What if an intruder had come in and hurt her?
He tunneled his fingers through his hair. She was probably asleep.
And yet he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew for sure that she was safe and sound.
The damn woman had turned him into a nosy Peeping Tom.
And yet what choice did he have but to take a look?
“She isn’t your concern,” his sensible self said. Deciding to listen to his sensible self, he shrugged and started off for his room again.
“She’s your wife—your responsibility,” his other self said into his ear.
He stopped and looked back at her door, hoping she would peek her head out and say goodnight. Her car was in the driveway, which told him she had to be home. He should have been able to hear her breathing, though…something.
A noise at the front door caught his attention. He looked over the railing to the foyer. There she was—sneaking in after a late night—as if she were a damnable teenager. He watched her shut the front door, oh, so quietly. She locked the door and then tiptoed up the stairs.
“What are you doing?” he asked her.
Her head snapped up, eyes wide and guilty as hell. He figured it was a good thing she wasn’t carrying a bag or a crystal vase because she would have thrown it and they would have spent the next hour cleaning up the mess.
She was wearing her thick-rimmed glasses again. He hadn’t seen her wear glasses since their meeting in the coffee shop. She pulled her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
By the time she reached the landing, her surprise had turned to annoyance. “What do you mean, what am I doing? How about ‘hello, how are you?’ or ‘How was your day?’”
He went to stand before the door to her bedroom. “I didn’t think of that,” he said, noting how exhausted she looked, as if she’d worked all day and then ran a marathon after that. “Why are you home so late?”
She eyed him skeptically. “Do I have a curfew?”
“Of course not. It’s past midnight, though, and I happen to think that’s a little late for my wife to be traipsing in the front door.”
He wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the comment—her or him.
“I’m not your wife, remember?”
“Technically you are. People I know might see you frequenting those bars you’re so fond of. I don’t like it.”
She screwed her face up. “Frequenting bars? Oh, I see.” She slid past him, pushing her door wide as she swept into her bedroom to deposit her purse and a few other items onto the bed. Flipping on the lights, she turned back to him. “You think because we met in a bar that that’s where I spend my free time?”
“Well, isn’t it?”
She was about to answer, but began to laugh instead.
“Is everything I say somehow amusing to you?”
“Yes,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I’ve never been married before, but somehow you’re making me feel very married right now.”
“Ridiculous.” But he knew she was right. He felt a sudden urge to gather her into his arms, take her to his bedroom, and make her his wife in more ways than one. First, he would pull the pins from her hair and then he would run his fingers through silky strands as he asked her about her day. After a while, he would nuzzle her soft neck—
“I’m tired, Jackson. But if you really want to know why I’m so late, it’s because my car wouldn’t start this morning so Jen gave me a ride. An hour after I got to work, Erin called to tell me that Adam had been in an accident. You remember Adam, don’t you? The fourteen-year-old boy who I took fishing? The young boy who showed up at the wedding?”
“How could I forget? What happened?”
“He was hit by a car while crossing the street.”
“Is he all right?”
“The doctor said he’ll be fine, but he’s lucky to be alive.” She managed a tight smile. “Adam doesn’t like being fussed over. It seems he’s better at dodging sympathy then oncoming traffic. They’re keeping him overnight for observation.”
Her concern was palpable. A tremendous urge to comfort her swept over him.
“That’s not all,” she went on. “When I got back to work, I had a pink slip waiting for me.” She gestured a hand toward the pile of newspapers on the bed behind her. “I spent the rest of the day looking for another job. I have two interviews first thing in the morning, which means I really should get some sleep.”
His first impulse was to tell her she didn’t need to work. She could take some time off, relax. But he knew that would be leading her on again, so he kept quiet. “How long have you been at your job?”
“Five years,” she said as she put away her belongings. “My being late today was the last straw. It was for the best. I’ll find a better job.”
“Sorry you had a rough day. Anything I can do?”
“No.” She started to shut the door.
“Oh, Jackson?” she called. “I almost forgot.”
Holding his briefcase, he turned back to face her.
“My cousin, Heather, called this morning.”
He nodded, all senses alert.
“Heather and her friend, Barbara, are interested in getting to know you better. Under the circumstances, I couldn’t argue with them. I tried to get out of it, but they insisted on the four of us having dinner together. Would Friday night be okay?”
He took a little longer to answer then he’d meant to. “That’s fine. Just let me know what time.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure.” He waited for her to shut the door, already irritated with himself for playing the overly worried and jealous husband when she’d first come home. She was a grown woman. She could take care of herself.
He heard her shuffling around in her room. If she’d been his real wife, he would have told her she didn’t have to rush into finding another job. Maybe he’d tell her how she made him feel every time he held her in his arms—how he thought about her all day long. Or maybe he wouldn’t tell her anything. Maybe he’d show her instead.
Chapter Ten
“I can’t believe he fired you.” Jen said with disgust.
