Every time I had that dream, I would wish for one more second. I would replay the scene over and over, wanting so badly to decipher what she was trying to tell me. Her dead body lying there in a casket trying to speak to me was the most frightful vision. Still, I wished I could get an inch closer, just to hear her, because I knew it was a whisper. Even terrified, I knew it was a whisper that would change the course of my life forever, if only I understood what the message was.
Perhaps she was warning me about Stephen. Maybe it was her last plea for me to kick him to the curb. And maybe, just maybe, she had sent Bob down to remind me that I’m all I’ve got.
I composed myself, took a deep breath, walked over to the table, sat down, put the napkin across my lap, and began eating. Table for one, and I was okay with it. I was going to concentrate on my job, write the article, hopefully impress everyone at the paper, and move on with my life.
One glass of that fine Pinot was not enough; I had two, then three. The risotto was divine. I ate every single bite and thought, See, this is the life. Nobody gives a shit about me and that’s okay, because I give a shit about me.
It was dark out on the balcony, I could see every single star in the sky as I polished off my glass of wine. It made me feel as insignificant in the world as I knew I was. I walked in and called the front desk and told them they could collect the tray. I had drunk three quarters of a bottle of wine and was feeling numb when I heard the same three knocks. My plan was to apologize to the poor man for my wacky behavior earlier, but when I opened the door he wasn’t there. In his place stood Jamie, in all his glorious beauty. He had a small box in one hand and something else behind his back in the other. I took a step back and let him enter the room.
“Hi.”
“Hi. Don’t you ever go home?” One corner of his mouth turned up, revealing the dimple. I realized my comment sounded rude. “I mean, do you work twenty-four hours a day?”
“I live on the property.”
“Here?” I motioned around the room.
“No, I live in . . .” He laughed a little before speaking again. “I live in the barn.”
“You live in the barn?” My eyes went wide.
“It’s a really nice barn, okay?” he said in a low voice. There was something about the way he said it that made my fingers tingle, like he was promising me something—an invitation, perhaps.
For a few moments we were quiet and shy. I’d had a lot of wine.
“How was the risotto?” He glanced down at my mouth.
“Delicious.”
“I like the way you say that word, like you really mean it.”
“I do,” I said, and then brazenly looked him up and down.
“I brought you something.” He held out the small box and then set it on the long entry table, along with another bottle of Pinot. “In case you need backup. And that’s just a little treat,” he said, pointing to the box.
“I doubt I should be drinking any more wine.”
He shrugged. “Well, just in case.” He turned to walk out. At the door, he looked back at me. “It was nice to meet you, Kate. I hope you have a good night.”
“Wait a minute.”
He turned immediately, and there was something hopeful in the look on his face. “Yeah?”
“Well, I want to see what you brought me so I can thank you properly in person.” I took the small box and opened it to find two of the most decadent-looking salted chocolate caramels seated on two tiny doilies. “Oh, my favorite. How’d you know?”
“Good guess, I suppose.” He was still standing near the door, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.
“And thank you for the wine, but really, I shouldn’t have any more.”
“We can share it if you want.”
I smiled then took a chocolate from the box and bit into it, the caramel stringing out over my fingers. Taking a few steps toward him, I reached my hand out, holding the chocolate near his mouth. “We can share.” I was drunk, but I didn’t care.
He wrapped his hand around my wrist, pulling it closer. He never took his eyes off of mine when he slowly took the chocolate with his mouth and then sucked the caramel off my index finger. He leaned in next to my ear and spoke softly. “Does your boyfriend like to share?” Flushed from head to toe, I stood there, speechless. He stepped back and laughed a little.
“I’m just messing with you, Katy.” He searched my face. I was shocked. “I’ll be respectful, I promise.”
I mock-punched him in the chest. “All right, open the wine then.”
“Is that how you ask nicely?”
“Oh, you’re pushing it.” We both laughed. “Okay, please, let’s have some wine.”
He grabbed the bottle, bottle opener, and two glasses and then said, “Let’s take a walk. We should be outside on a gorgeous night like this. I’ll show you the pool.”
Taking nothing but my room key, I followed him toward the door. I glanced in the mirror. I was still wearing my demure work clothes and matronly shoes. I had piled my hair on top of my head in a messy bun and had faint black mascara streaks under my eyes from crying. I was the picture of a man’s worst date. It’s not a date, I reminded myself, but I was also beginning to realize Jamie wasn’t just any man. It didn’t seem like he was turned off.
It was hard not to stare at him. There was something sweet but innately confident about the way he carried himself. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, he gave a chin nod to the man behind the front desk.
“Going to the pool, George.”
“Okay buddy, I’ll send some towels over.”
I started to object. What on earth would we need towels for?
Jamie jutted an elbow out for me to loop my arm through, and then he shook his head.
