One Forever Kiss (Affair Without End Book 4)

by Susan Ward

  “I’m an English major. But I don’t know why. I had to pick something because of my scholarship.”

  “See, that one surprises me. I would have thought a girl like you would have a carefully thought-out plan. Isn’t there something you wanted to study?”

  “I used to dance.”

  “Exotic?”

  She slapped me on the arm and I was glad she could tell I was teasing.

  “No. Ballet. But I blew out a tendon.” She pointed to her left leg. “Pretty much ended my dancing career. I wanted to be a ballet dancer.”

  “You certainly have a dancer’s body.”

  She made a face. “Is that a polite way of saying I’m flat chested?”

  Shit, this girl had no self-confidence at all, and for some reason it made me feel guilty that I’d put the moves on her last night and, illogically, even more curious about her.

  She was a remarkable girl, drop-dead gorgeous, but wounded and vulnerable. There was something in her background that made her lack self-esteem.

  “Your body is perfect. What isn’t perfect is how you see yourself.”

  I made a decision that surprised me.

  The last thing Linda needed was to be fucked again. With how she looked, that was probably the limit of what guys her age wanted to do with her. She was that hot. Just looking at her was enough for instant liftoff in my boxers, and hell, I was thirty-eight.

  What she needed was a dose of being treated well.

  I grabbed my jeans and pulled them on.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, worried.

  “To make you breakfast.” I checked the clock. “Or maybe I should say lunch. You are hungry, aren’t you? I’m starved.” I dropped a light kiss on her mouth and moved away from her. “Why don’t you take a bath and clean up while I cook for you?”

  I went into the walk-in closet. She needed something to wear other than a sheet. Shoving hangers aside, I tried to figure out what she would like, but I was pretty sure none of this was right for her.

  I scooped up some garments from Lena’s side of the closet and laid them on the bed.

  “These should fit you. Pick what you like. If you’re going to stay here for a while, I’ll need to take you shopping. But we can’t go shopping with you wearing a sheet, not even in Santa Barbara.”

  I was almost out of the bedroom when she said at my back, “You’re an interesting man, Jackson Parker. I don’t know what to make of you.”

  I turned and held her playful brown eyes in a chiding stare. “Don’t make anything, Linda. Let’s just have a little fun.”

  I went into the kitchen and started cooking breakfast. I wasn’t sure what she liked, and my culinary skills were limited. Barbecuing and mostly Mexican food. I decided to make spicy omelets since Linda was from Southern California.

  I was nearly done preparing breakfast and setting the table when I heard a throat clear behind me and I turned to see Linda standing noticeably uncomfortable in Lena’s dress.

  Oh fuck, giving her my wife’s clothes hadn’t been a smart move, and while they fit her fine, I could see she felt weird about wearing them. It was certainly unsettling for me to see her in them.

  “I think I should be making breakfast,” she said, a trifle silly. “I look like June Cleaver in this.”

  I set down the knives and forks on the table. “You look lovely, Linda.”

  She stared down at the pale pink floral dress.

  “Didn’t your wife own any jeans? I’m assuming that these are her clothes and not some sort of costume for naughty role playing or something.”

  Role playing? That was a new one for me, but the last time I’d tomcatted around was the sixties.

  I shook my head, amused by her and myself. “No role playing. My wife’s. And no jeans. Not that I know of. Lena was a very elegant woman. I don’t think I ever saw her in jeans. You’re welcome to look if you’d like.”

  Her features tightened, showing her unease. “To be honest, I would rather not be wearing this.”

  “To be honest, I’d rather you not be wearing it as well.”

  She puffed up, tilting her head, indignant. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know. But I can’t take you out shopping in a sheet. You have to wear something.”

  I gave her a fast once-over. Shit, what could I dress her in? The light touch of her finger on my cheek pulled me from my thoughts.

  “I’m sorry. This must be as strange for you as it is for me.”

  A sudden onslaught of emotion made a lump rise in my throat and I took a step back from her because now I felt like a shit to both my wife and this girl.

  “Just a little,” I finally managed to say softly. “How do you feel about wearing something of the housekeeper’s? You look about the same size as Maria.”

  She shrugged and sank down at the table. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m the one who ran off wearing only a sheet.”

  “Wait here.”

  I went to Maria’s room, something I never did, and rummaged through her drawers. I pulled out things I thought might work and took them to my bedroom.

  Back in the kitchen, I said, “Success. Jeans and a few other things you might prefer. I put them on the bed for you.”

  I sat in the chair across from her and reached for my coffee. I tried not to look at her and failed dismally.

  Christ, what was I doing?

  In twenty-four hours, I’d gone from drunk in my room, to spilling Lena’s ashes, to letting a girl pick me up on the beach, to fucking her all night long…and now taking her shopping?

  I grabbed my fork and started eating my eggs.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  Her soft voice startled me. “No. Why would you ask that?”

  “I don’t know. It just feels like something has changed. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  I shook my head, not really sure what I wanted. OK, that wasn’t completely true. I didn’t want her to leave yet. That much I knew with certainty.

