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Authors: Aris Whittier

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BOOK: Foolish Notions
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James placed the chilled bottle of wine
and three glasses on the table. His mouth watered as he eyed the
plume of savory smoke that poured from the closed lid of the grill.
He could only imagine what was inside. Samantha had forbidden him to
look, and wasn’t giving a hint as to what she had been
marinating in the refrigerator all day.

Samantha had been planning the meal
from the moment his mom had woken and said she was starved. It had
been almost a week since Marie had been so violently ill that both he
and Samantha thought she would never recover from it. Marie’s
suggestion that she might enjoy a hearty home-cooked meal had caused
Samantha to run down the stairs in delight, announcing that she was
going to the store. She had snatched up her purse and darted out the
door. When she got back, she muscled in three bags of groceries,
refusing any help. She didn’t want anyone else to know what was
for dinner.

Samantha spent the entire day cooking.
James had tried to sneak a few peeks throughout the day, resulting in
banishment from the kitchen entirely. If he wanted a drink of water
he was told it would have to come from the garden hose outside. He
had laughed at her announcement, and quickly hid the grin when he
caught her heavy glare.

Being prohibited from the kitchen and
the enticing aromas was too much for James and Marie. They sat on the
couch, because the bar was too close to the kitchen, conjuring up all
sorts of different ideas of what was being created for dinner. James
had even placed a bet with Marie on what the menu was. What else were
they to do?

Now, James moved to the grill, ready to
sneak a peek, but stopped instantly when Samantha’s words hit
him.

“Don’t even think about it,
James Taylor,” Samantha said as she slid open the screen door
and walked through. She used her backside to slide the screen shut
again. “You’ve made it the entire day.” She looked
at her watch. “Just a few more minutes won’t make a bit
of difference.”

“Think about what?” he
countered innocently. She was clad in a short summer dress that
exposed slender thighs. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard
fashion held by a brown clip.

Stray hairs, tugged loose by the wind,
danced over her golden shoulders. The thin purple straps of her dress
enhanced her delicate frame. Her neckline went on for miles. He eyed
the small indentation by her collarbone. The hollow would provide the
perfect place for a kiss. He thought about that kiss as he shifted
his gaze to the silky opaque slip under the gauzy purple material,
which prevented him from viewing the rest of what lay under it.

“No sneaking a peek.” She
regarded the grill with a nod of her head. “I know what you’re
thinking, don’t deny it,” she teased with a smile.
“You’re practically drooling.”

His eyes followed her as she set a
green salad along with some dressing on the prepared table. “It’s
not what’s for dinner that’s making me drool.”

The salad bowl landed with a thump, the
wooden spoon chimed against an empty glass as it fell to the table.

James sauntered over to her and held up
a glass of wine, offering it to her. “Purple looks good on
you.”

She took the wine. “It’s
lavender,” she sputtered under her breath.

He considered for a moment, then leaned
into her ear casually. “Call it what you want. I’m sure
it would look even better on the floor next to my bed.” The
look she sent him made him grin. “I find the slip underneath a
nuisance.”

He brushed her hair away and rested his
hand on the curve of her neck. His thumb found the slight indentation
at its base. He stroked the area before he captured the thin lavender
material between his fingers. He played with the strap as he watched
her.

She didn’t back away, he noted,
but the wine in her glass vibrated. The small, almost unseen, detail
excited him. Her insides were just as fluid and quivering as the
beverage she was holding and that’s just how he wanted her.

James dipped his head by her ear. “Feel
a spark, did ya?”

“Nothing here.”

“Nothing?” A single brow
arched over daring eyes.

“Strange, I thought I felt
something.”

She took a very long drink of the wine.
“Perhaps you were wrong.”

He made no attempt to hide his smile.
“I’m not often.” Using his body to shield her from
his mom or anyone on the beach, he moved in front of her. He waited
until she looked at him before he spoke. “You know, I like a
good challenge.”

“I’m not challenging you.”

