by Donna Alward
Ten...nine...eight...
Their gazes caught and she imprinted the moment on her memory. She was here, sharing bringing in the New Year with Jack. It was a momentous feeling. She’d done it. She’d stepped outside her comfort zone and done something new and she had been good at it. At this moment she felt as if she could do anything. It would all be okay.
Five...four...three...
She put her hand on the end of the tube.
Two...one... Happy New Year!
She released the stopper on the tube and confetti and streamers popped out. Three other tubes were released at the same time, creating a festive cloud of colored paper. The loud pop of the champagne cork echoed and Amy turned her head to the sound at the same time as everyone started hugging and kissing cheeks and wishing each other a happy New Year.
Laughing, Amy went to Jack’s side and reached for a pair of glasses from the polished wood countertop. He poured a little bubbly into both and put down the bottle. “Happy New Year, Amy,” he said, his voice barely discernible above the party noise. “I hope it’s your best year ever.”
“Happy New Year, Jack.” She touched the rim of her glass to his and they drank, their gazes locked. The champagne was dry and fizzy, the tart taste lingering on her tongue. She lowered her glass. He lowered his. And it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to step forward and kiss her—the traditional celebration of ringing in a new year.
Her lashes fluttered closed as awareness zinged through her body. His lips were soft, inviting and, perhaps best—and worst—of all, familiar.
She stepped back first, aware that they were in front of guests. She pasted on a smile and said, “Happy New Year!” perhaps a little too brightly. With her heart pounding, she turned to the nearest guest and offered a friendly hug and New Year’s wish, determined to mix with the group until things wound down.
There’d be time later to sort out what was happening. In private. Because tonight Amy had finally made up her mind what she wanted. And she was going to go after it.
Chapter Ten
The last straggler had wandered off to bed and Amy had packaged up the leftover food and put it in the fridge. The dishwasher was stacked and running, and the clock on the microwave read 1:17 a.m.
She should have been exhausted. Should have been ready to take off her shoes and climb into her comfy bed and fall into a deep, satisfying sleep.
Instead she made her way upstairs, down the long hallway past the guest rooms, to the door on the right that was the master bedroom. Jack’s. She carried a small tray containing the last of the champagne, as well as a small bowl of strawberries and a dish of chocolate. That and her bravery, which she hoped wasn’t going to desert her at the last minute.
She tapped lightly on the door.
Muffled footsteps approached and she held her breath as the knob turned. The door opened, revealing Jack in the breach. He’d removed his shoes and shirt but still wore his trousers. It was the first time she’d seen him without a shirt on and her mouth went dry.
He might be a former athlete but there was nothing former about the breadth of his chest and shoulders, or the rippled six-pack. He’d definitely kept himself in shape.
He looked at her, down at the tray, and wordlessly stepped back, opening the door for her to come in. He closed it behind her, sealing them in a cocoon of privacy and possibility.
“A private celebration?” he asked quietly, as she put the tray down onto a side table.
She didn’t know how to respond, so she merely poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to him. Then she took a strawberry, dipped it in chocolate and lifted it to his lips. This was what he’d articulated earlier. Her, champagne, strawberries and chocolate and privacy....
He took it from her fingers, then without taking his eyes off her, reached out and found another berry. This time he fed her, and they both took a drink.
By the time they’d eaten another two berries, the air in the room had reached a fever pitch, thick with anticipation. Jack drained the last of his champagne, his eyes dark with intent. She finished hers and he took the glass from her fingers, putting them both on the table.
He framed her face with his hands and drew her in for a long, dark kiss. Different from any of the ones that had come before. This time it was full of intent, ripe with the knowledge that tonight neither of them was planning on walking away. It was a promise of things to come, an electrifying harbinger of the pleasure waiting for them both. She hoped... A butterfly flutter of doubt winged its way through her stomach, as she wondered if she could possibly be enough woman for a man like Jack. But then she pushed the thought aside. The one conclusion she’d come to for sure was that if she didn’t do this she’d never know and she’d regret it for as long as she lived.
He reached for the tie of her wraparound dress and she felt the fabric fall away. Nerves fizzed all over her body and it was hard to breathe as he gently pushed the dress off her shoulders and it slid to the floor. She was standing there wearing nothing more than her lace bra and panties and her sparkly gold shoes. Jack’s eyes glowed at her and his lips curved ever so slightly. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out and running a finger over the skin of her shoulder. “More beautiful than I imagined.”
“Jack...”
“Shh,” he said, and the way he was stroking her skin nearly had her purring. “We’ll go slow. Promise.”
To prove his point, he kissed her again, taking his time, letting her get used to the feel of his hands on her skin. His chest was warm and firm pressed against hers. Finally, when her knees got weak, he took her hand and led her to his bed.
“You’re sure?” he asked, and she loved how his gaze was hungry and yet serious. It made her feel both desirable and respected, something she hadn’t expected. She wanted to be with him. Had from the very first night. She had no expectations, was under no illusions. There was just the here and now.
