Long Gone Girl
by Amy Rose Bennett
Long Gone Girl
Copyright © 2014 Amy Rose Bennett. All Rights Reserved.
Smashwords Edition
ISBN: 978-0-9943353-1-9
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: From Here to Eternity, Roman Holiday, My Cousin Rachel, Moonlight Serenade.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of fiction or are used in a fictitious manner, including portrayal of historical figures and situations. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
Dedicated with love to my very own ‘fly-boy’, Richard.
One
Ridgewood, New Jersey, September 1953
“Virginia Rose O’Hara, don’t you even think about leaving, young lady.”
Ginny blew out a frustrated sigh, trying to harness her inner calm as she wrestled with the strong urge to slam the front porch door in her mother’s perfectly made-up face. She’d been through worse than this. An irate mother was something she could definitely handle.
She was just irked that she had to. “It’s Virginia Rose Williams, Mother, and I’m not seventeen anymore,” she countered, using her best I’ll-brook-no-nonsense nurse’s voice. She stepped back into the front hall and put her valise down on the polished wooden floor. “I’m a twenty-six year old woman. And I am going to the Jersey Shore for the weekend.” She deserved a break. No, she needed a break.
Her mother had the good grace to look slightly contrite. “I’m sorry about…Charlie. But it’s difficult remembering that you were married…I mean it was all so sudden and short-lived. Why, we never even met the fellow.”
Another reproach. Not an expression of condolence at all. Even though her marriage to Charlie had been brief—a mere two months—and he’d been killed over a year and a half ago, Ginny dug her fingernails into her palms, willing herself not to tear up. There’d been enough tears. “Well, there was a war going on at the time, Mother. And Charlie and I…” She swallowed past the hard lump in her throat and hardened her voice. “It’s not like Charlie and I could have invited you over to Korea for the nuptials.”
Her mother frowned, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not being fair, Virginia,” she accused, crossing her arms over the perfectly tailored bodice of her Suzy Perette day dress. “We would have if it had been at all possible. But you never even gave us the chance. You’re always rushing into things” —she gestured at Ginny’s valise— “or rushing off. You’ve only been home a few months. What about your responsibilities here?”
Ginny almost gnashed her teeth in frustration. That old chestnut. Would her family ever forgive her for signing up to serve her country? “What, you mean baby-sitting for my sisters’ children again while Kathleen and Moira go shopping and do lunch with you in Manhattan? Or looking after Grandma because you all couldn’t be bothered? I’ve been working double shifts at the hospital, Mother. I need some time out.” Away…
God, she so needed to get away.
Ginny dug into her purse to retrieve her car-keys then picked up her valise again. “I’ll see you late Monday. Give Grandma and my nieces and nephews a kiss for me.”
“I hope you’re not meeting up with some man, Virginia,” called her mother after her, before the door slammed.
Ginny rolled her eyes as she marched down the porch stairs toward the curb where her new, mint-green Ford Anglia was parked. You mean, don’t run off with someone again.
But that wasn’t likely to happen any time soon as far as she was concerned. If ever.
Losing love hurt too much. But as for running off…she was working on it.
She tucked her valise into the neat boot of her car then slid behind the wheel, savoring the new car smell that still lingered, even though the Anglia was already a month old. The rich scent of leather mingled with the distinctive odors of metallic things and oil. She suddenly fancied that this was how freedom smelled. Freedom to go wherever she wanted. To be whomever she wanted and leave behind the shy, always-does-as-she’s-told, never-put-a-foot-wrong Virginia O’Hara that her family still wanted her to be.
Well, that girl was long gone.
Smiling, she slipped on her sunglasses then cranked over the motor. Point Pleasant Beach, here I come.
The sound of another motor gunning—a deep powerful rumble—caught her attention as she released the parking brake and began to ease out the clutch. Glancing in her rear-view mirror, she caught sight of an unfamiliar red Chevrolet Corvette, swooping out of the driveway of number 7 Elmwood Place, the Kelly residence.
Holy Mary, Mother of God. Her breath hitched and her heart froze.
The very epitome of her worst high school memory from senior year—Jefferson ‘Jett’ Kelly Junior—was back in town. Lord above, just thinking about the last time she’d seen him still made her feel ill.
Before she could even suck in another breath, he roared past her faster than a red-hot comet. Despite the churning in her stomach, Ginny’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. Apparently some things around Ridgewood had stayed the same, even if she’d changed. Jett Kelly was still fast—in every sense of the word she suspected—and from the brief flash she’d seen of him, still blindingly good looking with his black hair and rugged Irish features.
But hadn’t he left home years ago like she had? Dropped out of law school then had become a pilot or something equally as fearless and adventurous? That was it—he’d served as a fighter pilot with the air force in Korea. Her wily, match-making grandmother had told her with a wink soon after Ginny had arrived home. But in the three months since she’d been back, this was the first time she’d seen Jett though. Hopefully he’d only been visiting his parents so it was unlikely that she’d run into him. Dear Lord, how she prayed that was true. How could a brief glimpse of him make her feel like the naïve, insecure seventeen year old she’d only just denied being?
