by Joan Kilby
“If what?”
He sucked in a breath and then let it out in a gust. “And by the way, I’m friends with the owner of Instant Gourmet.”
She groaned. “Of course you are. You know everyone in town. How did I ever think I could get away with it?”
“That’s my lentil recipe.”
She buried her face in her hands. “I can’t look you in the eye,” she said, her voice muffled. “Just walk away and leave me to fall on my chef’s knife.”
He chuckled. “I think it’s cute that you wanted to impress me.”
“I don’t want to be cute. I want to be perfect.”
“Perfection isn’t top of my list of desirable qualities in a woman.” Then he was pulling her hands away from her face and brushing back her hair. “You’re so smart and efficient, if you didn’t have some faults you’d be intimidating.”
“I don’t have faults—just endearing idiosyncrasies.”
“You have sexy breasts and a sweet little ass.” He dipped his head and pulled her chin up. “And you’re driving me crazy with wanting you.”
He kissed her.
This isn’t supposed to happen.
Yet Sienna found herself running her hands up his chest and across his broad shoulders. Her eyes fluttered closed under the onslaught of Jack’s mouth. And his hands. Oh, his hands. Cupping her face, outlining the shape of her hips, her waist, her breasts. Sliding beneath her blouse, so hot she could swear she heard her skin sizzle.
With difficulty she pushed away from him.
“What’s wrong?” His breath gusted against her neck, making her shiver.
“This isn’t a good idea.”
“You’re right. It’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever had.”
“Then you should go.”
“No, I should stay.”
God help her, she wanted him to. He was making her crazy, too. She could never be with a man like Jack. But she couldn’t stop thinking about him, night and day.
Sienna swallowed hard against her panic. How many years had it been since she’d been with a new man? Sixteen, seventeen?
“Okay, then,” she said. “I’ll show you my bedroom.”
“Forget the bedroom,” he said, his voice husky. “We’ll do it right here.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“WHAT? WAIT—” Before she could speak another word he had his mouth on hers again, kissing her hungrily. This wasn’t the way… She hadn’t had time to prepare…
He backed her against the counter. Sandwiched between the cabinet and his hips, she felt heat curl through her. Jack broke the kiss and pulled her blouse over her head, her hair tickling her bare shoulders. He tossed her blouse over the bar stool on the other side of the counter and started to unbutton his shirt.
Sienna swallowed hard. His body was so taut and strong. Anthony had never been this fit. He shrugged out of his shirt, favoring his injured arm. Soon he would be naked. Then she would be naked. And they were going to have sex. In the kitchen. She nervously frayed the ends of a long strand of her hair. She’d come to Summerside looking for friends, not a lover. She needed time to get over Anthony, to reconnect with Oliver, to find herself, too.
“I have scented candles in the bedroom,” she said, stalling. “A king-size mattress—”
“I don’t need scented candles.” He plunged his hands in her hair and tugged her forward, lowering his face to her neck. “Mmm. Pineapple.” He nipped and licked his way down her neck. “Will Oliver be coming home soon?”
“He’s staying overnight at Jason’s.”
Jack unhooked her bra and tossed it away. It landed half in the fruit bowl, one cup over a grapefruit.
“Sex doesn’t belong in the kitchen,” she murmured. “I want this to be perfect.”
“Sex doesn’t have to be perfect. It belongs anywhere two people want to do it.” He reached over and flicked off the light switch, leaving only the light over the stove.
He pulled her arms up around his neck, pressing her bare breasts against his chest.
Heat pooled in her belly and between her legs. With a sigh, she softened against his body. Her mind ceased its frenzied spinning and she focused only on the sensation of being in his arms.
His hands skimmed her hips, found her zipper and slid it down. Her skirt dropped around her ankles, trapping her in its folds. Then his hand dipped inside her lace panties, his work-roughened fingertips an erotic contrast to her slippery softness. Her knees sagged and she clung to him as he deepened the kiss.
