A Fine Balance

by Susan Johnson

  She tried to blank out the bewildering sense of deprivation welling up in her; revisiting past traumas was like reliving a car crash. Ben had chosen to leave before his son was born; he wouldn’t have had to. She’d moved on.

  Now, unexpectedly, seeing Zeke in Jack’s arms made her feel as though she’d missed a great deal. And in the tiny part of her still boiling with life beneath the weight of her responsibilities, she hungered for those commonplace joys.

  If Jack had been less handsome, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so affected. Or if she’d been less susceptible to overwrought emotion tonight, she might have ignored the appealing picture of her son cradled in Jack’s arm. Or if Jack had been well…less perfect. She softly sighed.

  Jack’s eyelids moved in response to the small sound and with bated breath, she watched him until he was breathing quietly again, her gaze focused on his outrageously long, thick lashes she’d not noticed before because—let’s be real--her interests had been elsewhere.

  Now with an opportunity to stare, she did, hopelessly fascinated, terrified too for a fraction of a second at the unparalleled delight he’d brought into her life. But she was exhilarated as well, her life transformed in any number of good ways by this beautiful man. So rather than indulge my anxieties tonight, she said to the little voice in her head that was already playing the heart-break/regret card, I’m going to indulge my libido. So scram.

  Because seriously, when it came to the gene pool, Jack Morgan had aced the selection process. She was looking at a perfect male specimen, state-of-the-art, super-hero strong, absurdly handsome, with a sexy hint of scruff shadowing his jaw. And he smelled good, some cologne that was sending out a let’s fuck message along with that fresh-breeze-off-the-ocean scent. God, he was hot. She could feel her body reflexively respond, pulse, throb, baby fireworks sending out sparks. Easy. Keep your hands to yourself, she silently warned her spiking endorphins. Don’t do anything stupid!

  Jack came awake, his voice husky with sleep. “You okay?”

  Shit, she’d spoken aloud. “I’m fine. Sorry to wake you.”

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep.” He blinked a couple times. “Just so you know, I have no intention of sleeping tonight.”

  Her green eyes twinkled. “Then I’d better not leave you alone for a second.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Wide awake now, he gave a little nod toward the stairs. “Want me to carry Zeke to bed?”

  “I’d better. If he wakes and sees you, he might freak.”

  Having seen Zeke in action, Jack doubted that, but understood mothers could be biased. “I’ll stand up before I hand him over. He’s less likely to wake.”

  Watching Jack come to his feet in a smooth flow of toned thigh muscles and hard abs, Jillian tried not to drool. Seriously, she’d lucked out tonight. On the other hand, God’s gift to women had a damn busy social calendar so there was no point in embarrassing herself by forgetting the rules of the game: it’s not personal, it’s sex. Stay cool.

  If only she could have stopped her hands from trembling when she reached out for Zeke.

  “Maybe I should carry him,” Jack said, politely.

  “Maybe I should have dated once or twice the last few years,” Jillian muttered. “I apologize.”

  “I’m glad you haven’t dated. And I apologize for my Neanderthal impulses.”

  His comment about Neanderthal impulses triggered a shameful thrill of excitement that swept through her body in a hot flush. “You carry him.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m kinda in a rush.”

  Jack smiled. “At the risk of offending you,” he said, moving toward the stairs, “I got that impression the first time I met you.”

  “Don’t you dare say like all the rest.”

  He came to a sudden stop and turned. “You aren’t even in the same universe as all the rest.”

  “Thanks. Now I better stop talking or you’ll run for the hills.”

  “Fuck if I will.” He started walking again.

  “You don’t really know me.” She ran to keep up.

  “I’ll know you better by morning.”

  “Hey!”

  He turned to give her a wink, then took the stairs in an easy run. “I meant it in the nicest possible way. Poetry, TV marathon, me playing the guitar all night if that’s what you want. Or you can tell me your life story and I’ll listen. I’m a good listener.”

  His words drifted down the stairs in a cascade of incredible sweetness. And whether he was sincere or not didn’t matter. He was a gorgeous, hard-ass, hard-muscled man with an enormous dick and a real genius for making her feel good. So tonight was about pleasure—pure and simple.

