Chapter 6
Jade looked herself over in the mirror and added a touch more lip gloss. The seafoam green dress she wore brought out her tan, which was sprayed on, not from the sun’s harmful rays. The hem hit a few inches above her knees and as she slipped on her sky high heels, she nodded appreciatively at how they helped accentuate her hard-earned calf muscles. She took a few steps, wincing in pain as her left butt cheek seized up. It had been stupid to overdo it that morning, especially since she knew she had a long night in heels ahead of her. She’d have to pretend it didn’t hurt and force herself not to limp, only wanting to put forward the impression of perfection.
How else could she sell the concept that if you were in control of your health you’d be in control of your life, if she didn’t act like she was in complete control at all times? And while she always stressed the health aspects of joining one of her gyms, she knew most people wanted an ass and abs like she had.
“They don’t want their ass to feel like mine does,” she muttered, poking at the stiff cheek as she teetered down the hall.
Daniel had his back to her when she entered the living area, but she could tell by the way the rushed suit slid over his broad shoulders that she needed to brace herself for when he turned around. It didn’t help. She still had to smother a gasp and grab onto the nearest piece of furniture to keep from swooning.
The charcoal suit fit like a glove and somehow made him look even bigger and taller than he actually was. The crisp white shirt brought out the glints of red in his beard, which he had neatly trimmed. She almost missed the scruffiness. His long hair was smoothed back and tied with one of her ponytail holders he must have found. It wasn’t the style she normally liked. No one would mistake him for a stock trader or lawyer. He was more of a … bad boy surfer. She shook her head to try and shake out all those fanciful thoughts. Surfer, indeed.
“What were you in your other life?” she asked, suddenly wanting to know more than she wanted her butt cheek to stop seizing up. “Your real life, I mean.”
He raised a brow at her and held up a bottle of wine questioningly. Why not? They had a driver for the night. She nodded and showed him where the glasses and corkscrew were. He expertly opened the bottle and poured them each a glass of white.
“California wine?” he asked, sniffing it. “What is California?”
She tried not to gape at him. He thought he knew so much, listening to tourists all day for years, but he clearly didn’t know much. She had second thoughts about letting him talk to her friends and business associates at the gala.
“It’s a state in America,” she said. “The state you’re in. Oh, gosh, we weren’t even colonies in your time. Here, look.” She pulled up a map of the world on her phone and held it out to him. “We’re the giant blob in between the Atlantic and the Pacific. See California on the west coast? We have a huge wine industry.”
He looked at the phone for a long time before handing it back to her.
“It seems the world has changed a great deal. I knew that things were different by the way people spoke and dressed. But whole new countries? Astounding.”
He tentatively took a taste and looked surprised when it wasn’t foul.
“See? It’s good,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t have a meltdown. She knew she’d be way less calm if she was in his shoes.
“It is good. But it can’t compare to my wines.”
“You had a vineyard, then? That’s what you did?”
He leaned back into the plush couch cushions and sighed. “I was raised on a vast, wealthy estate. My father was the gatekeeper, which was a humble but well-respected profession. I don’t suppose you have one? Or even have a gate?”
“I have a gate,” she said. “But you’re right. We have electronic surveillance now instead of gatekeepers.”
“Well, I didn’t care to follow in my father’s footsteps,” he continued. “I was close with the son of the marquess who owned the property. They treated me like family. Before he passed away, Hugh’s father gave me a ship and I became a wine merchant… among other things.”
“Hugh!” she said, downing her wine in one gulp.
She tried to remember what Hugh had said about Daniel back when Seda was trying to convince her his painting was out there. But she’d worked so hard to block it all out, the details were hazy now.
He leaned forward eagerly. “You know of him? Did he truly suffer the same fate as I? Pray tell me you learned of him from history books and he lived a long and happy life.”
She shook her head. “Sorry. He lived a long life, but not a happy one. Unless you’d say being stuck in the painting was happy?”
Fire blazed in his eyes. “It was hell. It was torture. I spent my days praying for death.”
Pity welled in her chest and she wished they were on the same sofa so she could pat him or comfort him somehow. “Why did that happen to you? And Hugh. How did it happen?”
“I can’t answer for the how, but as for the why? He fell in love with the wrong woman.” Bitterness twisted his handsome features. “And I foolishly tried to save him. But in the end, she got us both.”
“Who?” Jade was entranced.
“A witch. A minion of Satan. A destroyer of lives.”
She swallowed hard. “Yikes. But you’re out now. You can rebuild. If you know about wines, you’re in the perfect area for it. Northern California is riddled with vineyards. And Hugh will be back sometime today. They’re supposed to call me when they land.”
“Land? They?”
She laughed and moved to the other couch to sit next to him, only so he could pour her another glass of wine. “Yes, people can fly now.” At his look of astonishment, she reluctantly clarified, enjoying teasing him. It had to be the wine. “We have machines that can fly, I mean. That’s how you got here. Airmail.”
“Miraculous.”
“And after Hugh came out of his painting, he …” she trailed off, not wanting to bring up the nonsense about falling in love.
