by Tracy Wolff
Then again, she could be imagining it the same way she’d imagined that he had been about to ask her on a date. She didn’t want to feel the fool again.
Lost in thought, she stepped back abruptly, and would have fallen off the porch if Jack hadn’t caught her by wrapping his good hand around her elbow. The contact, though it was much more about steadying her than it was about any budding intimacy, made her even more uncomfortable. Made it difficult for her to breathe.
He didn’t seem to be having the same problem, of course, which made her feel like an even bigger idiot than she already did. At least, until she looked up into Jack’s eyes and saw, for the first time, an answering heat there. One that would be hot enough to blister her if she wasn’t careful.
She might be woefully out of practice with all of this stuff, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still aware enough to know when a man was thinking about sex. With her.
“Come on, Mom! I’m starving!” Noah’s voice shattered the tension hanging in the air between them and she laughed nervously and shook her head slightly to clear the lingering uneasiness and desire.
“Go on ahead,” she told the boy. “What time should I tell the sitter?” she asked Jack.
He cleared his throat, almost as if he was having as much trouble talking as she was. “Seven o’clock, okay?”
“Seven sounds perfect.”
“Good.” He opened his door, started to step back inside. Then paused long enough to say, “Thanks. I’m looking forward to going out with you.”
“Me, too.”
He bent and brushed a soft kiss across her cheek before closing the door behind him. She nearly sagged against the front of the house. If she was supposed to get through the next few days without desiring him, the last thing she needed was his mixed messages.
Didn’t he realize things like that messed her up, not to mention got her into a tizzy about what to wear. Because if this was a date, then fine, she knew she needed to get dressed up, do her hair, put on a pretty dress. But if it wasn’t, she didn’t want to look like an idiot by dressing for something it wasn’t. And if it wasn’t, what was she supposed to do? Slide into jeans and a sweater?
Now that the question between them had been raised, it was excruciating. To Sophie, the torture was more proof that the whole dating scene wasn’t for her. Which was fine, she decided, as she followed her boys home. Jack could call their Saturday night outing whatever he wanted but she was, very definitely, not calling it a date.
CHAPTER NINE
SHE ENDED UP going shopping for a new dress.
She knew it was stupid, knew it was unnecessary, was convinced that this thing between her and Jack was simply friendship. Yet she totally got suckered into it anyway. When it turned out that Elizabeth down the street couldn’t babysit, she’d called her closest friend, Sabrina, to see if she was free.
Sabrina was, but in exchange for babysitting she wanted all the details. And halfway through Sophie’s recitation of the facts, her friend had concluded that this was—indeed—a date. Casual, yes. Simply friends, maybe. But it was still the closest thing Sophie had come to social interaction with an adult of the opposite sex in far, far too long, so Sabrina was running with it as far and as fast as she could.
Which was how Sophie found herself sitting in the mall food court Thursday evening, sipping a latte while her two sons scarfed down hamburgers and French fries like it was their last meal. Seriously, she was going to have to see about those cooking classes. It appeared that boys really couldn’t live on spaghetti alone…
“So, are you ready to find something spectacular?” Sabrina demanded, rubbing her hands together with glee.
“I wish you’d stop doing that. You look like some deranged fairy godmother.”
“Excuse me if I think that you rejoining the land of the living is a thing to celebrate. You’ve buried yourself in work and the boys since Jeff died and it’s more than time for you to start enjoying life again.”
“I enjoy my life!” Sophie told her, a little indignant that her friend could think otherwise. “I have two children I adore, a job I love, and what I thought, up until a minute ago, was an awesome best friend.”
Sabrina sighed—a larger than life, lingering sound that made Sophie smile despite the torture that was to come when she attempted to drag two little boys all over the mall.
“I am an awesome best friend,” Sabrina insisted. “Which is why it’s been so painful to sit by and watch as you struggled to get your footing these past few years. I know you loved Jeff very much, but you’re a beautiful, vibrant woman. It’s time for you to open up that part of yourself again.”
It was Sophie’s turn to sigh as she looked at her reflection in one of the mirrored columns that dominated the food-court décor. She didn’t feel very vibrant right then, didn’t feel very anything to tell the truth. Except tired.
She wasn’t even going on an actual date and she was already exhausted by it. She’d tossed and turned for most of the night, which resulted in mega circles under her eyes that it looked like Kyle’s black eye—which had finally healed—had moved over to her face in duplicate. Her hair looked dull, her skin looked duller, and there was a large part of her that wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and forget this whole day had even happened.
Sabrina would never allow such a thing, but it was a good fantasy. Especially considering the fact that she wasn’t really sure how she felt about everything—neither the semi-date nor the shopping trip.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like the way Jack had asked her to accompany him—he’d been completely straightforward, just as a friend should be. No, what she didn’t like was the way her heart had beat faster at the thought of going out with him. How, for one second, when she’d thought it was a date, she’d actually been excited. That’s what she didn’t like.
