Hold Me Until Midnight

by Christina Phillips

  Well, she’d had enough of him pawing her every time they met. If he didn’t get the message today and leave her alone, she’d have no alternative but to contact him tomorrow and tell him straight.

  She watched Jackson take a beer. He tipped back his head and took a long swallow. She licked her lips. He turned the simple act of drinking into an art form.

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. In that fleeting moment a strange look of vulnerability flashed over his face.

  He seemed so tough. Except sometimes, such as now, and when he’d opened up to her at his dojo, she glimpsed another side of him. A side he had buried long ago as an act of self-preservation. She stifled the urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him close. He would never want her to see beneath the mask he showed the world.

  But maybe one day he would. She hoped.

  “Everything okay?” She kept her voice deliberately light as she watched him rake his gaze over the back garden.

  He looked at her. She tried not to melt beneath his brooding gaze but it was hard. She took another sip of champagne to cool herself down.

  “I thought it was going to be a big Ashford celebration.”

  A horrible thought struck her. If he’d known it was only going to be close family, wouldn’t he have agreed to come? She’d been so sure their breakfast in bed had marked a milestone in their relationship. But had it all been in her head? Had she read way too much into Jackson’s casual comment? She forced a laugh and shook her head.

  “It’s just a casual get together, that’s all.”

  She watched him eye an immaculately turned out waiter glide by with a tray of more champagne. A chill inched over her arms as she saw the scene through his eyes.

  For her family this was a casual thing. But there was still staff in the background making sure everything ran like clockwork, and the champagne was vintage.

  Once again he looked at her. This time she had no desire to melt into a puddle over his boots. Instead she had the urgent wish that she had never invited him here today. That she had suggested they go somewhere, anywhere, else to celebrate. Just the two of them.

  “This isn’t my world, Scarlett.” His voice was low, and she shivered at how his words so closely mirrored her own frantic thoughts. “These aren’t my kind of people.”

  Had he turned up simply to tell her they were finished?

  He couldn’t do that to her. Especially not today. She’d never be able to think of Independence Day again without remembering Jackson Grayson and his own bid for freedom.

  She cleared her throat. Her heart raced, making it hard to breathe properly, and the sound of the band playing in the mock-Gothic ruin folly faded to a muted buzz.

  If he wanted to end whatever this was between them, he’d have to do better than pretend it was because of her family. He would have to come right out and say exactly what was on his mind.

  “Your kind of people?” She drew on the years she had spent at boarding school, when all she’d wanted to do was weep for the loss of her beloved mom. But instead she’d buried it all inside and learned to hide behind a masquerade of polite smiles and perfect manners. “Care to elaborate, Jackson?”

  She didn’t know what she had expected him to do in response. But she certainly hadn’t expected him to thread his fingers through hers and tug her close.

  “None of this”—the eloquent glance around the garden told her what he meant by this—“is real to me, babe. When I was a kid, some nights me and my brothers went without dinner because our father had drunk away all the money.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She squeezed his fingers and pressed their entwined hands against her heart.

  He didn’t say anything for a few moments, just looked at her as though he was memorizing every feature. Then, his thumb still gripping the neck of his beer bottle, he traced his finger along her cheek.

  She leaned into his touch. It was crazy and bizarre, but here in the midst of her family, Jackson was opening up to her in a way he never had before, in all the times they’d been alone together.

  “He didn’t give a shit about any of us.” There was no bitterness in his voice. He was simply stating a fact and her heart ached for the child he had been. “Not the way your dad looks out for you.”

  She knew her dad looked out for her. But for the last ten years, resentment against him for abandoning her at boarding school had warred with her love. And now she was so filled with guilt at her tangled feelings toward him that he was almost a stranger to her.

  Any complaint she secretly nursed against him sounded petty when compared to what Jackson had just told her of his childhood.

  But she had to share something of herself with him, the way he had with her.

  “I know I’ve been lucky. But my dad and I… we haven’t been close for years. Sometimes I feel that when my mom died he just stopped loving me.”

  I didn’t just say that. It was too personal, too raw to share with anyone.

  But Jackson wasn’t just anyone. And he hadn’t laughed in disbelief or rolled his eyes the way she always imagined anyone would if she ever confessed her secret heartache.

  The brooding expression was back on his face. “People can have strange ways of showing how they feel.”

  “I suppose.” But what wouldn’t she give to have her dad look at her the way he had before her mom had died. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear about my stupid hang-ups, not when—”

  “Hey.” He cut her off by tracing his finger across her lips. It was a strangely tender gesture. “Sure I do. But don’t beat yourself up over it, Scarlett. You can’t change the past, no matter how much you want to.”

  Scarlett knew it was impossible to change the past. And she loved that Jackson wanted to know about her hang-ups. But most of all she was touched by the way he was so willing to open the door on his own past.

  “Is there something you wish you could change if you could?”

  He gave her a grin that dissolved her good sense and handed his empty beer bottle to a passing waiter. To hell with her family. As soon as she could, she’d make their excuses and take Jackson back to her apartment.

