Bought His Life

by Aleka Nakis Tia Fanning

  “No. A friend is picking me up. We have plans.”

  He didn’t want to hear anymore, didn’t want to know. She had plans with a friend. Hell, he wasn’t going to look. He threw the bowls into the sink and turned away. Hearing her walk to the front and wait by the door, he glanced over his shoulder and saw her applying lipstick.

  “Night, Jack.”

  The door closed, and he approached it as she withdrew her key. He sighed with relief when he saw the friend was an elderly woman who came in for coffee daily. They were probably going to see that new movie she’d talked about all morning. Some silly romance.

  Hell, if she wanted romance and laughs, she should see him now. Wrapped up in the lady’s skirt, all he was good for was laughs.

  * * * *

  The next day, Emily didn’t come in until closing. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink T-shirt, with a key lime pie on her chest that read Enjoy the Florida Keys…your own slice of heaven, she looked absolutely delicious. He’d missed the taste of her skin, the feel of her hands and the sound of her voice. It’d been torture not seeing, hearing or touching her all day.

  “Weren’t you leaving early today?” Emily asked when he walked out of the cooler.

  “I was scheduled to, but I postponed my dinner plans.” He’d decided to throw a jab at her and see how she’d react. “I let Ricky go home, and he’s going to cover for me in the morning. That way I could linger in bed longer.”

  He regretted it the moment the words left his lips. He wanted to rile her, not hurt her. But her mouth dropped into a wounded frown. Hell, they were acting like children.

  “I’ll help you get done fast so you can get going,” she mumbled.

  “Your company is appreciated.” Trying to smooth over his previous blunder, he pulled out the stool and invited her to sit.

  Chatting about the research center her daughter had visited on a school trip passed the first fifteen minutes, then silence settled over them. There was so much left unsaid between them. Why? When? What? But he didn’t ask. He needed for her to come around on her own.

  Just when he thought he’d burst, she looked up from her work and gave him a quick smile. “Do want to listen to the music for the party?”

  He nodded, and she inserted a silver disc into the radio. The voices of Helen Forrest and Harry James sang about the craziest dream, much like what Jack was experiencing these last few days.

  It was out of character, but he walked to her and took her into his embrace for a cozy dance in the kitchen. “This is the craziest dream indeed,” he breathed against her hair as she leaned into him.

  “You know the song?”

  “Sure, Helen Forrest is amazing.”

  “Wow, a modern macho man with a taste for the classics.”

  And with that innocent comment, she unknowingly jerked Jack decades through time. He sighed and contemplated telling her everything right then and there but decided he needed to figure why she erected the barrier between them every time he mentioned anything other than sex.

  Then it hit him. Macho man. Chuckling, he recalled how she’d once thought him a homosexual and now he was macho. ‘Manly’. Not quite the same macho from the song the men at the Flaming Flamingo had sang, but Michiel had explained the word with today’s connotations. He could live with that—maybe.

  He spun her in the enclosed space, hip to hip, bringing his feet around hers, and holding the curve of her back to guide her in the direction of his choosing. The song changed and he sang words about time passing, and she picked up the next verse about making love.

  “You’re something else, Miss Emily Mitchell.” His lips barely touched hers, but her breath enticed him with a sweet and spicy smell. Vanilla and cinnamon. He called on all his control not to kiss her.

  “You’re not too bad yourself, Captain Jack Carter,” she answered in a soft and distant voice, placing her head on his shoulder.

  They danced, two bodies as one, and neither spoke until a song about stopping the clock began to play. “Do you believe in that?”

  “What’s that, honey?”

  “Stopping the clock for love and all.” She snuggled closer and tightened her grip.

  Taking his time, thinking of everything he’d experienced, and what he had in his arms at that very moment, his chest filled with confidence. “Definitely.”

