CHAPTER TEN
I woke up early the next morning, sniffing the air and hoping that I smelled bacon.
I did not.
Irene’s guest services program lost one of her five stars in my mind as I headed for the bathroom. Oh, and minus one star for surprise, sneaky announcements that made me have a restless night’s sleep. Hopefully by the time I got cleaned up and spiffy, someone would rectify the bacon situation.
After I showered, I decided on a fuss-free mode of dress. I threw on some khaki shorts and a white baby tee top, and slicked the thick length of my still damp hair into a low ponytail. Jackson was still sleeping when I got back to the room, his big body sprawled across his half of the bed and some of my half, too.
At some point during the night, he had thrown off the comforter, and the sheet was getting lazy. It clung to the lower half of his body just right, and his sleep pants had slipped low enough for me to see the tapered V of his torso.
Not that I was looking, or doing anything sleazy like that. I did my absolute best not to look at his undeniably fit body as I moved about the room, putting my shower supplies away. It felt wrong to ogle him while he was sleeping and vulnerable. Not wrong enough to stop, of course, but still wrong. One last glance at the monument to rock hard abs, and I turned away, grasping at the last slivers of my conscience with clawed fingernails.
All right, one last look.
I sat on the edge of the bed, back turned resolutely to the gorgeous sight on the other side. I began thumbing through my phone, checking work emails. Nothing seemed to be on fire, and Julian had everything well in hand. Too well in hand. I was almost put out by how well he was handling everything. Jeez, it was like he didn’t need me at all. I soothed myself with the thought that we’d structured the company to work that way, so that everything ran like a well-oiled machine whether we were there or not. Just like it was supposed to.
I also checked an email that my pedometer had generated. According to my Fitbit, I was a lazy bastard. A lazy bastard who planned on eating bacon later. I decided that if I was ever going to look my cardiologist in the eye again, a walk was in order. I stuck my feet in some sandals and tiptoed through the house. I headed for the beach.
It was undeniably the best part of the house. About a half mile of unpainted, rough deck led down to the sand, bracketed by patches of tall grass, a blend of green and wheat stalks swaying in the early morning breeze. I passed a ragged sign that proclaimed no boating, fishing, or swimming past this point and smiled slightly. The current was pretty strong, but as long as I could remember, every family on the block had done a combination of all three.
I kicked off my sandals as soon as the deck ended and buried my feet in the warm sand, looking out at the sea as the sky lightened all around me. The distant swells were powerful, but by the time they reached the shore, they gently rolled over the saturated sand and dissipated into foam. I did more looking than actual exercising, walking along the shore’s edge, enjoying the foam washing over my feet. It was stark. Desolate. Beautiful. In other words, perfect for my mood.
“Hey, wait up!”
I turned to see a figure making his way down the dunes and squinted, trying to see who it was. When he was finally close enough to see his face, I groaned. The way my luck was going, that lottery ticket in my purse was probably a dud.
“Adam?”
“Hey, AJ.” He smiled sheepishly. “Long time no see.”
Not long enough.
I quietly took in a deep breath. I’d been prepping myself for this moment for a while, and apparently I needed another six months of prep to pull off the unaffected, laissez-faire attitude I wanted to portray. “What are the odds?” I finally said.
“My parents do live next door.”
“And you just happened to visit them while I’m here?” I narrowed my eyes. “Not to mention, I don’t particularly remember you going on many early morning walks.”
“I was in the kitchen, near the window. I saw you walking out this way.”
“Oh.” His honesty took the wind out of my sails. “Well. It’s…it’s good to see you.”
“That’s all I get?” His mouth twisted. “It’s good to see you? After all we were to one another? Wow, you really are over me.”
There was a bitter note to his voice that I wasn’t going to address. “Well, I’m all out of complimentary nuts and Biscotti,” I said lightly. “What do you want from me?”
He stared at me for a moment before smiling slightly, shaking his head. “Still a smartass, I see. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure why I came out here.”
That didn’t seem to require a response, so I didn’t offer one.
“Art told me that you had someone new. That you brought him home.” His gaze slid past me toward my father’s house, and I finally understood the real reason he’d moseyed on over. “Is that him?”
