Degrees of Passion (11 page)

Megan lounged with her feet kicked up, a beer bottle in her hand. Appearing natural in jeans and T-shirt, she kept her dark hair neatly back into a large oblong bun at the nape of her neck. Kat leaned up from her place on the couch, glancing to the kitchen doorway where Mariah played with blocks. Mother and daughter wore matching khaki cable-knit sweaters. The chubby babe had the same fair complexion of all Matthews women and the blonde hair inherited from Beatrice, just like Zoe, Kat and Ella. Megan and Sasha took after their father’s dark brown.

‘Nothing to say?’ Kat taunted, giggling as she again turned to her sisters.

‘Anything I say, you all are just going to twist it around to mean whatever you want to believe,’ Sasha answered.

‘I was on the phone with her,’ Kat said to the other two sisters. ‘She mentioned Peter. You know what that means. She’s having guy trouble.’

‘Pokey Pete?’ Zoe laughed.

‘Not Peter, Peter, who came to greet ’er and brought nothing but his peter!’ Megan practically snorted with amusement.

‘Oh, no, please don’t,’ Sasha groaned.

‘It’s not our fault he had a hard-on when he walked into the house.’ Zoe snickered, covering her mouth. She pointed at Sasha. ‘Oh, I forgot, it was your fault!’

‘Good ole Pokey Pete.’ Megan laughed harder, gripping her beer. ‘He was such a goober. I can’t believe you agreed to date him.’

‘So, talk to us, sis.’ Kat checked on her daughter again, seeing she still played. The little girl babbled cheerfully, not making sense to anyone but herself.

‘The only guy trouble I’m having is this partner they gave me for the internship,’ Sasha explained. This is why she never talked to her sisters or told the family of her boyfriends. They all pounced like gossip columnists fishing for their next big story.

‘Is he cute?’ Kat asked.

‘Does he have a job?’ Megan took a drink.

‘Is he a good kisser?’ Zoe questioned.

‘Have I told you that I really hate you all sometimes?’ Sasha tried to keep the dark look on her face, but couldn’t hold it. She gave a short laugh at the hopeful expressions on her sisters’ faces. ‘You know it’s not fair. You all gang up on me, but I can’t fight back. You all are married. I can’t tease you about guys anymore.’

‘Oh, sweetie,’ Megan said, her voice filled with concern. ‘It’s not that we got married. It’s just you’re such an easy target.’

Sasha responded by throwing a ruffled pillow at her sister’s head. ‘I don’t know why I bother.’

‘OK, we promise we won’t tease you,’ Kat said. ‘Tell us about this miserable guy.’

Sasha started to open her mouth, but was interrupted.

‘Is he a good kisser?’ Zoe repeated, causing an eruption of laughter.

‘What did I miss?’ Beatrice hurried from the kitchen, easily sidestepping her granddaughter. Mariah reached to touch her grandma’s powder-blue flared velvet exercise pants, but missed the soft fabric.

‘Nothing,’ Sasha said, beating the others who were still laughing.

‘We’re trying to figure out who Sasha’s in love with,’ Zoe said.

Beatrice’s face lit with a smile and her hands lifted as if she would clap. Suddenly, she stopped, seeing Sasha’s stricken expression. Her hands slowly lowered to her sides. ‘You’re confused, aren’t you, honey? I saw that curse over your head when you were a child from the first time I read your leaves. You never knew what you wanted. Volleyball or soccer? Dance lessons or piano? Hamburger or hotdog? Everything with you was a debate and you were never completely convinced you wanted what you decided on. If you ordered the hamburger, you wanted the hotdog, if you ordered the hotdog, you wanted a grilled cheese sandwich.’

‘Mom, do you need help in the kitchen?’ Zoe asked. Sasha gave her a grateful half smile.

‘Lovely, dear, go finish up,’ Beatrice waved towards her chef daughter. ‘Recipe is on the counter.’

Zoe shot Sasha an apologetic look and got up. ‘No problem.’

Beatrice instantly took the abandoned seat. Her bright-blue eyes sparkled, made all the more brilliant by the stark red of her hair. The woman didn’t look her age, but had a natural youthfulness that all her daughters hoped to inherit. ‘Zoe, put on water. We need the tea!’

Twenty minutes later, Sasha found herself with fingers threaded through her hair. The dark-wood grains of the table swam within her vision. She pulled at the tender strands hard, willing the small headache behind her eye to go away. Her mother lifted the porcelain teacup, staring into the depths as she turned it in circles. ‘Hm.’