She slid a hand down his chest and over his belly to open the snap on his jeans. Peeling them down, she saw that his black boxers were bulging. He had the tightest butt she’d ever curled her fingers around. Jack lowered his head to draw a taut nipple into his mouth and Sienna moaned softly. Their breathing was short and shallow, audible. She pressed her hips against his, trying to get as close as possible.
She gave a whoop as, without warning, he lifted her onto the edge of the counter. Nudging her knees apart, he stepped between them while he alternately licked and sucked her nipples until she felt a sensual ache in her groin.
“Condom,” she managed to whisper.
“I’ve got one,” he said, fishing it out of his pocket.
It took him only a moment to get it on, and then he sank into her. She closed her legs around his hips. And then he started to move inside her and she gripped him tightly, her eyes glazed. The fruit bowl vibrated with every pump of his hips; her bra slipped off and fell onto the floor.
Clinging to his shoulders, Sienna arched her back, Jack held her in arms of iron, the tendons in his neck straining. Her muscles tightened and with a shuddering cry she held on to him as wave after wave convulsed her body. Triggered by her climax, Jack gave one last thrust. His body went rigid and he called her name.
Her heart still thundering in her ears, she collapsed her head on his shoulder. She’d needed this so badly, needed to just let go. It seemed to her she’d held herself in check ever since she’d made the decision to leave Anthony. Maybe even before that, when she’d agreed to marry him.
Maybe her whole life.
SOMETHING TICKLED Jack’s nose, pulling him out of sleep. Eyes closed, he batted the thing away, scratched his bare chest and nuzzled deeper into the pillow. There it was again. He sneezed, his eyes still determinedly scrunched shut, his brain foggy. He knew it was Sunday morning, the only day he slept in. Dimly he wondered if Bogie had jumped onto his bed.
Then he heard a giggle.
His eyes snapped open. Sienna was leaning over him, wavy red hair spilling over her breasts. She was tickling his face with the tip of one long strand. Her gray-green eyes sparkled and her mouth curved deliciously behind her fingers as she tried to contain her laughter.
Jack came fully awake to find himself adrift in shell-pink-and-lavender linen that popped against slate-blue walls. “I never figured you for a pastel person.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She kissed him lightly, then lay on her side, facing him on her pillow.
Her nose was slightly crooked and her chin too pointed to balance her wide-set eyes. In the morning light she looked like a flawed angel. “I know you’re beautiful.”
“How’s your shoulder?” she asked, her cheeks pink. “We got pretty acrobatic, even after we moved to the bedroom.”
“My shoulder’s fine.” It was a bit sore, but he didn’t want to talk about that. He rolled onto his back and pulled her into his arms, her head on his chest, her body tucked against his side, small and snug. The first year after Leanne died, he’d slept with a dozen women. The next year the number halved. He hadn’t formed a relationship with any of those women. He’d wanted meaningless sex—until he’d realized how empty that made him feel. This year there’d been no one.
“Do you want breakfast?” Sienna asked, rubbing lazy circles on his chest. She rolled onto her back and stretched her arms wide. “I’m starving. Coffee and toast okay?”
“Or you could run down
to Instant Gourmet and get two orders of eggs Benedict,” he murmured lazily.
She batted him with a pillow, forcing him awake. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“I made love with a woman who doesn’t cook,” Jack said to the ceiling. “I can’t believe it.”
“Stay there. I’ll be right back.” She bounded out of bed, her thick unruly hair swinging.
Jack was enjoying the sight of her nakedness, especially the sweet curve of her hips, but she pulled on a blue silk dressing gown, flipped her hair outside the collar and tied it tight. While she was gone he must have dozed again, because the next thing he knew she was bringing in a tray bearing steaming coffee and a plate of slightly burned toast. He struggled to a sitting position.
“I know it’s not much nourishment for a man,” she said, placing the tray on his lap while she climbed back into bed. “I was so traumatized by dinner party preparations I didn’t buy any regular groceries.”
“Next time we’ll stay at my house and I will cook breakfast,” he said, reaching for a mug.
“Next time?” She gave him a sidelong glance over a triangle of toast.