  No thinking, no angst, no tomorrow.

  Reaching Zeke’s bedroom a few seconds behind Jack, she came to a stop on the threshold, and watched him gently draw the quilt over her sleeping son. Overcome with a sudden flicker of discomfort, she wondered how often he’d done that before, perfectly calm and at ease with how many women’s children?

  It was all well and good, she thought, to dismiss angst for carpe diem pleasures, but it would be folly to completely ignore reason. She might be flying too close to the sun with a man like Jack. Brilliant, generous, warm, funny. Famously handsome, in high demand. Too long on the wrong side of happiness, wanting him more than she should, she felt uneasy, faint with hope and fear.

  Without turning, Jack held out his hand and her spirits soared. How stupid to add fear to a simple night of pleasure.

  “You worry too much,” he said, a moment later, standing before her, smoothing the furrows in her forehead with his thumb. “It’s not just sex, okay?”

  His voice was deep and low, his smile comforting, his gentleness so disarming she was able to muster a half-smile. “Thanks. But I’ve been worrying a long time.” She shrugged faintly. “Force of habit.”

  “I can help you.” He grinned. “I didn’t mean that way. Look, we’ll figure this out together. I promise. Deal?”

  She took a small breath. “I feel so good it’s scary. I’m trying to be grown up.” A tiny smile. “And failing miserably.”

  “You don’t have to be grown up every minute of the day. I have big shoulders. Let me carry some of the load.”

  She slapped his chest. “Stop it.” Looking up into his bland, blue-eyed gaze, she wanted to say Don’t smooth talk me. She wanted even more to ignore the truly stupid jealousy she felt. “Look, I know why you’re here and why I let you in. I’m fine with that.”

  “Sure you are,” he drawled because her fine with that was pretty damned clipped. As she visibly bristled, he added, calmly, “I wouldn’t have made the offer if I didn’t mean it. Let me help.”

  He spoke with such simplicity, it was impossible to doubt him. “You’re overwhelming you know. In a totally, crazy, head-over-heels, not-thinking-clearly, jealous-when-I-have-no-right-to-be way. So shut the door quietly when you leave.”

  “Relax. I’m not going anywhere. And the only reason you think I’m overwhelming is because you’ve been alone too long. I’ll fix that.” He didn’t question his instincts; he never had. “Now are we done with all this bullshit? Just say yes. It’s been a couple long fucking days for me. It took forever to get here and bottom line, you’re gonna have to kick me out.” He gently touched her mouth with his index finger. “So tell me everything’s good.”

  “I’m scared that’s all,” she whispered, panic in her eyes.

  “I have enough confidence for both of us”—he smiled—“for all three of us. And lots more to spare. I’m also fearless, self-reliant, tough as nails, good in the kitchen, not bad with kids, ask my mom when you meet her. I’d say my older brothers will vouch for my character too, but they can be assholes. So don’t listen to them.” He stopped then because she was grinning. “There you go,” he whispered, bending to kiss her grin. “I like when you smile.”

  Zeke suddenly rolled over in his sleep, mumbled something unintelligible and kicked off his covers.

  Jack’s eyebrows rose and he
took a step back. “He is a light sleeper.”

  “The house is always quiet at night.” Jillian made a moue. “It never mattered before. I’d better sit with him for a little while. In case he wakes up.”

  “Your bedroom is probably too close to use.”

  “Probably, although, there’s no bed downstairs.”

  “I’ll figure out something. Take your time.” He turned to go.

  “Hey!”

  Swinging back at the small heat in her voice, he grinned. “Or hurry the fuck up.” He cupped his crotch. “We’re ready anytime.”

  She giggled.

  “Good for now?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to move some furniture. Come down whenever you’re ready or I’ll come up and check on you”—he winked—“if you take too long.”

