But maybe that was the answer. Kelly watched as he climbed the stairs to the stage and crossed to stand next to his sister. His blond hair glistened in the stage lights, and his teeth flashed as he smiled. He took over the podium from Stefanie, introducing the question-and-answer portion of the program. He spoke easily, confidently, his wonderful charisma set to full power as he fielded questions from the floor.
Making love to T. would probably be pretty damn good.
Kelly gazed at the wide expanse of his shoulders. His muscular arms were covered by the sleeves of his well-tailored tweed jacket, arms that led down to a pair of strong, long-fingered hands that now gripped the sides of the podium. What would it feel like to have those hands touch her body?
It was a rhetorical question, but Kelly’s imagination took over, producing a vivid picture of T., naked in her bed, with fire in his eyes as he touched her, kissed her, made love to her—She shook her head, forcing herself to pay attention to the questions that were being asked.
“What’s your writing schedule like?” a woman in the back of the lecture hall asked.
“Jayne usually gets up pretty early in the morning,” T. answered, “and crawls straight from her bed to her personal computer, stopping on the way for a cup of coffee. She starts the day by reviewing and revising her previous day’s work, then writes until a little before noon. She eats lunch in front of the computer, then about an hour later, takes about a two-hour break—runs on the beach, goes for a swim. After that, she writes until dinner, and usually again after dinner.”
“It’s pretty intense,” Stefanie interjected. “But this way a book can be completed quickly. After it’s all over, I take some time off, head for Club Med.”
As people raised their hands, hoping to ask another question, Kelly lifted her own hand into the air.
Jax focused on her immediately. “Yeah, Kelly.”
She cleared her throat, raising her voice so her question could be heard throughout the huge room. “What do you do when you’ve got a manuscript that doesn’t work, but you can’t figure out how to make it better?”
He stared at her, a curious look on his face. “Have you written a book?”
She nodded.
“You never told me that,” he said, his voice sounding soft and intimate, even over the PA system.
“You never asked,” she countered. She could feel the curious eyes of the audience studying her as she had what was essentially a private conversation in front of them all.
As if he realized this, Jax shifted his weight, looking out at the sea of faces. “Well, there are a couple of solutions,” he said. “The first is to put that manuscript on a shelf and start something new. After you finish your next project, you can go back to the problem manuscript and look at it with a new perspective.” His eyes found Kelly’s face again. “The other solution is to find a critique partner. Work with another person, get another opinion. What may seem an insurmountable problem to you might be a quick fix for someone else.” His eyes seemed to sparkle as he shot her his infectious grin. “Next question?”
Jax spent another twenty minutes answering questions, and then the program was over. He waited impatiently as the head of the lecture series shook his hand and long-windedly thanked him and Stefanie for being able to do the program for only a small honorarium.
He could see Kelly walking slowly toward the back doors of the lecture hall, talking to another young woman—Marcy something from the newspaper office. Marcy touched Kelly’s hair and walked in a full circle around her. Kelly said something, and the two women broke up. Kelly’s musical laugh cut through the ambient noise of the big room like a knife to his heart.
He turned to the lecture series head and skillfully interrupted her. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized, “but we’ve really got to go. Jayne’s got another appointment and—”
“Oh, yes, of course,” the woman said. “So nice to have met you, and thanks again.”
Grabbing Stefanie’s arm with one hand and snatching up her coat and purse with his other, he dragged her down toward the main entrance of the hall.
Marcy was gone, but Kelly stood in the lobby, putting on her backpack. The light drizzle had turned into a heavy rain that fell like a sheet of water outside the open door. About to put her umbrella up, Kelly was ready to plunge into the downpour.
“Kel, wait!”
Kelly turned back to see T. striding toward her.
“Let me give you a ride home,” he said. “You don’t really want to stand in this, waiting for a trolley, do you?”
He wasn’t really standing that close, but it seemed as if she could feel the heat from his body. Again, unbidden, the image of their naked bodies, intertwined as they made love, appeared in her head. Only, this time, the sound of rain on the roof and the duskiness of gray, late-afternoon light coming in through her bedroom windows completed the vision.
Oh, how she wanted him.
It was nothing but animal attraction. Lust. It was the remnants of years of fantasy. If only she could wipe those feelings from her memory, wash him out of her system.
Maybe she could….
Making love to T. Jackson couldn’t possibly be as good as she imagined. But there was only one way to prove that, and that was to make love to him. By making love to him, she would satisfy both her curiosity and her desire, and prove that he was nothing special to her, not anymore.
He, too, would get what he wanted, and then maybe he would leave her alone.
“All right,” she heard herself say, and saw the surprise in his eyes. He’d been expecting a fight.
“I’ll pull the car around,” he said, as if he were afraid that if he didn’t act fast, she’d change her mind. “Wait here with Stef, okay?” With a quick smile, he was gone.
Kelly turned to find his sister watching her.
“I had no idea you were Jayne Tyler,” Kelly said. “I’ve really enjoyed your books.”
Stephanie shrugged almost nonchalantly. “Thanks.”
“Is Jackson doing any writing these days?” Kelly asked. “That was always his dream.”