This was her moment to be brave. To take a chance.
“I’m sure,” she whispered, nodding. “Very, very sure.”
The only light in the room was the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow over the bed. Amy bit down on her lip. With the light on he would see everything. She would see everything...and yet asking to turn the light off seemed silly.
He must have followed the direction of her gaze because he looked back at her and smiled. “Do you want it off?”
“Maybe...no...whatever you want.”
She sounded pathetic. He was going to regret this. What if he backed away, changed his mind?
Instead he merely reached over and pushed the switch, casting the room into darkness.
“Come here,” he said, and she swore she could hear her own heartbeat as she kneeled on the soft duvet.
He took her in his arms and the rest of her fears disappeared. There was no room for misgivings. There was just room for her to feel as he let his weight press her down into the mattress. She’d been wrong about the light. In the darkness all her other senses sharpened so that she felt every soft touch, heard every aroused breath as their limbs twined together. As her eyes adjusted, she became aware of the shadow of him, how his hair appeared darker than his skin, how his eyes still managed to glow at her with a black intensity that turned her bones to jelly. At some point his pants came off and hit the floor with a jangle of his belt buckle; shortly after, her underwear followed and she wondered how it was possible to feel this good.
He reached into the bedside table for a condom and she knew this was her last moment to turn back. That if she said stop, he would. Without a doubt. Because Jack was possibly the most honorable, honest man she’d ever met.
But she said nothing. And when he came back to her, she lifted her arms in welcome.
* * *
SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH the blinds and Amy squinted
as she woke. Beside her, Jack breathed deeply, still asleep. She shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. A quick adjustment of the sheets revealed what she’d guessed.... He was completely naked. And beautiful.
Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away. It would be terribly easy to love him—if she allowed herself to. He’d been so careful. So thorough, so loving. The perfect lover to make her feel cherished and valued. Gentle yet powerful. For a few magical moments, the noise of life had faded away and it had just been the two of them. No, not even the two of them. They’d been one. One heartbeat, one body, one soul. She’d felt it. Right in the moment before she’d come apart in his arms.
The memory made her blush, so she carefully slid out from under the sheets and tiptoed around the bed until she found her underwear and dress. Jack was still sleeping soundly, and she regretted having to leave, but there were ten other people in the house who were expecting breakfast. Ten other people who were not expecting her to tiptoe out of Jack’s room and do the walk of shame through the house.
With one last look of longing at his slumbering form, she gathered up her shoes. She soundlessly turned the doorknob and slipped out, closing it quietly behind her as she made a quick, fleet-footed trip down the hall to the room that was hers. A check of her watch told her she only had maybe five minutes to shower, so she immediately shed her clothes and stepped under the hot spray. Her hair was wet and she didn’t bother with makeup before heading for the kitchen. There’d be time for that later....
She had bacon frying and was dipping bread for French toast when she heard a sound in the doorway. Jack. Dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt left untucked, his hair damp and tousled as if he’d just run his hands through it after his shower. Her tongue felt thick and stuck to the roof of her mouth as their eyes met.
“Good morning,” he said quietly, and then he came forward and kissed her lightly on the temple. “Smells good in here.”
She tried to collect her thoughts, focused on putting the soggy bread on the electric skillet to fry. “Good morning.”
“You snuck out without waking me.”
“You were sleeping like a log.”
He chuckled. “I’ve always wondered where that saying came from. How do logs sleep, anyway?”
“Unmoving, I would suppose,” she answered, and couldn’t help the tiny smile on her lips. “I didn’t want to be late getting breakfast, and it’s already going on nine.”
“Late night last night and everyone’s sleeping in.”
“So it would seem.”
“Can I help?”
She wasn’t sure if she were relieved or disappointed that they weren’t going to talk about what had happened. On one hand, talking would probably muddy the waters. Take them into territory neither of them wanted to explore. On the other hand, though, saying nothing made it feel like they were ignoring it. Like it had meant...nothing.
Hell.
“Do you know how to make coffee? Not one cup at a time, but in the regular machine?”
“I think I can handle that.”
She turned the first pieces of French toast, then flipped the bacon. As the coffee started to perk, she put the finished pieces and slices in the warming oven. Another pan of bacon was set to fry, new bread was put on the skillet and she started cracking eggs into a bowl. She’d scramble those just before it was time to serve the meal so they wouldn’t be dry.
When things were cooking just right, she fixed a tray of butter, syrup and berries to go with the French toast and delivered it to the dining room. To her surprise, Jack followed with plates, then forks, knives, spoons and juice glasses. “Thanks,” she said, darting back to the kitchen.
She was taking the next batch of toast off the skillet when Jack placed a cup of coffee by her elbow.
It all felt so...normal. She frowned. She couldn’t let it be that way. Couldn’t let herself be seduced by any ideas that had no bearing on reality.
“Cream and two sugars, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He knew how she took her coffee.
“Jack, about last night...”