  “Yeah. I’d change having a knife stuck between my ribs for a start.”

  She could hardly imagine what he’d suffered. And he hadn’t only been attacked with a knife. “Were you mugged?”

  “No.” There was no hint of amusement in his voice anymore. “I was a street fighter for four years. The money I earned helped us survive back then.”

  Her stomach pitched with nerves at the thought of him fighting on the streets. It was crazy to feel so sick. He was no longer living that life.

  “That was pretty—” She cut herself off before she finished. It was in his past. He hadn’t died.

  “Illegal?” There was a mocking note in his tone now, and she frowned at him, ridiculously annoyed that he found it all such a joke.

  “No, dangerous was the word that sprang to mind.”

  His grin faded and for a moment he looked kind of stunned by her remark. What was the matter with him? Didn’t he think she’d care about his reckless behavior, just because it happened to be in the past?

  “It was the only thing I could do at the time.”

  “What, try and get yourself killed?”

  He frowned at her, but not in a pissed off way. He looked as though the fact she was concerned was a revelation to him.

  “After what happened to Cooper it was a case of kill or be killed. Not literally,” he added with another frown.

  She knew his younger brother was Cooper but she had no idea what Jackson was talking about. Although she hadn’t met him, he was definitely not dead.

  “What do you mean? What happened?”

  His body tensed and she clung on tighter to his hand. Just to let him know she wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. Finally Jackson sighed and some of the tension seeped from him.

  “Our dad was pissed out of his head one night. Used Co
oper as a punching bag. If I’d known how to fall, I wouldn’t have cracked my head open when that old bastard lashed out at me. I could’ve saved Cooper that night instead of laying there leaking all over the floor.”

  Leaking all over the floor? God, had she got it horribly wrong? Had his father killed Cooper that night?

  “Saved him?” Her voice cracked. “Did your father—is Cooper dead?”

  Jackson’s jaw tensed. “No, he isn’t, no thanks to me.”

  Relief flooded through her. And then his words penetrated and she frowned. “You weren’t the one attacking him, Jackson. And by the sound of it you were badly injured. How could you expect to save your brother if you were all but unconscious?”

  “You don’t understand. Cooper was only twelve. It was my job to make sure he was okay.”

  “And how old were you?” He couldn’t have been much older. Talk about misplaced guilt.

  He stared at her as though her question made no sense. “Fourteen. Old enough.”

  He really did blame himself for what had happened to his brother. She wanted to hug him close and tell him he was an idiot for thinking such a thing. But that wouldn’t help. He needed to work through this for himself.

  “Can you tell me what happened that night?”

  “Christ, what more do you need to know?” He made to pull away but she wasn’t having that. Not that he tried very hard. “Cooper’s always had a mouth on him. So the old man lays into him. By the time I got downstairs I thought I was too late.”

  Scarlett bit her lip. Although she’d had some training regarding domestic abuse, she wasn’t a counselor. All she had to go on were her feelings for Jackson. She knew the kind of guy he was. He was big and he could be brash. But at his core he had a sense of honor. He wouldn’t have left his brother at the mercy of their brutal father.

  He had already told her as much. Yet somehow Jackson couldn’t see it.

  She took a deep breath. “So you left the house.”

  “Of course I didn’t leave the house.” He sounded incredulous that she could even think such a thing. But then, she didn’t think that at all. “I took a swing at him. Knocked him off balance but I didn’t follow through the advantage.”

  “Because he was your dad.”

  “No, that’s not—” Jackson bit off his words and for a second confusion flashed over his face. “I hesitated, all right. And that’s when he knocked me out.”

  “Because you tried to save your brother.”

  He didn’t answer her. Had she pushed him too far?

  Finally he exhaled a measured breath. “Yeah. I tried to save him. But it was Alex who saved him in the end. Cooper and me both ended up in the ER. Fine brother I was.” But he offered her a cynical half smile, which was, at least, an improvement on the bitterness that had threaded through his voice up until now.

  “Well, I think Cooper’s very lucky to have you as his brother.” She smiled up at him and he shook his head before giving a short laugh.

  “Tell him that, would you? I’d like to see the look on his face.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

  His grin faded. “I’ve left that life behind me, Scarlett. You know that, don’t you?”

  “The street fighting? Yes, I know.” And now she knew why he was so dedicated to saving his dojo. It wasn’t just a place where kids learned martial arts. It was a refuge for those who needed it, and a symbol to Jackson that he had moved on.

  His dedication to Aikido showed her that.

  “Not just the street fighting.” He flexed his fingers. “I don’t use my fists to settle arguments any more.”

  A bittersweet pain pierced her heart. “I never thought you did.”

  He didn’t say anything for a while and they simply stood, hand in hand. It might be nothing more than her imagination, but it seemed, in this moment, there was another subtle shift in their relationship.

  A slow grin curved his lips. “Do you know what I want to do when you look at me like that?”

  She went onto her toes and whispered in his ear. “I have a good idea.”

  “Failing that, I have something for you.”

  She rocked back onto her heels. “For me?”

