by Misty Evans
Why would he bring her here? To this place that made her think of what could have been?
Even that damned brass rail along the bar matched the one she’d been leaning against the first time she’d put eyes on Beck…
Memories of that night came in flashes. The crowd, the music, the jungle of packed-tight bodies and illicit behavior. Jackie inhaled and the stale air of the bar brought her to the smell of sweat, draft beer, and college students on the hunt for adventure. All part of spring break fun, Jackie had been assured. Up to that night, she hadn’t been convinced, and had continued to contemplate it as she stood at the bar with the just-turned-21 guy trying to pick her up.
“Yeah,” the guy had said. “Rough one last night. Puked my guts out all night.”
Riveting conversationalist this one. “Wow. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I drank a beer when I got up and felt better.”
Excellent. Jackie glanced left through the crush separating her from her girlfriends sitting in a booth along the wall. In the words of the great Quasimodo, sanctuary!
Jackie glanced down at her second-skin dress. No wonder this drunk wouldn’t leave her alone. In an effort to get her out of her shorts and sleeveless tees the girls had taken her shopping, deciding she needed a stretchy black number that. as Gracie put it, showed off her tits and ass. The getup was beyond foreign but when she’d put it on, somehow she didn’t mind. Being a girl who rode the fine line between thin and curvy, she might as well use her assets.
Plus, with her mother not around waxing on about how women shouldn’t flaunt their bodies, Jackie needed to take advantage of the freedom. Just once.
Which led to Gracie pushing the makeover a step farther by attacking Jackie’s normally pinned-up hair with a fat-barreled curling iron. Add in Jazz’s makeup prowess and they had a Jackie makeover that attracted horny college boys. Like the one standing in front of her proclaiming love at first sight.
“Well,” Jackie held up her barely-touched and thoroughly warm beer, “it was great talking to you, but I need to get back to my friends.”
The drunk attempted a sexy grin. “Ah, come on. You can’t leave me now.”
Yes, actually, I can.
In fact, she might head right out the door to sit by the beach until the girls were ready to go.
Someone bumped her from behind and she angled back. A big guy, with dark wavy hair and blue eyes that slayed a girl, squeezed in.
“Sorry,” he said. “Tryin’ to get a beer.”
Something snapped in her brain, sending her body on full hottie alert. She sucked in a hard breath, holding it a second and wondering if she might be drooling. Had he said something? Jackie wasn’t sure. All she knew were his eyes were devastating. Summer sky blue and twinkling enough that she stood rooted in her spot, completely polarized. The snug-but-not-too-much T-shirt that clung to long-lean muscle didn’t help. The man was...beautiful. In a totally masculine Greek God way.
“No problem,” she said. “The place is a zoo.”
“So,” the drunk at the bar said, “about your friends.”
Still dumbstruck, Jackie couldn’t turn away from the big guy. Had she seen him somewhere before?
Zeus glanced over her shoulder at Horny-Boy, then brought his electric gaze back to her, leaning in enough to talk without screaming. “He bugging you?”
And, oh, oh, oh, he might even be nice. She leaned in, got a whiff of salty air from his shirt. “He’s harmless but persistent. I’m trying to make my getaway without insulting him.”
“Gotcha.” Zeus looked over her shoulder again. “Dude,” he said to Horny-Boy. “Thanks for keeping my girl company until I got here. Appreciate it.”
Her hero. Jackie faced Horny-Boy and smiled. “Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t get a chance to tell you I was waiting for someone.”
Horny-Boy took a long gander at the big guy outweighing him by at least fifty pounds. If this didn’t get rid of him, Jackie would just leave and find a quiet spot somewhere outside to wait for her friends.
But, alas, Horny-Boy came to his drunken senses, rolled his eyes and left. So much for love at first sight.
Jackie laughed and turned back to Zeus. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
The bartender shoved some bills in a tip cup then swung back to Zeus. “What can I get you?”
“A bucket of Coronas.”
