Starcrossed Hearts

by Star Crossed Hearts (lit)

  "Was she…in your bed?" Jessica was astounded at her own question, but she had to know.

  "No. It was…she was in the family room." His discomfort was tempered by amusement. "On the floor."

  This news pleased Jessica immensely. On the floor. Like wrestlers.

  "And when she left, did you say…will you be seeing her again?"

  He looked almost offended. "Of course not." He took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers.

  "She said I didn’t live there anymore," Jessica told him, and she could not stifle a giggle. "See what happens when you shower all the time?"

  Mac’s smile was like sunshine to her adoring eyes.

  An hour later they were back at the cabin. It was cold in the little house, and Mac removed his jacket and built them a fire. Jessica brought wine and glasses from the kitchen, and Mac flipped open the Futon in front of the fireplace.

  "I know you don’t really drink much, but I thought…"

  "I’d love some," he replied, lying down on the Futon on his stomach, facing the fire. She placed the glasses on the hearth and poured them each some of the wine before joining him.

  "Well, what do you think?" she asked.

  "Of what?"

  "Of my place."

  He turned on his side, after downing the wine and pouring himself another, and propped his head on his fist.

  "I like it," he said, reaching to her hair and playing with the ringlets, "but I miss you, in mine." His simple statement meant a lot.

  Jessica’s stomach felt like cement. Gosh, Jessie, this is just Mac, for goodness sake. Just Mac? What was he doing to her hair?

  "I need to get rid…of this…" He answered her thought by deftly pulling the pins from her hair, allowing the curls to fall around her shoulders. "Much better," he murmured. His hand moved through the hair and down her back, pulling her close to him on the makeshift bed. "Don’t be afraid of me, Jessie," he said softly.

  She could not answer. This was scary, this was new. This was different. As excited as she had ever felt at Dane’s touch, this was ten-fold, ascending all she’d felt before, and she could barely handle it. She wished she had drunk her untouched glass of wine.

  "Did I ever tell you how truly beautiful you are?" He was whispering in her ear, intoxicated more by the scent of her shampoo than the wine.

  "No," she replied, breathless. "But then…it’s not like you to say such things."

  "And how would you know that?" He smiled lazily.

  It was true. She had never seen his romantic side. Never experienced the sensual side of this man who had shared her pain, her secrets, her fears.

  His lips traced a path from her ear to her mouth, and she felt she would die with anticipation. His arms held her closer now, and his kiss was soft, and deep, and enduring. Never in her wildest imagination could she have suspected her former roommate of such talent. His lips caressed gently, kissing her again, and again, much to her ultimate joy. He didn’t paw her or push her; instead he behaved as if she was sixteen and breakable. And she loved it.

  He stopped briefly to look into her face with a sudden smile. "Should we be in the back seat of my car?"

  "Anywhere but your family room floor, Cory Lee," she whispered, her fingers toying with the burgundy suspenders. She could sense his excitement building with hers as she lay back and he lowered his lips to her throat, kissing down to the neckline of her dress.

  "This is great. Why didn’t we ever do this before?" he murmured. "All those weeks we could have--"

  Suddenly, the new telephone on the kitchen wall shattered the ambiance and they both started, then looked at each other. Jessica scrambled up to answer it. Who could be calling this late?

  Mac collapsed back on the bed. "If that’s Pierce, he’s a dead man," he called, throwing his arm across his eyes.

  Breathless and flushed, Jessica answered the phone. Mac could vaguely hear her apologizing to someone.

  "Oh no, no…not now." She was obviously upset, and Mac jumped up to join her. "God, I’m so sorry I forgot to call…of course, I’ll be on the next flight. I’ll be there, Mom, tell Chrissie not to worry. Jesus--! Um…I’ll call from the airport…I’ll take a taxi to the hospital."

  Jessica’s head was swimming. Mac stood behind her and held her lightly around the waist.

  "Okay Mom, tell them to hold off as long as they can. I’ll call if there’s a problem. And tell Chrissie I love her."

  She hung up and turned to Mac, tears blurring her vision. "Chrissie’s in labor. They need to do a section--a cesarean, she’ll need blood…mine…I promised her mine, she’s so afraid of getting bad blood..." Her words were jumbled and she was shaking badly.

