Promises

by Angela Verdenius

  It was what had gotten her through that horrible time. It was what had gotten her to where she stood now, and no man was going to make her feel worthless.

  Sucking in a bracing breath, she shoved the car door open, got out, swung the strap of her small bag over her shoulder and slammed the door shut - and cringed just a little at the thought that Jason would hear.

  Okay, might have to work on the confidence thing just a wee bit. It had certainly taken a battering the previous night.

  Beeping the lock of the car door, she straightened her shoulders and strode across the yard to the veranda, climbed it with more outward assurance than she really felt, unlocked the door and entered the safety of her little home.

  Immediately she suspected something was wrong. No big-eared Siamese with big blue eyes was waiting for her demanding food because he was starving to death and all he had left were measly old cat biccies. No cat prancing merrily down the hallway nattering away that he’d been alone all day and where had she been? No cat on the hall side table grabbing for the car keys she dropped into the bowl.

  “Arnie?” Placing the bag down, she checked the kitchen.

  Nope, no cat sleeping on the kitchen bench in direct violation of the long-defunct no-cat-on-the-kitchen-bench rule. No cat snoozing on the sofa, no cat tucked up under the doona. The spare room was empty.

  Her heart fell as she called out again and again. No use. Arnie had escaped. Somehow, he had escaped.

  Rubbing her brow, she sighed. So caught up in her problems plus the fact that he hadn’t escaped for a couple of nights now, she’d truly thought his escape route had been cut-off. Looked like she was wrong.

  Then she cringed. Oh boy, even worse, he might have…oh geez, no. Please no.

  Moving to the spare bedroom window, she peered through the curtains at the old house next door. Nothing moved. Her gaze slid to the kitchen window at the back of Jason’s house. Empty. Oh, thank God. Maybe Arnie hadn’t gotten inside, maybe he’d just found a sunny spot in the backyard to snooze in, though it was getting darker. She looked up at the open balcony door, her heart toppling to her feet at the sight of Arnie hanging off the flywire screen. As she watched he was plucked off, the curtain falling over it blocking her vision.

  Jason was inside. Oh God. She rested her head against the window pane, the lace curtain abrasive against her skin, unable to believe that her nosey cat had again gotten into the house of the man who’d been revolted at kissing her. Was it a conspiracy? A male bonding thing? Was the universe out to get her?

  Hoping Jason would toss Arnie out on his furry arse, she returned to the window. Nothing happened. No Arnie appeared over the fence. Going out onto the veranda, she peeked over at Jason’s front yard. No Arnie sitting on his steps or walking in his yard.

  Nibbling on her bottom lip, she debated what to do. Leave Arnie there and hope Jason turfed him out? It was growing darker, night would descend soon, and no way did she want Arnie wandering the streets at night. Night time was for fighting and hunting, and getting hit by a car a deadly possibility. No, he had to be in very soon. If Arnie got out now he’d hightail it for parts unknown and she’d be up all night trying to find him, waiting for the knock on the door from some passer-by who had either run over her cat or seen him on the side of the road.

  Crap, her imagination was running wild but it could all come true, scarily enough. No, she might be embarrassed at facing Jason again, but no way was she going to desert her furry pain-in-the-arse to the fates of the night.

  “Be a grown-up,” she muttered, locking the door and clenching the keys in her fist. “Just go over there and get your cat, hold your chin up, be icily polite, remember your neighbour is a jerk, and get back home. Be a grown-up.” Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and with purpose strode across to Jason’s home. “Look at me, being the grown-up. Yahoo. Thanks, Arnie.”

  The garage door was shut, no doubt his ute parked safely inside. A light shone through a crack in the lounge room curtains. The security screen was shut, the wooden door had a pane of coloured glass in the upper middle of it from which light showed, and a doorbell was situated at the side of the door. She jammed her thumb on it and stood back, schooling her features to a calm politeness.

