by Leanne Davis
“I am sorry.”
She didn’t explain for what, because Jason wasn’t ready to hear it yet. She was sorry for his life being blown apart by his own parents, for having to go to prison for something he didn’t do, for having a mother like Irene; but most of all, she was sorry for her own behavior. How she could have so underestimated this man before her totally defied logic. It seemed so obvious now. He was closed off, hard to read, hard to know, and all because no one had ever tried. Including her. She hadn’t seen him for the man he was. Only for what he appeared to be.
Jason was a man full of integrity, and more honesty than anyone she’d ever met, including herself. He saw her far beyond her name, and she was pretty sure what he liked about her had nothing to do with what she was, but who she was.
And she had been ignoring who she really was for way too long. She had fooled herself into almost marrying the wrong man, tackling the wrong career, and nearly diving into a lifestyle so wrong for her it was nearly laughable to contemplate.
Jason Malone had made her take a look at herself, a real honest-to-God look, and only then did she realize she didn’t like what she was seeing in herself and what she was doing with her life. Everything was so wrong. And she wanted desperately to make it right. Starting with him.
His arms finally came around her and held her tightly. She felt the tension in him, the grief. He didn’t say anything. He had no words for how he felt, and even if he did, he wouldn’t trust her enough to say them.
A knock on the door ended the moment, the utter tenderness and the connection they had. He was so uncomfortable with emotions she wondered if it was the first time he’d ever truly shared them. It seemed like an unreasonably big deal to him.
Sighing, she reluctantly let him go. He turned back to the sink, obviously too embarrassed to look at her. She stood there for a second on the verge of saying something, but instead she did what she knew he wanted her to do and left him alone.
She opened the front door to Terry. Irene was either asleep or passed out in the car. Jason come up behind her and opened the door wider, meeting Terry’s gaze over her head. Terry’s eyes widened as he looked at her and then at Jason. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed as he looked back at her.
“What is this? What are you doing here?”
“I don’t owe you any answers, Terry. You, however, owe your son for everything you’ve not done for him. Why don’t you start there if you want to start casting stones?”
Terry bristled. “You don’t know anything.”
She eyed him with disdain. “Oh, I think I have a good idea of what has gone on all these years. Starting with what you let Irene Malone do to your own son when he was a child, and on into letting her set Jason up for her drugs. You couldn’t be bothered, could you? To help Jason then or now.”
“What are you trying to say? That Irene was responsible for the drugs in Jason’s possession?”
Christine scoffed. “As if you never thought of it.”
Terry’s eyebrows shot up. “No, I didn’t. I was horrified any flesh and blood of mine was going to prison.”
“Oh, so you admit he’s your flesh and blood.”
Jason put a hand on her arm as if to restrain her. Terry’s gaze narrowed on the contact, and his mouth turned into a grim line.
“Don’t try. He didn’t want me to be innocent then and he certainly doesn’t now. Going to prison got me out of their hair for awhile, didn’t it? And now they’re just worried about what I could do to them, not about the truth.”
Terry’s face suddenly closed up and went back to its normal bland expression. How had she never noticed how fake this man was? “I apologize. We did think you were guilty.”
Christine stared at him. Her icy silence speaking her disdain. She raised her eyebrows. “It never occurred to you Irene was involved?”
“No.”
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
“Maybe now it might be. I’ll talk to Irene.”
“And?”
“And what, Christine? What else can I do? Rewrite history?”
“Oh my God, on what level do you not get this? Rewrite history? Going back to the day Jason was born, you ignored your own son. You left him to the mercy of a mentally ill woman who was addicted to drugs. Then you let him go to prison without even having a conversation about it with him. What kind of father, what kind of person, does that make you?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“I didn’t know. And who are you to judge me, Christine Andrews? Does your father know you’re here? Have you told the great Aaron Andrews what you’re up to in all your soul-searching away from Trent?”
