Those words from her beautiful mouth, proclaiming he was her perfect match, at first ignited his desire but then too quickly threatened to be his undoing. Jakub pulled himself out of Harper’s sweet body. He wanted this to last.
But once he was out of her, thoughts rushed in. And feelings. Uncomfortable feelings. He’d wanted to properly make love to her with his body, but she’d pulled the rug out from under him with those words.
What was he doing messing around with her like this? Harper didn’t just need to get properly laid. She needed something more—something he wasn’t sure he had to give. She had a hard exterior, but inside she was vulnerable. She’d been hurt badly by more than one man. Her ridiculous checklist was evidence she wasn’t the kind of woman to casually sleep with men.
He couldn’t bear to be just another man who might hurt her.
So what were they even doing here together?
The condom growing looser around his shrinking cock, with a sigh, he tumbled onto the bed next to her. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She ran a caring finger along his jawline.
“Maybe this was too much.”
She shook her head, her eyes filling with liquid.
Fuck. Not tears.
“I’m sure it’s hard for you after…” She propped up on her elbows. “Am I the first since her?”
He bristled at her pity. He rolled to the side and cleaned himself off with a tissue from the box on his nightstand. Returning to lie next to her, he ran a hand through his hair.
“Jakub. I’m sorry if I freaked you out with what I said. I didn’t know what I was saying. I just got carried away.”
The retraction of her earlier words caused a pain in his chest he didn’t expect. She hadn’t meant it?
He tried to shrug it off. “What came over you was a man of significant size and proportions.”
She smiled sadly. “I’m sorry if it wasn’t good for you.”
He snapped his gaze to her. “That’s not why I stopped.”
“Then why?”
He retrieved her skirt and tights from the floor and handed them to her. After putting on his boxers and jeans, he sat on the bed.
How could he explain without hurting her that he didn’t want to hurt her?
She slipped into her clothes and sat on the bed next to him, tucking her legs beneath her. “It must have been so hard to lose her.”
Harper thought this was all about Samara. That wasn’t true.
He’d thought he might date for a while before being utterly consumed by a woman again. But the way things were heating up, this was one serious fucking fire. If he wanted to go further with Harper—and he did—they’d both have to suit up and jump in all the way.
“How did she die?” Maybe she was being too bold. Rude, even. But she wanted to know this because she wanted to know him. He was a man who knew how to truly love. She wanted to know the depth of the love that kept him from letting himself go with her.
“Maybe it’s better for you if we don’t talk about her.”
“I want to know.”
He stared at the wall behind her. “It was supposed to be a simple surgery to remove a gallstone. But the surgeon knicked something. She ended up back in the hospital a day later. Everything went downhill from there. She had a second surgery too late. She died of sepsis.”
At dinner, he’d said the tragedy of her death was made worse because it could have been prevented. Indeed. Sepsis was treatable. She wouldn’t say the words out loud and taunt him by driving home the preventable nature of his wife’s death. Of course, the clutches of sepsis weren’t always avoidable, and Harper knew well how a patient’s condition could spiral downward very quickly.
However, another detail was causing a chill to roll over the skin of her neck and arms, raising thousands of little bumps. Harper recalled the nurse, Trish, talking about the malpractice case of the young woman who had died from sepsis after gallbladder surgery.
That patient had been Jakub’s wife.
Harper had seen more times than she cared to remember, the young taken too early, the ravaged faces of the loved ones left behind upon learning the news. That kind of loss was a gaping hole in a person’s life, often leaving one to grapple with the deep questions of existence itself. Even Harper had no answer for why one person succumbed to an infection and not the next. Why someone who seemed so full of life one moment could quickly be stolen from this life and why the old and weak who had little fight left in them would sometimes make miraculous turnarounds. It was the one thing she couldn’t account for in her work. One thing she couldn’t control. And she hated it.
She wished she could have been there to give his wife the proper treatment, but even if she had, she may not have been able to change history. And history clearly still haunted Jakub. So much so that he couldn’t bring himself, while making love to Harper, to completion.
“I’m so sorry. What a terrible tragedy.”
He didn’t meet her eye. Nor did he respond. He only kept looking at the wall beyond Harper. His attention seemed to recede into himself, to some dark place of memory, no doubt.
This was all too much too soon for him. He’d said it himself.
“I think maybe I should get going now.”
Jakub suddenly inhabited his eyes again, pressing his gaze on her. “You don’t have to go.” He stood and reached for her hand.
“No, I really think I should.”
He pulled on her, trying to reel her in close. She stumbled toward him.
He brushed his lips against hers. One soft touch. “Let me make dinner for you tomorrow.”
Her heart pinched at his proposal. The prospect of sharing another meal with him and one he’d cooked sounded wonderful on one hand, yet…she couldn’t help imagine the shadow of his wife seated at the table with them.
They were no longer only having fun with one another. Harper had realized in the middle of him ‘making her feel loved’ that she didn’t want him to only make her feel loved. She wanted to open herself to be loved by him and to love him too.
