Star Quality

by Lori Foster, Lucy Monroe

  “I know.” Stan stared down at his lap, then abruptly turned and pointed at the moon. “You see that, honey? A big, fat full moon, just hanging up there in the sky, lighting the yard like midday. And not just any full moon. This is the second full moon this month. A rarity. A blue moon.”

  A little spooked, Jenna turned her head and glanced up at the sky. The yard did seem unusually bright, and suddenly, the air settled, not even a leaf rustling.

  A chill of alarm went up her spine.

  “Don’t get spooked,” Stan told her. “But this is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Jenna had nothing to say to that, so she remained quiet, waiting.

  As if he knew her every thought, Stan smiled. “For some people, maybe for you, a full moon heightens emotions. It’s not turning forty that made you think more about me. It’s the moon. Obviously, for a blue moon, the effect would be exaggerated. It definitely is for me.”

  Jenna frowned. “Exaggerated how?”

  His jaw worked. With his arm around her, her side pressed into his, Jenna felt his muscles tightening. “I was in trouble with juvy—juvenile hall—three times. All three times, I did things people couldn’t understand. I jumped one kid, put myself in front of another, refused to let a girl ride her bike home…”

  Awareness dawning, though it didn’t make much sense, Jenna asked, “This all happened during a full moon?”

  He gave one quick nod. “The guy I jumped was going to buy dope from some creeps, just to impress his girlfriend. After they tossed me in juvy, he did it anyway. And got in a shitload of trouble—just as I knew he would.”

  “Buying dope is never a good idea, Stan.”

  Rather than look at her, he stared straight ahead. “The guy I got in front of was going to challenge a bully who would have beat him up and humiliated him in front of everyone. That kid had enough troubles without adding more to his list.”

  Idly, almost as if he didn’t realize it, Stan’s fingertips teased over her shoulder, caressing, stroking—keeping her close.

  In a faint voice, somehow tortured by memories, he whispered, “The girl had lost her mother. She was feeling suicidal. I know, because…I felt what she felt. I couldn’t let her leave, knowing what she’d do. I caught hell for detaining her, but as a result, she got caught up in the same chaos that surrounded me. She got attention.” He shrugged. “It helped.” And with insistence, “At least she didn’t kill herself.”

  The knocking of Jenna’s heart made her tremble. She didn’t move, not to pull away from Stan and not to move closer. “I think you need to just spell it out, Stan, whatever it is you want to tell me.”

  “You’re right.” After a deep breath, he faced her. His glittering gaze pierced the darkness, holding her captive. “From the time I was a kid, the moon heightened my ability to read other people’s thoughts. When there’s a blue moon, the thoughts are as clear as written text.”

  Jenna barely had time to assimilate what he’d said, to consider the ramifications of what he believed, when he cupped her face in his big hands.

  “Jenna.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “Don’t be afraid of me, honey. And don’t try to placate me. I know it’s farfetched. Hell, my own parents thought I was mental. I can only tell you from experience that it’s true.”

  “Stan.” Jenna eased herself away—and he let her go. On her feet, she backed up one step, then two.

  He watched her. “Think something, Jenna, other than the obvious.” He didn’t leave the swing. “I know you’re worried about me, and about your kids. You want to help me even as you’re wondering if I might be dangerous.” He half laughed. “But then, anyone would know that just by the look on your face. Think of something else. Anything.”

  Dear God, Jenna mused. For him, it’s some warped game.

  “No game.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Warped or otherwise. It’s just the truth.”

  Her eyes widened. Could he have…no.

  “Yes.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, strangling her. Hands fisted, Jenna tried to think of something totally off the wall, but instead, she remembered the way he’d kissed her, how much she’d wanted him—

  “I hope you still do,” Stan whispered, pushing slowly to his feet. “Because I want you like hell.”

  “Oh, God,” she said out loud.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t mean to intrude on your privacy. It just happens. Sometimes I can block it out, but with you…the things you think just work their way in.” With a cautious stride, he moved toward her. “Do you have any idea how hard today was on me? I knew every single time you thought about me.”