“Sure,” he said cautiously. “Why not?” Then because she didn’t answer right away, he filled the silence with the thing he’d been mulling over since he’d talked to Steve last night before the dinner party. “I’ve decided to start up the Men’s Shed again.”
She put down her toast. “That’s wonderful. When did you decide this?”
“Yesterday. Seeing my dad, I realized how much he needs the Shed. And, well, I enjoyed having a purpose to my day.” Jack glanced away, aware of the huge admission he’d just made, praying she didn’t make a big deal of it.
“I’m so happy,” she enthused. “For Steve, for the guys, for you. This is fantastic.” She punched him lightly on his good shoulder. “See, it wasn’t so hard. Your old life wasn’t working anymore, so you changed. Once you get the guys busy on a project, you can fix your GPS.”
Jack felt himself go cold. She thought she’d changed him. It was easy to make a suggestion—just start up a Men’s Shed, Jack, just invent a GPS—and another thing entirely to make it happen. If he mentioned that he was already working on the GPS, she’d be certain she had a hand in it. “What if I don’t want to?”
What if he couldn’t?
Her eyes widened as she realized her mistake. “I didn’t mean you had to.”
“I hope not.” If not the GPS, it would be something else. He had his life sorted out. He didn’t need to live up to her expectations.
Jack tried to go back to his breakfast, but he couldn’t relax. The lavender sheet was tucked under his butt, trapping him in place, and there were crumbs in his chest hair. The silence between him and Sienna wasn’t comfortable. Maybe breakfast in bed was just a bit too cozy, too soon. He set his half-finished coffee on the side table. “I’d better get home and let Bogie out. He’ll be bursting.”
“Are you sure?” She bit her lip. “I thought we could go for a walk later.”
“I was going to go running.” He pushed the covers back and yanked the sheet free so he could swing his legs out.
“I could run with you.” When he didn’t reply she added, “Or not. Never mind. Olly will be home soon. I should spend time with him today.” She glanced at the clock and feigned surprise. “Wow, I had no idea it was that late.”
Jack started to pull on his clothes. There was a hard lump in his throat. He couldn’t leave her like this. “What about a movie later this week?”
“Sure! Thursday?”
“Ye— No, I promised Renita I’d go to an investment talk with her.” Renita would let him off if he asked, but that cold part of him didn’t want to ask. “Friday?”
“Can’t,” Sienna said. “Bev, the receptionist at the clinic, invited me to her daughter’s hen night.”
“Okay.” Jack scrubbed a hand through his hair. This was awful. He was crazy about this woman. He absolutely could not walk out and leave her feeling rejected. But for the life of him he couldn’t seem to get back that warm fuzzy feeling. “I’ll give you a call. We’ll sort something out.”
“You’re mad at me for bringing up your GPS,” she said flatly, her arms hanging at her sides.
“No, of course not.” He pulled her into a hug and rested his chin on top of her head. “Thank you for a fantastic night. If I don’t run into you beforehand we’ll catch up for dinner at my place on Saturday.” He looked down. Damn if her eyes weren’t glistening.
“Perfect.” She blinked, then forced a smile. “Saturday.”
SIENNA SLAPPED SLICED chicken and lettuce on a whole-wheat roll for Oliver’s school lunch. She hadn’t slept well in two days and was grumpy and out of sorts, with a nagging headache that wouldn’t go away. She hadn’t heard a peep from Jack since he’d left Sunday morning. A dozen times she’d thought about calling him, then had to ask herself, what for? He was busy. They’d established that they couldn’t get together until Saturday. Wasn’t that enough? Did she need reassurance that badly?
Saturday seemed very far away.
“Olly! Hurry or you’ll be late for school.”
Why had she asked Jack about his GPS? She knew it was a sore spot and she was pushing him. But honestly, why wouldn’t he rework such an important project?
It’ll be okay. I’ll see him on Saturday.
And yet he hadn’t changed and never would. Maybe he was right to pull back. When she saw him again, she would let him know that she’d had second thoughts, too.
