by Debbie Mason
Jill leaned over and reached for her guitar. When little Jack and Grace were living with her, she used to calm her crying nephew by playing. She’d brought the guitar with her today, thinking she’d start teaching him to play while his parents were away. She didn’t realize she’d be competing with a motorized truck.
Sawyer, who’d changed tactics and was currently trying to distract little Jack with bribes of a visit to the Penalty Box the next day, glanced at her when she started to play. As a slow smile curved his lips, she nudged her head at the door. His smile widened, and he shook his head.
She briefly closed her eyes, then pushed her self-consciousness aside when little Jack sniffed, “Sunshine.”
Her nephew liked him some John Denver. She obliged, strumming her guitar, holding back a sigh when he ordered her to sing. She hesitated and glanced at Sawyer, wondering what to say to get him to leave. But in the end she didn’t have to ask because his cell phone rang. He mouthed “Jack,” tousled their godson’s dark curly hair, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
The tension left Jill’s shoulders and she sang while she played “Sunshine on My Shoulders.” Then “Rocky Mountain High” and “Annie’s Song.” As her nephew’s eyes began to close, she finished off with one of her favorites by Fleetwood Mac, “Landslide.” She had a faint memory of her mom singing the song while playing the guitar in Jill’s childhood bedroom.
She’d been young when her mother died and thought maybe she’d imagined it. But when Jack first heard Jill play the song, he’d told her she sounded like their mom. So it hadn’t been a dream after all. She supposed that’s why she’d kept playing even when her grandmother told her to stop. It was as though it kept some part of her mother alive, a good part, a good memory. The thought caused her voice to get a little husky as she sang the chorus one last time.
Jill smiled as her nephew released a shuddered sigh. She eased off the bed and rested her guitar against the dinosaur-decorated wall. Tucking his covers around him, she bent down and kissed his forehead, then tiptoed across the room. She turned on the monitor and opened the door. Sawyer sat on the hardwood floor, his back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his head lolling on his shoulder. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for falling asleep. She’d been surprised little Jack wasn’t comatose before his head hit the pillow. The kid never stopped.
She was considering whether or not to wake up Sawyer when he opened one eye, stretched, and smiled. “You don’t need your badge or gun for crowd control, Shortstop. Just whip out your guitar and sing. Guaranteed to put anyone to sleep.”
“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Of course it was,” he said, rising to his feet. “You should play at the bar. I’ll pay you. You can put it toward your dream-house fund.”
She shuddered at the thought of playing for an audience. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. “No time, but thanks.” She glanced at him as they headed for the stairs. “Everything okay with Jack and Grace?”
“Yeah, he just wanted to check to see how bedtime went before they headed out.”
“Did you tell him it was going well until you mentioned his mommy and daddy?”
“Are you kidding? He pretends he’s calling because Grace is missing little Jack, but he’s just as bad.”
“Yeah, he’s a marshmallow.” Just like the man following her into the kitchen. Sawyer would make a great father one day. She stopped short and stared at the island. “Tell me again why we didn’t just heat up one of Grace’s casseroles for dinner?”
“Because it wouldn’t have been as much fun for little Jack. He loved making his own pizza. So did you.”
“Yeah, but I forgot we’d eventually have to clean up the mess.” They’d gone out for ice cream right after dinner and for a walk along the boardwalk to feed the ducks. She ran a fingernail under the pizza dough stuck to the countertop. “Does granite scratch?” she asked, thinking they might have to use a chisel.
“I’ll clean up later.” He opened the fridge, taking out a beer and a can of cola. He tossed her the soda. “Let’s go sit on the front porch and watch the sun set.”
“Don’t you have to go to work?” Now that they were without their pint-size chaperone, she wasn’t sure being alone with Sawyer was a good idea. Not that she had to worry about him making a move on her, and of course, she wasn’t about to make one on him. She had that T-shirt, too. But they’d had fun today. He was easy to be with and great with little Jack, so it was possible her mind might start playing the what-if game. A game she’d told herself she wasn’t allowed to play anymore.
“Nope, took the night off. Brandi can handle it.” Twisting the cap off his beer, he headed for the front hall. “Are you coming or not?”
She hesitated, then looked around the kitchen again and decided sitting watching the sun set sounded better than cleaning. “Coming.” She grabbed the monitor off the top of the refrigerator, then checked the locks on the back door before making her way to the front porch.
Sawyer glanced at her when she closed the screen door. He was sitting on the swing at the end of the porch, taking up most of it with his big, athletic body. He patted the seat cushion covered in sunflowers. The warm summer night air was filled with the scent of the wildflowers filling the front yard.
Jill pretended she didn’t notice his invitation, leaning instead against the white porch rail. She set the monitor down and took a sip of her cola.
“I don’t bite, you know,” he said, once again patting the cushion.
Afraid he’d read more into her refusal, and he’d be right, she picked up the monitor and sat down. He leaned into her. “You have little Jack under surveillance?”
“Houdini, remember?”
The amusement in his eyes faded. “Yeah, I wish I didn’t.”
