Legacy of Love (13 page)

“Beautiful woman,” he said almost reverently as Zoe tenderly passed her hand across one of the photographs of her grandmother.

“Yes, inside and out.”

“I'm looking forward to meeting her.”

“She wants to meet you, too.”

“You told her about us?” That surprised him.

“It was more like,
she
told me about
you
.”

“Huh?”

“It's a long story, best told when you've had a few drinks,” she said, wanting to dismiss the direction of the conversation. She wasn't ready to tell him about all the myths and legends and particularly what his role was supposed to be in it all. It's one thing to grow up with all that stuff. It was quite another to hear it from someone who'd just entered your life.

Jackson wanted her to tell him the long story. The one that he believed would explain so much
of what had been happening to him and what had happened between him and Zoe.

He draped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “Well, if it helps any, you clean up real good. You've come a long way baby.”

“Oh, very funny.”

“I'm serious.” He chuckled then he lifted her chin with the tip of his finger and looked into her eyes. “I'm serious,” he said again, his voice lower this time touching her right in the center of her being.

Her face warmed by degrees.

Jackson brushed his lips against hers then teased their plumpness with the very tip of his tongue. He felt the slightest tremor run through her as he stroked her bare arm and urged her closer.

The instant her unbound breasts pressed up against the firmness of Jackson's chest, Zoe's insides ignited. Her nipples hardened and poked at the soft fabric of her T-shirt. They longed to be touched, the ache soothed.

She took Jackson's hand and covered her breast with it. He squeezed ever so gently and when she moaned in response he leaned her back against the couch so that she was partly beneath him. He pushed her T-shirt up exposing her breasts. Deep in his throat he made an unintelligible sound before laving the tempting sweet skin with his tongue.

Zoe's body arched while he suckled and tremors of need ran along the course of her limbs. She
squeezed her hands between their bodies and pulled the strings of her sweatpants loose.

Jackson didn't need any more hints. He helped her out of her pants and almost came when he realized that all the time they'd been together for the evening she hadn't been wearing any panties. Overcome with wanting her, he grabbed her thighs and pulled her farther down on the couch before draping her legs over his shoulders so that he could taste her again.

His tongue was hot and wet and expert and Zoe's clit sang with joy and her insides shed warm tears that Jackson let slide over his lips. He parted her opening and then gently slid one finger inside of her. Her hips bucked. Two. She moaned. Three. Her body tensed. She gripped his shoulders. His tongue played hide and seek while his fingers moved in and out in a maddeningly slow rhythm.

Zoe's thighs widened. She tossed one leg across the back of the couch. Without losing a beat, Jackson undid his pants and got them down below his knees.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice thick and raw.

Zoe's eyes fluttered open. Her breath rose and fell in short bursts.

“I want you. I want all of you. I don't want to fuck you. I want to make love to you. That's what I'm going to do,” he whispered, positioning himself between her waiting thighs. “Is that all right with
you?” He held his thick, long penis in his hand—waiting for her response.

“Yes,” she gushed on a hot breath.

He pushed the head in.

Her head jerked to the side.

“Are you sure?”

She pushed her hips against him. He pulled back.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” She dug her fingers into his butt.

He thrust deeper.

“Ohhhh, God…”

“Sure…?”

“Yes, yes…” she cried as his thrusts went deeper, stayed longer, in and out, faster, slower, faster.

Jackson kissed and caressed her, ran his hands along her body, explored it, made it his.

Zoe wound her arms and her legs around him needing him beneath her skin, whimpering in ecstasy as he stroked her and stroked her, so deep, so deep.

Their hearts pounded in time with the sound of distant drums. Birds called into the night, rustling the trees against the blue-black sky. The ground shook. The flames in the fire pit rose, and it was done.

Zoe's heart thumped in her chest, refusing to slow down. It happened again—that out-of-body experience. It was like making love on some mind-altering drug. It was totally beyond her comprehension.

She didn't want to feel so vulnerable, so open and out of control. When she was with Jackson she didn't think clearly. She let her guard down, saying things and feeling things that she would rather not.

The flashbacks when they made love went against everything that she professed to believe in: going slow, no commitment and not allowing her emotions to rule her head.