James skimmed his fingers over her
shoulder and gently slid them under the narrow spaghetti-thin strap.
He moved it in his fingers from side to side considering what should
be done with the dainty material. He smiled and slid the strap over
her shoulder revealing the full round crest of the top of her breast.

He knew exactly what he wanted to do
with the whole damn outfit. However, the location posed a problem. He
looked up. “How about now? Feeling anything now, Angel?”

Her skin broke out in goose bumps, her
nipples clearly straining against the thin cloth barrier. “I’m
glad you’re amused by all this.”

“I don’t think it’s
amusement that I’m feeling.”

“Maybe you’re feeling like
an overbearing, womanizing cad,” she offered in a voice that
was weighed down with contempt.

He laughed at the insult and shook his
head. “No, that’s not it, either.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you
sure?”

“Positive.”

Exasperation found its way into her
words. “I’ll add appalling to the list.”

“You don’t believe that.”
There was a short pause. “Your opposition only drives me more.”

“It’s time to eat.”
She said the words over her shoulder, and loud enough for Marie to
hear, as she headed for the barbeque.

When she turned, James made eye contact
with her. “My thoughts exactly.” This time amusement was
what he was feeling and he allowed it to show in his eyes. He gave
her a wink because he knew it would send her into a tailspin. “I’ll
get the water.”

* * * * * *

When he was gone, Samantha waited for
the bout of faintness to pass. She prayed that it would. Her knees,
she needed to put all her focus on her knees. She would die if they
buckled. Would God be so cruel? Breathe Samantha, she told herself.
She caught herself clenching the wineglass tightly and forced her
fingers to relax.

A spark? An explosion would be more
like what she was feeling. And challenging him was the last thing she
would want to do. She knew what James Taylor did with challenges. He
made them his. No matter how unobtainable they might be, he always
managed to dominate. It was a fascinating game that he liked to play.

Samantha lifted the barbeque lid, glad
that her attention could be focused on something other than James and
the traitorous hunger that grew in her body.

“What’s that, sweetheart?
Did you say something?” Marie said as she stepped out onto the
deck.

“Dinner will be ready in a
minute.”

“It smells heavenly.”

Samantha took one last fleeting glance
at James as he set the glasses of water on the table and then helped
his mom with her chair. He looked so powerful, so confident, it made
her head spin. He was arrogant, she thought. Women aren’t
supposed to find men like him attractive. What was wrong with her?

* * * * * *

Conversation flowed freely throughout
the meal. Topics included everything from the latest headlines to
what the actual diet of a seagull was. As food was passed back and
forth, easiness settled over the table, creating chitchat that was of
old friends. Good friends.

James couldn’t tear his eyes away
from Samantha during the entire meal. He had allowed his gaze to
drift to his mom during conversation, but it favorably drifted back
to Samantha the moment it could. She was too exquisite not to watch,
he told himself. With her face beautifully flushed from the wine, and
her eyes glittering from all the laughing, it took every ounce of his
willpower not to reach across the table and show her how much it
pleased him to see her like this.

He leaned back as he finished his meal.
This was how it used to be, effortless and comfortable. Content was
the only word he could use to define what he was feeling as he
watched his mom and Samantha. It was this that he wanted. It was this
. . . this feeling, this moment, that he must have back. He looked
from one woman to the other . . . this was his life, and suddenly it
became vitally important. Nothing would stand in his way until he got
it.

“James, would you like some
more?” Samantha asked the question when she looked over and saw
the intense look in his eyes. Whatever he was thinking, it had
produced the small line that found its way to his brow.

“No, thank you. Dinner was
superb.” James rubbed his stomach, satisfied. “You outdid
yourself, Samantha.” He looked to his mom. “Mom, I’m
so glad you got your appetite back.”

“Me, too. I think I made up for
all the lost meals with this one.” She looked at her empty
plate and then at Samantha.

“Everything was wonderful.”

Samantha reached for her hand. “I’m
glad you enjoyed it.”

James cleared his throat. “Mom, I
know you’re stalling. Go find your purse and pay up.”

Marie’s napkin stopped in midair.
“Pay up? I won the bet.”

