A Moment in Time (29 page)

      
Goodfellow was willing to pay more, and that was also where Jackie would find her unfinished portrait.
 
She had to get to that portrait before the real Lolita showed up and cost Cole the gold and Jackie her time portal.

      
But, as long as it was completed, did it really matter whether the portrait was of Jackie or Lolita?
 
Her time portal painting had been of the real Lolita, after all.
 
Now that Jackie thought about it, though, she remembered the way the face in the painting had transformed from Lolita's to Jackie's.

      
Dammit, Clarke–get back to that portrait before it's too late.

      
She rolled her eyes skyward.
 
Damn.
 
Did the way Lolita's face had changed to hers mean Jackie's current fate was to
be
Lolita Belle?
 
A sudden consideration made her flesh turn cold and she stiffened.
 
Bracing herself with her arms extended behind her, Jackie considered the impossible.
 
Of course, much of her life seemed impossible these days.
 
Even so, she had to consider it.

      
When she'd fallen back in time, had the real Lolita gone forward?
 
This was all starting to sound like a low budget science fiction movie.
 
Question was, how would the movie end?
 
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she drew a deep breath and watched a hawk sail by, mocking her with its serene appearance.

      
Could it be true?
 
Was the real Lolita in Jackie's time trying to figure out modern technology and the nuances of dating and the modern single woman?
 
Another thought made Jackie laugh out loud and sit up straight.

      
Was Lolita educating Great-Aunt Pearl?

      
Poor Aunt Pearl.
 
Jackie bit her lower lip, remembering the last time she'd seen her aunt, then revised her concern.
 
Poor Lolita.
 
Either way, Jackie knew Lolita and Pearl would be worthy adversaries.
 
Hell, Aunt Pearl would probably prefer having Lolita to ridicule instead of Jackie.
 
Lolita's life had to be a lot more interesting than Jackie's.

      
In any century.

      
With a sigh, she slid off the boulder and trudged slowly toward the cabin, pondering the whole mess.
 
If–big
if
–she and Lolita had actually traded centuries, then didn't they both have to trade again to set things right?
 
What if Lolita liked modern times, indoor plumbing, and the feminist movement?
 
Could they both be in the same time together?

      
Jackie froze.
 
She was in big trouble.
 
Then again, maybe she was borrowing trouble.
 
She had absolutely no proof that she and Lolita had traded places, other than the fact that she was here and Lolita wasn't.
 
On the other hand, Goodfellow had said Lolita–er, Jackie–was earlier than expected.
 
She threw her hands up in surrender, her mind and emotions dueling inside her body.

      
And how could she be certain Rock Smith wasn't Blade trying to con her again with that dumb cowboy routine?

      
Damn.
 
She needed to release some major stress.
 
At home, she would've gone to Jazzercize, then seen Dom for a massage.
 
The thought of her favorite massage therapist's magical hands made her moan and rub the kink in the back of her neck.

      
"Face it, Jackie, you aren't Dom."
 
Maybe she couldn't get a massage, but she could do some aerobic exercise to relieve her stress.
 
Besides, Todd's fatty cooking would go straight to her thighs in no time, so exercise would serve a dual purpose.
 
Triple.
 
Relieve stress, burn fat and calories, and...take her mind off Cole.
 

      
No, be honest, Clarke.
 
Not just Cole–sex with Cole.

      
Too risky, because she couldn't keep her heart out of it.
 
Sex was one thing–lovemaking was another.

      
"Why can't you be a wanton, Clarke?"
 
She had to stop thinking about sex.
 
Exercise was the answer.
 
Hop to it before it's too late.

      
There was no such thing as spandex in 1891, so she would have to improvise.
 
She was completely alone in the wilderness for heaven's sake.
 
No one would see her.
 
At any rate, she certainly couldn't exercise in this Little Bo Peep regalia.

      
Looking over her shoulder to ensure she was still alone, she removed the sunbonnet as she stepped into the cabin and unbuttoned Elizabeth's dress.
 
She squirmed out of it, then folded it over the back of the rocking chair.
 
For a moment, Jackie stared at the rocker.
 
Elizabeth would've rocked Todd to sleep in that chair.
 

      
All the grief Cole and Todd must've felt since Elizabeth's death washed over Jackie and she pressed the heel of her hand to her breastbone and bit the knuckles of her other hand.
 
She wanted–needed–to form a picture of Elizabeth in her mind.
 
What had Cole's wife looked like?
 
Did he have a photo or painting?
 
Jackie made a mental note to go through more of the books and journals on Cole's shelves after her workout.
 
Maybe there was a wedding album or something.

      
She looked around the cramped cabin.
 
There simply wasn't room in here for a decent workout, so she shrugged and peered through the open door again.
 
No one around but a few birds and a squirrel staring at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads.

      
Laughing at her own foolishness, she stepped outside and onto the bare ground in front of the cabin.
 
"You ain't seen nothing yet," she said to the surrounding wildlife.
 
She paused with her hands on her hips and drew a deep breath, then glanced down at her attire.
 