  Hell, he loved the emotional spitfire. He wanted her with him forever. Deep in his bones, he knew he’d traveled through time for her. He was out of patience, and he couldn’t resist having an earnest conversation with her. “Have you missed me as much as I’ve missed you?”

  “Yes. More.”

  The barely audible whisper found his heart. Coveting her kiss, he sealed her lips and urged them to open until he tasted her sweetness. This was his, she was his, and sure as the sun rose every morning, he would never let her go.

  He would do what was right for Jones and his family, but like Lawson, he wanted to stay in the twenty-first century, and he didn’t want to leave Emily.

  “Finally,” she said, her shuddering breath causing her nipples to brush against his chest. “I was starting to get offended. Thought I didn’t do anything for you anymore.”

  “You do plenty,” he said, pressing his arousal into the softness covered by her jeans. “I’ve been walking around with this since I saw that pretty pink shirt of yours strut into the store, displaying my slice of heaven.”

  Smiling and playing with his zipper, she pulled it down and slid her hand inside his pants. “Well then, let’s take care of it right now.”

  “Emily, first, we need to talk,” he insisted as she unbuttoned his jeans and freed him. “There are things we must to work out.”

  “Hm,” she moaned and pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her bare breasts. Crossing her hands over the luscious globes, she feigned modesty and raised her brows. “Can’t we do two things at once?”

  Dropping her right hand, she lowered her zipper, kicked off her shoes and wiggled the dark denim to the floor. Stepping from the pants pooled at her feet, she walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room. The string she called underpants, a satiny red strip, was buried between her ass cheeks with a little triangle topping it and holding it in place.

  “Hell, I’m only a man, not a saint,” he said and stripped off his T-shirt as he, too, stepped over the trail of clothing she’d dropped and followed the woman he wanted.

  She waited at the end of the counter, and he reached her in four long strides. His arms encircled her, and his hands cupped the weight of her breasts. He rolled the soft flesh between his fingers while he nipped and kissed her neck. She pushed against him, and he feverishly searched her body for every inch of exposed skin.

  This wasn’t going to be slow, soft and sensual lovemaking. No, this act translated to a harsh and vicious staking of his right to her. All of her.

  He would claim what she offered and never let her go. She was his, and she would have to accept him as hers. A complete surrender and possession.

  “If you rub that beautiful behind against me one more time, I’m going to take you right here,” Jack growled.

  She laughed and let her head drop back to his chest. Her silky hair tickled and caressed him as her glance taunted him. “Your choice,” she said.

  In a single move, he buckled her knees and swooped her into his arms. Jack turned and walked to the left. “The office,” he grunted, and two seconds later, he kicked the door then positioned her against the wall for his possession.

  He took her wrists in his right hand and raised them over her head. “Admit it’s more than sex,” he demanded. “Now.”

  “More,” she breathed into his mouth.

  He lowered his head to her breast and laid his claim on the only woman he’d ever wanted as his.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jack unplugged the radio that woke Emily in the mornings and pulled the curtains over the window. It was only six o’clock and his girl needed to rest more. He adored the wa
y her soft body curled against his and the manner in which her breath rhythmically danced over his chest. However, today she appeared to be sleeping deeper than other times. Unfortunately, there was no way he could stay with her and wait for her to open her beautiful eyes. He had things to see to for her grandfather’s party.

  Entering the kitchen, showered and dressed, he realized he didn’t know how to make coffee with the newfangled machine. He pulled and pushed and after three attempts and clean ups, the aromatic brew was dripping from the cone into the pot.

  Leaving Emily a note on the counter, he prided himself for having coffee ready for her. It was the first time in his life that a simple mundane thing gave him a great sense of accomplishment.

  He spent the next few hours putting the finishing touches on the stage he’d worked on two nights ago, and when Ricky arrived to open the restaurant, he hustled back to the Flaming Flamingo to find a change of clothes in the box Lawson had provided. There were plenty of white and black T-shirts and about a dozen pairs of Levis in his size. He put the watch that had arrived the previous day in his pocket and returned to Emy’s Place.

