by Crowe, Liz
She stepped away, unable to stand his proximity that soon. He smiled and nodded at the host who led them to the best table in Ann Arbor’s best restaurant, tucked in the corner, near the front window. She sat, let the tuxedoed host put the napkin across her lap. He looked up at the waiter.
“Bourbon, double and a martini, up for…” he looked at her. “My date.” She stuck her tongue out at him but felt a thrill at the way he handled it. She missed that, almost as much as the sensation of his lips and hands on her body.
The long years of motherhood, slogging through the days as a new manager, trying like hell to impress him, to prove he’d not taken a chance on her professionally without reason, had been exhausting. And lonely. But now, this whole scene, she had no idea where to put her hands, much less what to say to him.
Get a grip. You don’t have to impress him. There’s way too much water under your mutual bridge. Just be yourself.
“So, what’s all this about anyway?” She winced at how bitchy that sounded.
He touched the napkin to his lips and she had to clutch her own soft linen cloth to keep from leaping across the table at him. Her hands shook so she kept them under the table, leaving the martini untouched.
“A date, like I said.” He sipped, never taking his eyes from hers. “No big deal.” He held out a hand. She stared at it, then up at him. “I don’t bite. I mean unless you really want me to, that is.” She frowned and then touched his palm, the ghost of an earlier Jack saying that very same thing to her flitting through her memory.
Regret, lust, and raw longing for everything about the man across from her nearly bowled her over. She took a bigger drink of the cocktail than she thought, and nearly choked. He laughed, stood and smacked her back, lingering over her bare skin much longer than necessary.
“You can switch off the full frontal seduction.” Her voice sounded weak and breathy. She cleared her throat, tried to summon anger to cover whatever complicated craziness swirled in her brain.
He sat, stuck his feet out, seemingly relaxed but she sensed something else. The loud restaurant quieted. All she knew was Jack. His eyes, lips, familiar and comforting, irritating in a way, but needed. She gulped and hid her stress with the martini glass remembering to swallow correctly this time.
“Sorry. Just being myself.” He raised an eyebrow and his glass. She clinked hers against it. “So, what’s your major?” She rolled her eyes.
“English. But I don’t want to teach. I’ll figure out something I guess.” She finished off her martini too quickly, and stood. “I need to…” She turned and tried not to stumble away from the table.
While in the luxurious ladies’ room she sat and put a wet paper towel over her eyes.
How in God’s name did he manage to do this to her? Go out there and tell him what you want, how you feel. Do what you came her to do, Sara.
By the time she made it back to the table she was resolved. The fortress she’d constructed, torn down and rebuilt, usually in tears of anger over something stupid he’d done over the course of the last decade was attempting to reform itself. She could feel it happening. It was up to her to put a stop to that.
You can’t ask him to hand over his heart and soul unless you’re willing to do the same.
She smiled, tossed her hair back and made the crucial error of meeting his eyes. What she found there encompassed it all for her. The years, the heartache, the anger, the mistakes, all wrapped up in the intense, physical attraction they’d had for each other for so long.
Trying not to seem too obviously out of breath, she sat in the chair he’d pulled out for her. His hand lingered on her thigh a tad longer than necessary for simple napkin replacement. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to resist the urge to drag him into the fancy bathroom and lock the door behind them.
She had to stifle a giggle at the memory of Craig’s description of locking them in a room until they “worked things out.”
“So, I’m thinking filet, but are you in a surf mood? The lobster is on special.” He studied his menu. She gaped at him, wondering why he didn’t simply order for her. Whatever he chose would be perfect and they both knew it. She started to gnaw at her lip, then stopped when he grinned at her and reached across the small table to touch her cheek. “You choose.”
“I, uh, whatever you think. You know I’ll go with it.”
“All right then. But I’m getting a double order of those cheesy potatoes. I know how you are about them. Gotta keep you from licking the bowl and embarrassing me.”
Sara laughed and her entire body relaxed in that instant. He ordered, after she picked the wine. They sat back, silent, appraising each other. She crossed her legs, letting one sexy shoe clad foot graze his calf. He raised an eyebrow.
“Are you trying to seduce me, Thornton?”
“Hardly. It’s just… crowded at this intimate table you chose.”
His smile—the one she’d come to refer to as the Truly Happy Jack one—made her chest constrict and her face flush.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I’ve missed you.”
“Well, you have a funny way of showing it.” She smiled up at the sommelier as he presented, uncorked and poured wine for her to taste. She nodded then looked back at the man who, had things gone as originally planned, would be her husband right now. “Sorry. That was catty. I’m the one who told you to find someone else and move on. I mean, she’s so pretty and young and…oh never mind.”
Jack swirled his wine, staring into the bowl as if it held all the answers.
“It’s okay. I sort of sprung the Shannon thing on you, I know. Frankly it took me by surprise. We met at the club. And it, um, was…”
Sara held a hand up.
“Seriously, spare me.”
He shook his head.
“I need you to hear this.” He paused. Sara took the opportunity to study his face—the lines he’d developed around his eyes did nothing to diminish that rugged, not-quite-perfect-but-almost handsomeness she’d been so obsessed with at one time.
