The You I Want For Life (A Mother's Love Book 2)

by Alison Kent

  With that firm resolve in place, she hit the cold tap with her big toe and froze Jace Morgan out of her mind.

  WHEN JACE GOT TO HER house it was still light enough that anyone could see him. He pulled way back in her drive and parked his black Silverado as close to her garage as he could. Why he was being so secretive he wasn’t quite sure. But he didn’t plan to make a habit of dressing for a date, so he really preferred to keep it between him and Eden.

  After tonight, he planned to finish his job and then get back to the life he found so comfortable, the life he shared with no one but Chelsea and her six pups.

  Eden had had a hell of a day. And she wasn’t the only one. He’d been broadsided when he realized how much he meant what he said. He wanted to pull her under him and show her what their bodies were made for. But that wouldn’t do much except relieve tension. And he could take care of that alone. With an ax and a log.

  He crossed the yard, new grass crunching beneath his feet, and looked up to see her standing on the back porch. Her hair fell to her shoulders in an auburn cloud. Blue flowers trimmed the tiny white collar buttoned at her throat and decorated the hem of the elbow-length sleeves. Her jumper hung loose, the dark fabric of blues and greens moving with the gentle breeze. Her shoes were flat, black, the kind ballet dancers wore.

  She looked like a schoolgirl waiting for the bus, except for the barest bulge of her stomach that showed just how much a woman she was. That, and the too-appreciative look in her eyes as she gave him a totally female once-over.

  “Excuse me. You must have the wrong house. I’m waiting for my carpenter. He wears jeans and T-shirts.”

  He’d pulled on a pair of charcoal gray slacks and a black dress shirt but balked at the idea of a jacket and tie. His weight seemed to have rearranged over the last three years, so the waistband rode low on his hips while the fabric clung snugly to his thighs.

  Of course, the slacks weren’t really meant to be worn with black moccasins, but these were the only shoes he had that weren’t covered with a dozen shades of stain.

  He propped his hands at his waist. “I thought carpenters wore those pants with loops and tools hanging everywhere.”

  “That’s what I thought, too. A long time ago. But I was wrong.”

  He stopped in front of her and wondered what else she’d been wrong about. “You still up for this?”

  The scent of apricots reached his nose as she stepped down.

  “Yeah, we’re starving.”

  He stopped short of telling her that this evening would end the same way it was beginning. On her porch. “Let’s go.”

  He started to take her hand, to guide her across the rough patches of grass, the random clumps of bluebonnets sprouting in her yard, but he shoved his fists in his slacks pockets instead.

  He couldn’t touch her without remembering the taste of her skin. And that wouldn’t help his resolve to remain friends. He opened the passenger door of the luxury SUV.

  “You’ve surprised me again, Morgan.” Eden settled into the leather captain’s chair and turned her heart-stopping grin his way. “I didn’t know you had this much class in you.”

  He slammed the door on the tail end of Eden’s giggle, walked around and climbed into his seat, wondering how long it would take to get her smell out of the cab. Then he wondered if he wanted to. Then he wondered why he was being so stupid.

  And why he’d seemed to be that way since he’d met the woman.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE LOG CABIN OFFERED Farmersville’s fanciest dining. The menu listed standard down-home favorites such as Mom’s meatloaf, fried chicken, and ham hocks with greens.

  Eden had splurged on the chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and cream gravy and was absolutely stuffed.

  “You want dessert?” Jace asked.

  “I don’t know where I’d put it.” She glanced from her half-empty plate to his. “I didn’t even finish what I had. I can’t believe the portions they serve. Do you want a doggie bag for Chelsea?”

  Jace grinned, pulling another fresh yeast roll in half. “Forget Chelsea. How ‘bout a doggie bag for me?”

  “Now that would be a people bag, and I’m sure you’d have to share anyway.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  Eden answered his smile. “I guess Chelsea’s a lot of company to you.”

