Okay, I had a lot to choose from and because the time that was the most influential for me was when I first came to the board, they are years and years old. Lady Lala’s parlour was where I went in those days and it always provided inspiration. Darian and his world of Mirrors was conceived in a homework assignment that had to meet the criteria of taking place in a shoe store, purchasing shoes for someone’s wedding, with the sales person only being able to speak a maximum three lines of dialogue. So besides creating a world for me that I truly love to visit, it honed in on the task of getting your point across without relying on words, but body language and descriptions using the senses.
Then there was the flashback using taste. My love for anything involving flashbacks seized onto this and cemented Shadow’s purpose in Pander. It’s one of my favourites…
But the one that stands out for me, is the one line of dialogue that had to be used exactly as written.
Hand me my pants.
Well! That in itself opened the floodgates. So I chose one scenario and posted it, and asked for a crit. And boy howdy do I remember the response from Lady Lala. Put in terms I understood so well. A bare-bone scene lacking flesh and blood. Or something to that effect. *G* But quite blunt all the same. And it was exactly what I needed to hear. It challenged me to do better. It made me want to try harder. And only after I re-wrote the whole thing, did I realize how right she was. This was the homework assignment that hinted at what I was capable of. And how much I could improve.
And so here it is.
Time wise, this scene takes place quite early in the story, just a week or so after they make love for the first time. Gareth, in his old world, yet well intentioned ways, says the wrong thing. He’s not one to ask and Karma isn’t so much into following just because he says so.
“You mean since you fucked me, you have to do the honourable thing and marry me? Been there. Done that. Never again.” I was past being frustrated and was getting angry.
Gareth took exception to the tone in my voice, his own sounding of disbelief. “Is that what it was to you? Fucking?”
I didn’t like Gareth swearing. For some reason, when he said fucking, it left me degraded; his voice was so harsh and uncompromising and it made me feel cheap. “Yes! That’s all it was to me. You’re good, but don’t delude yourself. I’ve had better.” I held tight to my anger to hide the hurt it caused.
He looked at me, his eyes growing cold as I glared back at him. “I should have left you to Trystan. Just as you sold yourself to him, you cheapened yourself with me.”
All feelings of shame disappeared, and my anger ignited into fury. So what that I had thought the same word. What gave him the right to judge me? I could feel my blood pressure rising to the point where every pulse throbbed in my head. It wasn’t too hard to imagine that Gareth had a knife in my heart, twisting the blade, pushing it deeper, with every cruel thing he said to me. I jumped to my feet so I could glower down at him. “You bloody bastard. Are you saying that what happened between us was my fault? That I manipulated you?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” Fury made his movements jerky as he too stood up and sneered at me from his superior height. “I made sure you understood the consequences. I gave you what you wanted. You were the one panting after me.”
“My panting had nothing to do with the fact that you had undressed me and had just licked, kissed or sucked on every part of my body. No one forced you. You did that all on your own. If you remember correctly, I said no. What the hell did you think would happen?”
“What are you talking about? I want to feel you. Inside me.” He imitated me, panting the words out.
Shame heated my face. “Don’t you dare twist my words to suit your purposes. You were the one who seduced me.” I whirled away, heading towards the bed furs and the pile of clothes on the ground.
“Seduced you?” He repeated, sounding incredulous. He followed me, not willing to let me walk away from him. “I don’t think so. Who followed whom? Who kissed whom first? And need I remind you that you didn’t fight too hard to get away.” The knife twisted a little further, went in a little deeper.
Incensed, I faced him, my face hot with seething rage. “You are no better than I am, Gareth. You thought I was married, yet you,” I said, jabbing my finger in his chest, “didn’t stop yourself from taking what was offered.”
He laughed. “Why should I? You were in a whorehouse, alone with Trystan when I found you. Maybe you wanted him too. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe you screamed and bolted from the room because he wasn’t willing to pay a high price for a lousy lay. Or maybe he had already paid you, and paid you well, to act out his fantasies.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I made a mistake.”
Thoughts wouldn’t form in my mind, no words would come out. I could only gape at him in disbelief.
“No. If there was a mistake, it was yours Karma. You are the one lacking honour, not me.” His jaw clenched in anger, but his voice held a calm certainty. “I did not cheat on my wife, the way you cheated on your husband. I pity him choosing a woman who did not honour her vows.” Head tilted at a slight angle, he scrutinized my face. “Can I assume from your silence that I’m correct? That your children aren’t Damon’s after all?” The knife plunged to the hilt, gutting me on the spot.