He pointed at Jackie’s beer. “You need a fresh one?”
She set the beer on the bar. “No, thanks. I barely drank this one.”
“Yeah, that stuff is crap. Let’s get her a cranberry juice. Lots of ice. It’s hot in here.”
Cranberry juice. Clearly the man wasn’t trying to get her drunk.
“I’m not a big drinker,” she said.
He turned sideways giving her the full blast of his undivided attention and something low in her belly twinged. She’d been so caught up studying for the LSATs over the past year she’d opted out of dating. And anything else related to getting cozy with the male species. Now that she’d aced the test, her mind and body liked to remind her men weren’t the enemy.
Most of the time.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Jackie. Jackie DelRay.”
Up north, she didn’t like giving out her last name. Marianna DelRay had made quite a name for herself as a prosecutor-turned DA. Some loved her, others hated her. Talk about polarizing. For that reason, Jackie tended to keep her lineage on the down-low. In Florida no one knew them. Hopefully.
“I’m Beck,” Zeus said. “Pearson. You here on spring break?”
“I am.”
“Me too. I go to Alabama.”
“I’m at UPenn Philly.”
“Major?”
“Pre-law.”
His face lit up. “No shit? I’m criminal justice.”
How about that? Two strangers with a love of the law. She sipped her cranberry juice, thankful for the icy cold that took the harsh edge off the heat. “Where do you want to end up?”
“Hoping for Quantico.”
Oh, wow. A Bureau man. “An FBI agent? That’s cool.”
“Yeah, I’d like to land in DC.”
And on and on it went. Two hours of conversation and debates ranging from Kermit the Frog to their stances on capital punishment. He for, her against. Eventually, they migrated from the bar to a corner near the door that provided a break from the loud music and swelling voices.
Jackie leaned back against the wall. Beck wedged in beside her and his chest brushed her boobs sending all sorts of naughty thoughts streaming.
“Dickhead!” someone yelled.
Ten feet from them, a guy took a swing at one of Beck’s buddies.
“Shit,” he said. “I’ll be right back. Do not move from this spot. It’s the safest place.”
Then he was gone, taking all that delicious muscle with him and diving into the middle of the fray where one of his friends had the drunk’s shirt in his hands. Beck bullied his way into the middle of it, ducked a wide right from the instigator, who stumbled and fell over.
Beck heaved the guy up by the waistband and carried him outside to safety before a bunch of Alabama football players rearranged his body parts.
Jackie followed behind, waiting as Beck spoke to the cab driver. She tipped her head back, stared up at a perfect three-quarter moon while the ocean breeze settled her mind. Peace. This is what it felt like to not think, to not worry about exams, law school, and where she’d be in five years.
This was fun.
“Thanks, man,” Beck said
She looked back down just as he slapped the cab’s roof and turned back to her. He took one step and halted. His eyes raked over her body—damned stretchy dress—and for the first time all night a wave of self-consciousness buckled her shoulders.
He slapped a hand over his chest. “Have I mentioned you’re beautiful?”
Oh, he was good. Fully understanding the man was probably a player – so what? – s
he stood a little taller. This was spring break and she intended to enjoy what was left of it. She stepped closer. “In fact, you haven’t, but thank you. I got the ‘Gracie special’ before we left the motel. My friends call this amped-up Jackie.” She glanced down, tugging on the stretchy fabric. “Usually I’m a shorts and tank-top girl.”
Beck moved toward her. She met him halfway, got close enough to feel the heat of his body and the tingles started all over again. He set one hand on her hip.
“Something tells me,” he said, meeting her eye and holding the stare. “I’d like that version too.”
He nudged his chin toward the beach. “How about a walk? I’m kinda done screaming over noise so we can talk.”
A walk. It sounded nice. Perfect in fact. But smart-Jackie, the girl who’d had it pounded into her to never—ever—go off with strange men, sent up a warning flare. “Have I mentioned,” she said, “my mother is the DA in Philly?”
“Meaning, if I hurt you she’ll come after me?”