I turned to see Jackson coming down the path in cargo shorts and a tank top, a pair of thong sandals on his feet. He ambled toward us, hands stuck in his back pockets. The tension between Adam and I seemed to directly increase with his approach, and by the time he reached us, Adam was bristly as a porcupine.
Jackson ignored him completely, sending me a smile. “I was looking for you.”
“When I was a kid, I always came out here to think.” I shrugged. “I was hoping to prowl some moors in a whirling dark cape, but this was the closest I could find.”
“I would have come with you.”
“I didn’t want to wake you. You looked pretty tired.”
“I was. Someone was snoring pretty hard last night.”
I flushed. “I was not.”
“Don’t worry. It was kind of cute.” He sent me a sideways grin.
I felt a smile pulling at my lips. “Thanks a lot.”
“No problem.”
It was strange. Already, we had this sort of comfortable camaraderie with one another that usually took years to create. I wasn’t sure if I should be disturbed or just enjoy it. After a moment of overthinking, I decided to go with the latter, and tease him right back. “You’re not sleeping beauty yourself, you know.”
There was that sexy half-grin again. I could really get used to that grin. He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to stop you from wanting to jump my bones.”
Adam cut in rudely. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
“This is my boyfriend,” I said, trying not to stumble on the word. After so long, it was strange and foreign on my lips.
“Hey.” Jackson held out his hand as he introduced himself. Which Adam ignored. He shrugged and dropped his hand. “I’m Jackson—”
“Sparks,” Adam finished snappishly. “I know who you are. Art told me.”
“Then why did you…” I broke off and took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to let Adam get to me because he didn’t like someone taking his place. He was engaged. We were over and he’d made absolutely, publicly sure of that. His jealousy and posturing were beyond ridiculous, and I wanted to end it before he wound up peeing in a circle around my feet—I was wearing my good sandals after all. “We should be going.”
Dropping his polite, Mr. Rogers-won’t-you-be-my-neighbor routine, Adam growled. “I know you’re not dating him.”
“Says who?”
“Says the man who knows you pretty damn well. And you’ve always been more about substance than flash.” He waved his hands at Jackson to include all of him. “You expect me to believe that you’re dating some rich pretty boy who changes women like I change socks?”
I ignored rich pretty boy’s snort behind me, who obviously didn’t agree, and smiled. “It really sounds good when someone else says it. I suddenly feel really young. Hot.”
Adam gritted his teeth. “He’s not right for you.”
“And a better guy for her would be who? You?” From the sound of Jackson’s voice, he’d had enough. I’d heard him sound many ways in the past—amused, frustrated, annoyed, upset—but I’d never quite heard his voice as cold as it was now. I moved a step closer to him. If need be, I probably could have wrangled him in a bear hug long enough for Adam to get inside and double lock the door. Maybe.
“I think it would be good if we all forget this conversation ever happened.” I gave Jackson a little nudge to get him moving, but it was like trying to push a concrete block. He was too busy staring at Adam, arms folded across his chest, face grim. I huffed out a breath in frustration. Men. Since I couldn’t move Jackson Mountain, I turned to Adam. “It was good seeing you.”
He moved closer to me, his voice going low. “Maybe we could talk in private.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His jaw worked for a minute as he stared at me, and I briefly wondered if he would push the issue. I didn’t think that was going to go over so well with my new bodyguard. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
His face was red with frustration and irritation, and I feared for his blood pressure. I was about to offer him a Bayer aspirin when he finally spun on his heel and stalked off toward his house. We watched him go in silence until he wrenched open his back door and whammed it shut.
I turned to Jackson with a scowl. “What part of your services includes beating up my ex?”
“Don’t worry about it.” His jaw looked like it was carved out of granite. “He’s so annoying, it’s on the fucking house.”
“Well, cut it out.”
“I barely did anything.”
“You did enough.”
My comment made him turn to face me, and suddenly I was the focus of that intensely displeased look. “Do you still have feelings for him?”
“Of course not.”
My denial was automatic, but I was pretty sure it was true. When were love and relationships ever so cut and dried? I wanted to say I was completely over Adam, but why had it been so hard to look at him? Hard to see those familiar brown eyes and tousled brown curls? Hard to hear the familiar cadence of his voice?
