Twisting her hair back into a loose knot, Jade wandered to the kitchen sink, turned on the taps and soaped her face. Tomorrow, what was she—above the running water, she heard something heavy move across the back porch.
Eyes shut, she groped wildly for the handles and turned the water off. Heart thumping, ears straining for an alien sound, she froze—then jumped as the door knob rattled.
'Jade? Open up!' Zan's voice sounded utterly uncompromising.
Had he heard the water running? Surely not! Eyes squinched against the soap on her face, Jade stood absolutely still. He wouldn't be able to see her from the door; the counter blocked the view.
'Jade—open this door! I know you're in there.'
He was bluffing; he had to be. Her breath was coming faster now, but he wouldn't hear that.
Something rattled at the lock and Jade nearly opened her eyes. Her housekeys! She'd left them—the door wrenched open, then groaned as it hit the end of the chain. 'Jade, if you want to keep this door, you'd better come open it . . . Now!' The low command was more frightening than any raised voice, and Zan sounded unbearably closer now, with the door partly open.
Jade licked suddenly dry lips. She should be angry, not frightened! 'Zan, you stay out of here!' she cried passionately.
'Like hell! Open this door!' he demanded.
'No! I don't want—'
The sound of splintering wood cut across her words as the chain end pulled out of the door frame. The door creaked open and his steps sounded loud in the sudden silence.
Chin high and fists clenched, Jade waited. She heard the hissing intake of his breath as he found her in the leaf-dappled moonlight by the sink, and then slow, advancing footsteps.
'Please . . .' she whispered shakily, her hands lifting blindly to ward him off.
She winced as Zan grabbed the waistband of her jeans, his fingers sliding between the band and her flinching stomach. Hard and warm, his knuckles jabbed into the curve of her belly. 'Zan!' she gasped in outrage as a wave of heat flamed out from the point where he touched her.
'I could wring . . . your . . . neck!' he breathed savagely as he jerked her forward. His tongue licked her left breast, bringing the nipple to throbbing erectness with a single stroke.
'No!' Bending at the waist, Jade arched away from him, realising even as she did that she was presenting her breasts more fully to his lips, rather than escaping them. His ragged breath was almost a growl as he tasted one breast, and then the other.
Her fingers twisted into his thick hair, more to support her shaking legs than to push him away as he arched her back with the pressure of his mouth. 'Zan, please don't,' she whispered, even as she held his head to her breast. She gasped as the soap began to sting her eyes.
His hand dropped her waistband, leaving her clinging blindly to his neck for an instant until his palm cupped her hip, squeezing it as he forced her in to meet his hard thighs. 'Say it . . . like you mean it, then . . . Jade,' he muttered bitterly against her flesh as his tongue traced a scorching path from her breast to her throat. His lips lingered there, driving the pulse to a frenzied pace.
'Zan, please . . . my eyes,' she panted as his mouth travelled slowly up the front of her throat and his lips swayed slowly against her.
His teeth closed on her chin in a hungry, nibbling caress, then his head jerked away. 'Ugh!' he gagged, 'what's that? Soap?'
'Y-yes . . .' she laughed shakily, 'please, can I just wash it off?'
'I don't know,' he mused huskily above her. 'You're pretty docile as is. Maybe I should leave you soaped. Like putting salt on a bird's tail.' His hand squeezed her hip as he spoke and then eased to let her lean back against the sink.
Jade turned in his loosened hold and groped for the cold water. But Zan wasn't going to let her recover that easily. His fingers glided slowly up the front of her thigh, slowed to a hypnotic, tantalising crawl as they climbed the length of her zipper.
Jade shuddered with aching pleasure and splashed icy water into her face. How as she going to stop him? Did she even mean to?
His weight was leaning in steadily to pin her to the sink as he pressed against her hips, and she could feel him harden against her. She sloshed water into her eyes as if she might dive into a wave and escape him, then gasped as his hand cupped her breast.
'Damn you, Jade,' he groaned against the back of her neck. 'It isn't fair! There you are with two breasts, and me with just one hand! I could wring your neck!'
She shuddered convulsively, arching her neck back as his teeth closed in the top of her shoulder. 'Zan, please!' she gasped towards the ceiling, and his answering laugh was almost a snarl as he spun her around.
