by Desiree Holt
Jack sighed. “What is it, Mike? I have things to do.”
“Oh.” Mike sounded startled. “Well, we decided to throw a barbecue together at the last minute and I wanted to be sure you got the word. Five o’clock. Bring beer.”
A barbecue. Just what he needed. Socialising with a bunch of happy couples.
“I don’t think so, Mike, but thanks anyway.”
“Oh, come on,” Mike coaxed. “You’ll just hang out with Mr Big or some shit like that. And Carly’s making that great cake that you love.”
“I’m really not in the mood to socialise much,” he told his friend. “I’ll take a pass this time.”
“Think of it as an extension of your birthday party. Come on,” he wheedled. “Carly will be pissed off at me if you don’t show. She said she won’t have a good time thinking about you sitting home alone if we’re having a cookout.”
“Home alone?” Was that how his friends saw him? “I’m not her project,” he growled.
“Listen, just come on over, okay? You can even sit in a corner and not talk to anyone. Well, maybe not. We’re gonna play a little touch football and beat our chests.”
Suddenly Jack felt tired of arguing with him. And Mike was right. He really didn’t have any plans for the day.
“Okay. What time?”
“Five o’clock. And don’t forget the beer.”
* * * *
Darcy kicked off her stupid shoes, threw herself backwards on to her bed and stared at the ceiling. What the hell had she gone and done? Bad enough she’d slept with Jack Manning once, though she could chalk that up to accidental circumstances, alcohol and a bad day. But this time she’d done it deliberately. He’d actually asked her to go home with him and she’d said yes.
I am the stupidest woman on this planet. I am an idiot. I should be committed.
But that wouldn’t change the fact that the man seriously rang her chimes. Or that he was absolutely the very wrong person for her. Darcy liked her life. Such as it was. She could be the free spirit she’d always wanted to be. Wear crazy clothes. Have a crazy hairstyle. Eat popcorn for dinner and Chinese food for breakfast.
She’d bet every dime in her slowly growing bank account that Jack Manning had never in his life coloured outside the lines. That he had created an image of himself that overcame whatever his insecurities were and his ideal woman was an extension of that image.
Well, that was fine. She had no intention of ever seeing him again. She had enough stress with Hugh Rodgers who refused to give her the title of director without taking on a relationship with a man who she had nothing in common with.
And speaking of Hugh, she planned to attack him again first thing Monday morning. She knew she did damn good work. Her résumé was the credits on the video she directed. If he wasn’t going to let her put director next to her name then she wanted more money. So she could get a better leg-up to leaving and forming her own production company.
She groaned when the phone rang. She was in no mood to talk to anyone today. She wanted to soak in the tub then bury herself in a huge container of vanilla bean ice cream.
“Who is it?”
“Nice, Darcy. That how you greet everyone? It’s no wonder you can’t get a decent date.”
Oh, god, her sister Tricia. The icon for suburban soccer moms. Just what she needed right now. Not. She closed her eyes and threw her arm over her forehead.
“Hi, Trish. What’s up?”
“I haven’t heard from you in two weeks. I’m just checking to make sure you’re okay.”
Darcy swallowed a sigh. “I’m fine, Trish. Really. Just working a lot.”
“Aha!” Tricia sounded as if she’d just struck gold. “I knew it. You never get out of that mouldy studio. You have no life.”
Darcy sat up, rubbing her forehead. “The studio isn’t mouldy and I do so have a life, I just don’t discuss it with you.”
“Because all you date are those weirdos?” Trish’s voice held just a tinge of disapproval.
Darcy wondered how two sisters had grown up so differently. One had graduated college with a degree in finance and married an attorney. They had the requisite two perfect children (well, okay, not perfect—snotty little brats), and lived a magazine life. While Darcy was…Darcy.
Maybe it had to do with the fact Trish was five-foot-six with cascades of burnished gold hair and boobs to die for. And smart on top of it. While Darcy was the shrimp in the family with breasts that were too small and hips and thighs that had got all the flesh she should have had in her boobs.
