Dating A Saint

by Donna McDonald

  But when the doorbell rang several more times, Lauren went to it at last and looked out the security port. Shocked at who she saw, she simply opened the door.

  “What are you doing here?” Lauren asked.

  Jim didn’t answer—couldn’t. His gaze dropped to her unbound breasts in the tank top, before noticing her pants fit her like a second skin. The mature discussion he’d been planning suddenly didn’t seem like a possibility anymore. Desire—rushing blood buckets of it—robbed him of rational speech.

  “Jim?” Lauren prompted. “Why are you here?”

  Jim closed his eyes. “I’m not sure. Can I come in for a few minutes?” The question came out a husky plea, but it was the best he could do with his tongue glued to the top of his mouth.

  Lauren’s survival instincts warned her to turn Jim away, but the tug of desire fluttering in her belly had her swinging the door wide. She motioned with her hand for Jim to enter.

  His cologne preceded him and made her dizzy as she closed the door. Only years of ingrained social manners kept her from launching herself at him and begging.

  “I was just having some wine. Would you like a glass?” Lauren asked calmly, turning on the heels of her socked feet and heading back to the kitchen.

  “That would be good. Thanks.” Jim replied, trailing along behind her, admiring the view. Wine was the last thing he wanted, but after leaving her with Chad earlier, Jim had gone crazy thinking about her and other men. Right now he was ready to take just about anything Lauren was willing to give him, even if it was just a hard time.

  Lauren didn’t ask Jim whether he wanted white or red. She didn’t ask him what size glass. She didn’t ask any of the hospitable questions bred into her since she was twelve. Watching him look around her kitchen with interest scrambled her manners even more. After pouring Jim a glass of what she was drinking, she slid it across the cool marble to him, watching as he sat uninvited on one of the four stools flanking the island’s edge.

  Trying to find somewhere to look so she wouldn’t be staring at him, Lauren noticed the clock and the fact it was almost midnight.

  “It’s a little late for a social visit, isn’t it?” Lauren suggested, her tone hard—still stung from their argument earlier.

  When Jim just stared at her as if he didn’t know how he’d ended up where he was, the polite cowering woman inside Lauren snapped and transformed into a bitch screaming to be set free. She hadn’t known how much like Regina and Alexa she was, hadn’t known how angry at a man she could be, until Jim had walked into her kitchen at midnight offering no explanation for being there. She knew damn well why he followed her home, knew how it was between them. How could Jim pretend to be ignorant?

  “I had to wait until I saw Chad leave,” Jim said quietly, already resenting her tone, though he knew it wasn’t fair of him to expect a warm reception. He’d sat through Chad kissing her goodnight and forced himself to stay in the car until his blood pressure returned to normal and he was sure he could let the man get into his car and drive away.

  “I’m surprised you’re so concerned about what Chad would think. In fact, it’s a little late to worry about social appearances,” Lauren said, lifting her glass for a healthy drink. “Almost everyone I interact with regularly saw you talking to me tonight. God only knows what Jared is going to tell my mother about seeing us together. They still have lunch and share the delusion of me pining for a reconciliation.”

  “I didn’t intend to cause trouble for you,” Jim said angrily, lifting his glass for a sip, finding the alcohol didn’t help tame the emotions rioting inside him, “especially with your ex.”

  “No? Just what did you intend then?” Lauren demanded, her anger reaching out across the marble separating them. “I’d really like to know what your intentions are because I’m completely confused now that you’ve followed me home from a date. You don’t want me, but you don’t want me to find someone else either. You can’t be dumb enough to think you can have both of those things.”

  “Damn it, Lauren. It’s not that I don’t want you. I’m married still. It’s not right for me to date you,” Jim said, practically yelling it at her. “But hell—if I did find a way to be with you, I don’t want to be just one in a line of men passing through your bed.”

  “A line of men? Well, it’s just wonderful to know you think so highly of me. Just how many men do you think have passed through my bed?” Lauren asked him sharply.

