by Nicole Vidal
“I know the timing isn’t ideal. I’m sorry,” Jacob whispers, his hand on the small of my back. I increase the space between us and ask him to blanche the broccoli.
“What is your profession, Norah?” Ben asks to ease the tension in the kitchen.
“I’m an accountant.”
“You don’t look like an accountant.”
I consider my attire: yoga pants, a graphic T-shirt, and Jacob’s hoodie. He’s probably right, at least frozen in this moment.
“What does an accountant look like?” I reply in jest.
“Touché.” Ben shakes his head. “What about your family?”
I share details about my family and that I live in Maine as I sauté the sausage and start the risotto. As we chat, Jacob starts cursing behind me.
“Norah, a little help?”
I turn and start laughing. “What are you doing? Do you know how to blanche a vegetable?”
“Nope.”
Why didn’t he tell me?
“It’s easy. You need to boil some water and cook the broccoli for a brief time so it’s still crisp but not mushy.”
He fills the pan and moves next to me at the stove. I clearly didn’t think this through. We’re hip to hip, his hand on my back, his shoulders brushing mine. Overall, not sexual in any way except, with him, every touch sets my nerve endings on fire. The heat rolling off him is too much.
Jacob and Ben start chatting while I work on dinner. Thankfully, he moves to the sink to strain the broccoli. I’m losing grip on my rapidly fraying resolve. I’m hurt, heartbroken, and pissed—mostly because the heartbroken part is solely and completely my fault. I broke the promise I made to him and myself. Now I need to deal with this situation and hope it’s over soon so I can go home. Alone.
I turn toward the sink and crash into Jacob washing the pan.
“Crap, I’m sorry.” There’s water all over the floor. My feet are wet, but otherwise fine. Turning back, I grab the pot holder and slip. Thankfully Jacob’s reflexes are superhuman. His arm curves around my waist, and he pulls me flush against him. It’s impossible to miss his arousal pressing against my ass. Taking two steps back, he sets me on the floor. He dries my feet before drying the floor. While he does that, I move the risotto off the heat.
Thankfully, there are no more mishaps, and we sit down for dinner. Ben shares stories about Jacob as a baby and a few including Connor and the pond behind this property. During dinner, Jacob’s phone rings and he excuses himself to answer it.
“Did Jacob give you any idea how long you will be here?” Ben asks.
“Here in this house or with him as my security?”
“Either or both.”
I hadn’t really thought about it. Until earlier, I was fine being with Jacob indefinitely. Now, not so much. “Actually, I don’t know the answer to either. It has only been a few days. We’re waiting for the photos from Captain Ramirez.”
Jacob returns but says nothing regarding the content of his call. I’m sure he will tell me later.
“Dad, stop grilling her. She isn’t a suspect.”
“Sorry, old habit.”
I nod and move to clear my dish. Both Jacob and Ben stand as I move from my chair. I inhale sharply but don’t release the breath until I get to the sink, Jacob following closely behind me.
“Are you okay?” Jacob whispers, even though Ben wouldn’t be able to hear him from the dining area.
“Yes.” No, not even close. How does he do that? How does he know my mind is spinning? I can’t stop thinking about what I said. I meant every word, even though I shouldn’t have voiced them.
“Norah.” He wraps his hand around my arm.
“Jacob, I’m fine.” He knows I’m lying. I can see it in his eyes. He slides his hand up my arm and cups my cheek. I lean into his hand even though I shouldn’t. “I’ll wash these. Go chat with your dad.”
Please read between the lines, Jacob, I silently beg. My head and my heart are a muddled mess right now. That isn’t even taking into consideration the true reason I’m here.
“Fine, but we need to talk about earlier today and that call from William.”
“Okay.”
Chapter 20
Jacob
The look in her eyes is tortured, pained, heartbreaking, and I put it there. Well, arguably anyway. I grab a water for myself and a beer for my father, and we walk onto the porch.
“I’m sorry that my timing isn’t great,” my father states as we stand on the porch.
“Not your fault.” It’s mine. Completely mine.
