“I’m just sayin’. He’d probably have called Dr. Call by now if you’d actually made it.” He covered his head to avoid the folder Jena swung at his head. She couldn’t help laughing herself as she collapsed back into her chair.
Their giggles died down to occasional snorts as they finished lunch. “Trav?” Jena asked hesitantly as he rose and gathered up the wrappers. “Do you really think I need to talk to Dr. Call? I mean, you made me think the other day, you know…about Nicholas’s dad. It wasn’t an issue when I thought…well…Anyway, did you hear how Nick’s call to his dad went?”
Travis sat down in his chair slowly. “I think you need to ask Nick about that, Jen. All I heard from Conor was that it was ugly. Big ugly.” He grimaced. Jena suddenly realized that the last couple of weeks must have been hard on Travis, too, between her moodiness and everyone else’s mixed feelings about what happened that night at Stevie’s and afterward.
“Sorry for asking. You’re right. I’ll ask Nicholas later, but in the meantime, I think I’ll make an appointment to talk to Dr. Call.” Deciding to change the subject, Jena asked, “So what exactly happened last night? There were three of you there, for crap’s sake.”
Travis leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Well…he was surprisingly crafty for a drunk guy.” He laughed.
“First, I had a hard time getting Nick out of our apartment. He was sure that you’d change your mind and come back.” He shook his head. “He obviously hasn’t met your inner mule yet.” Jena stuck her tongue out at him and took another swallow of her Coke. “Then I convinced him that we should go back to his apartment, but a little while after we got there he started pacing, wanting to know where you were going for dinner. You should thank God that you didn’t tell me, or I would have told him, just for the sheer joy of hearing about the smackdown he would place on Peter. God, I can’t stand that asshat…”
“Do you really want to apply the same name to him that I regularly apply to you, Trav?” Jena grinned, looking at the chart for her next patient.
“Touché. I’ll have to come up with a better term. Anyway, Nicholas was pacing and muttering and what all, and Conor comes up with the bright idea to get him drunk to distract him.” Trav rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like that was going to happen. Pretty soon it became, ‘Please God, let this be the shot that makes him pass out.’ Conor starts reminiscing about home and whatnot, while arguing with Leis about whether you’re the bitch of the century or not.”
Jena sighed, rubbing the spot between her eyebrows. “I hope you defended me, Travis.”
“Oh, hell no! I love you, Jen, but Leisa’s my girlfriend and angry Conor scares the shit out of me. I was hiding in the kitchen and peeking out occasionally.”
“Coward.”
Travis was apparently unconcerned about the challenge to his masculinity. “I think of it as living to fight another day, sugar. So, Conor gets Nicholas calmed down and finally gets to go to the bathroom. I didn’t hear any more yelling, so I went back into the living room. All of a sudden—CRASH!” Travis emphasized the sound by dropping a box of bulldog clips on the desk; the noise made Jena jump.
“Did you think…” She couldn’t even say it.
“Not unless he’s made of pots and pans and landed in a garbage can, Jen. Holy God, it was loud! A second later—smash! Right after the third crash Leisa and I were out on the balcony, heads over the railing and trying to determine what the fuck Nick threw. Conor must have been having an epic crap, because he was yelling from the bathroom about what the hell was going on out there, and then he was in the doorway bellowing about how a guy couldn’t even go to the bathroom in peace, and we noticed Nicholas was gone. Then the shit really hit the fan. Leisa and Conor were screeching at each other about who was the biggest fuck-up and then they both looked at me like I was the drunk-guy keeper.”
Jena laughed. “Did you ever figure it out? What he dropped?”
“Yeah. Once Conor talked to you and everything calmed down, we went down and looked. It was pots and pans. And that heavy glass pitcher. And maybe a small boom box? Answering machine? We couldn’t quite figure that one out. And they both still blamed me, because I dared to leave my cowardly hiding place and venture back to the living room.” Checking his watch, he sighed and rose, pulling Jena to her feet. “Back to work, I guess.”
