And she wouldn’t force a relationship. Never again. Her entire romantic life had been based on coercing commitments from boys and men. In high school, she’d been convinced Billy Turlock would ask her to marry him but instead he’d gone off to the minor leagues and never looked back. He hadn’t loved her. Neither had any of her three husbands she was now convinced. Ted had only wanted to the honorable thing by her, and she’d fooled herself into thinking that would be enough. That because of their mutual love for their son they could make their marriage work. But the marriage had been impossible when the going got tough. There had to be true love in any long lasting relationship and it couldn’t ever be forced. She’d finally learned that lesson and she didn’t want Jack doing anything he wasn’t ready and willing to do.
And he wasn’t ready for her, that much was clear. Ready for sex? Of course. But there again, she expected this was the norm for him. She knew she should be smart and end the intimacy now before it got any tougher for her. Before she felt any closer to him than she already did. She was older now. Smarter. But apparently still a bonafide sucker for great orgasms because she made her way to the bedroom as if there was a sale on shoes in there.
She shut and locked the door behind her.
Jack leaned back in the chair next to the bed, one long leg stretched out in front of him. Fully clothed.
“Hey.” He grinned, and her knees went liquid.
“Hey yourself.”
He one-hand tossed what looked like a piece of cloth in her direction. She caught her Springsteen t-shirt mid-air. “Don’t tell me you want me to wear this to bed.”
He smiled wickedly, leaning further back in the chair, hands folded across his flat stomach. “No, I prefer you wear nothing at all. But I do want to know more about the t-shirt.”
“What do you want to know? It’s Bruce Springsteen. The Boss.” She threw the shirt on the bed and moved towards him.
“At Madison Square Garden, specifically. Did you see him there?”
She didn’t like talking about any of this. Ever. And she could play a good game of redirection so she stood in front of him and swiftly removed her top.
“Um, yeah. Many years ago.”
He slid her a look full of heat and one finger trailed from cleavage down to her stomach. “I could guess that, given the state of the t-shirt.”
She unzipped her jeans and slipped them off, chucking them aside. “I think you know everything now.”
He pulled her into his lap. “Try again.”
No wonder he’d been a detective. It was in his blood. He noticed far more than most people did. He realized the t-shirt meant something to her. Something that went beyond pure comfort. He just didn’t know how or why. And now, because she was such a smartass, she sat half-naked in his arms. Not able to blame anyone else because she’d done this to herself. Stripped. For him.
She unbuttoned the top of his jeans. “Jack, you’re overdressed for this occasion.”
“I will take care of that soon, don’t worry.”
She pressed one finger gently to the hollow of his neck and sensed the steady thrum of his heart. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”
He met her gaze as one hand stroked her thigh. “No.”
“Fine.” She took in a ragged breath. “My father was the real Springsteen fan. He took me to my first concert when I was ten. My dad said the man was a poet and a musician. And that’s one of the t-shirts he bought me.”
His arms tightened around her. “How old were you when he died?”
She narrowed eyes at him. “How do you know he died? He might have just abandoned us.”
Jack just quirked a brow.
“Okay. I was twelve.”
“Damn.” He kissed her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“I named David after him. Anyway, it was a long time ago. I lost or ruined most of the concert t-shirts one way or another except for this one. It was a larger size so I didn’t wear it as often. You can see it’s barely holding together. But I feel comfortable wearing it…and safe.”
“Makes sense.” His hand rubbed up and down her back in a soothing pattern.
“Are you glad you asked me? Because I already told you I don’t want you feeling sorry for me.” She licked his neck and pulled up his sweater to run her hand down his taut abs.
He groaned. “Babe, I feel a lot of things for you but you can be sure sorry is not one of them.”
“Good.” She stood, and pulled him up with her. “Now take your clothes off.”
“Bossy.” He kicked off his boots and removed his pants and sweater. “I like it.”
Now they had both stripped. So much better this way.
His body was solid and perfect. Hard male angles. Olive skin. His hot gaze swept over her, and everywhere his gaze fell his hand followed. She nearly melted to a fleshy pool on the ground. One big hand palmed her ass and squeezed. He pulled her flat against him, and pressed into her, rigid and firm. She licked his neck again, enjoying his salty taste. She took a lengthy tour of him with her tongue, starting at his neck and working her way to his abs and lower still. Seemed high time for her to learn the geography of his body, and she was only on day two of her lesson plan. When she slid off his boxers his body tensed tight as a steel cable. She licked and tasted him. All of him. He didn’t let her linger long before he made an innately male sound and flipped her on to the bed.
“My turn.” He slipped her panties off and threw them aside. Her bra came off with one quick flick of his wrist.
“Kiss me,” she demanded and he didn’t wait another moment.
His mouth covered hers in a wild and heated kiss that set her heart on fire. Taking hold of her wrists, he moved her arms above her head and pinned them.
He studied her face, his eyes hooded with desire. “Still scared?”
“Terrified.”
She should be. She wanted him. Needed him. Wanted his hands touching her everywhere, tenderly and with his amazing skill. He covered her with open mouth kisses, moving from her sensitive ear lobes, to her neck, to her breasts, her stomach, and south. Not surprisingly, he took his time with every nibble of her skin, with every flick of his tongue, with every soft bite of tender flesh.
