Windward Whisperings (7 page)

A decade before, he’d endured awkward visits at the intimidating Piermont mansion. He’d ring
the doorbell, and he couldn’t control the trembling of his hands. It had little to do the riches of the
place.

Her father was a horse’s ass. Everyone did as he said because he was a wealthy man. Her
mother’s character went no deeper than the shiny surfaces of black marble and French bronze. To
make matters worse, her mother defended the pompous bastard.

Still, they were her parents. He’d ask about them.
As he drove along the gold coast of the peninsula, every estate fought a silent battle of
architectural excess. Behind the mansions, the ocean cast a blanket as far as his eyes could see.
Colors moved through a spectrum of blues as the sky mingled with the Pacific. Immediately, he
recognized her former Federalist residence that now belonged to Biltmore. Just as before, it was
painted tones of beige. As always, the pool house reminded him of the Parthenon.
Looking for a cottage, he glanced around. The quaint quarters had once housed an older
Jamaican couple. The man had been the gardener but sometimes served as a butler. His wife had
been the cook and housekeeper. The cottage had blended as an outbuilding with the
monochromatic estate. He flipped a U-turn and spotted it.
Painted different colors gave it a new identity. Clapboard shingles were taupe. Trim was teal and
white. Set at a forty-five degree angle to the house, a new two-car garage was attached with a
breezeway. The garage door was up. A red Ford Escape had replaced her Bentley.
Set at the Shoreline and Sycamore intersection, the cottage carried its own address, 409
Sycamore. A white picket fence sectioned off a front yard with young trees. Grass was arid in spots.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Kitzie behind wisteria vines on the porch. He rolled
down his window and gave her a nod. Dust blew.
Wearing black under a broadcloth apron with sunflower print pockets, she was perched on a
rattan sofa beside her dog. She waved with both arms. With one foot snug behind the other, her legs
were in a long, graceful line. She’d sat like that on the estate house veranda when he’d picked her up
for the winter formal, he remembered.
Soon to be queen, she’d worn a gown of ice blue, so pretty against her caramel skin. When
crowned, she’d stuck him with holding her sequined bag.
He pulled into the curved driveway. In another moment, he walked a flagstone path.
She was delectable, sipping a tall glass of lemonade from a straw. Firelight from the lantern,
suspended by a chain from the porch ceiling, danced over her beautiful face, making her dark eyes
shine with promise. Her dewy-eyed smile got him every time.
Standing at the bottom of the porch steps, he noticed her other hand stroking her knee. Was she
tense? If that were true, he’d take care of that.
“Good evening, Gar. Meet my dog Thor.” With the straw in her mouth, she gnawed at it before
setting the glass on a rattan side table. As she stood, she nudged off her yellow lab, which instigated
a friendly bark.
“Nice to see you. And your only child.” He stepped to the porch. It squeaked under his feet.
Brown-tipped fronds of a palm scratched together from a slight breeze. A lantern moved above.
Protected behind glass, a flame of a candle glowed.
Was she wringing her hands? She put them into use and adjusted a wreath of seashells on a shiny
teal door. Over her shoulder, she threw him a smile he that bordered on flirtatious.
“You have an ocean view from that bay window there.”
“I’ve made a few improvements to the house. The windows are old. Most take some prying and
jiggling to open. The kitchen window is permanently stuck open. In case of heavy rain, I have to
stuff old towels around it.”
“The drought spares you that inconvenience.” He put out his hand for her dog to sniff, but the
dog darted across the porch.
“Thor, stop that.”
“What’s he up to?”
She paused at the doorjamb and let out a frustrated sigh. “He’s chasing a cockroach. I’m battling
them, being close to the beach. I’ve tried to hold them at bay with Roach Motels, but Thor finds
them. He considers them snacks.”
“Roaches don’t give him indigestion?”
“Apparently not. I worry about bacteria within the bug.”
“What about hiring an exterminator?” He watched Thor put his big paw over the gigantic roach.
“I broke down and set up a quarterly schedule. It’s against my antipesticide principles. There are
so many nice little lizards. I shouldn’t feel guilty. It’s all Thor’s fault.” She frowned at her dog.
“You have to give credit where credit is due, though.”
“True. Eating them kills them.”
Garrett looked at the bug legs dangling from Thor’s mouth. “Is his mistress allowed to kiss her
guest hello?”
“Not on the front porch. After finding the microphone, I feel vulnerable.”
“Since when do you care about naughty neighbors?”
