Head Over Wheels (Steamy New Adult Romance) (27 page)

I angled my head. And what could that be, besides throwing her weight around, flashed through my mind.

"She designs clothing. Even sews. She's getting ready for a summer fashion show of her line." As he swept a lock of hair behind my ear, I noticed his eyes wanted to feel admiration for his mother's achievements, but fell short of the glint.

"She has a clothing line?" Duh, of course she would have.

Like the fading sky, he lacked enthusiasm. "Before marrying my father, she was a model."

She still looked like one. "Impressive ... and Vanessa's one of
her
models ..." That would account for the nose extension.

"She'd like to be, but my mother's very picky about her work ... and her models. They're usually men," he said dryly.

When I recoiled, Indigo laughed. "Come on, let's go inside." He squeezed my shoulders, then looked across the horizon. "The gulls have packed it in for the day. Guess it's time for the formal introduction." His face tightened, along with his grip on my hand.

We washed sand from our feet, tiptoeing barefoot during the rest of the tour. The interior of the house was even more amazing than the barn, the backyard, the pool, the multiple patios, the five car garage.

The hallways and staircases were so wide, I could have stretched my body across and still left walk room. We passed through the huge kitchen which had its own flight of stairs. I followed Indigo from room to room, one more impressive than the next. The course was ever changing: my feet sank deep into smoky gray carpeting, then padded across gleaming hardwood floors, only to be cradled again by the plush of blood red oriental rugs.

"Does every room have a fireplace?" I asked.

"Not the kitchen or bathrooms." Indigo sounded serious, then added, "I take that back. The master bathroom suite has a gas fireplace."

"I see." I gulped, then my stomach did a flip as we climbed a circular staircase and I stood before the door of an angled room.

Indigo took my hand and led me inside. "This is the sewing room, and my mother, Elizabeth." He waltzed me across the crimson carpet, to the woman who barely turned her head in our direction. Chandeliers lighted the room, highlighting champagne streaks in her already light blonde hair that curled beneath her chin.

"We've met," she was brisk, focusing on Vanessa, who stood like a princess on a round pedestal rising from the center of the room. She looked like a plastic figure on a birthday cake. I assumed it was the platform where Elizabeth measured bodies and hemmed legs.

Vanessa simply nodded when we entered the room. Then a haughty grin broke over her sharp features when her eyes flicked over me. What was that all about, I wondered? Was I not dressed appropriately for the occasion? My face heated, but I willed my cheeks to hide the flush.

"This is Jewelia Delarosa." Indigo seemed to be attempting his
formal
introduction, but his mother couldn't have been more disinterested, which was fine with me.

Her sharp eyes turned thoughtful, raking over me as if I were merchandise hanging on a rack. "I don't suppose you know of a bronze god." Her words were as sour as her ageless face.

I almost emitted my classic "Huh?" accompanied by my all too common scrunched up mouth which personified my curiosity. But in the presence of royalty, I caught myself.
Thank you, Grandma ... I owe you so much.

I must have looked either stupid or stunned, because I was suddenly able to glimpse Elizabeth's top row of perfect white teeth. "I've designed an ensemble, and the model I had in mind has gone missing ... from the country, or so I've been informed." She looked like her nose had just come in contact with the spray of a skunk.

No wonder her model left the country ... I held back a belly laugh. Her indignation diminished her presence, but I knew I could never be
me
with a woman like
her.

She was dressed like a model, in a trim, peach colored skirt and ivory top, with a paisley scarf wrapped twice around her neck, the fringed edges sweeping her square shoulders.

Some women were known for their perfume, some for their designer handbags and footwear. I decided scarves were her personal fashion statement.

"What sort of model are you looking for, Mrs. Ballou?" My head still tilted, my words were sincere.

"I told you. A bronze god." She was huffy, and so miserable for a woman who seemed to have so much.

"As in a warrior?" Pursing my lips I lifted a brow, restraining the smart ass tone that was raring to be unleashed.

