by Jewel E. Ann
Her body clock protested when the alert chimed at the break of dawn. She shut it off and made her way back down to AJ’s room.
“Should I be worried that you’d rather sleep in my son’s bed than mine?”
Jillian jumped as she reached the bottom of the stairs, wearing only her bra and panties. AJ sat at the table sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. He was showered and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.
“Oh! Hi,” she breathed out in surprise. Honesty wasn’t a luxury Jillian had been granted. Deceit wasn’t a lie; it was survival. She became an expert at revealing the truth cloaked in a lie. “You’re up early.”
AJ twisted the newspaper, glancing at his watch. “So are you.”
Jillian took tentative steps toward him. AJ was far from an open book. His emotions were as subtle as the turn of the earth. She eased the newspaper from his grasp. He sipped his coffee as she straddled his lap, wrapping her hand around his to bring the cup to her lips. “Mmm … hazelnut.”
AJ nodded once as he set the mug on the table. He had yet to share even a faint smile, but his eyes gleamed with pleasure as they perused her body.
“I know you think I have control issues, but they’re really more trust issues.” Their eyes met as she released his tags. “Falling asleep, naked, next to someone takes a lot of trust. In fact, there’s really nothing that feels more vulnerable than that.”
AJ withheld all emotion, just a blank expression.
“Say something,” she whispered.
He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her. His tongue slid against hers with lazy patience. It was as quick and simple as striking a match or flipping a switch. Jillian’s body went from content to desperately insatiable. She rocked her pelvis against him, feeling a trickle of warmth at her core. He grabbed her hips to still her motion.
“Thank you.”
She pulled back, eyes narrowed. “For what?”
“For not trusting me.”
She frowned, resting her hand on his cheek. His pain was so palpable. “She left you?”
He nodded.
Questions swelled on her tongue, but she had no right to ask them.
The ghost of a man looked over her shoulder like he was seeing his past on a T.V. screen. “Brooke, my ex-wife, was my dental hygienist. My former dentist … her boss, is now her husband. We fell fast in love and six months later we were married. Cage was born two years after that. We were never in the same place very long. When Cage started school we decided it was best for her to move back to Portland near our parents. We wanted Cage to have stability and make friends without feeling like nothing in his life was permanent, the way I felt growing up. By the time I came home for good, I wasn’t the same person. It’s like being on constant high alert. You just can’t shut it off and it wears on you … it affects everyone around you. She’d tap my shoulder and I’d have her pinned to the wall with my hand around her neck.”
He sighed a shaky breath and ghosted his hands up and down Jillian’s legs. “I broke her down a little every day. I broke us a little more every day.” He shook his head. “I never hit her, but I lost my temper … a lot. I frightened her. I didn’t even realize how much until I found a locked box in her bedside drawer. Inside was a hand gun.”
He shook his head. “What does that say about a man when his wife needs a gun by her bed to feel safe? We had sex, but we never made love again. She looked at me like she was looking at a stranger. I could almost hear her counting down the seconds until it was over. I never forced myself on her and she never denied me, but she’d curl up in a ball like I just raped her.”
His voice broke and he swallowed hard. “I moved out when Cage was ten and we signed the divorce papers shortly after his eleventh birthday. I wondered if she’d been having an affair because of how quickly she remarried. But honestly it didn’t matter. In some ways it was comforting to think that someone else was taking care of her and treating her with the respect and love she deserved.”
AJ laughed. “How fucked up is that?”
His words were a clear warning, but they only made Jillian feel more drawn to him, not a moth to a flame—a flame to a stick of dynamite.
“It’s not you I don’t trust.” She reached behind and unclasped her bra. AJ’s hands slid up her stomach and cupped her breasts as her head fell back; a soft moan released. “It’s me,” she whispered.