“Don’t worry about it, towels are good for sitting on.”
“Right,” I said assuredly.
We walked through the large great room, out to a huge veranda, and down several small sections of stone stairs to a gate. I read a sign on the fence that said the pool closed at ten.
“It’s got to be after ten.”
“I clean this pool. I can swim in it any time I want.” He winked.
“I thought we weren’t swimming? Wait a minute, you clean the pool, too? What don’t you do around here?”
“I’ve worked every job on this property for at least a day. I even did housekeeping for a week.”
“Why?”
“Curiosity, I guess. I wanted to know how to do each job, and Susan really loves me so she let me give it a go. Sometimes I just fill in for other people because I’m always here, you know?”
“Is R.J. always here?”
“He’s here a lot.”
The pool was gorgeous, with a stone waterfall on the opposite side from where we were standing near a table. While Jamie opened the wine, I pulled a chair out.
“Let’s dip our feet in.” He looked up at me eagerly. “Want to?”
“Isn’t it cold?”
“It’s heated.”
“Okay.”
I kicked my shoes off and rolled up my slacks, then followed him to the edge of the pool, where he set two towels down. He rolled up his jeans and sat gracefully before dunking his feet into the water. My fingers twitched with a desire to smooth back the disheveled hair that had fallen into his face. I watched intently as he reached up and ran his hand through it, displaying the flexing muscles in his arm. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. When he handed my wine over, he noticed me staring.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. I just want to forget about everything for a little while.”
“Really?” He looked excited. I nodded. “I have a great idea.”
I dipped my feet in. The water was very warm, like bathwater. It was immediately calming my nerves.
??
?What’s your idea?”
“Well, curious Katy, I’ll show you.”
He jumped up, ran to the gate, tinkered with something, and then all the lights went out—the lights in the pool, all around the patio area, even the waterfall. Everything was silent. I could see steam rising from the surface of the water. A million more stars became visible. I sipped my wine and then heard Will Ryan’s soulful voice filtering softly through the outdoor speakers. Jamie appeared at my side.
“I love this guy. He’s so good,” I said.
“Yeah, he’s awesome. He and his wife are playing at a little local bar on Saturday, if you want to check it out with me?”
“I’d love to, if I’m still here.” I finally looked up and noticed that gorgeous Jamie was shirtless and undoing his belt buckle. Even in the dark, I could see the sinewy muscles of his arms and his defined abs and chest. He just smiled playfully at me. “What are you doing?” I whispered loudly.
“We’re gonna take your mind off things with a little dip.”
“I’m not taking a dip.”
“Okay, fine.” He yanked his jeans off and leaped into the pool, wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue and gray plaid boxers.
When he surfaced, he held his boxers by a finger above his head and spun them around as if he were doing a striptease. He flung them toward me and they landed just to my left.
“Oh my god! I can’t believe you just did that.”
“What? You can’t see me. Anyway, I know you have the crazy in you. You’ll be in here in no time.”
“How do you know that?”
“The pretty ones are always a little cray-cray.”
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
“You have no idea,” he said with no trace of humor. “Just get in here, Katy. I promise I won’t look.”
At that point, it’s fair to say that I was drunk, completely and utterly drunk from the wine, and Jamie’s presence did nothing to sober me up. His long, wet hair left little glimmering droplets on his shoulders. I giggled. “Turn around, you better not peek!”
“I promise.” He waded to one end of the pool and turned his back to me.
I quickly stripped down to my black bra and panties. Looking down, I thought it could easily pass for a swimsuit except that it was silk. Oh well.
As quietly as I could, I slipped into the pool on the opposite end of where Jamie stood. There were at least thirty yards between us. The pool felt amazing. I relaxed for a moment and then realized I was in a pool with a naked man I’d just met. A very attractive naked man.
“Okay, I’m in, Jamie, but keep your safe distance.”
He turned around, grinned from ear to ear, and then disappeared under the water.
Good god, what is he doing?
I was suddenly very nervous. A small part of me was actually frightened. If it weren’t for Will Ryan’s sweet words pumping through the speakers, I would have been terrified. His hands on my hips didn’t startle me at all because I could feel him getting closer. He rose out of the water, his warm hands gripping my waist. He wasn’t smiling; he was searching my eyes. I looked around quickly and then back to his shoulders and pecs as he lifted his arms and slicked his hair back with both hands. I could see his tensing neck muscles. There was very little stopping me from licking the drops of water off his arms. I closed my eyes as he closed the gap between us. I felt his mouth brush my neck and then move toward my ear. “Baby, open your eyes.”
“I . . .”
“I know. You have a boyfriend.” One side of his mouth turned up. He moved back a few inches. “We can be friends though, right?”
“Yes,” I sighed.
“You were crying earlier. Why?”
