The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) (17 page)

Maya smoothed a
hand down her stomach, eyeing her reflection critically. “You’re just saying that
because I’m your mother.”

“No, I’m totally
serious. Dr. T. is gonna, like, go wild over that dress.”

“You think?”

“Oh, yeah.”
Dierdre’s eyes widened and she nodded emphatically. “He totally digs your bod.”

“Dierdre, honestly.”
Maya paused and glanced at her daughter. “Really?”

“Yup. He got all
hot and bothered when I told him what you were gonna wear to the exhibition.”

“And you talked
to him about that when, young lady?”

“Oh, er, you
know.” Dierdre flipped over and stared at the ceiling. “When I went to his
office and invited him to come.”

Maya shook her
head. Curls bounced around her face and she whirled toward the mirror in a
panic. She and Dierdre had spent half an hour taming her hair into a chignon,
leaving some curls pulled out in strategic places to achieve a
sexy mama
look.

Dierdre
certainly had a way with words.

Maya brushed her
fingers over the stray curls and exhaled. Everything was in place, right where
it was supposed to be, but if she didn’t get ahold of herself, she’d never make
it through the evening in one piece.

“Besides,”
Dierdre said. “He doesn’t mind. I stop by all the time to chat with him.”

“Define all the
time.”

“Well, not,
like, every day or anything.”

“Dierdre, honey,
James is here to work.”

“I know.”
Dierdre rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her folded hands. “It’s
just, he’s nice and everything, and he likes to talk to me.”

The words were
soft spoken, her daughter’s voice small and thin. Dierdre was so independent,
so self-assured, it was easy to forget she was still young. Maya joined her
daughter on the bed and stroked a hand over the teenager’s braids. “Just don’t
make a nuisance of yourself. Now, what time are you going to the movies?”

They discussed
Dierdre’s plans for a night out with friends, and Maya reiterated the rules. Home
by ten or as soon as the movie let out if they went to a late show, no friends
inside the house, and cell phone set to vibrate or ring at all times. Dierdre
was a Daughter, true, but she was a
teenaged
Daughter. Not setting firm
limits tempted fate.

The doorbell
rang. Dierdre bounced off the bed and loped down the stairs. Maya followed at a
more leisurely pace, taking her time navigating the wooden steps. It had been a
while since she’d worn heels. She pressed a hand to the nerves dancing in her
stomach. It had been a while since she’d been on a date, too.

 She was a few
steps away from the foyer when James glanced up and saw her. His gaze drifted
slowly down her body and up again, scorching a trail of heat along her skin.
His eyes met hers, his so hot, a thrill shot through her. Dierdre had been right.
James
was
attracted to her, more than a little. How could Maya have
missed that?

He glanced away
and cleared his throat, and a hint of pink tinged his cheeks. He turned to
Dierdre and handed her a small, elaborately wrapped box. “For you.”

Dierdre’s eyes
widened. “Wow. Really?” She tore the wrapping off, revealing a box of expensive
chocolates. “Thanks, Dr. T.”

“You’re welcome,
kiddo.” James took Maya’s hand and helped her down the last few steps, then
handed her a bouquet of wildflowers. “These reminded me of you.”

Maya buried her
nose in the flowers, hiding a pleased smile. “Maybe I wanted the chocolates.”

He grinned and
tucked his hands into his pants pockets. “You’re teasing.”

“I am.”

“You do it so
rarely, sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

“I’ll have to do
it more often, then. Let me put these in water.”

“Take your
time.”

Maya walked into
the kitchen, one ear on Dierdre and James’ conversation. They seemed so
familiar with one another, casual even. She scrounged for a vase and filled it
with water. She’d have to ask him about that later, make sure Dierdre really
wasn’t bothering him. Her youngest could be a bit too persistent sometimes,
especially when she really wanted something. Maya set the flowers on the
kitchen table where the blooms would greet her each morning at breakfast and
worried on her lower lip. What could Dierdre possibly want from James?

* * *

Before she and
James left, Maya restated the rules for Dierdre’s night out one last time.

Dierdre rolled
her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I got it, Mom. Just give me a hug already.”

Maya tsked and
kissed her daughter’s cheek. “We won’t be late.”

“Geez, Mom. Be
late.” Dierdre hopped onto tiptoes and kissed James’ cheek. “But, you know, let
me know if you can’t make it home before bedtime.”

James grinned
and tugged one of Dierdre’s braids. “Ok, Mom.”

Dierdre shooed
them out, grinning madly as she shut the front door behind Maya and James.

He was dressed
exactly as she’d pictured him, in the sky blue shirt she liked with khaki
slacks and a navy blue sports jacket, the epitome of a college professor out
for a night on the town. He was clean shaven, his hair slightly damp from the
shower. As they settled into his car, she caught a whiff of woodsy cologne and
smiled.
Mmm
. A scent to get closer to.

He started the
car and pulled out onto the street. His radio was on, the volume low as the DJ
wound up a commercial and played a classic rock ballad. Maya crossed her legs
and folded her hands in her lap. “Where are we going?”

His eyes were
fixed on the road as they cruised through Tellowee, but the corner of his lips
turned upward into a grin. “It’s a surprise.”

“No hints?”

“Not a one,” he
said cheerfully. “I love your house.”

“I’ll give you
the grand tour later.”

“I’d love that.
How did you find it?”

“When I was
pregnant with Dierdre,” she explained. “I wanted to put down roots, at least
while she was young. Director Upton heard I was looking to settle and offered
me a job at the IECS. This house came up for sale right after that. It seemed
like serendipity.”

“I love it when
a plan comes together. When was it built?”

“About 1893. It
had been in the same family since then, and they took wonderful care of it.”

