Naked Ambition

Realizing she’d drifted, her fingers tightened around the phone receiver. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, putting Joe on speaker phone, so she could put down the receiver and drink her brandy. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m worried.” His voice floated into the air, husky with concern. “Uh…how much are you drinking, if you don’t mind my asking?”

She leaned toward the phone. “Just some brandy. Why?”

“You sound…a little funny.”

“You’re on speaker. Maybe that’s why.”

He offered a noncommittal grunt.

Thankfully the brandy was starting to blunt the pain, so she took another sip. “Sorry,” she apologized again. “It’s hard to be here…”

“Then don’t wait for the awards ceremony to come back. Or let me come there. I want to hold you, Susannah.”

He sounded so close. “I know,” she managed. But she needed to be alone. She’d lost her folks as suddenly as J.D., and now Banner Manor seemed full of ghosts. More so, since storms were rocking the bayou.

Banner Manor lacked central air, and although there were window units, Susannah kept opening the windows. Outside, shadowy trees came alive at night, and alone in the dark, in the bed she’d shared with J.D. for years, she’d awaken in a cold sweat, hearing spooky sounds, then jumping from bed and heading for the window. She’d stare at the lightning, letting rain splash her cheeks like tears. And sometimes, she could swear she saw intruders on the lawn, but no one was there.

Back in bed, she’d shut her eyes and let scents from summer foliage transport her to recollections of physical pleasure she and J.D. could never share again. She’d cup her own breasts, imagining J.D. was touching her, then glide a hand down her belly and between her legs. Slowly she’d stroke, twining her fingers into her own soft curls until, in a haze of half sleep, she’d believe J.D. was touching her. Dampness would flood her and she’d arch, lifting her hips from the mattress just as she felt his tongue circle the shell of her ear. As she climbed higher, squeezing her eyes shut, she’d press her fingers inside, pretending they were J.D.’s hard cock, and then she’d hear his seductive whisper. “Oh, Susannah, how about a little magic? Do you want to play a game of scarves and cards? Hats and rabbits?”

Suddenly, she blinked, realizing Joe was still talking. “Uh…what?”

“I asked if your sister, June, had been there today.”

“Not today.” Susannah leaned toward the phone once more as she took another sip of brandy. “Her husband’s folks came in for the funeral and wound up staying, so she’s busy. And anyway, I’ve got things under control.”

“Do you?”

“Sure,” she said, but grief had overwhelmed her. Hours passed, during which she was lost to memories and couldn’t fully account for time. Everything felt unreal, like she was watching a movie, or reading a book. She kept expecting J.D. to jump out from behind a curtain and tell her this was a big joke.

“If you really don’t want me to keep you company, Tara asked me to go to Chicago with her. Just as friends, of course,” Joe clarified. “She thinks I can help her negotiate a better deal with the club owner if her audition works out.”

“That’s sweet of you…”

“But?”

“Oh, I do miss you, Joe,” she admitted. Dammit, Ellie was right. Susannah needed to let go of what was no longer possible. J.D. was never coming back, no matter what Mama Ambrosia said. “If you go, will you be back for the awards ceremony?”

“Sure. But right now, my bags are packed and by the door, and I wish you’d let me come see you. Wondering when I’ll see you again is torture. When I shut my eyes, I have a vision of you that just won’t quit, Susannah. Right now, I can picture every inch of you. I love your body, how soft your eyes look. I can feel your arms around my neck, your long legs gliding against mine…”

She swallowed guiltily. “I know, Joe—”

“No you don’t,” he interjected, sounding frustrated. “Give us a try. That’s all I’m asking. I know you want me. And I want you. Your mouth’s so hot.” Words were coming in a flood now. “I can’t wait to cover it with mine again. I want to crush your lips, feel my tongue inside.”

His voice caught and his breath turned shallow. “I…think about your breasts. How they move under your top, Susannah…just like your hips when you walk on those milelong legs. Sometimes, when you’re in the walk-in cooler at your restaurant, I notice your nipples get tight under your shirt.” Sucking in an audible breath, he said, “Susannah, I get hard just thinking about you, about the things we’ve already shared…”

“I know. I—”

“No you don’t,” he repeated. “He’s gone, Susannah. And I don’t want to hurt you or sound mean, but you were breaking up with J.D., anyway. You and your husband had been separated the better part of the year. I know you’re grieving, but it’s not right for you to be alone. Not when so many people care about you. Let me come there now. Or…”

“Or what?”

