“You shouldn’t,” Fran protested. “It’s too expensive.”
“Nothing,” Jack said, as he handed her into the carriage, “is too good for my girl.”
They sat in silence for much of the ride, Fran with her head on Jack’s shoulder, his one arm around her, the other resting across his lap holding her hand.
The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves lulled Fran into another place and time. Riding with Jack in a carriage seemed normal, as if they had done it many times before. And perhaps, they had after all.
“I’m glad you came to New York.” Jack spoke softly into her hair. “I’m thankful to have this time with you to myself and not have to share it with anyone. I don’t think I will have another chance after this weekend to hold you in my arms like this for quite some time.”
“Shh.” Fran placed two fingers to his lips, which he promptly kissed. “I don’t want to think about that right now. I don’t want to spoil the magic. I feel as though I’m in a fairy tale only the roles are reversed. The handsome prince kissed a frog and turned it into a beautiful princess who needs to pinch herself to make sure it’s all real.”
“Ah, Frannie, it’s real.” Jack’s voice was warm with emotion, “Very real. But, you were never a frog, always a princess—my princess.”
Tears misted her eyes. “Jack,” she whispered, just before kissing his warm and seductive lips.
They rode quietly listening to the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Finally, Fran shifted in her seat so she could study Jack. “I’ve been thinking about what you said to me that night on the phone.”
“Oh, you have?” He sounded a little disconcerted and he glanced off into the black night.”
“Yes. I can’t say I fully understand how you felt when your mom left, but I do know what it’s like to lose a parent, and it leaves a hollow spot where there should be none.”
“Aye it does.” He brought his gaze back to hers. “But when they leave of their own volition, I think maybe it’s harder to heal. I never could understand why?”
She squeezed his hand. “And you probably never will.” She chose her words carefully. “Some people focus more on their own hurt, and not on the pain they inflict on others by their actions. It doesn’t mean she didn’t love you.”
Jack’s mouth turned up at the side. “I think what you’re trying to say in a nice sort of way is that she was selfish.”
“I wouldn’t presume to say that. I try not to make judgment statements. What I really wanted to say is that you needn’t ever worry that I won’t be here for you while you’re away or when you get back. I’m steadfast. Once I commit my heart fully, there’s no turning back. I’m like my mother that way.”
“You say that now, but war can leave some ugly scars both internally and externally. You might find yourself singing a different tune should something happen to me.”
“I won’t,” she said adamantly, a little hurt he’d think such a thing of her. “I hope you know me better than that.”
He pulled her close. “I think you’re one in a million,” he murmured in her ear, “and I thank God every day for you.” Then his lips found hers silencing any further comment until the carriage returned them to their starting point.
They caught a cab back to the hotel to save time as Jack needed a few hours of sleep before muster.
“You’re awfully quiet, my girl,” Jack said as he unlocked the door to their suite. “Exhausted?”
Feeling suddenly shy, Fran tucked her head against her shoulder and went ahead of him. She shrugged out of her coat as she entered the room. “I’m beat.”
“Too tired to sit up and talk? I know it’s late, but it’s my first evening with you and I’m loathe to give up a minute of your company.”
She covered her mouth and yawned. “I’m sorry, I’m exhausted. It’s been a busy day.” She yawned again.
“Why don’t you go and get in your pajamas, then I’ll come and tuck you in. How does that sound?”
“Thanks for understanding, Jack. I can hardly hold myself up.”
Fran rifled through her suitcase for her nightgown. She lifted the new rose flannel one she brought with her and wished again she had something more delicate, not that she expected anyone but herself to see it. Something silky would have been nice though, but silk was hard to come by and expensive—not that the flannel gown was by any means cheap with its intricate lace-edged collar and cuffs. After slipping into her robe, she brushed her teeth.
Jacketless, Jack turned when she opened the bedroom door and stood there. His eyes raked her from head to toe, and she wished even more for that silk gown. God, he took her breath away. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach. “I wanted to say good night.”
Jack moved forward, his dog tags clanking against his white tee shirt. His eyes seared her. He slid his arms around her, drew her tightly against him and groaned. “Man. What you do to me.” He nuzzled the side of her neck.
Fran stiffened at the feel of his hardened body pressed against her. She wanted him too, but she didn’t think she could face herself in the morning or her mother when she returned home. She’d been raised better. Although she loved Jack, they’d not spent much time together. What if she gave herself to him, then he went off to war and changed his mind, or God forbid didn’t make it back?
Jack released her and ran his hand through his short hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want to do.”
Fran wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her hands nervously up and down her sleeves. “It’s not that I don’t feel the same. It’s just we’ve spent so little time together. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I . . .” She swallowed. “Um, I don’t think I’m ready to take such a big step.” She hung her head, embarrassed.