She thunked her head forward onto the steering wheel that she was still holding in a white-knuckled grip. Get a grip, Ginny Williams. You’ve survived being widowed and a war. Surely she could survive an accidental encounter with Jett Kelly—if that ever even happened.
With any luck, come Monday afternoon, she’d be planning a move to New York anyway.
Then she could say farewell to Ridgewood for good.
Lifting her head and squaring her shoulders, she eased her car out from the curb and motored down the street. It was a beautiful, fine September day—not a cloud in the sky and nary a breeze. And she had several days to herself to read and swim and generally sloth about to her heart’s content. She was going to put the past behind her and make the most of it.
Two
“Ginny O’Hara? God, is that really you?”
Ginny cracked open an eyelid and squinted up at the dark shadow—enormous, dark, male shadow—looming
over her. What the hell?
Heart in her mouth, she pushed herself up to a sitting position on her beach towel then tipped down her sunglasses so she could peer over the top—only to be confronted with her worst nightmare. Jett Kelly was at the Shore. And she was wearing nothing but sunglasses, a bathing suit and now a bright red blush.
Oh no, no, no. How unlucky could she be? Of all the places in the state of New Jersey that Jett Kelly could have gone, why had he shown up exactly here? While she was sun bathing. Vulnerable didn’t even begin to describe the way she felt—she may as well have been sitting on the beach stark naked.
And to make matters worse, he was only wearing bathing trunks as well. Do not look down. Do not look down. Just look at his face.
She swallowed, then somehow scraped together a voice that was passably clear if not confident. “Yes, but it’s Williams. Ginny Williams now…” Keep it together, Ginny. You’ve seen thousands of men wearing a lot less. She thrust out her hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Jett.” Well, that was a big fat lame lie. And he knew it.
He smiled slowly, and even though he was wearing aviator sunglasses, she knew the smile mustn’t have reached his bluer-than-the-sky eyes. But he took her hand and shook it anyway. “Same.”
Dear God, what an idiot she must look, shaking hands with Adonis personified at the beach. She pulled her hand from his firm grasp, desperately trying to ignore the searing heat that had shot from her fingers straight to the apex of her thighs, making her want to squirm.
Stop it, Williams. You’re all grown up now, remember? A hardened field-surgical nurse.
Jett’s grin broadened, as if he was reading her mind. “You’re looking well.” Even though she couldn’t see his eyes behind the lenses of his sunglasses, she felt his gaze drifting over her polka-dot bikini clad body.
“So are you.” Which was an understatement to say the least. Despite her determination not to notice anything about Jett Kelly’s physique, she’d have to be dead not to. Wide shoulders, sleek golden skin over well-defined muscles—she could name every one—lean hips… She stalwartly resisted the urge to glance lower at the front of his trunks and dragged her gaze back to his annoyingly, too handsome face. “So…”
“Do you mind if I pull up a pew?” He gestured at the sand beside her.
Yes! “I was just thinking of leaving actually,” she said through a tight smile. “A girl shouldn’t get too much sun. You know, fair skin and all.” The audacity of the man. She’d all but told him she was married, but here he was, about to make himself at home on her quiet patch of beach. The man was unbelievable! He hadn’t changed one iota since high school.
He grinned. “I could help you with that lotion you’ve got there.”
Once a jerk, always a jerk apparently. “I don’t think so.” Ginny grabbed her floppy hat, shoved it onto her head then stuffed her Bain du Soliel sun lotion and novel into her calico beach bag. She stood, snagging her beach towel up as she rose. “Well, it was nice—”
He touched her arm. “Don’t go.”
Ginny jumped as though she’d been scalded and dropped her gaze to where his hand lay on her forearm. His long fingers were tanned against her own pale skin. She half suspected there were burn marks underneath.
He took off his aviators. Mesmerizing blue eyes, bluer than she remembered, trapped her gaze. “Don’t go on my account,” he repeated softly, his voice as rich and deep as the purr of the car he drove. “I’m just here to go for a swim anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Ginny opened her mouth to speak but not a sound came out. The speech center of her brain had apparently ceased to function, and her heart was pounding so fast she knew her blood pressure must be through the roof. And all because of that one simple touch. She felt like she was back at the Ridgewood High gymnasium when Jett had first touched her. Kissed her…
Jett didn’t seem to notice how struck dumb she was though. Clearly touching her meant nothing to him, just as it had back then. Obviously taking her silence as acquiescence, he tossed his towel and sunglasses onto the sand.
“You should come too,” he called over one impossibly broad shoulder as he strode toward the surf. “I bet the water’s great.”
