by Jaycee Clark
“Very much.” At least he was polite enough not to crack any stupid ass jokes about romance or be derisive about what she did. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “And I’ve written for years. Been published for about five.”
“What did your husband think of it?” he asked.
It was a question she’d gotten used to, others had asked it. But instead of answering him, she asked one of her own. “What would you say or do if your wife wanted to write about—what did you call it?—dreamy happy endings?”
He thought for a moment, propping his chin in his hand. “I don’t know. If she was really serious about it, tell her to go for it.”
His answered surprised her. “Really?”
“Of course. Everyone should do what they want to. If they don’t, it only leads to resentment and hard feelings.”
True. “Jerrod, my late husband, encouraged me.” Even if he hadn’t always completely understood. “He was my biggest supporter.”
Aiden slowly shook his head. “You loved him.”
“Well, one would hope.” She didn’t understand his comment. “Yes, I loved him, very much. He was my husband.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought this should be a strange conversation to be having with this man, but for some reason it wasn’t. Aiden Kinncaid was surprisingly easy to talk to, even though she never really knew what he’d say.
“Tim said you had children?”
She could talk about Jerrod, but the children . . . Jesslyn looked at the tabletop. “Yes. Two.” Pain whispered around her heart. Not the claw shredding pain it once had been, but still sharp enough to hurt. She swallowed.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asked.
She smiled. “What is it you’ve been doing?”
His brows furrowed. “Never mind.”
Jesslyn waited. “It’s okay. It was three years ago. Sometimes it still hurts. Lots of times it still hurts. Not so much what was, like it was before, but what can never be.” She ran her finger in a circle on the tabletop and shrugged. “However, life is life and it goes on.”
“What happened?” He shifted as though uncomfortable. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Was that the personal question?”
He shook his head.
“No? Well, as to what happened, a drunk driver ran a red light. And just like that, everything was . . . was ripped to shreds.”
“I’m sorry.” He reached across the space and covered her hand with his. “It’s not easy losing children.”
The words were whispered and she’d heard them before, from well-meaning friends and family. But his held that note, that dark acceptance of what could not be changed. Only people who had been there knew. “Ah,” she said. “The person you lost.”
His eyes looked over her shoulder. Jesslyn didn’t turn around to see what it was. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Though most wouldn’t think so.” Aiden shrugged. “I’m a bit antiquated, so I’ve been told.”
Jesslyn sat silent and unmoving, not even to pull her hand out from under his.
“I was engaged, to an incredibly self-centered model, would have been married for several months by now.”
“What happened?”
“I found out two months before the wedding she’d had an abortion.” His forehead wrinkled on his frown. “I know this is a new millennium and whatnot, women’s rights, freedoms of choices.”
But not for him.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe I told you that. Sorry.” Aiden made to pull his hand away, but Jesslyn turned hers over and grasped his warm palm.
“I’m sorry,” she said for lack of anything better.
“Why?”
“Because while I know what I’m missing, you never even got the chance.” Pain shifted raw and angry in his eyes at her words.
They sat there in the early morning light streaming through the skylights, the bustle of activity in the empty dining room around them, staring at each other.
Jesslyn smiled again. “So how’s the weather?”
His smile warmed her insides. “Did we just bond or something?”
“God, that’s a scary thought.”
“Tell me about it.” He waved his hand. “Sorry for bringing all that up. I’m not sure why I did.”
Jesslyn shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Can I ask another question?” He shifted and put his elbows up on the table.
“Of course you can, doesn’t mean you’ll get an answer.”
His eyes roamed over her face. “You’re very prickly.”
She shrugged. “I know.”
He opened his mouth then shut it again. Standing, he offered her his hand. “Come on, I’ll take you home so you can rest.”
She didn’t move. “Maybe I’m not ready to leave yet.” The coffee smelled really good.
Aiden sat back down.
“I want to ask some questions,” she said. “You got to ply me, now I want to ply you.”
A grin flickered near the edge of his mouth. “What do you want to ply?”
She ignored him.
“What do you want to know?”
What did she want to know? “Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Controlling, overbearing and just come in and take over. Rearrange things to your liking?”
He steepled his fingers and studied her. “Is that how you see me?”
Lowering her voice she mimicked. “An ulcer is nothing to mess around with. Shoes. Shoes. Shoes.”
He chuckled, a low deep rumble that tossed her insides. “Guess you do.”
“I bet you’re the firstborn.”
He nodded.
“Do you have a quirk?” Something to make him a bit more approachable.
“Do you?” he asked.
She grinned at him. “Hell, honey, I’ve got lots of quirks.”
“Such as?”
“Colors.”
He frowned. “How are colors quirks?”
“Cause sometimes I think in colors.”
He shook his head. “How does one think in colors?”
She shrugged. “You know, like you see a person and think: They’re yellow. Or a song seems blue, or maybe pink.”
Aiden leaned back up on the table, his gaze intent. “I’ve never heard that. You seriously think in colors?”
She pursed her lips, watched as his eyes dropped to her mouth and quickly tucked them between her teeth. “Yeah. Okay, so I’m weird. It’s like listening to Beethoven and thinking of his Fifth with lots of reds and sharp blacks, purples.”
