Lord of Rage

by Jill Monroe

  Her heart raced. She was getting in deeper than she’d thought. Remember the article. The odds of a long-distance relationship working weren’t high. That’s when she realized she’d secretly been hoping…what? That they could have something that lasted? The idea didn’t make sense.

  “I’m going to have to cancel out on you tonight,” Miriam said slowly, not happy with the way her heart was turning against her logic.

  Jenna made a sound. “I understand. Jane Austen not his scene? Bring him around later. I’m making fondue.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “Wow. That means no, and that you’re having great sex. Well, at least one of us is. Enjoy it, Mir.”

  Miriam replaced the receiver in the charger and took a deep breath. What was she doing? Why was she breaking long-standing commitments for a short-term love affair?

  For just one second, she’d almost taken Jenna up on her offer to bring Jeremy over. And then it hit her…how could she take Jeremy? He had little enough in common with her, let alone her friends. He was more than fifteen years younger than any of them.

  Which raised the question again, just what was she doing? They’d avoided any real discussion of where their relationship was going. Correction, she’d sidestepped Jeremy’s every attempt to bring it up.

  He’d said earlier he was game for wherever she saw it headed, and she was holding him to that. But the nagging fact remained, there was some real intimacy here between them, and she didn’t want to examine their relationship too deeply.

  She dropped her head into her palms.

  Strong hands gently rested on her shoulders. “Everything okay?” Jeremy asked.

  She nodded, not turning around. “Sure.” I’m just starting to act really irrationally around you. Because of you.

  He tenderly spun her to face him. “I couldn’t help overhearing. You know, you don’t have to change your routine just because I’m here. I know you have a life. I can head back to my hotel, and—”

  Her lips stopped his words. It took him a moment to respond, her actions probably shocked him. Then he hauled her up tight against his chest and deepened the kiss with his tongue.

  She pulled back to suck in a breath. “Make love to me, Jeremy.”

  IAN RINSED OFF ALL the oil from his body in Ava’s shower. He’d invited her in, but she’d shaken her head and given him a wink. That wink told him all he needed to know. Later. They’d be together later. Why did she want to wait?

  He knew it’d be sensational. And that loincloth would play a large role in it. After last night’s episode on the phone, he’d tried to approach the work-time hours with at least some amount of detachment.

  Ava had blown that intention right out of the water.

  Hell, he even grew hard thinking about sex with Ava, and he’d only just come by her hand. She had something with that sending-off stuff. Right now, he could battle anything. Conquer anything. Maybe even write that book.

  If rolling around in the oil with Ava wasn’t inspirational, he didn’t know what was.

  He found her snuffing out the candles, the smoke rising above her head. She hadn’t yet realized he’d returned, so he stepped back and did what any good reporter did.

  He observed.

  Her skin still glistened with the oil. He almost hated the idea of Ava stepping below the spray of the water and rinsing all of that away. She’d put her beaded top back on, and was now stuffing the used bags into the trash can. She was grace and beauty, and any man of any era would want her for his own.

  Except him.

  Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy. You don’t want her for your own.

  Ava looked up and smiled, surprised to see him.

  “Shower’s free,” he said.

  As Ian waited for her, he brainstormed a few possible titles, but gladly put away his pad and pen when he heard her return. He searched her freshly scrubbed face with his gaze. Ava was uncomplicated. Beautiful. No hang-ups.

  Who didn’t have hang-ups?

  “What kind of childhood did you have?” he asked.

  “I’ll show you.” She pivoted on her bare feet and ambled to one of several large bookcases. Her hips rolling slightly as she walked.

  He crossed the room to join her at the bookcase. She pulled a photo album from the shelf and flipped through pages until she found a picture of two children with a man and woman in pith hats carrying picks.

  “Those are my parents.”

  “The famous archaeologists.”

  “The very ones.”

  “I’m guessing the little blonde in pigtails is you.”

  She nodded. “And that’s my little brother, Thad.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Thad?”

  “Short for Thaddeus. It means praise, and believe me, he’s never let us forget it. Our parents named us from the ancient Greek lands where they concentrated their studies.”

  “And Ava?”

  “Like a bird.”

  His eyes narrowed, as if he were examining her more closely. “I don’t think I see that.”

  She laughed. “It’s more in the vein of soaring to greatness.”

  He smiled. “Ah, I see. How old were you in this picture?”

  “Six. That’s a site right outside of Athens. Up until I was seven, I didn’t know anyplace else but an archaeological dig. The summer I turned twelve, I came here, to Oklahoma, to visit my grandma.”

  “She teach you how to knit? That kind of thing?”

  Ava made a snorting sound. “Hardly. Grandma was an actress. In fact, I think an old lover must have left her this place. No, we’d have long drawn-out tea parties, dress up in feather boas and put on elaborate shows.”

  Ian laughed, imagining the girl she’d been. Then the idea of the woman she was now, prancing in front of him wearing nothing but a boa, chased away everything else.

  If it were in the name of research, she’d do it. “Ever think you’re still doing pretty much the same thing?”