  “No.”

  “You pictured me naked. You thought about kissing me all over, and me doing the same to you. You thought about sex in a dozen different ways. Your visuals of my naked body are off a little. Hell, Jenna, I’m forty, not twenty-five.”

  Her mouth went dry.

  “But I won’t disappoint you.” Another step brought him closer. “I’ll fuck you as hard and fast as you want. I’ll make love to you slow and easy. I’ll kiss you from your eyebrows down to your knees—and I’ll damn sure linger at all the best places in between.”

  “Stan, stop it.”

  “Like hell I will. Do you know what it’s like for me, wanting you, already in love with you, and knowing you consider me incapable of commitment? To you, I’m a free-wheeling runaround. I’m a guy who’d be ideal for a fling, a stud to fuck a few times, but not good for much more.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “No? You’re willing to have an affair, but you don’t want to love me.”

  Jenna gasped. Her stomach knotted and her chest hurt. Love him? She didn’t want to, but—

  As if sensing an advantage, he pressed forward. “Your kids like me, Jenna. They’ve both missed having a dad around. There’s this huge empty hole left in their lives, a hole you’ve tried your best to fill, and God knows you’ve done an incredible job. But you’re their mother and that’s role enough.”

  Defiance became her only defense. “You’re saying you want to play Dad?”

  “No playing to it. You’ve got great kids, and they’d be easy to love.”

  “I need time to think.” Never in a million years had Jenna expected so much to be dumped on her at once. Stan didn’t want an affair. Did he mean he wanted forever?

  “Damn right.” He stood only a breath away, invading her space, heightening her awareness of him. “Tonight, tomorrow, and every day after. I want your kids. I want to make a home with you. I want family vacations and budgets and grocery shopping and trips to the school. Forget my damn past and the trumped-up reputation and the stupid borderline celebrity status. Just concentrate on how you feel with me.”

  Jenna shook her head. “Stan, this is…too much. Too over the top.”

  “You think I don’t know that? Do you think it was easy reading my wife’s mind and knowing she’d slept with other men? You think it’s easy knowing how badly you want me, but also knowing you don’t trust me?” He moved against her, pulling her close. His gaze searched hers, his dark eyes mysterious in the moonlight, then filled with awareness. “You’re not afraid of me, Jenna. What I’ve told you…it doesn’t scare you.”

  “No, of course not.” Jenna realized it couldn’t have been easy for him to share such a personal experience. He’d said his parents thought him mental. How hard must that have been on him?

  “It made my life hell,” he admitted. “After their reaction, I kept it to myself until I met my college roommate. He was totally into the moon and luna effects, and after he swore secrecy, I shared with him. He helped me understand how it works.”

  “You’ve never told anyone else?”

  “Not till you.” His fingertips smoothed away a long tendril of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I had to tell you.”

  Jenna stared up at him, her heart full. “Why, Stan?”

  He kissed her, long and hard and deep, lif
ting her to her tiptoes, letting his hands cup her hips and bringing her body into stark contact with his erection. “Because I want to make love to you,” he rasped. “I want it so bad, it’s eating me up. But I couldn’t sleep with you until you understood. You have a right to know what you might be getting into.”

  His sense of fair play astounded her. Most men would have used their ability to take advantage of a woman—

  “I want you forever. Not just for a quick lay. Believe that. Years from now, I’ll still know your thoughts. At least once a month you’ll have no privacy at all. Whenever there’s a blue moon I’ll be a part of you, in your head, absorbing your every thought like it was my own.”

  Again he kissed her, gentler this time, as if in apology. A bubble of renewed desire swelled inside her. Regardless of their uncertain future she had to reassure him. “You’re a good man, Stan.”

  Of course, he read her every thought, and his eyes narrowed. “Right. Good at knowing things I have no right knowing.”