'Please, nothing!' he flung out as his mouth came down upon hers and his arm clamped around her waist again. He forced her lips apart with a hunger more savage than tender, deepened the kiss as her mouth trembled and responded, then wrenched his lips away to press them against her throat. 'Why the hell did you run away?' His voice was muffled against her hot skin. 'It was that damned letter, wasn't it? I thought you were in Greece by now!' His lips brushed across her cheek. 'I've been looking for you ever since Irena left.'
Irena. Jade's eyes widened in outrage as she stared into the dark past his nuzzling, shaggy head. How could she have forgotten Irena? A shudder racked her body from head to foot as Zan's lips took her breast again and his hand slid down inside her jeans to cup her bare hip and pull her closer.
Irena. She'd have thought a few nights with the blonde would have satisfied him for a while. But obviously, once aroused, Zan was not so easily quenched. So Irena had left the fires still burning and he'd come to her to put them out ...
His mouth came down hungrily over hers again and his arm tightened around her waist as he lifted her off the floor. He was swinging her around towards the mattress.
'Zan, put me down!' she stormed. This time, the words were convincing.
Her toes touched the floor and slowly his face lifted above her. 'What?' he murmured dazedly. In the moonlight, his eyes were gleaming-dark, dilated . . . frightening.
'Let go of me!' she commanded. She'd used that steely tone a thousand times before in the classroom, but never before on Zan. His lips twisted incredulously even as his arm released her.
She stepped back till her heels hit the mattress and stood staring up at him, her breasts rising and falling as she sucked in air.
'Why?' he asked intensely, his hand stretching out to finger a nipple with dreamlike delicacy as he stared at her face. 'Why stop me, Jade?' he whispered unbelievingly.
'Because I don't want you!' she snapped proudly, sweeping his hand aside. Not like this, she didn't want him. Not when she was just a chaser to Irena.
For a moment he stood, absolutely motionless, staring down at her. Slowly his hand lifted to her throat. Thumb resting in the hollow there, his fingers curled around the back of her slender neck. Her head came up and her eyes widened as she stared at him defiantly. What did he propose to do? Choke her into submission?
Zan's hand squeezed gently and then eased as he looked down at her. 'Your pulse is going crazy,' he murmured thickly. 'Your body wants me, Jade.'
'Well, it's been outvoted,' she retorted crisply, shaking her hair back.
Even in the moonlight, she could see the lines crinkle out from the wide eyes, as his hand traced slowly down to her breast again. His thumb rolled her nipple slowly— a butterfly touch that nearly melted her knees. 'If it's voting we're talking about,' he observed sardonically. 'Have you ever heard of stuffing the ballot box, Jade?' His finger traced a slow, flaming circle around the swollen peak. 'I think I could change your mind.' He was laughing softly, his hand gliding slowly down to her waist and behind it to urge her forward. 'I've got a great write-in candidate.'
'You—go to hell,'' she said clearly, her eyes blazing. She would not be a stand-in for Irena!
His hand dropped away as he looked down at her. His thick brows twitched gently, then stilled. 'I may,' he said thoughtfully, as he t
urned. Four long steps and he was out the door. It swung gently shut behind him and he was gone.
Jade gaped at the closed door, her body crying for his touch even as she absorbed his departure. She gave a sharp little cry and whirled to find her shirt. She couldn't let him go like that! Not like that. She buttoned the shirt and found her shoes, cursing herself for every kind of a fool as she stumbled towards the door. But when she reached the street, he was gone. The patter of her footsteps matched the sound of her heart as she ran down to the corner. But her anxious eyes found nothing, no long-legged, angry shape striding away in the moonlight. Nothing. Panting, she shook her hair back and peered into the distance. He must be far ahead of her now. Long gone. And angry.
Jade pulled a deep breath of the cool air. And what if she caught him? What if she followed him home? Her apology might start with words, but it wouldn't end with them. Not tonight. . . And why should she apologise for not wanting to be used? she asked herself miserably as she turned back up the street. Why indeed?
