Just One Look (12 page)

Jennifer sank onto the glove-soft leather seat. "Oh, I've always loved Jags. This is a classic model isn't it?"

He grinned. "Yeah. When I was a kid, I saw one like this and that little Jag on the hood captivated me. I vowed I'd own one when I grew up, but I don't drive it that much. My pickup is a lot more convenient."

"It's beautiful. They stopped putting the poised jaguar on the hoods of some of the new models, didn't they?"

"Yeah, too much temptation for some, I guess. Yanking ornaments off car hoods is some people's idea of fun."

Matt drove carefully to the museum according to the directions he'd memorized from Google maps.

As they drove, Jennifer learned that he'd been in Texas since his college days. His parents had moved out of the rust belt upon his high school graduation. They'd moved to Houston first then his father had been transferred to Plano.

"That's where they live now. So does my sister Patricia. She's an engineer, and Dad has a computer software business to pass the time since retirement. Mom got her real estate license, they both love what they're doing."

"That's wonderful. Is Treeshee married?" She asked.

Matt looked over at her. "Treeshee? How did you know that was what we call her?"

Jennifer evaded his questioning gaze. "Isn't that a common nickname for Patricia?"

"Oh, I guess it could be." He chuckled. "I thought I was original in creating that."

He seemed satisfied with her answer. Jennifer relaxed until he asked, "Tell me about you? You don't have that Texas twang either. What part of the north are you from? How'd you and your folks end up in the Lone Star state?"

"After my mom married Dad," she stopped. "That sounds funny, doesn't it? You see, my real father wouldn't marry my mother."

At his quick look of sympathy, she shook her head. "I'm comfortable with it. I know who he is. It's never been a secret. My mother got pregnant when they were seniors in high school. He never acknowledged me. My mom wouldn't give me up, even when her family kicked her out. She's a remarkable lady. She raised me the best she could. We had some hard times, but we always had each other. Then when I was in high school, she met Ed. He was the best thing that ever happened to both of us."

"He seems like a really nice guy."

"He is. He's why we ended up in Texas. He worked for an oil company and got transferred from St. Louis. We've been here ever since. He took early retirement this year, but I think he's getting antsy already."

That was a neat bit of fancy footwork, she thought. She saw the shopping center where the Institute of Feminist Studies was located and breathed a sigh of relief.

As they parked, she said, "I hope this won't be too boring for you."

"Oh, no. I like to stay informed." He lightly touched the small of her back as they walked up the dozen or so steps to the building that looked as if it used to be a branch bank.

Matt began to doubt the wisdom of the evening when he noticed how crowded the exhibit was. With women. He seemed to be the only man in the building. He made a donation of twenty dollars and so did Jennifer, despite his protests, to the woman who sat at a writing table near the door.

The thin woman thanked them and looked down her rather prominent nose at Matt. "So," she muttered, "the word has leaked out, I see."

Matt looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind," she sighed. "Enjoy." She opened up the book on her desk and proceeded to read, ignoring them completely.

Jennifer let Matt take the lead. As the women noticed him, a quiet fell over the room. She knew he noticed because his expression grew progressively pensive. She almost felt sorry for him.

Before they reached the first painting, which was large enough to cover the wall behind her sofa, she remembered, she saw the woman who'd put the exhibit together walking toward them. The woman wore what looked to be the same skintight leather pants and bomber jacket she'd had on that first night. Maybe she thought it complemented the exhibit.

"How nice to see a member of the male persuasion here," the woman said. "I'm Dr. Noreen Eder, and this is my work." She waved her hands to encompass the gallery.

"How do you do, Dr. Eder," Matt said and then introduced himself and Jennifer.

Jennifer noted that Matt didn't use the honorific doctor before their names. Of course, one pompous doctor in the room was enough, she thought, thankful that Dr. Eder didn't remember her from opening night.

"So you are interested in this exhibit?" Noreen Eder looked Matt up and down.

Jennifer could almost see the woman's hormones being released at the sight of a desirable, apparently available, man. Possessively, she hooked her hand around his arm.

"Yes, I like to stay intellectually open," Matt said.