“I can’t keep waiting, Susannah.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she said. But she was, wasn’t she? He wasn’t trying to pressure her, but he wanted her, and she was so lonely. Definitely, she wasn’t used to not having a man. It had been so long…

“Okay,” she murmured, the brandy thickening her speech. “Come to Bayou Banner now, and we can fly back to New York together in a few days for to the awards ceremony.”

“I’ll be there before you know it,” he said quickly.

Suddenly all her deepest recesses ached. God, how she craved to feel strong arms wrapping tightly around her back, and a man’s rock-hard, hairy chest pressing against her breasts. She yearned to feel the heat of his searing, blistering mouth when it covered her lips. Already she could feel his thighs straining against hers. She deserved relief from all this sadness and grief. She deserved release.

“I’m on my way,” he said. And then, as if afraid she might change her mind, he whispered a quick goodbye and the line went dead.

As the dial tone filled the air, she recradled the receiver and started. Something sounded by the window! Her feet moving of their own accord, she crossed swiftly to the French doors and stared into the darkness. “Nothing,” she whispered. Closing the doors, then the windows, she stared outside and gasped.

There! A white flash between trees. As it vanished, her heart hammered, making the pulse at her neck throb.

“Probably a stray dog,” she murmured. Or all the brandy. “Yes, it’s just my imagination.” Shaking off the uneasy feeling by reminding herself that she’d felt jumpy since the funeral, she glanced at the pile of J.D.’s fan mail and the sympathy cards that had flooded the post office. Some of the letters had been written before J.D. died, and she wasn’t surprised that so many woman claimed to be in love with him. Some offered to leave their husbands, or included risque pictures.

She lifted a sympathy card, addressed to her.

Dear Susannah,

If it wasn’t for your husband’s music, I never could have forgiven my man for his two-timing last year. But your husband’s new record, Songs for Susannah, is so touching. And I knew my husband loved me the way your husband loved you. Now, ever since I let my man come back home, wearing that hangdog expression, he’s stayed as straight as an arrow. Your man sang like an angel, and so many of his songs were about getting a second chance. Because of that, he helped a lot of people, and I just wanted you to know how he saved our marriage. He will be missed by the whole world.

Susannah wasn’t going to get another chance. An unexpected tear splashed down her cheek. “Is this any way to get in the mood for Joe?” she muttered. She had to quit reading these letters and let go of the past.

The second most-sexy man she’d ever met had plans for her…all of which included sex. She needed to forget self-recriminations, as well as past anger that could never be resolved. “For once, enjoy yourself,” she said. It had been a long time since she’d let herself feel good.

“I’ll take a long bath, then make the bed with the silk sheets. I’ll slip into a negligee, too,” she decided. “Then hunt down candles and oils.”

Joe had been wanting her for months, and two weeks ago she’d known it was high time she slept with him. Now, she tried to tell herself, nothing had changed. J.D. was gone, but her sex life wasn’t over.

Knowing Joe, he’d make that plane, too. Which left her just enough time to spruce up. By the time he let himself in with his key, she’d be in bed waiting.

Chapter Four

“WHAT SAY WE MAKE some magic, oh, Susannah?” J.D. whispered. “Maybe a little of our own bayou voodoo?” It was too dark to see him, but in the dream, his voice came from the foot of the bed as he curled his big hands around her feet. Playing musical instruments had strengthened his fingers, and the pads of his thumbs massaged deeply, rubbing dazzling circles. Long fingers dipped between each toe, stroking sensitive skin. Susannah tilted her chin up, her head, into the freshly laundered silk pillows.

Lifting both hands, she gripped the headboard of the brass bed where she and J.D. had made love so many times, then released a heartfelt sigh. “That feels good,” she moaned.

Yes, only J.D.’s touch possessed the uncanny ability to always transport her to faraway places. With just a flick of a finger, he’d made the night vanish—the hooting owls and rustling leaves, and the gurgling creek and tree branches that traced the windowpanes.

The incredible feelings of her beloved touching her, made her crazy for his kisses. Nothing mattered, not when he was shifting his huge, warm, hands to the tops of her ankles, then casually kneading his way upward, palming her calves, smoothing her bare skin, penetrating the muscles.

“Concentrate very hard on what I’m doing, Susannah.” His voice—a slow, sugary drawl that had thrilled millions of women around the world—lowered, becoming barely audible, his tone teasingly seductive. “Are you concentrating?”