But no. She’d been telling the truth when she said she wanted to date Peter Leary. She’d asked Jack for a favor and he’d granted it. Favor complete, game over.
Too bad he’d had to go and get his fucking heart broken in the process.
The heavy beat of a bass guitar reverberated through Meadowview’s Community Center, sending pain thundering like a herd of bulls through Lia’s head. The headache had been caused by either the tiny flashing lights of the 1970s-era disco ball overhead or the fact that all she’d had to eat that day were a few fat-laden hors d’oeuvres. The two Lemon Drop martinis weren’t helping, either. She groaned and placed a hand against her forehead.
She hadn’t missed a Fireman’s Ball in ten years. Even when she was married to Vance, they’d at least put in an appearance.
But this time she wished she’d stayed home. The Center, usually spacious, was filled to capacity with men in suits and women in evening gowns, all chattering away at top volume, all pressing against her. Claustrophobia began to build.
“Hey, sexy. Sorry I left you alone. Needed refreshments.” Peter appeared out of the crowd, holding up two martini glasses. “Want one?”
She shook her head, to her immediate regret, then closed her eyes and groaned.
“What’s wrong?”
“Headache,” she replied. She dug around in her handbag for aspirin. Keys, change, several tubes of lip gloss, but no painkillers. Damn.
Peter drained both martinis and placed the glasses on the bistro table beside them. He startled her by placing one hand around the back of her head and held it steady, then pressed two fingers on the bridge of her nose.
“What are you doing?” she asked. Her eyes crossed as she peered at his fingers.
“Acupressure. It’ll send that headache packing in no time.”
“I look stupid.”
“Nah, you look sexy. Even with some guy’s hand all over your face. Although”—he pulled his hand away to wiggle his eyebrows at her—“I can think of better places on your body to put my hands.”
Lia sighed. Sexy, gorgeous Peter Leary may once have been a man she could see dating, but no more. The sexual innuendos he tossed out like confetti were driving her nuts, and probably adding to her headache. But, she realized, much to her relief, his acupressure had done the trick.
“Headache gone?” he asked.
“Wow,” she said. “Are you always that quick?”
“Just with headaches, babe. With other things I take a very long time,” he said, adding another set of furious eyebrow waggling.
Yeah, she got it. Peter thought he was a great lover. If she saw his forehead to go up and down one more time, she’d likely scream. Or smack him upside the head.
Goodness gracious, she was becoming as snarky as Sadie. She looked past Peter’s shoulder to observe the party occurring around them. The newlyweds—her brother Ethan and Sadie—were there, with Sadie’s baby bump barely visible under her full-length black satin dress. A smile spread across Lia’s face as she watched her brother take his pregnant wife by the hand and lead her onto the dance floor, his gaze never leaving Sadie’s. Funny how Ethan had been Sadie’s first crush and they’d ultimately found their way to one another. It seemed as though fate had played a hand in bringing the two of them together.
Chessie brushed by, her long auburn hair flowing as Theo twirled her around the dance floor. The pink and green striped vintage 1950s dress suited her perfectly. With her hair held back from her face with a white bow and white full-length gloves, she looked like a holiday debutante. Although on a date with a nubile brunette, Theo had apparently grabbed Chessie away from her own date with one of the firefighters—Malcolm—for a wild dance. Out of their group, only Jack hadn’t shown up to the Fireman’s Ball, which was unusual for him. As a volunteer firefighter, Jack hadn’t missed the event in years.
Lia nibbled at her lip. He wouldn’t have avoided the event because she hadn’t returned any of his phone calls, she told herself. It had to be for some other reason. Maybe he was sick.
He’d resumed calling her over the last few days, but she’d screened her calls, letting all of his go to voice mail. She knew she shouldn’t be angry with him, but the image of him practically making out with Liz ate at her. Each time the image of the two of them in his kitchen flashed in front of her eyes, waves of pain washed over her. Pain, because he was the one person who’d seen past her barriers and touched her soul. Her heart.
