by Robin Kaye
“Wait, I can’t… I mean… I’ve got to… don’t you think Fisher would be better off with one of you? I’m not equipped. I have a hard enough time taking care of myself.”
Grampa Joe patted Jessie’s knee. “Aw, we’ll be fine. We can take care of Fisher.”
Kate’s eyes flashed before she dragged Grampa Joe off the couch. “Oh no, you don’t. Come on, old man. It’s time for your Metamucil.”
“You’d think with all the tree bark you feed me, I’d be as regular as a Rolex.”
Kate spread her arms like a mother hen gathering her chicks and shuffled them out the door.
The snick of the lock sealed Jessie’s fate. She was trapped.
Fisher wrapped his arm around her and tucked her under his shoulder. “Well, that was fun. Not.”
She tilted her face towards his, so they were nose to nose. “What just happened here?”
He cracked a smile. That damn dimple was lethal. “Do you want the short version or the long?”
“Keep it pithy.”
“The good news is the family likes you.”
“And the bad news?”
“The family likes you. They’ll be back.”
“Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Fisher pulled her with him as he lay back on the couch. “Okay, but this time you’re gonna have to be on top.”
***
“Sex is out of the question, no matter who’s on top.” Jessie ignored his mumbling, pulled away from Fisher, and rolled to her feet.
“Well, that’s a damn shame, since it seems like my dick is the only part of my body functioning right now.”
“You need to eat. Call it an early lunch. Then it’s back into bed for you. Alone.”
Jessie checked out the food situation. She wondered when Kate had the time to prepare all the meals neatly stacked and labeled in the refrigerator. There was a big Tupperware bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup, that, amazingly enough, was still warm.
She reheated the soup in the microwave, brought it into the living room, and set it on a TV tray she’d found in the closet.
Fisher eyed the soup. “I’m not really hungry.”
“Too bad, you need to eat. Doctor’s orders.” When he didn’t make a move, she took a spoonful and held it up. “Either you eat, or I feed you.”
He ate because she forced him. She ate because she was starving, and it was the best soup she’d ever consumed. She’d never seen homemade noodles before. Heck, she’d only eaten canned soup or wonton from the Chinese place down the street from her building.
After Fisher finished eating, Jessie helped him back to the bathroom. He tried to send her on her way, but she waited outside. He wasn’t happy about it, but she didn’t see why she should be the only one mortified that morning. It was a good thing she waited too. By the time he’d gotten the door open, he looked even greener than he had before, and she practically carried him back to bed.
She lowered the blinds, and then helped him adjust his pillows, before pulling the sheet over him. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you in an hour. Call me if you need anything.”
“You’re not coming to bed?” He grabbed her hand and tugged her to him. “You must be exhausted too. You’ve had less sleep than I have.”
Jessie headed toward the door. “I’m fine. I’ve got to make a few phone calls and get to work. The book isn’t going to write itself.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. What could he say? She grabbed her computer and her phone and turned toward the living room.
“Jessica?”
She stopped and held onto the door frame, tempted to jump back in bed, curl into him, and forget everything that happened. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for staying.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
He rolled over onto his side. “It is to me.”
She shook her head and headed back to the living room. She turned on her phone, since she finally had cell coverage, and booted up her computer. When she looked at her voice mail messages, she didn’t even bother listening to them. She just hit call and waited for Andrew to answer.
“You’re back!”
Jessie laid on the couch, pulled the afghan over her, and put a pillow beneath her head. “Well, don’t you sound chipper? Why all the phone calls, especially when you knew I’d be out of touch?”
“You didn’t listen to your messages?”
“I knew I’d be calling you anyway, so why waste time?”
“Skype me. I want to see the look on your face when I tell you.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I look like shit. I hope you have a strong stomach.” She turned on Skype and clicked onto Andrew’s account. His face popped up on the screen.
“Wow, you do look like shit.”
“Told ya. Now what’s got you so excited? A new woman in your life?”
Jessie sat back and smiled. She looked at Andrew through different eyes. She’d never noticed how handsome he turned out to be. When they’d started college, he was skinny and lanky, and well, geeky. In the last ten years, he’d filled out, worked out, and had gotten contacts. His bright blue eyes sparkled on the screen, a hint of a beard darkened his square jaw, and his smile showed off his parents’ investment in orthodontia. How could she have not noticed how attractive he was before? “You know, Andrew, you’re a really good-looking guy.”
He squinted at her. “Are you feeling okay?”
“You really don’t want to know.”
“Of course, I do.”
“Well, yesterday while I was fly-fishing for the first time, I fell into a raging river and almost drowned. Fisher jumped in after me and tried to save me, but ended up hitting his head on a boulder and passing out. I was the one who had to do the rescuing. He’s got a third-degree concussion, and I’m sore in places that I never knew existed.” She didn’t mention that some of the soreness came from amazing sex, but there were some things Andrew really didn’t need to know.
“Sounds like a good time. Where are you now?”