CHAPTER TEN
It was midday before Jade found herself at the door of Zan's condominium. All morning she'd sat by a silent phone, cursing herself, cursing him, praying it would ring. But it hadn't. So she would have to make the first move. They still had a book to finish, after all, she told herself firmly.
But that wasn't the real reason she stood here, she admitted as she knocked again. She was here because she couldn't stay away.
'Now isn't that just like a man?' Garden spade in hand, Jerry's fat little wife stood in the next yard, shaking her frizzy blue curls in disgust. 'Didn't your husband tell you he was leaving?'
It took a second to find air to reply. And it wasn't the woman's misconception that had stolen it. 'He . . .'s gone?' Jade croaked.
'And took my hubby with him!' the old lady clucked indignantly. 'They'll probably end up in a ditch somewhere, in that car!'
'Where'd they go, Mrs Connally?' Jade tried to look mildly amused, mildly interested, and failed utterly. And why, oh, why had he gone?
'New York, with my Jerry driving.' Mrs Connally sniffed and knelt cautiously to study the flowerbed before her. 'We'll just have to pray.'
'Did they . . . say when they'd be back?' Jade asked carefully.
Mrs Connally cut out a weed with one short, vicious scoop. Tin supposed to collect my old goat at the train station in Kingston tonight. I haven't decided if I'll bother . . .' She looked up suddenly, her wispy eyebrows rising. 'You mean he really didn't tell—'
'I'm sure there's a note inside. Thank you, Mrs Connally!' Jade whipped out her keys and spun away. She was through the door before the old lady spoke again.
Gone. The closing slam of the door seemed to echo through the empty room . . . Gone. She leaned back against the door, feeling the emptiness around her gather and press slowly into her lungs. Into her heart.
And why? Pushing off of the door, she walked slowly into the room, her eyes sweeping all the places he might have left a note. Oh, why had he gone? Because of last night? Because she wouldn't sleep with him? Oh, damn the man! Why couldn't he just . . . just . . . she shook her head hopelessly. Love her, as well as want her? Zan, who said he'd never been in love?
An open envelope and a wad of paper on the kitchen counter caught her eye. The envelope was from Western Union, its end torn open with Zan's usual half-clumsy, half-impatient ruthlessness. The wad of paper was a telegram . . .
What had he said once? That snooping was one way to learn useful facts? She smoothed the paper carefully.
'You win. Mona,' it said. Nothing more. You win . . . what? Jade frowned down at the paper. And when had this come? Yesterday? This morning? Was this why he'd gone? To meet Mona in New York, collect his winnings? Crunching the telegram again, she dropped it back on the counter. And did it really matter? If it wasn't Mona, there was Irena—or the one who liked gardenias, or perhaps he'd take whats-her-name to a foreign flick tonight—X-rated, no doubt! She whirled away, her eyes blazing. Well, I just hope you remembered to take your address book, Zan Wykoff, she told him savagely, so you can keep them all straight!
Her eyes widened in horror. Before her, the end table where the manuscript box and the typewriter had lived all summer was empty. That was what he'd taken! . . . Zan was gone. There was an air of utter finality about that empty table. He'd taken all that really mattered to him, hadn't he?
So it was over. She didn't need the note he hadn't bothered to leave to know that now. The missing manuscript told her. It was over. He'd find some way to work without her. She smiled bitterly, fighting back the tears. He hadn't worked so well, with her, these last few weeks, come to think of it. . . Maybe that was the last and real reason he'd left... If Zan needed any reason at all.
Moving slowly, dreamily, through the empty rooms, Jade collected her possessions. It seemed to take a long time, if time was passing at all, to gather them together—though there wasn't much to take away. A bamboo brush she'd overlooked, a hairclip, a typed note Zan had left her once—'Red, gone to see Jerry', and the plant that he'd said would never share their bed. She could carry it all in one trip. Eyes wide and distant, she walked home through the summer dusk, cradling the begonia. He was gone.
Two figures sat on the front steps as Jade approached the house. Cathy and a man. She turned down the side path.
'Jade?'
If it didn't last, it wasn't love, she thought dully, peering up at the thin, handsome face before her. 'Fred,' she identified him absently. He looked worried.
'Are . . . you all right, honey?' he asked, trying to take the begonia from her hands.