  She wasn’t there.

  “Where’s the boss lady?” Ricky asked no one in specific, but obviously assuming Jack would know.

  Betty’s gaze met Jack’s, and he nodded in a reassuring way. Everything was all right.

  “I think she had errands this morning,” Betty said.

  “It’s not like her to miss lunch.” Shifting his weight, Ricky’s gaze darted around the kitchen. He located his phone above the prep area and walked over to pick it up. “I don’t like it. I’m gonna call her cell.”

  “No,” Jack interjected. “I have something to do near her house. I’ll check on her, and if she’s not there, you can call.”

  Hanging his apron on a hook, Jack stepped out the back door and into the dark afternoon. It could have been late evening from the look of the sky. Humidity blanketed the Key, and the air was thick and sticky. He hastened his stride in order to beat the oncoming storm.

  Emily lounged on the couch watching television. A special weather report warned of severe thunderstorms and possible tornados throughout Monroe and Miami-Dade Counties, and news anchors asked residents to seek immediate shelter in areas under tornado warnings for the next hour.

  She sipped her fresh lemonade and nibbled on crackers. The added rest had done her good, and her stomach had settled. She was herself again. Gathering her feet beneath her, she reached across the couch for the phone to call the restaurant and heard Jack entering the front door.

  “Good morning, or should I say good afternoon, gorgeous?” He sauntered in and came to sit beside her. Running his hand over her hair, he kissed the top of her head. “Feeling okay?”

  Seeing him brought a smile to her face. How could she have grown so attached to him in less than a week? She’d told him it was more, and it was. Jack wasn’t like the other men who’d entered and left her life. There was something very different about him.

  “I’m all right. My stomach felt queasy earlier, but it’s better now.” Running her fingers through her hair, she stood. “Gosh, I can’t afford to get sick now. I never get sick. If I was ten years younger, or if it was a week later, I’d think I was pregnant.”

  Placing his hands on either side of her hips, he pulled her to him and planted a tender kiss over her cotton pants. Precisely on the spot that was doing somersaults all morning long.

  “Pregnant?” Jack smiled and rubbed his nose against hers. “I like the sound of that, and we can work on it after you hear me out. Are you up to it?”

  Taken aback and not knowing how to react to his comment, she fumbled with the phone. “Sure… yeah…just give me a sec to call Betty and tell her I’m alive.”

  “Is Jen home from school?” Jack asked, pointing to the television.

  “She came home earlier, but she’s having dinner at her best friend’s house. They’re working on a project that’s due on Monday. Why?”

  “The weather?”

  “They’re at the house. She’s okay. Let me call Betty.”

  He stood, put his hands in his pockets and paced the small living room. When she was done, he returned to her side and took her hand. “I have something to confess. Actually, three things. Don’t answer any of my questions until I’m done. Take your time and think of them.”

  The persistent roiling in her tummy had her reaching for a new cracker. She didn’t like talks like the one Jack insisted on and prepared herself for the worst. Suspicion placed her guard on full alert and raised the tiny hairs on her spine.

  “First, I’m not leaving. This isn’t a two-week thing for me. My mission is complete, and there’s no other place or time I’d rather be, than here, with you. I know, I don’t have anything to offer you right now, and it’s a lot to ask for you to trust in me, but I’ll find proper employment and a way to support us.”

  “You have a job.”

  “No, the cost of living today is so high.” Shaking his head, he rubbed his forehead. “I need to find appropriate employment.” Reaching for her knee, he pleaded for her to hear the rest before drawing any conclusion.

  “It wasn’t by chance that I walked into Emy’s Place looking for a job. Well, maybe destiny, but not random luck.” He paused and reached into his pocket. “I followed you from that sale. I needed an excuse to approach you and get the watch you’d bought.”

  She was trying to understand his logic but found it difficult. What did one thing have to do with the other?

