Stay (Dunham series #2) (26 page)

Interesting. “Just so you know, your concierge—”
Eric stopped abruptly when Vanessa’s head snapped up, her hands
still.

“Shelly?” she prompted.

So. There were issues there, and he still wasn’t
quite sure his suspicions were correct. Yet. “Uh . . . Well—” He
stopped, unwilling to say anything more.

Vanessa sighed and went back to cutting. “Never
mind. She’s a flirt; I get that.”

“She wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

“Oh.” She paused a moment, then muttered, “I’m
sorry. I should’ve known she’d do that.”

“You don’t like her, do you?”

Vanessa said nothing for a beat, but her cutting
pace never slowed. “No,” she finally said. “I don’t. But she’s good
with unhappy people, she does her job well, and she’s discreet,
which is paramount here.”

“Why’d you hire her?”

“Besides her references? She looked straight at Nash
and didn’t recognize him.”

That made sense.

“Will she respect your space?”

“I don’t know.” Vanessa stilled, then she looked
back up at him slowly. “Is that something I might have to worry
about?”

He stared right back at her and said, very firmly,
very deliberately, “No.”

She stared at him, as if she didn’t quite believe
him, but went back to her work with a firm nod. “Okay.”

Eric leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms
over his chest, watching for a great long while before she had
packaged what she’d cut and thrown the packets into a small chest
freezer marked
RABBIT
.

“Oh, hey,” he said, “what’re your buildings roofed
in?”

“Solar panels.”

He blinked, surprised. “I didn’t know they came that
small.”

She glanced up at him and smiled. “Technology’s
amazing, isn’t it? Whittaker House made my architect famous.”

“How so?”

“A building like mine is an energy hog. I was very
specific about what I wanted it to look like, but I also wanted it
to be as energy efficient as possible. Nia had to figure out how to
do it. She got together with Knox’s cousin Étienne—the
engineer—?”

Eric nodded.

“—and they basically built a power plant.”

“So you’re off the grid,” Eric said slowly, leaning
backward to look down the hill at that magnificent mansion—
power
plant
—feeling a rush of admiration so strong he could barely
breathe.

“No, we’re
on
the grid, but only to sell
power back to the utility company. We sit over a natural spring and
draw our own water. Étienne also designed a filtration system that
would work with Nia’s ideas. We collect rainwater and recycle
runoff. The only propane we use is for the kitchen, and those tanks
are buried. Since all the buildings are able to generate their own
power, we’ve been able to grow fast. I wouldn’t have been
comfortable trying to get a loan for the boutiques across the
highway if I didn’t know they’d pay for themselves in electricity
in a couple of years, whether my tenants make money or not, whether
they stand empty or not.”

He looked back at the rabbit under her knife. “And
the animals?”

“The Conservation Department makes sure we keep our
predator-prey ratio healthy. They make sure we don’t fish out our
streams. They have breeding programs all over my land here, and
outward. My menu suits the Department’s purpose and their presence
here suits mine. They help me be the kind of steward I want to
be.”

“Steward . . . ” he said slowly. “Of the land?”

She nodded.

“Most people wouldn’t care about that, Vanessa,”
Eric murmured. “How did you come to care so much?”

She stopped and stood up straight, wiped her
forehead with the back of her arm. “Common sense,” she said.
“Responsibility. Protecting my investment. This—” She gestured
toward the outside with her knife. “—This is survival. I can dress
my food, present it like it’s an upscale New York dish, but if you
think about it, you realize it’s just survival food. I can cook on
any surface you can imagine, as long as I have a flint and some
water.”

“Oh, you’re one of
those
.”

Vanessa gave him one of her eye-crinkling smiles.
“Yes, I am. And I protect my land as well as I can.”

“So are you organic?”