“Exactly.”
He cocked his head, then lifted one finger, running it down the side of her cheek and his touch set off an inferno that between the cool breeze and her body’s response to his touch made her nipples go hard. Thank goodness for padded push-up bras or Beck would have quite a visual.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said. “First of all, that’s not me. Not ever. And, if I intended anything illegal, immoral, or unethical, I wouldn’t have spent the last two hours giving you the scoop on me. Second, it would do wonders for my FBI career, and third, I like you, Jackie. You’re beautiful, smart, and challenge me intellectually. I’ve never had all of that in one package. Right now, I’m a really happy guy who doesn’t want this night to end.”
That tore it. Game over. Her nipples damned near blasted through the padded bra so Jackie did the only thing she could. She slapped her hand over the back of his neck and kissed him, absolutely melted into him, feeling every curve of muscle as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tight. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip and she let out a soft groan. A cabbie honked at them and Beck pulled back, grinning down at her.
“We’re giving them a show,” she said.
“What do you say? Should we move this to the beach?”
She met his gaze, that pretty blue she’d never forget and any doubts she’d had about Beck vanished. This broad-shouldered, intelligent, gorgeous jock made her laugh and then saved a dumb stranger from an ass-whupping. Maybe, just maybe, the good-girl, the one who’d been a virgin until 19, might, for the first time, fuck a man blind during a fling…
And she had.
They’d explored each other, laughed, and shared funny stories.
That had been twelve years ago, and now they sat, older and hopefully wiser, in yet another dive bar. Only this time, Jackie’s haunting secrets came with her.
“It looks just like O’Hara’s,” she said. “Even the T-shirts.”
“I know.” Beck shoved the menu back in its holder. “I found it by accident when I first came to DC. The food’s a bonus.”
A young waitress – Lyndsey – wearing jeans, sneakers and a tight red tank top stepped up, greeted Beck like an old friend and took their drink order. Something on draft for Beck and water for Jackie. Although, a double-vodka wouldn’t hurt right now.
He focused on her, cocking his head in that way of his that meant his thoughts were spinning. “We should talk about it. The thing that’s bugging you.”
No, they shouldn’t. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb. I know, Jackie.”
Dear God. How could he? She hadn’t told anyone. No. One. “Bugging me?”
“Yeah. Donlin.”
A whoosh of air shot up her throat, but she held it, fighting the relief. She eased against the unforgiving backrest and felt the press of wood against her spine. “We should clear the air on that. You have no idea how much I wanted to sign off on the arrest warrant. You worked hard on that case. I knew it. There just wasn’t enough physical evidence. And if we’d gone to trial and he’d gotten a not guilty, we’d have been screwed. No going back. Back then, from the prosecutor’s table, I couldn’t risk it.”
“What about from the defense side?”
“The defense wants that case. It’s winnable. It keeps a man out of prison.”
“What about my case? Winnable?”
“Absolutely. Selfishly, I wouldn’t mind going to trial here. We’d tear the prosecution apart. I don’t think we’ll get there though. We’ll find who did this and the charges against you will be dropped.”
“You seem pretty sure of that.”
“I am.” Beck may have been a lot of things – stubborn, insistent, sexy – but he wasn’t a murderer. She leaned in. “As you know, I don’t take losing cases.”
“I’m surprised you wanted this one.” He wagged a finger back and forth between them. “Given our history.”
“I didn’t, at first. Chessie called and told me they hadn’t given you your phone call. I couldn’t let you sit there without counsel. It’s a huge case. My intention was to help you until your lawyer showed up.”
“And what changed?”
She laughed, but it came out as more of a resigned sigh. “Um, I saw you.”
And what our unborn child might have looked like.
“O-kay. What exactly does that mean?”
Caught between wanting to guard her secret, yet be free of it, Jackie peered down at the scarred wood of the table. Tell him. She should. Right now. Now that they’d formed a truce, keeping it from him would be unfair. “Beck, there’s something I should tell you. About...Ft. Lauderdale.”
