by Leger, Lori
Someone bumped her it gave Giselle the presence of mind to excuse herself. She entered the ladies room on shaky legs and leaned against the wall. She placed her hand over her pounding heart, willing it to slow as she let her head fall back against the cool porcelain tile.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat. She was still fanning herself when a younger woman walked in and did a double take.
“Honey, you have got yourself one hell of a man out there. I’ve got two questions: Where can I go to find myself one like that? And does he have a brother?”
Giselle laughed, and leaned toward the mirror to inspect her make-up. “I used to work with him, and sorry, but he’s an only child.”
The woman’s face fell in disappointment. “The good ones are always taken. Is he as good inside as he looks on the outside?”
Giselle met her gaze in the mirror. “Even better.”
The woman grinned. “Good for you, honey.”
When she got back to the table, George Strait’s oldie The Fireman was kicking off.
Red walked up to her with his hand out, ignoring Jackson’s glower. He took her hand and turned to his friend. “Take a break, buddy, it looks like you could use one.”
Giselle couldn’t help but laugh at Jackson’s dour expression as she followed Red to the dance floor. Immediately after the dance, Red walked her back to the table to meet a grim-faced Jackson.
“Seriously, Red,” Jackson snapped, “Next time we come here, you’d better have your own dance partner.”
It was one a.m. before the two of them readied to leave the club. Exhausted, Giselle turned to Red. “Congratulations, Red. It looks like this place is a huge success.”
“Thanks, and I hope you come back soon.”
“I’ll be back; if Jackson’s willing, that is.”
“Honey, you come by anytime, whether he’s willing or not. There will always be a spot for you at my table. He gave her a wink that earned him another glare from Jackson.
She excused herself to visit the ladies’ room before leaving the club.
“God, you’re a lecherous son of a bitch,” Jackson growled at his friend.
“Give it a rest, bro. I’ve heard you pine for this woman forever. You seriously think I’d hit on the love of your life? I’m not Tanner Collins, you know.”
Jackson reached out and put a hand on Red’s shoulder. “I know that, it’s just that when I look at her, I see the possibilities.” He wiped a hand across his forehead. “I want this so damn bad.”
Red punched his friend playfully on the shoulder. “Hey, if you marry her, can I come to the wedding this time?”
“If I marry this one, you’re the best man. No question.”
Jackson pulled up under the valet awning of the four star hotel around one fifteen. Immediately after checking in, he carried their bags upstairs. Each entered their adjoining rooms.
Within seconds she heard his side of the adjoining door unlock then open. She’d already reached to unlock her side when he gave it a light tap. Giselle opened it and stood there hoping she didn’t look as exhausted as she felt. He smiled, looking slightly worn, but just as good as he had when he’d first arrived at her door that afternoon.
“If anything happens, you come get me,” he said. “I’ll leave my side unlocked and you can lock yours.”
She gave him a tired smile. “I think I’m going to take a long, hot, shower, and try to work the kinks out ahead of time. I know I’m going to be sore tomorrow.” She placed her hand on the knob and gazed up at him.
“There’s a dining room downstairs. Call when you’re ready for breakfast and we’ll go down together,” he said.
She nodded.
Jackson loosened his tie. “I generally wake up early.”
She nodded again but kept her silence.
He fiddled with his shirtsleeves. “Thanks again for coming with me tonight. I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun.”
She nodded once more, so hungry for his touch, she could barely stand it.
“Good night, Giselle.”
After he closed his door, she stood staring at it for several moments. She reached up and knocked gently. He opened it and stood there, his blue eyes locked on hers, questioning.
He’d already unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt, revealing a dusting of dark chest hair. God, she wished she could unbutton the rest for him. Wished she could fan her hands over the sculpted abs she knew were hiding behind those buttons.
Instead, she approached him, pulled his face gently down to her level with both hands. She stared into his eyes before planting a light, chaste kiss upon his mouth. Judging by his sharp intake of breath, it took him by surprise. She kissed his cheek next, and then whispered into his ear. “Thank you, Jackson.” She backed into her own room, and closed the door … without locking it.
Jackson woke early, a blessing really, since he’d tossed and turned all night. It had taken every bit of resolve he possessed to close his door after hers. Once he’d closed it, he knew he could resist her. But, between wondering if she’d come to him in the middle of the night, and wishing she would, he tossed and turned most of the night. What little sleep he’d had was riddled with dreams of long, tanned legs wrapped around him, greenish-gold eyes staring into his, and Giselle’s sweet lips on his own. He’d been tempted to go to the pool to get some relief, but didn’t want to be out of his room in case she needed him—for any reason.
It was eight a.m. before he got a phone call from her.
“Good morning, Jackson.”
“Good morning, did you sleep well?”
“Not really, I was kind of restless. How about you?”
“Very little,” he admitted.
“I’m exhausted and hungry. Are you ready?”
“Let’s go,” he said.
Jackson heard the door opening on her side of the room, and he went to open his. They stood gazing into each other’s exhausted faces. She walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her face on his chest. He hugged her tightly. “Good morning, beautiful” He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head.