Chapter Twenty
The Knight’s basement smelled like a gym, especially on the days Jackson wanted to sweat a lot. He turned off the air conditioner until the whole house began to feel like an inferno. Jillian stopped at the bottom of the stairs and watched her brother do one arm pushups. He defined the term physical specimen: muscles, tan skin, and a canvas of ink.
“Angry, bored, or sex deprived?”
Jackson grunted as he switched arms. “Yep.”
Jillian sat down on the bottom step. “You’re angry with me?”
“Yep.”
“And bored?”
“Yep.”
“Because I’m not here?”
“Nope.”
“Because you’re sex deprived?”
“Yep.” Jackson growled through the last one that shook his whole body. Then he sat on the floor, arms resting on his bent knees, completely out of breath. “I don’t like you with AJ.”
“You didn’t like me with Luke for quite some time.”
He shrugged. “Why AJ?”
“I think he needs me.”
Jackson laughed. “And who are you?”
“A single thirty-year-old woman with ghosts haunting her at every turn. AJ’s haunted too.”
“So two wrongs make a right? Or misery loves company? Or—”
“Or when I’m with him I feel close to Luke.”
Jackson shook his head. “That’s messed-up.”
“I was messed-up. Luke saved me.”
“So AJ needs saving?”
Jillian stared at the chipped polish on her toenails. “He needs somebody.” Jessica Day needed somebody.
“Has he told you about his past?”
“A little.”
“And has he asked you about yours? Your disturbing behavior that’s reared its ugly head again?”
“Not really. Well … that’s just it … he knows I need it, and he lets me … but he doesn’t demand to know why.”
“Christ, Jillian! You don’t need it! And he’s one fucked-up son of a bitch if he voluntarily lets you do it. If a woman, no matter how good she was in bed, ever went all Twilight on me, it would be over!”
“What if he needs it? What if he’s just as fucked-up as me? Huh? Maybe he needs to know that he can’t hurt me. Maybe—”
Jackson hunched down in front of her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not fucked-up. Okay? Jillian Knight lost her parents … period. But she had a normal childhood and normal relationships, and is in fact normal. Got it?”
Tears swelled in Jillian’s eyes. “But Jessica—”
“Is dead.” Jackson kissed her forehead. “You have to let her go or she’ll destroy you. You need to find normal. You need a guy that won’t let you be anything but normal. You may think that AJ needs Jessica, but she can’t save him and he can’t have her because she no longer exists.” Jackson wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Listen to me …” he whispered “… you either have to let Jessica go or AJ.”
“Dodge is waiting for me. I have to go.” She pulled away.
“I’ll go to my grave protecting you.”
Jillian stopped midway up the stairs, but she couldn’t turn around. A nod was all she could give without breaking down again. She felt the same. They had that unexplainable connection. When one was in trouble, no matter where the other was, they sensed it. They physically felt each other’s pain.
Jackson was known for his cavalier attitude toward women. But someday he was going to be someone’s jackpot. If the right woman came along and he decided to love her, she would be adored beyond words, protected to the
ends of the earth, and given everything her heart could ever desire.
*
Stan stopped Jillian on the way to Dodge’s place. He was drenched in sweat and sporting denim cutoffs, the right leg three inches longer than the left.
“Did you read over the notes from the meeting?”
“Uh … yes.” Jillian smiled. She’d lightly skimmed them a few nights earlier when she needed help getting to sleep.
“Oh, good. What are your thoughts on the speed bumps? Since we don’t have sidewalks in our development a few people…” he rolled his eyes and waved his hands around “…namely my wife, wants speed bumps installed. I posted speed limit signs last year, but she doesn’t think people notice them.”
Jillian laughed a little. “You have like … six of them posted. I don’t think it’s that they don’t notice them. I just think they don’t give a shit. It’s a private drive, what are you going to do? Make a citizen’s arrest?” Jillian shrugged. “I agree with your wife. Speed bumps are the way to go. Sometimes you have to physically control people’s actions. I’m off to Dodge’s, see you later.”
“He’s probably still watching wrastling.”