  A full minute passed. She jammed her thumb on the doorbell again. Still nothing. Her lips tightened in annoyance. She knew he was home, she’d seen him pull her cat off the flywire of the balcony door and she could hear the faint trickle of music. Impatiently, she knocked loudly on the wall beside the door and folded her arms.

  Second later the door opened, light spilling warmly out to bath her in its glow. Silhouetted was the tall, lean, yet surprisingly strong man who’d just about burned her socks off the other night with a passionate kiss, then shattered her by shoving her away.

  “Izzy.” His voice rolled over her in soothing deepness. “I’m glad to-”

  “I believe Arnie is in here.” Jason’s an arsehole no matter how nice his voice. Izzy angled her jaw up.

  “He is.” The security screen was unlocked, the door swinging open as Jason stood to one side. “Come in.”

  “If you’ll just bring him out here to me, we’ll both get out of your hair.” The last bit of the sentence came out with more of a bite than icy composure.

  With the light behind him, Jason’s face was in shadows, but it was still enough to reveal his eyes gazing down at her, his delicious mouth softly closed. It was all Izzy could do not to both stare at that mouth and turn tail and bolt away from that gaze.

  Jason gestured with one hand. “Step inside.”

  “No, thanks. Just bring me Arnie.”

  “Izzy-”

  “Arnie.” Arms still folded, she glared up at him, looking him right in the eyes. Not my fault. I didn’t do anything to warrant that disgust the other night. Stand my ground.

  He chose that moment to glance around into the house as Arnie flashed past to run madly up the stairs with something firmly clamped in his mouth. “I think he just kidnapped my clean socks. He was supervising me folding laundry.”

  With an inward groan, Izzy watched Arnie disappear from view.

  Smiling, teeth flashing white in the gloom, Jason looked down at her. “Guess we’ll have to hunt him down.”

  “I’m not hunting him down,” she responded tightly. “You get him. I’ll wait here.”

  Jason’s smile faded, the usual serious expression falling across his face. “Izzy, I’m so sorry.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about. Can you please get my cat?”

  “I’m apologizing for the other night.”

  “And I’m not apologizing for being the source of your disgust!” Oops. Izzy hadn’t meant to say anything, but the damage was done.

  Jason’s eyes actually widened. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing.” Embarrassed all over again, she hunched her shoulders a little, scowled. “Will you please get my cat?”

  As if to torture her for his own feline delight, Arnie chose that moment to appear, press his face against the banister, and stare down at her with a happy, if not slightly grating, meow.

  A frown pulled Jason’s brows together. “Izzy, I-”

  “Jason! My cat!” Recovering her composure took some doing. She was sucking in so many deep breaths lately it was amazing there was any oxygen left in the atmosphere. “Please, just get Arnie, okay?”

  Oh shit. Her ears burned as she tucked her chin down. That last bit wasn’t composure. That last bit was a little wobbly. Stay angry. Not angry enough to blubber. Shit, I’m angry enough to blubber. Oh crap. For the love of all that is holy, do. Not. Cry!

  “Ah man.” In a move that caught her off guard, Jason wrapped one arm around her shoulders and dragged her up against him. “Oh man, Iz. I’m so sorry.”

  Stunned, Izzy found herself pulled inside the house with him. Flush against his body, she grabbed onto his upper arm, feeling the bulge of hard muscle beneath her palm. The sleeve of his flannel shirt might hide the impr
essive bicep, but there was no denying the swell of it.

  The click of the wooden door shutting yanked her from her astonishment. Bracing her hands on his chest, she jerked back - or tried to. His arm around her shoulders prevented her from moving far.

  Looking up, she was struck by his expression. Kind, regretful. Regretful. Shoot me now! Humiliation accompanied by fury whipped through her as she shoved more forcefully against him. “I said let me go!”

  He released her so fast she almost fell backwards with the force she’d exerted against him. She stumbled back, he reached for her, grabbed her arms, steadied her and then let go like she was a hot coal.

  “Izzy-”

  “Just get me my cat, damn it!” Her eyes were bright with tears.

