by Imani King
I look up from the stacking toy Tamara has been playing with to meet Lillian’s eyes. I strive for a bland smile. “Really? I’m fine.”
Lillian lifts a brow. “Jackson hasn’t been himself the last couple of days either.”
“Probably because of his breakup.”
His mother shakes her head. “No, it isn’t that. I know that bothers him, but he’s more worried about what Anastasia will dredge up. I don’t think he was too surprised by the breakup, so he wasn’t hurt.”
“Dredge up?”
Lillian purses her mouth. “I’ve said too much. It’s just, that woman infuriates me.”
“What did she do?”
She sighs and sets aside her knitting. In the hour she’d been at it, she’d just managed just two rows with her withered hands. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you.”
I refuse to acknowledge the catty little part of her that hopes Anastasia had done something so wicked that Jackson would never forgive her. “I won’t say a word.”
“She announced they were engaged, and then...”
My eyes widen as Lillian lists the salient points. When she finishes, my mouth is open. “She planned to use him for a contract and send the baby away?”
Lillian nods. “I never liked her. I’m glad Jackson finally came to his senses.”
“Er, yes.”
A silence lapses between them. Then, Lillian says, “He does need to marry and settle down though. Tamara needs stability.”
I flinch at the words. “She has me.”
“Of course, dear, but in the eyes of the world you aren’t everything you should be.”
I frown. “What are you saying?”
“Wouldn’t you rather be her mother than her nanny?”
“I am her—” It takes a moment for the implication to set in. When it does, I jump to my feet and start to pace. “That’s insane. We aren’t—”
“I’m not blind. I can see what’s happening between you.”
“Nothing,” she insisted.
Lillian shrugs. “Suit yourself, but marriage is a way to cement your claim on the little one.”
“I’m never getting married.”
A sad expression settles on the older woman’s face. “Not all men are like Brad—or his father, for that matter. Jackson is a good man.”
I turn so Lillian can’t see my expression. I don’t want it to betray myself. “I’m sure he is, but he isn’t the man for me.”
“He wouldn’t hurt you, Shawna.”
The simple words rob me of my breath. I reel dizzily and collapse onto the chaise lounge. Is it so obvious? Do I carry the internal scars around as prominently as the ones that marred the corner of my eye, my scalp, and the back of my shoulder? I look up and meet Lillian’s concerned eyes. “I couldn’t go through that again. Please don’t play matchmaker. I’m begging you.”
“I would never presume to force either of you into anything.” She sighs. “I just think an alliance of sorts would be beneficial. You both get what you want.”
“What alliance? Who’re you talking about, Mom?”
Lillian and I both jumped when Jackson enters the sitting room. He looks rumpled and tired, as if his day at work had involved much more than sitting behind a desk and dealing with various construction and management decisions.
Lillian’s serene smile falters a bit at the edges. “Nothing to concern yourself about.”
He studies them both with narrowed eyes, seeming to focus on the guilty heat warming my cheeks. An awkward silence falls, until Tamara slips the ring on the stick and chortles.
Pleasure lights my eyes as I see my daughter’s achievement. I bend forward and scoop her into my arms. “That’s my big girl,” I coo, as Jackson approaches.
He sits beside us on the lounge and tickles Tamara under the chin, for which he receives a happy squeal. “Was that the first time she stacked the ring by herself?”
“Yes.” I ignore the twinge of jealously when my baby reaches for Jackson. I realize I still haven’t become completely comfortable sharing my daughter’s affection. I relinquish Tamara to him without so much as a flicker of my lash to indicate the pain I feel. Tamara has accepted Jackson into her life, and there is no way to undo that. Not that I want to. My daughter needs a stable male influence. We both did—no, I refuse to think that way. I don’t need a man.
I look up and lock eyes with Lillian again, whose eyes plainly relay her thoughts. I tear my gaze away and focus on the baby. His mother’s idea is insane.
27
Jackson
Before bed, as I walk by the nursery on the way to my room, I notice my mom leaning over Tamara’s crib. I enter, automatically scanning for Shawna. “Where’s Shawna?” I try to sound casual but fail miserably.
Lillian looks up from shaking the rattle. “She’s taking a bath, so I volunteered to settle the baby for night.”
He grin at the sparkle in my niece’s eyes. “Great job settling her, Mom.”
“She looked bored.”
I lean against the rail beside mother and tickle Tamara on the tummy, earning a squeal. “I understand. She’s irresistible.”
“She’s growing so fast.” Lillian sighs wistfully. “Look how big she’s gotten in just a few weeks. Someday soon, she’ll be big enough to ask questions.”
I frown. “What kind of questions?”
“About her father and mother and why they aren’t in her life.”
I shake my head. “I’ll ensure she doesn’t.”
She arches a brow. “How?”
“By making sure she’s so loved she won’t wonder about them.”
Lillian shakes her head. “She’ll miss having a mother.”
“I can’t do anything about that.”
“She needs a mother, Jackson.”
I scowl. “Are you suggesting I marry Anastasia?”
Lillian’s laugh is hard and chilly. “Of course not. Better to let the child be reared by jackals. I’m simply saying she needs a mother’s influence.”
