by Kit Tunstall
He shrugged. “Probably so, but this way you don’t have to come back for a cart if you find something you want.”
She walked beside him as he pushed the cart, no longer holding his hand, but still close enough that her arm brushed against his each time they took a step together. There were so many items to look at that she was soon overwhelmed, and panic started to creep up.
As though he sensed that, he stopped in an aisle where no one was shopping, one containing something called a Diaper Genie and other supplies for keeping a nursery sanitary. It was a strange place to fall apart, but as his arms wrapped around her in a comforting hug, she realized she wasn’t going to splinter just then. He was a centering presence, and his embrace kept her panic somewhat at bay.
He stroked her back, and she breathed deeply until the surge of panic had passed. He released her without protest when she eased away from him, and though she wanted to bury her face against his chest and cling to him, she didn’t allow herself the luxury. She couldn’t let herself become weak and dependent on Jackson, because he wouldn’t always be there. They barely knew each other, and he was likely to grow tired of her soon.
Still, standing in the middle of the aisle, she couldn’t help wishing he was the father of her baby, and they were a normal family preparing for the birth of their child. It was such a tempting thought that she allowed herself the luxury of indulging the fantasy for just a moment, picturing a cozy domestic scene with her, the baby, and the man beside her.
With a small sigh of regret, she pushed aside the thoughts and resumed walking with him as they continued browsing. It was just a fantasy, and the reality was much starker. She had no idea who’d fathered the child inside her, and anytime she tried to think about it, a cold sweat broke on her brow. That suggested it wasn’t a pleasant memory, and it was unlikely she’d want that man to be part of her life or make a family with him. No wonder she wanted to cling to the fantasy of having Jackson in the role.
They moved through the store, and what had started out as a scouting trip had quickly become a buying spree. She tried to rein in his enthusiasm, pointing out more than once that she didn’t know what her budget was, since she didn’t even know her last name, and it might take her years to reimburse him. He waived away all of her concerns as he continued selecting things with an enthusiasm one would expect from the father, not a stranger.
Not that he felt like a stranger. When she was with him, she felt safe and secure, but there was more to it than that. Her hormones were also raging, and she was wildly attracted to him. It made it difficult to resist feeling something more for him, especially since she didn’t really want to fight the urge.
Before she knew it, their cart was full, and she had at least the basics required to welcome her son, though there were several weeks yet before that reality would come to pass. Somehow, he fitted everything into his sedan, which seemed to be a marvel of engineering in its own right.
As she watched him load boxes and bags, she was shocked by how much he’d managed to convince her to buy. The funny thing was, she’d gotten swept up in the excitement of it all too, but she’d looked to him for equal input. Once again, it had felt natural, as though they were partners embarking on the adventure together.
Back at his apartment, she helped carry things up, though he would only allow her to take the lightest items. Somehow, he managed to make it all fit into a corner of the guestroom closet, and she’d never been so tired, at least as far as she could remember—which was, admittedly, only the last few days. Once everything was stored away, she followed him back to the living room and gratefully collapsed on the couch. “Who knew buying things for a baby would be so taxing?”
He grinned. “I had no idea, but it was fun, wasn’t it? There’re so many gadgets and things I didn’t even know what they did…” He trailed off, shaking his head as though marveling anew at the things he’d seen. “Babies require a lot of stuff, I guess.”
She shrugged. “I guess so. I really don’t know.” It was a strange realization, but she truly didn’t have any clue. Had she spent any time reading pregnancy books and learning about motherhood? Surely she must have, but she couldn’t be certain. All other impersonal information seemed to have remained untouched by the amnesia, so if she had learned random bits and facts about motherhood and how to prepare for it, shouldn’t she have retained that information?
And if she hadn’t learned anything, why had she put it off? A feeling of dread crept over her, and she briefly wondered if she was as ambivalent about the pregnancy before she lost her memory.
She didn’t share the thought with Jackson, because she couldn’t. It sounded terrible, and she felt even worse when she saw how excited he was about a baby that wasn’t even his own. She should be feeling some of that enthusiasm, but she couldn’t seem to muster more than the faintest trace of excitement at the idea of meeting the child growing inside her. Mostly, she just felt that nagging sense of unease coupled with trepidation when she thought about it.
They fixed dinner together and watched a movie before she conceded defeat and told him she was too tired to stay awake. Hannah crept into the room he’d assigned her, feeling exhausted. She tossed and turned, but soon realized she wouldn’t find sleep easily, and certainly not anytime soon.
With a small sigh, she sat up on the side of the bed and stared out the window, where gauzy curtains did little to obscure the glow of the moonlight. She was restless and achy, and for a moment she thought it must be pregnancy-related, but quickly realized the ache was lower, centered between her thighs, and thinking about Jackson only made it worse.
She wanted Jackson. It wasn’t about safety or comfort. It was pure need spiraling through her, urgent and unrestrained. She shook under the intensity of it as she wondered how Jackson would react if he knew how she felt. Would he be disgusted, would he let her down easy, or would he open his arms and welcome her into his bed? He had been so kind to her, but she didn’t know if that was the extent of what he felt, or if he shared the attraction. There were times when she thought he did, but it was difficult to evaluate on such a brief acquaintanceship.