  Now it was Ava’s turn to laugh. “You’re right. Performing all these rituals is a lot like acting. She must have passed down those interests along with her DNA.”

  “So, you mentioned a lover.”

  “Just one of many. She was married four times.”

  Ian jerked. The lady had his mother beat out by one. But give Janice Cole time.

  “Quite scandalous in the 1950s I assure you. Actually, what were my parents thinking? She was no kind of a role model for marital bliss.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “I was just kidding. She was a great role model. Every one of the men in her life left with a smile.”

  “I can imagine,” Ian said, mentally shrugging off the gloomy thoughts his mother always provoked. “And yet your parents managed to make everything work out long-term.”

  “Yes, they did. And they were determined to make life a family affair. Despite their obvious displeasure with my chosen career, my parents are wonderful, supportive, but sometimes I wonder, especially after spending so much time with you…”

  “Wonder about what?” He’d be happy to indulge her no matter what she had questions about.

  She casually lifted a shoulder, but he wasn’t fooled. Whatever she planned to reveal was important to her. “On what I may have missed. I want this book to speak to the women of today, but if I’m missing some of those universal experiences, how can we relate? My twenty-first-century dating skills are pretty much worthless. I didn’t even know what phone sex was. And sometimes I don’t understand the slang you use. We’re contemporaries. We’re supposed to connect.”

  “I’d say we connect.”

  Ava gave him a small shove. “Ian.”

  “And, it’s true, you’re far from normal.”

  She stood to her full height of five foot two. “Now wait a minute, I have done a normal thing or two—”

  But Ian gave her a quizzical look. “Never went to a prom. Never cruised. Never hung out at the food court.”

  “We
ll—”

  “How about a football game? Cheered your team in the rain even though they were losing, because your friends were out there getting their asses handed to them?”

  Ava shook her head, closing the picture album and returning it to the bookcase.

  “Stayed up past your curfew and gotten grounded?”

  Ava folded her arms in front of her chest.

  Ian made a tsking sound, his fingers stroking her cheek. “Like I said, you’ve missed so much.” He met her gaze, then snapped his fingers. “Let’s make a deal. By day we work on the book, by night, I’ll work on expanding your education.”

  “Didn’t we do that at Club Escape?”

  “We’re going back to the beginning. First-date kind of stuff. Ava, I’m taking you to high school. Hang on.”

  In three long strides, Ian was at his laptop and punching something into a search engine.

  Then he turned and smiled at her, a smile filled with the kind of excitement that made her yearn to be part of whatever he suggested. She almost gasped. Like he was about to steal her away on an adventure she couldn’t wait to take.

  “You’re in luck. The Pirates are playing their arch rivals the Panthers on the court tonight. And you’re going as my date.”

  She pretended to consider his offer, though she could hardly keep from dancing. “So, is that how boys usually ask for a girl’s time?”

  Ian winked. “No. I have a lot more finesse now. Be ready in an hour.”

  THE ROARING NOISE GRABBED her attention first. From the moment Ian held open the glass door leading into the gymnasium, sounds of every kind assailed Ava.

  The pounding rhythm from the drums echoed her footsteps, the beat only tempered by the tinny blast of the horns from the high-school band clad in orange T-shirts and jeans. Teenage girls lined the court wielding large ornamental balls of fluff. The bleachers were filled with cheering crowds clad in orange and black on one side, and patrons sporting the colors of mustard and ketchup on the other. The battle lines were drawn. Tension permeated the scene.

  Some version of this scenario played out in cultures around the world and across time. Turf wars or bragging rights, it was all the same. And she couldn’t be more excited to be there.

  With a whistle and the sound of a buzzer, tall, lanky boys streamed onto the hardwood floor, their rubber athletic shoes squeaking.

  “Here we go,” hollered Ian. He escorted her to an empty spot among those proudly wearing the orange and black. “Have you ever seen basketball?”

  Ava nodded. “Running up and down. Ball in the net.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed, but his lips twisted. “Basketball is way more than just running up and down the court. It’s the teamwork of passing, the grace of running while dribbling. The excitement of the slam dunk. The refinement of shooting at half court.”

  She shook her head as if she understood. She pointed to the stands, drawing his attention away from her. “Yeah, the boys with the word pirate spelled out on their bare chests in black-and-orange paint especially demonstrate the grace and refinement of the sport.”

  Ian shot her a glance, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Now you’ve got it.”

  Ian was back to flirting with her again. Her blood seemed to heat and thin all at the same time as it rushed through her body.

  The buzzer sounded and the players circled their coach while the fluff-brandishing girls took to the court. Loud dance music, similar to what had been playing at Club Escape, blasted over the sound system, and the girls began to move in a coordinated tribal-like dance.

  “What is that?” she asked as she pointed.

  “Oh, that’s the pom squad, and those girls over by the corner are the cheerleaders. They motivate the crowd.”

  Ava scanned the faces in the bleachers. Every boy had his gaze trained on the dancers now in the middle of the court. “I can see that.”

  “The pom girls and cheerleaders inspire many fantasies for the adolescent boys. But then in high school, the soccer girls, the tennis girls, the ones who liked drama or sang in choir, they’ve all starred in one fantasy or another.”