  “Stay, Linda. Stay as long as you like. I mean that. I don’t do things I don’t want to do.”

  “OK.” She leaned back in her chair, locking her eyes on me. “But why are you being so nice to me? Helping me out of this stupid jam I’ve put myself in. Making me breakfast. Taking me shopping. I’m nothing to you.”

  I wish I knew. “Why are you so suspicious? Why can’t we just be what we are? And why can’t we just roll with it?”

  “Because I’ve never met anyone who is kind without a reason.”

  Her cynicism surprised me.

  “You are. Besides, I consider us friends. That makes you important to me.”

  Her brow puckered in consternation.

  Damn it, Jack. Friends?

  I was behaving off-putting enough without rolling strange, random comments into the mix.

  I stood up, taking my plate with me. “Are you finished?”

  She nodded, and I grabbed her dish and made a fast retreat to the sink.

  I needed to slow this down.

  I needed to think.

  I started washing up the mess I’d made cooking breakfast. Linda remained at the table. I felt her watching me, and I knew how I was behaving was troubling her.

  Shit, if I was going to spend the day with this girl, I wanted it to be a pleasant thing for both of us. Something told me Linda needed some pleasant moments, and Lord knew I did. The last thing I wanted was for this to be something weird or creepy for either of us.

  I needed to say something fast to get this on track again.

  I looked over my shoulder at her. “There are no chance meetings, Linda. Every person who comes into your life comes into your life for a reason. You just have to be receptive to finding the reason.”

  She crossed the room and grabbed the dish towel. “Where did you learn that? A commune?”

  Commune?

  For some reason the way she asked that and waited expectantly smoothed out the edges in me and lifted my mood.
/>   “You do have a sassy mouth on you. Are you trying to insult me or charm me?”

  She gnawed on her lower lip—the gesture cute.

  “I’m not sure.”

  I wasn’t sure about anything either, except that I really wanted to kiss her again. I touched my lips to hers briefly, then said, “Go change. Let me finish this and take a shower so we can get out of here for the day.”

  Chapter Forty

  I was on my first date in nearly twenty years. Well, that’s what I called it in my head. I didn’t know what Linda thought we were doing as we drove out of Hope Ranch toward the mall.

  It was also the first time I’d left my propriety since burying Sammy. There was a lot going on with me in that car, a lot I didn’t understand—like why today everything had abruptly changed—and not the least of which the girl sitting beside me.

  Cautiously, I peeked at her out of the corner of my eye, noting how cute she looked in one of my baseball caps and glasses that I kept in the backseat for when I drove with the top down. I felt a slight twinge of something.

  When I suggested Linda put them on, she’d made a snappy comment about me wanting to hide her from the neighbors, and I’d made a fast retort that they were for the sun. But neither answer was true. I wasn’t sure if there was press out there at the end of my driveway still, and I didn’t want us showing up in print together, not before I knew who this girl was and what the hell we were doing.

  The hiding me from the neighbors comment stung. It told me as much about how Linda saw me as it did how she saw herself. I didn’t like either.

  And I didn’t like how worried she looked, even though she did a fair job hiding her anxiousness behind a whole lot of bravado and too many cuss words for a woman so beautiful.

  Ah—but she was interesting. No denying that.

  “How long have you lived here?” she asked, breaking the silence between us.

  “My entire life. I was born and raised in that house.”

  “Really? I can’t imagine getting to live in one house my entire life. Doris and I moved almost every year until I was in high school and she bought the condo.”

  “Where in LA are you from?”

  She shrugged and crinkled her nose. “Reseda.”

  Reseda. It didn’t surprise me. A tough area of LA for a tough girl, and it made it more impressive that she was on scholarship at USC.

  “And your family?” I asked.

  “Just my mom and me.”

  “What does Doris do?”

  I could tell she didn’t want to talk about herself. Reluctantly, she said, “She’s a waitress in Encino.”

  She grabbed the case of tapes from the floorboard and pretended to focus on what was in there.

  “And your dad?” I prodded, because whether she wanted to or not, I couldn’t let up because I needed to know at least the basic information about this girl if what we were doing was going to continue.

  She looked away. “I don’t know and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  The way she bit that one out told me there was no dad in the picture, not ever.

  “What about a boyfriend? A girl as stunning as you surely has a boyfriend.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him either.”

  I laughed, since another girl wouldn’t have honestly tossed that one on the table with me and never that way.

  “Guys giving you a bit of trouble, are they?”

  “Nothing but,” she said with a saucy look, then pulled a cassette from the box. “I can’t believe you have the Sex Pistols and The Motels in here. Christ, there’s even Romeo Void.”

  I started to laugh. “Why shouldn’t I have them?”

  “I don’t know. I just expected something different from you.”

  OK, she was feeling me out also. Not a bad sign. Fair. I sort of liked it, and young women definitely seemed to be a hell of a lot more blunt in 1980 than they’d been when I was single. Straightforward honesty had also been a trademark thing with me and women. And it had always worked, so there didn’t seem a reason to change it.

  I picked up her hand and kissed her fingers. “I’m a pretty basic kind of guy, Linda. You remember that and we’ll get along just fine.”

