sensual creature he first met at the Fish Barrel had returned. Clara gently placed her right hand on his knee and caressed it gently through his worn jeans.
Neither of them commented on her hand. Clara spoke softly, facing straight forward at the dormant fireplace. “You’re close with Detective Sloman, aren’t you Damon? That’s what I gathered from everyone at the carnival.”
“Gerry Sloman and I are pretty good friends.”
“That’s good, Damon. I don’t want to wait for my lawyer on Monday to discuss what happened on the night my father was killed, but to be honest, I also don’t want to talk to the police in a stale, yellow interview room. At least not the first time I tell someone what I have to say.” She closed her eyes for a moment but didn’t remove her hand from his knee. “I suppose I want to clear Jordan, but what I really want to clear is the air. With Jordan, with the police, with everyone, so I can move on with my life.”
“Sure Clara. But wouldn’t it be better if I called Gerry and maybe we could all talk about it here?”
“No Damon, please. I’d rather just tell you first. You can tell Detective Sloman everything, and I know I’ll end up in that interview room, but I’d rather just get it off of my chest now. I don’t really need a lawyer. I was just stalling for time because I wasn’t ready to talk.”
Damon nodded and placed his wine glass on the table next to Clara’s.
She stopped stroking his knee, and moved her fingers up his thigh to the line of his belt. She slid her hand halfway under the upper rim of his jeans, tucking her fingertips beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts. She didn’t extend her hand any further down, content to allow her fingers to rest on his flesh two inches below and to the right of his navel. Damon faced Clara, who turned from the fireplace to look at him. She smiled a silent acknowledgement of the position of her hand.
“Jordan is covering for me,” she said without emotion.
“Covering for you?”
“It’s not necessary, but he doesn’t know that.”
“He’s really in love with you, isn’t he?”
“Yes. And at one time, I thought I was in love with him. But I realized a couple of months ago that I’m not. He’s a wonderful man and I’m probably crazy for not feeling the same way about him as he does about me.”
“You can’t control how you feel, Clara,” Damon said.
“That’s just it. My brain tells me he’s the man I should be with, that I should marry him, settle down and have a nice life. He’s good looking, makes plenty of money and is very respected in Richmond. But for some reason that’s just not enough for me. Or maybe the problem is it’s too much for me.”
“Meaning you don’t think you deserve someone like him?”
“I don’t know. I’ve batted that around in my head a thousand times. I’m not sure whether I’m screwed up psychologically or if I just have wanderlust when it comes to men.”
She bent her head down to the front of his neck, just above the collarbone between his Adam’s apple and shoulder and touched her mouth lightly against his unshaven skin. Clara’s moist lips lingered, then parted to make an avenue for her tongue. Damon closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. The tip of her tongue made little circles as it moved delicately up and then down his throat. The palm of Clara’s left hand had found its way to the right side of Damon’s chest and she squeezed his pectoral lightly. With the fingernails of her other hand, still tucked beneath the waistband of his undershorts, she lightly scratched the skin just below his abdomen. Damon let out a small groan and lifted her chin so that Clara’s mouth was level with his. He shifted his weight toward her and pulled her mouth to his own. He allowed their tongues to play freely with one another.
His mind told him to pull back, to stop. This woman, while beautiful and more seductive than any other he had ever kissed, was vulnerable
Neither of them commented on her hand. Clara spoke softly, facing straight forward at the dormant fireplace. “You’re close with Detective Sloman, aren’t you Damon? That’s what I gathered from everyone at the carnival.”
“Gerry Sloman and I are pretty good friends.”
“That’s good, Damon. I don’t want to wait for my lawyer on Monday to discuss what happened on the night my father was killed, but to be honest, I also don’t want to talk to the police in a stale, yellow interview room. At least not the first time I tell someone what I have to say.” She closed her eyes for a moment but didn’t remove her hand from his knee. “I suppose I want to clear Jordan, but what I really want to clear is the air. With Jordan, with the police, with everyone, so I can move on with my life.”
“Sure Clara. But wouldn’t it be better if I called Gerry and maybe we could all talk about it here?”
“No Damon, please. I’d rather just tell you first. You can tell Detective Sloman everything, and I know I’ll end up in that interview room, but I’d rather just get it off of my chest now. I don’t really need a lawyer. I was just stalling for time because I wasn’t ready to talk.”
Damon nodded and placed his wine glass on the table next to Clara’s.
She stopped stroking his knee, and moved her fingers up his thigh to the line of his belt. She slid her hand halfway under the upper rim of his jeans, tucking her fingertips beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts. She didn’t extend her hand any further down, content to allow her fingers to rest on his flesh two inches below and to the right of his navel. Damon faced Clara, who turned from the fireplace to look at him. She smiled a silent acknowledgement of the position of her hand.
“Jordan is covering for me,” she said without emotion.
“Covering for you?”
“It’s not necessary, but he doesn’t know that.”
“He’s really in love with you, isn’t he?”
“Yes. And at one time, I thought I was in love with him. But I realized a couple of months ago that I’m not. He’s a wonderful man and I’m probably crazy for not feeling the same way about him as he does about me.”
“You can’t control how you feel, Clara,” Damon said.
“That’s just it. My brain tells me he’s the man I should be with, that I should marry him, settle down and have a nice life. He’s good looking, makes plenty of money and is very respected in Richmond. But for some reason that’s just not enough for me. Or maybe the problem is it’s too much for me.”
“Meaning you don’t think you deserve someone like him?”
“I don’t know. I’ve batted that around in my head a thousand times. I’m not sure whether I’m screwed up psychologically or if I just have wanderlust when it comes to men.”
She bent her head down to the front of his neck, just above the collarbone between his Adam’s apple and shoulder and touched her mouth lightly against his unshaven skin. Clara’s moist lips lingered, then parted to make an avenue for her tongue. Damon closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. The tip of her tongue made little circles as it moved delicately up and then down his throat. The palm of Clara’s left hand had found its way to the right side of Damon’s chest and she squeezed his pectoral lightly. With the fingernails of her other hand, still tucked beneath the waistband of his undershorts, she lightly scratched the skin just below his abdomen. Damon let out a small groan and lifted her chin so that Clara’s mouth was level with his. He shifted his weight toward her and pulled her mouth to his own. He allowed their tongues to play freely with one another.
His mind told him to pull back, to stop. This woman, while beautiful and more seductive than any other he had ever kissed, was vulnerable
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