Resigned that he’d suffer a sleepless night, Jackson refolded the newspapers and placed it on the night table. Then he turned off the TV, no longer interested in the night-time police drama. Once more he looked over at Sara.
He wanted to touch her. Instead he turned off the light and stared into the darkness, hoping that he’d fall asleep soon.
Someplace between being fully awake and an incredibly drowsy state, he turned toward Sara. He scooted his body onto her side of the bed until they touched. Like the snug fit of a glove, he framed his body behind hers, draping an arm over her waist. Only then did he drift to sleep.
Light filtered through the thin line of space between the heavy drapes. Jackson awoke, frowning at the intrusion of daylight. He tried to move his arm, but it remained stubbornly in place. Furiously blinking away his drowsy state, he rubbed his face with his free hand.
A long yawn erupted from him, but caught in his throat as realization took hold. Sara was molded against the entire length of his body with her arm casually thrown over him. Her head fit neatly under his chin. Her face pressed against his chest. Knowing that Sara sleeping in his arms was temporary, he lay there, as still as possible, enjoying the moment while the sun continued its ascent.
Sara awoke to her stomach’s hungry grumble. She tried to move, but her head snapped back into solid flesh. Her mind wasn’t so jumbled that she didn’t know the difference between the pillow and a body.
Please let her not be in any compromised state, she thought. At least her pajamas were still in place. She couldn’t bear his snide insinuations. Nor did she want to see the humor in the situation, if she had become disrobed.
Awareness sank in. Her leg covered his thigh. As she slid it back in place, she brushed his arousal. She almost yelped.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
Sara jumped, immediately pushing away from Jackson. Her sudden movement, more violent than she intended, sent her careening over the side of the bed. She landed on the floor with a muffled thud from the comforter she dragged with her. In an ungraceful heap, she laid there, staring up at the ceiling.
“Whoa! Didn’t mean to startle you.” Jackson’s face appeared over the side. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His eyes betrayed his enjoyment at her expense. He offered her his hand.
“I’m fine.”
His hand remained outstretched, but Sara shook her head. She rolled over and struggled to her feet. There was no way they were staying another night like this. Her resolution to stay firm and detached was at the breaking point. And from what she could tell, so was his.
“Could you order room service?” she mumbled, as she made her way to the bathroom with the comforter trailing behind her.
She quickly showered and dressed in time for the arrival of breakfast. After the waiter left, Jackson picked up a slice of bacon. He grinned at her while he slid the slice of bacon in between his lips. The man didn’t know when to quit. The mischievous glint warned her that he was in a playful, sexy mood. Sara opted for the upright winged-back chair in the corner of the room away from him. She set her portion of the breakfast on the small table and pulled it close to her. The table could act as a barrier to any crazy antics that Jackson had in mind.
He bit into the bacon and chewed, looking at her.
“What?” She couldn’t take his scrutiny any longer. “What do you want?” Sara sipped her coffee.
“Just admiring how beautiful and desirable you look early in the morning.”
“Thanks.” She kept a watchful eye over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Good enough to eat.” He bit into a fluffy biscuit and winked.
“Looks like you’ll get your fill of this food tray with no problems.”
Jackson shrugged. “What are we going to do today?”
“We aren’t doing anything, at least not for the next few hours. I’ve got to go on my interview. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”
“Don’t forget the pie-eating contest. That starts at five.”
“I really don’t think that I’m up for any pie-eating contest. I keep telling you this isn’t a pleasure trip.”
“It’s not a pleasure trip for me, either. I’m here conducting my business.”
“What business is that?” Sara raised her eyebrow at Jackson’s statement.
“Figuring out the different stages of relationships with you and then wondering where I am on the ladder.”
“I only have two main divisions. You’re either a friend or an enemy. Then there is the category where it’s blank. That’s reserved for a person not worth the effort to categorize.”
“But we slept together. That’s not the action of an enemy.”