  When Jim looked at his wine and the countertop instead of her, it was a new kind of pain in her heart. What he evidently thought shamed her, and yet there was no reason for her to feel that way. The unfairness of it cut deep.

  “I don’t know,” he said bitterly, but truthfully.

  “Well I’m sorry I can’t give you high number to validate your twisted opinion. There have been two—only two. The one who took my virginity at twenty and the man I married who cheated on me every chance he got.”

  Jim closed his eyes again so she wouldn’t see the relief in his gaze. They had so damn much in common, he thought. He couldn’t share it all, couldn’t risk telling Lauren everything. But he badly wanted to offer her some small chunk of honesty, just so she would understand a little.

  “If you ask me how many women I’ve been with, I’ll tell you,” Jim offered, regretting his rashness the instant the words were said. He’d meant them only as a concession to her revelation, but he saw in Lauren’s expression she was really going to ask.

  “How many then?” she demanded. “And you better damn well tell me the truth or I will never speak to you again.”

  “Four,” Jim said, keeping his voice hard and flat. “Two before my wife, my wife, and one mistake a few years ago I still regret to this day.”

  Though Jim wouldn’t look at her, Lauren took in the shoulder slump, the frown, and the nervous hands on his wine glass. She remembered what Alexa said about his level of experience. She thought of her own experiences with him.

  It would be so easy to believe him, and she really wanted to believe, but the bitch in her surfaced, still angry from earlier hurts. She was demanding a test, insisting Lauren needed to be sure.

  “You have enough money to hide what you really do. Are you counting prostitutes?” Lauren asked, lifting her chin, willing to give him a fight if he wanted one.

  Jim decided nothing anyone had ever said to or about him had hurt as much as that single insinuation from a woman he idolized. Without a word, Jim slid off the bar stool and headed out of the kitchen before he did something to Lauren he would regret.

  Lauren’s strong grip on his arm stopped him in the doorway.

  “Wait,” she said quickly, the blush on her face revealing her remorse more than her words. “I had no right to ask a question like that. I want to believe you, but you’re a man and—I’m scared you might be lying to me.”

  “Damn it, Lauren. I’ve never used prostitutes,” Jim said, rounding on her fast, not giving either of them time to think. He pushed her against the door jam, uncaring when he banged her hard enough against it to hurt her.

  It hurt like hell she couldn’t take him at face value, just simply trust what he said. Why should she? He knew what people thought about him, but it hurt more for Lauren to think so badly of him. It all but destroyed him.

  “I am not lying,” he said viciously, giving her a hard shake.

  Then his mouth seared hers. He kissed her hard to punish, and then more brutally still to erase the images of all the men she kissed other than him. Jim felt Lauren trying to talk, but he refused to let her. Finally, he’d calmed a bit, kissing her more softly, but still desperately. By the time Jim’s sanity returned, Lauren was already leaning against him in surrender, just like she had when they kissed in the garden.

  Something inside Jim broke as Lauren sagged against him, her weight testing his strength in many ways. Guilt over hurting her and shame for his actions filled all the gaps and spaces the empty years without any physical comfort had put in his soul.

&n
bsp; He swore softly against her mouth.

  “I’m sorry, Lauren,” Jim said, the words choking him. What had she done except hold up an emotional mirror up demanding he look at himself? All Jim had done was hurt and disappoint her over and over. How could Lauren possibly think well of him?

  When he eased his lips away, he finally heard Lauren, heard what she had been trying to say to him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t really believe it,” she said, kneading his back with hands anxiously trying to make amends, to comfort.

  Humbled and hurting for both of them now, Jim gathered Lauren into his arms again. This time though he held her to his heart, weeping quietly on her shoulder—his anger flowing out with his tears. He leaned against her in return, letting her hands soothe him for real.

  There was no denying Lauren was the one and only woman who could offer him what he wanted, even if he wasn’t free to take it. He had to stop hurting her, had to stop torturing them both.

  “I’m trying so hard not to hurt you,” he whispered, pulling away. “I’m trying so damn hard. Please believe that if you can while I figure this out.”

