The Baker's Man

The Baker’s Man By

Barrie Abalard

The Baker’s Man By

Barrie Abalard A Newsite Web Services Book Published by arrangement with the author All rights reserved. Copyright 2008 © by Barrie Abalard This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission of the author or Newsite Web Services, LLC Published by Newsite Web Services, LLC P.O. Box 1286, Loganville, Georgia 30052 USA [email protected] disciplineanddesire.com

Dedication To my family, for their support of this book, my first long novel.

Notices The Baker's Man is a work of complete fiction. No character in the book is meant to represent any real person, living or dead. The Baker's Man contains sexual fantasies. In real life, always practice safe sex. The Baker's Man was originally published on www.disciplineanddesire.com by Barrie Abalard, writing as Belle.

Image Credit I found the photo, which has no restrictions on its usage, on stock.xchng (www.sxc.hu). The owner of the photo is Pontus Edenberg, from Sweden. His stock.xchng handle is Pontuse. Thank you, Pontus, for the perfect photo for the cover of The Baker's Man!

Chapter One Jackson Portsmouth’s right foot shot out at his office’s dented trashcan—and missed. Instead, he whacked his foot against a desk leg. While hopping on his good foot, he howled. Great. Now I have a broken foot on top of everything. And it’s my own damned fault. His cell phone chirped, and he prayed for new business. He’d had to sell his cherry desk with matching file cabinet and executive chair last year to pay the bills. The newest thing in his office was the computer, and that was over three years old. As he settled into his thrift-store chair, he forced his voice to sound smooth and professional. “Yankee Elegance Catering. How may I help you?” Jerking his shoe off one-handed, he massaged his bruised toes. “Mr. Portsmouth, I’m so glad I caught you. I know it’s rather last-minute, but as it turns out, we’re not going to need your services on Saturday, after all.” “Oh. Have we done something wrong, Mrs. Jakes?” Jackson shot his glance skyward in disbelief. “Please let us make it up to you. Are you unhappy with the menu? Even at this late date, we could accommodate changes.” His mind began calculating costs and time commitments. If he had to change what he’d be serving, he could still turn a profit if he were careful. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Tiffany has simply changed her mind, that’s all, and is insisting we hire SweetKakes. She said all her classmates’ parties are being catered by them. You know how teenagers are—they have to do what everyone else does.” “But, Mrs. Jakes, you know that you love our ham-and-asparagus tea sandwiches.” Yankee Elegance used to be the most popular caterer in town. Damned SweetKakes.

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“Your presentations are exquisite, I agree. But Tiffany will throw a tantrum if I don’t hire SweetKakes. She’s quite firm on this and, after all, it is her party, not mine. Of co urse, we understand that you’ll need to keep our deposit. I’m terribly sorry.” Upon hearing the click, Jackson’s first impulse was to smash the phone against the wall. Instead, he turned it off and set it down gently. He couldn’t afford a new one. He raked his hands through his hair, thinking. Mrs. Jakes’ deposit would barely cover the costs of the supplies he’d already bought. He should start asking for more up front. A few hundred bucks was chump change for many of his clients. Or, should he say, former clients? Jackson ground his teeth. SweetKakes was stealing all his business these days, it seemed. He wasn’t buying this “Tiffany insists” stuff. He’d bet his competition had underbid him because Mrs. Jakes had let the deposit go without a peep. It had to be money. Even the wealthy like a bargain. He’d go see this SweetKakes upstart. After all, a man has to know his competition to learn how to beat them at their own game, and he didn’t know much about them at all. In fact, he’d thought all they sold were desserts. His resolve hardened, he locked his office and unlocked his car. I should revert to my old, ruthless self. I never cut anyone any slack back then, not even myself. It’s time to bring back the good old days, even if I was miserable most of the time. By parking across the street from SweetKakes after business hours, Jackson figured he wouldn’t see anyone. Indeed, he didn’t want to meet anyone connected with them, not yet. He was conducting industrial espionage and fighting for the survival of his business. That was why he’d driven his anonymous sedan rather than his well-marked delivery van to 85 Front Street.

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A woman was repainting the trim on the Victorian triple-decker marked 85, the blue of it matching the late May sky. He squinted, inwardly shuddering at the colors on the old “painted lady”. Give me a traditional New England house any day, white with black trim, or maybe dark green, if you were daring. This damned thing looks like a sunset—blue trim with purpley-pink on the rest of the house, the color Tess had called mauve. Tess. A stab of anger at her betrayal punched him in the chest, but he tried to ignore it. He needed to keep his mind on the problem at hand, which was that 85 Front Street looked more like a residence than a business. He powered down his window to take a better look. The female painter’s sculpted calves started at the top of her work boots. He ran his gaze up her long legs to her curvy thighs. Here she blossomed, filling her brief denim cutoffs and making Jackson think, inexplicably, of cream puffs. Nice, fully-packed cream puffs, pale, soft, and delicious. He swallowed hard, not willing to quit staring. Her denim-clad lower half nipped in sharply at the waist, then expanded slightly outward, with her white tank top revealing muscle definition in her back and shoulders. His eyes widened when he realized the thin cotton top hid no bra. Oh, man. Turn around. Please. But she continued painting, oblivious to his gaze. Her long, straight hair, caught in a simple ponytail, resembled a swirl of caramel—or maybe butterscotch. She turned toward him. He jerked his gaze away, pretending to look at the dilapidated property on his side of the street. He gulped the bottled water he brought with him and worked at ignoring his fierce erection. Obviously, it had been way too long since he’d had sex.

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Maybe the SweetKakes business had moved. This triple-decker was an old house that looked like it might have been divided into apartments. Maybe the woman painting owned the place, or, more likely, she was a college kid, earning money for school by wielding a paintbrush. He shook his head, trying to chase away visions of the woman’s body as he pulled away from the curb. He considered stopping at Sommers Farms for some of their homemade caramel ice cream. Caramel, cream puffs, soft, sweet things for nibbling, for licking. Why did the painter make him think of desserts? He’d barely noticed other women over the last year, his frozen heart chilling his urges. Now, after watching a strange female paint a house, he was as ready as a horny virgin. He needed to get drunk and jerk off, not necessarily in that order. Actually, what he really needed was to get laid, but picking up a woman in a crowded bar had never been his preference. Then again, I haven’t done that since the first month following The Tess Disaster. Maybe I’d like bar pickups better now. He could scarcely keep his mind on his driving, let alone on the threat to his business, all because of a shapely female. Skidding into the driveway of his condo complex, he screeched to a halt in the first open space, threw the car in park, and pressed the alarm button in his hand that secured the vehicle. He rode the elevator to his floor, grateful that no little old ladies had seen his tented khakis. As he shut his condo’s door, he sighed. Women. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t find one when you need to—. ___________________ Karolena Korhonen turned to watch as the man in the old Mercedes sedan pulled away. She narrowed her eyes, automatically memorizing his plate number. At first she’d thought he was a

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potential buyer for the triple-decker across the street, but the longer he’d parked there, the more she’d wondered about his purpose. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had expressed interest in the dump. The place across the street had been on the market for so long, the metal “FOR SALE” sign was rusting. She’d sensed his eyes on her, so she’d patted her right front pocket to reassure herself that her cell was still there, available for any emergency. Although she liked her new digs, this area of Gainesborough occasionally had problems, and any stranger sitting in a car staring at her rather than going about his business made her wonder exactly what his business was. Still, she’d caught a glimpse of simply styled, jet-black hair, a strong profile, and large, capablelooking hands. She imagined his long, tactile fingers skimming slowly down her torso, trailing fire. She also imagined his hands spanking her bottom with authority, as if he had a perfect right to do so. Then those long fingers of his would explore the hot wetness between her legs… Looking down, she realized she’d neglected to put on a bra earlier, something that was all too apparent now that her body was responding to her fantasy. Scolding herself for her foolishness, she descended the ladder. She had to go find an undergarment to immobilize her bouncing breasts. Damn it all, she was still tingling, and she had work to do. A vehicle pulling up behind Lena startled her. A mixture of relief and love replaced nerves as a blueeyed, pixie-sized woman with burgundy-dyed hair bounced from the car. She was teetering on platform slides, and wearing a skimpy halter and micro shorts that made underwear irrelevant. “Lena, you won’t believe what happened,” the pixie said, dancing around her.

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She glared. A couple of bandages would have covered more skin. If she’d been home earlier when her little sister left, Lena would never have allowed her to go out dressed like Paris Hilton. “Annie, what are you doing, dressing like a slut?” Lena crossed her arms, effectively flattening her chest. Her little sister’s petite stature always made her feel so big and lumpy and ugly. Annie, ignoring the pointed comment, plowed ahead. “Come with me tonight to Jillian’s in Boston to celebrate. We can play a little pool, get a little crazy, maybe meet an interesting man or two, especially if you wear what you’ve got on—“ “I will not go out in public without a bra, not in this tank top. Besides, you know I’m not interested in attracting men right now. What are we celebrating?” Annie fluffed her hair. “You simply have got to get over this ridiculous complex about your looks. I don’t have half the curves you do, and I do all right.” Lena snorted. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for reminding me what a big, fat-assed loser I am. What a sister, what a pal.” “What you are is gorgeous. You’re the kind of woman that men dream of, despite the popularity of rail-thinness.” Annie hugged her, and Lena found it impossible not to soften. She’d do anything for her little sister, and had, starting way back when their mother died. “All right, enough nonsense. What’s your big news?” Lena smiled to mitigate her gruffness. “I found a job. A really good one. I’ll be able to earn enough this summer to pay for all of next year’s schooling. And I only have to work four nights a week, eight to three, so I can help you out around here.” “Three in the morning? What sort of job is this?” “It’s at, uh…” Annie mumbled, grabbing her purse and heading for the house’s entrance. “Got to

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run, I’ve got a date with something called fun tonight. You remember what that is, don’t you?” Lena grabbed her sister’s ear and immobilized her as she tried to slip past. “Annie, tell me right now. Everything. Or I swear I’ll ground you.” “Ouch, let go of my ear! You wouldn’t dare.” “Yeah, well, maybe I would. Maybe I should.” Lena tugged and Annie squeaked. “Out with it.” “I, um, have a job as a waitress.” “Pray tell, where are you waitressing until nearly dawn?” Annie toed the sidewalk, not looking Lena in the face. “The Pussycat Lounge. They pay really, really well, and the tips are supposed to be incredible.” “Let me get this straight. You’ll be serving drinks four nights a week in a strip joint to a bunch of obnoxious jerks who are going to pinch your butt and paw your breasts while you prance around in four-inch spikes and a second-skin, thong-style teddy.” “And your point is? Ow!” Annie said as her sister tugged her ear again. “My point is, why not go all the way and strip for the money? I’ll bet that pays even better.” Thank heavens she was the one who’d been blessed with common sense, even if she didn’t have Annie’s looks. Her little sister had both beauty and brains, but less common sense than would fit in her microsized pink purse. “I just want to pull my share of the load. You haven’t had it easy, taking care of me since Papa died. I know how you’ve worked to make a life for us. Why won’t you let me do this? I want to give, not just take,” Annie cried. She collapsed against Lena, who enfolded her sister in her arms and let her sob. Poor kid. Annie had been only twelve when Papa died. It had been August, barely a month before Lena would have started in the Culinary Arts program at Johnson and Wales University. She’d planned her

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life precisely—first school, then an apprenticeship, then work as a sous chef, and then head chef, capped by establishing and running her own fourstar restaurant. Her plans had included wealth, maybe even fame. Instead, Lena had been forced to work two jobs while pretending an adult relative lived with them whenever the social workers investigated, which wasn’t often. Somehow, she and Annie had stuck it out together, she the sober ant, toiling for the future with no thought of present pleasures, and Annie, the party-loving grasshopper who landed in trouble a few times. Her kid sister was a sucker for a handsome face. Lena had never disciplined her sister for those mistakes the way Papa would have if he’d been alive, and she was proud of the fact. Lena hugged her sister tighter, feeling tears sting her own eyes. Here she was, damaged goods at twenty-seven, with a little sister who was twentyone and living life at one hundred miles per hour. She just wanted Annie to be happy and safe and to have an education in something more than parties and men. “You’ll never have to worry as long as I’m around, buttercup.” Lena stroked her sister’s trembling back, wishing Annie had left her hair blonde instead of dying it such a weird red shade. “But I want to help.” The suffering in her sister’s face as she lifted her head to look into Lena’s eyes almost broke her heart. Annie toiled as much as she did. True, she played as hard as she worked, but she was a good kid. Not to mention she was all the family Lena had left. She smiled. “Kiddo, just get a job bagging groceries. Or land some temp work. Don’t worry about the money. We’ll make it. We always do.” She pulled her little sister along, left arm entwined around her, a waif protected by an earth mother as they mounted the front steps together.

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Annie stopped short, tears not dry on her face, yet grinning when she saw the fruit of her sister’s painting labors. “Hey, the house looks bitchin’. I told you mauve and sky blue were the way to go.” Lena shook her head. Her sister’s emotions could change faster than a ricocheting bullet. “Yes, you were right, I was wrong, sing the song, all day long.” “Nyah-nyah, nyah -nyah-nyah.” Annie finished their private childhood ditty, a bratty smirk on her face. “Get inside now, girl.” She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t played Mama to Annie, she realized, suddenly feeling old. And because Papa had turned harsher and drunker after Mama passed on, Lena had been the protective big sister as well. She lied, claiming her sister’s misbehaviors as her own, and took her father’s punishments, the nights without supper, and the beatings as her sisterly duty, for she was older and stronger and better able to bear it than fragile Annie. Papa, she knew in retrospect, had been an abusive tyrant. Squeezing her eyes shut, Lena’s breath caught, lost in the recollection of hurts inflicted by the hands and words of a broken, lonely man who vented his anger at his wife’s early death on his elder daughter. “Only if you come with me to Jillian’s tonight.” “What?” Lena struggled to come back to the present, away from painful memories. She’d walked down the hall to the kitchen, yet had no recollection of it. “Jillian’s! Say we can go, puh-leeze?” “I can’t. In fact, you can’t go, either. We’ve got planning and maybe some shopping to do. I landed a gig for Saturday.” “Who? What?” Annie swept her up in a mocktango. “Dahling, don’t hold back.” Lena ducked her head in amusement while spinning around the enormous first floor kitchen. “The Jakes family, you know, the ones that own half

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the town? Tiffany is graduating, and ‘she simply must have my Mocha Coconut Cake.’” Lena’s Mrs. Jakes imitation made Annie giggle. “Enough for one hundred of her closest friends. We’re both going to be making precious little tea sandwiches and baking cakes out the wazoo starting early tomorrow morning. Dahling.” Her sister pogoed with delight. “Woohoo! I hope you charged her a pretty penny and a half.” “Of course I did, but it was still less than the other caterer she had lined up, apparently. That’s because I have help that works cheap. Dirt cheap.” “Dirt cheap, that’s me.” Annie shook her upper body as a stripper would. Lena winced. “Annie, tell me that you don’t do things like that in public. Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” “Don’t you worry, mamakins,” Annie cooed, “li’l Annie can take care of herself.” Lena sighed as her sister bounded up the stairs to the second floor and her own little piece of privacy. Annie was a terminal flirt, but love had eluded her. Her seemingly outgoing and bubbly sister kept her own counsel in such matters, but Lena’s heart ached each time Annie’s latest golden hope turned to dross. Love. Only once had Lena thought she was in love, and was loved in return. Betrayal, anger, and hurt surged through her, as did the feelings that made her body wriggle with delight. Lust, that’s all it had been, just like the lust she felt earlier after seeing her unknown admirer. She thought again about the man’s hands, imagining them spanking her bare cheeks, then comforting her after the spanking was over. Then those hands would slip under her shirt… Lena shook her head. Admirer? Who was she kidding? He was spying on her, for God’s sake, and who knew what he intended. It didn’t matter if you

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were petite and beautiful like Annie or tall and muscular like her, they all wanted the same thing. She leaned against the fridge, a quirky halfsmile curving her lips. Men might be pigs, but they sure could make you scream with joy. Maybe it was time to go find a sex buddy. She could live without love, but she needed sex, or she’d go bananas. Without sex, she had nothing in her life but work and sleep. A voice inside her crooned, Imagine getting spanked by a no-nonsense man, the way you were once, last year. Imagine how he’d rip down your cutoffs, bend you over his knee, and crack his palm against your squirming backside. Imagine how much it would sting, imagine the heat you’d feel, and not just in your bottom. Imagine how he’d kiss away your tears, how he’d spread your legs, unzip himself, and slide inside. Imagine how his thick shaft would stroke you, inside and out, until— She ran herself a glass of water and drank it, determined to banish sexy fantasies from her mind. Still, the heat in her delta lingered as she thought of the dark-haired man in the sedan. Slowly, she climbed the stairs, enjoying the sensuous movement of her ripe body. ___________________ Jackson polished off his beer, dinner long since consumed, Aerosmith long ago silenced. All night he’d been under the spell of the woman on the ladder. Closing his eyes, he imagined her descending. The muscles of her thighs would work, and creamy half-moons would appear and disappear as her cutoffs rose and fell. Her breasts, heavy and full with the sensitive points standing at attention, would sway as she made her way down the ladder. He’d leave his car in time to meet her when her feet reached the grass. She’d be taller than he imagined, but not as tall as he, with a saint’s face atop a body made for ample sinning.

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He sank deeper into his fantasy. His hands would slide down to cup those two delectable breasts, his thumbs massaging the peaks into trembling stiffness. Lower still, his hands would encircle her incredibly narrow waist, then, when his fingers finally reached the bottom of her cutoffs, they’d brush against her bottom’s flesh, as smooth and lush as a ripe peach. He’d slap that flesh, turning it pink and making it burn, and her hips would move in time with the finger he’d use to explore her wetness. Her lips would taste of strawberries and feel like silk. Her tongue would do naughty things to his while he continued to spank her and touch her, so hot and ready under the denim. Her hands, educated in the ways of pleasure, would tease him ‘till he wanted to throw her on the lawn and take her, right there in public. She’d pull him up the porch stairs, into the house, to a nearby couch. Sitting in front of him, her fingers would unbuckle his belt, release the waist button on his khakis, and then her teeth would delicately grip the zipper tab and pull, oh, so slowly, down. Her fingers would reach inside, finally touching him skin-to-skin, extracting him, her silky red lips, her velvety tongue, so near, so very near to him, and he was quivering, throbbing, breathless for the moment of contact as her mouth opened. Her tongue swirled, and he moaned, reaching out… “Hell,” Jackson said as he jumped off the couch, cold and wet and not comprehending what had happened. Water and ice were all around, on his couch, on the floor, and on him, numbing his bare toes and quite effectively dampening his ardor. The ice bucket. He’d forgotten about the ice bucket next to him on the couch, and in his throes of fantasy he’d apparently knocked it into his lap. One remaining bottle of beer rolled on the floor in a puddle. Had he really finished nine? He found towels to wipe up the mess, and then stripped off his wet clothing, slipping into

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sweatpants and sweatshirt. However, his interest in the fantasy he’d built was as chilled as his final beer. He mechanically emptied the bottle before weaving his way to bed. His last conscious thought was a fervent wish not to dream. Dreams were for those who still had hope, not for those whose hearts lay in icy shards, never to be healed.

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Chapter Two “Okay, that’s the list. You go pick these items up first thing tomorrow. I’ll ready the dry ingredients, and we can start baking by mid-morning.” Lena pushed the piece of paper toward her sister. “All right. We’re done?” asked Annie. “For tonight.” “Then catch you later, sis.” Lena sighed. Annie was dressed a little more respectably, but still looked much sexier than a little sister should. “Don’t you dare stay out late. We have to get started no later than eight.” Annie rolled her eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I understand. I’ll be home before eight tomorrow morning.” “Annie…” “Just kidding. Be back by midnight. Going down to The City Club to dance and knock a beer back with my buds.” And with that, the screen door slammed. Lena heard the old car’s engine start, then fade away as her sister departed. She stood and went to sit on the front steps. Nights were difficult. Days she worked; she could keep herself constantly busy. But nights were achingly lonely. Only so much paperwork she could do, only so much cleaning and repairing, only so much reading, listening to music, or watching television. At night she felt useless and unneeded, especially now that her sister was grown. In the still, quiet evening, her face dropped on her arms as she remembered a time that seemed so long in the past, when evenings held such promise, filled with rich possibilities of love and romance. Once, she’d been fooled, believing those things were meant for her, until her eyes had been opened. Her lot in life was duty and work, befitting someone like herself, with a draft horse build. Her

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sister was the thoroughbred, the beautiful one, the one destined to find the man of her dreams. Eyes wet, Lena raised her head and picked out Venus in the night sky, glowing like a perfect diamond on navy velvet. She wished upon the planet every chance she got, repeating words that her mother had taught her, just before her short life had winked out. “Venus, Venus, twinkling above, Venus, Venus, protect those I love.” At this point Lena knew one was supposed to wish, silently, for her own true love to appear, but instead, she whispered, “Bring Annie true love. Please.” She’d quit asking for herself long ago. So very long ago. ___________________ Jackson groaned, turning off the alarm before clasping his head with both hands. Nine beers, or had it been ten? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care, but he’d empty what was left of his bank account right now, if he could make his headache go away. When would he learn he couldn’t hold liquor worth a damn? As he turned toward the window, the sun shining through the cracks in the blinds stabbed his eyes, worsening the white-hot throb. Forget his morning run—walking was challenge enough. In the kitchen, he fumbled with the water, coffee, and coffeemaker, trying to make all three come together in some semblance of order to produce the rich, dark brew he craved. While waiting for the coffee, he punched the television remote control’s power button. On the Food Channel, Emeril Lagasse was making an omelet, exclaiming “Bam!” when he threw some onions on top. He winced. Big mistake to watch a noisy chef like Lagasse. He muted the TV. Thirty minutes later, he sat at the breakfast bar, wondering how he’d pull off today’s luncheon

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catering. He’d been stupid to get drunk last night— now he was running behind schedule in a tightlypacked day. After gulping some aspirin with the dregs of his second cup of coffee, he promised himself a cinnamon-raisin bagel and further investigation into the SweetKakes matter. He was heading out the door when his cell phone rang. “Yankee Elegance Catering. How may I help you?” Jackson trotted down the back stairs to the parking lot. Please let it be a job. “You still doing that sissy stuff for money?” A familiar voice boomed into Jackson’s ear, the high volume making him wince. “Whoa, Bobby, not so loud. I drank too much last night.” Despite his pounding head, Jackson couldn’t help grinning. He and Bobby Hollingsworth went back a long way. “Let me guess. Female trouble, right? You never were one to drink much unless a lady had you in the dumps.” “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Jackson climbed into his sedan. “Tess?” Jackson heard anger in the flatness of his friend’s tone. “No. Just a woman I saw. I drove myself crazy last night thinking about her.” A pause, then Bobby said, “Hey, that’s good news. That means there’s life after Tess, right?” “Maybe.” Jackson wasn’t entirely sure that was true. “What’s up?” “I’m being transferred to the Boston office. Any places for sale in your building?” “You don’t want to live in the big city?” Bobby may have been raised in the country, but he was no bumpkin. “Why not a condo on Marlborough Street?” “I can’t afford a Back Bay address, unless it’s the size of a closet. I’m used to Atlanta prices,

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though I’ll admit those are rising fast. I ain’t no millionaire. Yet.” Jackson’s silence spoke for him. “Shoot, I forgot about your past. I’m a dickhead,” Bobby said. “Let me make it up to you. How does dinner tonight sound?” “Great, as long as you’re buying.” “Meet me at seven in the Copley Plaza bar. You can tell me about your new gal.” “Hey, bud, gotta go,” Jackson said as he turned onto Front Street, drawn to number 85 as if by a powerful force. Because his friend was buying, he knew they’d end up at a great place reeking of testosterone, decorated with dark woods, and filled with men enjoying prime-grade steaks, cognac, and cigars. He looked forward to a steak -and-potatoes evening with his earthy friend. The old triple-decker at 85 Front Street appeared quiet, much to his disappointment. He’d hoped for another glimpse of the woman while she painted. Or maybe gardened. Or jogged. Yes. Jogging, dressed just as she had been yesterday, her muscles glistening with sweat, her luscious curves bouncing with every bound. Jackson pulled over to the curb and leaned his head on the steering wheel. He didn’t like obsessing over the sexy woman he’d seen yesterday. He’d never obsessed over Tess. Tall, cool, sensible Tess, his blueblood fiancée who’d bled him dry in more ways than one. Perhaps he should have spanked Tess. He’d always wanted to, and she’d always turned him down. He didn’t believe in forcing a woman to do something she didn’t want, but he also suspected that, sometimes, Tess’s “no” to spanking had really meant “yes.” She certainly used to flaunt her naked backside enough, asking him to “rub her little tushie” almost every night. He snorted. Rub it! What he should have done periodically was blister it with Tess’s nice, heavy

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wooden hairbrush. He’d certainly considered the idea more than once, because she’d been a handful. She liked to run the show, and he should have realized that a good spanking every few days would have gotten rid of her bossy attitude and made her more compliant. If he had, maybe he’d still have a fiancée instead of an erection that needed urgent attention. It wasn’t as if he’d never spanked a woman. He’d walloped the bottoms of the two women he’d dated before Tess. So, why had he never spanked her? Why had he let her have her way so much? He’d heard the rumors that the man she’d run off with turned her pert little behind red on a regular basis. Such rumors had scandalized people in his proper, Yankee social circles, and everyone but Bobby had reassured him he should be glad he wasn’t a Neanderthal like Tess’s new man. Bobby, on the other hand, had told him, “Hell, you should have taken her to the woodshed. Or wherever you take a naughty woman who needs spanking when you live in a condo.” Tess. I hope that bastard she ran off with blisters her butt ‘till she can’t sit down without a pillow. Actually, no, I don’t, not if she enjoys it… “Hey, you. What are you, drunk? Wake up!” Jackson raised his head and blinked. A small, pixyish woman with dark red hair was yelling at him and shaking her fist. He powered down the passenger side’s window. “Is there a problem?” he said. “Yeah, and it’s you, Mr. Mercedes. You’ve got me blocked, and I have to go to the store, now. Get moving, buddy.” Jackson blinked a moment before everything clicked—he had her car boxed in. Waving in a manner that he hoped the red-headed she-devil would perceive as non-threatening, he shifted into first, ready to leave.

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Then he noticed that the sexy woman housepainter from the day before had chosen that moment to appear on the porch. The redhead was still mouthing off and shooting him the finger, so maybe the commotion had drawn Dream Woman outside. Jackson stopped in the middle of the street when he realized the woman was wearing a very short, very thin T-shirt. Period. Nothing under the shirt except her lovely curves, as the sun shining through it made abundantly clear. She turned and bent over to retrieve the morning paper. Jackson gaped at the delightful, partial view of her round bottom, and his thoughts turned to molten fantasies. What a pleasure it would be to take her over my knee and turn her pretty bottom red and sore, for showing it off in public the way she just had. First, I’d warm her up with my hand. Then I’d use my belt on her, not too hard, but hard enough to make her cry a little. Once her flesh was hot and tender from the thick leather, I’d hug her to my chest while she cried, my palms rubbing some of the sting away. We’d rip our clothes off, and I’d lean her against the wall, the better to take her from behind. I’d grasp her hips and ram her properly until she screamed out her release— Jerking the steering wheel in the direction of his workplace, he decided to stop torturing himself with any more visits to 85 Front Street. Driving with a hard-on was just too damned distracting. ___________________ “Stop it, Annie. You’re waking up the whole neighborhood.” Lena’s words were relaxed, but she felt uneasy. She was sure it was the same car, the same man as last night. Was she being stalked? More to the point, was her sister in danger? She hugged herself and shivered, despite the warm sunshine.

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“Didn’t you see that jerk? I told him he was blocking me, and he didn’t move. Not right away, anyway.” Annie still vibrated with outrage. “Well, he’s leaving now, so why don’t you calm down and go do the shopping?” Lena bent over for the paper, then bounced up, blushing and pulling her shirt down hard. She’d forgotten how short it was. And with the man not yet out of sight. She hoped he’d seen nothing. She wasn’t completely indecent—she did have panties on—but they’d ridden up, exposing the lower halves of her butt cheeks. Kicking the paper with one foot, she managed to propel it inside the house. There, she was free to bend over without giving the street an eyeful. Meanwhile, Annie hopped in the car and rumbled away, still muttering curses as her temper gradually wound down. Lena splashed coffee and a little cream in her favorite teacup and dove into a bowl of whole grain cereal sprinkled with early strawberries from a local grower. By a little past eight, she’d had her breakfast, drunk her coffee, read most of the newspaper and had gone upstairs, where she was now struggling with her sports bra. It promised to be a hot day, much hotter than normal for this time of year in eastern Massachusetts, and she had no air conditioning in her custom, professional kitchen on the first floor. Comfort took a back seat to financial necessities, but she never skimped on the quality of the appliances she needed to do her work. However, her lovely, restaurant-grade ovens were going to make the kitchen as hot as hell. Despite the mouthfuls of bar soap from Papa, she still had a tendency to curse a little. And it was little next to her sister Annie, who had a mouth like a drunken sailor’s. She checked her look in the mirror. Heck, she wasn’t planning to go out or see anyone, so a sports bra and cotton knit shorts would do for clothing. She wouldn’t be caught dead so minimally attired in

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public, but who cared what she wore while she was working? She needed to be as cool and comfortable as possible. If anyone came to the door, Annie could handle it. Not that Lena was too briefly attired by her younger sister’s standards. Forget jogging dressed like this, she mused as she pulled on her oldest athletic shoes. Even though she’d seen women running by the house in less, the idea made her uncomfortable. The undergarments had not been invented that could hold her lushness still. Of course, she’d never tried duct tape. Maybe she should. Thankfully, she thought while descending the stairs, hard work kept her in decent shape. As long as she didn’t count the few extra pounds on her hips, anyway. In the kitchen, she hauled out a fifty-pound sack of cake flour and began calculating the amount needed to make cake for one hundred people. She’d bake sheet cakes, but layer them, so a three-inch, two-layered square should be a large enough piece for each person. Lena quickly figured how many large, flat pans of cake she needed, and therefore how many cups of flour. Then she turned to computing the amount of cocoa, milk, powdered espresso, and all the other required ingredients. She was beginning to work out how much of each ingredient she needed for the frosting when Annie returned, laden with groceries. “What do you want me to do first?” Her sister began unpacking sacks of bread and storing cucumbers in the refrigerator. “Why don’t you slice the cucumbers for the sandwiches and wrap them so they’ll keep ‘till tomorrow? That’s when we’ll assemble the sandwiches. After that, roast the red peppers.” Lena readied the first batch of cake batter, starting one of her two heavy-duty standing mixers. “Are you sure you trust me with a cucumber?” Annie waggled the vegetable suggestively.

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“Stop that.” Lena’s face turned as red as the peppers. “Why are you always thinking about men and sex?” “You mean you don’t?” Annie started preparing the cucumbers, the sly grin on her face refusing to fade. Lena recalled the stranger who’d parked out front and felt heat punch her deep and low, in a place a man hadn’t been in quite a while. Wiping her hands, she adjusted clothing that suddenly was chafing her in all the wrong places. Or was it all the right places? Really, get a grip, she thought. She cleared her throat. “I try not to think about that stuff.” “Listen to me. You need to get out more. You need a man.” Annie shook her finger the way a lecturer would. “I most certainly do not. I don’t need anyone.” Lena snapped. “Except you,” she added. “Even if you don’t think about sex, what about love? Don’t you want to marry some day? I worry about you. It’s not normal to act like a spinster at your age.” Annie’s gaze bored into hers. Lena sighed. Perhaps she should finally tell the story. “Annie, do you remember the summer you worked at Camp Penobscot in Maine and left me alone for eight weeks?” ___________________ Jackson finished his second bagel before he sliced the broccoli-provolone strata. That, pasta salad, gallons of iced tea, and strawberry meringues should make the Friends of the Library happy, and their fundraising luncheon a success. He eyed the clock. He didn’t have to start loading his van for another half hour, and he was almost done.

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He stopped for a moment to think. He was fast, good, and loved what he did. He charged a fair price. Why, oh why, then, was he losing customers? Pouring himself a glass of iced tea, he held it against his forehead for a moment before he drank. It was hot in here, despite the air conditioning he’d cranked up for maximum cooling. His thin white tshirt was plastered to his body, as were his running shorts. Thank goodness he’d found them in his office. Working in denims or khakis would have made him miserably hot. The shorts were tight around the waist, though. He’d better increase the time he spent at the gym, and start running more often. Maybe he’d jog down Front Street. Visions of the caramel -haired angel filled his mind once again. He imagined her running a few feet in front of him, her form-fitting shorts barely covering the backside that jiggled sensuously with each step. Stop it, stop it, Jackson thought while slapping himself with both hands. He needed either to get a grip, or meet her and stop tormenting himself. But for now, what he needed to do was to wash up and dress in his summer catering outfit. Bills needed paying, and the big, fat check he’d be handed as soon as lunch was over would fatten his account. Temporarily, anyway. He showered in the tiny bathroom before dressing. His catering uniform consisted of black athletic shoes, summer weight trousers, and a white Polo-style shirt, with “Yankee Elegance Catering” embroidered in green script over his left pec. Time for the finishing touch, his fake glasses. Well, not really fake, just proper black frames with plain plastic in them. The glasses, unnecessary for his perfect vision, gave him a look that said he was all business. He turned away from the mirror. Tess had been the one he’d trusted to advise him on the proper accessories, colors, and styles for their business.

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Black and white said classic, green said money, and the glasses said smart, savvy, and serious. She’d created Yankee Elegance Catering’s entire image, marketed it, and also handled the financial details. He’d never needed to worry about numbers or his “look” when Tess had been around. She’d left him free to cook and create—and that had been his downfall. Slumping down into a nearby folding chair, he mourned her anew. They’d made such a good team, had been alike in so many ways. Her skills had complemented his, and the two of them had easily grossed six figures their first year. Of course, the net profit was much lower because of startup costs, but they’d been certain they’d double their profit by the end of the second year. Plus, they’d been doing what they loved best. What I thought we both loved best, anyway. Near the beginning of their second year in business together, the cool, unemotional note she’d left behind had shattered him. That same morning, an angry supplier had phoned because Yankee Elegance Catering’s check had bounced. A second phone call, this one from his bank, informed him his balance was zero. Less than zero, actually. Not only had Tess taken his heart, she’d also stolen the last dollar in their business checking account. Now he’d almost climbed out of his financial hole—only to have clients start canceling orders. He refocused on the task at hand, exhaling sharply. He’d wasted enough time moping. If he was late to the Public Library, he might lose one of the few regular customers he still had. After loading the van, he concentrated on nothing except arriving at the luncheon site on time and under control. Each time he personally served food, it was a little bit performance and a little bit public relations, so he had to compose himself if he expected to pull the job off successfully.

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After Tess had absconded with his money and his heart, Jackson had hired a local college student, and the nine dollars an hour he paid Ricky Jiminowski was worth it. Ricky, impeccably attired in his Yankee Elegance Catering duds, was arranging the last of the flatware and fussing with the flowers when Jackson arrived. So what if he wore a few earrings and his hair consisted of parrotgreen spikes? He knew how to set a table properly. Plus, the ladies who lunched loved him. Female clients of a certain age whispered to Jackson that Ricky was “just the cutest thing.” His employee knew exactly how to appeal to the motherly instincts of the middle-aged women who hired caterers. “Mr. P, everything’s ready.” Ricky said, his voice deferentially soft. “As usual, you’ve done a perfect job setting up. Help me display the food. After that, you can go relax for a few minutes; you’ve earned it. Just don’t” “Yes, sir, I know. Don’t let the ladies see me smoke. Bad for the image.” “Right. Also bad for your health,” Jackson chided. “Yes, sir.” Ricky had a way of agreeing with someone without committing himself to change anything, but Jackson liked him. A junior at Johnson and Wales, he’d cooked for Jackson once or twice. The dishes had been original, scrumptious, and impeccably presented. As soon as the food was laid out, Jackson began serving—the ladies were hungry today. The tireless Ricky had busied himself with the iced tea rather than take his break, and his joking with them lifted Jackson’s mood. In a few short minutes, most of the food was gone, and people were returning to the tables for dessert.

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“Word is those strawberry meringues are divine, boss.” Ricky winked. “Uh-oh, it’s Mrs. Woodcock. I think I’ll carry some empty trays back to the van.” Too late, Jackson saw Elyse Woodcock bearing down on him. The gossip was that men fifteen years her junior had barely managed to crawl from her bed when she was through with them. Her looks proved the old adage that you could never be too thin, too rich, or have too much plastic surgery, and the smoky gravel that was her voice hinted at money and sexuality simultaneously. Mr. Woodcock had passed away years ago, and Jackson wondered if the Mrs. had worn his member down to a nub. “Jackson, darling, how are you?” She flitted her eyelashes. “I’m fine, Mrs. Woodcock.” “You certainly are, dear, very fine, very fine, indeed.” She looked him up and down as if he were a racehorse standing at auction. “Have you taken off the black band and stopped mourning Tess yet?” She leaned forward, and he forced his eyes away from her cleavage. Damn, but the woman looked good for someone her age.

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Chapter Three “Pardon?” Jackson said. “It’s been well over a year since you became available. Are you seeing anyone yet?” Elyse Woodcock had moved around the table to stand closer to him. He backed up a half step, but she followed. “Mrs. Woodcock, it’s very kind of you to take the time to visit with me, but these meringues must be served. They won’t keep in this heat.” Jackson pointed at the desserts with what he hoped was a smile of regret. “And neither will I, dear.” She lowered her lashes and struck a pose. He had to admit she looked hot in her clingy knit dress. She placed a hand inside her low neckline, slowly removing a hundred dollar bill, and Jackson realized he was hard. He cursed silently. He was too horny for his own good. In the meantime, Elyse stood before him, a huge temptation. She spoke while brandishing the hundred-dollar bill. “I’d like to place your services under retainer.” Be cool. “Certainly. Do you have an affair you’d like me to cater?” “Oh, I’d definitely like you to cater to me with an affair.” Dropping her hand, she unhurriedly placed the bill in his back pocket, her fingers lingering a lot longer than was necessary. “Or do you require more than that?” She opened her purse. Another hundred appeared, only she slid this one into his front pocket, as deeply as she could. When she removed her hand, he spoke hoarsely. “Mrs. Woodcock, I apologize if I’ve given you the wrong impression.” He reached to recover the bill in his front pocket, but she stopped his arm. “My dear Jackson, what I just enjoyed was worth every bit of the money. Call me to discuss”

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her eyes dropped to appraise his tented trousers “the affair. Don’t worry, I won’t disappoint you by making you pull out at the last minute. I could be very good for your bottom line. I know you’d work hard to satisfy mine.” Pull out? Bottom line? Satisfy? He’d never heard so many double-entendres. Her bottom swayed as she walked away, and Jackson could imagine spanking her. He also had no trouble imagining how much she’d enjoy having her bottom reddened. A muffled, choking sound made him turn. Ricky was shaking with mirth, collapsing against the side of the van, doing his best not to laugh out loud at his boss’s predicament. Jackson tried to think of Antarctica. I’m standing, naked from the waist down in snow and ice. Yes, I am. Yes, he gritted his teeth with determination, I am. “Ricky.” “Yes, Mr. P?” “Take care of this table. I need a break.” Stalking to his van, Jackson sat on the lid of his metal ice chest, running baseball stats in his head, until he brought himself under control. No doubt about it. He was getting over Tess, and he needed to deal with the physical reality of that fact. Soon. ___________________ Cake making and cucumber-slicing had come to a dead halt. Both women shared a diet soda, but only one of them paced the kitchen. “What was his name again?” Annie picked up a wooden spoon and beat the table with it. “I swear, Lena, I’ll find him and string him up by his” “No, you won’t.” Lena’s sharp tone stopped Annie’s loud tattoo. “It’s been nearly four years. Let it go. I know I have.” “No, it’s clear you haven’t.” Annie curled her lip. “And why should you? Bastard!”

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“Yes, I have.” Lena stared hard into her sister’s eyes. “No, you haven’t.” Both women glared at each other for a moment, then Annie’s face softened to match her voice. “If you had truly let this go, you wouldn’t be hiding in your work and in this house.” “Look, I’m not the kind of woman most men want, except maybe for sex. That is, when they can’t get someone good-looking to do it with them.” Lena swiped wetness off her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Excuse me, sis, but you are gorgeous, smart, funny, talented, kind-hearted—and did I say, gorgeous? God knows where I’d be without you. I don’t believe that no man would want to love you. It seems to me most men would be breaking down your door, if they knew you existed.” Lena smeared the condensation on the soda bottle with an index finger. “Did I ever tell you about Zeke?” “Zeke? Who’s Zeke?” Lena took the hairnet off and her hair out of its elastic, while her sister steered her to a chair in the small sitting room off the kitchen. Annie found a brush to use on Lena’s silky hair, the better to soothe her sister as she began the story. “I didn’t socialize much during high school. Actually, I didn’t socialize at all. You needed taking care of. Papa insisted that I cook all our meals, clean the house, do the laundry, and shop for groceries—in short, take Mama’s place. It was hard to have any free time between my duties here and my schoolwork.” Annie kissed her sister’s cheek. “I know how you took care of me. Have I ever thanked you? I owe you everything, and I love you so much. Thank you.” “You’re welcome. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Lena picked at lint on the chair’s arm. “So, what about Zeke?”

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“The day after I graduated, I met Zeke while out on an errand. We had a lot in common. In fact, he was also planning to enter the Culinary Arts program at Johnson and Wales in the fall. “We started talking on the phone during the day, while Papa was at work. He’d go shopping with me, and we’d argue over the silliest cooking-related things, like whether red peppers were superior to green ones, and for what purposes. We spent as much time together as I could steal from my duties. “One night, I sneaked out and met Zeke in the back yard. Papa was drinking a lot by then and was usually passed out by eight PM. We sat inside Papa’s workshop, talking in the dark. Eventually, Zeke kissed me. That was the first time I’d ever been kissed. “The light was off, we were kissing, and it was as if no one and nothing else existed in the entire world. The next thing I knew, Zeke had begun to unbutton my blouse. I told him no and was rebuttoning it when the door burst open. It was Papa.” Lena’s voice caught in a sob. Annie was afraid to break the sudden silence, but needed to make her sister talk and thus begin to heal the old wound. “What did Papa do?” she whispered. “He—he called me names. Terrible names, like ‘whore.’ Told me no man would love someone as ugly as me, that all I was good for was housekeeping and—spreading my legs.” Lena shuddered. “Then he beat me. I never heard from Zeke again, of course. I felt like a freak. I’m sure he thought we were all freaks.” Lena’s tears ran down her face, leaving miniature puddles on her bare thighs. “I hated Papa after that. I remember sobbing myself to sleep that night, wishing him dead. I even fantasized about buying rat poison to put in his liquor, but of course I could never have poisoned him, or anyone. Three weeks later, Papa dropped dead.”

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She dropped her face into her hands. Annie whispered, “It wasn’t your fault. Everyone gets mad, and you had the right, considering what a miserable old man he was.” “But I was glad he was dead! And so ashamed to feel that way.” Lena’s sobs dissolved the rest of her words, and Annie held her fast as sobs wracked her body. “Don’t feel ashamed or guilty for your thoughts. You lived through hell,” Annie said, smoothing strands of hair from her sister’s sweaty brow. “I know your life went to shit after Papa started drinking every night. And I understand how you wouldn’t put much stock in men, after the bad experiences you had with Papa and with that guy in the bar. I understand your suspicion, your lack of trust. But Lena, all men aren’t cruel users. In fact, most aren’t.” Annie held her sister’s face in her hands. “Promise me that you’ll at least try to meet someone, if only as a friend. You need to learn that half the world’s population is not evil.” In a small voice, she said, “Annie, I don’t think men are evil.” “You don’t think they’re good, either, do you?” Lena silently inclined her head to concede the point. “So?” “All right,” Lena said while wiping her face. “I’ll try. For a friendship. I won’t guarantee I can do more than that.” ___________________ Jackson and Ricky cleaned up after the luncheon, Ricky driving his own car back to the storefront while Jackson took the van. The humiliating encounter with Elyse Woodcock had chased away thoughts of Dream Woman. Surprisingly, the idea of spanking Elyse still turned him on.

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“Jesus Christ,” he said aloud. “I need to get laid before I do something foolish with a forty-five-yearold man-eater.” Back in the storefront’s kitchen, Ricky washed dishes while Jackson scrubbed the counters and stoves as if he had a personal vendetta against them. He mopped the floor with such vigor that Ricky stopped him with a touch on the shoulder. “Hey, boss, what’s up?” Jackson glared. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ricky stared a moment, then laughed. “Mrs. Woodcock’s still got your goat, I see. She’s really not bad, just a little more assertive than the average woman.” “Easy for you to say. It wasn’t your pants she had her hand in. And in front of my clients.” Jackson went back to his mopping. “I don’t need life lessons from someone eight years younger than me.” “Man, that’s rude,” Ricky said before returning to the pots and pans, his shoulders hunched. Jackson stopped mopping. “Sorry, Ricky. I’m a jerk today.” “No, you’re not. Anyway, it’s seven years.” Ricky sprayed suds off an enormous steel pan. “No way. When did you turn twenty-one?” “Last week.” Ricky grinned. “If you want, I can tell you about my experiences with Mrs. W.” “You’ve had ‘experiences’ with her?” “Last summer. I worked part-time at the country club as a towel boy. Remember?” Jackson shook his head. “I can’t say that I do, but then again, I don’t remember much about last summer except working like a dog, trying not to go bankrupt.” “Let me tell you. I think you’ll enjoy it.” Ricky stopped wiping a wet pot, lost in thought. “Last summer you didn’t have enough work for me, and I needed more money to return to school.”

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“I’m sorry, Ricky. I would’ve kept you on if I could have, you know that.” Jackson felt like the world’s biggest asshole, between his nasty comment to Ricky and having to let Ricky go last summer. “Hey, Mr. P, no apology needed. I knew you were having a rough time. Anyway, the Thoreau Country Club was looking for assistant lifeguards. I didn’t make the cut for that, and I was too young to ferry drink orders, but they did need a part-time towel boy. My first week there, Elyse tracked me with her radar.” “Elyse? You called her that?” “Eventually. I came on duty one day, and she crooked her index finger at me. You may have noticed she’s the kind of woman who expects you to come when she beckons. There I was, an inexperienced towel boy, and there she was, an attractive widow, in a string bikini.” “A string bikini?” Jackson imagined Elyse against his will. “She told me later she would’ve worn a thong, but the club had rules. Seeing her in a thong from behind would probably have made waiters drop their drink orders. Man, is she ever in good shape.” Ricky’s eyes glazed over. Jackson suspected what he might be recalling. “I guess you’d know, if you saw her in a bikini.” “Not only that, I became her favorite towel boy.” Jackson groaned. “I can only imagine what she had you doing.” “In public, I kept her well-covered with suntan lotion, SPF 45 or something. In private, well, I’ll get to that. Anyway, she beckoned to me, looked me straight in the eye and told me to put lotion on her rear end. Claimed she couldn’t reach back there. Then she stuffed a fifty-dollar bill way down inside my shorts.” Jackson remembered her skilled touch in his pockets but said nothing.

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“Well, I let her know that, just because I was a poor little towel boy, she wasn’t going to get away with groping me for money. I also told her I knew she could have me fired if she wanted, but that I hoped she was classier than that. “She sat up, saying I was the first young man with the nerve to speak to her that way, and she respected me for it. In the future when she tipped me, she said, the money would go into my hand, not down my pants. “So, I put lotion on her very fit and firm butt. And, when she was done sunning herself, she asked me to accompany her home.” “So, how is she?” Jackson said. “Wait. I don’t really want to know.” “Oh, we didn’t have sex. If she and I had sneaked off to do it, she wouldn’t have been the first, I know, to screw the club’s help. But I didn’t screw her. I spanked her.” All the blood in Jackson’s body rushed to his groin. He turned away to hide his arousal. “You’re kidding me.” “Nope. She made it clear that she expected to be disciplined for the shabby way she’d treated me at the club, her hand in my shorts and all that. She handed me one of her late husband’s belts and bent over a padded armchair. Then, she waited. But not for long.” Ricky’s eyes glinted. “I spanked her butt hard with my hand, then used that belt till she begged me to stop. If she’d put her hand in my pants at that point, we would’ve ended up on the floor together. But she didn’t. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and drove me back to the club, wincing every time she moved in her seat. I kissed her cheek, told her to be good, and offered to discipline her again soon. She put her hand on my leg, squeezed, and said she’d expect me next Tuesday, to spank her for squeezing my leg.” Ricky laughed. “Damn, but we had fun.”

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“I’ll bet,” Jackson said, and an image of Dream Woman’s bottom, pink with handprints, flooded his mind. “Anyhow, we formed a sort of friendship,” Ricky continued. “When I told her about my future hopes, she shook her head, warning me to have backup plans. She’d lost her beloved husband, Walter, and she certainly hadn’t counted on that. She was really quite nice to me. Over the course of the summer, I must have swatted her bottom a thousand times, always in private. At the club, I applied aloe gel to her bottom some days, sunblock others, depending on how recently I’d disciplined her. She often walked around with a red backside in that bikini, and she didn’t give a damn who saw it, either.” The two men said nothing for a moment. “Damn,” Jackson said. “That’s some story.” Ricky folded his arms across his chest. “Know why she always pursues younger men? Apparently, her late husband had been twenty years older than her, and his death had, in her words, ‘devastated’ her. After a year of mourning, she said, she’d decided to pursue only younger men. That way, if she ever fell in love again, the likelihood of the man dying before her was less likely.” “So, did you fall in love?” Jackson leaned on his mop and made silly cow eyes. Ricky shook his head. “Lust, but not love. After a few spanking sessions, I developed a crush on her, and in a weak moment told her that I was interested in sex. She responded, ‘My dear Ricky, I would never take you and whatever innocence you have left. And, believe me, an afternoon with me would make you a man of the world. Even I have rules. You’re too young for me.’ Or something like that. She kissed me on the forehead and told me if I should ever need capital to start a business, to call her immediately. She said she knew I had what it takes to succeed.

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“You know, Elyse tipped me fifty bucks every time I saw her. I protested that I felt like a ‘kept man.’ She told me I was cheaper than a shrink, that my ‘therapy’ was exactly what she needed, and that she was grateful for the spankings. So I took the money.” Ricky turned back to the pots and pans. “Only once did I see any more of her than the skin she flashed at the club. See, she always wore her bikini when I spanked her. But the last day of my job, I joked that I wouldn’t mind taking a good look at those breasts of hers. With that, she led me to one of the private cabanas. I was like, ‘Whoa, Mrs. W, I’m not going to spank you here.’ She called me a silly boy, and dropped her top.” “What?” Jackson blurted. “Yeah, she told me to have a good look.” Ricky took a deep breath before continuing. “Elyse Woodcock has the hottest hooters, for an old lady, I mean. Mmm, did they ever look good. After a few moments, she retied her bikini top, said goodbye, and left the cabana. We’ve not spoken much since, except for her asking me about my schooling once or twice.” “How long has she been widowed?” Jackson said. “Are you going after her, Mr. P?” Ricky teased. “No.” Jackson grimaced. “No way. I just wondered.” “Going on three years, if I remember correctly.” “Huh. Interesting woman.” “Definitely,” Ricky nodded. “You might not believe this, but she is kind of sweet. She doesn’t usually reveal that side. She feels safer letting everyone think she’s a man-eater.” The cell phone on the counter rang. Jackson grabbed it first. “Yankee Elegance Catering. How may I help you?” “Hello, Mr. Portsmouth. This is Sue Greene from the Gainesborough Recreation Department. You’ve

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never gotten back to me about the food fair this Sunday.” “Food fair?” Jackson turned to Ricky, who was slapping his forehead in a classic “Oh, I knew there was something I forgot to tell you” move. “Yes. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind?” Sue Greene’s steely tone indicated he’d better not have. “Uh, well, no, not at all.” Irritated with Ricky, Jackson pointed at the young man, then slashed his index finger across his throat. “What do you need to know?” “For starters, what kind of booth will you have?” “What kinds are there?” “’A Taste of Gainesborough’ includes appetizers, drinks, soups, salads, main courses, and desserts.” “Put me down for soups.” Jackson realized he had two cold soup recipes that wouldn’t take much time, and he had an excess of small, leftover paper cups in which he could serve samples. “Can I serve other food as well, if I decide to?” “Well, yes, that would be fine. We just need to know what you’re officially committing to bring.” “Soup it is. What time again?” Jackson was still eyeing Ricky for his forgetfulness. So much for his plans to enjoy his first day off in weeks. “The fair starts at noon. Please be set up and ready to go fifteen minutes before that on the common.” “I’ll see you there.” Jackson clicked off the cell phone with an annoyed punch before turning on his employee. “Well? When were you planning to tell me about this?” Ricky covered his face with his hands, peeking out between his fingers. “Uh, yesterday?” Jackson scrubbed his face with his hands. He really couldn’t stay mad at Ricky. “Why did you tell them I’d do this?”

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“Well, don’t you need publicity for your business? I was only trying to help. Plus, the admission fees go to charity.” Jackson sighed. He was right. Maybe this would give him a leg up on SweetKakes. After all, he was no longer catering a party tomorrow for Tiffany Jakes. He had plenty of time to prepare the soups, and plenty of time to relax, if he needed it. “Can you help? I think you should, considering you got me into this.” “You bet I can. I’ll even work for free if you need me to.” Ricky squared his shoulders, the picture of responsibility. Jackson smiled. “That won’t be necessary. Just be here by eleven Sunday morning to help me load the van and transport the soups. I’ll need your help at the fair, too.” “No prob, Mr. P. I’ll see you then. Thanks for not slaughtering me for committing you to this charity event.” Ricky swallowed in mock fear. “What are we supporting?” Jackson picked up a rag, giving the place a final wipe-down. “Orphans from Gainesborough and surrounding towns. The food fair will raise money both for college scholarships and Big Brother and Big Sister activities.” Jackson suddenly understood. “I’ll make my best recipes for this, don’t you worry.” “Cucumber Vichyssoise and Gazpacho, Yankee Elegance-style?” “Those, and my Spicy Buttermilk Fried Chicken Strips, too.” Ricky beamed, his parrot-green hair waving as he nodded his head. “Thanks, Mr. P. I’ll see you on Sunday.” Jackson, alone with his thoughts, flicked off the lights. Recalling his dinner plans with Bobby, he checked his watch. He had two hours until he needed to leave Gainesborough. Plenty of time to exercise, shower, and change.

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Speaking of exercise, a little devil on his shoulder said, why don’t you run past 85 Front Street? ___________________ Lena stepped into the late afternoon sun from the shade of the columned porch. The refreshing breeze cooled her, after the heat of the cooking and the stress of the emotional upheaval she’d revealed to her sister. Somehow, confessing everything to her sister had cheered her, planting a tiny seed of hope that had already taken root in her heart. Maybe she would lead a normal life, some day. Maybe some day she’d marry, have kids, do all the things others did and took for granted. For now, however, she had to make sure that “Jeeves,” her old Range Rover, was ready to roll for tomorrow’s party. Lena put her mind to the task at hand. She opened the garage doors and brought the light blue, four-door vehicle to a stop in the driveway, not far from the sidewalk. Vacuuming the interior took only a few moments, but the outside needed a good cleaning. Dragging the hose from the back yard and bucket, rags, and soap from the garage, she set about cleaning the exterior. The dark mauve lettering that proclaimed “SweetKakes” on the doors pleased her eyes and almost matched the house. Annie did have a good eye for design and color. Perhaps she’d suggest that her sister give an artistic career a try. So far, she hadn’t majored in anything but boys. She worked up a good sweat while cleaning the vehicle, feeling more confident after talking with Annie. Who cared that she had only a sports bra and knit shorts on? She certainly wasn’t breaking any laws the way she was dressed. Pointing the hose to the sky and letting the water fall all over her, Lena thrilled to the contrast of the chilly water

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on her hot, sticky skin. The sensation of her nipples puckering from the cold water pleased her. A low whistle froze her inside. Not ten feet from Lena stood a living fantasy, naked except for a well-fitting pair of running shorts, white socks, and running shoes. Her eyes widened as she took in the runner’s well-developed calves and muscled thighs, his trim waist, and athletic shoulders and arms, covered with trickles of perspiration on light olive skin. Taller than her by several inches, his steady stance communicated he was rooted to the spot. The faintest masculine scent wafted on the air, tickling her nose, stirring her with longing, and her nipples budded tighter. His chest, moderately covered with coal-black hair, invited her fingers to tangle there. The line of black hair straight down his stomach disappeared into his shorts, an arrow pointing to his maleness.

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Chapter Four Despite having just drenched herself with the hose, Lena felt dry and parched. Swallowing hard, trying to regain control, seeing his face swept away all her intentions to remain cool. She drank in his shining black hair, proud brow above deep-set, chocolate-brown eyes, strong, straight nose, and cleft chin as if he were the water of life itself. Their eyes locked. Fluid filled her knees and made her wobble. I’m showing a lot of bare flesh, just like him, she thought. Not only that, the sports bra and knit shorts were soaking wet and plastered to her, highlighting her every curve and hollow. When she realized that she was practically naked before the godlike apparition, her inner core turned to hot, thick liquid. The lowered sun behind him shimmered his outline, and for a moment Lena wondered if she were hallucinating. Steamy, unbidden images of the two of them together ran through her mind. She was aflame, quivering in places she’d tried to deny existed for years. Her delta ached with need, and her breasts were still tightly but pleasantly tipped with stiff peaks. Risking a glance at the man’s snug running shorts, she sucked in her breath. He was either very large, or very aroused. Maybe both. She crossed her arms to keep her hands from clenching. The apparition half-murmured, “SweetKakes.” His gaze raked her body, and each place his eyes lingered, she felt caressed. It was as if his fingertips were skimming over her flesh. His fingertips, on long tapered fingers. She snapped back to the present, quivers of desire supplanted by shivers of apprehension. This was the man in the car. She willed herself to relax. Annie was right— she needed to stop being scared. And she’d be damned if she’d let some creep standing on the sidewalk intimidate her. Marching over to him with hands on hips, she got in his face, raising

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her voice more loudly than she would have dared the day before. “Who the heck do you think you are? I saw you last night and this morning, spying on us. Get off my property, before I call the cops.” His eyes, no longer soft and dreamy, snapped fire at her. “I’m not on your property. The sidewalk’s public. Who do you think you are, ordering me around and stealing my business?” “I didn’t steal anything,” Lena retorted. “I’ve earned every single thing I own through hard work.” “Get off it. I know you’re catering Tiffany Jakes’ party tomorrow. Mrs. Jakes told me ‘SweetKakes’ was the caterer. What did you offer her? What kind of sleazy deal did you cut?” Lena sputtered with fury. “You obnoxious jerk. I don’t ‘cut deals.’ I provide the best food and service around at the lowest price possible. Maybe your business is failing because you charge too much. Why don’t you try working harder if you’re in such tough shape financially, and quit blaming me, crybaby?” Afraid to work, she thought. Probably a Yankee trust-fund wimp, to judge from his preppie looks. “It seems that you can afford a Range Rover. Those don’t come cheap,” the man snapped, standing his ground with his arms crossed defiantly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s older than dirt and was left to me by—why the hell am I telling you anything?” Lena figured even Papa would understand the necessity of a well-placed curse word in this situation. “I’m warning you one last time—go away. You have five seconds before I call 911 and have you arrested for, for, something,” Lena sputtered, pulling out her cell phone and punching it on. “One, two, three—“ Whap! The sound of something cracking through the air jerked Lena’s head around and made the man hop, grabbing an upper thigh. Two more snaps cracked

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in short order, and angry red welts appeared on his thigh and on his lower back, just above the waistband of the shorts. Lena had never seen Annie so enraged as she brought the wet towel back for a fourth snap. “Get away from my sister, or I’ll whip the crap out of you, then run you over with Jeeves.” The man grabbed the towel when Annie whipped it at him, jerking it so that she stumbled toward him. “You! You’re the maniac who screamed and flipped me off this morning. Are you two women psycho or something? A strange man comes by on the sidewalk, minding his own business, and you assume he’s going to mess with you?” He threw the towel at Lena. “Both of you need a good spanking for your out-of-control behavior. But, hey, I’m leaving,” he said, hands in the air. “Some other lucky loser will have to take the job. I don’t want it.” The man resumed his jog. Lena clearly heard him mutter, “She may look like a dream, but she’s got a lunatic for a guardian.” Annie’s face darkened as she, too, heard the comment. When she turned to run after him, Lena jumped two steps, grabbing her sister. “Shush. Stop it, Annie. He’s going now. Relax,” Lena crooned as her sister struggled in her arms, cursing, her purplish-red hair sticking up all over her head. “That goddamned son of a” Annie squirmed, still wanting to hurt him. “Let me chase the snotty bastard. I’m not afraid of his type. I’ll hurry him on his way with a good towel-crack across his tightywhitey ass. He’s the one from this morning whose car boxed me in.” “So I gathered. He was here last night, too,” Lena said. “Maybe he’s right—we’re overreacting. Maybe he’s just new to the neighborhood. If so, no wonder he thinks we’re, we’re—” “Psycho,” Annie spit out. “He can kiss my hairy—”

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She used an extremely crude word, making Lena exclaim, “That’s enough! Or, I promise you, I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.” She tried to tease her sister into relaxing, even though both of them were still riled from the stressful encounter. She watched the man jog out of sight, and once again admired his hot body. Too bad she’d never be able to speak to him again without dying of embarrassment. He mentioned a good spanking, she recalled, and imagined an image of herself over his lap, face flushed and bottom just as red. It reminded her of the one and only time a man had spanked her as an adult. She’d hoped for more with the man, but had been disappointed by him, the way she had with other men before him. A year ago, she’d met a man online. They’d kidded around about spanking until the day he’d told her that his unit was shipping out to Iraq. He’d asked her if they could meet, so he could spank a woman before he left. Lena had amazed herself when she’d said yes. They’d met at a Trenton hotel, as the man was stationed in New Jersey at Fort Dix. The soldier, Ken Leary, had paid for everything, promising that if she didn’t want to go through with it, she could leave and not owe him a thing. In weak moments, she was still glad she’d said yes, and then driven three hundred miles south. Annie had been away for some reason, so her sister didn’t know a thing. They’d met in the lobby at the Marriott—no bar because he didn’t drink—and she’d been amazed when she’d trusted Ken immediately. They’d gone to the hotel’s restaurant for appetizers that had turned into dinner and dessert. Unfortunately, they’d spent so much time getting to know each other that she’d grown too tired to entertain the notion of spanking. As Ken had reserved two rooms, they said goodnight at the elevator.

