He's All That
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Debbi Rawlins
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1
“ISABELLE, bring me my social calendar along with another pot of tea.”
Victoria Whitford sighed at the boorish way her mother spoke to their longtime housekeeper. The woman was practically part of the family, for God’s sake. She’d been ready with a Band-Aid the first time Tori had scraped her knee.
“Thank you,” Tori added for her mother, not that Marian Whitford noticed the subtle criticism.
Isabelle smiled. “Would you like some vanilla wafers with your tea, Tori?”
“My God, don’t call her that horrid name. It’s Victoria.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Whitford.” Isabelle scurried out of the sitting room, her sensible black shoes treading lightly over the polished wood floors.
“I like Tori, Mother.”
“That is not the name your father and I gave you.”
“Nevertheless, I suggest you get used to it.”
Her mother glared in disbelief. Her sister Mallory laughed.
Marian turned on her older daughter. “What do you find so amusing?”
She looked away and brought the martini glass to her lips.
“Don’t look away while I’m speaking to you.”
Tori waited for her sister to make a snide remark. But the only sign of her old defiance was a slight lift of her chin as she turned her attention back to their mother.
“Put that glass down. What have I told you about drinking so early in the day?”
With a sinking heart, Tori watched Mallory obey. Not that she approved of her sister’s drinking, something that she’d done quite a bit since Tori had gotten home three days ago, but she hated to see her spirited sister look so broken.
Having been away for seven years had really shed a different light on the home front. Even though Tori had spent half her life at boarding school, when she’d returned home for holidays and summers she’d never noticed her mother’s domineering attitude. Of course Tori had always been the obedient daughter and seldom her mother’s target.
“Is that couch new?” she asked, wanting to change the subject, yet seriously interested in the answer.
Her mother reared her head back, her carefully made-up blue eyes widening. “That piece belonged to your great-grandmother. It’s been in the family for generations.”
“Oh.” It was ugly. Burgundy velvet, trimmed with gold, obviously an antique, probably valuable. Tori hated it. “Is it comfortable?”
“For God’s sake, you don’t sit on it.”
Tori froze just as she swiveled, ready to plant her fanny on the diminutive settee. “Silly me,” she murmured, and Mallory hid a smile.
Isabelle appeared with a tray and as she poured the tea, Tori wandered over to the window overlooking the south garden, breathtaking as always with tiers of award-winning lavender and pink roses and crawling jasmine.
The Whitford mansion was beautiful, having been featured in Arch Digest twice, but Tori had always liked the gardens the best. They soothed her, helped her feel connected to the world. She missed them while she’d been away, sadly, more than she’d missed her family.
Of course it wasn’t the flowers that had initially caught her interest. Jake Conners had done that. The gardener’s son had the body of a god and when he’d take his shirt off, even her prepubescent heart would flutter like crazy. She wondered whatever happened to him. He was at least five years older. Probably married with two kids, living halfway across the country by now.
“Victoria?”
She turned to her mother. Fifty-eight years old and not a crease on her face, not a strand of gray glistening from her perfect blond bob.
“You’re not to make any plans this week without checking with me first,” she said opening her leather-bound appointment book. “We have a very full schedule.”
Out of the corner of her eye, movement in the garden caught Tori’s attention. She moved her head for a better look and squinted at the figure holding the shovel.
Her breath caught.
It couldn’t be…
“Victoria, are you listening to me?”
“Yes, Mother, I heard every word.” She changed windows for a better angle, and stared in giddy disbelief.
“For heaven’s sake, Victoria.” Her mother came up behind her, moved the heavy cream-colored drape aside and followed Tori’s gaze with disdain. “Don’t even think about dallying with the Conners boy.”
“My God, it really is Jake?”
Mallory joined them at the window. “Yummy, isn’t he? I haven’t seen him for ages.”
“You two disgust me.” She let go of the drape. “Step away from there before he sees you ogling him like a couple of schoolgirls.” She returned to the sofa and her appointment book as if the matter were settled. “This Saturday we have dinner with the Radcliffs. You do remember their son, Bradley, don’t you, Victoria?”
“How could I forget? The first time we met he tried to impress me by reciting the entire Gettysburg Address.” Tori shuddered. “And that was as interesting as he got.”
“That may be so but he’s executive vice president of Radcliff Enterprises now. Rumor has it he’ll take over when his father retires in two years. You could do much worse, Victoria.”
She gave her mother a mischievous smile. “You’re listening to the rumor mill these days?”
She looked up from her appointment book. “I had lunch with Claire Radcliff.” Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “I don’t much care for your attitude since you’ve been home, young lady. Even your father commented after dinner last night.”
