His smile was wide and genuine. “I’m happy I could help out a little.”
“More than a little,” she insisted. “Once more, I’m in your debt.”
“I guess I’ll have to figure out a way you can repay me,” he said. She was quite sure he didn’t intend his voice to come out all low and seductive, but it still sent goose bumps rippling over her skin.
“Good night,” she murmured. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Same to you.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek.
She had about half a second to react, while the delicious scent of him swirled around them. She had no idea why she did it, but without giving herself a chance to think about it, she turned her mouth at the last second and his mouth found hers.
In that first shocked instant, he inhaled sharply, and then he was kissing her for real. His mouth was warm and tasted of berries and vanilla ice cream, and the taste completely took her breath away.
This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t really be standing in her living room kissing Jamie Caine!
And what a kiss. Her thoughts whirled like the snowflakes falling outside, with just about as much staying power, and her heart fluttered in her chest.
It had been so very long since she had kissed a man, really kissed a man. What a tragedy that was. She had forgotten how utterly decadent it could be, far more luscious than Dermot Caine’s boysenberry pie.
She had missed this surge of her heartbeat, the nerves dancing through her, the slow churn of her blood.
Jamie Caine could write books about kissing. If he did, she would be first in line at the bookstore to buy every copy. He knew just how to coax and tease and inflame her senses. A nibble here, a glide of his tongue there, all while his big, warm hands held her tightly against his muscles.
She wanted to stay here forever. She might have, if not for the sudden jagged pain in her leg that felt very much like cat claws.
It was Audrey, of course. She gave Julia a haughty stare, then rubbed against Jamie’s leg and started purring loudly.
Jamie’s gaze met hers, and she wished with all her heart she could decipher the jumble of emotions there. She thought she saw surprise and maybe awareness, but he was a mystery beyond that.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he murmured.
She stepped back, aware her hands were trembling and her face was on fire. What would he think of her? She had started that kiss, had leaned in to steal something she’d been wondering about since before he moved in.
“Audrey has always been the jealous type,” she said, deliberately misinterpreting his words. “Apparently she has claimed you for her own and wants to make that unmistakably clear.”
“I guess I’ve been warned.” He looked down at the cat for a moment, then back at her, searching her expression. “And that kiss? I wasn’t expecting that either.”
She would have to brazen this out. “Half the women in Haven Point are in love with you. Maybe I just wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
The sad thing was, she really wasn’t. “Don’t worry. I won’t accost you again.”
“You didn’t accost me. You kissed me. And it was one hell of a kiss.”
“Which won’t happen again, I promise.”
Too bad, she thought she heard him mutter, but Audrey mewled at that moment and she couldn’t be sure.
“Thanks again for everything today. Good night.”
Leaving him no chance to answer, she quickly shut the door to the vestibule in his face and snicked the dead bolt shut, then rushed to the sofa and sank down.
Oh. My.
She had kissed Jamie Caine. What had she been thinking? She gazed into space, trying to process what had just happened. She hadn’t been thinking. That was clear enough. She had been lost in the moment—of him close to her and the intimacy of the quiet house and the feeling that had been lingering since Roxy’s book club, that life was going on without her.
She had resolved to try new things and be open to exciting opportunities. Never, in her wildest dreams, had she imagined kissing a man like Jamie Caine might fall into that category.
Though her lips felt achy and swollen and the scent of him still lingered on her skin, she felt like those moments had happened to a stranger. One minute, she had been telling him good night, the next she was wrapped around him like one of her cats around the scratching post.
How would she face him ever again?
When she did, she knew she would remember the taste of him, the scent of him, the incredibly seductive sensation of being in his arms.
It was done. She couldn’t jump into the way-back machine and change those few moments; she could only move forward.
And since she couldn’t change it, what was the point in regretting a kiss that had been magical? She might as well savor the moment, since she would likely never have the chance for a sequel.
What was happening to her? In the last thirty-six hours, she had reached completely out of her comfort zone. First, she had taken on two foster children and now, instigating a kiss with Jamie Caine, of all people!
If she were honest with herself, she kind of liked this unusual boldness. For too long, she had been living her life according to what others, especially her parents, had expected of her.
She had loved her parents and had felt a great duty to them for adopting her, for providing her with love and kindness and possibilities. They were gone now. She missed them dearly, but maybe it was past time she tried to create her own future.
CHAPTER TEN
HOW HAD HE ever been foolish enough to think Julia Winston was staid and boring?
Jamie climbed the stairs to his apartment, still reeling from that shockingly hot kiss. For a quiet, reserved librarian, she kissed with a passion and intensity he had found incredibly arousing.
Why had she kissed him? He had the feeling she had been as startled by the impulsive gesture as he was—and somehow the spontaneity of it made the kiss even sexier.