Sasha turned her head just enough to see her father from beneath her wrist. He winked, sharing a silent sympathy with her. A retired English professor, he had a love of learning that he shared wholeheartedly with Sasha. When her sisters were worried about dating and high fashion, Sasha and her father went to museums and discussed literature. If their mother was a bit of a flake, their father was just the opposite.

‘Mm-hmm,’ their mother hummed again.

‘What is it?’ Megan asked, mimicking her mom’s movements with her beer bottle.

‘Just as I thought,’ Beatrice said. ‘Sasha’s confused.’

‘And?’ Jackson prompted in interest. He loved the premonitions.

Zoe merely chuckled, grabbing his wineglass to take a sip.

‘I see a boot.’ Beatrice turned the cup. ‘It’s kicking the number two. Strange.’

‘What does it mean?’ Jackson insisted.

‘Our mother’s crazy,’ Megan mumbled.

Beatrice arched a brow at her oldest. ‘You’re just mad because I saw how many children you’re going to have.’

‘So, her prediction is that she’s going to buy two boots?’ Kat asked. ‘Or maybe take two trips. Boots equal walking.’

‘She’s going to kick two, um . . .’ Zoe hesitated, searching for the right word.

‘Wait, you said Kevin wasn’t the . . .’ Kat gasped, jumping up slightly in her chair. ‘You’ve got two men and you’re going to give them the boot! Or you’re going to give number two the boot. Or . . .’

Sasha tried to block them out by pressing harder against her skull. The last weeks had been torture, as she worked beside the infuriating Kevin. The man barely spoke to her, keeping their conversations to the task at hand – meticulously brushing dirt from the grooves of a broken piece of pottery. Dr Prichard treated her like an imbecile. Every morning she had to get coffee and pastries for the group and every afternoon she went for lunch. After two days, she had to go to the head of the foundation and ask for a food allowance. Luckily, Mr Coldwell knew his lead scientist’s quirks and only required she turned in receipts. To make matters worse, she’d left message after message for Trevor and he never called her back. She imagined he’d been busy and with the six-hour time difference matching schedules was hard, but she really needed to hear his voice – even if it was on voice mail.

‘Or each man is going to give you boots.’ Kat was still talking. ‘Or—’

‘OK.’ Sasha jumped up. ‘I’ve got to go. Lots of stuff to do. Busy college life and all that. Must write papers.’

‘But we haven’t eaten.’ Beatrice stood when Sasha tried to walk away from the table. ‘You sit right back down and don’t move. Every time I look at you I swear you’ve lost two pounds.’

Sasha glanced at the door longingly, wondering if she could make it out the door before her mother caught her.

‘No one is to mention Sasha’s love life again,’ Beatrice ordered. Then holding the teacup, she said, ‘She doesn’t have answers right now anyway.’

Sasha sat back down, thankful for her mother’s decree. She grabbed the bottle of merlot, filling her glass to the top. Her sisters giggled, but no one stopped her from downing the entire glass and going for a refill. Normally she enjoyed Sunday dinner, but this was going to be a long evening.

Kevin lay on his back, staring at the subtle shifts of light on his dark ceiling. The television was on, but the volume had been muted. He loved watching documentaries on military history, but couldn’t seem to concentrate on the words. As pictures of WWII soldiers flashed on the screen, all he could think about was Sasha.

The last weeks had been nothing like he hoped when he’d asked Professor Collins to let him be the fourth member of the Project Aztec internship. The man had been surprised but, since qualified candidates were sparse, he’d happily agreed. Kevin had seen Sasha’s name on the small list right next to her school records on the professor’s desk. Her grades were excellent but Collins had written several notes to himself about her lack of focus when it came to her future.

Kevin tried to make conversation with Sasha several times, but failed miserably. He didn’t intend to be rude, but everything out of his mouth sounded forced. What was it about this woman? He couldn’t get her out of his mind. When he did get the chance to make friends and play nice, he came off like an ass quoting facts to show her up. What was next? Pushing her down and kicking dirt in her face like some second grader?

Lifting the sheet draped over his naked waist, he peered at the tattoo on his hip. He drew a finger over the lines, pretending that he touched Sasha’s forearm. Every time he looked at the dark pattern, it reminded him of that night when she was his.