  "Calm down, baby, where is she?"

  "Brighton…in Utah. They don’t want to start until I’m there. They’re going to try to wait, try to slow down the contractions. She’s already in pain…" She pressed her hand against her forehead and he held her. "I promised her I’d be there…oh God."

  Mac was in control. "Brighton…that’s near Salt Lake. Go pack a bag, quickly." He turned her toward the bedroom and gave her a gentle push, then picked up the phone.

  She was only remotely aware of his conversation. "…need to call in a big favor…I need the Gulf…now, tonight. And a pilot…I can’t fly. Salt Lake. Thanks a million…meet you at Burbank. Forty-five minutes."

  Jessica dried her face and emerged from the bedroom. "Are you trying to get reservations? I’ll never make it," she cried.

  "We will make it," he stated, putting on his jacket and closing up the dying fire. And they were on their way down the dark mountain.

  ~ * ~

  "That’s Las Vegas," he told her, pointing out the small window in the Gulfstream III jet he had borrowed from "a friend." Definitely a luxury edition, they sat in leather captain’s chairs drinking champagne. Mac had called in a very nice favor indeed. He’d also had a change of clothes in his trunk, which he brought along with Jessica’s hastily packed bag.

  "Oh my God, can I give blood if I’ve been drinking?"

  "Would you relax?" He smiled at her. "I’ll bet your sister would laugh out loud if she could see you." He tried to put her at ease. It was a two and a half hour flight in this, one of the fastest corporate jets available. He took her hand and kissed it. "Things will be fine."

  Mac called ahead on the "Jetfone" and a friend of her sister’s met them with a car. They rushed to the hospital where Christine had been taken for the surgery. Inside, Jessica ran to her mother in the waiting room. After embracing and wiping tears, Jessica asked, "Where’s Sissy?"

  Her mother motioned to a nearby door and turned to peer at Mac, who had quietly followed Jessica into the room. "My God, Jessie, you’ve brought your own doctor?" she said with a laugh. Mac scratched his eyebrow self-consciously, then extended his hand. "Mac MacKendall, Jessie’s…escort."

  "Can I see her?" Jessie was impatient.

  "Nick’s in with her. They’re prepping her," her mother responded.

  Janet Taylor was a petite woman but had a significant presence. With graying brown hair and sharp, dark brown eyes, she posed a stereotypical picture of anyone’s third grade teacher.

  A doctor approached and eyed Jessica with interest. "You must be Christine’s sister?"

  At Jessie’s nod he beckoned her to follow. She grabbed Mac’s hand and to his surprise, dragged him along. Her mother followed them to an examining room where a nurse drew blood from Jessica’s arm. She giggled nervously as Mac feigned dizziness while watching the blood flow into the receptacle.

  "The doctor recognized you. You must resemble your sister," Mac pointed out as they walked back toward Christine’s room.

  "I do…somewhat," she laughed, pushing the door open. Mac’s eyes rested immediately on the attractive girl in bed; her face, though pale and damp with perspiration, was Jessie’s face in exact detail; her hair was a shade lighter and in shorter, wet curls; her eyes were weary yet bright, and they, too, were Jessie’s eyes. "We’re identical
twins," Jessica said over her shoulder, rushing to her sister’s bedside, crying and hugging her at the same time. She missed Mac’s shocked expression, but Nick greeted him warmly.

  "Nick Reeves, Jessie’s brother-in-law," he extended his hand.

  "Mac MacKendall."

  Just then, another nurse entered the room. "We’re ready to go to the O.R.," she said cheerfully. Christine moaned. "While we’re getting them set up, you scrub and get changed," the nurse told Nick. Nick looked panicky and Mac helped usher him out of the room; Jessica could hear Mac’s voice trailing away as he recounted for Nick the details of Megan’s birth, one of his favorite subjects, offering words of comfort and support.

  Nick Reeves was what Jessica termed "fiercely attractive," with black hair and striking dark eyes on a rugged, outdoorsman’s face. A strong, assertive mountaineer, there was nothing Nick was afraid of. Nothing, except babies, of course, and childbirth and anything else he could not prevent from hurting Christine. He needed a shave and sleep badly, but would not leave her side for a moment during the surgery and delivery of their child.

