by Crowe, Liz
“But…” Sara shot him a look. He handed it over. By the time he made it to her side, his face had reddened significantly. “Hippies,” he mouthed to her.
Glancing around, he smiled at a few people. “I sold that guy his first house. But he wasn’t with her then,” he whispered. He raised a hand to another couple. “Those people are breeding? God help the human race.” His low mutter near her ear made her more comfortable that she should be.
She elbowed him in the ribs. He sighed, shrugged out of his grey suit coat and expensive shoes and sat next to her. The next hour they giggled their way through the day’s discussion: “Opening your vagina with your mind and positive energy.”
“Hey, did you know that I can open vaginas with my…,” he whispered.
“Shut up!” Sara elbowed him again and tried not to let the giggles overwhelm her. He leaned into her ear as the class leader seemed to go into some weird, trance-like state, extolling the virtues of olive oil on one’s “pudendum” during the “stretching” process.
“Yum.” He bit her earlobe, making her shiver.
“Yeah, I’ll feel like Jabba the Hut and smell like a plate of pasta.”
He chuckled and stayed near her neck about a half-second too long. She turned and looked at him, flinching when he raised a hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You are a gorgeous Jabba the Hut. I’ve missed you.”
The teacher’s voice broke the moment. “Now papas, please let the mamas settle in between your legs.”
“What the…?” Jack looked away from her. Sara slapped his socked foot.
“Spread ‘em.” He grinned and she sat between his legs.
“Now, papas, touch your child.” Sara winced. So many times she wished she could take back her words. Have the paternity test and let Jack claim the child in her belly. Because something in her knew it was his. Jack stayed leaning back on his hands. “Like this.” The Lamaze lady walked over, grabbed his hands and put them on Sara’s round stomach, moving them in circles for him. “Love mama’s skin. Let your baby know you’re there.”
Jack’s strokes were perfunctory at first. Sara sensed his uneasiness like a physical presence between them. Then she felt it – a bump, some pressure, then a distinct heel or elbow as the baby rolled and mounded on one side of her. “Holy shit,” he blurted out. Sara blushed.
“Shhh…” the couple next to them admonished.
“Sorry.” He leaned up, pressing his strong, warm torso against her back.
“Now, mama, lean back against his shoulder, let yourself relax. Inhale deep and clean. Let it out slow.” The woman wandered off.
Sara closed her eyes. There was a crystal-clear rightness to this moment, sitting cradled between Jack’s legs, his strong hands caressing her stomach as the baby seemed to sense a new presence and played hell with Sara’s internal organs. She breathed deep.
“Relax,” he whispered. “You’re as tense as a damn guitar string. You heard the scary hippie lady. Breathe, already.”
His deep voice conjured up memories and forced her into an odd, almost dreamlike state. She let go of the near constant tension. “That’s it, baby. Like that.” His voice dropped an octave and another sensation shot through her.
A pure, unbridled horniness she hadn’t felt in a damn long time.
She shifted, kept her eyes closed, but her breathing got faster. His hands kept moving. The baby fluttered around and then settled.
He rubbed, caressed all around the tight drum of her stomach. One hand made its way low, under the overhang of her belly. He growled in her ear. “I have such a hard on right now. Do not get up too fast.” She grinned at his low-voiced admission.
“Mmm hmmm.” She pressed back against him, as a sharp shaft of need pierced her brain. “You’re gonna have to take me home after this, you know?” She kept her voice soft.
“Yeah. Well. Not happening. Friends, remember? Doing this on your own, right?”
She heaved a sigh.
Your bed, Sara. Lie in it and stop being selfish.
“But seriously don’t move yet. I love the feel of you against me.”
She let him soothe her a few more minutes. When the Lamaze lady made them stand Sara had to giggle at Jack’s attempt to adjust himself. The sight of him, of what she knew damn well lay beneath that straining dress pants zipper, made her breathless. She turned away, angry at herself for making him do this, for putting them both through this face of “mommy, daddy, and baby” in this room full of earnest almost-parents.