“There’s another risk. I’d never serve dinner if I started kissing you.” Her filmy skirt lifted with
an ocean breeze, and she fisted fabric to hold it down.
“You’re sweet.” As she held the door open, he could see a glowing candelabra on the table.
“Entre vous,” she said. “I have an assortment of beverages.” She threaded her way past the table
and through a swinging door.
He took the opportunity to gaze around. Her house looked to be one story from the front, but
the roof pitched. The back of the house was two-story with a stairway leading to its second level. He
scanned the high ceiling and plaster walls. Oak bookcases with well-bound books flanked a stone
fireplace. “I like the wainscoting and crown molding in here,” he shouted.
“They cover up cracks.”
Her living room contained priceless antiques, all comfortable, tasteful, and not extravagant. Two
French country loveseats of solid blue and cream piping faced each other. Under the furniture was a
blue-toned oriental rug, slightly ragged at the edges. Lemon polish scented the air. A grandfather
clock ticked quietly.
The new bay window, framed in oak, caught the sea breeze. The papaya yellow walls were a
lively backdrop.
He followed along a gleaming, maple plank floor to a kitchen. She rattled off an assortment of
beverages. Placing his navy jacket over the back of a chair, he picked beer. “Kitzie, you look
magnificent. Love the cute apron.”
“I love sunflowers. I always sow seeds in the summer.” She ripped open a plastic bag of mixed
baby greens. She dumped the package on a plate, threw in a few walnuts, some cherry tomatoes, and
crumbled Gorgonzola. “I’m tossing this with vinaigrette. It’s the best there is, Newman’s Own Light
Balsamic.”
“I keep the same brand at my place.” He watched her dribble dressing over the salad. Her hips
swiveled when she set down the bottle. Her feet looked pretty in her laced-up spikes.
“Bon appetit.” Her chocolate eyes took his breath away.
An hour crept by. Her dinner was superb, and he couldn’t help but groan with satisfaction. He
hadn’t expected she’d turned into a domestic diva. All he could do was look across the table and
marvel at her.
There was something about a beautiful woman cooking. It drove him to rave on and on. They
hashed over old times and people they both knew. Most worked in Los Angeles now, she told him,
and mentioned Biltmore because he was from L.A.
Thor appeared and gobbled a remaining crab cake. Garrett decided to be helpful and brought
dishes to the kitchen.
In no time at all, she had the dishes stashed in a portable dishwasher, had it hooked up to the
kitchen faucet, and turned it on. She approached him with a slow, seductive walk and in striptease
fashion, removed her apron, twirled it overhead, and let it drop.
He bent close enough for a kiss and traced his fingertips up the line of her jaw. “Dinner’s over.
Can I kiss you?”
“I couldn’t possibly resist.” Her dark eyes skewered him, and her words flowed easily.
He brushed her cool lips with his. They fused for a deeper kiss, and her lips warmed. He tangled
his hands through her thick hair. “Do you still like me?” he whispered against her ear.
“Maybe a little.” She closed her eyes, and he kissed her lids.
Every inch of him was aroused.
She kissed him back with feeling and blinked her eyes open. “That’s just a little invitation.”
“Invitation accepted.” Never had he wanted a woman more, and he’d had more than a few. He
burned with a special hunger never entirely forgotten. He took her hand, led her into the living
room, and seated himself on one of the loveseats. He watched Thor disappear through a doggy door
low in the living room wall. “Sedona would make a better junkyard dog than Thor.”
“Maybe.” Her voice was a rusty whisper. She perched on his knees, adjusting her black skirt as
she straddled him. Her arms went around his head. She kissed his forehead, nestling her mouth
under his toppling hair. Her eyes drifted shut.
He put his thumbs under the straps of her tank and pulled them over her shoulders. “Offer your
breasts to me and moan while I tease your nipples until they’re hard and aching.”
“You were always good at that.” She bit down on her lower lip to keep from laughing. She
wiggled her shoulders until the garment fell, exposing her full, brown-sugar breasts.
“Kitzie, you’re so hot.” He passed his thumb over a dark nipple.
“How do you know I’m hot?” She ran her fingers along his zipper and tenderly cupped his balls.
Her intent quickened his pulse. “I have a good memory.” He wanted to reach her kittenish
depths, to make her pulse and tingle with desire. This time, he wouldn’t stop.
Through the window, cool air blew across her, teasing her nipples to hard buds. He took one in
his mouth, gently putting tongue and teeth to work. “I’m feeling pressure growing behind the zipper
of my pants.”