A shudder traveled down her spine. “My father has nothing to do with this.”
“Ah, I see. And Trent? He has nothing to do with this either, I suppose?”
She shook her head and scoffed. “How do you do that? Turn everything you’ve done back on to me? On to Jason? You really are a politician.”
“And you? What are you?”
Jason bristled. “Careful, you don’t want to go there.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” Terry straightened his spine. “I’m going to take Irene to a motel for tonight, and find her some kind of rehab to enter tomorrow. Then, if she ever sobers up, I’ll talk to her and look into what you’re saying. Because contrary to what you think I do want to help find the truth. I am sorry for things I’ve done in the past.” Terry turned to leave but stopped dead and glanced over his shoulder and stared hard at her. “Just don’t be sorry too, Christine.”
****
Christine shut the door and followed Jason back into the kitchen. He sat down on a chair listlessly. He looked less upset but at a loss for what to do next. He met her gaze suddenly and seemed on the verge of telling her to leave.
Was it any wonder Jason was so closed off towards her? Or that he had so easily rejected her? After what he’d been through, how his family treated him, how could he not be wary of people? How could he trust anyone when he’d never been shown how to?
He’d pushed her away. And she’d gone. Proving his point. She wasn’t leaving so easily this time. And thoughts of Trent and her own future seemed distant to her, as they always seemed to be when she was around Jason. He made her feel like only these moments between them mattered.
“Look Christine, thanks, but—”
“Take a shower,” she said, interrupting him.
“Huh?”
“Get cleaned up, I’m hungry.”
He glanced at her like she’d suggested they fly to the moon. Rudely he said, “I don’t feel like going to dinner.”
“Of course, you don’t, but it’ll take your mind off of all this. Besides we’ve never been out on a real date.”
“You want to go on a date? With me? Now?”
She nodded her head yes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, I’m not. You’ve got to eat, don’t you?”
He rubbed his eyes and gave her a look, as if to say drop dead. “I appreciate your help today—”
“No, you don’t. You resent it, and now you’re going to get defensive and rude because you don’t like anyone to see how you feel. Let’s skip that part and forget all this happened.”
“Do you have any idea what a pain in my ass you are?” he grumbled as he got up and shuffled down the hall; she presumed to take a shower.
Feeling triumphant she settled on the couch and flipped on the TV to wait.
Chapter Twelve
Jason didn’t know what to make of Christine. She was sitting there right at home on his couch, watching some sitcom on his television. She acted perfectly at home in his house and with him.
He still couldn’t get over that she’d called Terry. Just like that. She’d taken care of the whole mess in much the way she did everything: she found the course of action that made the most sense to her and did it.
Christine had spared him a scene with his mot
her he wasn’t sure how he would have handled. Or, to be more exact, he was scared of how he would have handled it. Then she’d ordered him to take her on a date. For weeks now she’d made it clear that she was angry at him for how he had treated her the night of the engagement party. Since then he had not apologized to her, nor done anything to make up for it. Why, then, was she helping him now? He was only going out with her because it would be the easiest way to get her to leave.
****
“What now?” she asked when she caught him staring at her. She’d been entranced by one of the dozen televisions in the sports bar she’d chosen for dinner. Her choice was as startling as her presence with him.
“You like sports?”
“Sure. My dad and I used to watch sports together all the time. I think it was his attempt at seeing what a son would have been like,” she said, grinning, obviously quite content that her father hadn’t actually wanted a son instead of her.
He wasn’t sure he would ever figure Christine out entirely.
“What is your father like?”
“Busy. Very busy. He’s gone more than he’s home. He travels a lot. He sees a lot of important people.”
“I meant with you. What’s he like with you.”
“Oh. That’s more complicated.”
Jason shot her a look.
“He expects nothing less than perfection from me.”
“Aren’t you just about everything anyone could want in a daughter?”
She scoffed. “You’d think.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You were the top of your class, weren’t you?”
