by J. D. Mason
It was futile to search for answers to questions that were starting to become more vague by the moment. It all started because he believed that he needed to know his father better, but why? Jordan had gone his whole life with assumptions that had served him fine, as much as he had needed them to. He and Julian shared a name, and Olivia and June. They’d shared close to twenty years of Jordan’s life and shared Gatewood Industries. Jordan had gotten by just fine with what he knew already. This whole soul-searching endeavor had been a waste of time, and he needed to put it behind him, get his head out of his ass, and snap out of it.
His phone rang, and he saw that it was Robin calling.
“I was just thinking about calling you,” he said.
“I just got back in town,” she said. “Dinner tonight?”
Had she told him that she was going out of town?
“I’m on the road right now, sweetheart. Probably won’t be home for another couple of hours.”
“We can eat late.”
He sighed.
“Later in the week?” she asked, sounding disappointed.
He felt bad for putting her off so many times lately. Part of the reason was that he didn’t want to set expectations that he wasn’t ready to meet. He didn’t want her to get the impression that there was more to this relationship than there actually was. The other part was that he had been pretty self-absorbed lately, and Jordan was stretched thin enough already. But still, he did enjoy their relationship, and he owed her more than just brushing her off all the time.
“How about I give you a call when I get in tonight?” he said, sounding enthusiastic. “Maybe we can at least go out for a drink.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
“I’ll be in touch,” he assured her before hanging up.
Moments after getting off the phone with Robin, his phone rang again, and Abby started in before he even had a chance to say hello.
“I am so sorry that I did that. I didn’t mean to, and I wish I could take it back, but I just got so excited, and I was so grateful that someone had that kind of faith in me when no one in my whole entire family has even looked at me twice on that football field since I was ten. I know that I’m not any good, but my heart for the sport is humongous, and I just needed for someone to believe in me and give me the confidence to know that I really could catch that ball and score them points.”
Jordan resisted the urge to laugh. “You actually closed your eyes when the ball landed in your arms, Abby.”
She hesitated. “Did I? I don’t remember, Jordan. That whole thing really was an out-of-body experience for me. It was like I was there but I wasn’t. So, I probably did close my eyes, but that doesn’t negate the fact that you landed the football right in my arms like it belonged there, like it was destined to be there, and I just got overwhelmed with emotion. If I embarrassed you, trust me, it was nothing compared to the embarrassment that I felt when I realized what I’d done to you.”
He decided to go in for the kill. “And then you ignored me the whole time I was there.”
“I’m sorry,” she said dismally. “I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t face you. I’ll never be able to face you again. That’s why I’m calling. It’s easier to apologize over the phone because I don’t have to look at you.”
“Come on, Abby. Let’s go,” he heard a woman say in the background.
“Where are you going?” he asked before he realized it.
“Oh, to Roscoe’s. Some friends of mine are taking me there for my birthday. But listen,” she continued, “please accept my apology, Jordan. I hope you will. I truly meant no disrespect. I just got overwhelmed with joy and all. It was a huge moment for me. One of the biggest moments in my life.”
“Abby!”
“Look, I have to go. Um, you take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“Bye, Jordan.”
Don’t It Always Seem?
IT TOOK FINISHING TWO, almost three vodka-and-cranberry-juice cocktails for Abby to finally shake that anxious feeling in her stomach over her last encounter with Jordan. To say that all she’d wanted to do was to crawl under a rock and die after she’d made a fool of herself all over him was an understatement. Jordan Gatewood was a demigod whom Abby had no business putting her hands on, let alone her mouth. After she’d kissed him it was a wonder that Zeus himself hadn’t struck her dead with a bolt of lightning. But before restraint had had a chance to kick in, she’d lost her mind over a stupid touchdown pass and practically sexually assaulted the man in front of her whole family. Getting drunk off her ass was definitely in order for the remainder of the evening. And besides, it was her birthday.
Belly dancing was a celebration of the belly. Abby reveled in it every time she got a chance to do it, especially in public. She had calluses on her hands, and spent most of her days stomping around in steel-toed work boots and dragging a utility belt around her waist. Dancing reminded her of her curves, and of how delicate and fluid she could be when she set her mind to it. And it reminded people who knew her that she was a three-dimensional human being, and not just someone who knew how to hang drywall, run wires and cables, and pour concrete.
Belly dancing was sexy, seductive, and powerful, capable of tugging at the primal nature of man and reminding him of why women were worth starting wars over.
Abby and her other two girlfriends, Skye and Brianna, were stellar, in sync, poised, and fucking hot. The three of them danced in perfect unison to Janet’s “That’s the Way Love Goes,” swirling hips, rolling shoulders and wrists, and jutting breasts sending that whole room into a frenzy. They’d been practicing this all summer in order to have this little number polished and ready to go in time for her September birthday because, yes, for just one night, she wanted to be center stage, beautiful, free, expressive, and drunk enough to where she didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought about her, but not so drunk that she’d forget the choreography and fall and make a fool of herself.
