Free Read | Beyond Fantasy: A Dangerous Man (5/12/12)

Beyond Fantasy:
A Dangerous Man
By
Rachel Cade




Part 1: Breakdown (Unedited)



Ciara Kimball was thoroughly humiliated. Driving herself around the backwoods of Maryland was bad enough but to have a BMW break down in the middle of August was just the worst. She was completely lost and had no idea how to get to the photo shoot she was supposed to be at in an hour. Technology had bailed on her as well since her cellphone could get no reception in the middle of God’s no where. How could her life get any worse?

Designer shoes getting ruined by an unpaved road? That would do it. By the time she found some remnants of civilization the sun had slipped half way across the sky. She was covered in sweat, her hair a disheveled mess and she refused to look down at her Fendi blouse.

When she pushed the two door convertible toward the first building she’d seen in twelve hours, an apparent auto repair no less, she could have collapsed crying. Instead she stared at the building wishing she didn’t watch movies like House of Wax and Wrong Turn. Gulping, she silently prayed the dilapidated looking Evan’s Auto Repair was an actual running business and not an abandoned building running rampant with inbred cannibals.

“H-hello?” She said once, feeling like a dumb blond in a B horror movie. She scanned the outside for movement, the garage door was opened, it looked like her fate was to keep walking, or attempt to stay there for the night.

She cringed at the thought. The only feasible weapon she had was the useless crowbar she’d found in the trunk, and she held it tightly in her hand as she moved closer to the building. As she made it to the front she could here the soft rumblings of a radio, country music was playing, and there was a dusty blue ford truck inside, the hood up. She heard a clang and lurched, tempted to run back to her car, instead she said hello again.

A mop of short blond hair came up over the hood and around it emerged a man that should have sent Ciara packing for the hills. “Yeah?” He asked flatly.
Ciara snapped her mouth closed forcing herself to look up from the tight sleeveless wife beater molded to his chest, as well as tanned skin covered in grease and oil, but it didn’t remotely detour her from noticing the well defined gigantic body beneath it. “I’m sorry.” She answered. “My car broke down, and I need some assistance.”

Golden eyes framed in dark lashes glanced behind her. “I can see that.” There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. He came from around the Ford completely and Ciara told herself to stay still. He was just a mechanic – and she was just five foot six, but she had her trusty crowbar should he prove psycho.

He was wearing jeans, worn and faded legitimately by his own wear that molded to every part of him, and it was all Ciara could do not to stare below his waist the closer he got to her, eyeing her all the while with a direct stare that must have made grown men nervous. There wasn’t any heat in his stare, just a calm assessment that sent shivers down her spine. Wasn’t he supposed to be looking at the car?
He glanced down the road. “How did you get here – you didn’t.” There was a slight southern drawl to a deep voice that made her shift her stance, while trying to keep an air of authority. “You didn’t push this car here did you?”

“I was in the middle of the road. I just bought this car!”

He placed a calm hand on his hip. “Why didn’t you call for help?”
Pulling the useless cell out of her pocket with sweaty fingers she jiggled it at him. “No service.”

His mouth curled down, making her notice the cleft in his chin covered by tiny blond stubble. “I see.”

He moved past her and she closed her eyes at his scent, sweat and aftershave and motor oil. How on earth could a man covered in dirt send her libido to the moon?

“Ain’t it funny?” He said looking over the car. “You spend so much money on things just to have them give out on you like nothin’?”

“No actually it’s not.” She answered, trying to keep the bite out of her voice from being annoyed and tired and having irony pointed out to her by the only person in the world that could help her. “I have an important engagement to get to that I know I'm late for.”

“And what engagement was that?” He asked.
Caught off guard by his question she answered. “A - photo shoot.”
Hazel eyes slid over her rumbled profile. “You model?” He asked.

She was trying to figure out of he was being sarcastic again but couldn’t so she decided to change the subject. “I don’t care how much it costs, can you please just get it back on the road?”