  For answer he pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket. “Here. I’ve been meaning to give that to you for weeks.”

  Intrigued she handed him her flute and opened the envelope.

  And pulled out her check.

  Disappointment flooded through her. For a few crazy seconds there she had imagined Jackson had given her… well, she’d had no idea what he might have given her. But it hadn’t been something as prosaic as returning her check.

  “Ah.” She pasted on a bright smile and hastily shoved the check back into the envelope before anyone saw it. “Thanks. You could have just torn it up and thrown it away though.”

  Jackson placed her flute onto the tray of another passing waiter. “There’s, uh, something else in there.”

  “Is there?” Scarlett couldn’t figure out the odd expression on Jackson’s face. He looked as though he was fighting the urge to snatch the envelope back from her.

  She opened the envelope and peered inside. Behind the check was a small piece of card.

  How weird.

  She pulled it out. It was a handwritten invitation for afternoon tea the next Sunday and signed Alice Flanagan.

  “It’s from my gran.” Jackson took the card from her. Oh my God. He’s embarrassed. She stifled a giggle at the thought that Jackson’s gran had the power to embarrass him. “She’s decided she wants to meet you.”

  He made it sound like a challenge. She plucked the card from his fingers and read it again. There was no way Jackson would have passed the invite on to her if he didn’t want her to meet his gran.

  This was a big step.

  She could play it cool. Or she could tell him the truth.

  To hell with playing games. “I’d love to meet your gran.”

  He tried to hide it, but she saw the relief in his eyes and her heart melted into a gooey mess. Big, tough Jackson Grayson loved his gran. And he wanted them to meet.

  “I’d better warn you. She’s got a tough rep in our old neighborhood. But once you get to know her she’s okay.”

  He’s worried his gran might upset me. How adorable was that? “Any idea what she’d like as a thank you gift?” At his blank expression she added, “For inviting me to tea.”

  “I reckon putting up with me is thanks enough.”

  He said the best things. How long before they could leave? She couldn’t wait to get him alone.

  He leaned in close. “You better stop looking at me like that, Scarlett.”

  His breath against her ear was warm and sexy. She ran her finger over his hard bicep. “I don’t want to.”

  He growled. God, that was hot. “I’m going to make you pay for that later.”

  “Oh yes?” Please. “How’re you going to do that?”

  “On your knees…”

  She clutched his arm before her knees gave way. “In your dreams.” And mine.

  “You’ll be begging for it.”

  It was hard not to beg for it right now. “You’re a very bad man, Jackson Grayson.”

  His grin stole whatever was left of her heart. “It’s going to be a very long evening.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? Her panties were already damp.

  She didn’t want to wait hours. Heart pounding at her daring, she glanced around, but all the curious looks she and Jackson had gotten after he’d arrived had long subsided.

  She gripped his hand and pulled him with her in the direction of the house.

  “What’re you doing?” There was a note of laughter in his voice.

  “Wait and see.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Scarlett yanked him into a marble tiled bathroom.

  She turned around and leaned against the door. In her designer dress and diamonds, she was so out of his league it hurt. But she’d brought him in here. It wa
sn’t hard to guess why. He pulled her into his arms and did what he’d wanted to do from the minute he’d seen her standing next to Saunders.

  He kissed her. Properly. Until she dug her fingers through his hair, and made those sexy little sounds that drove him insane.

  Her dress was silky beneath his hands and he tugged the material up so he could grasp her naked thighs. She pulled back, gasping, and pressed her hand against his chest.

  “Not so fast.”

  “How long do you think we’ve got until you’re missed?” Not that he cared if anyone noticed. But Scarlett didn’t like drawing attention to herself. And if they were discovered in her father’s bathroom, he had the feeling the gossip would mortify her.

  “I don’t know. But I need to lock the other door first.” She slid from his grasp and went to lock the door that, presumably, led directly into the house itself. Then she turned and gave him a look that promised this was going to be one barbeque he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

  “Get your ass over here.” It was a growled command as he undid his belt.

  “Good things come to those who wait.”

  “We don’t have time to wait.” If someone banged on the door right now he’d fucking explode.

  She smiled and slowly tugged a thick cream and gold towel from a rail, before sauntering across the room toward him, the towel dragging on the floor behind her. It was kind of unreal.

  “I like my comforts,” she said as she folded it up before dropping it at his feet. Then she wound her arms around his neck and nibbled kisses along his jaw until she reached his ear. “Happy Fourth of July, Jackson.”

  He grunted and grasped her ass, hauling her against him so she could feel how happy he was already. She gave a muffled giggle and wriggled in his arms.

  “Did you just bring me in here to torture me?” Not that I’m complaining. If she wanted to prolong the agony until they were alone tonight he’d play the game.

  “You tell me. Is this torture?” She slid down his body until she knelt on the towel at his feet. He stared at her, his mouth dry and heart pounding. Was she going down on him? Here?

  When she tugged on his zipper he slammed his hand over hers. “Christ, Scarlett. I’ve dreamed about having you on your knees sucking my cock, but not in your dad’s house.”