A smile lit the corner of his mouth and sparked in his eyes. "Maybe you'd be more at home in the yellow house with the overgrown ivy."
She frowned up at him. "Don't make fun."
"I'm sorry," he suppressed a smile. "I'm not trying to make fun of you. I love that you love that house. I'm rather fond of it myself."
"You are making fun of me," she scowled. "Stop it."
He kissed her scowling brow and then changed the subject. "I'm very sorry. I won't mention it again. Are you hungry?"
"A little bit," she answered, still upset.
"Pizza?" He freed his phone from his pocket.
"Okay."
Nick had the number of his favorite pizza place on speed dial. After ordering a large pepperoni he put her number in his phone, and she put his in hers.
They chatted about trivial things, they talked about their interests, books, music, and she told him about her eighth grade trip to Mount Rushmore.
"How's your head?" he asked for the umpteenth time that evening, as he put the empty pizza box on the floor.
"Its fine," she answered with complete honesty.
"It's getting late." He checked his phone for the time. "Scratch that. It's already late; it's nearly one. I should really let you go to sleep."
She was sad that their evening was over, but it had been a long day, and she knew it would have to end eventually. "Thanks for dinner," she said, "and lunch, and... everything else."
"It was my pleasure." He set his beautiful hypnotic jewels on her. "I don't want to leave you," he sighed.
"And I don't want you to leave."
Until he kissed her, she hadn't even thought about the potential possibilities of what she'd just said. A sudden panic swept over her — mostly due to her inexperience and her fear of coming across that way — but it was quickly surrendered by desire as he traced his hand down the length of her side. A soft moan escaped her and he immediately pulled away from her.
"I don't want to have sex with you," he said. She wasn't sure how to take that. Should she be offended, relieved? She was settling somewhere near confused when he said, "Actually, that's not true. It is, but it isn't." He got off the bed and stepped back a few feet from her. "Wow, I'm really nervous right now," he fidgeted.
"I can tell." She slid to the edge of the bed and took his hand in hers. "What was all that 'lots of women' talk?" she teased.
He let out a long breath. "A hundred and eighty-seven," he said flatly.
"A hundred and eighty-seven wha-?" she started to ask. "Oh," she comprehended. Maybe always being honest with her wasn't as good an idea as she had initially thought.
He'd been with a hundred and eighty-seven women?
The thought rolled its way around in her mind in sweaty naked undulations, as she tried to get a handle on a number that was larger than Sammie's maximum capacity of sixty-seven; more than her entire graduating class at Winner High – a hundred and seventeen. More than a church packed full of parishioners — at Christmas – with standing room only — about a hundred and thirty-five, maybe a hundred and fifty if you counted babes in arms and kids on laps, and Mrs. Skinners purse dog.
How did he even keep track?
By comparison, she had dated seven guys if she counted Nick. No wait — eight — she'd forgotten about Randy Cooper and his spittle. Ick. Remembering him wasn't better. She'd kissed a couple of them and had nearly gotten to third base with Riley – at least she thought it was nearing third base, she'd never been real clear on exactly what base meant what — other than home plate of course which she'd definitely never been to. And Nick had been to a hundred and eighty-seven times — no wait, it was a hundred and eighty-seven people, not times, he'd probably been to home base thousands of times before. Thousands!
"Jen." Nick interrupted her mental calculations.
"Um..." Jennifer started to say something, but her mind hadn't quite caught up to what she wanted to say.
"It's okay. I get it," he said, as if in answer to her slack jaw. "Look, I'm okay. I've been checked out at least a dozen times. I'm safe. No diseases. No..." he fumbled. "Other things to worry about. It's all good, or okay..."
No other things to worry about? What did that mean? Was that a reference to pregnancy, to children? She'd never even considered that he could have children. It seemed like something he would have told her, but then again, maybe not. Should she ask him? She cleared her throat and managed to squeak out a "Kay."
"I just... never cared about a woman enough to not have sex with her, Jen. But I care about you. I'm not that guy anymore and I don't want to be that guy ever again. I haven't been with anyone in... a couple of years," he figured. "But I really want to be with you, Jen, and I don't want to make the same mistakes I made before. I don't want us to be about sex. I want more than that, and you deserve more than that."
She needed a minute to think. Considering the shock associated with his confession of numbers she thought it best to reassess the situation. She stood and picked up her sandals turning to look at him as she tossed them into the closet. She couldn't imagine why she had ever needed to rethink anything at all. It didn't matter. Why did he have that effect on her?
"I'm going to go," he stood. "I'll see you." It was almost a question.
"Stay with me," she said. "Sleep—," she faltered momentarily "—next to me."
"Jen."
She crossed the room to him, and took his hand in hers. "Our relationship will never be based on sex," she waited. "If you agree—
His mouth was on hers before she could even finish saying agree. He kissed her long, and hard, and with all the passion of a committed lover. It was only when the lights above them flickered again, that he stopped. "Damn," he said under his breath as he shook his head and let out a small chuckle that sounded a little bit uncomfortable and a little bit relieved.
"Can I borrow this?" she tugged on his T-shirt, as he eyed the lights. "I don't generally wear much to bed."
