For their son’s sake, with everything in him, Jackson wanted to grant her request. If he’d wanted to, he suspected he could’ve taken Julie upstairs and made love to her all night long. But a funny thing happened while she was kissing him. It wasn’t her he fantasized about making love to, but Ella. Smart, funny, sweet, sweet Ella had somehow crept inside him and stolen his heart.
“The boys are outside,” Julie said, voice raspy, “let’s go upstairs to your room. Our room.”
“I can’t,” he said, gently pushing her away, disentangling her arms from around his neck. “I just can’t.”
Eyes narrowed, still breathing heavy, Julie asked, “Is this about that errand you have to run?”
The hint of sarcasm behind her tone wasn’t attractive. But then he supposed neither was the fact that he was going to see another woman when he’d just been kissing his past and possible future wife.
Chapter Eleven
“I thought you weren’t coming,” Ella said, Rose in her arms while she held the screen door half open. From somewhere inside, classical music played. Something sadly romantic with piano and strings. Night was falling fast, and she had no lights on in the house. Yet with the setting sun golden in her hair, she didn’t need any.
“I told you I would, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but—”
He stepped across the threshold, kissing her, kissing her. Losing himself in her taste, her spirit, the essence that was her. When he’d had his fill, he stepped back, pressing his thumb to her swollen lips. “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”
“You shouldn’t have,” she said, circling his wrist, drawing his hand down, yet not letting go. “You shouldn’t even be here.”
“True,” he said, but for once in his life not giving a flying damn about what he should and shouldn’t do. “Got ice cream?”
Laughing, stepping aside to let him pass, she said, “Get in here, but fair warning, I’m out of peanut butter and chocolate chunk swirl.”
“I consider myself warned.”
“Okay, but first,” she said, closing the door, then aiming for the stairs, “I was just about to give the princess here her bath. Want to help?”
“Absolutely.”
Ten minutes later, Jackson found himself on his knees in front of an old claw-foot tub. Inside the tub was another tub—a plastic mini one. Pink.
“Here,” Ella said, passing Rose to him. “Hold her while I get the water ready.”
With Rose thrust into Jackson’s outstretched arms, Ella turned on the taps, adjusting the water, then tested it with the sensitive skin on her wrists. He vaguely remembered going through the same routine with Dillon, but they’d usually just bathed him in the kitchen sink. Julie had never been big on ceremony, and she’d plopped him in and out as efficiently as if she’d been rinsing a Thanksgiving turkey. He’d wanted to take pictures and savor the moments of Dillon’s infancy, but she’d belittled him, calling him a sentimental sap.
“Got a strange question for you,” he said, once Ella had taken the baby back and gotten her tub-ready.
“Shoot,” she said, gingerly lying Rose in the water.
“Do you take lots of pictures of the twins?”
“Are you kidding me?” she asked, squirting a bead of yellow baby shampoo into a pink washing mitt. “Thank goodness for the digital camera or I’d go broke developing film. We’ve already got hundreds of this cutie,” she said, tickling the baby girl’s sudsy tummy.
“Was that a grin?” he asked.
“Probably gas, but it sure looked like a tiny smile, didn’t it?”
“Can’t we just say it was?” Why, he couldn’t have said, but it would mean a lot to him to witness one of Rose’s firsts. With her, he found himself grasping a do-over mentality. He might not have gotten things perfect with Dillon, but with this one, he wanted to do things different. Better. He wanted to save this child the pain Dillon had been through. The only trouble was, Rose wasn’t his. And Jackson for damned sure wasn’t in any position to guarantee how her life might turn out.
“Sure,” Ella said with a laugh so pretty it caused a hundred tiny fissures in his heart. “We can say whatever you want.” One hand on the baby, she landed her other atop his head. Her fingers were warm and wet, rocking him with an erotic jolt.
“I think I’m falling in love with you…”
“W-what?” Her hand slowly fell, landing on his shirt collar, lingering warm water soaking through.
