Megan stared at herself in the mirror. Maybe she was overdressed. Maybe she should be casual. Maybe she was overthinking this whole thing. She and Jack had been on three dates, four if you counted the restaurant when she’d asked him out. Surely when he said it was time to move forward he meant to the bedroom. Right? Of course, he did. She needed to move on. Her husband had been dead for a year. Aaron would want her to go on.
As if she’d conjured him with thinking his name, the scent of his aftershave wafted over the bathroom. This time felt different. As if the memory of him surrounded her, but not her husband himself. It wasn’t an actual smell, but rather, the memory of a smell. Just as Jack had explained to her.
The ringing of the doorbell yanked her from her thoughts. Time to move on figuratively and physically. She left the bathroom and crossed to the front door. Opening it, her breath caught at the sight of Jack O’Malley on her doorstep.
His long hair was pulled back and secured, leaving his sculpted face on view. His eyes brightened as he smiled at her. She smiled back. She couldn’t help it. Then he pulled his hand around from his back with a bouquet of bright-yellow roses. He’d remembered when she’d told him they were her favorite.
She stood there, staring, until he spoke up.
“Can I come in?”
A heated blush washed across her cheeks. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
“No need,” he said, handing her the flowers. “I think I’m a little nervous too. We’ve both been waiting for this moment, haven’t we? At least, I know I have.”
Jack moved closer. His body heat wafted over her, bringing the icy scent of the sea he carried wherever he was.
He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, his lips hotter than the blush she’d felt a moment ago. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent that always seemed to surround the man. His mouth found hers as he pulled her in close and his warmth enveloped her. She wanted to stand here forever, wrapped around him. She yearned to have this moment go on forever. At the same time, she ached to move on to the next step in their relationship.
His fingers slid down her arm to the plaster of her cast. “I’m so sorry this happened?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “I’ve told you a dozen times, it isn’t your fault. I fell.”
“Don’t belittle my intelligence. We both know that something, someone, pushed you.” His hands cupped her face as he stared into her eyes. “I promised you were safe, and you weren’t.”
Reaching up with one hand, she laced her fingers into his and squeezed. “Can we forget ghosts, and casts, and other stuff for just a little while if I tell you that something might have pushed me? That night is still unclear, but nothing else has happened.”
His dark gaze swept over her, worry still in his eyes. As if he pushed something in his mind away, his eyes cleared and shone a light gray. “Of course, if you tell me that delicious scent is dinner.”
She smiled as their arms dropped but Jack retained hold of her hand. It felt so right, her hand in his, a smile on his face as he walked with her to the kitchen. Megan moved to find a vase for the flowers. Dropping his hand, she missed the comforting warmth of his flesh in an instant.
Opening a cabinet, she reached for a vase, just out of reach. Her back warmed as Jack moved behind her. “This one?” he asked, his hand wrapped around her favorite vase. “The one with the chip at the rim?”
“Yes, that one,” she muttered between gritted teeth. “The one that is perfectly fine even with a chip.”
“Of course, it is,” he replied. He handed it to her. “Our favorite things have chips and scratches from us using them so much. We don’t get through life without scars and wrinkles and damage, so why should the things we use be any different. Nothing and no one is perfect.”
She heaved a giant sigh and it was like a boulder rolled off her shoulders. Megan should have known Jack would understand. The deep empathy in the man made him so good at his job. A sensitivity letting him connect with the spirit world, and this one too.
Laughing, she took the vase to the kitchen sink and filled it with water. She placed the flowers inside and moved it on the granite countertop. She looked up at Jack.
“As I’ve told you before, you obviously haven’t met my mother?”
“No, but I’ve met your sister and I have the feeling the acorn didn’t fall far from the tree.”
She laughed again, her head falling back. “She’d be so pissed if she heard you say that. Andrea thinks she escaped the ‘perfection’ gene.”
Jack laughed. He ran his hands up and down her arms, sending shivers through her spine. Delicious shivers. He turned serious, his gray eyes darkening and his mouth curving into a wicked smile.
“You are perfection,” he whispered, just before his lips claimed hers.
She meant to protest his statement, but all thought flew before the onslaught of his kisses. They weren’t gentle ‘I like you’ kisses. They were ‘I want you, I need you’ kisses. Which was a good thing, because she wanted him too.