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When he’d called her the next morning, asking if she’d like to have breakfast with him, she’d said yes, offering her room so they could use room service. After more talk and a lovely meal, he’d touched her for the first time, stroking the back of her hand. “Don’t you think it’s time?” he’d asked. “Yes,” she’d said. Ken had pushed back from the table, moving his chair to the middle of the room. Then, he’d crooked his index finger at her. “Come here.” To Lena, the short walk to him had felt like miles. As she’d stood to his right, he’d undone her jeans and pushed them to her knees. They’d both agreed beforehand that she’d wear a thong, for modesty’s sake, as they didn’t know each other well. But a thong left her buttocks completely exposed while hiding her intimate areas. After she’d draped herself over his lap, she’d swallowed hard when he’d patted and rubbed her bottom. She could still hear him speaking to her. “Lena,” he’d crooned, “You and I both know you’ve deserved this spanking for years. Remember how you told me about your temper? It’s time to pay the piper, and his name is Ken.” A loud SMACK! had filled her ears, and a nasty burn on her bottom had made her exclaim, “Ow! That hurts!” “Spankings always do,” he’d said. Lena’s bottom had been on fire, a fire that had grown hotter with each wallop of his hand. The man had tough skin on his palm, no doubt from his training. Each whack had been harder than she’d thought any man could hit and not make his own hand hurt like hell. But he’d spanked her leisurely— a smack only once every few seconds, so she could sense the full extent of the horrible burn of each spank before the next one landed. Tears had formed in her eyes, sliding down her face and

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plopping on the carpet, a carpet she’d nearly had her nose on. “Oh, stop, stop!” she’d sobbed. “This is horrible! I don’t want any more spanking!” “It’s not about what you want, Lena. It’s about what you need,” he’d said. After he’d finished painting her entire bottom red with his hand, he’d picked up a hairbrush, something she hadn’t even noticed he had with him. When the unforgiving oval of wood had cracked the center of her sit-down spot, she’d jackknifed her body, weeping furiously. “Ken, no, NO! Oh, God, it feels like you’re raising blisters, my butt’s so hot!” He’d paused, but only for a moment. “Honey, I want you to feel what a real spanking is like. That means I spank you until I think you’ve had enough. But you know we agreed upon a safe word. You can use it at any time, and I’ll stop.” He’d waited. Lena had wailed for a few seconds before regaining control of herself. “No,” she’d sobbed, “I don’t need to use my safe word. It’s just that I didn’t expect the brush, and my backside’s in flames!” “Do you remember we agreed upon a thorough hand spanking, and then a little more spanking with an implement of my choice? Are you still all right with that?” She’d felt his rock-hard erection through layers of clothing, and had wished she were the kind of woman who could enjoy a one-night stand, because she’d been more aroused than she’d ever been her entire life. But she wasn’t that kind of woman. “Yes,” she’d cried, “I’m still all right with that.” The brush had bit her bottom fiercely, but again at a slow pace. Each throbbing swat had kept her in tears until she’d thought she’d grow hoarse from sobbing. Finally, finally, he’d rubbed her stinging areas while she’d continued crying.

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“Lena, everything’s okay. You’re forgiven, completely forgiven. Would you like me to hold you?” Still weeping loudly, she’d answered his question by sitting on his lap. The pressure of his muscled thigh hadn’t feel good. “Oh, God, I’m so sore. I don’t know how I’ll sit to drive home.” “Fortunately, you don’t have to worry about that until tomorrow,” he’d said. Ken had pulled her to him, and she’d clutched him while he’d repeated the word, “Forgiven,” until it had seemed branded into her brain. It had been the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. They’d enjoyed the rest of the weekend together, and he’d spanked her one final time the next morning, just a few licks with a belt, so she’d drive home sitting a little uncomfortably. But they hadn’t had sex, and when she’d sent him postal mail and email, she’d never received a response. So much for that, she thought. Annie sagging into her arms dragged her back into the present. “I’m sorry. I came as soon as I realized you were shouting. I thought something was wrong. I thought he was bothering you.” He’s bothering me, all right, but not the way you mean. “You know,” Lena said, “it was pretty cool, the way you attacked him with that towel. Where did you ever learn that?” she asked, though she knew the answer. “In high school, but I forget who taught me. Phys Ed could get rough, and I was small. I had to find some way to fight the bullies in the locker room.” Annie giggled. “I was the fastest and hardest towel-snapper in my class. By junior year the mean ones all gave me a wide berth when it was shower time. I lost count of how many Amazonian buns I welted over four years’ time.”

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“Ouch. I’m an Amazon, with an equally Amazonian butt. I’d better go in and hide the towels.” Lena kissed her sister’s forehead. “How about some Mocha Coconut Cake?” “Ooo, you made extra?” “Don’t I always?” “Well, then,” Annie gave the towel a few test snaps, “Offering me cake means you’ve put off a wicked towel-snapping for yet another day. And you with those skimpy shorts on. Too bad.” “The day you towel-snap me will be your last, girl,” Lena threatened while smiling. “Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, you’re all talk.” She walked ahead to the house, abruptly stopping to bend over and slap a biting fly on her ankle. The temptation was too much for little sister. “Annie!” Lena hopped and howled, clutching the stinging area. She grabbed at her sister, who eluded her grasp, laughing as she dashed up the stairs. Honestly, she was going to kill Annie for this. Right after she gave her a taste of her own medicine. Lena smiled. Apparently, Annie had forgotten who’d taught her how to snap a towel for maximum impact. Humming, Lena climbed the stairs. Revenge would be hers soon enough. ___________________ Damn, damn, and double-damn, a mortified Jackson fumed. The smart on his back and leg were fading, but the smart on his pride burned worse than ever. Bested by a mere slip of a female, and in front of Dream Woman, too. She must think he was a real loser. Why was he so nasty to her? Why had he argued, accused, insulted? Wait a minute, he thought as he gave up jogging to walk back to his car, parked a measured mile and a half from 85 Front Street. Just because his hormones begged him to pursue an abandoned

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night of passionokay, an infinite number of nights of wild, abandoned passionwith Dream Woman, it didn’t change the fact that she worked for SweetKakes. Maybe it was her own business, or maybe the other womanher sister? her friend?ran it with her. In any case, she was the competition, the enemy. How had he lost sight of that fact? I hope I never see either of them again. No, that wasn’t true. He’d take as many glimpses of Dream Woman as he could get, even if she was the enemy. Powerless to stop the images that flooded his mind, he savored her memory one more time. She truly did have an angel’s face. Creamy skin blushed with faint rose, wide green eyes, lashes out to there, high cheekbones, and full, deep pink lips. The kind of lips a man wanted to nibble on endlessly, to caress with his tongue. Jackson reached his car and climbed inside, acutely aware he was horny again. She’d been soaked from the hose, her hair slicked back and dark caramel in color, droplets shining on her face, her slim neck, her taut shoulders and arms, on the incredible valley formed by the skin-tight spandex bra that struggled to contain her lusciousness. Thank heavens for spandex, especially when it was wet and straining at the seams. Her pillowy breasts were topped with stiff little tips that were just begging to be tweaked. The water had run down her body, past her tight little waist and her flat stomach, down onto her skimpy shorts. The darker inverted triangle at the cleft where her thighs joined her torso clearly showed through the wet, white, clingy fabric. This woman apparently didn’t believe in underwear, what with her see-through shorts today and her braless tank top yesterday. He groaned. The only woman he’d ever known who didn’t believe in underwear had been a pretty hot ticket, and he, an innocent, sheltered freshman, had

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had no idea what to do with such a vixen. Bobby, he recalled, had known exactly what to do with her, promptly stealing her from Jackson and doing sexy things to her for two years. His only regret was that he hadn’t been able to see her magnificent bottom outlined by the soaked shorts plastered to her. What he wouldn’t have given for that. He relished recalling her stunningly beautiful face, her hourglass form, her strong, muscled arms and legs. He didn’t think he’d ever seen beauty, ample curves, and muscular strength all in one woman before, but he surely seemed to be a sucker for it. Tess had been strong, he remembered, her memory stabbing him to the agonizing quick. Not only physically strong, though she’d worked out and been fit and slim. No, Tess had been mentally tough, and that had impressed him. He respected mental toughness in a woman. Too bad Tess had also been a two-faced, lying bitch who needed a bare-assed whipping. But Dream Woman had mental toughness, too. She’d stood up to him and given as good as she’d gotten. Beauty, mental toughness, and most likely brains as well—simply irresistible, but simply not for him. His livelihood had to come first, before whatever crazy signals his hormones broadcast. Without his work, he’d be nowhere. A man who couldn’t support himself, and anyone who relied on him, was not a man. His father had taught him that, in more ways than one. Jackson recalled his father’s haunted eyes the last time he’d seen him alive, and turned the car’s engine over, awash in gloomy recollections. ___________________ A little past seven PM, Jackson was hurrying to meet Bobby, having been delayed by Boston’s Friday night traffic snarls and the lack of parking spaces. He couldn’t afford the valet parking at the

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Copley Plaza Hotel where Bobby was staying, so he drove halfway across Back Bay to find a cheaper lot. The Copley Plaza and Prudential Center garages were closer, but almost as pricey as the valet parking. While he was trying to dash across Commonwealth Avenue, taxi drivers yelled insults and others behind the wheel seemed to aim for him on purpose. He’d forgotten how crazy the city could be now that he no longer worked there. He’d take the more laid-back suburbs any day of the week. Maybe he should have suggested that Bobby come to him, he mused as he waited for the walk light to flash on, not willing to take his life into his hands when he reached Boylston Street. After all, Bobby wanted to look at condos in Gainesborough. The heavy wooden and stained glass door of the Plaza’s cocktail lounge opened with a hiss of chilled air. Jackson had no trouble spotting his buddy. As usual, he was entertaining a female, an executive type seated at a nearby table. Bobby stood, apparently to join the woman, but spotted Jackson as he did so. Communicating his regrets to the woman with a wave and smile, Bobby remained standing to greet him, and enveloped him in a chest-crushing bear hug, the way athletes—or warriors—do on the field of battle. “Hey, Jack, it’s great to see ya again. Though if you’d’ve stood me up, I probably could’ve gotten lucky with that CFO over there.” Bobby lowered his voice. “Make sure you get a good look at her when she stands. She’s got the best legs this side of Tina Turner, and she’s showcasing them with three-anda-half-inch black spikes, complete with ankle straps, real ‘do me’ shoes. Pray she bends over. Her skirt’s hiding what looks like an incredible caboose.” “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby,” Jackson grinned as he sat, signaling to the waiter. “It’s good to see that some things never change, like your infatuation with any gorgeous woman who’ll give you the time

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of day, and your relentless attempts to bed them all.” “You’re just jealous, my man, because you don’t have what it takes.” “A willingness to be slapped silly?” “A willingness to be refused. I get turned down a lot, but I ask a lot, so on the whole I don’t spend many nights alone that I don’t want to be alone.” Bobby drained his vodka martini. “Though I’m mostly looking for the right Mrs. Hollingsworth these days.” Jackson choked on his first sip of the beer delivered to their table. “You? Married? When donkeys fly, as you would say.” “Everyone eventually needs to settle down. I’ve had my fun, probably more than my share. But I’m getting on in years. While I’ve no real urge to produce a passel of kids, I would enjoy having one special person to tell my troubles to.” “What troubles?” Jackson scanned his friend from his sandy hair to his spit-shined oxfords. With his bigger-than-the-outdoors chest and legs like tree trunks, Bobby looked rugged and healthy, Jackson thought. He shrugged. “Nothin’ special, just tired of playing the field. It’s time to find the right one, you know?” “Well, I guess you are kind of old. Thirty-two, right?” Jackson ducked his friend’s big-handed swat. “Don’t forget, I can whup you with one hand behind my back, you eastern establishment wimp. Remember how I had to diaper you at Harvard?” “Diaper me?” Jackson chuckled. “I was eighteen, and I did all right.” “Boy, at eighteen you lost more chances with women than I’d had wins, and I’d had a lot of ‘em during my four years in the Marines. Oh, and then there’s Sylvia, the best piece of ass ever to sashay her lovely hips across Harvard Yard.”

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“I was trying to remember her name earlier. That was the one who didn’t believe in underwear, right?” “Damn straight she didn’t, and I always took advantage of that. We enjoyed two years of steamy bliss before she decided that she was missing something by being monogamous.” Bobby settled up with the waiter. “I think she might have been The One, and since then I’ve just been fooling around, trying to forget her.” “But she was at least six years older than you.” “So what? According to the mortality statistics, it’s better to have an older woman. You’re less likely to die before her if she’s older. Plus, as Ben Franklin said, older women are so very grateful.” Bobby grinned. “Grateful women always take care of ol’ Bobby in the nicest ways.” “You’re a pig, you know that?” But Jackson was laughing. He’d never had Bobby’s cool with women. Too many Puritan ancestors in his heritage. “Pigs need love, too, boy. Want to walk down the street and chow down on some man-type victuals at the local Ruth’s Chris Steak Housewannabe? It’s a shame Boston doesn’t have the real thing. I guess Morton’s of Chicago will just have to do.” “I figured we’d end up there.” “I like Morton’s because they permit cigars in the dining room, with a nice selection in-house of Davidoff smokes. Plus, my new boss is a regular there—he made primo reservations for us. We can expect some complimentary Rémy Martin after the meal, so don’t drink too much beforehand, Mister Can’t-Hold -His-Booze-Worth-a-Damn.” “I guess I can forego my usual ‘eastern establishment wimp’ dinner for one night.” “Yeah, that grilled salmon stuff doesn’t do it for me. Real men have cholesterol levels in the three hundreds.”

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Jackson shot him a sharp glance. “How’s your health?” Bobby’s eyes hooded. “It’s all right, but tonight’s my last steak and cigar for a while. And no more martinis. Doctor put me on the wussy diet. Between that and pills, I’ll be right as rain soon. Oh, and I have to get more exercise, he said. Apparently, my heart-pumping nights carousing with lovely women don’t count. I have to start walking, like some ol’ retired geezer, and build up slowly as if I were an invalid. What a revoltin’ development.” He winced as he stood. “Just a little angina now and then.” He popped a pill under his tongue. “The nitro will take care of that.”

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Chapter Five “You good for a few blocks’ walk to the restaurant?” Jackson asked. Bobby was the closest thing he’d ever had to an older brother over the past twelve years, and the thought of losing him made his own chest hurt. “Hell, yes, boy. I used to march six miles before breakfast with a full pack in the service, then do twenty more before lunch, all with blisters on my feet. A little chest pain’s nothin’. Sorry I told you, if you’re gonna play nursemaid.” As they made their way to the restaurant, Jackson remained quiet, worried about Bobby. Despite the evening’s heat, he hunched his shoulders and dug his hands into his pockets as if an icy wind were whistling across Copley Square. “Well,” Bobby broke the silence as he pulled open the door to Morton’s, “Don’t you worry. I’m not fixin’ to die anytime soon.” Jackson tried to match his friend’s lighthearted tone. “You’d better not. You still owe me money on our last bet.” “What, that the Braves would go all the way and take the Series? That not happening was just a technicality.” “A technicality, right. Technically they were beaten in the National League playoffs. You still owe me a hundred bucks and a public apology of my choice for betting that Atlanta is invincible.” “Awright, awright, how does dinner tonight sound? That pay you back?” “You were going to feed me tonight, anyway. But you have to stand up in Morton’s and publicly admit that you were wrong about the Braves.” “Oh, hell, okay, if we can get on with the business of eatin’ and drinkin’.” As the maître d’ indicated their table, Bobby bellowed to the entire room, “The Atlanta Braves are the best baseball team in the history of the

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sport. But my friend here won a bet, so I’m supposed to admit that I might possibly be wrong about that fact. Maybe. Perhaps.” Bobby claimed his chair with a flourish. A few quizzical smiles could be seen in the restaurant after Bobby’s oration, largely on female faces. Most of the men, however, went back to their steaks and alcohol as if nothing had happened. Nothing a man did here surprised the regulars. Jackson laughed hard, almost missing his chair as he sat. Bobby cocked an eyebrow at him. “Can we please get on with the fun, now?” “Yes,” Jackson managed to sputter. “We’re square.” “Fine, then.” Bobby told the waiter, “Thanks for waitin’ out that little speech of mine. I want a Grey Goose martini, twist of lemon, and my buddy here will have a single malt. You have Glenfiddich Vintage Reserve, the stuff that’s over thirty years old?” Nodding, the waiter glided away. Jackson objected. “Scotch? Damn you, what happened to our plan of my not drinking too much tonight? I do have to drive back, you know. Besides, I don’t even like the stuff. I’d rather have a pale ale.” “Jack, it’s time you appreciated such things. No man doesn’t like single malt scotch. You’ve been livin’ in that housewifey suburb for too long, drinking white wine with the ladies.” Bobby smiled slightly. “Besides, Allred Equipment put me up in one of the Plaza’s finest rooms, as well they should for the new Assistant Vice President of Sales. You can crash on the extra bed if you can’t drive.” Jackson met Bobby’s gray eyes. “Assistant Vice President of all sales?” “Today, North America, tomorrow, the world,” Bobby crowed.

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The drinks arrived. They clinked glasses and toasted each other fervently, Jackson overjoyed that his old friend, originally a dirt-poor southern guy fresh out of the Marines, had made good. His first sip of the scotch made him grimace, but he tasted it again. The scotch was silky-smooth, even if not his preference in drinks. The third mouthful tasted a little better, and by the fourth Jackson enjoyed a happy buzz, lapping the alcohol as if it were a wine spritzer. “Whoa, you’re supposed to sip that stuff. Make it last. I thought you didn’t like scotch?” “I thought I didn’t, either.” “No more for you, buddy, till you tuck away some meat.” “So, why aren’t you looking for a place in the city? Surely an Assistant Vice President of North American Sales can afford a Boston condo.” “Ahhh, well,” Bobby slicked his hair back with both hands in frustration, “I send a lot of money back home to my momma and daddy, ever since they both became disabled. And my sister’s boy needs an operation—their insurance is crap. So, lots of money comin’ in flows right back out again.” “I’m sorry.” “Hell, you do what you got to do for family, right?” Remembering his long-gone parents, Jackson stated quietly, “Yes, you do.” “So, what’s available in your neck o’ the woods where a man can lay his tired head and considerable torso down?” “Lots of condos to choose from, depending on how much you want to spend. Are you still going to be around on Sunday? Come out for the Gainesborough Food Fair. I’m serving. We can look at properties afterwards.” “When’s it end?” “Around three, but I can ask Ricky to handle the last hour or so.”

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“No, you take care of your business. I’ll check some properties before the fair on my own. I’ll drop by around two, eat a little and chew the fat with you over what I saw. Maybe afterwards we can look at a few more places, or go back to the more promising ones. Can Ricky clean up for you?” “Sure, he’s my right-hand man.” “Is he the weird guy with the green hair? Not my idea of a he-man with all those earrings, but he seems all right.” “Ricky’s the best, even though he did rope me into this food fair without my permission.” “That little whippersnapper. What’d you do about it?” “I accepted graciously, of course. It benefits local orphans.” “Huh. I know why that would hit the spot with you.” “Ricky, too. He’s been living with friends of the family ever since he was fifteen. His mother never married, and one day she disappeared, with no money left behind for her son, of course. The food fair proceeds benefit the charity that funds one of his college scholarships. He’s put together grants and loans and work money for his education with spit and baling wire.” “Enough about Ricky. How are you doing these days? Have you seen Tess since, you know?” “Since she walked out on me?” Jackson slugged back the rest of the scotch in one big gulp. He couldn’t give a Tess update without it. “Haven’t seen or heard from her since she ran off with her personal trainer, all of our–excuse me, all of my business savings in her hot little hand. She acted normally right up till the day she left the note, coolly stating that our life together bored her silly, and Stefano was so much better in bed, you know.” “Christ, you don’t have to dig this dirt up for me again.” Bobby’s face was a mirror of the pain on Jackson’s.

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Shrugging, he finished the story. “I heard through the friend of a friend that they settled in the Cayman Islands, where you can open up secret bank accounts and live well on little if you know how. It turned out she’d been siphoning money from the business for nearly a year into an Islands account. I was so busy cooking food, I didn’t notice that my business-partner-slash-fiancée was cooking the books. And you know what? Our life plans for a family and a home together supposedly bored her, but I heard that Stefano gave her a big belly, and they’re living merrily together in a little grass shack. Or something like that.” The pain hit Jackson again, so clearly, so purely keen, it was as if someone had driven a railroad spike into his chest. Bobby motioned for the waiter. After he hurried over, Bobby ordered, with one eye on the crumbling Jackson, “Another scotch for my friend. Have it here within sixty seconds, and you’ll have an extra twenty added to your tip.” Forty-five seconds later, Jackson drank almost half of his freshened drink without stopping. He knew he was going to have a big head tomorrow, but if he didn’t numb some of the pain now, he might produce tears right here at the table, and embarrass both him and Bobby. Neither one could stand public scenes. He set the glass down before rubbing his eyes, muttering, “Allergies.” Bobby’s eyes were soft with sympathy. “Tell me about this woman that had you so upset that you drank yourself into a hangover last night.” “Oh, she’s just a woman I saw who got to me.” “And why’s that?” “She’s got a body like you’ve never seen, with a face to match.” “Are you going after her? I hope so.” “She’s the competitor who’s been stealing my business.” “A rival caterer? What were the chances of that?”

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“My usual luck.” Jackson downed the rest of the scotch. “I think I’m going to give up women.” The steaks arrived, and for a few moments the two men silently enjoyed their dinner. “Actually, I think the next time she sees me, she’s going to have me arrested.” Jackson halfsmiled, remembering the argument they’d had. “Whatever for?” “She seems to think I’m stalking her.” Bobby’s grin was sly. “Well, are you? Not seriously, I hope.” Jackson rubbed his face with his hands. “Of course not. I guess it might look like it, to someone who doesn’t know me. I can’t seem to stay away. She’s like a drug. I need to see her constantly. She likes parading around in skimpy clothing without underwear, and I like seeing her that way. Of course, the more I seek her out, the more I think about her, and the more I think about her, well, you know what I want.” “Lord, boy, you need a woman. A fling. Find a female of like mind and enjoy yourselves. Might take the edge off.” “Aw, Bobby, I’m no good at affairs that are all body and no heart. You know that.” “Yeah, I do.” Bobby sighed. “But I kinda hoped you’d loosened up on that. Y’know, I’m not talkin’ about leading someone on just to satisfy yourself. Women actually exist who like, or even prefer, ‘no strings attached.’” “Bobby, I don’t know why, but I need a mate, not just a willing partner and a bed.” “Sometimes you don’t even need a bed,” Bobby chortled, and Jackson couldn’t help smiling. “Is that so? I’m all ears.” “I don’t kiss and tell, though, hoo boy, if I did.” Bobby grinned broadly. “Surely you must have heard that people occasionally make love in other places, such as floors, couches, and back seats of cars?”

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“You’re kidding.” Jackson slapped his hands to his cheeks in fake shock. “Like I said, you always did need me around to help you learn worldly ways.” As Bobby had predicted, after the plates were cleared, snifters of Rémy Martin XO Special appeared, along with a humidor. Jackson no longer felt light-headed; rather, he felt full and warm and content, as if floating on a fleecy cloud. “Smoke?” Bobby indicated the open container, selecting a Davidoff Grand Cru No. 1. “No, I’ll just enjoy the cognac. Smoke would destroy the delicate intermix of flavors.” “I forgot that you really get into wines. Do you mind if I indulge?” Bobby was poised to light the grand corona, worry in his voice. “No, enjoy it. Tonight’s the last time for a long while, right?” “That’s why I selected such a big cigar. Thanks for puttin’ up with it, buddy.” “Thank you for a delicious dinner.” Jackson swirled the champagne cognac in the snifter, inhaled, then sipped, letting the golden fire of the eau de vie linger in his mouth before he swallowed. “Incredible cognac.” Bobby smoked contentedly for a few moments before taking his first sip. “Indeed it is. Life doesn’t get much better than it does at this moment.” He blew a series of rings to punctuate his comment. “It could be better.” Jackson fought the invading funk of loneliness as he considered how the moment could be enhanced with the presence of Dream Woman. Bobby nodded. “I sure would enjoy having The One by my side. Don’t get me wrong; you’re my best buddy and I’ve really enjoyed seeing you again. But other nights, and days, could only improve if I had a special filly to share them with me. I’m damn tired of variety. Even difference can become monotonous.” He puffed on his cigar twice.

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“The question is, what are we each going to do to find the woman we want for keeps?” ___________________ Lena rose early, as she always did on the day of a catering job. Eating a quick breakfast while she glanced at the morning paper, she enjoyed the calm before the storm of preparation overtook her. She nearly dropped her mug when she saw the society news page, slopping coffee over the bottom half of the paper. At a local library function, the mystery man she’d argued with was talking with Elyse Woodcock, who, as usual, was standing too close to a younger, attractive man. Lena smiled. Elyse paid very well, but she preferred male caterers. She studied the photo’s caption. So he’s Jackson Portsmouth, the owner of Yankee Elegance Catering, she mused. That must have been why he’d been coming around, to check out his competition. SweetKakes had been whipping their butts lately, and she was darned proud of it, too. She and Annie had slaved for years to become one of the most popular catering companies west of Boston. “Yo, sis.” Annie bounded into the kitchen. “I’m going to die unless I can get some caffeine into me within the next thirty seconds. Last night was killer and you make me work way too early in the A.M.” “No one told you to stay out till all hours.” “Well, I’m not ready to sit home, a spinster like you. This girl just wants to have fun.” “What time did you come in, exactly?” “Exactly? After two.” “And where were you till two?” “Wouldn’t you like to know?” “Annie,” Lena warned. “Just kidding.” Annie pulled her sister’s ponytail. “I met someone.” “What’s his name?”

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“Ricky. He works in catering, too. We’re supposed to meet at the food fair tomorrow and run around together afterwards.” “And is he a decent person?” Lena worried aloud. “Oh, yes. He attends school on the same kind of scholarship I do, from the local Big Brother and Big Sister organization. He’s a dream walking and can kiss as good as he looks.” “I should’ve known you’d already have checked out his lip action.” “Just once. Well, maybe a few times.” Annie smiled, lost in the recalling. “Don’t worry, sis. He’s really sweet. Even you would love him.” Lena winced at her sister’s comment. “‘Even me,’ huh? How old is he?” “Around my age, I imagine. We didn’t really discuss it. Hey, there’s that jerk who’s been bothering you.” Annie stabbed a finger at the newspaper photo. “Why is he in the paper?” “He owns Yankee Elegance Catering and did the Friends of the Library luncheon yesterday.” Lena studied his square-jawed face and tall, athletic torso. Drop-dead gorgeous and rich to boot, she’d bet. His face had the look of entitlement that infuriated her so. Annie noted how the light changed in her sister’s eyes, staring at the paper. “Hey, you like this guy? He is pretty hot-looking. Real nice butt and wears his clothes well.” Lena snorted. “No, I don’t ‘like him’. What is this, junior high?” “So why are you drooling?” Lena shut her open mouth with a snap. “I’m not. I’m just thinking that perhaps I should go see him. He’s a rival, not a thug, and it’s not good business to have bad blood between us. We caterers depend on each other sometimes. Maybe he came by with a proposition and the past couple of days have been one long misunderstanding.”

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Annie grinned slyly as she commented, “A proposition? I’ll bet he’d like to proposition you, the way his eyes fixed on your body in that wet clothing yesterday.” Lena threw up her hands. “I give up. All you think about is sex.” “Better than thinking about some depressing things I could name.” “Time to go to work.” Lena handed her sister an apron and hair covering. “We’ve got 200 sandwiches to make, not to mention a tub of lemonade, in the next few hours, and the presentation of the food has to be perfect. So get a move on and set your mind on higher concerns.” “‘Higher concerns?’ What is this, Sunday School?” “No, this is making a living,” Lena said tartly. “And if you plan to go back to college in the fall, you have to help me. After today’s job, we have to prepare for tomorrow’s food fair. I have a feeling ‘A Taste of Gainesborough’ is going to open some doors for us.” ___________________ Noise and light floated through a gauzy fog. He fought the fog, and as it cleared, the pain intensified. Jackson squinted at the clock. Eighttwenty A.M. He turned over and his stomach rolled at least twice to the rest of his body’s once. Where the hell was he? Opening his eyes made his head throb, and the ornate surroundings confused him. Slowly he recalled the night before. He and Bobby had left Morton’s some time after nine, stopping on the way back to the hotel at a club Bobby spotted. More drinks, dancing, necking in a corner with a woman. A woman? He peered around him. He didn’t recall checking into a hotel, let alone bringing a woman up to a room with him. But he heard sounds in the bathroom. Who was it?

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“Hey, Jackie boy, you awake?” He was in Bobby’s room, but he wished his friend would stop shouting. “You really tied one on last night. I never saw someone take to scotch the way you did.” Coffee, he needed coffee, he thought, dragging himself upright while Bobby kept chattering. “And you were lucky with the ladies last night. The one you smooched a few times definitely would’ve come back with you, if you hadn’t been bunking with me. I tried to find out if you wanted a room of your own, but you were too far gone to be responsible for your actions. I figured the most discreet thing to do was to peel the gal off you and drag you back here.” Jackson groaned a single word. “Coffee.” “You bet. Got a whole potful. You slept right through room service. I ordered you some breakfast.” “No food.” “Aw, buck up, buddy.” Bobby grinned broadly as he handed Jackson a cup and saucer of hot, black brew. “You might want to check in the bathroom mirror for her fingerprints. I disappointed her when I told her you were too drunk to spend the night. She insisted on leaving her card with me, for you.” Jackson swore. “Hell, my car wasn’t parked in a 24-hour lot.” “Relax. I wormed your car’s location out of you and had someone here at the hotel take care of it. It’s waiting for you downstairs, when you’re ready to go home. My advice, though, is don’t try driving any time soon. You’re not looking too good. Here, have some eggs.” Eggs. Jackson bolted for the bathroom while Bobby shook his head. “Damn, they’re going to waste. Wish I could eat ‘em, but as of today, it’s oatmeal all the way. You want me to order something else?”

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A strangled-sounding “No” drifted from behind the closed bathroom door. A few minutes later, Jackson staggered out of the bathroom. Bobby studied him. “You look like hell.” “I feel like hell. Did the Army march on my tongue with muddy boots?” “Nah, that was the Marines.” Bobby lightly punched Jackson on the arm. “Gotta eat something.” “Tell you what. Find me some dry white toast and I’ll improve considerably.” “Say no more.” Bobby called room service. “It’ll be here soon. Ready for another cup of joe?” “God, yes. And aspirin. Or something like it.” Bobby produced a travel tin of pills. “I’ve got to go take care of my new office today and get settled, if I’m going to look at real estate tomorrow. What have you got planned?” Jackson put the cup down and held his aching head. “Oh, God, I’ve got to prepare soup and chicken for tomorrow’s food fair. At least it won’t take all day. Once I’m done, I plan to go to bed early and sleep till tomorrow. Seems I haven’t done enough of that the last few days.” “You don’t want to call that eager little lady who pressed her card on me?” Jackson shook his head no, then clutched it. “Ow, that was a mistake.” “I think you should call her,” Bobby said. “I’m going out on a date tonight. No reason we can’t make it a double. Monique obviously wanted to eat you alive.” “Monique?” “The brunette at the karaoke club. She was hotter’n a jalapeño.” “I don’t want to see Monique. I don’t need any more woman trouble in my life. Who’s your date?” “I went down to the bar here after tucking you in. The CFO was back. Because I had you in my room last night, she and I are painting the town

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tonight. All night, I hope. Man, I can’t wait to take that gal over my knee. What a butt on her, so tight and firm that I could” Knocking stopped Bobby’s risqué ramblings. “Yeah?” he called. “Room service.” Bobby answered the door, taking the plate from the waiter and stuffing a couple of dollars into his hand. “Here’s your toast.” “Thanks.” Once he took a small bite, Jackson’s stomach began to settle. A few bites more, some sips of water, and he lost his dizziness. “You’re welcome to stick around as long as you like, but I’ve got to visit my new office.” Bobby shrugged on his jacket. “Ask at the valet desk in the lobby for your car. Don’t worry, it’s all paid for. Just tip the guy who brings it to you.” A grateful Jackson murmured, “Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.” “Damn right you do,” the big man said, but he winked. “I’ll see you tomorrow around two in Gainesborough, at the fair.” “You bet.” Jackson returned Bobby’s salute as the latter stepped out the door, closing it behind him. ___________________ “Come on, Annie, get a move on. This food won’t wait.” Lena tapped her foot in irritation. Her sister had been born late and had only gotten worse since birth. “Coming right now.” Annie skipped down the front stairs, carrying the last of the cake platters. “Relax, sis. We’re not due for another half-hour, are we?” “Yes, but it’s going to take a long time to set up. Or haven’t you noticed we’re bringing goodies for a hundred people?” Lena suddenly looked down at herself. “Oh, crap, I’m not dressed.”

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“Well, not for a catering job, you’re not.” “Finish loading the car while I change.” Lena fled up the stairs to her bedroom, shedding clothing as she ran. Thank heavens she always had a spare uniform or two ready to go. Grabbing a silky, sky-blue blouse, embroidered with “SweetKakes” in mauve-colored script that matched both her house and vehicle, she pulled it on rapidly while searching for pantyhose and a navy pencil skirt. Stepping into her running shoes, she snatched up her pair of navy heels before sprinting down the stairs. She’d do her minimal makeup and her hair in the Range Rover. “You’ve got to drive,” Lena insisted, hopping into the passenger seat, already brushing out her hair before her sister could back out of the driveway. Some mascara and a subtle lipstick, and she’d be good to go. “You know, sis, you look a lot better in the uniform than I do.” “Do you want to change them? You’re my design person.” “Not at all. Just don’t be surprised if some man comes on to you today. You look mahvelous, dahlink.” Lena muttered while looking out the passenger window. Thoughts of men never seemed far from her sister’s mind. “We’re here, aren’t we?” Annie asked after a few turns took them to the next town’s multi-milliondollar estates. “100 Peakham Road. Yep, that’s the Jakes’ residence.” “Get a load of that entrance.” Annie said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

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Chapter Six Three-foot-square brick pillars that were easily seven feet high were topped with bronze statues of sitting dogs, each holding a basket in its mouth. The pillars framed a driveway whose gates opened leisurely after Annie spoke into the intercom. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said, awestruck. “Darned silly if you ask me,” Lena grumbled. “What dog would sit with something hanging from its mouth like that? Too precious. Not to mention ostentatious.” “Why are you so crabby today?” “Displays of more money than brains get on my nerves. Sorry.” Lena reflected glumly on the man in the bar who, years ago, became the genesis of her bias. She’d never forget his name as long as she lived, or the way he had flaunted his wealth. Philip Cabbott. How obscenely nouveau riche he’d been, despite his old money heritage. And what a bastard. “You’d better. We’re serving some very rich people today.” For once Annie took the role of the practical one as she motored up the winding private roadway. “There’s Mrs. Jakes now, fluttering, as usual.” As Lena rolled down her window and waved, Mrs. Jakes’ voice floated to them over the sound of the motor. “Hello, dears. Tiffany is eager to get started. I have strong young men who will carry everything. I don’t want two females to be forced into manual labor.” For the first time, both women in the vehicle noticed the men flanking the older woman. Neither was beefy but both were reasonably good-looking with strong shoulders. One had tropical green, spiky hair and a grin a mile wide. Annie squealed. “There’s Ricky, the guy I told you about.” She blew him a kiss.

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Lena studied her sister’s latest beau. Weird hair and lots of earrings, but neatly dressed with a respectful air about him. This one might just be all right. She slipped on her heels and opened the door, climbing down as carefully as she could manage in her slim skirt. “Lena, Annie, how are you?” Amanda Jakes, short, plump, dressed in pink ruffled chiffon, and looking every inch the proud and wealthy mother, rushed on without waiting for an answer. “My son Bradford, and Ricky, who has worked for us before, will do all the grunt work today. Women shouldn’t have to carry heavy things. That’s why men were invented,” she concluded, batting her eyelashes. Lena stifled her smile of amusement. She’d bet Amanda Jakes never had to do a lick of work in her privileged life, but she did appear sweet. Lena found herself warming to the woman. Not all wealthy people are cold-hearted jerks, she lectured herself. Besides, she’d always disdained judging someone based on externals. Heaven knows she’d suffered under others’ shallow judgment; Mrs. Jakes deserved better than that from her. “Thank you, Mrs. Jakes. You’re kind to supply help with the heavy lifting.” She glimpsed Annie and Ricky making goo-goo eyes at each other. “Annie, why don’t you open the rear door of Jeeves so both young men can carry things to the back lawn.” Her cheeks flushing, Lena’s sister led the young men to the back of the vehicle. Ricky’s expressive stare made Lena certain that, at the very least, serious infatuation had begun. “Who’s Jeeves?” questioned Mrs. Jakes. “My Range Rover.” “Oh, you named your car. How darling!” the older lady exclaimed. Lena saw Bradford roll his eyes at his mother’s exclamation and heard her sister giggle.

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Within a few short minutes, all the food and drink had reached the enormous back lawn of the Jakes residence, where it was placed on tables that the two young men had set up. Lena spread the table linens, and then arranged the food, while Annie made sure that the real china and silver were ready for the guests. Finally, Lena began to relax as teenagers queued to put sandwiches on plates and to pick up lemonade in real glasses. Ricky was helping her sister serve the lemonade. Annie was paying strict attention to her job, but no thanks to Ricky’s hovering. The inevitable lull occurred when everyone had finally gotten enough to eat and drink. Annie beckoned to Lena, half-whispering, “Bradford Jakes has been looking at you.” “Oh, get real. He’s all of sixteen.” “Yes, but an eager sixteen, I think.” Annie cut her eyes to the right. As Lena looked in that direction, she discovered that Bradford was indeed looking at her, from her toes to her neck, stopping his gaze to linger on the usual places. “Sis, you’re bright red.” “I don’t doubt it. Being looked up and down by a teenager at my age is mortifying,” Lena muttered. “I could be his mother. Almost.” “Oh, no, he’s coming this way.” Annie squeaked, trying to suppress a giggle. Hormones had apparently made Bradford bold. “Uh, Ms. SweetKakes,” he began, “Could I get you anything? Is there any way I can help you? I’d really like to, uh, be of service to you any way I could.” Realizing his offer of help could be misunderstood, he stammered, “Uhhh…” Lena couldn’t help smiling. Poor kid. “It’s Lena, Bradford, and I do appreciate the offer, but I won’t need any more help ‘till the end of the party. Why don’t you go and enjoy yourself with the others?”

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“My sister’s crowd is stuck up. They think I’m too young. I’m not!” His earnest expression grew more intense as he tried to convince Lena of his sincerity. “I have adult tastes, really I do.” Lena remained speechless until Ricky came to her aid. “Hey, Brad, let’s go check out that new CD you bought and leave Lena and Annie to do their jobs.” As he steered the younger boy away smoothly, Lena mouthed a silent “Thank you” to him behind Bradford’s back. “You like him?” Annie’s eyes were burning bright, as if she had a fever. “Who, Bradford?” “No, Ricky, silly.” “Well, I don’t know him. I can’t say.” “But wasn’t what he just did wonderful? He’s so perceptive and thoughtful. Sis, Ricky really is a great guy.” “Besides, he kisses so well,” Lena teased. Annie grinned. “You got that right.” “So, if he’s so great, why haven’t you told me more about him?” “Can I tell you later?” Annie turned to Ricky as he approached them, alone. “Ms. Korhonen, can I help you in any way?” “It’s Lena, Ricky. And I think we’re fine for now. Will you be able to help us pack up?” “Don’t worry,” Ricky said as he gazed in Annie’s eyes, “I’m not going anywhere ‘till we’re done here.” “What happened to Bradford?” Lena was curious and a little flattered that a sixteen-year-old found her attractive. Ricky laughed. “I found the Playboy channel on his TV, and within two minutes he’d forgotten anything else existed.” The three of them chatted amiably, but her sister and Ricky had eyes only for each other. Their budding passion brought an unbidden image to her mind; Lena shook her head slightly. Every thought,

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it seemed, led her back to Jackson Portsmouth of Yankee Elegance Catering. She remembered her earlier idea of straightening things out between them, convincing herself it had nothing to do with his muscular torso and everything to do with her business. The party was almost over; surely she could go now. Her chore list for tomorrow’s food fair was too long to allow time for visiting Jackson, unless she went now. “Ricky, did you bring a vehicle?” “Sure did.” “Would you mind helping Annie with cleaning up and ferrying all the items back to the rental place and to our business? Or do you not have enough room?” “I’ve got a huge old station wagon, the kind that has wood on the sides. Well, it used to have wood on the sides,” he smiled. “I’ve got plenty of room.” “Of course, I’ll be happy to pay you. I don’t expect you to work for free.” “Don’t worry about that. Helping Annie will be payment enough.” The look he gave her sister could not have been more hotly soulful. Lena could almost hear Annie’s underwear hitting the ground as she returned his gaze. It also made her think of Jackson. Again. Damn it, she didn’t want to remember him looking half-naked and hot, the way he had yesterday. Perhaps visiting him at his place of business would replace her half-naked image of him with one less X-rated. “Where are you going, sis?” Annie finally thought to ask, her eyes still on her boyfriend. “I told you I need to go talk to the guy at Yankee Elegance Catering. Straighten out our misunderstanding.” Annie’s face said, yeah, I’ll bet, but her voice chirped, “All right. Ricky and I have everything under control here. I’ll collect the check from Mrs.

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Jakes and send along your goodbyes.” She returned her gaze to Ricky. You could almost feel the heat radiating from the two of them, Lena thought. “I could use the keys, Annie.” “Oh. Sorry.” She tossed the keys to Lena. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” Lena knew what was wrong with her sister, and it was likely to get worse before it got better. Sighing, she made her way back to Jeeves, determined to keep her meeting with Jackson Portsmouth strictly professional. But as she drove, she wondered whether Jackson was a spanker. None of that now! She shifted, as her clothing suddenly seemed to be tormenting her sensitive areas. She couldn’t shake the image from her mind of Jackson, tall, dark, and hot, scolding her, then pulling her over his lap. He’d slowly remove her panties, still lecturing her, and his hand would rub her bottom before crisply smacking it. She wondered whether he’d spank one area lots of times in a row, to make it hurt more, or if he would alternate cheeks. Would he spank hard? Fast? Would he use his hand only as a warm-up before graduating to, say, a wooden hairbrush? The way Ken the soldier had? God, she had to stop thinking about such things before talking with him face to face! Lena pulled up in front of Yankee Elegance Catering’s darkened storefront. Sidling to the door, she peered through its window, noticing a light shining in a back room. Should she knock? Should she simply leave a note? Sudden panic at meeting the man face-to-face had her digging for paper and pen in her handbag. A note was safer. Looking around for a surface to write on, she decided the door would do. Beginning with, “To the owner of Yankee Elegance Catering,” she had almost finished her terse note when the door opened wide. Falling through space, her arms flailing wildly for something to stop her fall, she

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almost hit the floor before grasping a muscular arm. The other muscular arm wrapped around her ribcage, and his fingers brushed the outer edges of one breast, sending fire-and-ice shivers through her. Struggling to right herself, she growled, “Let me go.” “I’m trying to keep you from falling. Don’t fight me. Relax and you’ll be upright in a moment.” Jackson’s husky voice quieted her anxieties, and she allowed him to help her into a standing position. Once she regained her balance, she opened her mouth to thank him, only to notice the state of her clothing. Lena’s face glowed with embarrassment as she reclosed one of her blouse’s buttons and pulled down her hiked-up skirt. Staring at the pantyhose twisted around her calves, Lena muttered, “Thanks.” “I’ve heard more gratitude from people paying penalties to the IRS,” Jackson said. “I didn’t ask you to help me,” she snapped. “I didn’t ask you to come here.” Both glared at each other for a moment before Lena sighed, “Look, I came by because I wanted to mend fences. I think we got off on the wrong foot. I didn’t know who you were at first. I felt spied on. Once I learned your identity, I decided I’d rather you were a friend than an enemy, even though you’re the competition.” She noticed that his body language had relaxed considerably. She also noticed that he was wearing a form-fitting T-shirt and snug running shorts once again. Uncontrollable feelings of desire welled up inside her. Gulping once, she met his eyes. Hesitantly, she extended her right hand. “Shake on it?” she offered, bracing herself against the shock of attraction she knew she’d feel when their hands touched. He grasped her hand with his, gripping it comfortably. “I’d be glad to. You are SweetKakes, right?”

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“My business is SweetKakes. I’m Karolena Korhonen. Call me Lena.” “And who’s that harpy with the snapping towel?” Jackson’s tone was light, but Lena stiffened with outrage. “How dare you talk about my sister like that.” Her hands-on-hips stance demonstrated that she’d brook no criticism of her only remaining family. “How dare she attack me like a crazed rottweiler.” He half-stepped closer, his steely gaze bouncing off her resolve like sunlight on a mirror. Never one to back down from a fight when her sister was involved, Lena moved in closer, tightening her lips. “How dare you spy on me.” “Get over it. I was trying to find SweetKakes, not you. Your business is ruining mine. I know for a fact you stole the Jakes party from me. That was my job.” “I didn’t steal anything. Can I help it if Mrs. Jakes called me? Besides, if you were better at what you did, perhaps you wouldn’t have clients bailing out on you.” “Better at–?” Jackson sputtered. “I’ll have you know I can cook rings around you. You’re nothing but a specialty caterer, emphasizing desserts and little frou-frou tea sandwiches. I provide everything from the appetizer to the finishing touches. The only reason you’re stealing my clients is that you undercut my bids.” “Oh, boo-hoo. Welcome to capitalism, buddy. Or have you been a trust fund baby for so long that enterprise is foreign to you?” “I’m nothing of the sort!” “You drive a pretty fancy car for a caterer.” “I earned every single penny that bought that car. Besides, it’s several years old.” Running his fingers through his hair, he continued, “Why am I even arguing this with you? It’s none of your

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damned business which car I drive, how much money I have, or anything else.” “Well, if you knew how to work and make money, you wouldn’t be so upset with my business’s success.” Lena crossed her arms. “For your information, I know how to work just as well as you do. I’m betting I work even harder than you, so any success I’ve earned is mine alone.” “As is any failure of yours, I’m sure of that,” she retorted. Abruptly, she realized that they were mere inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes, their faces so close that they could bring their lips together and— Best not to think about that went through her mind as Jackson’s mouth touched hers. Her surprised gasp turned into a faint moan of pleasure. His kiss, at first gentle, became firmer, demanding that she part her lips for him. Electric shocks shot through her, stopping to warm the pit of her stomach, proceeding to her now-curling toes. She angled her head to encourage their mutual exploration as his hands pulled her closer. He smelled musky, and the silk of his black hair tickled her fingers as they grasped tightly there. Lightheaded and breathless, Lena wondered briefly at her strong reactions to the man before giving in to them. Taking advantage of her response, his hands moved so that one rested on the back of her head, the other on the crest of her bottom, both pressing her into him. His body’s heat had desire flooding her core, overwhelming her, making her think of Zeke, and of Philip Cabbott, and of Ken, spanking her. Zeke and Philip were bad memories, though, and Ken wasn’t much better. Her brain took over as she broke the clinch and pushed Jackson away, confused by her strong feelings. Murmuring, “Lena,” his half-lidded eyes begged her to continue, to stay.

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His index finger traced the hollow of her throat, sliding down to unfasten the top button of her blouse. His other hand cupped her buttocks. “What a great ass you have,” he whispered. “You know what I’d like to do? Take you over my knee, roll up that tight skirt, and pull down your panties. Then, I’d spank your bare backside until it was bright pink and burning.” He swatted her bottom once, lightly, and Lena felt a thrill between her legs, a desire to let him do what he’d said. Forgetting about Zeke and Philip, she moaned, leaning into him, gripping him tightly when he spanked her several times over her skirt. Her mouth was dry, but she was wet below. He unbuttoned one more button, and kissed the swell of her breasts. Her head fell backwards to allow him greater access as he bit her nipple softly through her bra. She heard the rustle of the skirt’s lining as he lifted it. He slapped her over her pantyhose and panties, a little harder this time, and she gasped. The stinging heat felt like heaven. “Lena,” he groaned, hooking fingers over the waistbands of her hose and panties. One hand stole down the front of her underwear, and the exquisitely arousing contact of his fingers with her swollen nub made her head spin. She stepped wider to allow his fingers access while he tugged her panties to half-mast. No, no! Sudden images of Philip and his friends, laughing at her, panicked her. She couldn’t be with a man yet, she wasn’t ready, still too hurt by Philip’s cruel joke. Breaking away while pushing her skirt back down, she bolted. She threw herself in her car, one hand shaking as she started it, the other scrabbling to button buttons. She couldn’t escape fast enough. Run, run, her heart screamed as she peeled out of her parking space, tires screeching as she raced down the street, heading for the safety of her home.

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Squirming in her seat, she realized her panties were nearly past her hips, and that the desire she felt was more intense than any she’d ever felt before. She’d have to put her own fingers down there and finish what Jackson had started. Once home, she ran to her room, where she shut the door before removing her panties and hose. She lay on the bed, her fingers seeking her heat, her need for release acute. Before she climaxed, she thought, no doubt about it, the man’s dangerously attractive. ___________________ Jackson stood, watching her go, dazed by her departure. He was still inhaling her subtle perfume, still sensing her lips on his, parted and pliant. Her body had felt soft in all the right places when it had nestled against his, and his fingers were still wet from touching her intimately. Filled with arousal and need, he could barely believe that Dream Woman, AKA Karolena Korhonen, had left nothing behind save a puff of exhaust and the maddening lust in his body. His brain repeated “Why?” for a few moments before his heart whispered the answer. Of course, he knew why. Women deserted him, abandoned him. Why did he think this one would be different? She’d enjoyed the kiss, the light spanking, his lips on her breasts, and his fingers touching her core. He knew that much—a woman couldn’t fake arousal like that. So he could find no explanation for her abrupt exit other than her fickleness. Women. Why had he expected anything different? Why had he even permitted his hopes to be raised? Now he knew what he was missing, and he ached for satisfaction he couldn’t have. Mechanically, Jackson returned to his cooking, the familiar actions of his hands freeing his mind to wander. He chopped and mixed and tasted his two soups, all the while wondering why he’d been such

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a fool. Maybe Bobby was right. Maybe he did need a no-strings-attached woman. He wanted to laugh again, to play, to roll in the hay, and to feel pleasure, if not love. Besides, what had he been thinking, making out with the one caterer who could ruin his business? Did he need another financial debacle in his life? Hell, no. But she’d felt so good in his arms and had tasted like heaven. He loved the way she’d gasped when he’d touched her hot little button, loved the way she’d leaned her head back so he could nibble her nipple through her bra. And, damn it all, he loved the way she’d arched into his spanking hand, moaning. God, but he was hard. He poured himself some ice water, drinking it while leaning against the counter and staring at nothing. He felt keenly rejected, and the bad feelings reminded him of people he’d loved who’d abandoned him. His mother had disappeared the year he turned twelve, leaving behind nothing but an apology. Her brief letter had torn his heart, but he’d been given little time to grieve. His father had promptly sent him to boarding school because it was “good for him to lose himself in new things.” He saw his father infrequently through his teens, coming home only for summers and Christmases. Not that the old man had been around much of the time. No, he was either off skiing at Aspen or golfing at Palm Springs when he wasn’t working. In his seventeenth year, Jackson had been accepted by Harvard and had also learned of his mother’s whereabouts. Her lengthy stay at a fancy mental hospital, funded by his father, was where she’d eventually succeeded in ending her life. Refusing to tell Jackson where her grave was, the elder Portsmouth had said only that she’d disgraced their family name. Jackson began the fruitless

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search for her that ended when his father had died a few months later, followed hard by his freshman year at Harvard. In hindsight, he could forgive his mother, who left to spare the family the supposed shame of her worsening schizophrenia, but the little boy inside still felt abandoned, despite the intervening years. And his father’s death had left him keenly aware of the need for financial security. That need explained why he’d felt pressed to become a financial success, making enough money as a financial analyst to fund his catering dream. His father had failed, but Jackson had sworn that he wouldn’t. The vow hit him, many years later, as hard as it had when he’d still been reeling from the news that his father had died penniless and deeply in debt. A man who couldn’t provide for his loved ones was a failure. Now that the food was ready for “A Taste of Gainesborough,” he shut down his kitchen. As he locked the door, sadness washed over him. His parents had enjoyed every monetary advantage, yet the money couldn’t keep them together, couldn’t keep his mother alive, and couldn’t keep Jackson from feeling nothing but loneliness when he contemplated his childhood. He looked at his car, once a proud possession, and evidence of his financial triumph. Tonight, the idea of driving the Mercedes bothered him. Instead, he chose to take the van, almost hoping someone would steal the empty symbol of his former success.

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Chapter Seven Evening was creeping in, along with increased humidity. Tomorrow promised to be a scorcher. Lena drank her hot peppermint tea while sitting on the back steps, attempting to lose herself in the gaudy sunset. But all she managed to do was reminisce and relive gloomy memories. She needed comfort, even if she didn’t have its counterpart, joy. Settling her delicate teacup into its saucer, she recalled Mama, who used to drink peppermint tea from the same china set. Her mother, who would nurse Lena with tea when her stomach or her emotions were upset, had left her with a father who had forced her to grow up far too soon, a father who was clueless when it came to raising girls. A father who, she liked to believe, tried his best, but who fell far short of the mark. Remembering his punishments, Lena could now forgive, but would never forget. Recalling the afternoon’s encounter with Jackson Portsmouth, she winced. What had she been thinking? Did she really believe that she could get along with a business rival, a man at that? Could she admit to herself the real reason she stopped by? Dropping her face into her crossed arms, the passion they’d shared stirred her again, making her sweat with its remembered heat. Jackson. How she liked his name. How she ached for his touch. “Mama,” she whispered, miserably alone, “I need some advice. Your eldest daughter just wants to take care of her sister, make enough money to live comfortably, and some day find true love, marry, and have children. It doesn’t seem a lot to want out of life. But how do I accomplish all this? I seem to be managing the first two, but I’ve no clue if I’ll ever find the rest of it. Am I too selfish, as Papa used to say? Should I forget my dream, my need to have a partner in my life and in my heart?”

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Feeling tears start, she cried, “Oh, Mama, I’m so lonely.” Lifting her head to find Venus in the darkening sky, she mouthed the familiar wish: “Venus, Venus, twinkling above, Venus, Venus, protect those I love.” Only this time she wished silently for herself. She needed love in her life, despite her fears. Abruptly, Lena wiped away the drops running down her face. Yes, she was lonely, but she still had Annie, a roof over their heads, and enough money to keep the wolf from the door, at least for a little while longer. Be grateful, she ordered herself. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she watched the night overtake the light. The front screen door creaked, followed by whispers and giggles. So, her sister was home, and not alone. Despite her sister’s easy way with men, Lena couldn’t say she disapproved of Ricky. She stayed on the back steps, gazing at the sky, hearing the occasional muffled noise from the little sitting room off the kitchen. Smiling to herself, she decided to be a party-pooping older sister and walk in on the couple, which she assumed were necking. Rising, she opened the back door as quietly as she could, tiptoeing across the kitchen to the darkened sitting room. The sight before her squeezed her heart. Ricky was sitting at one end of the small couch, head back, fast asleep, with Annie curled up, her head in his lap, also fast asleep. They looked more like a contented married couple than twenty-yearolds seeking sexual thrills. Hope stirred in Lena. Could Annie have found love, real love? If so, she’d have to try the Venus chant every night for herself from now on. Backing up, Lena bumped into a table, sending a book crashing to the floor. Both Annie and Ricky jerked awake. “Lena, that you? What are you doing?” Annie’s voice, still tinged with sleepiness, added

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apologetically, “We haven’t washed up the serving dishes yet, but we will, I promise. We went to Ricky’s regular employer’s kitchen to wash the rented stuff, because it was near the rental office. After returning the rented glassware, we decided to come back here and, um…” “Do a little making out?” Lena’s voice clearly held a grin, despite her creased forehead. She noted that Ricky had the decency to blush and look away when “making out” was mentioned. “Aw, sis, just because you plan to be an old maid, doesn’t mean I have to be one, too.” Though Annie was joking, her comment stung Lena to the quick. An old maid. Was that what Annie thought she wanted to be? Well, of course it was. Lena had told her as much yesterday. Nevertheless, it irritated her. “Just because you think I plan to be one doesn’t make it so,” Lena snapped. Her sister sat up. “Whoa, what changed in the past twenty-four hours? I thought you hated men. You didn’t even want to be friends with one. Now you’re implying that you might actually marry one? C’mon, sis, give. Who did you kiss?” “No one.” Lena’s face flamed, highlighting her lie. Annie leaped to her feet, romping in circles around Lena, chanting, “Sis has a boyfriend! Sis has a boyfriend!” Lena reached out to grab her sister, holding her tightly while giving her a good-natured noogie on her noggin. “You hush now. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any boyfriend. Let’s change the subject. For one thing, who’s Ricky’s employer?” Annie squirmed away, giggling. “Yankee Elegance Catering, right, Ricky?” “Yep. Jackson’s a great boss,” Ricky said. “I knew he wouldn’t mind, so I made the executive decision that we could wash the rented glasses, plates, and silverware there. Taylor Rental is practically next door, and your house is on the other

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side of town. Besides, Jackson’s kitchen is on the way from the Jakes’ residence to here. It just made sense to do what we did.” “Plus,” Annie teased, “We had the place to ourselves so that we could have sex about fortyseven times. I knew my old-maid sister wouldn’t allow me that liberty in this house.” “Lena, we did no such thing. Annie, you are such a brat. You’re going to get me in trouble with your sister, and then where will we be?” Ricky’s faced turned red. “Aw, we can always go to the woods, like last night,” Annie said. And Ricky laughed, “I’m going to run an errand, so you can tell your sister what happens in the woods.” As Ricky left, Annie noticed that Lena was no longer in the room. She called, “Sis? Are you all right?” only to find her sitting on the back steps, her body rigid with anger. “Lena, what’s wrong?” “How could you use Yankee Elegance Catering’s facilities? Didn’t you remember that Jackson Portsmouth is the owner? I forbid you from ever setting foot on his property again. I don’t want to owe that man anything, ever,” Lena snapped. “I thought you went to make nice with him.” “Well, I didn’t.” “Oh, and I suppose next you’ll tell me that I can’t see Ricky because he works for Jackson,” Annie said with a pout. “Don’t push me, Annie. Just promise me you won’t have anything to do with Yankee Elegance Catering. And when did you become his champion? You detested him as much or more than I did just yesterday. Besides, I don’t want him thinking we’re spying on him or anything. He’s a rich guy who could hire a gaggle of lawyers and shut us down in a heartbeat. Then where would we be?” Lena swore lustily under her breath.