He may have been offering his presence for now, but his heart wasn’t entirely free to give. “I think actually we should…not do this.”
He pressed his other hand on hers, swallowing her own with his strong touch. “Look. Yes, I loved Samara. But she’s gone. And I accept that. Does it still hurt? Fuck yes. Do I still love her? Yes. But I like you. Very much.”
She didn’t want to be a parenthetical clause to such an emotionally wrenching confession. “You shouldn’t try to rush anything.”
“There’s something here, Harper, between you and me. You said so yourself.” He let a little smile slip.
She stepped away, unlinking their hands. She’d already allowed herself to get too close, to care too much. She needed to leave and catch her breath—try to understand what was happening. “I don’t think we should force this.”
He screwed up his face in confusion that quickly darkened to anger. “Why not? Because I drink beer sometimes and curse? No one is a saint, Harper.”
She shook her head in warning. “It’s not that.” She shrugged her purse onto her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I think maybe you’re just not ready for this.”
This was for the best. She’d let him go. They could both return to their lives. Lives that would normally never have intersected.
But the memory of this night, she’d keep close.
“Don’t worry about giving me a ride. I’ll get an Uber. Goodbye, Jakub.” Her voice cracked on his name as she turned to leave.
She strode through the front door and pulled on the handle to close the door behind her but something stopped it.
Jakub had wedged his foot against the door. He clamped a hand on her upper arm, and followed her into the corridor outside before whirling her to face him. “Harper, I’m not letting you leave like this.”
“You’re not letting me?” she asked in a hushed voice.
A frustrated sigh whooshed out of him, and
he let go of her arm. “You know what I mean. I don’t want you to leave like this.”
“I need some time to think about how I feel. You need time too.”
“You told me how you felt. Don’t pretend you didn’t.” He reached for her hand.
Her throat threatened to close and choke off her air. She strained to get the words out. “I’m not sure I can do this right now. I’m sorry.”
She broke away from him and walked down the hallway, down the stairs to the entrance. He didn’t follow.
Outside on the sidewalk, she took in several breaths of icy air before she calmed enough to use the phone app to request a car.
Driving home, she tapped her forehead to the cold glass of the back window.
There was no future for them. Jakub was still grieving his wife.
In his presence, under his touch, Harper’s criteria no longer mattered. Oh, yes, he was right. There was something here. Something beyond her calculations of brain chemicals and algorithms of compatibility. His sense of humor, the care he’d shown for her, even his confident irreverence had worked its way under her skin. And then his body. Deep within her. She wanted all of it, all of him.
But Jakub’s heart was not one hundred percent available, and she had already tried the relationship where she could never measure up.
Chapter Twenty
“Remarkable, isn’t it?”
Harper snapped her head from admiring the ice sculpture that was the centerpiece of the hors d’oeuvre table to the well-dressed man before her—the Chancellor of the University of Chicago, the academic institution that provided medical residents to the hospitals in the Lincolnfield healthcare system. “Yes, but is the expense really necessary? The money spent on lavish decorations could be put toward programs.”
“Programs like yours, you mean?” the chancellor asked.
“Well, of course, mine would be nice.” Her face flushed with a guilty smile. “But I wasn’t digging—”
“I’ve reviewed your phage therapy center proposal.”
“You have?”
“Yes. I need to discuss it with the ethics board.”
“Of course. Though they did give the green light already for the project.”
“All of which would be incredibly experimental.”
“There is a great deal of research coming out of Eastern Europe on phage treatment.”
“You and I both know that isn’t the same as peer reviewed American research.”
“We’re beyond the age of scientific tribalism, don’t you think? For solutions to world problems, we need to broaden our horizons. Evidence is evidence. Not to mention San Diego’s phage center has shown promising clinical results.”
“Insurance doesn’t want to touch this. Viruses harvested from the dirt from people’s gardens being shot into patients’ veins? It’ll be as wildly popular as fecal transplants.”
She blinked at him, incredulous. Was the man even listening to her? Now was probably not the time to launch into a defense of the validity of fecal transplants for C. Diff infections.
“I’m not discounting the potential or I wouldn’t have encouraged you to go forward with the proposal.”
He had encouraged her at last year’s Auxiliary benefit. “Innovation sometimes means doing things that seem unpalatable at first.”
“Quite.” The man had a fake affected British thing going on. She knew for a fact he’d grown up in Ohio.
“But soon become everyday practice.”
“We shall see, Harper.”
Yamato strode up to them. “Chancellor.” He stuck out a hand, and the men shook. “Did Harper tell you about her experience treating Ebola at the CDC?”
He raised a brow. “Ms. Peters has her hands in many pots it seems.” His tone held a thinly veiled disdain.
Samson, the head of the medical group approached. “Excuse me, Chancellor, when you have a moment, I’d like to introduce you to our new head of cardiology.”
“Oh, yes, excuse me, Ms. Peters. Dr. Yamato.” The men departed.
