Page 10 of I Dream of Danger
How he heated her blood.
She had to memorize this effect he had on her, because it wasn’t coming back, not without Nick. She knew herself that well, at least. This was her one shot at feeling sexual desire and it would leave when he left.
Everything about her was aroused. Her skin. It was super sensitive—the small hairs on her forearms and on the nape of her neck prickled against her sweater. Even the lightest touch against her clothes seemed to burn her skin. It was hard to breathe, as if oxygen had suddenly mutated into a liquid. She had to concentrate to keep her lungs filled.
The biggies. Her breasts, never large, now felt immense and heavy. Her nipples brushed against the cotton of her bra. Between her thighs—that unmistakable feeling of heaviness and heat and emptiness she had when she woke up from ordinary dreams of Nick.
The changes in her body excited her and scared her. Excited her because, well, heat and pleasure were novelties. She’d been cold and hollow for a long time. These tingling sensations, as if her body were waking up after a long sleep—they were wonderful. They also scared her because as far as she knew, only Nick could make her feel this way.
But he was staying for dinner, or as much dinner as she could muster.
Take this second by second, she told herself. Enjoy every second.
She watched him as she dialed the number. Jenny herself answered. She had a soft spot for them. Once, when she was a young girl, long before Elle had been born, the Judge had kept her out of trouble. Jenny herself had told her, the Judge had never said a word.
“Hey, hon.” Jenny’s smoky voice, as always, was warm. Elle could imagine her leaning against a wall on a cigarette break, short grey hair brushed back, long, lean, elegant frame slightly slouched. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make the funeral. We had to cater two luncheons. I’m really sorry, honey. If I’d had advance notice…but that’s not the nature of funerals, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” Elle smiled. Trust Jenny to say the exact right thing. No doubt in the days to come she’d have thousands of people apologizing for not coming, though in most cases it was simply that the Judge had fallen off their radar. He wasn’t off Jenny’s radar. If she’d been free, she would have come. “That’s okay, Jenny. Dad knows you loved him.”
“I surely did, hon. So what can I do for you? Can I send you a dinner over?”
Oh, bless her. “Yes, thank you. Today’s special.” She hesitated. “For two people.”
Jenny didn’t pry. “Two specials, you got it. I’ll send them over around seven, with a nice bottle of wine. All on the house.”
“Thank—” Elle stopped. It was an incredibly generous offer. Dinner would be at least $100, plus the wine and tips. But…that was the beginning of a long, slippery slope straight to hell.
So far, Elle had kept up appearances. No one came to the house anymore, so they wouldn’t notice that almost everything that could be sold had been sold. But Jenny knew, or suspected. If Elle started accepting charity now, it would snowball. The wives of former friends of her father would start sending over used clothes—just wore it a few times, Elle, sweetie, you’re welcome to it. Maids would start leaving casseroles on her front doorstep.
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Not to mention the fact that Jenny’s smoker’s voice came over loud and clear and Nick had undoubtedly heard every word.
She injected confidence in her voice. “That’s kind of you, Jenny, but not necessary. I’ll give the delivery boy my credit card. But thanks for the offer.”
She could barely look away from Nick’s dark eyes. It took her a moment to realize Jenny was taking a long time to answer.
Finally—”Okay, hon. That’s fine then. But the wine will be on the house.”
Yes. That was acceptable. A gesture of solidarity, not charity. “Thanks, Jenny.”
“I loved that old man,” Jenny replied, and Elle nearly broke down.
That was what her father had been. The kind of man other people loved because he’d done such good in the world.
“Yeah,” she whispered, forcing the word out, and broke the connection before she broke down.
She raised her eyes to Nick.
“I loved him, too,” he said quietly.
And that broke her. It was like a sharp punch straight to the heart. Reaching past skin and bone in a nearly fatal blow.
“Then why did you leave us?” she whispered, as tears began rolling down her face.
Chapter
Two
