Breath of Scandal (55 page)

He was out of breath by the time he reached her-more from excitement than exertion. He placed his hands on the

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ropes supporting the swing and leaned down to kiss her for the first time since daylight.

Her lips were moist with peach juice, and, though only their mouths were touching,    it was a potent kiss. When he lifted his lips from hers, he looked down at her through eyes that were drowsy with lust. She had knotted her shirt tails at her waist, but, to his delight, hadn't bothered buttoning it. From his vantage point, he could see the enticing cleft between her breasts.

"I like your outfit, Ms. Sperry."

Contradicting the formal address, he slid his hand into her shirt and covered her sun-warmed breast. She always reported for work looking like a woman of the world, a female executive on her way up. Even in casual clothes, she emanated a professional air.

This barefoot, shiny-faced, disheveled Jade was a real turnon, although this morning it wasn't taking much to turn him on.

She leaned her head against his forearm and sighed pleasurably over his bold caress. "I couldn't find my underwear. "

"It'll turn up. Right now, I like you the way you are." Her cheeks turned the same color as the ripe peaches lying in her lap. He laughed, and it felt odd . . . and good. It was as though he had lost a hundred pounds overnight. He felt that light, that free. He was happy. And, he realized, he was madly in love.

The estate was an unworldly setting. The empty old house was private and romantic, their island of seclusion. The birds seemed to have slept late. Even industrious squirrels were taking a day off. The air was sultry and still. It was a hazy, lazy morning when everything that lived and breathed intimated sex. He wished he could stop the clock for about a hundred years and spend every minute of it making love to Jade.

"Get up and let me sit down."

"Then where will I sit?" she asked saucily. "In my lap."

The idea must have appealed to her because she got up

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to let him have the swing, then sat down in his lap. "Peach? One of the last of the season."

He bit into the peach she held to his mouth. The sweet, fragrant juice oozed out of it, running over her hand, down his chin and dripping onto his bare chest.

"Good?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm." He curved his arm around her neck, tilted her head back, and kissed her with unapologetic carnality. When it ended, he sighed, "Very good." He guided her hand up to her own mouth. She took a bite of the peach. He forced her to take another one, then another, until her mouth was full and juice was streaming over her chin and down her throat.

Dillon watched it trickle onto her chest before lowering his head and licking it up. He untied the knot at her waist and parted her blouse, baring her breasts to the sunlight and his own seeking lips.

Forgetting about the peach in her hand, she folded her arms around his neck and leaned back, offering her throat and breasts to him. He kissed his way up to her lips. When their mouths fused, he growled with animal arousal.

He turned her to face him and guided her legs to rest on his hips. As they kissed, her body squirmed against his, making him crazy.

Against his mustache, she murmured, "Would you think I was forward if--

"No, not at all."

Her hand disappeared beneath her skirt, which was bunched around her waist. When her fingertips brushed him, he moaned. When her hand cupped his testicles, he muttered a mix of prayers and curses. And when she lifted his cock out of his jeans, he kissed her hard. She guided it into her body, and took all of it, slowly sheathing every hard inch.

Dillon nudged the ground with his heel and the swing moved forward, driving him even higher into her. The pleasure was immense. Then the swing arced back and Jade was pressed down on him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"Don't let me hurt you," he whispered.

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"It doesn't hurt. But I can feel more of you than last night. "

"I'm in deeper." "Yes. Yes."

The swing continued to rock. Each time it started to slow down or stop altogether, Dillon would give them a gentle push. He was ready to come before she was, but he held back. Dipping his head low, he whisked his tongue across her nipple, then rapidly fanned it until he felt her body begin to close around his like a velvet fist. She gave a senes of choppy, breathy cries as her body milked from his a long climax.

They clung to each other, damp with sweat and sticky with sex and peach juice. After a slumberous time, he raised his head and gazed into her face. He brushed damp tendrils of hair off her dewy cheeks. "I woke up this morning," he began softly, "and before I even realized where I was, I wondered why I felt so good."