Jillian turned. “You mean wrestling?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said, wrastling.”
She shook her head and kept walking. Dodge was indeed watching wrastling on the T.V. in his garage when she arrived.
“Who watches Lilith when you’re out here, old man?”
“Hey, Jillian! Beer?” He lifted the lid to the cooler on the back of his golf cart.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“No need to report me for wife neglect.” He held up a baby monitor. “I’ve got ears on her. Never hear much, usually just her crop dusting … thank God Almighty this thing doesn’t transmit odor.”
Jillian frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You do realize she’s probably going to bludgeon you in your sleep and not a court in the country will convict her.”
“Nah … she’s crazy ’bout me.”
Jillian held out her hand. “Go get your stuff done. I charge double when you’re inefficient.”
Dodge grinned, handing her the baby monitor. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been ignoring the rumors that you work at night in a black leather corset yielding a whip. But I’m starting to think there might be some truth to it.”
Jillian opened the back door. “Whatever shakes your rocks.”
Lilith smiled, looking up from her book at Jillian. Of course, after Dodge’s comment, Jillian understood why Lilith always looked so happy to see her.
“Lunch?” Jillian pointed to the kitchen in her usual make-shift sign language.
Lilith shook her head, holding up an empty plate on the table next to her chair. Jillian took the plate to the kitchen.
“It’s a beautiful day and the sun is no longer hitting your deck so I think we should go outside for some fresh air.” Jillian looked inside the refrigerator. “Surprise, surprise, your crazy husband made some iced tea. And here I thought all he did was siphon beer from his cooler all day.” Jillian chuckled to herself as she poured two glasses then cut up a lemon. “I’m basically talking to myself, so really, who am I to judge.”
The sweltering heat that had plagued the previous weeks showed mercy that day. It was eighty degrees with low humidity. Jillian and Lilith nursed their iced teas and watched the ducks and geese play in the algae-infested pond. Before Lilith had a chance to finish her drink, she drifted off to sleep as Jillian drifted back in time.
*
Day
Luke insisted Jessica take the day off to recover. No work, no therapy, no Luke. Jessica appeased him by playing the part of the good patient, only because she’d caught a glimpse of her hideous reflection in his GTO’s window. Who was she kidding? Soap, deodorant, toothpaste, and a comb were the absolute minimum requirements before her charm and sex appeal would have a chance. And even then, she knew he was immune to her spells.
The loose-fitting cargo pants didn’t turn any heads, but they also didn’t rub against her road-rash covered legs. Her sleeveless blouse that revealed her cleavage, one of the few areas of her body that was unscathed, made up for the not-so-sexy pants. She left her hair down to veil the scrape high on her cheekbone. Armed with a pizza, Heineken, and a bottle of Riesling, she knocked on Luke’s door.
“Jessica?” Luke answered wearing an authentic look of shock, but it didn’t distract from his fitted button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, and jeans that flashed like a neon ‘fuck me’ sign. At least, that was Jessica’s humble opinion that was reaffirmed when she inhaled what she’d come to think of as Chanel No. 69 – Jones le fonder de culotte—Jones the panty melter.
“I’m not a take-the-day-off kind of girl, so …” She shrugged.
“You should have called first.” Luke’s expression morphed from surprised to a reprimanding scowl.
She wrinkled her nose. “I wanted to surprise you. The call would have ruined it.”
“True, but at least you would have known that I already have plans this evening.”
“Plans? What plans? Your place is immaculate thanks to yours truly and less than twenty-four hours ago your plans were with me?” Jillian leaned forward and sniffed, trying to decipher what she was smelling other than pizza and Chanel No. 69. “Are you cooking?”
“Yes,” Luke answered, enunciating the word as if Jessica was deaf or just dumb.
“Luke?” A female’s voice called from inside.
“Is that … a woman?”
“Yes,” he repeated his same enunciation.
“A date?” Jessica said with loud surprise.
“Shh … yes, a date. Now, do you mind?”