Suddenly Saturday seemed way too close.
She wrapped the chicken sandwich in plastic and grabbed an apple from the fridge. “Olly!” she called more sharply than she’d intended.
“I’m here.” Avoiding her gaze, he slunk around the corner and went to the pantry for cereal. “What’s eating you?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Your math test is today. Did you study?”
“Yeah. ’Course.” He poured wheat flakes into a bowl.
When? she wondered. Not at Jason’s, probably. Sunday night he’d watched TV. And last night when she’d gone into his room he was texting his friends.
She glanced at the clock. “I’m late for my rounds at the hospital. Look, I know you haven’t been very happy lately, missing out on the ski trip, but you need to do well on this test. It’s extremely important.”
He grunted, head down as he continued to eat.
“If you blow it you won’t be allowed to take advanced math next year, which you need to get into science at uni.”
“I know, Mum,” Oliver growled. “Just go.”
SIENNA HAD JUST EXCISED a sebaceous cyst from a female patient’s back and was preparing to stitch up the wound when Bev poked her head into the surgical room and motioned her over.
“The principal of Oliver’s school, Andrea Dillard, is on the phone,” Bev said. “I told her you were busy. She said it was important.”
“Is Oliver injured?” Covering her anxiety with a mask of calm, Sienna popped the cyst into a container, to be analyzed at the lab.
“Nothing like that. She didn’t say what the problem was. Shall I ask her to hold?”
“I can’t talk right now. Tell her I’ll call back in twenty minutes.”
Sienna sutured the wound and applied a surgical dressing, explaining the aftercare to her patient. All the while her mind was racing, wondering what was wrong. When she was finished and had answered all the patient’s questions she walked down the hall to her office to call the principal.
Five minutes later she was on her way to the school.
Oliver was sitting in the principal’s office, a scowl on his face, his hands clasped between his knees.
Andrea Dillard’s smooth dark hair was pulled back and her narrow glasses were perched on the end of her long nose. Rising behind her desk, she shook Sienna’s hand. “Please, sit down.”
Sienna took a chair next to Oliver. She squeezed his shoulder and turned to Ms. Dill
ard. “What’s this about?”
The principal pursed her narrow lips and looked over her glasses. “Oliver has been accused of cheating on his math exam.”
Sienna’s grip tightened on the wooden arms of her chair. She turned to Olly, trying but failing to keep the shock out of her voice. “Is this true?”
“No!” Oliver said. “Just because that dickhead Harris—”
“Oliver!” Sienna leaned forward and rested one hand on Ms. Dillard’s desk. “What exactly happened?”
“Robert Harris, a top student, was away for the original exam,” the woman explained. “The two boys took it together. Robert claims he saw Oliver glancing over at his exam paper.”
“So it’s his word against Olly’s.” Sienna sat back, her hands twisting together in her lap. “What does the teacher say? Did he see Oliver cheat?”
“He observed Oliver looking around the room—”
“I was thinking,” Oliver blurted out.
“Please do not interrupt,” Andrea said. She removed an exam paper from a folder on her desk and handed it to Sienna. “Your son got ninety-eight percent on the test, exactly the same as the other boy.”
Sienna flipped through the stapled sheets of typed questions and handwritten answers. The paper trembled in her hands as she noted that there was very little working out of problems on the page. “That doesn’t prove Oliver cheated. He’s a smart boy. The identical scores could be a coincidence. Some other kids must have got a high grade.”
“A couple of students did.” The principal took off her glasses and let them hang on the beaded chain around her neck. “But Oliver’s grades this term have been a C average. Unless he’s been studying extrahard it’s difficult to account for such a marked improvement.”
“Oliver, what do you have to say?” Sienna asked.
“I didn’t cheat.” His shoulders were hunched up around his ears, his long legs bent at awkward angles to avoid bumping his knees on the principal’s desk.
“I don’t have to tell you this is serious business, Dr. Maxwell,” Ms. Dillard said severely. “Cheating renders Oliver’s mark void and excludes him from the advanced math class next year.”