Stupid, she knew. All she had to do was answer one of his calls and ask him if he was going out with Liz. Could be she’d misunderstood the embrace. But she couldn’t. Couldn’t call, couldn’t bear hearing Jack say that yeah, he was dating Liz.
Because really, it didn’t matter if he was or wasn’t dating someone. What mattered was that she could no longer be with him, could not risk him seeing even more of her than he already had.
Sex had changed everything.
Funny, how she’d hoped sex would be the catalyst for change, but she’d never anticipated her emotions changing once she slept with a man. Once she slept with Jack.
“We got invited to continue some party at the Goldpan after the dance is over,” Peter said. “Sound good to you?” He leaned in close, his breath reeking of alcohol.
Lia almost gagged. Peter wasn’t drunk, at least, not yet, but he certainly hadn’t made an effort to pace himself. “We’ll see,” she hedged. She glanced at the clock over the front door. Nearly midnight. The party would be over soon and she could gracefully excuse herself and walk home, leaving Peter to his party at the pub. She doubted he’d miss her once he realized she wasn’t going to put out. As much as she’d hinted throughout the night that the evening wasn’t going to end with a roll between the sheets, Peter hadn’t seemed to pick up on her cues. It would probably take an anvil dropped on his head to get it through his thick skull.
The front door opened. When she saw who entered, a chill shot down her spine. Liz Pritchard, dressed in a hot pink dress featuring a neckline that plunged nearly to her navel, stood in the doorway, draped over Jack. Lia watched, her attention riveted to the couple. Liz grabbed Jack by the tie and pulled him toward the bar.
Peter followed her line of sight. “Whoa,” he said, laughing. “Jack’s gonna get himself some fine ass tonight.”
“Don’t say that,” Lia heard herself snap. She kept her gaze glued to the couple at the bar.
Peter shifted, deliberately blocking her view. “Why, you got a thing for Jack Gibson?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“I think you do.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then why can’t you take your eyes off the dude, huh? Unless it’s the chick he’s with you’re hot for.”
“That’s rude,” she retorted, whipping her gaze to meet Peter’s.
“Rude, crude, and lewd, that’s what you think of me.” When she shook her head, he continued. “No, it’s true. I’m a horn-dog. I’m pretty sure you know my reputation. Why else would a quiet and reserved woman like you suddenly start flirting with me over pie in the fire station, and why else would she ask me out?”
Lia blew out a long breath of air. Suddenly, she felt drained. She wanted this evening to be over, wanted to go home, and most definitely wanted to leave the room before she had to see Liz’s hands all over Jack again.
Too late. Liz and Jack came into view, and she couldn’t seem to rip her gaze away from Jack. Thank God he hadn’t seen her yet.
“Holy hell,” Peter said, his voice low.
“What?” she snapped, noticing his attention on Jack.
“You do have a thing for Jack Gibson.”
“I do not,” she lied.
“That’s why you came on to me at the fire station, wasn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were trying to make Jack jealous. That’s why you were flirting with me. That’s why you asked me to the dance. To get his attention.”
&nbs
p; “No,” she said. Peter had it all wrong. She hadn’t wanted to make Jack jealous. She’d been using Jack to get her over her fear of sex so she could sleep with Peter. Although, after tonight, she certainly didn’t want Peter anymore. God, she hadn’t wanted to be with Peter since…realization hit. Since ever.
This had always been about Jack.
Her request? Her rational mind had said it was about learning how to be touched by a man again. But her heart? She’d never thought to include her heart in the analysis when she came up with her plan. Theo Courant would have probably been a better teacher—the man was a known playboy. And as much as she cared for Theo, he wasn’t one of her best friends, the way Jack was. There would have been an emotional distance that she never had with Jack. Yes, Theo would have been the better choice.
But she’d chosen Jack.
