by Treva Harte
"Damn," Jen yelped. "This makes the second time in two weeks he's done this to me. Laura will catch me coming in later than usual if I don't hurry. All I need is for her to start talking about how Jack doesn't fuss if I come in late—"
She jammed her feet into the black pumps she hadn't taken home from the night before. She had taken to leaving clothes at Jack's, but her selection of work wear was limited.
"I will not wear the same clothes I wore yesterday," Jen muttered. "I can imagine what Laura would say to that!"
She found a skirt in the closet and then a halfway presentable shirt. She hastily buttoned it. She would have to grab a blazer when she dropped Vicky off next door. Lipstick would have to go on while she drove in to work and waited at a red light.
Why had she slept so late?
"It wasn't as if he wore me out last night and I had to sleep," Jen muttered to herself and scowled more.
In fact, that bothered her more than Jack's general protective attitude lately. Not only did he seem to want her to do less at work, he seemed to want her to do a lot less after work, too. After wanting her night and day, suddenly he seemed—well, restrained. Constrained. They'd made love last night and it was gentle and sweet but—
"A steady diet of sweet can give you indigestion," Jen said aloud. "Does he think I'm afraid of him?"
Clutching Vicky, who was blinking, half-asleep and ready to protest, Jen sprinted for the front door—only to almost crash into Mrs. Beale, who was just entering.
"Oh, Lord, I am late!" Jen exclaimed.
"Don't worry. I came in a little early today," Mrs. Beale responded, calmly. "And how are you this morning, Jennifer?"
Jen blushed. Somehow it seemed a little like having her mother catch her in a man's house in the morning. She had known Mrs. Beale almost as long as she had known her mother after all. It wasn't as if Mrs. Beale couldn't figure out what had been going on, but she had never caught Jen, well, so clearly sleeping at Jack's house. Jen hoped that Mrs. Beale didn't mind. Both she and Jack respected her and she knew Mrs. Beale was a church-going woman.
"Please excuse me," Jen managed. "I just need to get Vicky home before I dash off to work."
"I'd be happy to mind the little mite until your sisters are ready," Mrs. Beale said. "I didn't see any lights on at their place this morning, either."
"I guess Vicky is the one who wakes them up, too," Jen realized, ruefully. "She slept in today."
Vicky snuggled into Mrs. Beale's arms, obviously remembering the many cookies she had received from Jack's housekeeper, and proceeded to snooze.
"Jennifer, I have a question," Mrs. Beale continued, undeterred. "It won't take but a minute."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"What are you doing to that boy of mine?"
"Ma'am?"
"When you two first started courting he was a happy man. I never saw him happier in my life. You seemed real happy yourself. Now he looks like a mean old junkyard dog when you're not around and when you are—he's quiet around you. Subdued. What is going on?"
"I don't know." Jen wanted to wail. "I've been wondering about it myself. I can't figure it out. He acts afraid of me."
"It's none of my business, of course," Mrs. Beale said. "Maybe I sized up the situation wrong."
"You figured it out right—shoot, you've known both of us for most of our lives." Jen put her hand on the older woman's arm. "It's just that I'm not to blame on this one."
"Should've known. He's the man, after all. Well, you find out what foolishness that boy has in his head and get rid of it." She let a trace of annoyance show. "I think the two of you are real nice together. And I've gotten used to having him smiling and whistling."
"As soon as I figure it out, I'll take care of it." Jen gave the other woman a kiss on the cheek before running out. "Thanks for your concern."
It nagged at Jen all day. That and the lack of humming anticipation when she and Jack were near. There were no more sidelong glances on his part. They were just a competent, efficient working team.
It nagged at Jen at dinner that evening—a dinner she had with her sisters, since Jack had explained he wouldn't be home until late. He was dining with one of the partners and a potential client tonight. That was what he said. She wasn't sure what to believe. He'd been spending a lot of time away lately.
