by Ranae Rose
“Maybe his wife will come to her senses and press charges after all.”
“I doubt it.” It was hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He knew damn well that most women who were abused by their partners either couldn’t or wouldn’t leave. It just wasn’t that simple.
“Well, you have a much more experienced perspective on this than I do.”
Something must have showed on his face, because she grimaced. “I meant because of your job. I wasn’t trying to say—”
“It’s okay. You’re right either way.” Belle already knew he came from shitty stock. Anyone who’d known him prior to his police days did. It was hard to keep stuff like that quiet when your dad was constantly checking in and out of jail as if it were a cheap motel and you were always showing up to school bruised.
And then there were the charges his father been arrested on… Possession. Dealing. Once, picking up a prostitute. Jesus, the humiliation still grated, even after all these years.
The only thing stronger than the embarrassment was the relief. Relief that he was a grown man, years from the tumultuous shit storm that had been his childhood, and relief that he hadn’t been sucked into the same sort of pathetic, wasted life.
That was the one good thing his parents had done for him: disgusted him so thoroughly that he’d been repulsed by the things they’d idolized. Their lack of shame had left him with an excess of it, and it’d kept him on the straight and narrow path they’d never shown any interest in.
“I’m setting records left and right when it comes to putting my foot in my mouth,” Belle said. “At this rate you’ll be sick of me within a week.”
“Not hardly.”
She smiled, and he admired the smooth line of her jaw and her creamy, unblemished skin. Fair, with the barest hint of golden tan from the South Carolina sun.
Her beautiful, happy face stood in stark contrast to the haunted, tired mask Kate Sanders’ had been. Even after all his years of living as a victim of it, Jackson still didn’t understand how someone could abuse someone they’d sworn to love that way.
God willing, he’d never personally experience the depths of whatever depravity was necessary to lash out that way. He’d rather eat his Glock than live like the puny tyrant his father had been: a raging, self-absorbed ass who’d lived for whatever high he could get his hands on.
“At least now I know it wasn’t just me,” Belle said.
“What wasn’t just you?”
“When you wrote me that speeding ticket, I wondered if you were always such a hardass. Now I know you are. I’d be willing to bet there are officers who would’ve turned a blind eye to a call like the one you responded to, but not you. You did the right thing, even though it meant arresting one of your own. In comparison, my little speeding ticket seems insignificant.”
That made his face heat up. “Listen, about that ticket—”
“Don’t worry about it.” She shook her head. “Truth be told, I admire your consistency. I think you have more backbone and integrity than the average cop.”
“You know, most people I give tickets to would like to see me fed alive to sharks.”
Her attitude toward the ticket boggled the mind. He was used to being argued with, pleaded with and cursed at. Belle didn’t lower herself to any of those levels. Hell, she’d just paid him a compliment.
One that made him feel ten feet tall, even sitting down.
When their dinner arrived, they left the conversation about Sanders behind.
Instead, they talked about things that didn’t quell his appetite: the rebuilding of an iconic island pier, how Belle’s parents had downsized as empty-nesters, moving to Summerville, and what her brothers had ended up doing with their lives.
Jackson didn’t have much to say when it came to family. He was an only child, and his mother’s liver had given out years ago after a lifetime of drug use. His father was in prison. He skirted those details with small talk, bringing up how horrible traffic would be the first weekend in September, during the annual South Island Fest.
It was all normal stuff, and he was more than happy to discuss it with her. Just hearing her voice and watching her lips move was a pleasure. But it wasn’t what he really wanted to talk to her about.
He wanted to ask her why she’d changed her mind about him, why she’d agreed to this date and whether she was glad she had. She was obviously aware that he’d changed – done something with his life – since they’d last met, and he wanted to know whether it was enough to make him desirable to her, for more than just sex.
He suspected it might be, since she’d obviously been uncomfortable the other night when she’d thought that was what he’d shown up looking for. If she didn’t want that, why would she agree to go out with him unless it was to pursue what they hadn’t years ago: something more than just a half-night stand.
Despite the logic of his reasoning, he wanted to hear her say it – to know for sure.
Because every word she spoke and every look she gave him stirred a growing hunger, one that food didn’t diminish. She was back, and he was certain: she was even lovelier than when she’d left. He wanted her for real this time, with strings attached.
He wanted the chance to truly make her his, not just to make himself her first.
CHAPTER 8
Belle slipped off her sandals after dinner and left them in the sand, just in front of the dunes that separated the beach from the parking lot that stretched beyond it. Jackson took his shoes off too, and together, they walked the same beach they’d admired during dinner.
It was dusk and the sky was a steely grey streaked with shell pink and fiery orange. All those colors reflected on the water, shifting and glittering here and there as the day died. The sand was starting to cool, and little crabs skittered across its surface, ghost-like.