“Good morning, handsome.” She squeezed his waist.
They stood there silently, swaying back and forth for a full minute. Finally, Jackson spoke. “Does this mean anything, Giselle?”
She nodded, but remained silent.
“I need you to tell me what it means,” he urged. “I don’t want to say or do anything I’ll regret the rest of my life.”
“It means that I’m attracted to you, and I’m getting really tired of acting like I’m not.”
“Is that all?” He damned well felt more than physical attraction for her. Wanted her to feel the same. His heart leapt when she shook her head.
“What else does it mean?” He waited, praying for deliverance of some kind.
“I can tell you that over here, away from home, I feel free enough to be able to do something like this, and to dance with you the way I did last night. But, when I get home, I’ll still be worried about what people think.” She paused before continuing. “And, as much as I’d like to, I still think it’s too soon to take it any farther.”
Strangely, he felt both exhilarated and disappointed by her admission. “If that’s how you feel, I’ll respect your wishes. We won’t take it any farther, as much as I’d also like to.” He set her away from him so he could gaze down into her face, still beautiful even lined with exhaustion. He cupped her chin and leaned in to give her the same type of chaste kiss she’d given him the previous night, before putting some much needed distance between them. “Let’s get some breakfast.”
She nodded. “I’m starving.”
“Me too.” He followed her into the hallway, biting back the words to the additional thought running through his mind.
In more ways than one.
They were on their second leisurely cup of coffee in the dining room, when Jackson answered a call from Red, inviting them to spend the day with him and h
ave lunch. Jackson relayed the message to Giselle, and she agreed. They finished their coffee and went up to the rooms to pack. By ten o’clock, they were on their way to Red’s place.
“I don’t know if you brought a swimsuit or not, but he’s got a fantastic pool,” Jackson told her.
“As a matter of fact, I did bring one I’d bought for the San Antonio trip. Just in case.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and stared out the window. “I nearly talked myself into taking a dip in the hotel pool around four a.m. I couldn’t sleep for some reason.”
“I thought about doing the same but I didn’t want to leave in case you needed me—for anything,” he said.
“Really,” she murmured, turning to stare at his profile, catching the faint scent of his cologne. The one that made her mouth water. “That would have been something if we’d both ended up there.”
His breath released in a rush as he whipped his head around to face her. “Yeah.” He faced the road again. “That would have been something.”
She couldn’t help but stare at his lips. A ghost of a smile played at the edges of his kissable mouth.
“Your suit, is it, um, is it a one piece or two?”
Her left brow lifted at his curiosity. “It’s a one piece.” She turned away, adding in a soft murmur, “But just barely.”
Red lived in a rather exclusive, older subdivision on the east side of the city. They pulled into the driveway of a very nice, single story Craftsman style home with a well-manicured yard, and gorgeous landscaping. Giselle climbed out of the truck, toting her leather shoulder bag, and Jackson walked around to meet her, carrying his swimming trunks.
The front door of the home opened up and Red walked out to greet them. He smiled and gave Giselle a hug, shook Jackson’s hand, and ushered them both inside.
Giselle gushed over the typical Craftsman style architectural elements and trim work.
“This is beautiful, Red. When was this built, about the mid 1950’s?”
“1956 to be exact. Look around all you want, or would you like me to give you a personal tour?”
“No, you guys talk, I can find my way around.” After entering several rooms, she realized Red was another man with great tastes in furnishings. She wondered if he picked his the same way Jackson did, by choosing things out of a display. Something told her that wasn’t the case.
She entered his study and had to smile at his shrine to the LSU Tigers. There were dozens of photographs of the baseball team on display. She screeched in excitement when she saw a picture of Jackson in a full wind up before throwing a pitch. Then she saw shots of Red putting someone out at first, both Jackson and Red at bat, and both of them sliding home.
She also saw group shots of the team with a huge trophy. It seemed like it should have been a joyous occasion, except that no one smiled. On second glance, she realized Jackson wasn’t in the shot. She picked up the photo and turned it over to read a label placed on the back of the frame. ‘The day we lost our pitcher, Jackson Broussard—a glum bunch of s.o.b’s.’. There were also snapshots of Jackson with his arm in some sort of brace. There were dozens of shots with him in it. She surveyed the room which was such a contrast to the house Jackson lived in, where there were no photos of him displayed at all. It was almost as if Red had tried to make up for it.
“Find anything interesting?”
She turned to face Jackson, who’d slipped in quietly. “I’m getting over the shock of seeing you and Red as kids. Look how young you were, Jackson.”
He smiled wistfully and walked around the room, staring at the different shots. He got to the “glum group” photo and picked it up to study it. “I didn’t know it then, but this was the luckiest day of my life.”
She approached him, placed her hand on his arm. “Why would you say that?”
He shrugged. “If I hadn’t injured myself, I probably never would have met you or the girls.”
She smiled. “That’s very sweet of you to say so.”
“I hope you don’t think I said it just to score points with you, because I really feel that way.”
“Do you? Really?”