  “The watch is unique and special. It belongs to a friend of mine. He gave it to me and entrusted that I’d take care of it. I have to return it to his family, and then I’m free to continue my life. It’s a matter of honor.”

  “How do you know it’s the same watch? You aren’t even from these parts and that watch came with a bunch of old junk a woman was clearing out of her house. It’s real old. Ancient, practically. I’m not even sure it works.”

  “It’s the right watch,” he insisted.

  “No, the watch is Pops’ birthday present. He lost one like it years ago. I know it’ll mean so much to him.” She knew there was a catch in this too-good-to-be-true man. He wanted Pops’ watch.

  “I know, Emily. I spoke to Betty about it. But if it’s a watch your Pops wants, I bought a WWII original for him.” Jack pulled a very similar piece from his pocket and presented it to her.

  “His was from the Korean War.”

  “You can give him this one. I need that specific one. Look on the back of the watch you bought, it has Lucky Charm inscribed on it. Those two words identify it as the exact one I need. This one has no inscription, but is very similar. It works.”

  She flipped the piece he’d handed her in her fingers and conceded she would have bought the replacement watch he offered if she’d found it first. Perhaps it wasn’t a big deal to swap the two. It served the same purpose as the gift.

  “But where did you find the money?”

  “Barter. The oldest form of payment known to man.” The creases in his forehead began to fade, and he rolled his neck as if in relief. “The owner of the Flaming Flamingo used a green plastic bank card to buy it from the computer database. In return, I will be doing some repairs for him in the motel. I appreciate him spending a fortune on it and trusting me to deliver.”

  “How much of a fortune?”

  “It makes no difference. We have a replacement, and you can give it to your grandfather. I can return Lucky Charm to its rightful owner, and we’ll be done.”

  He was referring to them as a unit. We have a replacement, we’ll be done. It sounded nice. She’d longed for a relationship like this forever, but she’d never believed that she’d actually find one.

  “I agree, on one condition.”

  Placing a quick kiss on her lips, he gave her a questioning look.

  “How much?” She repeated.

  “One watch for the other.”

  “No. How much did your watch cost?”r />
  He shrugged and lowered his voice. “Two thousand.”

  “Two thousand dollars?” She shrieked and jumped from the couch. “I only paid ten bucks for mine.”

  “Good. Then when we average the cost of both watches, they come to just over a thousand each. We’re ahead of the game. Both timepieces will appraise at a much higher value.”

  He was crazy! He wanted her ten-dollar watch for his two thousand dollar one. “I can’t. It’s not fair,” she said and went to turn up the volume on the television.

  “You can. You agreed. You also agreed not to say anything until I’m fin—”

  “Shit.” She covered his mouth with her hand and stared at the screen. “That’s where Pops lives.”

  Jack pivoted and saw blown out windows in a tall building featured on the television. A tornado had blown through Key Largo.

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” She grabbed the phone and started dialing. Her face lost its color, and he helped her sit back down. “The lines are out. I hope he has his cell phone on. He never turns it on.”

  She punched in a new series of numbers but just stared at the black handset as if it would magically materialize her grandfather. Jack took the phone and placed it against his ear. He rubbed the back of her hand.

  “There’s no answer. A mechanical voice says to leave a message.”

  She jerked the phone from his hands and put it back to her ear. “Pops. Pops, call me as soon as you get this message. If I’m not home, I’ll be on my cell. Please Pops, please call me.”

  Jack went into the bedroom and retrieved her slicker. He knew she’d want to go looking for her grandfather, and the rain was coming in buckets now. “Emily, take a moment to get ready. I’ll run up to the restaurant and borrow Betty’s car.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait.”

  They headed north on US1, the Overseas Highway, through a sheet of rain. Jack had figured out how to drive the Buick and was intrigued at how easy it was to operate the modern vehicle. Daring to take his eyes off the road, he glimpsed Emily dialing again.