“Trust me,” he said.
And she did. She’d trusted him from the moment she laid eyes on him. Realizing maybe, on some level, that they were two of a kind. When he released her arms, he slid down her body and moved to nudge her thighs open. His tongue licked her inner thigh and then flicked her core over and over again until she threaded fingers through his hair and nearly went out of her mind.
“Jack,” she moaned. “Please.”
She heard the sound of a condom packet ripping open and he slid into her, making them both gasp. He moved inside her with firm and unrelenting thrusts. Sure of what he did to her. How he slayed her with every single touch and every single hot kiss. He would take care of her. He was the type of man who would always take care of his woman. And she had him here. Now. For as long as he was here, he would have her back. He would be all hers. Maybe not forever but for right now. It would have to be enough.
“Fallon,” Jack groaned and dropped his forehead to hers. “So good.”
She wrapped her legs around him and arched her back, taking him deeper. Good was an understatement. It had never been this erotic for her and never this intense.
And she had no idea how she would ever let him go.
Fallon woke to the annoying sound of her phone alarm. Her hand reached out to slap the annoying piece of hardware and missed. Twice. It kept going off like a siren in the room. Cracking one eye open, she grabbed the phone from the nightstand.
Wedding Day: gird your loins.
The reminder she’d set last week. Yes, today was D-day. The awful day she’d have to be in the same room with Ted and his relatives. All of them looking down at her from their very educated, very Patrician noses. She sat up, blinked, and rubbed her eyes. Morning light spilled through cracks in the blind
s. A cup of coffee sat on her nightstand and under it a note:
I would have woken you up to have your coffee but you were dead to the world. I’ve gone to get the oil changed in the Mustang before the long drive. See you this afternoon. ~Jack
Fallon took a sip of the coffee. Cold. She drank it anyway. Now that she wasn’t going to be able to roll around in bed with Jack and waste away the morning, she might as well get up. She staggered to the bathroom and took a quick shower, dressed, and headed down to the kitchen. Apparently Mom had left the house early as well. Might be a perfect time to finish her Christmas shopping, so Fallon had a pop tart for breakfast and headed out the door. She didn’t have a car so she walked into town.
David was taken care of, but she found sterling silver hoop earrings for Mom from the jewelry and craft shop on Second Street and the silver naval ring Kailey had mentioned. Jack was a bit harder to buy for, as was the case with most men. Still, she wandered into Hank’s Cars and Hobbies. She didn’t need to buy Jack anything at all, since they wouldn’t actually spend the holiday together. But she had so much to thank him for. She planned to wrap the gift and card and have him open it on Christmas day with his family.
“These black leather driving gloves would be perfect for Bud,” Hank said.
They would definitely look sexy on Jack but so would a paper bag. She wanted something special. Meaningful.
“How about a hood ornament?” Hank nodded. “Every man needs a hood ornament.”
“He does?” Fallon didn’t think so.
It took her nearly an hour of walking down every aisle of auto supplies and grown-up man toys, but she finally found the perfect gift in the back.
“Oh yeah. This is kind of cool, isn’t it? I forgot we even had these.”
“It’s perfect.” By the time she was done it would be a personalized gift.
Fallon paid for it and then walked to Genevieve’s Sweet Southern Buns bakery for a treat. God knew she deserved one. She was going to the wedding of her ex-husband today. Not that she cared much anymore, but Ted’s family didn’t think highly of her and never had. They barely put up with her and did so only because of David. Seeing them again would be by far the worst part of the entire day, and that said something.
“Hey there!” Genevieve said from behind the counter.
“I’ll have a cinnamon mini-Bundt cake and some coffee with room.”
“Coming right up. Hey, thanks for Lindsey’s French braid last night. I try, but I don’t do nearly as well as you and Kailey.”
“We love doing it. Neither one of us has a little girl.”
“So where’s Bud? I can’t wait to meet him.” Genevieve poured coffee into one of the big ceramic mugs she collected.
“He’s around.” Fallon cleared her throat. “Actually, his name is Jack.”
“Okay.” Genevieve nodded. “I must have heard wrong.”
Sure, because Jack and Bud were such similar sounding names. Fallon smiled at Genevieve’s kindness and paid for her cake and coffee. The large ceramic mug was pink and white and read I bake. What’s your super power? Hair and make-up, and falling for men who were not available. Was there a mug for that?
She found a good quiet spot to be alone with her thoughts. She needed to re-work her entire immediate life plan. No biggie. As it worked out, the timing was perfect to move back home. She didn’t have a job in L.A., but she did have plenty of money saved which would go a lot further in Starlight Hill than it ever would in L.A. She pulled out her planner and started to make a few notes. First, she’d check out the salon tomorrow, after the wedding. If she could work out a lease with the current landlord she’d run the numbers to make sure she could afford to fix the salon the way she wanted to. When Ted returned from his honeymoon, she could go back to L.A. and give notice to the landlord. Pack. Say goodbye to Betsy next door. Fond memories of the milk and cookies she’d shared with Santa Jack came back. If she stayed in L.A. a while longer and found another job, there was a chance he’d at least be back to pack up and move to wherever he’d intended to land. Maybe he’d look her up. Or maybe not.