Yeah, right. Like he’d notice anything that didn’t concern Whitford Industries’ bottom line. Which was fine with Tori. At least he didn’t interfere in her life. Of course Mother effectively managed that. As if Tori didn’t fully understand what was expected of her.
“Okay, so what else besides dinner with the Radcliffs?”
“Let’s see…” Her mother adjusted her reading glasses and then perused the appointment book. “Ah, yes, we have another dinner with Sela and Jonathon Matthews and their son Nelson. That would be on Friday at the Club.”
As she listened to her mother drone on, Tori’s gaze drifted back out the window. Jake had moved to the climbing jasmine and she could barely get a glimpse of him but her mind filled in the details of his slim hips, narrow waist, broad shoulders. The way his tanned skin glistened with exertion.
Suddenly it didn’t seem like a dozen years ago when she’d stood at her bedroom window, hiding behind the white lace curtains that matched her canopy bed. If he’d known she was there, staring and holding her breath, he’d never let on. He’d just kept digging or pruning, muscles rippling along his shoulders and back, and sending her poor pounding heart into overdrive.
Once when he’d been working on the pond off the solarium, she’d had to sneak into Mallory’s room in order to watch him. Isabelle had caught her sitting on the windowsill. She’d only smiled. Never said a word to anyone.
“Well, I see this is a wasted afternoon.” Her mother tapped the tip of her Montblanc pen to get Tori’s attention.
“You’re right, Mother,” Tori said, leaving the window and crossing the room, away from her mother and Mallory. “Let’s do this some other time.”
“Victoria!”
She didn’t hesitate, but headed for the staircase. Excitement slid over her like honey on a hot biscuit. She had to write her e-mail friends.
To: The Gang at Eve’s Apple
From: Angel@EvesApple.com
Subject: Hot damn!
Color me happy. I finally get it—what you all have been going on about. Because…tada…I found him!!!! My man to do has been under my nose. Well, not for quite a while. I actually just saw him again after about eight years, but I digress… I’ll start from the beginning— His name is Jake and he’s got the body of Adonis. No kidding. He could be in a calendar or a centerfold or something. Anyway—
Tori stopped typing, reviewed what she’d written and frowned. Maybe using Jake’s name wasn’t such a good idea. None of the girls knew who she was. They only knew her by her screen name “Angel.” And of course they were scattered across the country. She knew a couple of them were from the East Coast and it was highly unlikely their paths would ever cross, but still if anyone ever linked her to this confession…
She shuddered at the thought of her mother’s reaction. Altering a few minor details wouldn’t change the story. Quickly she went back and changed Jake’s name to simply J before she continued.
When I was about twelve, I first saw J. He was our neighbor’s gardener’s son and as I mentioned a whole five years older than me. God, I couldn’t stop staring at him. At that age I didn’t know why I’d gotten that soft squishy feeling inside every time I saw him, especially with his shirt off <g>. Anyway, my mother had forbidden me to “fraternize” with him and since I was an obedient daughter in those days I never said a word to him. Only worshiped him from afar. <major sigh>
Today I saw him again. Shirt off, looking extremely buff. Frankly, I’m surprised he still lives around here. Oh, hell, something just occurred to me. I hope he’s not married. Well, better go see if he’s wearing a ring.
Oh, question. How direct should I be? I don’t want to turn him off or anything, but I want to make sure he knows it’s only about sex. No sleeping in late and reading the paper together. No meeting the folks. Just sex. Should I lay it on the line right off the bat? Most men would jump at the chance at no-strings-attached sex, right?
Really anxious to hear from you all. Have to admit I’m a little nervous. Okay, my hands are shaking here. Write to me soon, okay?
Thanks! You guys are the best.
Angel
Tori signed off, closed her laptop and hurried to the window. She couldn’t see him, but an old red truck was parked in the back that had to belong to him.
She stopped at her vanity mirror to check her reflection, added a touch of color to each cheekbone, calculatedly tousled her hair and then headed for the back servants’ stairs that ended up off the pantry. That way she wouldn’t run into her mother. She doubted Marian Whitford had ever even seen the kitchen.
Mission accomplished, Tori got down the stairs and through the kitchen without seeing a soul. But just as she got to the back door, Mallory entered from the dining room.
Her sister gave her a wry smile. “Where are you going?” Her smile widened, her gaze straying out the kitchen window toward the truck. “Let me guess.”
Tori sighed. “Mallory…”
“Hey, if I could I’d go for it.” She opened the pantry door and dug around the canisters of flour and sugar and then pulled out a bottle of gin.
Tori frowned.