Madison settled into an upholstered easy chair and tried to relax. Jackson had told her to make herself at home, but she still felt uncomfortable. “My boss is a rat,” she told Jen. “When I heard about Adam’s accident, I didn’t think twice about waiting for Mr. Waggoner to return to the office so I could talk to him about what happened. I had no idea how bad Adam’s injuries were until I arrived at the hospital.”
“How’s he doing?”
“He’s one tough kid. A broken arm and fifteen stitches and the kid acts as if he skinned a knee.” It disturbed her to think about how much worse it could’ve been. If Erin hadn’t seen the car coming, hadn’t screamed out, Adam might have been hit square on.
“It really scared me seeing him in the hospital room—all black and blue. I called the hospital a little while ago. He’s home now. He’s going to be fine.”
Jen picked up her feet and rested them on the ottoman while Madison sifted through the want ads.
Jen snapped her fingers. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you forget about finding another job and take the next few months off while you’re living here? When you get your share of the inheritance you can pay off any debt you’ve accrued.”
“I have a mortgage to pay,” Madison reminded her. “And a Helmut Lang suit to pay off, thanks to you.”
“That suit would’ve lasted you another ten years if you hadn’t gotten everything from grass to grease stains on it.”
Madison set aside the newspaper and gazed out one of the many windows in Jackson’s living room. She watched a Blue Jay spread its wings in an ornamental basin outside. “This is my third day of unemployment,” she told Jen. “I’m getting antsy. I need a job.”
“This is what I call the good life,” Jen said. “I’ll have to take more vacation days while you’re living here.”
“Earth to Madison,” Jen said
after a few moments of silence. “You really have it bad for Jackson, don’t you?”
Madison scoffed at the notion. “We hardly speak to one another.”
“From what you’ve told me, I think he has the hots for you.”
“I’m just another responsibility to him.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said about his not wanting to care for anyone else. I think I know what’s eating at him.”
“What?”
“You. He cares about you, Madison. You’re as beautiful inside as you are outside, but for some reason you just don’t see it. Jackson cares about you and it’s driving him nuts.”
Madison made a hissing noise.
“I’m not a psychologist, but it seems to me he pretends he’s annoyed by you because that helps to keep distance between the two of you. If he didn’t like you, though, he wouldn’t have kissed you—bottom line.”
“You just won’t give up, will you?”
“No, really,” Jen explained. “It’s that fine-line thing going on between love and hate. Admiration and contempt. Affection and—”
“Stop it,” Madison said with a wave of her hand, “you’re way off base here.”
“I don’t think so,” Jen said. “And that probably has you just as frightened as poor ol’ Jackson, because that means the ball is in your court.”
Madison didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Earth to Jen,” she said. “Once again you’ve completely lost me.”
“You need to show Jackson that caring about someone doesn’t always have to be a burden. Get him to open up.”
Madison shook her head. “I tried that when I told him we should be able to talk and be friends. That’s when he asked me to keep my distance.”
“That’s because you went about it all wrong. You need to get him into bed first. Then he’ll talk.”
“Been there, done that. Besides, sex isn’t everything it’s made out to be.”
Jen stood, picked up her empty glass and headed for the kitchen. “You just haven’t been with the right man. I told you Steve would be—”
“Let’s not drag Steve into this,” Madison interrupted.
Jen stood and went to the kitchen, leaving Madison with her thoughts. Jen didn’t understand. Madison’s relationship with men was too complicated to lay out nice and tidy like neatly folded laundry. She had tried to be a part of her father’s life. But nothing had worked. At the AA meetings she’d attended with her father before he moved away, she’d learned that she was a co-dependent. She’d thought she was helping him, but it turned out she’d only been making things worse.
By the time Steve had come into her life, she’d been so overjoyed to find a man who didn’t need booze or money to make him happy, she’d put him on a pedestal. Keeping Steve happy had turned out to be an addiction. She learned to cook gourmet meals for him, took up scuba diving for him, memorized the stats of every baseball player for him. She baked, cleaned, did everything she could think of to please him. And then he left her. But not before telling her she had smothered him, and he couldn’t take it anymore.
She expelled a deep breath. There was no way she could help Jackson Lang. But she’d bet her soul that she could ruin him.
“What about the kiss?” Jen asked as she moseyed back into the living room.
“I told you…it was a pity kiss.”
“It’s your life,” Jen said. “Just remember, though. In less than three months, you’ll be walking out of this house for good. No more Jackson. I hate to see you leave without trying everything to give yourself a chance at happiness. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life regretting what could have been?” Jen spoke in a dramatic, dreamy voice. “Can you honestly leave here knowing you might have been the one person who could have helped Jackson overcome his paranoia when it comes to caring for people? Caring for someone doesn’t always mean giving and doing—sometimes caring just means being happy and content. Maybe he needs you almost as much as those kids do.”
“He’s got everything, Jen. A house, money, friends, a brother who loves him. He certainly doesn’t need me.”
“If you say so.”