She hiked her chin, studying me with narrowing eyes, Indigo had taken their color, but nothing else.

"A dark-skinned king? Something like a Spartan?" I smiled.

Her brilliantly blue eyes sparkled with interest. "And ... you know such a person?" Her gaze swung to Indigo, as if seeking affirmation.

He shrugged, the humor in his voice not visible on his face. "I think there's one downstairs, Mother." He aimed a thumb at the door.

"What?" Her exclamation was grandiose. I expected her to start air-kissing.

When Elizabeth's eyes widened, Vanessa's almost squeezed shut, and she couldn't seem to hide a scowl as she stepped down from her podium, crossed her arms over her chest and sulked. I figured she was pissed off because she wouldn't be saving the day after all.

"My friend, Derek Thomas, aka the Spartan King." I smiled with pride that crushed my dimples. "We brought him with us. He may be just what you're looking for. He's built like a ..." When I caught a glimpse of Indigo's face, I stopped describing Yvonne's hunk of a boyfriend, and said, "you can see for yourself ... I can go get him."

"Vanessa," Elizabeth ordered, "run downstairs and find this Derek fellow. If he's everything she says," her gaze cut to me, "I'm sure he'll stand out. Bring him up here, stat." Elizabeth was great at barking out orders. No wonder her gardens were so splendid.

"Look for the handsome guy with the braids," I tried to be helpful.

Before Vanessa left the room, she swung a dramatic half turn. I could feel Indigo's eyes on me, and Elizabeth's were on him. Mine flicked over Vanessa, of course, and I watched a look of hatred color her features before she did an about face and disappeared.

Elizabeth was out of her mind thrilled with Derek, who was equally elated to be chosen as the highlight of her Manhattan fashion show. However, it would have taken a stick of dynamite to permanently loosen Elizabeth's jaw line. What was that woman's problem?

After introductions, Indigo and I left his mother, whose eyes and hands worked Derek over like a pastry chef baking for celebrities. I inquired where his father was, surprised we hadn't yet run into the man who'd provided the striking home and amenities. Indigo's face was strained when he nodded toward the far end of the very long hallway. "In his study, I would imagine." He grunted. "Having his own party, more than likely." I'd never heard his voice drop into such a demeaning tone.

Derek later told us Elizabeth had indicated appearing in her show could very well be the stepping stone toward the modeling career he'd been striving for. He'd even confessed he was a stripper, which hadn't seemed to trouble her any more than she already seemed to be. He also said he'd give up his Information Technology Computer career in a heartbeat, if the
amazing woman
could make his dream come true.

I wanted to gag.

Derek laughed when confiding, "Elizabeth measured absolutely every part of me that could be measured, while my sugar babe inspected the lady's every move. And she
is
da lady."

By the look on Yvonne's face, I could tell she didn't care for the svelte designer who had her hands on her boyfriend's body parts, but she was willing to make exceptions.

We hung around the barn for a while, then were lured outdoors by blaring music which could never be considered disorderly conduct, as the faraway rooftops of the nearest neighbors pointed to the distant, star studded sky.

The patio lights glared. Emma and Bill shared a lounge chair, food, drinks and lips, while Pete and Casey played endless games of pool. And with Yvonne and Derek involved in a game of beer pong, we were on our own.

Comfortably barefoot, Indigo and I trudged through sand until we reached the shoreline. The lapping waves tickled my toes, gripped my ankles. In daylight, I'd have taken the plunge, but in darkness, the menacing body of water felt like the creeping unknown as the tide rolled in with a roar.

The interior lights brightened the rear section of the house that glowed like a Times Square Christmas tree, its brilliance dwarfing the patio torches. Leaving the party behind, hand in hand we strolled, retreating from breakers, splashing through ebbing waves, feet sinking into drenched sand. We strolled along the beach, with Indigo pointing out lighthouses and other landmarks. I held onto his arm, and his every word. The ocean smelled delicious, and now and then my breath was stolen by gusts of damp air, and Indigo's lips. We passed a jetty, climbed a sandy knoll, and paused in seclusion where Indigo settled on a stout tie wall.

