Kiss Me

by Kristine Mason

  A young, smiling woman, stood alongside her car. Jenna sat up, rubbed her head and eyed her white blouse and black pants. She looked like a restaurant server, or maybe part of a catering crew.

  Jenna inserted the key in the ignition and cracked the window open. She basically worked in the ghetto, and although this was a nice neighborhood, and she suspected Luke was in residence, she erred on the side of caution. “Can I help you?”

  “Jenna Cooper?” the young woman asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Your presence has been requested. If you’ll please join me,” she said and motioned toward Luke’s new home.

  Panic stricken, at first she didn’t move. Finally, curiosity outweighed the dread of facing Luke. She rolled up the window, turned off the ignition, then followed the young woman across the adjoining lawn to Luke’s house.

  As the woman led her through the gate leading to the backyard, music, an engaging, yet soft, dreamy song she didn’t recognize, rippled and rose. She zeroed in on the weeping melody and stared at a trio of men playing in harmony next to the flourishing, burgundy Japanese maple flanking the large cobblestone patio.

  Realizing her mouth gaped open, she sealed her lips and swept her gaze across the patio. A table sat in the center, garnished with a beautiful centerpiece, loaded with blood red roses, white day lilies, greens and angels breath. A trail of rose petals had been scattered across the pristine white tablecloth. Flickering candles, encased in ornate globes, sat on either side of the center piece, along with an elaborate setting for two.

  Oh boy, Luke had gone though a lot of trouble and expense. While she appreciated the gesture, the thought of spending the evening alone with him, dining by candlelight, made her stomach jump and churn.

  How could she face him after all that had been said? Luke had believed Mitch’s stories before ever giving her the chance to explain otherwise. Yeah, she knew she was as much to blame. She could have been honest from the start, if she had, they probably would never have fought. Still, how could she respect or forgive a man who had not only chosen his reputation over her, but had been flat-out embarrassed to be seen with her.

  She couldn’t.

  Squaring her shoulders, she gave the patio one last glance, then moved toward the gate.

  “Please don’t go.”

  She stopped, closed her eyes and let his soft timbre envelop her soul. How she’d missed the sound of his voice. Although he’d left her a bazillion messages over the last week, the real deal didn’t compare to those tinny recordings. Heart racing, she slowly turned.

  As Luke crossed the cobblestone, she drank in the sight of him. He wore a crisp, dark green shirt, that she’d bet made his emerald eyes sparkle. His casual jeans rode low on his hips, belying the pomp and circumstance of the musicians and elaborate setting. She didn’t know how it was possible, but he looked more mouthwatering and more desirable now than he had aweek ago.

  Except none of that mattered. They were through.

  The reminder hurt, because despite it all, she still loved him. But she had to stay strong, focused. Hell, she had to leave before she allowed herself to fall prey to his seductions.

  She held up her hands as he approached. Took a step back and shook her head. “Uh-uh, no way. I don’t know what you and Darci concocted, but all this,” she said, and waved her arm, “is not going to work.”

  Panic twisted Luke’s gut. He pressed his hand on the gate, blocking her. “Just give me a chance. I know I was an idiot.” He looked toward the patio and musicians. Thought about the meal the hired chef, Don Hardy, had prepared, the packages wrapped and waiting for Jenna upstairs, then sighed and met her gaze. “Just give me a chance,” he repeated and reached for her hands.

  Her chin wobbled, tears filled her eyes.

  His throat constricted. Were her tears of joy, pain or humiliation? What he’d done the day her past came back to haunt them both, how he’d acted…his head tingled with regret and sorrow. He’d shamed her, taken all that she’d done for herself and thrown it into the garbage with harsh words said out of self-preservation, without a thought for her feelings and with his trumped-up ego in mind. Would she understand if he explained? The better question, would she give him the chance?

  “Stay. What could it hurt?”

  She took a step back, never taking her eyes off his and gripped his hands. “Both of us.”