She had prickly defenses, she knew she did, and she’d honed them years ago as a foster kid with no one to depend on but herself. She’d allowed herself to loosen up with Jeff, to trust him and let him in a little bit. And then he had gotten killed. That should have proved to her the stupidity of opening herself up, of letting herself trust that someone else was going to be there for her.
But what scared her the most, what had her shaking in her hot pink tennis shoes, was the fact that she responded to Jack in a way she never had to Jeff. She’d loved Jeff, in a sweet, almost abstract kind of way and had married him because he was a good man and she’d wanted a family—someplace where she belonged. But he’d never made her laugh the way Jack did, never touched her heart the way Jack did with his selfless determination to help others. They were just friends, but the fact that she thought about Jack as regularly as she did, and much more than her project required, concerned her a lot.
And then there was this shopping trip. She loved to shop as much as the next woman, but she liked to shop for herself. To please herself. This going out to find a dress to wow a man—it gave her a sickened feeling.
As a child, she’d gone on a million of these shopping trips through the years with different foster moms who squandered money over and over again in their efforts to catch men who only wanted them for one thing, or to keep men who had already lost interest in them. She’d sworn that she was never going to do that to herself or her children. And yet, here she was dragging her boys—who would much rather be at the park playing or at home riding bikes—along with her as she shopped for a dress and jewelry and maybe even a new pair of shoes.
She could tell herself she wasn’t doing it for Jack. That she was doing it for Sabrina, or even better for herself. But there was a growing part of her that wanted to get a reaction from him. She was beginning to want Jack to look at her as something more than his pal next door. It was a stupid wish, and a frightening one, but it was there nonetheless. Pretending it wasn’t was both cowardly and hypocritical.
In other words she was a mass of seething neuroses and it was only a matter of time before she cracked.
“I don’t want to get hurt, Sabrina.” The words came out of nowhere, but once she’d said them, she knew they were true.
“Oh, sweetie.” Sabrina’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Of course you don’t. So take it slow. This is some kind of weird, half-date, so enjoy it. Get to know Jack a little more and see if you even like him—”
“I do like him. He’s a great guy. Smart, funny, charming on the outside but with a million complex layers on the inside.”
“He sounds perfect.”
“Not at all. I mean, those layers, some of them are really dark.”
“Mom!” Kyle interrupted. “I finished all my hamburger. Can I go ride on the tow truck?” He pointed to the fenced-in area with a half a dozen kiddie rides.
“As long as Noah goes with you.” She reached into her purse and handed them each a dollar, enough for them both to ride twice. “And come straight back when you’re done. Promise?”
“Promise!” Their little voices changed in unison.
She watched them go, then turned back to Sabrina and their conversation about Jack. “I thought he was going to be my new project, you know?”
“What project is that? The get-Sophie-laid project?”
“No! Of course not!” She could feel herself blushing despite years of being exposed to Sabrina’s blunt, over-the-top descriptions. “I mean, there’s a lot of angst inside of him. It’s hard to see, because he keeps up this charming façade with the world, one where he’s funny and self-deprecating and sweet. But inside him there’s a lot of anger, a lot of disappointment and confusion and even fear.”
“You saw all this in a couple of weeks?” her friend asked, eyebrows arched in surprise. “He must be more relaxed around you than you think.”
“Not necessarily. It’s easy to see something in someone else when you live with it all the time in yourself.”
Sabrina started to say something, but the boys picked that moment to return from the rides. Thank God. Sophie had already revealed too much and was feeling awfully uncomfortable about it. While it was true that Sabrina was her closest friend, that was a relative term. Because while Sophie would give her the shirt off her back without thinking twice, sharing her emotions was anathema to her.
“Are we ready to go shopping?” she asked brightly, taking hold of the boys’ hands. The sooner she got this done, the sooner they could be on their way home. And right now, with more of her fears and feelings on display than she usually showed in a year, home seemed like a very good place to be.
She determined that when she was selecting a dress, she wasn’t going to worry about what she thought Jack would like. She was going to pick one that she liked, that made her feel more vibrant and more alive, and that was going to be that.
It seemed a pretty tall order for one little dress, but she was going to give it a shot. Maybe she’d get lucky.
* * *
WHEN JACK got home from work on Friday—five hours later than he normally did, thanks to a massive accident one block away from the clinic that had sent a dozen injuries their way—he wanted nothing more than to grab a sandwich and stumble upstairs for eight straight hours of sleep. But since that wasn’t going to happen—he was babysitting thatafternoon—he’d settle for a three-hour nap.
But as he turned onto his street, he realized with some surprise that Sophie’s SUV was parked in front of her house. Which was a strange place for it to be parked, even if he didn’t take into account the fact that she was supposed to have had court until six that evening.
His surprise was even greater, though, when he turned into his own driveway and saw her on the porch in front of two beautiful Mexican pots, dark blue, large and happy looking. He’d been thinking about getting a pair ever since he’d moved in here. He’d held off because he hadn’t decided what he wanted to put in them, but Sophie had managed to do a fantastic job with them.