Darcy was always odd-man-out, always in trouble. The one who developed the ‘eccentric’ personality to compensate for not being the ‘perfect’ daughter. She should tell Tricia about Jack Manning. He was exactly what her sister had in mind for her.
Only she probably wouldn’t have believed a man as button-down as Jack would have anything to do with ‘eccentric’ Darcy.
“Darcy?” Trish’s voice penetrated her mental fog. “You still there?”
“I’m here. Listen, I’m really tired. I’m fine but worn out. Thanks for calling and I promise not to work so hard this week.” She started to pull the receiver away from her ear.
“Wait, wait! Don’t hang up.”
Darcy bit back another sigh. “What, Trish?”
“I was hoping you’d come for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. But we haven’t seen you in ages and the kids miss you.”
Yeah, right. Those irritating tadpoles didn’t miss anyone, as self-absorbed as they were.
“I appreciate the invite, but not tonight. Maybe another time.”
“How about next week?” Trish’s voice sounded so eager.
“Maybe. I’ll call you in the middle of the week and let you know.” She clicked off before Trish could say anything else.
She pushed herself up from the bed, stripped off last night’s clothes and tossed them in the hamper. What had she been about to do? Oh, yeah. A long, soaking bath and an orgy of ice cream. Right. What every single woman wanted at night. Right?
Maybe tonight she’d be daring and eat the ice cream in the bathtub.
* * * *
Jack pulled a beer from the cooler on the back porch and rolled it across his forehead. Touch football was a hard, sweaty game and he really needed a cool-down. He was also trying to hold off the headache that had plagued him ever since he’d pulled out of Eli’s car park that morning.
Ever since I dropped Darcy off.
Despite his best efforts he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind all day. And that bothered him more than anything. He’d thought for sure the game would have shaken it out of him but all it had done was distract him. His friends, now sprawled in the backyard with wives and significant others and girlfriends, had ridden him hard when he’d missed tackles. Jack wasn’t a fast runner but his muscular compact body made him good on defence. Except for today.
“So who is she?” Mike came up next to him and pulled out his own beer, twisting off the cap.
“Who is who?”
Mike laughed. “Don’t give me that shit. Only a woman ties a man up in the kind of knots you’re in.”
“You’re dead wrong.” Jack took a long pull of his beer. He wondered if he’d ever be invited back if he decked his friend. “There’s no woman.”
“Oh, Pinocchio,” Mike teased, “your nose is growing.”
“Lay off, will you?” Jack barked. “I knew I should have stayed home today.”
“Okay, okay.” Mike stepped back, grinning. “Just as well. Carly’s got a birthday present for you.”
“A present?” Jack frowned. “We don’t do presents, remember?”
“You’ll want this one.” Jack heard Carly’s musical voice behind him in the doorway.
“Turn around,” Mike told him, “and meet our new neighbour, Abby Carlisle.”
Oh, great. Now I’m reduced to my friends fixing me up. Do they feel that sorry for me?
He turned around slowly, prepared to be po
lite but remote and nearly swallowed his tongue. It was his dream girl, his fantasy, in wonderful living flesh. She was maybe five-four with thick burnished gold hair pulled up in a ponytail. She wore short denim shorts and a tank top that revealed as much as it concealed. He shifted his beer bottle to his left hand, wiped his right one on his jeans and held it out.
“Jack Manning.”
She took the offered hand with her own soft one. “Nice to meet you. And don’t take the birthday present thing too seriously. I think Mike and Carly are just teasing you.”
“No, no. That’s fine. You can be the birthday present.” Great repartee, jerk. He shook his head. “Let’s start over again, okay?”
“Why don’t you take Abby into the yard and introduce her to everyone,” Carly asked him. “She just got here and the only people she knows are Mike and me.” She winked. “And now you.”
“Oh, I was planning to help you in the kitchen,” Abby protested.