Jen wondered if Jack knew she had been having dreams of Vic again. Had she said something in her sleep? If she had, no wonder Jack was distant.
After dinner, Jen sprawled in a kitchen chair, frowning, and everyone was silent until Cee Cee slammed her cup of coffee down.
"What's eating you, Sis?" Jen asked her.
For a minute she looked at her sisters' concerned faces looking at her. She hadn't really been aware of them for too long now. She had shut them aside like pesky kids, but they were becoming adults. And they were worried for her instead of the other way around. The way it always had been before.
"It doesn't matter." Cee Cee shook her head. "What matters right now is what's eating you."
Molly snapped, "Well, that's obvious. What is going wrong with you and Jack? I thought that got taken care of when we had our little spree. But you look as bad as when—as bad as when Mom and Dad died."
And when Victor left. But I don't think it was this bad. If it was, how did I live through it?
"I don't know," Jen said finally. "I wish I did. For a little while after he got us out of jail, everything was fine. It was like it was before. Before he—he literally swept me off my feet, Molly. I spent weeks in a daze, a complete daze. We made love constantly."
"Lucky you." Cee Cee looked knowing.
"Spare us." Molly looked heavenward.
Jen blushed but went on. "Now suddenly he is putting up walls and being polite in a way he has never been. I don't know how to describe it. He compliments me on my hair, my outfits…"
"Oh, that is awful." Molly gave an insincere sigh.
"But very polite, considering your outfits," Cee Cee added.
Jen hit her closest sister with the morning's rolled up newspaper and then became serious again.
"I'm not explaining myself very well. He's never done that in his life. He doesn't kid with me anymore, doesn't joke with me. We go out to eat, he has me over to his house and then he kisses me goodnight and sends me home. It's like we're strangers and he has to impress me. Or placate me. I mean this is Jack! We've known him forever. He's never distant, never cold—but he told me his relationships never last long. Do you think he's decided the thrill is gone?"
"Jen, where are your brains?" Cee Cee asked. "You're still taking Jack for granted—or seeing him like you did when you were fifteen. Jack was born distant. Don't be fooled by his boy next door act. He's different around us than other people, sure. We're his family. In fact, we're better than his family. Think about it."
"What do you mean?" Jen didn't understand.
"Aren't you exaggerating, Cee Cee?" Molly broke in. "Jack is a sweetheart—"
"Jack may be a sweetheart but Jack's a stray dog. Jen, you must know that. You have a fondness for strays. First it was Victor, now Jack."
"You're exaggerating—" Jen stopped. "I think."
"Jack grew up in as broken a home as Victor did. It was just a wealthier home, " Cee Cee said. "His parents got divorced when he was, what, seven? The big custody battle was over who had to take him, not who wanted to. The housekeepers watched him at his place. He spent more time over here on vacations and holidays than he did with either of his parents. Don't you think that might affect someone's viewpoint?"
"But Jack isn't aloof. He's a people person—he's so kind to everyone, he always has something to say to anyone on the street…" Jen began. "I suppose you're going to disagree with me?"
"Jack doesn't care about anyone on the street." Cee Cee was impatient. "The only people I've ever seen him really give a damn about are us, Victor, and maybe some of his clients. He must be scared, Jen. If he wants you the way he told you he did, he must wonder what he i
s letting himself in for. At best, he has no idea how love works. At worst he figures it hurts. And he knows he's second choice."
"No—" Jen's voice caught.
"No?" Cee Cee looked at her. "Have you ever told him Victor is over with? If Victor came in tomorrow, what would you do?"
Molly and Cee Cee both looked at her. Jen's grip tightened on the coffee cup.
"I—don't know."
"Then neither does Jack," Molly said slowly.
"I'm sorry to sound like a pop psychiatrist, but Jack lost out before with his parents. Why should he think a woman, even one of his best friends in the whole world before he started sleeping with her, would be different?" Cee Cee used her softest voice. "You have your family. Why do you need him? He needs you and Vicky and us a lot more than we need him. And he isn't one of us."
