“You are so beautiful,” he said, speaking a fraction above a whisper.
Frozen, her breath trapped in her chest, Jennifer dangled on the edge of his caress.
Constantine traced her curves as his hand slid down to her waist, stopped briefly at her hip, then stole behind her back, pulling her onto his lap.
With an ease of familiarity, Jennifer slid her arm around his neck. Where she had no idea as to what he might do next, she found that she cared little. It was a remarkable feeling and so freeing, to think only of the here and the now. It was not her nature. She drew comfort from having a plan. But nothing about her life here was normal, nor would it ever be. As far as she was concerned, Constantine could do whatever he wanted. She was prepared.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
Jennifer nodded with a smile, though not sure what she believed at the moment, her senses overwhelmed.
“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. I knew right then, no other woman in the world would suffice.”
The admitted reason behind her presence here fell limp against her craving for his touch. She had all but forgotten the reasons, the event surrendered to circumstances beyond her control.
Constantine’s hand rose and slid across her cheek, his fingers stopping to entwine her hair within them. Drawing the long strands away from her head, he played with them as he gazed into her eyes. “Are you happy?”
She nodded in idle awareness.
Releasing her hair, he brushed it back and stroked her neck, then her collarbone, eyes trailing his route along the line of her body, stopping at the strap of her gown. Pausing, he rubbed his finger back and forth over the thin satin band, as though in contemplation. Suddenly, his eyes sprang to hers. “Stand up,” he commanded.
Startled, she did as he asked.
“Step back.”
She did so.
“I want to see you. All of you.”
The statement sent shock waves through her body.
“Show me. Show me now,” Constantine ordered, urgency coursing through his voice.
Jennifer prepared herself for the moment of truth. It was time to follow through with the prospect that had been lurking in the shadows of her desire. Hooking a thumb under each strap of her negligee, she pulled them down simultaneously, not stopping until she had passed the arc of her hip whereby the gown fell to the floor of its own accord.
It was a powerful moment. Wearing nothing more than a wisp of panties, she was excited by her nakedness, yet felt vulnerable in its exposure.
“Oh my...” Constantine’s eyes engulfed her every inch, slowing over the small lace vee between her legs. Reaching for his glass of champagne, he brought the drink to his lips and sipped, unhurried, savoring the sight before him.
Jennifer waited, trembling with need.
“Turn around,” he said on impulse.
She did so, without embarrassment, never more turned-on in her life.
“Take everything off.”
The visual his request would create was almost more than she could bear, but she obeyed, causing Constantine to abandon his restraint and take her right there. With his first touch, Jennifer’s body experienced levels of pleasure she never imagined possible.
Jennifer bolted awake in a cold sweat. Her pulse thumped in her ears. Grasping for some sense of reason, she seized upon the bright red numbers piercing the darkness: 3:36.
Where was she? Jennifer looked around the black room. She was in bed. Her hands twisted the cotton blanket into fists.
At home.
Alone in bed, in the middle of Coral Gables...not on a yacht with Constantine in the middle of nowhere. Pained by the realization, she dropped back to her pillows. A strange mix of disappointment and relief wound through her. It had all felt so real. But why? Why was he back?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jennifer pulled the surgical glove off with a snap, followed by the second. In the harsh light of the cath lab, exhaustion burned in her eyes. It had been a dicey case. The patient’s arteries were stiff as cardboard, about as pliable too. Another super end to a long day.
Tearing the scrub mask from her face, she made her way around the staff, now working to move the patient, grabbed the chart and flipped through the sections. Stopping at a steel table, she plucked the nearest pen, scribbled down her post-op note, then dropped the pen with a clang. Tossing a curt thank you behind her, she strode out of the cath lab without a word.
Smacking the metal plate on the wall, she proceeded through the automatic double doors, slipped through a side door to the stairwell and headed up to the fourth floor.
Last night had been another without sleep. But more than a nuisance, she had experienced an insane feeling of guilt when she awoke. Guilt—over making love to a fantasy. It was ridiculous!
Pulling herself up and around the third floor landing, Jennifer fought the absurdity. It was only a dream, for heaven’s sake! A figment of her imagination.
But the lure had been strong.
The ideal man; the ideal connection. The psychologist had been clear in her analysis. More than body to body, she had allowed her tycoon access to the deepest crevices of her soul—once she moved past the initial impression, that is.
Once she got to know the man inside...
Jennifer stopped mid-stride. She grasped the cold metal door handle and thought, the real Constantine.
Moving beyond first impressions.
Jackson.
She pushed through the door and out into the hallway, her steps quick and determined, barely evading collision with a passing orderly. She made a beeline for the nurse’s station.
“Hi, Dr. Hamilton.”
“Hi, Angie.” But it was Aurelio that Constantine reminded her of—not Jax! Looking straight through the people around her, she hurried to the rack of charts. She was losing it. Sure as she was standing here, she was going insane.
It was the stress. The stress of her mother, the stress of the wedding. The stress of pure exhaustion.
“Your patient in 402 is complaining about Wilson.”