“Me too,” she murmured, though she hadn’t actually been referring to the day that little Jack nearly drowned. Another memory she’d locked in the vault. But there it was again, as clear as though it was yesterday and not two years earlier. She could hear the fear and devastation in her brother’s voice telling her they didn’t know if little Jack would make it. Jack’s and Grace’s shell-shocked faces at the thought they might lose their two-year-old son. She’d experienced the same terror, but stayed strong for them. He was their child, not hers. But Sawyer saw through her act. He was the only one who did. He’d held her until she couldn’t cry anymore.
With his arm resting across the back of the swing, Sawyer stroked her hair. “I’m good,” she said.
“You said the same thing at the hospital that day.”
He had a good memory. There were things she wished he’d forget, like the night at his apartment. She wished she could forget, too. His fingers in her hair and his big body crowding hers were making that difficult to do. She needed to change the subject. “So where were Jack and Grace off to?” she asked, shifting as though to look at him when what she was really trying to do was put some distance between them.
He moved his hand from her hair to rest it on the back of the swing. It didn’t help. Now she felt the heat and weight of it against her back.
“Out for dinner at some fancy Italian place with the wedding party. Maria’s going, too.”
“I didn’t know she was invited to the wedding,” Jill said, unable to keep the nervous hitch from her voice. Maria was the journalist Jack and his crew had been sent in to rescue when the RPG brought down their Black Hawk. The woman had tried to break up Grace and Jack when she’d come to Christmas. Jill was partially to blame.
“Yeah, Jack and Grace were a little surprised, too.” He gently tugged on her hair. “Don’t worry, she’s not there to cause problems for them. She’s engaged and doing well from what Jack said. She and Grace are going shopping tomorrow.”
“Wow, that’s great…I guess.”
He smiled. “Feel better?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Don’t try and pretend you didn’t feel ba
d for encouraging her, Jill. Everyone knew who gave her—”
“Whoa, really? You’ve got a lot of nerve bringing that up when you were the one in love with your best friend’s wife.” She bit out the words, anger reverberating through her as the feelings from two years ago swamped her. The betrayal she’d felt when she saw Sawyer and Grace together and sensed their growing attraction.
“You’ve been keeping that bottled up for a long time, haven’t you?” He rested his elbows on his knees, then glanced at her. “We didn’t think he was coming back, Jill. And never, not once, did I act on those feelings.”
“So you did love her.” She hated how saying those words made her feel. It felt like he’d betrayed her as much as he’d betrayed his best friend. Even if he hadn’t acted on those feelings. Even though she had no right to hers.
“I thought I did. But I’m not sure anymore. I wasn’t jealous that Grace was with Jack and not me. If I had loved her, like a man loves a woman, I don’t think I could have been around them like I was without feeling something. And the only thing I felt was happy for them.” He lifted a shoulder, then took a swallow of his beer. “Maybe what it came down to was I felt closer to Jack when I was with Grace and little Jack.” He glanced at her again, the pain of his memories etched on his handsome face. “He may be your brother, but I’ve always thought of him as one, too. I was hurting as much as you were, Jill. I needed to do something for him. So right or wrong, I stood in for him with his family.”
And he’d stepped aside as soon as Jack came home. Not once had she seen any sign that Sawyer’s feelings for Grace were anything more than platonic since then. As much as she’d needed to be there for Grace and little Jack, so had he. And he had been. “I’m sorry.”
He sat back. Stretching out his long sun-bronzed legs, he rested his head on the back of the swing and looked at her. “It’s probably something we should have talked about back then, but I was afraid you’d shoot me. You still believed with all your heart Jack was coming home. I couldn’t be the one to tell you he wasn’t.” He smiled. “I’ve never been so damn glad to be proven wrong. And once he was home, I figured, if Jack could forgive me, so could you. I actually thought you had. Guess I was wrong.”
“I did. I have.” And it was true. At least now it was. “It’s just that I got a little defensive when you made that crack about Maria. I’m sorry for being such a bitch. Now and back then. Forgive me?”
He smiled and covered her hand with his, giving it a light squeeze. “Always.”
She forced a smile. She hadn’t realized until that moment that, while she may have had romantic feelings for Sawyer for what felt like forever, his interest in Grace had allowed her to build a protective barrier. And after hearing his confession, there was no barrier left to protect her foolish heart.
She got up from the swing before she told him that the real reason she’d been such a bitch back then was because he’d fallen in love with Grace and not her.
Chapter Fourteen
Sawyer woke up the next morning feeling oddly unsettled. He stretched and looked around the sunlit guest bedroom, wondering if something about the room had caused the sensation. The Victorian was old, but it didn’t appear as though its long-dead original owners had come to pay him a visit. A crib box leaned against the opposite wall while a couple of paint cans sat on the hardwood floor alongside a tray of brushes and rollers. The room was obviously intended for baby Flaherty number two.
And maybe that’s what was behind the small hollow ache under his ribs. The thought that he’d better get his act together before he missed out. Playing house with Jill wasn’t helping. There’d been a couple of times yesterday when he’d caught himself watching her with little Jack and thinking maybe he’d missed out with her. She and little Jack had been feeding the ducks, their dark heads bent together as she held his small hand toward the gosling paddling their way. She’d been laughing at her nephew’s nervous squeal when she looked up at Sawyer.
