by Leger, Lori
“I’m getting there,” Jackson said, as he draped a towel around his neck. “For some reason, I can’t stop thinking about Ms. Vivi’s shrimp and okra gumbo.”
Red sat across from Giselle. “You know, as many times as I’ve tried, I can never get mine to turn out like hers, and I can’t figure out why. I’m starting to think she’s holding out on me. Leaving out some single ingredient that gives it that extra kick.”
“Carrie showed me how to cook it. I guess I’ll have to cook one and invite the two of you over.”
Red leaned over to Jackson and whispered, “Watch the master in action.” He turned back to face her. “Sure, Giselle, you talk big, but can you deliver?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, I’ve got all the ingredients for a gumbo here, if you’re ready to prove it.”
“Are you serious?” Giselle put her head back and laughed. “You know, Red, I love to cook. All you had to do was ask.” She shook her head and mumbled, “Can you deliver? Has that line actually worked before?” She rose from her chair and laughed as she slipped a white gauzy cover-up over her head.
“The master…” Jackson clucked his tongue as the three of them entered the kitchen through the patio doors.
When Red placed all the gumbo ingredients on the counter Giselle held up a jar of store bought roux. “Don’t tell me you use this.”
“Why, isn’t that a good brand?”
“I know your mom doesn’t use roux from a jar.”
“No, she makes her own, but I never learned how. It’s the same, isn’t it?”
“Haven’t you ever heard that the beginning to every good gumbo is ‘first you make a roux’?” she asked.
He shrugged a tanned shoulder. “It’s flour and oil. There’s no way in hell it could make that much difference.”
Giselle grinned. “I’m gonna love proving you wrong.”
Red’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy after several bites. “Damn, that’s just like Mom’s, Giselle. It must be the roux.”
“Good cooks don’t cut corners, Red. I hope you realize that by now?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, digging in to his meal. “So, how much do you know about Jackson’s college days?”
“Nothing, actually. But I bet you could tell me some stories.”
Jackson gave a low groan. “Watch out, now. Don’t be soiling my reputation around this lady. I’d like to hold my head up once we leave here.”
Red sent a wink Giselle’s direction. “What’s it worth to you, bro?”
“How about I don’t kick your ass?” Jackson growled.
“Come on man. I fed you steaks and gumbo. Not even one story about you streaking across campus buck ass naked?”
Giselle’s mouth gaped as she turned on Jackson. “You did not!”
“Of course not,” he said. “You know Red’s full of shit, right?”
Red burst into laughter. “Nope. No streaking, but we did put down a few beers.”
“And Crown …” Jackson volunteered.
Red gave Giselle a lopsided grin. “And tequila …”
“And more beer,” Jackson ended. “And then we’d have to run it off the next day.”
“Oh God, until we puked.”
Giselle made a face. “Sounds like a lot of trouble to me.”
Jackson finished his gumbo and pushed his bowl aside. “Get a group of guy college athletes together and they suddenly turn into dumbasses—no matter how high the IQ.”
Giselle gave a low chuckle. “You know, Red, before I saw that shrine to the LSU Tigers in that room, I couldn’t imagine Jackson as a teenager. I couldn’t see him cutting up, and drinking with the guys, but now I can.” She looked across the table to Jackson as she pointed at Red. “I bet he was a terrible influence on you.”
“Oh, please,” Red snickered. “Nobody had to twist his arm when it came to drinking.”
Jackson grinned at Giselle. “No, I liked my beer. I just didn’t like it as often as he did. I actually had to study to make decent grades, so I couldn’t spend every Monday morning recuperating from a hangover. Red could read through something once and he’d retain it. That’s a ‘Summa cum Laude’ graduate right there, Giselle.”
“Oh, yeah, Mr. 3.98 GPA—you really had to struggle to make those grades,” Red interjected.
Giselle nodded in appreciation at the two men. “Summa cum laude—I’m impressed, Red. And a 3.9 GPA is nothing to sneeze at, Jackson. Carrie always said how brilliant you were, and how you were wasting your talents with the company.”
