Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Joanna (Book 6)

by Webb, Peggy

  “Well, you’re the one who introduced him to me.”

  “I take it the match didn’t work out.”

  “You needn’t look so pleased. As a matter of fact, I like Alfred.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  “Then why are you scowling?”

  “I’m not scowling. I have a bug in my eye.”

  “Bend over and let me see.” She reached for him. As soon as she touched him, all her frustration vanished. She no longer felt the need to defy him, merely the need to touch him. With her hand on his face, she marveled at the strange power he seemed to hold over her.

  Kirk jerked his head back and abruptly released his hold on her shoulders.

  “Don’t... Thank you, Joanna, but I don’t need any help.”

  “Neither do I, Kirk.”

  At her soft tone of voice, she saw his expression change, saw the tension leave. And she was glad. She didn’t know why. All she knew was that she didn’t want to fight with him anymore, didn’t want to add to his stress. She glanced at his cluttered desk. Any man who brought home work on Saturday surely must be carrying a big burden of responsibility. It suddenly occurred to her that she might actually be able to lighten his load.

  Kirk sighed and ran a hand wearily over his face. “I’m sorry we fought, baby. We seem to be doing a lot of that lately.”

  “I’m sorry, too. It’s my fault, Kirk. Everybody used to say that I was a handful, even Grandfather Deerfield. I guess I always feel compelled to live down to that reputation.”

  “You’re fine, Joanna. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  He moved around behind his desk and sat down. If Joanna hadn’t known better, she would have called it a retreat.

  She perched on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs. Kirk suddenly gripped the desktop as if it were his last refuge. Joanna glanced from his hands to his face. The strain was showing again. Dear Kirk, she thought.

  “I’ve decided it’s time for me to take more responsibility. Especially since I’m planning to be married.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I can’t flit around the world forever. Sometime I’m going to have to settle down and become a productive citizen.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. What do you have in mind? An art career?”

  “No. Bright and early Monday morning I’m starting work at Deerfield Manufacturing.”

  “Because of Alfred?”

  Joanna’s reasons were so complicated that even she didn’t completely understand them. She knew she wanted to ease Kirk’s work load, perhaps give him free time to enjoy life. She also knew that seeing him every day in his office would give her great satisfaction. She recognized that he was a man of brilliance and power, and she was proud of him. No, she thought, Alfred had nothing to do with her decision; but she wasn’t sure that telling Kirk would be a good idea. Knowledge meant power and power meant control. For one of the few times in her life, Joanna exercised caution.

  “You could say that.”

  “Then he’s the one?”

  “I plan to see him again. Yes. And I’m calling off the husband hunt.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Joanna thought he sounded about as relieved as a honey bear caught robbing the beehive. She hopped off the desk and hugged him.

  “In spite of your growl, you’re an old sweetie. Did you know that?” She added a kiss on the cheek to her cuddling. “Since I’m coming to work Monday, why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off and play golf?”

  “I hate golf.”

  “Or tennis.”

  He removed her arms. “I have work to do, Joanna.”

  “It’s a shame that you never have time for anything except work. But I suppose that’s your way. I think I’ll call Alfred and invite him over for a swim.”

  “Excellent.”

  Kirk opened a file folder and picked up a pencil. As the door banged shut behind Joanna, the pencil snapped in his hand. He threw the two halves viciously into the garbage can and sat staring at them. He knew he should be feeling grateful that Joanna had settled on a nice young man like Alfred—a man he had picked out for her. Furthermore, he should be thanking his lucky stars that she didn’t seem to remember anything that had happened last night—not the way she’d kissed his chest nor the way he’d confessed his temptation. But he felt neither relief nor gratitude. What he felt was a frustration so explosive he wanted to take it out on something. Or somebody. Maybe even Alfred. Alfred, who would be at his house as soon as Joanna called him. Seeing the two of them together had all the appeal of sticking splinters under his fingernails. He wasn’t going to sit around and watch it.

  With a muttered curse Kirk slammed his file folder shut and walked toward the door. If Joanna could come to Deerfield Manufacturing, he could go to that damned country club and take up golfing. Even if it killed him.

  o0o

  Kirk stayed on the golf course until dark, hoping he had missed Alfred’s swim at Deerfield.

  The first thing he saw when he arrived home was Alfred’s car. He went in the front door with all the anticipation of the Christians facing the lions. Sounds of music came from the den. He didn’t know anything about music, but he would swear that particular song had been designed for seduction. It had a slow, bluesy timbre and a slow, pulsing beat. He had intended to walk on by, as if he were any sane adult, but as he passed the open doorway he saw Joanna in Alfred’s arms. He paused, not meaning to stare. But he couldn’t help himself. Alfred had Joanna pressed so close a slivered almond wouldn’t fit between them. Furthermore, his left hand was resting on her hip. If what they were doing was called dancing, Kirk decided they needed a chaperon.

  Kirk went into the den and leaned casually against the back of the sofa. The dancers hadn’t even noticed him.

  “Nice music,” he said, loud enough that they could hear him.