“Your wife is dead! DEAD! Just as Damon is dead to me! I did not break my vows to him! I was faithful to him, you arrogant, self centered bastard!”
He stood there looking at me, the hurt in his eyes unmistakable. “Do you think anything hurts more than the pain I feel knowing I caused her death? You cannot hurt me more than I already do. I mourn her loss everyday.”
“Yes, there is something that will hurt you more, Gareth.” I was surprised at the venom in my own voice. “How about knowing for a fact that I am not carrying your bastard? And that I won’t be anytime soon.” I regarded him with the same scrutiny, watching his expression change to one of hurt before he could master it. “Why’d you do it, Gareth? So you could have a son? Wouldn’t anyone else go near your Indian ass?”
He caught my hand in his, and yanked me closer to him, holding on so I could not escape him. I had not been around him that long, but I knew that the narrowing of his eyes was an indication of how furious he was. The lips that had kissed me with such tenderness in the past were now snarling at me in hatred; his voice carried the same tone as mine had.
“There are many maidens in my village that would be honoured to have me for their husband. Don’t flatter yourself!” Each word enunciated with control stressed his sincerity. “I could pick many beautiful women. Not a sickly white woman who is unsuited to my way of life. I could have many wives who understand me and their place. None of who would dare to challenge me, my word, or my decisions.”
“So why me, Gareth? If I’m such an unattractive pain in the ass to you, why did you bring me here? Why did you take me from Trystan?”
“Great Spirit, don’t you get it? I didn’t choose you Karma. That choice was taken from me thirteen years ago!”
“Bullshit! You have a mind. Maybe you should use it to understand your visions mean nothing more than the fact you were weak from lack of sleep and in a drug induced state. You were hallucinating.”
“You dare mock me?” Gareth grabbed my shoulders in a bruising grip; a grip so tight I could not struggle against him as he let his temper seep out.
“What’s not to mock? You saw something because you were tripping. Your mind was seeing the things you wanted to see. You know, the woman in your vision. The woman you really want.”
“Damn it woman! What do you expect from me?”
“A little honesty would be nice.”
“You think I don’t want you?”
“No. You don’t. You want your wife.”
“I want you. I want you so much it hurts. How much restraint do you think I have?”
“Quite a lot, considering you don’t even touch me since you made love to me.”
“Do you think that night would have occurred if I had control of myself around you? The sight of you naked is burned in my memory forever. Your scent haunts me. I want to taste you again. I want to hear you moaning and urging me to take you. Believe me. I want you.”
His control was slipping away, fighting a loosing battle. Even as upset as I was with him, I could appreciate how breath taking he was. His narrowed eyes glittered in the firelight, alive with the heat of his fury. The tightness in his jaw emphasized his strong features and allowed him to snarl at me though his teeth. He was standing with his legs apart, his body tense and ready to strike. I felt the energy inside him, the desire to dominate the weaker.
“Do you have any idea how hard I have been struggling to stop myself from forcing you to the ground and taking what I wanted? I’ve waited years to be with you. And when I find you, you’re married. Up until yesterday, I thought your husband would come for you. I knew how I would kill him. I have killed him a thousand different ways in my mind, so I could have you. Even knowing you belonged to another man, I wanted you. I still want you.” A look of disgust on his face, he pushed me away, releasing me, as if he could no longer stand to touch something foul. “Damn it! I want you. You!”
“How romantic.” Reaching down, I made a grab for my pants. “As much as your confession means to me, you need to deal, cause what happened between us is never happening again.”
Gareth was faster, not to mention stronger, and ripped them out of my grasp. “It is.”
Never, in all my years had I been this angry. “Hand me my pants. Now!”
“No,” he said between clenched teeth, throwing the buckskins to the side. “It’s too late for you to play the innocent victim. You started this, and I’m going to make sure you finish it!”
For the first time in my life, I wished I had enough strength to hurt someone. My hands closed into fists at my sides. “Did anyone ever tell you what an asshole you are? I thought you were different. But do you know what hurts me the most? That you don’t understand. You don’t understand me at all, and you are too pigheaded to listen.”