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“Wow, you really are worked up over this, if you’re saying those kinds of cuss words. I promise I won’t go within a hundred feet of Yankee Elegance Catering’s premises, okay?” Annie patted her sister’s arm. “Now, I want to tell you what happens in the woods.” Lena rolled her eyes. “Do I really want to know?” “Ricky spanks me.” Lena said nothing, thinking about soldier Ken. “C’mon, sis, I know you have a certain— interest—in spanking. Certainly it doesn’t shock you. Or does it?” “No, it doesn’t shock me, I guess.” Annie nodded. “You’ve been spanked before, haven’t you? As an adult, I mean?” “Yes. And that’s as much as I’m going to tell you. Some things are private.” Lena ran her fingers through her hair. “I guess I wouldn’t mind knowing how it came up between the two of you.” Annie settled in on the steps, an eager look on her face. “We were making out. I started tickling him. He told me to stop. I didn’t, saying, ‘Make me.’ With that, he pulled me out of the car, bent me over the hood, and took down my panties. My pants were already down, you see—“ “That last bit might be TMI,” Lena said. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, we hadn’t even gotten to third base yet. But later, after the spanking—“ “Annie. Stop. I just want to hear about the spanking. Actually, I’m not sure I want to hear about it, if you’re going to tell me about all the sex stuff.” “Okay, okay. Anyway, he yanked my panties down, and the whole time, I was giggling. But not for long. “Ricky picked up a thin branch on the ground and whipped my bottom once with it. That stopped my giggling, for sure. He laid on that branch all over my sitting area. Each swat really stung. I had no

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idea getting ‘switched’ could burn so much. He made me count, too, and each time I messed up, he gave me extra.” “Did he leave marks?” Lena asked, remembering the intense burn, and intense sexual arousal, Ken’s spanking had caused. What she wouldn’t give for another spanking with the man, even though she knew it would never happen. Annie nodded. “Yes, a bunch of skinny red stripes. They didn’t last long, but while they lasted, boy, did they smart.” She slipped a hand under one buttock and kneaded. “Still a bit tender back there, even though the marks are gone. “He walloped me at least a dozen times with that horrid branch. By then, of course, I was in tears, and kicking and squirming for all I was worth. He used one hand to hold me down while the other striped me. Then, he used his palm, hard, swatting me from the top of my crack to partway down my thighs. I was burning all over and wailing so loudly, it’s a wonder no one came to investigate. We weren’t that far from some houses.” Annie sighed. “But, boy oh boy, was the loving delicious. He spread my legs—well, I know you don’t want to hear how he turned my sobs into ‘oohs.’ Of course, once it was over, he hugged me to his chest while I cried, smoothing my hair and telling me it was all over, and I was forgiven. Forgiven—that’s balm to your ears after a spanking.” “I know,” Lena said without thinking, and her sister whooped. “Tell me, sis. Tell me what it was like for you. Who was it? Do I know him?” Lena shook her head. “He was someone I met online. A soldier. We only did it once. Then he shipped out, and I never heard from him again. For all I know, he died over there.” “Oh, sis,” Annie said, pulling her older sister to her. “I’m sorry.”

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Shrugging, Lena said, “It probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway. He’s a soldier, and I don’t want to be a soldier’s wife. I want to live in one place and put down roots.” They both heard steps in the kitchen, then Ricky’s voice. “Annie? Lena?” “Out back,” Annie said. Ricky stepped through the back door. “Look, I may be interrupting your girl talk, but I have to say this. Lena, you’ve got Jackson wrong. He’s not a rich guy, and he wouldn’t— “ Lena jerked to her feet, fury boiling inside her. “Don’t you dare defend that man to my face. I understand he’s your employer, but I won’t hear him praised in my house. He blames SweetKakes for his business’ recent decline and wants to see us fail. I wouldn’t put anything past the man.” Stomping back into the house, Annie and Ricky heard Lena clomp up the stairs to her room, curse words trailing behind her. The sound of a slamming door made them both start. Annie hugged the stunned young man. “Ricky, she’s not always so difficult. But she obviously has a burr up her butt over your boss. Don’t mention him again to her, all right? I don’t want to upset her. She’s the only family I have, and loyalty is the virtue she treasures most. Don’t make me choose between my sister and you. If you did, I might have to spank you.” He smiled. “I doubt that very much.” ___________________ Despite the previous evening’s upheaval, Lena slept well, rising early to begin preparations for ‘A Taste of Gainesborough.’ The morning was sunny and cloudless, but a hint of sultry air promised an unusually hot May day for the western suburbs of Boston. Pulling out the sheets of cake she’d baked two days before, she whipped up enough frosting for her signature Mocha Coconut Cake, her good-

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luck charm. She’d never failed to find new clients when she served it. She also defrosted some dough to bake several dozen Lemon Cooler cookies. The lemony tartness combined with the powdered sugar she dusted on the cookies would refresh people on a hot day. Taking a break to sip some coffee while the cookie dough defrosted, she recalled the day before. The Jakes affair had gone well, and her bank balance would look even better after she deposited the check. Good thing, because eventually she’d have to replace her ancient Range Rover with another used vehicle, something bigger than what she could currently afford. The house needed a new roof, too, though she hoped it would last through another winter. She played with a teaspoon while thinking of Annie and Ricky. She’d never tell her sister to give up someone who made her happy, but it didn’t please her that Ricky worked for that arrogant trust-fund jerk. Annie must really be taken with him to have lost her hatred for Jackson. He can’t be too repulsive to me either, can he? After all, I did kiss him—and more. She wondered at her newfound serenity. Her anger had blazed last night, yet she’d slept well. This morning, she felt removed from the whole business. Confidence, that was what she felt. Confident that she could win new clients at today’s food fair, confident that SweetKakes would succeed like gangbusters, confident that she controlled her destiny. She’d ignore the fact that she was lonely for more company than her sister could provide. No one ever said life would be perfect. Actually, her life was the best it had been in many years. Why introduce a man into the mix and muck it all up? She didn’t need a man. She didn’t need anyone, except Annie. After mixing the frosting, Lena sampled it with a clean spoon. Mmmm, just right. Time to slice the

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dough, pop the cookies in the oven, and then frost the cakes. She’d have Annie cut them into small squares and sift the powdered sugar over the hot cookies once they were baked. She could shower and get ready for the food fair while Annie worked. Where was that sleepyhead sister of hers, anyway? It was almost eight-thirty, and they needed to have Jeeves loaded and ready to go by eleven-fifteen at the latest. Lena walked to the battered staircase to yell for her sister, only to find Annie stumbling down the steps. “Coffee, I need coffee,” her sister groaned. “Can I sleep late tomorrow? I’m so tired.” “Don’t whine. You’re young and strong. Plus, you wouldn’t be so tired if you didn’t stay out ‘till all hours with your new boyfriend,” Lena said as the two of them headed for the non-business area of the enormous kitchen where they ate and drank. Annie poured herself coffee and stirred two spoons of sugar into it. “So, you’re okay with my dating Ricky?” “Of course. He’s a fine person, and I want you to be happy. Just watch yourself around Portsmouth. I don’t want to give him any excuses to interfere with SweetKakes.” “If he bothers me, I’ll just find the nearest towel.” Both women smiled at the memory of Annie’s towel-snapping expertise. Lena wanted her sister to know she loved her, no matter what, and cooking was one way she’d always shown affection to her. “Say, you want some French toast? We need more sustenance than cake for the long day ahead.” “Yum. That would be heavenly. I’ll slice the cookies while you make breakfast.” After she ate, Annie trotted up the stairs to shower while Lena labored. Free time to muse over yesterday’s kiss was mercifully short. However, when she hip-checked the refrigerator door closed, the pressure made her recall the brief spanking

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Jackson had delivered. Eyes closed, she let her fantasy run wild for just a few moments, recalling the stinging sensations that had left her core hot and bothered, before she repressed her attraction to her business’s biggest enemy. Then, Lena busied herself until her sister came back downstairs to trade places with her. By eleven A.M. both women were ferrying food to the Range Rover, as well as disposable plates, napkins, and forks. As a concession to the heat, both Lena and Annie skipped pantyhose and heels. Instead, they wore identical navy walking shorts and low-heeled shoes with their standard blouses, the shade of blue matching the beauty of the day’s sky. Gainesborough Common had existed since the town had been founded some 350 years before, serving as a lovely green gathering place for its residents. Gainesborough’s Common, like that of most New England towns, had grown too large to accommodate every single inhabitant should they all show up simultaneously. Nevertheless, it remained the favored gathering place for town doings. Lena found a shady place to park while Annie searched for a wheeled cart to ferry the food and related goods to their table at the food fair. Annie came running back almost immediately, cart-less. Lena frowned, wondering what the problem was. “What are you doing back here? We have to be set up and ready in the next ten minutes. People are already milling about, eager to attend. I don’t want to miss a potential client.” “But Lena,” Annie gasped, wiping her forehead with her arm, “We’ve been set up right next to Yankee Elegance Catering’s table. I asked Sue to move us, but she refused, saying that all the caterers were expected to present their food in the same area. And none of the other caterers would change tables with us—I tried.”

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“Well, we’ll see about that. Go find me a cart now and load our things while I talk with Sue.” Stalking over to the area labeled “Caterers,” Lena buttonholed Sue Greene. “I must insist that our table be moved.” Lena’s chin jutted out with determination. “I must insist you take the table assigned to you and quit bothering me,” Sue snapped. “Your sister has already pestered me once, and I’ve got fortyodd other tables to worry about. If you can find another caterer to change with you, fine, but otherwise I expect SweetKakes to showcase their wares as promised at the assigned table. I can’t help it if you’re in the sun.” Only then did Lena notice that all of the other tables were shaded by the old maples and oaks. Their table had only partial coverage. No wonder none of the other businesses had wanted to trade. Annie was approaching with a cart, as was Ricky with Yankee Elegance Catering’s goodies. Lena tugged her ponytail in frustration. The partiallysunny location was no big deal. Annie could dash home and bring back their patio umbrella. Plus, SweetKakes really didn’t need to keep the desserts cool, because they weren’t serving meats or cold dishes. But hawking her wares side-by-side with her biggest competitor galled her. Here comes the poor little rich boy now, she thought, dressed in clothing that showed off his body. No wonder Mrs. Woodcock had the hots for him, with Jackson dressing like a gigolo. Eyeing his form-fitting polo shirt and snug black trousers, Lena felt as if the shining sun were inside her belly, warming all the body parts she tried to ignore whenever he was around. A drop of sweat that had nothing to do with the heat tickled its way between her breasts, while another slid down her back. Her lips felt hot, swollen and so very sensitive as yesterday’s kisses—and spanking— came to mind, despite herself. His crisp white shirt

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set off his dark good looks, and unfortunately, she’d probably notice that all afternoon long. Planting her feet and crossing her arms, she thought to herself, I shall not be moved. ___________________ Jackson scowled upon discovering that Dream Woman would be spending the afternoon next to his table. Damn it, he couldn’t catch a break. His concentration would surely waver each time he sneaked a glance at the way she filled out her blouse and shorts, demure though they were. No doubt about it, she had the calves of a runner. His body responded, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He wanted her beyond all reason, despite the warnings shrieking in his brain. They may as well have been silent, for all the good they were doing. His body knew what it wanted, and her name was Lena Korhonen. Their eyes met. Jackson ached to hold her, to rain little kisses down her throat, to loosen the blouse that, even buttoned to the neck, couldn’t hide her considerable shapeliness. He longed to take down her shorts and turn her backside a nice, even red. Fantasies took shape in his mind. After he bared her bottom, he’d bend her over a counter in his kitchen. Then he’d pick up his biggest, heaviest wooden spoon, and start tattooing her sitting area with it, lightly at first, then harder and faster. No doubt he’d have to restrain her wrists as the spoon started burning her flesh. He could hear her protests now, the catch in her voice that meant she was about to cry, the pink shading to red on her squirming backside. He’d work hard to ensure that every square inch was stinging and sore. Then, he’d take her in his arms and lift her onto the counter. No doubt she’d complain it hurt to sit, but she wouldn’t complain long, not once he spread her thighs. He swallowed hard. The sex would be

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incredible, if their brief encounter was any indication. Her eyes, locking onto his, narrowed. Her chin came up, as if she were spoiling for a fight. Her hostility chased all sexy thoughts from his mind. “Good morning, Mr. Portsmouth.” The ice in her voice sent shivers down his back despite noontime sun. “Ms. Korhonen,” he nodded, determined to keep his cool. He spread the snowy white tablecloth, positioning the enormous washtubs of ice so that the vats of soup would remain cold. Next to them he placed a warming tray for the spicy chicken strips. Ricky surrounded the food with small cups for soup-sampling, small plates for chicken-noshing, and paper napkins, all in a brilliant green. Beautiful. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pale blue tablecloth that matched the blouses of the two women. He did have to admit that the cookies and cakes looked delicious. And familiar, especially the cake. Why was that? He wondered about it, but not for long. Lines of hungry pilgrims filled the area as everyone sought all they could eat for the entrance price of ten dollars. He had to send Ricky back to the storefront in search of more tureens of soup, more chicken to heat and eat. Glancing to his right, he noted that Lena’s business cards were disappearing as fast as her cake and cookies were, and that she appeared deep in conversation with two different people. Jackson watched her write appointments in a book with growing dismay. He’d not landed one single job or consultation, yet SweetKakes was racking them up, one after another. Alarms of pennilessness rang in his head. When Ricky returned, Jackson sent him into the crowd with a hundred business cards, hoping to entice more people to visit his table and perhaps generate appointments. It began to pay off—he scheduled

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two appointments for consultations. Unfortunately, consultations were free and did not always lead to paying gigs. SweetKakes, he noted sourly to himself, seemed to be generating three contacts to Yankee Elegance Catering’s one.

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Chapter Eight “Hey, Mr. P, is it all right if I take a break now? I’ll do the rounds and spy on what everyone else is serving, if you like,” Ricky offered. Jackson had never known his assistant to be so jumpy while working. “What’s up? Have you got a girlfriend waiting for you?” Jackson teased. Ricky’s face flushed, but the young man said nothing. He checked his watch— one-forty-five already. “All right. But be back here by two-thirty.” He watched, flabbergasted, as Ricky took the hand of the red-haired pixie who was Lena’s sister. Entwined, the two young lovers sauntered off, oblivious to the world around them. Great, just great. Yankee Elegance Catering really needed an employee whose girlfriend worked for his biggest competitor. How could his life get any worse? His question was answered by a whiff of familiar perfume as he heard Elyse Woodcock speak. “Jackson, darling, how are you?” Her gravelly voice, similar to Lauren Bacall’s or Kathleen Turner’s, came from behind him. Her fingernails played lightly across his back, producing an involuntary shudder. He turned, saying, “Fine, Mrs. Woodcock,” only to choke on the last syllable of her name. She’d outdone herself. Her bright coral-colored tank top matched her nails and looked just as painted on. Not to mention the white knit shorts that showcased long, lean, tanned legs. Years ago, such abbreviated shorts were called “hot pants,” Jackson thought. The label was more than appropriate for Elyse. He goggled at the woman. Her outfit, her body, and her boldness were nothing short of amazing. She began closing in for the kill, and he had a hard time standing his ground. She trailed the nail of her index finger slowly down his shirted chest. Inwardly,

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he commanded himself not to react, but wondered whether her finger would stop its downward descent once it reached his belt. It did. Jackson exhaled. He was as red-blooded as the next male, but this woman bothered him just a little. Not to mention that the genetic code he’d inherited from all his New England ancestors was wired to despise public displays. “Jacksonnnnnn,” she purred, “You’ve never called me to arrange our, I mean, my affair. Have I done something to displease you?” “No, Mrs. Woodcock, I–“ “Call me Elyse.” There went that damn fingernail of hers again, only this time it was going down his back and not stopping when it reached his belt. He bit his tongue and thought of Antarctica. Damned if she wasn’t turning him hard as a rock. “Soooo,” she breathed, “Why no phone call? Is something wrong?” Jackson looked around, desperate for a distraction. He glimpsed Lena snickering behind her hands. Women! He teetered on the brink of actually pushing Elyse Woodcock out to arms’ length, when a familiar voice rose above the crowd’s buzz. “What have you got to feed a hungry man, Jackie boy?” “Bobby!” he called, stepping aside so that Mrs. Woodcock would see every inch of his bear-like friend. “I have someone I’d like you to meet. Elyse Woodcock, meet Bobby Hollingsworth. Bobby, Elyse.” Bobby paused, smiling lazily, then offered his meaty paw. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said, and as he and Elyse shook hands, Jackson noted that Bobby’s other hand rested on top of hers. Elyse stepped in closer after inspecting his every inch. Jackson’s breathing returned to normal. She wanted Bobby. He was off the hook.

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“Bobby, I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you accompany me to the lemonade stand? Oh! Excuse me while I pick up my drink ticket.” Elyse bent way over to retrieve the ticket she’d dropped accidentally-on-purpose, leaving no doubt as to whether she was wearing any panties at all. Bobby, eyeing her from the spike-heeled strappy sandals she wore all the way to her low-cut tank top, was ready once she stood up. “Elyse, I have a little something with me that will turn lemonade into a drink fit for adults.” Casually skimming his hand down her back to settle on her shorts, he patted her bottom while the two of them walked away. Jackson noted his friend’s free hand signaling the number three behind his back, an old college trick of theirs. Bobby would return by three. The crowd had thinned, so Jackson had little to do. He was stuck next to a woman he ached for, but couldn’t have. He was frustrated and angry and still wondering about the cake Lena was serving. And then it hit him. The cake. Mocha Coconut, he thought. It had been over a year since he’d served it. He considered the recipe for the distinctive, delicious cake his. Now this upstart was stealing his business and using his cake recipe to do it. “Hey, you,” he growled. Lena looked him over, sniffing. “Are you talking to me?” “You bet I am. That cake you’re serving. That’s my cake.” “What do you mean, your cake? You’ve been in the heat too long,” she said, turning her back on him. Infuriated, he stepped to her table, grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “Get your hands off me!” Lena demanded, knocking them from her shoulders.

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“That cake is mine!” Jackson yelled, jabbing his finger at her, his self-control blown away like a dandelion puff in the wind. “I used to serve that cake to all my clients. Now you show up with it here. Where did you get the recipe? It’s mine, I tell you!” “No, it’s not!” Lena shouted back. “I invented it. It’s never been yours.” “I demand that you give me the cake!” Lena picked up a plate of cake and smashed it into Jackson’s face. “There’s your freakin’ cake! Happy now?” Quietly, Jackson used a napkin to clear cake and frosting from his glasses and eyes, then just as quietly picked up a cup of soup and poured it over Lena’s head, slipping an ice cube down her blouse for good measure. Sputtering and jumping as the ice slid down her back, she picked up two plates of cake. Jackson couldn’t hear what she was saying any more because his ears were stuffed with cake and icing. After he cleared them, he found the courage to ask a crucial question. “Did you supply that cake to other caterers, say, more than a year ago?” “Well, of course, I did. I had to start somewhere, and in the beginning I subcontracted desserts for many companies. I’ve found enough clients that I haven’t had to do that much lately, but, yes, I used to, all the time.” The same thought struck them both simultaneously. “You used to subcontract for Yankee Elegance Catering,” he said. “No, I didn’t,” she insisted. “I remember selling cake to Goodies ‘N’ More, White Glove Catering, Dandridge Enterprises—“ “Dandridge Enterprises. That was my fiancee’s side business—“ Jackson began.

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“—and that’s why I don’t recall selling cakes to Yankee Elegance Catering,” Lena said, finishing the thought. “And my ex-fiancée lied, saying she’d made the cake. I should’ve known better. Tess couldn’t bake worth a damn. Lena, I’m sorry, very sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” “Jackson, I’m the one who should apologize, pushing cake in your face and ears—“ “—and I’m sorry I poured soup on you. I’m a jerk.” “So am I,” Lena admitted. “If you two are done kissing and making up, maybe you could take care of a customer.” They turned, answering as one, “Yes?” An odd-looking little man in garish golf clothes stuck his hand out, offering business cards. “I’ll get straight to the point. I’m Harold Bradley, Director of Recruitment at a local company, UniMed Health Care. You may have heard of us?” They looked at each other in surprise. “You’re a for-profit health care provider, as I recall,” Jackson said. “I used to hold some of your stock in my personal account when I worked as an analyst at Murphy, Brown, and Manser.” “The big MBM. Good company. Ethically upright, in contrast to so many others going down the tubes these days. I like working with a caterer who understands business, unlike so many artsy types who ‘do’ food,” Bradley snorted. “How the hell did you end up in catering after working at MBM? And please don’t tell me you ‘followed your bliss.’” Jackson stood taller before answering, for he understood the rules of the good-ole-boy network. “Seven years analyzing the restaurant and food industries, sir. I left, despite an offer to move into management.” ___________________

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Lena whipped her head around to study him. Financial analyst? No wonder Jackson drove a Mercedes. Why wasn’t he still doing that, if money was so important to him? She’d bet his position had been chock-full of pay and perks. “Leaving MBM sounds stupid to me,” Bradley said. “Not at all, sir,” Jackson continued, unruffled by the ‘stupid’ comment. “The knowledge I gained about the food business combined with the healthy salary and bonuses I earned made it possible for Yankee Elegance Catering to be born. I’m small now, but I won’t be for long. If you become a favored client, I guarantee you preferential treatment when Yankee Elegance becomes the biggest caterer in Massachusetts.” Lena didn’t like the sound of his veiled brag, but she kept her face straight. With a Mr. Corporate Moneybags standing before them, who knew where the conversation might lead? It could be the huge break she’d been praying for, but only if she could make Jackson shut up. “Mr. Bradley, SweetKakes is a full-service caterer, but we specialize in desserts and appetizers. We, too, could offer you special treatment. And our prices are the most competitive in the area.” From the corner of her eye she caught Jackson’s glare. She smiled smugly. Two could play this game. Bradley shifted his weight from one foot to another and glanced at his watch. “Both of you quit pitching to me. You’re wasting my time,” he said. “I’m meeting my wife and friends at the Thoreau Country Club’s Nineteenth Hole Lounge, so let’s get to it. Either of you cater a job fair before?” Both of them shook their heads, but Jackson spoke up, “You need me to cater a job fair? When? And for how much?” His presumption that Yankee Elegance Catering had landed the job had her cutting into the conversation.

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“Sir, SweetKakes—“ Lena began, but Bradley cut her off. “Both of you shut up, please, before I change my mind. I want both of you to cater the job fair, if you think you can refrain from behaving like extras in ‘Animal House.’” Lena exchanged glances with Jackson before she spoke. “Mr. Bradley, we can and we will. I apologize for our shameful antics today. We were having a misunderstanding over—“ “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you were fussing about,” Bradley snapped. “The original caterer for our job fair went belly-up on Friday, and he’s not returning my phone calls. I need another caterer yesterday. The job fair’s Tuesday. It’s our first one in over a year, but health care’s a somewhat recession-proof business. You only need to provide non-alcoholic drinks, some high-class munchies, and light dessert. Those powdered cookies look good,” he said, trying one. “And they taste even better. Bring at least a hundred of those. You’ll also need additional staff to man the tables. I assume you both have hired help?” “Of course, sir. Where and when?” Jackson said. Lena watched him take over, impressed despite her irritated suspicion that he’d steal any client of hers he could if she let him. However, he did appear to deal with corporate types better than she did. “I told you, Tuesday. Oh, I guess you mean, what time. Four till eight P.M. Corporate headquarters, just off Route 20. The address is on the card. We’ll set up in the lobby. Be there no later than two-thirty—we may get some early attendees.” As Jackson opened his mouth to talk about money, Bradley seemed to read his mind. “I’m prepared to give you each a check for five hundred dollars right now. It’s yours to keep should UniMed call off the job fair. I’ll pay whatever else you want once the fair is over. This is a rush job, so cost matters little. Just keep UniMed, and me, from

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falling on our faces. Give me your cards plus your home phone numbers. I want to be able to reach you in case I need something additional at the last minute.” Bradley produced his checkbook. “I hope you don’t mind taking a personal check. I’ll worry about getting reimbursed from the company. Of course, the final check will be a corporate one.” Both caterers handed over their cards in exchange for the checks. Bradley examined both cards. “Yankee Elegance Catering has a home number listed, but SweetKakes does not, just a work number. Why is that?” he barked at Lena. “I need to reach both of you at any time, day or night, now till Tuesday.” Her temper stirred, but before she could bite off a response, Jackson said, “Unless I’m mistaken, Ms. Korhonen doesn’t wish to give out her home phone number. Surely, you understand why a woman wouldn’t want to do that. You can call me on my cell phone whenever you wish.” Lena didn’t know whether to be grateful for Jackson’s offer to be UniMed’s constant contact, or annoyed that he seemed to be hogging the job. She opted for grateful. Now was not the time to get into another argument, with the client standing in front of them and a five-hundred-dollar check in her hand. Bradley nodded curtly. “Of course. I’ll direct any after-hours calls to you, Mr. Portsmouth.” Glancing at his watch again, he turned on his heel. “Wait, sir,” she called out. Bradley spun around, irritated. “What now?” he snapped. “Why us, and why both of us?” She had to know. “I asked several people here today, and two names were recommended repeatedly: Yankee Elegance Catering and SweetKakes. Best food, best service, best prices. I figured I’d decide who to pick once I came over to meet you both. When I saw the

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two of you fighting, I decided I might as well give both of you the business.” Jackson and Lena looked at him quizzically, with Jackson making a “go on” motion with his hands, saying, “And...?” “Oh, cripes, you need a reason like a woman would?” His eyes shifted briefly to Lena. “Apologies, ma’am. Nothing personal.” Bradley stared Jackson in the eye. “It’s just that great rivalries often produce great results when they cooperate for the good of both companies. Surely, you must have known that, assuming you weren’t a crappy financial analyst. Satisfied?” Without waiting for an answer, Bradley hurried off, waving off Jackson’s and Lena’s goodbyes and thank-yous. Both of them blinked for a few moments. Lena murmured, “Well, that was interesting. What’s next? Have you got time to meet later today to map out our game plan?” Jackson huffed. “You mean you aren’t going to thank me for fielding the after-hours phone calls?” “Oh, please. You offered in order to give your business a leg up, not because you care about me.” “Of course, I care about you.” “You do?” They stood face-to-face, her eyes searching his. Jackson caved in first, averting his glance. “I, uh, am sensitive to the fact that a single woman might not want to give out her home phone number to any bozo that happens to approach her, even if he is waving a big check in her face.” Lena dropped her gaze to her feet. Well, of course. What did she expect him to say? Yesterday’s kiss happened in the heat of the moment, a thing of lust, not with any genuine feeling behind it. They had nothing between them but business. Lena ran her hands through her hair, only to feel cold, sticky soup. “Eeuuww. I need to clean up.” Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to turn cool

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and businesslike. “When did you want to plan this wingding?” “May I call you later? My friend Bobby came by so that I–“ “Man, we can’t leave you guys alone ever again,” a woman giggled. Ricky and Annie, their arms around each other, looked amused as they surveyed the damage. “What happened, sis?” Lena glanced at Jackson and shrugged. “We had a little disagreement.” “Well, duh! Are you sure it was little? I thought you two were too old for food fights,” Ricky joked, until Jackson shot him a murderous look. “I’ll go find some water,” Ricky offered, dragging a protesting Annie along with him. “Wait! I want to find out what happened,” she said as her voice faded. Sighing, Jackson turned back to Lena. “As I was saying, Bobby came by so that I could help him find a condo in Gainesborough, so immediately after this food fair isn’t good for me. May I call you in a few hours, after we’re done? That is, if you don’t mind giving out your home phone number to me.” “Of course, I don’t mind. This is strictly business, and I know where you are if you try any funny stuff.” The barest hint of a smile played on Lena’s lips, and she saw his expression relax. “All right. I guess the next step is to finish out this food fair, followed by cleaning up.” Jackson peered at the sky. “It’s going to rain buckets soon, and most people have begun to leave. Who’d have expected a thunderstorm this early in May?” Weather. Now there was a safe topic. “Yes, it is unusual, isn’t it?” Lena agreed. “Hey, what’s she want?” she asked, eyeing Sue Greene’s approach. Jackson smiled at Lena with genuine warmth. “Sue is a pill, isn’t she?” Sue flapped her arms in a shooing motion at all the caterers from about twenty feet away, yelling her warning. “Go on home. It’s almost three, and

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the approaching storm looks bad. We don’t want any of you under trees once the lightning starts.” As if on cue, a tremendous bolt split the sky, lighting faces like a camera’s flash. Lena reflexively counted the seconds, only to feel dismay when she didn’t get to five. “The storm’s close! I’m getting out of here now.” “Let me find a cart for both of us. We can probably fit most of our stuff on the same cart, seeing as how most of the serving dishes are empty, or nearly so.” Jackson hurried off, bee lining for the cart area. Ricky and Annie returned, suitably disturbed by the coming storm. “Sis, let’s get out of here. They’ve already issued a tornado watch.” A nearby caterer rushing by stopped to comment, “Tornado watch? This is Massachusetts, not Kansas.” Annie sniffed at his ignorance. “For your information, Massachusetts averages three tornadoes every year. Most of the time they don’t do much damage, but everyone worries we’ll have one like the 1953 storm that devastated Worcester and killed ninety people.” Ricky leaned back, regarding his red-haired pixie. “How do you know all that stuff?” Lena smiled. “You didn’t know Annie is a weather buff? That’s because storms terrify her.” “Damn right they do, and forewarned is forearmed. Let’s get out of here,” Annie said, snatching up utensils. Lena attempted to soothe her sister, whose eyes were now showing white all around. “Annie, Jackson will be here in a moment with a cart. The two of you could help by carrying the paper goods, which are going to blow away shortly if you don’t grab them.” Just then a gust carried away most of the napkins and plates. “Oops, too late! Grab what you can and leave. Jackson and I will clean up here and meet you back at our vans.”

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Annie wavered, frightened by the approaching storm’s sharp lightning, but Ricky hugged her around her waist. “Good idea. Annie, let’s grab what we can and go. We need to get to the safety of the cars.” They snatched up what they could, then bolted. Large drops pelted everyone. Jackson appeared as the storm began in earnest. “Lena, quick! Pile on what you can and run with me!” Lena could barely hear Jackson’s voice above the rising wind. She’d swear the temperature had dropped at least thirty degrees. She shivered in her thin blouse and shorts, large goosebumps on her forearms. The rain grew heavy as the two of them struggled to transfer serving dishes to the cart. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled while water streamed down their faces, effectively washing away the results of their food fight. Jackson’s legs pumped, pushing the cart as fast as he could, while Lena raced beside him, attempting to keep the dishes from bouncing off the unstable cart. Would the rain never end? she thought as it poured down in sheets. Mud splattered her legs and feet while she splashed towards Jeeves. Shivering, she opened her mouth to shout something to Jackson when a bolt of lightning struck an enormous maple about two hundred yards away. The crack of thunder deafened her, and the shock of the impact shook the ground as if an earthquake had begun. Still blinking against the blinding flash of light, Lena watched half of the damaged tree split off and fall, crushing a vehicle. Her heart constricted. She screamed “No!” refusing to believe her eyes. Jeeves was clearly done for, squashed under half a tree, and Annie was nowhere in sight. “ANNIE!” Lena screamed several times, running as if Satan himself were after her. Jackson already had his cell phone out, yelling details at the 911 operator. The relentless rain poured from the

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heavens as the back doors to the van creaked open. Ricky jumped out, pantomiming the need for help. Lena started to sob, tears running down her face faster than the raindrops. Please, God, she prayed, don’t take away my little sister. She’s all I live for some days. Arriving at the Range Rover, she could see that only the front half was crushed. Hope rose in her until Ricky shrieked, “She’s caught in there!” Cold, drenched, and desperate to believe that her sister would be all right, she yanked the vehicle’s back doors wide, still screaming over the howl of the wind for Annie. The interior was nearly pitch black. The faint sounds of sirens grew louder. Willing her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she screamed “Annie!” once more. “Lena, here, I’m here, oh, sis, my legs are caught, oh, God, please help me! The pain!” Annie, not only deathly afraid of storms but also claustrophobic, skated on the edge of panic. Lena immediately took control of her emotions as she’d been forced to do so many times over the years. She held Annie’s upper torso, refusing to notice that she couldn’t see her sister’s legs below the knee because of the crushed, twisted metal. Through the vehicle’s tiny window, she could see Jackson, Ricky, and two other men attempting to push the tree off the Range Rover. In her heart, however, she knew their attempts would be fruitless. Heavy equipment would be required. Petting her sister’s head, Lena held her as closely as she could, soothing her with wordless noises while Annie moaned in terror and pain. She saw Elyse Woodcock with a big guy through the window, vaguely recognizing him as Jackson’s friend. Not that she had paid much attention to him earlier. Elyse suddenly appeared, framed by the open doors. “What can I do to help?” Her crisp, nononsense voice surprised Lena, who’d always assumed that Mrs. Woodcock was a shallow, funseeking, wealthy widow. The woman had some

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guts, it seemed, despite the fact that she might as well be naked, with her skimpy outfit soaking wet and plastered to every curve. “Annie looks okay to you, doesn’t she?” Lena’s calm voice cost her dearly, and her drawn face told Elyse all she needed to know. “Of course. You’re going to be fine, dear,” Elyse assured the frightened girl. “It hurts so much!” Annie moaned, struggling to free herself. “Now, dear, don’t move around. Help will be here soon enough, and you’ll be out of here. Relax. Here, Lena, I’ll hold her for a while. I worked as an EMT before I met my late husband—I know what to do. The emergency crew has arrived, so go talk to them.” Elyse shooed the elder sister out of the vehicle, cradling Annie’s head in her lap as the younger one sobbed over the wail of the sirens. Lena jumped out, nearly sagging to the ground once she didn’t have to be strong for Annie. Bobby Hollingsworth caught her as she fell, yelling, “Jackson, get your sorry butt over here! I’m going to talk to the Chief.” Jackson hugged Lena tightly while she wept, both of them chilled and scared to the bone. If I lose Annie, I’ll die. I’ll simply die.

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Chapter Nine The miserable weather raged on, though no lightning had occurred since the spectacular strike that hit the tree. Bobby slogged through the mud back to them. “My company sells heavy equipment, and our warehouse the next town over has just the right piece to lift the tree off the Range Rover. What they’ve got with them could roll the tree off, but you don’t want to do that.” Lena understood the significance of his remark. Rolling the tree off rather than lifting it off might crush her sister’s legs worse than they already were. Lena heard Jackson speak as she clung to him, her eyes closed. “Is the equipment on its way?” “Sure as hell is, or my New England Division salesman will find his ass on the unemployment line. I decided that Allred is donating the use of it, and the Chief over there knows a guy qualified to run it. So it’s a matter of a few minutes’ wait. Not that waiting is easy in this situation.” The ambulance crew hustled their way to the Range Rover, climbing inside. Lena could hear Elyse refusing to give ground, snapping back at them as an equal would. Bobby took a peek inside, and then spoke softly to Lena. “Your sister’s in good hands. Elyse is still holding her while the crew is checking her out and starting an IV.” Bobby nudged Jackson. “Your employee over there seems pretty upset. Want me to go talk to him?” Lena craned her neck to see Ricky, alone and standing with his face in his hands, thin shoulders shaking. Jackson reluctantly let go of Lena. “No, I should talk to him. Lena, do you mind staying here with Bobby?” Wordlessly, she shook her head as Jackson approached the boy, laying gentle hands on his shaking shoulders. “Y’all need me to help you stand up now?” Bobby inquired.

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Lena shook her head no a second time. “I’m better now. It’s just, well, I truly don’t know if I’d want to go on living if I lost my sister. She’s my only family left in the world.” “Yeah, that must be tough. I’ve never lost a sibling. Jackson knows about that better than I do.” “Jackson has no family?” She watched him reassure the distraught Ricky, warmed by his goodheartedness. “Younger brother died from cancer when Jackson was nine. Mom disappeared when he was twelve, and Dad died when he was eighteen, just before entering Harvard. That’s where we met. We were freshman year roommates by chance, stayed roommates for the next three years by choice.” “At least, he was left well-off when his father died. I was left a house, more or less paid for, a pitiful life insurance policy that barely covered burial, and a younger sister to raise.” “Jackson? Nope, he inherited very little. His father died deeply in debt, and what fortune was left went to pay off what was owed. There was some life insurance, but not much, and for a while the company resisted paying the policy off. They thought the death was suspicious, but authorities officially ruled it an accident. Jackson received enough insurance money to put himself through Harvard, with a little left over.” “You’d think rich people would have huge life insurance policies.” “I suspect that, at one time, the family figured they didn’t need insurance because they had millions. Then the father began drinking and gambling after he locked his wife up in a mental hospital, where she killed herself.” Lena shuddered, but continued to watch Jackson comfort Ricky. “Was his father’s death really an accident?” “Hard to tell, and I’d never say this to Jackson, but I think his dad committed suicide. He hit an

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abutment at ninety miles an hour, no seat belt, no skid marks. He did have a high blood alcohol content, so the examiner decided that the man was too drunk to react by hitting the brakes.” “How terrible. Both parents a suicide, and his younger brother gone, too,” Lena said, trying not to think about losing Annie. “Yes, and he was the child of only children. Hardly anyone left on his family tree.” “My parents came over from Finland, so any relatives I have are back there, not around here. Except for Annie.” Lena shook her head. “Drinking causes so much mischief.” Bobby looked at her sharply. “Your parents drank?” “My father. I went to Alateen meetings for a while. It was a difficult time.” Lena said, recalling the wretchedness that was her lot in life after her mother died. “So, I imagine you don’t drink,” Bobby observed. Sensing judgment, her temper flared. “You got a problem with that, bud?” “Not at all.” Bobby’s voice was calm. “It’s just that Jackson can’t hold his booze worth a hoot. If there’s anyone who’ll never become an alcoholic, it’s him.” Lena glared at Bobby. “Why are you telling me all of this?” He sighed and looked away. “I thought you might be interested.” “Well, I’m not,” she grumbled. Why should she care whether Jackson Portsmouth drank or not? “Cheer up, Miss Sourpuss. The equipment’s here. Time to get that log off your car and free your sister.” ___________________ Jackson was angry, mostly because he felt so helpless. He tried to comfort Ricky but kept one eye

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on Lena. She’d felt so small, so lost, in his arms, despite her height and build. He’d heard her pray, heard her say that she couldn’t stand to lose her only remaining family in the world. The phrase kept repeating in his head. Apparently, she was an orphan, too. He and she and Annie and Ricky should start a support group. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Mr. P? How’s Annie?” Ricky wiped his red eyes. The rain was slacking off, and the wind had died down. “I’m sure she’s going to be fine,” Jackson lied, watching the rescue operation. Men were wrapping chains around the tree trunk, in preparation for the lifting operation, and Bobby shouted instructions. The EMTs and Elyse were ordered out of the vehicle, as a precaution before the lifting began. Jackson didn’t want to think about what might happen. Elyse was now holding Lena, who’d begun to cry again. “Ricky, let’s go over and join Lena and Mrs. Woodcock. I think we need to band together right now.” Bobby joined the somber group, too. “Here we go. Everything should go fine, but pray anyway.” Annie’s crying could be heard over the noise of the equipment. Lena bit the back of her hand to keep from sobbing, struggling to remain calm, and calling reassuring words to her sister. Each person’s hands gripped the others’ tightly as the crane began to lift the tree. All in all, two dozen or so emergency workers, caterers, and friends watched, holding their breath as one, until the tree was lifted and deposited out of harm’s way. “Clear!” the Chief shouted as firemen rushed in with rescue equipment to cut away the twisted metal. The EMTs and Elyse clambered back into the van to comfort Annie and monitor her vital signs. Bobby went over to the crane to check on something, leaving Lena, Jackson, and Ricky to wait long, agonizing moments. All of them feared the

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worst for Annie’s legs. Sparks flew as the rescue workers cut and pulled away metal, desperate to free the young woman trapped inside. “She’s free!” one of the firemen shouted. “Get the stretcher!” someone else yelled. Lena gripped Jackson’s hand so fiercely he thought she’d break his bones. Nevertheless, he stood quietly as the emergency workers prepared to take Annie to the ER. He’d come to respect the woman crushing his hand. Yes, he still wanted her. Yes, he still found her devastatingly sexy. But his feelings were more complex, with more depth, now that they were weathering a crisis together. Annie, face white as flour, strapped down to the stretcher but giving a weak thumbs up, emerged from the twisted hunk of metal that was once transportation. Lena rushed to her side, climbing in the ambulance with the workers. Elyse joined Jackson, Ricky, and Bobby, who had just hurried over to hear the latest. “She’ll likely be fine,” Elyse reassured them. “Annie’s legs may be broken between the knee and the ankle, but the fractures appear to be simple. Her legs weren’t crushed or mangled in any way. I saw nothing to indicate that she won’t make a full recovery, given time.” The rain had ended a few minutes before, and the sun chose that moment to reappear. Jackson noticed that the cart full of serving dishes was still off to the side, forgotten during the ordeal. “Ricky, let’s get those dishes back to my place. Then we’ll stop by the hospital and see how Annie’s doing. Bobby, I think we’d better look at condos another day.” “Aw, don’t worry about that. I’m thinking of getting a short-term apartment anyway, so I don’t have to rush into anything,” he said, briefly exchanging glances with Elyse. Jackson cocked an eyebrow at his old buddy, but received only an

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enigmatic smile in return. “Do you need me to help you, or go to the hospital with you?” Bobby offered. “No, Ricky and I will handle it from here.” Elyse touched Jackson’s arm. “Please do let us know how Annie’s doing. You have my number.” “And you know my cell’s number,” Bobby added, as both he and Elyse linked arms, strolling in search of their cars. Jackson watched them go, thinking about Elyse’s use of the word “us.” What the heck had Bobby gotten himself into, in the hour or so he’d been gone with her? Ricky said he was done loading the van, so Jackson sent him back in search of anything they might have left behind. Returning with a few small items, Ricky hopped in the van to head back to Yankee Elegance Catering. Upon arrival, both the men unloaded the van, placing items to be cleaned in sinks. Jackson, noticing Ricky’s mechanical movements and wan face, pulled him aside once the van had been emptied. “Go on over to the hospital. I don’t need help with this.” “But my car is still down at the Common.” Placing a twenty-dollar bill in his hand, Jackson pushed Ricky towards his office. “Call Borough Taxi and get over there before I fire you.” Ricky shook hands with Jackson, gratitude plain on his face. “Thanks, Mr. P. I won’t forget this.” “Just show up early tomorrow. I hadn’t told you before, but while you and Annie were gone, Lena and I landed the catering job for UniMed’s job fair on Tuesday. That means we have a lot of work ahead of us in the next forty-eight hours.” “Want me to pick up sodas and bottled water from our suppliers? I could do that first. Wait. I don’t have my car.” “I’ll make sure your car shows up in the hospital parking lot. Leave the keys with me. Your picking

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up the cold drinks would be a great help—thank you.” Ricky turned to use the phone in the office, but Jackson touched his shoulder to delay him one more moment. “Ricky, I hope Annie’s going to be all right. I’ll stop by later.” While Ricky was calling a cab, Jackson contacted Bobby. It barely rang once before he heard the familiar voice twang. “Hollingsworth.” “Bobby, would you meet me in about an hour at the Common? I have to pick up Ricky’s car and drive it to the hospital. I also want to make sure that the Range Rover doesn’t have anything in it that Lena and Annie might want.” “Sure. Give me a jingle before you head over there, and I’ll meet you. How’s everything going?” “Ricky’s going to take a cab to the hospital, and I need to clean up all the dishes. I’ll take Ricky’s car to him and then head home, I guess. I’m beat.” “Huh. You’re going to deliver the car but not stay at the hospital for a while. What are you, scared Lena might bite you? Actually, she might. She struck me as a real momma lion,” he chuckled. Jackson considered his friend’s question. “I’m not sure that she wants me there.” “Hell, boy, what matters is, do you want to be there?” “Yes. No. I avoid hospitals—you know that. But I do want to help Lena. Besides, as crass as it sounds, I need to talk with her briefly about catering the job fair, if she doesn’t mind.” “Sounds like a plan.” Jackson waved goodbye to a hurrying Ricky as the taxi’s horn sounded. “So, tell me, Bobby, what’s the news with you and Elyse?” “Now, you know ol’ Bobby doesn’t kiss and tell. I may be a rambunctious rake, but I’m also a gentleman.”

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“Aw, c’mon, I don’t need to see the roadmap. I just want to know if you’re headed in a certain direction.” “Well,” Bobby said after a brief silence, “she’s a hell of a handful, and you know how I deal with women like that—with a firm hand, plus maybe a brush or a belt, applied to a bare bottom, that’s how.” Jackson smiled. “Maybe if I’d spanked Tess, she wouldn’t have left me.” “No hindsight required, Jackie. That woman was evil, not fit for a good man like you. But I’ll bet Lena’s your type.” “Mmm. Maybe,” Jackson said, recalling the heat he and Lena had produced, and how she’d arched her back to push her bottom toward his spanking hand. “Did you spank Elyse yet?” “Yes, Elyse has suffered through her first trip over my knee. In fact, she’s standing in the corner right now, her hands on her head, and her behind glowing like a live coal. Once we got to her place, I stripped off her skimpy shorts and gave her whatfor.” Bobby lowered his voice. “I used my hand on her, but the woman’s tough. I had to whack her with my belt more than a dozen times before she’d apologize. Then I gave her more, till she was crying good and hard. Trust me, buddy, her butt’s bright red and sore. After her corner time, she’s going to plop that sore butt of hers on a hard wooden chair and write lines.” “What did she do?” “I’m not going to go into that right now. It’s time for Elyse to write those lines. After that, if she’s good, I’ll rub some lotion on her sore butt, and who knows where that might lead,” Bobby chuckled. “Know what? I don’t think I’ll need you to give me a ride back from the hospital. You and Elyse get to know each other better, and I’ll do the same with Lena.”

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Jackson signed off to begin working at the sink, letting his thoughts sort themselves out while he washed dishes. ___________________ Lena sat in the waiting area of GainesboroughGordon Hospital, cold and wet and methodically shredding a partial box of tissues given to her by an ER staff member. She had no tears left in her, and prayed once again that her sister would be all right. The emergency room doctor she’d seen when Annie was first wheeled in headed towards her, a no-nonsense-looking woman with short brown hair. She’d been wrong about having no tears left. She wiped her eyes with a shredded tissue while waiting for the doctor to speak. “Ms. Korhonen? I’m Dr. Forrester. Your sister’s doing well. Only one leg was broken, and it was a clean break, no other damage. She doesn’t appear to have any other significant injuries. She’s a little dehydrated, though, and came in with some hypothermia, so we’re going to keep her overnight for observation.” “Hypothermia?” “Yes. Lying on the metal floor of the vehicle for so long with wet clothing did it.” “Can’t she please come home tonight?” The doctor shook her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not a good idea. She really needs to stay here so that we can monitor her. You can take her home anytime after nine tomorrow morning. Do you want to see her now?” Ignoring Dr. Forrester’s question, Lena plunged ahead. “It’s just, well, our health insurance only covers catastrophes. I’ve got a five-thousand dollar deductible, and I’m self-employed. A night in the hospital is, well...” Her voice trailed off; she felt ashamed to have to talk money when it was her only family lying in the ER. “Ms. Korhonen, is Annie a student?”

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“Yes, at Gordon State. What’s that got to do with anything?” “If your sister’s attending a Massachusetts state college, she probably has health insurance, already, through them, unless you declined the coverage. The law states that every student must have health insurance. Such policies usually have smaller deductibles.” Her voice softened. “I have a nephew attending Gordon State, and as I recall, the deductible is only a thousand. Go speak to the woman at the desk. I’m certain they obtained insurance information from your sister when they brought her in, or someone would have been asking you for it by now.” Lena nodded her head, relieved. “You’re right. I’d forgotten that. I switched her to the college’s plan because it was cheaper with better benefits.” “Besides, in a case like this, your car insurance might pay the bill. Call to find out. Do you want to see your sister now? By the way,” the doctor added as Lena stood up, “if you’re cold, check the front desk in case we have an old blanket or sweatshirt you could borrow.” Lena followed the doctor, finding Annie wrapped in a warming blanket, waiting to have her lower leg put in a cast. Other than cuts and bruises partly visible on the lower part of one leg, and two tubes snaking their way to areas hidden by the blanket, she looked all right. “Hey, Annie,” Lena murmured as she smoothed her sister’s hair back from her face, “How’s it going?” “Mmm, I’ve been better, but I can’t complain. Though, of course, I will, anyway,” she said, trying for a sassy tone of voice. “Dr. Forrester told me you have to stay here overnight.” “Yeah, well, that’s the breaks, I guess. Oops, wrong choice of words.” Annie grinned lopsidedly.

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Lena had to blink back tears, turning her head away until she felt under control again. “Hey, sis, it’s all right to cry. I did plenty of it today, myself. I promise I won’t tell anyone you had a moment of weakness.” Lena bit her trembling lower lip, not trusting herself to speak for a moment. Holding hands, the two sisters were silent. “Ms. Korhonen?” An orderly popped her head around the corner. “I have your sister’s things. I’m afraid the clothing is pretty much a lost cause, but you can have it back if you want. Here’s her purse. I put it in a safe place when they brought your sister in.” “Thank you,” she whispered, at last unable to stem the flood of tears. The orderly touched Lena’s arm in sympathy, gave her Annie’s purse, and left. Once her sobs had stilled, she looked Annie in the eye. “I love you, you know that?” “I love you more,” her sister said. “I love you more plus infinity.” Lena tried to smile as they repeated their favorite affectionate ritual. “Infinity plus one!” Annie giggled as Lena rolled her eyes for comic effect. “You win. You love me more.” A different orderly approached Annie’s gurney. “Time to take this one for her cast. She’ll be admitted after that. Check with the front desk for her room number in about an hour.” Lena gripped her sister’s hand firmly. “Can’t I please stay with her?” “No, you can’t. I have to take her now.” Lena released her sister’s hand, calling after her, “Infinity plus infinity!” “No such thing,” Annie sang as she disappeared down a hallway. Lena stopped in the ladies’ room. The image in the mirror stunned her. She’d never been one to fuss over her appearance, but even she had to

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admit she looked like an extra from “Night of The Living Dead.” Her hair was a complete mess, slick with rain and soup. She had mud on her face, swollen red eyes, and damp clothing that looked as if she’d slept in it for three nights running. Given her looks, how had anyone managed to talk to her normally? Even she would wince if she’d seen herself sitting in the waiting room. After washing her face and hands and trying to fix the bird’s nest that was her hair, she returned to the waiting room, only to find Ricky pacing the floor. “Lena, how is she?” The young man approached her deferentially, but couldn’t keep himself from gripping her upper arms tightly. Lena’s startled face at being grabbed made him drop his hands. “Sorry. Please tell me how she is. I got here as fast as I could.” “She’s got one broken leg and has to stay here overnight, but she’ll be fine once her leg heals. They’re putting a cast on now.” Lena shivered, starting to feel chilled as the adrenaline from the day’s events left her system. Her teeth chattered involuntarily. “Here. I swiped this from Mr. Portsmouth’s work closet. I don’t need it as badly as you do,” Ricky added, removing the old, stained XXL sweatshirt and handing it to her. Lena pushed the offered clothing away. “No, I won’t have you being cold for my sake. Keep it. Maybe we could get something hot to drink in the cafeteria? That might help. It’s supposed to be a while before anyone can see her again.” “Only if you’ll put this sweatshirt on,” he repeated. Lena wavered, finally putting the shirt on. She was shivering, after all. “Now we should check to see if there’s something you could wear,” Lena said. “The ER doc told me that the front desk might have some spare old clothing.”

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The two of them stopped and asked, but the best they could get was a blue shirt made for someone Bobby Hollingsworth’s size. Ricky donned it, saying only, “Better than nothing. Thank you.” The two of them were the only non-medical staff in the cafeteria, except for the food workers. A couple of nurses conversed in low tones at one table. Four shell-shocked interns silently nursed cans of cola at another. No one even noticed their bizarre clothing or messy looks. Lena sat while Ricky fetched them both coffee. Ricky tasted it, and grimaced. “Well, it’s hot. That’s about all I can say for it.” “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Lena assured him, taking a sip. She nearly gagged. “Wow. You weren’t kidding. I could use this stuff as motor oil in Jeeves.” Suddenly, she remembered that her beloved, ancient Range Rover was no more. Elbows on the scarred Formica tabletop, she dropped her face into her hands. “God, I forgot. We now have no car. And I won’t get a penny for it. I haven’t carried comprehensive coverage in years. The thing was twenty years old.” “You want to borrow my old wagon? I don’t mind a bit,” Ricky offered. Lena felt tears form again, this time of gratitude, and lay her hands on his. “Ricky, thank you very much for your offer. It means a lot to me. But I can’t let you do that. For one thing, you’re not insured for commercial purposes under my policy. For another, you have even less money than we do. I can’t let you loan us your car, not even for a few hours.” “At least, let me carry you and Annie around for non-business trips,” he begged. Lena took another sip of the foul-tasting brew. “We’ll see,” she said, having no intention of using Ricky’s car.

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Chapter Ten Standing a few feet from the ER’s entrance, Jackson took a deep breath to calm his anxiety. He never went to the hospital for anything. The last time he’d been inside one, Bobby had dragged him in during their senior year at Harvard. Turned out he’d had appendicitis. Luckily, it had been caught before Jackson’s appendix burst. Before that, his last trip to a hospital had been—Jackson shut his eyes, fighting to keep old memories at bay. Before his appendicitis, his last time in a hospital had been to see his little brother die. His legs felt weak, unable to carry him into the building. Abruptly, he snapped to attention, shaking his head. He was a man, and the situation required him to act like one. Men weren’t wimps or intimidated by childhood memories when they needed to do what was right. As Bobby would say, he had to show some steel. Jackson marched into the waiting area of the emergency room, dressed in his most tattered clothes, but at least they were clean and dr y. He carried more clothing under one arm. The other hand strained to hold onto the many bags of fast food he’d bought down the street. Looking around, he saw no one he knew, so he approached the desk. “Can you tell me where Annie Korhonen is?” The desk clerk peered at the board behind her. “She’s either in X-Ray or getting a cast put on. They haven’t assigned her a room number yet.” “What’s her condition?” The clerk’s eyes narrowed. “Are you family?” “No, just a friend. Of her sister.” “If you’re not family, I can’t tell you any more. Sorry.” The clerk dropped her voice. “I think she went to the cafeteria after I gave the boy with her an old shirt to wear. If you want, you can probably find them there,” she pointed down a hallway. “If

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not, you’ll just have to wait here. There’s nothing else I can tell you.” “I guess it’s good that Annie’s not in the OR?” Jackson commented, trying to worm more information out of her. Irritated now, the desk clerk snapped, “I’ve already told you more than I should have. Go sit down.” Instead, Jackson took off for the cafeteria, finding Ricky and Lena sitting at a small, scarred table. Two empty Styrofoam cups and shredded napkins littered the tabletop. “Hey,” Ricky greeted Jackson, who dropped his many grease-stained bags of food on the table. “Ricky, your car’s in the parking lot now. Here are your keys. I brought something to eat, figuring everyone might be hungry.” Lena wrinkled her nose and pushed the bags away, but both Ricky and Jackson opened theirs. Ricky beamed to find two cheeseburgers, promptly wolfing them down. Jackson ate his burger and fries less enthusiastically, his eyes on Lena. He nudged a bag in her direction. “Eat something. I’m sure you can use it.” “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” “You look pretty good in that sweatshirt, you know,” he said with a smile. Lena shook her head at Jackson’s outlandish assertion. “That’s doubtful. In any case, you probably look better in it than I do.” “Not to me.” Jackson pushed the unopened bag of food closer. “I figured you for a cheeseburger fan, hold the fries. Am I right?” A genuine smile broke out on her face. “Yep. And thanks,” she added as she removed her sandwich from its wrappings. “This does look good. Bennie’s burgers are better than the average fast food.” “Yeah, all the flavor and twice the grease, as the saying goes.”

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“I’ll tell you one thing,” Lena commented after three quick bites, “This is the best food I’ve tasted all day. Even though SweetKakes’ desserts are the best in New England.” Jackson didn’t take the bait. “How’s Annie?” Lena’s face drooped. Setting her food down, she commented, “Broken leg, has to stay overnight, no permanent damage expected.” “No permanent damage? That’s great news.” Lena bowed her head for a moment, then choked out, “Excuse me.” Both the men watched her walk to a window, trying to hide the fact that her index finger was quickly wiping tears from her face. “Pretty broken up, isn’t she?” Ricky commented. “That’s to be expected.” Jackson studied the woman’s shoulders, which stubbornly refused to bow under the weight of her troubles. “Mr. P, she talked earlier about having no car. I don’t suppose you’d know where she could borrow one? She wouldn’t accept mine.” Jackson’s sad smile said it all while he shook his head. “If she wouldn’t take yours, you know she’s not going to take mine.” “I don’t think it’s personal. I think she doesn’t want any charity, that’s all,” Ricky said. “In that case, she really doesn’t want mine. I’m her main business competition, and you don’t accept charity from your competitors.” Ricky nodded, finally understanding as Lena returned to the table and started eating her food again as if nothing had happened. Jackson went to buy bottles of water for everyone, then sat quietly while the other two finished eating, sneaking looks at Lena when he could. Though she had streaks of cold soup in her matted hair, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Tess had been beautiful on the surface, but this one had an inner loveliness that surpassed even her considerable outer beauty.