"I feel good, too, Dillon. I can never thank you for-He laid his finger against her lips. "The pleasure was all mine. "

"Not all yours."

"It was some great sex, Jade. But it was more than that." He clasped his hands behind her head. "I liked having you asleep next to me."

"I liked that part, too," she said mistily. "Very much. It's the first time I've ever slept with a man. I didn't know that it could feel so safe. No wonder people make such a big deal over it."

"No wonder. " He grinned and pulled her against his chest.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Dillon?" "Hmm?"

"Last night, just as I was about to, you know, for the first time .      she said haltingly.

"Yes?" "You said, 'No, Jade.' Why did you say no?" "I was going to put on a condom first."

"Oh. I didn't even think about that."

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"Well, you should have, but since you didn't, let me reassure you that there's no need for you to panic. The worst that could happen is that you could get pregnant."

She raised her head and looked at him. "I'd never strap you with a baby."

His eyes delved into hers. "I can't think of anything nicer. "

On a catchy little breath, she asked, "Are you saying you love me?"

"That's what I'm saying.

"I love you, too, Dillon. I love you, too." She softly kissed his lips before returning her head to his shoulder. The only sounds they could hear were those of their

matched heartbeats and the squeak of old rope. They stayed in the swing long after it had coasted to a full stop.

Myrajane Griffith parked her gray Ford sedan in the sem-

icircular driveway in front of Ivan Patchett's house. Neal's invitation to brunch had come Re a bolt out of the blue. Myrajane had retired two years ago. Since then, she hadn't seen or heard from the Patchetts. She had often thought it tacky of them to present her with her gold pin, shake her hand, and then forget her entirely after working for them for thirty-five years.

Of course it was Lamar's fault that folks shunned her. Who wanted to be friends with the mother of a man who had died in disgrace in a condemned, heathen city? Not that she believed a word of what folks said about her son. Lamar had not been a pervert. He had not engaged in the unspeakable aberrations people said he had. He had died of pneumonia and a rare form of skin cancer.

To this day, she refused to believe his monstrous deathbed confessions. He had made admissions that weren't true because his mind had been distorted by painkilling drugs and the brainwashing of a medical staff on a witch hunt. Everyone in San Francisco was so terrified of AIDS that anybody who got sick was believed to have it.

Obviously the Patchetts didn't believe the lies any more

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than she did, or they never would have invited her into their home. As she gazed at the impressive facade of the house she had always envied, she pulled on a pair of white cotton gloves. Her hands were damp with perspiration caused by nervous excitement.

Whatever could Ivan want to see her about? Neal had hinted that it was important and urgent. It really didn't matter to her what was on Ivan's mind. She was flattered to be summoned.

Her floral voile dress was perfect for the morning appointment. It was several seasons old, but it was a quality garment. Her daddy had always said that it was better to own a single quality item than a dozen that were substandard. Whenever Myrajane went downtown, she was appalled by how women dressed nowadays. They didn't seem to care what they wore. You couldn't tell quality folk from trash because they all dressed badly.

Propriety and modesty were things of the past-just like the Cowan dynasty, just like the family estate. It had recently sold, she had heard. The rumor was that the bank was glad to unload it. When she heard about it, she had cried bitter tears.

Sadly, some things were irretrievable. She would never live in her family's house again, but, to her dying day, she was going to cling to the gracious traditions of the past, such as never wearing slacks in public and never appearing at a social gathering without gloves and a handkerchief. On her way up the veranda steps, she adjusted her widebrimmed straw hat, which would be appropriate until five o'clock in the afternoon. It was never going to be said of the Cowans that they didn't know how to conduct themselves with dignity and decorum. As the last living one, Myrajane took it as her personal responsibility to uphold the reputation of her maiden name.

When Ivan's housekeeper answered the door, his guest handed her an engraved calling card. "I'm Myrajane Cowan Griffith. Mr. Patchett is expecting me."