  Vicki, Don Hardy’s daughter and, for the night, their server, came out of the house, and filled the delicate crystal glasses he’d bought for the occasion. Jenna darted her eyes toward Vicki, released his hands then folded her arms across her chest.

  Luke stepped closer, and inhaled her summery, wildflower scent. “I’m willing to take my chances.” He cupped her cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”

  Tears slipped down her sun-kissed cheeks. He wiped them with the pad of his thumb and kissed her nose. “No tears. Tonight isn’t just about apologizing, but a celebration.”

  “Yes.” She filled his palms with her smile. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

  He frowned. In all the messages he’d left her, he hadn’t bothered to tell her about the CFO position. He’d wanted to talk toher about it, not to the answering machine. “I didn’t get the promotion.”

  Her face crumpled into a frown. “I’m so sorry. I —”

  Placing a finger to her lips, he asked, “Join me? Please?” He escorted her to the table, then held a chair for her. “Let’s have a toast.”

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder, then reached for her glass. “To what?”

  He tapped her glass and smiled as he remembered their first toast, the night he’d asked her to date him. “To us.”

  She didn’t smile. Instead, she raised the glass to her lips and took several long swallows. As he watched her, his confidence faltered, and the wine soured in his mouth.

  At that moment, Vicki stepped onto the patio with a medley ofhors d’oeuvres. Golden fried calamari, bacon wrapped scallops, and jumbo shrimp stuffed with crab. Spices he couldn’t name wafted through the air and made his mouth water. Or was it the woman across from him.

  She could wear a brown paper bag over her body and still look gorgeous. He’d missed seeing her, looking into her golden eyes, hearing her voice, her raspy laughter. Damn, he needed to get rid of that little L between her brows and make her smile and laugh again. He needed to make things right between them.

  As they ate the appetizers, he made small talk. She did the same. Periodically, Vicki would interrupt, top their wine, remove plates, then she brought their salads and bread.

  Throughout it all, he’d wanted to apologize, say everything he’d practiced, but couldn’t do it. Tension radiated from her, the furrowing between her brows seemed permanent. But he had to release everything he’d been holding back. Tell her he couldn’t live without her.

  Dropping his fork onto the plate, he reached for her hand. “Jenna, I —”

  Vicki and Don barreled out of the house carrying plates loaded with roasted vegetables, garlic potatoes and lamb chops. Everything looked wonderful and smelled delicious. Too bad he’d lost his appetite. To be polite, though, he introduced Jenna to the rotund chef and commented on how wonderful thehors d’oeuvres hadtasted.

  “Didn’t you like the salad?” Don asked and nodded to their untouched greens.

  “We’ve been talking too much,” Jenna said. “Don’t take them away. I’m anxious to eat every bit of what you’ve prepared. Everything looks fabulous, you’ve out done yourself.”

  Don beamed, and with a nod to Vicki, left for the kitchen. From where he sat, Luke had a perfect view of the kitchen window and spied Don and Vicki cleaning dishes. He’d already paid Don for his services and given both he and Vicki a healthy tip, along with Andrew, the violinist, even kicking in a few extra for his buddies. With what Luke had planned for after dinner, he wanted to make sure he and Jenna were alone. No interruptions, no excuses to hide the emotions bursting from his pores. Except now he might have to postpone th
ose plans. From her cold demeanor, it seemed Jenna had already made up her mind about them. He couldn’t let that happen and needed to find a way to break through to her.

  As they began to eat, the trio of musicians changed songs. Jenna kept darting her eyes to them and her rigid posture made Luke regret the extravagance. Maybe they made her nervous.

  Maybe you’re making her nervous.

  He bit into his lamb chop. Peppercorn burst on his tongue. But as he watched Jenna eat, the tender lamb chop began to taste more like aged beef jerky.

  Each bite she took held a hint of agony and frustration. She chewed and swallowed as if it took everything to force the food down her throat. In between bites, she’d take huge swallows of wine, as if she needed the alcohol to tolerate his presence. At some point, he stopped eating and simply watched her.