“All the vegetables I serve are fresh from local
farms. I have several vendors who’re stay-at-home moms—and most of
them are church members. They started growing vegetables for me for
some extra cash and now that’s where I get it all. They’ll grow
anything I ask for. A couple of them have hen houses. I get all my
eggs from them. All the bread I serve is locally made, too. But . .
. we aren’t completely organic,” she admitted. “We do the best we
can, but it’s not one of my sticking points. Things happen. You
have to be flexible. It’s like the electricity. Yeah, we conserve
there, but we use a helluva lot of propane and water. It’s always a
balancing act.”

“And the planters on the veranda?”

“Herbs.”

“What about winter?”

“My vendors all have greenhouses now.”

Eric stopped asking questions to watch her work
while he thought about what she had said. What it meant to him. His
heritage. His ancestors and his tribe. His mother.

It took her another long while to clean everything
up and package the fur. Once the butchery was clean and she had
shucked her coveralls, she went to an out-of-the way table and
boxed the pelts. She tossed the box across the room to Eric and
said, “Put that on the front corner of the veranda where the rest
of the boxes are, would you, please?”

He grinned. “Oh, I see. You let me come down here so
you could put me to work.”

Vanessa laughed. “Of course I did. Did you think you
were coming to Whittaker House to be waited on? There’s a small
cottage on the other side of my private garage. I need some help
there when you’re done with that.”

Eric felt an odd sensation in his chest that felt as
warm and soft as the rabbit pelts inside the box he held. It wasn’t
lust, wasn’t love. It was . . . something he had never known and
couldn’t identify.

When he’d finished that task, he went back to the
butcher shop to find it closed up tight and Vanessa gone.

He wandered past a six-car garage, which had doors
matching the butchery, though this one had windows. It housed her
Prowler, a large pickup, and two four-wheelers with trailers.
Behind that was another small cottage, two-story, away from the
rest and covered by large oaks. It was different: It looked lived
in. Loved. Cared for with a personal touch the others didn’t
have.

So. This was where Vanessa lived. He began to
smile.

He walked up the three stairs to the porch, then
into the cottage without a qualm.

Water ran through the pipes. The cottage was so
small, it only took him four steps to follow the sound to the
narrow staircase that wound around the back of the chimney, which
led to the second floor. Her bedroom, tidy and mostly pink. Another
five steps got him to the bathroom, which had no door.

Taking a chance that she meant him to find her
somewhere in this tiny cottage, and knowing that this was the only
place she could be, he stepped into the bathroom.

There, in the glass-enclosed shower, she stood nude,
her body beautiful and streaming with water, her streaked hair
clipped to the top of her head.

She looked over her shoulder, straight at him.

He knew exactly what he’d be spending his nights
doing to that beautiful voodoo priestess body of hers.

All week long.

* * * * *

23: Mary Had Always Been Good

Vanessa wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.

She’d finished the butchering in record time, so no
one would come looking for her. Vachel was sleeping. Shelly had
things under control.

I want the chance to fall in love with you.

She’d obsessed over that ever since he’d declared
his intention, the possibility that this boy-man she’d carried in
her heart all these years was eager to give her what she had always
wanted from him. But today, she’d awakened with the thrilling
tension of a girl about to go on her first date.

Eric had called her the minute she got home last
month, and she’d bolted out of her car to run to her office.
Breathless, she’d checked her packed calendar to try to figure out
what commitments she could rearrange.

Then she’d gone straight to Nash.

Consider this your eviction notice. Go home to your
woman and your brat.

Oh, so small-time
married
country lawyer
stepped up to the plate, huh?

Not married. And maybe he did, maybe he didn’t.
We’ll see. I’m shaking you off my leg now.

Okay, doll. But I ain’t leavin’ ’til I get a good
look at him.

Fortunately, Eric had shown up while she was
butchering.

Say, doll, your boy’s here moseyin’ around. I can
clear out in a coupla hours if you’ll store my shit. That good for
you?

Yes, thank you.

Yo, V, thanks for a good run. And thanks for bein’ a
real friend.

You, too, Nash. And, hey. Good luck with Melanie and
Trixie. I hope that works out for you.

I’m gonna need all the luck I can get. Have your
little pets pray for me, ’kay?

Sure thing.