The sky was a sailor's paradise, with a bright chunk of moon gliding through starlight, now and then crossed by wispy clouds.

Separated only by a fragile curtain of night, I watched Indigo's perfect silhouette, my gaze tracing his features, the solace on his face. "Finally alone," I said, attempting to sit beside him.

"Ah ah," he said. Grasping my wrists, he extended me before him. "Let me look at you." His gaze slid from my face to my feet. "It feels so good to be together," he said, his voice seductively rich.

"And so hard to be apart ..." My throat felt so narrow, I could hardly swallow.

"I missed you, chica." He pulled me so close, I had no choice other than to part my legs and straddle his thigh.

Sinking against him, I sighed. "I missed you too ... so much." Our foreheads pressed, our whispering lips barely touched.

His hands ran up and down my back, coming to rest beneath me. "It's been too long. I missed looking at you ... being with you ... touching you."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you, wondering when I'd see you again ..." I squeezed his biceps, buried my face in his chest. "I missed these arms ... these lips ..." my fingertip traced his mouth.

I couldn't see the waves, but heard each thundering breaker crash onto the beach behind us; the only sound other than our breathing was my pulse in my ears. We clung to each other as though our arms could stop time.

"There's a guest cottage ..."

"Don't tempt me." My breathing grew more shallow.

"I mean," Indigo chuckled, "not that I wouldn't love to share it with you ... there's a guest cottage for your friends. You're sleeping in the main house ... right down the hall from my room." His arms tightened around me. "Although I'd rather have you in my bed ... beside me ... doing all kinds of naughty things to you ..."

The tone of his voice, and electrifying suggestion, sent chilling excitement through every part of my body. He'd obviously been thinking about going further than we'd ever ventured.

"Naughty things, huh?" I breathed into his ear. "Like what?" My lips slid across his neck, and I couldn't help but suck his smooth skin.

"Why don't I show you ..." His hands slipped beneath my top, ran the length of my spine, then dipped beneath my pants, reaching as deep as possible, settling on my buttocks. He squeezed, caressed, pulling me so close, I could barely breath. "Mmm, baby, you feel so good," he groaned against my throat, leaving me breathless.

I sucked his neck harder, nibbled his jaw line, then swept my lips across his, moaning his name. My hips rocked, my fingers worked through his hair, along the side of his face, tracing the outline of our lips as they pressed. “Show me what feels good ...” I pulled my lips away just enough to murmur, but my tongue continued to work slowly around his.

"Closer," he whispered, "turn around."

"Like this?" I began to slide off his thigh.

"Like this ..." He lifted me, spun me around, and drove my ass into his lap. His hands on my hips urged me into a rhythmic grind. I felt his hardness as he strained against me, and reached behind his neck, pulling his face close to mine. His breath came fast. His fingers grazed my skin, reached under my shirt, clutched my breasts, then slid beneath my bra. My back pressed against his chest, I arched, bringing my aching nipples closer to his palms.

When I groaned, "Yeah ... like that," his hands massaged vigorously, eventually leaving my breasts, sliding down my torso to dive beneath the waistband of my pants. Delirious, my feet planted firmly in sand, I let my backside sink deeper into him. He was so hard, I could feel his heat through our clothing. Hips rolling, my body strummed his. I felt the vibration of his chest as he moaned, heard a mouthful of air catch before it left his throat, listened to a desperate groan escape from his lips. "I need you, Jewel. You make me want things I've never wanted before."

The next thing I knew, we were sinking to the ground. Indigo was kissing me fiercely, and I was being tossed about. Everything hit me at once: the cast of silver moonlight, waves crashing against the shore, his breath on my neck, his hands running the length of my body.