He came up behind her and put a hand on her waist. “You’re not having morning-after regrets, are you?”
Her muscles tensed and she forced herself to relax and keep her voice casual. “Are you?”
He kissed the small bit of skin between the collar of her T-shirt and her neck. “Of course not.”
“Oh.” Delight skittered down her arms at the simple kiss. “Me, either.”
“But I’m thinking you’ll be more comfortable if we’re discreet around the guests,” he said, going back to the coffeemaker and pouring his own cup of coffee.
“Yes, I would. Doing my job and...us—” she struggled around the word “—should be separate.”
“I agree completely.”
That was it? No argument? No innuendos? Was it really just that simple for him? Because she was having a hard time breathing simply from having him in the same room. It wasn’t going to be particularly easy for her to be discreet. She’d have to work on a poker face. But apparently for Jack—no problem.
That he’d find it so easy was slightly annoying.
She heard footsteps out in the main area of the house, and the sound of muffled voices, meaning their time to chat was cut short. The group was up and would be expecting breakfast straightaway. She flipped the last pieces of toast and gave Jack a bright, if somewhat false, smile. “Could you get everyone started with coffee, and then come back and put on a fresh pot?”
“Sure.”
“And click the button on the kettle, so I can make a pot of tea,” she added. Emotions churning, she put butter in a fry pan and grabbed the bowl of eggs.
When he returned, she’d put the French toast on a pretty platter, had another rectangular plate piled with crisp bacon and was scooping scrambled eggs into a bowl. “We’re ready,” she said, a little nervous about her first time cooking for the group. Still, she’d kept it pretty simple.
He took the French toast while she followed with the bacon and eggs. And then they proceeded to eat breakfast and chat around the table as if last night never happened.
* * *
THAT AFTERNOON WAS the first time that the guests split into two groups for different activities. The men had chosen a three-hour snowmobile tour at a nearby resort, and the women had unilaterally gone for a spa afternoon complete with facials, pedicures and massages.
Amy had just finished the housekeeping and was stirring the massive Crock-Pot of pasta sauce when Jack stuck his head into the kitchen. “You nearly ready?” he asked.
“Ready? Is it time to go already?” She checked her watch. Where had the day gone? She hadn’t stopped since getting up this morning, but she was planning an hour or so of downtime this afternoon when she had the ranch house to herself.
“The group is booked in for two o’clock. The confirmation just came to the email this morning. Your first appointment is a facial. Are you looking forward to it?”
A facial? Her? “Wait, I’m not part of the group. Aren’t I just doing drop-off and pickup?”
He grinned. “I called and added you in. Figured you deserved a spa day same as anyone else.”
She wasn’t sure if she should be pleased or not, though she was leaning toward pleased because an afternoon at a spa sounded heavenly and it was something she’d never been able to afford. “But Jack, it’s expensive....”
“Must I remind you that I’m not paying you a wage this week? Consider it a well-earned perk.”
Ah. It was all about business, then; not a lover’s gift. She was disappointed somehow. They hadn’t had a moment to talk since breakfast. No stolen seconds to sneak a kiss. For heaven’s sake, it was like he wasn’t affected at all! Like nothing monumental had happened between the
m.
She took a breath and reminded herself that Jack was probably used to this sort of affair. He certainly seemed confident enough about it. She was the one wigging out. And he was right. She’d worked her butt off and the agreement was that she’d take advantage of activities during her stay. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“It’s done. I logged on and looked after what email came in this morning since you were so busy.”
Which she would have looked after this afternoon—when she had time to breathe.
“Let me get my things, then. Goodness, I’m glad I planned spaghetti for dinner.”
“I’m off with the boys, snowmobiling. Have fun, okay? I’ll see you later.”
He was gone.
She felt oddly deflated. Yesterday every touch, every exchange, had felt personal. Like a lead-up to something. There was subtext—from how they looked at each other to the words they said and the simplest touch. Today it was like she’d imagined it all. Maybe Jack had achieved his objective and that was enough. He had already moved on and lost interest.
She didn’t want to believe it, but how else could she explain his detached behavior today? It was almost as if that brief little shoulder kiss hadn’t happened. Or that it was his way of letting her down easy. A few token gestures as he put distance between them.
She should have known better. She did know better. And once more she’d let her emotions take over. Because despite telling herself over and over that she understood the limitations of their relationship, it had only taken one night to put her on an irreversible course.
She’d fallen for Jack Shepard.
* * *
JACK LET OUT a deep breath as he stood on the front step. For some reason he didn’t want to go inside. To say he was freaking out would be an understatement.
Oh, he’d covered his tracks all right this morning. A platonic kiss on the temple, that little one on her shoulder... It had appeased her without being too much. And booking her in for the spa afternoon had been a great idea.
But now she was waiting inside. The group was in there, getting ready for dinner. And things had changed between them. He couldn’t deny that. He’d stupidly believed that they could be intimate with each other and be sensible since they both knew what was what.
