by Drea Stein
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Lynn said. She didn’t want to be told that there was no way she could compete with a dead woman.
“Probably because you already know,” he said, his voice was laced bitterness.
“What?”
“It’s a small town. Not too many secrets. I am sure you probably know I was engaged to be married to someone—Ashley Moran.”
Lynn nodded, but Jackson seemed not to see it. “She died in a car crash, and well, some people felt I was to blame for it. But you probably were able to figure that out from what happened at The Golden Pear. After Ash died, it was too hard to stay. I left town and pretty much broke off all contact with anyone from here. My own family, my brother, my best friend.”
She had a vision of a younger, grief-stricken Jackson taking flight from town, a backpack slung on his shoulder.
“And now you’re back?”
“I’m back.”
“Why?” Lynn asked. Jackson was so close she could see the way his jaw clenched.
“Because this is my home, and it’s where I belong.”
“Oh,” Lynn said. There was strength in those words, conviction. But she wasn’t sure. It might mean that he was ready to move back to Queensbay, but did it mean he was ready to move onto something new in the relationship department?
He stood still, waiting, but Lynn didn’t know what to say.
She was saved by the bell, or rather by another emergency.
“Doctor, things are backing up out here, I think we have a broken arm. Do you want me to re-route some of them to the hospital?”
She tore her gaze away from Jackson. She had a job to do, she reminded herself. Her personal life would have to wait.
“No, we’re done here. Please take Mr. Sanders up to the front desk, go over discharge procedures with him.”
“Very well. This way, please.”
Jackson held back, looking at her for a fraction of a moment, as if searching for an answer. He nodded, gave a rueful smile, and then started to follow the nurse out of the exam area.
He paused, turned and gave her a grin that had her heart skip a beat and her stomach drop and do a flip. “Doctor, there’s something you forgot.”
Affronted, she said, “What are you talking about?”
“My lollipop. You said if I was a good patient, you’d give me a lollipop.”
“A lollipop?”
He nodded and smiled.
She gritted her teeth and walked past him. He took up so much space in her small exam room there was no way that she could go around him. So she had to brush past him, letting their arms touch. The shock went through her body, straight through. She wouldn’t have thought he noticed, but he must have because he kept looking at her.
“Lemon? Strawberry? Cherry?”
He gave her a drop-dead gorgeous grin. “I’ll take the cherry.”
She almost dropped the bottle before she was able to hand him one.
Chapter 34
It had been a bad idea. It had been Tory’s of course, because Lynn never would have agreed to this without some serious trash talking from her friend. She hadn’t played softball in a while but she remembered enough of it to keep from making a fool of herself. By the fifth innings she even felt she was acquitting herself well. She caught a fly ball and knocked someone from the opposing team out. She’d had more fun than she thought possible playing the game. They’d even managed to squeak out a win.
And that was why she found herself at Quent’s doing shots with two guys. It was the shots that were a bad idea, not playing softball. One was named Bob, the other Jeff, she was certain; or maybe their names were Brett and Jerry. The tequila was making them both seem funny, and even Jerry looked mildly attractive. Not Jackson attractive of course, but it had been days since Lynn had seen him and her hormones were in a crazy overdrive cycle, which the tequila was doing nothing to mitigate.
“Wow, I can’t believe I got you out!” Tory sidled up to her and threw an arm around her shoulder, carefully turning her away from Brett and Jerry, who were busy reliving the last innings.
“That was fun. Let me know the next time you need a pinch hitter. Or a relief pitcher. Or a whatever.”
“So do you think either one of them is cute?” Tory asked, her voice dropping low as she took a sip of the beer she was nursing.
Lynn laughed until saw that Tory was serious. “What do you mean cute? Like doing it cute?”
“Yeah, what else? Look, you need to get over Jackson, and the best way is to get right back in there.”
“There’s no getting over Jackson because there’s nothing between us,” Lynn pointed out. She had thought that maybe, after she had seen him at the clinic, after that intense moment of connection, that he had rethought the wisdom of staying away, but apparently he was stronger than she thought.
Tory shook her head. “Look, if you’re attracted to him and he’s attracted to you, and he’s not going to give into it and you’re not going to push him on it, then you need to move on.”
“Hold on there.” Lynn spun on her barstool. “Are you saying you think I should give him a push?” Lynn asked.
As she thought about it, she realized that she had always let Jackson pull back, never really shown him what he was giving up. She had let him kiss her once, and then like a dumb damsel in distress hadn’t followed up on that, and instead had let herself wait around for a second chance.
Lynn narrowed her eyes, focusing on Tory, who was peeling the label off her beer bottle. “I thought you said he had too much baggage.”
Tory shrugged. “I’m not talking about getting into a long term relationship with him, but I’m sure if you gave him a little push you two could find a way to amuse yourselves. After all, you’re the one who said it’s been a while. You just don’t want all of your lady parts freezing up on you, you know, from disuse.”
Lynn punched Tory on the arm. “I already told you, that’s medically impossible.”
“In theory,” Tory shot back, rubbing her arm where Lynn had whacked her.