  “Yours?”

  Ian shook his head. “Me? No. I always liked the smart girls with their nose in a book.”

  Like she’d been. Yeah, now she knew he was flirting. Her pulse picked up its rhythm.

  “However, if you did want to wear one of those short pleated shirts, pull your hair into a ponytail and take up some pom-poms, I wouldn’t be…turned off.”

  She laughed, and quelled the urge to remind him that role-playing and dress up was quite popular in romantic love play in long-term pair bonds. No, she just laughed and had a good time in Ian’s funny teasing presence. She liked this side of him, got the feeling he didn’t share it with a lot of people. She was warmed by the thought.

  “So, we’re at the game. We’re having fun. What’s next for the typical high-school kids out on a date?” she asked.

  A mischievous glint touched his brown eyes. “Let me show you one of my best moves.”

  Ian stretched, lifted his arms, then casually draped one arm around her shoulder. “Did you catch that?” he asked.

  “That fake maneuver to touch me? Yes, I caught that.” Was warmed by it, also.

  “Glad to know I’ve still got it.”

  He had something all right.

  “Now, as a high-school girl, to show you like me, you—”

  “I think I can handle that without instruction. I probably scoot up against you.” She slid along the smooth wood of the bleacher seat until their thighs touched. Her skin began to tingle. “Like this.”

  “Exactly like that.”

  Okay, this wasn’t so different from the things she’d demonstrated at the club. They had pure body alignment. Did he remember what she’d said about body positioning? How it would mirror a man and woman’s attunement in bed?

  The warmth of his body heated her side. The scent of him filled her nose.

  “What do you think?” he asked, his arm drawing her closer to him. Her head resting against his chest. This was a different kind of seduction. Slower. Less combative. She liked it more. That easing into another person.

  “The rituals of high school are not so different from other courtship ones. The sponsored gatherings where grown-ups can keep a watchful eye. The couples who try to be close to each other.”

  “Maybe there is something to that instinct stuff.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Now what?”

  “Well, throughout the evening I see just how low my hand can slip. That’s called copping a feel.”

  Ava turned her head to see his fingers just at the swell of her breast. Her stomach knotted, probably how it would have if they were actually seventeen, in high school, and here in the gym together on a date rather than filling in a gap in her education. “Seeing no luck in any downward direction, what then?”

  He sighed heavily, turning his attention back to the action on the court. “I try to actually concentrate on something other than you.”

  Her whole body warmed at his words. Then her lips twisted in a secret smile. Her instincts were telling her she should make his goal to concentrate on something other than her very, very difficult.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AFTER THE PIRATES SOLIDLY trounced their rivals, Ian took her on a quick cruise down the famous 39th Street. They stopped at a drive-in for an order of Tater Tots and cherry Cokes.

  Ava had been on dates before. An awkward coffee date between classes her freshman year in college. Enthusiastic, yet utterly impersonal dates with story-swapping colleagues. Blind dates set up by her parents with archaeologists on dig sites. None of those had felt right. She’d never felt the ease of simply being herself as she did with Ian.

  As Ian drove back to Ava’s building, they’d talked and laughed and not a single word was about the book. The Bricktown crowd was light that evening, and they didn’t have to wait while pedestrians crossed in front of her garage.

  Ian push
ed the button for the gate to open, then drove the car inside the loading area redesigned to act as a garage. They were acting as if they were a real couple. She liked being with him like this.

  Ava reached for her door handle, sad their evening was coming to an end. Not if she could help it.

  “Don’t go yet,” he said, his hand on her shoulder.

  He’d turned the car off, but left the music from the radio on. The lights from the dashboard glowed, but didn’t fully illuminate his face. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking right now.

  His fingers curved around her shoulder. “Come closer,” he urged, his voice low and seductive. He pulled her as close to his body as the bucket seat would allow.

  A small shiver rippled down her back and settled at the base of her spine. “This is called parking, and if I’m lucky, you’ll let me get to first base.”

  “What’s first base?”

  “It’s a baseball term.”

  She smiled into the night. “Sports. Of course.”

  “But on a woman, it’s this.”

  Ava’s eyes drifted shut as Ian leaned forward. His lips gently brushed hers again. This kiss was different from anything they’d shared before. Slower and yet tentative and less controlled, as if they really were school kids and this was their first kiss.

  Then the real Ian, the mature man of the world took over. His mouth teased and tantalized her lips. She sucked in her breath and held it as his mouth opened over hers.

  She wound her arms around his neck and curled her fingers into the dark locks behind his ears. The blood zipped through her veins and she released her breath in a sigh.

  Ian eased the pressure of his mouth and began to explore the seam of her lips with his tongue. Her breathing came quick and heavy. She opened her lips to him. He groaned and pulled her tighter.

  It could have been hours or maybe only a few minutes, but Ian released her, resting his chin on her forehead. His breathing was hard and labored, matching hers.

  “So, if that’s first base, I take it there is a second?”

  “Yes,” he told her, his voice strained.

  “You up to showing it to me?” she asked, her body on fire with need.