James all but gaped at her statement.
“How do you figure that?”

“I got everything right, down the
garlic mashed potatoes.”

“I said potatoes, too,” he
insisted.

“Not garlic potatoes.”

“It doesn’t make a
difference what kind they are.” James looked to Samantha. “Tell
her potatoes are potatoes.”

Samantha raised her hands. “I’m
not getting in the middle of this.”

Marie sat up a little higher and
challenged her son. “And you also said bread, not garlic
bread.”

“Garlic bread is a given.”
James shot back as he looked toward Samantha expectantly.

“Don’t try and drag me into
this. I’m not saying a thing.”

Samantha stood up and began stacking
plates.

He watched her rise. “Chicken?”

“I prefer to call it smart.”

Marie touched Samantha’s hand
when she took her plate. “I didn’t raise him to be like
this.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t figure where
she’d gone wrong.

“Don’t blame yourself,
Marie, I’m sure there was nothing you could do.”

She nodded. “Perhaps you’re
right, dear. But this type of behavior is improper and quite
honestly, embarrassing.”

Samantha shrugged. “Sometimes you
just get a bad seed and there’s nothing that can be done about
it.”

Marie nodded methodically at Samantha.

“You did all you could do.
Perfect manners can mask only so much; it’s bound to come out
sooner or later,” Samantha said seriously.

James waved his hands in front of the
two women, trying to gain their attention. “Hello, do either of
you see me sitting here?”

Samantha grabbed the paper napkins and
stuffed them between two plates before they blew away. “Did you
just say something?”

James just glared at her.

“I hope you left room for
dessert,” Samantha said as she gathered the silverware and
piled it on the plates. “I’ll go get it while the both of
you duke it out.”

James held a hand up. “Wait,
don’t get it yet.” He looked to his mom. “I’ll
be willing to call the dinner a tie if you agree to have the dessert
be the tiebreaker.”

“You know I won, fair and
square.”

James got ready to counter her
statement, but stopped when she eyed him.

“However, since we didn’t
decide how specific we were getting, I accept.” She puckered
her lips as she raised her glass.

“Shall we put it in writing?”

“No.” He glanced at
Samantha. “We have a witness.”

They both followed Samantha into the
kitchen. Samantha turned, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the
situation. “Tell me when I can reveal the dessert.”

James sniffed the air as Samantha got
out dishes and began to brew a pot of coffee. He eyed his mom and
knew she too had guessed the rich sweet scent that filled the room.

“Cheesecake,” Marie said
happily. There was no mistaking it.

“Yes, but what kind?” He
leaned on the counter. “This time we are getting specific.”

James watched his mom as she sniffed
the air a few more times and carefully considered her options. He
knew she didn’t have a clue what kind of cheesecake it was.
However, he did. He knew without a doubt. Every time Samantha and he
had celebrated anything together, whether it was she passing her
state board exams or he closing a deal, she always made raspberry
cheesecake. It was his favorite.

James drummed his fingers across the
countertop. “So, what do you think?”

Marie shrugged her shoulders as she
contemplated the aroma. “How am I supposed to know what kind of
cheesecake it is?”

“How was I supposed to know
garlic potatoes?” His retort was a little mocking.

She scowled at him and then looked at
Samantha. “There he goes again with that bad—”

“Oh, will the two of you stop
it,” James said quickly. “I’m tired of you both
ganging up on me.”

Marie lifted her chin. “Well,
it’s purely a guess, a safe one I think. I’m going to say
cherry cheesecake.”

He nodded his head. “A good
choice. And yes, it’s a safe one.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

“However, it’s not the
right one.”

Marie glared at James. “Don’t
count your chickens before they hatch, Son. I raised—”

“It’s raspberry,” he
interrupted.

Marie scowled when Samantha set the
raspberry cheesecake on the counter.

James put an arm around his mom’s
shoulders. “I believe there is a twenty in your purse with my
name all over it.” He looked at his watch. “I expect
payment in full within ten minutes.”

BOOK: Foolish Notions
6.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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