  Moments later, she dropped her fork on the plate, leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “If you don’t care for the food, maybe I can have Don—”

  “The food’s wonderful, the musicians are wonderful, every damn thing is wonderful.” She slammed her napkin on the table.

  The flutist faltered, followed by the cellist. Thank God the violinist kept the momentum going, forcing the others to stay with the tempo.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t.” She shoved her plate. “I mean, come on, Luke, what are we doing here? Why are you doing all of this?” She raised her voice loud enough for Vicki and Don to stop clanking pots and pans, yet the musicians, thank God, kept playing.

  “We’re having dinner.”

  “Dinner? Look, I appreciate your efforts, but let’s face it, hiring all these people…” She swept her hand. “And all the flowers, the messages…this isn’t going to work.” She shoved back her chair, the iron furniture scraped across the cobblestone.

  He lunged from his seat and pulled her to his chest. “Do you mean us?” he asked and caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckle. “Why can’t we work? I love you.”

  “Please,” she said with a sarcastic edge. “We’ve only been dating a few weeks. How could you say you love me? We hardly know each other.”

  Although he suspected that she belittled what they’d shared as a way to protect herself, the words still hurt. “Hardly know each other…” He let her go. “You were ready to move in with me.”

  “A huge mistake on my part,” she shouted. “Don’t you get it? I was caught up in the moment, and even more caught up on the sex.”

  Oh that was a low blow. “So that’s all I was to you? Your little boy toy who was there to make you come the moment you crooked your little finger?” He stomped away, then turned and stomped back, running a hand through his hair. “Bullshit.” He grasped her shoulders. “We’re way more than fuck buddies and you know it.”

  She shoved away, crossed her arms and puffed her bangs. “Really? Let me ask you something. You left me at home last Saturday because you were too embarrassed to be seen with me, too disgusted by my past. Now you put on this show. What, did Mitch give you a few more of his J.C. stories? Are you hoping that maybe we could try out that threesome, or those sex toys he’d told you and your office buddies about? Is that why you want me back? So I can fulfill your prepubescent fantasies?”

  He wanted to punch Mitch all over again, but knew in his gut her reaction was his fault. He’d deservedthis low blow, but not to the extreme she was giving him. If only she’d cool her temper and let him talk, let him tell her he’d made a mistake. “Jenna, listen. I —”

  “No, you listen. We’re through. No more phone calls, no more flowers…just leave me alone. Got it?”

  While his chest constricted at the finality of her words, his tempered flared. “No,” he yelled, and although pissed as hell, his subconscious picked up on the melody still playing. Like the sinking Titanic, the musicians continued as if the ship wasn’t being sucked into a cold watery abyss, or they weren’t having a shouting match loud enough to wake the neighborhood.

  “Why does everything have to be so black and white with you? I screwed up, made a huge mistake. Let me at least apologize.” He took a step forward. “I’m sorry about how I acted that night. I was a jerk, an idiot, a complete —”

  “Asshole,” she finished.

  He sucked in his cheeks and nodded. “Yeah, but I’ve realized my mistakes, and I don’t care about yours,” he said, then realized he’d just made another monstrous mistake.

  Jenna pierced him with a look that would scare the shit out of any man, woman or child. He held his breath and literally waited for golden laser beams to shoot from of her eyes.

  “My mistakes,” she shouted over the flutist’s solo.“Don’t even compare to the multitude of woman youclaim to have notched on your bedpost.”

  “For the record, no woman has ever slept in my bed,” he countered.

  “Well, la-dee-frickin’-da.” She threw her hands in the air just as Vicki burst through the backdoor carrying a tray of desserts.

  The tray went flying. Gooey fudge, whipped cream and, only Don knows what else, shot through the air and landed across Jenna’s sundress.

  “Oh my gosh,” Vicki gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

  Jenna didn’t respond, instead she ran into the house and out of sight.

  As the music died, Vicki rushed over to him. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

  Don shoved his way through the backdoor, darting his eyes over the decimated dessert. “What happened?”

  “It’s not Vicki’s fault.” Luke slumped into the rod iron chair. “It’s mine.”

