Careless Rapture (24 page)

“You think that’s what this is about?” he
asked quietly.

Mack’s eyes met his. “Isn’t it? I know you
want him.”

Clay sighed. Mack was right—this was becoming
more about Emmerick than about anything else. He couldn’t allow
himself to lose focus of what he was up against, what he was really
fighting. He couldn’t risk Brent becoming entangled with Emmerick.
He had to think of another way to penetrate his weakness.

“You’re right. I do want him.”

“We’ll get him, but you’ll have to be
patient.” Mack rubbed his chin. “Actually, your idea has given me
another one. Emmerick has another weakness we can use against him.
His ego. You know how his system works. What if we created a
division of the ministry and wanted his advice? We could trap
him.”

“How?”

Mack told him the idea; Clay began to
smile.

***

Jackie scolded herself as she rushed over to
Clay’s apartment. She was late again. She’d torn her closet apart
trying to find the perfect outfit for her dinner with him. At last
she decided on a cream blouse and green skirt. She wondered what he
would cook for her and hoped it wasn’t anything that splashed.
Anytime she ate pasta she ended up getting sauce on her shirt. She
raised her hand to knock.

He opened the door before she had a
chance.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said.

He opened the door wider. “That’s okay. I
expected you to be.”

Jackie stepped into the dimly lit room and
heard the soft sound of jazz playing in the background. She turned
to him with amusement in her eyes. “Are you going to practice your
seduction scene on me?”

He closed the door. “I don’t need to
practice. It’s already been perfected.” He led her to the dining
room.

She sat down, impressed by the maroon
tablecloth adorned with fine china with a gold trim. The room held
a subdued elegance, except for Laura sitting on top of a
bookshelf.

He followed Jackie’s look. “She helped me
pick out the pattern.”

“I should be jealous, but she has an
excellent eye.” She sniffed the air. “Everything looks great, but I
don’t smell anything cooking.”

“I know.” He set a bowl in front of her
filled with melon balls, pineapple chunks, blueberries, mango, and
a sprig of peppermint.

She looked at it, confused. “Fruit
salad?”

“Hmm. It’s up to you whether it will be
dinner or breakfast.”

Her head
snapped up. She stared, speechless.

As the silence stretched, so did his
patience. “What do you say?”

“Have you ever eaten blindfolded?”

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you ever eaten blindfolded?”

“No.”

“Let’s try tonight.” She stood and grabbed a
dishtowel. “Sit down.”

“But you haven’t answered my question.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” She went behind him
and folded the dish towel. “Close your eyes. ” Clay crouched down.
Jackie wrapped the blindfold around his eyes. “Okay, now I’m going
to put a piece of fruit in your mouth and you guess what it
is.”

He hesitated, then said, “All right.”

“Open your mouth. Now what do you taste?”

He chewed a moment. “Pineapple.”

“Good, and this?”

“Cantaloupe.”

“And this?”

He frowned. “That’s not on,” he protested,
using a typical British phrase meaning she wasn't being fair.
“That’s two fruits.”

“What are they?”

“Honeydew and blueberry.”

“Very good.”

“I try.” He opened his mouth and motioned
with his hand. “Keep it coming.”

Her heart stirred at the ridiculous yet
vulnerable picture he made. His mouth open, as trusting as a
child.

“Try to guess this.” She brought her mouth to
his.

He licked his lips when she drew away.
“Tastes like Mischief.”

“Does it taste good?”

He pulled her onto his lap. “Delicious.”

“Do you want more of it?” she whispered.

“As much as you can give me.”

She took his hand. “Then follow me.”

He lifted his hand to his face. “Can I take
the blindfold off?”

“Not yet.” She took his hand and led him down
the hall.

“Ow!”

She turned and saw him rubbing his forehead,
the ceiling lamp swinging behind him. She winced. “Sorry about
that.”

“My fault,” he grumbled. “That’s what happens
when you have a Lilliputian guide.”

“A what?”

“
Gulliver’s Travels.
Never mind.”

Jackie led him to the bed and gently pushed
him to sit down.