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When they arrived at her house,        Jade asked Dillon to come in with her. "I'm a mess," he protested. "I haven't shaved, and the hairs on my chest are stuck together with peach juice."

" You're no messier than I am. Please. I'd like to cook your breakfast."

"I didn't even buy you dinner first." "What do you mean 'first'?"

He laughed at the blue glare she shot him. "I'll come in for coffee-one quick cup,"

With their arms looped around each other's waists, they ambled toward the front door. "How do you know Graham and Cathy aren't waiting inside for me with loaded shotguns?"

"They'll be happy about us," she said, smiling up at him.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm happy." Jade went in ahead of Dillon and almost collided with Cathy, who was rushing out. "Good morning."

"Thank heaven you're home," the older woman said breathlessly. "I just woke up and found a note from Graham. He took off on his bike to meet Dillon and you at Dillon's trailer."

Jade ignored the inquisitive inflection at the end of Cathy's sentence. "He knows better than to leave the house without pen-nission, even on a Saturday," she exclaimed indignantly. "I'll have to ground him for a week."

Dillon laid his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. "Maybe he was worried about you. Did you think of that? it was irresponsible of us not to call. If Graham's on his way to the site, I'll catch up with him on my way out there."

"I thought you were staying for coffee." "That was before."

"But-" "Why don't I go on ahead and rendezvous with Graham. When you and Cathy are dressed, you can meet us at my

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trailer. I'll treat everybody to pecan pancakes at the Waffle Shack. "

"That sounds wonderful. " Jade couldn't keep from smiling. Nor could she remain angry at Graham. This morning, animosity just wasn't possible. "Cathy?"

"I'm all for it."

"Good," Dillon said. "See you in a little while." He placed his finger beneath Jade's chin and tilted her head back for a soft kiss. Dreamily Jade watched him cross the lawn and climb into his pickup. He waved as he drove away. When she turned around, Cathy was watching her shrewdly.

"I'm surprised," she said. "I didn't expect him to be someone like Dillon."

" 'Him'?"

"The man     who released you. I would have expected someone from the other end of the macho spectrum, someone not quite so physical."

"Dillon's very sensitive."

Affectionately, Cathy touched Jade's tangled hair. "He would have to be to overcome your fear."

"Since his wife and child died, he's been grappling with his own dragon. I've been as good for him as he's been for me. That's the best thing about it."

With a skeptical eye, Cathy took in her deshabille. "You're sure that's the best thing?"

Jade laughed out loud, a throaty, sexy laugh that would have been foreign to her yesterday. God, it was great finally to be a full-fledged member of the human race. No longer alienated by fear and repression, she was now in on all the grown-up jokes.

Cathy must have read the answers to her myriad questions in Jade's shining eyes. Her own glistened with tears. "You look positively radiant, Jade."

"I'm happier than I've ever been," she said without qualification.

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They never made it to the Waffle Shack that morning. Jade and Cathy arrived at the construction site within

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forty minutes of Dillon's departure from their house. Loner circled the Cherokee, barking, glad to see them. As they were trying to calm him down, Dillon emerged from his trailer.

Jade's heart skipped a few beats at the first sight of her lover after their brief separation. Lover. The word was a strange addition to her vocabulary. She repeated it several times in her mind, trying to accustom herself to its sound and implications. Pride and possessiveness bloomed inside her chest. Joy bubbled from a wellspring of newfound love. Then he said, "Graham's not here, Jade."

Her ebullience fizzled. "He's not here?"

"Oh, dear God," Cathy murmured. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have overslept."

"Boys wander off. I'm sure he's fine."

Jade could tell by the furrow between Dillon's brows that his words carried little conviction. "Where could he be?" "I don't know. I took his normal route on my way out

here and didn't see him anywhere along the way. I was expecting him to be here when I arrived. He wasn't. Loner's food bowl was empty, so I don't think Graham's been here at all. The first thing he does when he gets here is feed the dog whether he needs to be fed or not. I drove to the other side of the site, where they've been surveying, but there was no sign of him."