“I’m sick of mom getting on my case,” Mallory said, shrugging, as she poured a drink. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
Tori hesitated. She and her sister had just started to get close before Tori had gone off to college. She didn’t want to stir anything up but she couldn’t keep her mouth shut, either. “You do seem to be drinking a lot.”
“You would, too, if you were married to Richard.” Mallory sighed and then took a long sip. “Go find Jake before he leaves.”
Tori’s chest tightened. The resignation in Mallory’s voice and face really got to her. But there wasn’t much more she could say right now. Later, away from the house, they’d have a talk. When Mallory turned away and headed toward the dining room, Tori escaped out the back door.
As soon as she rounded the hydrangea bush, she saw that the truck was gone. She thought she heard an engine and hurried toward the driveway. Jake stood outside the truck’s open door, pulling on his shirt, while the other man loaded shovels and other equipment onto the bed.
Tori’s mouth went dry as she stared at the stretch of taut skin across his belly until he pulled the shirt hem down. Swallowing hard, she moistened her lips and touched her hair. The other man climbed in, and Jake got behind the wheel and started to reverse the truck before she could get her wits about her.
She rushed toward them but apparently he didn’t see her. He stopped briefly and then shifted into Drive and started to roll forward just as she got to the back of the truck. Tongue-tied suddenly, she hesitated. She hadn’t actually spoken to him before. He probably didn’t even know her name. What the hell should she say?
He started to pull away.
“Jake!”
Slowly he turned to her, glancing out of the open window, his dark eyes not at all surprised as if he’d seen her coming, his lips barely curving into a smile. “Hello, Victoria,” he said casually, as if they’d just talked yesterday.
She smiled back.
And then he drove down the driveway and through the double white gates without looking back.
VICTORIA WHITFORD.
Shit, he almost hadn’t recognized her. When had she gotten back?
Another driver blared his horn at Jake as he pulled his father’s old truck onto the highway and narrowly missed the white Honda.
Hector jumped. “You okay, amigo?”
“Yeah. I forgot this relic doesn’t have any guts. My father should’ve gotten rid of it years ago.”
“No way. Not him.” Hector stuck his arm out the window and hit the outside of the passenger’s door. “This is good enough. He doesn’t go any farther than the Whitfords’ or the grocery store these days.”
Jake shook his head. He hated that his father continued to work when he could retire. Why he even wanted to work for people like the Whitfords was a mystery. Yet he’d meticulously tended their garden for over twenty years, and this was the first time he’d so much as missed a day’s work. Even with two slipped discs and a pinched nerve, he probably would have tried to make it if Jake hadn’t caved in and agreed to take over for two weeks.
He could have trusted Hector with the Whitfords’ grounds. Jake often sent him over to help his dad under the pretense that business was slow and Jake needed to give the man work. But if his father got wind of it, the old man would be climbing into his overalls and work boots in seconds flat.
“Amigo?”
Jake glanced at Hector.
“I think you missed the turn.”
“What?” Jake realized he’d just passed his dad’s street and cursed under his breath.
Hector chuckled. “Who was the chica? An old girlfriend, maybe?”
“Who?”
“The one back there that’s made you loco.”
Jake snorted. “Victoria Whitford? I wasn’t even thinking about her,” he said and ignored Hector’s disbelieving grunt.
“I think she wanted you to stop.”
“I doubt it.” Hell, he didn’t think she even knew his name. She and her sister had always been off-limits. Even as kids they’d had no contact.
His father had forbidden him to so much as speak to either of the girls. Not that Jake had anything in common with them. Most of the time they were off at boarding school. He’d been lucky to keep his ass in River Oaks High without getting thrown out.
“Me, I would have stopped.” Hector slicked back his hair and inspected his swarthy, handsome face in the side mirror. “She looked muy fine.”
Jake smiled. Yeah, she looked good all right. But even Hector’s impressive reputation with the ladies at Huey’s Bar and Grill wouldn’t help him get an invite to the Whitfords’ front door.
“I don’t remember seeing her before,” Hector said. “Only the other one, the blonde.”
Jake used the gravel road running around to the back of his father’s cottage. The same small, two-bedroom house Jake and his older sister had practically grown up in after their mother died. The place belonged to the Whitfords. Just like most everything on the block. “I don’t know. And I sure as hell don’t care.”
Hector eyed him curiously as they got out of the truck. “For someone who doesn’t know her, amigo, it sure sounds like you don’t like her.”
Jake didn’t miss the irony of Hector’s observation. The truth was, it felt damn good to walk away from a Whitford. Not kowtow to them like his father had done for the past twenty years. But damn if he wasn’t curious about what Victoria had wanted. And damn if Hector wasn’t right. She looked mighty fine.
