Loving Jack jh-1

by Nora Roberts

  The rose-and-gray pattern of the Aubusson was picked up prettily in soft floor-length drapes and the upholstery of a curvy sofa. Her mother's prize collection of crystal had been moved out some years before when Jackie and Brandon had broken a candy dish while wrestling over some forgotten disagreement. Patricia had stubbornly left a few dainty pieces of porcelain.

  There was a wide window seat in the east wall, where Jackie had hidden playing hide-and-seek as a child and dreamed of her latest crush as a teenager. She'd spent thousands of hours in that room, happy ones, furious ones, tearful ones. It was home. She hadn't fully understood or appreciated that until now.

  "What's the matter with you, girl? Writers are supposed to have a way with words."

  Her lips twitched a bit. J.D. had already fallen into the habit of calling her a writer several times a day. "Off my case, J.D."

  "Hell of a way to talk to your father. Why, I ought to take a strap to you."

  She grinned. "You and who else?"

  He grinned back. He had a full, generous face with that oh-so-Irish ruddy skin. His eyes were a bright blue even through the glasses he had perched on his nose. He wore a suit because dressing for dinner was expected, but the vest was unbuttoned and the tie pulled crooked. A cigar was clamped between his big teeth, a cigar that Patricia tolerated in dignified silence.

  Jackie pushed her letters around. "You know, Daddy, I've just began to think about it, but you and Mother, you're so different."

  "Hmmm?" He glanced up, distracted from the creative demands of inventing a new word.

  "I mean, Mother is so elegant, so well groomed."

  "What am I, a slob?"

  "Not exactly." When he frowned, she spread out her letters on the board. "There, hyfoxal."

  "What the hell is this?" J.D. waved a blunt finger at the word. "No such thing."

  "It's from the Latin for sly or cleverly adept. As in 'My father is well-known for his hyfoxal business dealings."

  In answer, J.D. used a brief four-letter word that would have had his wife clucking her tongue. "Look it up," Jackie invited. "If you want to lose fifty points. Daddy," she said to distract him again, "how do you and Mother stay so happy?"

  "I let her do what she does best, she lets me do what I do best. Besides, I'm crazy about the old prude."

  "I know." Jackie felt her eyes fill with the tears that never seemed far away these days. "I've been thinking a lot lately about what you've both done for me and the boys. And loving each other might be the most important part of all."

  "Jack, why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

  She shook her head but leaned over to stroke his cheek. "I just grew up this spring. Thought you'd like to know."

  "And does growing up have anything to do with the man you're in love with?"

  "Just about everything. Oh, you'd like him, Daddy. He's strong, sometimes too strong. He's kind and funny in the oddest sorts of ways. He likes me the way I am." The tears threatened again, and she put a hand to her eyes, pressing hard for a moment. "He makes lists for everything and always makes sure that B follows A. He, uh…" Letting out a long breath, she dropped her hands. "He's the kind of man who opens the door for you, not because he thinks it's the gentlemanly or proper thing to do, but because he is a gentleman. A very gentle man." She smiled again, her tears under control. "Mother would like him, too."

  "Then what's the problem, Jackie?"

  "He's just not ready for me or for the way we feel about each other. And I'm not sure how long I can wait for him to get ready."

  J.D. frowned a moment. "Want me to give him a kick in the pants?"

  That made her laugh. She was up and in his lap, her arms tight around him. "I'll let you know."

  Patricia glided into the room, slim and pretty in a silk sheath the same pale blue as her eyes. "John, if the chef continues to throw these disgraceful temper tantrums, you're going to have to speak to him yourself. I'm at my wit's end." She went to the bar, poured a small glass of dry sherry, then settled in a chair. She crossed her legs, which her husband still considered the best on the East Coast, and sipped. "Jackie, I came across a new hairdresser last week. I'm convinced he could do wonders for you."

  Jackie grinned and blew her hair out of her eyes. "I love you, Mother."

  Instantly, and in the way Jackie had always adored, Patricia's eyes softened. "I love you too, darling. I meant to tell you that your tan is wonderfully flattering, particularly with your coloring, but after all I've been reading lately I'm worried about the long-term effects." Then she smiled in a way that made her look remarkably like her daughter. "It's good to have you home for a little while. The house is always too quiet without you and the boys."

  "Won't be seeing too much of her now." J.D. gave her a fatherly pinch on the rump. "Now that she's a big-time author."

  "It's only one book," she reminded him, then grinned. "So far."

  "It did give me a great deal of satisfaction to mention, very casually, of course, to Honoria that you'd sold your manuscript to Harlequin Historicals." Patricia took a delicate sip as she settled back on the cushions.

  "Casual?" J.D. gave a shout of laughter. "She couldn't wait to pick up the phone and brag. Hey, there, what do you think you're doing?"