“Now let’s do our best middle school slow dance shall we?”
Jack rolled his eyes but tugged her close. She put her arms around his neck, going up on her tiptoes to reach him and whispered. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Sure. When’s the next one?” She grinned, and gave him a light kiss, reveling for a half second in his familiar taste on her lips.
Let him help you, be a friend, but that is it. That was your call. Stick by it.
“Next week.” He pressed a hand into the small of her back, somehow providing just enough pressure to relieve the twinge of pain she’d developed sitting for so long.
“I’ll be here.”
Chapter Four
Craig stretched his legs and leaned back in the stiff office chair. He still had hours of work to do but the bright sunshine streaming in the front office window distracted him.
He glanced at his phone and suppressed a frown of frustration. Suzanne had managed to avoid agreeing to a date for weeks now, resisting him, making excuses, leaving town on random “beer research trips.” Finally, he’d called her out on it during one of their slightly breathless late night conversations and she’d admitted that she’d be around and not busy Friday. Tonight. And he was determined to make it a date worth remembering for them both.
Sara buzzed him with a text. The sight of her name did its usual number on his emotions. Guilt, for having manhandled her so badly last fall. Anger at her stubbornness over the paternity test issue. And the sick puppy-like thrill he always got thinking of her. Giving himself a mental shake, he picked up the phone and read.
“Hey, I need some help. Just few minutes. Trying to get the last of the kitchen packed up.”
“Where’s Gordon?” He winced as he hit send realizing how that sounded.
An email dinged into his inbox from Suzanne. His scalp tingled. Her go-slow approach, insisting they get to know each other as friends first before doing any more than the odd stolen kiss– it was about to kill him. But he found himself anticipating the sound of her voice more than anything.
“I don’t know. You said you were around, remember? Never mind.”
He sighed and hit “call” next to her name.
“I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. He’d been saying that a lot to her. It was getting old.
“It’s fine. Short notice and it’s a beautiful Friday afternoon. Why would you stand around in my chaotic kitchen and help me pack?”
“I can come by in the next hour. But I, um, I’m busy later.”
Why he couldn’t just say, “I have a date. With a woman I think I love” to Sara? The woman he had honestly believed he’d loved, once upon a time.
“Oh? Suzanne?”
He blew out a breath. “Yeah.”
“Okay. That’s good. Now that I know her as someone other than the woman who nearly killed my brother back in the day, I approve.”
He bit back the smart-ass comment about not requiring her approval. Their whole relationship entanglements in this particular group was hard to understand sometimes. And Sara’s relationship with the woman he had developed a serious crush on was not his responsibility. “So do you still need my help?”
“No, I think I’ll go for a walk instead. I’m getting stir crazy in here.”
He heard her sigh and guilt flooded his brain again. “Sorry.”
“Oh stop being sorry. I’m fine. Jesus. Seriously. Have fun tonight I mean it. I love the thought of you – happy. Y
ou deserve it.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” He stood, needing to end the conversation before he talked himself out of taking Suzanne out altogether. How he’d managed to find someone new in the midst of all this crazy fucked up mess with Sara he couldn’t imagine. But the thought of Suzanne’s thick auburn hair, cut short recently, like a pixie cap, perfect for her petite frame, emphasizing her huge expressive eyes made a low buzz thrum through his brain. “Call me if you need me Sara. I mean it. I’m not trying to be distant. You just caught me…”
She cut him off. “Trying to have a life. I’m the sorry one, Craig. I’m such a selfish cow sometimes. I realize that, believe me.”
“Part and parcel of your mysterious and infinite charm.” He grabbed his Ray-Bans and helmet and headed out into the unseasonably warm afternoon. “Call me if you need anything and don’t do stupid shit like, whatever it is pregnant ladies do to bring on early labor. You aren’t on bed rest anymore I take it.”
