The Vicarage Bench Anthology (8 page)

He turned her onto her back and gazed down at her adoringly. “I love you.” He mouthed the words.

He waited but not in vain. Her reply was the same; no sound at all, just the message from lips and eyes. It was all he needed as he kissed her silly, his passion barely held under control while his erection lost the battle and grew, becoming hot and hard.

With her legs splayed open, he nestled between them and his eager member surged towards the area designed especially for it by the maker. He was careful to keep his full weight off her, resting on his elbows, but she would have none of that nonsense. Feeling his body covering hers was therapeutic, as well being a large part of her earlier fantasies. His pajama bottoms impeded their joining and were peeled off, two pairs of hands tearing at them, helping each other.

He wanted to slow things down, to concentrate on her face, kissing and nibbling at her eyes, her lips, her ears. It was important to him to make this a memorable night of lovemaking, to teach her the beauty of the physical act between a man and a woman who love each other. She wouldn’t co-operate. Agitated movements enticed him to move things along. She arched her lower body and he quickly became diverted downwards. He stopped at her neck, licking and nuzzling. She moaned and rolled her face back and forth invitingly, opening both sides to his searching mouth.

Her chest heaved and rubbed against his, deflecting his attention. He held her swollen breasts, tenderly kissing first one and then the other, his hands forever active, kneading and rubbing, caressing and stroking. She was on fire. Her breath came in spurts and she felt again as if she was experiencing an out-of-body miracle. Flutters of ecstasy started and ended up flooding her system. Hot wetness flowed and she was ready for the first time in her life. Ready to mate with her man. Her response was to wriggle this way and that until she felt him at the entranceway to where heaven was waiting.

It was what she had been made for—he was what she had been made for. They fit perfectly. All his gentlemanly feelings were forgotten in an instant, as he became the passionate, hungry man of her dreams.

Chapter Seventeen

Jenna was in a frenzy, her usual state on a day she had to fly. Packing her own luggage was always a priority with her. Regrettably, her organizational skills left something to be desired, and the room looked like a destructive cyclone had been through it.

“Why does Dr. Andrews want to see us this morning? We saw him yesterday, and he knows we have packing to do today because we’re leaving tonight. I thought he was going to come to the airport with us to say his goodbyes.” Jenna was anxious to get home and back to work now that she felt so much better. The last two weeks of recuperation had been wonderful, but life had to resume, and she had a wedding to plan.

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. He’s taking us for a drive to see something he thinks we’d be sorry to miss.” Jake shrugged, his hands held out in front of him in a standard what-do-I-know gesture.

Shortly, Dr. Andrews was knocking at their door. They stopped packing and together went to greet their old friend and liberator. In the car, Dr. Andrews gave them last-minute instructions on coping with any lingering health issues once they landed back home.

“Take things easy for a while. Get plenty of rest. Don’t get back on the treadmill too soon, particularly you, Jenna. You might think you’re strong, but your body will need you to spoil it for some time to come.” He was a bit of an old lady, picky and stubborn.
That
’
s what comes from living alone most of your life
, Jenna thought.

She poked Jake and jerked her head in the doctor’s direction. “Where are you taking us, Dr. Andrews?” asked Jake, following his love’s evident hints.

“I want you to meet some very close friends of mine before you leave,” said the thoughtful gentleman.

Both Jenna and Jake recognized the small house instantly. As the car pulled into the driveway, the front door opened and an elderly couple emerged, smiles of welcome on their friendly faces as they recognized Dr. Andrews’ car.

They were both considerably older. Lucy’s hair was white but still worn shoulder length and curled around her plump face. John, his arm around his wife affectionately, was balding and stooped with age and arthritis, but his familiar direct gaze over the top of his wire rims brought tears to Jenna’s eyes.

Introductions were made. It was obvious to the young people that these two old dears had forgotten them. Lucy seemed the same, only older, but after a short while they could tell that John’s brilliant mind had weakened. He had lapses of memory and tended to cling to his wife fretfully.