  She fought to hold back a smile. “Who says I want to get along with you?”

  I met her gaze squarely. “Your eyes.” I shifted my gaze back to the road and pulled into a parking lot. I grabbed my wallet from the glove compartment. “You are trying very hard to make me like you. The question is why?”

  “You need to ask why?” she countered flippantly.

  Yep, girl, I do.

  Instinct told me something wasn’t adding up here.

  Time for another dose of honest Jack.

  Frankly, I didn’t know if it was a smart move, but I didn’t know another way to be.

  “It feels like you want something from me and are afraid to ask. I just can’t figure out what. But I’m certain you want something.”

  Her face flushed even as she tried to do something impish-looking with her expression. “Maybe I just want your hot body.”

  Nope, Linda, that answer was bullshit.

  I climbed from the driver’s seat and came around to open her door, then planted my hands on either side of the car, trapping her between me and it.

  I held her in my gaze and could see how the pulse in her neck jumped.

  “It’s completely unnecessary, you know,” I told her.

  Her eyes widened, worry tucked behind boldness.

  “Excuse me? I don’t understand. What’s unnecessary?”

  “Trying hard to make me like you.”

  I flattened her against the car, kissing her deeply, continuing the moves of my lips and hands until I felt her rise up into me.

  Right spot.

  Wrong time.

  Time to end this.

  I lifted my face and said, “I already like you, so stop trying so hard, and let’s just enjoy each other.”

  Her dark brows lowered, but I took her hand, smiling as I guided her toward the mall.

  “Do you want to pick the store or should I?” I asked.

  She shrugged, and I could tell she was overwhelmed by everything. Herself. Me. What we were doing. Even shopping.

  Linda had had a rough life in every way.

  As I tried to figure out where to take her, since shopping was definitely not my forte and Chrissie usually preferred to go with Patty, I realized this girl—out of nowhere—was someone who now mattered to me and it felt good having that feeling again.

  Nope, I didn’t know why she was with me.

  But I knew why I let her be.

  And that I’d go with her as long and far as she’d take me.

  What Linda took me on was one hell of a ride. Not your average first date, not by a long shot. Taking her shopping at the store Patty owned was my first mistake. They’d sparred with words, Linda dishing out as good as she got, and as revenge Patty had sent her from the dressing room wearing a tight black dress and heels that made Linda look exactly like Lena.

  Next, but the least unexpected thing, was letting Linda playfully seduce me into fucking her in the bathroom instead of eating at the restaurant I’d taken her to for dinner. A better mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.

  Then slipping out the back door, instead of going to our table in the elegant eatery I’d taken her to, to dine at the biker bar next door. A mistake? No, that was interesting. Trying to bust down her walls to get to know her was damn near impossible. We’d run into her boyfriend, the crass jerk, as we prepared to leave for the night, only to end up punching him in some grand moronic overly public gesture of protecting my girl.

  Yep, one fucking unbelievable first date, I thought as I climbed from my car and walked my angry self and battered hand into the house without a glance back at Linda who followed after me.

  As I stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing off blood from my fingers, over and over in my head played what the fuck, Jackie, are you doing with this g
irl?

  Linda held back at the doorway, staring at me, and it made me feel like a jerk. I was right to be angry. Right to be rethinking trying to get something going with her.

  Fuck, I nearly ruined my hand over Linda, and in the car when I’d asked her about the guy I’d punched for her at the biker bar, she’d said dismissively, “It’s complicated.”

  I didn’t doubt that one or my response: “Everything about you is complicated. It’s part of the turn-on and part of the risk.”

  It had come out harsh, unintentionally an insult to her, when that comment had been about me and what I suspected my illogical interest in her was.

  I’d have had to have a lobotomy not to drawl the parallels between my first capricious, unpredictable affair with Lena and how this day unfolded with Linda.

  I stared at my hand, wishing Linda would say something because, yes, I’d noticed how my angry words in the car had made her face fall.

  Hurting her was the last thing I wanted.

  As I continued to wash my hand, I looked over my shoulder at her. “I haven’t been in a fight in fifteen years.”

  “It wasn’t much of a fight, if you ask me,” she answered, playful but cautious.

  The laughter rose in me out of nowhere. Linda was like a tonic that masked everything wrong with this.

  “Should we go to a hospital?” she asked seriously. “Do you think you broke anything? We should really get that checked.”

  “No. Just a cut. Nothing broken. It’s fine.”

  I grabbed a towel to dry my hand and reached for the first aid kit.

  She hurried across the room to me.

  “No, I’ll do it,” I told her, sitting down on a stool.

  She glared at me. “You can’t bandage your own hand. Don’t be an ass about this.”

  I frowned—ass—but beat back a smile as well. Bossy and not intimidated by me. Not a bad combination.

  I watched as she cut a square of gauze and cleaned the cut with antiseptic.

  I circled back to the boyfriend. “How long were you involved with him?”

  She didn’t look up at me. “On and off since high school. He’s my BTN.”

  “BTN?”

  It was a new term I hadn’t heard before.