As he crossed the yard, he could see that each planter was filled with bright, beautiful flowers. Phlox and dahlias and geraniums in shades of red and yellow, with a little purple thrown in for good measure. It made him smile to look at them—and at her. The crappiness of his day quickly faded away as he bounded up the front porch stairs two at a time. It was a bit of a stretch for his leg, but he knew he’d never get any better if he didn’t continue to push things every opportunity he got.
“To what do I owe all this?” he asked, settling into a crouch next to Sophie, who was sitting with her legs wrapped around one of the big planters as she patted down the soil. She was dressed in gray, low-slung yoga pants and a hot pink tank top that brought to mind all manner of inappropriate things. She was also covered in dirt.
“Court got out early today and instead of heading back to the office, I decided to stop by the nursery and get some fertilizer for our garden. While I was there, I saw those dahlias and they made me think of you.” She looked up at him, a huge grin on her face. “After that, things kind of snowballed.”
“Well, thank you. I’ve never had a woman bring me flowers before, let alone in such an imaginative way.”
“That’s me. If nothing else, I’m imaginative.”
“Actually, I think you’re quite a bit else,” he told her, settling down next to her on the wooden boards of the porch. Since he had kissed her cheek a couple days ago, he had not been able to stop thinking about her. The kiss had been totally spontaneous, totally unexpected, and he had realized in the slow hours that had passed since he last saw her—totally sincere.
“Oh, yeah?” She lifted her face to look at him and he realized her nose was smeared with a streak of dirt. It made her look about sixteen, fresh and innocent and mischievous. “What else? Crazy?”
He leaned over, rubbed a finger along her nose until the dirt was gone. It didn’t help much. She still looked fresh and— “Sweet.”
“Yes, because that’s how all women in their mid-thirties hope to be described. As sweet.” He could practically hear the eye roll in her voice.
“Oh, yeah? How would you like to be described.”
She did roll her eyes then. “Smart. Sophisticated. Sexy. Duh. Those are the good ‘S’ words.”
“All right, then. You look smart, sophisticated, sexy.”
“Thank you. But it doesn’t count if I have to tell you to say it.”
“I didn’t think that was the kind of thing friends said to each other. Well, you didn’t tell me to mean it. And I do. So that must count.” He had the sudden urge to reach out and play with the hair that was curling with sweat on her neck. And for once, he didn’t hold back.
Her hands stopped patting the soil and her spine straightened. His touch had made her as still as if she was listening to something emerge from deep within. Then, as though she’d gotten the answer she wanted, she grinned. “Yes, well I promise not to let the compliments go to my head. Somehow I’ll keep myself from throwing you to the ground to have my wicked way with you.”
Which was a shame, because he wouldn’t mind having unrestricted, unclothed access to all those curves of hers. The thought came out of nowhere and grabbed him by the throat.“What? No response? Is the image so horrific it stole your voice?” When he still didn’t answer, Sophie looked up from the planter. Their eyes met and the air between them crackled with the jolt of a sudden connection.
Before he could think better of the idea, he bent his head and touched her soft pink lips with his own.
Sophie froze for one long moment. He wasn’t sure what to do, and was about to pull away when she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer until his mouth fit fully over hers. Then she sucked his lower lip between her teeth and nibbled on it, even as her tongue soothed away the small, insignificant hurt.
The world ar
ound him started to spin and Jack pulled away for a second, tried to get his bearings, tried to make sure that this was what they both wanted. Sophie’s eyes were still closed, and he couldn’t help but run his good hand across her cheek. She moaned, a soft little whine in the back of her throat that told him everything he needed to know.
Lowering his head a second time, he pressed his mouth to hers. Once, twice, so soft and sweet that she felt like a rose petal against his lips.
Sophie moaned again, and this time her arms tightened around him as she pressed forward. It was his turn to groan, and he yanked her out from around the plant and into his lap, so that her breasts were pressed against his chest while her legs straddled his waist.
Then he was kissing her, really kissing her. He suddenly knew that this was what he had wanted all along, to be this close to her. His tongue delved into her mouth, probing and exploring. She felt like cotton candy dipped in sunshine. Like long summer walks along the Boston pier. Like everything fresh and light and wonderful and he couldn’t get enough of her.
He pulled her body even closer, tilting her head so that he could tangle his tongue with hers and immerse himself in the perfect sweetness of the moment. He’d been in the cold dark for so long that he relished being wrapped up in her heat.
He felt her hands rise to his head and tangle in his hair and at first when she broke the kiss he thought she was going to push him away. But instead, she tilted her head back so he had perfect access to her throat and shifted to guide him closer.
The idea of tasting her neck, of feeling the smoothness of all that peaches and cream skin beneath his lips was a temptation he didn’t even know how to resist. He skimmed his lips across her cheek to her ear then down her jaw to the sweet spot right behind her ear.
She jumped as he licked across it, then shuddered even as she pressed her body as tightly against his as she could get it. He moved from her ear to the pulse point at the hollow of her throat and began to lick.
* * *