The Princess and the Pauper (5 page)

He loosened his hand and lifted one to smooth her hair away from her forehead. His fingers followed the curve of her cheekbone, coming to rest beneath her chin.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, but her tone was soft and hushed.

Jesse bent down and held her gaze for a painful instant, then touched his lips to hers. April’s mouth quivered betrayingly. What an innocent, he thought, wrapping his arms around her small waist, dragging her against the hard outlines of his body. His mouth crushed down demandingly.

April almost choked on a gasp. She’d never been kissed like this! Lance’s attempt had been somewhat bashful and over eager, easy to control. But this! His mouth slanted over hers, moving persuasively. His hands were tight and his body was rigid. Her blood crashed in her ears, and she knew a moment of real fear.

But then the moment passed. Sliding through her veins was a new kind of sensation, something sweet and hot and dangerous. Tentatively she returned that devastating kiss, and her heart flip-flopped at the probing touch of his tongue against her teeth.

She was afraid to think what was going through his mind. Her own was a jumble of impressions. She opened her mouth, allowing him entry, and the swift thrust of his tongue made her knees tremble and give way. She slipped forward, but his right arm held her easily, as if she were a feather-light ragdoll. His tongue made swift, stabbing motions that wrung a moment of pure pleasure from her throat. She was powerless. Weightless. Even the touch of his hand, moving up her rib cage against the silk of her dress, stopping just beneath her breast, couldn’t bring her back to sanity.

“Princess,” he muttered furiously against her lips. But even hearing the revulsion in his tone, April wasn’t about to let him stop now. She wanted too much. She wanted
him.
Her chest heaved. She wrapped her arms around his neck. If she could have, she would have wriggled until his hand was forced to cover her breast.

The moment spun out. Breathing fast and wanting more, April clung to him. But it was as if he’d turned to stone. She realized distantly that he was fighting for control.

Suddenly he pulled back, his fingers accidentally brushing the underside of her breasts. Her nipples actually pulsed and tingled. April was too bemused to do more than stare up at him, her lips parted and her breathing unsteady. Her whole body throbbed with unfulfilled longing. She saw Jesse thrust a hand through his blond hair and regard her through fierce eyes. “You’re playing with fire,” he said softly, a muscle working in his jaw.

She didn’t answer. What was there to say? He was right. But he’d shown her something she hadn’t believe existed. Oh, sure, Carrie rhapsodized about Phillip and the way he made her feel, but April had sincerely thought that sex was highly overrated. She’d never felt any desire to continue past a kiss. Until tonight.

“I’m going,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. He strode off toward the entrance.

As soon as he was twenty feet away, April felt the ominous silence of the deserted park. She hurried after him across the cool grass and caught up with him at the rhododendron bushes. “Would you have really left me there?” she asked breathlessly, following him across the road to his motorcycle.

“Yes, if I had any sense.”

“That’s not what you said earlier.”

He half-laughed, flinging a leg over the leather seat, then he kick-started the engine until it popped and roared. The noise filled the quiet streets.

“Your coat,” April reminded him, slipping her arms out of the sleeves and handing it to him.

Jesse tossed it on without a word, tightened the strap of his helmet and sped away from her, but he watched in his rearview mirror, needing to be assured she was safely inside before he could leave Windsor Estates.

April ran quietly up the brick walk and stone portico steps. The massive, ten-foot-doors were locked. She bit her lip. Her key was in her purse – in Lance’s car. Silent as a wraith, she circled the house to the side door. It, too, was locked, and April had to search through the ceramic planters until she found the one with the spare key.

The house was cool and quiet. April grimaced when the door shut with a loud click. Tiptoeing hurriedly, she made her way down the tiled corridor, around the corner into the foot of the stairs. Her hand was curved around the polished banister when she felt someone’s eyes on her. Turning swiftly, she caught sight of her father sitting motionlessly on one of the dining room chairs.

“It’s two-thirty,” Peter Hollis said in a tone that sent warnings dancing up and down April’s spine.

“I know. I’m late.” She swallowed. “I was… at the park.” What did she look like? she wondered fearfully. What did he see?

“Lance didn’t bring you home.”

April inwardly winced. Had her father been looking out the dining room window the whole time? “No, I left him at a party. We had a, er, disagreement.”

“Why didn’t you let yourself in the front door?”

“I left my purse in Lance’s car.”

“And your shoes?”

“Dad, can we talk about this tomorrow?” April burst out. “Nothing happened to me. I’m just tired and disappointed. Tasha got Pink Carnation Ball Queen.”

Her father rose to his feet and came to stand beside her. “You know I don’t like you riding on motorcycles,” he said. “No matter if you and Lance had a fight or not.”

“It won’t happen again,” April assured him, easing up another step.

His gaze swept her filthy dress and wind-tangled hair, and his brow furrowed with concern. “April, are you sure you’re all right? Who was that young man who brought you home?”

“Nobody. Believe me, dad, it’s nothing to worry about.”

But later as she lay in bed, her head cradled on one arm, her eyes staring at the high ceiling above her, April asked herself what could have possessed her to take off on a motorcycle with a man she barely knew. Jesse Cawthorne. The name itself sent off warning bells. Who was he? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

Groaning, April buried her face in her pillow, blocking out the memory of his hard muscles and mocking smile.

