Proposition (12 page)

Jake didn’t contradict her, but only pulled her into his arms, with her back to his chest, supporting both of them against the headboard.

“I really don’t want to go to eat dinner with her,” Amy whispered after a while, her head lolling on his shoulder.

His arms contracted around her and he gave her a quick kiss on the neck. “I can go alone and tell them you’re not feeling well, but your father will be worried about you.”

Hearing this, Amy turned abruptly in his arms. “Do you really think that I would let you go alone, let her flirt with you and flaunt those fake breasts at you?”

Jake stared at her, mouth open. “I...” He shook his head. “Come again?”

“Can’t you see how shameless she is?” she cried, her agitation raw. “Haven’t you noticed how she tried to flirt with you? Haven’t you?” she demanded.

Jake laughed unbelievably. “What?

Amy was clearly fuming. “She’s been hitting on you,” she informed him furiously in a high-pitched voice. “In front of her own husband. Can you believe that?”

She glanced up at Jake, but his expression didn’t reflect her own outrage in the least.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“Because you’re jealous,” he murmured in a low sensuous voice.

“I’m not!” she denied at once, turning red faced.

“But you are,” he insisted softly and pulled her closely. “It means that you care about me if only a little.”

“I’m not jealous,” she insisted firmly.

She wanted to convince him, but when she heard her own voice saying that she winced, because it didn’t sound convincing enough even to her ears.

“I’m only worried that my father would notice that she tries ...” she said but her words were lost in a kiss.

She didn’t protest and returned the kiss eagerly, relaxing in his embrace. He pushed her on her back, and loomed over her, giving her some of his weight. Her eyes rolled, when he moved the collar of her shirt aside and began nibbling at her neck.

God, it felt nice, she thought whimpering a bit, when his big hand curled around her thigh, and pulled the lower part of her body closer to his.

Without much hesitation, she opened her legs and pulled him onto her. Since that morning when he’d almost touched her breast he hadn’t tried to go further in their physical intimacy and she was shy to initiate anything more. It was so dam frustrating that on one hand he never allowed her to put physical distance between them. He ignored or didn’t seem to notice her weak, or, rather, non-existent attempts to resist him when he kissed her goodnight, and gathered her into his arms at night. But at the same time, he refused to push their intimate relations to the next level, and kept everything light and innocent.

She knew that he wanted her, he just admitted it. But she knew as well that he wanted her to take the first step in terms of deepening their physical contact. The knowledge that he left the final decision up to her was both scary and damned frustrating. Sometimes she craved him to simply push her on the bed, strip her bare, and cover her with his body like now. She was honest enough with herself to admit that she wouldn’t have protested much. But no, he was always in control, never doing much more than light kissing and gentle petting. It was unnerving that he left it to her to set the boundaries of the physical side of their marriage, even though she herself demanded it at the beginning. Surely, he had to feel frustrated with the situation the same as she. She’d noticed lately that he tended to get an erection from such innocent things like having her on his lap, or when standing behind her.

Now he lay on her, but supported on his forearms so she couldn’t really feel much of him. Realizing that both could play the game, she decided to tease him a little, and see how much he could bear. Experimentally she lifted her pelvis up, rubbed herself lightly against him, and caught his lips in a long kiss. That was clearly enough as he moaned into her lips and dropped heavily on her, pinning her successfully to the bed. It actually knocked the breath out of her a bit, because he was so heavy.

He was kissing her passionately now, his hands wandering possessively all over her body. She swallowed a bit, fear crept up on her, and she wasn’t feeling half that daring as she had moments ago. His attentions were definitely different from the gentle petting he usually gave her. Here she had some two hundred pounds of very aroused man on her, his pelvis grinding into hers rhythmically, his face buried into her neck, as he breathed harshly. She tried to calm the sudden feeling of panic, remembering that it was her husband, the man who in the last weeks had proved numerous times he could be trusted, especially in bed. However, she still couldn’t relax. It was a bit too much for her. He was so heavy, and so potent, so hard and big. Though, it did feel heavenly, when he was rubbing against the top of her mound like now, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for more.

