Accidents Make the Heart Grow Fonder

by Tara Mills

  Jackson turned and sized up the other contenders and snorted in derision. He was up against a Fabio knockoff and a guy who looked like he understood sports figures better than women’s figures.

  Still, the last thing he was interested in doing was getting into a competition for a woman he hadn’t even seen. He’d just play it cool, be straight, and let the other guys act like peacocks.

  ****

  Sabrina hooked her heel under her stool and crossed her legs. Looking over the first card, she spoke tentatively into the microphone Tanya held in front of her.

  “Bachelor Number One, if you had three hours to show me who you are, what would we do?”

  ****

  Nate stuck the microphone in front of the jock.

  “I’d pick you up in my restored GTO and we’d take a nice drive to my favorite lake for a picnic. There might be some skinny-dipping involved, if you were daring enough. Then after that we’d go back to my place and I’d show you a few of the moves that put those trophies on my shelf and maybe get you interested in a little touch football.”

  Not a home run as far as the audience was concerned, but certainly a comfortable double. It was easy to pick out his friends in the crowd because they’d clearly mistaken the nightclub for a stadium. How predictable. One word summed it up for Sabrina—pass.

  “Sounds interesting,” she lied. “Bachelor Number Two, if you could have one dance with me, what would it be, and why?”

  ****

  Nate moved down and Fabio leaned into the mike, trying to channel Barry White with his voice unnaturally low and seductive.

  “If I had to choose just one, it would be the tango, because it is the dance of passion and intensity, two bodies moving together in perfect unison.”

  Already primed for innuendo, the crowd went wild. Fabio settled back and nodded confidently to his supporters.

  ****

  “Okaaay,” Sabrina said glancing at the next question. Her eyes flashed at Tanya a second later, and she mouthed silently, “Are you kidding me?”

  Tanya waved impatiently back.

  Fuming, Sabrina resettled herself and said, “Bachelor Number Three, if I asked you for a massage, where would you start?”

  She hated that she was blushing over such a ridiculous question.

  ****

  Jackson sat up and stared for a moment at the microphone in his face. Finally he spoke.

  “If you asked for a massage, I would assume you needed one. I’d want you to tell me where you wanted the most attention, so I could give you a little relief.”

  He sat back, glad his turn was over. The crowd’s response was warm but far from enthusiastic. They thought he should have played it up more. Too bad.

  ****

  “Good answer. Bachelor Number One, when is the best time for a first kiss?”

  From behind the screen a disembodied voice said, “When it feels right.” She could almost see his shrug. “It could happen anytime during the date. I guess it all depends on you and the signals you give me.”

  “That’s great. Bachelor Number Two, what’s your idea of a perfect date?”

  When he answered, Sabrina got more than just the words; she picked up on the amusement and bold confidence of a man with a long history of sexual success under his belt. It was easy to tell he had no intention of losing anything, even a silly game like this.

  “There’s this little place on the water that I love, and we’d have a candlelit dinner, then take a stroll along the beach in the moonlight. I would carry your shoes in one hand and pull you close with the other and show you why I chose the tango for us. Where we go from there will be entirely up to you.”

  Right! He sounded like a first-rate seducer, and Sabrina had no interest in signing her name on his bedroom wall.

  “Okaaay,” she said, shaking off the thought.

  “Bachelor Number Three, if it looked like we were moving toward intimacy, how much time would you devote to foreplay?”

  Her eyes pinned Tanya, and her fingers burned with the need to fling this card in her face, but with nothing else to ask she was stuck. It wasn’t like she could come up with something else with all these people staring at her. Cringing inside, Sabrina waited uncomfortably for the answer.

  “Foreplay.” There was amusement in his voice. “Foreplay should begin immediately, as soon as I meet you at your door. Guys tend to forget that. It starts when I openly admire you and offer my arm. It continues over dinner when I listen with real interest to your side of the conversation and when I ask you to dance without using it as an excuse to put my hands all over you. And once I bring you home, foreplay is when you take me by the tie and pull me in for a long, mind-bending kiss and invite me inside.”

