyes as he held her. "Absolutely."
Her lips twitched, and he knew she was about to tease him. "So much for your stand on PDA's."
It took a minute. "Oh," he chuckled. "Public Displays of Affection. Well," he shrugged, clearly not apologizing, "every man has to test his principles at some point in his life."
"And where do you stand on it now?" She blinked ever-so-innocently. Too innocently. She had been a completely willing participant.
He couldn't wait for more.
Her lips were red and swollen from his amorous assault, and he watched them move while she spoke. He stroked her cheek with one finger, unable to tear away his gaze. "I think I'd honestly have to say I'm all for it."
She licked her lips, tantalizing him yet again. "Any jolt?"
He grinned and felt everything inside him soften. "Present and accounted for."
"Ditto." She held his eyes, but blushed furiously nonetheless.
Once again he found his fingers nestled into her tresses, and was lowering his lips for round two when a man scooted up, shouting, "Excuse me, excuse me."
They turned, peeling apart at the intrusion. "Yes?"
The guy had three cameras around his neck and a clipboard in his arms. Crazy spiked red hair and a thousand freckles covered his face and arms. He had to be thirty, but those freckles immediately reminded him of Ron Howard. "Sorry to interrupt. Are you guys honeymooning?"
Darius looked at her, then felt he should take control. "Um, no, why?"
The man pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket. "Jake Owens. I run the Zewspaper. I gotta tell ya, I've seen a lot of kisses here, but that one takes the cake. Even Sidney approves." He pointed at the elephant.
Head cocked, Jess asked, "Really? How so?"
"She was fanning you with the branches." He shrugged. "At least, that's what it looked like through the lens. Can I get your names? I'd love to do a little human interest story on you two."
"What's the catch?" Darius asked.
He scratched his head. "I don't know yet. How long you two been dating?"
"First date," Darius said.
Jess cocked her head and bopped a shrug. "Second, if you count the one ten years ago."
"Excellent." Jake pulled out a pen and hovered over his notepad. "Budding romance at the zoo. Your name, sir?"
Jess fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable. "Isn't that a little premature? Your heading and all?"
"Human interest," Jake said, waving it off. "People love to read stuff like that. Name?"
She apparently settled, for she answered, "Jessalyn Swan."
He nodded and stopped writing half-way. "Aren't you a benefactor?"
"Sounds grander than a mere sponsor," Darius intoned, cocking a brow with his sidelong glance.
She ignored his barb and nodded, "Yes, I give a lot here."
"Antique store, right?" His sharp eyes were very hawk-like.
Again she shifted. "Yes, that's me. But don't write about that."
He nodded. "You, sir?"
"Darius Covington."
Again he stopped mid-stream. "Of Oliver Covington relation?"
Now Darius understood why Jess squirmed. He, like Ollie, didn't always like to publicly air his laundry. "Yes, but don't mention that."
; Jake sadly shook his head. "Wonderful, wonderful man. Brought tons of city kids here on field trips, sponsored everything. Terrible loss. You have my sympathies."
Darius nodded and looked down, mumbled, "Thanks."
Then Jake tapped his pen to the paper and looked at Jess. "Say, aren't you getting the Covington estate? Is that how you two met?"
Man, nothing got past this guy. Luckily Jess stepped in. "Again, we met ten years ago. At his uncle's party."
His shrewd blue eyes narrowed. "But the estate is what brought you back together."
Neither one spoke.
People would be reading this article, Darius realized, people who might want to come after them. So he asked, "Would you do us a favor and not use our last names, please?"
"Oh, yes," Jess was nodding to his request. "Please, just call us Jess and Darius."
"As you wish. It is a fantastic picture, and I'd really like to use it, if you're both okay with that."
They nodded, and Darius gave Jess a look, telling her in no uncertain terms he wanted to get back to where they left off.
Taking his cue, Jake tipped his head. "Great pictures. Ms. Swan, you are on the mailing list. Mr. Covington, would you like a copy of our Zewspaper?"
How could he not? A picture of him kissing the woman of his dreams? On their first kiss? "Do you have my uncle's address?"
"Yes, sir."
"Please send it there."
"As you wish." Smiling, the man raised his camera in a parting salute and started photographing another couple kissing.
Darius looked at the other pair, gathered Jess to his side and said, "I think our kiss was way better."
"That depends." She tilted her chin up to him. "Does your scientific experiment require further testing?"
She was such a stinker. He grinned and tweaked her chin, leaning down to resume their interrupted activity. "Oh, yes, Princess. And I can honestly say that I am positively charged."
Chapter Nineteen
A notarized letter came to her office next morning, requiring Jess to sign for it. Inside she found proof of Ollie's handiwork. Heavy yellow vellum with an impressive logo denoted the top sheet as being from the lawyer. She skimmed through the obligatory introduction and explanation and searched for the date and time of the disbursement of the estate. When she found it she counted down on her calendar. Six days left. Unease filled her. Most of the town, it sounded like, would be there bright and early Monday morning, including the mayor.
With a grimace she eased that sheet to the back of the stack.
Ollie's handwriting filled the next few leaves, and she managed a sad smile when she saw all the curlicues on the page. He had loved to write in calligraphy ink, and she had a moment to wonder why his final words were in regular pen.
Dear Jessie,
One of the greatest joys of my life has been watching you grow up from the awkward little girl with knees and elbows sticking out everywhere to the strong, beautiful, independent, wonderful woman you have become today.
Seeing how well you have thrived over the last two years has warmed my heart with the pride that only a parent can feel. Although I am not your blood kin, I have loved you the same as Mike loved your mother, and I was there for as many special family moments with your mom and aunt and uncle as he was.
