by Clare Revell
Jackson stopped walking for just a moment trying to make sense of the deep attraction to this woman he was feeling at the moment. “It’s been a really long day. See you in church tomorrow.”
****
Amber sat there as Jackson left, the coffee turning to stone.
Her cousin, Jared Harkin, appeared and sat beside her. “Everything all right?”
“I think so.” She sucked in a deep breath. “My ankle’s sore, and I’ve made enough of a fool of myself for one evening. I think I’d like to go home.”
He reached in his pocket, obviously checking for his car keys. “OK, I’ll take you.”
Amber shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get a taxi.”
“Don’t be silly.”
She stood, experimentally putting weight on her foot. Her ankle held. “I’m not ruining yours and Niamh’s night too, Jared. When was the last time you two did anything on your own together? I’ll get a taxi, go home and relieve your babysitter. There’s no need for either of you to rush back.”
She pulled out her phone and rang for a taxi. As she waited for the call to connect, she hobbled slowly into the farmyard focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
Headlights blinded her.
Brakes squealed.
Amber tensed and waited for the impact.
3
Amber slowly opened her eyes and let out a deep, shaky breath. The car had stopped an inch away. How, she had no idea, but it didn’t stop the prayers of grateful thanks flying heavenward.
Jackson leapt out of the car. “Are you OK?” was quickly followed with, “What in the world are you doing walking out in front of a moving vehicle?”
She took a wobbly step back, trying to deflect some of the intense emotion directed at her. “I wasn’t doing it intentionally,” she managed, hoping the words were audible over the double time pounding of her heart.
“Then why are you in the middle of the road?”
“I’m trying to call a taxi, but there isn’t a signal. I want to go home. I…”
Jackson whistled through his teeth. “Get in the car. I’ll drive you.”
“I’d rather walk to where I can get a signal and wait for a taxi.”
He took three long strides and shoved his face into hers. “Get. In. The. Car. You can barely hobble right now. Driving you home is the least I can do.” He gripped her arm gently and helped her walk to the passenger side of the vehicle.
Amber bristled at the flood of heat in her veins…embarrassment, humiliation…awareness that his touch was tender and kind. “I’m not a child.”
His gaze lingered on her and her heart raced. Hormones, only hormones. She dismissed the idea that it was anything more.
“I can see that. I can also see you’re in pain and need to get that ankle up and iced.” He shut the door and hurried around the car, jumping in the other side.
She fastened her seatbelt and folded her arms across her chest. “You haven’t changed much. You’re still bossy,” she said, denying that she loved the scent of his car…masculine, woodsy, intriguing…just like Jackson.
Jackson shoved the car into gear, missing it. He hissed and tried again, before he found first. “If you can’t find ‘em, grind ‘em.” He winked. “Where to?”
Where, indeed? “Um…Jared and Niamh Harkin’s house. It’s umm…” She shifted in the seat. “Actually I’m not sure I can direct you from here.”
“I know where it is.” A lazy smile came over in his voice. His thumbs tapped on the steering wheel as the car ploughed along the dark country lanes. The only light came from the headlights.
She turned her attention to the window. Even as teens they’d been worlds apart. She lived in what appeared to be poverty, compared with the almost palatial home he lived in—gates, guards, huge rooms and servants. She’d only been inside it once, on an occasion she’d often wished she could forget.
Jackson had never let the differences show. He was always another one of the lads whilst she’d been stuck on the outside. How much of that carefree boy was still contained in the man beside her now?
“I still have that book.”
Amber twisted to stare at Jackson. Was he psychic or something? How had he known she was thinking about that very thing? Yet she had to answer cagily. “What book?”
“The one you gave me at the party. Avalanche.”
She looked away. “That was my favorite book.”
“Mine too. I must have read it about fifteen times over the years. As a matter of fact, I’m reading it again now.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Why read something I made no secret of not wanting?” he asked.
Amber looked at him. “Yeah.”
“It was a long flight. Everything got packed up for the long move back to Texas, with the exception of that book. I’ve no idea why that particular book wasn’t boxed up, except it was lying on the dresser in my room, and I was responsible for packing my stuff. Anyway, I read it on the plane. I was hooked from the second page. I’m surprised you could bear to give it away.”
“I couldn’t go to a birthday party empty handed. And I never had any money so I couldn’t buy anything.”
“Didn’t you get an allowance? My parents always gave me extra for gifts or bought something for me.”
“Not all of us had parents like yours,” she muttered. “Or parents, at all.”
He pulled up outside Niamh and Jared’s house. “Amber?”
Amber shook her head and bit her lip. She’d said too much as it was—just more evidence of the huge gulf between them, both then and now. She opened the car door. “Thanks for the lift. Goodnight.” She shut the door before he could offer her a hand up the path or anything else.
She headed inside and paid the babysitter. Then she sank onto the couch.
Jackson asked too many questions. He always did. He had an uncomfortable way of getting secrets out into the open.
Her childhood, as well as the three years she’d spent working in Canada, needed to stay hidden. Her life depended on it.