They each grabbed a chart and headed out the office door. Right before Jena closed it, Travis put his hand on her arm. She turned to see him looking uncharacteristically serious. “Why don’t you go ahead and make that appointment with Call right now, Jena? You can always cancel if what Nicholas tells you is okay, but…Conor was pretty serious about it being bad.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Jena hurried back in the door and made an appointment with Dr. Call’s office, then tried not to think about it again for the rest of the day. It was pretty easy, considering that the closer to two it got, the more anxious she was to go home. When the clock hands finally hit two and twelve, she grabbed her coat and rushed for the door, only to have to wait for Travis. He strolled to the door, grinning and pointedly ignoring Jena’s impatience to be gone.
The ride home was quiet. As the car turned in to their neighborhood, Travis cleared his throat. “So. I thought I’d stay at Leisa’s after the gig tonight, okay? Just in case…”
Jena relaxed and smiled. “Thanks, Trav.” She thought for a minute. “How many times a week are you playing? I’ve been a shitty friend recently, haven’t I? I should know that.”
“You’ve been a little preoccupied, I guess.” He shrugged and signaled to turn onto their street. “Maybe four nights? Five? Depends on the week.” The car rolled to a smooth stop, but Travis didn’t turn the engine off. “Don’t you think you’d better get upstairs, hon? I’m pretty sure someone is waiting for you. Anxiously.”
With a swift kiss on his cheek, she was out of the car and on her way up the stairs. Stopping outside the door, she put her hand on her chest and tried to steady her heart.
For the love of God and all that is holy…calm the hell down! Jena sternly ordered herself. Taking a deep breath, she held it for a few seconds, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly. There. Better.
She opened the door, readying a bright smile, and froze, her careful breathing going all to hell. After the first startled stare, she looked anywhere but at Nick, afraid that her heart would stop if she took in the scene in anything other than small glances.
Her eyes trailed up from his bare feet that rested on the edge of her coffee table as he lounged on her couch, taking in the buttery soft, worn denim of the button fly jeans that she loved on him and the light dusting of hair that covered his shirtless chest. She lingered there for a moment, trying to remember how to breathe as she watched him gently strum Travis’s guitar as it rested partly on his naked stomach and partly on his lap. The tendons in his sinewy forearms flexed as he held the chords, his dexterous fingers coaxing the notes from the guitar and reminding her of the way they could move over her body. His face was serious, absorbed in his playing, and Jena had to drop her eyes when his tongue peeked out to touch his upper lip as he concentrated.
Nicholas chuckled quietly. Raising her eyes to his face, she saw that he was still looking down at the guitar, but with a mischievous smile on his scruffy face. “Am I sensing another ‘holy crap’ moment?” He glanced up, eyes sparkling, and laughed out loud as she reddened. “I’m glad to see you, too,” he said, still smiling as he looked down at his hands, beginning to strum again. “Welcome home, Jena.”
Her heart stuttered. That sounded so good coming from him. “Hi, Nicholas.” She realized that she was still standing in the open doorway and stepped inside so she could close the door. “How was your day? I’m sorry I was gone a little longer than I originally anticipated. Someone called in sick, and I had to cover another half shift.”
“No problem.” Nicholas carefully set the guitar down on the floor and stretched his left arm along the back of the couch. Jena felt her stomach clench as she reali
zed that the top button of his low-riding jeans was undone, and the v-muscles of his low stomach were clearly visible, with no hint of boxers to mar the view. “I just woke up about an hour ago, anyway,” he continued, oblivious to how much danger of attack he was in. “I hope you don’t mind that I used your shower. I felt gross after last night.” Nicholas stopped speaking, a curious look on his face. “Are you ever going to take your coat off?”
Jena walked further into the room, dropping her bag on the floor next to the entertainment center and shrugging out of her coat. Tossing it on a chair, she headed for the kitchen, figuring that was the only way she would stop staring at Nicholas. “I need a drink. Do you want anything?”
He groaned, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the couch. “I don’t plan on ever drinking again. I don’t do it well,” he called into the kitchen. “I would like a glass of water, though.”