Jess felt mist form in her eyes as she thought back. Grandpa Mike and Ollie had been closer than friends, more like brothers after racing together in track at Harvard, and every family gathering had included Ollie, no questions asked.
It is because of your successes that I had decided to rewrite my Will for you. It was my intention that bequeathing such an enormous lot to you would skyrocket you out of middle class and into the upper echelon that you had so coveted.
That seemed odd, even coming from Ollie. She had coveted nothing, only worked hard at selling something she loved. Jess frowned and continued reading.
These pieces have been in my family for more generations than I care to count. Being aligned with nobility had some benefits, as you will find upon reviewing the fine carcasses and bones.
Never could Jess get used to referring to antiques with road-kill terminology. Bones were the frames. Carcasses were dressers minus their drawers. "Fine pieces" would have suited her perfectly.
I have taken my enjoyment from them and surely have no further use for furniture and linens and pretty baubles and art.
Speaking of art: an original Picasso and Renoir are in the two westernmost bedrooms. Please take those as well.
Jess looked up and oriented herself in the house, and her mouth dropped open. One of those two rooms was Darius'.
And the handcrafted Chinese wardrobe came from the 1600s Xia Dynasty, given to a visiting dignitary who saved the Emperor's son from a terrible fate, and this dignitary gave it to his niece, who was a direct ancestor of mine. This piece has never left the family since the day it was brought to England. It, too, should fetch a prime price, so take nothing less than $75,000.
Money, Jessie, is a wonderful thing to have, and these pieces should grant you enough cash to sustain yourself and your livelihood for many decades. Please accept nothing less than the best and finest offer, and think nothing of selling them to multiple vendors, wherever they may be.
I am hoping by giving you these that I will not only have severed all ties to my surviving family- including my overbearing brother, whom you've met- but that you will have found peace with my passing and joy with your newfound wealth.
It is with this knowledge that I free myself of all associations with my past in the hopes of granting you a glorious future.
Remember, Jessie, that without lots and lots of money, I would not have been able to do half the things with my life that I would have wanted. This is why I give it all freely to you. Cash, quite simply, is what makes this world go round, and let no one tell you differently, for it is truly a many splendored thing. To buy and spend freely is to receive a glimpse of heaven, and this is what I grant you.
As I will be gone by the time you read this, my only goal is to make you the single richest woman on the east coast.
Welcome to the upper echelon.
All my love,
Ollie
By far, it was the weirdest thing Ollie had ever written. And Ollie dabbled in weird the way Jess dabbled in 1790.
She read it through again, then once more.
Since when was Ollie that superficial? It did not sound like the man she had known for her entire life, let alone one whom she had loved dearly.
As she laid it down, the only conclusion she could come up with was that the cancer must have been more invasive than they thought.
She recalled the pictures that Darius had shown her from his photo album and mentally placed price tags on them, but even knowing what Ollie expected someone to pay- $75,000!- made her feel more and more like a thief.
Last month had filled her with both ecstasy and sadness over the acquisition.
Today it filled her with dread.
How could she happily gather and sell these, knowing the agony she would cause Darius? It bothered her that she had grown attached to him so quickly, yet deep inside she had always known he would be the one to win her heart.
Their zoo date had been fantastic, even though she still hadn't found out what had bothered him so.
Six days left.
Maybe tonight. He could come over for dinner and...stay.
A bolt of lightening raced down her spine at the thought. Twenty-six man-less years could end in Darius' arms. Tonight.
If only she had the nerve to ask.
Chapter Twenty
The diner offered a fine array of food and ambiance, but no amount of nursing a soda would negate the fact he needed alternative lodgings. Ollie's or Jess'. Both had their drawbacks. Being alone at Ollie's would drive home the desolation of his situation. Being with Jess would prove how over-his-head she made him feel. And no matter how badly he yearned for her, he feared for his reaction to her. He'd neve
r felt like this with anyone; no matter how much they resembled Jessalyn, they had never been able to take her place.
Might as well admit defeat. He checked the clock. His father should be at the races, so Darius would have time to clear out his things. Should Beauregard be there, he'd either bar entrance or deny ever having made that volatile call and simply accuse Darius of breaking his heart by moving out.
Moments like these made Darius wonder if the man even had one.
He paid his tab and drove to his father's, where he loaded up his Mustang to the brim to move into Ollie's. The code-Darius' birthday- worked on all doors. By armfuls he unloaded the car and moved into his old room. The single Victorian bed frame he had used as a child had been upgraded to an Edwardian double over the years, and two years ago Ollie had retrofitted that to accommodate a queen-sized mattress for some guests. The oak tall boy with pediment top still held some of his clothes, although he doubted any fit him now. A long low gilt-edged dresser remained empty, and that would be the one he would use for now. Maybe someday he'd move into one of the larger rooms down the hall.
If he married- if- then he would take Ollie's room, with the marble fireplace, massive walk-in closet, master bath and Jacuzzi tub, all hosting a walk-out balcony overlooking the south lawns and rose garden.
He slipped down the hall and hovered just inside those doors, envisioning Jessalyn before the fireplace, the flames and his ardor both turning her skin a warm, rosy hue.
He backed out and closed the doors.
His cell phone rang downstairs, sounding eerie and distant in the cavernous house. He raced down the curving stairwell and snatched it on the third ring, breathing hard as he answered the call.
Jess laughed, "Doing some kickboxing?"
"No," he smiled and walked into the parlor, loving how Jess never seemed at a loss for words. The maids had kindly covered the furniture with sheets as a parting gesture of their unexpected termination. He'd have to call them and reinstate their jobs. As he pulled off a cover to sit down, he said, "You made me run through half the house. A minute earlier or later and I would have been beside my phone."