Maybe instead it was high time for her to stop fantasizing about any hopes for a future with Jack. Sweet and sexy that he was, he’d become caught up in something momentary with her. Once back in L.A. reality would return. He was either going back to the L.A.P.D. homicide department, or he would move to another department. Jack would never stop being a cop.
She hoped all the fantastic sex she’d had in the past two days would be enough for a while, because after Jack she couldn’t imagine being interested in anyone else for a long time. But she’d gone nearly eight years before this without a man. What was eight more? By then, David would be a grown-up and she wouldn’t need to be such a stickler about plans. Maybe she could be carefree again like Jack.
The bakery door dinged, making Fallon look up. Stephan, her nemesis. He glanced in her direction and then quickly looked away. Which made no sense, since she’d never faced him down as she’d always wanted to do. Like she should have done long ago. She’d had no trouble yelling at a burglar (when he was pinned under a strong man) because two years in L.A. working with celebrities had given her an even tougher skin. And you know what? Now was as good of a time as any to tell Mr. Gossip a few things. She stood up and walked over to the man who thought he had the pulse on their small town.
“Merry Christmas,” Fallon said.
He gave her a quick glance. “Oh, hey. Look at you. You look fantastic! You in town for long?”
“Until after Christmas. But then I’m moving back permanently.”
“You are?” His eyebrows met his forehead. “That’s…wow, that’s awesome.”
“Is it? I’m going to need your help. You and I need to make a deal.”
His shifty eyes went into overtime shift. “A deal?”
She tapped his chest. “You stop talking about me and spreading ugly lies and I won’t kick you in the balls.”
He glanced down at his family jewels. “Fallon, really. You take this all a little too…seriously, I think.”
“No one asked you to think. I have a son, Stephan, and he doesn’t need to hear any more small town rumors about his mother. So what if I was married three times? It stopped being funny a long time ago. Why don’t you blog about food or wine…or just anything else. Stop talking about me. Or Billy and Brooke. Or eating disorders. Or I swear…” She glanced down at his crotch with her best PMS look.
Stephan did everything but cup his gonads and then flew out the bakery’s door.
“Sorry about that.” Fallon turned to Genevieve with what she hoped was an apologetic smile on her face. Given that she was not sorry at all, Fallon didn’t think she could pull it off.
“Don’t apologize. It’s about time someone told him off. I don’t even think Brooke has threatened his balls before.”
Next stop? Find a good time and place to tell Mom that she would need to show her, as David’s mother, the respect she deserved. The respect she commanded.
16
There probably was no appropriate dress to wear to the wedding of an ex-husband. But after going through all of her many wardrobe choices over the course of the afternoon, Fallon selected the royal blue peplum dress she’d bought on Rodeo Drive one month ago when it was seventy-five percent off. Dressed only in her full length spandex slip, she set up in the hallway bathroom and proceeded to work on her make-up and hair for the next two hours. Unable to decide between the flat iron and curling iron, she split the difference. She straightened and then curled her hair. Pinned it. Took the pins out. She tried a French braid and didn’t like it. A Princess Bun was no better. Up or down?
This day was going to be a disaster.
“You in there?” Jack’s voice called out from the other side of the door.
She opened the door and her womb contracted. Jack took a step inside, dressed to the nines in a black double breasted suit, caramel colored button down, and striped tie. The man cleaned up well. He look
ed great naked, but this was definitely a close second.
“Y-you look fantastic.”
“So do you.” His gaze slid down her skin tight slip. “You sure I can’t talk you into going like that?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think everyone else would appreciate it.”
“Screw ‘em.”
He pulled her into a kiss that quickly got a little wild and heated considering they were in a small bathroom. Pushed up against the wall, one of Jack’s arms on either side barricading her, she didn’t want to go to any dumb wedding. She wanted to go back to bed.
“Fallon!” Another screech from Mom downstairs. “I hope you’re almost ready. We have to leave soon. And I’m not going to be late because of you!”
“Maybe we could be late because of me.” Jack palmed her ass. “Don’t worry, I’ll calm her down. If we’re late to the jerk’s wedding, we’re late. Take your time.”
He closed the door.
“Okay, down it is,” Fallon said to the mirror. “And that’s final.” In the bedroom, she stepped into her dress and black stilettos, zipped up and then went downstairs to meet Jack and Mom.
Showtime.
A few minutes later, all three of them were in Jack’s Mustang finding a parking place at Immanuel Methodist Church. The white clapboard building in the middle of downtown still had its original belfry and was a town landmark. David, as it had turned out, was Ted’s honorary best man, and he looked adorable in a white mini-tux and cummerbund. But his blonde hair was parted to the side as if someone had used a ruler to do it. From the front of the church, her little boy waved at Fallon and she waved back. The wedding was short and sweet, with some declarations of love and a hard cough from the bride’s side when the pastor asked if anyone cared to object now or forever hold their peace.
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