Ginny smiled, almost shyly, reminding him of the sweet girl he used to know. “I did.”
Jett’s heart rate kicked up a notch, and he couldn’t suppress a grin. “So do we have a truce?”
Her smile widened, and her whole face lit up. Grace Kelly had nothing on her.
“We do,” she answered, then raised a finely arched brow. “So…how do you propose we spend the rest of the afternoon?”
Wicked woman. Didn’t she know she was playing with fire, asking him a question like that with mischief dancing in her eyes? But he knew a test when he heard one. He might be forgiven, for now, but he was still walking on a thin line. He would be foolish indeed to shatter Ginny’s new-found trust in him.
Still holding her hand, he pulled her to her feet. “How do you feel about carousel rides?”
Six
Sitting in the hushed darkness of Point Pleasant’s Arnold Theater with Jett beside her, Ginny almost felt like Princess Ann in ‘Roman Holiday’. She’d spent most of the afternoon with an incredibly handsome man doing entirely silly things—they’d had a carousel ride, eaten ice-cream, chatted pleasantly about inconsequential things as they’d taken a stroll along the boardwalk, and now they were watching this wonderfully romantic movie. But unlike Audrey Hepburn’s character, there had been no hand-holding or hugs or physical contact of any kind for Ginny. Jett had been a perfect gentleman throughout the entire afternoon—just as he’d promised—and Ginny was fit to burst with frustration.
Which she knew was beyond unreasonable. Jett was only doing as she’d asked—and it was only sensible that they both kept this chance reconciliation platonic—but it seemed her body had different ideas. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and tried to focus on the final bitter-sweet scene unfolding between the dashing Joe and the effortlessly elegant Ann. But it was hopeless. All she could think about was the slick heaviness between her thighs, and the ache of her tight nipples pushing against her bra—thank heavens it was dark—as her body reacted to the overwhelmingly male presence of Jett. The scent of him—his cologne and the essence of the man himself—teased her nostrils. The warmth of his body so close but not quite touching hers—it was pure torture and it had been like this for hours. She couldn’t take much more.
Snatches of dialogue between the star-crossed lovers in the film caught her attention briefly. But then Jett moved.
Even though the light was dim and her gaze was still directed at the screen, Ginny was acutely aware of one of Jett’s denim-clad muscular thighs as he stretched it out before him, almost bumping her leg; his strong forearm with its light dusting of dark hair, resting on the chair arm between them, almost brushing her own bare arm. Suddenly suspicious that he was deliberately teasing her, she risked a furtive glance at his absurdly handsome profile. Not a wise move. By the screen’s flickering light she could clearly see Jett was still captivated by the movie, but now her fingers itched to trace the sculptured lines of his nose and cheekbones, his strong, square jaw and chiseled lips.
Lips that she wanted to kiss again…
Ginny clenched her hands together in her lap and bit her lip to suppress a moan of pure sexual frustration. Lord, she was a desperate mess. As soon as this movie was over, she should say goodbye to Jett and then take an evening dip in the cold Atlantic to calm down.
If she didn’t, she’d be soon ripping his clothes off. Or worse still, falling in love with him. And either of those options was just too dangerous to contemplate.
She needed to be Ginny Williams, an independent woman, following her dreams. And what she wanted, more than anything, was a successful nursing career. Come Monday afternoon, if her interview went well, she might have secured a position as a surgical nurse at Mount Sinai Hospital, one of New York’s most prestigious teaching hospitals. She didn’t need, or want a man in her life right now.
Especially a man like Jefferson Kelly who practically had heart-breaker tattooed across his impressively wide chest.
At last the final swell of poignant orchestral screenplay music washed over them as a melancholy Gregory Peck disappeared from view and The End appeared on the screen. As the house lights came up, Ginny stood and without waiting for Jett, shuffled out into the aisle and joined the crowd of other film-goers making their way to the theater’s vestibule. She needed distance between her and Jett. And as far as she was concerned, the date was over. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she decided that she would simply thank him for a lovely day, and then she would walk back to the boarding house…alone, where ‘My Cousin Rachel’, Mrs. Fingle and her cat awaited.
