But the future? That was still looking good—although taking its time, from Jessica's perspective. Worth called her every evening now. She would have preferred talking to him in person, but she had to admit, isolating the sense of sound had its merits. She heard every nuance and syllable as he talked about his life now, the magazine, his plans and dreams, stories about his mother. Nothing about his past, but that would come, she was sure.
If she'd been in the same room with him, she probably would have been too distracted. Even now, she hadn't admitted to him that when it was time for his call—nine-thirty sharp—she always made sure that she was bathed and had a glass of wine handy, with a fragrant candle burning by the bed, where she snuggled under a comforter in the dim light.
"What are you wearing, love?" he'd asked the night before. Sitting at her laptop at the office, where she was supposed to be concentrating on an article, she was suddenly transported back to her bedroom as she remembered. "If you don't mind me asking, that is," he'd added, always the gentleman.
In her mind's eye, Jessica took a sip of wine and giggled softly before answering. "You first."
"Whatever the lady wants. I am immaculate in corduroy trousers, button down overpriced linen and cotton shirt, with a satin smoking jacket." For a second, she thought he was serious. Really? Who wears corduroy these days? But then he cleared his throat. "My dear, I have just gotten out of the shower—a very hot shower, just the way I like them. I'm under the covers in my altogether, which is the way I prefer to sleep. There is also a well-worn copy of Mark Twain's Roughing It at the ready for when our conversation is over. I'm rereading it for the umpteenth time."
Jessica had set the glass of wine down on the bedside table and slid her free hand under the covers. What would it feel like to have his hands there right now? A little breathless, she'd murmured, "I think we must be dressed the same, then."
"Well, you asked."
"Actually, you asked."
At the memory of Worth's low chuckle, Jessica looked quickly around the office to see if she might have moaned out loud where someone might have heard. She really needed to get this article done, but…
"Touché," Worth had said. "Or 'touchy' as my friend used to say. And touchy is something I would like to explore again with you."
"Which friend?" Jessica loved milking every reference to his past, pulling away some of those layers.
Instead of answering, Worth had made a little sound of impatience. "He's of no consequence, I assure you. I'd rather discuss touching you, frankly."
Jessica's patience was never her strong suit, although she had to admit that she had waited on Eric for a very long time, only to be disappointed. She seriously doubted that would be the case with Worth. So why the waiting game? Why just phone conversations every night? Why just talk about touching when she'd made it clear she wanted more? And what was so 'touchy' about talking about an old friend. Unless—Jessica swiveled her chair back and forth, grateful for headphones. Clair de Lune played softly, returning her thoughts to the previous evening.
"Is everything all right, Jessica?" Although she couldn't see him, she knew he'd be frowning. He had such a keen sense of hurt and guilt. He seemed so cautious. Too cautious, after the bathroom incident on Halloween. It was almost like a bait and switch.
"Bait and switch?" Worth had asked.
Only then, did Jessica realize she had spoken her thoughts out loud. She was embarrassed, but at some level almost grateful. "Yes, bait and switch. You came on like gangbusters in that bathroom, and then turned into—"
"Turned into whom?"
Jessica had sighed, as she sighed now in her desk chair. "I don't know," she remembered saying, "someone less hungry, less passionate. I-I'd always hoped to find someone who wanted me that badly, and then when I thought I had, you remembered your manners."
At the other end of the line, Worth had laughed. "I can buy that. It was a bit of an abrupt about-face. I went from out-and-out scoundrel, I'm afraid, to choir boy." His voice had dropped a decibel. "But may I remind you that alcohol was a factor. And, we decided to move forward and not dwell on that party." He'd made a little humming noise. "I especially liked being face-to-face with you, though. And I still do."
Jessica squirmed a little in her chair, just thinking of his voice. As she had squirmed on the bed in spite of herself. Did the air go off? she'd thought. It was so warm. She had kicked the comforter off and let the cool air of the paddle fan overhead stir the air over her length. She had bitten her lip. Then she'd shaken her head and sat up. "Worth. I've had boyfriends, but I have only been with one man. I thought I'd marry—marry—"
"Eric?"
"Yes. I thought I'd marry Eric. I even thought I was in love with him until, well, until that night, at the party. But even though he said he loved me, it felt like there was something missing. I wanted more out of love. I wanted more out of a relationship. I want the kind of passion I felt on Halloween, so even though we're leaving that in the past, I want you to understand how life changing that night was for me. I felt…I just…I want that feeling, Worth. All the time."
Worth had become serious too. "But you want more than passion, don't you? More than sex, certainly?"
At the moment, Jessica thought, gazing around the office, I would settle for sex. Weeks of foreplay will
