by Sophia Renny
Her breath hitched at the sound of him speaking her name for the first time, the mix of wonder and craving in his voice pouring like warm honey over her skin. She blinked rapidly as he held her captive with his piercing gaze. It was impossible to conceal her longing from him, a feeling he clearly shared, though he held himself in check.
“Is it short for Margaret?”
“N-no. It’s just Maggie. Maggie Rose Edwards.”
“What a pretty name.” His fingers drew slow whorls on her skin. “How old are you, Maggie Rose Edwards?”
“Thirty.”
Relief flickered in his eyes. “I thought you were much younger. You have such beautiful, soft skin. And the way you were that night…so sweet, so innocent.”
To hide her sudden tension she quickly asked, “How old are you?”
“Thirty seven. It feels bizarre that we’re just now exchanging vital statistics after we’ve already shared the deepest intimacies doesn’t it?” He grinned. “My full name is Jason Christopher Armitage. My friends call me Jace for short.”
Her heartbeat kicked up a notch at the way his grin transformed his expression; it made him look much younger than thirty seven. She could almost see him as he might have looked as a mischievous little boy. She smiled, feeling less on edge. “I like that name. And Christopher is one of my favorite saints.”
“Mine too. The protector of those on long journeys.” His grin faded. “You and I have been on a long journey these last six months, haven’t we.” Before she could respond, he tightened his hold on her leg. “Why did you leave before I woke up, Maggie? As soon as you opened that door tonight I knew I wasn’t the only one who’d felt the special connection we had.”
She shook her head mutely, her heart soaring at the vocal confirmation that she wasn’t alone in her feelings about that night. Just as quickly, her heart plummeted. Didn’t he remember speaking that name?
“I’ve been in hell since that night. I didn’t use a condom that last time.”
“You remember that? I thought you were asleep.”
“At first I thought it’d been a dream. But I remember coming inside of you, how amazing you felt around me.” He slid his hand up and over her dress to rest on her lower belly. “I’d been tested only a few weeks before that night. I’m clean. But were there any, uh, consequences?”
She dropped her hand over his, interlocking their fingers. “No.” His curious expression of worry and yearning matched the emotions she’d endured during those weeks after their passionate night. She’d started taking birth control pills three months before that night and knew it was almost impossible that she’d conceived—the timing hadn’t been right, anyway— but she’d still felt a profound disappointment that she hadn’t, in spite of everything her rational mind had tried to tell her.
He suddenly dropped his head to her stomach, resting his cheek on their clasped hands. Without conscious thought, she brought her free hand to his head, sifting her fingers through the soft strands of his hair. He gave a deep sigh, tension visibly easing from his body as he relaxed more fully against her. He placed his other hand on her hip, his thumb rubbing slow circles over her hipbone. His voice was so soft she had to tilt her head closer to hear him ask, “Do you like children, Maggie?”
“Yes, I do. I’d like to have some of my own one day.”
He angled his head slightly to press a tender kiss on her hand but kept his face concealed from her. Her heart dropped like a boulder in her chest when she heard his faint whisper. “I had a child.”
Had; all of the heartbreak in the world spoken in that one small word.
The room seemed to go still around them. Maggie could scarcely breathe, shocked and deeply stirred by his confession. In sharing something so intimate, so tragic with her, he confirmed just how close they’d bonded during those brief hours together six months before.
She stayed quiet, finding it impossible to find the right words to say to him at that moment. And she sensed there was more he wanted to share. She waited, continuing to slowly stroke his hair.
“Her name was Gina. She was six years old when…she died.”
Maggie didn’t even try to hold back her tears. There was so much agony and love in his voice. A father’s love. Something she would never know. “How…how did she die?”
He was quiet for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer. But she sensed that this was something he wanted to tell her. She wondered if he’d ever shared this much with anyone before her. “It was a car accident. Four years ago. It was February. My wife was taking Gina home from a ballet lesson. They hit a patch of black ice and slammed into a tree. I was told they both died instantly.” A hint of cynicism entered his voice. “As if that was supposed to comfort me somehow.”