The prospect—like the weather—was glum indeed. Even though it was only five o’clock, the afternoon had grown dark. The overcast sky was a depressing shade of dull pewter and a chill breeze was blowing straight off the sea and whipping down Arnold Avenue. Ginny shivered. It was going to rain.
“Ginny…wait.”
She turned around to find Jett was only a few feet away. Within a moment he was right in front of her, close but not touching. Again. Ginny was starting to suspect it truly was a deliberate ploy on his part to get her hot and bothered. And it was working, damn him. She gripped her purse tightly to stop herself pummeling his chest in exasperation. Or throwing her arms about his neck.
“Hey,” he said softly, his gaze searching her face. “Are you okay?”
“Just dandy,” she said with false gaiety, determined not let him know his plan was succeeding all too well. “Look, it’s been wonderful spending the afternoon with you, Jett, but I think I’m going to call it a day.”
He crossed his arms across his chest and raised a jet-black eyebrow in query. “What’s wrong?”
Did he do that just so his biceps would be shown off to perfection?
Urgh. She couldn’t take it.
She huffed out a sigh in frustrated defeat. “I know I said no funny business and you’ve been strictly abiding by the rules…but now I feel like you’re playing games with me,” she said, holding his gaze, determined not to blush. “Teasing me in fact. And I’ve had enough.”
“I’m not following.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Please, give me a break. I’m not a teenager anymore. All afternoon you’ve been standing too close, almost but not quite touching me. I mean, I wouldn’t have minded if you’d tried to hold my hand at the movies for heaven’s sake. It isn’t exactly hanky-panky now is it? Aren’t we supposed to be on a date?”
Lord, she might not be an adolescent but she sounded like one. And a petulant one at that. She only just smothered the impulse to stamp her foot.
Jett’s mouth tilted into a cocky, lop-sided grin and his blue eyes flashed with amusement. “It bothers you that you’re attracted to me.”
She blushed hotly. How can he read me so easily? “Yes, damn you.”
Jett’s smile softened and he stepped a little closer. “I’m more than happy to hold hands, Ginny.” He reached for her and entwined his fingers with hers. Tingling heat immediately spread up her arm before radiating through her entire body. She shivered.
He frowned. “You’re cold.” He raked his free hand through his hair and glanced down the avenue towards the shore. “Darn. I left my leather jacket back at The Beacon.”
Ginny’s eyebrows shot up. “The Beacon Hotel?” Suspicion sharpened her voice. The Beacon was one of the biggest and fanciest hotels at Point Pleasant. And she’d assumed Jett had only come to the shore for the day. Not the night.
“Yeah,” he admitted, innocently enough. “I checked in when I first arrived this morning. I have plans to spend the whole weekend here. You know, get away from it all.” He smiled. “Kinda like you I guess.”
Oh boy.
Her wariness must have shown on her face.
Jett squeezed her hand. “Hey, don’t look so worried, Ginny. I don’t have a secret agenda. Remember I said that if you wanted anything else, it’s up to you. Even if it’s just hand-holding. I’ll follow your lead. Does that help?”
Ginny sighed then nodded. “Yes it does.�
� Hand-holding was fine. Maybe even a quick kiss goodnight. Scratch that, farewell. She couldn’t afford to spend the night with Jett. That would be a slippery slope to all kinds of trouble and potential heart-break that she didn’t need.
Better to end this now. She made eye contact with Jett and forced a smile, while a heaviness she didn’t care to identify settled in her chest. “Well… It’s been great—”
Jett reached for her other hand. “Have dinner with me,” he said, a beseeching look in his eyes. “I know a great little Italian place just off Ocean Avenue. It’s only a couple of blocks from here.” He glanced at the sky. “Hopefully the rain will hold off a bit longer. What do you say?”
Italian food. Ginny loved Italian. And it seemed watching Roman Holiday and the sea air had made her famished. The prospect of grabbing another hot dog or a hamburger at the Pavilion to eat on her own wasn’t exactly appealing either.
“All right,” she conceded. “But then I really should get going. It’s been a long couple of weeks for me and I’m beat.”