  “You said you can block the thoughts…”

  Stan shrugged. “With most people, sure. I don’t give a damn what they think anyway. After getting that suspended sentence for battery, I knew it’d be safer for me to ignore trouble, rather than try to help. The voices were still there, like birds in the trees, making background noise. But I was able to focus on other stuff so that it didn’t register. With you…I can’t block you, Jenna. Your feelings hit me like a sledgehammer.”

  She blushed. “It’s embarrassing, knowing you were aware of my fantasies.” As things became clear, she groaned. “That’s why you asked me to go to lunch today, isn’t it? You knew what I was imagining…”

  “Yeah, I knew.” He cuddled her closer, rocking side to side, his hands low on her hips. “But don’t be embarrassed. Hell, woman, you turned me on until I had a damn boner all through the interview. I haven’t come in my pants since I was a green kid, but you had me there, close to totally losing control.” He nuzzled against her cheek, and Jenna could feel his smile. “Can you imagine how the interview would have turned out?”

  She covered her face, chuckling, but also vividly aware of him as a man and how his honesty brought out more fantasies—of making him lose control, of watching him…

  “Jenna,” he groaned, “we’ll be good together, I swear it.” Only a whisper separated them, so Jenna could feel the faint trembling in his hard frame. “Your kids would love to have me around. Your daughter could go to Savannah, and I’d take Ryan fishing every weekend until he got sick of worms.”

  Jenna pressed a finger to his mouth. There were a few things she had to make perfectly clear. “I want my kids happy, Stan. But I’d never use a man to make that happen.”

  “I know that, damn it. That’s not what I meant.” His fingers tightened on her, then abruptly loosened so that he caressed her, stroking from her hips to her waist and finally up to her breasts. He palmed her and growled in satisfaction when her low moan filled the quiet night.

  “Stan.”

  “Think about us in bed together, Jenna. Every night. Sometimes during the day.” His mouth kissed a damp path from her lips to her cheek and up to her ear. “Anything and everything you want, I want, too. There’s nothing you can imagine that I’m not willing to do.” His fingertips moved over her, finding her stiffened nipples, moving back and forth, back and forth—then tugging, rolling.

  Her nails dug into his biceps where she held him. Her breath became choppy. God, she’d wanted him for so long.

  “Think about just the two of us, honey. Have you wanted any other man like this?”

  “No.” This wanting was almost awful, so strong that she felt lost in its grip. Helpless.

  His mouth ravaged hers, his tongue stroking, claiming. He continued to toy with one nipple while his other hand went to her waist, then her belly—and below.

  It wasn’t easy, but Jenna caught his hand, stopping him.

  Breathing in harsh pants, Stan said, “Sorry. I know. Not here. You make me forget myself.” He held her tight a moment more, then released her and took a step back.

  She forgot herself, too. And she was almost tempted…

  “No,” he said. “We’d both regret it.”

  Jenna put her hands in her hair. “Stan, even if you know my thoughts, quit spitting them back at me. It’s disconcerting.”

  His dark eyes glittered. “Sorry.”

  Back-stepping, Jenna removed herself from temptation. When she stood several feet away from him, she met his gaze squarely. “I need tonight to think.”

  “There’s nothing to think about.” His face was hard, his expression hurt. “You either want me or you don’t.”

  “I do, you know I do.” He had to understand that much. “But I’ve been thinking in the short term, and now you’re talking about so much more. You can’t rush me, Stan. I can’t rush me, because there’s not just me.”

  “You’re a package deal.” His hand slashed through the air. “I know that. And I already told you, I like your kids. They like me. No problem.”

  It took an effort, but Jenna held herself still and kept her voice firm. “I have to think about how this will affect them. The fact that you could read their thoughts, too, has to be considered. Can’t you see that? It’s not just my privacy you’d invade, but theirs as well.”

  “I could try to block their thoughts, but…I don’t know if I can. Not every time. I care about them. That seems to make a difference. If Rachelle looked upset and it was in my power to understand why—” He stopped, propped his hands on his hips, and glared out at the moon.

  Voice strained, he rasped, “It’s only once a month at the most. And I can’t pick up every little thought. Just the glaring ones.”