  He looked torn, his mouth grim, his eyes unhappy. “Okay. Okay, I’ll get him.” He swung around, started for the staircase, stopped and swung back. “No. No, I can’t let-”

  “Jason!” She barely refrained from hiccupping it.

  “Goddamn it,” he muttered, swinging around once more and starting to climb the stairs.

  Arnie, the furry traitor, spotted him and took off in the opposite direction.

  Izzy swallowed the lump in her throat, used the sleeve of her cardigan to blot away the tear that threatened to escape.

  Jason glanced over his shoulder, his gaze fell on her arm still suspended in the air, and his jaw clenched. Turning, he strode down the staircase and right up to her.

  Automatically she planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to hear your false apology, all right? I just want my cat and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “You’re not in my hair,” he replied tightly, the little muscle at the corner of his mouth ticing.

  “Lucky you. Arnie!”

  “He’s not coming down anytime soon.”

  “Then I’ll go up and get him.” Izzy moved past him.

  She hadn’t gone two feet before her upper arm was grabbed in a gentle but firm grip. Jason pulled her to a halt, moving quickly to block her pathway to the staircase.

  “Please don’t cry,” he said softly. “I never meant to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset. I’m so mad I could kick you in the nuts and do a victory dance on what’s left of your scrotum.” She sniffed.

  He stared at her for a full five seconds, then those firm lips quirked at the corners. “Vicious little thing, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not little,” she lashed back.

  “Okay.”

  “And don’t patronise me.” She looked up at the staircase to see Arnie sitting at the top watching them. “Get down here, you little traitor.”

  Arnie lifted his paw. For one crazy second she wondered if he was giving her the equivalent of the bird, but he just licked his paw and started grooming one big seal-coloured ear.

  Before she could go in pursuit, Jason laid a hand on her shoulder. “Izzy, I need to talk to you.”

  “You’re sorry, yadda yadda yadda. I get the drift. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

  “You are really pissed,” he said.

  She stared at him in disbelief. “Are you for real? You kissed me and then all but threw me away!” Furious, she jabbed him in the chest with a stiff forefinger. “I can take rejection, Jason, but if you were so revolted kissing me then you should have considered that before you did it! Not to mention hiding it a little better! Now I want my bloody cat and I want to go home!” Trembling, she glared up at him through a haze.

  Slowly, Jason reached out to brush his thumb under her eye, catching the tear that slipped free.

  “I’m not crying.” She jerked her head back from his touch. “I mean, I am, but only because I’m so bloody furious that I - that I -” Words failed her.

  “Want to kick me in the nuts and do a victory dance on what’s left of my scrotum?”

  “I’m glad you find it funny.” She started storming towards the staircase. “I cry when I’m mad, okay?”

  Arnie took one look at her, froze, and then darted off into one of the rooms.

  “Izzy, I’m not laughing at you.” Jason’s big hand suddenly engulfed her own, tugging her around to once again face him.

  She tried to withdraw her hand but he didn’t release her, his hold a gentle but firm shackle, his skin so warm and dry around her smaller hand.

  It would have been wonderful if the circumstances had been different. Much different.

  Before she could demand he release her, Jason asked quietly, “Do you really think I was repulsed by our kiss?”

  Red bloomed in her cheeks, but she angled her chin up gamely. “It was pretty obvious.”

  “How could you possibly think I was repulsed?” Jason looked genuinely puzzled.

  He wanted to pretend he didn’t know? Not going to happen. “I think the fact that when I leaned in for more you pushed me away was pretty much a giveaway.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “You leaned in for more?”

  Shit, had she really confessed that? Well, hell, guess so. Nothing to be ashamed of, she reminded herself. “You kissed me first, what was I supposed to do?”

  “But you looked so shocked.”

  “It’s not every day a handsome man kisses me and then throws me away because apparently I’m too disgusting for him.” Spotting the damned cat trotting happily down the staircase with a rolled up sock in his mouth, Izzy stepped sideways and dodged past Jason.