“I know you said she’s a client, but how long have you been a couple?”
“We aren’t.”
A look of disbelief crosses my father’s face. “How long have you been friends with benefits?”
I turn and look my father square in the eyes. I’m not surprised he can see the tension between me and Norah, both sexual and otherwise. I’m a tad taken aback by his use of modern terminology though.
“Almost two years.” I set the water bottle down on the railing and stare out into the yard. Images of earlier today rush through my head, from the snowballs to her walking away from me. The fun, joyful moments to the painful one. Two people acting like a normal couple until—
“You’ve never brought a client this close to home. What’s different about her?”
“Nothing….” I grip the railing in front of me with both hands, my knuckles turning white before I manage to mutter, “Everything.” I haven’t even admitted any of this to Norah.
“You deserve to be happy, Jake.”
“Do I? I had Mara. I failed her. I never want to feel that way again.” I’m giving up the blissful side of a relationship too, but the anguish and pain—never again. The same pain that reflects back at me in Norah’s eyes. The pain I’m causing her right now.
“Do you know how your mother and I met?”
“Of course, you met a few weeks before you deployed to your first active-duty station and you agreed to write and talk while you were gone.” That’s what I recall anyway.
“That’s only partially accurate. We did meet just before I left for my first duty station in Germany for two years. Your mother and I agreed to write and keep in touch. We also agreed we weren’t exclusive. About a month after I arrived, I met a woman named Sofie. She worked in a coffee shop near the barracks. After a few weeks of daily coffee runs, both in the morning and afternoon, I worked up the courage to ask Sofie on a date.”
I turn to look inside the house. Norah has her back to me, leaning against the sink. Can I handle being alone again when this is over? Do I want to? Will she still want me when I share my past? I refocus on my father’s words.
“We became inseparable. Whenever I wasn’t on duty, I was with Sofie exploring the country, the culture, and her. Despite all the time I was spending with Sofie, I wrote your mom religiously. After a year, Sofie introduced me to her parents. As you can imagine, it didn’t go well. They forbade her from seeing me.”
“You didn’t listen though.”
“No, we didn’t. Sofie and I snuck around for the remainder of my tour. Two weeks before I was set to return stateside, I proposed to Sofie and she accepted.”
I’m rapt. I have never heard this part of my parents’ love story. I glance inside again, but Norah is no longer in the kitchen. A moment later, she walks by, grabs a book from the living room, and walks out of sight again.
“Sofie and I arranged for a temporary visa for her to travel to the United States to join me. I’m sure you can guess what happened next.”
“She never showed.”
“No, she didn’t. I spoke to her just before she was supposed to board, and everything seemed fine. Lovestruck, I drove to the airport and waited for her. Her flight landed, but she didn’t deplane. I approached the information desk and asked if she boarded the flight. Even though she shouldn’t have, the clerk shared that Sofie checked in but never boarded.”
“What happened next? How did you g
et from Sofie not showing to a solid marriage with Mom thirty-seven years later?” My parents’ marriage is stable and still filled with love all these years later. Considering they couldn’t have children of their own, it wasn’t without difficulties.
“I never heard from Sofie again. Six weeks later, I received a package from Sofie’s father containing my engagement ring.”
That’s awful.
“Did Mom know about Sofie?”
“Yes, she knew.”
Incredible. Yet, Mom still chose Dad, even knowing he was set to marry someone else.
“How long?” Quickly doing the math in my head doesn’t answer how long between his return and breakup until his wedding with my mom.
“A lot shorter than you have endured. I understand the circumstances with Mara were different. It wasn’t her choice, but she was ripped away from you just the same.” His words hit me square in the chest.
“How do I forgive myself?”
“Honestly, the guilt you carry is undeserved. You did nothing wrong. Your first love story was cut tragically short. You couldn’t have prevented Mara’s death, regardless of your penchant for protecting people you love, especially that woman in the house.” He believes I love Norah—a notion I have pushed fervently against. A fact I refuse to admit to myself.
“I assume Norah doesn’t know about Mara.”