They were being so relaxed and comfortable. If he didn’t yet realize she was his fated true love, she didn’t want to give him any reason to start thinking she might be. She snapped her fingers, irritated that the nice time had to be ruined.
“I have some more things to do before the driver gets here,” she said, glancing at the clock over the mantel as if to prove she was short on time. “Go clean these wine glasses before we go.”
There. That ought to keep him from even liking her, let alone loving her. What was she thinking, getting all cozy and friendly with him? Without looking at him, she hurried back to her bedroom as fast as her cramping legs would take her.
She didn’t come out until she got the message on her phone that the driver had arrived. The women’s association had sent one for her since she was the keynote speaker. She hoped Daniel would understand how important it was and think her speech was as thoughtful and insightful as she tried to make it.
Wait, no she didn’t. She didn’t care what he thought at all. In the living room, there was no sign of the wine glasses or the empty bottle. Daniel sat stewing on the couch.
“The driver’s here,” she said in a clipped voice. “You can still bow out if you want, you know.”
Her emotions warred as he gave her a slow onceover, as if deciding. She didn’t want to show up alone, but what if things started getting too friendly again? Why did he have such interesting stories to tell? And why did he have to look so impeccable in that suit? Damned, dazzling bad boy with his male model looks. No matter how she tried, her mind refused to conjure up an image of Reynolds to combat Daniel’s insane gorgeousness.
“I’m going,” he said, standing and holding out his arm in the most maddeningly charming way.
She refused to take it and stalked toward the door. Let him come or go as he pleased, she wasn’t going to lean on his arm as if they were a couple. As she stopped to get one last look in the hall mirror, he stood beside her and looked at his own clothes, making sure there was no lint on his jacket or pants. She felt herself slipping into a trance again and tore her eyes away to see if her own outfit was in order. Out of the blue, he smiled at her in the mirror.
“You’re lovely, Jade.”
Was it the compliment? Was it him speaking her name for the first time? Was it the boyish grin as he ogled her? Something made her feel like she was turning to warm goo. Except her dratted left butt cheek. That was still cramping something awful.
“Let’s go,” she said, pretending she didn’t hear the compliment. It wasn’t as if she was going to return it, even though he was beyond lovely. She twisted around toward the door and her entire left leg turned into one big cramp. “Nnnnggggg,” she gritted out to keep from screeching at the intense pain.
She tried to relax it and keep standing but was already on the way to the floor. Daniel scooped her into his arms, a look of concern creasing his brow.
“What is it?” he asked, holding her close. “You looked as if you’ve been stabbed.”
“You’ve seen someone get stabbed?” she managed to say through her clenched teeth. It honestly did feel like a knife was grinding into her.
He nodded matter of factly. “Many times. But what can I do for you? Where is your pain?”
She pointed toward the gym where she had a foam roller. Hopefully she could work out the kink and still make it to the gala. As Daniel carried her, she called and told the driver it would be a few minutes.
“This place looks like a torture chamber,” he said, still cradling her in his arms.
If her butt hadn’t been a burning hot rock she might have enjoyed it. Good thing her butt was a burning hot rock.
“You’ve been in a torture chamber?” she asked, motioning toward the yoga mat she’d lazily left unrolled on the floor. She usually picked up after herself but she had planned to make Daniel clean up after her.
He laughed, settling her on the mat and instantly turning serious. “Is it a cramp in your leg?” He squeezed her right leg, then her left, nodding when she flinched. “Let me prepare you a hot bath.”
“No way, I’m not missing my gala. Just bring me one of those tube-looking things over there and I’ll roll it out. I just overworked the muscle, that’s all.”
He brought her the foam roller and she self-consciously wedged it under the offended muscle, worming back and forth to try and ease the tightness. He must have sensed she was embarrassed and wandered around touching the weights and looking at the various benches and racks. He picked up the seventy pound disc she’d probably hurt herself with as if it was a dinner plate.
“What is this all for?”
“Weightlifting,” she grunted. “It’s good for you.”
He turned and gave her a disbelieving look. “Yes, I can see that. Do you lift all these?”
“Not all at once,” she said, still not getting the muscle to ease up. “Can you go into the master bathroom and look in the first drawer? There’s a bottle that says Ibuprofen on it. Can you bring me that, please? Er, can you read?”
His jaw dropped. “Yes, I can read. You were in the room when I read the wine label. What nonsense have you been told about the sixteenth century?”
She was practically panting from pain. “That a lot of people couldn’t read. Sorry. I must be crazed from pain and forgot. Actually, this is all your fault. Because of your fight with Reynolds I didn’t stretch properly.”
He shook his head in disgust, took his jacket off, and was at her side before she could blink. “Turn over,” he said, settling in at her side.
“What? Why?”
By way of answer he put one arm under her knees and the other behind her back and tidily flipped her onto her stomach. Then warm hands kneaded the back of her thigh.
“Since this is all my fault, I should do something about it. Too hard? Not hard enough?” he asked.
Goosebumps shot up all over her skin at those words. His hands felt heavenly and she melted into the mat. “That’s perfect,” she said. “Except…” She felt her face getting hot. She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t let him … “It’s more my, er, bum.”
