by Kara Isaac
“Sorry, I happen to love the little suckers. And . . .” He gestured toward the other side of the pizza. “I did actually get it half no olives.”
Of course he did, because what she needed right now was something else to make him even more appealing. Placing the remains of the slice on a napkin, she reached for the drinks, twisting the lid off the Coke. Grabbing a couple of glasses, she poured a large one for Jackson, then turned her attention to opening the Diet Coke.
After a couple of seconds of struggling with the cap, she looked at him in frustration. “So are you going to offer to help me or just indefinitely amuse yourself with my inability to open a soft drink?”
Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Now there’s a moment to savor: Allison Shire admitting she needs help.” He took the bottle from her, twisted the cap off with the flick of his wrist, and poured her a glass.
“Thanks.”
His crooked smile sent her heart rate up a few more beats. He picked up his own glass and took a slow drink. “So, Dr. Shire. Does this mean I get my phone back?” His long lashes swept up like a wave during the final seconds before it broke.
She blinked. What had she even done with it? The last thing she remembered, it had been in her hand before she had gotten, ahem, slightly distracted.
She looked around her kitchen, filled with enough food for ten people, and caught sight of his phone sitting beside the cook top. “Oh, I don’t know . . .”
He unfurled the kind of smile that almost made her need crutches to stay upright. “I’m not sure I have another trip to the pizza place in me. Is there anything else I can offer?”
Her breath stalled. Somewhere in the back of her mind a red flashing sign was screaming Eject, eject! as she wavered on the brink between the safe and rational and the far more desirable.
His gaze flickered down to her lips, the tantalizing promise of possibility hanging in the mingled breath between them. A tilt on her toes, and it was no great mystery what would come next. Her entire being thrummed at the thought, almost overriding her sensibilities.
What was she doing? Only a few hours ago, she’d almost tripped over herself denying his assertion she was falling for him, and now what was she about to do? Throw herself at him?
Not to mention the m-word hung over her like a scarlet mist. She had to tell him. She wasn’t sure why—he’d be long gone before the mess with Derek would be sorted out—but she knew with every passing second, her conscience flogged her even more for continuing to allow her secret to hover between them like a dark shadow.
She dropped her eyes, stepped back. “Jackson, I need to tell you about Derek.”
He shook his head, put a finger up against her lips. “Al, I don’t need to know about your ex-boyfriend. Not right now.”
She pushed his hand away. She had to tell the truth even though it would ruin everything. “No, he’s—”
A loud knock at the door interrupted her. What was going on? She usually had as many surprise visitors as a mausoleum and suddenly tonight it was Grand Central Station.
Jackson smiled as he tilted his head toward the door. “Popular lady.” He turned, picking up his slice of pizza as though the last thirty seconds hadn’t happened.
Pulling her scattered senses back together, Allie moved back to the door and peered through the keyhole. Kat stood there, shifting on her feet.
She pulled open the door. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Kat stood there for a second, then said, “You going to let me in?”
Allie registered the small suitcase by her friend’s side. Oh. She’d totally forgotten she told her friend to come stay. “Of course.” Allie stepped back. “Sorry.”
Kat brushed past her, pulling her suitcase behind, and headed down the hallway before Allie could get anything else out. “Man, that group is great, but what a handful. And since when do Louis and Mavis have something going on?”
Allie hurried after her, but not fast enough.
“How was the hospital? Anything to report between you and the h— Oh!” Kat came to an abrupt stop as she rounded the corner into the living area. “Hello.”
How the girl managed to cram so much insinuation into five letters Allie didn’t know, but it was impressive.
“Look at that. The man himself.”
Jackson leaned against the counter, the remains of the pizza crust in his hand. “That would be me.”
Kat pulled out her Cheshire cat smile. “Fancy that.” She surveyed the array of food. “Mind if I have some? I’m starving. Fine dining is all very lovely, but not exactly filling.”
She addressed the question to Jackson, not Allie.
“Go for it.” Jackson grabbed another piece of pizza, shoved his phone and medicine into his back pocket, then levered his crutch back under his shoulder. “I was actually about to go.”
He hobbled around the island bench and paused for a second in front of Allie, capturing her gaze. “Thanks for the phone. And everything else today.” He tilted his head and gave her the kind of smile that did absolutely nothing to cool her out-of-control internal furnace.
“No worries.” She tried to keep her voice steady, conscious of Kat’s triumphant gaze, but failed miserably.
What had just happened?
Allie didn’t even follow him down the hall; she was frozen like a Narnia statue while he struggled for a few seconds, trying to balance pizza slice, crutch, and opening the door.
He paused and unfurled the lethal smile at her again. “Night, Al. See you in the morning.”
He really needed to leave. Now. “Night, Jackson. Thanks.”
She didn’t so much walk as float back to the kitchen in a daze.
“Oh, I am so good!”
Allie jumped at the sound of Kat’s voice, slamming her foot into the side of the breakfast bar. For a second, she’d forgotten Kat was even there. “Ow.” She hopped up and down, clasping her foot with both hands while attempting to stay upright on her good foot. “I think I broke my toe!”