  Jackie turned back from her study of his letters. "Nothing." She gave him a loud kiss on the cheek. "You're doomed, you know. You're never going to be able to use that ridiculous collection."

  "We'll see about that." J.D. dumped her off of his lap, then rubbed his palms together. "Sit down and shut up."

  "John, really," Patricia said, in a tone that had Jackie running over to hug her. When the doorbell rang, Jackie straightened, but her mother waved her back. "Philip will get the door, Jacqueline. Do fix your hair."

  Dutifully Jackie dragged her fingers through it as their graying butler came to the parlor entrance. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. MacNamara, but there's a Nathan Powell here to see Miss Jacqueline."

  With a quick squeal, Jackie leaped forward. Her mother's firm command stopped her. "Jacqueline, sit down and pretend you're a lady. Philip will show the man in."

  "But-"

  "Sit down," J.D. told her. "And shut up."

  "Quite," Patricia murmured, then nodded to Philip.

  She sat with a thud.

  "And I'd take that sulky look off your pointy face," her father suggested. "Unless you want him to turn right around and leave again."

  Jackie gritted her teeth, glared arrows at him, then settled down. Maybe they were right, she thought. Just this once, she'd look before she leaped. But when she saw him she would have been out of her chair in an instant if her father's foot hadn't stamped down on hers.

  "Jack." There was something strained and husky about his voice, as though he hadn't spoken for days.

  "Hello, Nathan." Pulling herself in, she rose easily and offered a hand. "I didn't expect you."

  "No, I…" He felt suddenly and completely foolish standing there in a travel-stained suit with a brightly ribboned box under his arm. "I should have called."

  "Of course not." As if there had never been any strain between them, or any passion, she tucked her arm through his. "I'd like you to meet my parents. J.D. and Patricia MacNamara, Nathan Powell."

  J.D. shoved himself to his feet. He'd already made his assessment, and if he'd ever seen a more lovesick, frustrated man before, he couldn't bring it to mind. It was with both sympathy and interest that he offered a hand.

  "Pleased to meet you. Admire your work." He shook his hand with a hefty pumping stroke. "Jack's told us all about you. I'll get you a drink."

  Nathan managed to nod through these rapid-fire statements before turning to greet Jackie's mother. This was what she would look like in twenty or twenty-five years, Nathan realized with a jolt. Still lovely, with her skin clear as a bell and the grace that only years could add.

  "Mrs. MacNamara, I apologize for dropping in on you like this."

  "No need for that." But it pleased her that he had the m
anners to do so. She took stock in much the same way her husband had and saw a breeding and a kindness that she approved of. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Powell?"

  "Well, I-"

  "Here you are, nothing like a nice shot of whiskey to put hair on your chest." J.D. slapped him on the back as he offered the glass. "So you design buildings? Do any remodeling?"

  "Yes, when there's-"

  "Good, good. I'd like to talk to you about this building I'd had my eye on. Place is a mess, but it has potential. Now if I-"

  "Excuse me." Forgetting his manners, Nathan shoved the glass back in J.D.'s hand and grabbed Jackie's arm. Without another word, he dragged her through the terrace doors he'd spotted.

  "Well." Patricia raised both brows as if scandalized and hid her smile in her drink. J.D. merely hooted and downed the whiskey himself.

  "Up to planning a wedding, Patty, old girl?"

  The air was balmy and full of flowers. The stars were close enough to touch, vying with the moon for brilliance. Nathan noticed none of it as he stopped, dropped his package on a gleaming white table and hauled Jackie into his arms.

  She fit perfectly.

  "I'm sorry," he managed after a moment. "I was rude to your parents."

  "That's all right. We often are." She lifted both hands to his face and studied him. "You look tired."

  "No, I'm fine." He was anything but. Searching for lost control, he stepped back. "I wasn't sure you'd be here, either."

  "Either?"

  "You were gone when I got home, and then I tracked down your apartment, but you weren't there, either, so I came looking here."

  Hoping she could take it slowly, she leaned back against the table. "You've been looking for me?"

  "For a couple of days."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't expect you back from Denver until next week. Your office certainly didn't."

  "I came back sooner than- You called my office?"

  "Yes. You came back sooner than what, Nathan?"

  "Sooner than expected," he said with a snap. "I left Cody in charge, dumped the project in his lap and flew home. You'd gone. You'd left me."

  She nearly flew at him, laughing, but decided to play it out. "Did you expect me to stay on?"

  "Yes. No. Yes, damn it." He dragged both hands through his hair. "I know I hadn't any right to expect it, but I did. Then, when I got home, the house was empty. I hated it there without you. I can't think without you. That's your fault. You've done something to my brain." He'd begun to pace, which made her lift a brow. The Nathan she'd come to know rarely made unnecessary moves, "Every time I see something I wonder what you'd think about it, what you'd say. I couldn't even eat a blue plate special without thinking about you."