“This dumb Injun understands all right. I listened to you. I heard your words. A night that I waited years for, a night I will remember forever, was nothing but a good fuck to you. Now it is your turn to listen, to hear what I’m saying.”
Aggressive, he yanked me against him; aroused, there was no mistaking the hardness of his cock or the intended threat of retribution. I felt his hand in my hair seconds before he wrenched my head back, forcing me to look in his eyes. “I’m going to show you what a good fuck is, so if ever another man makes love to you, you’ll be able to tell the difference.”
He crushed me to him and ravaged my lips. Tasting blood, I tried to pull away, but denied he would be not. I squirmed in his arms, trying to get away, not understanding my reaction to his rough treatment. He stopped my struggles simply by tightening his hold; his fingers dug into my skin, bruising. Punishing. Asserting his dominance. Our fight ignited a flame in him, one not extinguished until it burned everything in its path to ashes.
I wrenched my mouth from his, and struggled to get away, pushing against his chest, but he was too strong. “I won’t let you use me like this.”
A slow smile spread across his sensual lips, and his hand pulled my hair back again, far enough to expose my throat to his onslaught. “I think you will.” He bent his head and continued his assault. I cried out in pain as I felt his teeth nip into my neck, and then I felt his tongue soothing the hurt. I whimpered in ecstasy. His breath was hot against my throat, a ragged pant in my ear. “I know you will.”
Damn him! My body gave in, becoming putty in his hands. My surrender seemed to enrage him even more than he already was. He nipped and licked his way back up to my mouth, pausing to regard me with a look of revulsion. When his lips touch mine, I did the only thing I could. I bit him.
It didn’t slow him down at all. It incensed him. I bit down harder, until I tasted his blood in my mouth. Gagging at the taste, and horrified at what I had just done, I fought with renewed strength to get away. Gareth would not release me from his tight embrace, and instead reciprocated, biting down on my lower lip. He stopped short of breaking the skin, but he made his point. Try it again, and he wouldn’t be so forgiving.
Crushing his lips against mine, the blood from the bite I had given him flowed free. I was going to be sick. He swallowed the blood in his mouth and continued to kiss me until I was breathless. When I thought I would collapse, he tore his mouth away from mine, pushing me out far enough to look at me. Adrenaline flowing in his veins, he grabbed my shirt, and with one powerful movement, ripped it off my back, the seams tearing with ease. I was naked. I was angry. But I wasn’t scared. If anything, I was more aroused. I stood unashamed before him, my chest heaving from the simple act of trying to breathe.
“Is this what you want? To play whore to the savage?” he raged at me, fighting for his own breath.
“Yes!” My breath was as short and ragged as his. “I want you. Even if my wanting you makes me a whore in your eyes, yes. Yes, I want you.”
With a reflex so fast, I didn’t see it coming; Gareth shoved me to the ground. With deliberate slowness, he undid the lacing on his buckskins, and lowered himself to our makeshift bed. With his body covering mine, he slipped his fingers in between my legs, a testament that he would never physically hurt me, even in anger.
Discovering my readiness, he laughed, an evil, bone-chilling laugh. A laugh that made me ashamed. “You do want the breed, don’t you?”
“Get over yourself.” My mind wasn’t ready to accept so readily to what my body already had. In a vain attempt to stop him, I closed my legs and glared at him. “If you want it, you’ll have to take it, because I am not giving it.”
Gareth loomed over me, truly resembling the savage he claimed to be. The blood smeared across his mouth enhanced the image. I struggled against him, putting all my strength behind my movements until I realized I was giving him more power against me; by straining against him, I was exciting him more than he already was. At my surrender, he grabbed my hands in his and held them, hard enough to pin them, but not hard enough to hurt.
Damn him! I could feel my mind wavering. I knew he was powerful enough to hurt me, to take what he wanted, but he wasn’t.
“Don’t deny it,” he said looking into my eyes. “You want me. I can smell it. I felt how wet you are. You need me inside you. I won’t take anything from you. You have to give it to me.” His fingers cupped my throat in a light caress. “Open your legs and let me in.”
Still looking in my eyes, he slid his leg between mine. I read the gleam of triumph in them at the same instant he thrust his hips forward, violating the sanctity of the act. I heard his grunt of satisfaction, and then I knew nothing but his punishing strokes. My own anger, my own needs protected me from feeling the pain.