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She finished her food, swigged the water, and then stood. “I’m going to see if they’ve assigned Annie a room yet.” She waited a beat before asking, “Are you two coming?” Jackson pointed to his pile of sweats. “Want some dry clothing first? You, too, Ricky.” She opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it. Nodding, she grabbed a T-shirt and sweatpants from the pile. “Thanks. I’ll meet you back in the waiting area of the ER.” For the first time, both the men noticed her limping as she walked away. Jackson wondered to himself what might have happened as Ricky said, “She looks hurt.” “Maybe it’s just her shoes. Wet shoes with no socks can cause a heck of a blister. Ricky, go change, quickly now because I’ve got an idea. I’ll meet you back in the waiting area. Don’t let Lena go without leaving word which room Annie’s in. That desk clerk won’t tell me anything. I guess I didn’t make a positive impression.” ___________________ Lena felt better to be full and wearing dry clothes. Her shoes, though, were rubbing her feet raw, and she must have turned her left ankle at some point, because now it was swollen and sore. Doing her best not to limp, she obtained Annie’s room number, inviting Ricky to come with her. When he said he needed to wait for Jackson, she shrugged and went on. Her sister’s condition and care were the only things that mattered to her right now. The warming blanket was gone, but Annie had been given a mild sedative. She wore a goofy grin, slightly slurring her words. “Heyyy, sis, feelin’ awriiight nowwww.” Dropping her damp clothes in a corner, Lena fussed, tucking the blanket around Annie, then tapped her cast lightly. “Have they let you try crutches yet?”

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“Nawwww. Said only for fewwww weeks, thennnn I get walllkkinggg cast.” “Lucky you, no roommate. The other bed’s empty. Want me to stay here with you tonight?” Annie looked beyond her sister, laughing. “Naaawww. Wannnt Riiickyyyy. Kiiissss me, you fooolllll.” In Jackson’s clothing, Ricky looked like a little boy wearing his father’s duds, but sweet concern for Annie radiated from his face. “Aw, Anna-banana, how’re you doing?” “Kiiissss meeeee!” Annie insisted. When he complied, Annie grabbed his buttocks, making him jump and blush. “Jeez, not in front of your sister.” She giggled again. “Sexxxyyyy thinnnggg.” Lena smiled at Ricky. “It’s all right. I was young once.” “You still are.” She whirled to face Jackson, who was holding out a plastic bag from the hospital store. “Go on, it’s for you.” Lena pushed it away, sniffing, “Darned silly time to bring me a gift. It’s my sister who’s in the hospital bed.” “It’s not a gift, it’s something you need, trust me.” She snorted. Taking the bag, she held onto it for a few minutes, talking with her sister before looking inside. Warmed by what she saw, she commented simply, “Thank you. How did you know?” “I’ve done my share of walking around in wet shoes. No fun,” Jackson said as Lena sat down, eager to remove her shoes and wear her new bedroom slippers. Her heart sank as she noticed the size, but she tried to fit her feet in them anyway. “What’s wrong?” Jackson said, “Do they hurt?” “No, it’s just, well, you bought the wrong size. My feet are, er, not a ‘size 7 to 8’.” “Herrrr feeeet arrreee huuuuggggeee!” Annie burbled.

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“Let me take them back. What size do you wear?” Lena’s ducked her head. “Never mind. I’ll wear these. They’re cloth, they should stretch. See?” Lena chattered as she hopped around, trying to make the shoes fit her much larger feet. “Fah feeeeettt! Fah feeeetttt!” a drugged Annie sang. “Oh, hush, “ Lena said. Her “fat feet” had always bugged her--they were just one more unattractive physical characteristic among many. Try finding cute little strappy sandals like Elyse wore in a ten-and-a-half wide. “You know, in Italy they’d love you,” Jackson said. Lena’s glance was sharp, wary. “Why?” “You’d be in much demand as a grape-stomper. And, in case you hadn’t noticed, so would I.” He held up one foot for her inspection. “Biggest feet on the whole damn tennis team. Try finding 15 tripleEs.” “Oooo, sissss, y’know what theeeyyyy saaayyy ‘bout men an’ biiigggg feeetttt,” Annie giggled. “You be quiet this instant.” Lena said, unable to look at Jackson. But he laughed along with Ricky and Annie, saying, “That ‘big feet’ thing is just a myth. “ Lena ignored his comment. “Annie, I swear, if you weren’t in that hospital bed, I’d make you clean the ovens as punishment. You’re embarrassing me. Besides, the size of, um, ‘feet’ isn’t a fit subject in front of strange men.” “Riiiicckkkkyyyy nawww straaaannngggge.” “Hey, who are you calling ‘strange?’” Jackson said, unable to stop his grin. “You’re the one who has a complex about her feet. I’d call that pretty strange.” Lena thought she’d cry; she felt so humiliated over her ugly feet. Instead, her emotion came out as a titter. Then a giggle. Then a full -blown laugh.

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Gasping for breath, she managed, “This day has been the strangest thing of all. My foot fixation is nothing next to that.” Annie’s eyelids had started to droop. Ricky said, “Lena, you look exhausted. Why don’t you go home? I plan to stay all night with Annie, and I’m sure you and Mr. P could use the time to talk about catering the job fair.” “Oh, Lord. I’d completely forgotten about the job fair,” Lena muttered. Jackson said, “He’s right, Lena. C’mon, I’ll take you home. If you’ll let me come in, we can talk about the catering over something to drink.” Her suspicions instantly alerted, Lena snapped, “Drink? I don’t drink, so you can’t pull anything over on me.” “You do drink water and tea and coffee, don’t you?” Jackson retorted, crossing his arms. “What’s wrong with you?” The hurt and anger in his voice deflated her aggression. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Old habits die hard.” “Would you rather talk somewhere other than your home?” Jackson asked in a softer voice. She nodded. “Let’s head over to Starbucks. But I need to stop at home first for some decent shoes.” Lena leaned over to kiss her sister, whose eyes were now fully closed, on the cheek. Patting Ricky on the shoulder, she said, “Thanks for staying. If anyone asks, you’re her brother. If they find out you’re not family, they’ll boot you out.” Taking tiny steps because of the tight bedroom slippers, and limping from her twisted ankle, Lena led the way out of the room, with Jackson following close behind. ___________________ Jackson felt heat flooding his body as he followed Lena, her lovely, lush hourglass outline visible despite the baggy sweats she wore. He

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wanted her so badly. How would he ever sit across from her, drinking coffee, and not reach out to touch her? “Ow! Wait. I turned my ankle again.” She hopped on one foot, grimacing. “Slippery floors. Why does a hospital have slippery floors? Seems stupid to me.” “What do you mean, again? Are you hurt? Why didn’t you get yourself looked at in the ER?” “Oh, please. It’s just a little sprain. It’ll be fine in a day or two–OW!” Lena hobbled and grabbed Jackson by the shoulder. “I probably just need to ice it. Can you go find me a cane or something?” “No, but I can help you. First, we take the elevator,” he ordered, his arm around her waist, her hand holding his shoulder. “No argument there.” They rode to the first floor in uncomfortable silence. Jackson tried not to grip her around her waist too tightly. If he did, he’d kiss her again right here and now. The warmth of her body pressed to his, and the soft feel of it under the cotton knit material, were driving him crazy. He longed to drop his palm to cup her delicious bottom, but knew that now was not the time. They made their way to the doors, only to see a hard rain. Looking down at her too-small cloth slippers, she sighed. “Guess I’ve got to put the wet ones back on. At least, I can’t ruin them any more than they’ve been ruined already.” “I have a better idea. I’ll carry you.” “I don’t think so!” “Don’t argue with me.” He tried to scoop her up in the fireman’s carry, but Lena, even with her injured ankle, was too agile for him to catch. “All right,” he sighed. “This isn’t working. What do you suggest?” “Well, duh, how about you get your car and pick me up outside?” A small smile negated the sting of her words.

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“In that case, be right back.” Running through the sheeting rain, he slipped once or twice, but made it to his car. When he drove to the entrance, emergency vehicles had pulled up to where Lena was standing. Turning on the car’s hazard flashers, he left the sedan running while he hurried to her. Despite their best efforts, she arrived at the car soaked once more. “I’m getting your car all wet,” she said after he helped her into the front seat. Jackson jumped into the driver’s side. “So what?” “Well, it’s a nice car. Why mess it up?” “You’re right. It’s a wonderful car, and you’re messing it up. Get out and walk.” Jackson laughed to see her astonished face. “Got you! Lena, I don’t give a damn about the seat getting wet. A car is a thing. People matter more than things.” “I–I just don’t want to ruin anything you own. I can’t afford to replace it.” “Would you like me to spank you for it?” Her head whipped around. “Spank?” “You know. That thing I did yesterday, over your clothing. That thing you seemed to enjoy.” He was speaking to the top of her head, because she’d dropped her gaze. “Or was I wrong?” “No,” she whispered. He risked touching her hair. “Some women find it relieves stress. Would you like me to spank you later?” She shook her head. “I’m not the kind of woman who can show her bare butt to just anyone. Not that you’re ‘just anyone.’ I’m sorry, nothing I’m saying is coming out right.” He stroked her hair. “I understand. Thank you for not slapping me when I offered to do it.” Though the curtain of her hair, he could see a tiny smile. “Besides, if you spanked me at Starbucks, someone might call the police. I don’t

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need any more excitement today, thank you very much.” “That’s right, we’re heading to Starbucks.” He slipped the car into first gear. “I think tonight, late May or not, is hot chocolate weather. What do you think?” “Sounds good.” The two arrived as Starbucks, only to see the lights turned out before they could open the car doors. “What do we do now?” Jackson asked. “Dunkin’ Donuts?” She shuddered. “No. I don’t need any more hospital-like fluorescent lights and glaring surfaces tonight.” He waited, not saying anything. “It’s okay to go to my place,” she said. He looked at her for a moment. “Are you sure?” “Yes. It’s okay. I trust you not to do anything I don’t want you to do. You know the way. Let’s go.” They drove in silence until she said, “Turn here. It’s a shortcut.” Within moments, they’d arrived at 85 Front Street. “You can pull in the driveway, if you’d rather,” she said, so he did. When she stepped out of the car, she nearly fell, grabbing the open car door for support. Gasping, she managed, “Need help. Can’t walk.” He hurried to her side, putting his arm around her. “I’m here.” As the two of them made their way to her front door, he commented, “Nice that it’s stopped raining.” “And there’s the moon. And Venus,” she said. He thought he saw her lips move quickly, as if in silent prayer. “You watch the skies? Do you know the constellations?” he said.

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“Not really. I’ve always liked the moon, and I look for Venus because, well,” Her voice trailed off. “Sorry, it’s personal.” “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,” he said as he helped her navigate the porch stairs. “Lord, I love this old Victorian,” she groaned, “but the stairs are going to be killer.” She used her key to open the door. Inside, they stood still for a moment. Finally, Jackson said, “Well, where can I sit you down on the first floor? It’s dark, and I don’t know where to take you.” “Sorry.” She reached past him to flip on the hall light. “Straight ahead is the kitchen. The light switch is on the right wall, next to the doorway. Just off the kitchen is a small sitting room. It’s what’s on the other side of the wall to the right of the staircase, though there’s no way in except through the kitchen. Take me there.” “You mean, I’m actually going to see the SweetKakes kitchen? I figured you’d no more let me in there than the White House would admit me to a State Department dinner.” “I don’t seem to have much choice,” she grumbled. “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t steal any of your secrets.” He flipped on the kitchen light. “Wow. Nice setup.” “Stop gawking and get me to the sitting room.” “Yes, ma’am.” Jackson helped her sit with her legs straight in front of her on the couch. After turning on all the lights, he sucked in his breath to see her swollen, purple-and-black ankle. “Why the hell didn’t you have the ER look at your ankle? It’s obviously a bad sprain. You might even have cracked a bone or torn something.” Lena tossed her head. “Can you please refrain from treating me like a child? I can take care of myself. It’s just a sprain, no big deal.”

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“I’d call being unable to walk without help a pretty big deal.” “With some ice, I’ll be good as new. I do own a cane, as well as an elastic bandage or two. Once the swelling starts going down, I’ll be fine.” He watched her attempts at getting comfortable on the couch, longing to help her, but he knew better than to do so. She’d put up all her walls again and would reject his aid. “What I don’t understand is, how did you walk everywhere, not noticing any pain until a short while ago?” She grimaced while trying to put a pillow under her injured ankle. “It’s called adrenaline. Maybe you didn’t notice my sister was trapped in a crushed car?” “Your ankle didn’t hurt at all?” “Not much, not until I sat in the cafeteria for a while. I think knowing Annie was going to be all right let my body relax enough to feel the pain.” “I’ll go get that ice. I sure hope you keep some refreezable ice packs in the freezer.” “Our personal kitchen is along the left wall. I have three packs frozen and ready to go. Towels are in the drawer next to the fridge. You’ll know which section of the kitchen is non-business; I have an island that partially separates the areas, plus the appliances look pretty shoddy next to the professional-grade things.” Jackson removed an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it in a faded dishtowel. Unable to resist, he lingered briefly to admire the Northland refrigerators and DCS gas stoves. She certainly hadn’t stinted on equipment. “Hey, where’s the ice?” He stepped into the sitting room. “I don’t care to be bossed around. Do it again, and you will get spanked, whether you want me to, or not.” Rubbing her eyes, she said, “Sorry. I’m really a witch on wheels tonight, aren’t I?”

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“I wouldn’t use the word ‘witch.’ Maybe something starting with a ‘b’ would be closer to the truth.” He smiled to soften his words. Placing the towel-covered ice pack gently on her ankle, he wrapped it around the injured area. Lena inclined her head. “Point taken. I’m not used to needing assistance, and as you can tell, I hate feeling helpless. Sorry to be nasty to you. It’s not personal.” “Are you sure about that?” he grinned. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’d treat any man helping me right now like a hunk of dog doo,” she said, her eyes twinkling like matching emeralds. He’d never before seen such striking eyes. Why had he not noticed them until now? Even when he’d been gazing into them before kissing her yesterday, he hadn’t really appreciated their intense color. He felt himself grow hard, so he turned away, adopting a brisk tone. “It’s getting pretty late. We should talk about Tuesday’s job.” Moving to sit on the arm of the couch, he reached over to adjust her ice pack, only to have her flinch when he touched her. “I can see I’m making you nervous. What would you like me to do? Shall I leave?” “No. But I could use some shoes. My room’s on the third floor.” He studied her. “That’s going to be impossible for you to reach tonight.” “Let me worry about that,” she snapped, then apologized. “Sorry. Just please get some shoes and socks. Any of my sneakers will do. Socks are in the top drawer of my dresser.” Her face flushed. “Uh, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, um, look at the rest of the stuff in that drawer.” “I think, while I’m up there, I’ll look for a hairbrush. If you snap at me again, I’m going to use it on your fully-clothed butt.” Her face paled. “I’d rather you didn’t.” “Then behave.” Jackson shook his finger at her.

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Chapter Eleven Lena asked, “Would you mind also bringing my cane? It’s on the top shelf of my bedroom closet.” “What are you doing with a cane? You twist your ankle a lot?” “It was my mother’s,” Lena said. “She died a long time ago. She had multiple sclerosis.” Lena glanced away, but not before Jackson saw the tears. Sniffling, she continued, “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. Today has been hard. I don’t usually bawl like a baby every five minutes, and I’m not usually as rude as I have been tonight.” His heart constricted with pity. He wanted to gather her in his arms, but instead said, “I’ll get your things now.” Lena slipped off the tight slippers once Jackson left the room. As she feared, she had several blisters and raw spots. Plus, her ankle hurt a lot more than she was letting on. Clenching her jaw against the pain, she tried to wiggle her left foot, but moving it was agony. An elastic bandage would help stabilize it. Swinging her legs off the couch, and in her bare feet, she tried to hop to the stairs. Jackson could bring back a bandage for her, and she was stupid not to have thought of it before. Most of her first aid stuff was in the bathroom on the second floor. The bathroom. Now that was going to be a challenge. She hopped for all she was worth, making it as far as the kitchen doorway when he sped down the stairs. “What are you doing up? Get back to that couch, young lady!” He approached her, clearly ready to repeat the fireman’s carry attempt that had so embarrassed her at the hospital. Anxious to avoid being picked up, she turned to hop back, stubbing the big toe on her good foot. “Owww!” she shrieked. “Crap, that hurts!”

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“Lena, don’t move, all right? I don’t want you hurting yourself any worse than you already have.” Placing his arm around her waist, he said, “Let’s try it now.” His hands felt as if they were radioactive. Her skin burned to feel his touch, even over her thick clothing. Suddenly, desire flooded through her, raising a sheen of sweat on her brow. The peaks of her breasts tightened, and her inner core ached with long-denied need. Even the pain she was feeling in her feet and ankle couldn’t drive away the arousal. His hand around her waist slipped a little higher, almost touching the bottom of her breast. Without meaning to, she moaned. He stopped their progress. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? You’re sweating—are you all right?” She took in his dark eyes and muscled shoulders. Such shoulders would be powerful enough to do—almost anything. “I’ll bet you’re one heck of a tennis player,” she murmured, thinking about the place she’d most like him to swat tonight. “What?” All her mouth wanted was his mouth. Talking was a chore, but kissing would be heaven. Staring at his lips, she said, “You didn’t hurt me. I’m just tired.” He helped her hop back to the couch, propping up the bad ankle and replacing the ice pack. Kneeling beside the couch, he ordered, “Stay put. I’m going to put your socks and shoes on for you. And here’s your cane.” “But I need an elastic bandage before you do that.” “And I need to find that hairbrush. If you get off the couch again, you’re getting a spanking.” He locked his gaze on hers. She swallowed. “Okay.” “Was the elastic bandage the reason you tried to hop to the stairs?”

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“Yes. I keep the first aid stuff in the second floor bathroom.” He stood. “Be back in a moment.” She heard his feet pound the stairs and wondered what it would be like, to watch him climb, to watch his fine behind and muscular legs flex. She reached for the newspaper and fanned herself. She must stop this silly, unproductive fantasizing about Jackson. As handsome as he was, he could have his pick of lovely women. He didn’t need her. Besides, one woman had already left him—maybe it was because he treated her badly. Remembering Philip, the handsome cad who had treated her so awfully, helped drive some of the arousal from her body. “I’ve got the bandage—and the hairbrush.” He showed it to her before kneeling by the couch, tenderly picking up the foot with the injured ankle. Noting the blisters and raw spots, he said, “You really need to wash up. These could become infected, and your feet are dirty from the storm. Let me get a basin of water.” “Oh, good grief. Will you just wrap my damned ankle and be done with it?” “That’s it. We need to turn you onto your stomach, Lena.” “We do?” she said, her heart pounding. “My patience is at an end. So I’m going to spank your end. Now, do you want me to turn you, or do you want to do it yourself?” She could barely breathe. “I can do it.” “I’ll help.” He let her balance against him so that she could turn over. Once she was in position, she felt his fingers tugging down the sweat pants. “No, no,” she said, alarmed. “I don’t have any underwear on.” “You’re not lying, are you?” “If you’re going to insist on spanking me over panties alone, you’re going to have to go back and get me some.”

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Something slammed hard against her lower bottom. It stung, even though the thick clothing. “Yow!” “I’ve decided to spank you over the sweats. You’re going to get ten good ones.” She’d never dreamed that the hairbrush could hurt so much, with the thick cloth in the way. Then again, this man was using his upper-body strength to make sure it hurt. Despite her aching ankle, she tried to wiggle her bottom out of the way, but that just made him pin her down, one hand pressing against the small of her back. “Stop,” she cried. “It really, really stings. It hurts a lot more than the other day. OW!” “The other day was just for fun,” he said. “Tonight is to teach you a lesson.” Ten swats didn’t make much noise because they were muffled by the clothing, but her bottom was on fire. Each whack made her stiffen and jerk and cry out. “Ow, ow, my butt really burns, ow, stop!” “I’m not stopping until I think you’ve learned your lesson.” Jackson’s manly growl reminded her of Ken. They’d only had two spankings together, but he’d been nice to her, even if he’d never written back. Then again, the man was in a war zone, so maybe her email and letter had gone astray. SMACK! SMACK! The harshness of the blows had initiated a deep throbbing in her sitting area, and Lena knew she’d be sore later. But the tears she cried felt so cleansing, so right. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll be nice.” SMACK! “And you won’t boss me around.” “OWWW! And I won’t boss you around.” His hand rubbed her backside. “I can’t exactly make you stand in the corner with that gimpy ankle, so be extra good, or I’m going to give you another ten, even harder.” She sniffled. “I’m sorry. Really, I am.” “Come on, let’s turn you back over.”

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“Wait.” She slipped her hands inside the sweatpants to cup her smarting cheeks. “You spank too hard. I’m sore.” “Hey, none of that. Get your hands out of your pants. That’s where my hands belong.” Hearing that, she breathed in, then forgot to breathe out. One of his hands extracted hers, and the other reached inside to stroke her bare bottom. She exhaled with a huge sigh. “Ooo, that feels sooo good. Your fingers are cool on my burning skin.” “You’re forgiven,” Jackson whispered, rubbing her back as well as her sitting area. “Need a tissue?” He removed the hand on her back to give her one. As she wiped her face, saying, “Thanks,” he winnowed a finger between her thighs. “How’s that?” he asked. She spread her legs in response, groaning when he found her wetness. Any pain she experienced was moving away from her consciousness, and she barely noticed when he tugged down the sweats to kiss her aching backside. “Shall I continue?” he asked between kisses, his lips soft and loving against her sore areas. She thought about how close his tongue was to her most sensitive spot, and struggled to speak. It took all her self-control to say, “We have a catering job to plan.” “Let me,” he murmured. “Let me, Lena. It’ll release all kinds of endorphins, natural pain-killers.” His tongue, hot and quick, touched her briefly, and she found she couldn’t say no. Wordlessly, she spread her legs wider, clutching a pillow tightly while his tongue found her swollen nub. It seemed only a few seconds elapsed before sensations rippled through her from that one sensitive area. She cried out, moving against his mouth until the pleasure receded. “Dear God,” she moaned, “I can’t believe I let you do that.” She hid her embarrassment by

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burying her face in a pillow. “I can’t look at you now. One touch, and I spread my legs. You must think I’m a slut.” She felt him tug the sweatpants back to her waist before patting her bottom fondly. “Not at all. You’re a woman who’s under a lot of stress. I simply helped you release it.” “We can never, ever do that again,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow. “Even though I really, really want to.” “Why not?” She felt his hand slip inside her pants again, and she said sharply, “I said no.” He removed his hand, saying nothing for a moment, then, “I need to go wash up. Give me a few minutes.” She didn’t raise her head until she heard his feet on the stairs. Struggling, she turned herself over, wincing when the sweat pants chafed her tender bottom. What the hell had she been thinking, letting this man—her competitor—into her pants at all? A spanking was one thing—she could admit she had one coming. But the rest of it, his fingers, his tongue down there— She knew what he was doing in her bathroom upstairs. He was a man, and she hadn’t offered to ease his stress, had she? No, she’d taken everything he’d given her, and without reciprocation. When he came back down the stairs, she knew she must do something for him. It was only fair. ___________________ Jackson washed his face and hands, uncomfortable as hell. He was harder than he’d ever been in his entire life, but he wasn’t going to ease his tensions in Lena’s bathroom. Maybe she’d be willing to discuss the catering tomorrow morning, instead. Then, he could retreat to his condo and his privacy tonight.

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He returned to the little sitting room, saying, “Lena, can we—” She cut him off. “Shh. Come over here. Closer. No, closer.” She swung upright on the couch so that she was sitting in front of him. Her hands reached out, grabbed his butt, and pulled his hips forward. “Closer.” Dumbstruck, he watched her fingers unbuckle his belt. She had the button undone and the zipper down when he gained enough presence of mind to stop her. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his hand stopping hers from reaching inside his pants. If her fingers touch me, I won’t have the strength to resist. “Easing your stress,” she said, not looking him in the eye. “It’s the right thing to do.” “But you don’t want to, do you?” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I should want to. It’s not that I don’t find you attractive. It’s—not the right time for me, I guess.” He stepped back, refastening his pants and buckling his belt. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. You don’t have to balance the scales here or worry about what might seem fair. I don’t want any woman to have sex with me out of obligation. In fact, the whole idea turns me right off. I did what I did because I wanted to, and because you wanted to. I’m happy I was able to give you so much pleasure. But you don’t owe me anything.” She nodded. “Yeah, well, I guess it was all a mistake. Like I said, never again.” Suddenly, Jackson didn’t feel a bit aroused. He looked away. “We need to talk about the catering job.” Lena spoke with great deliberation. “If you would, please put the kettle on—I’d love some peppermint tea. Fix whatever you’d like for yourself.

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You’ll find everything you need above the stove in the personal area.” He left Lena to her thoughts. While willing himself to think about work, and not about her soft, kissable body—especially her backside—he brainstormed what they might serve at the job fair. The whistling tea kettle called him to his senses. He put together a tray with two teacups in saucers, spoons, paper towels folded like napkins, cream, sugar, and lemon. Lena smiled when she saw it. “Well, I can tell you work in the food business —the tray looks beautiful. What have you got?” “I brought you your tea, but opened a packet of instant hot chocolate for me. I’m a real chocoholic. I didn’t see any mugs, so I hope it was all right to use these teacups. They look so delicate, I’m afraid to touch mine. I’m a bit of a klutz,” he said. “You? You look so graceful when you move, like Gene Kelly in ‘An American in Paris.’” “Kelly must be rolling in his grave to hear you say that. Trust me, I can’t dance, and I’m not the least bit graceful. It’s the size fifteen feet. They get in my way.” Lena had to smile. “Feet seem to be a major topic of conversation today.” Jackson picked up his cup of hot chocolate and sipped with exaggerated care. “I have to admit, I thought I’d die laughing when Annie tried to say, ‘fat feet.’ She’d had too many pills, I think.” “You’re right about that. But let’s not talk about all the things my sister said while high on drugs.” “Oh, you mean like her comment about the size of men’s feet?” he asked. Lena blushed bright red, and it looked good on her, he thought. “Especially that one,” she said. Jackson sipped his cocoa, considering just how much he’d like to show her his—damn, he was getting hard again. He forced thoughts of sex from his mind.

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“What do you think about scallops wrapped in bacon? And Bradley liked those Lemon Cooler cookies of yours. We’ll have canned soda, bottled water, coffeemakers with caf and decaf, and hot water as well. I imagine a fruit plate with grapes, strawberries, and pineapple would be nice. Should we bother with veggies and dip?” he asked. “Someone who’s on a diet—or a vegetarian— would appreciate it. Plus, they’re filling and cost less than scallops, that’s for sure.” Lena grabbed paper and a pen from a nearby table, taking notes. “Right. Okay, veggies and dip are in. We need cheese, too.” “We need a little more meat, I think,” he said. Lena chewed on the pen. “We have to think about who might not be able to eat shellfish or poultry. Let’s do roast beef instead of chicken. And let’s make sure the scallops are properly labeled. Neither of us needs a liability suit because of someone’s shellfish allergy.” “Good point. Anything else you can think of?” “Bradley said classy. Let’s use real plates and cups, not paper stuff. Cloth napkins. I have hundreds of those in white.” “I agree. And we’re done.” Jackson sipped his hot chocolate again. “Now let’s deal with the present. How do you plan to take care of yourself, all alone, with the steps? Can anyone come over and stay with you? Annie will be home tomorrow, but she needs more care than you do.” “I’m sure Ricky will offer to care for his ‘Annabanana.’ He can sleep in the spare bedroom on her floor, the second floor.” Jackson met her gaze. “I don’t know if you should let two twenty-one-year-olds in love with each other sleep together on the same floor, unchaperoned.” “My sister can take care of herself. Besides, she’s not a slut, like me.”

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“Lena,” he said. “I will not have you beating yourself up like that. You are not a slut. It was my bad, to tempt you the way I did. I was selfish.” “Hey, I was joking,” she said. “Besides, nothing you did tonight was bad. I wanted everything you gave me, I mean, did for me.” He cleared his throat. “So. Let’s get back to how you’re going to take care of yourself. Can you climb those steps to the third floor tonight?” “Probably not. I’ll have to sleep right here,” she said. “What about when nature calls?” She set her jaw. “I’ll just have to crawl, I guess.” “Is that what you really want to do? Crawl?” “Well, no, but–“ “I could stay, if you wanted. If you have a guest bedroom on the second floor, you could sleep in Annie’s room tonight. I could stay in the guest room, ready to help you if you need it. And the bathroom’s on that floor, too.” ___________________ At first, Lena shook her head, but then she stopped. Jackson was right—she’d need the help. But her own desires scared her. She hadn’t been thrilled about easing his tension because she’d felt obligated, but she found herself warming to the idea of a mutual tension-easing. Warming to it quite a lot, if the flush in her loins were any indication. And he’d be right in the next room. And probably slept in his underwear. Or maybe he slept naked. And heaven knew her nightgown was just a flimsy old Tshirt… “Does Annie’s bedroom have a lock on the door?” he asked. Lena blinked at him, his question bringing her back to earth. “Yes. Why?” “If you feel really uncomfortable with me around, but still need the help, lock me out. I’ll

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understand if it bothers you to be alone in the house with me.” More like I need a lock to keep me in. Alone in the house with Jackson. Hmm. She gulped the last of her tea, trying very hard not to think about bodies and beds and the full moon out tonight. “Okay.” “Okay, what?” “Okay, you win. I need the help. After you clean up the dishes, please help me up the stairs. I need a shower desperately. If you put the little bath chair we have in the tub for me, I’ll be all right.” Jackson stood and saluted. “Your wish is my command.” Loading the cups and saucers on the tray, he returned them to the kitchen. Lena hated herself for doing it, but she watched every movement his trim, muscled body made as he walked away from her. ___________________ Jackson put the dishes down carefully, blowing air through pursed lips. How she could sit there and talk casually of showers was beyond him. He thought of Lena in the shower, hair hanging down, her body wet with droplets running from here to there, her lips hot and full, her hands touching him, his hands touching her, and his mouth sucking the tight little nipple on one of her full breasts while she moaned... Shaking his head, he dropped to the floor to rip off twenty pushups, hoping the exercise would break the spell. God help him, but he was going to spend the night with her, help her get ready for bath and bed, and never, ever touch her, except as a brother might. She’d said no, and he’d respect her wish. Even if it killed him. “Jackson?” Done with his push-ups, he leaned against the counter, breathing deeply, still trying to dispel his arousal. “You need something?” he called to her.

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“I need help up the stairs now. That nature call is getting pretty loud.” “Shall I leave the dishes ‘till morning?” “Put away the food first, so nothing spoils or attracts bugs. I can wait three more minutes. I think.” “I’ll take you upstairs first. I can run back down to take care of the cream and sugar.” He knew she was struggling to give up control or anything regarding her kitchen. “You’re right. The food can wait a few minutes,” he heard her say. He stepped back into the room. “Wait a minute. I never put the elastic bandage on you. Let me do that first. It’ll help you get around.” “No, let’s not. I’ll just have to take it off in a little while to shower.” “You win, boss,” he said. Grabbing her cane and helping her up, he slid his arm around her waist as if it had been made for him, his hand fitting perfectly in the indented area just north of her curving hips. Their bodies fit so well together, he mused to himself as he drank her in. His lips, mere inches from her hair, itched to kiss the top of her head. Stop this. Together, they made it to the second floor, one step at a time. When they reached the bathroom door, he handed her the cane. “I’ll be right here in case you need anything.” Lena shook her head. “Uh, I need some privacy. Maybe you could take care of the food now?” She used the cane heavily as she half-hopped into the small room, shutting the door behind her. He went back down to the kitchen and busied himself for a little while before waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her call. He heard the door open. “I’m going to take a shower now,” she called down. “What about the bath chair?”

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“I managed to place it in the tub.” “Anything I can do for you?” “Yes. Don’t run the water. The plumbing is old.” “Gotcha.” Unable to do any more for her, and with no other chores on tap, Jackson paced. He glanced over the list for Tuesday’s catering job, jotted down a few minor points, and then sat on the couch, only to get up again within five seconds. He listened for the running of the shower. Still going. He couldn’t clean the teacups if she was still washing. And all he could think about was joining Lena in the shower, taking her to bed, and spending the night with her, in the same bed. Pulling at his hair in frustration, he didn’t know how to stop the storm of desire raging through his body, and he had nothing to distract him. What the hell was he going to do now? Ah, yes. He’d go for a run. No, he couldn’t do that. Suppose Lena fell, or needed him in some way while he was out? Jackson sat again, pondering his attraction to her. It seemed to be physical, yet more than physical. The lust, he understood. He’d never wanted a woman so badly in his life. The other feelings were less clear to him. Was he feeling some sort of emotional attachment? Or was he just feeling sorry for her because it was human to do so?

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Chapter Twelve Lena felt almost normal again with clean hair, a clean body, and the smell of lavender all around. Before she left the bathroom, bundled in her thick, floor-length terrycloth robe, she stopped to pick up her bar of soap and sniff it again. Expensive as anything, but well worth the indulgence. She spent little enough on herself, and her special soap in her favorite fragrance never failed to boost her spirits. She hobbled her way to the stairway, looking up and sighing. Her clothing was on the next floor. Her sister’s tiny duds on this floor wouldn’t fit one of her legs, let alone her entire body. She needed help, yet was reluctant to call to Jackson. She tried to tell herself it was because of her independence, but she knew that the real reason was that she’d thought of little else but him in the shower, and felt very naked under her robe, despite the fact that it covered her thoroughly from neck to ankle. She stood there a while longer, lecturing herself. He wasn’t interested in her, at least not beyond what he might be able to get from her. Why should she think he even wanted her, despite yesterday’s kiss? A kiss is just a kiss, as the old song went. It meant nothing more. “Jackson, help, please.” He took the stairs two at a time. “What do you need?” “Some clothes from my room, up there.” She pointed. “Can’t I do that and save you the trip?” “I’d really rather look for certain things myself,” she said, glancing away. She could feel herself growing aroused as she thought about nightgowns and nakedness and Jackson standing oh, so near. “Well, let’s go, then.” Snuggling her around her waist, the two of them slowly climbed the stairs.

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“Mmm, you smell good,” he murmured. His grip around her waist grew a little tighter. Her head spun. What to say? “I’m glad you like it. I found this wonderful soap once in Nordstrom’s and now use it exclusively. It’s all natural and made from the purest herbs and is so expensive but worth it to me because—.” She stopped herself, realizing she was babbling. “That was probably more information than you wanted.” They reached the top of the staircase. She felt either his nose or his lips brush the top of her head. “Talk all you want, as long as I can stand here like this,” he said. His free hand covered hers around his waist. Shutting her eyes, she drank in his closeness. The hand around her waist slowly slid up to settle under her breast, its index finger exploring near her nipple. Thrills of sensation shot through her body, like mini-firecrackers exploding in her belly, the trails drifting to all her extremities. He pulled her to him, and she felt branded where his lips kissed her on her forehead and cheeks, marked as his alone. He nibbled little kisses down her neck, to the hollow of her throat. Both his hands now cupped her breasts through her robe. Her breathing ragged, she stood absolutely still. As he pressed his body to hers, she felt her robe loosen and his lips on her collarbone. Her knees were turning to water. He was pulling the robe off her shoulders with one hand, while the other brushed against a rock-hard nipple, sending shivers straight to her core. She jerked away then, pulling her robe tightly around herself, embarrassed and anxious at what he might have seen. “No,” she protested, nearly falling backwards down the stairs, saved only because he reached out and snatched her away from the open space behind her. She fought his arms briefly, but stopped when she realized he’d saved her from a terrible fall.

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Stiffening her body under his embrace, she said in a tight voice, “Thank you for keeping me from falling. Please let me go now.” He dropped his arms, shrugging as if it were nothing to him. “Fine. Shall I go back downstairs?” Stung that he could switch gears so abruptly, she felt hurt and used. His shrug had said it all. Nevertheless, his little-boy-lost look pushed her guilt button, forcing her to explain herself. “I–I just don’t want a man in my life. Not right now.” His voice flat, he averted his eyes. “Whatever. Do you want me to go downstairs?” “No, please wait for me. I’ll need help getting back to the second floor. It would mean a lot to me if you would wait ‘till I dress. It–it means a lot to me that you’re willing to stay and help me.” She patted his shoulder awkwardly with one hand while clutching her robe closed with the other. “I don’t make friends easily. You probably figured that out, seeing as how I had no one to call to come help me this evening. Thank you again.” He twisted away, staring out the hall window. “I’ll wait here. Take your time.” His voice and face were expressionless, his hands in his pockets. Lena hobbled to her room and shut the door, completely confused by what had just happened. Her body definitely wanted his. But her heart, still pounding from the encounter, screamed a warning. Her brain felt somewhere in between. She pulled her baggiest outfit from her dresser, so big and loose and floppy that Jackson might have been able to wear it. Yet, underneath, she donned her flimsiest, laciest bra and thong panties. Sitting on her bed for a moment in her underwear, staring at the loose-fitting outfit, she pondered her choices. Was she crazy, or what? She thought about Jackson’s hands tugging her panties off, caressing her bottom before slapping it to a stinging pinkness.

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Her mother’s voice came to her as clearly as if she were sitting next to Lena. “Life is not a dress rehearsal. Don’t live it so cautiously that you end up saying on your deathbed, ‘I wish I had,’ instead of, ‘I wish I hadn’t.’” “But Mama,” she murmured, “I’m not like you— Annie is. I’m like Papa, cautious and serious and always seeing the glass half-empty.” “My dear, sweet Karolena,” her mother’s spirit whispered in her ear, “You are like no one but yourself. Define who you are by your enthusiasms, not your fears.” She hobbled to the window. Venus had set, but the moon, full and golden, had risen. She looked down at her skimpy underwear, thinking how beautiful she felt in it, even if she was a plain Jane in reality. Tucking her damp hair behind her ears, she said, “Thank you, Mama,” and put the baggy clothing back in the dresser, where it belonged. Instead, she donned a sweater and a pair of jeans. It wasn’t high fashion, but at least she didn’t look like The Michelin Man. She managed to slip her feet into a pair of loafers she sometimes used as slippers, picked up her T-shirt nightgown, and on second thought pulled the baggy clothes back out of her dresser. Perhaps Jackson could use them. Opening her door, she noticed that he hadn’t moved, nor had he turned when her door opened. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Would you please help me go to the second floor?” “Would that be before or after I spank you?” She gasped, “What?” The skin on her bottom tingled. “You really are a grouch. A good spanking would put you to rights,” he said, facing her now. “And I think I’m just the man to do it.” Jackson gripped her around her waist and bent her forward. She shivered with pleasure when his palm rubbed her denimed bottom.

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“Lena, your jeans need to come down.” “No. I—I can’t be naked for you. Please don’t force me to be naked.” His hand began unfastening her jeans. “You can leave your panties on. I’ll tuck them, so just your cheeks are bare.” She leaned against him, her breathing hitching when he pushed the jeans to her knees. “A thong. Well, that’s convenient.” His husky tone told her he liked what he saw. When his fingers touched her skin, she moaned. “Did the shower sting your backside?” he asked. “Oh, yes,” she said. Then his palm cracked against one bare cheek. She jumped, protesting, “Ow!” Tears began to form behind her eyes as he spanked her in the same spot, the fire in her bottom growing steadily. “Ow, Jackson, stop, stop! Not the same place!” “Are you ready to improve your mood?” he said, his palm walloping her other cheek now, again, in the same spot, only harder and faster. She squirmed, but he held her tighter to stop her motion. Having a bottom still slightly damp from the shower seemed to make the spanking sting more. Of course, he was whacking the areas he’d made good and sore with the brush not long ago. “Well, Lena?” he asked as his palm cracked against her bottom steadily. Sobs erupted from her as she cried, not only from the sting of the spanking, but also for old emotional wounds and for her current worries. She wept, barely able to choke out, “Yes, Jackson, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” And still the spanks rained down. “Please, I’m really sorry,” she sobbed. “Oh, I’m never going to sit again!” “I seriously doubt that,” he said, helping her stand, then holding her closely while she cried. “Everything’s all right now,” he murmured. “I know your bottom hurts, but you’ll feel better soon. You

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needed that second spanking. The slate’s clean now, Lena.” Unable to say anything, she let him hold her, but it wasn’t long before the heat in her buttocks spread. She wanted this man fiercely, and the hard length she felt pressed against her belly indicated he wanted her, too. She looked up at him. He held her gaze for a moment before sighing. “Let’s go downstairs. I need to bandage your feet.” He wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “My feet?” She stared dumbly at him. I want to have sex, and he’s thinking about my feet? “The first aid stuff is in the bathroom, right? So we need to go down to the second floor.” He helped her pull up and fasten her jeans before placing his arm around her waist. She winced when the rough denim rubbed her still-burning seat as they descended the stairs together. “Wait here while I get what we need in the bathroom,” he said. “O–okay,” she stammered. “But I’ll wait in Annie’s room. It’ll be easier to bandage my feet there.” She used her cane to limp to the bed, and then lay on her stomach across the satin bedspread. Her butt throbbed like a bad tooth. She loosened her jeans and slipped a hand inside, massaging the tender, fiery skin. Yep, this was Annie’s room, all right, she smiled to herself, mentally contrasting the luxurious, deep red fabric on this bed with the antique pastel double-wedding-ring quilt on her own, all the while soothing her inflamed sitting area with tentative fingers. “Maybe I should make you sit.” Jackson reappeared, pulling up a chair and laying out the antibiotic goo and bandages. “Make sure you really learned your lesson.” She groaned, “Oh, please don’t. I learned plenty, Jackson, trust me.”

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He gently tugged her hand out of her pants. “I want your bottom to hurt a little bit, so no more rubbing.” He let her stay on her stomach, tenderly spreading the antibiotic on all of her feet’s raw areas, bandaging as many of them as he could. She craned her neck to watch him work, head bowed, quiet, efficient. He rang no alarms in her as long as he wasn’t acting sexy. Why did she panic so when he turned up the sexual heat? Was it him, or was it just that she was scared to live? In any case, here was a man she could be friends with, at least. Annie had asked her to try, and she’d honor that request. Even though she wasn’t sure she could remain nothing but friends with a man who spanked her. Though the spanking had hurt, it made her heart cry out for his protection and his love, for his arms to hold her tight, for his lips to kiss her, for his hands to—. She was silly to think such things. The man didn’t love her. He was kind, however, kinder than any other man she’d known. She watched him care for her wounded feet, saying softly, “Where did you learn your first aid technique?” “I’d rather not talk about that,” he said, his voice hard. “Jackson, thank you for spanking me.” He still didn’t look up, but he said in a warmer tone, “You’re welcome. What brought that on?” “I really did need that second spanking. I haven’t been nice to you, and you’ve been enormously generous and kind despite that.” Tears burned her eyes. “Would you please be my friend?” Slowly he looked up at her, nodding. Resuming his work on her feet, he said, “My mother.” “Your mother what?” “My mother gave me my first aid knowledge. My younger brother was always falling down, getting scrapes of all sorts. Occasionally, I had to care for

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him.” Jackson’s voice trailed off. Lena, remembering Bobby’s information, decided to remain silent and not ask about Jackson’s late brother. Jackson spoke again. “He died, you know. When I was nine.” A lump formed in her throat. “I can’t imagine losing Annie. That must have been very hard for a nine-year-old to endure.” “Yes, it was.” Jackson cleared his throat. “I’ll go downstairs and get those socks you never put on. They should protect your feet overnight so that the antibiotic can do its work. I’ll bring up another ice pack for your ankle, and a glass of water and some ibuprofen as well, if you’ll tell me where you keep it.” “Ibuprofen’s in the bathroom cabinet.” She reached back and grabbed one of his hands as he rose to leave the room. “Thank you again. For everything,” she said, gripping his hand tightly and biting her lip. He met her eyes and patted her shins. “You’re welcome.” ___________________ Jackson woke with a start. Briefly he wondered where he was and what had disturbed his sleep, until he heard Lena shuffling along the floor, her cane thumping. The clock in the guest room read three forty-four. Rising to offer his help, he froze when he saw her standing in the hallway through the crack between his door and the jamb. The light of the moon shone on her, shone through her long T-shirt, and the sight he beheld instantly aroused him. He swallowed hard to see every inch of her luscious curves clearly outlined, and her caramelcolored hair shining like a newly-minted gold coin. He ached to touch her skin, to kiss her, to lay her down, to bury his mouth between her legs and make her scream with pleasure, to bury himself to

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the hilt inside her. He could barely breathe when he looked at her. He heard her bump into something and mutter under her breath. If he was going to offer help, he needed to slip his pants on and get out there. Stifling a groan of desperate need, he dressed quickly and poked his head out, whispering, “Need help?” He couldn’t miss the alarm radiating from her face. “No. Go back to sleep now.” Crossing her arms across her chest, she clearly communicated that she felt too underdressed to encounter him in the hall. Disappointment made his groin ache. After the spanking, they’d grown close, promising to become friends. But at this moment, the closeness was nowhere to be found. He struggled to keep his eyes on her face, not wanting her to know how much he was enjoying her state of undress. “Okay,” he said, pushing his door shut. He heard her close the bathroom door. A few minutes later, the door opened. Jackson couldn’t resist. He cracked his door open a bare quarter-inch and watched Dream Woman half -hop back to her room. Scolding himself for being a pig, nevertheless her hops were quite entertaining—her full breasts swayed, the stiff tips visibly poking through the thin fabric. Farther down her torso, the shadow of the inverted triangle where her legs began had him remembering her taste, like musky honey. And her hips. He imagined the softness of her creamy skin, imagined running his fingers along the line of her pelvis, the curve of her thigh. He imagined her over his lap, moaning as her spanking turned erotic, opening her thighs to his exploration. He longed to feel the heat he was certain still lingered in her aching backside. Abruptly, he realized that his fantasy had become so vivid, she’d vanished into her room, and he hadn’t even noticed. Lying down on the bed,

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staring at the ceiling, sleep evaded him for the rest of the night. Finally, at sunrise, he could stand it no more. He dressed and slipped out for a run, taking a spare set of keys he found on a pegboard downstairs. At first, the run felt awful, but once he found his rhythm, he enjoyed the early morning freshness, smelling flowers and seeing the world as if new. The run cleared his head as well. His physical infatuation with Lena needed to be controlled if they were to be friends. Obviously, she wasn’t interested in any kind of sexual relationship, and that’s all he wanted at the moment, someone to fill his nights. Still, he respected this complicated woman who worked hard and asked for nothing but a level playing field, who stood faithful and true to her sister. Family, something he’d lost so long ago, took inordinate importance in his mind, and anyone who stood by their family, sacrificing so much, deserved his help and his friendship. Twenty-five minutes later, he was back at 85 Front Street. After a few stretches on the porch, he let himself in, turning the key softly before tiptoeing to the kitchen. He made a pot of coffee and watched it brew while enjoying a large glass of orange juice. He decided to wait until she arose, then go out and buy some bagels or muffins or something. In the meantime, a cup of coffee would be a blessing, considering how little sleep he’d had. He was pouring his first taste of the coffee into one of the delicate teacups when he heard the nowfamiliar clumping on the floor above him. He hurried to the bottom of the stairs, calling, “Need help?” Her head appeared above the balustrade. “Oh, you’re up. No, my ankle feels a little better. I’m going to try the stairs by myself.” “I’ll wait here while you do.” “No, you won’t,” she ordered. “I need to learn to navigate the stairs. Soon, my sister will be home,

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and she’ll need help, so I’d better get used to it right now.” He ignored her command, watching her try the first few steps, putting a little weight on the ankle. She did look better; though the ankle’s swelling was clearly visible through the socks she still wore. “Didn’t I tell you not to wait for me?” Lena glared at him. He crossed his arms. “Do I need to spank some manners into you again?” Her face flushed. “No. I’m sorry.” He waited until she reached the first floor, following behind her as she continued limping to the sitting room, bearing heavily on her cane. She sat on the couch. “I’m going to wrap the elastic bandage around my ankle. The support will help me.” “Let me do that for you,” he said, kneeling. She held out her hand, her palm vertical. “Jackson, please, I’m not an invalid. In fact, I could probably beat you in a footrace.” He laughed. “That’s a good one. You can barely walk.” “Well, I couldn’t race you now,” she admitted, “but I could if both my ankles were well.” Tess always enjoyed it when you did things for her, a little voice in Jackson’s head whispered. In fact, Tess would have been content to sit around eating Godiva truffles and drinking wine all day, if those things had been low-calorie. Tess had never minded when he took over her duties, because it freed her to play and relax. She’d shop, go to the gym to keep her tight, thin body in perfect shape, and go out clubbing with her friends. He’d bet Lena had never dropped thousands at Saks, or gone clubbing. Lena didn’t want someone to take care of her. She was independent, tough, and willing to work.

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Face it. Tess had been a spoiled brat. He should have spanked her, and he couldn’t figure out why he never had. “Oh, shut up,” he muttered to himself. “What?” “Just talking to myself.” “I could use some of that coffee, please, when you get a chance.” Her polite, shy request caught him off-balance. Maybe last night’s spanking had done some good. Though, truth be told, he’d be delighted to have a reason to spank her again, right this minute. He stood. “Coming right up. How do you take it?” “Just a little cream, nothing else.” He brought her a glass of juice and a cup of coffee, setting them on the table closest to her. Her smile warmed him. “Thanks,” was all she said. The silence stretched out awkwardly until she continued, “Did you sleep well?” “Oh, sure, like a log,” Jackson lied. “How about you?” Lena sipped her coffee. “I didn’t sleep quite as soundly as usual. Every time I’d roll over in bed, it seemed that my ankle would wake me up—that is, when it wasn’t my sore butt bothering me.” She smiled at him, sliding her hand under one cheek to rub it. “Are you normally an early riser, like me?” “Of course. Can’t miss the sunrise,” he lied again, recalling just how few he’d seen in his life, unless, of course, he’d been up all night. But he could count the number of all-nighters he’d had since college on one hand. He just wasn’t a party kind of guy. He left those activities to his buddy Bobby. He couldn’t keep lying to a person he respected, though. Even little social lies disturbed him. Changing the subject, he said, “Hey, how about if I go over to Bruegger’s and get bagels for breakfast?”

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“Only if you let me pay for them,” she insisted. “Bring me my purse, and I’ll get a ten for you.” “Damn it, you are not paying for my breakfast. We might not have landed that big catering job if it weren’t for you, so let me treat, all right?” “Fine.” Lena rolled her eyes. “Please bring me back two ‘everything’ bagels. Also, help me get set up in the kitchen before you go. I want to call some suppliers. I’ll take care of the produce and cheese orders. Then all you’ll have to do is buy the scallops. And pick up the drinks. And the roast beef. And the rental dishware, though you can use my account at Taylor if you want.” “Gee, is that all?” he complained through his smile. “Ricky already volunteered to get the sodas and bottled water. I’ll send him for the dishes, too. I want to handle the actual food myself, so I can ensure what we’re getting is top-notch. But I won’t buy the scallops until tomorrow morning. The roast beef should be all right to pick up today. I didn’t notice a meat slicer in your kitchen, so I’ll slice the beef at my place and then bring it here for refrigeration.” “Okay. I need to make some more dough for Lemon Cooler cookies. Also, I’ve got a standard checklist I use for the million little details of serving food. We can go over it together later. Unfortunately, we can’t make or assemble most of the food until tomorrow, so we’d better finish all the running around and taking care of the little, nonfood things today.” Jackson carried the cell phone, her notebook with the plans in it, and her cup of coffee while Lena hobbled to the small kitchen table and chairs. “Darn, I forgot I need my price book and records. Would you please bring them over before you leave? They’re in the small filing cabinet in the sitting room.” An electronic trill sounded. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket, sighing at the number in the

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display. “Barely seven-thirty, and Harold Bradley’s calling already. Is this man a micromanager, or what?”

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Chapter Thirteen Lena stood to enjoy the rest of her coffee after Jackson left in search of bagels. It really did hurt to sit, but she was strangely glad of that fact. After limping to the sitting room to fetch a pillow, she placed it on the wooden kitchen chair. When she sat gingerly on the pillow, she sighed. Much better. Grabbing the phone, she ordered the produce and cheese, to be picked up later today. Now, she’d call her sister. The phone to Annie’s room rang only once before Ricky answered. “Ricky? Lena. How’s she doing? Did she spend a peaceful night?” “She’s raring to go this morning. She was sleeping every time I checked on her last night—the stuff they gave her really knocked her out. This morning, she’s already grumbled for coffee and refused to eat the gruel they put in front of her, so you’d better be ready to feed her when she comes home.” “Jackson’s out picking up bagels, and I always have the coffee pot on. Reassure her she won’t starve. I don’t know where she puts all that food she eats—maybe in her hollow leg.” Ricky chuckled. “She sure can pack it away, I’ve noticed. In a little while, they’re going to outfit her with crutches, and then we can be on our way.” “Thanks for bringing her home for me, Ricky. If it’s not an inconvenience, I’d be grateful if you could stay here for a night or two to help her. Would you be able to do that?” “I’d be glad to. I’ll go home later to pack some things I’ll need. I have to run some catering errands for Mr. P anyway. Do you need to sign her out of this place?” “She’s legally an adult. She can sign herself out. If they give you any trouble, have them call me on

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my cell phone. Annie has the number. Let me talk to her, okay?” Annie came on the line. “Hey, sis, how’s it going?” “I’m fine. How are you feeling?” “Hungry and in need of caffeine. The food here sucks.” “Are you having any pain?” “A little,” Annie admitted. “But they gave me a ton of Darvocets, or something like that. I don’t want to take any till I’ve eaten a good meal. In the meantime, it’s nothing I can’t deal with.” “But you are feeling well enough to come home?” “Really, Lena, you insult me. You think a little thing like a broken leg is going to keep me down?” “No, I guess not. Annie, I just realized something. You don’t have any clothing to wear. Tell Ricky to run over here on the double, and I’ll supply him with some things for you.” “Make sure you give him the purple, scoopnecked jersey. I know he likes how that looks on me. I have to wear a low-cut bra with it, so make sure you send one.” Lena shook her head. “Is there anytime at all that you don’t think of sex?” “Nope. Also, send along with my very-unfavorite baggy sweat pants. I doubt I can get anything else up over this cast. I might even have to cut off one of the legs to get them to fit. I’ll need one sneaker and two socks. No way any shoe I own is going over this cast.” “Check.” “Are you there by yourself?” She heard the worry in Annie’s voice. “Jackson’s out getting food—” “Jackson? Hmm, sis, you been having some fun behind my back?” Lena shifted on the pillow, patting the tender areas on her bottom, and cleared her throat.

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“Annie, really. He’ll be here a lot while we prepare for our catering job. Think you’ll be up to helping out by tomorrow morning?” “I could do it today. I am woman, hear me roar,” she giggled. “Like on that commercial for Oprah or something.” “Good to see this hasn’t affected your mouth and sense of humor.” “Yeah, yeah. You okay, Lena?” “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” “Ricky said something about your feet hurting.” “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Annie,” she continued, “I hope you know how much I love you and, and that you don’t think I abandoned you. I would have stayed all night if I didn’t have this job to take care of.” “Forget it. Ricky’s been a lot more fun than you would have been because, after all, he’s a guy. I hope this cast doesn’t keep us from–“ “I don’t want to know,” Lena interrupted. “Really, I don’t.” “Gosh, it is so easy to yank your chain!” Annie laughed. “Chill. We didn’t have sex here, if you’re worried about that. We just cuddled and kissed. The nurse came in and looked at us pretty oddly, though.” “That’s because I told them Ricky’s your brother. Gotta go—I think I hear Jackson. Sign yourself out and call me on the cell if they give you any trouble.” “My brother?” “A convenient fib so he could stay with you last night. Bye for now.” The knocking on the front door became insistent. Jackson must have forgotten to take keys with him. She called, “I’m coming, hold your horses,” as she slowly limped down the hall. Seeing Elyse Woodcock through the peephole surprised her. She pulled the door open and leaned around it, talking through the screen. “Hello, Mrs. Woodcock. How can I help you?” As usual, Lena

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thought, she was dressed impeccably, today sporting a cream-colored blouse and tan slacks that looked like they cost four figures. “You can help me, dear, by letting me in. We have something to talk about.” “We do?” “Lena, polite people ask other people in.” Images of getting another spanking for being impolite flashed through Lena’s head. “Sorry. I’m having a little trouble getting around today.” Hopping on one foot, she moved so that she could open the door fully. “Please come in.” “What happened? You didn’t look hurt the last time I saw you.” “Oh, apparently I twisted my ankle or something.” Lena waved away Elyse’s concern as both moved towards the kitchen. “I can’t offer anything beyond coffee at my kitchen table, unless you’d like a glass of juice.” “Coffee, black, would be fine, dear. And I’ll pour it myself—you sit.” When Elyse saw Lena lower her buttocks slowly onto the chair with a pillow, her eyebrows shot up, and Lena couldn’t help blushing when Elyse said, “If you want to sit, that is. Believe me, dear, I understand. I’m a little sore back there myself this morning. Where do you keep your cups?” “In that cabinet over the coffeemaker.” Elyse examined them. “These are exquisite, Lena. Where did you find them?” “They were my mother’s.” “She clearly had excellent taste.” Elyse poured coffee for herself and sat down opposite Lena. “How is your sister? Yesterday must have been dreadful for you.” “She spent the night in the hospital, but she’s fine, except for a broken leg. Ricky Jiminowski is bringing her home later. Do you know him?”

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Smiling a secret smile, she nodded, saying, “Oh, yes, I know Ricky. A wonderful boy. I didn’t realize he was dating your sister.” “Dating? How did you–? Never mind. How can I help you?” Lena said. “I have this old Range Rover that my husband used to drive. It’s been sitting in the garage since he died, and the only time it’s ever used is when an old friend of Walter’s drives it to keep it oiled or something. You would be doing me a favor if you would take it off my hands.” “What do you mean? Are you selling it? If so, I need more details and a mechanic to check it over. Also, my funds are rather limited. If it’s fairly new, I won’t be able to afford it.” “No, dear, I’m not selling it. I’m giving it to you. Technically, I’m selling it to you for a dollar. Bobby said that would be the best way to handle things.” Lena struggled to her feet. “Mrs. Woodcock, you obviously have me confused with a charity. I don’t take gifts from anyone. If you’ll give me details, I’ll be happy to consider buying it. I do need something immediately. Other than that, this conversation is over.” Elyse Woodcock calmly sipped her coffee. “Sit down, dear. I’m not finished.” “Well, I am.” She glared at the woman. “Too bad. I’m the guest, and I say I’m not finished.” Lena sat down again. “All right,” she snapped. “Talk.” Elyse put her cup down, looking Lena directly in the eye. Wow, that’s some eye contact, Lena thought. No wonder men get flustered around her. Lena warmed a little to her guest. “I really do have to get rid of this car. Let’s just say I need the room. And you need a sizeable vehicle for your business. I have more money than I could ever spend in three lifetimes—I married money, bless my poor late husband. If you won’t

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take the Range Rover off my hands for a dollar, how about if I give it to you for an unspecified future catering job? Can you handle a three hundred person engagement party or wedding reception at The Manse?” “That’s serious money, Elyse, if you’re contemplating full dinners.” “No, just tea party kinds of foods, plus an open bar stocked with the liquor I prefer to serve. And cake, of course.” “We’re probably talking at least,” Lena paused while she ran figures in her head, “Fourteen thousand, maybe more, if you want expensive liquor, and the Grand Ballroom at The Manse. Do I understand you correctly? Do you want me to throw a reception costing up to, say, fifteen grand, in exchange for the car?” “That’s right, dear. The car is eight years old and only has about fifty thousand miles on it. Do you find that a fair trade?” “Assuming the Range Rover is in good shape, that’s very fair. Is it automatic or stick?” “Automatic, I believe. Will that be acceptable?” “Considering the current state of my left ankle, absolutely.” “Then you will use it for a few days, free of charge. Have your mechanic take a look at it, and get back to me by, say, Friday, to let me know if you want it.” “Elyse–“ “These are my terms if you want the vehicle. I insist you use it free for a few days to ensure that it meets your needs and to verify it’s in good running order.” Lena blinked. “All right. I think that will be fine.” “May I borrow your phone, dear?” Lena handed her the cell phone. Elyse punched in a number, then said, “George, it’s a done deal. I’ll meet you out front.” When she stood, she helped Lena to her feet.