“Speaking of the company,” Red interrupted. “I know you’re taking some time off, but how are you two going to handle it when you go back to work? I don’t know exactly what’s going on between the two of you, but—”
“Nothing’s going on between the two of us.” Giselle’s comment, blurted out before she thought about it, had a devastating effect on the room’s feeling of joviality. She caught the look of hurt in Jackson’s eyes and rushed to explain. “Well, not yet, anyway, and the truth is, I’m not going back to work at all. I’m resigning.”
Jackson leaned forward in his chair. “I know you mentioned it as a possibility, but I’d hoped to change your mind.”
“I can’t see how I’d swing it, Jackson. I can’t leave town at 6:30 in the morning before the girls get to school. Their dad got them ready in the mornings. I don’t need the money, and besides, I love being home with them. Since the accident, being a full time mother has become essential.”
“I can see where that would be a problem,” Red commented.
“To tell you the truth, it’s a lot easier than I thought it would be to walk away.” She saw the crushed look on Jackson’s face and realized how heartless her words must have sounded.
“You’ve made up your mind then?” His tone was hard with disappointment as Red cleared his throat, uncomfortably and left the room. “Do you mind me asking when you came to this decision?”
“Well—” She rose slowly from her chair. “I realized it first on the dance floor last night, then again in the grotto earlier today.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s more than just the girls, Jackson. It’s you and me. It would be too difficult to be around you at the office. To control ourselves around each other—don’t you think?”
Jackson stood so suddenly his chair tipped. He righted it and stalked over to the sink. Turning, he leaned his hips up against the sink with both hands gripped tightly on the granite countertop. “What makes you think I couldn’t control myself around you?” He spoke in a voice tight with anger.
A little put off at his tone, she brushed it off, knowing the reason for it. She sauntered over to stand in front of him and gave him her most seductive smile. “What makes you think I could?”
With full grasp of her meaning, he grabbed her shoulders, and spun her around until she was pinned against the cabinet.
She slipped her hands under his shirt, pulled his ripped body close. Giselle lifted her face, but he still held back. She dug her nails into his sides, heard his sharp intake of breath as she whispered hoarsely. “For God’s sake, Jackson. Would you just do it already?”
He tangled his fingers in her hair, his voice rough with need. “There’ll be no turning back for either of us.”
“I know,” she murmured, sensing his struggle for control.
He shook his head. “No, you don’t, Giselle. You don’t know how I feel about you. Don’t ask me to do this if you’re not serious. I couldn’t take it,” he groaned.
“I know that Jackson!” she snapped. “Are you going to kiss me or n—”
He cut off her comment—kissed her like a man who’d waited too long for this moment. Their mouths and tongues joined in a mad plea for attention. When it seemed as if he would break the kiss, her hands came up and pulled his head down harder, demanding more of him.
He complied, kissing her with renewed fervor. They finally came up for air, but even then, he held on t
o her, resting his chin on the crown of her head.
“This is why we can’t work together,” she gasped.
Jackson drew in a ragged breath. “I see your point. No way in hell would I be able to keep my hands off of you. It’s been years since I’ve been this close to anyone.”
She drew back to study his face. Saw the truth of it. His marriage to Chloe had been so terribly different from the one she and Toby shared.
He tore his gaze from hers suddenly, looking ashamed. She put both hands on his face and gently urged him to face her. “That’s not your shame to bear, Jackson,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry you had to live like that.”
He lowered his forehead to hers then kissed her mouth gently, tenderly. He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t cry for me, hon. Honestly, having you and the girls in my life has already made up for it.” Suddenly, he dropped his head back, releasing a long, low groan.
“What is it?” she asked as she kissed his throat tenderly.
“I’m just thinking how difficult it’s going to be when I’m around you, until we’re ready to take this a step farther.”
Giselle grimaced lifted her shoulders. “I know and I’m sorry. I don’t know when I’ll be ready for that.”