Jen shut her eyes.
"This is still so new to me." She was defensive. "I have to think about myself, too. And Vicky—"
"Jack knows that but I bet he's starting to wonder where he belongs in all this, especially if you are closing up on him. Jen, you can't be that stupid." Cee Cee frowned at her. "Everyone could see Jack looked out for you more than he watched out for the rest of us. Everyone could see you liked and trusted him when you wouldn't tell us what was going on."
"You were kids. How could I tell you all the stuff that happened?" Jen protested.
"That was then. We're OK now, Jen. Get your own life," Cee Cee said.
"I wouldn't put it like that exactly," Molly started slowly. "But—Jen, you deserve your time off for good behavior. We love you. Jack is crazy about you. I don't know if he loves you exactly—maybe Cee Cee is right and he doesn't know much about love—but he's a good man. He sure acts in love with you. Maybe this comes down to deciding what you want, Jen. Cee Cee and I are old enough to live with what you decide. Jack'd kill himself before he got between you and what you want. You get the choice, Jen. Go for it."
"You just may be right." Jen gave in. "Hey, you guys are smart. How did you two manage to grow up and get so smart?"
"Well," Molly looked at her. "We have a pretty smart big sister. At least she's smart most of the time."
"Now me, I'm getting tired of being the smart one all the time," Cee Cee complained.
For a minute Jen thought she saw a glitter of tears in her sister's eyes before Cee Cee smiled. "It gets old having to tell you the obvious. Go take care of Jack and then you won't be moping around here asking for advice. I'm not Ann Landers!"
All the next day Jen worked next to Jack in the office without saying much. She tried to think about her life, her choices, what was best for her. But she would look over at him on the telephone or staring at the computer and her insides would clench with longing. She finally gave up in despair. She couldn't think clearly. Her brain just wouldn't work.
When he'd told her about what he had done to search for Victor and what had been found so far, she hadn't known what she thought then either. Jack had looked at her and she tried to think of what to say. All she could think about was how much Jack had cared for her. He must to do so much to recover a jacket. It meant nothing beyond that. All that time and effort and there was only a jacket.
Victor was as gone as he ever had been. Jack meant something to her, though. Right now she could only think about being with Jack the way it had been when they were first lovers and how she wanted it to be forever.
Jen's hands stopped on the keyboard. Forever. Well, that would solve any so-called insecurities about her that Jack had, wouldn't it? It had a good, solid feel to it, too. Was that what she wanted?
It was as if some of the dazzled haze she had managed to keep around herself for all these weeks now blazed away. What an idiot. She hadn't wanted to see what was going on, even though it ought to have been plain to her. She loved him. Of course she did. She loved him enough and was old enough to want marriage with him…the whole thing with the ring, the promises, the license that legally allowed them to stay together forever.
Jack hadn't said anything to her about forever in those terms, but he had promised he would always be there, always want her. Well, damn it, wasn't that what marriage was supposed to commit you to? He had told her that six months was the longest relationship he had ever managed before this. But he was different with her than he was with any of his former women. She would have to just convince him that marriage was the way to go.
For a moment she considered the dreams she had been having, the ones that refused to go away. But they were just dreams. They had become less and less meaningful to her. In fact, when they did come, they were now more annoyances than anything else. There had been a time not too long ago that she had been convinced she needed professional help to cope with them. She was sure now that she didn't. She was ready to go back and live a life. Even more importantly, she knew she wanted that life to be with Jack.
She turned to look at her lover carefully. How would she manage this one? And how difficult would he be to convince?
Jen grinned. She could think of a few ways. A few stealthy wiggles and twists of her hips was all she needed to set her plan in motion.
Jack was bent over his desk, scowling at the computer. His hair was a bit rumpled, his scowl was thoughtful. Jen licked her lips. He really was so delicious.