Through the window Madison watched the Blue Jay chase away the smaller birds. How could she help someone who didn’t need help, didn’t want help? And even if he did—what could she do for him? Drive him to drink? Smother him as she had smothered Steve?
Jen’s questions stirred up something in the deep, stagnant caves of her subconscious. Hope. There it was again…that God-awful word that always sent shivers up her spine. Maybe, just maybe, she and Jackson could help each other. “So, what do you suggest I do?”
“Seduce him.”
“I tried that. I’m not ready to give him another reason to turn me down.”
“Before you climb into his bed, we need to take you shopping.”
“You’re not listening,” Madison told her disillusioned friend. The possibility of Jackson caring about her might be intriguing, but she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to put herself out on a limb, so to speak.
“Just be yourself,” Jen told her. “Every time Jackson’s around you become rigid, nervous. You need to loosen up.”
“I can’t help it,” Madison said. “He’d downright intimidating at times. He’s either annoyed with me or kissing me.”
“Look into his eyes when he says hello. Don’t look at the floor. Let your hair down. Relax.”
“And wear a little more makeup,” Pam chimed in, sweeping into the room as if she’d been in on the conversation all along. Pam was the cook when Chris couldn’t make it. She, too, had an open-door policy with Jackson, coming and going as she pleased.
Madison sighed. Just what she needed—more advice for the relationship impaired. Between Jen and Pam, she didn’t stand a chance.
“I’m so glad you two are here,” Pam said. “I came early so I could take a swim. It’s hot outside. Why don’t you two join me? I don’t have a pool so I keep extra bathing suits here for days like this. We’ll have a girl party. We can paint our nails and give the new bride some advice,” she told Jen.
It was noon by the time Madison, Jen, and Pam had their iced tea and enough polish to do the nails of every woman in Los Angeles. Pam was a manicurist and she kept enough nail paraphernalia in the trunk of her car to fill a small beauty shop.
As soon as Madison finished setting up the lawn chairs near the pool, Pam handed her and Jen their suits.
“You call this a bathing suit?” Madison asked.
“Oh, come on,” Pam said with a click of her tongue. “You’re not one of those modest chicks, are you? It’s just us girls. Nobody’s going to look.”
Jen laughed.
“You think this is funny?” Madison asked. “Let’s trade bathing suits. At least yours will cover your butt!”
“No way.” Jen hid the pink-neon one-piece bathing suit behind her back. “You’re the one who lost twenty-three pounds, not me. Besides, Pam’s right. Who’s going to see us? Jackson won’t be home for hours.”
~~~
“Throwing a party?” Jamie asked after he climbed out of Jackson’s Porsche and shut the door.
Jackson recognized the Volkswagen in the driveway as Madison’s. And the red sedan belonged to Pam, but the green Jeep had him baffled. “Not that I know of. Madison said she was going job hunting this afternoon. She’s very upset about losing her job.”
Jamie shrugged. “Maybe she came home for lunch. I still think it would be a great idea if we hired her at L & L. She’s personable and easy on the eyes. She’d be great as the assistant director of sales.”
A frown creased Jackson’s brow. “Keep interviewing.”
With a shrug, Jamie followed Jackson through the foyer and into the kitchen, colliding into his brother when Jackson stopped dead in his tracks.
Jamie looked over Jackson’s shoulder and through the large paned window over the sink. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
Jackson grimaced.
“Your wife doesn’t look upset to me.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“I must say Pam appears to be doing a fine job teaching Madison how to make the most of unemployment.” Jamie cheerfully jingled the change in his pants pocket as he enjoyed the view. “What exactly do you call those things they’re wearing? G-strings?”
Jackson didn’t say a word. He was too busy scowling and watching. Madison’s petite frame possessed more curves than the letter S. He hadn’t been able to get the image of her standing before him in pink bra and panties out of his mind since bringing her home that first evening. Today she was stretched out on her stomach, her legs bent at the knees, her head swaying in time to the music. One hand was propped under her chin. The other dangled over the lounge chair while Pam painted her nails.
Jamie headed back toward the front entrance. “I left my cell phone in the car and I’m expecting a call. I’ll be right back.” Before he made his exit, though, Jamie turned and snapped his fingers. “Thongs. That’s what they’re called.”
~~~
Madison waited a few minutes for her nails to dry before sliding off the lounge chair. “I’ll get more tea,” she said, taking the glass pitcher from the outside table.
“Let’s see you do that walk I taught you,” Pam said over the music.
Madison sashayed her hips from side to side, laughing as she walked. “I can’t do it. I feel ridiculous.”
Pam stood and walked toward her, her hips moving with seductive grace, demanding attention and making it look easy. “Come on, try it again,” Pam said.
Madison did as she asked. She took a calming breath and let her body guide her, concentrating on the sensuous feel of the sun on her body instead of thinking about her lack of coordination.
“By George, I think you’ve got it!” Jen exclaimed.
Pam clapped her hands. “Yes, I do believe she does.”
An Offer He Can't Refuse Page 12