That you still are, Sara. After all these years. Which is why you’re here, tonight, with him, remember?
“It’s nothing special,” he continued. “Like it always is there for me. Really not much different than a solid workout. What I need to work out some frustrations, then I’m fine, I don’t know, back on an even keel anyway, for a while. Then, um…afterwards, we talked. My manager’s instinct kicked in and before I knew it I had her, I mean, you know. Oh never mind.” He sat back, his expression pensive.
Sara stared, shocked at how rattled he seemed. Not to mention how little his description of his club time with Shannon bothered her. Which told her a lot about how far she’d come. After a few moments, she leaned forward.
“Look, Jack, we have way too much behind us to…”
“Enjoy a nice, borderline romantic, dinner?” He lifted his wine glass. “To…us. Whatever the hell that means.” Sara laughed and touched her glass to his before taking a sip of the rich Italian red. She put her glass down, touched the soft napkin to her lips and decided to go with co-parenting chat to ease the tension.
“Did you know Katie has a boyfriend?”
Sara had to jump up and smack his back to get him past his coughing fit. Leaning down she put her lips to his ear, a little too close probably but the need to get a familiar whiff of him overpowered her. “You okay?” She kept her hand on his shoulder, loving the feel of it, strong and secure, under her palm.
“No. What the fuck?”
“Relax Uncle Jack. It’s a crush. You know how those are?”
“The hell I do. I won’t have boys sniffing around….” Sara laughed so hard she got the hiccups. “It’s not funny.” He muttered into his glass.
“Oh yes it is. You players are always the ones who end up with dau…” She stopped, took a sip of wine to cover her near slip.
“Yeah. It’s karma coming back to smack me in the ass.” He left it at that.
As the meal
progressed, they shared more laughter, memories and light flirtation. Sara marveled at the man’s ability to turn it on and off like a light switch. Serious about something real-estate-related one second, the next teasing her about the too-young-for-her soccer coach he’d watched her with that day.
She tried to avoid the one topic that burned her brain. Where, exactly, did they stand now? Why did he ask her out tonight? What was his arrangement, or situation, or relationship with Shannon anyway?
“I needed her, for a time.”
Sara blinked. Had she spoken out loud?
“Mainly because she needed me, and I love that. You know it better than anyone. The better, more mature and professional you get, the less you need me.”
“You? Needy?” She scoffed. “Other than for pussy?”
He glared at her.
“I’ll let that be the wine talking.”
“Well, I’m glad then, that you got to be needed…again.” She let her voice rise at the end, more than a little incredulous. Jack ran his fingers through his hair, and Sara’s entire body clenched with the desire to do the same exact thing—but plunge her fingers into hair when she kissed him and kissed him…and kissed him.
She closed her eyes. The waiter cleared their dishes and started to present the desert menu. Sara looked up at him.
“We’ll have the…”
“Crème Brule.” Jack finished, his expression one step shy of sappy. She looked down, realizing that if she went with what had flashed through her head, she’d be kissing him right now. “And two black coffees.”
“And now?” She settled back in her chair. “Do you still need to be needed by Shannon?”
Don’t ask a question you don’t want to know the answer to Sara.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But I do know one thing.” He leaned forward. She stayed still, not meeting him halfway like she knew he wanted or expected.
“What’s that?”
“You are amazing. No seriously, you’ve turned that downtown office around, in spite of my meddling and budget cutting. You’ve headed off more crises than most managers combined. And you are a pure temptation on two legs in that dress.”
“Oh, and you’re gonna let me take credit are you? No more I’m a ‘Jack Gordon creation’?” She winced, but had to ask. It had rattled around in her head for years since he’d yelled it at her, that last night at the party.
“For all of it. And shame on me for even thinking that, much less letting it pass my lips. I was an idiot. But, you knew that. It’s why you continually refuse to marry me, if I’m not mistaken.”
She sat, unable to find words to express the roiling in her gut, the panicky fluttering in her chest.
Could it be? Jack had grown up?
Yeah. Now show him you have too, maybe.
“And whoever picks out your jewelry is the bomb.” She laughed, stuck her tongue out at him and picked up her spoon to dip into the crisp caramelized sugar that coated her favorite desert. A spoonful appeared from across the table at her lips before she could get her own bite. She opened her mouth and let the pure sin of eggs, cream and vanilla slide down her throat, shivering at the look in his eyes.
They finished in complete silence, comfortable, easy and familiar. This time, when he held out a hand on the table, she took it, reveling in the now beloved snap and crackle of their connection.
“I’m not sleeping with you tonight. We clear on that?” she said, not meaning it. But meaning it at the same time. The last thing they needed was to fall into old habits—to fuck first, talk later.
Never mind it was the only damn thing she wanted right now. Wanted it so badly she could feel his lips on her neck, his hands on her skin, his firm, familiar body next to hers.
“My dear, I wouldn’t dream of it. Why spoil a perfectly good evening with a fight?” She laughed and pulled his hand to her lips, kissed it then released him. “But,” He would not let her break their eye contact. “I plan to kiss you though. A lot. So be ready.”
She blushed, got that first date thrill up and down her spine again and picked up her coffee cup, never taking her gaze from his.