He sat forward, propped his elbows on the table, setting his hands down. If she stretched her fingers just a little, bitty inch, she’d touch him. Feel that insane heat that came with him from the very start.
“Jackie, I’m sorry about how things with us ended. It shouldn’t have happened.”
“I know.”
Boy, did she.
Before she could go on, the waitress delivered their drinks and Beck ordered a cobb salad. Having not even looked at the menu, Jackie did the same. If this pit in her stomach didn’t evaporate, she wouldn’t be eating anyway.
The waitress cleared out and Jackie faced Beck again. For years she’d wondered about him and the woman who’d shown up at the motel that morning. His former girlfriend who’d popped up to “surprise” him.
She’d certainly done that. Jackie had been in the bathroom, cleaning herself up after another round of rock-em, sock-em sexual ecstasy. She’d walked out and found Beck at the door speaking with a blonde who should have been on the cover of Cosmopolitan magazine. As beautiful as Beck was, she’d been his perfect match and Jackie felt...ordinary.
Plain.
She’d quickly excused herself and run back to her motel four blocks away where her friend entertained one of Beck’s football buddies. Oh, they’d all made the perfect pairings for a weekend jaunt.
At least until Jackie knocked on her own door and got the full story about Beck’s girlfriend.
“Whatever happened with her?” Jackie asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing happened. We talked for awhile and I sent her home. She hurt me.”
“I know.”
This surprised him. “You know?”
“Henry told me.”
Beck shook his head. “Good old Henry with the big mouth. Haven’t seen him in ten years and can’t say I miss him always getting my ass in trouble.”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“Telling you my business? Really?”
“I was upset. I thought you were just another jerk looking to get laid.”
That brought a half-smile to his lips, but nothing about it conveyed happiness. Regret, yes. Happiness? Far from it.
“I was,” he said. “I liked you though. A lot.”
“You had a situation to work out.”
“I guess that’s a tidy way to say it.”
Jackie rolled her lips in. What a cluster. “I’m sorry, I don’t know the right words here. And about…you know.”
* * *
The pain ripped through Beck like a hot, serrated knife. Twelve years and he still hadn’t come to terms with all the emotions Portia still evoked in him. Not that he cared for her anymore. Oh no, not at all. What she had done had screwed him up but good.
Lyndsey, having the world’s worst timing, showed up with their food so Beck took a second to get his head together. After the whole can-I-get-you-anything routine, she scrambled off to the next table.
Needing something to do with his hands, Beck picked up his fork. “She aborted my baby. There was nothing to work out. I told her that and sent her on her way. That was the last I talked to her.”
He jammed the fork into his salad and shoved way too much into his mouth. The pain centered in his chest pulsed along with his heartbeat. What would have happened if Portia had listened to him rather than her snooty, upscale family who couldn’t stand to look at him? Would his child be alive?
His life would certainly be different right now.
Grinding at the salad, he squashed the anger and sadness like he’d been doing since that day right before Christmas. “Portia told me she was pregnant at Thanksgiving. It happened the night of Homecoming. I made the winning touchdown in a tight game against Ole Miss. For the first time in my life, I was living the dream and Portia wanted to celebrate in a very memorable way.”
Realizing he was bending the fork from the pressure, he deliberately set it down. “Unbeknownst to me, Portia had sabotaged us by going off the pill. She broke the news to me six weeks later, and I felt my future go up in a puff of smoke — my college career, done. No future with the NFL.”
“Oh, Beck,” Jackie said.
He didn’t want her pity, knew he couldn’t stop the way she was looking at him. “The crazy thing was—I was happy, Jackie. I was going to have a family. A real family. My own kid to take care of and love for the rest of his life. In that moment, with our combined futures a big, fat unknown, I finally had purpose. I was going to be a father, and everything I had to give up in order to marry Portia and raise our kid didn’t matter one iota. No question, I would take being a father over being a football player.”