“There was no alternative.” Sara looked at her watch. “Got to run.” She hurried to gather her materials. “I should be back before noon. I’ll check out, then. We can have lunch before heading back.”
“Would you change your mind and stay, if I pay for another night?”
“Why?” Sara paused in the doorway. Her face set with stony determination against his manipulation. “Jackson, aren’t you tired of this. What exactly do you hope to get from me? We know each other. Nothing much has changed, except that we’ve grown up and moved on with our lives. Well, at least I have. Keep your cell phone on. I’ll call,” she said before leaving.
Jackson turned his back on her and went into the bathroom. Sara the college student only existed on the external, physical level. Sara the professional woman exhibited a steely determination that drew his respect. Short of stalking her, he might have to deal with the reality that time was not on his side to win her back.
After a quick shower, Jackson dressed in a T-shirt and khakis. A walk around town would occupy him. Avoiding any part of the pie-eating contest, he’d try to discover any other weekend activities.
Remembering her instructions, he repacked his clothing and stowed his toiletries. After he surveyed the area, he spied several books poking out of her suitcase on the chair. Sara wasn’t a reader. She preferred her magazines. And if she did read, it would be biographies.
Cautiously he flipped open the suitcase, revealing several books. He pushed the top book aside to view the other titles. The common theme drew a frown. Twelve Steps to Financial Well-Being. Getting Comfortable with Wealth Building. Embrace the Rich Lifestyle.
These books didn’t connect with Sara. She believed in hard work, but didn’t obsess over money. They probably had to do with her current interview, considering the caliber of her subject. He closed the suitcase, wondering about the contents, and left the room.
Jackson exited the hotel, immediately feeling as if he’d entered a different time period. Small towns weren’t his thing. He liked the energy and diversity of a city with diverse population. Since the town sucked in tourists in good quantity, Jackson surmised that it wouldn’t be long before the open acreage turned into clusters of homes for upper middle income families.
Here in this community, a short drive from Wisconsin, the small-town pace brought on a wave of nostalgia for his grandparents. They’d resided and owned a grocery store in a similar town before a powerful franchise rolled in. The big, chain store had swept the mom-and-pop shops out of business. But as much as he liked visiting them, he’d always looked forward to getting back to the busy, anonymous life of the modern city.
“Good morning.”
Jackson barely mumbled a response to the passing man. Did he know him? From his view of the man walking away, he didn’t think that they’d ever met.
“Good morning to you.”
Jackson swung his head around to see a smiling, older woman easing past him. He nodded. No one in the city greeted strangers. As a matter of fact, speaking to each passerby would probably earn an ugly look, or a few choice words from the recipient.
He spent his time greeting or nodding to various people, while strolling down Main Street. A library sign up ahead caught his attention. At the corner, he looked down the narrow side stree
t where a small white building stood. Jackson didn’t claim to be an avid reader, but enjoyed reading about historical events. Maybe he could spend an hour or so learning about Blue Hills.
He entered the old brick building, which could have done with a face-lift, he thought. Close up, the white paint peeled off the wood and was faded off the brick. Yet the structure had the old-style architecture that he found charming. A white picket fence surrounded the property with a short graveled path that led to three steps. A few families, parents and kids entered. His father used to think going to the library was a mother’s job.
Jackson pulled open the door wide to see where the hours of operation were posted. Like all libraries, outdoor sounds were banished. Brightly lit and equipped with state-of-the-art computers, the inside encouraged patrons to think and slow down for a few moments.
Once Jackson got directions from a librarian, he strolled to the local history section. He took his time pulling out titles, examining back covers and sliding the books back into place.
“What are you doing here?”
Jackson looked around in surprise to hear Sara’s husky whisper. Turning in a full circle, he still couldn’t locate her. “Sara?”
“I’m right here.”