  He seemed to consider, then nodded as he buttered the roll. “She hangs around more now that she’s got the pups. And she lets me know if anyone shows up unannounced. Especially at night. I think she’s losing her edge, though.”

  Eden propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her palms. “Why’s that?”

  “She hasn’t had much practice. No one comes around but you.” Eyes sparkling, he popped the roll half into his mouth.

  “No one?”

  He shook his head. Swallowed. “Nope. No one.”

  “Well, I think you need to do something about that.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and arched a brow. “Such as?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe pick up the phone? Dial information?” She ran a finger around the rim of her iced-tea glass. “You said you don’t have addresses of your friends, but I’m sure you remember their last names.”

  “Hmm. I don’t know.” Jace squinted first one eye, then the other, appearing to search through his memory banks. “I think the long-term memory’s gone. I might do better sticking to the friends I have now.”

  “And how many of those do you have?” When he tried to pull the deep-in-thought face again, she said, “Besides me.”

  A long minute passed while Jace said nothing at all and Eden finally prompted, “Well?”

  He grinned that cocky devil’s grin. “I’m still trying to decide if what we are is friends.”

  “Either we’re two friends out for dinner or this is a date. Take your pick.”

  “You’re right. Two friends out for dinner, then. It can’t be a date.”

  “I agree... but, why not?” she pressed, afraid to examine too closely the reasons for her insistence.

  He lifted one shoulder in a simple shrug. “Because I’ve always made it a policy not to date friends.”

  Eden found herself recklessly pressing again. “Who have you dated?”

  Jace laughed then, a full-throated, belly-deep laugh. “I think the better question would be, when have I dated. Maybe even, if I have dated.”

  “C’mon, Jace. You haven’t come this far in life without a serious relationship.”

  “Wanna bet?” He held out a hand to shake on the deal, then reached for his glass of tea. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to here. Mr. Success Is Everything.”

  “You’ve never walked down the aisle?”

  He finished his drink, then shook his head. “No.”

  “You’ve never been engaged?”

  “No.”

  Sure that she shouldn’t, Eden grew ever bolder. “You’ve never lived with a woman?”

  Jace leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table. “Woman? No. Female? Well, there is Chelsea.”

  She met his lighthearted answer with a light-hearted question. “Have you ever gone steady?”

  “That would be junior high, high school, right? I can’t remember.” He poked his index finger at his temple. “That long-term-memory-loss thing.”

  One more and then she’d let him go. “Did you ever steal a kiss from a girl on the playground?”

  “A-ha. Maybe there are a few cells left in the memory bank because I do remember one. But it was the soccer field, not a playground. And I wasn’t the one doing the stealing.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Well, I was cut from the soccer team—”

  “You told me about that. That your buddies protested with a group walk-out.”

  “All for one and one for all.” He raised an imaginary sword. “And there was this cheerleader. She made her objections known with a bit of a mouth-to-mouth. In pub
lic.”

  Eden bit back a grin, tried for a stern look, and failed miserably. Jace was just too much. “I see. So, you’re a closet exhibitionist.”

  “She was the exhibitionist. I was just the... exhibition.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “As far as kisses go, you mean?”

  “Yeah.” But then the devil made her do it and she asked, “What’s the best kiss you’ve ever had?”

  “The cheerleader wasn’t bad. But,” he added, his eyes teasing, “I’m still waiting for the best.”

  “Ouch. If I were the sensitive type, I might be insulted,” she said, hoping she sounded more flippant than she felt. “But since I’m not, I’m not.”

  “You shouldn’t be. Because I haven’t really kissed you yet.” His gaze never wavered as he signaled the waitress and, in a move as stupid as any in her life, Eden lost her heart.

  Check in hand, Jace stood and guided her through the dining room, his palm in the small of her back. Once out the door, she shivered, her blouse no match for the cool March night or the feeling of impending change which shuddered through her.