He kissed her nose. “Don’t apologize.” They stood locked in an embrace, rocking, both of them coming down slowly.
He finally pushed her gently from him. “You about ready to go?”
She mulled it over and shook her head. “Not just yet.” She wasn’t quite ready to give up the freedom she had here, in a city where no one thought of her as Toby’s widow. She moved away to clear their dishes from the table.
Red spoke warily from the hallway, “Hey, you two. Is it safe to come in?”
“Sure,” Giselle said before he rejoined the couple. The three of them cleaned the kitchen in relaxed conversation. By the time they’d finished it was nearing seven o’clock.
“We need to go, Red. You’ve got a very successful club to run,” Giselle said, gathering her things.
“Yes I do, but I’ve got plenty of time and reliable help,” he said.
“I think it’s time to go, anyway,” Giselle said, stifling a yawn. “I’m not used to all this late night life.”
They made their way to the front door, and Giselle gave their host a big hug. “Thank you so much for having me. You have no idea how much I needed this.”
“I think I do.” He hugged her back tightly. “You’re welcome here anytime—with Jackson or without—if you ever feel the need to just come by and talk things over.”
“And there’s no reason for you to make yourself scarce around Kenton anymore, is there?” she said.
“All you have to do is call me. I expect I’ll see a lot more of everyone over there from now on.” He released Giselle and clasped Jackson in a one handed hug. “I’m happy for you, man,” he grumbled.
Jackson nodded. “I know you are.”
Giselle spoke up. “Next weekend your boy, here, will be playing in the company baseball tournament, Red. Sam will be umpiring. You think you can drag your butt out of bed Saturday morning to come watch him?”
Red flashed his white teeth in a grin. “Try and keep me away.”
The air conditioning in Jackson’s truck had a lethargic effect on Giselle. Fighting to keep her eyes open, she made a valiant attempt to converse with him. She finally buckled when he urged her to recline her seat and take a nap.
The next thing she knew, Jackson was waking her with a kiss.
From her languid state of semi-consciousness, she wove her fingers through his hair and groaned.
“Did you have a good nap?”
“Mmmm, I did, but my wake up kiss was better.” She sat up and blinked several times, trying to shake off the grogginess. “I really passed out. Swimming always does that to me.”
“Along with the dancing and the beer.” He stifled a yawn.
She sent him an apologetic look. “It must have been difficult to stay awake driving.”
Jackson smiled and leaned in to place another soft kiss to her lips. “Not so bad. If I got sleepy, I’d look over at my precious cargo.” He took her hand and helped her out of the truck. She unlocked the door, and he set her bags down on the kitchen floor. He stood just inside the door, hands pocketed and looking a little unsure of himself.
“Please, don’t go just yet?” Giselle waited for his nod before paying a visit to her master bath.
She washed her hands then rinsed her mouth out. Fluffing her hair, Giselle took out her compact, applied some powder and just a little eyeliner. She hadn’t been gone from Jackson for more than ten minutes. By the time she walked quietly back into the living room she found him sound asleep on the couch, his long legs stretched out. His head propped on the overstuffed arm. Giselle knelt before him to watch him sleep. No way would she ask him to make the drive home tonight.
She tiptoed back into her bedroom and closed the door. Twenty minutes later she emerged, freshly showered, and dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top.
Giselle slipped back into the living room and found Jackson in the same position. She sat on the edge of the sofa for a moment before taking a giant leap forward from her past with Toby. She stretched out alongside Jackson on the couch, wrapped her arm around his waist, and lay there watching him sleep. The urge to touch him called to her. She ran her fingers through his hair, used her fingertip to trace his features. Still he slept.
She couldn’t stand it.
She inched her way towards him, kissed him softly at first, then a little firmer when he began to respond. Her arm tightened around his waist and suddenly he lifted his free hand to her face, cupping it lightly as the kiss grew deepened. Giselle pulled away, opened her eyes to see his hungry gaze on her.
Her breath caught at the look of stark need in his eyes. “Hey.”