“Sure.” Quickly pouring his water and returning the pitcher to the fridge, Jena grabbed a beer for herself, turning toward the living room to see Nicholas pick up the guitar again. Her eyes roved over his damp black hair as it curled against his neck and across the broad shoulders she could see above the back of the couch, watching the minute movements of the muscles there as he played. Jena gulped down the bottle of beer before swallowing half of his ice water as well, thinking that maybe she should just pour it over her head. Of course, thoughts of water on her head brought back her dream of showering with Nicholas.
Then his next words brought her crashing back to earth.
“I had a nice conversation with your mom today.” His voice was nonchalant as he picked out another couple of chords.
Jena’s brain died, but her mouth lived on, as usual. “Holy shit,” flew out.
She could see Nicholas’s shoulders shaking in silent laughter as he looked down at the guitar in his hands. Sharon and Nicholas on the phone. Jena seriously debated just walking straight out the door and never coming back.
She put her head on the counter and covered it with her arms. “Do I even want to know what she interrogated you about?”
Nicholas finally let his laughter fly. The guitar thrummed gently when he put it down before entering the kitchen and wrapping his arms around her. “It wasn’t so bad. She seems like a nice lady, and she knew a lot about me, that’s for sure.”
“It’s amazing what’s available on Google.”
“I’m hurt, Jena,” Nicholas teased. “I thought you talked to her about me.”
“That, too.” Jena sighed and turned to hand him his half empty glass. Nicholas smiled, stepping back and leaning one hip against the counter.
“Aren’t you having something? I thought you needed a drink.” He set his glass down and leaned into the refrigerator, scanning the shelves. The motion pulled all of the muscles of his back taut, and the soft jeans rode a little lower. Jena squeezed her eyes shut, willing her mouth, just this once, to behave itself. “Beer?” He paused for a minute. “Is everything all right?”
Jena realized that her eyes were still shut, and she opened them to find Nicholas looking at her curiously, hair falling into his eyes as he held out a bottle. She briefly considered flinging herself on him, but decided to hold off for a few minutes. They hadn’t seen each other for a while, and it might look a little funny to show no interest in whatever he was saying. Jena worked on concealing that she was fixated on his mouth, and the rest was just noise.
“Jena?” Now he really was looking at her strangely. Jena realized that he hadn’t seen her just down a beer in less than a minute. It might look weird if she didn’t take the bottle from his hand after she said she was thirsty.
“Sure. Beer is fine.” Jena popped the top of her Becks and took a deep swallow, surprising herself with a huge belch as she set it down on the counter. “Sorry.”
He grinned and shook his head, leaning against the counter again. “No problem. But I was actually asking you what you thought your mother said.”
Jena looked down at her hands as they twisted the bottle between them, barely restraining a hysterical giggle. “With Mom, it could be anything. Did she say anything about you answering my phone?”
“Does a squeal count as anything? And it sounded like she was tap dancing.”
“Oh, my God,” Jena muttered, finishing the Becks and leaning around Nicholas to open the fridge door and grab another. “Gimme the high points. Low points. Whatever.”
Nicholas laughed. “It wasn’t that bad. She asked me to Thanksgiving dinner, complimented me on my grades as an undergrad, told me your childhood nickname was ‘Twinkie,’ and told me how to cut my hair to make my eyes really pop.”
“Really? Is that all she had to say?” Jena wondered how long it would take Dad to deduce she was behind her mother’s tongue being cut out. Probably minutes. They’d been married for quite a while.
“Pretty much. After she advised me on phone sexing and reminded me to be careful because we didn’t want any little accidents running around, your dad wrestled the phone away from her, apologized, and threatened, quite nicely, to make me disappear if I didn’t pay attention to your mom’s last piece of advice or if I hurt you in any way. And he reminded me about Thanksgiving dinner.”
“I see.” Jena wasn’t even embarrassed anymore, strangely enough; she’d passed that threshold at “Twinkie.” She rolled the cool bottle against her neck and temples. “That’s another reason for you to stay away from me, Nicholas. I come from a long line of crazy people.”