Jack Turner stared at the petite woman across from him, he wasn’t around people much but he knew a snob when he saw one. However he wouldn’t let that stop him from helping the woman out, she seemed pressed to get to wherever she was going.
He was curious though if she was in fact a model. Despite her loose fitting sweat stained blouse it was easy to see as the wind blew in from his left it occasionally molded the fabric to generous sized breasts. Her deep brown skin enhanced the yellow outfit she wore and Jack decided it was best to look away from her before she got suspicious.

The last thing he wanted was that tightly gripped crowbar imbedded in his groin. Snob or not she didn’t completely trust him, and the thought made him smirk a bit.

After using his phone to call a tow truck Ciara sat in a tiny plastic chair he’d found. He'd given her a look for when she asked if he had something she could cover it with. He returned with what appeared to be a clean towel. As she sat there and he worked on her car she noticed a stack of magazines on a stool nearly and reached to grab one. When she flipped it over she was greeted with the exaggerated proportions of an airbrushed video girl.

Promptly she put the magazine back on the table and the pile shifted and despite her quick moving fell into a far reaching scattered pile on the floor. As she was immersed in a sea of multi tone breasts, plain set of large men’s sneakers came into the fold. “I – I’m really sorry about this.” She said quickly talking more to herself than him as she fumbled to pick up the magazines, touching various exposed nipples and crotches while doing so.

“I’m Jack by the way.” Was all he said.
--

Once again embarrassed Ciara fixed the pile and sat back down quietly. Not too long after Jack came from around the car.
“I feel silly to keep calling you Miss.” He felt silly about that? She wondered, what about his large collection of tits via paper?

“Ciara.” She answered not looking at him.
“Can I offer you some water Ciara?”
“Sure.” She quipped.

When he handed her the bottle she could see he had washed his hands. “If you want to believe it, it’s looking like it’s your starter. I have a friend that has your part but he’s two hours away.”

“My starter? It’s a 2011 BMW.”
“Like I said, it’s funny.”

“No it’s not.” Standing balled her hands into fists. “I cannot believe this.”

“I know it must be hard for you to be out in the boonies like this but, the situation is what it is. There ain’t no reason to get yourself strung out about it. Just relax … be glad you aren’t in a worse situation.”

“There is no worse situation. Look at me! I’m covered in sweat and dirt, my shoes are …” She bent over pulling off the five inch heels.

She could see out of the corner of her eye that without the benefit of her shoes she
now barely made it to his armpit in height.

Ciara should have been going for her crowbar again but this time she was too fascinated in staring at Jack, his eyes were direct and open yet the yellowish orbs were hypnotic in their intensity, in the frame of dark lashes they appeared to blaze.

“My house is up the road.”
“Huh?”

“I’d like to wash up. I know you probably think us hicks don’t bathe, but we do. You could wash up yourself if you wanted to.”
Ciara shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“If you wanna stay here that’s fine. But it will be dark soon.”

A quarter mile down the road they came to his place, a historic white colonial house that sat between two ancient willow trees. She never would have fathomed on waking by afternoon she’d be in the middle of the woods with a stranger.

“Wow.” Ciara said. “Is this your place?”
“No I just squat here.”

She turned to him, and hated the way her heart flipped from the genuine smile spread across his face. “Very funny.”
“It was.”

To Ciara the house was surprisingly well decorated. The comfortable plush white living room furniture, hardwood floors and the shelf amassed with books didn’t necessarily coincide with an aloof mechanic –

“Do you have a girlfriend?”
Jack looked surprised. “Why would you ask that?”
Ciara shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish. “I don’t know, it just looks like a woman decorated here.”
“So you’re saying I have feminine taste?”
“No!” She answered quickly.

Jack laughed. “City girls are too uptight.” He dropped his keys on a nearby table. “Feel free to make yourself at home. I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
“Ok.” She answered nodding, trying to pretend this wasn’t a weird or uncomfortable situation.