Jackson frowned at the voice coming from the other side of the bookshelf in front of him. An impatient tapping drew his attention. He pulled out a book sitting at eye level for a better view. “Sara?”
“Shh.”
Jackson looked on either side to see why he should be quiet. From his vantage point, no one seemed to be paying attention to them. He turned to look at Sara’s face, which was almost pressed against the small opening.
“What are you doing? Who are you hiding from?” Jackson whispered back to her, growing alarmed.
“I’m not hiding. I’m in the middle of my interview with Alethea Walker. I actually didn’t expect to see you.”
“I wandered in here. Go back and do your thing with the writer lady.”
“It’s Alethea Walker.” Sara appeared next to him, looking quite displeased. “And I don’t want to mess this up.” She bit her lip. “So could you just leave, please.”
“Fine. You’re acting like you’re interviewing the Queen of England.”
Sara pushed him out of the aisle. “Go,” she mouthed.
“I’ll take the title Queen, but of England, no way. I’ll leave that to Beth, the second, to do her thing in Buckingham,” a raspy voice interrupted them.
“Ms. Walker!” Sara exclaimed, looking mortified.
Jackson stepped back to allow an elderly dark-skinned woman—who was tall, stately and handsome—-approach. When she joined them she smiled and offered her hand.
“I’m Alethea, young man.”
“Jackson.”
“A last name for a first name. Interesting.” She turned to Sara. “You know a name says a lot about a person.” She rested her hand on Jackson’s arm. “I sense strength in you.” She glanced over at Sara, who looked miserable. “Young man, I also sense a gentle spirit in your darling eyes.” She turned her back on them. “I’ve gotten the books I need. No need to stay in this musty building any longer.” She looked over her shoulder. “I don’t do this often, but I’m going to go with my gut. Both of you, join me for lunch.”
Jackson didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t mean to interrupt Sara’s meeting. Clearly Alethea’s invitation caught her unaware. And the blazing anger crackling from her told him that she wanted him gone.
“Ms. Walker, thank you so much for the invitation. I’ve got a couple things to do around town. I’ll catch up with Sara later.” He nodded to Sara, letting her know that he’d read and understood the message. When she offered a small smile, he relaxed.
“First things first—please call me Alethea. Ms. Walker is for my mama, who’s long gone. There’s no way that you’re not coming to my house. It’s been a while since I had a handsome hunk of a man as my captive audience.”
“I’m sure that you exaggerate, Alethea,” Jackson said.
The old woman headed toward the exit, as if expecting them to follow her. “Sarafina, you’ll also benefit from my hospitality, which will be better for your interview. When I’m relaxed on my own turf, I’ll open up. But I hope you don’t have the standard, boring questions. See both of you in an hour.” Alethea waved, jangling the many silver bracelets decorating her wrist.
Jackson waited for Sara to indicate what she wanted to do. Once again, he screwed up. All he had planned to do this morning was wander around the town. Now he was all caught up in a situation that could make either woman peeved at him. Although he didn’t care about Alethea, making her irritated at Sara because of him wouldn’t help his cause with Sara.
“Do you want me to process the hotel checkout?” he asked, hoping to be helpful.
“Yes. I’m heading back to the city right after this.”
Jackson followed Sara out of the library. He stood at the passenger door, hoping that she was going to unlock it. His body slightly relaxed when he saw the knob in the door pop up.
“Did you get much of the interview completed?” He chanced a glance at her profile.
Her mouth tightened slightly before she responded. “No, she’s not an easy subject. She hops from one subject to the next. She refused to sit. Basically she maintained control and let me know that she wasn’t going to make my job easy.” She turned an accusatory glare at him. “Well, that is, until you came along.”
“Hey, I’d rather be heading down to the pie-eating contest than sitting in on a school project.” Since this opportunity didn’t allow him personal time with Sara, he wasn’t that excited about this new game plan. “I’m not jumping up and down.”
