Scandalous

by H. M. Ward

Page 12

 

  As the coffee brewed, Jack sat at the counter. I felt his eyes on my bare neck, watching me as I moved around Kate’s kitchen. “You sleep on people’s porches often?”

  He shook his head, “Nah, this is new for me. I usually don’t mess up that bad. ” Jack tilted his head, slightly lethargic. “I thought you’d kick me on the way out. Or call the cops last night. Didn’t expect this. ”

  I shrugged. “What on earth made you think it was me?” I leaned on the counter across from him. The motion made it feel like my boobs were being thrust into my throat. The sports bra I was wearing smashed me flat, but leaning like that suddenly created super-cleavage. Jack’s eyes drifted. I blushed and stood up at the same time he looked away. Neither of us acknowledged it.

  He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at me, “I’ve gotten a lot of hate mail over the years, mostly from religious freaks who think I’m corrupting America. ” My stomach turned. The expression on my face must have indicated how I felt about it because he said, “I know, right? Anyway, all fingers pointed at the new girl. Someone had to have passed Belinda my client’s names and numbers. Whoever did it played me perfectly. ”

  “So you have a mole. Hmmm. ” I thought, as the coffee finished. I grabbed two cups and poured. Handing one to Jack, I said, “Sugar’s next to you. I’ll grab milk. ” Turning to the wine fridge, I asked, “Is there anyone at your office that goes back as far as we do?”

  Jack shook his head, “No. Everyone else is since college or later. Linda was the obvious person. She controls all the calls and records. No one would even notice if she did it, but she was as upset as I was. Gus was my roommate in college. He helped me get started. He’s my business partner. It makes no sense at all. The models don’t have access to that stuff, so the only other people are you and the cleaning crew. ” Silence passed between us. Jack held his cup of black coffee in his hands, staring at me. The look in his eye made me squirm. When he realized what he was doing, his gaze returned to his cup. “I was an ass, Abby. ”

  I smiled weakly, trying to hide how much his words hurt me, “I know. It’s part of the package, I suppose. ”

  “What’s that mean?”

  I shrugged, “Isn’t the price of fame supposed to be loneliness? That you can’t possibly know who your real friends are, and who’s using you?” He nodded. “It’s part of the package. Part of being friends with Jonathan Gray. ”

  Jack stood up, and came around the counter. He stood in front of me, looking down at my face. Blue eyes and smooth skin dusted with stubble occupied my gaze. A tendril had come free from my sloppy pony tail while we were talking. Jack’s eyes narrowed in on the strands, taking the curl and tucking it behind my ear while he spoke, “I’m not Jonathan Gray, not with you. . . ” his voice was hushed. He said the words and let them hang in the air. “I’ll always be Jack. You’ll always be Abby. ”

  It felt like I was floating. While his hand touched my hair, gently pressing it behind my ear, his fingers trailed along, down the side of my face and onto my neck. His voice swam in my mind. The butterflies in my stomach wouldn’t settle down. They flew in a thousand different directions when Jack touched me. A shiver shook me, making me step back, but the counter was behind me. Jack was in front of me.

  His eyes were soft, wanting. They were all over my face and neck, searing a path of heat as they washed over me. “Abby, say something. I need to know what you’re thinking. ” His fingers brushed back the hair again, lightly. The touch nearly made me gasp. The pit of my stomach twisted as heat flushed across my cheeks.

  I couldn’t tell him what I was thinking. Glancing down, away, I stuttered, “I. . . I. . . can’t tell you. ” He had to know he was doing this to me. Didn’t he? I didn’t know what to do. I was trapped between his body and the cabinets. Time seemed to stop.

  Jack’s breath washed across my cheek. He lifted his hand, turning my chin back toward him. Blue eyes pierced through me, making me melt. “Why not?” His voice so soft, so seductive. I could feel the reply on my tongue. My heart wanted to say it, but my mind bit back the words. Silence passed between us. We stayed like that, his lips within a breath of mine. When he said, “Tell me, Abby,” I could feel the warmth of his breath slide over my mouth. I felt so lost, like I’d been drifting for so long. Jack made me feel found. It took every ounce of restraint not to close the gap between us. I wanted to slide my body into his arms and feel his lips against mine.

  Releasing the breath slowly, like it was my last, I said, “I’d like that—Jack and Abby. The way things used to be. ” Jack watched my lips as I spoke, his dark lashes hooding his eyes. His breath hitched when I spoke, and he froze. Suddenly it felt like a decade ago. We were face to face, a kiss apart from being something more and Jack was frozen again.