The sea did indeed look inviting, a perfect deep azure blue with white capped waves rolling onto the smooth white sands. But there was no way on earth that Ginny was going to join Jett. The annoying thing was, she had actually only been at the beach for half an hour before he had crashed into her quiet solitude. So why should she go scurrying back to the Driftwood Boarding House to hide? She’d come to Point Pleasant to unwind, not stay cooped up in a tiny bedroom with only Mrs. Fingle—the proprietress of the boarding house—and her old tabby cat for company. Tamping down her roiling resentment of Jett and all he represented, she shook out her towel again and resumed her seat on the beach—albeit a few feet farther away from where he’d deposited his things. With any luck, he’d only come for a brief sojourn—a swim, some sun-bathing and nothing more.
She wouldn’t let him—or her nearly a decade old memory of him—spoil her day.
***
Jett struck out through the deep, blue Atlantic waters beyond the line of surf, keeping a course parallel with the beach. He focused on his stroke technique and the feel and taste of the cool, briny ocean slapping into his face and over him—anything to keep his mind off Ginny and how silver-screen gorgeous she was. And how much she clearly despised him, even after all these years.
Goddammit! He could have been knocked over with a feather when he’d first spied her lying there right before him on the sand. He’d recognize that amazing strawberry blonde hair anywhere.
But then—like history repeating itself—he’d acted like a first-class jerk. Her brush-off spoke volumes. He really couldn’t blame her for not wanting to have anything to do with him, especially after he’d offered to help her apply sun lotion. Talk about being a jackass, Kelly.
But the way she looked, in her black and pink polka-dot swimsuit, all long legs, smooth pale skin and perfect, full breasts…and lips. Sweet Jesus, what kissable lips she had. Even the smattering of freckles across her nose was adorable. He’d clearly never gotten over his high school crush. In fact, part of his reason for dashing off into the sea was to shock his body out of growing an erection before Ginny’s very eyes.
He couldn’t explain why he wanted her so badly, back in high school…and now. He’d dated his fair share of beautiful women over the years. In fact, he was supposed to be on a date right now with one—a certain Dana Whitney—but when the pernickety society miss had heard his plan to take her to the beach this morning, she’d cried off.
But there was something about Ginny that was different from all the others… Jett propelled himself through the swell harder, faster, trying to push away his inexplicable craving for this girl—correction this woman. A surgical nurse. And a widow.
He’d only recently found out that she’d been married and then almost as quickly bereaved during the conflict in Korea. His mother had gleefully filled him in on all the local gossip—as she was wont to do—when he’d shared dinner with his parents last night. Ginny, who had been serving as a nurse with one of the Mobile Army Surgical Hospital units, had apparently wed one of the surgeons, but then he’d been killed—Jett’s mother hadn’t heard of the exact circumstances—within a matter of months. And Ginny had stayed on until the end of the war.
Jett should have at least acknowledged the fact, even expressed his heartfelt condolences when Ginny had flat out told him she was now Ginny Williams. But for some reason, he just hadn’t been able to. Not that he harbored any ill will toward her former, unlucky bastard of a husband. But if he was honest with himself, he knew that deep down inside he was the teensiest bit happy that Ginny was now unattached. Irresistibly available…
Rightly or wrongly, despite her fairly recent bereavement, he was determined to pursue her.
As if she’d even give you another chance…
Jett
knew that he’d have his task cut out for him, winning Ginny over—if she was actually still on the beach—even for a single date. But then he had to try. If not today, then back in Ridgewood. He’d lacked the courage in high school. But he certainly didn’t now. After surviving Korea, Jett Kelly—fighter jock—was definitely not faint-hearted or a quitter.
He paused, treading water, and looked back to the shore. Surprise hit him as surely as the unexpected wave that subsequently smacked him right between the eyes. Ginny was still there. Blinking away the stinging, salty water, a warm swell of hope surged through him. Maybe, just maybe he’d have a chance with her after all.
Prickly she might be, but Jett knew without a shadow of a doubt that winning Ginny Williams would be undeniably worth it. He’d give it a shot. After all, what did he have to lose?
Three
It took every ounce of self-control Ginny possessed to stop herself from gaping—or worse, drooling—when Jett emerged from the surf and strode back up the beach toward her.
No man had a right to look that good. It was downright sinful. Ginny’s pulse began to leap erratically all over again. Jett Kelly, wet and half-naked, was a sight she just couldn’t ignore. Her gaze inexorably fell to his bathing trunks this time. The dark blue fabric clung indecently to every line of his amazing, magnificently proportioned body. Clearly the cold water hadn’t diminished the size of his impressive ‘assets’ to any great degree. Lord, how would it feel to have sex with the man?
Mind blowing. Ginny blushed furiously at her mind’s unbidden image of Jett claiming her mouth as he wildly pounded into her. It probably didn’t help that she’d seen ‘From Here to Eternity’ only the week before. A mental picture of Deborah Kerr rolling about in the surf with Burt Lancaster suddenly crowded her thoughts. Her flush spread further, all the way down her neck to the top of her breasts, and her nipples hardened when she imagined herself and Jett doing the same thing, right now.
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