They walked without talking for a while, but it wasn’t silence. Noise was all around them: the crashing, rushing surf and the wind in their hair. A few locks had escaped from her knot, and they whipped around her face. Jackson’s strawberry blond hair had been cropped so short that the breeze barely affected it.
It’d been a little longer back when she’d known him before, but the short cut suited him. It was masculine and carefully shaped, just like his body.
He’d always been big and broad shouldered, but he’d definitely filled out. Lots of cops lifted weights, and he was clearly no different. Just looking at his muscles made her want to reach out and touch them, feel how firm they were.
She fantasized about that as they walked along, just out of the water’s reach. Meanwhile, she watched him so closely that she noticed the moment he stopped in his tracks.
When he turned to face her, her heart picked up pace. The evening light didn’t dull his eyes a bit.
“I’m glad you called,” he said, his gaze locked with hers. “I don’t know what made you change your mind, but I’m glad you did.”
“What do you mean, change my mind?”
“I made you uncomfortable when I stopped by your place the other day, but you haven’t given me that impression at all today.”
“I’m not uncomfortable. And it’s not that I didn’t enjoy seeing you the other day – I was just caught off guard.”
Her face was warmer than the evening accounted for, and the sea breeze did nothing to cool it.
“I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression – I wasn’t trying to be sleazy by showing up at your place.”
“You weren’t sleazy.”
“I’d never make those kind of assumptions, or use you like that,” he added, his gaze finally wavering. “I mean, not unless you asked me to.”
She couldn’t help the smile that sprang to her lips. “You never used me. If anything, it was the other way around.”
Although her heart had ached when she’d left the island the next day, she’d still been glad to leave her virginity behind. She’d felt more confident, not having to feel as if sex was a mystery or worry about being totally in
experienced anymore.
Leaving Jackson behind had been a different story – that had hurt.
“I’d like to go on thinking we both got something out of it,” she said.
“Mmm.” His serious expression had her biting her lip to keep from smiling too widely. “I think we can agree on that.”
He took one of her hands in his – their first touch in half a dozen years.
His hands were large and a little rough with calluses, just as she remembered. Heat radiated from her fingertips up her arm and into the rest of her body, concentrating in her core and winding her nerves tight. When she inhaled, the influx of breath was in time with the roar of the receding ocean. In that moment, the possibilities that spanned between her and Jackson’s bodies seemed every bit as vast and powerful as the sea.
When he leaned in, she rocked up onto her toes to make up for the several inches of difference in their heights. His pull was gravitational; she met his lips with her own without thinking.
He had a crop of stubble like she’d noticed during the traffic stop – a rough, golden shadow that scratched her jaw as he placed a hand on her waist and buried the other in her hair.
All of it – the way her scalp prickled, the heat of his mouth and pressure of his touch against the small of her back – was mind-meltingly good. After all the fantasizing she’d done, after years of looking back with longing, giving in to the gravity between them again was a breath of fresh air.
Sea spray splashed her ankles, but it didn’t stop them. When the kiss ended, it was because he’d pulled away. Holding her gaze, he slowly and deliberately untangled his hand from her hair and let his fingers slide from her waist.
The look in his eyes sent a frisson down her spine. So did the intensity of their color, a nuanced interplay of light and darkness. There were more shades of blue in those eyes than in the entire sea.
Water lapped over her feet then washed away, leaving her toes sunken in the sand. She stood firm, unable to look away from the man who’d played such a brief but unforgettable role in her life – who’d given her a taste of something she’d been craving ever since.
Standing so close to him with his taste and heat on her lips felt surreal.
“I’ve been dying to do that since you rolled down your window alongside the bridge the other day,” he said.
“Imagine the consequences if that was caught on dashcam.”
“I’d enjoy rewatching it.”
“I bet you would.” She laughed, and he shifted his gaze to the sea, turning to face it.
She felt the absence of his attention like she felt the breeze; it was all around her, roaring in her ears and cooling her skin.
“What is it?” She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. Unwavering, she admired the gorgeous silhouette his broad, strong frame cut against the dark water.
He shot her a questioning look before turning back to the sea.
“What’s got your attention out there?” she asked.
“Nothing. I’m pretending to be distracted.”
“Why?”
“This is me being a gentleman. I don’t want to risk this escalating like it did last time I kissed you on the beach.”
She bit her lip again to keep from laughing, but a tiny snort escaped her.
“I haven’t had much practice, okay?”
She stepped up beside him and watched the waves roll in.
“You didn’t seem to mind the way things escalated last time.”
“I knew you were leaving the next day – it was my only chance. I couldn’t resist.”
She moved a little closer to him.
“You’re making it harder than it has to be,” he said when her shoulder brushed his arm.
“That’s what she said.” The words were out before she could second-guess them.
She felt the tremor in his shoulder, sensed his laughter before it burst free.
She laughed too.
They turned their backs on the water after that, trekking through the sand together and retrieving their shoes. There were no more kisses, but he held her hand until they reached the car.
Then he took her home.