He turned to her and nodded. “It’s true; baseball was fun, but it didn’t break my heart when I couldn’t play anymore. I thought it would. Everyone around me assumed it did, but it didn’t. That’s how I knew it wasn’t meant to be. If I was offered a chance to go back and have that career, and it meant never getting the chance to know you and the girls, I’d turn it down in a second.”
She gazed into his eyes for several moments before asking the question that had popped into her mind. “What if he’d lived?”
He answered without hesitation. “I’d still turn it down. Knowing him changed me, in a good way. His was a friendship I’ll always treasure.”
Her eyes filled with tears at his confession, and he reached out to brush one that fell to her cheek. She reached for the large, gentle hand that had treated her and her girls with such care over the past seven and a half months, and her heart suddenly filled with tenderness for this man. Giselle traced his long lifeline with her slender fingers, and placed a gentle kiss on his open palm and closed his hand around it.
Smiling, she lifted her face to his, surprised at the emotion revealed in his eyes.
He pulled her body close, and rested his chin on the top of her head. He ran his fingers through her curls, massaged the back of her scalp in a way that made her want to close her eyes, and never move from his embrace.
“Are you still afraid?” he whispered.
She managed a small nod.
“Giselle,” he said softly, “Will you do me a favor?”
She nodded again.
“The second you stop being afraid, will you let me know?”
Giselle smiled into his shirt. “I promise, you’ll be the first to know.” She pulled away from him, and cleared her throat. “So where’s this fantastic pool of Red’s?”
“Out back. There’s a pool house back there, with everything you need.” He led her out the back door.
Giselle’s jaw dropped in amazement as she admired the lovely patio area. A covered gazebo centered between two pergolas bordered the huge, lagoon style pool on one side, while it opened up to a grotto area and waterfall on the opposite end. “Red, this is beautiful.”
He beamed at her. “Thanks. I’m satisfied with it.”
“You should be.”
“Especially since he built it himself,” Jackson added.
She looked at her host. “Did you really?”
Red shrugged. “I had some help here and there, but building things with my hands is stress relief for me. The landscaping around the grotto and waterfall really made the difference.”
She shifted her shoulder bag. “I can’t wait to get in there.”
Red pointed out a building to the back. “You’ll find everything you need in there.”
The two men watched her disappear into the pool house.
Red turned to Jackson. “She seems as pretty on the inside as she is on the outside.”
Jackson nodded. “She is, Red. If this doesn’t happen for us, I don’t think I could survive it.”
“That bad, huh?”
Jackson ran both hands through his hair. “I used to think I’d be able to pick up and go on with my life, but the more time I spend with her and those girls …” His voice trailed off as he shook his head. “I don’t know how she survived losing Toby.”
Red stopped wiping down the grill to stare at Jackson. “It seems with some help from you,” he said. “Giselle’s a beautiful lady, and I’d be envious if I had the time for any kind of a relationship with strings involved, which I don’t. You always were a worrier, Jackson. Why don’t you try to relax and enjoy the moment?”
“Says the playboy with the Hugh Hefner grotto attached to his pool,” Jackson snorted.
“Hey, you designed the damn thing, Broussard.” Red threw a dishtowel at Jackson.
“To your specifications, McAllister.�
� Jackson threw it right back at him. “Besides, I can’t help but worry. They’re too damned important to me.”
“I’d stop worrying if I were you. You two have a real connection. I overheard a couple of women talking about you at the club. One of them wanted to ask you to dance, but her friend said not to bother, because you two were obviously a perfect match.” Red slapped his pal on the back.
Jackson put his head back and placed his hands on his hips. “You can’t imagine how good this feels after fifteen years of Chloe, whom we aren’t bringing up today,” he added.
“I didn’t do it in the first place,” Red commented. He focused on something just past Jackson. “Have you seen her in a swimsuit yet?”
“No, this will be the first time, but I’ve got a feeling.”
“Two kids, huh?” He chuckled at Jackson’s nod. “You are in for one hell of a treat, my man.” He whistled one long, slow note as Giselle sauntered toward them.
Jackson turned, stunned by the sight before him. “H-h-oly crap.” Giselle wore a solid white, halter style suit that dipped in the front just enough to show a little cleavage. Her tanned, shapely legs looked a mile long thanks to the high thigh cut of the suit. The halter style bared her long, lovely arms, as well as her shoulders. The contrast of the white suit on her tanned skin was sexy as hell. All in all, the first sight of Giselle in that suit wasn’t something he’d likely forget anytime soon.
She smiled at the two men from behind her sunglasses. “Will I be the only one swimming, gentlemen?”
Jackson shook his head then grabbed his trunks off the table, and hurried to the pool house to change.
Red chuckled. “What’s the rush, bro?” he called out.
Jackson was out in under a minute wearing black trunks and his shirt. His heart pounded. What was he? A gawky sixteen year old, trying to work up the nerve for a first kiss? His second glimpse of Giselle in that suit had him thinking he may as well be. She stood, her back to the pool, and talking to Red. “Ready to go in?”
She turned, graced him with a smile. “Can’t wait. Are you coming in, Red?”
“I will after I marinade the steaks. You two go on in.”