Jake and Jenna were saddened, because their precious reminiscences were so strongly entrenched in their hearts.

It was a short visit, as they had a plane trip to get ready for, but they left with warm handshakes and best wishes—and an emptiness deep in Jenna’s soul.

Then, just at the moment they reached the car, a soft voice could be heard. “Jenna?” Lucy called questioningly. “My dear, I feel I need to hug you goodbye.”

Jenna reached out and warmly scooped the shorter woman into her arms. She closed her eyes and held on, all her energy forming a shimmering net of love around them.

“I missed you,” whispered Lucy.

He’s Her

In a small English town, a casino owner from Vegas, Rhett Parks, was relaxing on a bench in front of the vicarage. To his dismay, a young woman interrupted his sanctuary. A minute later, his body was out cold on the ground and he was taking up residence inside of the intruder - schoolteacher Carrie Temple - and without her permission.

Her first words “
get out
” didn’t solve anything because he had no idea of how he got in. During the next few weeks they fought each other, taught each other and began to love each other, not an easy accomplishment considering the situation—but doable, as Rhett proved too sweet, naïve Carrie.

They became involved with strange Dr. Andrews who assured them he had the answers to solve their problem. Rhett’s brother, Ashley, who they turned to for help, was absolutely certain that the man they were putting their faith in was a charlatan and a quack.

Great Reviews for
He’s Her

“
He’s Her
is not like any paranormal romance I’ve read lately. It’s quirky. I recommend He’s Her to anyone looking for a quick, fun summer romance about a wallflower who learns to stand up for herself and finds love in the process.”

~Reviewed by Dorothy Johnson

“
He’s Her
is a fun read with a few twists and turns that make the characters endearing and even the gruff ‘Rhett’ worms his way into the reader’s heart. I was invested in these characters and couldn’t wait to see the end! I look forward to reading the other stories in the Vicarage Bench Series—do yourself a favor and pick up this fun, quick read.”

Reviewed by ~ Agapanthus, Long and Short Reviews.

Prologue

2007

“If we do this, there’ll be no turning back. Sweetheart, are you sure it’s what you want?” His frail voice wavered.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I want to keep you with me—always. Please, please understand. You must.” The grey-haired woman, faded beauty in her weary face, leaned her slender form towards the pale travesty of a once vibrant man. The washed-out blue pajamas he wore were typical hospital couture; not so was the luxurious navy velour robe that hung on his withered frame. In contrast, dressed in her stylish turquoise dress, the woman had a youthful heartiness and an innate vitality despite the tired lines around her eyes.

Her companion sighed, slapped his hands on his knees and nodded. “Right! We’ll leave as soon as we can make the arrangements. Each day my strength fails a little more. I don’t want to be a burden longer than necessary, and the doctors did warn us that the end would come quickly.”

“Darling, I’ve asked your brother to come, and he’s willing and ready to leave at a moment’s notice. He’ll be a strong arm to cling to, through everything.”

“Yes, it’s a good idea.” He leaned to tenderly caress the beloved face of the woman he’d adored for forty-seven wonderful years. “You’re still so beautiful, my wild rose.”

“And you’re still a silver-tongued devil.” She kissed him softly, lingeringly.

“Sweetheart, I must tell you. I feel a sense of relief in making this decision.”

“You do? I’m glad.” She gently patted his dear face.

He nodded, gazing into her eyes, his own full to the brim with tears. “It’s because I know now that I won’t be leaving you, after all.”

Chapter One

Bury, England 1967

The tall, slim, well-endowed broad was strolling directly towards him. Damn! He didn’t want to share this bench with anyone else, even a classy chick like her. The last few hectic days had taken their toll. He needed to catch his breath and unwind. Alone!