It wasn’t that I missed him as a lover. I missed him as the man I’d been ready to build a future with. I missed him as my friend. My friend who liked to wear superhero boxers and had a baseball card collection worthy of any real hoarder. My friend who had a special spaghetti sauce that he swore was secret but we both knew was just Prego with some chopped basil thrown in.
I didn’t know if I still had any feelings left for Adam. But I’d loved him once.
That didn’t mean I didn’t want to push him into the ocean, just to see how deep and cold it really was. Where was Marianna’s Trench when you needed it?
“I want to talk about something else,” I finally said.
“He still wants you, you know.”
“That’s not something else,” I said with a groan. “And you can tell this how?”
“Because I have functioning eyeballs.”
I started walking again, a little closer to the surf. “I’ll be eating breakfast if you want to talk about something other than Adam or your eyeballs.”
It only took a moment before he fell in beside me, his longer legs making me hustle a bit more than the casual stroll I’d been enjoying. I glanced at my Fitbit, surprised to see I’d been out here more than an hour.
We’d gone about a quarter of a mile before he said, out of the blue, “I don’t change women like I change socks. I don’t know where that little rumor got started, but it’s not true.”
“Of course not.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I believe that you believe it,” I soothed.
He nudged my shoulder with his. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”
“You want me to lie to you?” We may not have hung out together, but I’d known Jackson a long time. His track record kind of spoke for itself. “Besides, he said you change them like he changes socks. If I remember correctly, that’s only once a week.”
His mouth twitched. He seemed to be wavering between amusement and annoyance for a moment before the latter won out. “I don’t want to talk about this either.”
Fair enough. I could do without going over Jackson’s sexual history. “What do you want to talk about, then? The weather? That’s nice and neutral.”
He groaned. “Are we really at that point?”
“Yes. We are. I’ll start,” I said primly. “I don’t know whether it’s the fresh air or the water, but it seems so peaceful. Time really flies when I’m walking out here.”
He grunted in return, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“I said we should talk about the weather,” I prodded. “We is usually indicative of you plus me.”
He sighed. “It is nice. Balmy and warm. Much better than what we had going on where I grew up.”
He and Julian were originally from Chicago. Jackson had moved to Florida for graduate school and Julian had followed soon after. They’d always planned to go back, as far as I knew. But after their parents had passed, they’d both wanted a fresh start, a chance to get away from all the memories. It was a sentiment I understood all too well.
I shivered, thinking about those cold Chicago winters. I was born and raised in Florida, the place of endless summer. Our biggest nod to cold weather was not wearing sandals in the dead of winter. We also had one season. Hot. And that was how we liked it. If you didn’t mind sweating clean through your clothes, it was a damned fine place to be.
“I don’t know why you would voluntarily live someplace that’s so cold.”
“Because we like seasons, Avery. There’s something to be said for snow.”
“Yes, there is. That it’s miserable.”
He grinned. “Well, there’s that. But there’s also something so surreal about it. Especially when everything is so clean and blanketed with snow, and the air is so sharp and cold that it hurts to breathe it in. And the quiet is unreal.”
Jackson suddenly grabbed my hand, pulling me to a stop, and I gave him a startled look. “What’re you doing?”
“He’s watching.”
“Who? Adam?” I arched my brow. “You’re paranoid.”
“How much do you wanna bet? I saw the kitchen curtains twitch.” He looked down at me, those golden-green eyes sparkling mischievously. “We should at least try to look romantic.”
Would serve him right. I tried to think romantic thoughts. Sweet thoughts. When that didn’t work, I tried to round my eyes and bat my eyelashes like Ariel in The Little Mermaid. A smirk pulled at my lips as I asked, “How am I doing?”
“Awful.” His lips quivered. “And stop trying to make me laugh. Give me your hands.”
His hands felt strange on mine. Larger. Warmer. Rough. I’d never really thought of my hands as small, but against his, they were tiny and feminine. His thumb rubbed across the softer skin of my inner wrist, right under my Alex and Ani bracelet, and I nearly leapt out of my sandals.
Get a grip, AJ, it’s just hand holding. I tried to get comfortable with it. I really did. But tactile gestures had never really been my strong suit. We held hands awkwardly for a moment, swinging them between us like our kindergarten teacher had demanded we cross the street together.
“Red rover, red rover, send Jordan over,” I murmured.