"Really?" Noreen Eder reached into the pocket of her leather slacks and produced an ivory business card. "Well, why don't you call me sometime? We can exchange ideas."

Matt took the card and dropped it in his coat pocket. "Thanks. If you'll excuse us now, we'd like to look around."

Well, here goes the male bashing, Matt thought, as they approached a painting that opened the exhibit. As they drew closer, he could make out details and his temples began to pound. Slack-jawed, he stopped in front of the painting and stared. No symbolism was used in the painting. It was realistic in the extreme.

The oil painting showed a man, bound hand and foot to a four-poster bed. His body strained against his bonds as he gazed with rapture at the nude woman crouched between his thighs. The woman held a long ostrich plume and there was no doubt what she'd done with the feather.

His breath swooshed out of his body as if someone had pole-axed him. He didn't dare look at Jennifer. Silently, as if he were hypnotized, he walked to the next painting. He could feel every eye on him.

The next one showed a man, clad only in a frilly apron, scrubbing a kitchen floor while a woman in a gray pinstriped business suit stood over him and read a
Wall Street Journal
. He could see a certain humor in that, he thought, hoping that the humor angle, rather than the sexual one, would be played up in the rest of the exhibition.

The next painting was his Waterloo. There was no way he could continue. "Jennifer, this isn't what I thought it would be. I mean, I didn't know any of this."

"I wonder how that woman squeezed into that black leather bustier. It's so tight that it looks as if it were applied with a paint gun, don't you think?" Jennifer asked.

"Uh, I don't know." Matt knew his face was the color of crimson and his eyes were glazed with shock.

"Seriously. Black fishnet stockings
and
crotchless panties?" Jennifer sniffed. "Why bother with the panties?"

Matt drove in silence back to Jennifer's condo. She hadn't spoken a word to him since they'd walked out of the exhibit. She'd probably never speak to him again, he thought, gloomily. He was glad that she couldn't see his red face in the dark. His skin still felt hot to the touch. It was disgusting, he thought, a man his age, and an experienced doctor to boot, blushing like a pimply-faced boy. But he couldn't stop his traitorous brain from imagining Jennifer in black leather and crotchless panties. Then he'd think about the sheer stockings with the black lace banding at the top that she'd worn, and he'd get so hard that he ached. Where did you buy crotchless panties?

Jennifer decided that Matt's face could have been used for an emergency beacon. It took all her will power to keep her laughter inside. More than anything she wanted to tell him the truth, but he was so apologetic, so groveling in his contriteness, that she was afraid he wouldn't see the humor in the situation.

"I know how shocked you must be," he said, finally.

"No, no. It's all right. After all, I've seen stuff like that before."

"You mean, it doesn't bother you because you distance yourself by donning your psychologist's hat, so to speak?"

Jennifer wished she'd never concocted that story about being sexually repressed. She sighed, forced to continue the pretense, at least until she could find a graceful way to put an end to the nonsense. "That's right." She attempted to weave some truth into her lies. "You unleashed feelings in me that I didn't know were inside me. Tonight, rather than be insulted," she said, "I felt rather turned on, if you must know the truth."

He glanced sharply at her. "You did?"

She nodded, smothering her grin. She'd also felt a level of hilarity that equaled watching
Wile E. Coyote
get clobbered by an Acme anvil in a
Roadrunner
cartoon, but she chose to remain silent about that.

The traffic was light, and they reached her condominium complex a short while later. The parking lot was brightly lit. Too bright, darn it. There were even some late night joggers around. No privacy to be found here or in her condo, Jennifer thought, with her mom and dad still there.

"Then you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," Jennifer said, feeling a pang of guilt. She hoped that when he found out what she'd done that he would be equally compassionate.

"So you'll see me again?" He asked, turning the motor off.

Unhappily, Jennifer looked at him. She hadn't forgotten the hurt he'd caused her in high school, but he wasn't that same callous senior any more than she was an insecure, self-conscious freshman. Though her actions of late certainly wouldn't have convinced anyone of her maturity.