She placed her palm on the nape of his neck. When it seemed that he wasn’t going to say anything further she murmured, “Rachel was your wife.”
He lifted his head, looked at her with confusion, eyes red with unshed tears. “How do you know her name?”
Her breath hitched on the sob she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Y-you spoke it. That night. After the last time we made…the last time. You were crying. You said her name just before you fell back to sleep.”
His face paled as he tracked the tears rolling down her face. He sat up quickly, grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her into his chest. He wrapped one arm around her waist; the other pressed her head against his throat. She felt him swallow. His breathing hitched. “So that’s why you left without a word, without even a note.”
Her sobs grew louder. “You sounded so g-guilty. I thought you’d lied to me. I t-thought you’d cheated on your wife or girlfriend. I felt sick thinking I’d been part of that.”
He rubbed his hand up and down her back, bringing her closer still. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry you thought that. Shh. Don’t cry.”
But she’d reached her limit. The shock of seeing him again tipped the scales on the teetering see-saw of emotions she’d fought to keep in balance for the last six months. Underlying that was the adrenaline rush of work over the past week, the long hours and sleepless nights. All of that combined with learning of his tragic personal loss had simply become too much to bear.
With effortless strength he lifted her from the bed and carried her over to an armchair in the corner. He sat down, cradling her in his arms, her legs draped across his knees, her head tucked into his shoulder. His chest vibrated with soft, indistinguishable words of comfort as he gently rocked back and forth.
She’d never been held this way by a man. Never. With the help of Dr. Moira she thought she’d dealt with every emotion, every repercussion that stemmed from that devastating hole in her life. Apparently not. His embrace opened wounds that were still too fresh. She held his shirt in clutching hands, clinging to the reassuring male strength that was a heart-wrenching reminder of all that she’d missed as a little girl and a young woman.
But she wasn’t going to mull in self-pity. She’d been there and done that. Two years of intensive therapy had taught her to live in the present, to celebrate each day for the blessing that it was. And what a wonderful gift it was to be held in the arms of a man whom she never thought she would see again.
As her sobs gradually diminished she became aware of his words. His voice shook as if he were struggling to hold back his own tears. “Hush, Maggie. Hush now. You have nothing to worry about. I’m here.” He kissed her temple. “I’m here.”
She lifted one hand to his face, pressed her palm to his cheek. She took several deep breaths, her body still trembling with residual sobs. Her thumb brushed along the ridge of his cheekbone. She drew back, resting her head in the curve of his upper arm and shoulder as she raised her damp eyes to his. “Thank you,” she said softly, pouring all of her gratitude and…love into those two simple words.
She loved him.
She wondered if she’d fallen in love with him at first sight and had only been burying that powerful emotion for the last six months. Because there
wasn’t any lightning bolt or clap of thunder in her head, no sudden, sharp recognition. It was as if she’d merely unbolted a door that had hidden what she’d known all along.
She grabbed his shirt collar, tugged his face down to hers. Her lips parted in a happy little sigh before she pressed her mouth to his. She felt him smile against her mouth as his hand came up to cradle her head, his fingers sifting into her coiled hair.
It was a tender kiss, close-mouthed, almost chaste. Lips pressing against each other, drawing back, shared smiles before touching again. She breathed in his scent, citrus and cedar and warm, vigorous man. She took a teasing tug at the comma of hair at the nape of his neck before tunneling her fingers into his hair, hair that was a little longer and thicker than when she’d seen him last. He made a sound of contentment against her mouth.
She could have kissed him like this forever.
Until her stomach growled with a loud and demanding noise that seemed to reverberate throughout the room.
He pulled back, eyes glowing with teasing amusement. “Is there a tiger in the room?”
She laughed and blushed.