  Before he was tempted to take complete advantage of the situation, to sink into her arms and just take what she was offering, Jim pulled away and left her standing in the kitchen. He closed her front door behind him with a decisive click.

  Lauren stayed in the doorway for a long time even after she knew Jim had gone. She’d have bruises tomorrow from where he had gripped her so fiercely. More marks of possession, she thought. Alexa had been right about it not being pretty. There was a lot of hurt buried deep in him, and Lauren had a knack for bringing it to the surface.

  And although Jim wanted her, his guilt over it was like a brick wall between them. Having all her fears confirmed was heart breaking. Lauren raised a trembling hand to her bruised lips and let tears fall unheeded on the floor while she fought not to dissolve completely.

  If Jim had been restrained the first time he kissed her, he’d been completely unrestrained this time. She absolutely wasn’t going to be able to kiss another man again without thinking of him.

  It was a long time before Lauren could make herself go upstairs alone.

  Chapter 4

  “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Casey asked, peering out the front passenger window of Ben’s BMW as they passed through Sykesville, Maryland to the other side of the small town.

  Ben looked the GPS map. “Looks like it. Do you see a medical facility yet?”

  “No,” Casey said. “Why would you put a facility way out here? It’s beautiful, but what’s close by?”

  “Nothing, as far as I can tell,” Ben said, pondering the oddity of the situation. “I think it’s very strange Jim has something out here. I thought all his businesses were in Falls Church.”

  “Everything else on the list he gave me is either in Falls Church or Stratford,” Casey confirmed. “You’re sure he said he would meet us there?”

  Ben shrugged a shoulder. “Yes. Look—there’s the entrance. Whispering Pines. It says Medical Facility and Offices. Turn Right. I guess this place exists after all.”

  “And there’s Jim standing out front waiting for us,” Casey said, unable to keep the amazement from his voice.

  *** *** ***

  Jim watched Ben’s BMW pull alongside his Ford Suburban in the parking lot. Those two men were so punctual, he thought, you could set a watch by them. He preferred being loosely punctual. It kept his stress level down.

  Ben got out and looked at Jim’s ride with a shake of his head. “You have more money than God, and you drive a big-ass Suburban? We have got to get you a decent car, Gallagher.”

  “I like my vehicle, Kaiser. It’s practical and I don’t have to match my clothes to it,” Jim said wickedly, not mentioning the classic Corvette inherited from his father currently sleeping in his garage.

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t give up your day job, Gallagher. You are so not a funny guy,” Ben informed him, checking the creases in his slacks, even as Casey snickered beside him.

  “You own this place?” Casey asked casually. He had a lot more questions to ask, but someone needed to admit how strange this situation was first.

  “Yes,” Jim said. “I have family living in the facility. I bought Whispering Pines a little over five years ago. They don’t have break-ins. Well, what I mean is, crime is not the problem here. They just need a more elaborate monitoring system to keep up with patients, and an alarm system that calls for help when needed. I’m not sure of all the requirements. We’ll get the rest as we go along.”

  “Aren’t there specialty companies to handle installation of monitoring systems in medical facilities?” Ben asked, still not yet seeing the missing information his instincts were sending off alarm bells about.

  Jim paused in walking down the sidewalk. He put his hands in his pockets and felt them shaking a little against his legs. He looked at Casey and Ben, hoping like hell he was doing the right thing. The work could have waited a year more, but Jim couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to share it with someone, had recently realized he was tired of handling everything all alone.

  “Yes,” Jim said smoothly, letting no trace of his apprehension show, “there are companies who specialize in medical monitoring systems, but I wanted a level of discretion I felt you and Casey could better provide. If you don’t want to do the work, then I’ll try them next.”

  “I’m sure we can do the work,” Casey said confidently. “It may take us longer than some of the other things we’ve done, not to mention disturbing the residents. Are these all retirees?”

  “All but two,” Jim said, looking for the words to start explaining what had to be explained. Before he could come up with them, the all-too-familiar blond woman dashed over and threw her arms around Jim. Out of habit, Jim hugged her back and laughed.