"Of course you don't," he grinned as he slipped his shirt off and handed it to her.
She admired his physique. Lean and strong but not bulky or 'ripped' which Jennifer had always thought looked kind of unnatural and icky. He had a tattoo of a star on the left side of his chest, just over his heart. It took all the restraint she had not to reach out and touch it, to trace it with her fingers, to kiss it, to taste it.
She took a deep breath and let it out with a long sigh as she forced herself to step away from the temptations of Nicholas Grace. She switched off the light and went to the other side of the bed to undress. There was still plenty of light streaming in through the window to see by, and she couldn't help but watch him undress out of the corner of her eye. She wondered if he was doing the same, and tried to be graceful about it just in case. Once down to bra and panties, she slipped his T-shirt over her head — revealing in the seductive smell it held of him — before she unhooked her bra and slipped it off.
"Do all women know how to do that?"
"Of course," she teased. "It's a required technique in order to graduate from a training bra." She pulled the covers back on the bed and climbed between the sheets.
Nick hesitated. He was so ridiculously handsome, standing in the dark in his boxer briefs with his hands on his hips. She extended her hand across the bed to him. He grasped a hold of it and with a gentle tug from her he climbed into bed.
"Good night," she said, lowering her head onto her pillow.
"Good night," he said, settling in across from her.
He smiled at her. She smiled back and closed her eyes.
"Is it really that easy?" he whispered.
"Not easy," she kept her eyes shut tight, not daring to risk the temptation of his gorgeous outline in the dim light. She sighed as fluttering butterflies alighted about her. "But it is possible."
He took a hold of her hand. "Thank you," he whispered.
Chapter 16
Pride and Prejudice
A less-than-gentle rapping at her door woke her.
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She was in his arms. Her hand was resting directly over his star tattoo. She ran her fingers across it before lifting her head to look at him. He had just woken as well.
"Jennifer," Jamie opened the door. "Figures," she remarked, as soon as she saw them. "You're going to be late," she said, and then shut the door again.
Jennifer retrieved her phone from the side table. "It's 9:30," she gasped.
"I can't believe I slept that late," he said.
"I never sleep in," they said in unison
"You're incredible, you know that, right?" Nick said, his hair sticking up in odd, protrusions. Somehow this made him look even sexier.
"Not if I'm late." She tossed the covers from her and leapt from the bed, she slipped into a pair of jeans, grabbed her bra and a shirt, and then hurried off to the bathroom for her brush.
Jamie and Erin had just left.
She had her toothbrush in her mouth and was just pulling her hair up in a clip when Nick appeared at the bathroom door, in his jeans.
"It's fine. I'm fine," she answered his pained expression, which she knew was in reference to her head.
"I don't think you should work today," he said.
"Don't be silly," she reassured. "It was just a little bump."
"It wasn't a little bump," he countered. "I remember; I was there."
She rinsed her mouth, wiped her lips and kissed his worried expression. "It's okay, I promise. I'm all better."
Nick reluctantly dropped her at Sammie's at ten minutes to ten.
"Thanks," she leaned across the car and kissed him. She had only meant it to be a quick kiss, but she couldn't do it. It was useless to resist his kiss, his lips, his passion — and why would she want to? His hand was on the back of her head. She moaned.
"Jen," he said, sounding wounded as he pulled away.
"That was not a sound of pain," she assured.
"I'll see you later?" he eyed her.
"You know where I'll be." She smiled at him and got out of the car — while she could still bring herself to do it. She turned and gave him a wave as she passed through the front door.
"Sorry I'm late," she said to a suddenly hushed kitchen. It was obvious that they had just been talking about her. She was surprised to see Ashley there; she was supposed to have the day off.
Her suspicions about their suspected conversation were confirmed when Brett said, "You. Office. Now." Brett's office was really more like a closet lined with filing cabinets on one side and a desk on the other, with about a three-foot by six-foot space in between. "Shut the door," he eyed her, from his chair.
Good thing the door swung out. She reached the handle and pulled the door shut behind her. She caught Ashley's look of concern just before the door closed. Brett glared at her with his arms folded across his chest. She was pretty sure he was trying to look intimidating, but she wasn't buying it, she knew him too well for that.
"It's nice in here," she said. "Cozy. Claustrophobic even, and yet, understated."
He raised a brow. "How's your head?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"Nick called yesterday." Brett explained.
"Of course he did," she leaned her back against the door. "What is with you two?" she asked. "Seriously."
"What?" Brett countered. "Nick knows I'd kick his ass if anything bad happened to you while you were with him."
"You think you could take him?" she teased.
"Ummm..." Brett contemplated. "Is it a battle of strength or skill?"
She shook her head. "Can I go to work now?"
"Maybe," he leaned forward on his chair. "I wanted to ask you something... Is it me?"
"Is what you?"
"Ashley," he whispered. "Is it me? Because... if it is — or if it isn't — you've got to tell me."
"Do I?" She took a step forward and sat down on his desk. "Why?"
"Because," he whined.
"You don't even like Ashley," she shrugged. "Why do you care?"
"I like Ashley. Who said I didn't like her? Does she think I don't like her?"