“Frannie.” Jack took her hands in his. “Look at me. It’s fine. I know you aren’t the type of girl to give yourself to a guy without marriage. If there were time, I’d marry you. I didn’t expect anything from you this weekend, except to get to know you better. I don’t want you to do something you will be ashamed of or feel guilty about later. We’ll have plenty of time for that when I come back for good.”
“Oh, Jack.” She hugged him to her. “Thank you so much for understanding.”
“Now, how about I tuck my favorite girl in so she’ll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning?”
Jack tucked the covers up around her and brushed back a loose strand of her hair from her face before kissing the tip of her nose. “Good night, love.” He reached over and snapped off the light.
She closed her eyes and murmured, “Good night, Jack. I love you.”
“Love you too, Frannie Girl.” The door snapped shut behind him.
Fran could hear Jack moving around in the next room. She wondered if she’d made the right decision. Would it be terribly wrong to sleep with Jack if they were careful? Who would know? She would, a quiet little voice inside her spoke up. Sometimes she hated the sound of her conscience. To silence it, she turned over and punched her pillow. Finally, she flipped back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. What did she want? Jack’s knock on her door interrupted her answer to the vexing question. She reached for her robe.
“Fran,” Jack called softly, tapping again. “Are you still awake?”
Her hand froze on the collar of her robe. She was afraid to ask what he wanted—afraid how she might answer. If she said nothing, he’d assume she was a sleep and go to bed. But was that really what she wanted? She trembled.
“Fran.” He rapped again. “May I come in for just a minute? I need to ask you something.”
“Wha-at do you want?”
“Can I just come in? It’ll only take a sec.”
She cracked the door ajar. “What?”
Jack gave her a sardonic grin. “I’m not planning to attack you if that’s what you’re worried about. If you don’t want me to come in, how about you come out and sit down so we can talk for a minute.”
She clutched her robe closed before opening the door. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Us.”
“Oh.” Fran felt as if the wind were let out of her sails.
“Nothing bad.” He correctly read her expression. “Sit down for a minute.”
“Jack. It’s really late.”
“I know, I know.” He paced back and forth. “But please, will you just sit and let me say what I have to say.”
“All right.” She slid down into the nearest chair.
“First . . .” He slid his hands into his pants pockets and resumed pacing. “You know I love you, right.”
She nodded.
“Good. And you love me, right?”
“Uh-huh.” She kept her eyes focused on his face trying to figure out where he was going.”
His eyes swept over her, pleading. “Would it really be so bad if we slept together tonight?”
Fran opened her mouth to speak.
“Wait.” Jack held up his hand. “Let me finish before you say anything. I mean sleep with you in the literal sense, not sexually. I just want to hold you through the night. That’s all. I promise. I want to fall asleep just once with you in my arms. I want to wake up in the morning with your head on my chest. I want memories to take with me when I’m far from home with nothing but the ugliness of war surrounding me.” He squatted down before her and took her hands in his, his eyes dark and serious. “Please.”
Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. To sleep all night in Jack’s arms. To see his face on the pillow next to hers in the morning. She wanted that too. Could she trust him? Could she trust herself to go no further? Was it worth the risk? Yes.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Jack snatched her into his arms and hugged her. Then he moved back to study her face. “You mean it?”
Shyly she drew back then dashed for her room. “The last one in bed’s a monkey’s uncle and has to turn out all the lights.”
Chapter 17
Fran stretched, turned over, and hugged her pillow. Gosh, her bed felt good this morning. Then it hit her. Oh. My. God. Had she really agreed to stay in a hotel with Jack, let alone sleep in the same bed. She recalled falling asleep with her head on Jack’s chest and trembling with the repressed desire to let her hands roam. It had been obvious how Jack felt. It’s surprising they fell asleep as quickly as they did.
It must have been yesterday’s exhaustion hitting her, or she wouldn’t have agreed to such an arrangement. After last night, she didn’t think it wise to tempt fate again. Today she would tell him she changed her mind and would prefer to stay with his friend’s wife. If she didn’t, she’d never be able to face her mother. Her mother was understanding to a point but held some pretty old-fashion views on appropriate pre-marital behavior. Fran never lied to her. She didn’t want to start now.
Getting up, she slid into her housecoat and eased the bedroom door open. Was Jack back from the ship yet? Her breath caught. Jack lay stretched out on the sofa, his stocking feet hanging off its end as he dozed. He’d taken of his coat and shirt and slept in only his white tee shirt and pants. He looked uncomfortable, but deliciously handsome. She bit back a groan.
Quietly closing the door, she moved to the bathroom to wash and dress. As soon as he woke, she’d be ready to go. She slipped into a pair of black woolen pants and the turquoise sweater she wore when they met. It made her eyes appear a deeper blue. Once she applied her makeup, she opened the door to find Jack dressed and beaming at her.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You didn’t.” He hugged her. “Not really, I’m a light sleeper. I didn’t want to wake you when I returned from the ship, so I crashed on the sofa. Must have dozed back off. Besides, I don’t want to sleep away what little time I have with you. I can catch up on my rest later.”
