It all felt too familiar. Claire and Gina. Jessica and Hanna. Maybe if Claire wasn’t a parent. Maybe then easing back into a relationship wouldn’t feel so daunting.
Right. And blink three times to make everything different and achieve world peace.
The child was just another excuse to stay living the life of a monk who preferred the sea to human beings.
After he’d finished his coffee he went back inside and, halfway down the hall, he stopped outside the guestroom door. He hadn’t planned on coming here; he’d been heading for his bedroom. Yet here he was. All Jessica and Hanna’s belongings that he couldn’t bring himself to part with were stored inside. He thought of it as his torture room, the place he went to grieve and rent the air with painful moans and curses. Every leftover trace of their existence had been stored in this room. Things. Objects. Doodads. Jewelry. It was the room he entered when in a masochistic state, to sniff the few favorite dresses he’d kept of his wife’s and mourn for their lost life and love. Again and again.
As if he thrived on punishment, a too-familiar routine, he turned the handle and went inside. The room was dim with drawn shades, and smelled stuffy. There was a stack of empty boxes Jon and René had left for him, and he’d kept promising to fill and give them away. He’d put it off for over three years.
He opened the closet door, where several dresses hung neatly in storage covers. He unzipped one and fingered the fabric, smooth and silky, tried to remember his wife wearing it, but couldn’t. He sniffed the sleeve, but her scent had long vanished from the material.
A shelf of stuffed animals, everything from monkeys to cats to teddy bears, stared out at him from brightly colored faces and button eyes. He reached for a giraffe, one of Hanna’s favorites. Its long neck had bent with time, and he thought how Gina might like it because of the giraffe they’d seen at the zoo, and set it aside.
He remembered how much he’d wanted to put his arms around Claire today when she’d been hurting, to offer her some support, but the threads from this tomb had held him back. He tilted his head at the notion that he’d never thought about anyone else before when he’d been in this shrine to his lost life. Yet Claire and her shining work ethic and heartfelt concern for one of the clinic patients had just woven its way into his thoughts.
He couldn’t live out in the world if his heart was locked in here. The room closed tightly around him. The stale air made it difficult to breathe.
He’d begun to think about a better life. The kind of life he’d once shared with his wife and daughter, filled with laughter and love. And brightness. He glanced around the ever darkening room at the slowly disintegrating objects, and switched on the light. Jessica and Hanna were no more in this room than was Gemina the giraffe from the zoo.
Did he really want his memories to depend on disintegrating material and dust-covered toys?
No.
Jessica and Hanna would remain forever in his heart, but not here.
The irony hadn’t gone unnoticed. He’d mentally chastised Claire’s husband for walking away from a living, breathing, wonderful woman, and here he was doing the exact same thing by shutting up his heart in this stagnant room and keeping her at a distance.
Jason looked over his shoulder at the boxes and back at the objects that could never bring his wife and daughter back, and scooped up most of the toys, then deposited them into the nearest box. Next he gathered Jessica’s shoes, her clothes and almost all of her jewelry. An hour later, feeling an odd burden lift from his shoulders, he placed a call to the local rescue mission to arrange for them to pick up everything but one small box.
Thursday evening, after making a brief hospital visit to Mrs. Densmore, who remained stable, Claire rushed to the babysitter’s to pick up Gina. Her daughter’s bright eyes and beaming smile made up for all the frustration and self-doubt she’d harbored from the day. They hugged and giggled and Gina told her all about her adventures with her new “bestest” friend, Emily.
Their daily routine of dinner, bath, reading a book, sometimes a second book, and bedtime, helped distract her thoughts from Jason. He’d been on her mind a lot all week. It was just her luck to accidentally find an intelligent, appealing and sexy man, only to discover he was incapable of having a relationship.
OK, she got the point. She’d finally learned her lesson about closed off men. They couldn’t be changed and they only brought heartache. She wasn’t going to beat her head against any walls on Jason’s behalf. She’d done her share of wishing things could be different with her ex-husband, and it had only proved one thing. Things didn’t change. People didn’t change.
The next time she let herself get involved with a man, it would be with a guy who was crazy about her, an open and caring guy whose only desire was to make her happy.
Didn’t she deserve it? And, more importantly, did that guy exist?
Friday morning, Claire saw a routine ear infection on the verge of perforating in a six-year-old boy, and prescribed the pink bubblegum-flavored medicine to ensure he’d take all of it as indicated. By late that afternoon she got word that the child was in the E.R. with anaphylaxis. She wanted to cry. The mother had assured her the child didn’t have any allergies to medicine, yet he’d had a life-threatening reaction to what should have been a harmless and helpful antibiotic.
What else could go wrong?
She threw a book across the room in frustration, then flinched when it inadvertently shattered a vase. She grimaced, and rushed over to pick up the glass.
“Damn, damn, damn,” she grumbled.
“What’s going on?” Jason had caught her at her worst. Again.
“I seem to have a knack for almost killing our patients!” The events and surprising outcomes of the last couple of days had made her lose confidence. A sudden whirlwind of emotions ranging from anger to fear took hold and made her eyes sting, and soon she couldn’t control the release of tears. Why did Jason have to see her crumbling in defeat like this?