"Brett."
"Okay. Sometimes I say some things that are... not very nice, but I don't mean it. Ash knows I'm just joking. She does, doesn't she?"
"Have you ever told her how you really feel?" Jennifer asked. "Like you did with me?"
Brett fell back into his seat, deflated. "She's out of my league, Jennifer."
"What? Say's who?"
"It was before your time." He waved a hand at her. "You should have seen some of the guys — and girls — she went out with. I mean, who the hell am I? I'm no one. I'm just some guy who runs a sandwich shop."
"Is that what you tell yourself?" she asked. "Because it's bull you know. You are so much more than 'some guy who runs a sandwich shop.' You're one of the good guys, Brett."
"You sound like Nick," Brett said.
"Nick was right," Jennifer smiled. "Brett, I was brand new in town and really needed a job, and a place to stay and without knowing anything about me, you gave me a job, and then you lied to help me get a place to live — without even a second thought."
"That was mostly Ashley's doing," he said. "She's got this way of knowing what to do, I just listened."
"Yeah. You guys make a really great team."
"You think so?" Brett looked up at her.
"Besides, what have you got to lose?"
"Other than Ashley?" he scowled.
"At least you'll know."
"Go to work."
She swung the office door open; Brett stood and followed, "Ashley!" He bellowed loud enough to make Jennifer, Ashley and a couple of others jump.
"Thanks for that," Jennifer said.
"Sure thing," Brett nodded, oblivious.
Ashley looked nervous. "It wasn't me." Jennifer mouthed to her as they passed.
"Could you shut the door please?" she heard Brett say, in his most stern manager voice.
It didn't take Jennifer very long to realize that Jamie was giving her the cold shoulder; she'd seen it practically every day with Ashley.
"What's Jamie's problem?" she asked Erin.
"Just ignore her," Erin said. "But if you plan on making last night a habit, you may want to consider staying at his place."
"But Ryan stays over all the time, and Emily had Grant over," Jennifer defended.
"Yeah, but she liked them," Erin said in hushed tones.
"She barely even knows Nick."
Erin shrugged. "I don't think it matters."
"Is that why you've never gone after Marcus?" Jennifer tried not to let her distaste of Marcus show as she asked.
"He is kind of a prick," Erin said with a half shrug.
It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. Then again, she wasn't Erin and she wasn't going to let Jamie's opinion decide who she went out with or what she did.
Jennifer had been hoping to talk to Ashley before she left. But she knew how important days off could be so she wasn't too surprised to discover that Ashley had left just after she talked to Brett.
Jennifer was only able to corner Brett during her lunch break. "So how'd it go?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Brett replied coyly.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, either." She winked and nodded then gave him a little nudge with her elbow just for added emphasis.
"We're going out tonight," Brett nodded, trying to sound nonchalant.
"That's awesome," she casually nodded back.
Brett cracked a huge smile. "Yeah it is."
The walk home was quiet with Jamie ignoring her and Erin not wanting to get in the middle of things. Jennifer had been witness to Jamie's silent treatment of Ashley at work — she was very dedicated. It had often made for a less than ideal work situation but having to be subject to it was worse than simply witnessing it day after day.
"Jamie, I think we need to talk," Jennifer said as they entered the apartment.
Erin immediately made herself scarce.
"What would we
need to talk about?" Jamie asked.
"My relationship with Nick?"
"Like you'd even listen."
"I'm listening."
"That's a laugh. If you'd listened to me in the first place, you'd never have hooked up with that guy. He's just using you Jennifer and it's just sad that you're too naïve to see it."
"Jamie..."
Jamie turned and stormed off to her bedroom, locking the door behind her.
Jennifer went to her own room, with its blank walls and Emily's old flowered bedspread. The only part of the room that felt like her was the rose quartz heart sitting on the table next to the bed. Next to it was her cell phone. In her morning rush she'd forgotten it.
It beeped at her.
It had never made that sound before. She picked it up. She had missed three calls and had three new messages. They were all from Nick.
First message: "Hey, it's Nick, I just wanted to tell you that I had the most amazing time with you last night. Call me."
Second message: "Hey, it's Nick. I was thinking about you, and I wanted to say hi... and ask you to dinner. I was thinking something low key, my place. I'll cook for you. I'm not a great cook, but I'm pretty good. Maybe tonight? Or tomorrow or... whenever you want. Call me."
Third message: "Hey, it's Nick. I'm so sorry, but I'm going to have to postpone dinner. I have to go out of town. It's kind of sudden, kind of unexpected... my plane leaves in about an hour. I'll call you when I can — if I can — or I'll call you as soon as I get back. Hopefully I'll be back by Tuesday or Wednesday... Thursday or Friday by the latest, maybe earlier, it just sort of depends on what happens when I get there... Normally my life isn't this crazy, I promise. Well, maybe it is, I don't know... I'll be thinking of you."
She listened to the messages again, just to hear his voice — his sexy, seductive voice. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday felt so far away.
Any hopes that Jennifer had had that Jamie would find her reason and be, well... reasonable, were quickly dashed the next morning when Jennifer returned from her run.
The Aeon Star Page 13