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“Come see the car, Lena. It’s waiting for you.” Puzzled at the speed of the transaction, she limped to the front door with Elyse. Out front was a mint-condition black Range Rover of recent vintage. “Elyse, this car is no more than five years old, tops. You could get twice what I’m paying for it. I won’t do this.” A weathered-looking man climbed the porch stairs and held out the keys. Elyse Woodcock took them, pressing them into Lena’s free hand. “It’s yours now, and I finally have enough space in my garage. I’m sorry it’s not the right color, but George here can recommend a good place to repaint it. We’ll talk about the reception when you are fully healed, dear.” “Take it to Dashiell’s,” George offered. “Mention George who works for Mrs. W. They’ll take good care of you and your vehicle.” Her head was whirling. “B—but—“ “Hush. You’ll do as I say, young lady,” Elyse said. All three craned their necks at the sound of a closing car door. Jackson was back, with a sack of food and a small duffle bag. “I stopped at my place to get some clean clothes and my kit after I bought the—Mrs. Woodcock?” “Lena just bought a car from me.” The woman turned toward her. “Dear, we’ll worry about the paperwork and all those boring details later. I’ll make sure it’s fully insured for commercial purposes. The registration is in the glove compartment. I hope you like it as much as my Walter did.” Lena inclined her head. “You win. I’ll try the Range Rover out. But what’s this wedding reception you mentioned? How far in the future is it?” “Don’t worry, you’ll have all the details when the time comes.” “Whose reception is it? I didn’t think you had any children.”

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Elyse smiled the smile that made the Mona Lisa famous. “I don’t. It’s just someone I know who’s eventually going to get married. You don’t really need the name right now, do you?” “No, I guess not.” Lena abruptly hugged Elyse with her free arm. “Thank you so much.” “Thank you, dear. Now I can fit another Porsche in the garage. George, it’s time to go. Lena, please give your sister and Master Ricky my best regards.” “Nice to meet you, ma’am. Don’t forget about Dashiell’s,” George said, tipping his cap to Lena as he followed his employer down the porch stairs. Jackson and Lena stood there, open-mouthed. “Did she say another Porsche?” Jackson wondered, seeing George drive Elyse off in a Bentley. “Good grief, how many cars does the woman own?” Lena ran her free hand through her hair. “That’s one less thing to worry about, at least for the moment. I’ll call the guys who make magnetic signs and see if they can whip up two for me today. That’ll do for the car until I can get it painted with our logo. Let’s eat. I’m starved.” “So, you’re buying the Range Rover from Elyse?” Jackson followed her down the hall, confusion in his voice. “Sort of. You know how in sports sometimes a player is traded for one to be named later? Well, in this case I’m trading catering a wedding reception to be named later for that vehicle.” “Interesting. You’ve been a busy bee while I’ve been gone.” “Yes. That reminds me, I have to gather clothing for Annie to wear home. Ricky will be here—“ A knock at the door stopped her. “That’s probably him now. Will you please answer the door while I go upstairs and pick out clothes? I’ll put them in a bag and toss them down the stairs.” “Hey, Mr. P,” Lena heard Ricky say as she hobbled up the stairs, “How are you? Hey, Lena, can I help?”

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“Just wait at the bottom of the stairs. I’ll throw a bag of clothing down.” Lena grabbed the items Annie had requested and stuffed them in a tote bag. Shouting, “Bombs away,” she flung it down the stairs. “Thanks. I’ll be back with her soon. Thanks for the bagel to go, too,” Ricky said. As the door shut behind him, Jackson said, “Let’s go have breakfast. Now. Something tells me today isn’t going to get any quieter from here on out.” ___________________ Having finished his bagel and coffee, Jackson leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. He had not felt this comfortable with a woman in a long time. Lena, hardly a chatterbox, sat with both hands holding her cup, her attention focused inside herself. Occasionally, he saw her shift on the pillow, something between a wince and a smile flashing briefly across her face. He kind of wished she’d act up, so he’d have an excuse to spank her before Ricky and Annie returned. His cell phone rang. Looking at the Caller ID, he groaned. “Yes, Mr. Bradley. No, everything is fine. Why? What? No, she’s all right. It was her sister in the car. No, this doesn’t affect tomorrow in any way—we’ll be there for you. Thanks. Goodbye.” Lena glanced at him over the rim of her cup. “Obviously, that was Bradley, and he’s heard about yesterday’s accident.” “He said it was on Boston television last night at eleven, and on the inside front page of the Boston Globe, part of a story on yesterday’s wild weather. It’s the front-page headline on the local paper. I never even noticed any reporters there. Did you?” “I wouldn’t have noticed Santa Claus in drag yesterday unless he was in my face. But I’d forgotten about the paper till now. It should be on the porch.”

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Jackson fetched the paper, and unfolded it while walking down the hall. “Yep, Annie and you and ‘SweetKakes’ are local celebrities now.” She cringed at the blaring headline. “I hate attention like this. I just want to do my job.” “Most people would love a little time in the limelight.” “I’m not most people, in case you hadn’t noticed.” “Remember, no publicity is bad publicity.” On cue, both Lena’s cell phone and her wall phone began ringing simultaneously. She fielded the cell calls while Jackson answered the landline phone for the next few minutes as people began calling, curious about the accident at the Gainsborough Common. Everything had barely quieted down when they heard knocking at the front door. “Now what?” she moaned, laying her head on the table. “I’m not home, Jackson.” He opened the front door, only to see a man in work clothes. Behind him was the crushed SweetKakes vehicle, hooked to a tow truck. “This where SweetKakes is? Where do I put her car?” Jackson stepped out on the porch, pulling the door shut behind him. “Take it to the junkyard. It doesn’t look drivable to me.” “Fine, buddy, but not without some money. It’s $65 just to hook it up to the truck. Taking it to the yard will cost another fifty, plus the yard will probably charge you to take it off your hands.” “The junkyard wants us to pay them?” “That’s the way it works. You got some money?” “Who called you, anyway?” “The city. Wrecks are the owner’s responsibility, and it was in the way over by the Common.” Jackson took out a credit card. “Plastic okay?” “Sure. Let me call the office to run the number.” Jackson looked through the poor battered Range Rover while the tow truck driver verified his credit.

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Seeing nothing of value left in it, Jackson signed it over to the driver. Climbing back in his truck, the man said, “It’ll be over at Pete’s Place, if you want to take another look inside it. They’ll contact you about any fees they charge.” With that, he drove away, the proud old Range Rover swaying from the hook. The tow truck and wrecked car had just vanished around the corner when Ricky’s familiar station wagon pulled up. Jackson stuck his head inside, yelling, “Annie’s home!” before he went to help her. “Jackson, I didn’t expect you here,” Annie smiled. “The two of you bury the hatchet?” “Your sister had a sprained ankle and could barely walk last night. I stayed over to help her.” Annie’s eyebrows danced up and down. “You spent the night with my sister? I can’t wait to tease her about this.” “I don’t think that’s such a good idea—“ “What’s not a good idea?” Lena interrupted, limping down the walkway. “Ooo, sis, are you all right?” “Of course. Just a little sprain. It’s nothing.” “Not according to Jackson. He said he slept here last night.” Lena slapped her forehead, muttering, “I can’t believe you told her that.” “So, when’s the wedding? Did you guys have fun? What did you think of his romantic skills, sis?” Annie’s grin was as wide as it was wicked. “Did he spank you before he—?” “Ricky, can’t you shut her up?” Lena begged. “Sure can.” With that, Ricky grabbed Annie to kiss her deeply. “Good grief, I didn’t mean that way!” Shaking her head, Lena went back inside the house. Jackson followed, grabbing the duffle bag he dropped earlier. “Mind if I get a shower while you catch up with your sister? Then Ricky and I will go to work.”

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He ran up the stairs with Lena’s blessing. Soon, he was stripped and in the shower, enjoying the hot water on his tired body. As he toweled off, he picked up Lena’s soap, inhaling deeply, remembering how she smelled the night before. Memories of the spanking and their embrace flooded his mind, and with them his intense arousal. He dressed, trying to ignore the hot heaviness tormenting his groin while scenes of her bare, reddened bottom flashed through his mind. ___________________ “I’m starved. I need about three of those bagels. Any chocolate ones?” Annie fluffed her short hair as she relaxed at the table, her broken, casted leg resting on a chair. In big, neon-purple letters, the legend, ‘I love U, Annie’ was written lengthwise down her cast, with a purple heart representing the word ‘love’. “And I see a pillow on your chair. You did get spanked, didn’t you?” “Donuts come in chocolate. Bagels don’t. How about a blueberry one? And no, I didn’t get spanked. The pillow is for me to rest my ankle on.” Lena lied, limping to the toaster, only to have Ricky steer her back to the table, saying, “Let me take care of this. You need to rest your leg, too.” She did her best to sit nonchalantly on the hard seat, keeping a stone face when she shifted to lift her ankle to rest on the pillowed chair. No way was she letting Annie know that Jackson had busted her bottom twice the night before. Annie interrupted her thoughts. “Blueberry’s cool, but I’m serious about wanting three. I haven’t eaten a damn thing in almost twenty-four hours. Thanks for the coffee, but I need more, now. Lena, these teacups don’t hold squat.” “You’ll drink out of Mama’s cups and like it, girl.” Lena waggled her finger at her sister. “Otherwise, I’ll make Ricky sleep on the third floor.”

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“Ouch. Okay, I promise to be good,” Annie said as Ricky filled her coffee cup. “Tell me what happened to your ankle. And what was all that about your feet? I sorta remember something from last night about feet, and Ricky said this morning that your feet were hurt.” “I must have turned my ankle, running to you across the Common. It really didn’t hurt at all until I knew you were going to be all right. Once I relaxed, it started hurting a lot, and I could barely walk. But it’s better today. Actually, as long as I’m sitting here, I should ice it. Ricky, please hand me an ice pack from the freezer. I’ll use this towel here as a wrap.” Ricky handed Lena the ice pack as she continued. “My shoes were thoroughly soaked, and I wasn’t wearing socks, so–“ “Ow. Blisters. I get it,” Annie winced. “–so my feet hurt. Jackson bought slippers for me in the hotel gift shop, but they’re about three sizes too small, so that’s the commotion you remember about feet.” “Hey, I never heard about the job tomorrow. Tell me.” “We’re catering a job fair at UniMed. Jackson and I planned it last night, and he and Ricky are going to do a lot of the errands, seeing as how you can’t drive, and I probably shouldn’t, at least not today. Speaking of driving, did you notice the black Range Rover out there? That’s ours.” Annie nearly dropped her cup. “You’re kidding. What did you do, rob someone? I know we can’t afford a car that new. It doesn’t look more than four, maybe five years old.” Lena smiled. “Actually, Elyse Woodcock and I traded. We got the Range Rover, she got more room in her garage plus a fancy wedding reception catered at a time to be named later. I think we settled on fifteen thousand for the total cost of the job. As that is retail, it will actually cost us less than that, so we did get a steal. I tried to refuse it, but

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Elyse can be quite bossy when she wants to be. Essentially, she ordered me to take the car. Kept saying how she needed room for another Porsche. Her chauffeur brought the Range Rover over and drove Elyse off in a Bentley. Must be nice, eh?”

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Chapter Fourteen “I’d not turn money down if someone wanted to lay it on me.” Annie sipped her coffee. “I mean, what’s not to like about free money?” “Really? You wouldn’t mind not having earned it?” “Hardly. Lena, you and I have worked like dogs for years—especially you. We’re young, so we’ve got many more years of hard work ahead of us. It would be nice to work because we wanted to, not because we’re afraid we’ll starve. And if we had money, I wouldn’t be accumulating all those student loans I have to pay off someday.” Annie glanced at Ricky, who nodded agreement. Lena bit her lower lip. “I can see that. It just bothers me to accept charity. I don’t like feeling I owe someone something.” “Part of life is receiving, not just giving, sis,” Annie said before chomping into a bagel. Between bites, she asked, “What happened to Jeeves? Did you call the city?” “Oh, no. I completely forgot. I’ll do that.” After being shuttled around two or three times, Lena finally found the proper person, who told her she should have seen the car by now, as it had been towed to her house over an hour ago. Taking down the information, Lena then called the towing company. Her voice became tighter and firmer as she talked. Finally, she called the junkyard to verify her car was indeed there. Punching the off button on her cell phone, Lena felt as if her head might fly off her neck, she was so angry. Her sister touched her arm cautiously. “Lena? What happened?” “Let’s wait for Mr. Portsmouth to come back down here. He’s the major player in this little drama,” she ground out through clenched teeth.

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“Now, Lena, I’m sure he was just trying—“ Annie frantically tried to signal to Ricky that he should shut up, but Lena beamed her steely gaze at him. “I’ve told you before, Ricky, don’t you dare defend that man to me. He’s trying to take control of my life and my business, and I’m tired of it. What was he thinking, not even telling me that my car was here.” What was I thinking last night, letting him spank my bare butt and take care of me, if this is how he repays me? Jackson chose that moment to stroll into the kitchen, looking refreshed and relaxed. He glanced from face to face, finally resting his eyes on Lena. She felt her anger well up, ready to explode. “Well, Mr. Portsmouth. When were you planning to tell me you sent Jeeves to the junkyard without even letting me tell him goodbye?” “Jeeves? Who the hell is—? You mean your car?” “Damn straight, I mean my car! How dare you dispose of it without bothering to tell me. First of all, my bills are not yours to pay. Second, my property is not yours to dispose of, no matter how junky it may look to you. Third, I, I, I don’t know what’s third, but I’m so mad at you, I wish I had two good feet to kick your butt from here to the Common and back, you patronizing, self-satisfied piece of—“ “Just a minute. I’ve waited on you hand and foot and tried to spare you some emotional trauma. Yes, I took care of the Range Rover situation. It was totalled, Lena, and I thought I was doing you a favor by taking that chore off your hands. On top of that, I’ve been willing to do more than my share of the work for the job tomorrow because you’ve got a gimpy ankle, and your sister broke her leg, and despite that, I was still going to split the money fifty-fifty. So don’t get self-righteous on me.” He bent down, whispering in her ear. “You need another spanking, for acting like a bitch.”

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Lena pulled away from him. She drew her hand back to slap his face, but he caught her wrist, shaking his head. Furious, she struggled to escape his grasp. “You’ve shown your true colors now, bub. Men use the ‘b’ word to label a woman who can take care of herself.” Ricky and Annie exchanged looks. “‘B’ word?” Annie said, but Lena continued. “And who are you to get all high and mighty about who’s doing what share of tomorrow’s job? How do you know you’ll be doing more than half? I’m more than ready to do my half, and your half, too, if needed. I’ve got a car now for errands, and both Annie and I can still slice, dice, and cook rings around you. So get out of here, you bastard, and don’t try to feed me crap and call it caviar!” Jackson picked up a teacup, as if to throw it. Narrowing her eyes, she snarled, “If you break one of Mama’s teacups, I swear on her grave I’ll cut off your—“ She stopped. “Just don’t go there, Jackson.” Shaking his head, he placed the cup back on the table. “Actually, I was going to have a cup of coffee and go cool off so that we could discuss this like rational people, but I can see there’s no hope of having a normal discussion with you. You win, Lena. You’ve been trying to push me out the door from the moment I arrived last night. I’m sorry if my handling of your wrecked car was not to your liking. As for not telling you, well, it’s been a little hectic around here, and I forgot. No ulterior motives on my part. I just plain forgot.” Lena shot a laser-look of disbelief at him before hobbling out the kitchen’s back door. Kicking the wall in frustration, Jackson snatched up his duffle bag and stormed out, leaving a transfixed Annie and Ricky alone in the kitchen. The front door closed with a soft click. Lena crouched on the back steps, her knees almost to her chin, as she felt the tears come, hot and angry. Men were always manipulating her in

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some way. It had started with her father, who would beat her for not working hard enough or not being submissive enough, then progressed to Philip, who’d used her like a tissue for his amusement, and continued to Jackson, who seemed to want to run her life. Well, she’d never make that mistake again. He was raised too well-off to know real struggle, and didn’t understand what she’d lived through. If he had, maybe he wouldn’t have been so cavalier about sending away the first real thing she’d ever bought for herself, other than this house. She couldn’t help if it was silly. She loved her old Range Rover, and grieved for it. He probably thought that was one more ridiculous thing women do, naming their cars and caring when they die. Dropping her head into her lap, she began to cry great, gulping sobs for her sister’s accident, for Jeeves, for all the missed opportunities and hurts she’d suffered in life. She’d thought that last night’s spanking had released all those feelings, but now she knew she’d barely begun to get over such things. She tried so hard to be strong twenty-four-seven, but even strong women needed to put the world down for a few minutes now and then. Lena heard small noises behind her and smelled peppermint. Looking up, her face drenched with sorrow, she saw a blurry outline of her sister offering some peppermint tea in one of Mama’s cups. Ricky was holding Annie steady as she balanced on her one good leg. “Want me to stay with you?” Annie murmured, stroking her sister’s hair. Shaking her head, Lena took a small sip of tea. “Thanks.” “I love you, sis.” “I love you more,” Lena replied automatically. “Yes,” Annie said. “This time, I think you do.” Jackson climbed into his car, slamming the door so hard it rattled the window. After performing

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errands related to tomorrow’s catering job, he returned to his storefront to wolf down the lunch he’d picked up. Only after he’d polished off his roast beef club did he allow himself to think about the argument with Lena. While sipping his coffee, he began deconstructing the disaster. She had a valid point. He should have consulted her about her wrecked vehicle. Barely a friend, he’d assumed duties appropriate only for an intimate, and that was wrong, no matter how well-intentioned. He’d admit to that much. But her name-calling and attributing bad intent disturbed him. What kind of person exploded like that? Surely, not one whom he wanted around, no matter how physically alluring she was. He rubbed his knuckles up and down his cup, feeling ashamed that he’d responded to her outburst in kind. Lena had really pushed his buttons, but it didn’t excuse the hurtful things he’d said. What had happened in her life to make her so suspicious and defensive? Her fits of anger that, at times, occurred with little warning, puzzled him. Surely, the cause went deeper than was curable with a series of bottom-warmings, no matter how intense. She seemed to assume that he was out to take advantage of her every chance he could, both sexually and in business. Someone must have done that to her before—of that, he was certain. No one carried such deep wounds without just cause. Sighing, he looked at the clock. He needed to apologize to her, even though said apology would stick in his craw, if only to coordinate the chores they could do today. Because so much of the food prep had to wait until tomorrow, they had to do everything else possible today. He definitely didn’t want to get up at five A.M. to finish all the work. They’d be on their feet from four to eight at the job

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fair, and by the time they carried everything home and cleaned up, it would be a very long day indeed. His cell phone trilled. Looking at the number displayed cheered him, for at least it wasn’t Bradley again. “Yankee Elegance Catering. How may I help you?” “This is Sue Greene. Thank you for participating in A Taste of Gainesborough. Despite the weather, we raised five thousand dollars through admissions alone. Plus, an anonymous benefactor tripled that, so the grand total for the orphans is twenty thousand dollars.” “I’m happy to have been a part of it. Thanks for letting me know how successful it was. Will all the money directly fund scholarships?” “I’m not sure, but I think ten thousand will fund scholarships for the coming school year while the other ten will be invested, producing income for scholarships in future years.” “Thanks again.” Jackson tried to close the call, but Sue continued, “I have a job for you.” He sat up straighter. “Yes?” “Would you be available to cater a lunch this Thursday at City Hall? It’s not a big job, but I’d be glad to give it to you if you want it.” “How many people and what do you want?” “A simple lunch for the Mayor and about twenty others. Sandwiches, chips or maybe some sort of salad, cookies or brownies for dessert, and enough soft drinks, juice and water for everyone to have two.” Jackson realized that he already had much of what he needed for the lunch. Some of the roast beef he bought today would surely be left over from tomorrow’s job fair. He’d work the costs out with Lena. Assuming he could hold a sane conversation with Psycho Dream Woman. “You’ve got it. When shall I bring the food by?”

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“Eleven-thirty would be ideal. Come to my office to find out which room we’ll use for the meeting, because I don’t have that information yet. We know your fees, and the money’s no problem.” “Will do.” Sue again kept the conversation going. “How are the other caterer and her sister?” “They’re going to be fine. Her sister escaped with a broken leg and some minor injuries.” “I’m glad to hear that. Do you think she might, uh, hold the city liable?” That’s the real reason she called, Jackson thought. “I rather doubt it. I don’t know her well, but she doesn’t seem the type. By the way, why did you decide to give me the lunch?” “I’ll admit I thought of giving the job to SweetKakes, but I assumed that, after yesterday’s accident, she’d be in too much disarray to cope with a short-notice job.” Such reasoning delighted Jackson’s business side but grieved his personal feelings. Mentally slapping himself for what he was about to say, he volunteered, “Their business is up and running. They’ve already replaced their car, so I’m sure they could handle a job on Thursday with no problem. In fact, SweetKakes and Yankee Elegance are catering a job together tomorrow. Please spread it around that they’re still in business and looking for work.” Sue practically cooed in his ear. “Only a noble, unselfish person would volunteer such information. I’ll remember that. I like to hire people who have a sense of fair play and community spirit. Thank you again, and see you on Thursday.” Hanging up, the fiscal part of his brain berated him for what he’d just said. But he wasn’t sorry. He couldn’t take advantage of someone else’s misfortune, regardless of how much he wanted to succeed. A win didn’t count if you operated dishonestly against your opponent. Capitalism was

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all about winning, but only by any fair and square means possible. He couldn’t put it off any longer—he had to call Lena about tomorrow’s job. Rubbing his face as if scrubbing it, he felt as if he were about to face down the Devil. Punching in her number, he shut his eyes, mentally willing himself to remain cool no matter how many buttons of his she pushed. “SweetKakes. Good afternoon, this is Annie.” “Annie, thank heavens you answered the phone. How’s Lena doing?” “I can’t talk about that right now.” Jackson looked at the phone for a minute, puzzled, before he caught on. “Are you saying you can’t talk because she’s right there?” “Yes, that’s right. Is there anything else I can help you with?” “Will you make sure she stays there, so I can come over and apologize? We’re working together tomorrow, and we have to talk about it, whether she wants to or not.” “All right. Thank you for calling.” Jackson put his phone back in his pocket and left his pride locked in his storefront with all his other business tools. ___________________ “Who was that?” Lena asked as she formed rolls of cookie dough, some to be refrigerated for tomorrow, some to be frozen for future use. “Just a telemarketer survey about something.” Annie studied the checklist for tomorrow’s job. “Ricky’s out picking up the drinks and the dishes; you’re going to get the fruit, vegetables and cheese later today, Jackson–“ Lena glared at her sister. Annie cleared her throat with exaggeration. “I mean, that man-whose-name-my-overreactingsister-won’t-let-me-say, is taking care of the scallops and roast beef.” Annie put the list down.

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“Lena, listen to me. We have to work with him, and feelings shouldn’t get in the way of work. Isn’t that what you’ve always told me? You can despise him all you want after tomorrow. Won’t you please bury the hatchet till then?” “I’ll bury it, all right, in his—“ She slammed the freezer door without finishing. “Sis, listen to me. Even if I agree that he did something he had no right to do, why are you so worked up over it? He was trying to do something nice, I think, and no harm resulted. After all, we did get to tell Jeeves goodbye at the junkyard, and the car was a total loss. You’re not this upset when any other caterer crosses you on things much worse. What’s special about him?” “Absolutely nothing.” “I mean, why does he piss you off more than anyone else?” Lena stopped, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “I don’t know, Annie. He just gets my back up every time he’s within three feet of me.” “I understand now. It’s sex.” “Excuse me, but you think everything is sex. How can the Jeeves incident be sex?” “Not that in particular. I mean that you get more upset with him because you’re sexually attracted to him, and you don’t want to be attracted to him. I mean, he is pretty hot-looking.” Lena worked silently for a few minutes before admitting, “Maybe. I’ll think about it.” “Will you patch things up, so we can do this job? Remember, a patch is a temporary fix. We need to get through the next thirty-six hours.” “Okay,” she grumbled. “But I’m not apologizing unless he apologizes first, for messing with my car and my life. Dial his number for me, would you?” Loud knocking made them both look up. “Let me get that first, Lena, before I call, um, you-knowwho,” Annie said.

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“You sit where you are. I’ll get the door,” Lena said, wiping her hands. “Please, Lena,” Annie groaned after her sister left the room, “Don’t screw this up.” Lena looked out to see Jackson holding pink sweetheart roses. His black hair and bottomless brown eyes made her stomach drop, as did seeing him in a snug T-shirt that accentuated his biceps and pecs. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that Annie was right—this man really rocked her world sexually. Determined to hold on to her temper, she opened the door, leaning heavily on her cane. “Jackson. Please come in.” “Thank you.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I apologize for taking liberties with your property, and for making personal attacks and calling you names. A gentleman does not do such things, and I’m sorry. These are for you.” With that, he offered the roses to her. Lena, expecting something along the lines of a mumbled, “Sorry,” found herself thawing towards him. But why did he have to bring flowers? Squinting and backing up, she held her palm out as if she were stopping traffic. “I’m wicked allergic to pollen, and roses are the worst. Don’t bring them any closer,” she snapped. A sigh of exasperation left his lips. “I can’t seem to do anything nice for you without it turning into a problem. I am trying here, you know.” Lena softened her expression. “Well, let’s get these roses out of here. If I bring you a vase, will you put them in Annie’s room upstairs, and close her door?” After seeing his nod, she found a vase, filled it with water, and shoved it at him. “Here. Please get those upstairs right nah—“ A giant sneezing fit stopped her speech. Jackson ran up the stairs with the flowers, leaving them in Annie’s room as she’d instructed. Lena waited for him at the foot of the stairs.

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“I appreciate the gesture of bringing me flowers, and I’m sorry, too. I overreacted and also said a lot of horrible things I shouldn’t have. Let’s put this behind us and get tomorrow’s job done.” She dropped her voice to a murmur. “I probably need a good spanking.” She couldn’t look him in the eye. Blushing and turning her head, she tried to ignore the incredible tension his nearness produced inside her, sucking in her breath sharply when one of his hands stroked her head. “Yes, you do. But I think you need to do some soul-searching about why you acted the way you do. Did, I mean,” he said. “You’ve been jumping down my throat over the least little thing since last night. I don’t think a spanking would do you much good until you figure out why you flew off the handle.” She continued to look away from him. “You’re probably right about that.” “We need to get to work. Want to go over the to-do list together?” he said, offering his hand. She took it, steeling herself against the pleasant zing she knew she’d sense from touching him. Dropping his hand as soon as she politely could, she semi-choked, “Please, the kitchen. You go first.” As he strode in front of her, she couldn’t keep her eyes off his shoulders, his torso, the way he filled out his tight jeans. She wished she were working with any man but this one. ___________________ “Time for a meeting,” Lena said to the others, who were resting after an afternoon of work. The early evening sun glinted off the stainless steel platters Lena had set out on the table. “We’ve finished all the errands we could run today, made the cookie dough and the dips, loaded both vehicles with the non-food items, thawed the bacon, sliced the roast beef—“

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“It’s not sliced yet, but I’ll slice it tonight,” Jackson said. “It shouldn’t take long to do it and make about a hundred rollups, especially if Ricky will help. I’ll chill them tonight and bring them over tomorrow morning. I assume you still want to use your kitchen, instead of mine, as headquarters? It makes perfect sense, as both you and Annie are walking wounded.” “Actually, we’re non-walking wounded,” Annie cracked. “Okay,” Lena said. “Tomorrow morning we make the cookies, slice the veggies and cheese, prepare the fruit, pick up the scallops and cook them with bacon wrapped around them, assemble everything, present it beautifully, and cart it all over to UniMed. We need to leave around two. What time shall we meet here in the morning?” “I’ll come by as early as needed,” Jackson offered, “Though I can’t pick up the scallops till between seven and eight.” “Then there’s no need for you to be here before eight, if Annie and Ricky will start the prep on the fruit, veggies, and cheese by seven.” Annie thumped her crutches on the floor. “Anyone else starving? I need dinner soon, or I’m simply going to waste away. Talking about and playing with food all day long makes me hungry.” “Annie, no wonder we’re poor. Feeding you is a major expense.” Ricky spoke up. “If anyone else wants Chinese for dinner, I could run over to Mandarin Palace.” “No need. They deliver now,” Annie said. “Does anyone else here find it highly ironic that, considering we’re caterers, we eat an awful lot of other places’ takeout food?” Jackson said with a laugh, wringing a smile from a harried-looking Lena. “What’s worse is that I have all these places on my speed-dial. I guess it’s an occupational problem, kind of like the cobbler’s children having no shoes,” she said.

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“Kung Pao Chicken now! Kung Pao Chicken now!” Annie said, pounding her crutches in time with the chant. “What’s everyone else want?” Lena picked up the phone. “Mmmm, Spicy Beef in Garlic Sauce?” Ricky suggested. “If you eat that, Ricky, I’ll not be kissing you tonight,” Annie teased. “Your loss. It’s my favorite,” Ricky shot back, trying to look stern but failing. Jackson asked, “How about you, Lena? What’s your fave?” “Hunan Spicy Special Fish, Hunan Special Spicy Fried Fish, or whatever it’s called.” “Say that three times fast,” Annie giggled. Jackson scribbled on a pad of paper, “All right. Here’s the order. You want to call it in?” “Sure.” Lena made the call. “They’ll be here in twenty minutes. I want to clean up a little before the food arrives. Everyone okay with taking a break ‘till after dinner?” Three of the foursome cleaned up after dinner. Annie had moved to the sitting room, her cast and leg propped up to ease the swelling. She’d grown quiet during dinner, and Lena knew from long experience that her sister wasn’t feeling well. She pestered Annie to take a painkiller until she gave in, rolling her eyes but making no other protest. As the rest of them cleaned dishes and took out garbage, Lena noticed that Ricky’s attention kept straying to the other room, where Annie rested, silent and subdued. “Jackson, would you mind if I came over instead of Ricky to help you with the roast beef roll-ups tonight? Ricky, it would be great if you would stay here and take care of Annie. Both of you should be in bed by ten if we’re going to start working by seven tomorrow morning.”

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“I don’t mind being in bed even earlier if Ricky doesn’t,” Annie said with a sneaky grin. Lena answered, “I mean ‘in bed’ as in ‘asleep.’ You need extra rest to heal. Now, we need a shower schedule, since this house has only one bathroom. Annie, it’s going to take you longer than usual. We’ll have to cover your cast with something waterproof. You can use the shower chair as well. I’ll get up before five-thirty to take my shower, put the coffee on, and so on. Then I’ll come up and wake you, and help you get cleaned up and dressed. Ricky, it would be easier if you could pop by your place to wash up.”

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Chapter Fifteen “No need,” Jackson interrupted. “He can shower at Yankee Elegance. I have a full bath there, and it’s closer than his home.” “Fine with me,” Ricky said. “Take towels and any other supplies you need from here, Ricky. And thank you again for all your assistance while Annie and I heal.” Lena limped around the kitchen quickly, showing off. “See, I’m much better than I was yesterday. In a day or two I’ll be able to take over Annie’s care.” “Quit talking about me as if I’m unconscious or dead!” Annie yelled. Ignoring her, Lena continued, “We have plenty of food for tomorrow’s breakfast. Jackson, you’re welcome to eat here when you arrive, if you want.” “I may pick something up in my travels. I’ll see how it goes tomorrow morning,” Jackson said. “If we’re done here, we should get started on those roll-ups.” “Agreed.” Lena went into the sitting room and kissed the top of her sister’s head. “Be a good kid while I’m gone, Annie, and don’t harass Ricky too much. No wild parties, now.” She smiled at her sister. “The mean old dorm mother will be home later, and I expect to find both of you asleep in, ahem, different rooms.” Ricky blushed and looked away, and Annie, in a rare show of embarrassment, pinked a little as well. “Okay. Don’t worry, sis, we’ll be good and won’t tear the house down.” “I sure hope not,” Lena called as she and Jackson walked out the front door, “Because it’s coming out of your allowance if you do.” Annie laughed. “Okay, Mom.” ___________________ Jackson offered Lena a ride over and back, thus avoiding driving problems with her still-sore ankle.

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The two of them remained quiet while he unlocked his business’s front door. Behind him in the dark, she remembered the last time they’d been standing together at the door. Almost as if on cue, he turned to face her, the angle of the streetlights turning his face shadowy and mysterious. Her body seemed to be drinking in his masculine scent through its pores, drawn to it as the bee to the flower. Their eyes met. He made a low rumbling sound, raising his hand to touch her cheek. His cell phone rang, startling them both. The mood broken, he flipped on the lights while answering the call. A muttered “Hello?” was followed by a growling “Bye.” “Wrong number.” “Oh,” she responded, not sure whether either of them was grateful or displeased with the timing of the call. “At least, it wasn’t Bradley on the phone. Shall we get to work?” Jackson asked. The professional in Lena responded. “Yes. I’ll mix up the spread we’re going to use. I assume you’ve got mayo, sour cream, and horseradish? Oh, and sliced or chopped olives, too.” “Sure, in that fridge over there. The olives are whole but pitted, and I’ve got a food processor on the counter next to the fridge.” Jackson removed the beef roast from another refrigerator and began slicing it thinly. “Y’know, It might be better if we wait until tomorrow to assemble the roll-ups. The tortillas will get soggy,” she said while measuring ingredients for the spread. “I wasn’t planning to use any kind of bread—I’d spread the filling on one side of the beef, then roll up each slice and secure it with two toothpicks. I could cut each rolled-up slice in half, making each of them about two bites large. That way folks can hold them by the toothpick while they eat them.” Jackson pantomimed eating a roll-up.

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“Even so, I think we should wait until tomorrow to spread this stuff on the meat. It might soak in too much,” worried Lena. Jackson stopped slicing. “You’re right. Sorry. You’re the one with the injured sister distracting you, yet you’re thinking more clearly than I am. I guess I dragged you over here for nothing. I’ll take you home as soon as I finish what I’m doing, if you don’t mind waiting.” “No problem. I’ll whip up the spread, and then stack the slices. Besides, I’m sure Annie and Ricky are pleased to have a little time alone.” Jackson’s face imitated a swoon. “Ah, young love, too young to know the dangerous pitfalls that lie ahead.” The bitter undertone of his voice made her look his way. “Unlucky in love?” she asked, mentally kicking herself for opening up such a personal subject. He sighed. “Do you really want to know, or are you just making polite conversation?” Looking up from mixing the spread, his sober expression stopped her in mid-stir. Stunned to hear the words leave her mouth, she said, “I really want to know.” “If we’re going to talk, I’m not going to slice. Don’t want to lose a finger.” He put the meat away. Washing his hands and grabbing two cold waters, he gave one to Lena and opened his own. “Still sure you really want to hear the whole sad story?” “Only if you want to hear mine.” Again, she stunned herself. She tried to backtrack immediately. “It’s not a very happy story. You probably don’t want to hear me whine.” “On the contrary, I’d very much like to hear your story. And it’s not whining, I’m sure. I doubt you’ve whined once in your entire life. Tess, on the other hand...” “I remember now. I think you mentioned her name before.”

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“Yep, Tess Dandridge, the one you sold your Mocha Coconut Cakes to.” “Tall, thin, and perfect -looking, as I recall.” “That was Tess. Always cool. Always perfectly put together. Never out of control, not even—“ Jackson cleared his throat. “Never out of control even when you’d expect her to be.” Lena nodded, eager to learn more about this dark, mysterious man she found so attractive despite her misgivings. When he didn’t continue at first, she prodded, “How did you meet her?” “She worked at the same financial firm as I did. I should back up a little. I have a finance degree from Harvard because at the time, money seemed what I needed most, even though I didn’t care for the work. The reasons why I went for money...” his voice faltered. “Well, I’ll get to that.” Lena looked away. “Did you spank her?” “Never did. Probably should have. God knows she deserved it. Anyway, we met, dated, found that neither of us liked being analysts all that much, though both of us were good at what we did. I told her of my dream to start a catering business. Cooking and creating has soothed me since my college days.” He hesitated. Lena said nothing, but encouraged him with her gaze to go on. A long beat of silence stretched before he began again. “We talked of starting a business together. At least, I told myself she wanted my dream, too—I can see now that my enthusiasm ran her wishes right over. However, I managed to earn every single part of my dream, right down to the smallest details.” “Analysts make that much? You worked as one for, what, five years?” “About that, yes. What happened was that I played the stock market, starting right after college. I bought some of the ones that went up the most during the dot-com bubble, selling them before they

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crashed. My timing was pure dumb luck—I cashed out to start this business before the NASDAQ collapsed completely. Tess quit as well, we moved out here, and opened this place. I did the creating; she handled the business end, including subcontractors like you.” “But, don’t you come from money? Why not get a loan from Daddy?” Lena queried, hoping to draw Jackson out some more. She remembered Bobby’s comments about a lost fortune. He responded by pacing, not looking at her. In a monotone, he began, “I am from a wealthy family. Dear old Dad appeared to have it all under control, until he died a few months before I entered Harvard. Thank God, the first year was already paid for, because the estate was decimated by bad investments, gambling debts, medical costs, all kinds of financial losses. I guess my father denied to himself that anything was wrong, because when he finally woke up, it was too late. Right after that, he ran his Porsche into a concrete abutment at high speed. It was officially ruled an accident, so I was able to collect on his life insurance.” “Your mother was gone, too?” Jackson grimaced, saying only, “Yes,” before he continued. “Despite the official ruling, I know in my heart he killed himself, trying to make it look like an accident, so I’d get the insurance money. His death wiped out his estate, but also all of his debts. The few thousand left in the estate plus the life insurance money was enough to fund the rest of my stay at Harvard and get me on my feet my first year after graduation. That, plus summer earnings, funded my first foray into the stock market. I knew a bit about it, of course, from my studies, but I was also just damn lucky.” Laughing bitterly, Jackson commented, “Probably the only good luck I’ve had my entire adult life.” “So, when did you realize you wanted to be a caterer and work with food?”

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“I worked all my college breaks at whatever job I could find. The two summers I worked at one of Boston’s biggest catering establishments started my love affair with cooking and catering. After graduation, I decided to save and invest towards leaving finance and having my own catering shop. I landed a job helping analyze the restaurant and food industry sector. Even though I wasn’t a fullfledged analyst, the guy I worked for was, and he helped me learn the job. He took me along on his field excursions to see how various places were doing, and he answered every question I had about the restaurant business, no matter how silly. He’d grown up in the food industry. He knew everything, and taught damn near all of it to me.” She watched his face struggle with pain before he continued. “Tess and I founded Yankee Elegance Catering. I was so happy to be living my dream that I never noticed Tess’s growing lack of enthusiasm. She spent more and more of her time shopping, working out and lunching with friends as the first year went by. In fact, she used ‘working out’ as an excuse far too often for it to be true. I was so busy cooking and enjoying myself that I couldn’t see her dissatisfaction. “So, at the end of the first year, on the exact anniversary of our opening our business together, I got out of bed, looking forward to celebrating with her later in the day. Instead, I found the note she left me. She’d run off with her personal trainer. No wonder she was ‘working out’ all the time.” Seeming to run out of steam and words, he avoided Lena’s eyes, swigging the last of the water from its bottle. She waited silently, knowing eventually he would finish the story. “Not only had she left me flat, she robbed me blind, taking every single cent in our joint business account. If it hadn’t been for some personal savings, I’d have had to declare bankruptcy. As it

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was, I had to bust my butt, pleading with my creditors to wait for their money. Somehow, I managed to keep from going under. That brings us up to the present.” He grimaced. “Now you know the whole sad story of what a stupid chump I was.” Meeting her intent look, he said, “It’s your turn. Who did you wrong?” Lena examined her nails, trimmed short because of her livelihood. No-nonsense and practical, just like the rest of me, she thought. With one glaring exception, four years before. “My worst nightmare is named Philip Cabbott,” she started, her breath catching. Shutting her eyes, she willed the tears away. “Four years ago, Annie worked as a summer camp counselor in Maine for eight weeks, leaving me alone. I decided to take a job as a cocktail waitress. The businessmen tipped very well if you wore the right kind of revealing clothing and worked the shifts when they were there. So I worked the tables Monday through Thursday, noon till midnight, leaving my other three days open to start my freelance bakery business. “The very first week, I noticed a group of men who would always come in together and stay from about six ‘till eight, though some nights they stayed longer. I waited on them once, and after that they always made sure they were sitting at one of my tables. I guess they liked me—they certainly tipped well. Philip was one of the men. “He was handsome, witty, single, well-off, and he always tipped outrageously—five bucks per drink. After a couple of weeks, he asked me out. Dinner at Locke-Ober’s in Boston, drinks afterwards in the Four Seasons Hotel’s piano bar, all travel accomplished by a limo service. He really knew how to wow a working-class gal who’d never lived anywhere but Gainesborough, never ate anyplace fancier than the local coffee shop.

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“A perfect gentleman for three weeks, he did nothing more than hold me and kiss me good night. But on our sixth date, he took me to the theater, and then dinner and dancing. I’d drunk lots of champagne, mostly at his urging, and I was starting to believe that I really could trust him. Usually I avoided alcohol and men—“ “Why did you avoid men?” Lena ignored the question. “Philip was so charming and attentive, especially that magical night. The drinks fogged my brain, and his touch—“ Sucking in her breath sharply, she said, “I was inexperienced. Spending the night with him in the Ritz-Carlton seemed a dream come true. I mean, the room cost more than I made in two weeks at the bar. I could hardly believe my good fortune. He told me I was sexy, beautiful...” Angrily she swiped tears from her lashes. “He said he loved me,” she said in a flat voice. “The very next night, I saw him and his buddies in the bar, as usual. One of the men dropped a bill on the floor. I bent over to pick it up, just trying to be nice, and was rewarded by a hand up my skirt. As I jerked upright, the hand caressed me over my pantyhose.” She cleared her throat. “I was so shocked I just stood there, taking it. “Philip stood, grabbing my breasts and squeezing them, while the other men laughed. “I see what you mean, Phil,” the man who was touching me crowed, “she sure feels hot. When do I get my chance at her?” “When you pay up on the bet,” Philip laughed. “After all, I screwed her seven ways to Sunday last night, ahead of schedule.” He turned his eyes to me. “As eager as you were with me, I just know you’d love taking on all of us,” he snickered. They all joined in the hooting. By then the manager had come over to see what the ruckus was, and scolded me—me—for flaunting my body, sending me away from the table.

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“I fled to the ladies’ room, where I stayed for a long time. I couldn’t even cry at first, though eventually I did. After I left the bathroom, I grabbed my purse and keys and quit, going out the back way. I couldn’t bear to face a roomful of male faces leering at me.” She bit her thumbnail, unable to look at Jackson, her face scarlet with recalled embarrassment and shame. The silence between them stretched out painfully. “That’s it,” she mumbled. “Good God,” Jackson whispered. “God’s goodness had nothing to do with it.” “Did you have another bad experience before that miserable excuse for a man? You said something about avoiding men.” “Alcohol and men.” She thought for a moment. “I don’t really want to talk about that right now.” She limped to the window, looking out, her arms crossed, her entire body screaming defensiveness, unable to keep from thinking about her father and Zeke and Philip. “Lena, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to suffer abuse like that.” Her cackle was humorless. “And who should? I guess it wasn’t that bad. It’s not like I was the first woman on earth to be treated shoddily. I willingly went to bed with Philip, and I enjoyed it. My fault lay in my foolishness, believing that he really loved me.” “Don’t blame yourself.” She spun around. “Why not? Don’t you blame yourself for the mess with Tess?” His mouth tightened. “I’m not to blame for that. She is.” “I didn’t say you were to blame. I said, don’t you blame yourself?” Their glances slid across each other like steel on steel, throwing sparks. “Maybe,” he mutttered.

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She spoke again. “I did have one good experience. A man named Ken gave me my first spanking as an adult.” “Shoot. I was hoping I was your first.” Lena let her eyes do the pleading. “Spank me right now. Please. I feel—bad.” Jackson went to her. “Bad, as in bad feelings? Or bad, as in naughty actions?” “Sort of both,” she admitted. “When you redden my butt, I find it—healing. Is that strange, or what?” “Not at all.” He brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead. “If I’m going to spank you, would you indulge me in a little fantasy?” “Maybe,” she said. “What’s the fantasy?” “Wait here,” he ordered. “And while you wait, drop your pants.” She shivered to hear the command in his voice, and did as he asked. A faint breeze stirred, and goosebumps rippled across her bottom. She couldn’t wait to see what his fantasy involved. ___________________ He looked inside his office closet, withdrawing something he’d bought years ago, with the hope that he’d actually get to use it some day. The cane was genuine, from Great Britain, but one of the smaller school canes. If he didn’t swing it too hard, Lena should be able to bear it. He wanted to spank her, not beat her. He gripped his erection through his pants, already about to explode at the thought of striping her backside. ___________________ Lena waited, her breathing hitching every time she contemplated possible fantasies. “Okay, here it is.”

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She did a double-take. “A cane? You want to cane me?” He held up his hands. “Hey, it’s all right if you don’t want to. Really. I understand how scary the cane must look.” “No, I mean, I—I want to. I want to try the cane.” As she spoke the words, she knew they were true. She wanted it. She wanted the tender stripes she’d read about, wanted her bottom to ache and throb and chase away the aching throb in her heart. “I’ve been just awful to you. Please, I need—you know. To feel forgiven, and healed.” He pointed with the cane. “Bend over the counter.” She did so. “Now, arch your back and stick your bottom out as far as you can. That’s right,” he said when she did so. “This position makes me feel so—vulnerable.” Heat flooded her face, then spread all the way down her body to her loins. “With my behind stuck out like that. You understand what I mean?” Ohhh yes, I want the cane. “I certainly do. You—look—vulnerable in that position.” She heard the swish of practice swings, and began to feel nervous. “Not too hard,” she said. “I’m going to give you six, but you can stop me any time you feel overwhelmed. All right?” She nodded, her mouth dry. A swish. A skinny line of fiery pain ran the width of the crest of her bottom. She jerked, gasping, “Oh!” It took all her will power not to grab her buttocks with her hands; such was the intensity of the sting. “Are you all right?” “Uh-huh.” She shifted from foot to foot. “It kind of builds for a while after. Wow, it really hurts.” “C’mon, stick out that bottom again. Ready for stroke two?”

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The second one bit more fiercely than the first one. She hopped from foot to foot, panting, “Oh, oh, oh! Owww!” Before she had time to draw a breath, she heard the swish. Stroke three burnt the crease where her bottom and leg joined. She’d never felt pain so intense in her life, not even when Papa had punished her, and yet the burn felt oddly—good. The more her sitting area throbbed, the less her heart did. She’d been a real jerk to Jackson. Though she didn’t know how she’d bear another three, she knew she had to. Absolutely had to. “Stick that bottom out, or I’m giving you extra.” The warning tone in his voice worried her, just a little. Would he really give her extra? Would she really let him? Tears leaked down her cheeks, but she bit her lip and stuck out her butt for the cane. The last three were quick— SWISHSWISHSWISH—and over practically before she knew what had happened. She heard a siren wail, and then realized the sound was coming from her mouth. Unable to help herself, she clutched herself where all three strokes had landed, and danced, sobbing and keening and unable to form words, so great was the strength of the burn. “You doing all right?” Jackson pulled her to his chest. “You’ve got six lovely welts, and they’re going to hurt for a while, you know. Anything I can do?” “Yes,” she wept. “Tell me you forgive me for treating you like shit.” His arms tightened around her. “Of course, I do. Though I will admit, you deserved the cane, every stroke. And I wasn’t even using it that hard.” “Felt horrible,” she cried. “Plenty hard enough.” The two of them stood there, her tears soaking his shirt, his hands sliding up and down her back— though they stopped at her waist. Still weeping, she

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took one of his hands and placed it on one cheek. “Soothe me,” she sobbed. He removed his hand with a groan. “God knows I’d like to. But I don’t think it’s a good idea. I want you to be in better control of your emotions, Lena, before we—you know. I hope the caning will help you remember that.” Her sobs quieted, she said, “I’m sure I will, each and every time I sit tomorrow.” A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Maybe even two or three days. Don’t wear any tight, scratchy clothing on your bottom.” Kissing the top of her head, he said, “Shall I take you home now?” ___________________ Jackson had his own ache to deal with, the one that gripped his loins. But he’d meant what he’d said. Making love to Lena needed to wait until—a better time. Even though his body screamed for release. She’d moaned when her bottom had touched the car’s seat, but she’d been silent since then, her face pale, with a wince crossing it each time he hit a bump. “Are you hitting bumps on purpose?” she asked. “No, I’m not. Sorry.” He pulled up in front of the house and regarded Lena, lovely in the moonlight, sorely tempting him. He felt suddenly awkward. “Well, good night.” “See you in the morning.” Lena moved to open the car door, her back stiff. “Wait. What’s wrong? The caning— was it too much? Be honest.” She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t. But I don’t feel truly forgiven by you.” “Because I won’t ‘soothe you?’” “Yes.” She sat turned away from him, still. “You do understand why, don’t you? The emotional roller coaster won’t do either of us any good, and we do have to work together right now.”

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Her shoulders sagged, and that small motion weighed on his heart. But he wasn’t ready to take this woman to bed. Well, he was—physically speaking, he’d never been more ready—but he needed to know he really mattered to her. Because she mattered to him. Clearing his throat, he repeated, “Well, goodnight.” “Wait,” she said, smoothing a crease into her jeans repeatedly. “Uh, would you like to come in? For coffee?” His heart jumped in his chest with the pleasurable thought. “Okay. That would be nice.” Jackson followed her into the house, noticing that she was limping less than before. Lena pointed to the kitchen. “Go put on hot water for tea, and make yourself coffee, if you’d rather have that. I’m going upstairs to see how my sister is doing.” Jackson busied himself in the kitchen, listening to the cane’s clomping on the stairs. Creaking floorboards above his head told him that she had made it safely upstairs. Before long, he heard her slowly coming back down.

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Chapter Sixteen “How’s Annie doing?” He removed the teacups from a cabinet and put some instant decaf in his cup. “What do you want?” “Peppermint tea and an ice pack for my ankle, please. I could also use one for my butt.” She smiled wryly. “Annie is doing fine. She and Ricky are both curled up on her bed, fully clothed. They looked so cute and so innocent.” He handed her an ice pack. “Here’s one for your ankle. I’ll leave it to you to get one for your bottom.” She sat slowly, a brave look pasted on her face. “I was only kidding. I need to feel those stripes right now. And I know you understand why.” “The same reason I won’t—touch you. There. Not until we’re both ready.” No matter how much I want to, he thought. After he brought two steaming cups to the table, he sat down, wondering what to say next. “Jackson,” she began, “You said your mother died when you were younger. So did mine. I was ten. A clot in her lung took her life, a complication of the multiple sclerosis. What happened to yours?” “I was twelve when she left. I didn’t know where she was until years later, when I found out my father had been housing her in a private mental hospital for the wealthy. She took her own life before I located her, so I never saw her again.” Shaking his head, he scowled. “Father thought it was best that I not know where she had gone or what had happened to her. I know now that her running away was a result of her mental illness, but at the time, between that and my father’s denial, I felt—“ “Abandoned?” “Something like that.” He experienced a familiar tightness in his chest when he remembered his teen years. “He sent me away to prep school, thinking

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that I’d be better off there than living at home, constantly reminded of her absence. He was wrong. I felt I had no one, nothing.” He gulped a little decaf. “So,” Lena probed, “It was just you? You were an only child?” “No,” Jackson answered. “My younger brother died of cancer; he was six, I was nine. As a kid, I spent enough time in hospitals to have earned a medical degree. I don’t ever want to see a loved one in a hospital again.” “Me, too.” “It must have killed you to see your sister in the hospital on Sunday,” he said, and Lena nodded. “I remember sitting on a bench with Annie for long hours while Mama would have tests done. Papa would have walloped me if I hadn’t kept her quiet and well-behaved, so I didn’t have much choice. I became Annie’s mother at an early age. She was only four when Mama died, so she doesn’t remember her clearly. But I do.” “What was your mother like?” “She was funny, loving, wise, and artistically talented, though because of the times and the ‘old world’ husband she had, that talent was expressed only in our home. She created beautiful dresses and warm sweaters for Annie and me, and quilts for our beds. Our home was snug and comfy with her in it. Annie inherited her artistic flair.” “What happened after your mother died?” “Papa hired some women from the old country, immigrants he met through the Finnish Social Club, to clean and cook and take care of us before and after school. None of the women were what you’d call warm. That lasted about three years. I took over the household duties when I was thirteen.” “Is this where your ‘men and alcohol’ comment gets explained?” Jackson watched her shudder involuntarily before she answered.

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“Papa had always been a drinker, but Mama shielded us from him when she was alive. With her gone, his drinking spiraled out of control. By the time I was a teen, he was beating me, though he called it ‘discipline.’ Because I was the oldest, I took most of the abuse that resulted from his alcoholism. I was a long time recovering from that. Working in a bar and my own drinking were just ways of not facing the problem, though at the time I thought I was, of course. I thought I was ‘over it,’ and that working in a bar and becoming a drinker proved it. After Philip, I did some serious soul-searching and twelve-stepping. I rarely drink alcohol these days, and I’ve never worked in a bar again. I found other ways to make our living.” “When did your father die?” Lena again looked away. “Right after I turned eighteen. He humiliated me, beating me in front of my first boyfriend, and he died shortly after that. I can’t say I loved him, but I felt guilty over his death.” “I felt guilty over my father’s death, too, knowing he most likely died to finance my education.” “I felt guilty because I wished Papa dead, and then he died.” Jackson watched a fat tear slide down the side of her nose. Wiping it away angrily, she sniffled, saying, “He made my life a living hell. I’m glad he’s gone, even though I feel horrible saying that.” “An abused child has a right to feel that way, I think. It’s certainly understandable.” Feeling awkward, but knowing the moment called for something more than words, he reached over and put his hand atop hers. When she looked up in surprise, he saw the glimmer of tears she struggled to contain. “Thank you,” was all she said. After a few beats of silence, he rose. “I think I should go now. I’ll show myself out.”

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“Thanks for the spanking,” she said, trying to smile and failing. He nodded. “Thanks for the fantasy fulfillment. See you tomorrow morning.” On his way home, Jackson thought again of Lena and Annie and the difficult life they had led. But mostly he thought of Lena: abused, unloved, lonely, worked beyond reason by an alcoholic father, having to raise her sister, never having enough money for necessities, let alone luxuries. Philip Cabbott had only compounded the hurts inflicted by her father. A horrible experience for any woman, it must have been especially devastating to someone as wounded as Lena. On the surface, her life seemed one hundred eighty degrees removed from his of wealth and privilege. Yet they had a kinship of tragedies in both their lives, including in love. He now thought he understood why she protected her sister and her livelihood so fiercely, and why she would kiss him, only to snap at him the next moment, suspicious and angry. What he didn’t understand was why she drew him to her like iron filings to a magnet. Of course, she was beautiful, though she seemed to think she wasn’t. His attraction was more than physical, but why he wanted someone even more emotionally scarred than he was, he had no clue. They shared a huge passion for spanking, but he wasn’t certain that the passion was strong enough to explain his maddening attraction to her. ___________________ Aftershocks from her confessions rumbled through Lena as she limped up the stairs, both hands clutching the welts she knew were there. Why the devil did she tell Jackson some of her most intimate secrets, and then let him cane her? This man was still her competitor, someone who wanted to cut into her share of the catering market. He was

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single and unencumbered, with no one to support but himself. He didn’t have half the financial worries she did. But she knew why. She cared for the man more than she was willing to admit. And she had felt terrible for her tongue-lashings and bitchy carryings-on that she’d subjected him to. That annoying throb contained in six painful stripes eased her conscience for her bad behavior. Pausing on the second floor landing, she looked in on the fast-asleep, still fully -clothed Annie and Ricky. He had his arm snuggled around her sister, and the sight squeezed her heart. She wanted Annie to fall in love, to marry, to have a life beyond 85 Front Street, but she still worried it might not happen. Worry was her lot in life, it seemed, along with hard work. She continued to the third floor. She wanted so much to trust someone other than her sister. She, too, wanted to fall in love, get married, and have children. Could she trust Jackson? Memories of their kisses and embraces and the spanking, too, filled her with heat. She certainly wanted him, of course. But she also felt sincerity and truth shining through his confessions and actions of the past forty-eight hours. Could she really trust him? It was too soon to tell. But she was definitely going to put some lotion on those welts, she decided, before she slept on her tummy the entire night. ___________________ Lena woke some time later to find Jackson in her bed. For some reason, she didn’t mind at all, not after spying his body, all of his body, deliciously naked. His mouth covered hers and his hands were those of an owner asserting possession. His fingers stroked her through her t-shirt nightgown briefly before removing it and her panties as well. A weak

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“What?” faded into a moaned, “Oh, yes,” when he cupped both her breasts, thumbs lightly massaging the tips, making them grow and harden. His tongue slipped its way down her torso, pausing briefly before tasting her. She writhed. Never had she wanted a man this much, a man who knew her body as if it were his own, a man who seemed to be touching all of her sensitive places simultaneously. His tasting grew deeper, tormenting her, forcing her to beg. “Please,” she whispered. Not saying a word, Jackson positioned himself between her legs, and she opened to receive him. Deep inside, she felt herself throb as his silky stiffness filled her. Teetering on the edge of a cliff, close to falling into arousal’s abyss, she wondered why she had waited so long to make love with him. Cool breezes blew through her open window, creating goose bumps... Lena looked around, sweat from the early morning air chilling her. Where was Jackson? Why did she still feel the ache of need, but he was nowhere to be seen? Squinting at the clock, disappointment washed over her. Five-twenty. She had to get up shortly, and all that remained in bed with her was her unfulfilled desire and the fragments of a dream. She moved one hand to the lingering welt in the bottom-thigh crease, and the other to touch the area where she’d dreamed Jackson’s mouth had been. She was hot and ready, and her release a minute later left her panting. The alarm blared. She slapped it off and stumbled out of bed. It was time to go to work. ___________________ Jackson heard his cell phone’s trill as if from a distance. Groaning, he covered his head with his pillow, but it would not be silenced. He peered at his clock. Five-fifty-eight. He had to get up, anyway, but if this was Bradley about the job fair one more

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time he was going to charge the man extra for all the harassment. Punching it on, he snarled, “Yeah?” “I say, boy, that’s hardly the way you want to answer your business’s cell phone, is it?” Jackson rubbed his eyes. “What the hell are you calling about, Bobby?” “Something you should hear, if you know what’s good for you.” A beat of silence was followed by Jackson’s irritated, “Well?” “What would you think of catering a party for me?” “You called at six in the morning to ask me that? Of course, I’ll cater a party for you, but when? What’s the rush?” “Elyse has offered me a job. I want to celebrate.” “What?” “You heard me. I’m thinking of working for Elyse.” “Whatever for? What would you do? Wait, don’t answer that. I can only imagine what you might do for Elyse. Aren’t gigolos normally buff guys in their twenties?” Jackson climbed out of bed and headed toward the kitchen. “It’s not what you think, though I don’t give a flying damn what you or anyone else thinks. I’m talking a real job here.” “Humor me. What is Elyse offering you? She doesn’t own any businesses as far as I know, and I can’t see you working as her gardener or towel boy.” “Hardly,” Bobby sniffed. “She wants me to administer the charitable foundation she intends to start.” “What do you know about foundations?” Jackson filled the coffee maker and turned it on. “Not much, but I do know a lot about business and finance, and she needs someone to do the business part of it.”