  Mac parked himself in the waiting room, patiently answering Jan Taylor’s questions about "Doctor Jim," and adroitly avoiding those about his relationship with Jessica.

  "She can be strong-willed, Mr. MacKendall. She let go of a fine thing once before." There was no mistaking Mrs. Taylor’s affection for the long-absent Wesley Elliot.

  "You keep in touch with Jessie’s ex?" Mac questioned her, figuring it was her turn to squirm.

  "Wesley calls periodically to inquire after Jessica," she stated flatly.

  Curious, Mac thought. Jessica had said she hadn’t heard anything from Wesley herself in years.

  Soon, Jessica walked into the room and Mac leapt to his feet. Her mother’s eyes were fixed on them as he tenderly assessed her condition after the transfusion.

  "I’m fine, just a little weak…but they gave me a cookie." She smiled brightly up at Mac while he examined her arm.

  "Nice bandage, goes well with your dress." Then, more quietly, "Did I tell you how luscious you look in that dress?" He put his arm around her and walked her to sit beside her mother.

  "You okay, honey?"

  "Sure Mom, never better."

  "I can see that," Jan responded, taking obvious note of the protective way Mac held his arm around Jessica’s shoulders. "Too bad you couldn’t come for Christmas," her mother began. "In my wallet I have some color snaps of Chrissie and Nick, and some clippings of you from People Magazine. Oh--Paul sends his love."

  Jessica and Mac were both sleeping when Nick came bounding into the room an hour later, passing out bubble gum cigars to the few people lounging around. Reaching his mother-in-law, he dropped to one knee and silently handed her a pink cigar.

  "Hallelujah!" she hollered, grabbing him and beginning a hugging and laughing spree that lasted several minutes.

  Finally, Nick came to Jessie and Mac. "Chris is sleeping now. The baby is in the neo-natal ICU, I guess they sometimes do that when it’s, you know…a C-section." He pressed a set of keys into Mac’s hand. "It’s the blue Jeep near the emergency entrance. Jess, you still know how to get to the lodge?"

  "I think so."

  "Tell Jeff at the desk that I said to give you the Zurich, and we’ll see you tomorrow. I mean, later."

  "Thanks, man," Mac said, clapping Nick on the shoulder. "Dad."

  They stopped briefly at the nursery’s neo-natal unit, and the nurse rolled the bassinet to the window. "Baby Girl Reeves" was tiny, and pink, and precious.

  "I guess you and Linda didn’t want any more children after Megan," Jessica said, adoring eyes fixed on the infant.

  "Linda certainly didn’t. Not long after Megan was two, we went to see a surgeon." He squeezed her hand. "I would have liked to have had a son. She didn’t want to go through it again."

  It was another hour before they unlocked the door to the "Zurich", revealing the lodge’s finest luxury suite, complete with wet bar, private Jacuzzi tub, Compact Disc stereo system and a round bed. Mac went to the bed and sat down, bouncing on it and flashing Jessie a most innocent look. She was punching buttons on the stereo, and on a whim, turned and raced over to him, tackling him backwards on the bed. Not to be outdone, he rolled them over and stretched out on top of her, pinning her hands to the bed and kissing her.

  "Mmmm…" she moaned, pulling her hands free and wrapping them around him. She was instantly aroused, and only by his kiss. "I want to know who taught you to kiss like that."

  "My high school psych teacher." Despite his mischievous smile, Jessica believed him, her eyes wide. "She taught me a lot of things."

  "Like what else?"

  "Like, always worry when your girlfriend’s mother is sleeping down the hall."

  Jessica giggled, her fingers nimbly unbuttoning his blue shirt. "She’s not sleeping down the hall, and since when am I your girlfriend? Aren’t you supposed to give me your high school ring or something? Or did you give it to your teacher?"

  "I have something else in mind to give you." Mac bowed his head to kiss the soft, modest cleavage exposed above her dress, pushing the neckline down with his chin as far as the material would stretch. The hot moisture of his mouth against her breast prompted an involuntary shudder.

  Jessica could feel her body responding, every cell reacting, a deep stirring growing within her. Mac, too, was aroused and she instinctively moved beneath him, pressing against him for more stimulation despite their restrictive clothing. Mac lifted his head and adjusted the neckline to cover the damp, rosy subject of his attention.