“God, I’ve missed that blush of yours.” He trailed his fingertips across her cheek.
Her stomach growled again.
He sat upright, bringing her with him. “When did you last eat?”
She had to think for a moment. “Not since breakfast. I was too nervous to eat much today. We were all so anxious to hear if we’d landed the account.”
He scooted off the chair with her still in his arms. He paused, staring at her quietly for a moment as if unwilling to let her go. He finally released her legs, holding her in a loose embrace until she was steady on her feet. “This is a good thing, actually,” he said gruffly. “As much as I want to toss you onto that bed and bury myself inside of you, we have a lot to talk about.” He gave her a light smack on her butt. “Go change into something comfortable. We’re going to get something to eat.”
She glanced at the bedside clock. “At two o’clock in the morning?”
“Sugar, this is New York. The night is only just beginning.”
He held her hand as they walked along the still busy sidewalks. She could not stop looking up at his smiling profile every few seconds. Jason. Jason. Jace. He was really here, holding her hand, here in the heart of Manhattan on a balmy summer night.
She swung their arms, giving in to the happy impulse to skip beside him. Dressed as she was in black yoga pants, pink hoodie and sneakers—her workout gear—she felt like a teenage girl. A teenage girl in love.
Jason laughed as he brought her closer to his side. “Watch out for that garbage can, hon.” He steered them around it.
“Have you always lived in New York?” she wondered.
“No. I was born and raised in Nebraska.”
“Right next door!”
“You’ve always lived in Iowa then?”
“No.” She hesitated. “I grew up in Washington State. I went to the University of Iowa and decided to stay there after graduation. Do you still have family in Nebraska?”
“Yes. My parents live there. I have two younger brothers, one lives in Nebraska, the other moved to Idaho.”
“Are they married?”
“Nathan, the middle one is. He and his wife, Anne, have one daughter and another baby on the way.” There was a slight catch in his voice. She pressed his hand. He pressed back, giving her a sideways smile. “And you? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Oh, what is that delicious smell?”
They were walking by a bakery. It was closed, but a light shone from a small screened window near the entrance to a narrow alleyway. She tugged Jason’s hand, bringing him to a halt just outside the open window. Peeking in, she watched as an older man, Italian by the looks of him, pulled trays of freshly baked bread from a huge commercial oven.
“That smells wonderful!” Maggie said loudly.
The man turned from the oven and smiled. “You like sourdough bread, lady? You wanna try?” Without waiting for a reply, he set a loaf on a cutting board and sliced off one end. He unlatched the window screen and handed the bread to her.
Maggie released Jason’s hand to hold the warm chunk of bread in both hands as she took a bite. She rolled her eyes in ecstasy. “Oh my God, this is delicious. Try some.”
She held the bread up to Jason. He took a bite from her hands, his eyes twinkling into hers. “Mmm,” he said. He took another bite, his teeth also taking a teasing nibble at her fingers as he did.
Maggie gave a shivery laugh. She turned back to the baker. “Will you sell that loaf to us?”
The older man waved his hands. “No, beautiful lady. That was the first batch. You were my test tasters.” He chuckled. “You’re still alive. Means it’s okeydokey.”
Maggie and Jason joined in his jovial laughter. “How lucky for us that we were walking by at just the right time,” Maggie said.
While she spoke, the baker put the loaf in a paper bag and extended it through the window. “Here, you take. Godetevi. Enjoy.”
Jason pulled out his wallet and drew out a ten dollar bill. He offered it to the man who again waved his hands. “No, no,” he demurred. “It’s my gift.” He kissed the tips of his fingers in an old-world gesture. “Ah, amore. To be young and in love on such a beautiful night.” He gave a sigh that seemed to carry sweet memories of when he’d been a young man in love.
Maggie blushed.
Jason took the unfinished chunk of bread from her unmoving hands and dropped it in the bag before putting his arm around her shoulders. “Thank you, sir. Have a good night.”