“That doesn’t matter to my dad. What matters is that I become his protégée.”
“Isn’t that Trent’s domain?”
“Trent? No. That’s mine. My father won’t give up any control of that company to anyone other than me.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to live up to.”
“Yes, it is. And he didn’t approve of my sudden… doubts.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. No one really sees why I wouldn’t love being Aaron Andrews’ daughter. Why I’m not, right now, starting to take control of a company my father wants to give me. No one gets it. But especially not my father.”
“You had a fight?”
She nodded. Her teeth caught her lower lip and she swallowed. Was she holding back tears? “He doesn’t think I’m good enough. I refuse to let him decide when I’m good enough. I decide that. Not him. Not anymore.”
She then turned back towards the TV. He blew out a breath. Shit, he had no idea there was so many undercurrents going on with her and her family.
By the time they got back to his house he did feel better. She followed him up to his door and into the house. Once in she went over to the sink and got herself a glass of water. He clicked on a lamp, watching her, trying to gauge what would happen next. She turned towards him. “You know, you’re not such a bad date.”
“Next you’re going to say I’m not really an ass.”
“Well, you might have moments where you’re almost nice.”
“I don’t think ‘nice’ is a word anyone would associate with my name. So what would your father think of your being here?”
“Probably more than your father thinks of my being here.”
“What are you going to do about that?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Terry thinks you’re sleeping with me. Trent will too. Are you prepared for that?”
“I’m not, though.”
“No, you’re not. What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know, sleep with you? Prove them right?”
Silence settled between them. Their eyes locked for a long moment.
Quietly he asked, “Is that what you want? How you want this day to end? Proving them all right?”
She didn’t answer, but didn’t turn away from his scrutiny either. She set the glass aside and cleared her throat. “It won’t be to prove them right.”
If she had just left when Terry had this wouldn’t be an issue. But no, she’d insisted on staying, and now here they were again. He didn’t want to be alone. He couldn’t bear to think of her leaving him in this empty house tonight.
He held her gaze as he walked forward, his stride slow and purposeful. He stepped in front of her, backing her into the counter. He took her face between his hands. He was surprised how fragile her jaw seemed under his thumbs as he rubbed it.
“What about Trent?”
“I don’t know. I mean, we’re not engaged, but nothing is totally decided on.”
“Meaning?”
“After the night of the engagement party, I told Trent I needed some time, because obviously something’s wrong. But I haven’t figured it all out yet.”
“And this will help?”
“No. It won’t help anything.”
He looked at her for a long, drawn-out moment, judging what to do. He was about to jump off a cliff he’d long ago gated off. Yet he just couldn’t seem to find a reason to stop.
“Why did you do this tonight?”
“Because I’m tired of fighting this thing between us. Because I think you deserve more than you’ve gotten out of life, or out of your family.”
“I don’t need you to fix me.”
“No. But maybe I need you to fix me. Did you ever, even once, think of that?”
He stared at her long and hard, surprised by her statement, totally unprepared for her to say that to him. She needed him? What could he have to offer someone like her? Christine was the most beautiful, kind, self-possessed woman he’d ever met. And she thought she needed him?
She dropped her gaze and stared her fingers as she twisted them together. “I’m the one who has done everything, Jason. I came on to you that night at your apartment. I didn’t outright tell Trent what I did either. I chickened out. As I didn’t make a clean break from him. Because the truth is, I’m just as confused as I’ve tried to explain to everyone. I don’t know what I want, who I want, or who I am. So, this thing between us, I want to go in with eyes open. No more secrets. I want you to understand exactly what this is.”
He waited a long moment, and then said softly, “I know what this is.”
She wearily shook her head. Her smile was small and tight. “I’m sorry; I can’t be more clear who I am.”
He touched her face. “I’m clear who you are.”
She smiled fully. “You surprisingly can say the perfect things sometimes.”