“No need.” Carly made shooing motions with her hands. “Got it all under control until we’re ready to serve. Go meet people.”
“Would you like a beer?” Jack asked, reaching towards the cooler.
“Carly said there’s wine over there, if that’s okay.”
Jack spotted the tub with the wine bottles in it and the plastic cups next to it. “Sure. No problem.”
I’ll bet Darcy would have taken the beer.
Where the hell had that come from?
He poured some chilled liquid into a cup and handed it to Abby. “Come on. We’ll wander the yard.”
When he’d made all the introductions he unfolded two lawn chairs and indicated she should sit in one of them. They could have joined either of the two informal groups of couples but Jack wanted this one all to himself.
“So. I gather you just moved into the neighbourhood.”
She nodded and sipped on the wine. “About a month ago. Got tired of apartment living and got a good deal on a house. Which I share with my brother, by the way. And no, he couldn’t come today. He’s a fireman and on rotation.”
“Maybe next time.”
“Maybe. Anyway I’m just getting to know people. Carly popped in almost as soon as the moving truck had left.”
Jack smiled. “Yup. I think she’s the unofficial welcoming and social committee. So. Usual questions. Have you always lived in San Antonio?”
She nodded. “My whole life. Except when I went away to college. And to answer the next question, I’m a paralegal. Saving for law school.”
“Not bad.” He smiled. “I like a woman with ambition.”
“And you?” She looked at him over the rim of her glass.
“Financial services. Not the most glamorous of careers.”
“But I get the impression you’re doing well.”
He shrugged. “I do okay.”
By the time they’d finished their drinks Mike had fired up the grill, the first round of hamburgers was nearly done and Carly was calling for help to bring the food out. The meal was relaxed and casual. Jack was still taking good-natured ribbing about his birthday and he had to refuse all the beer his friends tried to push on him.
He noticed how well Abby fit in with everyone, how easily the women accepted her. She’d come with Carly’s blessings so there was no jealousy of the good-looking single woman. She managed to carry on a lot of conversations at once and on a number of topics. Even sports, which he’d discovered too many women found boring. His friends were looking at him with envious, knowing looks.
Eventually, clean-up taken care of, it was time to go. There was the usual exchange of jokes and slamming of car doors, tyres on pavement pulling away.
“Jack, would you mind walking Abby home?” Carly was standing next to them in the driveway, waving at the last car out.
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Abby protested. “I’m only in the next block.”
“Nonsense.” Carly elbowed Jack in the ribs. “He needs the exercise after that big meal.”
“It will be my pleasure,” he said, smiling, and took her hand in his. “Come on. It’s a nice night for a stroll.”
“Well… Okay, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Her smile was inviting and he saw the flash of satisfaction that passed between Carly and Mike.
Maybe. Maybe.
Her hand was soft and warm in his and he linked his fingers through hers. His friends had all given his arm a buddy punch when they’d left and had winked at him, as if to say, You finally struck gold, Jack. After a long, dry wait.
He wondered why he didn’t have the sense of elation he thought would grip him when the magic moment finally came. Maybe he’d been waiting for so long the reality was almost an anti-climax.
Well, whatever. He’d walk Abby home, give her a kiss to scorch the soles of her feet and ask her out to dinner.
“We’re here.” Her lyrical voice broke into his internal discussion. “You didn’t say a word on the walk. Are you okay? You didn’t really have to walk me home.”
He gave himself a mental shake. “No. Sorry. Just enjoying the nice night.” He turned to her. “I’m really glad we met, Abby. That Mike and Carly invited you over.”
“Me, too.” Her smile was as soft and warm as the rest of her.
He pulled her towards him, waiting that half-second to see if she resisted. When she didn’t he wrapped his arms around her and took her mouth. She opened for him at once and he thrust his tongue inside, tasting her, coaxing her tongue to dance with his. The soft mounds of her breasts pressed into his chest and her pliant body melted into his. She slid her arms beneath his as she moved her hips, obviously wanting to coax a response from him.
