by Cindy Dees
She closed that eye and peeked sidelong out of the other eye at Jackson. He was staring up at the ceiling in grand exasperation as if appealing to a higher power for the patience not to kill his grandmother.
“I have it!” the yogi yelled without warning.
Ana jumped about a foot straight up in the air. Jackson gave one last eye roll to the heavens, while Minerva clasped her hands over her heart in anticipation so great she obviously could not contain herself. “Oh, do tell!” she cried.
“The young man and the young lady. They are going to have a boy child.”
Maybe in a few years. In an alternate universe where Jackson didn’t think women were Satan’s handmaidens and she wasn’t his employee.
“There is no question about it,” the yogi announced. She carries a boy.” The guy spoke with such authority it was hard not to believe him out of hand.
Jackson gaped at her. She gaped at the yogi. The yogi smiled beatifically at Minerva. Minerva beamed at everyone.
“What the hell is going on around here?” Jackson finally demanded.
Ana spoke carefully in a Herculean effort not to dissolve in laughter. Or tears. Did Jackson have to sound so completely appalled at the idea of him and her ending up together? Maybe even having a baby someday? “If Yogi Surhan is to be believed, we’re going to have a baby boy.”
“What? When?” Jackson looked completely dumbfounded. She had to give him credit for doing a fantastic job of acting genuinely surprised.
“In the future, Jackson. Far, far in the future.” Now that she was over the initial shock of the yogi’s announcement, Ana was actually starting to be a little amused. Okay, a lot amused. She’d never seen Jackson this flustered.
“A...b-baby?” He was having trouble even saying the word.
“Earth to Jackson. Come in. You need to breathe. You’re turning blue, big guy.”
Finally, the reality bird pooped on Jackson’s head, and he seemed to put together crazy yogi and crazier prediction with the idea of nothing to worry about. A look of the most profound relief swept across his face. God, she would double over with laughter if such a big part of her didn’t desperately wish the yogi was right and that she was pregnant with Jackson’s son.
He mumbled, “A baby, huh? Um, wow. That’s fascinating. I guess congratulations are in order.”
He startled her by sweeping her up in his arms and kissing her soundly. And darned if the second his mouth landed on hers she didn’t respond like her entire being had just gone up in flames. Passion roared through her, surging forward to consume her, and she threw herself into the kiss without conscious thought. This was Jackson, and she wanted him worse than life.
His mouth slanted across hers in response, devouring her like they were never going to be allowed to kiss again. She opened her soul to him, and he filled it, renewing her like floodwaters sinking into parched earth. Her hands plunged into his hair and she tugged his head down closer, stroking his tongue with hers, sucking his tongue into her mouth, hungrily absorbing the taste of him. God, she couldn’t get enough of him.
He made a low sound in the back of his throat that she felt more than heard. It rumbled of possession. Of territory claimed. Of lust and passion, gluttony and greed. Her insides melted and her body molded eagerly to his.
Yogi Surhan chortled. “Good thing they’ve already made the baby, yes? Or we would have to send them upstairs now to do the deed.”
The bald comment shocked Ana back into awareness of her surroundings. The library. Minerva. Raisin Man. And Jackson. Oh, Lord. She was crawling all over him like stripes on a tiger. Guiltily, she unwrapped herself from him as he straightened. The poor guy looked nearly as flabbergasted as she felt.
What the heck had that just been? They’d barely spoken to each other all day and all hell had broken loose between them the second they’d touched each other.
“My work here is done,” the yogi announced. “I wish you all felicitations from my heart. This baby, he will be healthy, strong and wise.”
This hypothetical baby. She only hoped Minerva hadn’t paid this charlatan seer a whole lot for that bogus act.
Minerva showed the little man to the front door, gushing over him every step of the way. Jackson, who had never actually let go of Ana’s hand after that incendiary kiss, dragged her into the foyer after his grandmother.