* * * * *
“Do you want to come in for a little while?” Belle asked after unlocking her apartment door. “I can make some coffee. I’ve got ice cream in the fridge, too.”
Jackson’s mouth watered at the thought – of her, not coffee or ice cream. He wanted to step inside like he wanted his next breath, but he wouldn’t let himself. She’d met his kiss breath for breath on the beach; it would be too easy to seek out another, to see if her passion would match his during much more than just a kiss.
He wasn’t in the habit of putting off things he wanted, of counting on there being a tomorrow. Maybe it was his job, or the way he’d grown up, but the knowledge that any good thing might be snatched away from him at any time was always in the back of his mind.
He’d wait to pursue anything more with Belle, though. He’d do it for her sake. She was more than just a quick fuck to him, and he didn’t want her to doubt it.
If he stayed, she’d wonder about his motivations later, even if she enjoyed the night.
“Thanks, but no,” he said. “I’m gonna head home.”
Her lips tilted at the corners, as if they were being pulled down by their own luscious weight. "Oh, okay.”
Then again, he didn’t want her to think he wasn’t enjoying her company, either. He’d enjoyed the evening more than he could remember enjoying anything in a long time.
“Look, Belle, I don’t want you to think I’m only here to get you in bed, so I’m going to prove it by leaving.”
“You can’t have a cup of coffee or a bowl of ice cream without it ending up in bed?” She arched an eyebrow.
“That would depend on how you felt about it,” he said, holding her gaze, “but if it came down to my willpower, then no – I don’t think I could.”
Color highlighted the shapely arches of her cheekbones. “Maybe you’ve got a point. I had a good time, though. I’m sad it’s over.”
A hollow, clenching feeling filled his chest. “So am I, but I’ll see you again soon.”
She leaned against the doorframe. “When?”
“Whenever you want me. I’m working days right now, so my nights are free.”
She nodded. “You have my number now. Will you call me this time?”
“You can count on it.”
He didn’t dare kiss her goodnight. Not with her front door wide open and warm light spilling out, reminding him of her invitation to enter.
Instead, he forced himself to walk away. The empty feeling in his chest increased as he approached his car, and it felt as if there was cement in his shoes. Turning her down sucked, but he knew he’d done the right thing.
Why did the right thing always feel so miserable?
* * * * *
Belle should’ve been glad when Jackson left. That kiss on the beach had sucked her in like a riptide, leaving her to tread water in an ocean of desire. Who knew what would’ve happened if he’d come into her apartment after that?
For all her reluctance to approach anything casually, for all her scars and hard-earned wariness, he tempted her in ways she hadn’t anticipated.
And he’d been tempted, too. He hadn’t tried to hide that. But he’d put his own desires aside in deference to her.
A pang of admiration pierced her heart. How had a man like Jackson, who’d been through the things he had and worked the job he did, mustered up that kind of chivalry, that kind of thoughtfulness?
His self-restraint deepened her desire, and as she sank back onto her bed in the darkness of her room, that kiss on the beach was all she could think of.
His hard body, his hot mouth and the way his light eyes seemed to magnify the intensity of his emotions: those things were all crystal clear in her mind as she ran her fingertips up the inside of her thigh, beneath the skirt of her dress.
Her body ached to get to know his again,
but for now, she’d just have to settle for this. It was bittersweet, wanting him and appreciating his display of self-control at the same time.
He’d long been a bright spot in her past, and now it seemed possible that he might be an even brighter part of her future. The thought made her pulse quicken and her fingertips tingle as she touched the satin edge of her panties.
He was the kind of man who appealed to her on every level, who she’d compared all men to since. He’d set the bar high, and no one else had ever measured up.
Maybe that was for the best. Maybe her past heartache had been a blessing in disguise.
Alone in the dark, it was easy to be honest with herself, and she knew: her attraction to Jackson was too strong to ignore. She’d see him again, and she’d see where this went – even if she took things slow.
If it hurt, so be it – she couldn’t be on the same island as that man and not take a chance on him.
CHAPTER 9
Monday started to go to shit from the very beginning, when the officers on Jackson’s shift assembled for roll call.
“Lieutenant Aldred will be taking some time off,” the shift sergeant told them. “Family emergency. Meanwhile, we’ll be appointed an interim lieutenant. We should have that information soon.”
The atmosphere in the room changed, becoming a fog of curiosity and concern. Lieutenant Aldred was liked enough that people cared about whatever was going on with her, and waiting to hear the name of her temporary replacement was basically a game of Russian roulette. They might get stuck with an ass.
By the time roll call was over, speculation was already flying.
“Sucks,” Elijah said as they headed for the door. “Wonder what’s up. She’s not married.”
“Maybe one of her parents is sick,” Jackson said. The lieutenant’s parents were probably in their sixties or seventies – at that age when health problems were prone to striking.
He’d lost his much earlier: when he’d moved out at seventeen. Technically though, only one of them was dead.