Jack sipped his coffee and watched her blush. No, they weren’t going to end in the bed, or the floor, or the couch or the hallway or the car.
No, he admonished himself, again and with meaning. Tonight was about connecting on a different level. One they’d danced around so many times but never committed to.
His body did its usual horny thing, trying to convince him otherwise. He shifted in his seat and willed it down, willed himself to talk, to impress, to convince. All the while, breaking up with Shannon in his head. He realized he’d committed to at least one long-range date with her— a black-tie fundraiser thing he couldn’t back out of gracefully. He’d have to make her understand they went as friends, nothing more or less.
Sara.
She reached for the check when it arrived. He let her.
“Damn, Gordon, you’re no cheap date.” She tucked her credit card into the folder and smiled at him. Her green eyes lit up, and his heart soared. This was going to work. He’d be damned if he’d fuck it up again.
“A guy has to have his standards.” He frowned when his phone buzzed, ignoring it. But when it stopped then started again he realized it must be an emergency.
“Jack,” Maureen said. “I am so sorry to do this. You know I wouldn’t normally but Katie hasn’t been feeling well since she got here and now that she’s still I took her temperature and it’s right around a hundred. She wants to go home.”
He sighed, and looked at his date.
“Your daughter is sick. We have to go pick her up.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” He watched her sign off on the tab and tuck her card away.
“How is Maureen doing anyway?” He slipped an arm around her waist as they walked toward the door.
“As well as can be expected, I guess. She was an absolute mess for a while. Brandis lived, you know, after the asshole drunk driver essentially pinned him against a tree. He held on so he could tell her he loved her one more time.” Jack stopped outside the restaurant, looked up at the sky. A light breeze ruffled Sara’s hair and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. “I loved that guy like a brother, you know?” Alarmed at the emotion rising in his chest, he cleared his throat, and tucked her hand into his arm.
“I’m sorry.” She leaned into him. “That’s horrible.”
“I’ll meet you at her house, okay? I know it’s my night but Mo said she thought Kate might want her Mama, being sick and all.”
Katie lay tucked up on the large couch, bracketed by two enormous German shepherds who looked like they were guarding her. Jack grinned and sat beside her, putting a hand to her forehead.
“You’re like an oven, Miss Kate. No wonder Hans and Fritz want to snuggle.” She gave him a weak smile and climbed into his arms. He carried her into the kitchen where Mo and Sara were talking.
“Sure you guys don’t want a glass of wine or something?” Mo’s eyes were still haunted, her skin pale and thin-looking. He knew she had to come to terms with her new life situation on her own but he’d never stop worrying about her. Sara gave her a hug. Mo looked surprised at first then happy. “Sorry.” She let go, wiped her eyes. “I’m a leaking sieve.”
Sara nodded, looking close to tears herself. Jack shifted Katie in his arms.
“I think we should get her to her own bed.” He shot Sara a look, realizing their ability to communicate without words. If she gave him a high sign that Mo needed them to stay, he’d put Katie back on the couch and stay. The slight shake of her head gave him his answer.
“Yeah, probably.” She turned back to Mo. “You have my number. Call me anytime. Ella and Adam area always welcome to come over if you need some….well, anyway.” Mo nodded, gave her brother a hug and walked them to the door.
“She’s such a doll.” His sister touched Katie’s bare leg. “A tomboy one minute, a bo
ssy princess the next. And that temper…whew. I know where I’ve seen that before.” She pressed her lips to Jack’s cheek and opened the door.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Okay, I gave her some of that liquid ibuprofen, got her a bath, and now she only needs good-night kisses.”
Jack rolled his sleeves back down as he walked into Sara’s living room, determined to leave, to not drag this out any further, no matter how much he wanted to. Sara handed him a glass of wine and headed upstairs. He followed her legs with his gaze. They were bare, well-remembered, and delectable as she made her way up.
They sat on her couch later, his arm around her, their legs stretched out on the ottoman in front of them. “Should I worry about her? I mean, she’s says she’s sore all over and stuff. Just the flu?”
“You have your own in-house medical counsel on that I think. Call one of them.” She sighed and leaned into him, making his heart beat faster.
“Maybe later. This is nice.”
He put their glasses on the side table and tilted her chin up. “I’m pretty sure I put kissing on the agenda.” He slanted his mouth over hers, tasting her, reveling in the familiar sensation of her lips. He got serious with it, sweeping into her mouth with his tongue, sliding his fingers into her hair with one hand.
His body was sending signals he wouldn’t acknowledge so he broke away. She started to climb up into his lap but he stopped her, stood and got a grip on his purpose.
“Let’s let this one sit, shall we? I know how we get, and I don’t have the energy or inclination to argue with you tonight.”
She stared at him. “But, we don’t always argue after…”
“Yeah, actually, we do. I’d like for us to develop a new pattern. So I’ll kiss you goodnight, like a gentleman, and be on my way.” He held out a hand, fighting everything in him that screamed at him to claim her now, take her, she wanted it he knew it as surely as he knew his own shoe size. She sat, not moving. “C’mon baby. Give a guy a break. I’m trying…”