Studying him, she nodded firmly, and forgot to stop nodding as she clung to the begonia. His voice was higher than she'd remembered it. 'Fine, just fine, Fred. How was Greece?' She backed away down the path and he followed.
'Jade. . .honey. . . I want to know how it was here! I began to hear rumours—your letters—I had to come back and see if . . .' He searched her face.
Jade took a deep breath. It was so unfair. Zan had spoiled it all. It would never be the same again . . . nothing would . . . 'Fred?' she began.
'What, honey?'
'Come . . . have a cup of tea, and tell me about Greece. And tomorrow, I'll tell you about. . .here. . . Okay?' She bit her lip and looked up at him pleadingly, her eyes wide and swimming.
Fred swallowed and nodded carefully. 'Okay, Jade. I'll go get my suitcase.'
Fred had given up his apartment in May. After all, they'd have returned from Greece married, if all had gone as planned, and he would have lived here. So at the very least, Jade owed him a bed, even if it wasn't the one he'd planned on.
It was Cathy who rescued the situation; Cathy who shyly suggested that Jade could move upstairs to sleep on the fold-out sofa for the rest of the month, while Fred took the first floor apartment. In return for her intrusion, Jade reduced Cathy's rent. It was a simple solution to a painful predicament, and one that would have to do until Fred could find a new apartment. In the meantime, Jade would have to convince him that he would need a place of his own. She'd forgotten his patience.
Fred stared at the ring in his hand, and jiggled it gently. Shaking his head, he held it back out to her. 'Nothing's changed, Jade,' he said firmly.
'I . . .' her breath shook with incredulous, angry laughter, barely suppressed. Was he that blind? 'Fred ... I can't. I'm sorry, but I just can't wear it. Don't you see that now?'
The ring before her didn't waver. 'You feel that way now, Jade. I understand. But in a month or two . . .'
She shook her head. 'Fred, I'm sorry, but I won't—'
He picked up her hand, his eyes showing anger for the first time she could ever remember. 'Keep it,' he ordered, dropping it into her palm. 'Let's just not be hasty.'
'Fred, I can't wear it.' She widened her own eyes, trying to force him to understand. Couldn't he see that?
'All right, honey.' He smiled tightly. 'But keep it. . . just in case.'
Jade sighed, defeated. 'Okay,
Fred.' There was room in her jewellery box for it, and sooner or later he'd understand. Or at least accept.
Perhaps it was a week later, perhaps a little longer. Time didn't seem to matter much any more. Jade trudged up her street in the dusk. She'd sneaked out before daylight, had walked to that ledge on Ocean Drive that she'd been heading for two months ago at dawn—a lifetime ago—when the whole dreadful mess had started. Like a time-lapse camera, or Monet with his cathedral, she had sat there and painted the beach and the day from sunrise to sunset. Quite possibly, she would never paint another seascape in her life again. Quite possibly she didn't care, either.
Cathy and Fred were sitting on the front porch, and she smiled at them politely. It was good that someone wanted to talk to Fred, to smile for him. Maybe one good thing would come out of all this, after all, if Fred wasn't too blind to see it.
'Jade.' Fred stopped her as she started to walk around him. Cathy hopped up, murmuring some excuse she didn't catch, and fled up the stairs.
'Hi, Fred.' Jade sank down wearily beside him. 'What did you do today?'
He studied her carefully, then sighed. 'I worked on lesson plans, Jade. Something you'd better start thinking about.'
She nodded distantly. Too true. September would be starting some time soon, wouldn't it?
Fred reached out to touch her cheek. 'You're losing weight, honey. You've got to snap out of this.'
Jade smiled politely and stood up, reaching for her paint kit.
'Cathy's invited us both to supper tonight,' Fred told her. 'She's made lasagna. We'd better go on up.'
She shook her head quickly, her empty stomach suddenly revolted at the thought of it. 'I don't think I—'
'Jade, you have to eat.'
'I had a sandwich, Fred,' she lied, shaking her head again.
'Jade.' He put a hand on each thin shoulder, holding her. 'I'll make a bargain with you. You eat a good supper, and I'll tell you about a phone call I took for you last night.'
The Darling Jade Page 16