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“You’d quit Allred for this?” “Hell, no, at least, not right away. This is a side job for now, but it’s captured my interest, so, why not?” “I’ll bite. Exactly what cause is she funding?” “Funds for orphans, foster home kids, and poor kids, to help them all go to college.” “Why? We already have a local charity for that.” He couldn’t help it, but he didn’t feel very charitable right now, not with a long day ahead of him with Lena. He recalled the hot dream he’d had about her before the phone rang, and groaned when he stiffened. Bobby rattled on. “The local group’s limited to orphans. She wants to expand the scope. Plus, she also wants to make low-interest loans to struggling entrepreneurs. I have a good head for evaluating any applicant’s business smarts.” Eyeing the clock, Jackson said, “I’ll throw your party, and gladly, for free. But right now I’ve got pick up scallops before heading over to Lena’s. The job fair catering at UniMed is today.” “You’ll not do my party for free, but I’ll accept cost. Good luck with today’s job, buddy, and good luck with Lena.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Thank God the coffee was ready. He slurped some, then coughed as it burned his mouth. “You know damn well what it means. I saw how you made goo-goo eyes at her on Sunday. And I’m bettin’ she feels the same way about you. Grab the brass ring before you miss it. Don’t be an idiot. Though that part may not be possible because I just heard you cough from drinking too-hot coffee. You’ve been doing that as long as I’ve known you.” “Thanks for reminding me not to be an idiot. I forget to do that all the time. How’s Elyse’s bottom?” “A great pleasure, my friend, a great pleasure to me—and her. I’ve spanked her more times than I

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can tell you since Sunday. The woman’s mad for it, especially the belt. I honestly don’t know how she manages to sit any more. And I honestly don’t know if I can keep up with her. She’s a pistol, that one.” “So I’ve heard.” “She’s wearing me plumb out. I got exactly one hour’s sleep last night, and none Sunday night.” “I can’t believe you’re not keeping up with her, Bobby.” “Yeah, well, I try. Hey, gotta go, buddy.” After the call, Jackson shook his head to clear it. What the hell was going on between Bobby and Elyse besides spanking and sex? And what other surprises did the day have in store? ___________________ Lena had showered and dressed and was heading downstairs when Ricky emerged from Annie’s room. Seeing Lena, he flushed, starting to stammer, but she smiled and whispered, “It’s all right. I saw you there last night.” Ricky whispered back, “Thanks. I’ll be leaving shortly to go shower and dress.” Lena continued to the kitchen, where she made coffee and poured juice. She’d wake Annie in a moment, but first she needed her daily caffeine jolt. She paced the kitchen, not quite ready to sit, her limp slowing her only a little. She thought of Jackson again, of her dream, of her intense desire that knew no logic or reason. Hearing Ricky leave, she returned to the second floor bathroom, where she studied herself in the mirror. Maybe she’d dry her hair for a change instead of simply pulling it back. Wait. She had to pull it back to work, and cover it as well. Perhaps a little makeup would be an alternative to foo-fooing her hair. What the heck am I doing? she thought while she painted her eyelashes with mascara and

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reddened her lips, adding a bit of neutral eye shadow for good measure. She studied the results. Maybe if she wore the right shirt, her eyes would be highlighted. Refusing to analyze her unusual actions, she limped up the stairs, grabbed a knit top that emphasized her emerald eyes as well as her figure, and returned to the second floor. She pulled it over her head before she awakened Annie. Annie, of course, immediately said, “Wow, who are you dressed for?” “No one.” “Bullshit. You’re wearing makeup, which has happened about zero times in the last few years. I didn’t think you even owned any.” “I don’t. I used yours. Now let’s stop discussing me—we need to get you in the shower. I don’t suppose you have any sort of plastic bag up here, do you?” “As a matter of fact, there’s one.” Annie pointed to an unused garbage bag. She chattered about Ricky while her sister swathed the cast in plastic and rubber bands, making it as waterproof as she could. Helping her stand, Lena said, “Let’s go. No time to waste. The chair is still in the tub from my shower. Do you need me to help you wash?” “Sis, I’m not a child. Just help me climb into the tub. I’ll toss my clothes on the floor before I start. The only help I’ll need is getting out when I’m done. Also, can you find me something to put down inside the cast? It’s itching like crazy in there, and I’m going insane.” “I’ll look through the craft materials. I’ll bet we’ve still got a knitting needle from Mama.” “Just find it quick,” Annie groaned. “Oh, this is going to be one lousy, uncomfortable summer, with a cast on my leg and no air conditioning.” “I think we can find money in the budget for a small unit for your room. At least, you could go there to cool off, and you’ll sleep better, too.”

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“That would be heavenly. Thank you, sis. But I’m sure you could use one more than I could, up on the top floor.” “Nonsense. You know I don’t mind the heat.” Lena helped her sister into the tub, lay towels and other necessities nearby, and closed the door behind her, saying, “I’ll come back in fifteen minutes to check on you.” ___________________ Scallops on ice in the van, Jackson headed to Lena’s house. He’d already picked up a half-dozen muffins, in case there weren’t enough bagels left from yesterday. Sipping his second cup of coffee, he checked his watch—only seven-twenty. He had plenty of time. When he pulled up in front of the house, he saw Lena sitting on the front steps, cradling the teacup that he was sure contained coffee with a little cream. The thought startled him. He knew this woman too well already, and despite wanting her, the fact made him nervous. He walked towards her, lugging the enormous cooler filled with scallops, and called, “Good morning.” “Good morning, yourself. Get a good price on the scallops?” “You bet. They looked so fresh, I bought extra. We could all use a nice treat for lunch.” He noticed her mouth droop. “Was it something I said?” he tried to joke. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re allergic to shellfish, too.” Shaking her head, she smiled weakly. “My budget’s a little tight. Annie and I will eat something else. You and Ricky can have the scallops.” “No. And I won’t take any backtalk from you about it, either, young lady. You and your sister are eating scallops, and you’re going to like it.” He sat next to her on the steps, careful not to bump her

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hips with his. He’d probably jump her bones if he touched her this morning. She’d never looked more beautiful, her eyes large and as green as grass, shining in the early morning light. To hide his sudden rush of feelings, he drank from his plastic cup, pretending to look at some flowering bushes. The grin returned to her face. “Yes, sir.” Playfully she nudged his foot with hers. “Who put you in charge this morning?” “I did.” “Y’know,” Lena murmured, shyly looking at him, “I rather like it.” “That’s good because I’m in charge whether you like it or not.” He softened his words with a smile. “I hope the cane made it clear I’m never tolerating you calling me a—what was it?—a ‘self-satisfied piece of crap’ again.” “I didn’t. I got cut off before I could add the ‘crap’ part. But I did call you a bastard. And, yes, that cane talked pretty loudly last night.” He watched her eyes travel to the front of his jeans. He, on the other hand, didn’t need to look to know he was hard as iron. “Remember, I have this wooden hairbrush,” she murmured before she looked away, her face crimson. “I can’t believe I’m asking for more spanking. Sitting is definitely not comfortable right now.” He couldn’t stand any more arousing talk this morning—he wanted to ravish her on the porch, grab her butt and plunge in. He thought again of her striped backside, sneaked a peek at her breasts in the tight shirt, and took a deep breath. “You look especially nice this morning.” “Thank you.” Taking another sip of her coffee, she gazed at him through half-lowered lashes. “You don’t look half-bad yourself.” Her eyes dropped to the front of his jeans again. Good God, first she mentioned the wooden hairbrush, then wanting a spanking, then how much it hurt to sit. And then she flirted with him! If he

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didn’t have sex with this woman in the next twentyfour hours, he’d lock himself in his apartment and “release tension” till he could no longer get stiff— temporarily, anyway. “Why, thank you kindly, ma’am,” he said in his best Bobby accent while trying—and failing—to will his erection to fade. “Jackson, if you ever plan to make a living doing impersonations, don’t quit your day job.” There was the Lena he knew. “What do you say we get to work?” He stood, picking up the cooler, holding out his hand to help her up. “Work and another cup of coffee. I didn’t sleep as much as I would have liked,” she said as they went to the kitchen. He noticed one of her hands stealing to her backside to rub, rub, rub. “I didn’t, either. I agree more coffee would help.” “By all means, pour yourself a cup,” Annie greeted him. She and Ricky were fully engaged in washing and slicing vegetables. “I’ll take care of the scallops first. Anyone mind scallops with white wine sauce for lunch?” “Are you kidding?” said Ricky. “Mind like hell!” Annie chimed in. “White wine sauce?” Lena mused, answering her own question. “I guess that’s all right with me.” “The alcohol cooks off, you know that,” Jackson said. “Yes, I know. No problem.” He sneaked another look at her breasts as they rose and fell with her breath. Lena had the body of a goddess, and he sure wished he could drag her off to Mount Olympus this very minute. He had a Zeussized thunderbolt aching for her. He slapped his forehead. “Damn! I forgot the roast beef. After I take care of wrapping the scallops in bacon, I’ll go pick up the beef and filling, along with some fresh spinach to cook with the scallops.”

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No wonder I forgot. I don’t have any blood left in my brain today. “I don’t mind going, boss, if you want me to,” Ricky offered. “No,” Jackson replied, thinking embarrassing thoughts about what he planned to take a few minutes doing in the privacy of his office, so he could focus on work when he returned, and not Dream Woman’s dreamy body. “Stay here. I’ll do it.”

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Chapter Seventeen The morning flew by. Little talking was done until most of the work was finished. “I’ll start lunch,” Jackson said. Three hungry faces on nodding heads agreed. First, Jackson washed the spinach. Then he slipped the scallops into a sauté pan containing melted butter, slowly adding herbs and white wine he had brought from his own cache. In the last two minutes, he added the fresh spinach and tightly covered the pan. “Mmm, smells heavenly,” Lena said. “You must cook for a living.” Her grin was devilish. He longed to reach out and swat her backside playfully. “What’s for dessert?” Annie asked. “It’s not a meal unless there’s dessert. Or unless it’s breakfast.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “I just happened to bring four slices of the most incredible cheesecake you’ll ever eat; I promise you.” “And fresh strawberries?” Annie prodded. “I think we’ve got a few left over for that.” Lena smiled at her sister. “I’d better have only strawberries, though.” “Why?” Jackson asked. Was she allergic to cheesecake? He didn’t think for a moment that she didn’t like it. “I’m watching my weight,” she said, patting her butt. He couldn’t resist. “I’ve been watching it all morning, and it looks just fine to me.” Annie and Ricky grinned as Lena mouthed at him, I’ll get you for that one. Jackson dished up the scallops and spinach, saying, “Lena, you will eat the cheesecake. Or else.” “’Or else?’” Annie snickered. “What are you going to do, spank her?”

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Jackson could feel the blood creeping into his own face, but Lena’s face turned so red, it was almost purple. “Annie, really, such talk,” she choked out. Annie said, “I knew it. I knew it. You got spanked last night, didn’t you? Jackson, did you give it to her good?” “I’m going to spank you, if you don’t shut up,” Lena said, but that hand of hers betrayed her, as it moved to cup her right bottom cheek, the side he knew had taken the tip of the cane. Her cheek must hurt like a bitch, the way she kept massaging it. He stifled his smile. “Don’t bother. Ricky will, later. Won’t you, Ricky?” Annie fluttered her eyelashes at her boyfriend, and the young man said, “Darned straight. With one of those thin tree branches, too. I know they sting.” “I think we should all stop talking and eat, before it gets cold,” Jackson said. After shooting him a glance full of thanks, Lena said, “He’s right. Let’s eat.” ___________________ Lena didn’t like that Jackson had taken control of her kitchen. She’d been biting her tongue all morning every time he issued anything resembling an order. But she had to admit the four of them made a good team. Jackson knew what he was doing. His orders were not imperious whims, but solid direction born of experience. And his lunch delighted her. She’d never been a big fan of scallops, but these tasted heavenly. Forcing herself to eat slowly to enjoy them more, she finished last. The others waited for her before moving on to the cheesecake and strawberries. At the first bite of cheesecake, all of them uttered a spontaneous, “Mmm!” “Wow, I could die happy after eating this.” Annie pretended to swoon. “It’s the best I’ve ever eaten.”

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Lena shot her a glance that could cut steel. Annie shrugged. “Sorry, sis, but it is. Jackson, did you make it?” Shaking his head, he said, “It’s from a tiny bakery in Holden. Her cheesecakes are better than anything I’ve ever managed to create. Lena, you might want to try her, if only to check out your competition.” Pushing her plate of cheesecake away, Lena grumbled, “Just what I need. Another person competing with me in the baked-goods department.” “Aw, don’t stop eating your dessert because of that. We can’t make every single thing we sell be perfect. Besides, you know no one can top your Mocha Coconut Cake,” Annie said. “Wait a minute. That’s my cake,” Jackson teased, ducking Lena’s swipe at his head. Looking from one to the other, Annie said, “So that’s what you were fighting about? The cake? Sis, I’d never have believed you’d actually shove food in someone’s face if I hadn’t seen the end result myself.” Lena smiled, leaning back in her chair. “I used to supply cakes to Jackson’s old business partner through another business name. I never knew I was selling cake to Yankee Elegance, and he didn’t know he was buying from SweetKakes.” “My ex-fiancee lied, saying she’d created the cake,” Jackson said. “So I considered the recipe mine. Lena considered it hers because, well, it is. We got a little carried away with our argument.” Jackson laughed. “Anyway, that’s over now. He acknowledges that I own the recipe.” “Lena, no one can top that cake. You’re a talented baker,” Jackson said. “Back to the cheesecake. Do you want the supplier’s name? If your business is going to grow, either you’re going to have to hire people to help you, or you’re going

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to have to use subcontractors. Even you can’t do every single thing in the world.” “I guess you’re right,” Lena said. “I just hate losing the, the–“ “Control?” Jackson asked. “Of course. So do I. But don’t you look forward to the day when you don’t have to count every penny twice? When you can take a vacation? When you can retire? Believe me, some day you will want to retire, or at least not work long hours, six or seven days a week, the way you do now. Plus, every business needs to grow— otherwise, it dies. I know you don’t want that.” Lena inclined her head. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, yes, I would like the name of your cheesecake supplier. Do they freeze well?” “I pulled these slices out of the freezer last night and defrosted them in the refrigerator. What do you think?” “Tastes freshly-made,” she admitted. “Okay, I’m sold. I’ll buy a couple, freeze them, and use them on a job to see how well they go over.” “Good. They’ll make a fabulous midnight snack,” Annie grinned. “I’d better not catch you doing that,” Lena scolded while smiling. “Well, shall we broil the scallops for the fair and assemble everything?” Jackson looked from face to face for agreement. “We still need to change into work duds, too.” “Yes. Let’s get this show on the road by two,” Lena added, deciding she was comfortable, for the moment, with Jackson’s take-charge demeanor. ___________________ “You’re here at last. I was beginning to worry,” Harold Bradley fussed as Lena and Jackson rolled in a serving cart piled high with linens, china, and utensils. Annoyed, Lena glanced at her watch. It was only two-thirty three. Opening her mouth to respond,

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Jackson stopped her by touching her shoulder briefly. “We have a one hundred percent reliability record. We always show up on time. Surely, you must have known that, or you wouldn’t have hired us.” “Yes, of course, but after the other caterer bailed on me, can you blame me for being nervous?” Bradley’s tone grew more civil. “Of course, not, sir. We understand your position. But you will find out today that we are the best, and nothing less.” Jackson’s tone seemed to soothe Bradley, despite the boast. Lena watched and learned. She’d never managed to be as diplomatic as he was with grumpy clients. The two of them worked efficiently, setting up the enormous lobby for the food portion of the job fair. By three-thirty, they were all at their stations. Jackson and Ricky prepared to circulate with trays and direct people to the food. Lena, who was using her cane to walk, stood behind a table, ready to serve. Annie was near the lobby’s entrance in a chair with her leg propped up, chatting and joking with the early arrivals. Bradley came over to Lena. “I was dubious about your using an employee with a broken leg, but she is charming everyone. A wonderful young woman, despite her purple hair. Who is she?” Lena couldn’t help beaming with pride. “My sister and business partner, Annie Korhonen.” Bradley popped a scallop in his mouth, smacking his lips. “The food’s scrumptious and looks like it cost a mint. Considering your recent tragedy, I’m even more impressed. So, it was your sister who was trapped in the van?” “Yes, sir. And thank you for the compliments. As Jackson said, we are the best.” “You two should consider merging your businesses. I take it Sunday’s animosities are over?

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Very good.” Bradley walked away without waiting for an answer. Merge their businesses? She sort of liked Jackson, but she could never give up control of her successful business, the result of years of hard work. Shrugging off the idea, she smiled and served the job fair attendees passing by her station. The hours passed. UniMed’s lobby hummed with medical chat among the company’s managers and prospective employees, and several people had commented favorably on the food and service. She sat down now that the stream of people had slowed to a trickle. Only another thirty minutes or so, then they could pack up and drag their tired bodies home. Even her vivacious sister was beginning to droop. Lena massaged her sore ankle, lost in thought. “How are you doing?” She started to hear Jackson’s voice so close to her ear. “I don’t like it when you sneak up on me.” “I didn’t. Never mind—I’m too happy to argue with you. Bradley asked me if we could cater lunch for a board of directors meeting this Thursday. He wants hot food and elegant presentation. No sandwiches with chips and soda for these folks. But he’ll do it only if both of us are on board. Will you work with me again? UniMed’s offering a lot of money. Look at the size of the check he handed me for today’s job fair.” Lena whistled to see the figure typed on the oversized green check. “Even cut in half, we each made an obscene amount of money today. What’s he offering for the directors’ luncheon?” “Three times that. I don’t know about you, but half of what he’s offering would be more than I’ve grossed in the past month.” Lena could almost taste Jackson’s eagerness, but a part of her whispered caution. She squinted at him. “And why so much for a fancy luncheon? I’ve

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done hundred-person receptions for less. There must be a catch.” “The only catch is that both of you must cater the luncheon together. And the food had better be good,” Bradley, who had overheard the last, said. Lena stood abruptly to face him, leaning on her cane. “Mr. Bradley, at this rate you’re paying hundreds of dollars a head. That makes me suspicious. What are you expecting in return?” “First, it’s a last-minute job, so I’m compensating you for your trouble. Second, we expect something suitably expensive and out of the ordinary–perhaps lobster or chateaubriand?” Bradley said. “Third, Thursday’s agenda will go down more easily if we precede the meeting with gourmet food. Get it?” Annoyance crossed his face. “I’ve got to go. I know any another caterer I call would be happy to make the money. Are you in or out?” Lena could feel Jackson nudging her in the side with his elbow. She had yet to cast the deciding vote for both of them. “Yes, we’re in,” she said. “Good. You can clean up here. Everyone’s leaving, and it’s almost eight. Start working on that menu and call me with details by tomorrow morning at 7:30.” Bradley started to walk away without saying goodbye, but Jackson said, “Excuse me, but I need to know why UniMed’s Director of Recruitment is handling a lunch for the board. Are you also the CEO’s assistant?” Bradley scowled. “Is it any of your damned business why I’m handling this? Perhaps you don’t want the job. You not like money or something?” Lena spoke up hastily. “You’re right, it’s none of our business. We’ll be happy to take the job, sir.”

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“As it so happens, our CEO asked me to schedule the luncheon as a personal favor. I can’t tell you any more than that. We done here?” “Yes, sir,” they chorused. As Bradley huffed away, Lena heard Jackson whisper in her ear, “Think of the extra money as combat pay. The man is going to nag us to death between now and Thursday’s lunch.” She chuckled. “Good point.” “Ready to clean up and go home?” His voice sounded wistful to her as it lingered on the word ‘home’. Lena nodded and started stacking dirty plates. The foursome ended up at Yankee Elegance Catering’s kitchen an hour later, excess food either saved or disposed of, serving dishes soaking in the oversized sinks. “That should do it.” Jackson looked around. “I’ll put the plates and utensils in the dishwasher. You can go home now if you want. I can finish up.” “No. We’re partners. I’ll stay to help clean up. Besides, we have to come up with a menu for Thursday,” Lena said. Ricky and Annie, who had been heading for the door, stopped short. “Thursday?” they both echoed. Jackson opened his mouth to speak until he noticed Lena’s face, shining with excitement. He closed his mouth to let her have the moment of triumph. “Bradley hired us to cater an exclusive, expensive lunch for UniMed’s board of directors meeting. We’ll be exhausted by Thursday afternoon, but it’ll be worth it.” “We?” Ricky said. “Yes,” Jackson said. “Bradley’s condition was that we all work together again. Lena and I need both of you to pitch in.” “Money?” Annie piped up. “Enough,” Lena said, her smile giving her away. Annie whooped in delight.

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“Damn!” Jackson burst out. Three pairs of eyes turned to him, Lena’s green pair boring into his own. “Problem?” “I forgot about the job I already scheduled for Thursday, catering lunch over at City Hall.” He rubbed his face with his hands before turning to Ricky. “Can you handle it? All you have to do is bring them a simple meal of sandwiches and the usual accompaniments. Use disposable serving platters, and you won’t have to return to pick up things. The four of us can prepare the food for the UniMed luncheon and the City Hall job, but Lena and I will deliver and cater the UniMed meal.” He paused a moment before adding, “Ricky, you’ll receive a bonus. I don’t expect such responsibility without extra compensation.” “Thanks. No prob, Mr. P.” “What about me?” Annie said. “Rest for you, Annie. Believe me, after the next 36 hours, you’ll want to. As for tonight,” Jackson added, “You and Ricky should both go home. Tomorrow and Thursday will be long days.” Noticing Lena’s hunched shoulders, he said, “Lena, are you okay with the arrangements? I don’t want you to think I’m taking over.” He watched her body relax as she leaned against a nearby counter. “Sure. I’m on board. But thanks for asking.” She handed the Range Rover’s keys to Ricky. “Do you mind spending the night again to help Annie? Your boss and I have to consult on the menu, so I won’t be home until later. I’m sure Mrs. Woodcock won’t mind if you drive her vehicle. I can always take a cab.” “No, you won’t. I’ll drive you home,” Jackson said. “Yeah, it’s not like you don’t know where we live,” Annie said, adding, “Just don’t block our car.” Jackson grinned. “I guess I deserve that shot.”

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“Thanks for the ride home,” Lena said, locking eyes with him. He thought he saw softness in her gaze, maybe even some openness. His heart beat a little faster, and his fingers twitched with the desire to touch her. Maybe he’d get the chance to do so tonight. Breaking eye contact, he turned to the dirty dishes, saying, “Shall we brainstorm while cleaning?” “Sounds good to me. Bye, you two,” Lena called as Ricky and Annie left. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Annie sang out, bringing a blush to Lena’s face, a blush he found sexy. He watched her clear her throat and move back into her Woman In Charge persona. ___________________ Hiding a huge yawn behind her hand, Lena asked, “How do you feel about the menu? I’m happy with it, and I think Bradley will be, too.” Seeing Jackson’s fingers tap the counter rapidly, she wondered for the tenth time what it would be like to have them sliding over her skin. She’d bet it would feel better than anything she’d ever experienced. “Mmm-hmmm. I agree. Our plans should knock his socks off. A choice of beef tenderloin with portobello risotto or tuna steak with sesame couscous should make their mouths water.” “Plus the mixed greens salad and baby carrots with dill butter. We’re done except for dessert.” “You’re the expert on sweets. Want to bring your famous cake?” “All right. That plus a plate of fruits and cheeses should complete the meal.” “Then we’re done for now. I’ll call Bradley in the morning with the menu. If he wants to change it, I’ll put out a contract on him.” The absurdity of someone from Jackson’s background knowing a Mafioso brought on a case of

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the giggles in Lena. She laughed until she snorted, after which they both doubled over in hysterics. “Whew,” Lena sputtered, wiping tears from her cheeks, “Shouldn’t you be calling a Godfather or something?” “Let’s give Bradley the benefit of the doubt for now.” Jackson rummaged in one of his refrigerators. “Want something to drink? Water, soda, juice?” “Water would be great, unless you have root beer. I’m thirsty as anything.” “Sorry, no root beer. Will this do?” He held up a bottle of cola. “It’s nine-thirty. You need to go home soon?” Jackson said as he handed her the soda. “I’m okay. Do you want me to leave?” She said it casually, but inside was worrying he wanted to get rid of her. She was finally having fun with a man, and he probably had other plans, maybe for a late-night drink with another woman. After all, he was awfully good-looking. Clearly out of her league. “I don’t want to be anywhere else than where I am right now, with you.” His voice’s husky undertone made her step back. “I—I just want to talk, Jackson.” She bit her lower lip. “As do I.” Clapping his hands once, he continued, “Tonight calls for a celebration. What do you think we should do?” “Do?” “Yes. Don’t you think we have plenty to celebrate, Lena?” His irresistible grin grabbed her mood, sending it soaring like a helium-filled balloon released into the sky. Small flutters below her ribcage both tantalized her and warned her of her emotional vulnerability. Still, what would be the harm of spending a little more time with the man? Her brain kept telling her that Jackson would never overstep his bounds or take advantage of her. She spoke quickly before her fears could stifle the urge. “I guess we could celebrate. It’s not every

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day we make a ton of money with another ton promised in forty-eight hours, is it?” She swigged her root beer, avoiding his eyes, nervous about where their current path might lead. “I know a lovely place in Maynard. We could have a late-night snack.” Slapping his forehead with his hand, he said, “Damn! It’s Tuesday. All the really good places don’t stay open on weeknights past 10. And going to a pub like the ‘99’ won’t be quiet enough for talk. We could drive into Boston or Cambridge, I guess, if you wanted to find a nice place open late.” “We could always stay here,” she offered, though she could read disappointment on his face. “All right. Not exactly what I pictured, but if you’re happy here…” Both endured several beats of silence. Twisting her hands together, she noticed the dampness on her palms, but plowed ahead anyway. “Or we could go to your place. But just for talking,” she rushed to add. She sensed Jackson studying her as she looked everywhere but at him. “You’re kidding, right? You feel fine about going to my condo without an armed guard?” The amusement in his voice was not without compassion. “Well,” she faltered, “Maybe. I mean, I’m not suggesting anything, you know— “ Gulping, she pretended to study the menu notes still lying on the counter. “Lena, please, look at me.” She raised her head to meet his eyes. In them she saw no guile, only welcome. “I would be honored if you would join me at my condo, but only if you’re certain you want to.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Think about this—I’ve spent the night alone with you in your house when you could barely walk, and nothing bad happened. If I were going to harm you,

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I would have done it by now.” Jackson’s voice was rich with reassurance and truth, and she forced herself to maintain eye contact with him. “It’s not that I think you’ll harm me.” Lena was too embarrassed to say what she knew she was really afraid of—herself, and her impossible attraction to him. “What can I do to make you more comfortable? Tell me. I’ll do anything.” Her midsection fluttered even while her brain was busy talking her into it. It would be good for business. Plus, she did like Jackson as a person, and she had promised her sister she’d try to be friends with the man. Plus, could it hurt to kiss him again? Just a teeny, tiny, goodnight kiss after conversation? A bead of sweat slid down her back as she continued to gaze at him, his soft, dark brown eyes, his strong nose, his lips, his shoulders. She remembered his hand, crisply spanking her bare bottom, remembered the bite of the cane, and felt her knees loosen. Let’s not go there. Inhaling slowly, she plunged ahead as if diving into deep water. “All right. Let’s go to your place.” His hesitation encouraged her. “Are you sure? I don’t want to push you into anything.” “You’re not pushing me; I’m pushing me. We’re friends, right? Friends should be able to visit each other’s home without falling into sheer panic. Let’s go.” She heard the slight tremble underlying her brave words, but felt warmed by his smile. She did trust him more than she’d trusted any man in years. However, she wasn’t confident she could trust herself. ___________________ Jackson walked beside her to the entrance of his condo’s building. If anyone had told him forty-eight hours ago he would be taking Lena Korhonen home tonight, he would have laughed in disbelief. Even

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now he had trouble accepting that she was beside him. Did he dare to hope tonight might be a new beginning for them both? He reined himself in. They hadn’t even built a friendship yet. His thoughts were running away with him. Fantasies were fine, but he needed to remember that they were only that. Still, he loved spanking her bottom, and she seemed to enjoy it as well. Maybe he’d suggest another walloping tonight. Though, after the caning, he wouldn’t blame her if she said no. As he was unlocking the door to the lobby, their arms brushed, and both started. He had to restrain himself from touching the area, as if a burn had been inflicted there. He heard her cough. “I’ve always wanted to see what this place looked like inside. Awfully fancy,” she said. He thought he heard a small sneer in her tone, and it made him defensive. “You have something against fancy?” he said, his voice rising before he could control it. “I have something against money spent frivolously.” They stepped into the waiting elevator, going to different corners. At the third floor, he led the way to his door and unlocked it, flipping on lights as he automatically headed for the kitchen. “What would you like to drink?” He hated the way he sounded, which was about as welcoming as an iceberg, but he felt judged by her. And it was driving him nuts. “Did I do something wrong?” The naked plea in her voice twisted his heart. Perhaps he’d been the one doing the judging. He walked back to where she stood, just inside the door. God, she looked like a lost waif. “Lena, I thought I heard—never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry to jump to conclusions. I apologize if I’ve hurt you.”

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Chapter Eighteen Shaking her head, Lena said, “No, I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t mean to criticize where you live. It’s none of my business, and I had no right to make that crack about spending money frivolously. I’m sorry. I’ve had to be frugal my entire life, more than you could ever know. Seeing anyone enjoy a little luxury, well, I guess it makes me jealous. Not a very attractive trait, I know, but it’s the truth.” She swallowed hard enough for him to hear it. His arms ached to hold her, to protect her from her life’s hardships. But touching her when she was so vulnerable, he knew, would only upset her more. He had learned at least that much about Lena Korhonen. Instead, he said, “How about a do-over? Let’s forget the conversation in the lobby and act as if it never happened.” He could swear he spotted a glimmer of tears in her eyes, but she looked away too quickly for him to be sure. “That’s a good idea.” “In that case, please join me in the kitchen. What do you want to drink?” he asked as they walked. “Anything’s fine. Really. Oooo, nice kitchen, though of course, mine is better.” A small smile underlined the tease in her comment. Pretending to rise to the bait, he responded, “Maybe so, but your kitchen is your workspace. My workspace kicks your workspace’s butt.” “I guess I’ll let you win that one,” she said. “I’d like something to drink. I’m awfully thirsty.” Her approachability made him bold. “Would you feel comfortable sharing some wine with me? If not, I hope you won’t mind if I indulge. I have a bottle of Bordeaux I was saving for a special occasion. Seems to me this occasion’s special enough.”

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He watched as she shifted her eyes to the counter, back to his, then back to the counter. “I’d rather not drink wine. It’s fine with me if you do, however.” Something tight in the center of him loosened. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. “How about some orange juice mixed with Sprite? Believe it or not, it tastes good. An old buddy of mine used to call it a non-alcoholic screwdriver. You know what a screwdriver is, right?” “Yeah. Something I use to fix things around the house. Of course, I know what a screwdriver is. I used to work in a bar, remember?” He watched a brief cloud pass over her face at her mention of the bar, but her sunny grin bounced right back. “One fake screwdriver coming up, ma’am. Want to find yourself a seat in the living room?” She left for the living room. Happily, he uncorked the wine before mixing her drink. After pouring himself a full glass of the Bordeaux, he carried both drinks to the living room and set them on the coffee table. He found her standing instead of sitting, examining his CD collection. “See anything you’d like to hear?” “Blues. I like blues, classic jazz, and oldies. Anything you’ve got would be fine, though.” He pulled out a collection of jazz from the Fifties. In moments, the sounds of Duke Ellington’s “Satin Doll” filled the room. “Your drink.” He picked up her glass and handed it to her. “Thank you.” Her tentative sip became more enthusiastic. “Hey, this is really good.” “Of course, it’s good. How could you doubt me?” He grasped the stem of the wine glass. He didn’t want to pick a place to sit until she had. Raising his glass, he offered, “A toast?” “Okay.”

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Jackson thought a moment. “To good friends and successful partnerships,” he said, clinking his glass against hers. “Skål,” she said. “What part of Scandinavia are your ancestors from?” He recognized the traditional word used for toasting. “Finland. Mama and Papa were from the old country.” “The names Lena and Annie don’t sound very Finnish.” “My first name’s Karolena, which is very old country. Mama wanted us to be Americans, so she called me Lena. Her first name was Olga. A name fit for the melting pot that our country is. Papa’s was Arvid.” With that, she sat down on the couch. Jackson cheered inside. She didn’t choose the armchair. Perhaps she was opening up more. Taking his place on the couch, he sat near her but not near enough, he hoped, to spook her. “So, what’s your name? I mean, your whole name,” she asked. He sighed. “Jackson MacDougal Portsmouth.” “Wow. That’s a mouthful. Almost as much as Karolena Astrid Korhonen.” “I like Astrid. It sounds like it’s related to words for ‘star.’” “It actually means ‘Godly strength’ or something like that. So, you’re Scottish,” she said. “More English than Scottish, though I do have a fair number of Scots in my ancestry on my mother’s side. Very stiff-upper-lip, very reserved. That was my family.” “Mine was obsessed with duty and work. Sometimes, I think all Scandinavians are dour and depressed. Everyone I ever met at the Finnish Social Club undoubtedly was. Mama was the only one I knew who actually showed me–and told me– that she loved me. How about you?”

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“Mother was more outgoing than Father, but not by much. Typical upper-class WASP family.” “White Anglo-Saxon Protestant. Ah,” she said. “I guess that’s me, too.” Jackson waited while she paused, seemingly in thought. “Your wine looks lovely–a dark reddish-purple. It reminds me of blackberry wine Papa would bring home occasionally, made by those from the old country. May I try it?” He jumped up, eager to please. “Of course. I’ll be right back with a glass for you,” he said as the CD segued into Lena Horne. ___________________ Watching him disappear into the kitchen, Lena berated herself. Wine? In a place where she was alone with Jackson? Are you crazy, girl? You have enough trouble controlling your desire for him as it is. “Aw, shut up,” she muttered to her inner scold. Tonight, she was going to enjoy herself. She hungered for a little bit of wine, some cool jazz, and a chance to get to know someone outside her tight little world at 85 Front Street. She needed to stretch her wings, to laugh, to admit she really did want a mate. If not now, then some day. Her hands felt cold and damp, but it was only nerves. They would improve once she had a little alcohol. In the meantime, she needed to walk off her tension. She was rising from the couch when Jackson returned with a wineglass and the bottle. “I didn’t pour any for you yet. I thought I’d give you a small amount so you could discover whether you like it.” He put a dollop of wine in her glass. “Here.” Closing her eyes, she brought the glass to her lips and tasted. The flavor and aroma hit her fully, causing her eyes to pop open, watering.

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“This–this is interesting. Lots of flavors. But it’s strong. Is this kind of wine always so, so, alcoholictasting?” “A Bordeaux’s flavor is rich and complex, with a little astringency. Some people don’t care for it at first.” Handing the glass back to him, she smiled. “Actually, I’d like to try a little more before I decide whether I like it or not.” She noticed him watching her as she sipped a second time. “Do you taste the fruitiness?” he asked. “Yes. It does taste a little like blackberry wine, but I also think I taste licorice, too.” “This particular vintage does have that hint of flavor in it.” “I think I like it. More, please,” she said as she smiled. He hesitated. “Are you sure?” “I’m a grown woman. If I say I like it and want more, I want more,” she insisted. Honestly, did he think she was a babe in the woods? Jackson raised his free hand. “Hey, I’m just checking. I don’t want to be accused of getting you drunk when you have a big head tomorrow.” After he filled her glass, she wandered to the enormous window overlooking the west. Moonbeams shimmered across nearby Sanderson Lake, evergreens appearing black in the darkness. “God, this is beautiful,” she murmured as she sought Venus in the night sky. “It is a lovely view. In fact, it’s why we bought the place.” “We? Did you and Tess live here together?” “Yes.” She couldn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. She took another drink of wine, enjoying the warmth it produced inside her. “Why didn’t you sell it when you needed money?”

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“Bad real estate market for condos. It was smarter to take out a loan on the equity, so I did. Now I have two mortgages, but my business is safe, as long as I keep making money. Thank God both my vehicles are paid off—“ “Why did you keep both the van and the Mercedes? Surely you don’t need two vehicles. There’s only one of you.” “Are you nosy, or what?” he asked. Stung, she lowered her eyes, muttering “Sorry.” “Don’t sulk. I was only kidding,” he said, nudging her in the side playfully. “Are you counting my ribs?” Now amused, she peered at him over the rim of her glass while she sipped. “No. I assume you own the requisite number of bones.” Jackson crossed his arms, leaning against the window. “Now, I think you asked about why I didn’t sell either the Mercedes or the van? Three reasons. First, I needed the van for the business. Tess bought it used for cash. It would bring only six or seven thousand now, and I’d have to replace it with something suitable for carrying large amounts of food. Second, there’s not much resale value in the Mercedes, either. It’s nine years old.” “Look, a nine-year-old E-class Mercedes sedan must go for at least twenty-five grand, maybe even thirty. If you sold it, you could retire part of your mortgage debt.” “Yes, but now we arrive at the third reason—it’s the first vehicle I paid for myself. Down in the Financial District, I worked a year of seventy-toeighty-hour weeks to earn the bonus that helped buy it. I deserve my car. Okay, maybe I wanted to show off my success a little. But that car represents my ability to make money and be a man who needs no one’s help, a man who can stand on his own two feet.”

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“Unlike your father,” Lena noted quietly. Jackson had clenched his fists, resembling a street fighter defending his honor. Gloominess washed over his face. “Yeah. Unlike my father. Also, the van and car were all Tess left behind, except for the condo. She stole everything else. It was too har d to give up anything else after she stole all the money.” Affected by the melancholy gleam in his eyes, she murmured, “That must have been difficult.” “Understatement of the year,” he sighed. “Maybe now you understand why I was upset over your ‘taking care of’ my totaled Range Rover. Jeeves was the first thing bigger than a week’s groceries I’d bought with money I alone earned.” She watched him turn to her. “I’m sorry again for that. Jeeves was your independence and success statement, wasn’t it? Like my Mercedes?” “Yes, it was. My first statement as an adult, anyway.” Their gazes held until he said, “Hey, answer me this: how does a working gal like you know the resale value for a used Mercedes E-class sedan?” “Well, uh, you see, I, uh,” she stammered, sensing her face grow hot with mortification when Jackson laughed. “Could it be that Miss Lena Korhonen, no friend to the wealthy, harbors a secret desire for the playthings of the rich?” “I guess you’ve got me. I’ve been a car buff since my teens. I dearly love Mercedes-Benz cars, but not because they’re a symbol of wealth. I just love the way they look. Most of them resemble pieces of art because their bodies are so beautiful.” “They really are gorgeous, aren’t they?” “Maybe someday I’ll own one,” she said, lost in wistful thoughts. Both stared at the heavens. “Do you know anything about astronomy, Astrid?”

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“You’re never going to let me forget you know my middle name, are you, MacDougal?” she said with a smile. “’Fraid not, Astrid,” he repeated. “The stars. You didn’t answer my question.” “Oh, I probably know an average amount about them. I can find the major constellations, Venus, Mars, that sort of thing.” “You’re doing better than me. I can find the moon. That’s about it.” “Venus is beautiful, a bright bluish-white. You usually see it just above the horizon at sunset or just before sunrise. It seems to have set already this evening, though.” Despite that, she recited the Venus chant to herself as she had almost every night of her adult life. “How did you learn all of this?” “My Mama.” “She sounds like she was a wonderful woman.” “She was.” The two of them stood quietly, sipping wine, taking in the night sky. She’d never enjoyed any evening with a man as much as she was enjoying this one, not even with high-school boyfriend Zeke, or that one fateful night with Philip Cabbott. Jackson was smart, funny, and kind. He’d walked through the fire of life’s traumas and survived, no, thrived. God help her, but she thought she might be able to trust this one. Looking down at her almost-empty glass, she realized she was starting to feel the alcohol. While backing away from the window, she swayed. He caught her by the arm. “No more wine for you,” he said, taking her glass. “I agree. It’s really good, but my stomach’s too empty. Maybe if I ate? We never had any dinner.” “I make the best scrambled eggs in New England. Want some? I’m hungry, too.”

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“Eggs and toast sound like just the ticket.” She smiled. “Thank you.” “Come with me. I’d love the company while I cook,” he said, taking one of her hands to tug her along. “Oh, all right,” she said, pretending to be exasperated, trying not to think about the quiet thrill she felt when his hand gripped hers. “Take a seat on the stool.” She did as he asked, watching him assemble the few ingredients he needed for their late -night breakfast. He worked rapidly, but with an economical grace of movement. Even though it was a simple meal, she could tell by the brightness in his eyes and his attention to details that he loved what he was doing. Irresistible aromas filled the air. A few short minutes later, he placed two plates of steaming eggs and buttered rye toast on the breakfast nook’s surface, each plate garnished with parsley and a single sliced strawberry. Lena grabbed her fork and dug in, only to swallow her first bite, put the fork down, and exclaim, “These are the best eggs I’ve ever tasted.” “Thank you. I’m glad you like them.” “What’s your secret?” “Cracked black pepper.” “No kidding. That’s all?” “Eggs, milk, salt, cracked pepper. And a little real butter, even though the pan’s nonstick.” “So simple, but so tasty.” She wanted to say more, but sudden shyness had her watching herself empty the plate of food. The kitchen felt stuffy and much too small. Maybe it was an aftereffect of the wine. She had been woozy. “Do you want anything else to eat?” he asked, removing her empty plate. “Mmm, no. That was delicious, but I’ve had enough. Thank you again.” She studied the opposite wall. Something’s happening between us, but what?

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“It was nothing. You, on the other hand, are something.” Her gaze flew to his face. When had he moved so close? She smelled his masculine scent above the food’s lingering aroma as his fingers touched her cheek lightly. Goosebumps raced up and down her arms, making her shiver. She knew she should be backing away, but she didn’t want to. Maybe she was making a mistake, but Lord help her, she believed he cared about her. “Lena,” he said as he cradled her face, “I am so grateful you came into my life. You’re smart, funny, and the hardest-working person I’ve ever met. I respect you more than I can say.” “Respect?” she replied, her eyes filling with tears. “I guess that means you don’t find me attractive. That’s all right. No man ever does. Oh, God, I can’t believe I just said that,” she cried. His hands slipped down her back to press her to him. “Don’t find you attractive?” His rough voice, his hot breath, had her trembling. “Jesus, Lena, I think about you twenty-four-seven. If I found you any more attractive, I’d be ripping your clothing to pieces right now.” Her breathing rapid, she touched his lower lip with an index finger, amazed at her own boldness, but she couldn’t bear one more minute so close to him, and yet not close enough. She wanted him inside her. “Jackson,” she breathed, “What’s stopping you?” ___________________ “What?” he said. Surely, she hadn’t said what he thought. No, it was his wishful thinking. “I said, what’s stopping you?” “You,” he admitted. “I don’t want to frighten or upset you.” “But you want me?” Her green eyes bored into his. He groaned, his self-control fraying rapidly.

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“Oh, God, yes, Lena, yes. You have to ask?” She shut her eyes while he stood there, stunned by the turn of events, his mouth bare inches from hers. Kiss her, you fool! his mind screamed. Tentatively, he brushed his lips against hers. A moan and a wiggle of her shapely body rewarded him, further loosening his grip on self -control. Pulling her close, he pressed his lips on hers, her mouth slowly permitting him entrance. His fingers danced their way up and down her back, sensing the softness under her blouse. Her body was so fit, and yet so yielding to his touch. His head was spinning, but it had nothing to do with the wine. No, he was drunk on her sweet scent, her ripe curves, her hungry mouth. He grasped her bottom, pushing her hips against him. She moaned again, pulling away to speak. “Jackson.” Oh no. This is where she stops. She’s never going to open up to me. It’s probably my lousy kissing. Maybe she dislikes my caresses? Or is she scared? “Well?” he heard her ask. “What?” he said, confused. “I said,” Lena murmured while tracing the line of his jaw, “It’s all right to, you know, go on. If you have protection.” This woman has more sides than a Chinese magic box. “Of course, I do,” he breathed, burying his face in her hair. “God, you smell good.” “Lavender soap and shampoo. But let’s discuss my beauty rituals later.” Her light tone gave way to something more like a growl. “I—want you.” All restraint gone now, Jackson crushed her to him. He explored her mouth, as she did his. Moving his right hand to her stomach, he slid it to one breast, cupping its fullness. Her shudders undulated

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through both of them the way a stone thrown in a pond sends ever-widening ripples to shore. His fingers found the top button of her blouse. Deftly, he undid each one all the way to her waist, and then pulled his mouth from hers. Brushing her blouse open, he swallowed hard upon seeing the fullness held captive by a few wisps of lace. His right hand explored inside her bra, finding a stiff peak surrounded by hot, silky skin. “Are you sure?” he whispered. “Yes,” she answered. He kissed her again, this time gently, before leading her to his bedroom. ___________________ Lena found herself following him as if bewitched, his warm hand holding hers firmly and tugging her along. Nerves sang in her entire being, some with anxiety, but most with delicious anticipation. Sweet heavens, this man could kiss. Not that she had much experience to judge by, but she knew what she liked. And oh, boy, how she liked Jackson. Now in the bedroom, he asked her permission once again, this time only with his eyes. She nodded. Her breath caught as he undid the last button on her blouse and slid it down her arms. He unhooked her bra, sending it floating to the floor as well. “My God,” he whispered. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His fingers teased her breasts until the peaks ached at attention. She trembled. Only once before had she been unclothed by a lover. Once more, he asked with his eyes. Once more, she nodded. He busied himself with her slacks while she kicked off her shoes. Within moments, she stood fully naked before him. Anxiety warred with her arousal, but arousal was winning the war.

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She watched him remove his clothing, shucking it left and right. When finished, he whispered, “Now we’re equally naked, equally vulnerable. And it’s time I spanked you. Again. Properly.” “Okay,” she said, her voice faint. She waited until he sat on the bed, waited for him to tug her across his lap. His left arm snuggled her body close to his, and her breath caught when his fingers trailed sparks up and down her bottom and thighs. She steadied herself, her hands and toes on the floor, and waited. His fingers lightly traced the fading lines that were all that was left of last night’s welts. When his fingers tickled her inner thighs, she opened her legs with a groan, eager for his touch. “Close your legs, Lena,” he said. Disappointed, she obeyed. His palm cracked hard against the center of her sit-spot, and she yelped. Then another and another. Tears burned her eyes. The welts might be mostly gone, but she was still damned sore. And he was spanking hard. “It really hurts!” she cried. “You’re spanking too hard!” As she struggled, his hand seemed to rain down even more fiercely. “No, I’m not,” he said, his voice as gentle as his spanks were harsh. “You need to purge yourself of all that bad stuff that tells you you’re not entitled to have a life. You need to let go of the notion that I’m going to harm you. You need to stop deciding you know what’s in my head and snapping at me for it. You need to let go of all those toxic emotions, dearest Karolena. Cry for me. Cry for you. Let go.” For some stupid reason, she didn’t want to cry, and struggled against the urge, feeling angry and unhappy. When he started spanking her thighs, she wailed, “You are a bastard. Don’t whip my legs, please, it hurts so much, Papa, don’t!” She felt his muscles clench, and she realized what she’d just done—called him Papa. “Did your father whip your thighs, Lena?” Jackson asked.

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“Yes, with his belt, the buckle end, and it hurt. The girls in Phys Ed made fun of me when they saw the redness, which was often.” Jackson was no longer spanking her, but the urge to cry, to scream, was even more intense. “Jackson, I really, really hate having my thighs spanked.” His hand began to tattoo her thighs again, and she wailed, “Didn’t you hear me? Papa used to beat my legs, don’t do that—” “Let go, Lena. Let go.” With that, he walloped her sitting area so hard, so fast, that the beginnings of a sob escaped her lips. When his hand moved back to whacking her thighs, the slaps were gentler. Something about his gentleness pushed her over the edge. She wept loudly, almost screaming, sobs wracking her body. He held her more tightly against him, murmuring, “Lena, Lena, that’s good, you’re so brave, so beautiful, so deserving of good things.” Lena wailed, barely noticing that his spanks had slowed to gentle taps. Her bottom and thighs blazed, and it hurt, but she didn’t feel wounded. She felt as if she were finally breathing deeply after years of tightly-held-in feelings. When her sobs faded to sniffles, his fingers caressed her burning skin. “You’re a wonderful woman, Lena. You deserve someone to love. Someone who loves you.” “I’m—I’m sorry,” she choked out. “For being such a bitch. Will you forgive me?” “Only if you’ll forgive yourself,” he said. “Do you?” “Yes,” she whispered.

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Chapter Nineteen Jackson lifted Lena onto the bed, using a tissue to wipe her face. “It’s over now, Lena. God, you are the most special woman I’ve ever met. I promise I’ll never spank you in anger, and only when you need it. I promise I’ll always forgive you as long as you forgive yourself.” With that, he kissed her. She grabbed his head and kissed back deeply. Jackson had seen her weak and crying, and he seemed to care even more about her when she became vulnerable. The man was unlike any other she’d met. Could she be falling for Jackson? If so, she decided, he was worthy of her love. The thought shocked her. She’d never thought of herself as worthy of any man’s love before. Jackson’s fingers skimmed down her torso, across her belly, reaching the needy area between her legs. She stiffened when a fingertip explored. He broke the kiss, whispering, “Relax. I know what you need.” As he kissed his way down her body, she felt herself tightening with anticipation. The night of Annie’s accident, Jackson had given her sweet release with his mouth, and she could barely wait to feel his kiss down there once again. When he gently pushed apart her thighs, his breath moved the hairs, and it tickled her in a very, very good way. “Lena,” he moaned before his tongue touched her nub, caressing it, licking it. Unable to help herself, she gripped his head, glorying in his mouth on her sex. She cried out as waves of sensation slammed into her, waves that took an eternity to fade. Once they did, she gasped, “Thank you. Can I return the favor?” A finger slipped inside her, and she tightened up again. She’d had pleasure that night with Philip, but it had hurt a lot the first time, and the second time

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hadn’t been much better. Not only that, Jackson looked bigger—a lot bigger. “Come on, sweetie, let go. It’s going to feel so good,” he crooned as his finger worked. “I’m scared it’ll hurt,” she whispered. “It hurt so much the first time, and he wasn’t—your size,” she finished. “If you’re trying to flatter me, you’re succeeding,” he said, a chuckle in his voice. He kissed her mouth lightly, his tongue touching sensitive areas inside, before sucking her lower lip until she could feel it deep inside her core. His finger was all the way inside her now. She sensed a second one trying to enter her, and she froze. “It hurts.” Jackson said nothing. Instead, he put his mouth on one nipple and sucked hard while his thumb massaged her nub. Electric shocks of passion were looping through her body, and she realized that both fingers were inside her now. Damn, it felt good. Really, really good. He moved his mouth to the other nipple, sucking fiercely, and her back arched, her body out of her control. Was that a third finger inside her? All she knew was that she was hungry, truly hungry for him, for his hardness, for his length and thickness. “Jackson,” she gasped, “Jackson,” as his thumb and fingers and mouth moved as one to take her to the edge. “Ready?” he asked. She breathed her answer. “Yessssss.” She barely noticed the sound of the condom package being torn open. When he positioned himself between her legs, his erection pushing against her entrance, she realized, to her dismay, she was clenching down there. “It’s all right,” he said, kissing her. “Basically, you’re a virgin, a virgin who knows it hurts to be deflowered.”

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With that, he covered her sex with his mouth again, and sucked gently, his tongue probing. The feeling of riding the edge returned, and her back arched so strongly, she thought her bones might crack. While she was still flying from the sensation, he started pushing inside her. It hurt a bit, but nothing like the first time. Within a minute, he was fully in, and her body stretched to accommodate him. As he slipped in and out, the sensation of constant, delicious movement sliding across the special spot inside her brought her maddeningly close to orgasm. He positioned his fingers between their bodies. “How are you doing?” he whispered to her, touching her in just the right spot as he moved. She could only moan, her head whipping back and forth as he coaxed her hips into a figure-eight pattern, his fingers sliding across her swollen nub, his hardness never relenting in its pressure on that sensitive interior spot. “Jackson,” she cried as hot thrills coursed through her, richer and fuller than the ones she’d experienced when he’d used his mouth. She felt her body open up to receive the man in a way she’d never thought possible. As the sensation was fading, his hands clutched her bottom. Though doing so awakened the embers of her spanking, the burning sting seemed to accentuate her fading orgasm. She liked it. While holding her hips still, Jackson thrust hard and fast, groaning, “Lena, oh, Lena.” Hearing her name on his lips excited her as much as being forced to remain still while he invaded her deeply. Her head whirled as she realized how very much she enjoyed giving him pleasure. The urge was even stronger than her desire to receive it. Was this love? She sighed. She felt at peace for the first time since early childhood. She felt as if she’d finally found her home.

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___________________ Love. He meditated on the holy word as his breathing slowed, as the sensations faded. “Did the earth move for you, too?” he whispered, planting butterfly kisses on her face and neck. “Like an earthquake,” she said, holding his face in her palms. He read powerful emotions in her eyes. He moved next to her to snuggle, wrapping his arms around her. Soon, her breathing slowed, and he knew she’d dropped off to sleep. The sex had been incredible. By rights, he should be happily snoozing. His body felt pleasantly tired and completely satisfied. So why was he awake, staring at the ceiling? He’d almost said that he loved her, but something had held him back, and that was probably all to the good. It was too early to know such things. Still, he wasn’t going to let her shy away from him, or take any excuses from her to justify doing so, no way, no how. Not now that she’d faced down the fears and terrible memories that had kept her suspicious and angry at the world. Though he wouldn’t mind another chance to spank her beautiful bottom. He grew hard just thinking about it. She had rolled over onto her stomach. He stroked her sitting area and thighs, heat still radiating from them. He’d spanked her about as hard as he could spank while using only his hand. She’d been beaten by her father with belts and God knew what else, so he’d limited himself to using his hand. He had to admit, his palm still stung fiercely, so her backside had to be tender. He continued caressing her hot, red areas, growing harder. He slipped a finger between her thighs, hungry for more of her, and she opened her legs slightly, saying, “Mmmm?”

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“Shhh,” he said, nuzzling her shoulder while still touching her between her legs. Though love might not have bloomed yet, he looked forward to a future of working together, playing together, making love together. In fact, he wished they could do so right now, but her slow, regular breathing indicated she’d again passed over the line from sleepy to slumber. With a sigh, he removed his fingers from between her legs, touching himself briefly with regret. He’d content himself with memories of tonight instead, such as the way she’d responded to his touch. It was almost as if she’d morphed into another woman. Still waters ran deep, and Lena’s passion put the Grand Canyon to shame. He bit back a chuckle to hear the small snuffling sounds coming from her. Who would have guessed she’d snore? He tried to sleep, but he was restless even though it was past midnight. He carefully released his hold on her and crept out of bed. He knew from experience that his insomnia would relent only after he’d dealt with the source of his restlessness. After donning underwear and a t-shirt, he found Thursday’s luncheon menu that they’d scribbled on scrap paper. He lazed on the couch, studying it, tweaking ideas here and there, and noting alternatives. He’d call their micro-managing client at seven-thirty a.m. to nail down the menu, but it didn’t hurt to have spare ideas, should Bradley not like their plans. Sleepy now, he turned off all the lights. He slipped back into bed, hugging his real-life Dream Woman tightly as she continued to snore, blissfully unaware. Someone was talking. Lena fought to the surface of sleep, trying to make sense of it. One eye now open, panic seized her briefly before she recalled the night before, which explained where she was. Ah, yes. Jackson and sex more incredible than she’d imagined in her wildest dreams. She sighed,

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reveling in the relaxation last night’s activities had brought her. Pale light creeping in around the shades told her it was still early. Despite less than a full night’s sleep, however, she felt rested and raring to go. “Tess, Tess,” Jackson mumbled in his sleep. Disappointed hurt washed through her. She’d rather not hear her lover speak his ex’s name, but after all, he was sleeping, so she couldn’t call him to task for it. She hoped he wasn’t having a sizzling sleep-fantasy, though. She simply didn’t want him thinking about his ex in that way, not even while asleep. The clock read five fifty-eight, almost her usual waking time. She’d better get a move on. They had much to accomplish today. She sneaked out of bed and grabbed her clothing, pausing at the door to smile at her lover. He looked so young, so vulnerable, with strands of hair across one closed eye and a cowlick rearing its head. She’d make some coffee and wake him with a steaming cup, she decided as she pulled the bedroom door shut. Her mind raced ahead to all the happy mornings to come. It was about time for her to win one. Being a perennial loser at the game of love stunk. After taking a few moments to wash up, she slipped into her clothing, carrying her shoes to the kitchen. She’d have a glass of juice and start coffee before she put them on. Orange juice glass half-empty and coffee brewing, she jumped to hear the trilling of a cell phone on the counter. Snatching it up, she nearly answered it before realizing it was Jackson’s. Funny how it looked just like hers, though his played a snippet of classical music instead of the generic ring pattern hers produced. She was happy that they had the same taste in cell phones, silly though that thought was. Shaking her head, she attempted to lecture herself about her unexpected goofiness, but

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was unable to do it. She’d have to quit grinning first, and it felt permanently pasted on. She sipped the juice, lost in memories of the night before. She was just about to pour two cups of coffee when a man’s voice startled her. What the hell was that, she thought before recognizing the southernfried voice of Jackson’s college friend. At least, she thought it was Bobby. Ducking into the living room, she noticed the unblinking eye of an answering machine as the man rambled on. The landline phone had never rung, so Jackson must have turned off its ringer. Fighting the urge to eavesdrop, she soon understood it was like giving up chocolate—simply hopeless. Besides, it sounded like a lot of guy talk, anyway, and not anything personal. At least, it did until something grabbed her attention, causing her to whip her head around in the direction of the machine. “Hey, you said you needed a lawyer, and I know of one who’s experienced in single-proprietor mergers and acquisitions. I don’t know him personally, but just yesterday one of my salesmen dropped a name while talking about his wife’s business. I’ll ask him for the exact name when I talk to the guy later, but it was something like Whittaker, Whitmore, ah, whatever. I do know one thing, you’ve gotta strike while the iron is hot. Have you lined up financing yet? Hey, maybe Elyse could help you with that. Anyway, I’m on my way to catch the New York shuttle and just happened to call in for my messages, so I’ll talk to you later, buddy. I’m glad to hear your plans regarding Lena are going well. You’ll soon restore the Portsmouth fortune. Ol’ Bobby is danged sure about that.” She was frozen to the spot even though the machine had clicked off. Trying not to jump to conclusions, she shook her head to clear it. She couldn’t have heard Bobby right. If she had, that would mean–

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That would mean Jackson was just like Philip, a user, the voice in her head taunted. Staggering to the couch, she collapsed, recalling what she’d heard. He’d apparently asked his friend for a legal referral in the area of mergers and acquisitions for small businesses. And Bobby had congratulated Jackson because his plans “regarding Lena” were going well. Tears sprang to her eyes. She didn’t want to believe it, but there it was, plain as the nose on her plain little face: Jackson was thinking of taking over someone’s business. She didn’t know everything about his life, but she didn’t know of any other business he was working with, except hers. She imagined that he might be considering merging with another caterer, but she couldn’t make herself swallow it. And then there was the mention of financing and Elyse. No, it couldn’t be. She desperately clawed at the hope she was wrong, but her mind was forcing her to accept the only logical deduction available to her—Jackson was planning on buying out or taking over a rival business, most likely hers. Probably last night’s frolic between the sheets had been his way of “softening her up.” She knew he’d left the bed shortly afterwards, because she woke up when he did. She’d bet he’d placed his call to Bobby then. And Bobby had mentioned financing, possibly through Elyse. Hmm. That explained Elyse’s “gift” to her of a Range Rover, when the woman had never even given her a catering job before. The SUV must have come with large strings that tied SweetKakes, the company she had slaved to build, to Yankee Elegance Catering. She didn’t know how, but somehow it did. She felt certain of it. No one had asked her what she wanted, but she didn’t want to merge with anyone, and didn’t want to sell her business. Not even if she could get as much as half a million for it. Because, if she sold, what would she do? How would she survive? All she

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knew how to do was cook. She was too young to retire, and besides, even five hundred large wouldn’t last the rest of her life. No. SweetKakes was her idea, her baby, and they’d get it from her only after they pried her cold, dead fingers off her book of accounts. Lawyers. Acquisitions. Plans. Strike while the iron is hot. Getting rich. Jackson was going to take control of her livelihood. She didn’t know how, when, or why, but all of it added up to the only conclusion she could draw. What a freakin’ fool she had been—again. Recalling their lovemaking from a few hours earlier ripped her heart in two. A loud sob escaped before she slapped her hands across her mouth. Jackson might wake at any moment. Perhaps he was awake now. Perhaps he even had plans to repeat last night’s performance, the better to lull her further into submission. She couldn’t face him. She just couldn’t. Grabbing her purse and cell phone, she left the coffee unpoured and sprinted from the apartment, the door crashing shut behind her. In the elevator, she called a taxi while tears scorched trails down her cheeks. ___________________ The slamming of the door woke him, though it registered only as a loud noise. Lena wasn’t in his bed, and he smelled fresh coffee. He smiled. She must’ve gotten up before him to brew the stuff. Squinting at the clock, he stretched and yawned. Six-thirty. Normally he slept a little later, but today’s workload was key to the success of both their businesses. He’d better get going. He pulled on a pair of jeans. They might have made love last night, but he suspected that, to Lena, they weren’t familiar enough yet for him to prance around naked in the daytime, even at his own place. Tucking his erection inside the jeans, he sang out, “Honey, I’m up, boy, am I ever.”