“You heard me. Got a towel?” he asked, nodding toward Rose. “Somebody’s turning into a pink prune.”
Expression dazed, she reached behind her to take a hooded pink towel from the bathroom counter. She handed it to him, and he, in turn, plucked Rose from the water and fumbled her into the makeshift robe. He cradled the infant, gingerly drying around her ears and under her arms and between impossibly small fingers and toes.
Jackson’s admission had scared him. So much was riding on his reunion with Julie. His son’s emotional well-being was at stake. He had no business telling any woman he loved her, but how could he help falling for Ella when she was everything he’d ever wanted all contained in one ultra-sexy package?
Carrying the infant to her nursery, ignoring the giant elephant in the room that had taken up occupancy alongside him, Jackson set Rose on her changing table. While Ella hovered behind him, worrying her lower lip, he lotioned the baby and diapered her. Dressed her in beruffled yellow pj’s. By the time he got her kissed and hugged and settled in her crib, her eyes were already drifting shut.
“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he whispered.
“I love you,” Ella said, cupping her hand to Rose’s head, yet looking at him.
His heart lurched. Was she talking to him, or the baby?
She left the room, gesturing for him to follow. After shutting Rose’s nursery door, she leaned her shoulder against the wall, sighing and closing her eyes. “I—I love you, but I can’t—won’t—be anything beyond friends with you. It’s not fair to Dillon.”
“What about us, Ell? What’s fair to you and me? Dammit,” he said, taking her hands, easing his fingers between hers, “for the past few years, we’ve both been living a hell. Totally at the whim of our cheating spouses. When is it our turn to quit being the responsible ones, and do what we want?”
“When our kids head to college?” she asked with a strangled laugh, angling into him, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his chest. “Face it, Jackson, like it or not, by default, Todd and Julie appointed us the grown-ups. We’re our kids’ last line of defense in teaching them right from wrong and values and morals. How’s it going to look if I tell them what Todd did was wrong, but then turn around and do almost the same thing as him by having an affair with you?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said, cupping her cheeks to tip her face back, granting him full access to her beautiful face, “but I’m not married. Neither are you. Yes, for Dillon, it would be great if I got back together with his mother, but what then? How long until the lie I’m living corrodes into ugliness? Fights and name-calling and eventually, another divorce? Only, this time, so contentious that Julie and I won’t even be speaking? And since I’m now the bad guy in this scenario, what if she wins custody of my kid? And Dillon is mine, seeing how she abandoned him.”
Sighing, Ella softly said, “You just proved my argument. There’s too much at stake for us to explore whatever it is we’re feeling. We hardly even know each other. Rose brought us together, but what happens when her mother’s found? What do we have linking us when she’s gone?”
This…he ached to say before kissing her till she was powerless to speak. Till she abandoned logic simply to feel. But he didn’t kiss her. In fact, he released her hands so they weren’t even touching. Could she be right? Was their affection for Rose, the urgency of the infant’s situation, their only bond?
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m wondering if you’re right,” he admitted. “I’m wonder
ing if my attraction to you is even real.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, turning her back on him to head down the stairs.
“I didn’t mean I’m not turned on by you, Ell.”
“Whatever,” she said, continuing on to the kitchen where she yanked open the freezer and reached for the ice cream. She took a spoon from a drawer, then sat at the kitchen table, digging in.
“Do I get any of that?”
She shook her head. “Get your own. There’s another half-dozen pints in the freezer.”
“Stocking up in case of disaster?”
She coughed on her latest bite. “Where you’re concerned, Jackson Tate, every day’s become a disaster.”
“YOU TOLD HIM you love him?” Rachel asked Monday during a rushed deli lunch. Shock raised her eyebrows a good inch. “Have I taught you nothing?”
“Relax,” Ella said, biting into her ham and Swiss. “He said it first.”
“Like that makes it better?” Ella’s friend returned her roast beef and cheddar to a chip-filled basket. “I need details in order to adequately interpret this sudden turn of events.”
