by Taylor Dean
This idea of hers to end their relationship wasn’t working at all. Jack wasn’t giving up and frankly, she didn’t want him to. What else could she do? Send him a telegram?
Falling in love with you. Stop.
Can tell you don’t feel the same. Stop.
Will finish house. Stop.
Best to not see each other. Stop.
If only it could be that easy. Instead, she would have to face him one day soon and explain her actions. Stupidly, she thought he would shrug it off and move on with his life. Why was he trying to hold on? She didn’t understand him at all.
Chloe entered the house, discussed a few things with the contractor, and made her way upstairs. Just as she was fiddling with her supplies, preparing to texture an upstairs bedroom wall, a familiar voice interrupted her.
“Chloe.”
She jumped, and dropped the painter’s tape she’d been holding. “Jack? Y-your car’s not out front.” He looked amazing, dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt, a perfect fitting vest, and a tie. No suit coat. His legs were long, his body tight and lean. The muscles in his arms were evident through the white dress shirt. His pants were slung low on his hips, belted, and his stomach was flat with no hint of a bulge. She could imagine ripped abdominal muscles beneath that shirt and her heart raced at the thought. His tanned skin and blond hair still reminded her of a beach bum—no, correction, of a beach god. Why hadn’t she noticed these things before? Jack was all man and every inch of him exuded masculinity. She’d been so blind.
“My car’s in the garage.”
“Oh. I thought you’d already left for work.”
His eyes were intense, devouring her, and his usual smile was nowhere to be seen. “Nope. Still here.”
Chloe ripped open a plastic tarp and laid it down on the floor, taking her time about smoothing it flat. Her hands shook ever so slightly at Jack’s presence.
“Where’ve you been the last few days?”
“What do you mean? I’ve been busy working in your house.”
“Are you avoiding me?” he asked bluntly.
“N-no, of course not. Why would I avoid you?” she stuttered, busying herself with her supplies and trying to look occupied, even though she was doing absolutely nothing. She organized her paint brushes into a neat little row, stacked the painter’s tape into a perfect tower, then donned plastic gloves and took them off again for no apparent reason whatsoever.
“Chloe,” he said in a tone she’d never heard from him before, “What’s wrong?”
She froze, knowing she had to face him. He wasn’t going away. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his. “Everything’s fine, Jack.”
“Is it?” he countered, his blue eyes blazing.
“Why would you think something’s wrong?” If she tossed the ball in his court, he had room to back out of the game, and pretend like everything was normal. They could make believe nothing had ever happened between them and he needn’t feel guilty for rejecting her. Here’s your out, Jack. Just take it. Please.
But he didn’t. He volleyed the ball right back into her face. He took a few steps closer. “You are ignoring me and I want to know why,” he stated quietly, like the calm before the storm.
Chloe felt cornered. There was nothing left to do but be truthful. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore, Jack.” He looked stricken and she felt bad for blurting it out so unceremoniously.
“Why?” he asked, dangerously soft.
Chloe grasped for any reason except the one that mattered. “Our spouses ran away with each other. This isn’t a healthy relationship.”
He acted as though she hadn’t spoken. “Why, Chloe?”
“You don’t need to listen to my sorrows. I’m fine now.”
A blatant lie and he didn’t fall for it. “Have I done something to offend you? If I have, I apologize.”
“No, no, of course not. You haven’t done anything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t,” she mumbled.
His gaze nailed her in place, unwavering in its intensity. “Please explain.”
His chosen profession seemed obvious in his questioning techniques. Chloe felt like a germ under a microscope, laid bare with no place to hide. He wasn’t going to allow her to deflect his queries. He wanted answers. Chloe forgot how well he knew women. He knew all the ignore and evade tricks, and he wasn’t about to accept them.
Chloe stared at the floor, her eyes burning. His gaze was too powerful, too all-consuming. “It’s for the best, Jack. Please just let it go.”
“Is this because I almost kissed you?” he asked directly.
Her eyes flew to his. “Did you almost kiss me?”
“We both know I did. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I’m not. I can’t forget it.”
“I apologize, Chloe. It won’t happen again.”
“I know. That’s the problem,” she whispered.
“What?” he said incredulously.
“I’m sorry. I know you only want to be friends,” she said and, to her horror, a tear slipped down her cheek. She started to turn away from him, but he was in front of her so quickly she hardly had time to react. As he approached, she backed up until she hit the wall. Everything between them changed in a matter of seconds. The friendly laughter, the witty repartee, the empathy, the consoling—it all faded into the background and something else came speeding to the forefront. He leaned against the wall, his hands on either side of her head, all at once intimidating and yet…titillatingly intimate.
His eyes were on fire as he looked upon her. “What are you saying? Talk to me, Chloe.”
“I’m saying that I’m an idiot, a stupid little girl…” A few more tears fell.
He looked at her as if it was the first time he’d ever seen her. “Chloe, are you saying you have feelings for me?”
“Yes,” she said almost inaudibly.