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He stuck his head into the kitchen, grinning. No Lena. He padded to the open door of the bathroom and looked. Nope. Living room? Empty. His heart jumped in his chest. Where was she? Why would she start coffee and leave? He thought he remembered hearing voices. Maybe her sister had called with an emergency. His heart beat faster. Calm down and think logically, he scolded himself. Perhaps she just went out for a jog. No, she wasn’t wearing running shoes last night. Maybe she left to get a jump on the work. That would be just like her. She loved to work, and she loved getting up early. That meant a note had to be around, somewhere. He searched the kitchen counters, the coffee table, the nightstand, her pillow, the bathroom, and the breakfast nook—any and every surface in the condo. After ten minutes of searching, anxiety struck him again, along with a dollop of hurt. Why would she leave without saying goodbye or leaving a note? She wasn’t the kind to indulge in casual sex, so he didn’t believe the evening meant little to her. She must have been called away by urgent circumstances. It was the only thing that made sense. He showered and dressed rapidly, poured coffee into two travel mugs, and rushed out the door. He never noticed the blinking red light on his answering machine. Within five minutes, he was ringing the doorbell at 85 Front Street. No answer. He grappled with the two mugs, holding them both with one hand so he could knock. Still no answer. What the hell was going on? He banged on the door as loudly as he could, and fifteen seconds later, it jerked open. Leaning on crutches, Annie stared at him as if he were a pile of dog poop someone had flung onto her porch. He braved her scowl with a smile. “Hi, Annie. Is everything all right? I brought Lena some coffee. She, uh, well…” he trailed off.

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Perhaps Annie didn’t realize Lena had spent the night at his place, which meant he shouldn’t be the one to spill the beans. Lena would flip if he spoke out of turn to her sister. “We have our own coffee,” Annie snapped, shoving the door closed, but he put his foot in the way. “I need to see your sister. Please tell her I’m here. Or did she have to go somewhere? Is she all right? Where is she?” Annie regarded his athletic shoe as she would a poisonous spider. “Better move that foot of yours in the next five seconds, or I swear you’ll be wearing a cast as big as mine.” She bumped the door against his foot viciously in warning. The pain shooting up his leg had him cursing under his breath, but he wasn’t ready to give up, nor did he move. “Annie, please. What’s wrong?” She stood tall despite the crutches. “I have been told to inform you that Lena is not home. To you,” she snarled. “Get off our porch, unless you’d like me to call 911 and report an intruder attempting to enter the home of two helpless women, one on crutches. We bring the local station goodies every Monday, so the cops will be here with nightsticks and guns drawn mere seconds after I call. I tell you this in case you’d like to try your luck with them. Now, move that foot or I will cut it off.” Again she shoved the door, but harder than before. With a yell, Jackson dropped both coffee mugs to grab his throbbing foot, hopping about in agony. The heavy wooden door’s slamming sounded like a rifle’s report. He had coffee all over himself and all over the porch; he still didn’t know anything, and his foot was killing him. “Damned little purpleheaded brat,” he muttered, “What the freakin’ hell is going on?” After grabbing the two travel mugs, he limped back to his car. He sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, dazed, until he noticed Annie had opened the door again.

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She held a cell phone, and was alternating between pointing to it and jamming her middle finger at him. Her meaning was clear—get the hell out of here, or risk an encounter with the local police. His foot throbbed. He might as well go to work now and straighten things out later. As he drove to his storefront, he wondered what had gone wrong. Why was Lena angry? She must be angry if she “wasn’t home to him.” Or hurt. Maybe he had hurt her feelings somehow. What the hell had happened? What had he done—or not done? ___________________ Lena winced to hear the door slam closed a second time. “Annie, the whole house shakes when you do that. Stop it.” Her sister hobbled into view. “I only wish I could’ve broken the son of a bitch’s foot with it.” Lena burst into sobs. Just the thought of harm coming to Jackson made her cry, even though he didn’t care and obviously intended to screw her in more ways than one. She couldn’t help her heart’s longing for him, not after last night. She’d insisted that Annie answer the door, because a moment of weakness with a man she’d made love with would result in uncontrollable damage to their livelihood. Her first loyalty was, and had to be, to her only family—her sister. God knew she would die for Annie. Even if Jackson were her last shot at happiness, higher priorities had to prevail. She felt thin arms enfold her. “I hate him for hurting you. Is there anything I can do to help besides hate him for you?” Taking the tissues her sister handed her, Lena wiped her face. She’d shed more tears before all of this would end, she was certain, but for now, her tear ducts seemed bone-dry. “There’s nothing you

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can do except be my sister, and, believe me, right now that’s more than enough.” As she stood to pour a cup of coffee, she remembered that Ricky had said he would spend the night with Annie. Surely, he wasn’t still sleeping, not after all the racket. “Where’s Ricky?” “He left some time ago to pick up fresh clothes at his home. He should be back—well, he’s back now,” Annie said as she heard the front door open.

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Chapter Twenty “Hey, Annie, hey, Lena,” Ricky called cheerfully from the hall, only to stop dead upon seeing both women’s expressions. Hurrying to Annie’s side, he hugged her, his face full of questions. “Ricky,” Lena began, “Would you please work with, I mean at, Yankee Elegance Catering today? Annie and I need to be alone.” Her voice faltered. She sat down, slumping and turning her face to the wall. “Are tomorrow’s two jobs still on? What happened?” Lena continued to look away. She felt the heat of humiliation rise in her cheeks when she heard the whispers exchanged between her sister and Ricky. “Lena, I, uh, I guess I’ll leave now. I’m sorry,” he said, awkwardly touching her shoulder. “I’ll grab the rest of my things and go shower at Yankee Elegance.” “You’ll do no such thing,” Lena said, turning back to the couple. “Go on upstairs and clean up, then have some breakfast and coffee with us before you go. You are always welcome here. I simply— need you to work there today.” “If you’re sure. I don’t want to impose.” “Hey, if Lena says go do something, you’d better obey,” Annie tried to joke. Ricky glanced from one woman to the other as Lena nodded slowly and emphatically. He slipped upstairs to take a shower. Annie brought the coffee carafe to the table, using only one crutch for balance. “I saw you get up for coffee. I think we could both use another cup,” she said while she poured. “You shouldn’t be waiting on me. Sit down now,” Lena said. “No, ma’am, I will not.” “Don’t defy me.” Lena’s voice sharpened. “Just let me be the big sis for a little while longer, Lena,” her sister said. Lena felt her eyes

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filling again and angrily swiped away the tears with her palms. “I really should stop bawling. We have work to do.” “Hey, as long as you don’t cry into the food, I don’t have a problem with it.” Annie covered Lena’s hand with her own. “C’mon, let’s enjoy our coffee and talk about the day ahead, just for a few minutes, all right?” ___________________ Gray. Gray desk, gray chair, gray trashcan. His entire life was gray. Without Lena, all the color had left it. Jackson took a half-hearted bite from his bagel before pushing it to the other side of the desk. He wasn’t hungry. Actually, he didn’t care about much of anything at the moment. After adjusting the bag of ice on his bruised foot, he wrote with angry slashes of his pencil. The injured foot would slow him down, but the pain it produced paled next to his heart’s misery. The cell phone in his pocket rang. He checked the clock: seven thirty-four. Damn. It was Bradley. “I thought you were going to call me with the menu no later than seven-thirty.” The client’s petulance sang in his ear. Jackson crossed his fingers and lied. “I was just about to call you. My watch must be slow. The menu’s ready—want to hear it now?” “Well, of course,” Bradley snapped. “Why do you think I called?” Jackson searched his person, stalling with, “I, uh, well, let’s see.” He must have left the menu at home, so he’d wing it from memory. Normally that wasn’t a problem, but today he barely knew up from down. “A choice of beef tenderloin with portobello mushroom risotto, or tuna steak with sesame

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couscous. Green salad, baby carrots with dill butter, mocha coconut cake, and a fruit and cheese plate.” Bradley went silent. Jackson gripped the phone more tightly and prayed the menu would meet with his approval. His brain held no creative spark today. Inventing a substitute on the spot wouldn’t work, and he’d forgotten the ideas he’d jotted down last night. “That all sounds pretty damned good. Just make sure you have some fat-free salad dressings. We’ve got women on our board who diet constantly. Salad and fish with fruit for dessert will keep them off my back. You didn’t mention bread. Bring some, any kind. We all set?” “Yes, sir, if you are.” “Well, then, get to work,” Bradley said, hanging up without saying goodbye. Mechanically, Jackson removed the ice pack, wincing as he worked his foot back into its sock and shoe. He’d better shop immediately. The good stuff might already be gone--the open-air market started at dawn. He knew he needed tenderloin, tuna, veggies and fruits. Opening his refrigerators, he found plenty of fresh brie, smoked gouda, and English cheddar. No need for more cheese. All the usual stuff–butter, herbs, spices, cooking wines– were in ample supply. He drew up his shopping list, including the few things he needed for the City Hall lunch trays. Ricky arrived just as he was finishing a call to his meat supplier. “Hey, boss, what’re we doing today?” “First, shopping. I’ve got a huge list. But wait just a moment until I check with SweetKakes, because I think we’re working apart today.” His employee said nothing, but Jackson could read the painful knowledge in his eyes. He punched the now-familiar number into his cell phone and prayed whichever woman answered wouldn’t hang up on him.

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A woman’s voice said, “SweetKakes Catering.” Jackson didn’t know whether to be grateful or worried when he heard Annie’s voice. “This is Jackson. Please don’t hang up—we have a job to discuss.” “Yes?” Her tone dropped from welcoming to icy. He scrubbed his face with one hand, breathed deeply, and began. “How shall we handle things?” “I honestly don’t know,” Lena said. Annie had handed the phone to her sister. “Well, what do you want to do?” he asked. “Nothing with you.” Lena’s brittle tone angered him. “Look, what did I do? I don’t understand why you’re angry with me. People are supposed to talk when there’s a misunderstanding,” he said, thinking, God, I’m the woman in this argument. How did that happen? “Okay, let’s talk. Why did your friend leave you a message about finding a lawyer for you?” “What message? What friend? You’re not making sense.” “Your southern friend, Bobby. He left a message on your answering machine about your needing a lawyer for a merger, and about getting financing from Elyse Woodcock. I know what that means.” He wanted to scream. Instead, he snapped, “First, I don’t know about the message. Second, what the hell does it mean, Miss Know-It-All?” “It means you’re planning a hostile takeover of my business. Isn’t that what they’re called?” Her voice could have frosted his ear it was so cold. He couldn’t believe the way Lena drew conclusions that had nothing to do with the truth, and how she spiraled out of control so quickly. “You don’t even know what a hostile takeover is. No one can take over a privately-held business by force. Hostile takeovers apply only to public companies. That means, companies whose stock you can buy and sell. Not companies like SweetKakes. Why don’t

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you educate yourself on such matters before you make wild accusations and get angry about something that doesn’t exist!” “Oh, so now I’m uneducated, huh? I may not have gone to Harvard, but I know enough to recognize when someone is trying to snake my business out from under me.” Gripping the phone so hard he thought he’d crack the plastic casing, he ground out, “I am not trying to take you over, steal your business, or do anything to harm you, or SweetKakes. I didn’t check my messages, but I do remember asking Bobby for the name of a good lawyer. It’s really none of your damned business, but I was thinking of asking the baker in Holden—the one with the fantastic cheesecake—to merge with me.” The lie tripped off his tongue. He really did want to explore a joint business venture with Lena, but at this point, he’d say anything to settle her down. “I figured you wouldn’t be interested, and I need someone who can handle fancy desserts for my jobs, if I plan to expand Yankee Elegance. Which I do.” “Oh, so SweetKakes isn’t good enough for you?” she snapped. “Christ, woman!” he yelled, losing his selfcontrol. “You wildly misinterpret a message I received—a message, by the way, that was private, meaning you shouldn’t have been listening to it— and accuse me of trying to steal your business. When I explain what’s really going on, saying that I’m not interested in merging with you, you turn that around on me, too. I didn’t ask you because you’re a paranoid control freak.” Lena’s response nearly broiled his ear. “I am not paranoid, or a control freak! What did it mean when Bobby congratulated you on your ‘plans’ with me? And how’s Elyse figure into it all? Is that why she practically gave me a car? To soften me up for you to take over?”

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“I don’t know a damned thing about Elyse or her car or her reasons for anything. I haven’t even heard the fucking message! As for plans, I’d told him we were working together well, and that I looked forward to doing more jobs with you.” That wasn’t a lie, but he had spoken of a more personal connection when he’d called Bobby. He stopped for a moment, thinking. “You ran out this morning without leaving a note, all because you misinterpreted a message that wasn’t even meant for you. If a man cut and run with no note after making love all night, you’d be the first to crucify him. That’s what you did to me—cut and run with no note. And that’s why I came by to see you this morning. I was worried something had happened, that you’d left because of an emergency. I even brought you a mug of coffee.” “So, you’re mad at me?” she shouted. “Why is it always about you?” “It’s not always about me. Why are you saying that?” “I don’t think I can work with you now,” Lena said, and for Jackson, it was the final blow. “Fine. I’ll do tomorrow’s job by myself, because I can’t work with you, either. Lena, your insecurities border on psychosis. Get help.” “Fuck you!” she snarled. Jackson hung up. His hands shook, and he looked for something to throw, to break. Realizing that he was holding his breath, he exhaled in a rush. “Boss, how are you going to do tomorrow’s job alone?” asked Ricky. Jackson started. He’d forg otten Ricky was still there. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that. I lost my temper, and I shouldn’t have. But Lena is an idiot.” He picked up the closest thing, a loaf of bread, and hurled it at the wall. “Throwing bread isn’t very satisfying,” he muttered, and Ricky smiled.

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“Boss, am I going shopping with you, or do you need me to do something else?” Jackson took two steps toward the counter, and Ricky’s eyes widened at his limping. “I’ll take the van and go shopping by myself, if you’ll let me. How’d you hurt your leg?” he said. Jackson waved his hand. “It’s not my leg, it’s my foot. And never mind how. Yes, do the shopping for me—here’s the list. I’ll get started on the cooking. Let me call the baker in Holden, see if she has anything interesting she can whip up for us, now that I won’t be serving Mocha Coconut Cake. Maybe you can run up there later for me.” He tossed the keys to Ricky, who said, “Sure thing,” and left. ___________________ “Tell me again what you heard on the message.” Lena shook her head. It was too painful to cover the same ground a second time. “I know what I heard. Can we please just work and not discuss it?” “Work? When’s our next job?” Lena slumped on the table, her face on her folded arms. “Not till Sunday. Damn. But I’m so mad. I need to cook. Maybe today I’ll try some new recipes I’ve been working on.” Lena eyed the pile of coconut. “Maybe a coconut custard pie with meringue topping.” Annie snagged some coconut before Lena’s hand could slap hers away, dropping the delectable shreds in her mouth. “Mmm, that’s good. Sis, you know I hate his guts right now. I’d cheerfully slice and dice him for you. But something’s not adding up. What did the guy on the message say, exactly?” “Bobby said Jackson had called him for the name of a lawyer who does acquisitions of small companies.” “Yeah, so?” Her sister motioned for her to continue.

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“He said to strike while the iron was hot. He also said something about Elyse helping fund Jackson.” “Anything else?” “Just that he was happy things, no, plans with me were going well, and something about Jackson becoming rich again.” Annie sneaked more coconut into her mouth. “We’ve got a request for a business-oriented lawyer, the possible funding of an acquisition, and the statement about ‘plans with you going well.’ Oh, and Jackson might get rich again. To me, this is not adding up to an evil plot.” “But, but, don’t you see?” Lena exploded. “He took me to bed, so he could cozy up to my business. He wants to buy SweetKakes, run everything, and get rich. And Elyse gave us the car to further soften us up. Why can’t you see that, Annie? Whose side are you on?” Angry tears sprouted as she recalled the phone message, feeling the pain anew. Ripping off her plastic gloves, she limped out the back door, screen slamming behind her. She sat down hard on the back steps, awakening twinges from last night’s spanking. Hell, she’d had such a good time. Why did he have to be a jerk, like all the others? And why was her sister blind to her problem? Why on earth was she defending Jackson? She’d never been more furious with Annie in her life. The screen door’s creak stiffened her shoulders. Forgiveness was not on the menu. Feeling a tug on her ponytail, she growled, “Leave me alone, you worthless traitor.” “Oh, Lena,” Annie said, her voice catching. “How can you call me that? Me, of all people. Don’t you know I always have your best interests at heart? Don’t you know I’d do anything for you? You’re my sister, my flesh and blood and bone, the heart of my heart.”

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Her sister’s wounded voice flooded Lena with shame. Annie had done nothing to deserve her fury. Jackson was the one she should be angry with. The screen door creaked again, but it did little to hide the sounds of weeping. Lena dropped her head in her hands. She had made her sister cry. Her sister, the one she had taken beatings for, the one she had sacrificed for, the one she loved more than herself. She was an insensitive, disgusting piece of crap to force her sister into tears, when all Annie was trying to do was help her. God, but her life was a mess. Putting aside her anger with Jackson, she went in search of Annie, finding her on the second floor behind a tightly-shut bedroom door. “Annie, please, let me in. I’m sorry.” She turned the handle, but the door wouldn’t give way. “C’mon, Annie, I was awful to you, and I want to make up. Please, let me in, please.” Verbally abusing her sister was almost unforgivable, she thought, while hammering on the door. Her older-sister skills stunk out loud. Oh, no. Suppose Annie was doing something to hurt herself? Could that be why the door was locked? Panic drove her to pound with her fists, shrieking, “Let me in! Let me in! Annie, please!” Abruptly, the door flew open. She fell on Annie, chanting, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, clutching her sister as if Lena had just snatched her from the jaws of death. “I love you, Sis. What I said was horrible. Please forgive me.” “Of course, I forgive you. You’re human just like the rest of us, even though you don’t admit it,” Annie cried. “I love you, too. But I worry so much about you.” “Worry about me?” The thought brought Lena up short. “Yeah, sis, you. You’re so angry and bitter and ready to jump to the wrong conclusions, and you do it all the time. You’re going to end up a shriveled,

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nasty old woman, no pleasure in your life except what you can experience vicariously through me.” Still hugging, the women walked to Annie’s bed to sit, wiping their eyes and blowing their noses. “I’m not sure I understand,” Lena mumbled. “I didn’t know I worried you. I never want to do that.” “Well, you do. I really hoped you’d let Jackson into your life. He’s clearly taken with you, and you with him, even though you can’t seem to admit it to yourself. I was thrilled when I realized that you’d spent the night with him. But as soon as you let your guard down, you searched for the flimsiest damned excuse I ever heard and used it to decide that he’s a black-hearted bastard like all the rest. It’s stressful to live with someone who has such an unrelentingly bleak outlook. Get a grip, girl, and a life, too, while you’re at it.” Lena shook her head. “You worry about me? Boy, that’s rich. I’m the one at home safe and sound. You’re the one out dancing and prancing till all hours.” “Avoiding life can be just as dangerous as embracing it with full force.” The sisters sat quietly for a moment. “I’m not sure I understand that,” Lena said. “Avoiding life for all the wrong reasons can be unhealthy. Embracing it, too, can be risky. All choices in life entail risk. Even not taking a risk involves risk.” Lena mulled over her sister’s words. “I can see that. I can also see I’ve been a pretty angry person to be around. I’m sorry.” “S’alright,” Annie said, hugging her tighter. “So, you think I’m way off base with the message on Jackson’s answering machine?” “Yes. Here’s why. Suppose, for argument’s sake, he truly is plotting to ‘take over’ SweetKakes. He can’t do it against our will—when I heard you say, ‘hostile takeover,’ I knew you were wrong about it. We don’t issue stock, so no one can force a

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takeover bid. There’s no way he can force us to sell SweetKakes to him. And, no matter what you think, he’s not Svengali. He can’t hypnotize us into giving him SweetKakes.” “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Lena asked. Annie shrugged. “I guess I was too ready to believe the worst about Jackson, too. Something about the man pushes my buttons. Maybe I’m just feeling a little overprotective of you because I know how much you like this guy.” Lena wanted to deny her feelings about Jackson, but knew she couldn’t, so she didn’t try. “How do you know so much about this takeover stuff?” “The Econ course I took last semester,” Annie said. “Okay,” Lena murmured. “Now, maybe he did take you to bed to make you more amenable to merging the two businesses. It seems far-fetched to me, but I admit it’s possible. However, you do have to admit the four of us work together like a well-oiled machine. Would merging Yankee Elegance and SweetKakes be so horrible?” Lena pushed her arms out stiffly, as if keeping someone away from her. “Don’t go there. I refuse to consider it. I’m never giving up control of my business to any man.” “It’s not your business alone, Lena. It’s ours.” “No,” she snapped. “End of discussion.” “I’ll let it go for now. But I think you’re wrong about Jackson.” Annie shook her head in amusement. “Listen to me. Here I am defending him, and I don’t even like him much. Think about that, Sis. Maybe you should talk to him some more before you write him off as the world’s biggest creep.” ___________________ Leaning against the counter in his storefront, Jackson opened a beer and drank, going over the

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argument in his mind for the fiftieth time. Perhaps he’d missed some clue that explained Lena’s bizarre behavior. He still wondered if he’d actually done something wrong. You didn’t miss anything, an inner voice jeered. And the only thing you did wrong was fall for her. She’s flighty, unreliable, and either afraid of, or angry towards, men. Her moods change like New England springs. What else do you need to know? The woman is trouble and no different from Tess in that regard. No, he argued with himself. She’s as different from Tess as truth is from lies. Whatever her reaction was, at least it was genuine and not intended to mislead or manipulate him. Even if the reaction was born of paranoia, Lena was really upset, not playing him. He heard Ricky arrive with the groceries. After they unloaded everything, Jackson dispatched him to Holden, to pick up two cakes from the baker. But he had Ricky drop him at his condo on the way. He wanted to hear the answering machine’s message for himself. He’d drive his Mercedes back to his storefront. He threw the door open, shoving it closed behind him, and headed straight for the machine. When he tried to slide the volume control up, he discovered it was already on the highest setting. Had he left it that way? “Six-twenty-one, Wednesday, May eleventh,” the machine’s disembodied voice intoned. Jackson sat on the couch, examining the facts. Lena had been gone by six-thirty, and the volume was turned all the way up. Despite his accusations on the phone, he knew she wasn’t the type to eavesdrop. A funny feeling rolled around in his stomach. Bobby’s distinctive drawl and over-the-top turns of phrase ordinarily would have made him smile, but not this time. Remembering the middle-of-the-

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night call he’d made to his friend, Jackson raked his fingers through his hair. When the message ended, he rewound it and listened again, grimacing. Bobby had twisted his simple request for a lawyer’s name into intention to pressure someone to merge their business with his own. His buddy’s added comments about striking while the iron was hot, getting financing help from Elyse Winterbottom, and “plans regarding Lena” was enough to start her thought processes down the wrong path. God knew she was obsessively protective of her business. But then, so was he. Both had suffered their share of hard knocks, and neither liked relinquishing control to another, not even someone they liked. Whipping out his cell phone, steaming with irritation, he dialed Bobby’s mobile number. His friend’s unwarranted comments might have cost him the love of his life. “Hollingsworth. Make it quick; I’ve got a meeting in five.” “It’s Jackson. I heard your message. Unfortunately, so did Lena, who is no longer speaking to me. What was all that crap about financing and hot irons and plans with her?”

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Chapter Twenty-One Silence met Jackson’s ear until Bobby said, “I thought you wanted a lawyer to help with the legal aspects of merging your businesses.” “I do. It’s just that, well, so far those plans are only in my head. I wasn’t going to bring up the subject until after tomorrow’s job at UniMed. Lena heard your message at a vulnerable time, and drew the worst possible conclusion from it.” “Jackson, what’s up?” He exhaled noisily before saying; “We spent the night together for the first time—“ “Congratulations, pal,” Bobby crowed. “Yeah, well, save the happy talk. She woke up before me and was gone by six-thirty. No note, nothing. When I arrived at her place, her bitchy sister refused to let me speak to her and damned near broke my foot with the door. Lena thinks I’m trying to rob her of her business, or at least take control of it. In the dictionary, her picture is next to the definition of paranoia, at least when it involves her livelihood. But it wouldn’t be an acquisition. So comments about financing helped fuel her delusion that I’m out to get her.” Jackson paused before groaning, “Shit. She probably thinks I slept with her only because I want her business.” “But you did say that ‘plans with her were going well?’” “That was my gentlemanly way of saying we’d made love.” “Well, hell’s bells, how was I supposed to know that? I know you’re not one for divulging details about your sex life, but I can’t read your mind. Listen, my meeting’s starting. I’m sorry if my comments messed things up with Lena. I’ll be happy to intercede on your behalf, buddy. I gotta go now.” “One more thing. Why didn’t you leave the message on my cell phone?”

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“Tried. No answer, no voice mail kicked in, and I was running to catch the six-thirty plane, so instead of trying again, I called your home phone.” “I guess, on top of everything else, I’ve got to check why my cell phone’s not taking messages. Thanks,” Jackson muttered, ending the call. His life sucked, but bills still needed to be paid. He slouched his way to the car, heading for his storefront. His neck muscles were iron bands—the beginnings of a headache attacked him, faint but definite. The phone began ringing. Crap. Dragging it out of his pants pocket while navigating Main Street, he answered flatly, “Yankee Elegance Catering.” “Bradley here.” Oh, hell. ___________________ “Thanks for dropping by,” Lena said. “Happy to do it,” Ricky replied. He kissed the top of Annie’s head. “I’d better go. Mr. P will be wondering where I am.” “Wait,” her sister cried as she stood upright, stretching herself tall to kiss Ricky with an intensity Lena wished she hadn’t witnessed. It reminded her of last night with Jackson, and her entire body turned hot and tingling from memories less than twelve hours old. Having known such loving pleasure, she had no heart for urging her sister to stop kissing and start working. Turning her back on the eager couple, she gathered ingredients for the planned pie and waited to hear the front door close. “What needs doing?” Annie asked. “Shall I make the meringue?” Lena shrugged. “If you want. Mostly, I just want company.” While the pie baked, Lena sat on the back steps, wrapped in a fleecy jacket and warming her hands with a cup of peppermint tea. The promise of afternoon sun had soured, leaving raw, chilly

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cloudiness in its wake. Hard rain would fall soon. Why was she surprised? It was spring in Gainesborough, a place where she’d seen snow as late as May eighth. Hard to believe that only a few days before, the heat had broken a record. She shifted her weight on the top concrete step of the back porch, off the one cheek that was still annoyingly sore. She couldn’t help remembering her night with Jackson as a good thing, and Annie had sown the seeds of doubt regarding her conclusions. Maybe she had gone a little nutty over what she thought she’d heard. Guilt pinged her. She needed another hard spanking to feel whole again. Sticking her leg out, she made cautious circles with her injured ankle. Almost better. She’d be fine in another day or two. What was she going to do about Jackson? Was he really a bad guy? Maybe he isn’t, she heard her sister say in her head. All the things Bobby said didn’t add up to beans, not really. Lena had supposed and interpreted and assumed. She sipped her tea and thought, playing devil’s advocate with herself. Jackson hadn’t said any of the things she was obsessing over—Bobby had. Maybe Bobby’s response was flawed. Maybe he’d misunderstood what Jackson had asked him. Jackson had given her several opportunities to back out of going to bed with him, and she’d continued. She’d been the one to insist on tasting the wine, so she couldn’t blame him for any tipsiness on her part. He had even taken her glass away when she’d shown signs of wooziness. And, she’d been the one to encourage him to kiss her in the first place. She had practically begged him to do it. If this was Jackson’s way of softening her up for the financial kill, it was a darned strange way to accomplish it, leaving all the decisions in her hands.

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Philip, on the other hand, had pushed her subtly every step of the way. The expensive dinner to turn her working-class head, the lounge at the Ritz where he’d repeatedly topped off her glasses of champagne, devilish caresses in dark corners that wore down her attempts to resist him. Embarrassment stole over her, even after all these years, to think about what she had let him do during the elevator ride to their room. Yes, she had consented and enjoyed the sex, despite the difficult deflowering. Philip had ensured that she’d been satisfied. But he’d wheedled and cajoled and tempted, manipulating her in one constant direction. In contrast, Jackson had gone out of his way not to take advantage. Her sister was right; it didn’t add up. So what was the phone message about? Was Jackson really thinking about merging with that baker in Holden, or had he just said it to piss her off? Strange feelings came over her as she contemplated Jackson joining forces with another caterer, especially a female one. She didn’t want him to be any other baker’s man. Why, why, she was jealous! Crap, what was wrong with her? Jealous over a business relationship between Jackson and someone else? Stamping her good foot, she muttered, “I seem to have fallen for the jerk. What an idiot I am.” “And which jerk might that be? Wait, don’t tell me,” she heard Annie tease from behind her. “Oh, and if you’re calling yourself an idiot, don’t expect me to argue you out of your opinion.” Lena scooted over and held her sister’s hot cup for her so that she could sit on the stairs. Annie settled herself with the help of railing and crutches, and then reached for her teacup full of an herbal citrus blend. “Smells good,” said Lena.

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“It is. I wanted something other than peppermint.” “The pie done?” “Yep.” “Want dinner soon?” “In an hour or so. Not right now.” The two women relaxed, their enjoyment of each other’s company keeping them warm despite the air that felt more like November than May. “So. You’re an idiot?” Annie smiled. “I hate hormones,” Lena grumbled while her sister laughed at the comment. “Well, I do,” she said defensively. “Lena, you’re amazing. The biggest control freak on the face of the earth.” “I am not.” “Yes, you are. You want everything to be perfect. You hate risk and change. You don’t like anything unpredictable. And hormones are about as predictable as, as, well, life itself. You don’t hate life, do you?” “I have my days,” she admitted. “But most of the time, life is good.” “I told you before: life involves risk. So does love. Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t. But it’s a game I enjoy playing because the payoff can change your life forever.” “How did you become so wise at twenty-one?” Lena ruffled her sister’s hair. “By making mistakes. God knows I’ve made plenty.” Annie’s bald admission disturbed Lena. “I did everything I could to keep you from making hurtful mistakes. I’m sorry I let you down.” “Oh, please. You would have let me down only if I’d never had opportunities to try and fail. Failure builds character and good judgment.” “But it hurts. I don’t ever want you to hurt.”

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“It’s not fun, that’s for sure. But when life kicks you in the ass, you cry, rub your butt, and carry on.” “Guess I never had the courage to try again,” Lena murmured. “Sorry to be such a coward.” “You’re no such thing. Anyone who would willingly shoulder the burden of being Papa’s whipping girl and who would give up college to raise her sister is the bravest person I’ve ever known. You’re a fighter. You never give up in the business world. Why won’t you fight equally hard for love?” “I don’t know.” “But you’re going to talk this out with Jackson tomorrow morning, right?” her sister pressed. “He might need help. Ricky will be working the mayor’s luncheon. “Maybe,” Lena hedged. “Damn it, Lena, I’m gonna kick you in the ass myself if you don’t take this one chance. It’s not as big a risk as you fear. Plus, you told the guy you’d help, and I’ve never known you to back down on your word.” “And I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap if I hear one more cuss word out of you.” Lena smiled to rinse the harshness from her words. “You’d better buy stock in Ivory,” Annie said, giggling. ___________________ Lena lay on the couch in the sitting room off the kitchen, trying to concentrate on Catering Magazine. She wasn’t sleepy; she didn’t want to read, and she was tired of thinking about The Problem With Jackson, as she now labeled it. Dinner was long over; chores were finished, and her sister was playing cards with her boyfriend in the kitchen, Barenaked Ladies on the boom box. Maybe she’d join them. She felt cranky and bored and restless. “Annie,” she called, “Want a third?”

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No answer. She sat up. “Annie?” She padded to the kitchen. “It’s All Been Done,” one of her sister’s favorites, was playing for no one but Lena. Wondering what she might find, she crept up the stairs to the second floor. No, both bedrooms were empty. The two of them must have gone outside. She checked both the front and back porch. No couple. She remembered she wanted to check something in the Range Rover. Grabbing her jacket off the back of a chair, she walked to the old, standalone garage. She was about to throw open the side door when faint but distinctive sounds hit her ears. In fact, she recalled hearing similar wordless syllables the night before; only she and Jackson were making the noise. Oh, jeez. Her little sister and Ricky were—she swallowed hard, embarrassed over what she was hearing. In her heart, Annie was still fourteen. But her brain reminded her that Annie was twenty-one now, and probably knew more about sex than she did. Lena backed away quietly. Ricky was different from Annie’s usual boyfriends. Maybe she should stay out of it. They did seem good for each other, and you couldn’t ask for a harder worker or more respectful young man. She snorted. Young man! She sounded like somebody’s grandmother. Next, she’d be serving them milk and cookies and wearing flowered aprons over shirtwaist dresses and high-heeled shoes. She was still in her twenties, for cryin’ out loud. And nothing said she couldn’t have a little fun. She grabbed three bottles of water from the fridge and sat on the back steps, waiting. She’d finished about half of her bottle when the couple emerged from the garage, cuddling and giggling as they crossed the yard. “Hey, you two. Need something to drink?”

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Annie and Ricky froze. Lena watched the hand he had planted on her sister’s backside drop immediately, while her sister’s smile weakened. “Lena. What a surprise. I thought you were going to read and turn in early.” “And I thought you were going to play cards. In the kitchen.” She was having a hard time keeping her face straight. “So, tell me, what were you playing–strip poker? Ricky, did you know your green hair is clashing terribly with the red on your face?” No longer able to contain her laughter, Lena howled to see their stricken faces. “Annie,” she choked out between laughs, “We’ll talk about this. Ricky, I think it would be better if you didn’t sleep here tonight.” “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, heading for his car as if flames were licking at his heels. “Wait. You forgot your bottle of water. And you put your shirt on inside out,” Lena called, but he was already out of earshot. The car peeled away from the curb, so great was his need to put distance between himself and his girlfriend’s older sister. “I can’t believe you humiliated me like that!” Annie yelled. “I’m a grownup.” Lena handed her a water. “Yes, indeed, you are. Sit with me, Annie. It’s not a request, by the way. Sit.” Her sister lowered herself with much rearranging of her crutches, wincing when her backside touched the steps, and fussing under her breath about being treated like a baby. “Here. Drink this water and be quiet for a moment. I have something to say.” “You’re never letting me see him again, are you? You’re mean,” her sister sulked. “Lose the attitude, girl. I mean it.” “I’m not a little girl.” “I didn’t say you were. Now, I have some questions.” Lena paused, seeing nothing but sullenness on Annie’s face.

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“First, do you use birth control?” Her sister rolled her eyes. “Duh, of course.” “And protection from AIDS? I realize this may be the same as your birth control.” “Duh squared.” “And that means…?” “Yes.” “Okay. That’s all I wanted to know. You’re being responsible about sex, and that proves you really are an adult, at least when it comes to this matter. You can go to your room now.” Lena gulped her water, feeling Annie’s stare on her. “That’s it? You mean I can still see Ricky?” “Of course, you can. As you said, you’re an adult, and you’re acting like one, except for that nasty little hissy fit you just threw. You deserve a good spanking for calling me mean.” Lena grinned. “Maybe I’ll call Ricky and tell him to come back and give you another one.” “Not tonight.” Annie protested. “My butt’s really sore. Anyone ever cane you, sis?” Lena smiled, a little sadly. “Yes. How about you?” Annie stood up. “Tonight. I can stand up now, right, sis?” “Sure. The lecture is over. So, how’d you like the cane?” Annie closed her eyes. “Did you ever love something and hate something, all at the same time?” Or maybe not something, but someone. “Yes,” Lena said. “Ricky’s partial to using thin, whippy things on me, like tree branches— and the cane he used tonight for the first time. It was a really skinny one, and it felt like someone was branding me with redhot wires. And the tip! One cheek’s aching like crazy, from that damned tip striking me.”

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Lena grinned as she remembered. “Wait till tomorrow morning, if you think it hurts now, sis. And when you shower, the water will sting.” “I’ve already experienced the stinging shower sensation, thanks to Ricky, more than once. Oh, hell, it’s dark out here.” Annie slipped her hands inside her panties, sighing. “It feels so much better when I rub the welts.” “Does Ricky want you doing that?” Lena teased. Annie’s face paled. “Oh, please, don’t tell him. I’m not supposed to make it feel better.” “Your secret’s safe with me. How many did he give you?” Lena asked, thinking about her six from Jackson. She knew she’d messed up that relationship. “Eight,” Annie sighed, a dreamy look on her face while she massaged her bottom. “I can’t believe I took eight. I also can’t believe how good it felt when he—afterwards —mmm. You know.” “Yes.” Lena thought of Jackson. Yes, I know. And I’ve screwed it up, probably for the final time. No more chances for me. “He made me count. He always makes me count. And he always spanks me in this one little zone, the place where I sit. That cane sang through the air, and then I sang out the number, crying like a baby. Well, except for the two times I forgot to count. That’s how I ended up with eight.” “Ricky sounds like a rather strict boyfriend.” Annie turned, hiking up the legs of her cutoffs. “See for yourself.” Eight lines, spaced so closely that Annie’s sitting area looked like a red washboard. “Looks like you’re pretty sore, sis.” “I really love him, Lena, and he loves me. We want to get married.” Annie put her arms around her sister and squeezed.

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“Whoa. Not till you both finish college. I’ll not stand for your not graduating, not after the way we’ve both worked to send you.” “Okay. We can be engaged a long time, I guess.” “I should hope so. You’ve only known each other what, a week?” “It’s been one hell of a week, though, you’ve gotta admit.” “That’s it. I’ve warned you about cursing. I’m getting the soap now,” Lena mock-scolded, hauling Annie to her feet. “Too bad you’re on crutches. You deserve to be hauled into the house by your ear.” “Thank heavens I have a broken leg.” Annie said with a laugh. “Though I admit it didn’t slow Ricky down,” she added, singing one of the racier lines from Bruce Springsteen’s “Red Headed Woman” as the two entered the kitchen. “You’re doing that solely to annoy me, aren’t you?” Lena picked up her magazine and swatted her sister’s thigh with it. “Ow! I’m sore back there. Besides, you said you wouldn’t spank me.” “Don’t make me regret I said that, girl.” ___________________ An exhausted Jackson lay across the bed, his eyes closed, the rain pounding against the window lulling him back to sleep despite the raucous music his clock radio was playing. Six A.M. He needed to get up and out the door, but he could hardly move his body. His mind had raced most of the night, chasing away any chance of a decent night’s sleep. And he’d be shuttling food in the rain, it appeared. He was damned glad he’d packed the van last night with the dishes and serving utensils before the rain had begun. The few times he’d managed to drop off to sleep, he’d had the dream, the one that revealed his deepest anxieties. He was twelve, new at school

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and late for exams. He walked into the classroom. Everyone pointed at him and laughed, because he was naked. Then, when he sat down to take the test, it was written in a foreign language he didn’t know. The prospect of certain failure mixed with humiliation always awakened him with a pounding heart and sweaty brow. His bleary eyes read the time. Six-ten. He’d better get his butt in gear. By seven, Jackson was drinking coffee and going over plans one more time. He had to heat the hot food, prepare the drinks, double-check his setups, and assemble the platters for the City Hall luncheon. He’d drop off Ricky and his supplies a little early, then head to UniMed. When he finished there, he’d swing by City Hall to collect Ricky and the serving dishes. His cell phone rang. “Yankee Elegance Catering.” “Jackson. Hi.” Lena. “How can I help you?” He made his tone of voice as frigid as possible. “I’m—I’m sorry about, you know. Do you need help today?” He did, but hearing her toss off a brief apology infuriated him. He wouldn’t accept her help now. His pride wouldn’t let him. When she’d overheard the message from Bobby, she’d immediately assumed he intended to hurt her. A woman who always assumed the worst about him wasn’t a woman he wanted in his life. He needed someone he could trust, and who trusted him. Lena didn’t. Not only that, he wouldn’t let her weasel her way back into the job and collect part of the fat payment he had coming. He’d damn near killed himself to get everything ready on time. If she thought she could “help” now and get paid for doing precious little, she had another think coming.

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Now who’s assuming the worst? he thought, but he shrugged it off. With Lena, assuming the worst seemed the best policy. “I have everything under control. Thank you for calling,” he said. Then he disconnected without hearing her reply. He could handle today on his own, and by tonight he’d be several thousand richer. ___________________ After he dropped off Ricky, the rain slackened. At UniMed, he parked under old maples and oaks whose leaves dripped water. Within ten minutes, he’d unloaded everything and had begun setting up in the smaller conference room just off the boardroom. Bradley, as usual, was badgering him with relentless questions and comments. “Are you certain you have everything? The right stuff? What’s in that pan?” He poked at it and wrinkled his nose. “That’s the portobello couscous.” “I don’t remember okaying that. What the hell is it?” Jackson removed his just-for-show glasses, and then wiped his face with his free hand. If the man didn’t shut up soon, Jackson was going to say something he’d regret the next time he looked at his bank balance. He dished a small portion of the couscous onto a bread-and-butter plate before walking Bradley a few feet away from the table. “Mr. Bradley, you did okay the portobello couscous. May I offer you a taste? If you don’t like it, adjust our bill downward.” He held his breath as the scowling man took a tentative bite. Bradley’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth curved into a smile. “Mmm, this is great. I’m sold,” he said, his tone considerably more friendly now. “The board will eat this up, so to speak.” The man laughed.

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The novel experience of hearing Bradley chuckle made Jackson smile. The man was as unpredictable as Massachusetts weather and twice as annoying. “Sir, I’d like to return to work. I want to remain perfectly on schedule.” But Bradley wasn’t finished. “Where’s your partner?” he said. “You two were supposed to do this together. Why isn’t she here?” An exhausted Jackson did everything he could to tamp down his rising anger. “She had an emergency. Last-minute. Couldn’t be here. Her absence won’t shortchange you, I promise.” “Was the emergency her sister with the cast?” he asked. Jackson decided to lie. “Yes.” Bradley thought a moment, and then said, “Thanks for the taste of that stuff. I never expected something so delicious. If everything today tastes as good as that mushroom thing, I’ll be well pleased. Unless you pour coffee in someone’s lap, you’ll continue snagging jobs from UniMed.” Bradley looked smug with his corporate coup. When Jackson ran to the van to unload the last of the food, he had to leave the small conference room unguarded. Bradley chose that moment to scurry inside. ___________________ After the members of the board had seated themselves, Jackson waited on them attentively. The meal flowed smoothly from one course to the next. Everyone expressed delight with the food, and by dessert, he had several business cards in hand. With some luck, the job would turn into more business, both from UniMed and from individual board members. People began drifting into the boardroom next door. Not a few were carrying coffee cups and dessert plates. After the room emptied, Jackson packed all the dishes, linens, leftovers, and serving

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items on the rolling carts. Bradley stopped by just as they were getting ready to leave. “As promised, here’s the check. I am incredibly happy with how both jobs turned out. You’ll be hearing from UniMed again. If you like, I’ll have the rest of your dishes sent over later.” “No need. Put them aside in a safe place, and I’ll send my assistant tomorrow morning to get them,” he said. “By the way, I didn’t see you eat much. Was anything wrong?” “No, just watching my weight,” Bradley said, but his gaze shifted from Jackson’s. He shrugged it off as one more indicator of the man’s odd behavior.

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Chapter Twenty-Two After picking up Ricky, the two men put away the extra food for their personal consumption. Neither had eaten lunch, so they both enjoyed leftover sandwiches from the City Hall job. “You sure you wouldn’t rather have some of the UniMed food?” Jackson asked Ricky. “I’m so tired that I’m not that hungry, but please feel free to eat whatever you’d like.” “Thanks, Mr. P. I’m good with a sandwich.” “In that case, I’ll refrigerate the rest.” Ricky swallowed a bite. “After we clean up, do you need me for anything else?” “No, Ricky. But let me pay you before you leave.” ___________________ Lena answered the phone, made appointments, planned upcoming catering jobs, and experimented a little with new recipes, but none of it settled her down. When she wasn’t working, she paced the entire downstairs, front door to back, looping in the small sitting room. “Will you please stop that?” Annie, who was sitting at the kitchen table decorating a small wedding cake for another caterer, frowned at her. “Your constant walking is making me crazy. What’s the matter?” “I feel guilty,” she said as she circled through the kitchen. “Suppose something went wrong today at UniMed—Jackson was all by himself. I shouldn’t have jumped down his throat yesterday.” “Well, duh, sis,” Annie said while forming perfect rosettes. “I told you that.” Lena stopped walking. “I made a mistake.” “Uh-huh.” Lena chewed her lip. “A big one.” “Uh-huh. Ya think?”

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“Way to make me feel better. Keep on kicking me while I’m down.” Lena looked at the time, sighing. “I’m going for a walk before the sun sets. My gimpy ankle could use some strengthening.” “I’m going out tonight with Ricky. If I’m not here when you get back, see you later.” “Just as long as you finish the cake first. We have to deliver it in the morning.” On her walk, Lena beelined for Jackson’s storefront. She kept telling herself that she’d chosen to walk to his place of business because it was exactly the right length to work her ankle, but deep down she knew she wanted to apologize in person. The rain had ended, and the evening air was soft with the scent of lilacs. The fragrance made her think of the lilac bush her mother had planted, and for the millionth time, she wished her mother were here. She needed advice. Apologizing to Jackson felt like the right move, but was it really? Or was it simply that she ached for him the way she never had for any other man? She longed for his gentle touch, his mouth, his firm hand when spanking her. She certainly deserved the mother of all spankings, for jumping to conclusions, treating him badly, and leaving him in the lurch for the UniMed luncheon. Her ankle twinging a little, she finally made it to Jackson’s place of business. Though she knocked on the door several times, no one answered. The parking lot behind the building was empty. She’d missed him. He was probably home. Or maybe he’d gone out to celebrate finishing the job. She’d been so focused on walking over that she hadn’t brought anything with her to leave a note. As she turned for home, she decided she’d drop by tomorrow, and when she did, she’d bring pen and paper. ___________________

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Jackson sat on his terrace, killing his third beer, his arms almost too tired to tip the bottle. He’d made it through the day and had deposited a huge amount of money in his bank account. He had no jobs tomorrow, but he didn’t mind. Tonight, he’d broil the steak he bought, watch some television, and sleep like the dead. His rest was hard-won and completely deserved. Once he’d fixed the steak and potatoes, he opened a bottle of red, drinking freely while enjoying dinner. Too late, it occurred to him that he wanted to call Bobby for the skinny on his role in today’s catering job. But now he was too drunk and too tired to do anything but veg out in front of the tube. He turned on the television and settled in with his wine while he channel-surfed. Something caught his eye. He backed up a channel, only to see an ancient rerun of I Love Lucy, an episode in which she was spanked. Lucy’s mouth in the shape of an “O”, and Ricky’s intense expression, produced a longing in him to have a woman over his knee. No, not a woman. He wanted Dream Woman— Lena—over his knee, bare-assed, the way she had been the night they’d made love. He’d walloped her bottom and thighs, glorying in her letting go of toxic emotions and fears. Apparently, it hadn’t done much good, because the next day she accused him of bad intent. Closing his eyes, he recalled the crisp sound of palm smacking bare buttock, of her groin pressing on his bare thigh, his naked hardness rubbing against her hip, stimulated with each movement. He’d used only his hand, but he’d brought her to blazing-red soreness and emotional release. The spanking had been equal parts disciplinary and erotic, and he’d been barely able to wait to touch her the way she wanted to be touched. Then, after the spanking, he’d used his mouth… Jackson threw back his head, lost in the memory of

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her orgasm, the way she’d moved against his lips and tongue, shrieking her pleasure. It had taken so long to relax her enough for penetration, but once he’d entered her, the thrills of making love to the woman had dizzied him. When he’d come, her scent, her bucking pelvis, and the sizzling heat he’d felt when he’d clutched her bottom, had overwhelmed him. He opened his eyes, angry. They’d both been happy that night with each other, but she’d thrown it all away because of her misconceptions and assumptions. His hands made fists, and he wanted very much to discipline Lena’s problems right out of her. Jackson went to bed, the television still blaring. After falling into a deep sleep, he never heard either of his phones ringing repeatedly, far into the night. ___________________ Lena normally rose before her sister, but this morning, Annie shook her awake. Lena frowned at her. “Why did you climb the stairs? It’s not safe for you to do that all by yourself, and I don’t care how skilled you think you are with crutches.” Annie plopped on her bed. “Stop fussing at me for a minute. I have big news. That’s ‘big’ with a capital ‘B’. Didn’t you hear the phone?” “Annie, it’s—” she glanced at the clock, “—not quite seven. We don’t have a job today. In fact, we don’t have one till Sunday, and that’s a small one. I was hoping to sleep in.” Her sister swatted her backside. “Stop whining.” Lena sat up. “Since when did you turn into me?” “Since you whined about sleeping in when I have details on the hugest scandal ever to hit Boston-area catering.” “Bigger than that guy in Framingham who was arrested for—eeuuw, I don’t even want to think about what he was arrested for.” Lena shuddered.

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“Tell me, girl, unless the scandal is even more disgusting than what the Framingham guy did.” “Wellllll.” Annie drew out the word. “It’s not disgusting that way, thank God. But it’s still pretty gross. Babs Reinert called about ten minutes ago. Hell, there goes the phone again.” Annie struggled to her feet, but Lena laid a hand on her forearm. “Ignore it and sit back down. I’m dying to know.” “Funny you should use that word, dying. Though no one’s actually died, from what Babs said. More like they all wished they were dying.” “Annie!” Lena grabbed her sister’s shoulder, shaking it. “All of UniMed’s board members are suffering from extreme diarrhea, cramps, and fever. The only meal they had in common was you-know-who’s catering job.” Lena clapped a hand over her mouth, but the word still tumbled out. “No!” “Yes. Your enemy and mine, Jackson.” “I don’t believe it. Jackson’s food must have become contaminated after he served it. His work set-up is practically sterile—you literally could eat off his floors. There’s no way he was the source of the food poisoning. They are considering it food poisoning, right?” Annie nodded. “That’s what Babs and Courtney both said. I’ll bet it’s front-page news in this morning’s Metrowest Daily.” “Oh, God, poor Jackson. The Department of Public Health could shut him down for weeks while they determine the source of the contamination.” Lena truly felt sorry for him. Accidental food poisoning was the one big thing all caterers feared. “This might kill his business.” Annie smiled a not-very-nice smile. “Yeah, but I’ll bet it’ll do wonders for ours. There’s the phone again. What do you want to bet it’s going to ring all

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morning, with panicky people trying to have their last-minute jobs catered by us?” Lena threw back the covers. “Let me up. I’ll help you down the stairs, so you can begin fielding calls. Schedule any jobs you think we can handle, at our usual prices. Even the last-minute ones.” “But, but, we have a chance to make a boatload of money here even if we charge our usual lastminute rates. Think how much we could make if we charged more! Since when did you go soft, Miss Capitalist Pig?” Annie crossed her arms. “I won’t make a profit off Jackson’s misfortune,” Lena said, shaking her head. “I’m certain this mess wasn’t his fault.” The jobs flooded in. A few hours later, the two sisters were working feverishly to throw together an engagement party scheduled for that evening. Lena’s stomach was jittery from too much caffeine and too little breakfast. The story in the paper hadn’t made her tummy any better. Nor had the gossipy calls from other caterers. She was glad the calls had died down, if only because she was tired of defending Jackson to the others. By now, the other caterers were too busy working to turn Yankee Elegance Catering’s loss into their gain. Lena sent Ricky and Annie on a round of errands, if only to give herself a moment’s peace. Because Ricky no longer had a job with Yankee Elegance, he was happy to take all the hours SweetKakes could give him. Earlier, he’d said that the Department of Public Health had posted signs on Jackson’s storefront, declaring it closed until a determination of responsibility had been made. Her heart ached once more for Jackson, partly because she considered the whole mess her fault. Maybe if she’d been there, nothing bad would have happened. Then again, maybe not. Maybe all that would have happened was that she’d be shut down now, too.

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The phone was ringing again, but Lena ignored it, sitting at the table while sipping peppermint tea to settle her stomach. She was damned tired of talking with people. With her left hand, she picked up the paper to reread the story. Every single one of UniMed’s board members had become sick by last night, along with Harold Bradley and a few employees—the CEO’s administrative assistant included—who had sneaked some free food from the leftovers after the meeting had begun. Everyone local had flooded Gainesborough’s ER. Those whose homes were at a distance became sick during travel. The tentative diagnosis? Salmonella poisoning, which pointed to undercooked poultry, eggs, meat, seafood, or dairy products. Lena sat back, lost in thought. If Jackson had kept to the menu they’d planned together, he hadn’t served any poultry, eggs, or dairy products. However, he had served roast beef, probably rare, and tuna steak, also probably rare. Had one of them been the source of the poisoning? It was possible that his salad was contaminated—after all the stories in the news of e. coli infections from spinach and other greens, getting salmonella from a salad was certainly possible. Throwing the paper in the trash, she went to sit on the back steps with her tea. She knew she should eat something, but had no appetite. SweetKakes was making a killing off Jackson’s clients, and instead of the pleasure she usually felt when money rolled in, she felt sick. Lena patted her pockets for her cell phone. I have to call him. When she reached Jackson’s business number, she heard a curt recording stating that the business was closed down, per order of the Health Department, until further notice. With a sigh, she called his home number.

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No answer. And no recording, either. He’d probably turned off his answering machine and the phone’s ringer. She knew, if she were in his shoes, she would have. ___________________ Jackson stared at the blacktop ahead, driving Route 140 on automatic pilot, seeing nothing in his future but ruin. He had his cell phone with him, but he’d ignored all calls except the ones from the Department of Public Health, and from Bobby. He was especially ignoring all calls from other caterers, and doubly-especially from SweetKakes. If he had to listen to Lena rip him, he’d probably drive his car into the Wachusett Reservoir. No, he wouldn’t. That was the coward’s way out, and he was no coward. Unlike his late father. He shook himself mentally. His father hadn’t been completely irresponsible—after all, he’d ensured that Jackson had enough money to finish college. He yawned, having been up since six, which was when Bobby had banged on his door. Once Jackson was out of bed, he’d done nothing but field calls, dealing with the aftermath of the food poisoning. Twenty-two people sick, some still in the hospital, and Yankee Elegance shut down by the DPH. He could read his future as clearly as he could read the road map on the passenger seat. What bothered him the most was that he couldn’t figure out how the food had become contaminated. He always cooked meat, poultry, and fish at high enough temperatures to kill bacteria— and he used a thermometer to be certain he’d done so. He kept his food prep areas spotless. All the serving dishes had been washed in the hottest of water, in his industrial-sized dishwasher. Finally, he’d sampled all of the food before he’d delivered it, and he wasn’t sick.

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There was simply no frickin’ way he’d been the source of the contamination. But twenty-two people didn’t imagine their illnesses. So, how had it happened? Maybe the salad was the problem. Maybe the greens he’d used had been tainted. But nobody else locally had reported problems after eating salad. That pointed away from contaminated lettuce. He shook his head. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t obsess over it. Today was about hiking Mount Wachusett, about putting one foot in front of the other and breathing. It wasn’t about thinking at all. Today, he would be a body, a climbing machine, nothing more. Later, after various government agencies had run all their tests, would be soon enough to puzzle out what he would do with the rest of his life. It was all over but the shoutin’, as Bobby would say. Yankee Elegance Catering had gone out of business. Or had it? A thought struck him. Pulling off the road, he punched numbers into the cell phone. He had to make sure that the DPH had all the samples, because he knew without a doubt that some of the samples were not contaminated. ___________________ Nine o’clock at night, and all Lena could manage to do was slump on the couch, feet in a tub of hot water and Epsom salts. She and Annie and Ricky had worked nearly round-the-clock the past six days, and she was grateful to have no jobs scheduled tomorrow. She needed to recover before catering a wedding reception for two hundred on Sunday. Annie and Ricky had already said their goodnights, and her usually-bubbly sister was tuckered out as well as tucked in for the night. Once Lena’s feet stopped aching—she’d been on them, in

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heels, for hours every damned day—she had to climb to the third floor to sleep. She was so exhausted, she wasn’t sure she could make it up the stairs. Maybe she’d curl up on the couch instead. She dried her feet, slipped on a pair of athletic socks, and snuggled the quilt that usually stayed on the back of the couch around her. She was still dressed, but she didn’t care—that was how tired she was. Outside, rain pattered against the porch. Here it was, late May, and it was a chilly fifty degrees, and wet. Typical Massachusetts spring weather, that was for sure. Her eyes had barely closed when she heard her cell phone ring. She dragged one eye open, deciding not to answer the call unless it was Jackson. She peered at the caller identification. It was Jackson. Snatching up the phone, she answered, “Hey, I’ve been worried about you for a week. I called you at least a dozen times, but—” “I know, I know,” Jackson cut in. “I didn’t want to talk about the disaster, not with anyone. But things are looking up. If you care, that is.” Lena sat up, fatigue forgotten. “Of course, I care. What makes you think I don’t? Wait, don’t answer that. What’s going on?” Jackson’s tone became the friendly one of a fellow worker. “Thank God I saved portions of everything I cooked for UniMed. I’m not sure why I did—I don’t, usually—but this time, I did. I have samples of everything I took to UniMed, as well as samples of most of the leftovers I brought back from UniMed. A short while ago, the Department of Public Health gave me the lab results on the food samples.” When he didn’t continue, Lena said, “Well? What?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “The food I took to UniMed has no contamination. The food I brought back from UniMed is contaminated with salmonella. The CDC in Atlanta—”

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“The Centers for Disease Control are involved in this mess?” she asked. “Yes, and the reason is, the DPH suspects someone tampered with the food. They found a particular strain of salmonella that wouldn’t normally be found in what I served—the strain is resistant to most antibiotics.” “That’s why some of the people spent days in the hospital before they recovered,” Lena said. “That’s right. Now, the CDC is running tests to verify the DPH’s findings. The tentative conclusion is that someone got their hands on an unusual strain of salmonella, and added it to the food themselves. In other words, some kind of terrorism is responsible for everyone’s illnesses—not me, and not Yankee Elegance. As soon as the CDC confirms everything, they’ll call in the FBI to begin investigating how this happened. Did you know that you can buy salmonella and other food bugs over the Internet, if you’re dishonest? I didn’t.” “Will they investigate you, too? I mean, are you a suspect?” Lena’s chest hurt when she thought of the hell Jackson was going through. “Technically, yes, I’m a suspect. But I’m hoping they’ll find enough evidence of other parties’ involvement, and stop focusing on me. And that they’ll allow me to start working again.” A suspicion formed in Lena’s mind, one that made her uncomfortable. “Did you leave the food alone at any time, once you delivered it to UniMed?” “Well, sure. I couldn’t bring everything in at once. I had to make a couple of trips.” Silence stretched between them until she said, “You know, if I hadn’t run out on you at the last minute, maybe none of this would have happened. I would have been there to keep an eye on things while you carried stuff back and forth.” His laugh had little humor in it. “Maybe so. But control-freak Bradley watched everything for me. No terrorist could have slipped by him.”