Again, is what Jennifer heard. The man was an excellent technologist, but his bedside manner left much to be desired. Grabbing a chart, she said, “I’ll go and talk to her.” Add stress from her job, stress from her partners, it was a wonder Jennifer hadn’t lost her mind sooner!
Flipping back to the H and P she read: Fifty-eight-year-old overweight Caucasian male, lifetime smoker, arteriosclerosis, suffering from acute angina.
Why did people push their luck? Why did they hold life in so little regard?
She knew the risks and opted against any invasive procedures. Because she was more afraid of that than death.
Darn it, she fumed. Jax’s mother had been too young to give up! Her son needed her. Every child needs his or her parent. But, no. She only considered herself. Jennifer returned her thoughts to the pages in hand. Like this man. She scoured the progress notes, fighting the urge to compare his situation to Jax’s. Not only had this patient refused treatment in the past, he continued to smoke. Her outlook soured. And he expected her to fix it.
She was a doctor. “This patient needs a miracle,” she muttered beneath her breath.
“You okay, Dr. Hamilton?”
Jennifer looked up.
The nursing supervisor shot her a look of concern.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired.” And distracted.
“Aren’t we all,” the other chortled good-naturedly, the sound low, deep and merry. “And don’t forget overworked and underpaid.”
While you’re at it, throw in confused and depressed, Jennifer mused. My future is falling apart, my plans are shattering at my feet, and my best friend is on a trip to hell. But Jennifer only smiled at the woman. None of it was her fault. The only good news was Beverly. Her doctor called to let her know they had a heart. Surgery was set for tomorrow.
Closing the chart, she shoved it under her arm and proceeded down the hall. The fracas in her head
had to be stopped and the best way she knew how to achieve that was work. En route to her patient, she darted into room 402 for damage control.
Hours later, showered and ready to call it a day, Jennifer sat upright in bed. Dumping the latest medical journal to one side, she called to check on Patty and Blake.
She sighed. If only her exhaustion stemmed from a long day at the office. But it didn’t. Not really. It was Jackson.
“Hello?”
“Hi Sam.”
“Hey.”
“How are you? How’s Patty?”
“I don’t know what she’s going to do,” Sam said, her voice tightly controlled.
“Oh no... Has Blake taken a turn for the worst?”
“He hasn’t taken any turns—that's the problem. We keep waiting for some word as to what our next step is, what can we expect, but we get nothing.”
“Do you want me to call and talk with his doctor again?”
“Thanks, but no. That’s not the problem. The problem is he’s not doing well, and I’m afraid for Patty.”
Jennifer waited through her pause—afraid for Sam—but ready to support her in any way she could.
“Her whole life is wrapped up in Blake. She has no job, no skills. She makes babies and takes care of them. What’s she going to do? She can’t earn a living on that kind of resume!”
“Sam, slow down. It’s too soon to make those types of assumptions. You’re barely forty-eight hours into this—anything can change at this point.”
Heedless to the advice, Sam barreled on, “Like you always say, Jen, we’ve got to have a plan. Right now, it’s not looking good. Even if Blake does recover, and let’s just say as full a recovery as one can, under the circumstances, she’s still looking at months before he can return to work.” She paused, her frustration audible.
“Let’s face it. Engineering is a profession that requires the neurons to be firing full power in order to succeed and he won’t see that kind of action for some time to come.”
“They have no disability insurance?”
“None.” Sam heaved a ragged sigh. “But it’s not the money that concerns me. I can float her enough to keep them above water, but what I can’t do, is handle the kids for that long. From what I can put together, it sounds like she’s going to be living at the hospital while they work him through rehab. The kids have school, activities... She can’t be in two places at one time. What’s she gonna do?”
“I know it’s tough, Sam.”
“Too tough.”
“You’ll work something out. I know you.”
“Right now I’d give my right arm to be on a beach in the Bahamas, stuck to my lounge chair sucking on a margarita as big as my head chock-full of pretty little umbrellas.”
Jennifer smiled at the image. “You don’t mean that. You don’t want to be anywhere, but by your sister’s side.”
“No, Jen. I mean it. In fact, I’d give both my arms not to have to look her in the eye every day, and know, this may be as good as it gets. Ever. Her life as she once knew it is over. Either way, those days are gone.”
Now there’s looking on the bright side, Jennifer thought glumly, giving way to the swath of negativity.
“Marrying Blake was the happiest day of her life. With the birth of her kids, it only got better and then—POW—out of nowhere, all is lost.”
“All is not lost, Sam. It’s a bump in the road. She’ll survive. They’ll get through it.”
“Bump in the road? The damn bridge is out! Blown to hell by some lunatic blood clot!”
“It’s one of life’s trials, Sam. Trust me. It will get better. I know it seems like a long time, but you’ve got to give Blake a chance to recover. His body has undergone major trauma. Patty needs your help to remain focused on the positive.”
“I’m having trouble doing that, Jen.” Sam’s pace slowed as the exasperation dragged her down.