She laughed and the sound warmed him, but in a way different than it used to. “No, I’m free to move about the cabin. Have fun and tell Suzanne I said hello.”
* * *
“So, what’s your major?” Craig lifted his beer and clinked glasses with his date. She smiled – a slow-moving, lovely thing that made his face get embarrassingly hot. He hid his grin by taking a gulp of the beer she’d brought.
He’d made reservations at a nice restaurant, but she’d called and insisted on bringing dinner over herself. Had a new beer she wanted to try out on him. So he’d showered, cleaned his long-neglected condo and tried to relax, playing his guitar a while, then a video game.
He ended up in the bedroom, needing to relieve some of the pressure he’d been building up over the course of the last weeks. For a change, the face and lips he pictured on his at the last minute, sending him over the orgasmic edge, were not Sara’s, but Suzanne’s.
When she opened the door, juggling a couple of growlers and a huge container of pasta, he’d laughed and taken the growlers. They set up a picnic out on his balcony. His hands itched to touch her, but she exuded a big-time hands-off vibe today. So he decided to simply enjoy her company and some light conversation.
“Chemistry, actually. I went to med school.” Craig raised an eyebrow. “I’m full of surprises.” She seemed distant, distracted.
“No doubt.” He sipped more. “I bless this amazing IPA with my official approval by the way. But it’s big, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, nearly ten percent.” She put her glass down and stared at him. He looked over his shoulder, making her laugh. “What’s this about anyway?”
“Uh, beer. I think.”
“No, this.” She made a little circling motion with her finger, encompassing them both. “Because I’m not sure I can…”
“Hold on, right there.” Craig leaned back in his chair, hoping to put her at ease. “You’re the one who wanted an intimate dinner at my place. I was gonna take you to Taco Bell or someplace equally romantic.”
“Huh, funny enough, Taco Bell is my not-so-secret hidden vice, so there.” She smiled. Craig decided silence was the better part of valor at that moment so he ate, and drank. And watched her. She rose after a few minutes, and stood next to him, her hand on his shoulder. He tried not to react, but lost the battle.
“Craig,” she whispered as he stood in one smooth motion and pulled her in, covered her mouth with his, parted her lips and tasted her, really took the measure of her and found her perfect.
His phone buzzed. He ignored it as she pulled him back into his living room, onto the couch and started fumbling with his zipper. He yanked her shirt off, gazed at the petite perfection of her breasts before cupping one and taking a pert pink nipple between his lips. She groaned, arched into him, threading her fingers in his hair.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Please.” His cock got even harder at the sound of her soft exhalations in his ear. He kissed her again, then eased her jeans down her slim hips.
“I like your philosophy about underwear.” He nibbled her ear. “Sexy and yet, convenient.”
“Shut up and kiss me some more.” He did, drowning in her, trying to hold back the urge to take her, to make his mark on her. He’d never felt this way before, not even with Sara. Their whole sex life had been one long denial and argument, it seemed. But now, in his arms, was a woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her.
The damn phone buzzed again.
He groaned and tried to ignore it. “Craig,” she gasped as he cupped one breast.
“Hmm?” He licked his way down her neck, nipped at each nipple then moved lower as she squirmed and sighed.
“You should answer that.”
He looked up from his southward journey. The reality of her lust swirled in his head, blinding him to anything and everything but Suzanne. She smelled of cinnamon somehow, or something else bright and spicy. He sighed and leaned across her to grab the infernal thing from the floor where it had slipped from his pocket.
“Yeah?” He barked into it, groaning as Suzanne ran her bare foot over his lap.
“Craig?” a familiar male voice filled his brain.
Shit.
“What’s wrong? Where is she?”
“U of M Emergency. Can you get there? I’m with my sister and her kids but am leaving now,” Jack said. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
Craig was already tugging his jeans back on. “What happened?’