“What you need,” Ella said, rolling her eyes, “is a chill pill. It’s no biggie—and I saw that.”
“What?” Rachel asked, pretending she hadn’t just deeply inhaled the secondhand smoke wafting over from the deli’s miniscule smoking section.
“You know what. I’m proud of you for hanging in there so long. Keep up the good work.”
“Nice try at changing the subject,” Rachel complained, digging in her purse for her gum, “but get back to those details.”
Shrugging, Ella said, “We both confessed our undying love, but as rational, reasonable adults, we came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t work out between us.”
“Meaning—” Rachel chomped hard on a pickle “—the all-sainted twins wouldn’t approve?”
“Hey!” Her friend’s latest comment struck a nerve for Ella. Suddenly, the movie-poster-filled walls of Five Star Deli closed in on her. The sounds of the Star Wars soundtrack and the beeping cash register and chattering diners were too much.
“Those are my kids you’re talking about. I don’t live in a vacuum. What they think matters.”
“Know what else matters?” Not waiting for a reply, Rachel forged ahead with, “Your happiness. Do you think those kiddos of yours are going to be content if you’re moping all the time? Or subsisting solely on peanut butter and chocolate chunk swirl?”
“I added a new flavor—mint fudge ripple.”
Rachel shook her head.
“Another thing that occurred to me is the whole Rose issue. What if Jackson doesn’t really love me, but the idea of me? You know, the whole cute baby thing? But one of these days, Hank’s going to track down Rose’s mom, and then Jackson’s going to dump me like a—”
“Stop.” Holding out her hands, Rachel said, “If I have to hear one more lame reason for why Jackson doesn’t really love you, I’m going to hurl. Have you ever considered the reasons why he would love you—regardless of whether you have Rose?”
“No.”
“Of course, not. So right now, let’s list them, shall we?” Taking out her checkbook, Rachel ripped off a deposit slip, then wrote as she spoke. “Number one, you’re gorgeous.”
“Try thirty pounds overweight.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Rachel repeated, ignoring Ella’s objections. “You’re a complete brainiac—although I suppose some guys might find that a turn-off. Luckily, Jackson seems pretty secure in his own skin, meaning he doesn’t view your success as a threat.”
“Shouldn’t we head back to the clinic?” Ella asked, tapping her watch.
“Shouldn’t you hush it? Now, where was I? Oh—three, funny. Four, sweet. Five, compassionate. Six—”
“Rachel, while I appreciate the sentiment behind this, we need to get going.”
“True,” her friend said, wadding her napkin and tossing it into the basket, “but I want you to have this.” She handed Ella the list she’d headed: Ella’s Lovable Traits. “Tape it to your bathroom mirror and review it every morning when you wake and every night before going to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ella teased, giving her friend a mock salute before dumping her sandwich remains in the trash.
“Honey, I’m serious,” Rachel said, hand on her arm. “More than anyone I know, you deserve to be happy. Kids bounce back. They adjust. Yes, in the short run, you and Jackson taking things public might be rocky, but in the long run, I think you two make a solid pair.”
On the short walk to the office, warm sun giving her a much-needed hug, Ella secretly agreed with her friend. Jackson seemed better for her than Todd ever had. Unfortunately, that didn’t change the fact that for all practical purposes, he was taken. When push came to shove, he’d return to his family. That was just the kind of honorable man Jackson Tate was. Which only made Ella pine for him more.
IT WAS TUESDAY NIGHT when Jackson saw Ella again. She was at the hospital emergency room, consulting on a five-year-old female burn victim he’d carried from her flame-filled bedroom. The girl had been playing with Mommy’s lighter and set a pile of stuffed animals on fire. She had burns over sixty percent of her body and was on the verge of being Life-Flighted to a Kansas City burn-specialty ICU.
It wasn’t in Jackson’s job description to accompany the ambulance to the hospital, but something about the hollow look in the girl’s eyes had driven him here. He had to know she’d be all right.