He rushed toward her, concern furrowing his brows. “Don’t touch the glass, you’ll cut yourself.”
“It would serve me right,” she said, sounding petulant.
“I’ll call the janitor to clean this up, but first you have to tell me what’s wrong,” he said, and placed his hands on her shoulders to steer her back to her desk chair. There it was, the little surface explosion on her skin whenever he touched her, even now.
“I ordered antibiotics for a peds patient who turned out to be allergic.”
“It happens. We can’t predict how our patients are going to react.”
He handed her a tissue, called Gaby to alert Mr. Hovanissian about the problem, then placed his hands back on her neck and started a gentle rolling massage. Unlike her patient, she could predict how she was going to react.
“Please don’t touch me,” she whispered.
He immediately backed off. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Claire. I’m not an acupressure expert, but I thought a neck massage might help you relax.”
She wanted to be snide and say, and just when I start to like it you’ll stop, but swallowed instead.
“You’re as tightly strung as one of the jam cleats on my boat.”
“I don’t have a clue what that is,” she said.
“Sounds like reason enough to bring you out on the boat sometime. Trust me, it’s tight. Tight enough to snap. I’d be remiss if I let that happen to you.”
Claire heard both concern and sincerity in his tone.
“Look, you’ve had a tough week, and I hate to see you like this,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. “They’re nice and warm. Why don’t you give it a try?” His silver eyes almost twinkled with goodwill.
She remembered his warm hands on her body and how incredibly good they’d felt.
Whether poor judgment or unadulterated weakness, she swiveled in her chair so he could rub her neck. At first she tensed more, but realizing how she’d let her job affect her body, which could set off her Lupus, she allowed Jaso
n to continue. He had magic fingers, and she let him knead and stroke her aching neck and shoulder muscles. The raised hairs on her skin, and the accompanying goose bumps, would have to be dismissed as a side-effect of stress relief, nothing more. She hoped he’d buy that lame excuse.
Claire was grateful when the janitor appeared and Jason removed his soothing hands. He might not want to have a relationship with her, and she’d vowed for sanity’s sake to be nothing more than a friend, but his mere touch had made her damp and wishing she had a pullout bed in her office. So much for her resolve.
One more thought occurred to her as Mr. Hovanissian swept up the shards of glass. Now that she’d given up on Jason Rogers, he seemed to be the one person at her side at the first sign of a crisis.
That evening at home, Claire had changed into her sweats to do laundry when she heard a tapping on her door.
It was Jason, with a sheepish look on his face. He nodded, rather than say hello.
Unsure of what else to do, Claire invited him in.
From behind his back he pulled a huge-eyed, gangling giraffe with a bent neck.
“What’s this?”
“I thought Gina might like to have it.”
“That’s very sweet, but she’s already asleep. I think you should wait and give it to her yourself. She’d really like that.”
“Is that an invitation to stay the night?”
Claire went still.
“That was a joke, Claire.” He nodded again, and seemed to hesitate about leaving. “I’ve been doing some house cleaning,” he said. “That belonged to my daughter.”
The fact he’d been clearing out his daughter’s belongings sent a clear message: he was trying and, as a friend, she needed to be supportive of his efforts. Trying? Hell, his efforts were monumental.
Her thoughts felt so clinical, yet she had to protect herself. A knot bunched in her chest. The gesture of giving Gina one of Hanna’s stuffed toys was beyond kind. It made her want to cry. The man had a good heart. A wounded and healing heart. He just wasn’t sure how to use it anymore.
And he had a body which would waste away without benefit of touch or love because he couldn’t let go of his lost family. She gazed at him standing there looking gorgeous as always. He’d even attempted a dorky joke about staying the night. That was definitely progress on the Jason Rogers front.
“Come in and sit for a while,” she said. “Tell me about this.” She held up the giraffe and he followed her to the living room, though neither of them sat.
“Last night, I cleared out an entire room of ‘things’ that belonged to Jessica and Hanna. I’d been hoarding them, as if I could scrape off their DNA and make them come back to life.” She could see the familiar pain in his eyes, but he communicated something else, too. Something had definitely changed. Maybe he’d had some kind of breakthrough. Her whirling thoughts kept her from uttering a sound.
“Someone at the rescue mission is going to get a whole new wardrobe,” he said, making a rueful smile. “Even if some of the clothes are out of date.”
Claire had been wallowing in guilt and self-doubt over Mrs. MacAfee’s problem, and for sending a child into anaphylaxis. She’d been self-centered. This beat-up giraffe quickly reminded her again of the oppressive grief Jason must have had to endure every day of his life for the past four years. It made her problems seem infinitesimal. Being reminded again of his devastating loss made her want to weep.
It made her want to love him.
She broke free from the self-imposed caution and took two long strides to meet him. Her hands cupped his face, forced him to look into her eyes. She prided herself on reading people, and it was pain and hope she saw in his gaze. Overwhelmed by the sacredness of his admission, and the dusty and goofy-looking stuffed toy he offered, she longed to ease his pain. An optimistic rise in her heart caused her to throw away all caution and concern, and she covered his face with kisses. Instead of worrying about herself, she’d think only of him.
