Resisting Temptation: The Glenn Jackson Saga by M. S. Parker

Author:M. S. Parker [Parker, M. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Belmonte Publishing, LLC
Published: 2017-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

15

Maya

“Morning, Harrison.”

He gave me his normal nod, but his smile was absent.

“What’s wrong?”

The big man glanced up the stairs and sighed. “It’s Miss Woods. She hasn’t gotten out of bed. She won’t open the door or talk to me. I don’t know if she’s ill or if it’s something else.”

“I’ll go talk to her.” I rested a hand on his arm.

He looked caught off-guard, then, slowly, a smile bloomed across his face and he nodded at me. “Thank you, Miss Cruz.”

I headed up the stairs, hoping I wouldn’t get lost. I’d only been to her room once, and the house was massive.

I found it easily enough and knocked on the door.

“Harrison, go away,” Florence said, her voice thin.

I reached for the doorknob and opened it.

She looked at me, the movement achingly slow. Her lashes dropped down over her eyes, and she blinked. After a moment, she sighed, then went back to looking out the window.

“Go away, Maya. Please.”

I didn’t go away. “What’s wrong, Florence?”

To my horror, she started to cry.

I rushed over to the bed and sat down next to her. She reached out and caught my hand, gripping it with surprising strength.

“I can’t…I can’t,” she said. Over and over again.

“You can’t what?”

“I love him so much, Maya. But he doesn’t love me. He barely kissed me last night. He didn’t want to come in—he hardly touches me. It’s like…I don’t even matter to him!”

Guilt twisted my insides into knots, and I struggled not to let it show. “Honey, that’s not true. He asked you out to dinner last night, didn’t he?”

“And then he treated me like…like…like I was his sister or something!” She watched me with despair and shook her head. “He doesn’t want me.”

I remember the burn of his mouth on mine, the urgency of his hands.

Swallowing, I stroked Florence’s hair back.

“Florence, you just have to give it time. Men are…well, they are a mess. He might think he’s being respectful, not rushing you and all.” I offered a weak smile, unsure if I sounded convincing or not.

“We’ve already…rushed.” She licked her lips and ducked her head, looking at me only from the corner of her eyes.

“You mean you’ve…”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she wouldn’t look at me at all now.

“Oh.” I shrugged, trying to ignore the sting of jealousy I felt. “Okay. Well…you know, guys aren’t always in the mood, no matter what people may say.”

Florence looked at me, her eyes wide. “Is that…is that all you have to say?”

“What else do you expect me to say?” For a split second, I thought maybe that she’d realized that I had a thing for Glenn, but then I figured it out. This wasn’t 2017—or even the seventies, the so-called age of free love. My grandmother had loved to tease me about how my generation had most definitely not discovered sex.

This was 1962, and women were still expected to behave nicely and be good girls. Men could be rakes, particularly in Hollywood, but women like Florence, who wanted a respectable career, they didn’t do things like that.

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