  Jace stuffed his wallet into his back pocket. “Cold?”

  She shivered again, a tremor that turned to a shake. The intensity of his gaze warmed her surface doubts but skated right over her bone-deep chill. “I’m fine.”

  “You may be fine, but you’re shivering like it’s twenty degrees. Let’s get you home.” With one arm draped over her shoulder, he led her to the SUV.

  Jace maneuvered the rolling hills like a dream and the path of Eden’s thoughts dipped and climbed with the ride. The connection she felt with Jace she’d never felt with Nate. And what did that say about their relationship?

  She and Nate had talked, surely. Had slept in the same bed, certainly. But they’d never flirted and teased the way she and Jace flirted and teased. They’d never played silly games of truth or dare.

  Nate had never worked to understand the matters of her heart and she’d never taken the time or the care to examine his needs. That startling revelation—that in a month she knew more of where Jace had come from than she’d ever learned of Nate— unnerved her and made her wonder how long she and Jace would be able to remain just friends.

  The cab grew smaller the farther they drove and by the time they reached her place, she felt Jace on her skin. And deeper. Beneath the surface awareness to a longing sharp and sweet. A yearning beyond friendship that tingled and spread and plucked at her skin like fingers making music. And Eden knew nothing but wanting Jace. He pulled to a stop and reached for the key.

  Leave it running,” she said, desperate to escape her confusion.

  “Okay,” he answered slowly, as if bewildered, then withdrew his hand and reached for the door.

  “No. Don’t get out.”

  “C’mon, Eden. I’m just gonna walk you to the door.”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for tonight.” He cocked back in his seat, leaning halfway against the door, one arm draped over the steering wheel, one on the back of the seat. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong? You haven’t spoken two words the entire trip home.”

  She thought about his empty barn and his guard dog who had no one to guard him from. “Why me, Jace?”

  “Why you what?”

  “Out of all the people who must have crossed your path in the last three years, why did you pick me? Why did you tell me the story of your friends and your success?”

  “I didn’t pick you to do anything, Eden. You assigned yourself the job.” He reached out and twisted a strand of her hair through his fingers. “And I have to say I’m glad. It’s nice having someone around to talk to. To laugh with. I’d forgotten.”

  She looked at him, his face a light blur in the cab’s dark interior. The sheen of moisture in her eyes smeared everything out of focus. It made what she was about to say easier when she couldn’t see the expression on his face.

  “I know we agreed to keep this casual, but I don’t want a friend right now. I want someone to hold me.” She blinked, clearing her vision, her voice a frantic croak. “I want you to hold me, Jace. Only you.”

  Willing, for Jace, to risk everything, she lifted an unsteady hand. His gaze followed her tentative movements, the longing in his eyes a hunger as naked as a newborn.

  She touched him the way she’d wanted to that first time, that first time so full of sensation, so new, so exciting. A rush of exploration. A testing of new waters. A rebirth of buried passions.

  This time was different. This time she knew him. And she wanted to know more.

  She laid her palm on his jaw, the hard structure of bone and the stubble of whiskers defining their differences, naming him man, that sweet counterpart fulfilling her needs as woman.

  She stroked his brow and touched his lashes, the feathery fringe a downy soft tickle to her thumb. She slipped her fingers into his hair, the silken strands long over her wrist.

  And then she leaned forward, putting herself on the line, risking a very raw part of her heart on something she wanted more than her next breath. She tendered her thumb across his lower lip, the pillow softness an elegant contrast to the rest of his purely male face.

  Then she closed her eyes, curled both fists against his chest and touched her lips to his. She remembered him well. Green wood and sunshine and the simplicity of man.

  He leaned back, taking her with him, cursing the gearshift under his breath. Her head found a pillow on the muscle of his shoulder and she nestled her body into his heat.

  He went absolutely still, motionless, then inhaled sharply when she cuddled even closer. He expelled a long, whistling breath, and she looked up. Dark need and rich urgency shone in his eyes. A ragged moan rolled from his belly.