****
Jackson sat in the staff room on Monday and raked his fingers through his hair. He’d been unable to get Amber Neville out of his head all weekend. Which was more than a little annoying, especially as he didn’t understand why.
One of the other partners, Tariq Jamal, came in and poured a mug of coffee.
The aroma made Jackson’s stomach growl.
Tariq grinned. “Want one?”
“Sure.” Jackson held out his mug.
“You look perturbed. Women troubles?”
“I just don’t understand them.”
Tariq refilled the mug and gave it back. “Mate, the day any of us figure out women is the day they rewrite the book.” He dropped into the chair beside him. “So spill. What’s her name? What does she look like? Where did you meet her? And what part of all that don’t you understand?”
“Amber. She has long red hair, with a fiery temper to match. I haven’t seen her in over twenty years. I ran into her on Saturday at the church bonfire.” Almost literally.
“And…”
“And nothing. Except I can’t get the woman out of my head. She’s just as annoying as she ever was.”
“Were you dating twenty years ago?”
Jackson crossed his arms. “Nope. We were at school together. Really, she’s not my type. She’s changed in other ways. She was always a chunky child…”
Tariq laughed. “I don’t think you’re allowed to say chunky.”
“Fine,” Jackson shrugged. “It never mattered to me. Whatever, but it made her withdrawn, or at least that’s what I assumed. Now she’s…different.” he indicated an hour glass figure with his hands, “…you know…”
“Curves in all the right places?”
“Yeah. Not slim, but about right. But she’s still the same withdrawn person. She was real cagey about her past and what she was doing in Canada.”
“Maybe she works for
the government or MI5 or something and can’t say. Or maybe she just didn’t want to tell you.”
“Yeah, right.” He shook his head. “Nah, it’s something else.”
The door opened. “Dr. Parker, your next patient is here.”
He looked up. “Thanks, Yvette. I’ll be right there.” He stood, taking his half-drank coffee to the side. He refilled it.
“Every woman has secrets, mate. And this confuses you because…?” Tariq asked.
“I want to see her again, I think, but part of me doesn’t. And what if she doesn’t want to see me?”
“Good grief, Jackson. You’re American, not stupid. Call her, drop by her place, send her flowers, make an excuse to see her and ask. Or don’t you lot do flowers in the US?”
Jackson looked at him. “Flowers?”
“You know what flowers are. Colorful plants that grow in the garden and not only look pretty, they smell nice. Women love them. And if she tells you to jog on, then she doesn’t want to see you. But at least you’ll have tried.”
“We do flowers.” Jackson grinned and headed down the corridor to his exam room. He set the coffee on the desk and scrawled chrysanthemums on his notebook, before buzzing in his next patient. It was one o’clock before he had a chance to make that call. He dialed the number of the only florist he knew.
“Carnation Street Florist, Grace speaking. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Grace. It’s Jackson. I need some flowers.”
“I think I may have some. Anything in particular?”
“Chrysanthemums; not fussed as to what color they are. However many come in a decent bunch will be fine.”
“Sure. Where do I deliver them?”
He tapped the pen on his desk. “Yeah, that might help. Ummm, she’s staying with Jared and Niamh Harkin for now.” He tapped on the computer and read the address from the screen.
“OK. And her name? Unless you want Jared to think you’re sending his wife flowers.”
“Her name’s Amber Neville.” He pulled his card from his wallet and gave her the details. “Pick a nice card to go with them. A lighthouse if you have one.” He paused. What to put on it? Maybe nothing apart from his name or…nice running into you again. Nah. He reached for his briefcase and pulled out the book Amber had given him all those years ago. He turned to the section he knew by heart, but just wanted to check anyway.
“And what do I put on the card?” Grace asked. “Anyone would think you’d never sent a woman flowers before.”
“Actually, other than my mother, I haven’t. OK, put ‘as the snow swept him away, Will knew there was always hope’ and my initials.”
“OK, that will go out this afternoon.”
“Thanks, Grace.” Jackson hung up and picked up his coffee cup. He needed a refill before tackling the home visits.
****
Amber sat with the job section of the paper spread across her lap. There wasn’t much in there apart from the position at the local day nursery. It’d been a while since she’d worked in one, but she had all the necessary qualifications. She reached for the phone as the doorbell rang. She jumped up.
Jared trotted down the stairs and answered the door.
She looked down at the paper and rang the number listed.
“Wiltshire Nursery Training College.”
“Hello, I’m ringing about the ad in the paper for a senior nursery officer.” Three minutes later with her email addy given, the paperwork and application form was promised to be on the way in the next hour. She put the phone down.
Jared came in carrying a huge bunch of flowers. “These came for you.” He held out the bunch of yellow and red chrysanthemums.
“For me?”
“That’s what the name on the card says.”
Amber took them. “They’re beautiful.” Tugging the card free from the envelope she read it, allowing herself a small smile. “They’re from Jackson. He must be apologizing.”
Jared frowned. “What’s he done? Do I need to kill him?”