The sensible thing to do would be to turn over and go back to bed, to try to ignore her longings and resist the urge to confess them to Jackson. It might be the smart thing to do, but it also felt like the timid thing to do, and she hadn’t always been so afraid of her own shadow. Whatever had happened to her to have repressed her natural personality, because she sensed she used to be a woman who would have gone after what she wanted. Was that a brief flash of memory, or was it just wishful thinking?
The only thing she knew for sure was lying in the guest bed wasn’t going to get her any closer to finding the answer. She could either try to ignore how she felt and suppress her attraction, or she could be brave and approach Jackson. If he didn’t share how she felt, it could make things awkward, and she’d have nowhere else to turn, but she didn’t want to let fear hold her back.
With a shake of her head, deciding that no one had ever died from humiliation, she slid from the bed. She wore a gauzy white nightgown that floated around her form comfortably and was completely nonrestrictive so she could rest comfortably. It was also thin and semitransparent. If she hadn’t been planning to seduce him, she certainly would have needed a robe to cover the garment. Instead, she decided to go exactly as she was, bare feet and all.
With a deep breath, gathering her courage, she walked to the bedroom door and opened it before stepping through. Briefly, she glanced at the living room to ensure the light was off, because he’d still been in there when she’d gone to bed. There was no sign of anyone stirring on that end of the apartment, so she figured he would be in his room, just a little way down the hall.
The laminate flooring was cool under her bare feet, and she focused on that sensation rather than the rapid beating of her heart while she closed the distance between his room and hers, swallowing thickly as she lifted her fist to knock on his door.
“Come
in,” he called, his voice muffled by the closed door.
She twisted the knob and pushed open the door before crossing the threshold. She stumbled to a stop at the sight before her. He sat in bed, blanket covering his lap, but his chest was bare. A pair of gold reading glasses perched on his nose, giving him an intellectual air that melded surprisingly well with his masculine appearance. Her lips twitched when she saw the reading material was a baby book he must have picked up at the store earlier. She hadn’t noticed the purchase, nor the other three stacked on his nightstand, clearly awaiting their turn to be read.
Jackson put aside the book and his glasses, his expression showing concern. “Did you have a nightmare?”
She didn’t answer the question as she walked across the room. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pleated the thin nightgown between her fingers as she stood on the opposite side of the bed from him. “May I sleep with you?” It was not exactly the brave approach she had planned, but it was all she could seem to get out through her raspy throat.
He didn’t hesitate as he lifted the cover and patted the free side of the king-size bed. “Sure. There’s plenty of room. Would you like to talk about your nightmare?”
She slid into bed, arranging herself as close to him as possible so she could lay her head on his chest. He stiffened for a moment when she laid against him, but she was reassured by the way his body relaxed, and his arm wrapped around her to hold her closer. She let out a small sigh as she melted against him, feeling the familiar surge of warmth and safety, but a deeper heat as well, one centered in her abdomen that spread outward.
“Would you like to talk about it?” he offered again.
She shook her head. “I didn’t have a nightmare. I just wanted to be with you.”
He swallowed audibly, and her lips twitched in response. “Am I making you nervous?”
“Yes,” he said with surprising honesty.
She lifted her head from his chest so she could look into his eyes. “Good,” she said with a soft purr in her voice. With him holding her like this, she felt brave and her doubts had disappeared. She wanted him more than anything, and as she lightly brushed her hand down his stomach and against his erection, she confirmed for herself that he wanted her too.
“Do you need something?”
She nodded. “You.”
Jackson swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so. “Just so we’re clear, are you talking about in a physical way?”
She found his hesitancy endearing, because he clearly wanted her, but he didn’t want to rush her or misread the situation. She liked that he was thinking about her needs first, though he clearly had his own needs. She’d ensure they were attended to alongside her own. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I was lying in my bed alone and realized I wanted to be here with you. I hope that’s all right?” As she asked the question, she rubbed his shaft through his pajama pants, enjoying the way he tightened and twitched against her hand.
“It’s more than okay,” he said in a voice approaching a growl. “I just don’t want to rush you or frighten you. It’s happening pretty quickly.”
She nodded. “But it feels like I’ve known you forever. It feels right, doesn’t it?” She winced at the raw vulnerability bleeding through her voice as she asked the question. She was practically begging him to agree, and only the most hardhearted person would be able to refute her statement when it was phrased in such a pathetically desperate way.
“I wanted you almost since the beginning, once I was certain you were all right. If this is what you want, it’s definitely what I want.”
His tone and his words reassured her, and she was positive he wasn’t just replying that way because he felt the need to spare her feelings or reassure her, whether or not he felt that way. Staring into his eyes, she was convinced he was feeling the same pull that she was, the link that drew them together and it could only be strengthened by making love.
