by Kaitlyn Rice
And she was grateful.
Why not dance? After all, there was a full moon to explain her crazy behavior. Why not make the night magical?
It was true, no one was dancing. The air was too hot, and the Kansas wind tugged at her skirt and ruffled her hair into artless abandon. Several people inside had just looked at her and been reminded of the sister she had buried nearly two months ago. The situation was altogether inappropriate.
The song wasn’t even a waltz, as Jack had claimed. But she heard its rightness, as clearly as he did. And she knew everything was perfect.
She closed her eyes even before they began to dance. He whispered about how perfectly she fit in his arms, and she sighed, knowing exactly what he meant.
The first time she’d danced with him, years ago at Paige’s wedding, she’d felt perfect in his arms.
Without thinking, she reached up to kiss him gratefully, but he didn’t let her get away with a simple peck. He slanted his gin-and-olive-scented mouth across hers and demanded heat. Hands that had rested against the straps at her back now pulled her as close as skin. As flesh.
Abby tangled her fingers in his hair, making sure the kiss didn’t end anytime soon. She forgot where she was, and that her feet should be moving in time to the music. She forgot everything except her private moment of joy.
When they stopped to breathe, Abby glanced over Jack’s shoulder toward the house and saw a windowful of people watching them. Gasping in surprise, she began to dance again, but faster.
Jack’s expression was so surprised, she giggled. “We forgot about our audience.”
He pulled her back into his arms, smiling in a way that told her he didn’t care who saw them. And after another kiss, she didn’t care, either.
The moon would rule tonight.
When they finally ventured back inside, Abby ignored the way the crowd stilled as they walked through in search of the twins. Abby’s mother was sitting on a love seat playing with Rosie, and her dad was on his way across the room, carrying Wyatt.
Abby reached her mother just as her dad spoke. “Jack, let’s step outside,” he said quietly as he handed Wyatt to Abby.
Abby’s dad always spoke quietly, and people always listened. He was only medium in height, and soft-spoken in manner, but he was a giant in the hearts of many.
He’d bought his quaint little flower shop soon after his marriage to Faye thirty years ago, and he’d been sharing his flowers and wit with the community ever since. Abby and her sister couldn’t have asked for a more benevolent father.
But he had definite opinions, and one of them was that couples shouldn’t live together before marriage. Abby had grown up hearing him say that she was too special to settle for anything less than a man who would cherish her for a lifetime.
Who knew what he would say to Jack now?
Abby turned to watch Jack follow her dad through the crowd. She wanted to protest, but the crowd was too big and the eyes too curious. She’d have to let them go.
She sank down onto the love seat beside her mother and listened to Rosie babbling at Wyatt.
“It looks as if you have your hands full with more than the twins these days,” Faye said.
“Mother!” Abby whispered, wondering if anyone had missed the spectacle outside the window.
“It’s all right, dear,” her mother soothed. “Just enjoy.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHEN JACK WOUND his way back through the crowd, Abby was already standing with Wyatt on one arm and the diaper bag on the other. He grinned as he took Rosie from Abby’s mother. Abby was always on time and ready to go. Right now, so was he.
He hadn’t managed to make his intentions clear to her at the party, or even out by the pool, but his kisses had been reciprocated for three days in a row, and they weren’t followed by confused looks or vows to cool things off.
She was in the right frame of mind. The drive home should provide ample time for talk.
If everything went as well as their kisses, he had every reason to believe she’d be receptive to his revelations, and now he had the added power of her own father’s opinion to back him up.
After they’d been on the road a minute or two, she brought up the subject herself. “I guess my dad didn’t humiliate me too badly, since you’re still smiling.”
Jack put a hand on her knee. “Your father said that in a community of this size, we should consider how things look.”
“Dad has old-fashioned ideas.”
“He’s right, Abby. Many of your friends saw you kissing your male roommate in a very unplatonic way. You’ll be the talk of every pool hall and church kitchen in the county.”
She was quiet.
He didn’t need to see her to know that she was biting her lip, and he loved the idea of knowing her that well. “It was worth every bit of gossip,” he said with a chuckle.
“Was that all he had to say?”
“He said I should marry you tomorrow, or move out and court you properly.”
“He didn’t!”
Jack didn’t answer. He reached over to pull her closer, and she came willingly. She rested pliantly against his side, and he drove in silence for a moment, enjoying the privacy that traveling at night afforded them.
“Seems to me that you’d make an entire community happy just by marrying me,” he said.
Even as he said it, he knew the words he’d chosen were all wrong. That truth was verified when he felt her muscles turn rigid against his side.
“I’d make the community happy by marrying you?” she said in a squeaky voice. “Surely you’re kidding!”
She skidded back across the seat and practically wedged herself against the passenger door.
Jack stared out at the glowing arc thrown by the headlights, wondering how to rephrase things. Wondering if every man had such a hard time professing his feelings for the first time.
I’m falling in love with you. The words were simple enough to think, but saying them seemed to be another thing entirely. And not just because he’d never said them before.