Another round of shots appeared. There was a shout, a happy one, and Brett and Jerry downed their glasses. Two pairs of eyes turned to look at Lynn expectantly. She smiled, reached for the glass and hesitated.
Her stomach lurched at the smell; she didn’t want it. Brett and Jerry looked disappointed, but not angry when she made her excuses, gathering up her sweatshirt. She didn’t bother to say goodbye to Tory, just knew she needed to get out and get some fresh air.
What had she been thinking? That she was going to meet the right guy in a bar? Seriously. The night air was cool and she walked toward the water and her apartment. Bed sounded good, and so did her old flannel pajamas, along with a cup of ginger tea to ward away any ill effects of the alcohol. And besides, what Tory had said, about giving Jackson a push, was bothering her. Why was she being so patient with him? She’d never be so passive with one of her patients if they were sick, if they needed something; so why was she letting Jackson dictate the terms of their…thing?
“You’re muttering to yourself.” Jackson appeared almost silently by her side. She jumped, surprised. He had seemed to materialize out of nowhere, but she realized she was closer to their apartment building than she thought, almost in the parking lot. She glanced over. His car was there, the headlights dimming as if he had just pulled in, gotten out, and locked it.
“You’ve been drinking,” he said.
“I had a few drinks. Well, a few shots,” she amended. She couldn’t help it, she was honest by nature. The thought almost made her start to giggle but she clamped down tight on it. Jackson was standing, looking down at her. From that angle his shoulders looked impossibly broad, his arms thick and muscled. His blue eyes were icy again and perhaps just slightly disapproving.
“Shots? Are you crazy? You must weigh a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. You can’t possibly handle shots.”
“A hundred and fifteen,” she corrected him. “And I can do shot
s.” She hiccupped, giving lie to her words. Bed was sounding better and better, she thought, and then she looked at Jackson. An entirely different kind of thought crossed her mind. Perhaps the answer had been staring her in the face all along. Maybe Tory was right, maybe she just needed to give him a push.
She swayed a bit, only a little of it fake.
“Here, let’s get you home,” Jackson said, slipping his arm around her and directing her toward the Annex. He quickly guided her up the stairs and once again opened the door for her. She spun around on the doorstep, fixed him with a look that she hoped screamed ‘Come hither,’ and invited him in.
She sensed the barest moment of hesitation in him as he thought about it, discarded his concerns, and crossed the threshold.
She had made some improvements to the apartment. She now had dishes, wineglasses, a corkscrew, and even a bottle of wine or two.
“Thanks for helping me. Can I get you a drink?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She had no intention of drinking much more, but Jackson stood there, standing stiff, like a deer caught in the headlights. She may not need one, but he definitely looked like he needed something.
She reached into a drawer and easily found the corkscrew since it was just about the only thing in there. The bottle of wine was in the new wine rack she had bought, a small iron thing with leaves and scrolls on it.
She pulled two glasses down and poured some into each of them.
“You’re not going to let me drink alone,” she said. All of a sudden, whatever tipsiness she had felt at the bar was rapidly fading in light of the adrenaline and anticipation thrumming through her body.
“I guess not,” he said, and he came farther into the apartment and took the glass she handed him.
She swallowed her wine and realized that she wasn’t sure what to do next. Small talk? Try to look sexy? All well and good, until she remembered she was wearing a grass stained t-shirt and a pair of athletic pants.
“How’s the hand?” she finally managed to say.
He held it up and waved it at her. “Great. I went to my regular doctor like you said. He was impressed, said you had done a great job.”
“Thanks,” she said and took another small swallow. She looked at the bottle. It had been a gift from someone at the clinic, and even though she was no expert, she was pretty sure she had just offered Jackson Sanders, global world traveler, one hundred percent bona fide rotgut.
She watched him take his own sip and saw when he tried to hide his wince at the taste. He gently set the glass down on the table. She wondered if she should say something about changing into something more comfortable? Did women really do that anymore? What would Savannah Ryan, her favorite movie star of all time, have done?
Lynn suppressed a sigh. Someone as elegant and glamorous as Savannah Ryan wouldn’t have been caught dead in a pair of grubby track pants and a stained t-shirt. If possible, it was a step down from her usual attire of grimy scrubs.
Jackson cleared his throat, and made to get up. “Well, if you’re ok, I guess I should be going.”
Lynn decided it was a what-the-hell-moment. As he started to rise, she moved over to him and put a hand out squarely on his chest. His smooth, muscled, very hard chest, which she could feel through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“No you don’t.”
“I don’t?” he said, confusion in his voice.
“You can’t go,” she stated, aware that her adrenaline was zooming and her hands were shaking just a little bit. Ok, make that a lot.
He looked down at her, his eyes dark, unreadable. He was tense, she could tell as she didn’t move, didn’t let anything come between them this time.
“You can’t go until you kiss me,” she said.
“Lynn, you’ve been drinking,” he said, gently putting his hands over hers. She decided not to take no for an answer. She pushed herself closer to him. She didn’t have far to go because he was reaching down for her, his lips rushing to meet hers.