“Jack. I think maybe we need to talk about our staying here.”
“What’s to talk about? It all worked out okay, didn’t it? I loved waking up with you in my arms.” As if to demonstrate the point, he pulled her back there. “I behaved myself, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point.”
Jack stepped back and touched his index finger to her lips. “Please Frannie, don’t . . .”
With his tender blue eyes searching hers, Fran’s heart melted and puddled at her feet.
What the hell. Who would know if she didn’t tell anyone? She would. The voice of reason that kept her from many a misstep spoke up loud and clear. A voice she almost always heeded, but not today, for once she’d do what she truly wanted. “Okay, but if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll, I’ll . . .”
Jack picked her up and swung her around. “You’ll what, Frannie Girl?”
“I’ll kill you, that’s what.”
“You and who else? An itty-bitty thing like you couldn’t hurt a flea.” He laughed and held her close, nuzzling her hair. “Did I ever tell you, your hair smells great?”
“Hm,” she said, just before kicking him in the shin.
“Ouch.” He dropped her feet to the floor. “What the hell was that for?”
“Need you ask?”
“Touche.” He gave her a mock salute, his appreciative eye traveled from her toes to the top of her upswept hair. “You ready to take the city by storm?”
She stretched out her hand. “Ready, willing, and able. Where to?”
“Anywhere.”
“Anywhere?”
“Anywhere your little ole heart desires. I don’t care where as long as I’m with you.”
Fran tucked her head into his shoulder and nodded shyly. “Then let’s head for anywhere and everywhere.”
Jack swung his arm around her and ushered her to the door.
She and Jack strolled along Fifth Avenue and wandered into the shops. When they came to Macy’s, Jack insisted they enter.
Once inside the warm interior of the store, they wandered over to the perfume counter. Jack picked up a sample bottle and took a whiff before reaching for her arm and spraying her wrist. He lifted her hand and grinned at her, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Hmm, smells good enough to eat.”
Fran lifted her wrist up. “Ewh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Too strong. Smells like something a lady of the night would wear.”
“Can’t have that. Nope, definitely not. Here . . .” He grabbed a tall thin bottle. “Let’s try this.” He tugged on her other hand, bared her wrist, and sprayed it with the new scent. “Hmm. Has possibilities. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. If you let go of my hand long enough for me to smell it, I might be able to tell.”
His mouth quirked with humor, as if pondering the choice. “Okay, but only for a moment. I’ve become rather attached to it.”
Fran found it impossible not to feel uplifted by Jack’s foolishness. She took a whiff of the perfume. “Better. Not as strong as the first one.”
Jack moved on down the counter, lifting one bottle after another, smelling them. “This is it,” he declared, holding up a rectangular bottle with an ornate glass top, shaped like a tiered pyramid. “Sweet, but not cloying. Just like my Frannie Girl.”
Fran moved to his side and reached for another bottle then sprayed some on her wrist. “How about this one?” She held out her hand for him to smell.
Jack’s face tightened as his jaw muscles clenched. He shook his head, took the bottle from her hand, and set it back on the counter. “No. Not that one.”
“But I like this one.” She pointed at it.<
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“Not that one,” he said tersely as he moved down the counter to another bottle.
“Why, Jack?” She followed him and placed her hand on his arm turning him to face her. “Talk to me.”
He glanced away, then shrugged and sighed. “My mother wore it the day she left. She hugged me before she strolled out the door as if she were leaving to run an errand and would be right back. I’ve never forgotten the smell.”
“Oh,” was all Fran could think to say. Then she put her arms around him and tried to hug the pain away. “The truth be told, I really didn’t like it all that well, anyway.”
He made a choked sound and lifted his head from where it rested on hers. “All right then, onward we march. We still haven’t found your scent. How about this one?” He lifted a bottle with a chunky pyramid-shaped top labeled Bamboo in red letters. He held it out of her reach. “I need to take a whiff first, up close and personal.” He raised his brows in an evil manner. “Step closer to my web, said the spider to the fly.” He twitched his index finger at her.
Shaking her head, she fought back a grin. “Now why would I be foolish enough to do that?”
“Because . . .” He slipped his hand under her loose hair and pushed it back off her shoulder before spraying her neck with the perfume. “The better to smell you with, my dear.” He twitched his eyebrows again, then slid an arm around her waist. “Mm.” His nose and lips pressed against the curve of her neck. “Definitely just right.”
Fran began to tremble—a feeling that was becoming common in Jack’s presence. She should push him away, but oh he felt wonderful. She clung to him as he nuzzled her neck until she glanced over his broad shoulder and realized the clerk behind the counter was grinning at them.
She winked at Fran.
Acutely embarrassed, Fran pushed at Jack’s chest. “Jack, people are staring.”
Cherished Wings Page 12