Peter took her elbow in his hand, bringing her back to the present. “Look, I get it. You want him. And trust me, that dude wants you so bad he almost got in a fight with me over you.”
Wait—what? She froze, shell-shocked. Jack wasn’t allowed to hit anyone. He’d been convicted of a felony the night he’d protected her from her dad. He’d go back to prison if he was caught fighting. Why would he risk jail time over her?
“That doesn’t make sense,” she mumbled.
“Love doesn’t make sense, sweetheart,” Peter said. “Never does.” He shot a look back over his shoulder. “In a couple of seconds he’ll turn around, and when he does, he’ll see us. You wanna make him jealous? We’ll put on a show he won’t ever forget.”
Oh, God, no. She had to stop Peter’s misguided desire to help her out before he made a disastrous mistake. Before he embarrassed both her and him. “Yes, well…before we—”
“Three, two, one…”
“What?”
Peter dropped his mouth to hers. He wrapped his arms tight around her and spread his hands wide, pressing one against the small of her back and holding the back of her head with the other as he kissed her—hard. She pushed against his chest and tried to pull her head back, but he held tight and kept his mouth fused to hers. His lips were harsh and dry, where Jack’s had been strong and supple. And her body didn’t tingle the way it did when Jack kissed her.
Peter was nothing like Jack. No man was.
And yet the idiot wouldn’t stop kissing her. Jesus! Inspiration struck. She inched her hands upward and undid a button on his shirt, then reached in. With a quick pinch and tug, she pulled out several chest hairs.
“Christ almighty!”
There. Peter’s mouth was no longer on hers and he’d let go of her to massage his chest.
“Why did you pull out my chest hairs? I was helping you,” he said, appearing baffled.
“Helping me? I didn’t want you kiss me in the first place. Didn’t you get that I wanted you to stop?”
“I thought you wanted to make Jack jealous. I asked you if you wanted to put on a show, and you said yes.”
She’d said yes? Realization dawned. He’d taken her words literally. She pinched her lips together. Never, ever go out with a male bimbo again, she lectured herself.
“What did you think I was doing pushing against your chest?” she asked.
“Well, until you yanked my hair out by the roots, I thought you just wanted to touch my man boobs.”
He looked so puzzled that Lia couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.
“I think I need another martini,” he muttered.
“And I think I need some air,” she said. “I’m going outside for a moment.”
“Sure. I’ll find you later.”
As she threaded her way through the crowd, she realized that kiss with Peter had shown her something. Something she never would have believed if it had not been for her sex lessons with Jack.
When Peter’s mouth had covered hers and he hadn’t let go, rather than a wave of panic sweeping over her and shutting down her brain, irritation had set in. It wasn’t that she’d panicked over the kiss with Peter—she simply hadn’t liked it. She hadn’t been afraid.
She’d been…normal.
Which would be a wonderful achievement, except for the fact that another realization had set in. As Peter had kissed her, all she could do was compare the kiss to those Jack had given her. All she could do was think of Jack. All she wanted was to be with Jack.
All she needed was Jack.
Oh, God. She was in love with Jack Gibson.
She just couldn’t find the courage to tell him. To risk everything.
* * *
Jack had noticed Lia the moment he stepped into the community center. The fuckhead Peter Leary had been all over her. But Lia hadn’t seemed happy. She’d appeared frigid. Frozen. Like the Lia from before their lessons. Not the Lia she’d become. When Peter kissed her and she’d reacted by pushing him away, Jack had set Liz aside and charged forward, ready to beat the shit out of the man. Instead, he realized Lia was laughing. She may not have wanted the junior firefighter to kiss her, but she hadn’t been freaked out by it, either.
Good for her.