A few times before when she’d glanced shyly at the front of his trousers, or the few occasions she’d caught him, just in his trunks, she could see that he was really large. Certainly bigger than Michael had been. So if Michael had problems entering her, because she’d been too snug and it had hurt her, then with Jake it could only be worse.

He had to feel she stopped responding and lay under him passively, her hands precariously on his shoulders, because he rose up on his forearms again and took in her features.

“Not so adventurous as a moment ago? Huh?” he whispered tenderly after a long moment of looking deep into her eyes.

She shook her head and bit her lower lip apprehensively.

He rolled from her on his back. “That’s ok,” he said gently reaching for her hand and lifting it to his lips, kissing it gently. “Nobody ever died from a boner,” he glanced amusedly down at his crotch.

Amy let out a soft giggle of relief, and snuggled trustingly to his side.

Chapter Eleven

Twenty minutes later, they entered the elegant hotel restaurant overlooking the ocean. It was too dark to see the ocean, but Amy could feel the fresh breeze through the open floor length windows.

The black dress she wore, nicely hugged her figure, showing the tasteful expanse of her soft lightly freckled shoulders and just the top of her high breasts. Her hazel eyes were enhanced with dark brown eyeliner and almost transparent lip gloss added to the softness of her lips. She swept her hair in a high twist, in a similar fashion the hair stylist had done for her in Las Vegas. Again, she had problems with pinning all of it, as it seemed too long and thick for her unskilled fingers. A visit at the hairdresser’s was certainly a priority.

She felt pretty and attractive, especially feeling Jake’s eyes on her all the time. With quiet satisfaction, she noted that while she definitely looked classy in her dress, Claire looked rather cheap in hers. Her stepmother’s outfit was too bright, too short, and showed too much cleavage. Plus, the amount of gold jewelry which accompanied it was almost staggering. Her unnatural tan, the result of the endless hours spent in the solarium gave her an old and somehow trashy appearance.

Amy, firmly decided on following Jake’s advice, and spoke as little as possible. She didn’t even react to Claire’s teasing about the reason why they came down so late. Moreover, she allowed Jake to answer most of the questions about their wedding, while she mostly concentrated on the contents of her plate. When the dessert came, she admitted to herself that perhaps ignoring Claire was not such a bad idea.

“You know, Amy, a few days ago we met one of your friends.” Claire’s voice rang into her ear when she was about to dig the spoon into her tiramisu.

She lifted her surprised eyes at the other woman. “My friends?”

“A nice fellow,” her father voiced himself. “He stayed here for a few days, sent by his law firm to take care of one of their clients who has a house nearby. He was managing some business for him.”

Claire’s round eyes sparkled and she spoke enthusiastically. “We befriended him straight away, but when he heard our surname and from where we were he instantly asked about you.”

Amy frowned. “About me?”

Claire nodded eagerly. “He asked if we are related to Amy Carpenter, right honey?” she glanced at her husband.

Thomas nodded. “He said you were together in law school. What was his name Claire?” he turned his eyes to his wife. “Michael...” he hesitated, but Amy quickly finished for him.

“Cummings,” she whispered.

She turned a bit pale which instantly drew Jake’s attention.

“Yes, Michael Cummings,” Claire cried out.

She rested her curious eyes on her stepdaughter. “So you do know him,” she said, with what Amy could swear was a note of satisfaction in her voice.

Amy straightened up and answered coolly. “Yes, we met a few years ago. He was in the last year of law school when I just started it.”

“Yes, he told us the same,” Thomas said. “He mentioned that it was a shame you decided not to finish law school with your abilities.”

“Thomas, not every woman is ambitious enough to succeed in a typically man’s profession,” Claire reminded her husband. “Some of us want to just get married and create a home for their husbands.” She touched his arm.

Amy barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I think it’s very sweet that Amy chose to be a librarian,” she continued as she glanced at the younger woman.

Amy was almost beside herself. For the hundredth time perhaps, she wondered if Claire was that stupid and oblivious or simply cunning and manipulative. She was about to make some biting remark, which she had on the tip of her tongue when Jake reached for her left hand which was curled in a tight fist under the table. He brought it on his thigh and stroked her knuckles with his thumb, unclenching her fingers slowly.