  Chapter 32

  Before he moved any furniture, Jack went out to his SUV, rummaged through his overnight bag and found some condoms. He’d planned ahead, he just hadn’t remembered to bring any in with him. And if not for a two-year-old serving as birth control, he would have come in Jillian like some grass-green kid when he’d never considered taking chances even then. “Won’t happen again,” he said under his breath and turned at Sam’s woof of agreement. “It just goes to show you how a woman can fuck with your head, right?” Leaning down he rubbed Sam between the ears. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  In fact he was beginning to appreciate all the starry-eyed, soul-stirring bliss he’d always dismissed as romantic drivel. His marriage had been a matter of attrition rather than romance. Sarah had said, “Let’s get married,” for the umpteenth time, and he’d thought, WTF. He’d been drinking, more importantly he’d been preoccupied with the case he was on, chasing down a big time drug dealer. A snitch had come through and he’d been super busy following the trail of crumbs back to Mr. Big. Not long after, an indictment came through, the dealer was jailed and his part of the case was over.

  A week later, he woke up, married.

  He had no recognizable adult excuse.

  Giving his head a shake, he shut the door on the blunders in his past, took out his phone and texted Ray.

  If you’re awake, call me.

  Jack was just closing up the back of the SUV when Ray called back. “You’re up late,” Ray said. “How’re things going up there on McNair Road?”

  “How do you know where I am?”

  “Seriously. You askin’ me? Five seconds to get into your phone account manager and I’m seeing you on GPS. Did your babe go to sleep already?”

  “None of your fucking business.”

  “Shit. Wade’s right. You are serious. Do I need a new suit for the wedding?”

  “Cute. Now listen. I only have a few minutes because she isn’t sleeping, okay? Here’s what I need. If you can do this for me, we’re even. But don’t take any chances. If you even think you might be caught, back off.” Jack gave his brother Tweedy’s name, Remington’s name, the address of the derelict gas station. “I need bank accounts, here and off shore, money transfers, IRS documents, phone numbers with intercepts set up if possible, although I know that’s dicey. Also, whatever real estate titles you can find, holding companies, money laundering fronts, addresses where I can find these suckers in the next few days. I’d like to shut down this case sooner rather than later. If I wait for the prosecutors to get off their asses and serve search warrants, these scumbags will be long gone and in some non-extradition haven drinking mojitos.”

  “No problem,” Ray said. “I suppose you need it yesterday.”

  “Ideally, yeah. And as long as Chrissy’s with you”—Jack heard her in the background—“have her help. Tell her I’ll pay her.”

  “Just a warning,” Ray said, “since I’m guessing you’re focused on something other than survival—make sure to check your car for a tracking device. They’re way too easy to slap on.”

  “I should be safe. I just shook the tree today.

  “These guys aren’t amateurs. Someone’s been working hard to get into your phone and computer. Thanks to me no one’s getting in, but they’ll keep trying. So use that scanner I gave you, don’t forget to check your tail light assemblies. I’ll get back to you in the morning. And don’t overdo tonight. The lady has been out of circulation a long time.”

  “I don’t need advice from you, Squirt.”

  Ray was six four, the smallest of the brothers by an inch. “I’m still growing so watch it. Pretty soon I’ll kick your ass.”

  Jack laughed. “Anytime. And thanks for the help, thank Crissy too.”

  After shoving his phone back in his pocket, he briefly debated taking Ray’s advice on the tracking device. But dragging Jillian into his troubles was a non-starter, so he dug out the scanner, slid under the SUV and swept the undercarriage. Next, he checked under the hood, the tail lights and out of caution, the car interior.

  Nothing.

  Good.

  The last thing he wanted was a target on Jillian’s back. In fact, until the crazies were taken care of one way or another—and he was keeping an open mind--he’d like to talk Jillian into staying at his house. He had security on top of security. If she and Zeke were safe, he could go do his job.

  Chapter 33

  “You moved that yourself?”

  Jack looked up, the last item from the kitchen table in his hand.

  Jillian pointed at the sofa.

  “It’s not heavy.” He set the kitschy Three Little Pigs napkin holder on the counter.

  “Are you going to fit?”

  He grinned.

  “I meant on the sofa,” she said, walking toward him.