The anger left him little by little as he punished me for wanting him. While still forceful, his thrusts were no longer bruising. The inflicted damage made my skin oversensitive to the press of his. Where his eyes burned with rage before, now there was only a fierce determination and then distress. I was wrong before. It wasn’t his knife that was capable of piercing my heart. It was the emotion shining from his eyes. I responded to his anguish, my hips rising to meet each powerful thrust.
I was close to the edge, seconds away from my release. His body pressed me into the ground, hard and as unyielding as his weight, yet it felt like I was floating; the world spinning lazily around me, as if this intense pleasure was so natural it was taken for granted. Gareth’s grunt of ecstatic pain heralded his completion.
He released my hands and rested his head in the hollow of my neck, fighting for breath. His heart was beating in a frantic rhythm, and he took several deep breaths trying to steady it. As my racing pulse slowed, as my release slipped away in perceived disgrace, reality intruded. Self-reproach blossomed with the scent of his sweat, his musk, the foul stench of blood mixed with the raw odour of sex. Silent tears seeped out from underneath my lashes.
What had we done? How could we get past this?
More importantly. Did I want to?
Another thought followed the trail to the inevitable. Did I have a choice?
I don't remember the first Homework Suggestion to which I responded. All I remember is that I was as nervous as a whore in church, since it was the first time EVER that I'd shown any of my writing to anyone. I do remember that it was too short, but I've made up for it since then by going over the word-count with consistency. The warm, enthusiastic reception I received to that first posting, though, I remember very well. I felt, and still feel, like I'd come home to a place filled with friends I could trust. Man, I'm so glad the Lit Forum exists!
Part of this may be the first homework I posted, because it came from "Line, Please!" It's a homework post, in any case, and one of my early ones. It's been polished a bit since then, but the line, "Sometimes a little stuffiness is good for the soul" remains. I can't remember which of you wonderful ladies said it, but one of you told me that I incorporated the line into the excerpt effortlessly, and that it was brilliantly done. I've never forgotten those words of encouragement, and that's what makes this one special to me:
Full of pent up nervous energy, Jay paced the entrance hall, waiting for Katie to come downstairs. He tugged for the hundredth time on his jacket, disliking the way it constricted his shoulders, and wondered if it looked as bad as it felt. Stopping in front of the ornate mirror on the wall, he glanced at his reflection, and felt a smile tug his lips. Anything was bound to look good reflected in that. It was the first thing of value Jay had bought after receiving a royalty check from Wonderkind’s initial album. Something about its lines and grace had made him fall in love with it at once, and he still felt a surge of pride that he had been able to afford such a beautiful piece. The beveled mirror was a French antique in the style of Louis XV with a goldleaf frame rich with carvings of laurel leaves, medallions and intricate scrollwork. He had been pleased when Katie had admired it. Though she did a good job of hiding it, he knew that she mentally clutched her head and moaned at some of the decorations and furnishings in the house, but she seemed to love the mirror as much as he did. She had told him the mirror was just like him; beautiful, elegant, rare – and hung.
Jay’s reflection in the mirror grinned back at him, remembering Katie’s description. The expression was short-lived, however, since he couldn’t recall a time when he less felt like smiling. He studied his appearance with dissatisfaction. He’d heard that Americans referred to tuxedos as “monkey suits” and he was in full agreement. His mother had bought the tuxedo for him several years before and he only wore it once a year. It hung neglected in the back of his closet except for the night of his parents’ annual formal dinner party. Jay had a sneaking suspicion his mother only gave this dinner for the sole purpose of getting him into this suit, but he’d managed to avoid attending the past two years since he’d been on tour out of the country with Wonderkind. This year, however, she’d gotten clever, and had checked Shadowed Knight’s touring schedule before setting the date. So here he stood, looking like the emcee at a charity function.
He eyed the ruffled shirt with disfavor. Ruffled shirts usually didn't bother him; on the contrary, he rather liked the way he looked in them. But he always made sure they were unbuttoned halfway to show the light covering of hair on his chest, and he paired them with either a suede leather vest with fringe or a velvet coat of some kind. Never this starched, black, rather shiny tuxedo coat. And never, ever a bowtie. Ever.