She wasn’t as lit as she was planning on getting, yet. But by the time the night was over, Skye and her man, David, would have to pour her into a plastic cup, drive her home, and empty her into bed. That was the plan. And it was a beautiful plan. Could’ve been better, though. Would’ve been better if it wasn’t Skye and David tucking her into bed on her birthday. She was good at looking preoccupied and busy all the time, too busy for a relationship. Too busy to fall in love. She looked the part, but inside, Abby was climbing the walls and had been for a long time. Lonesome.
She regretted kissing Jordan but only because it was in her father’s backyard in front of her cousins, brothers, and everybody else, over a stupid touchdown. And of course, because he was Jordan. Because a man like him had women clawing at the hem of his pants to try get to him. High-maintenance women. The kind who spent Tuesday afternoons in spas and sipped high tea with their pinkies up. And the kind that got boob implants, Botox, and brazilian hair extensions. The kind with personal trainers named Josh.
He was strong. Abby recalled the muscle definition on his shoulders that she felt when she wrapped her arms around him. He worked out. Caught her like she was light as a feather and didn’t teeter once. Powerful arms wrapped around her waist, pillow-soft lips mated with hers. He smelled so good, and he tasted so … like … oh …
“Abby.” Skye elbowed her. “What’re you doing? C’mon, girl. Get back in step.”
Abby didn’t realize that her eyes were closed until she opened them again. The three of them finished up their routine, and the whole room broke out into a maddening applause with whoops and whistles and some gotdamns thrown in for good measure. The three of them embraced, slapped each other high fives, and celebrated their own small victory that left them all feeling like rock stars for the night. David came in and grabbed hold of Skye before one of her exes decided to try to win her back because these days he couldn’t live without her. Not after shaking her ass in the middle of the dance floor like that.
Brianna w
as literally picked up off the floor and carried away by some dude Abby had never seen before, but the woman was laughing and hugging on him, so Abby figured she must not have had a problem with it.
“Hey,” tall and lanky Ron Pewter said, pushing up behind her. “I keep on falling in love with you, and you keep on pretending like I don’t exist.” He grinned. Ice-blue eyes sparkled like crystals.
He’d been declaring his love for Abby since the third grade, and two ex-wives and four kids later, he was still doing it.
“Hey, Ron,” she said as enthusiastically as she could muster, starting to walk away.
He promptly took hold of her elbow.
“C’mon now. Don’t be like that. Let me buy you a drink for your birthday.”
Drinking with Ron meant having a conversation with Ron, and the conversation inevitably always centered around how fine she was and how much he wished that the two of them could get together, maybe even get married.
“Oh, it’s all right. Skye and David have a tab going, so…” She shrugged.
“Marry me,” he blurted out.
All of a sudden, Ron looked over her head at something behind Abby, and warm, moist lips pressed in that slope of her neck as it met her shoulder. Abby jerked around.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, sweetheart.” He smiled at her.
“Jordan,” she mouthed, her heart pounding like a foot kicking against a door to try to get it open.
Jordan then looked directly at Ron as if to say, You can go now.
Ron vanished like a magician.
An empty bar stool became available behind him, and Jordan backed over and sat down on it, as he gently took hold of her hand, and pulled her into the space between his thighs. Abby had no idea how long she’d gone without oxygen until natural bodily functions took command forcing her to take a breath.
“You dance beautifully, Abby,” he said, looking her square in the eyes.
“You saw that?” she asked, feeling absolutely mortified.
Was he joking? Teasing her maybe? It was one thing for the locals to watch her and her friends putting on one of their dance numbers. They did it all the time, and folks had come to expect it. But it was never meant for outsiders to see. Especially not outsiders like him.
A wry smile spread across his lips. “The whole thing.”
Her first instinct was to cover both her ears with her hands and run away screaming, but after swallowing that big old lump in her throat, Abby helplessly explained, “We’ve been practicing.”
Out of all the dumb things she could’ve said, that right there sounded like it was probably the dumbest. As if he cared that they’d been practicing.
Jordan surprised her and laughed. “And it showed.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “What in the world are you doing here? I thought you went back to Dallas.”
He’d never looked at her like this before. Not like he was really actually seeing her. “I’d like to buy you a drink for your birthday, sugah.”
She stared back at him, waiting for the punch line.
Jordan cocked a thick brow. “Is that all right?”
A hesitant smile spread her lips. “You came back here just to buy me a drink?”
“I did.”
This had something to do with that kiss. Her first instinct was to get all defensive and pretend that it didn’t affect her the way it actually had affected her. He didn’t need to know that she was still thinking about it, and she was not going to remind him of it. She didn’t, though. Of course she was flattered. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t have been flattered that a man like Jordan had offered to buy her a drink on her birthday? It was the craziest thing, by far, that had ever happened to her, next to buying and living in a haunted house. And next to finding out that a CEO of a huge corporation had died in that house and his son had shown up thirty years later to try to find a connection to the said dead CEO. But yeah. This was the next-craziest thing.
“Okay.”