She felt so good in his arms, and smelt like heaven, her hair like silk in his fingers. Cupping her head he angled it first this way then that to give himself a better angle as he took and took and took.
Waited for the burst of fire he expected. The intense, snapping sexual connection. The swelling of his cock and the urgent need to strip her clothes from that sexy body and ravish it.
And waited. And waited.
The kiss went on much longer than it should, with Jack hoping any minute his testosterone would kick in. When it didn’t he could hardly swallow his disappointment. He had been waiting for what seemed his entire adult life for the woman of his dreams. The woman who would validate his place in male society. Would make him the envy of every man in every room he walked into. Now she stood before him, touching him and all he felt was…nothing. Instead the image of a quirky pixie with spiky hair and outrageous clothes skated across his subconscious.
Damn it! It was just sex with her. It had to be. Right?
Finally he lifted his head and took a step back. Abby was smiling at him but she had a puzzled look in her eyes.
“I don’t know where you were, Jack, but it wasn’t with me.” A rueful expression washed over her face. “Nice try, though.”
She walked up on to her porch, digging her keys out of her pocket. “Whoever she is, Jack, she’s a lucky woman. Tell Mike and Carly I appreciate the effort but I suspect this is the only kiss we’ll ever share.” She winked at him and walked into the house, firmly closing the door.
Whoever she is.
He knew who she was, damn it.
She was just the wrong woman. The wrong one entirely.
Chapter Six
Jack was beginning to think he was having the most miserable week of his life. Neither his brain nor his body seemed to be cooperating in the plan to get Darcy O’Connor out of his system. During the day he managed to bury himself in work in his home office or out with clients. But come evening there she was again, like some pixelated avatar, dancing in his brain and making his cock so hard he could pound nails with it.
By Thursday he could hardly stand himself. Even Mr Big refused to sit in his normal position, sharing the big armchair with him, while he tried to watch television. Thursday night was poker night, when he met Mike and some of his other friends at a poker room for a night of what
the women called ‘male bonding’.
The poker, for Jack, was a ‘take it or leave it’ option. It always pissed him off that, while he was a student of the game and an attentive player, his luck was somewhere between really bad and just flush the money down the toilet. But it gave him a night out with his friends when being the only unattached guy wasn’t an issue.
This week it was exceptionally bad, mainly because every time he looked at a face card he saw Darcy staring back at him. At nine-thirty Mike, who was sitting beside him, signalled the dealer to leave him out of the hand.
“And my friend, too.” He tapped Jack on the arm.
“Hey. I think it’s my turn to get a good hand,” Jack protested.
“The way you’re playing tonight you wouldn’t even know what to do with it. Come on. Let’s go get a drink.”
Off to the side of the main room was a quiet lounge with soft lighting and comfortable furniture, created as a respite for people whose luck had turned bad and who needed a break. Or for those lucky ones who had something to celebrate.
“What if I don’t want a drink?” Jack asked obstinately, following his friend.
“Then drink water, but you might want the stronger stuff, because we’re going to have a talk.”
A talk.
Jack’s stomach knotted. Usually when someone wanted to have a talk with him it was a woman who explained very carefully why she didn’t think they should see each other any more. Or a client dissatisfied with the return on investment. He didn’t think either of those would be the topic of discussion with Mike, but he was sure that whatever it was, he wasn’t going to like it.
Mike led him to a couple of armchairs in the corner and pointed. “Sit. I’ll get the drinks. What’s your poison?”
Jack finally decided to order a bourbon on the rocks and when the waitress had brought their drinks Mike settled back in his chair and gave Jack a look that said, “Talk or else.”
But what he actually said, and in a very mild tone, was, “Okay, buddy, what’s going on with you? Give.”
Jack took a sip of his bourbon. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That is just so much bullshit. I’ll admit you have lousy luck at the poker table but usually you pay careful attention to everything. Which is why you get so ticked off. But tonight?” Mike shook his head. “You’re ten million miles from here.”