He exhaled heavily as his eyes rose to his hair. He had to admit it was great hair. It just didn’t work with a tuxedo. He shook his head and watched the light shine off the thick, black mass of it. The soft, large, unrestrained curls reached the bottom of his shoulder blades and hugged the lines of his face. He narrowed his eyes. It was beginning to get a little fuzzy round the edges, though. Katie had a nifty little gadget she called a styling wand. She’d plug it in and wait until it grew hot before using it to do amazing things to her hair. He entertained the notion of going upstairs and seeing if it might tame his own hair into some kind of submission, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Katie would never question him about it, but he didn’t want to betray his nervousness about this evening in any way.
He gathered his hair with both hands and pulled it back, holding it at the nape of his neck. Good God, no! The combination of the restrained hair and the bowtie made him look like an accountant down on his luck. Releasing his hair, he used his fingers to fluff it back into its usual disarray.
The sound of the bedroom door opening upstairs was followed by Katie’s footsteps on the stairs just as he realized his bowtie was crooked. He straightened it with a quick movement only to have it pop up on one side again the moment he released it. He felt rather than saw Katie come up beside him as he savagely grabbed the offending neckwear and gave it a wrench.
“Oh for God’s sake, Jay.” Katie's voice bubbled with amusement. “Here, let me.”
He turned toward her as her fingers deftly undid the bow and began to retie it. He looked at her for the first time and felt his eyes widen. “You look amazing,” he told her. The gown she was wearing was a soft lilac, sleeveless, with a scooped neckline and a plain lilac band just below the breast. The front of her long dark brown hair was smoothed back from her face and fastened behind her head. She was wearing a necklace, earrings and bracelet dripping with what Jay could only surmise were diamonds and emeralds. “In fact, you look perfect.”
“You sound surprised. I grew up peeking through the stair banisters at my parents' dinner parties, so I have a pretty good idea of how to dress for one. Will you hold still?” She gave his tie a warning jerk. “I don’t want to have to start over. Anyway, what did you think I'd show up in?”
“I don't know. I've seen you in all kinds of clothes, but I've never seen you look like this.” He gave her an appraising look. “They're going to love you.”
Katie grinned. “Good to know. ” She gave the now-perfect bowtie a pat. “There you go.”
The light flashed on the gems in her earrings, and Jay reached out a finger to touch one. “Where in the hell did these come from?”
“My mother wore them when she got married.” Katie shrugged. “I think they belonged to one of her grandmothers, or something. Think I'll fit in?”
Jay smiled and kissed her forehead. “No. I think you'll stand out like a diamond in a room full of pastes.” He offered her his arm. “Ready to go?”
Jay’s mother had insisted on hiring a car to drive them to the dinner party. Probably, Jay thought sourly, to make sure he actually showed up. A bottle of champagne on ice was chilling in the back, and Jay opened it at once upon entering the car. He poured the bubbling gold liquid into a flute and held it out to Katie.
“No, thanks.” She pushed the glass back toward him. “I can’t drink champagne.”
“Why ever not?” He settled the bottle back into the ice with a crunch.
“I can’t handle it. It goes straight to my head and I’ve been told I lose all my inhibitions.”
Jay paused in the act of raising the glass to his lips. “I didn’t know you had any.” This was an interesting development.
Katie grinned at him. “From what I’ve been told, you’d be surprised.”
Jay gave her a confused look. “What do you mean, ‘from what you’ve been told?’”
“I can’t remember anything when I drink champagne.”
“What, you just wake up with a screaming headache and no recollection of the night before?” he inquired.
“No, no headache.” She shook her head. “I don’t get hung over. I just…black out.”
Jay felt a thoroughly evil smile spreading across his face. He’d forgotten all about the fact that he was dressed in a tuxedo. “So you lose all your inhibitions, hm? I think that’s something I’d like to see.”
“You said I don’t have any inhibitions,” she said with studied nonchalance. She appeared to be interested in the passing scenery out the car window.
“Now, don’t put words in my mouth. I said I didn’t think you had any.” He lounged back in his seat and drained the champagne flute. “You know, I have a very vivid imagination…”
“I know.”
“A very vivid imagination,” he repeated, ignoring the interruption, “and even I can’t come up with an instance in which you’ve acted the least bit inhibited. I think you need to drink some champagne.”
Katie turned and looked at him. “Stop it.” Her voice was stern but there was a smile hovering around the corners of her mouth.
Jay leaned sideways toward her with a charming smile. “You know, you really should tell me about some of these things you’ve been told you do when you lose your inhibitions. I do think I should know everything about you, don’t you?”