She looked up to see her friend now seated on a bar stool grinning at her with a forkful of pasta almost at her lips. “If you have, you and Jackson could get matching crutches. That would be super-cute.”
Allie pulled out the bar stool next to Kat, slumped onto it, buried her head in her hands, and groaned. The sound bounced off the granite counter.
Next to her, the sounds of Kat hoovering up pasta continued. “This is really good. Want some?” She poked the corner of the plastic container through the gap in Allie’s arm.
“No, thanks.” She reached down and rubbed her throbbing toe, which was already beginning to swell. “Look at this. I’m probably not even going to be able to walk in the morning.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine! You bruise if someone breathes heavily near you.” Kat didn’t even blink as she finished the last bite of pasta and reached for a slice of chicken pizza. “So spill. You’ve got some explaining to do. Sorry if I interrupted something, by the way.” From the smirk on her face, she couldn’t have been less sorry. “Though now I understand why you didn’t pick up my call earlier.”
“No, that was because of my mother.”
“What did Veronica do now?” Kat had met Allie’s mother twice. First at her engagement party, then at her wedding. It would be fair to say they were not members of each other’s mutual admiration society.
“She showed up.”
“She’s in town?”
“Yup. She just appeared in the lobby. I was walking with Jackson from the hospital. Tangent—his ankle is just sprained, not broken. Anyway, she convinced me to have dinner. So we went to Fergburger.”
“Sorry.” Kat held up a hand. “Veronica James-Shire went to Fergburger?”
“I know. Oh, and apparently it’s just James now. Anyway, of all the places, Jackson was there and overheard her having a go at me because I wouldn’t sign
some papers. He stood up for me. And then he showed up with all this . . .” She waved her hands around at the food spread across the surface.
Kat took a bite of her pizza and chewed. “So, just so I’ve got this straight. Jackson took on Veronica. Then he showed up here with enough food to feed the whole hotel.”
“Yup.”
“And you didn’t kiss the guy until he was blue in the face?”
“Of course not!”
Kat laughed, the sound bouncing off all the top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances. “Sorry, but judging by the way you two looked when I showed up, I’m guessing ‘of course not’ is a slight overstatement.”
Busted. “Oh, Kat, what am I going to do?” Allie buried her head in her hands as the memories of the evening washed over her. How could she be attracted to him? Worse, how could she have almost acted on it when she wasn’t free to?
“So do we like him now?”
“I don’t know.” Allie let out a groan. “Half the time I want to kill the guy, but then he goes and does things like this and . . .” She trailed off, unable to find words to express the myriad of conflicting emotions rocketing around.
“Have you kissed him?”
“No.” Though only just. The thought filled her with shame. Married women didn’t go around kissing other men. Even thinking about it—no matter how much of a sham marriage they might have.
“But you do like him.”
Allie groaned again. “Yes.”
“A lot?”
“Apparently so.”
“As in, you want to see him again soon?”
“I see him every day.” Allie pulled a piece of pizza toward her and picked off a slice of pepperoni. She really didn’t need any more complications in her life. “Most importantly, I’m not free.”
“Does Jackson know that?”
She shook her head. “I was about to tell him and then . . .”
“But then you look into his eyes, your knees buckle, and your little heart goes pitter-patter, and he makes everything seem okay, and you forget all of those things?”
Well, that and the fact the person sitting next to her had chosen that exact moment to knock on the door.
Allie sighed. “Something along those lines, pathetic though it may seem.” Especially when he was looking at her with those heavy-lidded eyes.
“It’s not pathetic. Derek put your heart in a blender and chopped it up into little bitty pieces and then he—”
“I know. I was there.”
“Sorry. Anyway, for a start, it’s no surprise you’re emotionally vulnerable right now. The combination of Derek drop-kicking your self-esteem to the moon, then showing up for Grant’s campaign, and an unexpected Veronica visit is quite a combination.”
Since when did her usually blunt friend start talking like a shrink?
Allie cracked one eye open to make sure this wasn’t a weird dream in which Kat had been replaced by Dr. Phil. As far as she was aware, Kat had never used the words emotionally vulnerable in a sentence. It was kind of scary.
“But, putting all that aside, you and Jackson have something real. Seriously. Everyone can see it.”
“You’re not hearing me, Kat. I can’t have anything with anyone. Real or not—not until the court decision comes through and assuming it’s in my favor.”
Her friend pursed her lips. “You need to give your lawyers a rocket. What’s it been—two years?”
“Next month.”
“That’s ridiculous. They’re billing you for doing absolutely nothing.”
“Derek and his lawyers keep delaying everything.”
“Call them. Tell them to fight back. Hard. I bet you a squillion dollars they could have this sorted within weeks if you threatened to take your business elsewhere. Instead, you’ve probably got some little pimply intern sitting on your file charging you a couple of hundred bucks every time they write you a letter about another delay.”
“You’re probably right.” She was. She’d call them in the morning; it was ridiculous.
“You know what else I think I’m right about?”