Amber shook her head. “Not yet. Give him time, and I might take you up on the offer. No, he nearly ran over me Saturday night. Of course, I did kind of walk into the path of his oncoming car, so I guess I deserved it.”
“I might just have to kill him anyway.” Jared grinned. “I always did think of you as more like a sister than a cousin.” He sat beside her. “You know Mum and Dad would have taken you in if they’d have known where you were. But Aunt Val just vanished, and by the time she came back she’d no idea where you were…” He broke off.
“It’s all right,” Amber whispered. “We found each other now.”
He nodded. “Anyway, Siobhan and I are off to the park to feed the ducks and play on the swings. Would you like to come?”
“I’d love to, but I need to use the computer, please, if that’s all right. I’m waiting on an email from Wiltshire Nursery Training College about a position. The job posting closes tomorrow, so they’re sending me the stuff now. I can fill the forms in and return them today.”
“Knock yourself out.” Jared grinned. “Though that might make using the computer a little hard.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you know that chrysanthemums mean compassion, friendship, and secret love?”
“No. No, I didn’t.” She looked at the card in her hand as Jared left. Was that his handwriting? She couldn’t remember. Had his long fingers run over the card as he’d chosen it? Caressed it as he’d written, or just dictated the message over the phone? Either way, he’d put thought into it.
As the snow swept him away, Will knew there was always hope. JP. How did he know that was her favorite line from the whole book? Or had he just picked one at random? He’d probably chosen the flowers at random, as well.
Compassion, friendship, and secret love? What a ridiculous idea love was. No one could possibly love her. Except God, and that love was all she needed. But part of her leapt at the mere thought. Did Jackson really like her, even a tiny bit?
“There’s a vase in the kitchen for the flowers,” Jared called from the hallway. “See you later.”
“Bye.” Amber turned on the computer, and then went to the kitchen to put the flowers in water. Returning, she downloaded the form, typed her information in, and then returned the completed form. Not that she stood a chance of getting the job if the closing date was tomorrow, but she lived in hope. There was no point otherwise.
The phone rang. Should she answer it? It wasn’t her house, but there was no answer phone. She could take a message and say Jared would call back later. On the fourth ring, she grabbed the receiver.
“Hello, Harkin residence.”
“Hey, Amber. It’s Jackson.”
“Hi.” She smiled. His Texan drawl sent ripples down her spine and butterflies swarmed in her stomach. It always had. She’d pushed him away, because someone like him, who’d lived in a palace, would never get involved with someone who’d lived in the gutter like herself. “Thank you for the flowers. I’m assuming you’re the JP who sent them.”
“I certainly am and you’re welcome. How’s the ankle today?”
“It’s fine.”
“Good. I was wondering if you’d like dinner with me later.”
“Dinner?” Had she heard him right? He wanted to spend time with her?
“Yeah, dinner. You and me. I know a great place in town.”
Amber nodded as if he could see her, agreeing before he could change his mind and retract the invitation. “That sounds great. Thank you.”
“Cool. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“See you then.” Amber hung up. What had she done? Being around Jackson was like playing with fire. And that would only end up with her being burned.
4
Candles flickered on the table. Dim lights in the ceiling and chatter added an ambience to the evening that Amber didn’t expect. Nor did she expect Jackson Parker to scrub up as well as he had. The five o’clock shadow had vanished, his freshly washed hair sho
wed evidence of waves, and his cologne mixed with the scent of soap was intoxicating.
She could still see the kid he was in his eyes, but he’d changed over the years. A strong sense of responsibility and maturity emanated from him, yet she imagined he was still pretty good at playing the fool and performing practical jokes. His nickname had been Jackson the Joker. The best one had been when he’d sent the year seven science class to the gym for a physics lesson.
“What are you thinking?”
Caught out, Amber’s cheeks burned. “Ummm…was I staring?” she managed.
“Yes.” He grinned. “Was kinda cute, and at least it was me you were staring at and not the bloke at the next table. Now that would have been embarrassing.”
“Sorry.”
“No problem. So, where were you a moment ago?”
She took a deep breath, which instead of calming her tumbling nerves only sent them into overdrive. “I was thinking about school. You were this brash, rough kid who played jokes on people and never took anything seriously.”
“And you were snobby,” he retaliated.
“Was not.”
“Stand-offish.”
“Was not,” she objected again.
“Argumentative,” he added.
“Was not.”
“Still are. And you had to have your own way and the last word.”
“Do not.”
He chuckled. “See?”
Amber smiled, glancing down at the menu in her hands. “I didn’t mean to be.”
She peeked his way and he was grinning, sitting in silence, letting her have the last word, the same way he always did.
“Though, if I remember rightly, turning the entire classroom around so that the teacher’s desk was opposite the blackboard, rather than in front of it, was your idea. And one we repeated in several classes over the years.”
She giggled quietly. “True.”
He nodded at the menu. “So, what will you have?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had Indian food before, so maybe the chicken jalfrezi.”
He rolled his eyes. “That is the hottest thing they do on the menu. Stick to something with only one asterisk next to it for your first time. The korma or tikka masala would be best.”