  The hammer of Sabrina’s pulse was so loud in her ears she could hardly hear the rousing reaction to his answer.

  Nate stirred the rowdy crowd even more by asking in a suspenseful way which lucky bachelor she was going to choose.

  Sabrina was asking herself the same thing.

  Number One really didn’t do it for her. Touch football? Come on. Number Two’s arrogance put her off on its own, but there was a hint of something a little dark and domineering underneath it all, if she was reading him right, and that sank him completely. No, she didn’t want Number Two, either.

  But Number Three, now, there was a man to pique her interest. He handled her massage question perfectly without sounding depraved—some trick—but his subtle yet compelling response to the foreplay question clinched the deal. She happened to agree with him. Sexuality was as much in the mind as it was in the body, in the senses. If it was done right, it was a progression of little steps that led to the anticipated conclusion. It was a good answer and it hit the right note with her.

  She could only imagine how Number Two might have handled that question. It gave her chills just thinking about it, and as for Number One, why did she feel he’d need clarification of what foreplay actually was before he could answer the question? Not good.

  ****

  Nate stepped off the stage so he could see Sabrina and the three bachelors at the same time.

  “Has our lovely bachelorette made a decision?” he asked.

  Sabrina smirked. If that’s what it took to get her off the hot seat, you’d better believe it, buddy. “I choose Bachelor Number Three.”

  Nate turned. “Bachelor Number One, come meet our bachelorette.”

  He stood and walked around the screen just as Sabrina came to her feet. They shook hands and greeted each other awkwardly, then he returned to his friends.

  “Bachelor Number Two,” Nate said.

  Despite her assumptions, Sabrina still felt a great deal of curiosity over this one. After all, he was the one Tanya had mentioned specifically.

  As soon as he rounded the screen she could see why. He was gorgeous, with that indefinable European appeal that put him head and shoulders above the Larry the Lounge Lizard type she was expecting. She liked the way his long wavy hair brushed his shoulders, but his conceited grin ruined it for him. He took both her hands and leaned down to plant a kiss just in front of her ear. “Too bad, he whispered softly, then drew back with a loaded smile.

  For which one of us? she wondered.

  “And now it’s time to introduce our couple to each other. Bachelorette, meet your perfect date.”

  Sabrina trembled and Jackson rose as Tanya, beaming like a lunatic, wheeled the screen back.

  Despite his expectations Jackson still found himself curious and a little excited as he looked across the stage. He blanched at the same instant that Sabrina released a shrill scream and collapsed in a dead faint.

  Perfect.

  Chapter 9

  In the pandemonium that followed, Jackson found himself on his knee at Sabrina’s side, slapping her cheek repeatedly with the back of his hand in an effort to rouse her. Nate leaned over them, his pale face anxious, the microphone hanging loose from his hand.

  “What happened?” he yelled, clutchin
g the top of his head.

  “Shock,” Jackson said, not looking up until Tanya pushed her face into the mix.

  “Well, I thought that went well,” she said with a wide grin.

  Jack glared at her, not remotely amused. “Do you have smelling salts around here?”

  She sobered right up. “Nope.”

  “Great.”

  People closed around them, and someone bumped into Jackson’s back, nearly knocking him onto Sabrina. Short of patience, he jabbed backwards with his elbow and connected with a leg. That bought him more space.

  Jack’s next pat wasn’t nearly as gentle, but it was effective.

  Sabrina came to with a groan of dismay. She covered her face with her hands. “Get me out of here.”

  Jackson and Tanya hauled her up, then each took an arm and supported her to her office. Nate stayed behind and brought the room back to order.

  The thrum of muted dance music leeched through the closed door and set the hanging pans and kettles rattling in the dark cavernous kitchen. Jackson wondered how people could stand anything that loud.