“Where’s your bottle open—Jessica?” A familiar body accompanied the mysterious voice.
Luke sighed as his date peeked around him.
“Ellie?” Jessica gritted her teeth.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Ellie’s gaze moved to the pizza box and sack of beer and wine.
“Jessica cleans my house.” Luke smiled at Ellie.
“But, I thought Kelly and Gabe said they fixed you two up and it didn’t work out.”
Jessica smiled at Luke, waiting for his explanation.
“They did, and we didn’t work out romantically, but I was looking for a cleaning lady and Jessica was looking for some part-time work so …” Luke shrugged like that’s all the explanation that was needed. “So, I take it you’re both mutual friends of Kelly’s?”
Jessica interrupted before Ellie could get one syllable out of her pouty lips. “We all went to college together.”
“I dated her brother, Jude, for a while.” Ellie flipped her blond hair over her shoulder as if dating Jude was worthy of a spot on her dating resumé.
“I think he said he screwed you in the alley behind a night club and couldn’t remember your name so he referred to you as ‘the girl who would lick anything.’ So if you call that dating, then sure … you dated my brother.”
Ellie laughed. “Oh, Jess … you’ve always had such a great sense of humor.” Ellie retreated from Luke’s view and gave a pleading, wide-eyed look to Jessica.
“Well, listen up, Jones. I’m busy for the next two weeks so it’s now or never for cleaning your place.”
“Never.” Luke squinted and started to close the door.
“Now? Great!” Jillian pushed it open and wedged her way between him and the door. “You don’t mind do you, Ellie? I’ll be done in no time. You won’t even notice I’m here.”
“Uh … well…” Ellie stepped to the side “…what’s with the pizza?”
“A girl’s gotta eat.” Jessica sauntered down the hall toward Luke’s bedroom. She shut the door and leaned up against it, blowing her hair away from her eyes. “Ellie?” she grumbled. “Ellie fucking … what is her last name? Lehman? Lawson? Lieberman? Lickey!” She laughed in spite of the frown on her face. “It’s not Lickey, but screw it, I’m going with it. How could Kelly fix him up with her
? Shit!” Jessica jumped as a loud knock vibrated the door just opposite her head. She turned and opened it.
“Jessica …” Luke stormed inside his bedroom. It was more like a small gust. Nothing Luke did ever appeared out of control. “Once again you are crossing the line. I told you to stay home and rest. Now you’re here crashing my date, which is completely inappropriate, and the web of lies keeps getting bigger and it’s all going to blow up in your face—”
He turned, having been venting his frustration to the window. Jessica sat perched on his bed with her legs crossed, pizza box open, and in the middle of pouring a glass of wine.
“What are you doing?” His voice escalated. Incredulity etched in the lines of his forehead above his wide eyes.
“Eating…” she mumbled through a mouthful of pizza “…I’m starving.”
“That’s a fifteen-hundred dollar bedspread. Do you know what that means?”
Jessica held up a finger as she finished chewing, a sparkle of excitement in her eyes. “Oh, yes, I know this one. It means that you’re an idiot for paying that much money for a semen towel.”
He eased toward the open bottle of wine that she’d decided to balance on the bed next to the pizza box. A bit of relief washed over his face as he grabbed it without it spilling. “Out. Right now. Take your food and go. Ellie’s waiting for me and I don’t have the time nor the patience to deal with you and your antics right now.”
“Oh God … Ellie, right. Please tell me you’re not seriously entertaining the idea of dating her.”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Come on, Jones! You can’t be serious. She’s a total slut. Are you really going to take her to dinner with your uppity shrink buddies, half of whom she’s probably already screwed.”
“She owns a daycare … I hardly think that qualifies her as a slut.”
Jessica took another bite of her pizza and shrugged. “She likes to recruit them when they’re young.”
Luke grabbed the box, leaving Jessica on the bed with just a lone piece of pizza in her hand. “Out. Now.”