“Back in Boise, at Fisher’s house. He can’t be left alone, and his family has chosen me to play nursemaid.”
“They obviously don’t know you well. Either that, or they don’t care much about your boyfriend.”
“I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen.” She didn’t want to talk about Fisher’s family. She still hadn’t gotten over the sting of that morning’s fiasco enough to laugh about it. She doubted she ever would. “So, what did you have to tell me face-to-face?”
“I was talking to a friend of mine over at ESPN, and he mentioned that they had an opening for a sports reporter. I sent him your stuff, and some of the online video interviews you did for your blog—part of the job is on camera, but the camera loves you almost as much as I do. You’re a shoo-in.”
“Oh, my God. Andrew, I love you!”
“I know.” He looked way too pleased with himself.
“Mitch Seibert will be in LA the week after next. Just call his assistant, send her your resume, and set up a meeting. She’ll make your travel arrangements. You can crash with me while you’re in town. That will give you ample opportunity to thank me then in the usual manner.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I hope you’re up for an all-nighter.” Andrew cracked a smile, and she wondered how much the tab would be in one of the swanky LA bars Andrew frequented.
“I’m up for anything. Paying up will be my pleasure.”
“You know it, sugar. I can’t wait to see you. It’s been way too long.”
“Yeah, it has. But don’t forget, you’re the one who left me in New York.”
“You could have come with me.”
“Yeah, right. What would all your women think?”
“No woman is as special as you. You know that.”
“Aw, you sweet-talker. Look, I’ve gotta get some work done before I have to wake Fisher to make sure I haven’t killed h
im yet.”
“I wish him luck. He’s gonna need it.”
Chapter 14
Fisher slid back down the wall to the bedroom, praying his legs wouldn’t give out and that he didn’t throw up. He still couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Jessica told the good-looking guy on her computer that she loved him—even after he’d left her. Was this Andrew the reason she’d given up on love? Fuck, he’d like to get his hands on that asshole and pound him into dust. And now, she was going to LA for an interview and planned to stay with him. And the worst part about it was that Fisher couldn’t do a damn thing to prevent it.
Jessica had said she’d never been in love, that she didn’t believe in it. Why would she lie?
Questions went round and round in his head as he lay in his empty bed, trying to figure out what to do.
A half hour later when Jessica came to wake him, he had more questions than answers.
“Fisher, wake up, big guy.” He ignored her, until he felt the mattress dip next to him. She shook his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her down for a kiss. He’d never felt possessive before, but by God, he did now. She was his. She might not know it yet, but he sure as hell did.
Jessica ended the kiss and put her shaking fingers to her lips. Damn, he’d never kissed a woman like that before—it was all he could do to rein in his feelings. As foreign as they might be, they definitely were there. He didn’t like it. Possessiveness, jealousy, and passion warred with his very real need to love her.
His hands slid beneath her T-shirt and snapped her bra open.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“You have,” he said and pulled her shirt over her breasts and took one into his mouth. He laved at her breast as he slid his hands into the waistband of her pants, pushing them down, feeling her wetness.
He rolled them down her long legs as he pulled her on top of him and slid into her moist heat.
Her eyes shot open and stared into his. Hot, wet, intense. He was gonna be faster than an owl licking a Tootsie Pop. One… two… three. Holy shit. No condom, but it was too late. She was coming, and so was he.
Jessica collapsed on top of him. He was breathing like a freight train, his head throbbed with the beating of his heart, and reality crashed down on him like a ten-foot wave of ice-cold water.
He closed his eyes and swallowed. Damn, he’d taken her like an animal. “Jessica.”
“Hmm?” She nuzzled his neck before kissing his lips. “Are you okay?”
Well, at least this time she wasn’t crying—yet. “I’ll be fine, but we need to talk.”
“Yeah, what about? Your performance? Considering all you’ve been through in the last day, I’m not complaining.” She let out a girly giggle and then stopped when she looked at him. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine. It’s just that, damn, I wasn’t thinking, Jess. I didn’t use protection. I don’t suppose that you’re on any kind of birth control.”
“No. I’m not.”
“I didn’t think so. I’m sorry. I’ve never lost my head like that before.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t thinking either. At least you have an excuse.”
“No, I don’t. So, I guess this is the time to ask how you feel about kids?”
“Fisher.” She scooted off him. “It was just one time. I’m sure it will be fine.”
He sat up and brushed her hair away from her face, so he could look her in the eye. “Darlin’, one time is all it takes. Just ask my mother. Lord knows she told us all about it, over and over again, ad nauseam—not that it seemed to do any good, at least not where you’re concerned.”
“So now it’s my fault?”
“No, it’s definitely mine. I lose all control whenever you’re near me. Jess, I love you.”
Jessica blinked twice, and a flash of panic flew across her face before she schooled it. She took a deep breath. “No, you don’t.” She scooted away from him. “You took a blow to the head, and you’re not thinking straight.”