  Tanya caught the back of the desk chair and rolled it over. They assisted Sabrina onto it, and then Jackson looked at Tanya and said, “Go get her something to drink.”

  If anyone else had given her an order like that, they would have gotten a blunt and sassy retort. At the very least a sarcastic demand that they’d better tack the word please to the end or prepare to kiss her ass. But this guy didn’t seem the type to brook any flak, not in his present mood, anyway. She didn’t dare argue.

  Jackson leaned back against the edge of Sabrina’s desk and studied her. This night had surpassed his wildest expectations, that’s for fucking sure. There was no way in hell he would have called this one. What a mess.

  ****

  Sabrina wondered how long she could avoid opening her eyes and meeting his. Five more minutes, ten? Like a little child she half believed that if she kept them closed no one could see her, notice her. She’d be invisible. Peek-a-boo, where’s baby? There she is! Oh, no, she’s not. She’s not here, her eyes are closed, and don’t you forget it. Except Sabrina felt here, depressingly present and accounted for. Damn. And if memory served—and it had always burned her in the ass—someone else was present, as well. Might as well get this over with.

  With a longsuffering sigh, Sabrina lifted her chin and hit him with woeful eyes. “So that wasn’t a nightmare? That actually happened?”

  “Looks that way.”

  She clutched her head with both hands and started rocking. “I have to quit.” Her eyes were unfocused as she saw into a future Jackson couldn’t envision. “That’s it. I won’t be able to show my face here again. Everyone’s going to know what happened tonight.”

  Curious, Jack asked, “Then why’d you do it?”

  She released the handfuls of hair and helplessly flapped her arms. “I don’t know. There is no simple answer to that.”

  Tanya walked in just then and handed a glass to Sabrina. “Sure there is. Nate and I put her up to it. We can be pretty persuasive.”

  “Drink that,” Jack said softly. He could relate. He wouldn’t have done it either if not for some pretty serious coercion.

  Sabrina tipped back the glass and took a swallow. The alcohol burned her throat and she coughed violently.

  Tanya glanced at Jackson and smiled. “She’s not much of a drinker.”

  He contemplated Tanya for a moment, then came to a decision. “Would you excuse us?”

  Tanya’s eyebrows scrambled up her forehead. “Um, sure, I suppose.” She walked backwards, watching them uncertainly, and closed the door.

  Jackson turned back to Sabrina. “Take another swallow,” he said gently.

  Sabrina made a face but complied. She grimaced and shuddered afterwards. “This is nasty.”

  Jackson chuckled. “Too bad. Finish it. It’ll help.”

  Not up to the challenge of an argument at the moment, she took another unpleasant sip and found it wasn’t nearly as horrible. The more she drank, the less distasteful it became.

  On close personal terms with avoidance, Sabrina kept her eyes on the glass in her hand rather than look at him. It was just so much easier. “So now what?” she asked.

  “I think we should talk. It’s overdue.”

  She laughed listlessly and nodded. “You’re probably right.” She didn’t catch his curious smile.

  “I’m Jackson Murphy.”

  That brought her eyes up. She gave him a bashful smile. “Sabrina Eckhart.”

  “Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” he smiled back, “how about taking a drive?”

  Her hackles went up. “You’re not going to push me out of a speeding car or anything, are you?”

  He stared at her for a second, then broke into a laugh. “I think that’s a question I should be asking you.”

  Sabrina thumped herself in the forehead and groaned. “God, you’re right.” She tipped back the glass and drained it, then slapped it down on the desk. “So where to?”

  Jackson stood. “Anywhere but here.”

  She couldn’t agree more.

  ****

  Sabrina was beyond grateful that Jackson didn’t bat an eye or give her grief when she asked if he’d mind walking well out of their way to his car in order to avoid a group of people hanging around the parking lot. He simply nodded. Then he surprised her further by opening the passenger door for her—a perfect gentleman.

  Still, she couldn’t help feeling jumpy. When was the other shoe going to drop? She had a little more shame and humiliation coming, right?

