by Treva Harte
"Well, maybe you were right," Jen sighed. "But I want to this year. I'm happy Kevin'll be back and Vicky's getting old enough to enjoy holidays."
"I want to see Vicky get mashed potatoes all over her face and see you cope with cooking a turkey." He smiled at her. "I wouldn't miss it."
"Oh no." Jen shook her head. "We have new rules. The visitors bring the turkey."
"There's a joke I could make now, but it's too obvious," he said.
"Actually, never mind. If I insisted on that, you'd just make poor Mrs. Beale fix it, wouldn't you?"
"Well, she is my housekeeper. I bet she cooks a great turkey. I could ask her."
"You make her suffer enough. I wouldn't demand that of her as well," Jen told him, loftily. "I don't know why she has stayed with you all these years."
Jack's smile softened. Ida Beale had been the housekeeper at his place since he was a boy. She had probably stayed with him for longer periods of time than both his parents put together.
"I don't know why she puts up with me, either. She probably enjoys the chance to scold me." He toyed with the fork on the table.
"Maybe I'll invite her over for Thanksgiving instead, seeing as she can cook," Jen said.
"Ah, and speaking of cooking, here's dinner."
Dinner was wonderful. Dessert was wonderful. Jennifer declined his offer of dancing afterward, being mindful of her high heels and the fact that they both had work tomorrow. Besides, with the look Jack had in his eyes—well, she was probably imagining things, but perhaps dancing wouldn't be prudent.
They strolled out to the parking lot with Jack holding her arm very correctly. His parents may not have been wonderful human beings, but they did manage to teach him wonderful manners. If the warmth of his hand, pressed firmly on her skin, felt a little too good, that was her problem.
The valet pulled up in a small Volvo. It wasn't new, but it was just as shiny as the latest model.
"Thanks." Jack tipped him.
Jen looked at him and said, incredulously, "Jack, how much've you had to drink? This isn't your Lexus."
"Happy birthday, Jen." He looked at her, a little defiantly. "Hope you enjoy your twenty-sixth."
Jen blinked. Suspicion formed. She blinked again.
"What is that?" she began.
"Your birthday present. OK, so it isn't midnight and your birthday yet. Sue me," he said.
"Who got me this?"
"I did. Cee Cee and Molly chipped in. Kevin sent some money also." His voice was very even.
"Why do you think I would accept such—such an expensive present?"
"We can get to the where and how questions later, Reporter Jen," Jack retorted. "But the why is easy. You need a new car."
"Do you really expect me to believe my kid brother and sisters actually could afford to put any real money into this? I know who paid for this and Jack, I can't accept a present like this from you." Jen glared at him.
"Don't you like it?" he coaxed, holding out the keys.
"Of course. That isn't the point. The point is—"
"The point is that you had a piece of junk. Maybe you want to risk your life, but what about Vicky? Don't you remember your parents died in a car accident? This is a good, safe car, damn it." Jack moved closer to her.
"Don't try to out-argue me, you—you lawyer." Jen reached to push him further away.
"The point is—" He looked down and felt something crack inside him. She looked so fierce and so vulnerable with her lips trembling and eyes blazing. "The point is I want to give this to you and—oh, to hell with the point."
Jack bent down to do what he'd told himself would never happen. That long-kept promise crumpled up and blew away when Jen's face turned up to his, as if she craved the same thing he did.
Her breath caught as their lips met. That caught breath let her lips part long enough for him to slide his tongue inside. To explore the sweetness of her mouth for just a moment. He wanted that. He needed that. How long had it been since he first imagined what she would feel like?
Too long.
She tasted just the way he'd fantasized. Better.
He might've handled it, kept things light and exploratory, pretended he just meant to keep her quiet a moment…but their tongues met. Oh. God. She didn't turn from him.
She should've slapped his face. Shook her head. Stepped back. He would've stopped with just a gesture from her.
Instead she made a small sound in the back of her throat. She trembled.
Maybe she was afraid.
Maybe she liked it.
He couldn't help himself. Jack found himself pulling her closer. Yes. He wanted her closer. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to consume her.
He might not know what Jennifer meant by letting the kiss go on, but he knew what he felt. He'd been angry with her. Furious. But now the fury was being overwhelmed by the way he always felt, deep down, around her.
Her fingers closed around his shoulders. She wasn't pushing him away. Oh God, yes.
He was hungry. Starving. He was turning into fire and she wasn't stopping him.
The kiss only took seconds to ignite. Punishing, passionate. Fierce.
Sweet, powerful, drugging…
Amazing.
Perfect.
He could feel a trickle of sweat crawl down his back. He was hard. Harder than he could ever remember being. Jen was soft. He wanted—
The old protective instincts fought one last time before he went up in flames. The rich desire sweeping over him was almost overwhelming, but he'd been careful too long. His last remaining sane thought shrieked a warning.
Wrong.
This was all wrong.
He stepped back fast, before he stopped thinking again.
"Take the keys, Jen," he said. "Damn it, you will accept this. Take it for Vicky, if not for yourself."
Jen shook her head a little. What had happened?