He faltered and then gave in, his mouth covering hers. She wrapped her arms more tightly around him, pulling him in close to her, needing to feel him, feel something. Her fingers found the waistline of his pants, and her fingers sought the button.
Suddenly she found herself pushed away, almost flung back to the other end of the couch. Stung, she curled her feet up, wrapped her arms tight around her.
He was sitting there, his eyes heavy with lust, his breathing labored.
“What’s the matter now? Do gentlemen not take advantage of girls who’ve had a few drinks? I thought that was the basis for just about all sexual intercourse in the western world.”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and his whole body seemed to still. “Actually, they don’t. Lynn you’re hurt, you’re a little drunk. This isn’t a good thing. I don’t want to be something you’ll regret in the morning.”
“How can I regret what I’ve never gotten?” she said angrily, almost unaware the words had come out. “You think you make all the rules here. But you know what? You can’t keep ignoring what’s between us.”
“Lynn,” he said, his voice rough and low with warning.
“No,” she said, feeling bold. She wasn’t going to let him sneak away with an excuse, she was going to push it.
“Don’t try to talk yourself out of it. Just answer me this simple question.”
“What?”
“Do you like kissing me?”
“Yes,” he breathed. “I like it a lot.”
“Then why don’t we just go with it.”
“Because…”
“I don’t care about your past, Jackson. I just care about now. We’re two grownups who are attracted to each other. Can’t that be enough for now? What if I told you that I am not looking for forever? Just for right now.”
“Is that all you really want, Lynn? Something for right now?”
“Yes,” she said, knowing part of her was lying. But it was for a good cause, because what she wanted most right now was him. And she didn’t care how she got him.
“So you’re saying you’re willing to have sex with me right now, even if I told you that it would be a bad idea. That I’m not the type of guy who’s in it for the long term? That whatever happens between us is a no-strings-attached kind of deal?” He took her hands and looking deeply into her eyes, he kissed one hand, then the other.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Will you spend the night?”
He shook his head and give her a slow, wicked smile that more than anything he had done sent her heart pounding and her senses tingling. “Not this night. I would rather you have a clear head for this.”
“For what?”
“Just because we can agree to no strings doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have some expectations. Or anticipation. Or even some romance. When was the last time someone took you out on a real date?”
“What?”
“Not Two for Tacos or Aussie Night at Quent’s.”
She blinked, struggling to remember. “A while. I mean never. I mean, a guy took me for burgers and milkshakes once,” she managed to say.
Jackson laughed. “Then I think it’s even more important that we do this right.” He paused and his face went serious. “Lynn, I’m not the kind of guy who believes in happily ever after, but I do believe in making the most of right now. And while there might be no strings attached, a gentleman, as you like to call me, still has certain standards to uphold.”
“Oh,” Lynn said, trying to find the strength to breathe, realizing that she was finding this unbearably sexy. Jackson got up, leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead, sending an electric thrill through her.
“Does that mean you’re going to sleep with me?” Lynn tried not to sound like she was begging.
“Oh, don’t worry, I intend to do a lot more than sleep with you,” he said, and it was all Lynn could do to keep her mouth from popping open.
“And now, I think you better start sleeping it off. I’ll see you tomorrow.�
��
Lynn could barely nod as he gave her a grin that had a bolt of desire shooting down her body until her toes wanted to curl in delight.
Chapter 35
The pounding in Lynn’s head woke her up at the same time as the pounding on the door registered. She sat up, aware that she was still in her clothes from the night before, still stretched out on her couch, a blanket twisted around her legs.
Snippets of last night came back as she struggled to her feet, automatically going towards the door.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she shouted at the unknown knocker, then muttered, “What the hell.”
She opened the door to a glorious, sunny, fall day and Tory, her hair shining in the sun like a brownish-gold mane, framed by a backdrop of the glimmering water of the harbor.
“Man, you do look like crap. Maybe trying to meet a guy in a bar isn’t the best approach.” Tory kept up a running stream of conversation as she dropped a brown paper bag from which a delicious smell wafted up.
Lynn’s stomach lurched, which reminded her that she had skipped dinner in favor of tequila shots. She wasn’t sure if eating now would be a good thing or not.
Tory hiked herself up at the breakfast bar, uncapping a cup of steaming hot coffee. “Don’t worry, I’ll share this with you while you brew a cup. The breakfast sandwich is from The Golden Pear by the way. Practically guaranteed to fix whatever ails you.”
Lynn, just nodded, went over to the kitchen cabinet, found a glass, and poured some water and drank. It slid down her throat, doing a little to push away the cotton ball feeling in her mouth.
“What happened to you last night?” Tory asked.
With a sigh, Lynn pulled up another stool. Tory pushed over the cup of coffee and the breakfast sandwich.
Over coffee and an egg sandwich, Lynn told Tory about what had happened with Jackson.
“Wow, so Jackson came to your rescue again, and decided you were too drunk to have sex.”
Lynn thought back, her memory hazy. “It was perhaps just about my most mortifying moment.”
Tory shook her head, was silent for a moment, “No, that’s when your prom date doesn’t show up because there’s a comic convention in town.”