  Or tried to. Kind of hard to do when he released her hand but replaced it with a long arm that shot out to come down across the front her shoulder, press between her breasts and drape across her upper abdomen, a big hand curving around her hip pulling her to a halt.

  Partly it was her shock of the somehow intimate move that also halted her. Placing her hand on his forearm, she turned her head to gape up at him. Lord, he was so close, his body angled so that her side was pressed against him, every hard swell of his muscled abdomen and chest searing her through his t-shirt. Now she could see the dampness of his tousled brown hair, smell the scent of shampoo and soap. God, he smelled so good, felt so good.

  Shame he was such a jerk. Shame that even though she was so hurt, his nearness still had the power to make her heart beat fast.

  He regarded her steadily. “Izzy, you didn’t repulse me.”

  “Right.” Every breath she took made her acutely aware of the strong arm lying between her breasts.

  “I kissed you because…” He hesitated.

  She looked away, her cheeks burning.

  “I didn’t plan it,” he confessed.

  “Just thought you’d give it a go, hey?” she said bitterly.

  “No. Damn it, Iz.”

  She peeked up to find his eyes closed, the same muscle jumping in his jaw. Then he took a deep breath she felt right down to her bones and opened those hazel eyes to look down unflinchingly into hers.

  “I’m just going to say this. Iz, I reached into your pocket to get the photo and I was struck by your eyes. By your face. By your lips. You’re so pretty, you smell so sweet, your lips are so soft. One minute I’m trying to get the truth from you, trying to give you protection, and the next thing I’m wanting you so bad.”

  Wait. Izzy blinked. What?

  Voice deep, ringing with conviction, Jason continued earnestly, “I didn’t think, I just acted. I grabbed you and I kissed you, and I swear, Izzy, it was the best damned kiss I’ve ever had.”

  “It was - you what…Me?” Unsure she was actually hearing correctly, her eyes widening in bafflement, Izzy could only stare up at him.

  Stare as his head lowered, as his hand on her hip exerted enough pressure to turn her to face him, as his eyes darkened, something a little wolfish sliding through them, those firm lips parting slightly as his gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth and back again, so slowly, so…hotly.

  Oh man, there was no mistaking that look in his eyes, the glint of need, the glow of desire. For her.

  “Jason…” Nervously, heart rate kicking up several notches, she li
cked her lips.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Iz.” His tone was deeper, huskier, a little rough. “This is your only warning.”

  She probably should have run. Pulled back. But God help her, there was just something about him, about the way he leaned down over her, his shoulders blocking out everything but him. The big hand was still on her hip, curling almost possessively around the generous shape, his other hand reaching up to cup her cheek, the curve between thumb and forefinger cupping her chin, his thumb exerting enough pressure to gently but undeniably tilt her head back, those long fingers resting against her cheek and temple, brushing against her hair.

  His face lowered, the heat in his eyes sparked with anticipation clear to see before those thick lashes dropped, his nose rubbed hers gently right before he tilted her head to the side, angling her where he wanted. Then he stilled, his lips so close to hers that every breath he drew puffed gently against her lips, so warm, so toe-curlingly intimate as it collided with her breath, mingled, and they inhaled each other.

  Their lips so close that anyone would have been hard-pressed to slide a match between them.

  Then he kissed her. Simply pressed his lips to hers in a gentle meeting of skin on skin, a light pressure, drawing back enough to almost separate them but not quite, and then Jason pressed down firmer.

  Unable to help herself, Izzy rose up on tip toe to meet his mouth, wanting more of that decadently delicious touch, her fingers curling into the material of the t-shirt covering his chest, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding along her lips in a gentle yet unmistakable order to open to him.

  She obeyed, moaning into his mouth as he slid deep, feeling the slick penetration to her core. His hand lifted from her cheek, fingers trailing down and around to cup the back of her head in his palm as his kiss grew a bit more demanding. The heat of his other palm slid across her hip to settle in the small of her back, fingers spreading out to press her closer, so much closer, bringing her hard up against him, his very stance arching her back so that she had to cling to him.