Closing his eyes, he pressed his hand flat against his hip, letting his fingers curl along his flesh. The light scratch of his nails caused him to squirm. His feet became restless, sliding along the clean sheets covering the mattress.

He let himself experience each sensation, trying to recapture the same feelings he had when he was with her. Desire stirred at the memory of her skin, the smell of her hair, the look in her eyes. The top sheet brushed along the tight sensitive flesh of his cock. When he finally took himself in hand, he wished it was her fingers in place of his.

He wouldn’t be able to take much more of this internship. Having her so close, while having to maintain a respectable distance, was torture. The work was interesting and easy enough, if not a little tedious. He hadn’t been lying when he said it would fulfill his forensic anthropology requirements, but dating broken Aztec pottery wasn’t exactly his dream work.

‘Sasha,’ he whispered, gripping himself tighter. Each pass of his hand left a bittersweet longing in its wake. He needed more than a memory and the press of his palm against his cock. He needed to feel her, smell her, taste her. He needed to hear the sound of her voice as she made sweet noises of pleasure.

Kevin continued to rub himself, picturing her hand in place of his, her fingers moving to the tip of his arousal. He let go long enough to grab a bottle of lotion from atop his nightstand, pausing to squirt several pumps into his palm, wetting it to add realism to his fantasy. His hips flexed and he shook. He imagined her wiggling into pos ition between his thighs, taking hold of his hips as she drew her tongue along his tip. She’d kiss him gently at first, twirling her warm tongue around and around, circling and teasing, before sucking him deep into her mouth.

He thrust into his moist hand, groaning. Sasha had such a pretty mouth. He wanted it on him, taking his arousal deep, sucking so hard he almost lost himself with each pass. Her teeth would graze him, not hurting but enough to know they were there.

He moaned, knowing no one could hear him. His second hand joined the first, gripping the root of his shaft and squeezing his balls as he continued to stroke himself. The harsh pant of his breath sounded over the bedroom.

‘Sasha,’ Kevin whispered again before biting his lip. His whole body tensed as he climaxed. The image of her slipped from his mind, leaving him utterly alone in the pleasured aftermath of release.

An ache filled him, centering on his heart. Kevin put his hand on his chest, automatically feeling the long puckered scar that slashed his pectoral. He’d been alone for a long time. He did have some family, but it wasn’t the same as having a special someone. His fingers traced down, following it. The last time he’d got close to someone it had almost killed him. He’d promised himself he’d never let another woman touch his heart and he’d kept that promise. Until Sasha.

It wasn’t the first time he wondered if his attraction to Sasha was because she was unavailable. Was he a glutton for punishment? A hopeless fool?

Kevin didn’t have the answer. Logically, he should forget her and focus on finishing his degree. He was so close to his doctorate. A little more field study and then a year or two to write his dissertation and everything he worked for would be realized. He didn’t need the headache, or the heartache, of pursuing a woman with a boyfriend.

‘That’s what I’m going to do,’ he told himself. ‘Sasha’s just a student I have to work with. I’m going to refocus my efforts and forget about any romantic notions.’ He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. ‘Whatever I feel for her ends now.’

A mocking laughter echoed from inside his mind, as if to sarcastically add, ‘Yeah, right, Kevin. Good luck with that, you fool.’

Even though the hour was late and she had to be at Project Aztec early, Sasha refused to go to bed. So far, she averaged about fifty percent correct on answering Prichard’s little pop quizzes. Every time he’d asked something, she ran home, studied until her brain throbbed only to be asked something completely different the following morning. It was impossible to think that she could brush up on the in-depth workings of Incan, Mayan and Aztec cultures in two weeks – especially when she factored in her additional class load and part-time waitressing shifts. And really, the cultures were three distinctly different groups. Prichard only asked about them because he was a pompous ass.

She couldn’t concentrate, as she looked at the unused webcam Trevor gave her as a parting gift. He’d left her a number to call him at in Switzerland and, despite the fact that she could little afford to keep making international calls, she picked up her cellular and dialed. It would be around eight in the morning his time.

Sasha closed her eyes as it rang, anticipating his voice mail. Instead of Trevor’s face, she saw Kevin’s drifting through her troubled thoughts. What was wrong with her? Why this obsession? It had to be because he frustrated her. Even as she thought it, Sasha knew it wasn’t true. She was fascinated by him. She couldn’t read his expressions, couldn’t guess at his thoughts and the mystery of him made her want to know more. He was a puzzle she wanted to solve and, on a baser level, a man she wanted for her lover.