After a kiss like that, to have him go back to the argument without missing a beat was disorienting. She couldn't even speak for a moment while he stood in front of her, unaffected.
"No," she told him at last.
Thank God she could remember what was going on. Remember and get angry.
"Yes."
She got up as close to nose to nose with him as she could—thank heaven she was wearing her highest heels—and very distinctly told him, "No."
"I towed your old car," Jack answered. "You'll have no transportation if you don't take it. My staff needs to come in on time. You can't rely on public transportation if you need to leave late."
"I rarely stay late." Jen's words were spaced evenly. She could hear ice forced out with each one.
For just a minute she could understand all the fearful respect he got at the firm from everyone else. He was ruthless when he wanted something.
Well, too bad!
"I'm the boss, honey." He crossed his arms. "You stay late if I say so or you're out of a job."
"So I take the car or lose my job? Who are you? The King of Siam?" Jen raged, the ice gone now, melted with the heat of her fury. "This is the most irrational, most illogical, most ruthless bit of maneuvering I've ever seen anyone try to do to me."
"I'll do what it takes to get you to accept that car," Jack said. "You know I've wanted you out of that heap you owned for years. It was junk when you had it in graduate school. It's worse now."
"You'll do what? Fire me, force me into submission by kissing me? Or would you try seducing me into agreement? I wonder."
"Is that an invitation? I'd love to take you up on that." He growled out the words from low in his throat and she saw his eyes shift down to her breasts. His hands bit into her shoulders as he pulled her near. They were so close that Jen suddenly realized he was aroused. She could feel him, hard and potent underneath that elegant suit. "Do you think I wouldn't? Couldn't?"
They looked at each other and Jen swallowed.
She'd never seen Jack quite like this. Angry, aroused, domineering. She wasn't sure how to
respond.
Of course he had known how she would react to this all the while he had been playing charming host and all the while she had been enjoying herself, unprepared. Jen mentally took a step back and rethought what to do.
"Of course I believe you could, Jack," she said, quietly. "You're a very accomplished seducer. I've seen you at work for years. But you wouldn't. Not to me. Maybe we should stop being angry and work out a compromise."
"What do you have in mind?"
He wasn't backing off, even though they both knew, both could feel his aroused body pressed against her.
Was this some crazy plan on his part to win his argument? Whatever it was, her knees felt about ready to buckle. Steady. Maybe there was just a little too much passion here. They were both losing sight of the argument. Reason could work. Reason almost always worked with Jack.
"I'll take it on loan, Jack," she told him. "Since you were so kind as to get rid of my only other method of transportation, I'll have to accept. But I'll ask Accounting to take ten percent of my paycheck and transfer it to you every payday until I've paid you back."
"You want the entire firm to start wondering what the hell kind of blackmail I am into?" Jack stared at her. "Fine. If you must, you can pay me personally when you get your paycheck. Damn you."
Gotcha. Jen smiled. It meant less pay for her but he was going to accept her terms.
"Deal," she responded, coolly. "You can stop looming over me now. Pig."
But she said it without as much heat. Getting the better of Jack in anything he set his mind to do—and he seemed willing to use any method to win this time—was rare. He didn't move immediately as he looked down at her.
"Deal." He frowned. "Mule."
Gotcha. He had authority to issue up to an annual ten percent raise for his subordinates when and how he saw fit—any more was a matter for the firm to decide. But what he could decide, he would. Ms. Turner was about to get her annual raise next week.
And she was right to try using that reasonable tone of voice on him. They needed to use reason. If he didn't back off now he might do something really stupid, like fall to his knees in front of her.
He didn't even want to think about what he might do with her in that position.
Jack stepped back and, in a courtly gesture, offered her the car keys. They smiled at each other, relieved the crisis was over and suddenly mutually amused.
"I'm afraid this means you'll have to drive home," he told her. "Luckily you drank less wine than I did."
"Get in the car, Jack." Jennifer clicked open the car door locks. "You're right. You obviously have had too much to drink. Since you're very concerned with vehicular safety as I can tell, we'll pick up your car tomorrow."
"Delighted, Ms. Turner." He moved toward the passenger side. "I just love having some big, strong woman take charge of me."
"I suppose you say that to all the girls," Jen murmured as she opened the car doors.
"Every single one," he agreed and folded himself into the passenger's side. "Go on. Take me home, baby. All the way home."
"You really are a pig, Jack." She then turned to kiss him squarely on the mouth. In gratitude, of course. "But such a sweet one."
He moved toward her. For just a minute she thought something more would happen and her breath stopped. Then he relaxed back into his seat and smiled.
"Just for you, Jen," he said. "I don't have to buy cars for all my women. You can be the exception."
She laughed and gunned the engine.
"You're definitely over being mad, aren't you?" He looked at her, slyly. "I mean, the girls told me what kind of car you had said you wanted. I did think about what you'd like. Right, Jen?"
"I wonder how fast a Volvo can go?" she taunted.
"Not as fast a Lexus, kid, so don't even think about trying to beat me to work," Jack said.
"So that's your nefarious plot?" She nodded. "Preparing to dock my pay because I come in late?"
"Don't think I won't." He smiled again. "Now try it out, Jen. I know you want to."