He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the little hitch in her breathing as he kissed her, the trembling of her hands against his chest, her soft, enthusiastic response.
And how much he wanted to kiss her again.
No. He couldn’t think about it. Enticing as she might be in that mysterious, under-the-radar way, Julia Winston was not the kind of woman he should spend even five minutes thinking about.
She was far too breakable.
Jamie let himself into his apartment, with its soothing walls and feminine furnishings. She had created this space, and every inch of it screamed she was a romantic at heart.
He had been clear with her that he only allowed himself to become involved with women who were good with casual, easy relationships—women who understood he didn’t want anything serious. It was an ironclad rule, from the time he was nineteen. He stayed miles away from vulnerable innocents with soft eyes and fragile emotions.
He plopped onto the sofa and turned on the television, then immediately switched it off again, restless and edgy and still half-aroused from that kiss.
What was it about Julia that tugged at him so unexpectedly?
She took in those two lost boys, even as the reality of being responsible for them obviously terrified her. That told him there was far more to her than he had thought when he first moved in.
Maybe she intrigued him simply because she was so very different from the women he usually dated. She was quiet and reserved—maybe a little uptight. Her house was fussy and formal, her clothing bland to the point of boring.
Yet her mouth was soft and warm and delicious, and she kissed him back with an innocent passion that made him ache to explore all those hidden depths.
He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The risk was far too great. He couldn’
t be the cause of more heartbreak, no matter what Pop had said.
So what now? He lived upstairs from the woman. He couldn’t exactly avoid her. He could for a few days, though. In the morning he was taking most of his family back to Hope’s Crossing, then he would be flying Ben Kilpatrick and Aidan to Asia for meetings.
He hadn’t been looking forward to the overseas trip in particular, expecting it to be exhausting and demanding, with long hours in the cockpit, but now he faced it gratefully. He would be away from Haven Point for several days, which just might help cure him of this sudden fascination for the unexpected temptation that lived downstairs.
* * *
SHE WAS DYING.
Julia tried to lift her head from the sofa pillow, but her skull suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. Everything hurt, from her temples to her chest to her toes. She was by turns hot, then clammy, and her stomach ached from hurling everything up over the last twelve hours.
“I brought you a drink of water,” a small voice said. She propped one eyelid open to find Davy standing in front of her, holding out a clear glass.
“Thank you,” she croaked out. “But, remember, you need to stay away from me. I don’t want you catching this.”
“I’m being careful,” he said. “And I’ll go wash my hands again.”
“Leave it on the table. Thank you.”
Over the past twenty-four hours, she had tried to insist the boys stay on the other side of the room from her after school or play in their bedroom. Yesterday had been rough. Today was torture. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball, pull the covers over her head and sleep for weeks.
How did other parents handle being sick, having to care for others when they wanted the whole world to leave them alone so they could feel wretched in peace?
“I’m going to make a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for us,” Clint said from behind his brother. “Do you think you might want one?”
Just the thought of it made her stomach twist into greasy knots again. Even tiny sips of water made her stomach hurt. She had never been this sick in her life. The flu had come on hard and showed no sign of leaving her in peace.
Clint’s words suddenly echoed in her mind, familiar and haunting. That’s exactly what he had been doing when she found him—taking care of his brother. That wasn’t the way this foster care arrangement was supposed to go.
She forced herself to sit up, then had to catch her breath as the room twisted and turned like a violent, horrible roller coaster. “I can make sandwiches for you,” she said.
She had signed up to take care of them. It was her responsibility. Mothers—even temporary foster mothers—couldn’t take the day off, even when suffering from a bug that knocked them out.
She was all the boys had right now, and she couldn’t let them down.
“Don’t get up,” Clint said, his voice firm. “It will just make you yack again. Stay there. I make super good PB&J sandwiches. Davy can stay in here to keep an eye on you while I do it.”
His words made her eyes sting with unshed tears. He had been so sweet to her through the course of this vicious illness, bringing her an extra blanket, making sure she had warm washcloths close at hand, even taking over story time duties for his brother to give her a break.
She couldn’t believe the difference a week made. Both boys were settling in to their new home, coming to terms with the situation.
“You’re a good boy,” she said to Clint, voice quavering.
He gave a half smile, but she couldn’t tell whether he looked pleased or embarrassed at her words. “Try to drink some water if you can. You’ll feel better.”
She knew he was right, as distasteful as she found everything right now. She sipped the straw but couldn’t manage more than a swallow or two. She was gearing up for a third when she heard a sharp rap on her door.
“I’ll get it,” Davy called out. Before she could tell him she was in no state to receive visitors, he raced to the door and yanked it open.
Just when she thought she had hit bottom on the misery scale, she slid down another few inches. If she’d had an ounce of energy, she might have shriveled away from the humiliation. She was wearing her grungiest pair of sweats, her hair was lanky and smushed on one side, and she was fairly certain she hadn’t showered that day.