With the sun shining on her face, her skin glowed, her love for little Jack lighting up her beautiful eyes. His world tilted, and he’d had to work to return her smile. In that moment she wasn’t his best friend’s baby sister; she was just an incredibly attractive woman. One who intrigued him. One, if he was honest, who he wanted to kiss.
Again.
He’d had a similar reaction when he’d sat outside little Jack’s bedroom listening to her sing in that low, raspy voice as she expertly played her guitar, lulling him into yet another what-if fantasy. When she came out of the bedroom to find him there, he pretended he was sleeping. He’d needed a minute to hide how much she affected him. He hadn’t quite shaken off the image of those long, talented fingers on him or that husky voice whispering that she loved him.
It’s why he’d suggested they sit outside and watch the sun go down. If the conversation hadn’t ended up taking an unexpected direction, he might have told her that he’d been wrong that night at his apartment and admitted he was attracted to her. But the conversation had blown way off course and back to the past. Maybe he should be grateful that she had unwittingly reminded him why she was off-limits before he did something stupid like ask her out.
He rubbed his chest and got out of bed, thinking that at least something good had come out of last night. Jill had forgiven him. It’d been a bit of shock to discover she hadn’t. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Jill played her cards close to the vest. Always had. Until that night at his apartment.
He scrubbed his hands over his face to rid himself of the memory. Thoughts like that wouldn’t do him any good. They had a couple more days of living under the same roof. He glanced at his watch. The hum of the ceiling fan and the birds outside were the only sounds in the house. Maybe Jill had already left. If she hadn’t, she was going to be late for her day in court.
At the thought he grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from his duffel bag on the floor and quickly pulled them on. He checked on little Jack first, inching open the bedroom door. His comforter was a tangled mess, one of his pillows on the floor. Sawyer smiled. Apparently the kid didn’t stop moving even in his sleep.
The refurbished wood floors creaked as he walked toward Jill’s room at the end of the hall. He glanced in the small bathroom; no sign she’d showered in there. Then he remembered there was one off her bedroom. He stood outside her room and pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. No sound of the shower. He rapped his knuckles on the door. “Hey, Ji…Shortstop, you up? It’s seven.”
He waited a second and tried again, knocking a little louder this time. He knew from her brother that she slept the sleep of the dead. Or she had when they’d lived in the apartment above the Sugar Plum Bakery. He opened the door. “Hey Shortstop, rise and—” He broke off, unable to make his tongue work. Possibly because it was hanging out of his mouth. She reached for a pair of black pants on the bed wearing nothing but a lacy black thong. Jill Flaherty wore a thong. That’s the only thought that was going through his head as his eyes followed her long legs to the curve of her tight ass to her waist and…
She turned around. Oh Jesus, he’d been right. She had very nice breasts. No, they were actually pretty spectacular. Round and firm with…
“What the hell? Get out of my room,” she yelled at him, whipping out her ear buds. Then, as though just realizing her naked breasts were on display, she made an embarrassed sound in her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. She seriously had nothing to be embarrassed about. She… Jesus, what was he thinking? Right, he wasn’t thinking because he couldn’t. He jerked his eyes to her face. “Sorry, Shortstop.” Who was he trying to kid? He’d never be able to think of her as Shortstop again. Hot Cop? Oh yeah, definitely Hot Cop.
“Get out!” she yelled again.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, ah…” He slapped his hand over his eyes and backed out of the room, pulling the door shut. Dizzy and slightly off-balance—and really, really hot—he leaned against the wall. Holy hell. Jill Flaherty wore a thong and ha
d incredible breasts. And a gun.
He knocked on her door. “Jill honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” What? Stare at you like a kid who’d gotten his first look at a Playboy centerfold? Yeah, that would go over real well. “I didn’t see anything, honest.” The image would be burned in his brain forever. He thought he heard a choking sound. “Are you okay?”
“Shut up and go away.”
“Oh, okay. Do you want coffee? I could make you some pancakes, how about that?” He waited. “I’ll just go and make that coffee for you.”
What he needed to do was grab a cold shower. But she’d probably take off while he was in there and he had to see her before she left. He had to know she accepted his apology. He checked on little Jack before heading downstairs. Surprisingly the kid had slept through it all. Guess he was like his aunt.
Dark roasted coffee dripped into the pot as Jill came down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen. He didn’t know if she had an I’m-going-to-cut-your-balls-off look on her face because he hadn’t made it there yet. He was staring again, and not because she’d forgotten to put her clothes on. She wore black pants and a feminine-cut black blazer with a white blouse underneath. She looked sophisticated and sexy. Coolly professional and all grown-up. He lifted his eyes to her face. “I’m sorry, Jill. I didn’t mean to—”
She arched an eyebrow. “Stare?”
He felt his face flush and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah. I think I was in shock.”
“That I have boobs?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not think about your…boobs.”
“Good. I don’t want you thinking about them, either,” she said and walked by him to grab a thermos out of the cupboard. She didn’t punch him or threaten him with bodily harm so he figured he was forgiven.