Jen drove sedately out of the parking lot and then let the tires squeal just a little bit.
"Jack, last night when the girls were talking about my birthday, you acted surprised," Jen remembered suddenly. "Did you actually arrange this all in one day?"
"Honey, guess what? I'm a lawyer."
"I've heard rumors to that effect."
"You know what lawyers are?"
"What?"
"They're sneaky, conniving sons of bitches. Do you really think I would forget your birthday? We had this worked out for weeks. Cee Cee made the overseas call to Kevin. They all really did contribute to the car, Jen. To the whole scheme. The girls and I went out to the car lots to check out the best car for you. Molly drove the car here tonight and took a taxi home. Of course I masterminded the whole thing."
"I'll keep that in mind the next time I think I can trust you."
"You do that, Jen. You do that. Remember that I can't be trusted an inch. Not an inch."
"Jack, despite this being a sneaky thing to do, I really love you."
"I know, hon."
"Now hang on tight. We'll see how fast a Volvo can go."
"Hey, you weren't supposed to use this thing as a racecar!"
Laughing like a maniac, she stepped on the gas and the car sped off into the night.
When she came home, still chuckling a little, she saw Molly was waiting up for her. Jen paused to make a face at her little sister.
"Things are OK, then?" Molly asked.
"Jack and I yelled at each other some, but yeah. You shouldn't have done it, you know."
"We know. Vicky is safe in bed. Good-night." Molly exited hastily.
Jen smiled as she climbed the stairs, but she could feel the loneliness start again. This was her birthday. People started thinking about what they'd done with their life so far on their birthdays. She wasn't where she had planned to be by now.
Jen felt the tears begin to slip down her cheeks as she shut the bedroom door. She let out a slow breath. Now she had done it.
It was night in the rain forest. The man who lay on the blankets on the rough floor opened his eyes.
It'd been a dream. There'd been an airport and someone crying. Someone he cared about.
Once again his mind fumbled. He saw the tears on her face. She was crying about her parents. Yes, her parents. There was something wrong with them. He could see her explaining the problem to him but he couldn't hear the words.
Then he heard his voice echoing in his head.
Jen, I love you.
Yes, her name was Jen and she was crying and she was beautiful and he loved her.
Then, suddenly, miraculously, he heard her voice in his head, replying.
Victor, I love you, too—
His body jerked, so abruptly that it jarred his leg. The pain made him grunt. It had finally happened. He had a name again. His name was Victor.
His name was Victor and he had spoken English to her with an American accent. He knew he could speak Spanish, because he had been able to make himself understood to the rubber tappers who housed him, but he had known his accent was not theirs. He knew part of it was that they were in a remote region and their Spanish was mixed with a much more native tongue. Now he knew the other reasons. He was able to speak Spanish but English also came easily to him. His Spanish came from a different country entirely.
His name was Victor, he was from the United States of America and his woman's name was Jen.
It wasn't much to remember after all this time. He wasn't even precisely sure how long it had been, since he had been out for so long after the accident and the rubber tappers were not exactly forthcoming with their information. Pieces had been coming back for months now but this was the first useful information he had remembered.
The gnawing worry in his gut, the worry he had refused to admit until it was now eased, subsided so abruptly that he almost jerked again. The remembered pain of the last time he moved kep
t his body still. It was going to be all right.
He had a home, he had a name—even if the last name eluded him for the moment—and he had a woman waiting for him. He was going to figure out how the hell to get back to where he came from. Even if it all didn't seem quite real to him yet, he knew that the images in his head came from a real place and time.
He just needed to wait it out a little longer. He was suddenly sure it was going to happen. He was going to get back. He wasn't going to be trapped here forever, wondering why he was here and who he was. It might take a while—he remembered he was near the Amazon but he wasn't even entirely sure what country he had landed in.
It seemed to be a rubber plantation on the very edge of the very isolated rain forest. It wouldn't be easy to get to an airplane and home. But he was that much closer to managing it now that his memory was returning. He pulled up the blankets and went back to sleep.
Maybe if he kept dreaming he'd be able to remember more.
Jen woke up with a start. Oh God. The dreams were changing. Instead of the same one, over and over, about the airport, the dream had continued. Now she was imagining Victor alive. Of course he could be alive. He could be remembering who he was right now.
It seemed so real. She could feel his thoughts, see him in the jungle, desperately trying to remember his name, to remember her.
But she must be wrong. She must be so out of touch with reality she was creating a new one for herself. That meant she had to do something.
She'd only been pretending to herself all this time. Move on? She hadn't moved on. She was still fantasizing about her high school boyfriend, only now her fantasies had become dangerous.
She had to do more. Push herself to do more than just dream.
* * * * *
"Jennifer Turner, are you sure?" Molly asked. "What's he like?"
"Please. You don't have to make it sound as if it's impossible." Jennifer was vaguely annoyed. "I'm not that unattractive."
"Two dates with two men in one week? Jennifer, I don't think you've ever done that in your life," Cee Cee pointed out.
She probably hadn't. The only "date" she'd ever had, or at least the only one she could remember that ever mattered, was Victor.