“You said, ‘I can’t love you.’”
“Yeah, that phrase usually brings all women to their knees, screaming for me to make them mine.”
“You didn’t say, ‘I don’t love you.’ You said, ‘I can’t love you.’ I knew you loved me, Coley. The hard part was getting you to accept it, see how right it was, our being together. So, the only thing I could do was come back here and prove it to you. You were the one who needed convincing, and I was willing to do whatever it took.”
“As I recall, I didn’t need much convincing. What would you have done if I’d held out longer?”
“My second plan of action was simply to make a nuisance of myself and hang around here and love you until you couldn’t stand it any longer. To make love to you, for as long as it took for you to come to your senses and drop that useless defense of yours.” Kendall smiled at him, then added with a teasing scoff, “You can’t love me, huh? Sometimes, Jackson Coley, you can be so silly.”
Jackson turned toward the crib and gently laid the sleeping LeeAnne down, then tucked the blanket around her tiny arms. He rose and stood facing Kendall, his arms slack at his sides, the faint gleam in his eyes belying his attempt at seriousness. “I can’t love you,” he said quietly.
She walked quickly back across the room and into his arms, which he now held out to her. “Still not convinced, huh?” she teased.
He kissed her, his tongue exploring deep within her mouth, and she made a soft moaning sound against his lips. His fingers pulled at the top button of her shirt as he backed against the nursery dresser, pulling her with him. The ceramic Little Bo-peep toppled over and made a thudding sound against the wooden surface of the dresser. LeeAnne whimpered in her crib, then quieted again.
Kendall pulled away and looked up into Jackson’s face with a teasing smirk. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You’re trying to wake her up again.”
“I’m innocent, K. Honest.” He laughed quietly and pulled her back into him.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Kendall protested, pulling away again. “Next you’ll be knocking over the lamp.”
He laughed at her, his eyes twinkling with that sexy, mischievous look. She loved hearing him laugh. After all the sorrow that had consumed much of his life, his laughter brought warmth and comfort to her heart in a way nothing else could. She stared up at him, this man, her husband, who had finally put all of his ghosts of cynicism and disillusionment to rest and replaced them with an easy acceptance of love.
“As much as I like holding her,” he grinned at Kendall, “I’d rather she sleep right now. I’ve got something else on my mind.”
“Oh, yeah?” Kendall took his hand and began pulling him out of the room. They reached the hallway and she turned him toward the kitchen. “I didn’t realize you were so eager to help with supper.”
Jackson pulled her to him, his arms around her waist, and kissed her as he lifted her and started across the hall instead. “Supper? Is that what they’re calling it these days? Well, damn if I’m not starving.”
She giggled as he held her against him more tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Starved is the last thing you’ve been, Jackson Coley, since I went for my six-week checkup.”
He laughed again, the deep, throaty resonance of it shimmering in her heart, as he carried her through the bedroom door and kicked it shut with the heel of his shoe.
Lord, how she loved to hear him laugh.
Jones, Beverly R Page 31