  ****

  Jackson looked hard at Sabrina sitting in his car as he walked around to the driver’s side. Well, at least it was only a rental. If anything happened to it tonight he wasn’t going to feel so crushed. Still, he was tense. She made him unbelievably tense, because no matter how harmless she looked he knew better. Maybe this wasn’t such a hot idea. So what if she was incredibly pretty. Big deal if she had a body that brought him out in a sweat. Was voluntarily agreeing to continue in her company really worth the risk? As he opened his car door, he wondered if he’d taken complete leave of his senses.

  Apparently.

  ****

  Unaware that he was glancing covertly at her legs, Sabrina startled Jackson with a quiet comment.

  “I suppose you really miss your car.”

  “I do,” he said, then shot her a quick forgiving smile. “But it’s going to be okay. The damage wasn’t major, and I’ll get it back good as new.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  “About your ankle, too. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but then I saw it was you again and I got all defensive and, well, I just snapped. I should have apologized sooner.”

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and without a word he threw on his blinker and took a hard right, turning into a parking lot. Pulling smoothly into an open space, Jackson cut the engine.

  He turned and looked at her shadowed face. “I appreciate that.”

  “The Fox and Hounds?”

  “It’s quieter here. Come on.”

  They advanced on the pub, both perfectly happy keeping cars between them, but even when they were forced together on the sidewalk Jackson maintained his safe distance while still matching her pace.

  Sabrina could tell by his unconscious key jiggling that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with her, either. She laughed on the inside when he caught the door and pulled it open for her. He shied behind it as he waved her ahead of him. It was probably his way, like the car door, but she had a sneaky suspicion there was a bit of paranoia mixed in there, too. He seemed reluctant to take his wary eyes off her. Could she blame him?

  The Fox and Hound was aptly named. It was like stepping across the Atlantic and finding yourself in an English pub. With his arm extended but safely clear of her Jackson showed Sabrina to a table well away from the friendly dart match taking place across the bar.


  She could just imagine the look on his face if she suggested a game of darts. That would be mean. She wasn’t the type to tease. That didn’t stop her from fantasizing about it, though.

  Sniggering, Sabrina slid into the booth and looked up at Jackson in confusion. The man was still standing. This was getting downright ridiculous.

  “What’s your poison?” he asked.

  “Oh,” she said, comprehension finally dawning. “Gee, I don’t know. How about a glass of wine?”

  “Do you prefer red or white?”

  “Either. Both.”

  “Will you trust me?”

  “Isn’t trust a two-way street?”

  He smiled. “Trust has to be earned.”

  “Oh.” She grinned back. “Fine. Order whatever. I’ll trust you.”

  ****

  His ass was truly hypnotic. When Jackson walked over to the bar to order their drinks, Sabrina couldn’t tear her eyes off it. It was weird. She’d never been particularly drawn to a man’s butt like this, though like any other normal healthy woman she could recognize the noteworthy. For some bizarre reason, Jackson’s derriere just happened to hit her right. On top of that awe-inspiring asset, she had to admit that the view from the front was equally worth the money.

  It was probably just her long romantic dry spell making her more susceptible, right? Her reaction was perfectly understandable. But then a more worrisome thought skulked into her head. Could there be something more targeted happening here—more specimen specific? What if it was Jackson himself making her nuts? That was a direction of thought she didn’t want to pursue. No, nah-uh—best not to go there. They could hardly stand each other.

  “Oof.” Sabrina sighed under her breath when Jackson walked back with a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle of brown ale in the other. Her eyes strayed to his necktie, and before she could stop it, his foreplay answer popped into her head. As out of character as it sounded, she had to admit that hell, yes, she could see herself hauling him in for a serious lip-lock with that thing, and yes, indeedy, there was something seriously wrong with her lately.

  ****

  Jackson set Sabrina’s glass in front of her, then slid onto the seat across the table.