“You do care about him.” The older woman watched Kelly closely. “Don’t you?”
It was Kelly’s turn to shrug as she looked out the door at the street, watching for Jax’s car. “Well, yeah. He was my best friend for years. I’ll always care about him.”
“Why did you marry that other man?”
Kelly looked up, surprised at the personal nature of the question, surprised that Stefanie even knew she’d been married.
Jax’s car pulled up to the curb, saving Kelly from having to answer. “Come on, you can share my umbrella,” she said instead, and the two women dashed out into the rain.
Stefanie got into the tiny back seat, so Kelly took the front, shaking her umbrella rather futilely as she closed it and pulled it into the car behind her.
The shoulders of T.’s jacket were soaked, and drops of water dripped from his wet hair onto his face. “I’m going to take Stefanie to the hotel,” he said. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to change before we go out to dinner. We are going out to dinner, remember?”
“I’m not exactly dressed for anything fancy, T.,” Kelly protested. “I don’t want to—”
“I didn’t mean fancy,” he interrupted. “I meant dry. I stepped into a puddle, and my sock is wet.” He grinned. “I knew there was a reason I don’t wear socks.”
Kelly had to smile. “And here, all this time, I thought you just didn’t like to do the extra laundry.”
He put the car into gear, signaling to move out into the steady stream of traffic. “If you want, we can get something to eat right at the hotel.”
As T. Jackson headed toward downtown Boston on Commonwealth Avenue, Kelly settled back into the comfortable leather seat of his car. She looked out the window, through the drops of rain, and let her mind wander to the last time she’d been in a car with this man….
Chapter 7
It was nearly 5:00 a.m
., and T. Jackson and Kelly were parked at the beach. After the lights and glare of three different after-prom parties, the intimate quiet of the predawn was wonderful.
They’d left the last party several hours early, and now they sat quietly talking and holding hands.
T. told her about his dream of becoming a writer. He wanted to write everything—novels, short stories, screenplays. He wanted to write comedies most of all, stories with happy endings.
He talked about growing up, about his family, his parents. They loved him, he’d told her, but they just didn’t know how to show it. When T. had been kicked out of the last prep school that would accept him, his mother had been in Milan, and his father had been on a three-month cruise in the South Pacific. He’d talked to each of them on the telephone, and they both said the same thing—military school.
“So I told my mother that Dad was going to take care of everything, and I told my dad that my mother was making all of the arrangements, and I packed up my things and drove out to the summer house we had on the Cape.” His voice was smooth and soft in the darkness. “I took a couple days off, did errands, restocked the house with food.” He laughed softly. “Thank God for credit cards. Then I forged a letter from my parents and went over to the high school and registered. I had a copy of my school records, and I weeded out all the mention of disciplinary action. I left out anything that said I’d been expelled. I entered the school almost anonymously, and I kept a low profile and did okay.”
“You lived by yourself?” She couldn’t see his expression in the darkness, not until he smiled.
“Yeah. It was tough getting around those parent-teacher conferences, though.”
“But your parents must’ve known—”
“Not until Christmas break during my senior year,” he said. “By that time, I was almost eighteen, and they figured I had things under control.”
“Weren’t you lonely?” she asked softly.
T. was very quiet. “I didn’t know what I was missing,” he admitted. “Not until I met your family. Not until I met you.”
Kelly could see that he was watching her, and she felt his hand touch the side of her face, felt his lips brush hers. She heard him make a low sound, a groan, as he pulled away.
“Kel, we should go home.” His voice was raspy.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, making her feel as if she were about to explode. “Please, T., let’s not go yet. Let’s take a walk on the beach.”
Even as she spoke, she slipped off her shoes and rolled down her stockings.
Outside the car, the night air was cold. In the east, the sky was starting to lighten. It wouldn’t be long before the sun came up. Kelly turned to see T. standing almost uncertainly by the car. She took his hand and pulled, leading him out onto the soft sand.
“Wait a sec,” he said, reaching down to pull off his own shoes and socks. He left them in a pile next to his car.
As they walked along the edge of the water, T. Jackson draped his jacket around her shoulders and held her close to him for added warmth. The water was icy as it occasionally splashed up onto their bare feet, but Kelly didn’t care.
She was in heaven.
“I don’t want tonight to end,” she whispered.
T. stopped walking, turning her to face him, pulling her in even closer to him. “I don’t want it to, either.”
He kissed her then, and she could feel his restraint. He was holding so much back. She pressed herself against the hard muscles of his chest and, feeling shockingly bold, she opened her mouth underneath his and touched his lips with her tongue.
She heard him groan and felt his arms tighten around her as he parted his lips under her gentle pressure. His mouth tasted wonderful, so moist and warm and soft.
She could feel his control slipping as he returned her kisses. Each kiss was longer, deeper, more passionate than the last. His hands moved across her body, and his jacket fell off her shoulders onto the sand.
One of his legs pressed between hers as they both tried to get closer, even closer, to each other. She could feel his hands in her hair, pulling out the pins, letting it hang down around her shoulders.
He found the slit in the back of her dress, and the sensation of his fingers on her bare skin made Kelly cry out.