Jackson draped his leg across her thigh. “You okay?”

“Hmm, umm.”

He kissed the back of her neck, closed his eyes and inhaled her soft scent. He felt like he was on a roller coaster that was hurtling into the unknown. This inexplicable connection that he felt with Zoe he'd never experienced before. It was new and exciting and a little scary in its intensity. But somehow he knew it was right. He wouldn't rush her. He wouldn't pressure her. For now, he was going to go with the flow and let Zoe take the lead.

“I was planning a little get together at my place this weekend. I thought it would cheer up Michelle.”

“Is that an invitation?” She turned over on her side to face him.

He trailed his finger down the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, it is.”

“Is it okay if I bring a guest?”

“Sure. The more the merrier.”

“Great. Then you'll get to meet Sharlene. You'll really like her.”

“I'm sure I will.” He pulled her closer and felt himself becoming aroused yet again.

“Is that for me?” she asked in a husky voice, her eyes darkening as they rolled over his face. She reached down to stroke him.

His jaw clenched. “For as long as you want it.”

“Y
ou've been quiet since we got up,” Jackson said, pulling on his shirt.

Zoe sat on the edge of the bed and slipped her feet into her shoes. “Lots on my mind,” she said in a monotone.

Jackson buttoned his shirt, all the while watching Zoe who'd been distant and distracted. He couldn't figure out why.

“I'm probably going to drive down to New Orleans next weekend to pick up some of Michelle's and Shay's things.”

Her gaze jumped to him. “Really? Going to see Carla while you're there?” She stood and tugged on the hem of her navy blue suit jacket.

Jackson flinched at the accusatory tone. “I'm not going to see Carla.” He crossed the bedroom to where she stood. “What's wrong?”

She turned her head away. “Nothing.” Gently she pressed her hands against his chest. “I'm going to be late.” She breezed by him, took her purse from the side chair and walked out of the bedroom.

“I'll call you later,” Jackson said. He opened her car door for her.

“I'm going to be really busy today. If I get a break I'll give you a call. Okay?” She got in behind the wheel.

“Sure. Whenever you're ready.” He shut the door and stepped away as she backed up and pulled out of the driveway without looking back.

Jackson stood in that spot for several moments until he lost sight of Zoe's car. Finally he got into his Explorer and pulled off.

 

Zoe pushed through the door of the museum and barely looked left or right as she crossed the marble floors. Frank, the security guard, called out, “Good morning.” She didn't hear him.

There was no reason to act like such a witch to Jackson, she thought, unlocking her office door. He had no idea what was going on. And she didn't quite understand why she acted the way that she did, as if it was all his fault.

She took off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. In a way it was his fault. If he wasn't in her
life, if he hadn't stirred up feelings, awakened her lust for his touch, made her start thinking about the future that involved someone other than herself then she wouldn't give a second thought about going to New York. But that wasn't the case.

Swiveling her chair toward her computer she booted it up and waited for the High Museum of Art logo to fill the screen. She leaned her elbows on the desk and pressed her fist to her chin. Everything was happening too fast. She felt like she was being squeezed into a box not of her own making.

The dream last night was so intense that it woke her up several times. All night she was running from a storm. Everywhere she looked the sky was dark and ominous. Rain slashed so hard that she couldn't see in front of her. She sensed more than knew that she had to be somewhere. She had to get to
some
place. But every time she tried, the car stalled or she got lost, or was blinded by the rain. Her feet felt like they were being pulled down into quicksand. She heard herself yell for help, but nothing came out of her mouth. No one could hear her. It was a dream that she'd been having off and on for the past year. There were different versions of it with varying degrees of intensity. But always she was heading to some unknown destination.

She woke up exhausted and tense and her restless night was met with this meeting in less than a half hour. She couldn't even think straight. Rest
ing her head in her palm she briefly shut her eyes. What was happening to her?

Zoe jumped with a start at the sound of her phone ringing. She shook her head in confusion. She grabbed the receiver, blinking rapidly to clear her vision.

“Yes. Zoe Beaumont.”

“Ms. Beaumont, the chairman is waiting for you in the conference room.”