“Now wait there. I’m going to strip.”

He reached for the blindfold. “I’d like to
see this.”

Jackie grabbed his hand. “No, just imagine
it. We’re using different senses tonight. I’m taking off my top
right now.”

“How?”

She paused. “How?”

“Yes. I want a better description. Are you
pulling it over your head or one arm at a time?”

“One arm at a time.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Now the bra. It’s paisley and fastened in
the back. I’m having a little trouble, but . . . there. Got it.
I’ve tossed it aside. Now I’m slipping out of my shoes.”

“How?”

“How else does one take off high heels?”

“You could bend over and take them off, which
presents a very nice image, or rest against the drawer and bring
your foot up to pull it off, or you could kick them off, or—”

“I stepped out of them,” she interrupted,
annoyed.

“Listen, if you’re going to be my eyes, I
want important details.”

“I don’t think how someone takes off their
shoes is an important detail.”

“Did you miss the memo? Men are visual
creatures.”

“Tonight, try to
listen
. I’m removing
my skirt by unzipping the back and slipping it off my hips. Now
just listen and imagine.”

He heard the soft material fall to the
ground, the scratchy sound of her stockings, then the elastic snap
of her panties as she stepped out of them.

She came toward him. He smelled the tangy,
crisp scent of jasmine and orange blossoms he’d first remembered in
his office. He reached for her, his hands brushing her breast.
“Just take off my pants and I’m a happy man.”

She unbuttoned his shirt. “No, I want to
enjoy this, too.” She pulled back his shirt and rested her hands on
his chest.

It was the first time he realized how much he
liked the feeling of her hands on him. She didn’t have the delicate
fingers one would expect from an imp—they were little fingers, but
seemed to soothe the darkness within him, tame the anger
underneath, and stirred feelings in him he couldn’t articulate. She
was a true enchantress, bewitching him with merely a touch and a
scent. He felt her nimble fingers move to his trousers. In moments,
he was naked and felt her warm body against the length of his,
ready to gratify a growing hunger as she slipped a condom on
him.

He drew her close, ready to indulge in the
sweet liquid center between her thighs. A deep healing peace
suffused through his body, ridding him of the clinging despair that
had become a toxin. It had been a part of his spirit so long that
its exit was almost painful. Its passing left him briefly hollow,
but her love filled the empty space inside. Her hope, her optimism,
her passion defeated any lingering doubt or fear that joy could
never be his.

Tonight he felt joy, that seemingly elusive
creature kept so long out of reach. Being a man of few words,
action was his language, and this night of lovemaking was his
pledge—that he would treasure her, honor her, care for her. It was
the first time he tried to communicate with his body this way, so
there were times his embrace was awkward or his kiss fumbled. But
Jackie understood every word. She interpreted the heart-rending
eloquence of his feelings as be held her, as he moved inside her.
As his hot lips seared a path along her shoulder. She closed her
eyes, reveling in the wonder of a passion she’d only known in her
fantasies. Even her fantasies couldn’t compete with the delights of
a real man. How sexy imperfection could be.

They held each other after the lovemaking
ended, languid with pleasure.

He finally said, “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too.” She took off his blindfold and
gazed at an amazing, wonderful sight. The shadows were gone.

He furrowed his brows, confused by her
expression. “What?”

“Your eyes.”

“What about my eyes?”

She cupped the side of his face. “They’re
beautiful.”

***

The next morning Clay squinted at the
sunlight seeping through the blinds. He stretched out his arm to
feel the warm body lying next to him. The space lay empty and cold.
He turned, surprised, then sat up. He hadn’t expected to wake up
alone. He glanced around the room. There was no sign that Jackie
had been there. Not even a lingering scent. But he knew last night
had been real. He ran a hand down his face, feeling the stubble on
his chin. Had it been too real for her? Had she discovered she
didn’t want to develop a serious relationship with him? He swore, a
heaviness entering his chest at the thought of her fleeing him in
the night.