  She felt it in her hands, beneath the buttons her fingers slipped free from their holes. The rumble mellowed to a silent sigh, a breath of yearning she tasted on her tongue and held in her palms with his effort to breathe.

  The hair swirling low on his belly tickled the pads of her fingers, and the tip of his tongue played a wicked game of chase with hers. His breath was hot and so was his skin, but neither came close to the heat of desire that swept through her, urging her near.

  Her left hand lay trapped between Bethany and reason. So, using her right, she freed one last button, took one deep breath and searched for security in Jace’s warmth. Her hand roamed with a mind of its own and she didn’t dare stop. Not when his naked skin was pure heaven to touch.

  Hunger spread, a wildfire arcing from his flesh to hers, or her flesh to his. The origin of the flame wasn’t important, only the quenching of her need. She cried out when he pulled away, shuddered when he jerked the steering wheel up, whimpered when he pushed her back in her seat.

  And then he joined her. Like they weren’t confined in so many cubic feet of space, he scrambled over the console, and struggling with the laws of gravity and physics, lifted her onto his lap.

  Her skirt rode high, the back of her thighs bare against the nubby weave of his trousers. Then he took her mouth. Her hands found a home beneath the buttons of his shirt and discovery began.

  She sat in his arms, her legs draped over his, her feet propped in his seat, her fingers splayed over sleek-muscled ribs, her hip pressed against that part of him straining for deliverance. He jerked his shirttail free and moved her right hand to the catch of his pants.

  “Touch me,” he groaned, his voice thready and raw.

  He smelled of desire; he tasted like man. Too impatient to deal with his clothing, Eden skimmed over the clasp and cupped him with her palm. His erection grew beneath her touch, swelling to fill her hand.

  He jerked his mouth from her sore and bruised lips and rubbed his rough cheek over hers. He shuddered, pressed her face into his neck, breathed damply and rapidly against the shell of her ear.

  Her struggle for breath matched his. Tiny cries caught in her throat and she twisted closer, fighting the belly that stood in the way.

  His pulse thundered through t
he breast she’d pressed to his chest and beneath her hand, which barely contained his rising desire.

  And then his hand was on her knee, feathering lightly over her skin, brushing higher and higher still. His palm spanned her thigh; his thumb brushed the cotton panties covering the swelling of her belly.

  He shifted in the seat, leaning her back against the door until his fingers found the elastic. In an instinctive move older than time, she spread her legs.

  His hand breached the leg hole and she freed the clasp on his pants. His knuckles skimmed her sensitive flesh, as his zipper gave way to her demands. His fingers pressed against her, seeking entry.

  She circled him with her hand, squeezing hard. He found her desire and tested her dampness. She stroked his length in response. He took her to the edge with the play of his fingers and she spread his wetness with the pad of her thumb.

  “God, Eden. What are we doing?” A splintering tension held his body rigid.

  “I don’t know,” she sobbed. “But don’t you dare stop.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  SHE PANTED AGAINST his throat. His answering chuckle gave way to a groan. When she squeezed again, he responded in kind, pushing her forward into a furious burst of freedom. She cried out. She gasped. She shuddered against him, and he caught his release with the tail of his shirt.

  Spinning slowly, Eden drifted back to earth, to reality, to the sensibility that she’d prided herself on maintaining above all else, to the sanity she’d just lost, faced with this unexpected ride into sensation. She hadn’t counted on Jace, on this blast of wild seduction.

  On falling in love.

  A tremor shook her as Jace withdrew his hand. He reached for his fly, but she pushed him away. With more dignity than she knew she could manage, he allowed her to zip his pants.

  Then he straightened her skirt, pulled her tighter in his lap, and held her close until their heartbeats mingled, until their breath misted together, until she wasn’t at all sure the shudders rocking through her weren’t his.