When Jack disappeared upstairs Ciara collapsed on his love seat, visions of his full perfectly formed ass imbedded on her eyelids. “Relax Ciara.” She coaxed.
But she couldn’t and went on a snoop investigation of the ground floor for a mirror, to see just how far the pretty had uglied. When she got a good look at herself in a hard to find wall mirror by his kitchen she gasped, wanting to either die or be able to cocoon into a shell. Her carefully styled bun in lopsided shambles, artfully done makeup sweated away, the shiny forehead almost sent her into a tailspin.

Grabbing a brush out of her bag she pulled out the pins and began to try and make like she was a civilized human being instead of this moving ball of perspiration covered in expensive fabric.

“Are you doing that for me or yourself?” Jack was hanging over the banister, watching her with a wry smile.
She swallowed. “Myself. I thought you were taking a shower?”
“I am. I just came back to tell you there was some food in the fridge, figured you must be hungry from all that pushin’.”

Ciara continued brushing her hair, ignoring Jack’s attempts to make her seem like a fool for caring about her possessions and her appearance. “Thank you.” She answered tightly.

“Don’t know if you ever heard this from a man before, but you look fine just the way you are.” He retreated as she continued brushing but when he was out of site she stopped, her breathing slowed as she stared up at where he’d been standing.
Ten minutes later he came bounding back down the stairs, she had made herself a small turkey sandwich and considered making him one for a full five minutes before she actually did it.

When he hit the bottom of the stairs she saw he was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. His hair was still dripping with water. “You want to go and wash up? I found a shirt that will probably fit you, the verdicts still out on my pants.”

“I see.” Her astonished expression masked the heat that hit her face. She could have sworn things like this only happened on soap operas. Jack, still wet from his shower stood on the last step holding a beige towel to his hips with his right hand. Gone was the greasy wife beater to reveal a wide muscular pecs and abs that ripped down the center of his stomach, his soft smatter of blond chest hair was slicked down and Ciara wondered how to breathe.

“You know,” she answered. “I think I will just keep what I have on.” Getting naked in this man’s house was even dumber than stepping foot here in the first place. She just kept having to tell herself she didn’t know him, and ignore the part of her brain that said it didn’t matter. “I made a sandwich for you.”

“You did?” Jack asked surprised.
She nodded pointing to the kitchen table.
“How did you know what I like on it?”

“Mayo lettuce and mustard are pretty standard.”
“Good point.” He sat down and looked at it briefly.
“What?”

“Nothing.” He said too quickly at too high a pitch.
Jack continued to look even as he picked it up to have a bite. “Where you come from, do you make your own sandwiches or does someone make them for you?”
Ciara paused. “Now, you’re just teasing me.”

He lifted both brows quickly. “Good job, I am.”
“You make it seem like I’m some pampered princess or something.”
“Naw … I just think you put to much value on things that don’t matter … like your hair and your shoes.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with caring about my appearance.”
“Right, but there is caring too much.”
“Wow, the moral mechanic.”
“What makes you think I’m a mechanic?”

Ciara’s brows lowered. “You were working in one when I met you … you offered to fix my car.”
He smiled and continued eating. “This ain’t bad – just enough mayo.”
“Don’t change the subject. Are you a mechanic or not?”

“Are you a model?”
“What difference does that make?”
Jack shrugged, and finished the sandwich.

“You want a beer?”
Ciara gave him a look because he glanced back at her, then gave her a look of his own before chuckling. “I guess that wasn’t a wise offer.” He said opening the refrigerator.

Openly staring at his back she knew she wouldn’t have time to count all the muscles defined in his back and shoulders as his arm slung loosely over the refrigerator door, prayers for the towel to drop ceased when he turned back around to her, bottle beer in hand.

“I just don’t drink.”
“Understandable.”
“Really?”

“No, I just thought you might wanna hear that.”
Ciara snorted her laughter, catching herself covering her mouth.

“Ah, the lady laughs.”