It was because he knew she’d already heard them from someone else, and suffered through a venomous retraction of them later.
The words, the timing, the mood—it all had to be right.
But now he was nearing the farmhouse, and since they were on a rural road he couldn’t exactly drive around the block a few times to keep talking. He couldn’t hold her captive in the car, either.
The damned romantic moment had escaped him again.
He parked in the garage and slid out. “Wait here,” he said. Seconds later, he opened her door and took her hand to help her out. He led her to the back entry and unlocked the door, but kept one hand wrapped around hers.
When she tried to pull away, he didn’t let go. They would sit down and talk all night, if necessary.
She tugged again, and finally wrenched her hand away.
“Relax, Abby,” he said in the doorway. “I didn’t mean that marriage comment the way it sounded.”
“Good,” she said with a wry smile. “I need to get the twins from the car, at any rate.”
“Oh. Right.”
He followed her back to the car, and watched as she unbuckled the sleeping twins and carted them both inside. Jack didn’t offer to help, because she seemed to have gone into superwoman mode. She might punch him in the stomach if he did.
Her mood had definitely changed, and it was his fault. He’d tried to use the protectiveness of her father and the curiosity of her community to broach the subject of marriage. He hadn’t even realized he was receptive to the idea, but it obviously didn’t scare him as much as it scared her.
Within minutes, she was carrying the babies through the nursery door, and he was standing at the bottom of the stairs, thinking.
He’d hoped to follow her straight to her bedroom just as soon as the twins were in their cribs, but now he wasn’t at all certain he’d be welcome.
Still, if he was lucky, one of the twins would wa
ke up later. It had been an exciting day, and routines had been broken. With Rosie and Wyatt, daytime commotion often led to nighttime wakefulness. Jack was counting on it tonight.
It took three hours, but he was patient. He sat in the darkened living room and listened to the tick of Abby’s antique wall clock. At a little before midnight, he heard a baby whimper.
He sprinted up the stairs, rushing through the nursery door just as Abby picked up Rosie. She’d forgotten the robe again, and the familiar T-shirt caressed her breasts as lovingly as he would, given half a chance. She pulled a bottle from the warmer and fell into the rocking chair.
Jack sat down across from her, studying the cascade of hair around a face that was freckled and lovely, and calm again.
He let his expression say everything.
He started at her face, then let his attention slide down her body and back up. Then again. Her agitation had lessened enough for her to look at him, too, and her tiny smile gave him hope.
When Rosie finished her bottle, and Wyatt seemed as if he’d sleep on through, Abby put the baby in her crib and met Jack out on the landing. “You rascal,” she said. “You were waiting downstairs, weren’t you?”
He stepped closer, forcing her to back up against her bedroom door. “Absolutely,” he said.
“Well, you’re still in the doghouse, but I guess I can toss you a bone,” she said. She flattened herself against the door and frowned when he kept advancing.
When he got close enough, he reached out and turned the doorknob, so the door popped open behind her. With the help of the strong and willing arm he slipped around her waist, she kept her balance.
Both of them looked inside, at her big, inviting bed.
“The only thing I want tossed my way right now is you,” he said. She still seemed tentative, so he pressed her hand against his arousal to let her feel the truth.
She kept her hand there for achingly long seconds, then sighed and removed it. He held his breath. He had to let her decide what to do next.
When she swayed forward and raised her lips, his relief was profound. Although it was whisper soft and sweet, her kiss electrified his veins. He allowed her to lead for a minute, accepting her nibbles gratefully.
Until she took a step forward, and he felt the supple curves underneath her clothes, and was driven to demand rather than accept. He grabbed a handful of that gorgeous hair and tugged her head back, allowing his mouth better access to hers. Diving his tongue inside, he searched for feeling, for forgiveness, for satisfaction that would never be enough.
When he slid his hands under her shirt, he discovered that she was totally nude beneath it. He gave a quick bark of laughter, nearly going over the edge with one simple touch.
Unable to resist, he tangled a finger in the hair at the juncture of her thighs, feeling the exquisite textures and groaning in approval. She broke away then, pulling his arms behind her back and drawing a shaky breath. “Jack…slow down,” she whispered.
Slow. She’d said slow.
Not go away. Not stop.
It was an exciting day.
He took his time pushing her into her bedroom, removing his shirt and socks on the way. But he kept her occupied with kisses and caresses, and when they stopped beside her bed, he ran his hands over the sweet nipples outlined by the fabric of her shirt.
Using only his thumbs, he tortured himself awhile longer. Then he pulled the shirt over her head and nuzzled his lips against a dusky nipple. Even if her hand wasn’t gripping the back of his head to pull him closer, her moan would have let him know he was on the right track.
When she slid to her knees beside her bed, he followed, not wanting to give up his treasure. A persistent hand returned to her silky oasis of curls, and he slid a finger inside.
The snug feel of her already dripping heat drove him to near madness, and he pumped one and two fingers inside her, frantic in his excitement.
Abby clutched his hand in hers. “Slow,” she reminded him.