His gaze seared her. “Hey.”
She sent him a shy smile, fighting to keep her hands from doing what they wanted to do; explore every inch of his taut body. “I guess I should have let you sleep.”
He blinked, seeming to rouse himself. “I’m glad you didn’t. I only meant to close my eyes for a minute. After that power nap, I’ll be good for the drive home.”
“Nope. I’m not risking you falling asleep at the wheel. Think you can handle spending the night here?”
He paused for a few seconds. “That all depends on where you’ll be.”
“Well, I thought I’d stay right here with you if that’s okay. But if you can’t handle it, I’ll move to my own bed.”
“You can stay here with me if you behave yourself. Otherwise I won’t be able to … ensure your virtue,” he finished.
She smiled as he used one long finger to gently trace a path down her nose to her lips. His hand moved to her hair. His fingers laced through her locks, every movement diffusing the soft floral scent of her shampoo.
“Mmmm, you smell delicious,” he growled. “You must have showered.”
“Yeah, chlorine and hair highlights aren’t a good combination. Did you want to shower?” she asked him.
He nodded. “Would you mind? That might even wake me up enough to go home tonight.”
She pushed him back suddenly. “On second thought, no. You’re fine as you are.”
Jackson’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “Well, hell. I’ve got to admit, it’s nice to be wanted.”
She felt her heart expanding, growing to accommodate this man. “You are.” His gaze softened.
“I’ll stay, but we need to get some sleep.” He inched backward on the sofa to give her more room. “Can you manage to keep your hands off of me long enough for that?”
She rolled her eyes and snorted. “I’ll try.” She turned so that her back was to his front, wiggling and squirming to position herself. Jackson released a low groan. She gasped, feeling his arousal on her lower back.
“For God’s sake, Giselle, this will only work if you quit that squirming and try to keep some d
istance between us.”
“Sorry.” She pulled forward just a bit, until there was some space between them. But, even that couldn’t erase the feel of his hardness from her mind. “That was quite—uh—you’re really quite impressive, Jackson.” Her entire body burned—not from embarrassment, but need.
“Hm. Thank you?” His tone indicated he was levitating somewhere between discomfort and bursting with pride.
“You’re welcome …” And obviously well-flipping-endowed. She resisted the urge to push back against him—hard. “Maybe I should go sleep in my bed and leave you alone.” She moved to sit up.
He laid an arm heavily on her shoulder. “Stay where you are, Giselle.”
She settled back in her spot. “Okay.”
“What do you want to do tomorrow?”
She smiled at his effort to change the subject. Let it go for his sake. “Ride your bike again?”
“If that’s what the lady wants, that’s what we’ll do. Did you call the girls earlier?”
“Yep, but Gwen said they’d passed out watching a movie they’d rented at the hotel. They had a full day at the water park today,” she said, stifling a huge yawn.
Within a few minutes, she’d drifted off into an exhausted sleep.
Jackson dreamed that Giselle was asleep in his arms. The scent of her shampoo tantalized his sense of smell as soft curls tickled his chin. When she shifted, he could smell the soft, floral scent of her perfume. In his dream, she slowly drew her knee up and rubbed her delectably long thigh over the tops of his legs, until it rested on his groin.
He shifted, regained full consciousness.
No dream. Definitely not a dream. His eyes flew open as he struggled to get his bearings. He lay on a very comfortable sofa, flat on his back—with Giselle sprawled out on top of him, her head on his chest, and his right arm wrapped around her shoulders. If she hadn’t yet felt his reaction to her close proximity, she would soon enough. He rubbed his hand softly along her shoulder and then began rubbing her back with light circular motions. She moaned, but didn’t awaken. He raised his hand to her hair and began running his fingers through it, trying to tame the unruly curls. She moved her leg again, causing an even more intense reaction from his groin area. Her leg froze. Her entire body tensed, obviously fully awake now with the realization of what was happening. She slowly raised her knee and moved it down the length of his thigh without touching it, until her leg rested on the sofa cushion.