  “I’ll work something out.” He grabbed the sleeping bag he’d taken from his car off a chair back. “Everything fine upstairs?”

  She held up her hand. “Fingers crossed.”

  “This is the only room with a door that locks.” He spread the sleeping bag on the table top, then smiled at her as she came to a stop beside him. “So, your agenda or mine. Either way is fine. I don’t have a delicate ego.”

  She blushed.

  How sweet was that? “Okay, go sit on the table.” When she didn’t move, he walked past her to lock the door and said, softly, “I guarantee you’ll like it.”

  She was in the same spot when he returned.

  He dipped his head and smiled. “The guarantee stuff piss you off.”

  “Yes, no”—a precarious moment-“yes.” A straight on look. “Tell me you don’t say that a dozen times a week.”

  “I don’t. You just looked uncertain. Poor choice of words. Sorry.”

  A tiny chin tilt. “Me too. I told myself to relax, enjoy the evening, the sizzle and tingle I feel with you, your impressive…head to toe”—a slow sweeping up and down glance—“hotness. Instead I got all defensive.” She sighed. “Honest to God, I’m so bad at this.”

  “I don’t want you to be good at this,” he said quietly, “because I’m not either. This is different. You’re different. Everything tonight is fucking new to me. So tell me what you want and I’ll try to give it to you. Or don’t tell me,” he said, smiling a little, “and I’ll try to guess. And if I guess wrong, put the brakes on. You’re the boss.”

  It was her turn to smile. “I don’t want to be the boss.”

  That worked for him. He held her gaze. “FYI, I understand the word, no.”

  Her lips twitched. “Not likely that.”

  “Good. But we’re taking it a little slower this time. Just saying, not looking for permission, okay?”

  She took a quick indrawn breath, a flush rose up her throat, a burst of color pinked her cheeks.

  Christ, he’d only meant they’d ease up on their earlier slam-bang against the wall. Apparently she did like orders. Fine. He was flexible; particularly for her.

  Lifting her up on the table, he brushed his palms over her shoulders, then down her arms and circling her wrists with his fingers, bent his head and kissed her. Soft, teasing, closed-mouth kisses, butter
fly kisses, we-have-all-night kisses, little, enticing nibbles that turned into sharper nips as her breathing changed, intensified, took on a feverish rhythm.

  “I need…more--than kisses.” Exasperated, a flash of fire in her eyes. “I need you!”

  “Relax,” he whispered. “We have all night.”

  “Don’t want to relax,” she muttered, willful and impatient and twisting upward, she thrust her tongue into his mouth. Hard.

  He bit it.

  She jerked back, rigid with shock. Her eyes darkened for a second, then she caught her breath as a whip lash of lust shredded her nerve endings, streaked through her sex, imploded in her brain with such savage power it carried down her spine to the tips of her toes and left her trembling.

  “It’s not a race,” Jack said. “Take it easy.”

  “Screw you.” Eyes at half mast, a real edge to her voice. “Hurry.”

  “That sounds real bossy.” Releasing her wrists, he stepped back.

  Her eyes flew open wide, a soft surprised “Oh!” left her mouth. Then her gaze narrowed, slammed his, turned pissy. “So? You have a problem with that?”

  “Sometimes.”

  She took her time looking at him. “I can get off myself.”

  “I doubt it. That’s me being polite.”

  “I could tell you to leave.”

  Jesus, there was something to be said for the ladies who came to his house and just wanted a fuck. But he’d done enough of that kind of fucking to know it wasn’t what he wanted tonight. “Nah—don’t do that,” he said quietly, then paused for a second to say it right. “Look, I’m not good at reading minds. It’s late, maybe I’m tired but I’m getting real mixed signals here. I’m not saying you can’t be boss or we can’t go for a five second fuck. But I can make it better than that,” he said, gently. “I can make you feel good, give you satisfaction, make it last.” He smiled. “What do you say?”

  She gave him a wary look. “Do you give this speech often?”

  He didn’t pretend not to know what she was asking. “I’ve never cared enough to give it.”