Vanessa had had time to collect herself and gather
her thoughts before Eric showed up in her butchery door. Then she’d
concocted a hasty plan and sent him away just long enough to
prepare.

No matter what happened in the future, she wanted to
make love with Eric today.

Now.

As she let the hot water rinse the soap away, she
watched him take his clothes off. He returned her look, undressing
slowly as if he didn’t want to scare her by appearing too eager.
Her breathing quickened when he stripped his tee shirt over his
head, and she saw the intricate spider-web tattoo that banded his
left upper arm and covered his muscular shoulder. Then her
breathing got harder and faster when he pushed his jeans and snug
boxer briefs down his legs; a matching tattoo banded his right
thigh and climbed up his hip, disappearing around the back.

She stared shamelessly at his arousal. Her nostrils
flared. She wondered how he would taste—and when she’d get to wrap
her mouth around that. She looked back into his intense face.

She
ached
for him.

Eric opened the glass door and stepped in with her,
behind her, buried his nose in the crook of her neck. Kissed.
Licked. His hands wrapped around her waist, then stroked up her
ribs to cup her breasts.

Better.
Much
better than she’d hoped for.

Perfect, as a matter of fact.

“How much time do we have, Vanessa?” he murmured as
he nibbled at her jaw.

“An hour maybe,” she whispered, almost unable to
speak. “I couldn’t wait until tonight.”

He said nothing to that. She knew he wouldn’t have
expected this at all; wouldn’t have expected her to be so upfront
about it, nor so soon after his arrival.

“I want to seduce you, Vanessa,” he murmured. “Not
here, not in the shower. I want to love you properly, take my time,
and in my world, an hour’s a quickie.”

Vanessa smiled then and turned, wrapping her arms
around his neck; she thought she’d never been so happy in all her
life. Here, now, in her shower amongst the life she’d built for
herself, with Eric, the man she’d risked everything for so many
years ago; the man she’d fallen in lust with a year ago; the man
she was pretty sure she could fall in love with. He caressed her
and stroked her and kissed her—

—so very well, his tongue in her mouth, teasing,
tasting, his skin against her nose so that she could smell him, all
earthy and utterly male.

He drew away from her and turned the water off, then
led her out of the tiny bathroom into her tiny bedroom. He rolled
her into the middle of the bed, her legs wrapped around his
hips.

“Come be inside me, Eric,” she whispered, reaching
for the drawer on the night stand and pulling out a handful of
condoms, letting them fall on the bed like confetti.

“Mmmm . . . I want to touch you more, kiss you
more.”

“Necking and petting? I learned about that in Young
Women’s.”

He chuckled. “Everybody else calls it foreplay and I
like it. I like it a lot.”

“No. Not now. Please. I’ve been waiting for you, for
this, all day. All month. My whole life, I think.”

He gave her that sly grin and whispered, “Well, if
you insist . . . ” After a moment of preparation, he found her
spot, then slid slowly, carefully inside her. Stayed. Her back
arched and she drew in a soft breath of ecstasy.

Yes!
Much,
much
better.

His skin on hers, her breasts mashed against his
chest, her arms around his neck, his body pressing hers into the
mattress, her mouth under his.

They kissed. Vanessa had never felt so liquid, so .
. . right. She hummed into his mouth as he licked at her lips, then
teased her tongue.

The senior girls had been right. He
definitely
knew how to make girls feel good.

“VANESSA!”

At the familiar bellow, which was way too close to
the cottage for comfort, her eyes popped open and she nearly
choked. Eric stilled and they stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“Vanessa, you didn’t,” Eric growled.

“I forgot. Eric, I swear I forgot. I— All I could
think about was you. Making love with you. Cover your ears.”

“VANESSA!” It was closer this time, and then her
front door opened.

“KNOX HILLIARD, YOU GET OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT
NOW!”

“Whose Corvette do I see out in the parking
lot?!”

“Whose do you think?!”

“Well, where the hell is he?”

Eric clamped his hand over Vanessa’s mouth and
barked, “You knew exactly where I was, you obnoxious bastard. Get
the fuck out.”