Jamie Caine, on the other hand, looked as if he had casually decided to swing by after a photo shoot for a cologne advertisement.
She hadn’t seen him since Thanksgiving night, since that shocker of a kiss. Over the past week, she had visualized a dozen different scenarios for what might happen when they did meet again—how casual she would act, smooth and put-together. She imagined being polite and friendly, but making it absolutely clear to him she hadn’t spent an instant obsessing about those magical moments she had spent in his arms.
Never once had she envisioned this particular scenario—with her feeling like death warmed over on the sofa.
Jamie didn’t appear to even notice her, too busy greeting Davy. “Hey!” His face lit up when the boy answered the door. “If it isn’t one of my favorite copilots. How are you doing?”
Davy giggled. “Hi. We’re good. Well, Clint and me are good. Julia thinks she’s dying.”
He must have spotted her then. His alarmed gaze landed on her, and she told herself it was the flu making the room spin again.
“I might have exaggerated a bit,” she said. In her head, she spoke with confidence and good humor, but her ears—and most likely, his, too—heard a weak, pitiful whisper.
“What’s going on?”
“She’s sick,” Clinton said, peeking his head in from the kitchen. “She had a fever and chills, and she’s been throwing up all day. She says it’s stomach flu.”
If she had an ounce of strength left, she would drag herself into the fetal position, stuff her head under her pillow and pray that Jamie would leave her to her abject humiliation.
“Oh, no,” he exclaimed, his expression softening with compassion. “I’m so sorry. That’s the worst. Can I do anything for you?”
“Going away would be a good start.”
He obviously didn’t think she was serious. He smiled and moved closer. “I hate to state the obvious, but you should be in bed.”
The idea of curling up under the covers and blocking the world out called to her with more ferocity than a free weekend and a stack of new releases by all her favorite authors. “I’m okay,” she lied.
“Are you?” he challenged.
“I’m feeling better than I was earlier.” That was marginally true, considering she hadn’t emptied the contents of her stomach in about an hour. “I’ll be fine. I’ll go straight to bed when the boys do. I have to make sure they eat and do their homework.”
Jamie gazed at the boys for a moment, then at her. “Why don’t you let me take care of that tonight?”
Her brain felt fuzzy and exhausted. That must have been why she couldn’t make sense of the offer. “You?”
“You have a better chance of regaining your strength more quickly if you rest as much as you can instead of pushing yourself to the limit.”
She didn’t tell him she had reached that limit about twelve hours earlier and was only hanging on by sheer willpower.
“These flu bugs can be vicious, but they’re usually short-lived. By morning, I’m willing to bet you’ll feel a hundred times better—but only if you give your body a chance to recover.”
“You only just returned from traveling,” she protested. “You’ve been gone for a week, and you must be jet-lagged. The last thing you likely want to do is spend the evening here.”
“Are you kidding? I didn’t have anything planned, only a quiet evening at home. It would be much more fun to catch up with my favorite copilots.”
The boys both grinned back at him,
and the sweetness of this big, macho guy being so kind to these needy boys was more than Julia could take. The tears of misery she had been holding back since Clinton and Davy came home from school began to leak out, and she couldn’t seem to do anything to stop them.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she sniffled.
He gave a short laugh. “I’m a nice guy. Besides, Pop would never forgive me if he found out I let you suffer down here on your own without lending a hand.”
She did adore his father. Julia pictured the elder Mr. Caine, with his bushy eyebrows and those kindly eyes. She would hate for Jamie to get into trouble with his dad.
“Here, honey. Dry your eyes.” When he handed her a tissue, she suddenly realized those tears were dripping out.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise,” Jamie went on. “You’ll feel better once you get some rest. I’ll help the boys with dinner and homework and get them settled for the night, and you focus on getting better. By morning, you’ll be a new woman.”
“I hate being sick.”
“It’s the worst,” he agreed. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Before she quite realized what was happening, he scooped her up, blanket and all.
“I don’t want to get you sick,” she protested.
“I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve got the constitution of an ornery bull.”
“You’re not ornery. You’re so sweet.”
The room was spinning again, but she wasn’t sure if the light-headedness stemmed from being in his arms again or from the medicine she had taken.
She did know she wanted to stay right here all night, with his strong arms holding her close and her own arms around his neck. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
He apparently thought so.
“Here we go. Into your bed.”
She tried not to be embarrassed again at how hideous she must look as he helped her beneath her quilt, adjusted her pillow, smoothed her hair away from her face.
Nothing in her life had ever felt as tender and sweet as that tiny moment of gentle caretaking.
Sugar Pine Trail--A Small-Town Holiday Romance Page 12