The baker was whistling a romantic tune as Jason guided her further along the street. “There’s an all-night diner just around the corner,” he said. “They make the best clam chowder.”
“Yum. That sounds perfect. And we have the bread to go with it!”
Before they reached the corner that led to an even busier street, Jason suddenly propelled her around to face him, his other hand clutching her waist as he pushed her back against the side of a building. His head swooped down, his mouth capturing hers in a fervent, demanding kiss. Maggie eagerly parted her lips, welcoming his hot, needy tongue with her own. She threw her arms around his shoulders, sinking her fingers in the nape of his neck to pull him closer. God, she’d missed this.
He pulled back before the embrace got too out of hand. “Beautiful lady,” he murmured, “You taste so sweet.”
She grinned. “Spearmint toothpaste and sourdough bread?”
He couldn’t resist giving her another quick kiss. “No,” he said as he steered her around the corner. “Just you.”
The diner was busy, the patrons a mix of all ages and ethnicities. The hostess led them to the last empty booth, just outside the kitchen door. Jason scooted onto the bench next to Maggie instead of sitting across from her. He draped his left arm over her shoulders as they studied the menu together. The entire side of his body from chest to foot pressed against her. She snuggled into him, relishing the feel of his solid, strong masculinity.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked her.
“Just water.”
A waitress hovered. Jason ordered two bowls of clam chowder and some waters. He opened the bag the baker had given them and tore off two chunks of bread, handing one to Maggie. They chewed in silence, smiling at each other, oblivious to the noise around them, the crowd of young club-goers scarfing down burgers and fries at the counter, the group of college students arguing politics a few tables away, the constant swinging of the kitchen door as the wait staff scurried back and forth.
They only glanced away from each other when the waitress returned a short time later with their meal. Jason kept his arm around Maggie while they ate. She savored the delicious chowder, the crunchy sourdough bread, the feel of Jason’s body next to hers. “This is wonderful,” she whispered.
He smiled in agreement. “The best date ever.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, i
s that what this is?” she asked coyly. “A date?”
He tugged at her earlobe. “A man. A woman. A meal shared. It’s a date.”
She caught a flicker of something—pain or regret, she couldn’t tell—in his eyes before he blinked it away. She looked down at her bowl, nearly empty now. “Did you ever take Rachel here?”
“Yes. We’d meet here sometimes. My office is just a couple of blocks away. She’d take the train into the city once or twice a month.”
“Have you been here since…?”
“Since the accident? No.” He was silent for a few moments. His fingers continued to idly play with her earlobe. “I’m glad I came here tonight with you, Maggie,” he finally said softly. “It feels right somehow.”
She tilted her face up to his, her heart lightening at his words. “What was she like?” A gut feeling compelled her to ask the question. She knew her instincts were right when he merely smiled, not revealing any discomfort at the direction their conversation was taking.
“You know how some people just light up a room the moment they enter it? That was Rachel. She was so full of life.” He pulled out his wallet, opened it with one hand and flipped through to a plastic photo holder. He pushed it towards her. “This was taken the summer before she died. We were vacationing in Maine.”
Maggie studied the photo. Rachel sat in profile on a rocky outcropping overlooking the ocean, her face angled slightly towards the camera. She had long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was slender and attractive with an open and inviting smile. “She’s beautiful.”
Jason brushed his finger along the photo edge, studying it quietly for a few moments before flipping to the next photo. “And this is Gina.”
A happy little girl with a missing front tooth grinned at them from her class photo. She had black curly hair and blue eyes. Maggie smiled back. “She looks like you.”
“Her kindergarten photo. She loved school. She wanted to be a teacher.”
Maggie placed her hand over his. “Thank you for showing these to me. I know it must be hard.”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “The pain will never go away, Maggie. It just becomes another part of you. But I’ve learned not to hide it. I’m pretty open about it with my family and friends. It’s become…easier…to talk about over the last couple of years.”