“She has Shawna,” I point out.
A mysterious smile creeps across mother’s face. “Yes, she does, doesn’t she?”
I nod, hoping that is the end of the discussion. “Tamara adores her.”
“Hmm.” Lillian stands up, stretches, and grasps the cane propped against the crib. “I believe I hear Shawna’s bathroom door opening. I’ll go on to bed.” The thumping of the cane accompanies her through the door. She turns just before leaving. “What happens to the baby if Shawna leaves?”
I turn to respond, but she has gone. I am left with the uncomfortable question preying on my mind as Shawna enters the nursery in the toweling robe that displays so much of her shapely legs. I swallow a lump in my throat and nod to her as I rush from the nursery.
Once in my own room, I find I can’t escape the thoughts mother has planted in my head. What would happen if Shawna decided to leave us? I remember the desperate search for a nanny before her arrival, and resolve she would have no reason to leave. I just had to find a way to make her stay. I don’t want Tamara upset, and he don’t want to cope with the hassle of seeking a new candidate. I have no other reasons for wanting her to stay, I assure myself.
28
Shawna
Late that night, I am tossing and turning. My mind continues to dwell on what Lillian has suggested, searching for a way that it could work. The reality is, even if I were willing to risk another relationship, I couldn’t dupe Jackson into marrying me. I would have to tell him the whole truth, and he would surely send me away. If trained child worker and legal professionals hadn’t believed her side of the story, why would he? It is obvious he didn’t think much of Brad, but that is no guarantee he would believe anything she say. His love for Tamara would make him resistant to hearing the truth, for fear of losing her. It is too risky.
Besides, I don’t think I could marry anyone. Relationships make one vulnerable, and my heart doesn’t need to be battered again. Even if I get past my emotional bloc
k of commitment, I would have to endure a physical relationship with him. I don’t think I could, not after the last time Brad showed me his love.
I slide from the bed, eager to escape the memories trying to well up in my mind. I won’t get back to sleep if I think of that, and it is only four A.M. I put my feet into slippers and slip the robe over the T-shirt. I leave the nursery, careful not to wake the baby.
I pad downstairs to the kitchen, flip on the light and check out the fridge. I pour milk into a pan and set it on the stove to heat. I’m searching for a can of cocoa when I feel Jackson come to stand behind me. I freeze as his breath whispers against my neck. I close my eyes as sensations course through my body.
He speaks near my ear. “What are you looking for?”
I clear my throat. “Uh, cocoa.” I can’t seem to move away from him. I am pressed against the counter, and I can feel the heat of his body so close to my back that he can’t be more than an inch or two away from touching me. I flinch when his arm brushes against my shoulder, until I realize he is reaching past me for a can of powdered chocolate. His chest brushes against my back as he sets the can on the counter. “Uh, thanks,” I whisper.
His hands settle on my shoulders. “You’re welcome.” This time, his lips brush my earlobe.
I whimper when Jackson pulls me against him, but don’t draw away. It feels too good being cradled in his arms. When he brushes his lips against the bend at my neck and shoulder, I tilt my head to allow him freer access. I can feel my nipples tightening as he strokes his hands up and down my arms, while continuing to kiss my neck.
At first, his lips are light brushes against my heated skin, but then his teeth rake the sensitive area. I can’t bite back a moan as he traces an intricate pattern across the back of my neck with his tongue. I am vaguely aware of the sound of the milk beginning to boil, but can’t tear myself away from his embrace. Each touch sends feelings rushing through me, and I discover I crave them. Jackson could easily become an addiction if I let him.
He moved to my other ear, tenderly whispering, “Shawna.” He bites the lobe, sending a shiver racing down my spine. I clench my hands into fists, desperate to deny his affect on my senses, but my body betrays me. Liquid heat pools in my stomach and spreads lower.
He pulls me as close as he can and wraps his arms around my stomach. I rest my head against his chest. I listen to his racing heart and know I’m not the only one so strongly affected. The thought brings a smile to my face.
Jackson’s hand moves to the loosely knotted sash and undoes it with a quick flick of his wrist. When he presses his warm palm to my stomach, I swear can feel the creases in his hand through the oft-washed T-shirt.I make no protest as he turns me in his arms and presses me against the counter. I arch my neck when he leans down to kiss me. Our lips connect, and I feel like someone has detonated fireworks in my stomach. My knees shake as he presses his lips to mine, opening and closing them gently before drawing away slightly.
I open my eyes and see him looking down at me. I can’t read his expression well from my vantage point, but I clearly feel his excitement and longing. He seeme to be holding himself in check, but just barely. I can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing into my stomach. The way he moves his hands across my back in soft circles makes my loins clench. I ache for him. My eyes widen at the realization.
He lowers his head again and slip his tongue into my mouth, dueling with mine as I fight for access to his mouth. Our passionate battle leaves me breathless and weak. I lean my weight against him, pressing my breasts against his chest. I can feel the silk of his pajama top pressing through the thin cotton T-shirt, rubbing against my nipples, and hardening them almost to the point of pain.
Jackson seems to realize what I want, because he moves a hand from my back to one aching breast. He cups the weight in his hand and gently massages the turgid peak poking through the nearly transparent light-green cotton. He moans when I arch my hips.