Jena opened her third beer and sipped. As she lowered the bottle, a small trickle of liquid ran down its neck, and she caught it with her tongue, glancing quickly at Nicholas when he made a low sound in his throat. He was staring at her mouth, his own lips slightly parted. Their eyes met and locked, and they smiled.
Nicholas pulled the bottle from her hand and set it on the counter. “Aren’t you being a little hard on your parents, Jena? They just want to take care of you. I can understand that,” he said quietly. His hands skimmed down her sides to her hips, and he pulled her against him, trailing his open mouth lightly up and down the side of her neck.
“Maybe just a little,” she sighed, closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side opposite his teasing mouth. The vibration from his laugh made her shiver again. “Mom is like a private detective, though. Give her a little information, and she’ll know everything about you in an hour.”
“Everything?”
Jena’s eyes rolled up in her head, and she had to lean her hands against the counter behind her for support. “Let me clarify—everything available on the Internet. Is everything available on the net?”
“Not to my knowledge.” Nicholas laughed and ran his hands up her sides again, guiding her arms around his neck and ghosting his hands down her back. “The only time I’ve been messed up enough not to notice filming was with you.”
“Then your YouTube virtue is safe. I’m a total technophobe.”
“I hope to God only my net virtue is safe, Jena.” His gaze roamed her face, and the naked need in his made her swallow. Hard. Jena dropped her eyes to his chest and watched her fingers trail over his skin. Nicholas raised her face. “I want to talk to you about everything, I swear, Jena, but I…fuck, I want you.” His voice was raw, and his hand shook as he ran the back of his fingers from her temple to her jaw, and underneath to stroke the soft spot under her chin. “I can’t think about anything but how you feel and how damned badly I want to taste you right here.”
“Just there?” she murmured, twitching an eyebrow upward and ignoring the warning bells that sounded like Travis’s voice, reminding her of his advice to stay out of bed and just talk.
“No more talking.” Nicholas crushed his mouth against hers hard, immediately seeking her tongue with his as he held her desperately close. Needing to feel more of him, Jena boosted herself up onto the counter. He smiled against her lips. “You read my mind,” he said as she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him against her.
; With a quick yank and a flick of the wrist, her shirt was over her head and sailing in the direction of the living room. “I need to feel your skin,” she said breathlessly. Running her hands over his shoulders and up his neck, Jena angled his jaw so she could kiss the tendon that ran from the back of his ear to meet his chest. She swirled her tongue in that vulnerable spot and blew softly on his damp skin.
“Oh, fuck…” he moaned, pulling one of her hands down and pressing it against himself as he grew even harder from the pressure. “Enough. Now. I can’t wait any longer.” His voice was rough and low as he wrapped an arm around her waist and cupped her hip, pulling her off the countertop. “Where?” His kisses were almost frantic, deep and hungry and needy, and Jena could feel his heart pounding.
Her mind raced. Where? The couch seemed like the obvious choice, since it was close and she wanted his remaining garment off now. Protection was the problem, though. If Nicholas didn’t have anything with him, they were shit-out-of-luck, and once she peeled the jeans off of him she wouldn’t give a damn.
Nicholas tired of waiting for her answer and headed for the living room, tugging at the button on her jeans as he backed her toward the sofa. A shiver ran down her spine, and she forgot what the problem was for a second as she tightened her hands in his hair and bit his lower lip. Nicholas squeezed her hips and pressed against her insistently; Jena dragged her mind back to responsibility with effort.
“Wait…Nick.”
He just hummed and kept walking, nibbling at her shoulder. Her head rolled back, and he took advantage of her position to turn his attention to her throat. “Nicholas…” Jena moaned. “You have to stop that for a second.”
“Why?”
“Do you have protection with you?”
He stopped moving and let Jena slide down his front as he closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. “You don’t?” His hands were shaking as they ran up and down her back.
“Nope. Any I might have once had would be sadly out of date by now. And I just started the pills right before…” She let that thought die right there, unwilling to jump into the time they’d been apart right then. “So I haven’t been taking them long enough. Not exactly a ho-bag here.”
Cocktails & Dreams Page 23