“No.”
“Have you been with anyone else?”
I shake my head curtly. I’m in a relationship with Norah, just not the kind she deserves.
“Son, you need to forgive yourself. You should be honest with Norah and yourself. Especially yourself. Share Mara with Norah. She taught you how to love for Norah. Tell her you love her, or she will leave when this is over, despite her feelings for you. Then you’ll endure two losses instead of one. You have built a multimillion-dollar security business. You deserve to share it with someone who loves you. Mara would want you to be happy.”
I nod tightly.
“Thank you for sharing.” I follow him to the door.
“You’re welcome. Join us for dinner on Sunday. Your mother would love to see you.” I don’t miss the underlying message—Norah too.
“If it’s safe enough, we will, or we can come up with a different plan.”
“Please say goodbye to Norah for me.”
I nod as he steps out the door. I lean against the door, waiting for the alarm to reengage. After downing a water, I walk down the hall toward her. My chest is tight, and my heart aches. I’m not ready to do this. I should, but I don’t know if I can.
Chapter 21
Norah
Space, I just need space to get my head straight. I need to leave and soon. I can’t stay with him, considering how loudly my heart is screaming with want. My head is screaming to run. After dinner, I suggest that Jacob talk with his dad. Mostly for me, but a little for him. I’m sure it has been a while since he was able to have a decent chat with his father.
After finishing the dishes, I grab a book and curl up in this chair. It looks as if I’m reading, but I’m not really focused on the words. My mind is pinging back and forth in a host of different directions. Mostly I just produce more questions. Questions about my desires for my life going forward. Losing my partnership after working toward it for six years opens a lot of available options. I can pretty much do whatever I want. Thanks to my diligence, my desire to become a partner early, and Jacob’s intuition to freeze my accounts, I could take a break from work for a significant amount of time.
Until recently, being partner was all I wanted. I forwent dates, vacations, and even girls’ night out to further my career. I was fine on my own. No drama with boyfriends or the angst of dating. That got even better after Jacob came into the picture offering exceptional, heart-pounding sex, no strings attached, at least twice a month. Perfect. Little did I know it was monogamous on both sides. That just makes this even harder. The bottom line is I broke my promise to him and myself. No feelings, I agreed. As I chastise myself, Tank lifts his head off the floor.
Pushing my thoughts away, I look up at Jacob who is standing in the doorway.
“Thank you.”
I don’t know what they talked about, but it was heavy. His face is tight and his eyes pained. “You’re welcome. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing new. That was William on the phone earlier. He sent the photos. We need you to look at them when you’re ready. Also, the FBI wants to talk with you. We can do it nearby or we can go to Boston.” He’s not being completely honest with me.
“Now works. As far as the FBI, whichever option you feel is safer for me is fine.” Despite the turmoil in my love life, if you will, I trust Jacob completely regarding my safety.
He pulls out his laptop and reaches for my hand but lets it drop before I can take his. We need to get on the same page, even if it’s only for right now.
I follow Jacob to the kitchen with Tank close behind. He boots the laptop and motions for me to sit. Reaching around me, he enters the password. The caress of his breath on my skin and his nearness scrambles my senses.
“Here. William sent these during dinner. Are any of these the correct tattoo?”
Scanning the first set of images, nothing looks familiar. I open the second set and my hands start shaking. I close my eyes to stop the replay in my mind. I’m running toward the stairs. Just as I reach the top step, a big, meaty hand grasps my left ankle.
“Norah.” Jacob moves to my side, reaching his hand across my lap and turning me to face him on the stool. Against my better judgment, I lean into his embrace. Damn, that feels so right! “Tell me, please.”
“The third, fourth, and fifth image are the guy who drugged me.”
“Good job, Norah.” Once the words leave his mouth, his lips are pressed against mine.
As much as I want his lips on mine, I pull back and look into his expressive eyes. Desire, lust, and confusion are staring back at me. I’m sure mine are saying the same thing, plus a bit of exhilaration from finding the right image.
“I’m sorry,” Jacob whispers.