Ciara worked hard to stifle her laughter, feeling self conscious about his comment.

“You’re odd.”

Jack was mid swig on his beer and almost choked. “How so?”

She wasn’t expecting that reaction, or the furrowed brow framing his stare as he waited for an answer.
“No - forget I said that. It was stupid.”

“It was honest.” He closed the refrigerator door. “Finish your thought.”

Was he asking?

She parted her lips to speak when she realized she couldn’t comfortably get out of it. “I - just don’t understand why you care - what I think of myself.”

Jack’s teeth flashed at her and she honestly couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed. “Oh that.” He answered flatly.

“And then there’s this whole thing with you not wearing any clothes in front of me.”

Jack glanced down at himself. “Oh - that.”

“Look - it’s your house.” Ciara quickly chimed in. “It’s not like I’m naked or anything.”

“You mean I’m naked.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He laughed shortly. “Okay. I’ll go put on some clothes.”

With his second departure, Ciara swallowed. “Damn.”

“So are you going to miss your photo shoot today?”
His question took her mind off the worn jeans and blue t shirt he returned wearing.

“Are you trying to be slick?” She questioned as he sat casually in a brown leather recliner.

“It’s such a simple question. It’s not like Batman giving up that he’s Bruce Wayne.

Ciara scoffed at the analogy, but Jack patiently waited. She pushed away from the kitchen island where she’d been sitting and joined him in the living room. Her body felt sticky, and each step she took was like having a spike driven into her foot. Her expression hopefully gave none of this away.

“No, I won’t make the appointment.” She admitted, darting her eyes away from him as she sat on the couch across from him.

“I knew it!” He obviously suppressed a grin after her admission. “So that’s why you’re so - primpy.”

“Is that even a word?”

“Would you prefer prissy?”

“No.” She quickly answered.

“So what kind of pictures do you take?”

She thought about it, then the pressing tone of his voice made her recall the magazines in his garage.

“Not whatever you’re thinking.”

His brows raised.

“Not the kind of girls - women - that you look at.”

”Oh?”

“Yeah ‘oh’.” Her defenses went up instinctively, from years of defending her occupation to her parents. “I don’t do nudity.”

“Well they’re models too.”

“That’s not modeling.” Ciara almost frowned as she remembered the seedy photographs. That’s not modeling, that’s m... masterbation.”

Jack shifted in his seat, his expression was unreadable, and she got the odd feeling she was being interrogated. “So you model church women’s clothes then? Nothin’ above the knee?”
In a reflexive action, Ciara touched her thigh. “I’m sure you’d like to know.”

“I would actually.”

She grit her teeth. “No. I don’t model church women’s clothes.” Her voice was barely audible.

“Glad to hear it. I hate those hats.”

Ciara lowered her head, murmuring as her teeth scored her lip. It stifled the laugh.

“I didn’t peg you for a Penthouse Pet either.”

She smiled. “Well, I’m glad to here that.”

Jack watched her in silence. His next sentence retreated back on his tongue.

He realized she had a right to her skittishness. She was in the middle of no where and he was a stranger to her. Quite frankly he was surprised she hadn’t opted to stay on the porch. She made eye contact with him occasionally, if she wasn’t pretending to study the rest of the room. He assumed the times her eyes did rest on him, and only briefly, she was just trying to prove to herself that she wasn’t afraid of him.
She sat back more in the chair, and crossed her legs. The action brought her shoe into his view.

Slightly covered in dirt, he thought it was an odd choice to wear bright red shoes with a yellow outfit, but hell, he didn’t know anything about fashion.

“So you live here alone?” Her question brought his eyes back to her face to find her staring at him quizzically.

“Yes.”

“Kind of strange. It’s a big house.”

“It’s better than a unibomber shack right?”

Ciara let out a breath and he laughed. “Let’s just get this out of the way. You’re uncomfortable being out here with me.”