Even his chat with Lucas Wyman could be excused. After all, she hadn't heard what he'd said. And she did know that Lucas Wyman was a drunken blowhard. Matt could have been totally innocent, just a guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she hadn't stopped to think about that. Instead, she'd jumped to the conclusion that he was as bad as Wyman and had decided to show him what it felt like to be a sex object. She shouldn't have yielded to the temptation to play tonight's prank on him.

Heavens, she thought, wasn't she old enough to know that when you played with fire, you ran the risk of getting burned?

"Jennifer? Will you see me again?" Matt pressed.

She shouldn't, she knew. "Yes, Matt, of course I will." She couldn't hope to hide the truth from him forever. Forever? Was that what she wanted with him? The forever kind of love her mom and dad had.

"Shall we go get some of Mom's dessert?" She asked, dejected by her sudden insight.

"I'd rather have a kiss first." He tilted the steering wheel up and moved toward her.

Desire streaked through Jennifer, leaving her limbs quivering and her lungs feeling as if she'd run a marathon. Her heart beat double-time as she went eagerly into his arms. Then that glorious feeling of rightness flooded her as his lips captured hers. He kissed her as if he never intended to stop.

Minutes later, or was it hours, they separated a fraction of an inch and dragged in a much needed breath. In a breathless whisper, Jennifer asked, "Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

Matt's grin could only be described as rakish. "In the front seat of a 1976 blue Camaro," he said. "Of course, it was a little more challenging with bucket seats and not nearly as rewarding as when I kiss you."

Jennifer remembered that blue car. She planted her lips on his and used all her skill to make him as dizzy as she felt. She didn't want to take the chance that he would connect her with those awkward kisses they'd exchanged long ago in his blue Camaro.

"Oh, Jenny," he moaned. Just as he had that night so long ago. His hands reached inside her coat, seeking her warmth. When he touched her, she shuddered with longing.

Matt felt the quaking of her body. His own hand shook as he palmed her breast. Through the sweater, he felt her nipples pebble against the gentle press of his hands. "Jenny?" He whispered. Asking. Pleading.

"Yes, Matthew, oh, yes," she whispered back, unconsciously answering him in the same manner as that night so long ago. "A thousand times yes."

Matt felt the moment freeze as if time stood still. His hand tightened convulsively for an instant. All the breath seemed to leave his body. He remembered.

Everything.

He forced his hand to relax and release her. Then his nimble fingers slid beneath the hem of her sweater and stroked up her satiny skin. "Jenny," he moaned. She felt hot to his touch. His blood thundered through his veins. This was Jenny. His Jenny. He slid his fingers beyond the barrier of lace. His eyes opened, and he watched her as he touched the nipple. She jumped, and he felt his dick react in the same way. He stroked, and she shuddered and gave herself up to his touch. Eyes closed, head leaning back against the upholstered headrest, she moaned. He wanted his mouth on her. He wanted to see her face when he sucked a taut nipple into his hot mouth.

A sharp rapping on the glass behind him startled them both.

"Hi, you two." Jennifer's mother called. "Did you just get back?"

Matt jerked his hand from beneath Jennifer's sweater. Cursing, he schooled his features and turned to face Ronnie who'd rapped again on the driver's side window. Taking a deep breath, he opened the driver's door and got out, giving Jennifer time to pull herself together.

"Yes, we did," he told Ronnie, yanking his own coat closed and buttoning it. Mothers took exception to men who became aroused in parked cars with their daughters, he figured. "What are you doing out here?" He walked slowly around the car to the passenger door and opened it.

"Just getting a breath of fresh air," Ronnie said. "I saw you so I thought I'd tell you I had dessert ready."

Jennifer tried to control her ragged breathing as she got out of the car. Damn, she felt as if she were fourteen again. Her mother must have some kind of over-protective intuition, she thought. The cold night air felt good on her face. Would she and Matt ever have a chance to get beyond earth-shattering kisses and a tentative touch?

"How was the exhibit?" Ronnie asked.

"Most interesting," Matt replied. "If Ed's not involved in the football game, and we have time, I'll tell you all about it."

Jennifer's head jerked to look at him. "Uh, I'm sure Dad's engrossed in the game, right, Mom?"