“You like Beethoven?”
“Yeah.”
“What about his Moonlight Sonata?”
“Blues and grays, swirling and melding.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. That’s weird, but I like it. What other music do you like?”
“All kinds of music. You?” She took another sip of the tepid tea.
“Beethoven’s good. I like jazz, old World War Two songs, Celtic.”
“Celtic, huh? Never say so with a name like Aiden Kinncaid.” So they had something else in common. Music tastes.
“One-half Irish, one-half Scot.”
“There was no hope for you.”
He smiled. “None.”
He stood again and offered her his hand. This time she let him help her stand and didn’t take her hand from his as they walked out the hotel.
“So you think of music and people in terms of color? What color am I?”
“Blue,” she answered immediately.
He grinned, a glint in his eye before he covered them with shades as they stepped out into the bright morning. “But is it just blue? Or are there different shades?”
“Like your eyes.”
He halted.
Oh God, she had not just commented on his damn eyes.
“My eyes?”
Hell. “Uh, yeah, that blue color. Yeah.” Intense. The man was an intense cobal
t blue. They stood on the pavement, halfway to his Jeep. She scrambled for something else to say. “Tim is navy, all somber and serious most of the time. And T.J., she’s pale green or blue, like winter ice.” Jesslyn shrugged. “I know it’s weird. It’s just how I think of things.”
Aiden shook his head and helped her into his Jeep.
As he slid in, he said, “No, I don’t think it’s really that weird so much as interesting.”
The drive back to the house only took about five minutes. He walked her in, nodding to the replacement cop—whose name she couldn’t remember—and proceeded to check the rooms.
She stood in the kitchen and decided to wait to crank the coffeepot until after Aiden left. Tim’s be-careful-I’ll-talk-to-you-later note lay on the countertop. Immediately the idea of her two friends together popped unbidden in her mind. Nope, not gonna go there.
Aiden stood in the doorway, still in his mountain wear but now he had a briefcase.
“Off to work?” she asked.
He looked from her to the counter behind. “No coffee.”
“Who are you? My doctor?” Okay so she’d thought it.
His gaze, cobalt and hot as lightning, ran over her again. “Depends.” He walked closer. “I always liked playing doctor.”
“Ooohhhh.” She tossed the pencil at him. “Go to work. Get out of my house.”
“I’m renting it. Have a signed contract to prove it.” He stopped in front of her.
“You’re impossible and I’m trying to think here and you’re making it hard.”
His dimple peeked at her. “That’s nice to know.”
The man reminded her of a panther. He set the briefcase on the center island on one side of her, reaching across, trapping her between him and the counter behind her.
“Don’t move your stuff,” he said, his voice quiet.
She licked her lip, looking up at him. “I was going to run to the store and get some food.”
“You’re changing the subject.” He leaned in ever so slightly and her blood heated. “You don’t need to be out there alone in the cottage.”
She couldn’t think with him this close. And why was he this close?
“I-um-I don’t think . . .” She licked her lips
“Good.” He lowered his mouth to hers. A breath away his eyes met hers and he smiled. “Don’t think.”
A spark lit deep within her as his lips, soft yet firm, met hers. Jesslyn didn’t move, couldn’t move. Aiden didn’t touch her other than with his lips on hers. Before it started the kiss ended.
He smiled. She liked that single dimple in his right cheek.
“I’m glad to see you don’t always bite,” he whispered.
Bite? Jesslyn blinked, shook her head as he stepped back, though still kept his arms on either side of her.
“Depends,” she whispered.
This close she watched his eyes darken. Fascinating.
“Don’t move to the cottage.” His voice whispered over her.
Jesslyn was surprised to realize she almost answered, “Okay.”
But she didn’t.
She put her hands on his chest and pushed back. “Are you a vegetarian?” she asked. “If you are, I think I’ll buy steaks.”
Looking up, Jesslyn barely caught his frown.
“What? Vegetarian? No.”
“Good. I’m going to get to the store before it gets too busy, then I’ll come back here and crash.”
He grabbed up his briefcase. “Take the nap first. You look like hell.”
“Compliments, compliments. My heart’s all aflutter.” Jesslyn rolled her eyes and managed to keep from walking him to the damn door.
She waited until she heard the click of the front door and then looked out the window and watched as he backed his Jeep down the drive before driving away.
What was with her?
A panther. She chuckled out loud. And what a sleek, smooth panther too.
Silence settled around her, heavy and almost oppressive. Jesslyn looked around the kitchen, out into the living room. Nothing had changed. What was different?
Deciding not to think about that, she headed upstairs. Maybe she would take a nap first.
• • •
Beethoven blared in her ears as her fingers flew over the keys. Here Jesslyn could keep pain at bay. Here she was in charge and there were few surprises. Well, the muse often took off on a tangent, but it usually turned out to be a good thing. And here, Death didn’t creep his cold fingers over her life.
Jesslyn’s headache and nerves made it impossible to eat lunch. She’d taken a couple of ibuprofen after Aiden left, but as yet they did nothing. She could probably take something else soon, but she wasn’t going to worry about that now. She was busy. The hero and heroine were dodging bullets. She didn’t have time for aspirin or water or anything else.