She appeared to begin a protest when he cut her off with a wave. “No. It’s alright I get it.” He tried to keep his voice gentle. “If I were you I’d feel the same way.”

“Fine, I’m uncomfortable.” She admitted.

“Admission is the first step to recovery.”

She smiled, but he could tell she wasn’t that amused. “Right.”

“You seem to like leading the conversation back to me. Why is that?”

“Because I’m bored, and you’re here. People are nosy when they don’t have television to keep them occupied.”

Ciara glanced around the room. “Oh. You don’t have one do you?”

“No ma’am.”

“I guess that’s a good excuse. Otherwise I’d-” She stopped.

“What?”

“Think you were a cop or something.”

Jack grinned. “Or somethin’.”

“A mechanic?” Ciara questioned.

Jack stood up and stretched. “You want a steak? I’m still hungry as hell.”

He started toward the kitchen. “Jack, wow are you just going to ignore me?”

“I’m not ignoring you.” He glanced back, opening his freezer. “I’m offering to feed you.”

“I just ate.”

Jack dropped two frozen steaks on the table. “That’s right I forgot. Model. That sandwich was  enough food for a week for you, right?”

“I’m too tired to throw anything at you.”

After a soft chuckle, he said. “Come on out back, I’m going to fire up the grill.”

It was a few minutes before she joined him outside, when she did he looked up from the grill to see her eyes widen. The setting sun hit her face and turned her hair a deep auburn. “This is out back? I was expecting a couple of lawn chairs.”

Jack glanced back at the lake wide oval lake that emptied out into the Atlantic, and the pink and orange sunset that lit a fire across the horizon. He’d spent his fair share of days and nights over the past year marveling the scene. Ciara slowly came down the three gray steps of his patio, an evening breeze caught her hair. Jack realized he was far more interesting in staring at his petite lost highway girl, than spending another night mumbling under the stars.

“How did I not see all this from the front of the house?” She asked, turning to survey their surroundings.

“The trees and shrubs I guess.” He shrugged. “Does this mean my shack gets your seal of approval?”

“Oh my G- is that a boat?”

Jack was looking for extra coals when he stopped. “Yeah.”

“Is it yours?”

“Yeah.”

There was a giddiness in her eyes that caught him by surprise. “You like boats?”

Ciara’s smile lessened. “I don’t know. I guess, I just like the water. It’s really beautiful out here Jack. I can see why you like it.”



An hour later the sun was almost gone, there was still light in the sky but Jack knew he would soon have to turn on some lighting if they were going to stay outside.

“So you are really good with being out here all by yourself?” She asked as he set a full plate of well done steak in front of her.

“Yes. I’m good with it.”

“How long have you been out here, like a sasquatch?”

“Jeez.” He sat down next to her, instead of across the table. Only God knew when he’d have company again, so he might as well make a time of it.

“I had to get you back for the models don’t eat comment.”

He nodded. “I see.”

“So, back to you being a mechanic.”

“This again, really?” But he was amused by her persistence.

“I don’t give up easily.”

He held her gaze. “I don’t doubt it. So what is it you would like to know?”

Ciara cut into her steak. “How old are you?”

Jack grimaced. “How do we go from asking me if I’m a mechanic to how old I am?”

“Wow, you must be pretty old.”

The teasing gleam in her eye made him smile.

He was trying so hard to be polite, and keeps there conversation clean and civil.

They were strangers, and completely on his territory, she’d had a trying enough day without a guy she barely knew, leering down the front of her blouse. But as she leaned forward to eat he’d done exactly that.

“I’m thirty four.”

“How hard was that?”

“Like pulling teeth.” She laughed, it was genuine, melodic, far removed from the silence and crickets he was accustomed to hearing. It also forced him to realize she would be gone again soon, and he would be left again with nothing but his thoughts.

“Okay, how old are you then?” He asked quietly.

“Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to ask a woman that?”

“I have no manners.”