The lace-trimmed chemise and pantalettes–or were they pantaloons?–were far less revealing than her usual tights and leotard.

      
"Get over it, Clarke."
 
She reached over her head, then leaned far to each side, stretching her stiff muscles.
 
Placing her palms flat on the ground, she felt the muscles at the back of her legs pull and elongate.
 
Yes, exercise was just what she needed.

      
Sex is exercise.

      
No, Clarke.
 
Get over it.

      
After stretching for several minutes, she started with some simple jumping jacks, then segued into a jazz routine she'd learned in class.
 
The familiar music played through her head and she gradually gave herself over to her endorphins.
 

      
Time and place forgotten, Jackie worked hard.
 
Stress became a distant memory and her body relished the familiar activity and the endorphin high.
 
Her routine had been shot all to hell with this time travel gig, so anything familiar was a welcome change at this point.

      
A strange rhythm joined the music in her brain and she stopped abruptly to stare at the man seated on the front step.
 
With a small drum wedged between his knees, Chief Byron gave her a toothless grin and an approving nod, and kept right on beating his drum.

      
Oh.
 
My.
 
God.
 
The old man must think this was some sort of rain dance.
 
Well, come to think of it, aerobic exercise
was
a ritual.
 
And she wasn't doing anything
wrong
, after all.

      
Feeling her flesh begin to cool and her pulse rate slow too soon, Jackie gave a shrug and returned to her workout, adjusting her mental music to match Chief Byron's.
 
Several more minutes passed before she'd had enough.
 
Reaching over her head, she stretched, then bent forward to repeat the process.
 
She didn't want to wake up sore in the morning in any century.

      
"Thanks, Chief," she said, straightening.
 
"You play a mean tom–"

      
The direction of the chief's gaze made Jackie bite off her words as she swung around to survey her unexpected audience.
 
Todd stood by the paddock fence, his eyes wide and jaw slack.
 
Allowing her gaze to drift slightly to the right, Jackie found a much longer pair of legs and followed them up past slim hips, taut abdomen, broad chest, sinewy neck....
 
Cole's jaw twitched and his lips were set in a thin line, with his nostrils slightly flared, his eyes narrowed to twin slits of disapproval.

      
Jackie's mouth went dry and she shoved her hair back from her face.
 
"Hey, guys."
 
She waggled her fingers in their direction, refusing to be embarrassed.
 
These Victorian men needed some enlightenment.
 
And then some.

      
"What the devil are you...?"
 
Cole walked slowly toward her, his son at his side.
 
"What...?"
 
Again, he faltered, unable or unwilling to complete his question.

      
Damn.
 
He probably thinks this is part of Lolita's act.
 
Jackie gave a shrug and kept smiling, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
 
"Exercising, and Chief Byron was good enough to play my, uh, accompaniment."

      
Cole shook his head, but his gaze dropped to her breasts.
 
Uh-oh.
 
Jackie realized the thin cotton chemise probably outlined every detail.

      
She held her breath and her nipples stiffened in response to the heat of his gaze.
 
Liquid fire slowly unfurled through her core like tendrils of smoke.

      
Jeez, she wanted this man.
 
A shiver of anticipation skittered down her spine.
 
Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, and Cole seemed mesmerized.

      
Couldn't she set aside her emotions and morals just this once for a wild, lurid affair with Cole Morrison?
 
Maybe it would be good for her to let go, to forget about her heart and her hang-ups.
 
What would it take out of her to seduce this man?
 
Regardless of what the future held, she knew one thing for certain.

      
She'd go crazy if she didn't have Cole Morrison at least once–she licked her lips–or twice.

      
Don't forget the kid, Clarke.

      
She should cover herself.
 
Self-disgust oozed through her, and after a few tense moments, Cole also seemed to drag himself from the spell he'd cast over them both and rolled his eyes heavenward.
 
His cheeks reddened and he shifted his gaze to the chief.

      
"What's going on here, Chief?"

      
The old man appeared nonplused, looking from Cole to Jackie, then back to Cole as if their inability to grasp the obvious were absurd.
 
He grinned again.
 
"The maidens in my tribe never danced this way."
 
His dark eyes twinkled and he directed a longing glance in Jackie's direction.
 
"Sadly."

      
Jackie smiled at her elderly friend.
 
"You're a treasure, Chief."
 
She'd better get her butt inside and back into her dress.

      
"I like this dance," the chief said with conviction.

      
"Thanks, Chief."
 
A niggling worry eased through Jackie as she inched her way toward the steps.
 
She'd just squeeze by the old boy and grab her clothes....

      
"The custom is obvious," the chief continued.
 
"Do you not see it, Pale Eyes?"

      
Uh-oh.
 
Jackie had no idea what sort of "custom" the old man thought she'd been practicing, but she knew trouble when she heard it.
 
Well, sometimes.

      
Cole chuckled without a hint of humor, yanking his hat off to slap his thigh.
 
"Custom?"
 
He shook his head.
 
"It might be obvious to you, Chief, but all I saw was a half-naked woman prancing around like she had ants in her drawers."