She angled her head upward as he turned more on his side, bringing his mouth to hers. Their first kiss was gentle, almost exploratory, as their lips glided against each other before molding together. His tongue swept into her mouth slowly, as though afraid of frightening her. For a moment, it did, but she pushed away the reaction, certain she wasn’t afraid of Jackson. Something in her past had prompted the response, and she was able to suppress it as she lost herself in the kiss.
His kisses were coaxing and sweet, with gentle nibbles and a flick of his tongue across hers upon occasion. It was lighthearted and fun, until the kisses deepened. At first, she strained against him, desperate for more. Panic started to envelop her when Jackson’s arms went around her, and he pulled her on top of him, holding her close as he threaded his fingers through her hair on either side of her face and anchored her against him so he could kiss her more deeply.
She let out a small whimper as the intensity of his caresses deepened, and his hunger came closer to the surface. He was getting rougher, though nowhere near hurting her. Her rational mind could find no explanation for the sudden surge of panic that overtook her as she thrashed and tried to escape.
She was still fighting, hitting out at him a moment later when she realized Jackson had simply rolled her off him and put her on the bed next to him. The only restraints he placed upon her were his hands carefully holding her arms to keep her from hurting either one of them. It still took a moment for her heart to stop racing and for a sense of calm to settle over her. She swallowed thickly, staring at him with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry. I want you. I want this. I don’t understand why I freaked out.”
His eyes narrowed, and he seemed angry, but when he spoke, his voice was tender, so his anger was directed elsewhere. “I suspect you’ve been through something pretty traumatic, and it might have involved taking something from you that you didn’t want to give. There’s no reason to rush into anything. Why don’t I just hold you tonight, and we’ll go to sleep?”
His words chilled her, and though she’d briefly touched on the subject in her thoughts, she always shied away from it. Even his vaguely worded suggestion was enough to make her tremble and cause sweat to break out on her brow. She turned instinctively to him, this time for comfort rather than passion, though her body still reacted to his.
It was her mind keeping her from progressing, and she clung to him, thankful he understood, but also concerned he might grow impatient with her and decide she wasn’t worth the effort. It seemed like a ridiculous fear, and it was no more rational than the terror that had overtaken her when he started to kiss her with more enthusiasm, but she couldn’t completely soothe herself or force the idea from her mind.
Jackson held her close, and he was soon breathing deeply and regularly, suggesting he’d fallen asleep. She envied that, because it was several hours before she was able to find any true rest, despite the sheer exhaustion that had seeped into her bones. It was no match for the active state of her mind, which continued to persist at worrying about the matter long into the night.
Chapter Five
They didn’t see anyone for the next three days, even when they left the apartment. Of course they saw cashiers and service people and waiters, but they didn’t interact with anyone besides each other. He was tender and careful with her, and during the daylight hours, she was completely brave and certain she’d be up for making love that night. It was only when she was in his bed, heart racing with a combination of fear and excitement, that doubts crept in.
She was still pretty certain she could have pressed on and gotten through the fear, but Jackson hadn’t attempted to make love to her again. He simply kissed her, sometimes deeply and for several moments, before holding her in his arms until he fell asleep.
They awoke every morning embracing each other, their bodies pressed tightly together, but he never made a move then either. She would have done so, but he was always quick to slide from the bed, as though afraid he wouldn’t be able to maintain control. She wished he wouldn’t, but she was also afraid enoug
h of her own irrational response that she didn’t try to push him or convince him she was ready. A small part of her was still uncertain that she really was, so though it was an unsatisfactory state, she was afraid to press forward and lose what ground they had gained.
That afternoon, they had a visitor for the first time since Libby had stopped by. Jackson went to answer the door and returned with another man following behind him. The guy was larger than Jackson, with a solid build and sun-kissed blond hair. Combined with his tanned skin, the picture he presented suggested a man who spent a lot of time in the outdoors.
She wasn’t afraid of him, but she still pressed herself deeper into the sofa cushion when the big man stood over her, extending a hand. She took it with the faintest hint of trepidation, but he shook gently and quickly released her before walking to the armchair and folding his frame inside it.
Jackson returned to the seat he’d occupied on the sofa, putting his arm around her shoulders and joined her back against him once more. “Hannah, this is Brandon Hughes. He’s one of my partners at the security firm. He’s been working the case along with me, trying to identify you.”
“How do you do?” she asked softly, her tension ratcheting higher, but this time it was purely because she was afraid of what he was going to reveal. She was certain she had nothing to fear from the man himself. His dark eyes were too kind and confident to inspire fear of him.
“You’re Hannah Juergensen, twenty-three, and originally born in Stockholm. Your parents immigrated to the United States when you were eight, and you’ve lived here since that time. They settled in Miami, and from what I could glean, you were all quite close.”
“Were?” she asked, her throat dry.
“They died two years ago.” He imparted the news in a slightly gruff way, but not unsympathetic. “It was a car crash.”
“They had gone on vacation, up to New England to check out the fall foliage. It was something my mom always wanted to do, and Dad surprised her with a two-week trip. They were sideswiped by a trucker who had fallen asleep at the wheel. They died instantly.”