Ciara slowly shook her head and continued to eat. What he’d said earlier when he saw her primping in the mirror. She truly did look fine exactly as she was. She was beautiful, with her face devoid of makeup, her forehead slightly damp with sweat. He was sure she considered her hair a mess, occasionally her hand was rise up and try to smooth unruly curls that refused to be tamed.

Her caramel skin had a dewy sheen to it that made him want to reach his hand up and touch the side of her cheek.

Jack swore silently to himself, and chewed hard on a flavorless piece of meat in his mouth.

“I mean it. I have no manners. How old are you?”

“Close enough or over thirty that it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh. You sound bitter.”

“Only because you pulled my teeth.”

“Nice save.” Jack glanced at the table. “I forgot drinks. Why did you let me forget drinks?”

Ciara’s brows lowered. “Me-”

“What are you having church lady?”

“Anything non alcoholic.”

“Sounds like water.”

Jack returned to the patio with a beer for himself and a bottled water for her.

“Thank you.”

He glanced at the steak. “You did good madam. I didn’t even think you’d make it that far.”

“I knew you were going to say something.” She took a long swig of water. “I’m not done questioning you.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Damn lady. What else do you want to know?”

“How long have you lived out here?”

“‘Bout a year or so.”

“Okay.” He waited, and apparently so was she, but he didn’t offer up any more information.

“So you’ve just been out here - by yourself - single?”

“Shocking to you?” Jack asked quietly.

Her presence here was reminding him, very quickly just how single he’d been for the part year. It may have been longer. And he was doing a shit job at making sure this wouldn’t be their last encounter.

“Kind of, yes. I mean, according to you, you’re only in your mid thirties.”

“I thought mid thirties was after thirty five?”

“Now who sounds bitter?” 
Jack smirked. “Oh, I’ll miss you after you’re gone.”

They were both surprised by his statement, spoken without much thought until after it was blurted out. He quickly took a long swig of beer.

He would definitely mark this as one of the stranger days of his life, and he was quite familiar with strange.

“Do you mind of I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, it’s the first door on your right when you walk back in.”

When she was out of earshot he voiced his frustration in a low curse.

“What are you fifteen?” He asked bitterly. The blackened horizon offered no answer.

Ciara quickly used a paper towel to wash her face. The cold water did little to slack the heat that laced her skin. She should have been on the phone, calling back the tow truck company to at least find out if someone was en route to get her car. She hadn’t even called her family to let them know where she was. She was too busy half way flirting with a hermit.

God, it should be illegal for a man to fill a shirt out like that.

He was so different from the guys she was used to being around, he seemed so relaxed in his skin, like he didn’t have a care in the world. This whole environment might as well have been a world away from hers, instead of a few miles.

When she left the bathroom he was putting their dishes in the sink.

“You okay?”

She wiped her face self consciously. “Yes. Don’t I look okay?”

“I thought we already established that earlier. You do look full, but that’s about the only change.”

Ciara wished she could say the same for him. When she’d met him, he’d been a dirty hot guy, now he was a clean hot guy. And she really couldn’t say which version she liked better. But she did make sure to keep her eyes high above his waist band. That was an entire area she refused to let her irises get familiar with.

“You know it’s getting late.”

She nodded. “It is. I’m sorry. I’ll call the towing place back. I’ll see if a car service can come pick me up.”

“I doubt it, but you can try.”

Six frustrating calls later and she was still back at square one. She plety of friends, only two of them were reliable neither was picking up there phone. She doubted anyone would be leaving D.C. to come pick her up anyway.

“I am so fucking stranded.” She whispered.

Jack was in the living room, his long legs up on the couch, when she hung the phone up he spoke. “Why don’t you just go take a nice hot shower and lay down. Which you could have taken me up on earlier.”

“I appreciate that.” She swallowed as she tried not to stare at the way his thighs molded against his faded blue jeans. “I think I’ve imposed on you enough.”

Jack’s yellow eyes shrewdly stared back at her. “Is that it? Or are you just scared to spend the night here with me?”