Katie answered his smile with one of her own. “I don't think I really lose my inhibitions. From what I hear, I just say whatever comes into my head, that's all.” Her eyes shifted to the front of the car. “I think we’re here.”
Jay straightened in his seat and looked out the window. “Damn it. It’s supposed to take longer than this to get to Mayfair.” He addressed the driver. “You’re entirely too efficient, mate.”
“Behave.” Katie jabbed him with her elbow.
Jay watched the imposing fronts of the brick row houses grow closer through the car’s windscreen. It hadn’t changed a bit since he was a child. Still the same staid red brick façade, five stories high, with large, many-paned bay windows that seemed to glare at him in disapproval. He sighed and vowed to remember that he was twenty-five years old, not five. He always felt inadequate in some way when visiting this house. The car stopped at the curb next to one of the arched doorways. As the driver exited the car and came around to open the door, Jay lifted the champagne bottle from the ice by its neck and took a healthy chug. Replacing it in the bucket, he gave Katie a rueful look. “Unfortunately, I remember everything when I drink this stuff.” He climbed out of the car and held out his hand. “Come along, lamb. It’s time for the slaughter.”
Katie stepped onto the sidewalk and shook the wrinkles and folds from her dress. “Calm down, Jay. We’ll go in, do some boring chit-chat, eat, and then we can leave. Okay?”
Jay felt contrite. He’d not meant for his bad mood to wash over onto Katie. “I’m sorry.” He put his arm around her waist and drawing her close. “I just hate these kinds of things.” He drew a deep breath. “How’s my bowtie?”
The comment had the desired effect of making her laugh. She smoothed the lapels of his jacket. “You look very….straight.”
He gave her a narrow look. “Oh yeah? Well, you look like a nice girl.”
Katie’s mouth popped open. “Jay! Take that back!”
Jay grinned and twisted the bell on the door. After a very brief pause the door swung open and a uniformed butler bowed slightly. “Sir. Madam.”
Jay led Katie past him and indicated the staircase looming in front of them. “The drawing room’s upstairs.”
“Of course it would be,” he heard Katie mutter as she lifted the hem of her dress to facilitate the climb up the stairs. Just before they reached the top, she turned to him with a naughty grin. “Oh, yeah, I thought you should know I'm not wearing any underwear.”
Jay gaped at her. “Excuse me?”
“So much for the whole nice girl thing, huh?” Katie looked at the group of people gathered near a set of pocket doors at the end of the hall. “I thought it might help take your mind off things tonight.”
Jay's imagination went into overdrive, and he felt a pleasurable tightening in his groin. He almost didn't notice when an older woman in a subdued navy blue gown detached herself from the group in front of them and hurried toward them. “Jay! Darling!” She stretched out her hands toward him, beaming, her silver hair gleaming in the light.
Jay made haste to wipe what he was sure was an expression of lust from his face, and smiled at his mother. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Good evening, Mum. You’re looking beautiful, as always.”
Jane Carey waved a hand in dismissal. “Go on with you.” She smoothed his hair back over his shoulder. “But you look wonderful, dear.”
Jay’s smile widened. “Lay off the hair, Mum.”
“Did I say a thing?” she asked. “I think it’s perfectly lovely. And do stop jerking at your suit.”
Jay stopped tugging at the coat and felt himself trying to regress to the age of five. He fought it off with grim determination. “Sorry. But you know I hate this stuffy thing.” He waved a disgusted hand at his tuxedo.
Jane smoothed the fabric over his shoulders. “Really, Jay. Sometimes a little stuffiness is good for the soul.”
“My soul is fine as it is,” he stated flatly.
“I daresay,” Jane murmured. Jay saw her eyes shift to where Katie stood, then look back at him in expectation. He held out his hand to Katie and drew her forward.
“Mother, this is Katie Scott. And Katie, this is my mother.”
To Jay’s complete amazement, Katie transformed before his eyes. In the blink of an eye she became the perfect socialite. Her smile was warm without being too aboveboard, her handshake gracious and feminine, and her voice, when she spoke, was smooth and well-modulated, and would have fit into any drawing room in Mayfair. “Mrs. Carey. What a pleasure to meet you at last.”
Jane appeared delighted. “Katie, dear, welcome to our home. Please do call me Jane. I'm so pleased you could come tonight.” She took Katie's arm and drew her toward the drawing room. “Your accent is lovely. Where are you from?”