Harper tucked her hair behind her ear and reached for a chocolate covered strawberry from the food table. Aware Yamato was still behind her and the chancellor was out of earshot, she vented, “What was that all about? Is there a reason he insists on calling me Ms and not doctor? And sneering at my involvement in the Ebola case? As if that somehow makes me less focused? I’m not getting a good feeling, here, Gene. What about you?”
Gene stared off at the chancellor who was laughing at something Samson was saying. “No, I think he just likes everyone to be acutely aware of who holds the purse strings.”
“You mean, basically, he’s an asshole.”
Yamato startled at the curse word before a smirk dawned on his face. “That’s another way of putting it.”
Harper thought of Jakub and his straight-shooting way of talking. Her heart pinched. It had been two weeks since she’d left his apartment. He hadn’t called. Normally, she’d be vindicated by such an absence of communication. But she missed him.
She allowed herself to wonder if Jakub were here what he’d have to say about the chancellor. He’d been so protective and concerned about her on their date. Sweetheart, he’d called her. No doubt if he were here, he’d righteously take her side. She smiled at the thought.
For the last two weeks, she’d continued her running route past the station, but one block before she reached the fire station she would always turn back. She didn’t see the point of an awkward chat with him.
Maybe another person would have abandoned the route all together. But she longed for him still.
The next day in her office, Harper ran her hand over her pathogen plush toys, brushing off dust and removing a few lint balls. Ebola, the snaking brown poop looking thing, had fallen lengthwise into the lap of Anthrax. She set the virus upright.
Harper plucked up the toy Ebola and dropped it into her pocket.
At home she removed the gold ribbon from the box of chocolates Miles had sent her after she returned from Atlanta. She untied the ribbon and wound it through her fingers.
She had an unsettled feeling about how things had ended with Jakub. She clutched the ribbon in her fist and bounded out of her seat to retrieve the stuffed Ebola. Around its neck, she tied a neat little bow. Then she went to her office and found a piece of stationery.
There was something comforting about running. Predictable.
Right foot, left foot, right foot.
Thanks to climate change, a warm spell had descended upon Chicago and the air was balmy. Perfect for collecting soil samples for the phage library. Bev had arranged for them to visit some of the farms she worked with later today. Now that the grant application was just waiting on the chancellor’s desk, at least Harper could do something productive instead of fretting.
Today, she didn’t turn back one block from the station. She ran to the door, leaned the package against the glass then bee-lined down the sidewalk toward home. Past the old crumbling farmhouse. Still for sale.
She detoured sharply to the little box full of fliers attached to the For Sale sign, grabbed one, and folded it quickly into eighths.
She would forget about lists, criteria, and men all together and do the things she wanted.
Instead of waiting for a family that may never come, maybe she’d even consider buying her own home. She didn’t want this old house necessarily—no, with her future involvement with the phage therapy center, time for a fixer-upper wasn’t really in her future—but she had always been curious.
The flyer had only one photo, typical of the As Is listings, but boasted of an engraved wood fireplace. She’d always imagined if she ever bought a house, a grand fireplace was an absolute necessity. Otherwise, why bother?
She should turn back. There was the possibility of Jakub spotting her lingering out here. But no one was outside of the fire station at the moment. She’d just run to the far side of the wrap-around porch and peek through the west window, hidden from view of the station, to se
e if she could get a view of that fireplace.
Beyond the leaded glass windows, crown molding adorned the perimeter of the vaulted ceilings. Arched doorways led from the living room into the other rooms of the house, which were shrouded in shadow. It was gorgeous. She was looking into the dining room. The living room and fireplace must have been on the opposite side of the house. She’d have to round to the station side to get a glimpse.
She walked on light feet to the other side of the porch. The cement driveway of the station was still empty. She was peering through the window when she heard voices behind her. Jakub’s voice.And a woman’s voice.
Harper flew into a crouch behind a wicker rocking chair, her skin prickling with pins and needles. Had they seen her?
“Thank you so much, I can’t even tell you what this means to me.” A woman with gelled black curls was holding Jakub’s hands in hers.
Harper shifted to get a better view through a larger hole of the wicker, her heartbeat calmer now that it seemed they hadn’t noticed her.
Jakub shrugged. “It was nothing.”
“You’re a good guy, Jakub,” the woman said.
“Don’t let that get around.” His self-deprecating laugh tugged at Harper. She wanted his humor directed at her, not this woman. In that moment, she missed him terribly.
“Really sweet. I mean it.” The woman wrapped her arms around Jakub and pulled him in for a tight hug. Releasing him, she gazed at him lovingly. “When are you coming over for dinner? Hey, how about tonight?”
Jakub hesitated and dropped his head.
She bumped his shoulder with a fist. “Come on. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Fine,” he met her eyes with a grateful smile. “If you’re sure you don’t have plans.”
“My plans always have room for you.”
Sharp emotion exploded in Harper’s chest as she watched the woman walk away and get into a black sedan on the curb. How could he be so intimate with this woman so soon after he couldn’t even finish making love to Harper? Had Jakub’s hesitation that night been about something else? Another woman other than his wife? This woman?
A Beautiful Fire (Love at Lincolnfield Book 4) Page 13