  “Unless there’s a blue moon,” she reminded him, “like tonight. Then you’d be in our heads every minute of every hour.”

  He cursed low, looking hurt and needy—that thought made him scowl.

  Before he could protest, Jenna took the few large strides she needed to reach him. “Give me tonight, Stan.” She went on tiptoe and kissed him, a quick goodbye peck. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow, okay?”

  And then she turned and hurried inside.

  Stan stood there, watching the door close, hearing the lock turn. Fuck it, he thought, but at the same time, he listened to Jenna, hearing her loud and clear even through the door. Her indecision scraped over his already raw nerves. He felt her sadness, her warring confusion, and he jerked around to leave.

  He didn’t have a gift. He had a curse. And in the end, it just might cost him the thing he wanted most—marriage to Jenna.

  Wearing only jeans, Stan stood on his covered deck, coffee in hand, showered but not shaved. He stared out at the wet, gloomy morning and wished he wasn’t alone. A lingering rain, accompanied by the occasional low rumble of thunder and distant lightning, obliterated plans for landscaping work.

  After a sleepless night, he’d shoved out of his rumpled bed at five A.M. and started drowning his problems in caffeine. Because his house sat next to his garden center, and both backed up to the lake, he could see the turbulent waves rolling to the shore with a splash.

  Usually he loved days like this—perfect for lingering in bed, making love all day long, slow and languorous, letting the pleasure build and peak while the wind whistled and the rain beat against the windowpanes.

  Stan cursed. Today he hated the damn weather.

  He needed the distraction of his work, sweating in the hot sun, digging and planting until his muscles ached. But all he could do was wait—and think about Jenna.

  He considered calling her, but knew he shouldn’t. She wanted time to herself, and even though he figured too much thinking would bring her to conclusions he wouldn’t favor, he had to respect her wishes.

  Working on his next book, Season by Season Gardening, was out. He doubted he could hold a thought long enough to get anything down on paper. He detested early morning television. He wasn’t hungry.

  And s
o he stood there, his skin chilled from the early morning rain-cooled air, his gaze directed blindly at the lake, his muscles twitchy and his soul in turmoil.

  When his doorbell rang, Stan didn’t at first move. Seconds ticked by while he held himself immobile…and then Jenna’s thoughts sank into him, alerting him to her presence. They were too jumbled to decipher. Or maybe he was too jumbled, too filled with satisfaction and surging lust and possessiveness.

  She’d come to him.

  He left the sliding doors to the deck open as he strode inside. Even before he went down the hall and opened the locks, he knew what he’d find—Jenna standing there with her crooked smile and her dimple and her gentle green eyes. She wanted to make love, but did she want him forever?

  He jerked the door open.

  She blinked up at him, and he was afraid to hope, to open his mind to her for fear she’d come to tell him things he didn’t want to hear.

  Holding the coffee mug in one hand, Stan used the other to brace on the doorknob. How long they stood there staring at each other, he wasn’t sure. With no expression at all, he whispered, “Hi.”

  Her smile wobbled. “Morning.” Then her gaze dipped to his naked chest—and stayed there.

  Lust. That’s what he felt from her. Desire. Need. Nervousness and urgency and determination—

  “Come in.” Stan pushed the door wide and stood back while she crept over the threshold. And she did creep. As though she had reservations, or was afraid…

  It hit him, a storm of sensation, exploding inside his brain like a migraine. Jenna badly wanted to talk to him, to clear the air by her own choice before he read her thoughts. Stan struggled to abide by her wishes. He tried thinking of things the total opposite of Jenna—his mother, grub worms…It didn’t work.

  Singing to himself to drown out her feelings, Stan took her arm and trotted her down the hall and into the family room that opened out to the deck. The open sliders had let in the humidity, leaving the room damp and cool and as turbulent as the storm itself.

  He led her to a soft striped couch, pushed her down onto the cushions, set his coffee on the end table and crouched in front of her. His heart hammered and a sudden erection made his old faded jeans uncomfortable. “Talk to me quick, sweetheart. I’ll do my best to hear only what you say, not what you think.”