And, without hesitation, he kissed her back.
Jason caught her lips with his own and feathered kisses at each corner. Happy kisses. Smiling kisses. Laughter bubbled up between them, then disappeared as her hands wrapped around his neck and his arms stretched around her back.
They kissed, as they always had, with passion and lust, and when the heat had turned up to the point of no return, and Jason gave no sign of quitting before the fun began, she walked him down the hall to her bedroom.
Jason found Claire’s bedroom to be reflective of her: uncluttered, bright and colorful. Daffodil-yellow walls, a large dark wood bed frame with a padded leather head-board. Extra pillows encased in patterned and solid-colored shams to complement the muted green duvet. One lone dresser across the room matched the bed, and a full length oval-shaped mirror on a stand took up residence in the other corner.
He glanced at Claire; color was rising to her cheeks. He’d done that to her—his kisses, his craving to be inside her; his single-minded desire to finally break out of his self-imposed celibacy.
He wanted nothing more than to express with his body how he felt about Claire. Words couldn’t do justice to the cresting, powerful feelings rolling through him. He pulled her sweatshirt over her head, happy to find she wore nothing beneath it.
His hands roamed across the soft tissue of her warm breasts, and quickly found the silken rosy skin around her nipples. They tightened from his touch, and teased him to take them into his mouth. When he did, her encouraging murmurs and invitations made him rock-hard.
She stripped off his shirt, and soon they were both naked, his sailor’s tan a contrast to her creamy tones. She smiled at him with blazing eyes, and he took her mouth with his, holding her flush to his body. Her long and slender legs allowed their stomachs to touch, sending a shockwave of tingles across his skin, and his erection grew firmer.
He smoothed his hands across her back and along the curve of her hips, then pulled her closer. She felt like heaven and smelled like a tropical garden. They stood undulating body to body through several more penetrating kisses, until he couldn’t take another second standing up.
He lifted Claire, placed her on the bed and lay down beside her. Her arms quickly wrapped him close, and their kissing started all over again. His hand traced along her flat stomach and found the light patch of hair he’d only glimpsed before. He kissed her mouth, searched for and found the dampened smooth skin between her legs, and the area that made her moan when his finger slid over it. He lingered there and, with their lips and tongues penetrating each other’s mouths, his fingers mimicked the motion below.
She rocked against him, quickening his touch, and wrapped her leg around his hip, pressing the tip of his erection to her thigh, sending a shock wave through his groin. While his excitement flourished, he brought her to quick release.
He watched her; his own nerve endings vibrated and tingled as he strained with longing. Sensations from every part of his body converged in a powerful force until he had to be inside her. It had been four years since he’d made love; he couldn’t wait one more second. He rolled her to her back and parted her legs, pressing hard and long at her entrance.
Claire’s hands held tight on his hips, urging him inside. The inviting expression on her face from earlier had changed to one of pure need.
Crazy with desire, he looked into her fiery eyes. Her surprisingly strong hands urged him deeper, and he didn’t put up a fight. His response was no longer under his control. He slipped inside her luscious warmth and thought only of Claire as they rocked together toward satisfaction. Forgotten sensations and her exquisite body lured him deeper, straining for relief.
She rolled on top and held his shoulders as their hips lifted and rolled like the sea. The vision of her straddling him nearly sent him over the edge much sooner than he wanted. But she was all powerful, and her controlled rhythm pushed his desire to the brink. He flipped her onto her back and drove deeper inside, again and again, and she rose and spasmed around him, driving ou
t the last of his resistance.
Thinking only of Claire, the here and now, he thrust against her perfect fit, until he caught up with her and they came together. His release was the most intense since he’d been a randy teenager. It racked throughout his body and seemed to last forever. He caught his breath and watched while her eyes fluttered and her face strained against the same consuming sensations he felt rolling through his body.
After years of deep-seated pain, he’d finally plunged into new territory and had rediscovered long forgotten feelings. She’d given him profound pleasure and, from the look of Claire’s euphoric smile, he’d done the same for her.
Before he could think another thought, Claire pulled him toward her soft and inviting body, and they lay entwined in a state of bliss in the kind and welcoming light of her bedroom.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“DOCK-TO WAH-DURS!”
The next morning, Claire’s eyes popped open to find Gina jumping on the bed in her powder-puff-pink sleeper. She’d meant to wake Jason up early before Gina got up, and to have it appear as if he’d shown up for breakfast, but they’d made love throughout the night and finally, just before dawn, collapsed in deep sleep.
Their hunger for each other had been equal and nearly insatiable. She’d never been pushed to such limits with her husband. Jason had spent four years living as if a monk, and when he’d finally broken through his unnatural vigil, his basic need had been astounding.
Not having ever been in this situation since her divorce, Claire scrambled to think of something to say to Gina.
Jason rose up on his elbows, dark brown hair draped across his forehead. “Hey, squirt, who told you to wake us up?”
“Why you here?” Gina asked.
He glanced at Claire, who wanted to hide under the sheets. “Um, he brought you a present.” He had a mind-blowing surprise for Mommy, too!
The Boss and Nurse Albright Page 11