  Don walked toward him, sympathy and amusement in his brown eyes. “Luke.” He placed a meaty hand on his shoulder. “We should’ve had another shot, huh?”

  Luke snorted and smiled. Earlier, Don had given him a shot of some sort of strange liquor to cool his nerves. All it did was light a fire in his throat. “Try a couple dozen.” He shook his head. “Wrap up the leftovers and throw them in the fridge, then head on out.” He looked to the musicians. “Let’s call it a night.”

  While Vicki cleared the table, and the musicians packed their instruments, Luke sipped his wine and tried to figure out where he’d gone wrong.

  “Luke,” Don said. “I’ll have us outta here in less than fifteen minutes.”

  “Thanks. Take your time, it doesn’t matter now.”

  “You sure about that? ‘Cause your woman didn’t leave. She went intoyour house to clean up.”

  “Yeah, so?” Luke swirled the wine in his glass, wishing he had something stronger to drink.

  “So, why didn’t she run to her car and hightail it outta here? Why give you the opportunity to talk with her some more? And, why the hell are you sitting here drinking wine when you should be runnin’ after her?”

  Luke met the chef’s gaze.Why indeed?

  Chapter 12

  Puffing her bangs, Jenna plopped onto the closed toilet seat wondering what had possessed her to run into the house and not for her car. “Stupid,” she muttered then crossed her legs and clicked one sandal against her heel. Now she was stuck in the bathroom, waiting for everyone to leave. Well, everyone except Luke. The house belonged to him after all.

  The backdoor slammed. Moments later, she heard several cars rev. Her stomach somersaulted. She dropped her foot and leaned forward, clutching her midsection. That left her and Luke — alone. Damn, damn, damn, why didn’t she leave when she’d had the chance?

  “Okay.” She stood, then faced her disheveled image in the mirror. “Just walk out with your head high and your mouth shut.”

  She wiped a smudge of chocolate she’d missed from her cheek, then reached for the door handle. Quickly pulled away, then rested her forehead against the door and she shut her eyes.

  You big chicken, just go out there and…

  A soft rap made her jump. She stepped back and stared at the door.

  “Jenna, honey, everyone’s gone. Are you okay? Do
you want me to call Darci?”

  She didn’t want to see Darci, or Luke, or anybody else. She wanted to slink out of the house unnoticed and go home to lick her wounds.

  “Would it help if I’m not around when you come out? I’ll go upstairs if that’s what it takes. The last thing I wanted tonight was to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry…for everything.”

  She leaned against the door, but didn’t respond. What would she say anyway? I love you? I don’t want to leave? I really didn’t mean the stuff I’d said? She bit her bottom lip. Maybe the truth — that she’d missed his smile, his laugh, and, God help her, his kisses.

  “I’m heading upstairs,” he said, breaking the silence. “Help yourself to the leftovers in the fridge on your way out.”

  Seconds later, the bottom step groaned. More creaksfollowed as he made his way upstairs. She held her breath. Now she had her chance. She could escape and pretend nothing had happened. Except as time moved on, she’d eventually have to face Luke. After all, he lived next door to her best friend. How would she feel when Luke moved on and found someone new?

  Her heart tripped, her head grew dizzy and buzzed with uncertainty, jealousy, and regret.You’ll be fine. She straightened her shoulders, and without another thought, swung open the bathroom door.

  She scanned the foyer and hallway. The entire downstairs dark, except for a lone light in the kitchen, she released a deep breath then headed toward the backdoor. Her sandals smacked against her heels. Wanting a quiet escape, she kicked off her shoes and held them in one hand, took a fortifying breath and moved into the kitchen, then froze.

  The beautiful centerpiece that had graced the patio table, now sat on the kitchen counter, a note beside it. She snatched the paper and read Luke’s chicken scratch.

  This was all for you, for us. Thank you for showing me what love is about. I will always carry you in my heart. I will always love you. Forever, Luke.

  The note fell from her hand. Tears distorted her vision as they slipped down her cheeks. With a sob, she dashed for the door, clutched the handle then stopped.