He moved in even closer, until his lips were only an inch away from hers. “Do you know how much I want to kiss you right now? I want to press my lips to yours and taste you. I want to so much, it could be the last thing I did before I died, and I’d leave this earth a happy man.”
A weird little sound left her throat, half sigh, half moan.
“I’ve been waiting for you to notice me as something other than a friend. I didn’t think it would happen. You were so consumed with grief.”
“I didn’t see you at first, Jack. It took me awhile.”
“And now?”
“I see you, Jack. I’ve seen you for awhile now.”
“And?”
He didn’t mention Joy Luck Club or Avatar; rare for Jack. “And I like what I see.”
Jack let out his breath and placed his forehead on hers. “Chloe,” he breathed. “I think I’ve known it was you from the moment you slammed the door in my face. I knew, I knew…”
“Knew what?”
“I knew you were the one for me.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Your beauty, your eyes, your vulnerability. I was taken with you from that moment on.”
“What?” Chloe half-smiled and half-cried, not sure which emotion to embrace. He responded in kind as they breathed each other in.
“I can’t kiss you, Chloe. I just can’t,” he said, his lips an inch from hers. A sigh escaped as if he was experiencing the sweetest kind of torture.
Chloe felt her heart skip a beat, dread filling her soul. There was an explanation coming, one she feared. It’s not you, it’s me—or something else equally annoying.
“We’re both still married and I don’t want to taint our relationship. I don’t want to be like them, taking what they want no matter the consequences. But I want to kiss you, I want to so much.”
Her heart soared. That was a good explanation, the best. He placed his lips on her forehead and kissed her lightly several times. It all made sense now. He was holding back, not because he didn’t want her, but out of respect f
or their marriage vows.
“Do you understand?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, hardly able to find her voice. Only his lips touched her forehead, yet she felt surrounded by him, engulfed by him. The pull between them felt magnetic, a force so strong, it was painful to deny. She didn’t know this side of Jack, his passionate side, but she liked it. She liked it a lot.
“I knew I had to move slowly. I knew you weren’t ready to think about a new relationship. I thought if we became friends, you might begin to see things differently.”
“I do,” she said, overwhelmed by the turn of events. “I wasn’t expecting this, but I’m ready, Jack. I’m ready.”
“I know you are.”
“My marriage with Mark didn’t end a few weeks ago, it ended over a year ago. I’m so ready for this, Jack. I want a life with you by my side,” she said, hoping it wasn’t saying too much.
“I want everything with you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“Everything?”
“Yes, marriage, children, love, and happiness. I want it all.”
“Children?” she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
“Yes, Chloe. I want you to have a houseful of children. I know you’ll always miss Christopher. That won’t change and I accept that. But it will help to heal the hole in your heart. And I want to be the one.”
“The one?”
“Yes. The one to give you your children.”
His lips were a breath away from hers and she wanted him to kiss her, to feel his lips moving on hers. The passion inside of Jack besieged her, overwhelmed her. Cheerful Jack was gone and in his place was a man with so much depth, so much emotion, it scared her just a little.
His phone rang and he ignored it.
“A most peculiar moment, Mr. Alexander.”
“I think you’ll survive it, Ms. Brennan.” He grinned. “Somewhere in Time. You can’t stump me. Stop trying.”
”Your sisters have a lot to answer for.”
“It’s true, they ruined me for life. I have to go, Chloe. Can I take you out to dinner tonight? A celebration of sorts. I’ll pick you up at your house. Our first real date.”
“Okay,” she said, her heart hammering in her chest so hard it hurt.
After Jack left, Chloe wondered how she’d just experienced one of the most passionate moments of her life without ever once touching the man directly.
Jack picked her up that evening, a bouquet of flowers in his hands that looked freshly cut, with no sign of wilting in the scorching heat. “Hi,” he said, smiling warmly, hardly looking as though he was about to wilt either. An Arizona native through and through, he was clearly acclimatized to the high temperatures. His pupils dilated as he looked upon her and she felt as though happiness radiated from his eyes and soaked into her skin deliciously.
He took her to a gloriously air conditioned restaurant with private booths, low lights, soft piano music, and candlelit tabletops. It was romantic dining at its finest. The half-circle shaped booths allowed them to sit next to each other, rather than across from one another.
He held her hand and ran his fingers up and down her arm as they waited for their order, making goose bumps form on her skin. His touch was delicate, tantalizing.
“I feel as though I know you, yet there are so many things I don’t know either,” he said. He still wore his black slacks, but he’d changed into a maroon dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and no tie. Casual and understated, yet he looked striking.
“I feel the same.” She wore her favorite little black dress and they matched perfectly.
“Tell me more about you. Detail stuff, stuff I should know.”
“I don’t know where to start. You know me, Jack. There’s not much more to tell.”
“I know your heart. I know what motivates you—and it’s enough for me. But I still want more.”
He intertwined their hands, lacing their fingers together, bringing her hand to his mouth and lightly kissing her fingers.
Chloe watched him as he held her eyes. “I’m so distracted,” she said as she swallowed.
“Me too,” he grinned and that broke the ice.