“We need to get on the same page before we do that again.”
“Okay. Let me respond to William and get an update to decide where you should talk to the FBI.” As if he can’t help himself, he softly kisses my forehead. A forehead kiss is so much less intimate. He takes the stool next to mine and slides his laptop over.
I push off the stool and move into the kitchen to plate some cake for us and make two cups of coffee. I haven’t truly watched Jacob work. I have been in a car chase of sorts, but him doing desk work, his brow furrowed and his focus rapt on the screen or the call, it’s another side of Jacob. It makes him even more attractive. I’m not getting out of this unscathed.
After setting a plate and a fresh cup of coffee next to him, I retake my seat while he works. He takes a call from Connor and Blaine and emails William and someone named Callen. Almost two hours later, I wash the dishes, then pad to the bedroom to change my clothes.
Wrapping myself in the blanket from the chair, I return to the living room and gaze out the French doors from the couch. Whoever Jacob is talking to didn’t give him the answer he was looking for. After a few choice words, he hangs up and closes the laptop before joining me on the couch.
“There are two options for meeting with the FBI as I explained. Neither option is ideal, in my opinion. Flying to Boston makes more sense, only because it won’t give away where we are now. I’ll have to find somewhere else to stay and likely for a while.”
“I called you because this is what you do. If you feel that flying to Boston is the safest option, then that’s what I will do. When are we leaving?” That isn’t the only reason, but I don’t believe rehashing my feelings blunder is wise.
“I’m waiting on confirmation from Pemberton, but it’ll likely be midday tomorrow, and Connor will be joining us. Maia will meet us as well.” He’s worried if he’s using three of his staff to go to Boston, or the Moretti family is exactly a
s he described. More realistically, both.
“Okay. I don’t have clothes to meet the FBI.”
“Neither do I. Connor will bring some with him.” The look of concern on his face hasn’t lessened.
“You’re truly worried about this meeting?”
“Yes.” The edge on his voice doesn’t help calm me at all. It wasn’t there before he talked to his father.
“What are the ramifications if I don’t go?”
He looks out into the backyard instead of at me. When I set my hand on his, he turns to look at me. The concern in his eyes makes my stomach bottom out.
“Right now, the meeting is voluntary. They just want to talk to you.”
“You didn’t answer my question. What if I don’t go now?”
Jacob inhales sharply, closing his eyes. I tighten my fingers around his. Slowly, he lets out his breath. Releasing his hand, I slide my hands around his face, forcing him to look at me.
Chapter 22
Jacob
“Talk to me,” she says, her hands cupping my face.
Prohibiting myself from laying her out on this couch becomes increasingly harder each time she touches me. I’m an idiot! I have been touching her as if she’s mine since the hospital without regard to our agreement.
“I have so much to say. You deserve an answer to your question and to ask as many more as you need, but now isn’t the time. Aside from that, my gut is churning. It isn’t a normal occurrence when I’m working. It has only happened once before.” The only other time I felt this way was the day of the attack in Afghanistan. The problem I’m having now is whether it’s an instinct or my feelings for Norah. Maybe it’s both.
“Is it me or going to Boston?” she asks softly. Perhaps she thinks I won’t answer her.
“Both.” Turning my head, I press a kiss to the inside of her palm and slowly rise from the couch.
Her eyes flutter closed, and she slowly releases a breath. As I stare out in the yard, I run through a myriad of options for tomorrow’s meeting. Different routes we can take, different groupings of personnel. I can use everyone except Callen. Any way I look at it, I know what I must do. Norah isn’t going to like it one bit. It’ll keep her safe and keep my head in the game. Turning, I move back to the couch. Norah is using a soft throw blanket as a wrap. I see the thin strap of her red, silky pajamas peeking out at the shoulder. The libidinous side of my brain is screaming to draw it down her arm to expose her luscious…. I reach my hand out to her. She slides her slender fingers along my palm, which makes my chest tighten. Gently, I tug her to standing. “I need to finish the plans for tomorrow. I’ll answer your question when we get back. I will tell you everything you want to know.”