“Jess, I’m concussed, not crazy. Besides, I knew I loved you before we went for a dip in the river. That’s why you were out in the river on your own in the first place. I was so busy trying to figure out what to do about it that I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t warn you about the shelf.”
“God, Fisher, what the hell do you expect me to say? You’ve known me, what? A week and a half? We’ve had great sex, three times. And now we’re in forced confinement. You’re confused. It’s lust, not love.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, darlin’, but I’ve been in lust before, and this ain’t it. This is about a billion times stronger.”
“Well, stop it.”
“I can’t, and I don’t want to. I love you, Jessica, so you better just get used to it. It’s not going to change.”
***
Jessie paced the living room. She’d been talking to herself for the last twenty minutes, and nothing she said made her feel any better. She hoped Andrew would be more help. “Andrew, he says he loves me.”
“Was it in the throes of passion?”
“No. Just after that.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. The guy’s got a third-degree concussion, and he can still get it up?”
“Yeah, apparently that’s the only part of his body that’s functioning. He’s definitely not thinking straight. Andrew, what the hell am I going to do?”
“Why do you need to do anything?”
She couldn’t very well say, because they had unprotected sex, and she could be pregnant. God, she had terrible timing. She sank down on the sofa. “This dating thing is temporary.” But a baby wouldn’t be.
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re supposed to be supportive here. Tell me I’m right, and that he’s nuts. He’s known me a week and a half, Andrew. And I don’t believe in love.”
“Sugar, just because you don’t believe in it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Hell, if our forefathers behaved like you, we’d still think the world was flat.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re the one having sex with him. You must care for Fisher, at least a little bit. After all, you’re not acting like yourself. You saved his life, you’re playing nursemaid, and you’re not running for the hills at the first sign of attachment. Don’t knock love until you try it. It’s not so bad, especially if the other person loves you back.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
She heard something in his voice, a sadness that went straight to her heart. “What happened?”
Andrew cleared his throat. “Nothing. She never felt the same. It happens to the best of us.”
“Who is she?”
“That’s not important.”
Jessie was stunned. She’d always thought that she and Andrew shared everything. Apparently not. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too. Love isn’t something you can control. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just great sex?”
“Positive. I never made love to her, but I feel as if I’ve loved her forever.”
“Well, if you’re right, and love really does exist, she must be crazy not to love you. You’re a lovable guy.”
“Yeah, spoken like a woman who loves me like a friend. Enough about me. This is about you. What are you going to do?”
“Hell if I know.”
“Do you like him?”
“Yeah, he’s great. Well, except he’s scaring the hell out of me. I’m still not convinced that blow to the head didn’t knock a few screws loose. You’d think a doctor would have more brains than to fall in love with me.”
“He’s a doctor? I thought he was a bum.”
“That’s what I thought too until we walked into the hospital, and the nurse said, ‘Doctor Kincaid, what happened to you?’ Talk about a shock.”
“How could you think he was a bum?”
“The same w
ay I was convinced he lived with his mother.”
“He’s a doctor, and he lives with his mother?”
“No, turns out I was wrong about that too. I figured there had to be something wrong with him. The man is practically perfect. He’s gorgeous, intelligent, he’s got a great sense of humor, and he’s an amazing cook. He’s a little OCD and has an unnaturally clean house—hence, the reason I thought he lived with a Martha Stewart clone, but other than that, I haven’t found a damn thing wrong with him. It’s frustrating as hell. I was kind of banking on the bum thing, and the fact he lived with his mother to keep me safe.”
“Safe from what? Safe from falling head over heels in love with him?”
“Oh fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“My thoughts exactly. Love isn’t safe, sugar. They don’t make protective gear like shoulder pads and helmets for the heart. This I know. I guess you have to decide if you’ve got the courage to stick it out. Or are you going turn tail and run?”
She didn’t mention that she’d been eyeing the door ever since she’d left Fisher in the bedroom. “I’ve never run from anything in my life.”
Andrew laughed. “Come on, sugar. You can’t lie to me. I know you better than I know myself half the time. You’ve been running from love ever since Jamie Babcock broke your heart. But you know something? Running from someone who loves you isn’t that easy. They tend to chase you, and from what I can see, Fisher’s been chasing you from the first day he laid eyes on you. It sounds to me like you just threw the game.”
***
Fisher looked at his knitting and realized that Jessica had turned him into a serial yarn strangler. He was doing his knitting homework and keeping one eye on the clock, wondering if Jessica was still in the house, or if she’d run away. The tension in his knitting was going to shit.
He’d listened for her, but hadn’t heard anything. He told himself that it didn’t mean she’d left. The plaster walls tended to keep the house noise to a minimum.
When she escaped the bedroom, she’d closed the door, and left him too weak to chase after her. Damn this blasted concussion.
What the hell was he going to do if she left? Shit, she even had the keys to his car—not that he could drive, she’d been right about that. It would kill him, but he’d have to call Trapper or Hunter for help. It would suck, but not as bad as losing Jessica.