“What?”
“I think you like the delays. They give you something to hide behind because as long as you’re still technically ‘married,’ you don’t have to take a chance on another guy. You have an excuse not to grapple with putting your heart back out there.”
Seriously? Kat thought she wanted to live in limbo? “You think I like this? You think I like being legally attached to a guy who cost me everything? I can’t even touch my own bank accounts because he and his lawyers convinced some stupid judge I might pilfer the so-called marital assets.”
“I’m not saying you like it, but I think you’ve grown used to it, even comfortable, and I definitely think it’s less scary than the alternative.” Kat reached forward and pulled the tub of mousse toward her. “The rest of your life is a long time to be afraid of getting hurt. At some point you’re going to have to take a chance again, Allie. And sure, you might get hurt. But you also might find the love of your life.”
“I’m pretty sure Jackson isn’t the love of my life.” He couldn’t be. Who fell in love in two weeks? That only happened in cheesy Hollywood rom-coms.
“How sure? Sure enough to not tell him the truth in all its miserable glory? Sure enough to let him leave and not spend the rest of your life wondering if you missed out on something that could have been great? Tell him the truth. Tell him the scary, ugly truth, and let the chips fall where they will. Nothing good ever comes out of hiding stuff this big.”
“I tried to tell him. You showed up!”
Her friend raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows at her. “What about all the other times you could’ve told him when I wasn’t anywhere near you? Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you guys lost together, just the two of you, for like six hours?”
She was right. Again. It was like getting pummeled by Yoda. “I’ll tell him. Tomorrow. I promise.”
“Um, if I say something, do you promise not to get mad?”
“What?” What else could there possibly be?
“Have you ever thought maybe you’re never truly going to get past this until you confront Derek?”
She felt her whole body flinch. Absolutely not. She was never going back there. Running away had worked fine so far.
Twenty-Four
JACKSON’S SENSES WERE STILL SPINNING as he limped back into his hotel room. What was that? He leaned against the wall of his room to take some weight off his screaming ankle. He knew one thing it was: a world record for the number of almost-kisses in the space of fifteen minutes.
What was happening to him? The last couple of hours felt like they’d been lived by someone else. He wasn’t even familiar with this guy who ordered half a pizza menu for a girl he wasn’t even dating. It wasn’t like he even needed his phone, and he could’ve managed overnight on the Advil in his travel bag and gotten the stronger stuff in the morning.
And then when she’d broken down—the vulnerability in her face had sucked him in like a black hole . . . The memory of how perfectly her body fit into his arms, molded into him, was enough to make him contemplate finding a glacial lake to jump into to cool down. Thank goodness Kat had shown up before he could get himself in some serious trouble. Every instinct told him kissing Allie would have been undoable. No going back.
He rested his head against the cool wall of the entranceway, trying to order his scrambled thoughts by inserting some logic into the equation. Everything that was rational and sensible was screaming at him there was only one way this crazy thing, whatever it was, could go. Total disaster.
From the moment he walked off the plane, Allie had thrown him off-balance. Nothing should have surprised him by now, and yet the day’s revelations had him questioning everything he thought was important. The whole reason he was here se
emed to be fading into insignificance.
He couldn’t let that happen; too much was riding on his success. Not just for him—for his family and the people back home he needed to make good on his word that he would get their money back.
And yet, sitting in that burger joint, watching her take hit after hit from her mother, none of it seemed that important anymore. All he wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms and make her feel safe, protected. Loved.
The final word bounced around in his head, ricocheting like an emotional bullet. Sure, he believed in love theoretically. His parents had it. Nick and Beth too. He just never really thought of it applying to him. Not like that. Not in a way that meant he suddenly felt compelled to give up everything to pursue it.
He’d never said the l-word to anyone. Not even Nicole. He’d been determined he wasn’t going to say something he wasn’t sure of. His relationship with Nicole had initially been mutually beneficial and fun, and sure, there had been moments when he thought he might love her, but in a purely abstract kind of way.
The truth, if he cared to admit it, was that when she left he’d been angry, yes. Humiliated, yes. Betrayed, sure. Heartbroken, even. But that was over losing his business—not Nicole. The hole in his life when she left hadn’t been nearly large enough for their relationship to be close to the real thing.
Hobbling over to the couch in his small living area, he threw down his crutch, collapsed onto its edge, and pried off his one shoe. The generic white hotel ceiling stared down at him. He tried to reconstruct his life around these overwhelming feelings by first imagining telling his uncle the truth. That he didn’t care about Tolkien at all. That he’d only come because he wanted the financial support for BabyZen. He tried to imagine calling his parents and telling them he had given up on this new business idea because he’d met a great girl and was sorry if that meant they lost the farm.
And then what? She lived in New Zealand; he lived in America. What was he going to do? Marry her? The idea seemed so ridiculous he laughed out loud, until it started settling into the crevices of his soul—even reaching down and transforming into images of waking up beside her every morning. Of getting to fight with her for the rest of his life. Of cute, auburn-haired, green-eyed children— Stop it, Gregory!