  "So who taught you?" Mac asked softly, dropping more small kisses on her mouth and cheek.

  Jessica smiled, ignoring the question and slipping the suspenders from his shoulders before pulling the shirttails from his slacks. "I want you," she whispered, sliding her hands inside his shirt and around his back.

  "And I want you." Mac pulled away now and stood up. "But I need a shower."

  Jessie sighed in exasperation, watching as he quickly removed his shoes and socks and unzipped his pants, then stepped out of them and carefully draped them over a chair. His eyes never left hers as he silently unbuttoned his cuffs and removed his watch.

  Lying on her side, Jessica slid her knee up seductively, watching Mac’s unwitting striptease with mild vexation. He smiled at her small attempt to deter him. Still somewhat overwhelmed by the events of the past hours, annoyed and enthralled at the same time, Jessie was fixated on his short, blue, knit Jockey boxers.

  He caught her looking. "Medium," he said, pulling the waistband out just slightly. "Although my jeans are thirty-four’s." He leaned over her for a kiss, and she lay back, allowing her hem to slide all the way up her thighs.

  "I know," she murmured against his lips. "I did your laundry more than once."

  He pulled away again. Winking at her obvious confusion, he went to the bathroom and started the shower, leaving the door ajar. The digital clock on the stereo displayed 4 a.m.

  A girl can take only so much, Jessie thought defiantly, quickly slipping out of her dress and undergarments. She unplugged the phone and turned off all the lights. There were numerous skylights in the ceiling of the suite, and an almost full moon cast a dreamlike frosting on the rooms.

  She tiptoed into the bathroom and flipped off the light switch.

  "Hey--!" Mac exclaimed, then opened his mouth in admiring awe as Jessica daintily stepped into the shower with him. The moonlight revealed her to him in a surreal fashion, illuminating the water droplets that licked at her body. Her fingertips reached tentatively to touch him, her long nails combing through the sparse hair on his chest. The bar of soap in his hand found her throat, slowly sliding down and around her breasts as his mouth moved steadily toward her lips; all the while hot water pelted their bodies in a sensual waterfall of bliss. Still kissing him, she took the soap from him and seductively lathered his body, his skin and muscles a delight to her anxious fingers. Soon, they were one soapy, s
ensuous mass. He lifted her without effort and her legs wrapped around him reflexively. Bracing her against a small, tiled bench that seemed incredibly perfect for their intention, Mac closed his eyes as she guided and accepted him; they moved in unison, steam filling the air around them.

  Nothing this wonderful could really be happening, Jessica thought fleetingly, feeling as if she and Mac would be joined this way forever. Their passion was heightened by the interruption of their earlier encounter at the cabin, and enhanced by their mutual feeling that this was meant to be. He murmured endearments, she whispered his name, again and again. The music, the water, the rhythm…his monologue of loving words. This, most surely, was the real thing.

  No confusion, no regret. No anger, no pain. Jessica was brought to the limits of sensuality, the edge of sanity as she and Mac shared the ultimate act of love.

  Later, Mac shut off the water, Jessie clinging to him possessively. "Now that…was a nice shower," he murmured. Jessie moaned softly, unwilling to come down from her euphoria.

  "I don’t believe this," she said simply.

  "Neither do I."

  They began to laugh, and, after carefully wrapping her in a thick bath towel, he carried her to the bed and lay her down, his hair and torso dripping wet. They lay together for some time, their wild energy dissipating as he slowly and painstakingly blotted the moisture from her skin.

  "Are you tired?" he asked suddenly.

  "No, not really," she answered, fully enjoying his fond attention.

  He reached for the phone and pressed some numbers.

  "Yes, what are the chances that we can get some ice cream up here? Yes, I realize it’s almost five o’clock. We’re…early risers and we eat ice cream for breakfast."

  Jessie broke into a fit of giggles.

  "MacKendall…yes, guests of Mr. and Mrs. Reeves…ah, that would be nice. You do have Cookies ‘N Cream, don’t you? Well, maybe you could find some. We’ll wait. Excellent. Thank you."

  "You are something else." Jessica laughed. "They must think we’re crazy."

  "We are." He went to the closet and retrieved two chocolate brown velour robes and tossed one to her. She put it on, and followed him through the sliding glass doors leading to a large patio.