“Understood.” Jett slid an arm around her waist and drew her close as they began to walk down the avenue. “Just to keep you warm,” he said in a low voice against her temple. “I wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”
“A likely story. I bet you say that to all the girls.”
Jett clutched at his chest with his free hand as though he’d been struck. “Ouch. I’m wounded that you mistake my chivalry for something else. You don’t think Mr. Joe Bradley in Roman Holiday would have done the same for his princess?”
“I’m starting to think that like Mr. Bradley, you have another job on the side. Jefferson Kelly, fertilizer salesman.”
Jett laughed—a rich, deep throaty chuckle—and his large warm hand pulled her closer into his side. “Are you sure you’re not a surgeon, Nurse Williams? Because I literally feel like you’ve taken a scalpel to me. I’m starting to wonder if I’ll survive dinner intact.”
“Hmph. I think you should be more worried about whether you’ll remain intact after dinner, Captain Kelly. I’ll have my scalpel at the ready if you try to make any unsanctioned moves on me.”
“Point taken, well and truly, Ginny. Point taken.”
This time it was Ginny who threw back her head and laughed. A bubbly feeling of happiness like the buzz she got from champagne fizzed through her veins, warming her from within. There would be more to look forward to during dinner than just great Italian cuisine.
Slipping her own arm around Jett’s lean hips, she smiled, resolving to enjoy the moment for once. She’d worry about what might happen after dinner, later.
Seven
The night air was cool, damp and redolent of brine, and the crash of the surf thunderous when Jett and Ginny emerged from La Pesce Piccolo a couple of hours later. The pavement was wet from an earlier passing downpour but Ginny didn’t seem to mind as she walked quietly beside Jett, his arm around her slender shoulders. In the intermittent light cast by the streetlights and windows of shops and houses, he could see that she was smiling quietly to herself, suddenly withdrawn compared to how she’d been during dinner. Gone was the laughing, witty girl who had chatted with him and teased him as they’d shared a bottle of Chianti whilst trying to eat spaghetti alle vongole without wearing it. Glancing down at her pensive face right now, he was dying to know what she was thinking.
Jett couldn’t help but smile ruefully to himself also. Face it Kelly, she’s probably plotting an escape plan.
She’d agreed to walk back to the Pavilion with him, but after that, Jett’s gut feeling told him she would say good-bye. For good.
But he just couldn’t—no wouldn’t—accept defeat. Running his hand lightly up and down Ginny’s smooth bare arm to help keep her warm, he acknowledged that she was under his skin and he had to see more of her. There was no doubt that he wanted her in his bed. But even if that didn’t happen tonight, at the very least he wanted another date, or three or four. The crush he’d harbored for so long could easily develop into something more.
What the hell? Jett nearly stopped dead in his tracks at the realization that he was truly smitten, for the first time ever. Christ Almighty, could he really be that far gone after only a few hours in Ginny’s company?
Yes he was. But then perhaps he always had been.
Jett swallowed down a groan of defeat. He couldn’t fight these feelings for Ginny any longer. More telling still was the fact that he didn’t even want to try. Problem was, he didn’t have a clue what to do or say next to keep her by his side. His arsenal was well and truly out of ammo. Ginny was completely unlike any other woman he’d ever dated. Not only was she beautiful and funny, she was smart, perhaps even too smart for him. She’d seen through every one of his ploys this evening and he had no idea how to keep her engaged. This was proving to be Goddamned harder than executing maneuvers in a dog fight with a MiG-15 over Korea.
It hadn’t helped matters that Ginny had been sending him mixed messages all afternoon and even this evening. After the movie, when she’d finally admitted that she was still attracted to him, he’d been doing mental barrel rolls of joy. She seemed to enjoy his company during dinner. But something was holding her back from being fully open with him. And now, judging by her continued silence, she was completely closed off from him.
Undoubtedly, she was still recovering from the death of her husband. If she needed more time, he’d give it to her. But his gut told him it wasn’t only that.
During dinner, he hadn’t been able to draw her into conversation about her future plans. She’d been particularly guarded about that topic. He’d gleaned that she had plans to leave Ridgewood—but for some reason, she didn’t seem to want to discuss them with him.