“Let’s remove undergarments.” She shifted, and he enjoyed the sensation as she wiggled and
stood up.
“Race you.” In one move, he stood and dropped his pants. He looked up. “No fair, cheater.”
She hadn’t moved, and he was afraid his erection was about to burst.
She winked. “I can’t remove what I don’t have on.”
“You.” He cupped her rear end and pulled her in. He held her hips tightly to his.
“Careful, there. I might end up with ten little bruises on my behind.”
“Sorry.” He released her. “It’s just that you’re so darn sexy.”
“You think so?” She hooked a heel on the side of the coffee table, exposing satin garters.
The heat of want coursed through him. He moved his hands up her silk-clad thighs. He slowly
traced the straps of her garters. “When did you start dressing like this?”
“A girl doesn’t need to give away her secrets.”
Every time he touched her, he became more excited.
She quivered. “You can take me right now. I’m more than ready.”
“I’ll wait till you’re begging.” He let his groin swell and his body tighten. He trailed his hands to
her buttocks and cupped her as she opened her mouth and tongue to him. What he felt for her was
unlike anything he’d ever felt for a woman. His fingers progressed along her inner thighs. Moving
upward, he didn’t touch the zenith between her legs but could feel the heat. He placed a hand on the
foot she had on the coffee table and fondled her manicured toes. He kissed them and then flicked
his tongue up her legs. She wore silk hose and a garter belt, but her mound was totally bared.
A whimper of need come from the back of her throat. Her skin was molten and soft. He had no
difficulty finding the center of her, sliding his fingers into her, and supporting her with his other
hand. He squeezed her cheeks, lifted her and nibbled, licked and sucked. He put his mouth where
his hands had been. His tongue touched her. She moaned, low and sensual. His erection was so hard
it pained him. The cool air signaled him that he was not only erect, he was ready to slide into her
waiting core. She lifted one leg and pressed him into her alley wall. Her hand closed against his shaft,
and he thought he might come then and there in her hand, but he hung on. She glided him into her
hot box, and he savored the pleasure. Her fingers rubbed up and down his length where it touched
her folds.
He heard her intake of breath and entered her. Hot and damp. Her walls clamped down as if
he’d brought life itself to her. She matched his ignited movements as they took each other with
fierce intensity. He felt the jolt of his semen leaving his body. He was drained and kissed her with all
the gentleness he had.
He could see her eyes in the dim light, their pupils wide and round. Her lips were puffy from
passion. She laid her head against his shoulder. “Merci. Very nice.” There was honesty in her voice.
She had no regrets.
He didn’t either and hoped it would happen again.
He took a gamble and guessed her pleasure hadn’t completely ebbed. He pushed two fingers
inside her and stroked her from within. “Come again.”
His tongue danced, and in seconds, she did and then collapsed on the loveseat, her legs splayed,
her skirt hiked to her waist, and her breasts exposed.
He stood to give her some room. “I like looking at you.” He eased closer, placed a knee between
the cushion and back of the loveseat. Balancing with an arm on the sofa and foot on the floor, he
embedded his erection in her hot core.
Each time her walls closed around him was a new adventure, a new level of rapture more
enthralling than the last. He guided her hips into a rocking motion that massaged him with a
sensational effect. He buried his face between her breasts. His voice came out as a raspy whisper.
“You’re so tight and incredible. I can’t get enough of you.”
Her pulse beat to the rhythm he set. He loved how she crawled on him for release. Her
breathless response matched his own, as she enjoyed its exquisite torture. Her rocking back and
forth on him became more and more erratic. Her spiraling need forced him to take more of her.
And more.
He sucked her other nipple with intensity, ever increasing. He entered her depths, and ecstasy
surged through him.
He lifted his head to seek her mouth. Her kiss was hot and passionate, and she writhed under
him in the throes of her orgasm.
She held him gently while his orgasmic waves subsided. He reminded himself that he was there
to have fun. Kitzie was a cat who couldn’t take too much togetherness. He hoped he wouldn’t fall in
love. He wouldn’t know what to do about that part. After six months, they’d go their separate ways.
There wouldn’t be time for her to nip and scratch. “I bought a package of condoms on the way
over. I always use them.”
“Always?”
“I admit I should have used one tonight.”
“If my period hadn’t ended two days ago, I would have insisted. Pregnancy is less of an issue
than contracting something from you now that you’re Mr. Experienced.”
“Like I said, I’m in the habit of using them.” He reached out and caressed her cheek. “I don’t
know how much longer I can hold out before doing this again.”