Knowing Read Free Page A

streaming light through the room. Jason had been up for nearly two hours, and Ginger sat drinking her fourth cup of tea when Jackson decided to make his grand entrance.
    After looking over her shoulder to see what she was reading, Jackson kissed Ginger fondly on the cheek. He tensed, quickly assessing the situation and Ginger’s mood. Several issues of Entrepreneur and Women’s Entrepreneur magazines were folded back, signifying that something had piqued her interest. Not this again, he thought to himself. Walking into the kitchen, he opened the cabinet door, reached for the coffee, opened yet another cabinet for a coffee mug, pulled out the silverware drawer, . . . and again, left it sticking out like a red flag.
    “Can’t you ever close a door?” asked Ginger, walking behind him and slamming the doors and drawer. She knew she should be used to it by now. Jackson never shut a cabinet door or pushed a kitchen drawer to its original position no matter how many he’d opened. Boy, did that get on her nerves. Their kitchen also had a spacious butler’s pantry with its own sink, storing trays, and serving counters, with a total of fifty upper and lower cabinets. Fortunately, his meanderings this morning hadn’t taken him that far.
    Often, she would come home from grocery shopping, tired and angry, only to find almost every cabinet door in the kitchen wide open. Did she think maybe it was the kids trying to help out, making it easier to put up the groceries? Oh, no. The culprit was none other than Mr. Montgomery looking for crackers to snack on, cheese spread, or a plate — he could never seem to remember where they were stacked.
    Ginger had asked Jackson on numerous occasions to have the kitchen remodeled, so at least the hinges would swing back on the cabinet doors and the needless arguments would cease. But no, he’d always refused, saying it would mess up the architecture of the house if they installed a modern kitchen.
    Their home, built in 1923, was the epitome of old-money extravagance. The third floor held two bedrooms for the maid and butler with a large full bathroom — they didn’t employ either. A spacious cedar closet completed the arc of rooms, which were circled around a massive skylight. They rarely used the third floor. They had plenty of other rooms as well as the twin sofa sleepers in the basement to use whenever relatives decided to stay over.
    Dressed in a pair of tight, worn jeans, Jackson curled his fingers around the handle of the mug, and braced himself against the counter. The strong aroma of rich, black coffee filled the air. He took a long sip. “Did you enjoy last night?” He looked her in the eye as a slow, devilish smile eased across his face.
    “Don’t I always?” said Ginger, resting her hands on her hips.
    Easing off the counter, swiftly untying her pink chenille bathrobe, he pulled her into his arms, forcing hers to drop at her sides. His large, nut-brown hands cupped her buttocks, pulling her up on her tiptoes to feel the bulge in his crotch. Her gown molded between her thighs as he thrust his knee to spread open her legs. Closing his mouth over hers, he kissed her. Ginger felt the velvety smoothness of his skin that stretched over his muscular shoulders as she struggled to disengage their bodies.
    “Come on, baby,” he whispered in her ear, licking the lobe. “We can go upstairs for a quickie before the kids wake up.”
    “I don’t feel like screwing, Jackson. I’ve got a lot on my mind,” said Ginger, finally freeing herself from his embrace.
    Jackson glanced in the breakfast room, and then looked at her. “We’re not going through this again, are we?” His muscles flexed, his breathing quickening.
    As he followed her, Ginger nervously stacked the magazines neatly in a pile, and gathered them up against her bosom. Turning to look him in the eye, she said, “I don’t care to discuss this with you this morning. We’ll talk about it this evening. I’m going to