Jezebel (26 page)

“
You
have this,” Celeste whispered at her reflection, struck by the
unreality of her predicament. A month ago, before she’d turned
a new leaf, she would have bedded Shane and thrown him aside for
another.

Deep down, Celeste knew she
was lying to herself. Shane had proved to be different, much
different from her past suitors put together—evidenced by the
fact that he was the only man who could seduce her with only a touch
or a kiss.

It was unfair what he did to
her, reducing her to this frightened, needy thing that craved the
satiation only he could offer her. Celeste groaned. She could stay
up here all night and debate the obvious risks of continuing this
liaison and yet none of it mattered because he wanted her and she
wanted him.

If she looked at it
pragmatically, it would be easy for her to not have any emotional
attachment. But she wanted more. For the first time in a very long
time, she wanted to let go and feel. Of course, the idea scared her,
but she was tired of living day in and day out in a state of
numbness.

Determined, Celeste gave up
the safety of her bedroom. Almost by habit, she found her eyes
traveling to her father’s bedroom door. What would he say
about his daughter getting involved with his golden boy?

Probably rolling in his
grave, Celeste mused. His own flesh and blood wasn’t even good
enough to live under his roof.

Celeste faltered on the
stairs.

What a foolish, ridiculous
thought to think now. What was she trying to do? Sabotage everything
she’d worked so hard for up to this point?

Of course, she couldn’t
have timed it any better. Only steps away from temptation and here
she was beating herself up.

Resolute, she made herself
put one foot in front of the other until she ended up at her front
door.

Dressed
in a gray wool suit and gray fedora, cocked just so, Shane was a tall
drink of water clutching a large bouquet of Christmas roses.
Beautiful and fragrant they didn’t hold a candle to the man
holding them.

Darn! Every time she laid
eyes on him, her knees wanted to buckle. Celeste leaned against the
door frame and allowed him to pass. His cologne, a mixture of mint
and bergamot, tickled her senses. Celeste sucked in a deep breath and
sighed. The man had a way of scrambling her brains.

Shane held the flowers out.
“These are for you.”

Blink…blink…somewhat
in a daze, Celeste took them from him, “they’re
beautiful,” she breathed, automatically bringing them to her
nose. She inhaled and almost swooned, the blood red petals smelled
so sweet. She knew exactly the right place to put them. “I’ll
put them in my bedroom later,” she said, gently setting the
flowers on the foyer table.

She must have said the right
thing. His eyes lit up like a child’s in front of Macy’s
store front window during Christmas.

“
May I have your hat
and coat?”

Nodding, he shrugged out of
his overcoat. Celeste noticed the muscles straining against the
fabric of his shirt. Lean hipped and broad shouldered, he had a
physique painters searched far and wide to immortalize.

Of course, when she took his
outer garments, she appeared nonchalant on the outside, but on the
inside she was quaking. And for the brief moment, she held the
garments, savoring his scent, before placing them in the hall closet.

“
Are you hungry?”

“
Starving.”
Grinning, he rubbed his hands together. “I skipped lunch so I
wouldn’t spoil dinner.”

Celeste led him into the
dining room. “If you’ll have a seat,” she said,
patting the back of a chair. She’d set the table so they would
sit directly across from each other, leaving both heads of the table
empty. “I’ll be right back.”

Celeste
waited for him to be seated before retreating into the kitchen.
Excited, she grabbed the bottle of Welch’s grape juice, and a
large bowl of salad greens, mixed with olives, tomatoes, and red
onions.

As
she walked back to the dining room, she froze. She looked down at
the bottle of juice reserved for communions and nibbled her bottom
lip. Would he make a big deal out of the fact that their dinner
would be devoid of booze? Would he question why she’d suddenly
gone dry?

Well
she would soon find out soon enough because she couldn’t stay
in this kitchen all night.

Without a word, Celeste
placed the bottle of grape juice at his elbow. Already fitted with a
bottle opener, all he had to do was pop the cap. “Could you do
the honors?”

“
Um…yeah…sure
thing,” he said, taking the bottle in hand. Before opening it,
he turned it over and read the label.

Cheeks hot with
embarrassment, Celeste searched for a plausible excuse. She didn’t
think turning into a holy roller overnight would fly.

“
I’m glad you
remembered I’m in training.” His gaze lifted and found
hers. Was he blushing? “I like to stay dry a couple months out.
People just don’t get it. I’m glad you do.”

Well
what could she say to that? Suddenly finding herself in a good
place, Celeste swept back into the kitchen. She even hummed
Bye,
Bye Blackbird
as
she picked up an oven mitt off the kitchen table.

Celeste
froze. Wasn’t it rather cool in here? Celeste eyed the mint
green Grayson stove in the corner. She’d turned it on before
going upstairs to take a bath hadn’t she?

Celeste listened for the
customary pop the oven emitted in various intervals.

Silence. Absolute silence.

Dismayed, she chewed on her
bottom lip. Her perfect evening had suddenly taken a nose dive. She
looked at her wrist watch. Was Roscoe’s still open at this
hour?

Even if they were, it would
take her ten minutes to walk the two blocks. Another forty-five
minutes to place her order and have them cook it from scratch.

“
Damn…damn…damn.”
Celeste stepped forward, aiming to give the stove a swift kick.

“
Why are you cursing
at the oven?”

Celeste spun around. She
hadn’t heard him come in. “What are you doing in here?”

“
I thought you
might’ve needed some help.” He was so tall and big, he
seemed to dwarf the space. And that was saying a lot considering the
kitchen was one of the largest spaces in the entire house.