Jay followed in their wake, his head spinning. Where had this incarnation of Katie been hiding? He repressed a grin when he thought of how his mother would react knowing of Katie's lack of undergarments. His amusement disappeared, however, upon catching sight of his father standing next to the fireplace. He heaved a deep sigh and pasted what he hoped was a pleasant expression on his face.
Michael Carey looked up when Jane touched his arm. He nodded briefly at his son. “Jay.”
Jay swallowed the heated words that always rose to his lips when he was forced to be in the same room with his father, and inclined his head. “Father.” He reached out and snagged a glass of champagne from a tray carried by a passing waiter.
Jane took charge of the conversation. “Michael, dear, this is Jay’s young lady, Miss Scott.”
Jay stifled a grin as Katie smiled up at Michael. He knew she was standing closer to his father than the older man wanted and found himself quite enjoying Michael’s discomfiture.
“Mr. Carey.” Katie all but purred. “I’ve so looked forward to meeting you. My employees have been singing your praises, and I'm thrilled we finally get to meet face to face.”
Micheal took the hand Katie thrust in his direction, looking lost at sea. “Your employees?”
“The employees of my company, Mackenzie-Scott.” Katie's voice was smooth as honey, and Jay couldn't help but notice his father seemed rather infatuated with her.
Comprehension dawned on Michael's face. “Mackenzie-Scott? Why, you must be Mac's daughter. I had no idea you were in London. Quite good to meet you. We were dreadfully sorry to hear about your father's passing.”
“Thank you.” Katie smiled. “Jay didn't tell me you knew Dad.”
Michael cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I wasn't aware you were acquainted with Jay.”
“Oh, yes. I've known Jay for some time. Quite well, actually.” Katie's face was as innocent as a baby's, and Jay raised his glass to his face before he could burst out laughing.
Michael glanced over at his son with the first look of approval Jay could remember in a long time. Jay resisted the urge to squirm, and raised his champagne glass in a small salute.
Appearing startled by this, Michael turned back to Katie, and threaded her arm through his. “There are some people here who knew your father, as well, and I'm sure they'd be delighted to make your acquaintance.” He drew Katie toward a knot of people near the windows, leaving Jay standing with his mother.
Jane gazed after them. “She’s absolutely delightful, Jay. How long is she visiting London?”
“She lives in London, Mum. With me.” Jay watched his mother’s face for her reaction.
“Oh. Jane's eyes grew wide. “Oh!” she repeated in a completely different tone.
Jay sighed and jerked at his coat again. He should have expected this. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t know any such thing,” Jane contradicted, looking toward Katie again.
“Oh, yes, I do. You’re thinking about flowers and gowns and veils and cathedrals. I can read you like a book.”
“Well, why ever not?” Jane fixed him with a penetrating stare. “You’re almost twenty-six years old, Jay; it’s time you settled down. She’s a lovely girl and since you’re already living together…”
“Mum.” Jay struggled to find the words, not wanting to hurt her. “It’s my life – our life – and we’ll live it the way we see fit. Alright? None of that’s in the cards and I don’t want you to get your hopes up.” He certainly didn’t want his mother mentioning anything like that to Katie, either. He was afraid she’d be on the first plane back to the States if she knew Jane was already planning their wedding in her head.
Jane lowered her eyes and fussed with the lapels of his suit coat. “My hopes are always the highest where you’re concerned, dear. I just want you to be happy.”
Jay put a finger under his mother’s chin and raised her gaze to his. “I am happy, Mum. Believe me.”
“I do.” Jane smiled. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
Jay watched Katie charming the friends of his parents. He heard her low, amused laughter drift across the room and his mouth quirked up at one corner in a half smile. Underwear notwithstanding, he found it hard to reconcile this poised, bejeweled creature with the wild, uninhibited girl who had scratched her nails down his back just this morning in bed. Uninhibited. That reminded him….
“Mum, changing the subject…This champagne is excellent.”
“Do you like it?” Jane held up her own glass to the light. “It is rather good. Your father managed to procure a case of it last month in Paris.”
“Would you happen to have extra? I wouldn’t mind a bottle, if you do.”
“Of course,” Jane said. “I’ll have one sent down to your car and you can take it with you tonight.”
“Thank you.” Jay looked toward Katie again. “I think I’ll enjoy it very much.”
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