  “Jim! You didn’t tell us you were coming. This is a wonderful surprise. Let me see if I can find Samuel,” she said, turning her cheek up for Jim to kiss, which he did.

  She smiled at Ben and Casey. “Are these your friends? You’ve never brought friends before. How perfectly lovely. Introduce me.” She held out her hand to Ben first.

  “Ben. Casey. This is Cassandra Gallagher-Simpson. Her better half, Samuel, is probably at work outside planning his spring garden,” Jim explained, hoping his voice sounded light and neutral. Cassandra could pick up pretty quickly when he was distressed.

  She shook Ben’s hand, and then moved to Casey’s. “Please call me Sandy. It’s so nice to meet you. My brother almost never brings friends here. I mean—I know why. I have some bad days sometimes, but oh—it’s just so nice to meet you. Jim always said it was hard to make friends when you travel as much as he does.”

  Both Casey and Ben were surprised at what she was saying but asked no questions, not wanting to contradict her. They exchanged a look about the travel remark, but said nothing. As far as they knew, Jim rarely travelled.

  “Casey and Ben are going to be doing some work here, Sandy. They’ll be in and out for a couple of weeks replacing the monitoring system in the medical facility. That would be okay, wouldn’t it?” Jim asked, trying to gauge her comfort level with the news.

  “Well of course. I promise to not go all Anna-Banana over it. I haven’t done that in a long time,” Sandy scolded, smacking Jim lightly on the arm.

  “Of course you haven’t. I didn’t meant to imply you would,” Jim said, smiling and placing an arm around her shoulder to hug lightly. “Why don’t you go find Sam and tell him to come have lunch with us.”

  “Really? You’re all staying for lunch? Oh, Jim, that’s so wonderful! This is the best day ever,” she said, hugging him tight before bolting away.

  Later they would think it was some instinct that held their tongues, but after the woman was out of hearing distance, Ben asked the inevitable. “Jim, you never said you had a sister.”

  “That’s because I don’t—I’m an only child,” Jim replied. “Cassandra beca
me delusional from a severe illness she got in her mid-thirties. She never fully recovered from it. Part of her delusion is that she’s my sister and married to Samuel Simpson, the other special resident here. Sam loves her deeply and goes right along. They’ve been together for about five years now.”

  “Wow,” Casey said. “Are you even related to her at all?”

  “Something like that,” Jim said sadly. “Cassandra is actually my wife.”

  Ben and Casey stood rooted to the spot, openly staring at Jim in shock, before turning toward Sandy again, who was busy dragging a man over to them.

  “Jim,” Sam said. “It’s good to see you. Sandy said you brought friends with you today. That’s new.”

  “They’re good friends, Sam. Everything’s good, okay?” Jim asked.

  “Sure,” Sam said shyly, but understanding the code. “Whatever you say.”

  “Sandy, can I ask you for a favor? Will you fetch meal vouchers for the three of us? I believe Angie is already working on them. We’ll meet you and Sam in the dining hall for lunch,” Jim said, stroking her hair as he gazed into her radiantly happy face.

  “Lunch with you is a special treat. I have the best brother in the whole world,” she proclaimed to Casey and Ben.

  “Stop bragging on me. It’s making me hungrier,” Jim teased, making her giggle. “Go get our vouchers.”

  “I’ll clean up and be right there,” Sam said gently.

  “Come on, I’ll help,” Sandy said, all but dancing. “You’ll make us even later if you take too long.”

  Sam nodded at the men and walked away with Sandy chatting animatedly by his side.

  When the couple had disappeared, Jim turned back to them.

  “I have never shared this with anyone but those who absolutely had to know. I couldn’t risk the press or anyone else distressing her. It took me a long time to find an environment Cassandra could thrive in and not just stay sedated all the time. I felt you needed to join the category of those who need to know, but now I’m going to ask you not to share it. Regina knows. Please don’t tell Alexa until—,” Jim faltered.