Victoria sat on the edge of the bed, fingers twisted tightly in the hem of her silk nightgown. She had already decided~tonight she would push the lesson further. She would make sure Jason actually learned.
She gave a small, determined nod. Her long black hair slid forward over one shoulder, catching the warm yellow light and gleaming softly.
Today he is going to understand.
The private pep talk did nothing to stop the heat rising in her cheeks. Behind her thin gold-rimmed glasses her eyes looked brighter than usual, almost glassy. When her gaze landed on Jason a sudden flutter of panic moved through her chest, as if he might somehow see straight through every careful excuse she had built.
Jason felt the weight of that stare. He lifted his head slowly.
Victoria looked luminous in the low light~soft, flushed, the silk clinging to every curve as she breathed. There was something almost girlish in the way she held herself, a shyness that sat strangely and powerfully on a woman her age. He had never seen her quite like this.
His throat went dry. He swallowed once, hard. His eyes stayed locked on her, pulse climbing against his will.
He kept his voice carefully innocent.
"Aunt Victoria... you’re acting different tonight. Is something wrong?"
The pure, slightly worried tone was deliberate. As far as anyone else was concerned, he was still just the younger man who didn’t understand half of what was happening.
Victoria flinched under the directness of his gaze. Color flooded her face until she looked like she might burn.
"I... I’m fine," she managed. "It’s just the teaching. That’s all." A beat later the next words slipped out before she could stop them. "Jason... do you... do you think I look nice right now?"
The moment the question left her mouth she froze in horror.
What is wrong with me today?
Why would I ask him that?
He’s going to think I’m some kind of desperate woman.
Worse, the second half of the question had almost followed~compared to Emma?~and only a last-second surge of self-control kept it behind her teeth. Her hands knotted together in her lap. Her eyes darted anywhere but his face.
Jason let a convincing flicker of flustered panic cross his features. He stammered just enough to sell the act.
"Aunt Victoria, of course you look nice. You’re... really beautiful. In my eyes you’re more beautiful than any other woman I’ve ever seen."
The sincerity in his voice~real or performed~hit her like warm honey. A soft, almost helpless smile bloomed across her face. She had heard every kind of compliment over the years from men who wanted something from her. None of them had ever landed quite like this. A quiet, dangerous sweetness spread through her chest.
She almost asked the comparison question again. Almost. At the last second she forced it down and changed direction, voice a little too bright.
"We should... keep going with the lesson."
Another half hour slipped by.
The room had grown noticeably warmer. Jason reached over and turned the air conditioner down a couple of degrees. Sweat still gathered lightly at the base of his throat.
Victoria watched him, frustration slowly replacing some of the earlier heat. The teaching wasn’t landing the way she had hoped. Maybe her approach was wrong.
Jason lowered his eyes, letting a self-reproachful expression settle on his face.
"Maybe we should stop for tonight," he said quietly. "I feel like I’m too slow. You’re working so hard and I’m not getting it."
The tactical retreat worked exactly as intended.
Victoria’s brows drew together. Determination hardened across her features.
No. We are finishing this.
I will not quit halfway.
For the first time in a long while she felt a thin crack of doubt about her own appeal. Men usually lost their composure around her without any effort on her part. Why was this so difficult with him?
She drew a deep breath, nails pressing into her palms, and made the decision.
She was going to teach him. Whatever it took.
Jason watched the resolve settle over her and felt a complicated pull in his own chest~calculation, desire, and something dangerously close to affection all tangled together.
Upstairs, Emma woke from a vivid dream with a soft, startled sound.
Her eyes opened slowly. Fragments of the dream still clung to her~images of herself and Jason as an actual couple, lazy and affectionate, tangled together in ways that made her face flood with heat the moment she remembered them. Worse, her mother had somehow appeared in the dream too. The sheer absurdity of it made her want to bury herself under the covers.
"That was... so embarrassing," she whispered to the dark room, both hands pressed to her cheeks. "Why would I dream something like that?"
Her throat felt dry and scratchy. She needed water.
She slid out of bed, slipped her feet into soft slippers, and padded toward the door. Because of the sticky heat she had gone to sleep in only a thin nightgown. A draft of cooler air made her shiver and hug her arms. On the way past a chair she grabbed one of Jason’s discarded shirts and pulled it on over the nightgown. Moonlight cut across her body, outlining the long line of her legs and the soft fall of the oversized shirt.
"So thirsty..." she muttered under her breath. "Why is it so hot tonight?"
She went downstairs on quiet feet, opened the refrigerator, and drank half a bottle of cold water in long, grateful swallows. The chill eased the dryness in her throat.
She was about to head back up when she noticed the light still on in Victoria’s room and the door left slightly ajar.
A small frown pulled at her brow.
It’s late. Why is she still awake? Work?
Curiosity and a vague worry nudged her forward. She moved closer on soft steps.
A faint, rhythmic sound reached her from the other side of the door~something like soft, wet contact, too steady to be ordinary movement.
Emma’s heart gave a sudden, uneasy kick.
What is that?
Is the lamp flickering... or is something else going on?