“Hey, man,” Calivaris said, patting his back, “the girl’s going to live. You did all you could.”
“I know,” Jackson said, studying the intensity on Ella’s face as she stabilized the girl for travel. He found it ironic that Julie’s job as a criminal attorney was saving scumbags from having to go to prison, whereas he and Ella were in essentially the same business of looking after people’s health and well-being. Maybe that’s why he was so attracted to her—because they spent their time trying to make the world a better place?
Within thirty minutes, Ella had briefed the flight team on the girl’s vitals, then they were off.
Jackson supposed he should head back to the station, but Calivaris was off chatting up a buxom brunette admittance clerk, and from where he sat alongside a half-dead potted palm in a quiet corner of the E.R. waiting room, the view was just too good. Ella in her sexy lab coat, completing paperwork. Ella comforting family. Ella helping a nurse set a teen’s broken arm. She didn’t have a clue he was there, which, in light of their last meeting, was probably a good thing.
Why had he told her he loved her? Why hadn’t he just kept the fact to himself? After all, it wasn’t as if he could do anything about it. She’d called him a disaster—well, not him per se, but her emotional state whenever she was around him. That couldn’t be a good sign.
She glanced his way.
Had she felt his stare?
She waved.
He waved.
“Ready?” Calivaris stopped in front of him.
“I guess,” Jackson said, dodging to try and see Ella around his friend’s hulking frame.
“I’ve got a date. See that chick over there?” He gave a finger wave to the brunette he’d been with. “We’re having drinks when she gets off. She’s hot, huh?”
“Sure.” Dammit. Where had Ella gone? One minute, she’d been there, and now she’d—
“Hi, Jackson,” she said, popping out from behind Calivaris.
“I heard you were the one who pulled Mandy from her room.”
“Wish I’d’ve got there sooner.”
“With grafting, she’ll be all right. In the next few weeks, though, she’s in for a lot of pain.”
Jackson introduced her to his friend, who said a polite goodbye, and then was back to his brunette, telling Jackson to give a holler when he was ready to go.
“He seems nice,” Ella said, looking politely distracted.
“Yeah. Calivaris is a great guy.” Was he imagining it, or was th
ere an awkward vibe between them that had never been there before? “Who’s with Rose and the twins?”
“My friend Claire, from down the street. If Hank doesn’t make progress soon in finding Rose’s birth mother, I’m going to recommend Claire and her husband be considered for Rose’s possible adoptive parents.”
“You must really like these people,” he said, scuffing the tiled floor with the tip of his right shoe.
“I do. They’ve tried for years to have a baby. Rose would be an incredible blessing to them.”
“More than she has been to you?”
Her stricken expression hit him like a blow. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you implying I don’t care about Rose?”
“No. Hell, no. All I meant was that—”
“I’ve got to go,” she said, already turning away.
“Ella…” On his feet, he snagged her lab coat’s sleeve.
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you—”
“Not here,” she practically hissed. “I seriously don’t want to get into this here.”
“Get into what?” he asked in an urgent whisper. “I didn’t even know there was anything wrong.”
“Are you kidding me?” Glancing over her shoulder, then back to him, she said, “I thought we’d said everything there was to say Saturday night, but the more I think about it, the madder I get.” Her sharp tone had attracted the attention of a snoopy, gossipy type craning her neck to get a better view. “Come here,” Ella said, leading him to a supply closet filled with antiseptic-smelling cleaning supplies and a fresh-linen cart.
“Are we allowed to be in here?” he asked.
“Don’t be a dork.” She flicked on the overhead lights.
“What? I’m just asking.”
She sighed, closing the door behind her. “Back to our previous conversation, how dare you tell me you love me, when you’ve got Julie and your son under the impression that everything’s hunky-dory with them?”
“Hunky-dory?” He raised his eyebrows.
Three Boys And A Baby (American Romance) Page 12