Abby felt like she was being manipulated remotely, like she wasn’t in control of her own mind and body. It was like he’d hexed her just by being here. Then again, Abby was pretty close to being really drunk.
Jordan waited and then probed. “What’re you having?”
She desperately needed another cocktail, but warning sirens went off inside her. All it’d take for her to get too drunk to think straight would be one more vodka and cranberry juice, and Jordan could bend her over a table and … yeah.
“Water.”
He looked confused. “Water?”
She felt herself nod. “Please.”
Control. Abby needed it like she needed her heart to beat. Self-control was everything because he looked too good and she was vulnerable and surprisingly weak for him right now. So, why’d he have to put his hand on her waist and pull her closer? Did he know? Could he tell that her resolve was pretty much sloughing off her right now?
“You look beautiful,” he murmured, his face, his lips dangerously close to hers.
The light touch of his fingers low on her back sent shockwaves down her spine turning her legs into boiled spaghetti noodles.
“Um, thank you. It’s new. I just bought it,” she said, referring to her outfit.
Was that it? Did he just appreciate her new duds? Abby bought it as set, a fitted knit crop top and matching pencil skirt, both in orange. She’d even found sandals to match. It was more risqué than outfits she’d normally wear, but it was for her birthday, and she decided to step outside of her comfort zone and show a little more skin. She’d thought about explaining all this to him, then realized that she was rambling inside her own head.
He smiled. “It’s very pretty.”
Jordan pulled her so close that their bodies touched. Abby inhaled the aroma of all of him without meaning to. Jordan leaned in closer and grazed his lips against her neck, then planted a soft kiss there again. Oh, it felt so good, but no. She pulled back and looked at him.
“Please don’t do that,” she pleaded.
He didn’t look hurt, but he looked sincere. “I cannot stop thinking about you,” he admitted. “Ever since I met you, that first day, Abby, I—”
She could not believe that he was saying this. Hearing it was amazing, but it was also overwhelming and certainly not expected. Abby tried to take a step back, but Jordan held her in place without even trying.
“It’s, uh,” Abby began, trying to find a reasonable thought, one that would clear this whole confusing situation up for the both of them. She looked at him, and she had absolutely nothing.
So, he kissed her. But not like the kiss she’d slapped on his face earlier in the day. No. No, this one intentional and even softer than the first time. It was just lips at first. Lips. People don’t give lips the homage they deserve. Lips massaging and tugging on lips, slow and easy, delicious and—
He pulled her closer, which seemed like it shouldn’t have even been possible, because she’d already thought that she was as close as she could get to him, but she was so close now that she could feel his heart beating. Jordan gently parted her lips and slipped his tongue past them folding it into hers.
Was that her moaning? Or him? Oh, man! He tasted so warm and savory and strong and safe. Those big arms of his cocooned her against him until she felt every muscle underneath his shirt. Abby raised her hand to his face and pressed it against the smooth, low-cut beard. She hadn’t been kissed in so long, but she had never been kissed like this ever in her life. Please don’t stop, she wanted to say, but in order to say it, she’d have to stop kissing him, so she was kind of between a rock and a hard place. All she could do was say a silent prayer or hope God would answer or that Jordan could read her mind.
Jordan pulled away just barely. “I need to take you home, Abby,” he murmured, grazing his lips against hers.
Take her home. He needed to take her home, which was code for taking her to bed, which would be so damn nice, but Abby was a reasonable person. She wasn’t one to just
hop into bed with a man because he was good looking or kissed her like his lips were made of magic clouds. She was responsible and cautious and careful. Abby was—
“Please,” he whispered.
Abby was horny. It was her birthday. He was gorgeous. After processing for a few, brief moments, she responded the only way she could.
“Okay.”
He stood up, took hold of her hand, and led the way to the front door. Abby looked over her shoulder just in time to see Skye glance up at her. Abby smiled, waved, and mouthed the word bye.
She Held Me Spellbound
THE WOMAN HAD HIM PINING like a teenage boy, without even trying. The natural beauty of Abby was breathtaking. The simplicity of her was irresistible. Everything from her tousled and loose curls to the form-fitting outfit she wore worked together effortlessly, allowing everything that was lovely about her to show through, and tasting her had been his downfall. Jordan wasn’t big on kissing and hadn’t been since before Claire had died; even with her, though, Jordan just went through the motions. Jordan was consumed with the idea of sampling her, all of her, from head to toe. Kissing was just the beginning for him with her.
Jordan led her out of the club and across the parking lot to his truck. He knew her well enough to almost hear the wheels turning in her head, processing and building up to reluctance and an inevitable change of heart and mind about what they were planning on doing. Abby wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her, but her nature was a cautious one, overly so. And Jordan had to rely heavily on his instinct if this was going to work.
He helped her into the passenger side of the truck, climbed in behind the wheel, started the engine, and headed to her house. He estimated that it would take about fifteen minutes to get there, so he had to think fast, before she talked herself out of spending time with him.
“I’d like to hear more about these ghosts,” he said, reaching over and taking her hand in his and resting them on the center console.