* * *

She smiled and nodded to acknowledge him and continued to head toward the back of his bench, where a luxurious, fragrant bush full of wild roses spread its splendor. Rhett watched her slide tiny garden clippers from her shoulder bag. He supposed she was pilfering roses, and he wished she’d get on with it and leave him to his peaceful sanctuary. He heard a snipping sound, followed immediately by a whimper and a sucking noise as she babied what must be a wound. Feeling peevish, he ignored her.

This pretty spot, just in front of the timeworn vicarage and near a busy country lane, had become Rhett’s safe haven over the last few days as he organized and attended his father’s lonely funeral. The vicar, himself and his old man had been the only guests at the service. His father had wished to be buried in England, in the church cemetery near the vicarage close to where he’d grown up. Rhett decided to honour this last request, though why he felt it necessary was beyond him. The old guy had paid scant attention to his family, including Rhett, his oldest son. While Rhett was a boy, the old man ignored him. As the boy grew to be a man he reciprocated, and so they never had a close relationship.

Being an actor, making love to his leading ladies, and seeing his name in lights was all the fool cared about. Other than the ridiculous name bestowed on him, Rhett Parks inherited little else from the man who’d demanded to be called Father—never Dad.

“I’m sorry. I seem to have pricked myself. I feel slightly faint.” The intrusive woman stumbled toward the seat beside him and slumped onto it, letting her purse drop to the ground. Her rose, the instigator of the disruption, landed at his feet.

Without hesitation, he bent and picked up the stem, feeling a sharp prick in his thumb as he did so. His annoyance doubled. Silly woman was the last thought he had for some time.

“Mr. Parks? Sir? Oh, my goodness! Whatever has happened?” The vicar rushed over and tried to hold up the body of the collapsing man, an impossible task. The dead weight rolled over and landed in a heap on the grass beside the wooden bench. The clergyman turned to the white-faced woman, whose open eyes were fixed and empty. “Miss Temple? Miss Temple? Are you all right?” The vicar reached over and nudged Carrie’s shoulder.

“Ohhh!” Her head wobbled on her neck as she stirred.

A crowd had already gathered on the sidewalk, and the perplexed vicar, in need of assistance, gestured to several of the men to come over to the bench.

“What’s up, Vicar? What’s wrong with the bloke? Is Carrie all right?”

“Shush! Call an ambulance. Mr. Parks has collapsed. Miss Temple is coming around, but she’s ill, also. I don’t know what happened. I’d decided to take my afternoon stroll, as it were, when I came across these two sitting on the bench together. I couldn’t pass them by without saying hello, but before I had a chance to speak, Mr. Parks stiffened and moaned and started to fall over. I tried to catch him, but I couldn’t hold him. He’s a large man.” The vicar rambled on, his voice squeaking with nervous strain.

* * *

“Ooohhh! Vicar! What’s happened? I feel strange.”

“Yes, Miss Temple, I can see that.” The vicar, pulled in two directions at once, dithered back and forth between the body of the man sprawled on the ground and the traumatized woman whom he’d known since she was a child. He ultimately settled on Carrie and sat on the bench beside the ashen girl. “You’re extremely pale, my dear, and you’re trembling.” He clutched her shaking hand and patted it consolingly. “I think you’re unwell, but don’t upset yourself, there’s an ambulance coming. Mr. Parks has passed out, and we need to get him help.”

A young man from the crowd bent over the fallen man and used his fingers to check the pulse in Rhett’s neck. He nodded to the vicar, whose expression lightened.

“I have not passed out. I’m right here. I’m… What the hell is going on? How can I be here and my body be lying over there? Where am I?” He looked down and saw a blue dress draped over the skinny knees in front of him. The hands he held up were slender, with long fingers and beautifully manicured nails. A small pinkie ring adorned one hand and flickered with the smallest diamond he’d ever seen.

“What in blazes is going on?” He could have sworn he’d bellowed out the words but the sound he made was weak and feminine and whined more than it roared. “Is this some kind of joke?”