This was her world.
The banging finally registered. Someone was beating the hell out of her door. Dammit. Jerking her headphones off, Beethoven’s thundering symphony quieted. There was a reason for having headphones, to drown out noise.
Heading down the hallway, she mumbled and cursed whoever would dare to interrupt her. It better be damn good.
The banging continued.
“I’m coming!” she yelled. “For God’s sake.” She yanked the door open to see Tim and Aiden standing on her threshold. She was tired and bitchy, but she still noticed the foil packages in Tim’s hands, the bags of groceries in Aiden’s. The charred scent of grilled meat drifted on the air. Jesslyn stepped back to let them in.
“It’s about damn time,” Tim all but snarled.
Excuse her. “Well, I’m sorry, dear, but I was busy writing. Aiden has a key, why the hell didn’t he open the door?”
Aiden said, “In case you can’t see, my hands are full.”
“Lord forbid you set something down.” Turning back to Tim she asked, “What are you doing here?” Tim frowned as he crossed her threshold and Aiden grinned his one-dimpled grin that made her heart skip.
“We came to make sure you eat.” Tim brushed past her and into the kitchen.
She caught his you-know-better look as he looked into her near empty fridge. Well, not quite empty. There were eggs and juice. Maybe some salad stuff. And yogurt. There was a carton of yogurt. So she hadn’t made it to the store like she said. Aiden owned a hotel, he had a place to eat.
“Glad to see I took it upon myself to go shopping,” Aiden said pleasantly, setting the bags on the countertop.
Jesslyn watched as he unloaded the bags, then stopped and looked at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You could help.”
“I could.” She swung the front door shut and walked to the kitchen area. “I figure they’re your groceries, you can put them up.”
Tim cleared his throat. “Children, children. Jesslyn, could we get some plates?”
Looks like there was going to be some company tonight. She should have moved her stuff to the cottage above the garage. At least the chief hadn’t stayed long when he stopped by earlier that morning.
In the kitchen she grabbed some plates and glasses. Tim asked her to tell him everything Garrison and she talked about. Jesslyn sighed and shut the cabinet door. So much for writing. Tim meant well. Setting the table, she complied, filling Tim in on what she knew, keeping to herself the emotions she wasn’t ready to face. Aiden meticulously placed things in the refrigerator. She set down the last glass and watched him. He even arranged the vegetables in the veggie drawer. Hell, she’d always just tossed everything in there.
And why did she care how the man arranged his food?
Jesslyn shook her head. She’d make some tea, concentrate on the mundane. While the water boiled, she asked Tim yet again, “What are you doing here?”
His arms crossed over his chest and he studied her for longer than she cared to be scrutinized. Finally, he shrugged. “Sue me. I was worried about you. Being the heartless man most think I am, I called up Aiden and
talked him into steaks. Figured you hadn’t eaten.”
Aiden straightened and shut the refrigerator door, walking around the island.
She couldn’t help but grin at Tim. “Yeah, you’re just a coldhearted jerk, aren’t you?”
“So I’ve been told.”
Another knock at her door. What the hell was this? Club Jesslyn?
“Care if I get it?” Aiden asked from his lounge by the table.
“Why should I? You’re renting the place, have a signed contract and everything. Having dinner parties and whatnot.” He only leveled a look at her. “No, I don’t care.” The water started to boil. She turned, moved the kettle, dumped the tea in, and closed the lid to let it steep.
Jesslyn tried to tell herself it was the thought that counted, but it was hard when you found out your friends obviously thought you were weak and frail. Did they expect her to be on the brink of a breakdown or something?
“Oh. Hi, didn’t know you’d be here, but I guess so,” T.J. said, her voice coming from the front door. “You are renting the place.”
“Hi, Tinks. You remember Aiden.”
T.J. stepped into the house. “Hard to forget,” she said a little lower than necessary.
Jesslyn rolled her eyes.
“T.J.” Jesslyn smiled. “I think you need to join us for dinner.”
T.J. stopped, her black brows arching over her snow blue eyes that looked from Jesslyn into the kitchen. “Oh.”
Color surged up her friend’s face.
Jesslyn turned and looked at Tim. How the hell did she forget that? Leaning close, she whispered, “Think fairy dust.”
T.J. shoved her out of the way and stalked into the kitchen.
“Do you always abrade other people?” Aiden asked her, shutting the door.
“It’s a gift.”
He grinned, slow and easy. “Can’t wait to see what other talents you can boast of.”
On a frustrated mumble, she turned and followed Tinks into the kitchen.
Aiden didn’t follow. She heard his feet thump up the stairs. Tim looked at T.J. “Maybe, between the two of us, we can talk Jesslyn here into your plan of drowning her sorrows and fucking her brains out.”
She could only stare at Tim. “What?”
Tim shrugged.
T.J. grabbed stuff out of the refrigerator. Straightening with lettuce, tomatoes, and other various greens in her arms she winked and said, “You know, fairy dust, color in your cheeks. Lust.”