At that moment he looked up and caught her stare.
"Problem, Jen?" he asked.
"Nooo." Jen was thoughtful. "No, I don't think there is."
OK, no problem. This was working. The fact that he felt perpetually hard and perpetually desperate for her and that he thought he might kick his office down if he had to hold on to his restraint more than another second had nothing to do with it. God, he could ram himself in her now, on her desk. But that would only scare her and he would be just as hard and hot for her two minutes after he was finished.
"I'd like to have dinner with you tonight, Jack."
She was very sweet. Maybe too sweet to be believed.
"Of course." He was careful as he spoke. What was going on? "I'll try to finish up early."
"I want to stay with you tonight, too," she cajoled.
"Are you sure, hon? I might have to go back to work later," he said.
"Oh, I am sure, Jack." Jen sounded sure. "Please."
"Well then—of course," Jack got out. "How could I refuse?"
She thought he looked as if he did want to refuse, though. In fact, except for his good manners making him say the right thing, she would say he didn't look altogether happy about it at all. Jen shut her eyes. What if she was wrong about all this? She opened them again. She couldn't be. She wouldn't let herself be. And she smiled slowly as she decided just how she would make sure that he wouldn't be sorry about it, either.
Jack observed the smile come and go and his eyes narrowed. She was planning something. He used to be able to read her mind, but ever since they had slept together that ability had seemed to vanish. Maybe it was because he was keeping himself hidden from her.
Then Jen deliberately broke one of their big unwritten rules of behavior in the office. She walked to him very slowly, standing close enough for them to touch. Close enough to taste and smell and…
Shit. He was going to start shaking in another minute.
"You know what else, Jack?" she asked, gently. "I'm not wearing any panties under my skirt right now. I know you can't—check—at the moment, but I'll let you take a look later. If you're good."
Her smile broadened just a bit when she saw Jack's eyes turn dark. Yes, there was a reason for those unwritten rules. Neither of them would be thinking about work for the rest of the day. But if she had to play a little dirty, that would be OK with her. In the end Jack would thank her, too.
She would enjoy having him thank her.
Jen winked as she pushed her discarded panties into his hands.
"How was dinner, Jack?" Jen asked sweetly.
"Great."
Particularly watching you nibble at the artichokes and then licking the butter off y
our lips. Watching while you tasted the champagne. It was great and it was torture.
Jen was up to something. He hoped he didn't turn into a babbling idiot before she sprang her little surprise. All day he had been hard, just looking at her and her skirt, imagining. God, he'd wanted to turn her over his desk and—
She had said she'd planned to be naughty. That he ought to spank her.
His hands itched to touch that tempting ass. His hands itched to part those legs, encased in those black stockings and heels, then slide the stocking down, hobbling her as he pushed his cock in hard.
He just itched for her, any way, every way.
He'd been a good boy for a long time now. He wanted to be bad. Real fucking bad.
She was urging him to do that with every little twitch of that sweet butt, with every slow, sidelong smile. Her panties had been damp when she handed them to him. He bet she was wet now.
Jen smiled as she turned on the CD player. Yes, Frank Sinatra would definitely do the trick. She loved the way Jack looked nervously at her smile. He knew her well enough to be nervous.
"Why don't we dance tonight?" she asked. "We didn't get to for my birthday, you remember."
Without a word, Jack took her in his arms. They swayed together. Jen moved just a millimeter of an inch closer to him.
Was this working? She felt his erection, pulsing hard against her, and she knew things were working just fine.
Damn, she knew just what to do. That was the disadvantage of having someone you love know you all your life. She knew all your weaknesses. She was pushing every button.
She even knew what music always got him weak at the knees. The music switched to Billie Holliday. Jen's soft kisses at his throat were getting him a little stronger in other places. God help him. He'd wanted her to do this since forever.
"Are you seducing me, Jen?" Jack murmured.
"Is it working?"