Accidents Make the Heart Grow Fonder

by Tara Mills

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Do it now.”

  “Okay.”

  “Any more problems, come see me.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  Jackson rubbed his eyes and groaned. The road to love was paved with stones and all that crap. How could anyone resist?

  He looked at his phone and weighed the pros and cons of picking it up, then picked it up anyway. He did a search for the Oasis and put in a call.

  “Oasis,” a woman answered.

  “I’m calling for Sabrina Eckhart?”

  “Yes, I’ll transfer you.”

  This was madness. He cut the call and dropped the phone as if it stung his fingers. The woman was dangerous. Sure she was pretty, had a great smile, fantastic body, even her soft drunken snoring was kind of cute, but she was a disaster waiting to happen. Hang on, what had he said to Van? Threes. Bad luck came in threes. Counting them off, he patted the top of his desk remembering, the body slam into the wall was one, the car accident—that was two, and the ankle was three. How gutsy did he honestly feel?

  He eyed his phone for a beat and picked it up again. Shaking his head, he looked at Crush the turtle and said in his perfect surfer voice, “I’ve got serious thrill issues, dude.”

  “Oasis,” the same woman said again.

  “Yes, hi, I called for Sabrina Eckhart but I was disconnected.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry about that. I’ll try to transfer you again.”

  “Thank you.”

  ****

  The walk-in cooler door opened and Mario called over the fan, “Telephone.”

  Sabrina nodded and, shivering from the cold, walked out and went to her office. She set her clipboard down and picked up the phone.

  “This is Sabrina.” There was a silent pause and she frowned. “Hello?

  ****

  Jackson shut his door for privacy, then went back to his chair. “Hi, it’s Jackson Murphy.”

  “Jackson?”

  “Yeah. Say, I was wondering if you’d be interested in getting together some night?”

  “Really?”

  He grinned at her surprise. “Really.”

  “When?”

  “Well, the thing is, I work strange hours so I don’t finish until close to eleven at night.”

  “Okaaay.”

  “Is that too late for you? If it is, we can come up with something else.”

  “I can probably work around it.”

  “Oh, good. So, um, when?”

  “You called me.”

  “Right.” He drummed rapidly on his desk with a pencil. “Is tonight a possibility?”

  Tonight? Tonight? He was asking her out tonight? Thanks for the notice! “Where and what?”

  “You don’t make this easy.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, our options are pretty limited at that time of night to bars, clubs, or fast food places. Not exactly what I had in mind. Don’t take this the wrong way, but your place or mine would suit me best.”

  Silence.

  “Or not. You suggest something,” he said hastily.

  To see him and his apartment again sounded too wonderful for words. “What’s your preference?”

  He sighed, relieved she didn’t go ballistic. “Well, if we went to my place I could whip us up something to eat and we could relax and talk some more.”

  Relax? Fat chance. “You want to talk?”

  “I swear. That’s all I’ve got so far.”

  She smiled. “Okay. Where should we meet?”

  “Why don’t I pick you up at your place? You’d never get into my parking garage, and I don’t recommend leaving your car on the street.”

  “I suppose you need my info. Do you have a pen?”

  ****

  He hung up and stared at the paper on his desk. His heart was racing, his limbs buzzing with electricity, because not only was he in possession of her phone number but he had her address as well.

  He had a date tonight. A date. Tonight. What was he going to cook for her? What did he have in his fridge? What would they talk about? Would he be like poor Justin trying and failing to find common ground with Becky? No way. They’d already spent a couple of hours together, and he found Sabrina to be enjoyable company, stimulating—downright sexy.

  ****

  “Tanya?” Sabrina said shakily.

  Tanya replaced the ladle and covered the pot. She turned and looked at her friend with wide-eyed concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Jackson called,” she whispered.

  “For real?”

  Sabrina nodded.

  “Your office—now.”

  “Need something to drink?” Tanya asked, worried about Sabrina’s pallor.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  Tanya settled across from her. “So?”

  “He called and asked me up to his place tonight.”

  “And you agreed? Are you insane?”

  “Well, he works late and there aren’t a lot of things to do at that time of night.”

  “What’s he do, work at a convenience store or something?”

  “I have no idea, but people who work in convenience stores don’t usually drive BMWs or live in swanky high-rise apartments like his.”

  “Or dress the way he does,” Tanya agreed, reconsidering the obvious.

  “Exactly.”

  “So what the hell does he do?”

  “Guess I’ll find out tonight. It’s some sort of management. I picked up that much when we went to The Fox and Hound.”

  “No matter how hot he is, if it’s something illegal, you have to get your butt out of there.”

  “He doesn’t give me that sinister vibe.”

  “That’s how they get you.”

  “Stop trying to freak me out. I already told you he was a perfect gentleman, even when I didn’t expect him to be. He could have done whatever he wanted to me when I was passed out, but he didn’t, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fill my head with paranoid thoughts.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  “Do you think he expects you to sleep with him?”

  “He better not. I’ll set him straight if he does.”

  ****

  Jackson hit the button in front of him and spoke, “Five seconds to feed.”