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Lena bit her lip, unable to keep silent. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe Bradley was one of the bad guys?” “Yes, actually. Though it seems ridiculous. I mean, why would he want to poison the members of the board at the company where he worked? What was his motive? Plus, he was one of the sick people. He, along with a few other employees, had snacked on the leftovers before I took everything home. You wouldn’t think he’d eat something he himself had deliberately contaminated.” Jackson’s voice turned colder. “Well, I thought you might like to know what happened. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” “Jackson, wait,” burst from her. After a moment, he said, “I’m waiting.” “I—I want to apologize. I mean, I do apologize. I’m convinced that no one would have been poisoned with salmonella if I’d been there to help— as I’d given my word to you that I would. Not only that, I accused you of awful things, things that, as Annie has pointed out to me, didn’t even make sense. God, I’m so, so sorry.” “Yeah, well.” “I’ve tried calling you because I wanted to apologize, but you never answered your phone, and I didn’t want to leave a message. That seemed—not right. Of course, what I should do is apologize in person, not over the phone, but you’ve been hard to find. I did walk by twice, and once I left a note.” After a brief lull, he said, “I figured you were calling to apologize. I didn’t take the calls because I wasn’t ready to hear someone feel sorry for me. And I got the note. Thanks.” “Will you forgive me?” “I guess.” “You guess?” “I’m still pretty angry, you know.” Her heart in her throat, she said, “Would you be able to forgive me if you spanked me?”

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“Probably. But I’m too angry to spank you. Discipline isn’t something to be meted out while feeling furious. I might spank you too hard.” She choked back a sob. “Believe me, I don’t think it’s possible, for you to spank me too hard for what I did. I deserve a whipping.” “Yes, but with your background, you know, how your father used to hit you, well, it’s not a good idea right now. Maybe another time.” “Another time,” she echoed him faintly. “All right.” After he ended the call, she cried for a long time. ___________________ The next morning, both sisters slept in, though Lena tossed and turned all night. Annie showed up, showered and dressed, a little after nine. Lena was on her second cup of coffee. The paper in front of her sported the headline, “Terrorism to Blame? FBI Asks.” “Wow,” Annie said. “Terrorism? In sleepy little Gainesborough?” Lena nodded. “Jackson told me as much, last night on the phone. He hasn’t been officially cleared yet, but he hopes to be soon, so he can reopen his business.” “Assuming he’ll have any.” While pouring a cup of coffee, Annie continued. “I mean, even if he’s cleared, who’s going to hire him? Think about it.” “I know,” Lena said. “And I feel miserable about it. If I’d only been there to work, the way I said I would, maybe none of this would have happened. I apologized like crazy, but he’s not really ready to accept my apology. He’s pretty angry.” “I love you, Sis, but I guess I can’t blame him for being angry,” Annie said. Lena dropped her face into her hands, overcome with tears. “Oh, Annie, I fucked up so badly!”

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Instantly, Annie’s arms were around her, her voice soothing. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I just did. How many times have I screwed up, and you’ve been there for me, without recriminations? A zillion. So you made a mistake, big deal. Eventually, he’ll come around. Give him time.” Lena’s sobs now down to sniffles, she said, “Seems like you’re the wiser one these days. How do you like having the shoe on the other foot?” Annie laughed. “With this cast, the shoe is always on the other foot.”

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Chapter Twenty-Three Three weeks later Lena yawned while she and Jackson headed to her place to clean up. She always enjoyed the pleasant weariness that followed hard work done well, and she was doubly happy to be in a position to subcontract to him. The SweetKakes financial picture was rosy, unlike that of Yankee Elegance. Glancing over at him while she drove, Lena’s guilt kicked in for the umpteenth time. Jackson had been cleared of all wrongdoing, but his business was still dead, and it was all her fault. If only she hadn’t gotten her back up over some imagined hostile action and hadn’t abandoned the UniMed job, both their businesses would be thriving. Hers had become wildly successful since that day, but she knew that her success had come at his expense. Not only that, he was still cool to her, and she longed to make up, even if it resulted in nothing more than friendship. Well, dummy, what do you expect from him? Your temper resulted in the trashing of his business. And you know how he feels about success and independence—the same way you do. If he doesn’t want to resume any sort of relationship beyond accepting subcontracts, it’s because you blew it. She stole another glance at his face, and was pleased with what she saw. “It’s nice to see you smile,” she said. “It’s nice to feel like smiling. I made some money today, money I needed.” He turned his face away. “Thank you for the subcontract,” he said, his tone not quite as frozen as it had been earlier. The day, for early June, was gloomy and chilly, the skies pouring rain. Lena watched the wind and drops batter lilacs and late tulips, her heart as sad as the beaten-down flowers. What a cold and wet spring they’d had.

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Silence enveloped the two until they arrived at 85 Front Street. Jackson grabbed the door handle, saying, “Neither of us has eaten lunch. How about we have the leftovers?” Lena’s stomach chose that moment to rumble. “That would be all right with me.” His expression softened. “Ready to brave the rain?” Lena unlocked the back of the van before she ran to open the front door. Rain streamed down her slicker, soaking her legs. “Thank goodness I brought a pair of rain boots,” she said, loading a wheeled cart with dirty pans. “Wish I had some. My shoes are a mess,” he said. “Is that the last of it? Didn’t seem like as many dishes and pans on the way over.” “That’s all except for the heavy stuff. Can you carry it?” she asked. “Of course. The linens are yours, right?” She nodded. “Let’s get inside where it’s dry.” After locking the van, Lena took her slicker and boots to the small room off the kitchen. “I’m soaked. How about you?” “I’m damned wet. I guess I could always change back into the clothes I wore earlier.” He checked the pile he’d brought in from the van. “Not soaking, but too damp to change into. I’ll just wear what I’ve got on.” “Want me to go see if Ricky left anything to wear in my sister’s room?” Lena asked, wheeling to face him while carrying a bowl of watery ice to the sink. She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow she bumped him, or he bumped her, and the bowl’s icy contents went flying, most of them landing on her. The chilly bath she received had her shrieking as she stood there, shaking her arms. “God, that’s cold. Worse than the ocean in January. I don’t know how Boston’s L Street Brownies stand their annual swim on New Year’s Day.”

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She frowned to see Jackson staring intently at her. “Haven’t you ever seen someone wet before?” “Maybe you should go change,” he said, his voice dropping an octave below husky. Upstairs, she grabbed a change of clothing. Once she was in the bathroom, the image in the mirror had embarrassment staining her face. Her wet blouse was clinging to her, and the iciness of the water had puckered her nipples to rockhardness. She might as well not have any clothing on at all above the waist. No wonder he’d been staring at her. Her reflection led her mind to the night they’d spent together, weeks before. That had been the last time her breasts had budded so tightly. She’d felt as hot then as she felt cold now. Tingles that shot straight to her core had her chewing her lip. Slowly, she peeled off her clothing, dismayed to realize that even her underwear was soaked. She stood naked, trembling. Involuntarily, she remembered his fingers and his lips on her, all of her. She put one palm on her lower belly and pressed in vain. No relief for the hunger plaguing her. She swallowed and dressed slowly. Tentatively, she ran her hands down her torso, imagining they were his hands, large, strong, and capable of bringing intense gratification. “Lena? What do you want to eat?” His voice from the other side of the door broke her trance of desire. She’d never heard him climb the stairs. “Beef, please, and the side dishes,” she called. When she heard his feet retreating, she opened the bathroom door. Time to look for clothing that might fit Jackson. He had his back to her when she returned to the kitchen, some of Ricky’s castoffs in one arm. She smiled. Jackson’s jeans looked painted on. Both the cooking aromas and the view were making her mouth water.

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“Are you done ogling my butt, Lena?” he asked. “I’m doing no such thing,” she lied. “Liar, liar, pants on fire. I can see your reflection in the mirrored steel, and you’re looking at my butt.” Pants on fire, she thought with amusement. He didn’t know the half of it. Pulling a chair over to a small table, she waited for her meal. It wasn’t long before he brought over two steaming plates. “It smells great,” she said. “And I didn’t even mind you taking over my kitchen to heat it up.” “Bull,” he said. “Well, I didn’t mind too much,” she admitted. “Here. Maybe some of these clothes will fit you.” “Okay if I change in the room off the kitchen?” While he did so, Lena sliced off a small bite and placed it on her tongue. “Wow. Jackson, you did a great job with the beef.” “And you with the desserts. I heard many compliments,” he said as he walked back into the kitchen. “Ricky’s clothes are too small. I’ll just keep my damp stuff on.” He sat, digging into his meal. “I hope you’ll let me have the last slice of cake we brought back.” “I’ve eaten my own cake hundreds of times, so you’re welcome to it.” “Thanks.” She chewed. “I’m going to save some beef for Annie. She loves steak.” “Where is she again?” Jackson asked. “She and Ricky went to some symposium on food. Truth be told, I think they just wanted to get away for a day and night by themselves. Having Big Sister in the house with them cramps their style.” Lena concentrated on eating the tempting meal. One reason she’d become a caterer was because she loved good food. A good meal could turn around a bad day. It might even be able to turn around a bad relationship.

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Huh. She’d ponder that a little longer while she enjoyed the tenderloin. ___________________ Jackson ate leisurely, relishing every bite and stealing glances at Lena. Even though he was still royally pissed at her, he couldn’t deny that she aroused him. “You say something?” Lena asked. His gaze met hers. “I’d like to talk with you after we finish the meal.” Her body visibly stiffened. She said only, “Okay.” She looked everywhere except at him while he ended his meal with her cake. “Scrumptious,” he said. “Thanks.” Her absent-minded comment had him watching her stare into the distance. He longed to know what she was thinking about. “Lena,” he began, placing his fork on the nowempty plate, “I’m ready to talk, if you are. I need to know why you ran away from me, and ran out on our commitment to cater the board meeting at UniMed. I know what you believed I’d done. But why did you believe such things?” “I thought you were like Philip, the guy who took my virginity on a bet. A user.” “But why? How could you believe that of a man you’d just made love with?” She shrugged, her voice small. “Because I was dumb. I made assumptions I shouldn’t have.” “That’s true, you shouldn’t have.” She lifted her face, and he was startled to read raw pain there, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Please. Spank me. The guilt over not being there for you is killing me. No spanking could hurt as much as my regrets.” He realized what she was saying between the lines. “You blame yourself for the food poisoning?” “Of course, I do,” she burst out. “Someone contaminated the food while you were elsewhere. If

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I’d been there, one of us would have watched the food the whole time. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been cleared of wrongdoing by the FBI. God Almighty could write your innocence on stone tablets, and you’d still have a hell of a time recovering your clients.” “You’re right,” he said. Their gazes locked, and he read in hers what she wanted before she spoke of it. “Please,” she whispered, “spank me.” Jackson thought a moment, and then said, “All right.” He stood, pointing at the far corner. “Stand there, Lena, and wait.” While she scurried to obey, he heard her squeaked assent. “Hands on your head.” Jackson took his time clearing the table. Once he had, he looked in her utensils drawer for a few minutes. Then he tapped her on the shoulder. “Come with me.” He led her to the kitchen table, saying, “Bend over.” Lena started to undo her slacks, but Jackson said, “Let me.” She rested her forearms on the table while he slid her slacks and panties to her ankles. Heat flushed her face when his palm stroked her sitting area. “I want you to let go of the guilt, Lena.” She opened her mouth to say, “Yes, sir,” but when his hand smacked the center of her butt, what came out instead was, “Ooo!” He was spanking her just as hard as he had during their wild night of lovemaking. Again, his hand landed, and again she exclaimed, this time shifting from foot to foot. Then his hand cracked across her right cheek at least ten times. Tears welled in her eyes. “Ow, stop, please, Jackson, you spank too hard!” He said nothing, but began spanking her left cheek repeatedly, the smacks building an intense burn. She felt teardrops trickle down her face, and

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her voice cracked when she said, “I’m so sorry, Jackson, please, I’ve learned my lesson.” He stopped spanking her. The fire in her backside built uncomfortably, and she moaned. “Lena, I know you’re sorry for assuming the worst about me. But I don’t think you’ve let go of the guilt, and I’m going to make sure that you do.” Something stung her left thigh. “Ow, ow, ow! What are you using?” “A wooden spoon. I read that it produces a wicked burn without leaving marks. I intend to correct you, not mark you, especially not on your thighs, the way your father did.” “But I hate having my thighs spanked!” she sobbed. “I know,” he said, the spoon tattooing both legs while she hopped and cried. “But it worked to help you let go of your guilt on our night together, and I need you to let go of your guilt now. Not that you shouldn’t feel some guilt, abandoning the job we agreed to do together at the last minute.” “I know,” she wailed. “Stop, please, I’m so sorry!” When he laid the spoon on the table, she was surprised to see how small it was. The whacks had hurt so much that she’d assumed he was using a bigger, heavier spoon. Maybe she should stop making assumptions. Doing so had landed Jackson in his troubles, and had landed her in hers. “Lena, are you ready?” She rubbed one wet eye with her hand, saying, “Yes, sir.” “Have you let go of your guilt yet?” “Uh, um, I mean, yes, of course,” she babbled when she realized what she needed to say to stop the spanking, but she knew deep down that he’d see through her response, and that she wanted him to.

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“No, I don’t think you have.” He sighed. “Put your hands behind your back.” She did as she was told, resting her right cheek on the table, the small puddle of tears wetting the side of her head. His hand locked around her wrists just before fiery torment descended, again and again. “What is that?” she choked out between sobs. “A bigger spoon.” She jumped an inch off the floor when it kissed her sitting area with fire. “Please, no, that’s awful!” “Would you prefer the cane?” “God, no!” she cried. “No cane!” “Then take your medicine like a big girl.” With that, he spanked her harder. Lena gulped air, wailing loudly, and struggled against his restraining hand. Finally, when she thought she had no fight left in her, the whacks stopped. He cradled her in his arms, holding her tightly. “I’m so sorry I ruined your life!” She clutched at him, burrowing her face deeper into his chest while he stroked her hair. “Say you forgive me. I’ll die if you don’t.” “Do you forgive yourself?” he murmured. “Yes, yes, I promise. Ohhh, my butt and legs are throbbing.” She leaned into him with a sigh as one of his hands began stroking her singed areas. “And is the guilt gone?” he whispered. She felt his lips nibbling her ear. “Oh, yes,” she moaned. Then their lips met, and the sweetness of their kiss countered the harsh burn where both spoons had bitten her. He broke away, kissing her neck, one hand unbuttoning her blouse. When he pushed his hand inside her bra, she writhed against him. Tonight wouldn’t be like the first time. She didn’t need tenderness, a gentle touch. No, what she needed was his hot, hard member, jamming in and out. Now mostly naked, she begged wordlessly while one hand massaged a nipple, and the other found

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her swollen nub. Jackson lifted her onto the table, and someplace far away, her backside smarted. But she cared nothing about her spanking now, nothing about how much it hurt to sit. Instead, she threw her legs around his waist, keening as he finally thrust inside, taking her fiercely. She bit his shoulder when his thumb teased her hot button, her waves of pleasure rushing quickly to shore. This was no sweet lovemaking—it was raw, p rimal. She shrieked when she came, pounding her groin against his. Then he shouted her name, and love flooded her heart. How could she have ever thought this man would hurt her, would use her? Their rhythm slowed, both satisfied now, and the kiss they shared was satisfying. “Jackson,” she groaned when he removed his lips from hers, “I— I—think, uh—” “Shh,” he said, “No words now.” He kissed her again, harder this time, and she sensed him stir inside her, felt her own need to make love again. Her sitting area stung from rubbing against the table, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was this man, forever. A phone rang, but she ignored it until Jackson pulled his lips off hers. “Don’t,” she said, “let it go. Please. I need you.” She closed her eyes, knowing he was looking at the Caller ID. He cursed. “It’s my lawyer. I’d better answer it.” “But I thought you were cleared,” she said. “I was. At least, I thought I was. But if my lawyer’s calling me at this hour, it can’t be good.” She waited, watching the expression on his face shade from love to bitterness. She hoped he’d never look at her that way, with such hatred and anger. He ended the call, saying nothing, grabbing his clothing from the floor. As he moved away from her, she climbed off the table, wincing at the throbbing in her bottom. “Jackson, what’s wrong?”

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A short, vicious laugh escaped his lips. “I may be criminally cleared of wrongdoing, but apparently I can still be sued in civil court for what happened.” “Sued?” He jerked his pants up. “Yeah, sued. By none other than that control-freak, son-of-a-bitch Harold Bradley, along with the rest of the ill employees at UniMed.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Look, I’m not good company now. I need to go.” She reached for him, but he twisted away, and his rejection made her heart flinch. Later, after he’d left, Lena lay across her bed on her stomach, crying silently, but not because her behind still stung. Her heart, fragile as fine crystal, had shattered, and this time she didn’t think it would mend. Jackson meant too much to her. ___________________ “I’m tellin’ you, boy, you have to keep fighting.” “I don’t think I ever noticed before how much you sound like Foghorn Leghorn.” Jackson slammed his glass down on his coffee table hard enough to make an ice cube fly out. When he reached for the bottle of Scotch, Bobby whipped it away. “Bobby,” he growled, “Give me my fuckin’ Scotch before I kick your ass.” “You and what army, boy? I think you’ve had enough. And who the hell is Foghorn Leghorn?” “A cartoon rooster with a southern accent. He talks like you, or rather, you talk like him. ‘Boy, I say, boy!’” Jackson imitated. “Stop changing the subject. Where’d the Scotch come from? I thought you hated the stuff.” “A store, you idiot. I like its fast-numbing properties.” “You can’t find courage in a bottle.” “Yeah, but you sure can find a painkiller there. Give me the damned bottle!” Jackson stood, swaying and stumbling when he tried to snatch the liquor from his friend.

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“I’ve had enough.” Bobby stalked to the kitchen. “It’s gonna kill me to pour this lovely stuff down the drain, even though it’s not thirty-year-old Glenfiddich, but a man’s gotta do, et cetera.” He upended the bottle as Jackson rounded the corner. Yelling “You’re a bigger son of a bitch than Bradley,” he tore the bottle from Bobby’s grasp, then delivered a roundhouse punch to the side of his friend’s head. Bobby retaliated by punching him in the nose. Jackson touched his face, grabbing paper towels when he saw the red on his fingers. “You busted my nose, you fucking bastard.” Jackson went to the freezer for ice cubes. “Jesus, that hurts,” he said, holding ice to his face. “I’m sure your lovely aristocratic schnozz isn’t broken, and I don’t see how you could feel anything, with all that Scotch in you. Anyway, you deserved it. That punch you threw into my jaw hurt like hell. You ready to man up now?” “Only if I can have one more glass of that stuff. That is, if you haven’t dumped it all down the drain. But first I’m gonna get some ice for my knuckles, too. Damn, hitting you hurt my hand.” “I could use a little ice, myself.” Bobby touched the side of his face and winced as he worked his jaw. “We’ll both have a glass of booze. Promise me you won’t drink yourself into a coma or anything, and I won’t dump any more out.” “Promise,” Jackson mumbled behind the wad of paper towels and ice. They returned to the living room with the Scotch and some ice for their injuries. Bobby poured two glasses of whiskey. After clinking their glasses together, the two drank in moody silence while holding ice to their respective injuries. “I guess you’re screwed,” Bobby said. “That bastard Bradley. Want me to go kick the shit out of him?”

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“Yes. But don’t do it. I don’t need any more legal problems.” Jackson took the damp paper towel from his nose. “Stopped bleeding, anyway. Hey, how’d you know to show up here at this hour of the night?” “You left your cell phone at Lena’s. She called me after you stormed out. From the toneless way she told me how you acted, I’m guessing you broke her heart.” Bobby sipped his drink, his glare boring into Jackson. “Oh, Jesus. Lena. We’d just, well, hell, I shouldn’t have answered the phone.” “I shouldn’t have answered either. Elyse wasn’t thrilled with my departure. Threw something breakable at my head.” A smile played across Bobby’s mouth. “Guess I’m going to have to take her to the woodshed when I get back.” “I’m an asshole,” Jackson moaned. “I think she was about to tell me she loved me when I took the call.” “Yep, you’re an asshole, all right.” He glared at Bobby. “You don’t have to agree with me, you know.” “I know. But you are. Or were, anyway.” “Finding out I’m being sued pissed me off so much, I had to leave. I didn’t want to punch a wall in front of her. Her father was pretty violent, and extreme temper frightens her.” Jackson slugged down the Scotch, and then held out his glass. “More. The only way I’m going to sleep tonight is if I pass out.” “No more for you. Maybe you should send Lena some flowers,” Bobby said. “Five dozen red roses. And about two pounds of Godiva. You treated her like crap, at least in her eyes. You owe her.” “She’s allergic to roses. The one time I brought them, she ran away from them. I don’t know about other flowers—I’m afraid to try. And the way she diets, she’d accuse me of sabotaging her weight-

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loss program if I gave her chocolate. Not that she needs to lose an ounce.” “Women and their diets.” Bobby drained his glass. “I guess that’s it, then. Nothing more I can do here. I’ve never seen two people in love act more like damn-fool idiots in my life. Except maybe for me and Elyse.” A grin flickered briefly on his face. “You gonna be all right?” “Yeah, fine. Right as rain.” “We’ve sure had enough of that wet stuff today,” Bobby said as he walked to the door. “Bye, buddy. Call if you need me.” Jackson grunted and picked up the remote while his friend let himself out. He didn’t care what was on television, as long as it prevented him from thinking about Lena, his stupidity, and the fucking lawsuit. Finding the Red Sox playing a rain-delayed game, he settled in, hoping that running game statistics in his head would keep his mind off his troubles.

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Chapter Twenty-Four “Are you ever going to tell me what happened last night?” Annie asked. “And don’t tell me ‘nothing’ for the fortieth time. Those red eyes of yours didn’t come from your allergies.” “Why don’t you tell me about that food thing you went to?” Lena shifted in her chair, feeling Jackson’s spanking on every inch of her tender behind. At least she wasn’t overcome with guilt anymore. No, what she felt now was anger. Anger, she understood, and could deal with. She wanted to kick his ass for running out the way he did, leaving her to cry all night, alone, when the two of them could have been— Annie’s loud sigh interrupted her thoughts. “I told you, it was just a thing about catering trends. What people are mad for right now, and what the next food craze might be.” Annie flopped down into her kitchen chair, and Lena saw a fleeting wince pass across her sister’s face. Apparently, Ricky had found enough time yesterday to discipline Annie thoroughly. Lena hid her smile with a sip of her coffee. “Okay. I give up,” Annie said. “You’re obviously not going to spill it.” “Good. Let’s talk about tomorrow.” Lena picked up paper and pen as the two women sat in the kitchen among breakfast’s remains. Ricky had left a half-hour before. “Haven’t we pushed ourselves enough lately? I could use a day off,” her sister whined. “You had one yesterday.” “No, that was work. I went to a symposium. It wasn’t as if I partied at the beach or anything.” “Whatever you call it, you didn’t work yesterday, and I did.” “With Jackson, right?” Annie leaned forward. “Okay, now I get it. What did the bastard do to you now?”

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The memory of her spanking, and then their ferocious lovemaking, made her blush. What he did to me, indeed. “Never mind about him. We need to plan tomorrow, even though the day will be lighter than usual. I’m going to call all the potential clients who’ve asked me for more information. Maybe some of them are ready to schedule a job, or are at least ready to hear about what SweetKakes can do for them. Some of our standard doughs are in short supply—making more for the freezer would help. Can you take care of that?” “Sure.” “We always have shopping to do, it seems. We can do that together at some point. You always have interesting ideas springing to mind when you’re surrounded by food, so I want you along. Shopping will be so much easier when you don’t need crutches any more. Tell me again, when do you get your walking cast?” “Not for another month, I think,” Annie sighed. Lena scribbled some notes. “I guess that’s it. You and Ricky can go play now, if you want.” “We can?” Her sister’s eyes lit with pleasure. “Sure, go on, party at the beach, even.” Annie reached across the small table to hug her sister, spilling her coffee as she did so. “You are the rockingest sister in the whole world. Don’t wait up for me tonight.” Two hours later, her sister had been gone for ninety minutes, and Lena was bored. The novel she’d started wasn’t sweeping her away, and the events of last night weighed heavily on her. Besides, she had a neck cramp from trying to read while lying on her stomach. Sitting for any length of time distracted her from the reading material. She clasped her bottom and rubbed. Jackson had walloped her, all right. And she’d deserved it. But she didn’t deserve the way he ran out, full of anger and bitterness and completely self-involved.

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You idiot, of course he was self-involved. He’s being sued! Still, best to forget about him, at least for now. She walked around the third floor, seeing it with fresh eyes. She’d never finished her bedroom. The incomplete paint job on the walls, the cardboard boxes full of miscellaneous items, and the pictures to hang all screamed transient. Did she care so little for her private space that she couldn’t be bothered to hang her much-loved art and photos? She thumbed through the frames: Betsy Bennett’s “Glory Be”, Van Gogh’s “Irises”, a photo montage of her and Annie, and a caricature of the two of them, done at some now-forgotten grand opening. At least, her photo of Mama with her two daughters was on her dresser. That and one of her mother’s quilts saved the room from resembling impersonal, run-down motel decor. Annie’s been right all along. I need to get a life. Tears flooded her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. Her life, so full of deadlines and appointments and chores, hid great emptiness, like a beautiful, two-dimensional façade propped from behind. The face she showed to the world was fast becoming who she was. She took care of everything and everyone except herself. She found a hammer and some picture hangers. In the past, she’d convinced herself that she’d never hung anything because she had to finish painting her room, but it had been over a year since she’d picked up a roller. Eventually, she’d turn all the walls pale teal and the woodwork cream, but for now she needed a little burst of pleasure each time she gazed around the room. Barely fifteen minutes later, she studied the objects of her labor. She liked her room much more with precious keepsakes on the walls. But it was still only make-do, only things a person could see. What about her inner self? Did she still have one?

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She walked into the other room on the floor, her office-slash-storage area. It resembled someone’s half-finished garage, despite the computer and secondhand desk. She’d had the ceiling replastered and some of the walls replaced because long-ago roof leaks had ruined them. Now all she could see was a room half-covered with cheap plastic paneling, half with raw sheetrock. No wonder she never wanted to linger on her floor, never did much more than sleep, dress, and enter data quickly into her records. “Run-down motel decor” would have been a giant step up for the room. She sat on the floor, overwhelmed by weariness and loneliness. She didn’t care enough about herself to make her areas of the house welcoming. She cared even less about her inner needs, it seemed. Chaos alternating with fits of rigid control ruled her life. She could hardly remember a time when it had not been so. The large window beckoned to her, urged her to seek the skies as she usually did in early evening. Too many clouds to see Venus, though. Too many clouds in her mind, in her heart, in her life, stifling the rays of pure need she held inside. She needed to be loved. She needed to be needed, by someone besides her sister: a partner, a soul mate, a lover. Maybe even a husband. When had she stopped dreaming of more out of life? Maybe she never really started dreaming. She locked herself into her world and surrounded its perimeter with razor wire. It had sliced both her and Jackson to ribbons, and yet he had kept trying to connect with her—until she’d dumped the UniMed job on him, causing him to lose his customers and get sued. No wonder he ran out last night. Who would want to deal with her own anger, her own bitterness? By assuming he’d been out to ruin her business, she’d ruined his, and had lost the best chance she’d ever found for happiness and love. She did love

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him, but now he was gone, and it was all her own fault. Boy, if there were a prize for stupid, she’d take the blue ribbon. Her control broke as enormous, gasping sobs erupted from her, crying for every wasted opportunity, every pleasure she’d resisted, every day she devoted to duty, shutting out love. She lay weeping on the dusty floor until she fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. ___________________ One month later Lena lazed in the late June sun, a diet cola in her hand. It was one of those rare summer days with a perfectly blue sky, a dewpoint around fifty, and just-right warmth, and she couldn’t get enough of it. She’d finished her luncheon job today and was facing a rare free weekend, despite high wedding season. The only month as busy as June for weddings was October. Maybe it was the foliage. A part of her fretted that she wouldn’t make any money this weekend, but she was attempting to enjoy the present more these days. Mama’s early death should have taught her that life is short, if it had taught her anything. Annie had visited the doctor yesterday and now sported a walking cast. On the way home, she’d crowed that she could beat Lena at climbing the stairs. Of course, it hadn’t been true, but the two of them had enjoyed racing up and down the steps while Ricky kept time with his combo stopwatchwristwatch, the three of them giggling all the while. She’d taken down the items on her bedroom walls, but only temporarily, and had finished painting her room. The walls and trim were now done, with her treasures rehung. Her personal space was shaping up, and so was she. She ran for her health at least three days a week now, but walked on the non-running days for at least thirty minutes in order to unwind. She was stopping to

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smell the roses—figuratively, of course, because she was allergic to most flowers—but she appreciated their beauty. One area of her life continued to stink, but she couldn’t fault anyone else for it. She accepted that she’d blown her chance with Jackson, despite their last, poignant coupling. For a while, she’d hoped he might attempt to see her again, but she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t. He’d even turned down her offers of work, and after a week of hearing his refusals, she’d stopped asking him. The suit, now dropped, had probably been the last straw for him. She sipped her diet soda, thinking about how things had turned out. While Lena wasn’t actively looking for a boyfriend yet, she tried to remain open to possibilities. One of her suppliers had begun flirting mildly with her. He didn’t interest her romantically, but the bantering they engaged in helped her develop needed flirting skills. Heck, just being friends with a man strained her abilities, but she was trying. She was trying hard, partly because Annie had asked her to. Her cell phone interrupted her reverie, but she recognized the number. “Hi, Elyse.” “Hello, dear. I need you to cater an engagement party.” “Yours and Bobby’s engagement?” “Let’s just say an engagement, for now.” Her tone of voice was coy. Lena wondered whose engagement it could be, if not Elyse’s and Bobby’s. “Will this be the party I traded for the Range Rover?” “Yes, it will. However, one teensy little detail you should know is that Bobby insists you and Yankee Elegance Catering work together on it.” “Forget it. Jackson closed his business, and he refuses to work with me. I’m tired of banging my head against that wall.” Even though that wall is all my fault.

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“Your end of the deal was to give me the party of my choice in exchange for transportation. All the conditions were left at my discretion, except for the number of people involved. I have it in writing. You must do this.” Lena rose from the back stairs and paced the yard while talking. “Elyse, please, please reconsider. I won’t back out on our agreement, but working with him—well, maybe Bobby needs to lean on him to make it happen. I can’t.” “No. You must do this,” she repeated. Lena sighed, shaking her head. “All right, I’ll try one more time with him, but if he won’t work with me, I won’t be able to do a damned thing about it. I hope you understand that.” “Of course, dear.” “How many people? What do you want, when, and where?” “It won’t be a society party. Just a few of my closest friends. Let’s say twenty-five. We’ll hold it in my home—I have a large dining room that will suit the occasion perfectly. Are you free tomorrow night at eight?” Mentally, she waved goodbye to her first free weekend in months. At least, she’d have Sunday off. “Okay. Saturday night, eight. What do you want to serve?” “Jackson should create the appetizers and take care of the drinks. I want you to make tea sandwiches and light deserts, except for the cake. The two of you will bake and decorate the cake together. No words on it, though. That’s declassé.” “What?” Lena yelped. “Jackson can’t bake for squat, at least compared to me. And have you forgotten that he probably won’t work with me? Why are you demanding that he help me with the cake?” “Not ‘help,’ dear. Co-create. I insist on it.” “Elyse, forgive me, but this plan sounds really dumb. Why are you forcing me into this?”

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“I told you. It’s not me; it’s Bobby. Please be a sweetheart and go along. Besides,” she added, “Jackson’s already said yes.” Lena lost her grip on her soda and nearly dropped her phone. “He has?” ___________________ “No! That’s final.” “Aw, Jackson, you know you’d enjoy it,” Bobby said. “You need to be coaxed like a shy virgin? You need more money?” “I’d do the job by myself for free because you’re my best friend, but no amount of money could convince me to work with Psycho Dream Woman again. I’d rather stick my hand in a whirling food processor.” “Who?” Jackson rubbed his face, scowling. “Lena. That’s just my affectionate name for her.” “But she’s already agreed to work with you. You two are gonna bake a cake together.” “Oh, God, not a cake. I’ll be reduced to gofer status while she creates.” “Won’t that keep her off your back? She works, you fetch. Besides, just a few weeks ago, you were so hot for her that you were sweating the fact that you’d run out after sex because you took that call from your lawyer. Remember the night we fought over the Scotch, and how I suggested massive amounts of flowers and candy to soothe any ruffled feathers on her part?” “My nose hurt for days,” Jackson muttered. “Yeah, well, tough. So did my jaw. And you started it. What happened to your plan to win her back?” “I woke up with a monster hangover but a clearer head. The woman’s refusal to work with me, for no damned reason that made sense to anyone but her, was the sole explanation for all my troubles. Because of her, A, the food became

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contaminated, and B, I got sued. For a few days, anyway.” “And thank God that little prick Bradley’s plan backfired on him. The FBI arrested him and his cohorts, and you were cleared one hundred percent.” “I say, thank God one of the rats turned on the others and confessed all to the Feds. If you’re pissed at the guys who run the place you work, you get another job, or report them if they’re doing something illegal. You don’t poison the entire board, hoping to kill a few. Jesus, what wackos.” “You can be sure Bradley’s no longer on my Christmas card list. But I never understood why he wanted both of you to cater.” Jackson rubbed his neck. “Way I understand it, he figured the two of us would distract each other with our bickering while he did the poisoning. Or something idiotic like that. What I can’t believe is that the CEO’s administrative assistant was the one who masterminded the whole thing and bought the salmonella, let alone that she and Bradley were knocking boots.” “Yeah, she’s a hottie with a number on her prison duds now. Personally, I don’t know what she saw in the toad, either. But back to Lena, whom you’re now free to have. What’s wrong with you, boy? The best woman who ever came into your life wants you, and you’re holding a little thing like a canceled lawsuit against her?” “There’s also the fact that she single-handedly killed Yankee Elegance Catering.” Jackson crossed his arms, staring at the floor, the emotions flooding through him throwing him off-balance. He did want her. Why didn’t he do something about it? Bobby snorted. “You’ve been cleared. Public apologies have been made. You even locked up a grateful UniMed’s catering business for the next decade. Your business is hardly dead.”

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“Maybe I don’t want to be in the catering business any more. Maybe I want to move someplace else, get a fresh start.” “You’re the biggest ass I’ve seen since I left Harvard. Where the hell are you going to move, and what will you do when you get there?” “I have no intention of apologizing to her, the person who screwed up my life. I have my pride,” Jackson huffed. “What pride? You don’t have any worth saving if it means missing your chance with Lena.” Bobby paused. “I almost forgot—it’s tomorrow night at eight. You don’t have plans, do you?” “No,” Jackson sighed. “No plans.” “Thanks, buddy. I appreciate what you’re doing. You bring appetizers and all the drinks, both booze and nonalcoholic. You know my tastes, and Elyse’s are pretty much the same. I’ll see you at her home tomorrow night.” “Can’t you sweet-talk her into hiring only one of us? Hell, I wouldn’t begrudge Lena the business. Why is this important to Elyse?” “Who knows? Women—go figure. But she won’t agree to the party under any other circumstances.” “I know when I’m licked. All right. Damned women,” Jackson said, deciding once more that they were to blame for all the messes in his life. “Bring those kickass spicy chicken things of yours. Otherwise, I trust your judgment to serve good eats. Don’t forget the Veuve Clicquot and Glenfiddich.” “You said I know your tastes, and I do. Relax. I’ll give you the best party I can and restrain myself from stuffing Psycho Dream Woman in a closet until it’s over.” But can I resist taking her over my knee? Can I resist making love to her until we both scream with pleasure? Bobby sketched a wave while he left the condo. “Thanks, buddy. See ya.”

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Jackson tightened his lips into a thin line and banged his fist on a nearby table, thinking maybe he should knock his forehead against the wall. Lena would probably welcome the chance to do it for him. Not only was the woman certifiable, she probably hated him now. Hadn’t he run away from her after sex, the way she had with him? Reasons why he’d done so didn’t matter. The reasons why don’t matter in either case. We both did the same thing. The realization hit him harder than Bobby’s fist had the night he got drunk on Scotch. He had some work to do, so he picked up the phone. ___________________ Why did Elyse force me into this idiotic situation? How the hell are Jackson and I going to create a cake together? Get to work. Plan the sandwiches, cookies, and cake. Plot a schedule from now until eight tomorrow night. Go, girl. Work is calling. Work’s always been your salvation, so just do it. Lena raised her face from her arms and sat up straight at the kitchen table, counting on her disciplined approach to jobs to carry her through the next thirty hours or so. The conversation with Jackson hadn’t been too awful. Tomorrow at noon she’d bring ingredients and bakeware and the two of them would bake a cake. It would be easy as, well, cake. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. “Lena,” Annie sang, banging the front screen door behind her, “what’s up? Why aren’t you sitting outside on the most beautiful day of the year?” On her way to taking a seat opposite her sister, she snagged a piece of shortbread cooling on the counter. “Hey, that’s for tomorrow night’s gig. Hands off.”

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“What gig? I thought we had the entire weekend off. Sugar Buns and I planned a day in Rockport. The weather’s supposed to last until Monday.” Lena rolled her eyes at Annie’s pet name for Ricky. “Please call him Ricky in my presence. I have enough trouble dealing with the fact that he shares your bed just one floor below me.” “Okay, Wicked Witch.” “That’s not funny. Be quiet for ten seconds, will you? The gig tomorrow night will be a joint venture between Yankee Elegance and SweetKakes. On top of that, Jackson and I have to make a cake together. Heaven help us both.” “I can see why you don’t appear thrilled to cater this party.” “How did you know it was a party? I hadn’t told you that yet.” “Lucky guess. You mentioned cake. So who, when, where, et cetera?” “Engagement party, Elyse and Bobby, at her mansion, tomorrow night, eight P.M.” “They’re getting married? Cool.” “We provide tea sandwiches and one or two dessert-type things, Yankee Elegance provides appetizers and booze. As I already said, he and I have to make the cake together.” “How can they enforce it, Lena? You and Jackson could always agree to your making the cake and keeping it a secret.” “If it were a party for a stranger, I’d consider that. But Elyse asked me. She’s done us a few good turns. A ton of motor vehicle in the garage reminds me of the magnitude of her generosity. I couldn’t lie to her about granting her request.” “I guess you’re stuck. Do you have a plan of attack yet? I don’t mean attacking Jackson, by the way.” Lena grinned. “Thanks for reminding me not to assault him. It’ll be touch-and-go to restrain myself tomorrow.”

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“What do you want me to do?” “Start baking bread for the tea sandwiches. I’ll pick up the produce and baby shrimp tomorrow morning. I’ve made shortbread. What else should we serve, besides that and the stupid cake?” “How about a plain dark chocolate cookie, not too sweet, along with a fruit and cheese plate? The cake will be yellow with white icing, simple stuff, right?” “If I have to make it with Jackson, we’d better stick to simple.” “Think anyone might catch salmonella tomorrow night?” Annie ducked as Lena threw the newspaper at her. “That is soooo not funny, girl.” ___________________ Jackson checked his watch for the tenth time. He’d finished everything except the last-minute preparations and the cake. Lena had said she’d arrive at noon, and it was now a whole four minutes past. She was late. Not that he’d be enough of a jerk to call her on it. He walked across the floor to open the door. It was a beautiful day, and she’d probably arrive— A blur of t-shirt, denim, arms and legs blindsided him, and groceries seemed to be flying about via mysterious powers. He barely managed to stay upright as she fell forward, driving him back into a nearby counter. “Lena!” His arms closed around her. “Are you all right?” She gazed into his eyes, and he was undone. Both of us are already breathing hard from the surprise. Might as well go for it.

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Chapter Twenty-Five As Jackson lowered his head to kiss Lena, she slipped from his grasp, wailing, “The eggs! Two dozen broken eggs. I hope you have some.” Eggs. He blinked. The cake. “Yes, my fridge has plenty of eggs. Don’t worry.” He watched her push strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face. “Didn’t you see me leaning against the door?” she said with a frown. “Do you think I opened it just so you’d fall? I didn’t look first to see if you were there—I opened it so that I could look. Why were you leaning against it?” “Oh, never mind.” Her voice carried an edge, sweeping away the few hopes he had left. “If you have eggs, shall we start?” Damn. It was just as well, he guessed. Anyway, hadn’t he decided to give up on her? “I see you’ve already brought out the bowls and mixers,” Lena said. “I need measuring cups and spoons, and the eggs need to be near room temperature, so pull them out of the fridge now. While I mix the dough, would you mind cleaning up the egg mess?” He saw broken shells, viscous whites and runny yolks taking up a good-sized portion of the floor as if for the first time. “Sprinkle salt on the egg whites. They’ll clean up more easily,” she said. “I know,” he snapped. “I’m not an idiot, and I didn’t start catering yesterday.” He tidied up while Lena measured dry ingredients silently, her back stiff and turned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said after a few moments. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I was only trying to help.” “Forget it,” he said. “I apologize for jumping on you. Maybe I should go out somewhere while you

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bake. We always seem to get on each other’s nerves.” “No, we’re supposed to do this together,” she said primly. “Miss-Play-by-the-Rules, haven’t you figured out yet that this ‘requirement’ is only a trick to push us together? I’m certain it’s the only reason Elyse insisted on it.” She stilled for a moment before turning to face him. “Elyse? I thought it was Bobby who wanted both of us.” He felt the corners of his mouth turning up against his will. “Well, isn’t that interesting. I wonder if anyone is actually getting engaged tonight?” Her grin grew to match his. “Pretty silly, isn’t it? Did they really think they’d fool us?” “We’re too smart to fall for such an obvious ploy,” he said. “Absolutely.” Her eyes were soft and inviting, and he basked in her sudden warmth. “Hey, can I help?” “Probably not. Cakes aren’t your strong suit, as I recall. That’s why you used to buy them from me and the baker in Holden.” “I still buy from her.” “I didn’t need to know that,” Lena said while beginning work on the wet ingredients. “And why not? Are you jealous?” Jackson teased. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, so he walked around until he could see her expression. “You are jealous, aren’t you?” “Sort of,” she sighed. “Silly, isn’t it? To be jealous of your buying baked goods from another woman?” “Actually, I can understand it. I don’t like to think of you merging with any other caterer.” Jackson hopped onto a nearby counter to sit and talk while she worked.

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“We’re quite a pair,” she said. “We’re actually a lot alike. Why don’t we try that friends thing again?” he asked. “Okay,” she nodded. “That might work. But no sex.” “Agreed. No sex. It complicates things. I’d rather have you for a friend, anyway,” he said, while inside a small voice snorted, Yeah, right, I really believe that one. “Me, too.” She worked for a moment before saying, “Watch how I mix the wet ingredients into the dry ones. If you do it just right, the cake comes out of the oven with a fine, tender crumb and the flavors perfectly married.” He’d moved in close to view her technique, and sensed a familiar tingle when he brushed his hand against hers. “Married?” he asked. “The cake, Jackson. We’re talking about the cake.” Her cleared throat belied her casual words. “Would you please find my pans? They’re somewhere in that bag of stuff, over there,” she said as she pointed. Her voice, normally low-pitched and somewhat husky, squeaked. He hated to leave her side–she smelled like flowers and vanilla –but the temptation to touch her was about to overpower him. He fetched the pans, placing them on the counter. “What would you like me to do next?” he breathed, standing a little closer than he knew he should. ___________________ Do next? Do me, that’s what I want you to do next. Lena refused to look into his eyes. “Well, uh, you could grease the pans with butter. You did preheat the oven, right?” “Yes. I know to do that much.” “Set at 350?”

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“Uh, no. Let me turn it down. I have it on 375.” He moved across the room to the ovens. She breathed a sigh of relief that he was no longer hovering near. The oven wasn’t the only thing hot in the room. “It’s time to put the cake in. I’ll set the timer,” she said. Once she’d done so, she walked the room aimlessly, her heart ambivalent even though she wanted him. “How much time?” he asked. “I’ll check them at thirty minutes, but it will probably take closer to forty. You’ve checked your ovens, right, to ensure the temperature settings are accurate?” “Of course. They’re close to perfect.” “In that case,” she said, “what do we do now?” “Drink something cold and talk? What else is there to do?” His eye contact made her back up a half-step. Oh my, how she wanted him. Her entire body felt as if it were in the oven with the cake. “We could make the frosting, but we’ll have plenty of time to do that while the layers cool,” she answered, unable to keep from staring at him. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” he asked. “Wh–what?” His joke made her heart pound harder. She was going to die of desire. “Hey, my office is cooler. Let’s grab something cold to drink from the fridge and relax in there.” Both of them picked up a cold bottle, he, a water, she, a soda. “Hey, I didn’t know you liked root beer,” she said. “I don’t. But you do,” he said. He’s now stocking soda I like that he doesn’t? Hmmm. Following him to the office, she felt a little better, a little safer, with an entire desk separating them. He sat behind it while she took the visitor’s chair on the other side. The silence between them

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stretched out uncomfortably. With nothing else to do, she finished her soda in record time. “Well,” he said, “what have you been up to?” “Jobs have been plentiful. Annie has a walking cast now. I painted my room. I’m jogging on a regular basis. And you?” “Many jobs. Been playing tennis three mornings a week with Bobby. You’d never think to look at him that he’s a killer player.” “You’re right. I never would have guessed. He looks more like a linebacker.” “You like football?” He leaned towards her across the desk, a spark in his eyes. “More than tennis. Watch the Patriots whenever I can manage it, which isn’t all the time. I turn down catering jobs every time they play in the Super Bowl. Win or lose, no way I miss watching them.” Her grin felt like it was stretching her face to its limits. “About time, eh? And how about the Red Sox in 2004, winning the World Series and reversing the curse?” “I have to confess, I didn’t believe they’d do it. I remember sitting in front of the television, saying out loud, “They did it. The sons of bitches actually did it.” He laughed. “I’ll admit I didn’t believe until almost the end. But I’m more of a football fan. Hey, one of the few things I have left from my father is a pair of season tickets for the Patriots. He paid for them in advance at least twenty years into the future, and now they’re mine. Want to go see a game some time?” She nodded. “That would be fun. But I might not be able to commit until the last minute. Work, you know.” “I understand how work could upset plans at the last minute.” She leaned back in her chair, and he settled into his. Tick, tock. How much time did that bland

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conversation kill? When was the cake going to be done? Waiting made her antsy. She stole a glance at Jackson. He appeared to be studying the grubby ceiling tiles. “I’m going to take a look at the cake,” she said, standing. Anything to break the tension. “It hasn’t been thirty minutes yet.” “I know,” she replied, leaving the room, sensing that he was following her. She turned on the lights in the ovens rather than opening the doors to check the cake. “Looks all right. I’ll check again in five minutes.” “Lena, will you just sit somewhere for a moment?” She sat. His eyes caught hers and held them. This was not going to be a light-hearted conversation about sports. Her mouth felt full of sand. “I can’t continue this charade any longer,” he said. “Charade?” She squirmed as he moved closer. “That I can be friends with you.” Her heart twisted in pain, and her eyes filled. “We can’t be friends? You don’t like me?” she choked. He crouched to bring himself down to her level, eyes boring into hers. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t find the strength to do so. Electricity was singing between them. “I like you. In fact, I think I love you. I need you in my life. It’s not going to work as ‘just friends.’ I want you too much. I want you as my lover, my partner. Quite possibly as my wife.” He held both her hands between his. “Can you ever forgive me for taking a frickin’ phone call and running out on you that night? I should have stayed, and when I didn’t, I should have apologized the next day. I should have brought you the goddamned moon as a present. I was an ass not to. Please say you’ll forgive me?”

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She pulled her hands away before jumping up to pace. Now what? You want the man. You love the man. It’s time to put up or shut up, girl. The timer went off, making them both jump. Wordlessly, she checked the layers for doneness, electing to leave them in the ovens five more minutes. From the corner of her eye, she could see Jackson fidgeting. An image from the fiftieth wedding anniversary party she’d catered recently overcame her: the happy couple, a little weathered-looking and bent, but dancing to their song as if they were twenty again. The strains of “Come Rain or Come Shine” swirled through her memory as she recalled their glow, how their eyes were only on each other after fifty years of marriage. She wanted that, too. But she’d never have it, if she didn’t take the step she needed to, here and now. She’d never been a coward, and she’d succeeded in life each time others expected her to fail. So why was she hesitating to grab the happiness Jackson was offering her? Misunderstanding her silence, he said, “You know, you ran out on me, and then I ran out on you. We’re two of a kind, Karolena Astrid Korhonen—stubborn and quick to lose our tempers and not very trusting. But I want to trust you. Will you trust me?” The timer buzzed again. Still silent, she moved the cakes to an area where they could cool slowly. As tears began to run down her face, she turned to him. “Jackson, I– “ “Oh my God, why are you crying? Somehow I’ve ruined it again.” He sank into a chair, his expression as forlorn as an abandoned little boy. “No, Jackson, you misunderstand.” She couldn’t stop her sobs. “Then what’s wrong?”

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“I want to dance with you after fifty years to our favorite song. I want a lifetime of love and devotion. I want children with you. I want you. I–I think I love you, too,” she sobbed. He rushed to her. “So why are you crying?” he said, smoothing her wet cheeks with a light touch. “Because I’m so happy!” she wailed. Through her tears, she could see him beaming. “Women,” he said with a grin. “Does this mean you want to merge?” Drawing herself up despite her tears, she stated firmly, “Jackson MacDougal Portsmouth, don’t you dare insult me by talking business at a time like this.” “Oh, I wasn’t talking about merging our businesses,” he said, grabbing her around the waist. “I have a much more personal merger in mind. Right after I take down your panties and tan your behind.” “What have I done now?” she asked, sniffling and smiling. “Oh,” he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll think of a reason by the time I find a nice, fat spatula. One with holes, to heighten your distress.” Jackson found one, took her hand, and pulled her to a chair. She fell across his knees, her heart thudding against her chest as he took down her cutoffs and panties. Then, the sweet sting of the spatula had her kicking and squirming. Again and again the utensil fell, the shocking burn loosening her tongue. “Jackson, please, whatever I did, I’m sorry, please, oh, it hurts!” she cried, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “Oh, please, love, please, without a warm-up, the burning from that spatula’s unbearable!” “Does it smart something awful?” he asked, walloping her extra-hard twice. “Yes,” she wailed. “Owie, owie, owie!”

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Tears puddled on the floor as the spatula left painful impressions on her sit-spot. Lena yowled. And she’d thought the cane and wooden spoon were the worst she could experience. How wrong she’d been! The spatula had her squealing like a stuck pig from the very first swat. “No, nooo,” she moaned as he worked on her thighs. “No, not the thighs! Oh, God, how will I ever sit later?” He chuckled. “With discomfort, my love. With lots of discomfort. Now, stop kicking, or I’m going to use the wooden spoon, too. Or the cane. Want six with the cane?” “God, no!” she wailed. “Nonono! Pleasepleaseplease, no!” “Okay, you win.” But it didn’t feel like a win, not to Lena, as the spatula continued to brand her thighs and bottom. She felt like she was sitting on a red-hot stove, but the fight was leaving her. No longer kicking or struggling, she wailed, accepting her discipline until, at long last, he finished. The spanking ended, and his hands started stroking her sitting area, soothing the smarting. Eager for him, Lena moaned, opening her legs. “Not yet, my love,” he said, standing her up. Her head spun as his tongue entered her mouth, his hands already under her t-shirt, hot on her body. Her own fingers were frantically searching for skin, tugging on his waistband’s button, fumbling with the zipper. She pushed him away for a moment, devouring his face with her eyes, growling, “I want you. I want you now.” He swept her up in his arms, holding her close as he carried her to a nearby table. “This will only take a moment,” he whispered just before he cleared the surface with one long sweep of his arm. “But, but,” she stammered. “Your business stuff is all over the floor now.”

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“Don’t insult me by talking business at a time like this,” he said, laughing. He grabbed the hem of her shirt, sending it and her bra flying. Before she could blink twice, she was standing naked before him. He dipped his mouth to a breast, sucking intently. Waves of heat and icy shivers shot straight to her groin, and as his fingertips began to play there; she pulled away, tearing off his shirt. Her hands unzipped and pushed his jeans down with an urgency she never knew she possessed. Sitting on the edge of the desk, she gasped his name and pulled her legs apart. One of his hands touched her with assurance, not roughly, but no longer tentative and gentle. It felt as if her entire body were vibrating. Her hands sought him and found him deliciously hard. She stroked and tugged while his fingers inside her drove her mad. He drew her to him, kissing her so deeply she could barely breathe. She felt him nudging between her thighs, moving, sliding inside her, in and out and around in circles. Her hips met his with equal vigor as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Their lovemaking grew steadily faster, driving both of them to the edge. While they moved as one, his fingers touched her. Moments later, her world exploded with thrills. Pleasure had barely begun arching her back when Jackson cried out, thrusting deeply inside her. As contentment slowly replaced sensation, they quieted, embracing each other as ripples of fading ecstasy echoed through their bodies. “Oh, God, Sweetcakes, I love you,” Jackson moaned in her ear, holding her as if afraid she’d run away if he loosened his hold. “Can I call you Sweetcakes, Lena? It feels so right.” “I love you, too, Jackson,” she breathed. “Yes, please call me Sweetcakes—it was my mother’s pet name for me. That’s where Annie and I got the name for our company.” She shifted in his arms,

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searching his face with her eyes. “I want you to prove your love to me.” “Absolutely. But how?” he asked. “Simple,” she murmured. “Do what you just did to me one more time, as soon as possible. Including the spanking part.” Before he kissed her again, he held her chin in his hand, grinning into her eyes. “I’ve always liked the way your mind works.” ___________________ Jackson pulled up outside the front door of Elyse Winterbottom’s enormous home. Grasping Lena’s hand and squeezing it, he said, “You ready for this?” “Never readier in my life. This is going to be fun.” The two of them set about bringing the food to the dining room. They’d almost finished setting up when Elyse, Bobby, Ricky, and Annie walked into the room. “Congratulations on your engagement,” Lena called, poking her elbow into Jackson’s side. He grabbed her hand, keeping it a secret by pulling it behind her back. “Oh, we’re not getting engaged, dear. Ricky and Annie are,” Elyse said. “Show your sister your ring.” Annie giggled, sticking out her left hand, adorned with a ring they’d obviously found in a quarter vending machine. Lena rolled her eyes before she hugged the happy couple. “I’m glad you’re not wasting money on diamonds at this point in your penniless lives. Congratulations.” “Is there anything you want to tell us?” Annie responded, eyeing the couple. “I think all of you have something to tell us first, like the real reason this party was thrown, and why it required both of us to do it. The six of us seem to be the only guests,” he said, gazing on each of the guilty parties in turn. “Fess up. This was all a ruse to bring Lena and me together, wasn’t it?”

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Bobby laughed. “You figured it out. I kinda thought you would. Did it work?” Jackson smiled, grabbed Lena and bent her backwards, kissing her thoroughly. When he finally let her stand up, her flushed face spoke volumes. Then, he whacked her bottom as hard as he could with his hand. Lena’s eyes went big, and she jumped. “Yikes! Honey, I’m sore!” Elyse arched her eyebrows. “It certainly appears that our plan worked.” Bobby whacked her bottom, and Elyse’s eyes bugged out, too. As did Annie’s, when Ricky smacked the center of her sit-spot. Jackson raised his voice, so all could hear him, but his attention focused solely on Lena. “Although we’re not yet officially engaged, I plan to be this baker’s man for a good, long time.” “Woo-hoo!” yelled Annie. “Let’s eat!” “But let’s not sit while we do,” Lena said, her hands rubbing her bottom. ___________________ Two years later “How do I look?” Lena asked in her fussiest voice. “You look mahvelous, dahlink. Don’t worry,” Annie said. “I’m big as a house, and I look terrible.” Lena sighed. “Ignore me. It’s your day. Who cares that the matron of honor is eight and three-quarters months pregnant? The important thing is your happiness, Sis,” she said as she awkwardly hugged her sister, lovely and pale in creamy satin and lace. “Though I wish you’d lose that burgundy hair dye. Your natural strawberry-blonde color is beautiful.” “Ricky likes my hair.” Annie looked in the mirror, adjusting her headpiece. “I think it looks bitchin’.” “Yeah, well, I’m glad his hair isn’t parrot-green any more. Who wants wedding pictures where the groom’s hair is practically glowing, it’s so bright?”

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Annie pulled her sister to her tightly. “Stop it, you old control-freak, you, and listen to me. Thank you for everything, and I do mean everything. I’m so happy, and I owe it all to you.” Lena blinked back sudden tears as she hugged her sister as hard as she could. “No, I owe my happiness to you. If you hadn’t pushed and prodded me, I might never have married Jackson last year. Now, tell me the truth, was that silly fakeengagement party all your idea? The whole plan had ‘Annie’ written all over it, I think.” “Maybe,” she grinned. Elyse stuck her head in the room. “Lena, it’s time. Come now.” She turned to Annie and squeezed her sister’s hands. “Good luck. I love you.” “I love you more,” Annie whispered, smiling. “Now get out of here before you make me cry and ruin my makeup.” “Thank God for waterproof mascara,” Lena said. Lena walked down the aisle, the same aisle she’d traveled to marry Jackson. It was a space created in Elyse’s exquisite back yard, with ribbons and flowers marking where to walk and stand. Ancient New England sugar maples, their fall oranges and reds brilliant in the October sun, overhung the wedding area. She’d never have chanced an outdoor wedding in the fall, but Annie had insisted, and her day was warm with a cloudless blue sky. Lena took her place opposite her husband, smiling into his eyes. He winked back at her. Her husband—Jackson MacDougal Portsmouth. The words tasted good in her mouth. He simply took her breath away, and he always would. The baby kicked. Placing her hand on her belly, Lena mused over what the child would be named. Both of them wanted a surprise, so they’d chosen not to know the baby’s sex beforehand. If it were a girl, she’d be called Susannah Olga Portsmouth,

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Susannah in honor of Jackson’s mother, and Olga in honor of Lena’s and Annie’s mother. If the baby turned out to be a boy, then his name would be Edward Korhonen Portsmouth, Edward in honor of Jackson’s father. Annie seemed to glide down the aisle, taking her place next to a nervous-looking but visibly happy Ricky. For the thousandth time, Lena thanked her lucky star, Venus, who had come through for both her and Annie after years of wishes. She felt an odd, grabbing sensation inside. The baby certainly was active today. She did her best to ignore it. However, by the end of the ceremony, she knew it wasn’t simple activity causing the pains. “Oh. OH!” she cried as she entered the reception space, clutching Jackson close to her and huffing her breath quickly. “I think we have to go now.” “What do you mean? We just–oh,” Jackson said. “Now? Are you sure, Lena?” “As sure as I am that you’re the baker’s man,” she replied as he helped her to the vehicle that would carry three of them home in a few short days.

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