This wasn’t the high school crush she’d had for Aaron. This wasn’t the gentle love they’d shared. Jack was a pirate. Wild and free. And he wanted her. Giddiness filled her mind at the thought of how wild and free Jack might be.
She reached for the leather tie in his hair and ripped it out, flinging it to the floor. Her fingers dug into his thick hair, a groan escaping them both. Lights sparkled behind her closed eyelids as his tongue teased at her lips and she opened her mouth to invite him in.
A warm hand cupped her butt and pulled her in between his legs. Hardness pressed between her thighs and her panties dampened as she ground herself against him. A hand wandered up her spine, sending warmth and need through her. His fingers tangled in her hair as he cupped her neck and pulled her in closer until they touched chest to chest. Her whole body warmed to an inferno. She wanted him now. Right in the kitchen. Up against the counter. She didn’t care where, if it was now.
The buzzer on the oven shrilled in the room. Megan opened her eyes to find Jack standing before her with a dazed look in his eyes and his shirt unbuttoned. Had she done that? Had he? She couldn’t remember. One look at his bronzed chest and rock-hard abs, and she was ready to continue what they’d started, until the buzzer repeated, louder this time.
“We should probably get that,” she said, not moving.
“We probably should,” he added, not moving either, gazing deep into her eyes.
Laughing, she turned and grabbed potholders. Megan bent over and got the lasagna out of the oven. A groan from Jack had her taking longer than needed to complete the task.
“You’re killing me here, woman.”
She smiled. Standing, she moved the food to the counter and shut the oven. Going to the fridge, she got the salad. Bringing it to the counter, she tilted her head to the bread on a cutting board. “If you could cut the bread, I’ll grab the rest of the stuff and we can eat.”
She handed him a knife. Once he started on the bread, she got the plates and silverware, the bottle of wine and glasses, and together they carried everything to the dining-room table. Megan made one last trip and brought the vase of flowers and put them in the middle.
For a short while, there was no sound in the room apart from the clinking of silverware on china. With a sigh, Jack sat back and smiled at her.
“My compliments to the chef. This was better than da Vinci’s.”
“Don’t let Mario hear you say that.”
He reached for her hand and held it. “It’s true.”
His other hand reached for the wine bottle and topped off their glasses, putting the last few drops into her cup. She picked up the glass and stared at the wine. It swirled and coated the sides of the wineglass in a deep red.
“Do you ever get scared, doing your job?”
He squeezed her fingers. “Not very often. Most of our cases are whispered voices and knocks on walls, like Donna told you. I’ve been startled, maybe, but nothing like your case. A ghost hunter could wait a lifetime for an event like that.”
She bit her lip. “I know, but you promised to not air the footage.”
Jack took her hand between both of his. “I meant it, Megan. Your privacy is guaranteed. It’s not only your concern, but Ghost Releasers reputation. I’m not going to destroy either.”
Her lips curved up in a smile and she saw a matching one on his face. “Can we not talk for a while? I’d like to get back to what we were doing before dinner?”
He tipped the wineglass up and drained the last drops of wine. His lips glistened with wetness. His very kissable lips.
Megan stood, pushing her chair back. Grasping Jack’s hand, she pulled him to his feet. His arms swept around her, pulling her in close. Close enough to feel the hardness in his pants. A groan escaped her as she matched the hardness to the cleft between her thighs. Her damp thighs. God, she wanted him. She’d never wanted anyone like she wanted Jack O’Malley in this moment.
His warm hand traveled up her spine, sending spikes of heat each inch of the way. His lips swept down and claimed hers. His mouth opened, and his tongue slid along hers. She let him in and inhaled the tang of wine and spices.
His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling the strands loose from a braid. Massaging her scalp with his long fingers brought a louder groan from her. His lips left her as he buried his face in her hair and inhaled near her ear.
“You always smell of paradise.”
His deep growl brought wetness between her thighs. She wanted him in her bed. She wanted him now.
The thirty some odd steps to the bedroom seemed like a trek across a barren desert. She remained entwined around him, guiding his steps to the doorway to the room. A few more steps and they found the bed.