He pulled on his pajama bottoms and walked
into the kitchen. It was out of habit; he wasn’t hungry. He looked
sightlessly through the cupboards and fridge, wondering what to do.
So she’d left him—he’d survive. He decided to clean Laura’s
cage.

“She left,” he told the bird. “The one woman
I invite to stay and she leaves.”

Laura chirped.

“I know you stayed, but you’re an exception.
Besides, you’ll fly away soon enough.” He lifted her. “Come. Give
us a kiss.”

She gave him a peck on the lips. He heard the
door open and turned.

Jackie stood in the doorway, her hip resting
on the door frame. “Yes, I’m definitely jealous.”

He set Laura down and stood, his mood
suddenly buoyant. “I thought you’d gone.”

“Is that why you’re giving my morning kiss to
a bird?”

“If you’d stayed in bed you would have gotten
yours, too.”

“I’ll know better next time.”

He frowned, noticing that the jacket she wore
fit like a long coat. “Why are you wearing my jacket?”

She took it off and hung it in the closet.
“It’s a chilly morning.”

“Where have you been?” He hated how
possessive those words sounded. “Not that it’s my business.”

“I’ve been for a walk.”

Clay went to the kitchen, his appetite
returned. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

He pulled down a box of cereal.

She frowned at it. “What is that? Molded
bark?”

He poured the contents into a bowl.
“Weetabix.”

Her frown increased. “Keeps you regular, does
it?” She patted him on the back as she went to the fridge. “I
suppose you have to worry about things like that at your age.”

“Yes. By the way, your bottle is heating on
the stove.”

“I’m having fruit salad.”

“Need me to mash it up for you?”

“Using your face may cause some
amusement.”

He sat and clicked his tongue. “Careful,
little girl. It’s dangerous to tease me in the morning. I’m not
much fun.”

Jackie wrapped her arms around his neck and
kissed his cheek. “Oh, I think you are.”

They sat down at the table for breakfast.

“I took your keys and put them on the coffee
table,” she said. “I just wanted to get out for a bit.” She placed
a key on the table. “I’ve made you a copy of my key.”

“Good.” He put the key in his pocket. “There
are a few items I’d like to steal.”

“My panties are in the top drawer.”

“I’m more of a garter man.”

“I don’t own any garters.”

He raised a brow. “Then I suggest you get
some.”

They fell into silence, then she said,
“So.”

“So?”

“Do I get a key to your place?”

He glanced around. “I don’t think there’s
anything worth stealing.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I… Well, there
is
my Benny Hill
video collection. I’m rather fond of that.”

“You don’t want to give me a key to your
place?”

“I don’t like surprises,” he said,
effectively answering her question. “I’d feel uneasy not knowing if
I’d come home and find you here.”

“Oh.” Her tone was sharp. She stared at her
fruit salad, feeling her temper rise. Clay was right. She didn’t
like the word no in any form. But then she remembered the pleasure
of last night and the joy of waking up with him in the morning. He
had given her so much already at this point, it would be selfish to
ask for more, to disregard the gift he’d given her. She smiled
wryly, thinking of how she’d changed. The Jackie of before would
have argued, but the Jackie now accepted it. Accepted him.

“Do you want your key back?” he asked.

“No.” She smiled at him so he had no doubt
everything was fine. “It’s yours.”

After breakfast they went to see the cherry
blossoms spreading their pink and white petals along the Tidal
Basin. The sun painted the gleaming rotunda of the Jefferson
Memorial a brilliant white and reflected its rays on the tranquil
waters.

Later they went to the National Museum of
Natural History, staring in awe at the eight-ton African bush
elephant that stood at the door entrance under the rotunda. They
marveled at the Hope Diamond and made their way around the Insect
Zoo. At the museum store, he bought her a dragonfly brooch, which
she immediately pinned to her shirt. She bought him a puzzle of an
hawk. They planned to work on it once they got home.

They walked hand in hand, their spirits high,
but Jackie’s enthusiasm began to wane as they walked back to his
place.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“We have to tell them.”

His joy dimmed a bit, too. “Yes. Don’t worry,
I’ll handle things.”