  "That's really dreadful." She drew a breath. It needed to be asked. "Do you want me back, Nathan?"

  There was fury in his eyes when he turned, a kind of vivid, blazing fury that made her want to launch herself into his arms again. "Do you want me to crawl?"

  "Let me think about it." She touched the bow on the package, wondering what was inside. Wondering was almost as good as knowing. "You deserve to crawl a bit, but I don't have the heart for it." She smiled at him, her hands folded neatly. "I hadn't gone anywhere, Nathan."

  "You'd cleared out. The place was tidy as a tomb."

  "Didn't you look in the closet?"

  Impatience shimmered, then stilled. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, I hadn't left. My clothes are still in the guest room. I couldn't sleep in your bed without you, so I moved, but I didn't leave." She touched his face again, gently. "I had no intention of letting you ruin your life."

  He grabbed her hand as if it were a lifeline. "Then why are you here and not there?"

  "I wanted to see my parents. Partly because of the things you'd told me. It made me realize I needed to see them, to thank them somehow for being as wonderful as they are. And partly because I wanted to tell them I'd finally done something from beginning to end." Her fingers curved nervously over his. "I sold my book."

  "Sold it? I didn't know you'd sent it in."

  "I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me if it didn't work."

  "I wouldn't have been." He drew her close. Her scent, so needed, was all around him. It was only then that he understood that you could come home even without the familiar walls. "I'm happy for you. I'm proud of you. I wish… I wish I'd been here."

  "This is something I had to do, this first time, by myself." She shifted back, not out of his arms, but circled by them. "I'd like you to be around the next time."

  His fingers tensed on the back of her waist, and his eyes went dark. Jake's look, she thought yet again, giddy with love for him. "It's that easy? All I had to do was walk in and ask?"

  "That's all you've ever had to do."

  "I don't deserve you."

  She smiled. "I know."

  With a laugh, he swung her in a circle, then brought her down to crush his lips to hers in a long, breathless kiss. "I came prepared to make all kinds of offers and promises. You aren't going to ask for any."

  "That's not to say I wouldn't like to hear them." She laid her head on his shoulder. "Why don't you tell me what you've got in mind?"

  "I want you, but I want it to be right. No long separations, no broken promises. I'm doing something I should have done a year ago and making Cody a partner."

  When she drew her head back, he noticed that her eyes could be as shrewd as her father's. "That's an excellent decision."

  "A personal one, as well as a business one. I'm learning, Jack."

  "I can see that."

  "Between the two of us, the pressure will lighten enough to make it possible to start a family, a real family. I don't know what kind of husband I'll make, or father, but-"

  She touched her fingers to his lips. "We'll find out together."

  "Yes." Reaching up, he took her hands again. "I'll still have to travel some, but I hope you'll agree to come with me whenever you can."

  "Just try to stop me."

  "And you'll be there to make certain I don't forget that marriage and family come first."

  She turned her face into his throat. "You can count on it."

  "I'm doing this backward. I do thata lot since I met you." He ran his hands down her arms, then drew her away. "I wanted to tell you that since I found you everything changed for me. Losing you would be worse than losing my eyes or my arms, because without you I can't see or touch anything. I need you in my life, I want you to share it all with me. We can learn from each other, make mistakes together, and I love you more than I know how to say."

  "I think you said it very nicely." She sniffled, then shook her head. "I don't want to cry. I look really awful when I cry, and I want to be beautiful tonight. Let me have my present, will you, before I start babbling?"

  "I like it when you babble." He pressed a kiss to her brow, to her temple, to the dimple at the corner of her mouth. "Oh, God, I do owe cousin Fred."

  Jackie gave a watery laugh. "He's trying to find a buyer for twenty-five acres of swampland."

  "Sold." He caught her face in his hands again, just to look, just to touch what was more real to him than his own heart. "I do love you, Jack."

  "I know, but you can repeat yourself all you want."

  "I intend to, but first I think you should have this." He picked up the package and offered it to her. "I wanted you to have something that would show you, if I couldn't make myself clear, how I felt about you. How you'd given me hope for a future I never believed in."

  She dragged the heels of her hands under her eyes. "Well, let's see. Diamonds are forever, but I've always had a fondness for colored stones." She ripped at the paper ruthlessly, then pulled out her gift.

  For a moment she was speechless, standing in the moonlight, her cheeks still gleaming with tears. In her hands was a shell-covered pelican. When she looked at him again, her eyes were drenched. "Nobody understands me the way you do."

  "Don't change," he murmu
red, holding her close again with the tacky bird between them. "Let's go home, Jack."

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