Read Online Always and Forever by Beverly Jenkins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Beverly Jenkins
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what, a drawing room?”
“Frankly, yes. A woman like you should be gracing some wealthy man’s table, not traveling across country behind a train of mules.”
“Women are doing many things these days, Mr. Blake. Gracing a man’s table is not my life’s dream.” At least not anymore, she reminded herself. Aloud, she continued, “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. I’ve your contract here somewhere.”
A modern woman, he thought sarcastically, but admittedly she was a beautiful one. The copper brown eyes went perfectly with her sandy-colored skin and rich auburn hair. He wondered what she looked like with her hair down. Stunning, he’d be willing to bet. He could almost imagine her standing before him dressed in hernightclothes, her hair free and tousled from lovemaking. The high-collared gray dress with its long sleeves fit snugly over her lovely bosom, emphasizing her feminine curves very attractively.
She found the contract and took a moment to write something on the top sheet. As she moved the diamond-tipped quill pen over the paper, he noted her slim graceful fingers and well-manicured nails. Grace Atwood was a perfect example of the educated and cultured members of the race often referred to as “representative Blacks.”
Finding himself attracted to her surprised him for a number of reasons. First, he preferred his women tall and statuesque. Grace Atwood was neither. Jackson also avoided dallying with women of good family because they expected marriage when all was said and done, and that was a state of bondage he had no intention of entering, mainly because every good woman he’d had the opportunity to meet seemed to want to change him as if he were a floor that needed to be planed and sanded. Frankly, he liked himself just the way he was. As a consequence, he preferred to share his favors with discreet independent women who didn’t want or expect promises or commitments but enjoyed the lusty games of passion as much as he. “Do you have any siblings?”
She raised her copper eyes to his. “No. I’m an only child.”
“Were you lonely growing up?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes, if there were no playmates around, but I never lacked for love. My parents kept me too busy to be lonely.”
“Doing what?”
“Charity work, school, traveling. My mother’s family comes from Boston, and her father and grandfather sailed and built merchant ships. She’d been all over the world by the time she and my father met.”
“How much of the world have you seen?”
“Quite a bit. Europe. Cuba. Egypt.”
“Which was your favorite?”
“Cuba. I loved the colors, the markets, the music. Our race has had a strong influence on the lives of the Cuban people. Have you ever traveled there?”
“No. I’ve never left the States.”
“I see.”
An awkwardness seemed to settle over the room. Grace, at a loss as to what to say next, decided getting back to the matter at hand might be best. She handed him the contract. “Here’s the contract for your services. Look it over, if you would, please.”
He scanned the document slowly.
After a few moment of silence, Grace asked, “Do you see anything you wish changed?”
“Nope. Everything looks to be in order.”
“And the pay?”
“The pay is fine.”
“Good, then if you would affix your signature at the bottom—”
He interrupted her, “Before I sign, we need to get one thing clear, though.”
His serious tone caught her attention. “And that is?”
“If I’m going to be the wagon master, you’re going to have to let me be in charge.”
Grace asked slowly, “Meaning?”
“On decisions affecting the train, I have the last word.”
She stilled a moment and surveyed him. “On everything?”
“Everything. You’re not hiring me to be second guessed, are you?”
Grace had to confess truthfully, “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I suppose the answer is no.”
“Good, because if you did, we should tear this up
“Frankly, yes. A woman like you should be gracing some wealthy man’s table, not traveling across country behind a train of mules.”
“Women are doing many things these days, Mr. Blake. Gracing a man’s table is not my life’s dream.” At least not anymore, she reminded herself. Aloud, she continued, “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. I’ve your contract here somewhere.”
A modern woman, he thought sarcastically, but admittedly she was a beautiful one. The copper brown eyes went perfectly with her sandy-colored skin and rich auburn hair. He wondered what she looked like with her hair down. Stunning, he’d be willing to bet. He could almost imagine her standing before him dressed in hernightclothes, her hair free and tousled from lovemaking. The high-collared gray dress with its long sleeves fit snugly over her lovely bosom, emphasizing her feminine curves very attractively.
She found the contract and took a moment to write something on the top sheet. As she moved the diamond-tipped quill pen over the paper, he noted her slim graceful fingers and well-manicured nails. Grace Atwood was a perfect example of the educated and cultured members of the race often referred to as “representative Blacks.”
Finding himself attracted to her surprised him for a number of reasons. First, he preferred his women tall and statuesque. Grace Atwood was neither. Jackson also avoided dallying with women of good family because they expected marriage when all was said and done, and that was a state of bondage he had no intention of entering, mainly because every good woman he’d had the opportunity to meet seemed to want to change him as if he were a floor that needed to be planed and sanded. Frankly, he liked himself just the way he was. As a consequence, he preferred to share his favors with discreet independent women who didn’t want or expect promises or commitments but enjoyed the lusty games of passion as much as he. “Do you have any siblings?”
She raised her copper eyes to his. “No. I’m an only child.”
“Were you lonely growing up?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes, if there were no playmates around, but I never lacked for love. My parents kept me too busy to be lonely.”
“Doing what?”
“Charity work, school, traveling. My mother’s family comes from Boston, and her father and grandfather sailed and built merchant ships. She’d been all over the world by the time she and my father met.”
“How much of the world have you seen?”
“Quite a bit. Europe. Cuba. Egypt.”
“Which was your favorite?”
“Cuba. I loved the colors, the markets, the music. Our race has had a strong influence on the lives of the Cuban people. Have you ever traveled there?”
“No. I’ve never left the States.”
“I see.”
An awkwardness seemed to settle over the room. Grace, at a loss as to what to say next, decided getting back to the matter at hand might be best. She handed him the contract. “Here’s the contract for your services. Look it over, if you would, please.”
He scanned the document slowly.
After a few moment of silence, Grace asked, “Do you see anything you wish changed?”
“Nope. Everything looks to be in order.”
“And the pay?”
“The pay is fine.”
“Good, then if you would affix your signature at the bottom—”
He interrupted her, “Before I sign, we need to get one thing clear, though.”
His serious tone caught her attention. “And that is?”
“If I’m going to be the wagon master, you’re going to have to let me be in charge.”
Grace asked slowly, “Meaning?”
“On decisions affecting the train, I have the last word.”
She stilled a moment and surveyed him. “On everything?”
“Everything. You’re not hiring me to be second guessed, are you?”
Grace had to confess truthfully, “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I suppose the answer is no.”
“Good, because if you did, we should tear this up
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