He chuckled softly as his fingers slid under her skirt. He nudged her panties aside and gently cupped her cheek in his hand. “This side?” he asked, sliding his other hand to rest on the other side. “Or this side?” The pressure very slowly increased and she couldn’t stop a moan of relief.
“Both is good,” she said. “I’m sure Ibuprofen would work just as well, though.”
“I wouldn’t enjoy it as much, though,” he countered, digging in exactly where the cramp originated.
She yelped in both pain and pleasure, arching up off the mat for a second before flopping back into dead fish pose.
“This is embarrassing but amazing. If you didn’t want to go back to selling wine, you could take a massage therapy course and make a fortune with those magic hands.”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. You’ve seen me naked twice now.”
She snorted. “Yeah, remind me to buy you some swim trunks. And I didn’t look either time so you better not be checking out my ass.”
“I apologize, but I have been checking out your ass since the moment I was freed from my prison.”
She tried to swallow without gulping at that confession. His hands on her body had gone past therapeutic at that point. She was feeling things in places other than her overworked gluteus maximus. Very inappropriate things.
She tried to squelch the electricity that passed between them by thinking of Reynolds. But he wasn’t with her by his own choice. And if he had been, he would have tossed her the bottle of anti-inflammatories and put his nose in his phone until she was ready to go. Daniel’s soft, persistent massage was so much better than that, she couldn’t muster up much guilt.
She scooted and rolled around to sitting, trying to keep her skirt down as she sat facing him. He rolled his shoulders and smiled.
“Better?”
She put her hands on those broad shoulders and squeezed. They were as hard as she’d imagined after seeing him by the pool. “What about you?”
He leaned closer, their knees touching. She knew she should get up, but why risk the cramp coming back? Wasn’t it better to be safe than sorry? His eyes were the deepest, minky brown she’d ever seen. The most common eye color in the world and yet she felt like she’d never seen anyone with them before. They were drawing her closer and closer.
His mouth was on hers, firm yet questioning. She answered by parting her lips and digging her fingers into his shoulders. He pulled her onto his lap, his hands once again under her dress as she straddled his hips. She gasped, pulling him closer so his chest rubbed against her breasts. They ached to be out of the dress as much as her hands wanted to rip away the fabric of his shirt. She wanted all of his skin touching hers. His fingers ran up and down her inner thighs and with a moan of longing, she pushed down hard against him.
Okay, she’d lied to him and herself. She’d looked when he was naked in the pool. And she’d been impressed. But this— all of this. It was more than impressive, it was shocking. Grinding against him like a wild woman, he lifted her and laid her on her back. The scant moment they were apart was enough to make her clutch at his collar and yank him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around him so he’d never be away from her again.
His kisses were better than her refeed days. The days where she ate actual ice cream instead of frozen almond milk mixed with chocolate protein powder. Better than when she ate actual chocolate, and not that seventy percent cacao crap. Rich, creamy milk chocolate with caramel and bits of cookie mixed in. That was Daniel.
“Oh my God, yum,” she breathed when his mouth slid from her lips to her throat. “So, so good.”
“Yes,” he agreed near her ear, licking down the side of her neck. “Delicious. And you smell heavenly.”
“It’s coconut oil,” she told him, squirming beneath him to get the relief she craved.
He laughed, so rich and throaty. And she liked the beard and the way it rasped against her skin as he kissed his way down her decolletage. She’d always thought she wouldn’t be a beard person and was glad Reynolds couldn’t have one because of his job.
She could swear she heard the screeching record sound at the very thought of Reynolds. Breathlessly, almost heartbroken with disappointment, she shoved Daniel away.
“You have to stop,” she said, lying still until he sat up.
He looked down at her with confusion and what seemed to be the same level of disappointment she felt. He had adorable smudges of her lip gloss on his mouth and neck, but thankfully not his collar.
She straightened her dress and stood up. “The poor driver,” she said, trying to shake off her despair. Trying to stop wanting Daniel. “Damn it, where are my shoes?”
“They’re in the front hall,” he said listlessly.
“Oh, right. Thank you. Look, I’m not blaming you for what just happened because I was right in there with you, but you cannot touch me anymore. And I’ll do my part as well. No more touching.” When he only nodded, she added, “Uh, do you still want to go?”
Wow, that wasn’t awkward at all. Absolutely not the most awkward situation of her life.
“Would you like me to accompany you?”
She sighed. “The gentlemanly thing is a bit wearing.”
He nodded toward the rumpled yoga mat. “I’m no gentleman, I assure you.”
She motioned for him to get up. “I would like it if you would accompany me, yes. It will keep me from having to tell people why Reynolds couldn’t make it.” She looked away. “Not that I even know why myself.”
He stood up and started to offer his arm, then let it drop to his side. “No more touching, right. And I know why Reynolds couldn’t go to your gala.”
She snapped her head around. “You do?”
He grinned at her. “Yes. Because he’s a dick.”
She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. She’d walked right into that one. “Ha ha,” she said sarcastically. “Let’s add comedian to your list of possible new careers.”