He on the other hand, had openly disclosed his impending plans to finish up at Fort Dix where he was currently based as a military flying instructor, and then begin a career as a long-haul airline pilot. Within a month, he’d be flying a Pan Am jet out of LaGuardia. Settling down to a stable, civilian life.
A life in which he wanted to get married one day and start a family. Maybe with someone like Ginny.
But first he had to get her to agree to see him beyond the next few minutes.
They were fast approaching the almost deserted boardwalk and Pavilion. Above the keening of the wind and the pounding of the breakers, Jett could just hear the jaunty strains of a dance number being played by a big band in the nearby dance hall. Even though he knew he was clutching at straws, he drew Ginny into the shelter of one of the Pavilion’s stands.
She looked up at him, a puzzled frown creasing her brow. Ignoring the knot of unease tightening inside his chest, he held her lightly by the shoulders and summoned a smooth smile. “I know you said you wanted to call it a night after dinner, but I’m having such a great time. Would you consider going dancing with me? For old time’s sake? I figure I owe you a decent dance or two.”
Ginny tucked a flyaway curl behind her ear and looked past him down the boardwalk in the direction of her boarding house. She shook her head. “Gee, I don’t know, Jett. I’m not exactly dressed for it either. Somehow I don’t think they’d let me through the door in Capri pants and loafers.”
Jett thought she looked damn fine just the way she was, but even he knew that fashion etiquette dictated she should wear a dress or skirt for an evening of dancing. And he needed to be in something smarter than jeans and a T-shirt. “How about we do what we did at lunch then? I’ll meet you back here in half an hour? Would that give you enough time to change?”
Hell, he knew he sounded pathetic but he didn’t know what else to do. And as much as he wanted to, somehow he didn’t think kissing her senseless like he did this morning would score him any points either.
In the uncertain light cast by a nearby lamppost, he saw Ginny’s mouth curve in a sad, wistful smile and again she shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I really should say good—”
“Hey, listen.” Jett knew he was being rude cutting her off, but d
esperate times called for desperate measures. “The band’s playing ‘Moonlight Serenade’.” He caught her hand, linking his fingers through hers. “Although I was dancing to this with Loretta at the Prom, did you know I really wanted to be dancing with you?” He dared to tip her chin up so she couldn’t escape his gaze. “At the risk of having a scalpel drawn on me, would you do me the untold honor of dancing with me now?”
Ginny’s tongue flickered out to run along her lower lip. A nervous gesture that matched the quickening of her breathing. If there had been more light, he was sure he would have seen her blushing too. But she didn’t look away.
“Here? Right now?” she asked, her voice more than a little husky.
Gotcha. He smiled slowly as he drew her into his arms. “Sure. Why not?”
***
Why not?
There were at least a dozen good reasons why not, but for the life of her, Ginny couldn’t bring herself to utter a single one. Her breath caught in her chest and her pulse started to race as Jett pulled her closer into his warm, hard body then began to effortlessly guide her in a slow foxtrot around this quiet, dimly lit, corner of the Pavilion. Memories of their dance long ago immediately flooded her mind and panic zipped around inside her belly. To say this was ill-advised was an understatement. More like flat-out crazy.
It’s only a dance, Ginny. He’s pretty much assured you he won’t try anything unless you want it. Let go for a few minutes.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes and made herself relax into Jett’s hold, at last allowing herself to enjoy the feel of his hand splayed across the small of her back, the enveloping strength of his arms, the press of his thighs against hers. The hardness of bone and taut muscles beneath her hand upon his shoulder. The intoxicating, maleness of him.
Whoa. She tensed up again, fighting the impulse to press her body hard up against his, to rest her cheek upon his chest. The issue was, and had always been, that a few minutes in Jett’s arms wouldn’t be enough. Perhaps she could trust him to behave tonight, but she seriously doubted she could trust herself. She opened her eyes and pulled away from him a little, struggling for control; focused her gaze over Jett’s shoulder on the crashing surf beyond the boardwalk.
Long Gone Girl Page 5