He pulled back then, breathing hard. She could feel his heart pumping in his chest, echoing the crazy beat of her own heart.
“God, Kelly—”
She pulled his head down, pulled his lips to her and kissed him again. He resisted for all of half a second, then nearly crushed her mouth with his as his careful control slipped even further. Kelly felt an additional flash of pleasure, an even stronger flash of heat that seemed to spread throughout her entire body as she realized the power she had over him.
“Jackson, make love to me.”
Her words made him freeze, until she began kissing his chin, his neck, instinctively pressing the soft place between her legs against the solid muscles of his thigh. That seemed to drive him crazy, and he kissed her, a savage kiss that made all of his other kisses seem tame in comparison. Together they lost their balance, falling backward onto the soft sand.
And still he kissed her.
She wrapped her arms around T.’s neck, feeling his weight on top of her. His hands swept her body, touching her in ways that left her breathless and wanting more. She felt his hand move up the long, smooth length of her thigh, pushing her skirt up, freeing her legs so that he could lie between them—
That was when Kevin showed up at the beach, looking for them.
That was when her wonderful night with Jackson turned into a nightmare.
Kevin was incensed, pulling Jax off of her. “You promised me!” he shouted. “You gave me your word, you son of a bitch—”
The sky was light in the east, and the first rays of the sun shot up, over the edge of the horizon.
Kelly could see T.’s face in the pale light, and his eyes looked frantic, shocked, as he scrambled to his feet.
“Oh, God, what was I doing?” he gasped. “Kevin, man, I didn’t mean to—”
Kevin charged him, but T. didn’t make a move to defend himself. “No!” Kelly cried out as her brother’s big fist slammed into T. Jackson’s face.
T. reeled backward as Kevin hit him again and again.
“You bastard,” Kevin kept saying. “You bastard—”
“Stop it!” Kelly sobbed, throwing herself onto Kevin’s back, trying to hold his arms, trying to keep him from hitting T. again.
Jackson hit the ground, blood dripping from his nose and split lip. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees until a well-aimed kick from Kevin sent him back down onto the sand.
Kelly threw herself down next to Jax. His face was bleeding, and he held his side as if one of his ribs had been cracked. “Oh, T., I’m sorry,” she cried.
“Kelly, are you all right?” he asked, his green eyes trying to focus on her face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? I’m so sorry, what was I doing?”
She shrieked, startled, as her brother roughly hauled her to her feet. “You stay away from him,” he ordered her. “I oughta knock some sense into you, too.”
He pulled his arm back, as if he was going to slap her the way he had so many times when they were both children. Instinctively Kelly flinched, but then was nearly knocked over as T. suddenly lunged at Kevin.
Almost effortlessly, he took Kevin down. Before she could blink, her brother lay with his face in the sand, Jackson straddling him. T. had Kevin’s arm tightly, savagely twisted behind his back, and he pushed it up until her brother cried out with pain.
“You ever hit her, it’ll be the last thing you do,” T. hissed. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Kevin yelped. “Yes!”
Abruptly T. released Kevin, and they both sat in the sand, catching their breath.
Kevin looked up at Kelly. “Go wait in my car.”
“No,” she said, wiping the tears from her face. “No, Kevin, I’m going home wi
th Jackson.”
There was still a flash of anger in her brother’s eyes as he looked up at her. “Jax isn’t welcome in our house anymore.” He turned to T. “I’ll ship your things out to the Cape.”
Slowly T. nodded.
Kelly couldn’t believe it. He was going to give up, just like that?
“You were supposed to be doing me a favor,” Kevin continued, accusingly.
Kelly froze.
“You were helping me out, taking Kelly to the prom, so I could go out with Beth,” Kevin said, anger still tingeing his voice. “You promised me you wouldn’t touch her, you dirtwad.”
Jackson had only taken her out as a favor to her brother? Kelly felt sick. He had implied that he loved her, practically proposed marriage to her. But he’d never said the words. He never actually told her that he loved her. But she knew that he did. She knew it.
“T.,” she started.
“Kelly, go get in my car,” Kevin said again.
“Go on, Kel,” T. said softly. “I’ll call you later.”
Numbly she’d walked back to the beach parking lot. Numbly she’d waited for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes until Kevin got into his car beside her and silently drove her home. Numbly she’d climbed the stairs up to her bedroom, peeled off her dress and fallen into bed. But she hadn’t slept. She’d waited hours and hours for T. Jackson to call her.
But he never had.
He’d never called, he’d never shown up for their movie date or any of the other many dates they’d planned….
As Jackson pulled his sports car up to the valet at the hotel, Kelly still stared out the window. She’d only seen T. once between prom night and the afternoon last week when he’d shown up at the newspaper office—at Kevin’s wedding, when she was nineteen.
Kelly looked up in surprise as T. opened the passenger side door, offering her his hand to help her out. She took his warm fingers lightly, afraid to touch him, but more afraid that if she didn’t touch him, he’d realize why.
All his promises had been empty. He had done nothing but let her down ever since prom night. So why in God’s name was she still so damned attracted to him?
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