She squinted at her watch. Ten twenty-five!

“I'll be right there. Thank you.”

She stood. Had she actually fallen asleep at her desk? That had never happened before. She hurried across the room and snatched her jacket from the hook then darted back to her desk and took her compact out from her purse. She checked her reflection then freshened up her lipstick. She actually felt woozy.

Drawing in a long calming breath, she put on her jacket and walked out.

When Zoe reached the conference room, the visitors from the Guggenheim along with Chairman Lang and several of the board members of the High Museum were already in place, some drinking coffee.

“Well, good morning, Ms. Beaumont,” Eric Lang said. “Please come in and join us. We were waiting for you.”

She looked around the room, at all the faces star
ing back at her, summing her up. If this wasn't the lion's den then she didn't know what was.

“We were just taking about how important this exchange will be for both of our institutions,” Eric said. “During these very difficult economic times the arts are the first to be cut and we have to be creative. Even some of our biggest benefactors can't be as generous as they once were.”

Zoe walked to an empty seat and sat down. She folded her hands on top of the table.

“Coffee?” Eric offered.

“No. Thank you, I'm fine. I'd really like to get an understanding about what is going on and why I'm being told I'm going to New York.” She dropped her inquiring gaze onto one face after the other.

Eric chuckled. “You're being overly dramatic.”

Zoe arched a brow. “Am I?”

“Why don't I explain?” interrupted Paul Shubert from the Guggenheim.

“Yes, please, explain,” Zoe said, hoping she didn't sound quite as snappish as she thought she did.

He cleared his throat. “You see, the Guggenheim is in possession of the Thannhauser collection.”

“Yes, part of your permanent collection,” Zoe said. “Picassos, French Impressionists…”

“Yes, exactly. Recently we lost our curator for our African Art division. And the assistant is on maternity leave.” He stole a look at Eric who indicated that he should go on. “The Guggenheim is
much more known for its classic art. But over the years we have been working to expand our collections in each of the divisions. Now, however, with the cuts in funding any additions are nearly impossible.”

“That's where you come in, Ms. Beaumont,” Eric continued. “We want you to bring the same notoriety in the African Art division in New York as you did here with this most recent exhibit. It was a major coup for you to get the fertility statues here from the Ripley. And the exhibit has been a phenomenal success.”

“It would only be for three months,” Paul added.

“I know how much you are invested in your work and how dedicated you are to seeing the arts flourish,” Eric said. “It would be beneficial to everyone concerned.”

This was an opportunity of a lifetime. She knew that. She would have the chance to make her mark in New York. But why now?

“What about my job here?”

“You've trained Mike Williams well. He can take over until you return.”

She sighed heavily. “Seems that it's been all figured out.”

“I would think you'd be excited, Ms. Beaumont,” Eric said.

“It's just a lot to take in.”

“We'll need an answer soon.”

She nodded. “What if I say no?”

“We hope that you won't,” Eric said, his tone shifting from cajoling to edgy.

“I see. Let me talk it over with my family and the staff.” She stood. “I'll have an answer for you tomorrow.” She made eye contact with all the men in the room then walked out.

Her thoughts were spinning a mile a minute as she walked back to her office. Part of the offer sounded like a dream come true, but the other part sounded like an ultimatum. What would happen if she said no? A better question was why was she even thinking about not jumping on the next plane to New York?
Jackson Treme
.

When she sat down at her desk, her message light was flashing. Two messages were from Sharlene wanting to know how the meeting went. The other was from Jackson.

He was concerned about her and asked that she call when she got a break in her day. He only had one class and then office hours. After that he was heading home.

She replayed his message just to hear his voice. Her life was changing rapidly and she was trying her best to keep up. There was a knock on her door.

“Yes. Come in.”

Linda stepped in. “Hi, there's a Michelle Treme here to see you.”

A slight frown curled her brow. Michelle, what was she doing here? “Oh, okay. Show her back here.”

“Sure.”

Zoe paced the floor, her thoughts shifting back and forth between the meeting she'd just had, the decision she needed to make and what was happening between her and Jackson. She didn't think she could handle another complication—at least not before lunchtime.

Michelle poked her head in the door. “Hi.”