It was a normal cycle for patients’ families to go through, Jennifer understood. But it hurt to hear it from Sam.
“Patty’s hit hard, and I’m having a real tough time convincing her it’s not as bad as it seems, because it sure as hell looks that way to me.”
“I know.” Jennifer said, winding the phone cord between her fingers. “But aren’t you always the one who told me to embrace life’s surprises. This challenge may be the beginning of a new and rewarding chapter in Patty’s life. In your life.”
Sam didn’t say a word.
Okay. She needed time. Jennifer allowed her room to digest the concept. Starting over, starting anew; it was never easy changing habits and outlooks, especially not when you’d spent years ingraining them into your soul. This would take time. It would take effort.
It may take everything Sam had to get through this, and make it to the other side. Personal crisis wasn’t her strong suit. Managing others’ was her business, not handling her own.
“And how about you?”
“What about me?”
“Maybe you can learn something from this, too.”
“Of course, helping you helps me, yes—“
“Life can surprise you, Jen. Just when you think you have it all planned, the tidy little package you’ve arranged for your future can unravel, leaving you with impossible chaos.”
Her back stiffened. “Is this another attack on Aurelio?”
“Your picture-perfect image can be shattered—crushed—by oncoming traffic. What happens then? And when you have kids? Who will look after them?”
“Sam—“
“Will you expect your nanny to sweep in and clean up the mess? The hired help?”
“Sam.”
“Because I’m here to tell you it’s not the case,” she continued, refusing to be interrupted. “Blake and Patty are prime exhibit number one. You need someone that worships the ground you walk on. Someone to stand by you through life’s trials, ‘cause let me tell you, it can get ugly. Real ugly.”
“Sam,” Jennifer said, a bit more cutting than she intended, but enough was enough. “I understand that you’re under a bit of stress, but that is no reason to lash out at me.”
“You’re damn right I’m under stress! And you would be, too, but Blake’s stroke should serve as a reminder to you. You can’t count on sophistication to carry you through to that golden anniversary. Love and sacrifice do that.”
“I appreciate the insight,” she replied coolly, hating the rehash of old arguments. Sam should be focused on her current troubles. “But it’s as I told you before. Aurelio and I are committed to a future together.”
“Whitewash. You and Aurelio lead two different lifestyles, two different lives.”
“How do you figure?”
“He’s all about him and you’re all about everybody else.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true and you need to hear it.”
“No, I don’t.” She steeled her nerves.
“Bullshit. Aurelio is more interested in serving his own needs and you—hell, giving to others is like speed for you. You’d go into withdrawal if you weren’t helping some patient through a life or death crisis...
...or living your life to please someone else.”
“What is the matter with you? Why do you insist on pushing?”
Sam remained mute.
Anger percolated. “I don’t understand you!”
“You want a house full of children, running up and down those stairs, filling the halls with noise. I know you. In that traditional thinking brain of yours, you’re still baking cookies, reading bedtime stories, painting that white picket fence...the one that lives deep in your heart.”
“Aurelio wants kids...”
“He could live without them.” Sam added quietly, “You can’t.” She paused. “The truth’s a bitch, Jen. But at least she has your best interests at heart.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
At the sound of her car, Jax turned his head in time to see the black BMW roll into the front driveway. Male in
stinct had warned him to be gone by now, but hunger for her company overruled. The other day revealed a fragile woman. A woman whose waters ran deep. A woman who needed the strong shoulder of a man.
His gut tightened. It was no good. Already slipping past his defenses, squeaking by his better sense, this woman was beginning to steal into his heart.
Where was the woman he first met, when he needed her? Judgmental, condescending—that one he could resist.
Jax watched Jennifer ease out of the sedan. Dressed in scrubs, her shiny brown hair fell loose around her shoulders and her skin, even from a distance, glowed in flawless ivory perfection. But it was her eyes that completely undid him; aquamarine jewels sparkling like crystalline island waters in the warm afternoon sun.
She looked for him and he stood. Struggling to recall those first days and the qualities he could easily dismiss was pointless. Unfortunately for him, she barely resembled that person anymore. Now, she was a woman he wanted.
Stupidity. They had no future. Forget she was engaged, they had different goals, different attitudes. She was a career woman, a doctor. She had structure and schedule. Anchors.
She waved at him and smiled—a smile that felt personal, more seductive than a full moon on the open sea. Warmth spread through his chest. He meant to be gone before she arrived home, but stayed—despite his better judgment. Falling for the good doctor was not in his best interest.
But enjoying the attraction? Where was the harm?
She headed toward him and he fell into step, moving in her direction. Nothing wrong with living in the moment. It was his life’s motto.
She slowed to a stop, feet away from him. “Hello, Jax.”
Damn. Though small, her smile had the power to blow his best defense to smithereens. He smiled in turn, and felt pleasure clear down to the tip of his toes. “Hey.”
“How’s it coming?”
“Fine.” Piss-poor, actually. The damn inspector failed to show up and sign off on the job, throwing him another day behind schedule. And the longer he was here, the harder it was to leave.
Jennifer's Garden Page 21