  In studio, Justin led with “And KBHY’s Tom Butler was at the courthouse for the ruling. Tom, what can you tell us?”

  “Well, Justin, Davis Harper and his attorney are expected to appeal the guilty verdict, and as you can see by all the protesters behind me, considering the case involves minors it may prove difficult to get a sympathetic jury the next time as well. This is Tom Butler coming to you live from the courthouse.”

  Jack spoke in Justin’s ear, “Back with Derek after these messages.”

  Justin picked it up. “Thanks, Tom. When we come back, Derek Mattox brings us tonight’s Falcons highlights and Sunny Saunders will have tomorrow’s forecast. Stay with us.”

  “And commercial,” Van said chopping the air with his hand.

  Jackson hit his talk button and barked, “Bonnie, where the hell is Becky?”

  Bonnie raised her hands and shrugged.

  “Find her. We’re back in two and a half minutes.”

  Bonnie dispatched Marcie and another intern to track down their missing weather personality. They got Becky in front of the blue screen with a minute to spare before the cameras shifted to her.

  At the end of the show Jackson stood up and ripped his headset off and threw it onto the console. He didn’t call her—didn’t have to—he merely stabbed his index finger at their very own Sunny Saunders through the glass, then pointed toward his office. She blanched and disconnected her tiny microphone and earpiece.

  Becky started in alarm when she saw Jackson waiting right inside his door. Giving him a wide berth, she moved quickly away from him. He found her nervous tension s
atisfying. He gave the door a hard shove closed before he walked around his desk and stared her down, using not just his position of authority but his height to intimidate her. It worked.

  “I hope you have an explanation for what happened tonight,” he said angrily.

  “I wasn’t, I didn’t—I didn’t feel very good.”

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I thought I could handle it.”

  “Handle it like that again and you’re going to find yourself doing Kevin McNamara’s spots on the weekends and he’ll be doing yours. Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know the policy, and had you followed it, there would have been plenty of time to replace you.”

  “I know. You’re right.”

  “I know I’m right. This is the only warning you get on this. Don’t let it happen again.”

  “Okay.”

  As soon as she left, Van dropped in, catching Jackson in the middle of shutting down his computer and clicking off his desk lamp.

  “Now what?” Jackson asked impatiently.

  “Just wondering how it went.”

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I’m running late.”

  Van’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re late for something?”

  “Yes.” He picked up his jacket and walked past Van, shutting off his light as he went.

  Van fell into step beside him. “You have plans?”

  “I do on occasion.”

  “A woman?”

  Jack ignored the question and headed out the self-locking doors to the parking lot. His friend and personal pest dogged him to his car. Jackson hit his key fob and his headlights chirped on.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and hopped in. He didn’t hang around long enough to enjoy the curiosity on Van’s face as his gaze followed Jackson’s taillights out of the lot.

  ****

  Sabrina grumbled and turned away from the steady knocking and mashed her face back into the pillows, but that didn’t work. The knocking was still just as annoying and twice as persistent. Then something slowly penetrated her groggy noggin. She had a date. She was supposed to be waiting for Jackson all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He was on the other side of her door! Shaking her fuzzy head, she dragged herself off the couch, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Crap, what did her hair look like now? She didn’t mean to doze off.

  She failed to stifle a big yawn as she opened the door. Jackson’s hand was poised to knock again.

  He blinked in surprise and stepped back when confronted with sleeping beauty. “Did I just wake you up?”

  Sabrina groaned. “Sorry, I nodded off while I was waiting. I don’t usually stay up this late. I’ll be fine.”

  “Does that hurt?” he asked, eyeing her cheek, his finger softly grazing the skin.

  “Why would it hurt?”

  Then it hit her, and she ran for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her—hard.

  “Huh,” he said. Abandoned at the door, he stepped inside and looked around the modest apartment. Well, considering what she had to work with, she was trying, anyway.

  Meanwhile, Sabrina stared in horror at the angry red lines running down the left side of her face. Damn pillow. If that wasn’t bad enough, her face plant had left her eyelashes fused into one dark mass of scary, topped with Muppet-worthy eyebrows. Frantic to erase the marks, she rubbed her cheek with a cool washcloth while trying to separate her lashes with a damp fingertip. In the end, it was obvious she had to start over. The mascara had to come off, and she would need a comb to groom the wild caterpillars above her eyes.

  Jackson wandered around and peeked into the open doorway of her bedroom. He shuddered at the bed. How the hell did she sleep on that thing? It looked like there was a drain in the very center that would drop her through to the floor underneath. Maybe she liked sleeping in a nest?

  He waltzed over to the simple shelf and perused her CDs, DVDs, and books, all tidy and organized. She had acceptable taste, choices he could live with, anyway. Her books, on the other hand, were geared specifically toward women. He pulled back a spine and chuckled at the racy cover, then eased it back. His eyes slid to the bottom shelf and he contemplated the scrapbooks lying in a stack—too tall to stand upright, apparently.