  But this time, it didn’t last more than a second. The warmth that was in his eyes cooled. Jack stepped away from me like he hadn’t realized what he’d done. Heat raced across my cheeks. I turned around, facing the counter to hide the blush. Moving slowly, so he didn’t notice my hands trembling, I picked up my half-consumed cold coffee and dumped it down the drain. Without turning around, I felt Jack’s warmth behind me. I knew he was there. Staring blankly, I told myself not to turn. He placed his cup next to mine, and stepped back. I stared at the black liquid, heart still pounding, drowning out all other sounds.

  Jack was leaning on the opposite counter. When I turned around he smiled softly, not holding my gaze for more than a second. I felt insane. Was he toying with me? Did I misread him? I didn’t know. I leaned back against my counter, across from Jack.

  “So, since I have no clients for a while, let’s do something different tonight. ”

  Glancing up at him, I asked, “Like what?”

  He shrugged, pushing off the counter, “I’m telling everyone else to take the week off ‘til I can sort out who screwed me, so it’ll be just me and you. We can do whatever we want. Eat pizza, watch movies, paint. . . whatever you want. ”

  “Sure. Sounds good. ”

  He turned to leave. I followed him to the door, admiring his sculpted shoulders. Each muscle had a defined curve like he worked out, but I never saw him doing anything. Picturing Jack covered in sweat pushed my pulse higher. I pressed the thoughts back. They needed to be crushed before they messed things up. While I was tripping over my awkward thoughts, Jack turned back and gave me a peck on the cheek.

  Grinning he said, “See you later, Tyndale,” and tugged my ponytail. He bounded down the steps as I stood there shocked, wondering what the hell just happened.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Good God, he made me nuts. I peeled myself off the back of the door after he left and took a cold shower. The rest of the day passed painfully slow. I should have gone back to sleep. Last night sucked so bad that I was lucky if I had a few hours, but I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t think. Jack wanted to spend time with me. Just me. He sent everyone else away for an entire week. The giddy girl inside of me wanted to squeal and jump on every bed in the apartment, but I knew I needed to hit her in the head with a brick before she rode off with my brains. I couldn’t kiss Jack. It didn’t matter that I wanted him. It didn’t matter what he did or how I responded. Part of my profession was self-denial. Jack was off limits. I had to stop thinking about him like that.

  By nightfall, I convinced myself that I could do it. That we could just be friends. Those feelings would vanish if I commanded them correctly, but I knew nothing about lust or love or like. And that giddy twit inside of me took control the moment I saw Jack. She squealed within me with as much gusto as if I’d given her a unicorn. Why couldn’t I control her?

  Jack spoke, melting my brain, after dinner, “So, what do you feel like?” He was standing at the counter. The lights in the gallery were switched off, and it felt like we were surrounded by black walls.

  Jack asked dangerous questions. I shrugged, like I didn’t care—like I was apathetic—try
ing to hide whatever was causing my mind to malfunction. “I haven’t seen the Galleria yet. ” He looked at me in surprise. “Let’s walk through there. Then maybe we can go outside. Play mini golf or something down by the water. ” That sounded platonic, right? Show me your erotic art and then let’s play golf. Sure. Jack smiled at me, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Sounds great. But you have to take the tour like a patron. It’s the best way to see it. ” His blue gaze flashed in my direction. I nodded, until I realized what he meant. Jack produced two crystal glasses and poured the wine into each. Handing me one, he said, “Come on. ”

  Refusing to take the glass I said, “Jack, I can’t drink that. ”

  “Why not?” He seemed surprised.

  “I’m not supposed to drink. You already know that. ”

  “Abby, this is a special occasion. It’s part of the experience. ” He placed the glasses on the counter, before causally leaning his tone body back against it. He tilted his head a little, his hair shifting in the light, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, but it changes things a little bit. ”

  I didn’t understand. Eyeing the glass, I asked, “How is slightly intoxicated good? Don’t you want people to see what you painted, and not leave with some drunken ambiguous impression in their minds?”

  Jack smiled at me like I was cute, cute and maybe a little bit stupid. He turned his head, clearing his throat, saying, “No one gets smashed on half a glass of wine,” he laughed. “And it doesn’t do what you think. God, haven’t you ever had a drink?” I shook my head. I didn’t drink, the church used grape juice, and with my dad the way he was, I swore liquor off. All of it. Jack didn’t know about my dad. I never told him. Without another word, he seemed to sense he was missing a piece of my story, a piece I wasn’t sharing.

  He explained, “A little bit of wine is good. A little bit removes preconceptions, apprehensions, and allows you to see what I see. It lets you surrender to yourself a little bit and see things the way I do. For you, a sip or two would be fine. It’d let you see. . . me. ” He swallowed hard, like he was offering to reveal something very important.