His hands cupped her face and she rose up on her tiptoes as he leaned down to softly, gently, touch her lips. She made a soft, almost meowing sound at the delicate contact. He lifted his face from hers and stared into her brown eyes. They were wide and bright, the color of liquid chocolate, and she was looking with wonder and excitement at him. It still didn’t compute that she wanted this with him. He leaned back down and fit his lips over hers, this time with more heat and more pressure. Her arms slipped up to encircle his neck. She had to reach far, and he had to bend awkwardly. He solved it by putting his hands to her waist and lifting her up so she was sitting on his kitchen counter.
She opened her legs so he could step closer as their tongues touched and twisted together. Her fingertips brushed at the nape of his neck as she slid her hand into his hair. He nearly purred at the contact. God, it felt so good. It had been so long since he’d been simply touched. Not just for sex, but touched; in affection, in care, in gentleness.
In love.
He nearly jerked his mouth off of hers. Love? Where had he come up with that? They were so far from love it was... weird to contemplate. To have thought that. She was touching him out of being turned on, and about to have sex, not out of platonic affection.
Why, then, did it feel like the most important moment of his life? That did make him jerk his neck back. She opened her eyes after a delayed moment, and stared up at him.
“What?” she asked after a second of strange, strained silence.
“You what?”
“I just... I hope you’re sure about this. About me.”
She lifted her hand and brushed her fingers over his cheek and his jaw, and cupped his face. “I’m sure, Jason. I want to do this. I want to be here, with you.”
“I just keep thinking...”
She tugged his head until his forehead was touching hers. “I know. I know what you’re thinking. But... I’m here. With you. Let that be what matters. Let that matter the most of all.”
“Okay. Then we’re not doing this in here.” She squealed when he surprised her by lifting her up and quickly going down the hall to his bedroom.
“In here?” she asked, sounding breathless.
“Yeah.” He grinned finally. “In here.” He set her on her feet with a long, slow slide along his body. She pulled at his shirt until her fingertips touched his bare skin just above his belt. His skin broke out in shivers at the slight, soft contact. She pushed up, running her hands over his skin, and his entire body felt like it sprang alive at her simple, almost innocent touch. He leaned down and started to kiss her again.
She seemed to melt against him as he gathered her in his arms and started to follow the urgent movement of her lips. He should have expected it, but again, he was surprised at the heat she caused in him, and the sparks that seemed to ignite between them. They simply fit each other.
She leaned her head back so his lips could trail down over her jaw and neck. She had soft, delicate skin as white as baby powder. He’d never the felt the urge to possess a woman as he did her. He felt like he wanted to breathe her in. Touch her everywhere. Make her feel hot and sweaty everywhere. Where usually he just wanted to have sex and be done.
He slid his hands up under her shirt, to her turned-on nipples that felt rough and hard as his palms slid over them. She nearly screamed as he rubbed and pulled at them. He grabbed the bottom of her top and pulled it up and over her head. Her bra clasped in front. She looked up into his eyes, and then down at his hands as he moved his fingers to her bra and slowly undid it. It popped open and he stared at her naked breasts as the material loosened and parted on each side of her. She had small breasts with tightly beaded nipples. He ran his fingertips softly up her arms to the straps and slowly slid them down her thin arms. Her lips parted and she licked them. Her body seemed to tremble slightly. The bra dropped to the floor. He stared at her. He couldn’t remember wanting to stare at a woman more than he wanted Christine. He leaned into her and put a hand to her waist and the other to her bare breast. He couldn’t think of a more erotic sight or feeling than her naked breast against his hand as her breath hitched and her legs seemed to nearly give out. He tightened his hold of her and as he touched her she closed her eyes. He leaned down and touched first his lips and then his tongue to her pointed, stiff nipple that seemed to stand off her chest, wanting attention from him. She groaned and circled her arms around his head as her fingers messed up his hair. He encircled her in his arms to keep her upright. Her body seemed to deflate into him.