But when Peter had left her alone, her expression had grown melancholy. So when Lia left the community center, a concerned Jack followed her outside, into the quiet night. He breathed deep, thankful for the quiet of the outdoors and the frosty air in his lungs. Blowing out a breath, he watched as it turned into a cloud in front of him. The torrential rains had finally disappeared and the deep freeze of winter had returned. He leaned against the cool brick of the community center and watched Lia, wondering why she’d come outside. He waited as she took a few steps forward into the pool of light made by the gas street lamp. Illuminated there, her beauty struck him, as it always did, and his heart leaped.
The wind picked up, blowing tiny specks of snow against her to form fine pinpoints of white against her cranberry velvet dress. While most of Meadowview had been indoors at the party of the season, it had started to snow. Lia had come out without a jacket and was standing in the snow in her full-length, sleeveless dress, shivering. The wind gusted again, this time sending a flurry of snow against the deep red.
“Angry snow,” she murmured.
“What did you say?” he asked. His voice sounded gruff and he cleared his throat.
She whipped around to see him standing a foot from her. “Angry snow. My mom used to call these miniature snowflakes ‘angry’ snow.”
“Most of us call it ‘powder.’ It makes for good skiing.” He stepped forward to place his suit jacket around her shoulders.
“I know.” Her voice was quiet. She tugged the jacket tighter. “But I think of it as angry snow. It’s the kind that’s carried in on a cold storm. I always thought it meant something bad was going to happen.”
“Depressing thought. Is there such thing as ‘happy’ snow?”
She smiled at that. Warmth spread through his belly.
“Yes. Happy snow is like those old-fashioned Currier and Ives prints. You know, where the snowflakes are as big as a baby’s hand?”
He nodded. He wrapped his arms around himself as a shield against the bitter cold. Or maybe to shield himself from what Lia would say in answer to his question. “Lia, what are you doing with Peter?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me that. He was all over you back there.” He tipped his head in the direction of the community center. “Are you going to sleep with him?”
“That’s none of your business, remember? We’ve had sex—we’re done with the lessons, so you don’t get to be involved in my personal life anymore.” She turned her back to him.
“After what we experienced together, I think I have plenty of right to ask what you’re doing with your personal life. Tell me.”
Lia whipped about. He’d expected to see anger, fury even, but instead saw caution. And…fear? Had his “gentling” lessons meant nothing? Done nothing for her? Why did she look so scared?
“Why?” she asked. “Because we slept together?”
“No!” He
ran a hand through his hair. Shit! He was blowing this.
“Then why?”
He shot his head up to stare straight in her eyes. “Because I care about you, goddamn it.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “I know you care about me. You always have. But this thing? It was never meant to be more than temporary. And now it’s over. So we both need to move on.”
“You don’t seem like it’s over. You seem like you’re still scared—”
She cut him off with a swipe of her hand. “Peter wants to sleep with me.”
He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline building, knew he needed to gain control of the anger before it became rage. First step, recognize your trigger. Second step, three acts of control: breathe, relax, visualize.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t relax. He sure as hell couldn’t imagine a peaceful place. All he could see was Douchebag Peter’s mouth covering Lia’s.
He grabbed her then, and kissed her. No matter that minutes before her mouth had been on Peter’s, he had to taste her. Had to feel her. He pushed her backward until he had her pressed against the brick wall. She moaned, but yielded under his hands, under his mouth. He covered her mouth with his, taking everything, giving away nothing. He cupped her head and pressed his mouth to hers so hard he could feel the skin on the back of his hand scrape against the bricks. Her body shook underneath him as he kissed her again and again and again. And again.
He wouldn’t let up.
He’d never let up.
Light and warmth spilled across them as someone threw open the community center door. A crowd of partygoers tumbled out. Shaking, he stopped kissing Lia and pulled his head away from hers. He kept his hand wrapped around the back of her head, however, and placed his mouth near her ear.
“I love you, Lia. I have since the first time I kissed you, back at your high school dance. I’ve always loved you.”
Trusting The One (Meadowview Heat 2; The Meadowview Series 2) Page 15