“You should feel honored to be in the company of Alethea Walker,” Sara shot back. “She’s a legend. Her life is rich and her experiences make us seem as if we’re standing still. Her essays reflect so much passion and even anger for the injustice and inequalities that she has seen and experienced.”
Jackson snorted. “Sounds like a snoozer.” He shook his head, chuckling. “You can hero-worship Alethea and I’ll hero-worship Sanaa Lathan—she was hot in Blade.”
Sara grabbed the seat belt and pulled it around his neck until he choked. “Take that back.”
Jackson reached out and tickled Sara, who giggled and squirmed away from him. Their levity eased the tension, somewhat.
Minutes later at the hotel, Jackson tried to stay out of Sara’s way as she moved through the room in a harried state, muttering about how irritating men were. And why she didn’t need to bother with dealing with the past. So much for the few minutes of laughter they shared.
“I wish you wouldn’t talk about me like I wasn’t here.”
Sara held up her fist with clothing balled in her hands. “As if I was that lucky.”
“What did I do wrong, now?” Jackson wanted to get out of the small quarters. He needed fresh air and open space. He didn’t know how to fix the problem. But more importantly, he hated being the bad guy in this scenario.
Sara opened her mouth, but then shook her head. She continued gathering her belongings, her muttering much subdued.
“Look, I’ll accompany you to Alethea’s home. And then disappear into the background.” Jackson walked slowly toward Sara. Her nervous pacing had worked its way under his skin like an army of startled ants. He reached out when she bustled past him with the same piece of clothing that she’d had in her hand for the past few minutes. “Come here,” Jackson said.
“Look, I don’t have time for any pep talks.”
He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her gently into his chest. Like a cocoon, he wrapped his arms around her, willing her to be still. Gradually her protests quieted. Jackson breathed in the floral scent of her soft hair.
“I know that you like to have everything and everyone marching to your beat. Sometimes, there is an exception. Alethea looks like she’s going to be your exception.” He smoothed her hair, cradling the ba
ck of her head. “Let’s get out of here. Get your interview done, and we’ll head back home.” He sensed that he’d reached down to where her fear had manifested. He didn’t want to let go until the calmer side of Sara emerged.
Sara kept her head against Jackson’s chest. His heart beating at her ear sounded steady and consistent, unlike hers. For so long she yearned for his arms to be around her. With his surprise visit, she’d been afraid to enjoy his touch. His soothing words calmed the rising unease that overwhelmed her thoughts with Alethea’s change of plans.
“Are you okay now?” Jackson raised her chin with his finger.
Sara nodded, releasing a big sigh. “All set.”
“We’re cutting it close to checking out.” Jackson looked at his watch. “Sure you don’t want to stay tonight? You might be beat by the time you’re done.”
Another night in a hotel room with Jackson would definitely break her willpower. In his arms, she had to fight giving in to the hunger that her body and mind craved. She refused to believe that her body’s aching needs were anything more than physical.
Nothing soft and romantic could be the reason.
“No, we need to get on the road.” Sara pushed away from Jackson. “We can get back early and you can make it back to your hotel in Chicago.” He would be in his bed and she in hers.
She witnessed the droop in Jackson’s shoulders, but he remained quiet. Sara enjoyed a small feeling of victory at standing up to her weakness. She may have craved Jackson’s touch, but she wasn’t about to give in and fall into bed—in a sexual sense—with him.
After checking out of the hotel and loading up the car, they arrived at the author’s home with time to spare. In keeping with the rural surroundings, the modest-sized house sat on about three acres of land. Alethea led a brief tour, explaining that the previous owner was a farmer, but she didn’t follow suit with raising cattle. Instead, she had a conglomeration of dogs that represented the major breeds and a few that Sara couldn’t identify.
“These are my babies. I keep them cordoned off when I have company. Otherwise, you’d be licked to death.” Alethea headed up the steps to the house. “Welcome to my home.”
No One But You Page 5