  He picked up the first and fanned through it. It was full of images of furniture, organized by type, beginning with sofas. From what he could see, she was open to a large variety of styles, her tastes flexible. He glanced back at her sofa and smiled. So she really did have a plan. The second half of the book was filled with bedrooms, and every single bed was buried under a mountain of pillows. He snorted. It would take a person ten minutes just to shift all those before they could get under the covers. Why did women do that, anyway? Sure it looked nice, but it was impractical.

  The second scrapbook was filled with photos of gardens, flowers, shrubs, bushes, and all manner of ornamentation from fountains to statuary, sundials to arbors. Well what do you know? Sabrina was a dreamer. A lot of time and care had gone into her hobby. Warming to that sudden insight into her soul, he replaced the books carefully and turned to study her framed photos.

  Sabrina opened the bathroom door silently and paused, too bashful to draw his attention. Somehow it was enough just to look at him, looking at her things, taking up space in her quiet life. She wasn’t sure this flutter of hope inside her was a good thing. Hope had a way of being crushed. It was too delicate to survive, too idealistic to be based on reality. What she felt for him was intense attraction, consuming attraction. What she built from that was a girl’s romanticized dreams of what he could be to her, not what he actually was. Until this moment she hadn’t known she was still capable of those sorts of fantasies.

  So what was he, really? Who was he? She knew he was utterly edible. She knew he had a temper but his self-control was stronger. He didn’t blow, he seethed. He was unbelievably forgiving. He had exquisite taste. It was innate, completely natural, and never flaunted. He was confident without being self-absorbed. He’d demonstrated how willing and capable he was at catering to another person’s needs when she landed unexpectedly in his lap. A lot of men would have been annoyed. They would have resented the imposition, but not Jackson. He was a perfect host and excellent company. He rolled with life’s punches and still managed to laugh. She liked him. Who knew? She actually liked the guy. Yes, oh, god, yes, she still wanted him in a base physical way, but that response wasn’t the dominant one anymore. How scary was that?

  What did he see in her? What possessed him to call her and ask her over again? How could she hope to compete with the type of woman she saw flirting with him? That question had the potential to open up all kinds of painful avenues she was better not exploring when she still had the fading racetracks from her pillow on her cheek. Let it go, Brie, and live in the moment. Enjoy the moment.

  He turned and smiled at her when she shut off the light. She smiled back and worked up the courage to join him in front of her photos.

  Jackson watched her approach, admiring how her freshly scrubbed face, so soft and pink, made her pretty eyes stand out. He wondered if some of that pink was from lingering embarrassment. Lucky him. She was downright adorable.

  “Big family,” he said when she stopped beside him. He gestured at the frames.

  “Do you think so? I always thought we were pretty normal. Don’t you have brothers or sisters?”

  “One brother and…another sibling on the way.”

  She laughed. “Get out of here.”

  He shook his head ruefully. “I’m serious. My parents are divorced, and my dad’s young wife is expecting.”

  “How young?”

  “Younger than me.”

  She stared. She couldn’t help it. “Wow.”

  “I know. I’m still trying to adjust to it.”

  “I suppose.”

  “So tell me who I’m looking at. I see Emma there.”

  “And her dad, m
y brother Aaron, with his wife Leah. You know Wyatt, of course,” she said with a helpless shrug.

  Jackson turned and smiled at her. “He knows how to make an impression. Kind of like his aunt.”

  Sabrina laughed. “Yes, I guess we can both be a handful.”

  Their eyes met and held for a second, and then Jackson smiled as Sabrina turned away with a blush. “You know what I meant.”

  “I know. Continue.” He nodded at the pictures.

  “Wyatt’s parents, my brother Sam and his wife Candace. Here’s Mom and Dad in front of their house in Santa Fe, and this is my oldest brother, Andy, and his wife Toni. That’s their son Kipp. He’s twelve going on sixteen.”

  “Lucky you. You might have had him the other night, too.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “Well, should we go?” Jackson asked. He walked to the door and held it open for her.

  Chapter 16

  It was interesting to observe how much the city changed in a matter of blocks. Sabrina’s residential area soon gave way to dark unbroken runs of low brick buildings that seemed to grow upwards as they moved toward the city center. Traffic was light at first and pedestrians almost non-existent, but once they crossed Baines Boulevard neon signs blazed from countless windows and traffic was heavier. Even on a weeknight there were clusters of people moving from one popular establishment to another, their choice of clothing a good indication of their next destination.

  Sabrina sank back into the molded car seat and sighed, her waking eyes traveling upwards as the brick gave way to concrete then meshed again with dark glass high-rises. Personally, she didn’t like to drive at night. She hated how her eyes always strayed toward the oncoming headlights. Riding in the passenger seat helped. She could look away, resist the pull. It was nice to let Jackson deal with it.

  She chanced another quick peek at him and flushed. He was too beautiful for words, all lit up by the glow of the dashboard, with the dark street and neon signs streaking past his window. Jackson was as bad as those headlights coming toward them. Resist. She must resist.

  He turned into the underground garage and parked in his designated slot.

  Quiet. They were both awfully quiet tonight.

  While they waited awkwardly for the elevators Jackson said, “I’m sorry I was late. I got held up at work longer than I expected.”