The old Jack was back. In this highly romantic setting, she needed cheerful Jack. Otherwise her thoughts wandered to forbidden territory.
“Okay, tell me ten things about you in twenty seconds.” He glanced at his watch. “Go.”
“What? Wait, no, I can’t think that fast,” she laughed.
“Okay you have one minute to think about it.”
He wasn’t kidding. He stared at his watch, timing her. Thoughts tumbled through her mind as she prepared for the challenge.
“Go,” he said again.
“Okay, I was born and raised in California. I met Mark in college and we got married. Mark got a job in Phoenix and we’ve lived here for three years. My favorite color is red, I think feet are disgusting, and I’d rather eat vegetables than chocolate…”
“Time.”
“But I still love chocolate.”
“That was only eight, unless you count the latecomer. Not too shabby.”
“You think you can do better?”
“I know I can.”
“Have you been practicing this at home?”
“In the mirror, every morning. I live to tell random facts about myself.”
Chloe giggled at the thought. Jack removed his watch and handed it to her. “Tell me when.”
“When.”
“My name is Jackson Gray Alexander, born and raised in Arizona, lawyer, married for two years to Taryn, I’m happiest in the sun by the pool, I hate seafood, but I love shrimp. I’m six-foot-two, I love basketball, and I’m scared of birds.”
“Time.”
“That was ten.”
“Hold on. Did you just say you’re scared of birds?”
“Did you actually say you like vegetables more than chocolate?” he countered.
“You can’t get out of this one, Jack.”
“That just sort of slipped out. I couldn’t think fast enough,” he confessed.
“So you’re not really scared of birds?”
“Oh, I am. It’s a long story.”
“I have time,” she teased.
“Dang it. Me and my big mouth.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll still love you.”
He stilled. “Will you?”
“Yeah. No doubts,” she told him in all seriousness.
“None here either,” he said as he brought her hand to his chest and held it there. Chloe let her fingers caress the open skin at his neck and he closed his eyes, enjoying her touch.
“You’re not off the hook, Jack.”
“All right. I may as well tell you before my sisters spill the beans. When I was six, some blackbirds built a nest on our front porch. Mean little suckers. Every time I walked out of or into the front door, they swooped on me and pecked at my head. They made the top of my head bleed, the little scoundrels. I’ve hated birds ever since. My mom had to hire someone to get rid of them.”
“So you hate birds? You’re not scared of them?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re actually scared of them?” Chloe asked incredulously.
“Think about it. What if birds became carnivorous predators? Humans would become extinct in no time.”
“Are you being serious? I never can tell with you.”
“It’s something I think about. It didn’t help that my sisters made me watch Hitchcock’s The Birds when I was only seven years old,” he said defensively. “It terrorized me.”
He wasn’t kidding around. All at once, the vague memory of being on top of the rooftop deck came back to her. When a bird flew by, Jack had overreacted, flinching as if he’d seen a ghost. At the time, she hadn’t thought anything of it. “What about cute little birds, like a finch or a…”
“They have beaks. They all have creepy little beaks,” he said resignedly.
Chloe let out a giggle. “I’m sorry. I’m not la
ughing at you.”
“Yes, you are. Go ahead. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. By the way, this is privileged information. My mother made my sisters swear not to tell anyone and it’s not something I generally announce.”
“I feel very special then,” Chloe said as a little bubble of laughter escaped. “I’m sorry,” she said again as she bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing at him.
“Go ahead, let it out before you burst.”
Chloe’s shoulders shook as she desperately tried to suppress her laughter. “I’m good, really.”
“You’re a horrible liar,” Jack said and then he laughed too.
“Does Taryn know?”
“Actually, I never told her.”
“So, I already know more about you than she does. I feel satisfied,” she said, knowing she was revealing the ugly little jealousy bug lurking deep inside of her.
“Chloe,” he said, suddenly serious. “There’s no comparison. None at all.”
Their dinner was served then and Chloe was happy to put a lid on that subject.
The dinner was surreal. The food was delicious and although they kept the conversation light, Jack communicated with her through touch, a caress on her cheek, a hand on her knee, a light massage of her shoulders—and every touch felt electrifying. Chloe now knew what was hiding under Jack’s cheerful side. She’d seen a glimpse of his passionate side—and the thought made her tremble.
As they drove home that evening, the wind blowing through the open jeep and ruffling their hair, Chloe felt at peace. It wasn’t until they passed the fancy restaurant chain where Mark had proposed to her in California that unwanted memories tugged at her sleeve. They’d sat in a darkened restaurant, much like the one this evening. Mark had sat across from her, his dark hair making his blue eyes stand out on his face. They finished dinner, their dishes crowding the table with disarray. Then with his soft voice that always sounded like a rough whisper, he’d said, “I love you, Chloe. Marry me.” He’d leaned across the table and kissed her slowly and sweetly. It had been one of the happiest moments of her life.
But that dream was over now, crushed by the hardships of life, never to be resurrected. It was a reminder of how far she’d come in life—and of how much she’d lost.