Defeated, Celeste sat down
on the foot stool near the back door. “Hold onto your britches.
I forgot to turn on the oven.”

Shane glanced over at the
oven then back at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

“
See for yourself.”
Celeste swept her arm toward the cold appliance.

When he walked over to the
stove, she jumped up and followed. She couldn’t help being a
glutton for punishment. She even shouldered him a little so she
could get a good look.

He
opened the oven door with a little more flourish than warranted.
Celeste sniffed. They weren’t opening a department store, just
the door to an oven. Still nothing could detract from the cold lump,
Trudy’s farsumaguru, sitting on the middle rack or the droopy
loaf just beneath it.

Silent, he straightened. He
stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
Expecting the hammer to fall, a bad habit she’d developed while
her father was alive, Celeste braced herself.

“
Out of all the times
you tried to get rid of me…this takes the cake, sister.”

Indignant, Celeste planted
her hands on her hips. In truth she’d tried to kick him to the
curb on several occasions, but this was an honest to God mistake.

She opened her mouth to
present her case, but stopped. In her indignation, she failed to
notice the sparkle in his green eyes. Realizing he was only kidding
with her, she fell in line, batting her lashes at him. “I told
you, I wasn’t any good.”

“
So what do we do
now?” He rocked on his heels nudging her shoulder. Celeste was
still surprised at the sudden reaction to his nearness, her face
instantly blooming with heat.

Unfortunately,
the warmth in her cheeks didn’t remain static. It shot through
her body, nestled in the pit of her stomach and lower.

“
Want a peanut and
jelly sandwich?” she murmured, fully grasping the fact she was
in dangerous territory.

As
if sensing her dilemma, he slowly turned. With her back to the
kitchen table, her left side to the oven, he blocked her only exit.
He was peeking at her through unbelievably long eye lashes while his
lips curled into a smile that seemed to melt her dwindling resolve.

Celeste gulped. If he
kissed or touched her now, she would probably melt at his feet like
the wicked witch of the west.

He moved in closer, so close
his body heat permeated the thin fabric of her dress. Celeste braced
herself for the inevitable.

“
With extra jelly and
cut in half?”

Celeste nodded only out of
pure reflex because from his lips to her ears it sounded more like
with ‘satin sheets followed by cigarettes’.

“
Do you mind if I eat
in here?”

Celeste swallowed around the
ball of lust hinged in her throat. Unbridled images of her jumping
on the table with her skirt hiked danced through her head. “H-here
is fine,” she stuttered.

With a grin a mile wide, he
removed his blazer then draped it over the back of one of the kitchen
chairs. All the while Celeste watched him, admiring his movements,
which were as graceful and fluid as any dancer’s. Not wanting
to take her eyes off him, she reluctantly went about feeding her
guest.

In quick order, she placed a
couple of glasses on the table, along with a quart of fresh milk.
Next, she pulled out the sliced bread, peanut butter and grape jelly
out of the cupboard and set them on the counter.

“
I’m really
sorry about this,” she offered, while smearing Maggie’s
homemade peanut butter on a slice. “In all honesty I can’t
cook.”

“
That looked like more
than air in there, gorgeous.”

“
My cousin Trudy
helped with all the cooking. She did most of it. I mostly watched.”

Embarrassed, Celeste glanced
over her shoulder to gauge his reaction. Good thing she had the
counter to keep her steady! He wore the most pleased-as-punch grin
she’d ever seen.

“
You were trying to
impress me?”

Celeste
nodded as heat stole up from her chest and settled in her cheeks.
Before she went up in smoke she turned her attention back to their
sandwiches.

“
I
like that. I like it alot.” Celeste could still hear the smile
in his voice. “We can eat the fancy stuff tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow?! Surprised,
Celeste spun around so fast the butter knife flew from her hand. It
skidded across the floor, landing near his foot. She moved to
salvage it. He was quicker. He picked it up and handed it back to
her, handle out. Their fingertips touched and an electrical shock
whizzed up her arm. Shaken, Celeste stepped back.

As if nothing had transpired
and completely oblivious to her internal dilemma, Shane sat back in
his chair legs extended. Celeste envied him, sitting there cool as a
cucumber, while she felt like hell warmed over.

“
I mean you went to
all that trouble,” he drawled. “It’s the least I
could do.”

The least he could do,
Celeste mused as she walked back over to the table with two dessert
plates and their sandwiches.

Without hesitation, Shane
bit into one of the two sandwiches she’d prepared for him.
While he ate, Celeste took notes. She noticed his hands were large
and bronzed by the sun. His fingers were long and straight with
neatly manicured nails, devoid of grease, oil or even dirt.

Mesmerized by his elegant
appendages, she imagined what they would feel like holding her hand,
caressing her arm, touching her face, her body.

If
someone could be accused of drooling without actually slobbering,
Celeste was that person.

Hot and bothered, Celeste
searched for her glass. She brought it to her lips.

At the last moment, she
pressed it against her cheek. Soothed by the cold, she gave into
temptation and peeked at the handsome man sitting next to her.
Thankfully, his slightly off-centered nose saved him from being damn
near perfect.

At some point, he became
silent, eyeing her as she’d done him. “W-what is it?”
she asked.

“
You got a little
something…” He leaned toward her his finger scrapping
the side of his mouth.

Celeste searched the table.

She’d remembered
everything but the napkins. She didn’t want to appear a slob
by wiping her mouth with her hand, so she moved to stand up. Her
bottom barely left the seat when his hand wrapped around her wrist.