Jesse’s motorcycle shifted down into a protesting whine as he once again pulled into the rutted driveway. He still had time to kill before he had to be at work. Angry at himself for reasons he didn’t quite understand, he thrust open the screen door and strode inside the run-down but tidy house. His mother was asleep on the couch, one arm tossed over her face.

“Jesse?” she asked, lifting her arm. “Jordan with you?”

Jordan. A stab of guilt pierced his thick shell. “No, I left him at a party on the river.”

She struggled to her elbows. “He’s not home yet,” she declared with rising panic. “You don’t think he’s in more trouble, do you?”

“Calm down. He was passed out cold the last I saw him.”

“Jesse!”

“I am not his babysitter!” he exploded with unusual lack of control. Then, seeing the regret in his mother’s lined face, he muttered “Oh, to hell with it. I’ll go find him.” Furious, he kicked open the door, striding back to the motorcycle.

He drove with a rage way out of proportion to the circumstances. When he arrived at Three Bears the party was little more than a memory. Trash littered the area and one lone soul was staggering around, picking it up. Jordan, Jesse realized. Behind him stood two burly men whom Jesse recognized as nearby landowners. They were putting Jordan to work.

Some of Jesse’s anger subsided. He laughed inwardly at his younger brother’s plight. Maybe it would knock some sense into him. If things didn’t change soon, Jordan wouldn’t make it to graduation. Jesse, who had traveled a similar path, was intent on saving Jordan from the mistakes he’d made. Smiling, he stood on the ridge where he’d encountered April scant hours before, and watched Jordan clean up the remains of the party, grumbling all the time that it wasn’t his responsibility alone. The two neighbors didn’t much care.

A familiar scent wafted to Jesse’s nostrils. April’s scent. His pulse accelerating, he turned quickly, half expecting to see her. But then he realized the scent was on his jacket. He just hadn’t noticed before.

His gut tightened, and he banked down the smoldering images that leapt into his mind. He could still see her creamy flesh. Sucking his breath through his teeth, he scrambled and slid down the path to the riverbank.

“Jesse?” Jordan asked in surprise, weaving on his feet as he squinted at his brother.

“Shut up and pick up. I’ll help.”

“What’sa matter with you?”

“Nothing.” Jesse grabbed the plastic sack from his brother’s slack fingers and began tossing beer bottles inside. By the time he was finished, Jordan was sitting on a rock, his head nodding. Jesse nudged his shoulder and strode back up to his motorcycle with Jordan trailing behind.

“Put this on and don’t let go,” Jesse ordered while handing Jordan a helmet.

A thousand stars glittered in the sky now swept clean by a soft spring wind. But still he could smell April’s tantalizing perfume.

A bad sign, he decided, kick-starting the motorcycle. A very bad sign.

Chapter Three

T
he blast of a familiar horn awakened April. Rolling over, she squinted one eye at the clock. Eleven o’clock. Lance was up and around awfully early for him.

An incredible weariness stole over her as she recalled last night’s events. She didn’t want to see Lance. She didn’t want to face what this meant for their future.

Tossing on a robe, she ran her fingers through her hair, grimacing at the nasty tangles, which refused to uncoil. The wind had done its job well. She doubted one brushing would resolve the problem.

The doorbell chimed as she ran barefoot down the thickly carpeted stairs. “I’ll get it!” she hollered, before her mother could appear.

“Hi.” Lance smiled sheepishly as April opened the door a crack.

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?” he asked holding out her purse as a peace offering.

She pulled the door open, just wide enough for Lance to squeeze inside and hand off the clutch. He hovered in the entry hall, a hulk out of place amongst the delicate Queen Anne furniture.

“Could we, er, talk?” he asked uncomfortably.

April led the way into the living room. Her mother would frown at her appearance, but she didn’t much care. She wanted to punish Lance, and indifference seemed as good a way to reveal her feelings as any other.

“Sorry about last night,” he mumbled. “You just… ran off.”

“I
ran off?” And what did you do? Or should I say, what did you and Tasha do?”

A brick-red flush climbed up his neck, but before he could answer, April’s cell phone chirped. She pulled it out of her clutch and murmured, “It’s Carrie.”

Standing up from the table April casually walked away from Lance toward the sun room before answering her cell.

“Hey,” she answered.

“April, have you seen Lance yet?” Carrie demanded without preamble.

“Uh… yeah.”

“Is he there? Are you
talking
to him?”

She hesitated. “Well, yeah. Shouldn’t I be?”

“You know what happened between him and Tasha? I already heard from Phillip. You do know, don’t you?”

April heart began to beat heavily. She wanted to clap her hands over her ears. “I think so,” she said unevenly.

“Has he told you? I can’t believe they were together. I mean
together.
Where were you? I looked all over for you.”

April’s head spun. “Look, Carrie, I’ll talk you later, okay? It’s kind of hard right now.”

“Okay… ” she said slowly. “Call me later.”

“Yeah.”

Lance’s dark eyes were worried when April returned to the living room and perched herself on the edge of the couch. “What did Carrie say?”

Drawing a breath, April looked down at her hands. What did she feel? Anger. Humiliation. It didn’t take a mind reader to figure out what had happened between Lance and Tasha. She just couldn’t
believe
it. How could he? How could he just leave her and –?

“April, it just happened,” Lance burst out. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again. I don’t want to be with her. I want you.”