He made a sound that was equal parts exasperated and amused. “Is this the best you’ve got?”
No, I thought determinedly. If he could do this for me, I could at least put some effort into it. I squeezed his hand hard. From the sudden surprise on his face, probably too hard. Strongman-competition hard. He pulled back his hand and shook it out, flexing the fingers to and fro. “I don’t think it’s sprained, at least.”
“I’m so sorry! Let me see it.” I reached for his hand to see the damage, but he held it out of my reach, shaking his head. “Jackson.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Let me take a look.”
“No thanks, Ironman.”
I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. “I did say I was sorry.”
“That’s all right. It’s not like I make a living with my hands or anything.”
“Don’t be such a baby. I’m sure you can still type, Mr. Lawyer.” I finally captured his injured hand, and dropped a kiss on his palm. “There. Is that bett—”
I wasn’t prepared for his mouth landing softly on mine, which was the only reason I could think of that my eyes remained wide open. I had plenty of time to push him away, to voice an objection, to do…something. Instead, I stood there, letting his mouth press kisses against mine, his hands cupped around my jaw, holding me right where he wanted me. One kiss from Jackson, and I was frozen like a fucking cartoon character.
Those clever hands started moving, traversing a path down to my waist. And then lower. When I parted my lips to ask him what part of our cover required his hands gripping my ass, he used that opportunity to slide his tongue in my mouth. And it. Was. Good.
God, his lips were so fucking soft. And he tasted so good, like coffee and mint and something…I didn’t know, something Jackson that I couldn’t get enough of. I moved against him restlessly, trying to communicate without words exactly what I was feeling. Mostly because I didn’t know the words to explain how I was going to actually combust if he stopped. He sucked my tongue in his mouth and something in my stomach lurched drunkenly.
That’s enough for show. Time to pull away, AJ. Yes. That was the right thing to do. My hands decided they couldn’t be bothered to help me resist, and sank into the thick silkiness of his hair. His mouth slanted more fully over mine, finally wrenching a whimper from my throat. It was loud and embarrassing, and finally gave me back the mental capacity to think. Jesus.
I stepped back so fast, I almost stumbled. He leaned forward to help me, and I waved him off. If falling flat on my face helped me to get it the fuck together, then so be it. I stared at him for a moment, wondering if I looked as completely debauched as he did. His hair was thoroughly tousled from my wandering fingers, and his mouth was swollen and wet, his cheeks filled with color.
I was hard-pressed to manage an apology. How do you apologize for nipping at someone’s lips? Sucking on his tongue? Rubbing against him like a cat in heat? Maybe Hallmark had a card for that, right down the sorry-I-mauled-you aisle.
Luckily, Jackson didn’t seem too perturbed. He smiled crookedly. “That ought to do it.”
That ought to do what? My mind was offline again. Only a tiny part of my brain controlling autonomous function kept me from grabbing his shirt front and pulling him down to my level. Mostly so I could maul him again.
The bastard must have slipped me something, I thought, suddenly indignant. He’d slipped some E in my coffee. That had to be the reason I could still feel a tingling sensation in my stomach, a low grasping pull that made my legs a little wobbly. I wanted his mouth back on mine. I wanted his hands back on my ass. I wanted to sink my hands back into his soft hair and I wanted to be pressed up against him again. And here he was, still thinking about…Adam? Had that kiss just been all show for him?
“AJ?” When I looked up at him again, his eyes were worried and soft. “I hope that was okay.”
“Okay?” I bobbled my head like a Hawaiian dashboard tchotchke. Did he not realize I’d nearly scalped him gripping his hair? “Okay” was not exactly the word I would have used, but since my brain’s motherboard had melted like crayons in the sun, it would have to do. I cleared my throat and attempted to say something intelligent for the first time in five minutes. “We should get back. Breakfast is probably ready.”
He nodded his agreement and we began walking the path back up to the house. We didn’t fill the silence with idle chatter, each lost in our own thoughts. At least I was. As far as I knew, he could be wondering if we were going to have pancakes or waffles for breakfast.
Me? I was wondering why I was already craving his touch. Now that he’d had his hands on me. His mouth on me.
I shook my head grimly.
Most disturbing of all? I wanted his hands on me again.