“Come in.” Zoe smiled and stepped around from behind her desk. “This is a surprise. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, and I'm sorry. I should have called first.”

Michelle looked around the small office and Zoe thought she appeared a bit nervous.

“Don't worry about it. Have a seat. What's up?”

Michelle sat and rested her purse on her lap. “I was thinking about what you said the other night about possibly working here part-time.” She fidgeted with the strap on her purse. “I was hoping that the offer was still open.”

Zoe released the breath she held. This she could handle.

“Actually, yes, it is. Are you interested? I mean, you're planning to stay in Atlanta?”

“There's nothing for me back in New Orleans. I've thought about it and I need to start over. I talked it over with Jackson and he said we could stay as long as it took for me to get back on my feet. I contacted Shay's school in New Orleans and let them know she's not coming back. Unfortunately, the
kindergarten classes in the area were all full but I got Shay set up in day care near the house. She'll be in first grade in September. Hopefully, I'll have my own place by then. But in the meantime, I know I'll go crazy in that house by myself all day.”

Zoe's heart ached for her. She couldn't imagine what she was going through. She came and sat on the edge of her desk. She reached out and took Michelle's hand.

“First of all, I don't want you to think that this is some kind of a favor. We can use the help. It doesn't pay much, but it pays regularly. I'll expect you to work just as hard as everyone else. The position is only three days a week, though.”

“That's fine.”

“I have a few things to take care of, but I'll walk you over to Human Resources and you can fill out the application then we'll take it from there.”

Michelle smiled with relief. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet. See how you feel after seven hours on your feet, answering an array of questions from patrons that have nothing to do with the tour
or
the museum!”

 

After Zoe took Michelle to Human Resources she came back to return Sharlene's phone calls.

“Zee, that is so fabulous for you.”

“I know. I know,” she agreed, leaning back in her office chair.

“I hear the hesitation. Why?”

“Let me start this way. When was the last time you've known me to make moves in my life based on someone else?”

“I'm going to press the ‘easy button.' Never.”

“Exactly.”

“Well don't leave me hanging, girl. It's about Jackson, isn't it? Did he finally defrost your cold, cruel heart?” she teased.

“Very funny! This is serious, Sharl. I've never been in this place before.”

“I know, sis. And it's probably scaring the heck out of you.”

“And the dreams…”

“Worse?”

“More, almost every night now. And when I'm with Jackson…when we… It's crazy. I don't even know how to explain what happens. It's like I'm someplace else, someone else.” She shook her head. “Hang on. Yes, come in,” she called out.

Michelle poked her head in. “Hi. All done.”

“Sharl, I'll call you back.” She hung up the phone. “How'd it go?”

“Good. I have to bring in some documents, and then I'll get my start date.”

“Great.”

“Unfortunately, my papers are at the house in New Orleans.”

“Jackson mentioned that he was planning to go down there next weekend,” she said, and that uneasy feeling welled up in her stomach again.

“We didn't bring much when we left.” Her gaze shifted away.

“Hey, if you're not busy, why don't you join me for lunch? I usually meet my friend Sharlene around one. You're welcome to come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

She beamed. “Thanks. I don't have to pick Shay up until five. That's the one good thing about day care versus public school.”

“Perfect.” She checked her watch. “We have about an hour. If you want to hang out here, take a tour while I finish up some paperwork, then I'll meet you out front at about ten minutes to one and we'll walk over to Sharlene's office.”

“Sounds fine.” She draped the strap of her purse over her shoulder. She started for the door then turned toward Zoe. “Thank you. This all really means more to me than I can explain.”

Zoe grinned. “Like I said, don't thank me yet. See you in a few.”

 

“Wow, this place is fantastic,” Michelle enthused as she walked around the Moore Design showroom.

The showroom housed everything from antique picture frames to exotic fabrics, one of a kind bowls and decorative objects, art deco wall art, and floral arrangements. It was a one-stop design shop for every taste and style.

“Sharlene has a fabulous eye for design and
finding the perfect pieces for her clients. She designed my town house.”

“Really? When I get settled into my own place I will definitely be shopping here.”

“And the prices are reasonable,” Zoe added in a whisper.