  They greeted him and kept on dancing. They didn’t even have the decency to move apart. Seeing them up close was even worse than viewing them from the doorway. Their hips looked as if they’d been glued together. He felt a sudden urge to rip Joanna out of Alfred’s arms and toss him out the door.

  Controlling his temper, he rammed his balled fists into his pockets.

  “What’s that dance called?” He thought he’d spoken in a nice conversational tone, but the way Alfred jumped, he must have let his anger slip through.

  “It doesn’t really have a name,” Alfred said. “It’s just moving to the music.”

  Kirk thought they could have stood farther apart to do that, but he didn’t say so. He was proud of his restraint. He stood behind the sofa, and the music pulsed on. He wondered if the infernal song would ever end.

  Finally Alfred released Joanna. Kirk didn’t know he’d been so tense until he felt his whole body relax.

  “Thanks for having me over, Joanna. It’s been a real pleasure,” Alfred said, extending his hand.

  “You’re not leaving? I thought we were going to get take-out Chinese food and make an evening of it.”

  Alfred glanced Kirk’s way. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  Kirk smiled. “Don’t mind me.”

  Turning back to Joanna, Alfred took her hand. “Would you give me a rain check?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Joanna, I’m glad you’ll be at Deerfield. I look forward to helping you get adjusted.”

  “Thanks, Alfred.”

  Joanna took his arm and escorted him to the door. Inside the den, the music stopped playing. Kirk listened to the sound of their footsteps, noting that there was hardly a pause long enough for any serious kissing. He took a perverse satisfaction in the knowledge. When Joanna came back into the den, he was actually grinning.

  “Did you two have a nice afternoon, Joanna?”

  “Is that a nosy question or a brotherly one?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. I don’t answer nosy questions.”

  “The inquiry is motivated strictly
out of concern for your well-being.”

  “In that case—yes, we had a lovely afternoon. Where did you disappear to?” She crossed the room and sat down beside him, so close he caught a whiff of her perfume. Jasmine. The heady fragrance brought back memories of last night. An unexpected surge of desire coursed through him.

  He got off the sofa and began to prowl around the room. “I went golfing.”

  “Golfing? I thought you hated golf.”

  “I did. I still do. It was every bit as bad as I had expected. The sun cooked my head and I think I got calluses from so much walking. Nobody in his right mind would want to chase plastic balls into puny holes all day long.”

  When Joanna laughed, she threw back her head. Kirk wondered what it would be like to press his lips against the base of that delicate throat.

  “Have you decided to take up a hobby, Kirk?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m glad. You work too hard. You need something to balance your life.”

  “It damned sure won’t be golf.”

  “How about dancing?”

  “I’m afraid I’m as inept on the dance floor as I am on the golf course.”

  “Dancing is just moving to the rhythm.”

  “I have no rhythm.”

  “Surely you danced when you were...”

  “Young?”

  “I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say, in school.”

  “No. Of course, I went to a few, but I never seemed to get the hang of it. Besides, dancing was not high on my list of priorities.”

  “I’ll teach you.”

  Before he could protest, Joanna had taken him by the hand and switched on the CD player. The room was once again filled with sultry music. When she moved into his arms he discovered that holding her close was as natural as breathing.

  She smiled up at him. “For slow dancing, the key is being able to feel the partner’s rhythm. Like this.” She pressed closer to him so that he could feel the shape of her thighs, the fullness of her breasts.

  Kirk attempted to restrain his reaction. When he spoke, it was almost between clenched teeth. “This seems excessive for dancing.”

  “It’s nothing personal. Everybody does it.” She began to move with the slow, sensuous beat of the music. In spite of his efforts at control, Kirk felt the beginnings of arousal. He discreetly moved his hips away.

  “I think I get the hang of it. We can stop now.”

  “The music’s just beginning. And it’s very beautiful.” She smiled up at him. “Dancing is such a simple pleasure. Let’s not miss a single minute of it.”

  At that moment, with Joanna smiling up at him and her fragrant body pressed into his arms, Kirk would have slain dragons for her. Knowing that what he was about to agree to was dangerous, he agreed to continue the dance.

  “You’re right. Dancing is a simple pleasure. One I’d never noticed before.” Taking the lead, he swayed across the floor with her.

  “You don’t need teaching, Kirk. You’re a natural.”

  “Only with you.”

  She leaned her head against his chest, and the subtle fragrance of her hair drifted around him. From that moment on he knew he would never smell jasmine without wanting her.

  Chapter Five

  The music played on. Outside the evening sky had darkened and a summer rain began to fall.

  Joanna had the strange feeling that she was on a movie set, acting out a role. She had offered to teach Kirk to dance merely as a means of helping him get some enjoyment from life. Her motives were lofty—friendship and genuine concern. The lesson had started with the best of intentions. But something had gone awry. Dancing in his arms made her feel dreamy and happy. This is what she imagined romance felt like—two lovers, pressed close, cherishing the moment and each other.

  She glanced at him from under her lashes. There was a determined expression on his face, as if he were enduring some private torture. She was vaguely disappointed. She didn’t know what she had expected; perhaps the same sort of contentment she felt. That was foolish, of course. He viewed her as a child, a responsibility.

