Page 16 of Beloved Beast

Now he flushed. She no doubt could feel his erection through the layers of their clothes. Instead of denying it, he pulled her even closer. “You have no idea…” He took her mouth in a savage, passionate kiss and completely forgot they stood on a busy street. Fred gripped the nape of her neck, holding her still as his tongue plunged into her mouth seeking hers. To Joan’s credit she gave it back and more, wrapping her tongue around his and pulling him deeper into her hot, soft mouth. They were both breathing heavily.

With a quiet gasp, she pulled away and stared at him, her eyes glazed with desire. “Good enough? I can playact a role with the best of them.”

Playact? His heart, the organ that had not been engaged for as long as he could remember, plummeted clear to his toes with disappointment. Her voice was cool, detached, regardless of what he read in her eyes. Guess he was mistaken. Fine. He could act the same. “Be ready in forty-five minutes.” He sprinted across the road to his car. After starting the ignition, he pulled out onto the street with squealing tires leaving a trail of rubber behind him.

* * * *

When he returned exactly forty-five minutes later, Fred managed to push his anger and desire away. For a brief moment, he forgot she was a task, an obligation, nothing more. Emotions he long wondered if he even possessed came roaring to the surface. This was bloody insanity. He just met her.

After exchanging terse but polite greetings with Joan, he loaded the car with three pieces of shabby luggage and four boxes. She had changed into a dark green dress and a tan overcoat, a brown muffler tied at her throat. Glancing across the street as he went about his business, he observed the widow watching his every move. Good. It would be all over the street Joan Simm left with a mystery man, a man she had kissed with shocking enthusiasm. Regardless of her cool dismissal, Joan liked it as much as he did. And he wouldn’t put it past the nosey, old crow perched in her window to copy down the make, model, and license number of his car. It hardly mattered, since he was going to make a switch anyway, as is standard practice with SIS when escorting someone.

Fred made a show of opening the passenger door for Joan and even lifted her gloved hand to his lips and kissed it. Still holding on to her hand, he met her gaze, her eyelashes fluttered and color rose to her cheeks. Ah. She was not unaffected after all. Male satisfaction caused his chest to puff out. After seeing her in the car, he closed the door and climbed into the driver’s side. Joan turned in her seat and watched as the street disappeared behind them. She turned and gazed out the passenger window. It was hard to see her expression, but the quiet sniffles told Fred how deeply unhappy she was.

Blast. His heart melted at the sound. Should he say something? He was at sixes and sevens on how to act and react around this woman. That had never happened to him before. Offering “there, there” platitudes would not be welcomed, he guessed. Instead, he reached in his side pocket and handed her a handkerchief. She took it and blew loudly. The sights and sounds of the East End of London soon vanished as he headed south to the residential area of Riddlesdown proper in the borough of Croyden.

“I never thought I’d feel so utterly gutted to leave,” she sniffled as she continued to wipe her nose.

He didn’t answer, merely gave her a sympathetic look when she met his gaze.

Thirty minutes later, they entered Riddlesdown Common, a preserved green area from the Victorian era. Surrounding yew and juniper trees gave the area grandeur from another age. Since it was March third, there were a few buds on some of the trees. Beyond this park was the residential housing where his parents lived. Considering this sat at the edge of London, it was a quiet, serene place. Most of the homes were Art Deco style with the occasional Tudor. He turned onto his parents’ private lane. Joan gasped as it came into sight. “Oh, it’s beautiful. This whole area. I had no idea it existed,” she exclaimed, awe in her tone.

“It is. My parents have been happy here the past nine years. They have been more or less unscathed by the war. The only excitement is when a spitfire crash-landed on the common two years ago. Well, there were a few bombing raids during the Blitz. But nothing like you endured in the East End. Mum and Dad have a buried Anderson Shelter surrounded by sand bags, so you will be safe if the Germans go on another bombing run.”

“Wonderful. Not completely out of danger,” she said.

He parked the car, exited the vehicle, walked around and opened the passenger door, holding out his gloved hand to assist her. Joan stared at it then slipped her hand in his.

Already his mother stood in the doorway and when they reached her, enfolded Joan into her arms. “Oh, my dear. Fred has told us everything. We are glad to have you. Do come in, I have the fire going in the parlor and the kettle is already on.”

Joan stiffened briefly at the contact, but returned the embrace. “Thank you, Mrs. Parker. I appreciate the warm welcome.”

His mother smiled warmly. “Come in, both of you. You can unload the auto later.”

“I can’t stay too long, Mum,” Fred stated. He also had to make a change in vehicles for his return trip.

“Nonsense. You will stay for tea. I have hot chicken pie and currant cake. Besides, your father is eager for your company.”

He laughed. “Mum, I was here yesterday.”

His mother cupped his face. “We want to see you every day of the week, but I know it’s not possible. I will take these visits when I can.” She laid a kiss on his cheek. He caught Joan’s gaze. Her eyes were moist.

After they settled in the parlor, introductions were made, and Joan surprised him by crouching down near his father. She took his withered hand and held it. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Parker. You look like a man who likes a slice of mince pie now and then.”

His father’s eyes twinkled. “How shrewd of you to guess. I do indeed.”

“You are in luck. I happen to have one with me. I’ll get it later from the car. Made by one of my neighbors. Before the war, it won prizes. Her secret is to add a little chopped apple to the mincemeat along with a tot of rum. Gives it a sweet tang.”

His father smiled broadly, looking years younger. “My dear girl. I believe you will fit in fine.”

Fred sat by the fire, his gaze never leaving Joan. She removed her coat and helped his mother bring the food to the table, chatting like old friends. Perhaps he made the right call after all.

Once the meal concluded, he headed toward the car to unload it. Joan followed him into the hall. “Fred, wait a moment.” Hearing his first name on her lips sent a jolt of heat straight to his heart. With a warm smile, she gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry I was difficult and all, but I…”

He cut off the rest of her sentence with an aggressive, passionate kiss, pulling her close. His heart banged a tattoo against his ribs. Joan gasped but threw her arms about his neck and kissed him in return. Every nerve ending sparked with desire, while his insides rolled and shook with yearning. He backed her against the wall, leaning in so she could feel how she affected him. How tempting to raise her dress, trail his hand up her leg…

“Fred? Have you got the luggage yet?” his mother called out.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he broke the kiss, and touched his forehead against hers. “In a moment.”