But he couldn’t go slow. Not now, anyway. He unzipped his pants, took her small, gentle hand and pressed it against him. He wanted her to hold him. To let him know this was all right.
She stroked him softly, seeming to enjoy the feel of his body as much as he did hers. When her grip firmed, he gritted his teeth, inadvertently biting her nipple and provoking a yelp that had him apologizing with his lips and tongue.
She sighed encouragingly as he worked harder to please her, with little nibbles, some suckling and a soft nip here and there. But her hand kept touching him, and he felt his body pulsate threateningly. He pulled her hand away then, pivoting her around so she was facing the bed. Letting his pants slide down, he nestled his hungry body behind hers as he nuzzled her neck.
It was nearly too much. His brimming shaft rested against that delectable tush, and his hands had free rein on those perfectly soft and pebbled breasts. He couldn’t hold out much longer.
Abby’s moans grew wilder. She rammed her elbows against the edge of the mattress and shoved back against him. “Now,” she said hotly, “I’m ready now.”
That was all he needed. He sought her wet and swollen center and pushed inside in a single driving thrust.
She pressed her face in the mattress to muffle a scream, and then lifted it again to whisper approval as he pumped himself inside her.
He opened his eyes, wanting to see. Wanting to watch in sweet hot agony as his body found joy inside hers. Her skin gleamed in the light of a single bedside lamp, and she moved against him in perfect synchrony.
Reaching around her, he found her firm female nub and stroked it. Again she buried her face against the bed, stifling her cries. When he was sure she’d found complete pleasure, he let himself go, coming quick and hard and completely.
After a few seconds of breathless bliss, a glowing Abby climbed onto her bed and patted the spot beside her.
Jack followed, smiling the smile of a contented man. He waited while she turned off the lamp, then pulled her into his arms as they caught their breath. When he thought he could speak again, he finally got the words out.
“I’m falling in love with you.”
ABBY CHUCKLED. Jack Kimball was the last man she’d expect to be sentimental in bed. “What did you say?” she asked.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She shoved against his chest. If he was teasing, it was cruel. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
She turned the lamp on again so she could see his face. As tired as she was, this was a conversation that needed the reality of light. “This little interlude is for now,” she said. “Not a lifetime.”
“Abby, you’re going to have to put up with me for more than some little interlude.” His eyes twinkled as he grabbed her waist to pull her close.
She pushed his hand away and blinked a couple of times, trying to settle her emotions. “No,” she said fiercely. “I’m just like your other girlfriends.”
“Not really,” Jack said.
When she frowned questioningly, he explained, “You’re sexier than Diane, more fun than Zuzu, and you make Paula’s polish seem gaudy.”
Abby shook her head. “No, I meant I’m temporary, like them.”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “At the party tonight, when you said you didn’t want to hurt me, I realized you could devastate me. No one else ever could.”
“Don’t say that,” Abby said, and realized she wasn’t breathing. She raked a hand through her hair and let out her breath in a long, slow release.
“Why?” he asked, frowning as he reclined against her pillow.
“Can’t you just take my word for it?”
Jack’s face cleared as he pulled her down beside him. “I’m not your ex-husband, Abby.”
“I know,” she said, and immediately sat back up. She pulled the sheet over her chest and held the edge in a tight grip.
He followed her up and rubbed her bare back. “You need more time?” he asked.
She knew he was watching her, waiting until she met his eyes. After another breathless moment, she did.
“Well, yes.”
He smiled. “I can be patient.”
ABBY TENDED HER CHORES the next morning with trembling hands and a skitterish heart. She kept reminding herself that last night was just a fluke. Jack’s words could only mean he was infatuated.
Exactly as Tim had been, years ago, in the beginning.
She couldn’t let a few nights of madness turn into a relationship she couldn’t trust. She couldn’t.
His words had been momentous, though, and his actions powerful. She didn’t know how she could dismiss either one.
As usual with Abby, inner turmoil sent her into overdrive. She tried to calm her thoughts by quickening her work pace. She finished tending her plants within an hour, and moved right on to housecleaning.
When Jack came down the stairs, she was dusting the mantelpiece while the babies played on the floor of the living room. He said good morning, and asked if she needed help with the twins.
She answered that she had everything under control, and he said he’d be in his office, working.
And he left.
She was greatly relieved by a conversation that had taken less than a minute from start to finish. If they could really go back to some semblance of normalcy, maybe she would be all right.
If they could be cordial and polite and the perfect roommates by day—and down to earth about their nights—perhaps she could allow herself a little more time.
And it worked that way, for a while.
In the next couple of weeks, Abby devoted her days to the babies and the greenhouse. She started several rows of cut flowers for the holiday season, and watched the twins learn to stand alone and take their first supported steps.
Jack spent long hours in his office, but was always willing to lend a hand with babies and cleanup duties. And he kept a comfortable distance, most of the time. Although he joined Abby upstairs on many nights, he didn’t ask for promises, and he didn’t make any.
Sometimes she felt as if she had solved some sort of cosmic riddle—she had a roommate to ease her daytime burdens and a lover to add passion to her nights.