Gasping, he tears his mouth from mine, and our eyes lock. I can see his blue eyes burn almost black. A flush stains his cheeks, and a faint sheen of perspiration clings to his skin. His hands tremble as he lowers them to his sides. I bite back words that would beg him to continue.
Without a word, he steps away and turns off the burner heating the milk. Then he lifts the scorched pot and carries it to the sink.
I give into impulse and follow him. I wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek to his back. I can still hear his heart beat rapidly against my ear. He stands rigid in my embrace. When he speaks I can feel the vibrations through his back.
“Come outside with me.”
My eyes widen. I hadn’t expected an invitation outside. Maybe his bedroom, but outside, in the middle of winter? “Why?”
Jackson turns around and pulls me against him. “We can’t. Not in here. My mother might hear.”
“What about Tamara?”
“She’s sleeping through the night now.” He takes my hand and leads me to the door. He doesn’t even allow me time to grab a coat.
As soon as we step onto the porch, tremors rack my body. “It’s freezing. I can’t walk through the snow in slippers.”
Jackson nods and lifts her into his arms. I bite back a sound of surprise as he strides through the thin accumulation of snow in bare feet. When he walk around the side of the house, I finally realize his destination. There is a small glass enclosure with a hot tub inside. The room isn’t heated, but once in the water, they won’t notice.
He set me down on the ground to open the door. The snow immediately soaks through my slippers, bringing a shred of sanity with the icy sensation. I shake my head when he turns back to me. “I can’t. We can’t, Jackson.”
He groans. “Please, Shawna.”
“No.” I take a step backward. “I can’t do this.” Fear suddenly claws its way into my stomach as I remember the feel of Brad’s body pressing me down into the carpet. “I’m sorry.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand. I know you want me.”
I nod, my eyes wide and glimmering with tears.
“Then why not? Do you get off on playing the tease?”
I flinch at the accusation and flee back to the house. He calls after me, but I continue to run until I slide on the snow and fall. Sobs overtake me and I bow my head, kneeling with my hands and knees on the ground. I pull away when he sits beside me and reaches out to touch me.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. That was stupid. I know you aren’t a tease.” Jackson ignores my resistance as he lifts me in his arms. “It’s my fault for pushing you. I shouldn’t have gotten angry when you changed your mind.”
I sniff back tears as he carries me into the house, closing the door behind us. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”
He nods and sets me on my feet. “You didn’t. I just wish I could understand why you won’t make love with me. I know you want me as much as I want you.”
I look up hesitantly, meeting his eyes. “I do, but... Please, just take my word for it. I’m not capable of—”
Anger tinges his expression. “I wish I had the bastard who hurt you in front of me right now.”
I don’t bother to deny his deduction. “So you could be like him?” I whisper. “I wouldn’t lo—feel the way about you that I do if you were that kind of man.”
He grips my arms. “How do you feel about me?”
I moisten my lips before answering. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing can come from it.” I turn away, but he catches my hand. I pause and look back at him.
“You’re afraid of what will happen to Tami if things go sour.”
I nod at his statement.
“Marry me. You’ll know I’m serious then.” He steps closer and touches my cheek. “I want to reassure you that I want more from you than a tumble in bed.”
“I know—” His mouth steals the rest of my words. This kiss is gentle, but still with a hint of passion. Confusion fills me when he lifts his head. What is he trying to do to me?
“I think I’ve fallen in love with you. Marry me, please.”
I tear my hand from his and back away. “I can’t. I won’t ever get married.” I whirl around and run from the room. I don’t stop running until I am in the nanny room and the door is locked behind me. Then I throw myself across the bed and dissolve into a storm of tears. I long to tell him yes, but too much stands between us. Truth, lies, and the past are all insurmountable. Our relationship could never work out if I give in to my heart and marry him. I will have to make him accept that or leave the ranch forever. But how could I tear myself away from Tamara or from him? Despite my best intentions, things have gotten much too complicated. Falling in love with Jackson had never been part of my foolhardy plan.
29
Shawna
I sleep fitfully and rise with a dull headache pounding behind my eyes. I see to Tamara as quickly as possible before carrying her downstairs. Butterfly colonies in my stomach swarm as I enter the kitchen and I see Jackson. I avoid his gaze as I strap Tamara in the highchair and go fix her breakfast.
Lillian looks up from the morning paper briefly. Her eyes seem to drill into me before moving to Jackson. She makes a low sound in the back of her throat and goes back to the paper.
Returning to the table with the bottle and baby food, I notice Jackson has laid out a plate for me. I find a brief smile for him before shifting my attention to the baby. after dropping into a chair.
Tamara seems reluctant to eat, and cries more than usual. I frown as she shoved the bottle away again. “Jackson.”
He looks up from the bowl of oatmeal he’s apparently been so studiously studying. “Yeah?”
“I think Tami may be sick.”
He reaches out to touch her forehead. “You may be right. She feels hot to me. I’ll call for an appointment.”
“There’s no need unless her temperature spikes above 100.”
He lifts a brow. “How would you know? You don’t have kids.”