“I heard that Amy was in law school for some time, but I wasn’t aware she was that good at that,” Jake mentioned casually.

Thomas smiled a proud father smile. “Amy always was a straight A student since kindergarten.”

Amy blushed. “Daddy you do exaggerate, as always.”

Claire’s high-pitched voice cut in. “Amy, Mr. Cummings asked an awful lot about you.”

Amy lowered her eyes to her tiramisu. “Did he?”

Claire gave her a meaningful look. “Yes, he did. He seemed to be disappointed when he heard that you got married recently. Was he your boyfriend? Is there something Jake should be worried about?” She giggled, rolling her eyes.

Amy decided to ignore her and turned to her father. “Daddy, was Michael alone?” she glanced purposely at Claire. “Have you met his wife?”

The older man shook his head and answered shortly, “No, he was alone.”

“He didn’t mention any wife, and he didn’t have a wedding ring on his hand,” Claire informed her with a gossipy edge to her voice. “But let me see your diamond.” She changed the subject, catching Amy’s hand. “It is so huge, darling. You should insure it.”

Amy snatched her hand away and without saying anything more, concentrated her attention on her tiramisu, cutting it furiously into pieces, but not eating it. Frantic thoughts crossed her mind at telegraphic speed. Michael had been here and he’d been asking about her. He hadn’t worn a wedding ring. She knew that it was no proof at all that he’d separated from his wife or divorced, many married men didn’t wear a wedding band at all, though Jake did. She glanced at his big calloused hand resting next to hers on the pristine tablecloth. He sensed her gaze because he gently covered her small palm, then looked at her.

“You should wait until you return to your room,” Claire whispered knowingly, glancing pointedly at their joined hands.

Amy blushed bright red, having no problem with guessing her stepmother’s meaning.

“Claire, you’re embarrassing them,” Thomas chided his wife gently.

“But it’s natural. They’re still newlyweds after all,” Claire cheered sweetly.

Amy chose to be silent, not trusting her temper at this point. She’d had enough of her stepmother’s gibberish for one evening. But Claire was clearly in a very conversional mood.

“I wanted to tell you, Amy, that is a lovely dress,” she noted pleasantly.

“Thank you.” Amy smiled and returned her gaze to her half eaten tiramisu.

“Bought in Europe?” Claire wanted to know.

“Yes, in London.”

“Very nice, though a bit on the plain side.”

Amy dropped the little dessert fork with a bang on her plate. Enough was enough.

“It’s not plain, Claire. It’s elegant. Though I personally doubt you can see the difference. To elaborate it is called classical elegance. Not every woman desires to look like a parrot in a zoo,” Amy finished menacingly, glancing with barely disguised contempt at Claire’s colorful, revealing outfit.

Lowering her eyes again, she heard Claire’s outraged gasp. There was a moment of long awkward silence, before her father started speaking quickly.

“Jake, Amy is going to fall asleep in her chair in a moment. She did that once when she was a little girl. Take her upstairs. We’ll see each other tomorrow morning.”

Jake’s arm came around her and lifted her from her seat, making excuses for both of them.

“You couldn’t stop yourself, could you?” he murmured with amusement when they were out of the earshot.

“You heard her,” Amy mouthed angrily.

“I did,” he said calmly, “but I told you that it would be for the best to ignore her.”

“Easy to say,” she huffed.

Already in their suite Amy asked Jake if he wanted to take a shower now and when he shook his head no, she took out her pajamas and fresh panties from her bag and closed herself in the bathroom. The long bath relaxed her, but also made her a bit drowsy, which, with the added stress of the last week, made her slip quickly under the covers and close her eyes with relief.

Jake used the bathroom after her but she barely paid attention. Her mind was occupied elsewhere. The thought of Michael being here just a few days before her, prevented her from falling asleep completely. He had been here, and he had met her father. There had been a time when she’d dreamed of them meeting. How was it possible that her heart still stopped at the memory of him? He’d been asking about her, he’d remembered her. Had she come a week earlier she’d have met him herself. Had he changed much over the years?