“Not sure. They called me first. I called you and I’ll get Blake next. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He sat, and dragged a shaking hand down his face. “I’m on my way. Don’t leave there until I call you. It may be nothing.”
“All right.”
He hung up and sighed.
“Sara?” Suzanne’s voice had an edge to it he heard loud and clear.
“Yeah.”
She sat up and grabbed her shirt. “Want me come with you?”
“No, it’s okay. Stay here, why don’t you? I hopefully won’t be long. I’d like to pick up where we left off.”
Suzanne smiled, pulled him to his feet and laid a tongue-tangling kiss on him. He held her close, trying to imprint himself on her. But she slipped out of his arms, grabbed her purse and started for the door.
“God damn it,” he muttered, found his keys and followed her down to the parking garage. They didn’t speak, or touch.
“Someday,” she said to him as she got into her car. “You’ll understand that it’s Jack, not you.” Craig frowned at her.
“I already know that, Suzanne. Trust me.” He bit back anything really mean, fired up the bike and roared out onto the downtown street, his head and body buzzing with missed opportunity and bad timing. Story of his fucking life.
Chapter Five
Jack jumped out of the car in front of Sara’s condo, gave a quick knock then opened the door. Floor-to-ceiling boxes and loud rock music assaulted his senses. He wandered into the kitchen and found her sitting at the table, staring into the middle distance. He snapped his fingers in front of her face.
“Your feast, Madame.” He dropped the bananas, chocolate ice cream and can of lemonade on the table. He’d been stopping by every night for the last couple of weeks, bringing her the snacks she craved that she could actually have – potato chips, jalapeños, and iced coffee being the forbidden ones thanks to their salt content or heartburn inducing qualities.
She glanced up at him, then down at the food. “Thanks.” Her voice sounded thin. He put a hand on her shoulder.
“You okay?”
“Sure, just out of breath. You’d think I hadn’t spent the last twenty years or so working out every single damn day. Ugh.” She still had a bunch of silverware clutched in her hand. He pried them out of her grip and put them in the nearest open box. She sighed and slowly placed her feet up in the chair.
“No more climbing ladders. You promised,” he admonished her as he folded the stepladder. “Not after last month’s adventure.”
Sara put her head on her a
rms. “Yeah, I know. Poor Craig.” Jack laughed. His friend Suzanne had ripped him a new one over that a few nights later as he sat at her bar.
“Can you keep your baby-mama out of my new boyfriend’s life please, Gordon?”
The concept of his firebrand friend with the calm, smooth Mr. Robinson made him smile every time he contemplated it—for more reasons than one.
“She could be your boyfriend’s baby-mama, you know,” he’d reminded her and had narrowly missed getting brained by a flying beer mug. He’d helped her clean up the mess against the bar wall and they’d gotten slowly drunk together, like old times, but with a whole different set of problems and complications.
“I really, really like him,” she’d slurred, leaning on his arm. He’d kissed the top of her newly shorn hair.
“And I’m sure he feels the same way. He’d be insane not to. You deserve it, peaches.” And she did. She’d had a hell of a ride with that asshole of an ex-husband. Then, rushing in with Blake so quickly after that had nearly torn her apart, especially when she’d ended it. He’d made a mental note to talk to Craig and give him a bit of a heads up about what had happened.
Now, it seemed, he had Sara to himself once again. But for her damnable desire to keep him as “My Good Friend and Lamaze Buddy, Jack.” To distract himself he taped up a few boxes, labeled them, then found a beer in her fridge. He leaned against the counter and gazed at her.
It had taken him a solid three months to work his way back into her life. The time and energy she spent aggressively ignoring him and Craig as her pregnancy progressed after that first shocking conversation was admirable. But he’d worn her down.
Given the medical crises she kept having, she had no choice but to rely on them. By the time her parents had moved back to town and installed themselves firmly in her life, he’d almost given up. However, a late night call from her brother convinced him otherwise. Blake was a surprising ally to be sure, but Jack would take it.