  Sighing, she resolved to capture every nuance of pleasure from the dance, no matter what Kirk felt.

  “This is almost like pretending, isn’t it?”

  “What’s that, Joanna?” The look he gave her was distracted. “I’m afraid I was concentrating so hard on getting the steps right, I wasn’t listening.”

  “Do you remember when you were sixteen and I asked you to be my Prince Charming?”

  He smiled. “Yes. It was a rainy weekend. We were both here with Grandfather Deerfield. You had a new book of fairy tales and you conned me into acting out the parts with you.”

  “You kissed me.”

  “Only on the cheek, and at your strict instructions.”

  “It’s raining outside now, Kirk.”

  “I know.”

  She felt his arms tighten around her, felt every hard place of his body as he pulled her close and rested his chin on her hair. Closing her eyes, she pretended that she and Kirk were lovers. She pretended that they would dance long after the music had ended, reluctant to let each other go. Then they would cuddle up in the candlelight and do the things that lovers do—whatever those things were.

  It was a beautiful dream.

  “Kirk?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Kiss me again.”

  He moved back from her, and his steps became stiff and awkward.

  “We’re too old to pretend, Joanna.”

  “Then don’t pretend. Teach me, Kirk.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

  “You told me that you’re older and more experienced. Teach me what love is like.”

  “I’m not suited for that job, Joanna.”

  “Then who is? Mother left me in the custody of Grandfather Deerfield so she could flit around the world. She never had time to talk to me about anything more significant than the latest fashions in Paris. And Grandfather Deerfield probably thought I’d find out about love on my own. You’re all I have, Kirk.”

  “You have Sophie.”

  “Aunt Sophie and Uncle Kenneth are out of town. You know that. Please, Kirk. How can I know whether I’m falling in love with Alfred—”

  She stopped speaking and gazed up at him. His eyes, usually so clear she could see her reflection, had darkened till they were the gray of storm clouds. A small muscle twitched in the corner of his jaw. She wanted to put her hand on his fine square jaw and smooth the twitch away. A week ago she would have made that simple gesture and thought nothing of it.

  She felt confused—elated and scared at the same time.

  Taking a deep breath, she continued, “...or whether I’m falling in love with someone else?”

  He led her toward the sofa then sat for a while, studying her. She was acutely aware of the heat of his hand on hers, of the sensual pulse of music around them.

  He turned her hand over and caressed her palm. “Love is very complicated. I’m not sure I can find the right words to describe it.”

  “Passion, desire, sexual fulfillment.” She used all the words she’d read in magazines.

  “Love is more than one set of hormones calling to another.”

  “But the magazines say sex is a big part of love.”

  “Of course sex is a part of it.” He jumped up from the sofa and began to pace.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in the Oriental rug.”

  He passed by the CD player and viciously punched it off. The music came to an abrupt halt.

  “How can I think with that music? It sounds like a French bordello in here.”

  “I thought the music was lovely. I thought you were enjoying it.”

  “Don’t look so crestfallen. Is that a tear in your eye?” He crossed swiftly to her and knelt beside the sofa. Taking her face between his hands, he crooned to her, “Please, baby. Don’t cry. You look like a flower that’s been stepped on. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I
didn’t mean to be so gruff.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s me. Life is so complicated.”

  “So is love, Joanna. It’s respect and admiration and genuine caring. It’s being partners and best friends and lovers. It’s laughter and tears and joy so great it wells up and spills over.”

  “That’s beautiful, Kirk.”

  “So is your smile.” He kissed her cheek and stood up. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. You always seem to make everything all right.”

  It was true, she thought. No matter how angry she got at Kirk for being bossy and domineering, she always turned to him with her problems. And he had never let her down. With her spirits completely restored, she stood up and hugged him.

  “Why don’t we get a big pizza and some popcorn and rent enough movies to have an all-night binge? Just like old times.”

  “I’m sorry, Joanna.” He set her firmly aside. “I have other plans. Don’t wait up for me.”

  She watched him go. He walked swiftly, like a man with a purpose. Probably a purpose named Marsha. Jealousy slashed through her. Then disappointment. And finally a sense of reality.

  “Well, Joanna. What did you expect? That he’d change his whole life-style simply because you came back to town? He’s used to women of sophistication and experience. Not wide-eyed innocents who don’t know love from hormones.”

  Saying the words aloud gave her a noble feeling of martyrdom. She wallowed in the feeling for five minutes, then she became bored with herself. She certainly wasn’t going to waste the evening moping.

  The car keys jingled as she got them out of the hall table. Then, climbing into Kirk’s navy Oldsmobile, she went to the Seven-Eleven. She scanned the racks for every magazine that was even remotely connected to love and marriage.

  When she got home, she spread them on the bed and stacked pillows against the headboard, preparing to read. On second thought she grabbed her laptop and emailed the Dixie Virgins.

  From: Joanna

  To: Belinda, Janet, Clemmie, Bea, Molly, Catherine

  Re: Love

  I think I’m falling in love with Kirk, but I don’t know. I thought I was in love with Fernando, and a bullfighter or two before that. Besides, Kirk drives me insane. I do awful and outrageous things to him! So how will I know?