She must have dozed off eventually, because she woke up when Jake pulled her gently into his arms.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead. He smelt of fresh toothpaste. “I’ve disturbed your sleep.”

“Mmm. It’s ok,” she murmured.

She closed her eyes again, and snuggled against his warm, solid frame.

“You looked very lovely tonight,” he crooned into her ear.

He shifted her so that she lay partially on his chest, her head tucked under his chin.

She was on the verge of falling asleep again, lulled with his hand stroking her back soothingly, when she heard him say, “Who was that guy your father and Claire mentioned?”

Amy shrugged in his arms, and murmured dismissively.

“No one really,” she mumbled.

That wasn’t the truth, and she didn’t want to deceive him, but sharing her most intimate memories with him didn’t sit well with her either.

“We sort of ...” she hesitated, “... made friends in law school, but when I decided it wasn’t for me and dropped out, we broke contact with each other. I haven’t heard from him since then.” she yawned, “I’m surprised he remembered me so well.”

His hand on her back stilled. She sensed he wanted to ask her more about Michael. She leaned to put a chaste kiss on his cheek, before she snuggled next to him again, her face buried against the side of his ribcage.

“I’m really tired, good night,” she whispered, evening her breathing and doing her best to convince him that she was fast asleep.

“Good night.” he whispered back after a moment, his arm bringing her even closer to him.

* * * *

The next day she woke up surprisingly early for a Saturday. Yesterday she’d had the most serious intention to sleep in this morning.

She slipped out of bed and padded to the glass door leading to the spacious terrace. The skies were grey and the ocean looked stormy.

She turned toward the bed, and stared at Jake. He snored softly, sprawled on his back. No wonder that he was tired. She crawled under the sheets, and snuggled next to him. She put her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

But she couldn’t return to sleep. Eventually she decided to take a walk down to the beach, before breakfast. Careful not to make noise in the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, and plaited her hair neatly. After pulling on loose jeans, knickers and a thick jacket she walked through the terrace straight onto the beach.

She wandered for some half an hour when she saw her father approached from the other end of the beach.

“Dad, you’re up so early?” She kissed his cold cheek in greeting.

“I wake early here. I have no problems with sleeping soundly and waking up refreshed.”

Amy beamed at him. “You see, I knew that the seaside would do you good.”

“I walk down the beach every morning,” he informed proudly.

“That’s so wonderful.” She hugged him, “I’m so glad that you took the doctor’s orders to heart. You just have to stick to this, you know, and never return to bad habits.”

They walked silently for a moment before Thomas started speaking hesitantly. “Amy, about what Claire said yesterday...” He sighed, “She really didn’t mean anything wrong.”

Amy stepped from one foot to the other. “Daddy...” the topic of Claire was never an easy one between them. She could talk about everything with him, apart from his wife. There would never be an understanding between them on the topic, she knew that.

Thomas took her hand in his. “Look pumpkin, she is like she is, but she isn’t cruel on purpose, never that,” he sounded almost pleading.

Amy gave a heavy sigh. She had a different opinion about it, but she chose not to voice it. Instead, she smiled, trying to give her voice a lighter tone.

“It was my fault as well,” she conceded reluctantly, “I was tired, and I overreacted. The last week was stressful.”

Suddenly, Thomas changed the subject. “Have you heard from Peter?”

Amy stopped surprised, because she didn’t expect that question. Thomas hadn’t mentioned her brother since their conversation when he’d talked her into visiting Jake and asking him for help.

“Yes, I have,” Amy said slowly, “but not lately. I mean last time was three weeks ago.”

Her father stared out at the stormy ocean, his expression indecipherable.

“He’s sent me an email, there wasn’t much there, apart from the information that he works in New Orleans.”

“New Orleans,” Thomas said as if to himself. “Did he say where exactly? What kind of job it is?” He sounded almost indifferent.

“No.” Amy shook her head. “I sent him another two mails, but haven’t received an answer. He also hasn’t answered the phone or returned my phone calls, nor my text messages.”