They chatted off
and on during the half hour drive, though Maya had trouble keeping her full
attention on the conversation. Once she discovered that James’ eyes followed
her legs each time she shifted, she couldn’t help wiggling a little more than
was strictly necessary.

The desire to
tease him into a physical reaction surprised her. She’d played plenty of games
before with men, becoming shy and coy or bold and reckless to fit the
situation, but she’d never been a tease. It had always struck her as somehow
dishonest. Too many women enticed men into lust without following through and
it was wrong.

James brought
out the temptress in her, with his shy sidelong glances and hesitant touch. The
look he’d given her earlier, as if he were imagining exactly what she looked
like underneath her dress, had been so unlike him. Even after Dierdre had told
her that James wanted her, Maya hadn’t quite believed it, in spite of their
dance at the bar, in spite of Dierdre’s insistence. That look had convinced
her, and now, she wanted to see it again, even if it meant teasing him.

The restaurant
he’d chosen was in a neighboring town, a good half hour’s drive from Maya’s
home. It was also one of her favorites, especially during summer weekends when
local bands played in the outside eating area. How had he known?

Dierdre, she
guessed. The rat.

James placed his
hand on the small of her back as they waited. It should’ve been polite,
would’ve been if he’d placed his hand a little lower. His fingers brushed over
the bare skin of her back, warming her, and inched upward along her spine. He
leaned close and whispered, “Are you wearing a bra?”

She arched an
eyebrow. “What do you think?”

He groaned
softly. “I was trying to be good, Maya.”

She grinned. “Yes,
but I wasn’t.”

The restaurant’s
service was slow, the food excellent. Over salads, homemade rolls, and fresh
pasta, their conversation roved from movies and books to parenting, and even to
the forbidden first-date topics of politics and religion. Surprisingly, they
agreed more than they disagreed, given his reserved Yankee upbringing and the
gypsy-like lifestyle of the People.

The sun slipped
behind the mountains, bringing a slight chill to the air. A singer-songwriter stepped
onto the raised platform serving as a stage, guitar in hand. Maya and James
fell into a companionable silence as the performer sang one bluesy original
after another. His hand crept to the back of her chair, to the ends of her
hair, to her bare shoulder, and she shivered.

Wherever he
touched her, heat rose, delicious and sweet, and a fine tension spooled between
them. It tugged at her, distracting her from the songwriter’s performance and
the hefty slice of white chocolate cheesecake their server brought them.
Anticipation. How long had it been since she’d anticipated the end of an
evening and the kiss that was sure to follow? Everything else, the dinner, the
music, the conversation, was merely leading to that one moment when he’d draw
her close and lower his lips to her own.

She sucked in a
breath and pressed her hand over the desire pooling within her. She wanted that
kiss, needed to feel his mouth on hers. Did he want that, too, or had he only
mentioned it as a matter of course?

After the
performer’s second set, James paid the bill and they left. He helped her with
her shawl, his hands lingering on her nearly bare shoulders, and rested his
hand on her waist as they left the restaurant. His heat seared her through the
thin fabric of her dress. Blessed Ki, why did he have to be such a gentleman?

The drive home
seemed twice as long as the drive into town. Maya crossed her legs, tapped one
foot nervously to the rhythm of the radio, then stilled. What was she doing?
Daughters never got nervous. It wasn’t in their nature, yet here she was,
fidgeting, her mind tangled in knots over the possibility of a kiss, her
fingers twisted together at her waist. What must he think of her?

She glanced at
James. He stared straight ahead, his attention seemingly focused solely on the
road, and her heart sank. Why didn’t he say something, anything to break the
silence?

Maybe he was
waiting for her to speak.

She bit her
lower lip and searched for an appropriate topic. The only thing that came to
mind was the kiss, his mouth on hers, his hands gripping her waist and skimming
over her back. She swallowed and leaned her head against the cool glass of the
passenger’s side window.

Maybe he was
nervous, too.

At last, they
arrived, and Maya bit back a relieved sigh. James helped her politely out of
the car and walked with her to the front door, holding her hand lightly in his.

At the top of
the steps, she said, “Thank you. I had a lovely time.”

His eyes crinkled
at the corners in a gentle smile. “Me, too.”

Still, he made
no move to leave.

She grasped her
purse with both hands and gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “Would you like
some coffee?”

“Thanks, no.” He
stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “I should probably head home
now.”

“Ok. Well.” At a
loss, Maya turned and walked to the door, hesitating with her hand on the
doorknob. His hands cupped her shoulders, strong and warm, and she turned and
met his gaze with her own, that sweet gaze, so intense and hot. Her heart
flipped over and her breath shallowed, and she stepped back, bumping into the
solid wood of the door.

“You’re so
beautiful,” he said. His hands slipped to her waist and he leaned into her, his
face inches from her own. He brushed his lips over hers, once, twice, lightly
as if giving her a chance to say no.

The feathering
touches set butterflies loose in her stomach. She dropped her purse and gripped
his shoulders, urging him into a deeper response. His lips pressed firmly
against her own, and she shuddered. It felt so good, his kiss. Her skin
tightened and heat pooled within her as he explored her mouth, slowly and
thoroughly, his hands tightening against her waist, drawing her firmly against
him. The solid length of his body aligned perfectly with her own. He leaned
into her, pressing her into the door, and his hardening need pushed into the
juncture of her thighs, inches from the center of her own desire.

She twined her
fingers into his hair, clutching the cool, silky strands. He groaned and rocked
against her, and his mouth left hers and trailed hot kisses down her neck. He
bit her gently, and she gasped as fire raced through her.

“James,” she
whispered. “Please.”