“I shook my head.”
“Please tell me it wasn’t because of how R.J. treated you?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I just want to forget everything.”
He nodded, looking away for a second. “Are you ticklish?”
“Don’t you dare.”
He laughed. “Well, there is one thing I know . . .”
“What’s that, smart guy?”
He put his hands on my hips again and I let him, even though I knew it was crossing the line. It felt so good, like being enveloped in warmth and security.
His mouth turned up into a knowing smile, and then he said, almost wistfully, “Just being your friend is going to be hard, but I’ll try. It’s just that . . . I like you. You’re witty and sweet, and you happen to be the most infinitely beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” I sucked in a startled breath. He paused, looking all drowsy with desire before opening his mouth to speak again.
“Don’t,” I murmured.
“It’s not hyperbole, Katy. I promise.”
Giggling nervously, I slowly sunk beneath the water, thinking Jamie was out of his mind. I never would have described myself the way he just did.
But then again, I had allowed Stephen to make me feel like I was barely worth coming home to.
Page 5
* * *
Allegory
Slipping my clothes over my wet undergarments, I turned away from Jamie as he lifted himself out of the water from the side of the pool. He got dressed quickly, and when I turned back toward him, he was sweeping up his sopping boxers from the ground and wrapping them in a towel. No qualms about commando. I like it!
“I’ll walk you back.”
“Great, thank you, I’m dead-tired.” I was feeling completely bashful after his poetic and sweet confession.
We headed toward the inn.
“I need to stop at my truck for a sec. Do you mind?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
He opened the driver’s side door and then blocked my view. I heard a zipper open and then he was shuffling with something. It was taking more than a second.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“Just one more minute, okay?”
Being the curious person that I am, I stood on my tippy-toes and leaned over to see what he was doing. He turned around abruptly, holding something behind his back.
“What is that?”
“Nothing, it’s not a big deal,” he said, nervously.
“Let me see.” It was at least ten full seconds before he finally held his hand out, revealing some sort of syringe.
My mouth dropped to the ground. “Are you . . . are those drugs?”
“No. Well, yes, but not what you’re thinking.”
“What is it then?” We were both hesitant.
“It’s insulin.”
A breath rushed from my mouth. “You’re diabetic?”
“Yes, type one.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. I’ve been this way for a long time.”
“Were you embarrassed to tell me?” I asked gently.
“No, I just didn’t want to burden you with it, and I have to give myself this shot now. I didn’t know if you’d be squeamish.”
“Not at all.” I started getting misty-eyed. “That would never be a burden to me, but thank you for the consideration.” At the age of eight, I’d had to play nurse to my mother while she was dying, her body wracked with cancer. At twenty-five, I watched Rose, the only other person I’ve ever loved, get eaten alive by a plague-like bacteria she’d picked up in the hospital after her gallstone surgery. There were few things that could nauseate me.
He was still holding the syringe and looking into my eyes. “I’m gonna do this now, okay?” And then he smiled sweetly. I nodded. He took the needle cap off with his teeth, holding it in his mouth while he lifted his shirt on the left side. My eyes were drawn to his beltless jeans, hanging low on his waist. His stomach was thin and defined and angled in that way that encourages your eyes to cont
inue looking downward. When I glanced up, I noticed his gaze was focused on the penlike syringe. He pressed something on the bottom and a tiny drop of insulin bubbled at the needle tip. The air was suddenly filled with a very potent, medicinal smell. And then, as if he had done it a million times, he pinched a chunk of his skin just above his hip and jabbed the needle into it. I caught a tiny wince flash across his face just as the needle hit the skin. He pushed the button on the bottom of the pen and then quickly pulled it out and replaced the cover using his mouth. He was still holding up his shirt.
“Shit,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“I hit a blood vessel.”
“Oh my god, what does that mean?” I said, suddenly frantic.
He chuckled. “Nothing, sweet girl, it’s just a little blood.” He was looking around for something. I looked down and noticed he was bleeding from the injection site. It was thinly streaming toward the top of his jeans. Spotting our wet towels on the hood of the truck, I quickly grabbed one and bent to carefully wipe away the blood.
“Whoa, what are you doing, Kate?” There was a touch of amusement in his voice.
“Wiping the blood away.”
“I could have done that.”
“Oh,” I said. I stared at him for a few seconds, feeling mortified. I was trying to read his expression. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled, but I think he was a little shocked, too.
“No, what I meant was that I wouldn’t want to make anyone feel like they have to do something like that.”
“I know. I told you, I’m not squeamish. I just wanted to help.”
“Thank you.” He held the towel to his waist for a moment and then let his shirt fall. “I should get you up to your room. You must be exhausted.”
“Yes. It’s been a long, strange day.”
“Not all bad, I hope,” he said quietly as we shuffled up the stairs.