The front door closed and Jackson announced firmly, “Ana and I are going to go upstairs now and have a conversation.”
“I’ll turn the television up loud, dear,” Minerva said blithely.
Ana’s jaw dropped and her face flamed with hot shame. Jackson’s grandmother thought they were going to have sex? Loud, raucous sex? Ohmigod, she would never be able to look the woman in the eye again.
“C’mon, Ana,” Jackson ground out, bodily dragging her up the right staircase. “We need to have that talk you mentioned earlier. Now.”
Chapter 10
Jackson turned to face Ana. She looked like a guilty child standing in the middle of his bedroom staring down at her toes. He wanted to make love to her so badly he could hardly stand upright. That kiss in the library had been out of this world. If he so much as touched her, he would lose whatever modicum of control he had and fall on her like a beast.
Being careful to stay well out of arm’s reach of her, he took tight hold of his surging lust and asked low and grim, “What the hell was that circus downstairs all about?”
Ana exhaled hard. “You tell me. I had no idea your grandmother was into fortune-tellers and soothsayers.”
“Exactly what triggered all of that?”
“I have no idea. This morning, she did bring up the subject of wanting a great-grandchild. I didn’t say anything to lead her on, though. It’s not like I told her I’m pregnant or anything.”
Holy Mother of God. Just hearing those words out of Ana’s mouth did crazy things to his gut. The idea of a baby—their baby—was shocking, and strangely...exciting.
Not good exciting, he told himself hastily. Scary exciting. Yeah, that was it. That knot twisting in his gut was an instinctive threat reaction. That was all. It wasn’t possible that Ana was pregnant. Well, technically, he supposed it was—
Alarm slammed into him. “Last night. Christ. You are using birth control, aren’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” she answered quickly, matching his alarm. “I’m on the Pill. It helps keep my...my cycle...regular.”
His gut twisted at how appalled she sounded at the idea of actually having his kid. He wasn’t that bad a guy, was he? He wouldn’t be the worst choice on the planet to be a father. Not that he blamed her for not wanting to be saddled with a baby. She was single and just starting a demanding career. A baby would be a huge inconvenience for her.
Thank goodness she wasn’t one of those women who would use a pregnancy to trap a star into coughing up millions in child support...or worse, demanding a wedding ring. No child deserved to be used that way.
God knew, he’d been an inconvenient child, himself. No way would he do that to any kid of his. After his father died, his mother had drifted without an anchor. He and his siblings had bounced from crash pad to crash pad with Linda while she got stoned and tried to sleep her way into acting jobs, when she was cleaned up enough to know what day it was. Had Minerva not finally stepped in and taken them away from her, had his grandmother not given them stability and fierce love, who the hell knew how things would have turned out for any of them. If he had a kid, by God, he would be there to raise it.
The idea of watching his own son or daughter—son if he was to believe Yogi What’s-his-face—grow up was seductively appealing. Good thing there was still plenty of time for him to settle down. To have kids later.
Ana was talking again. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about Minerva having arranged a surprise before she amb
ushed you.”
“This isn’t the first time she’s pulled a stunt like this. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” He paced the length of the room, unaccountably restless.
“Are you okay?” she asked in a small voice. “Do you need me to leave and go stay in a hotel until I can find a place of my own?”
“I’m fine. And no, I need you to stay.”
“I’ve never seen your grandmother happier than when that nutball told her I was going to have your son. She really wants a great-grandchild. I think she’s genuinely worried you won’t ever get around to having a family on your own. And now that I’ve seen how focused you are on your career, I have to say I agree with her.”
Great. Just what he needed: two women meddling in his personal life. As if one wasn’t enough, now Minerva had help.
He opened his mouth to tell Ana to butt out, but something inside him prevented the words from coming out. After all, he’d been the one to insist that she come here to stay.
She was speaking again. “It’s going to kill Minerva to find out I’m not your girlfriend, let alone pregnant with your baby. I think we should nip this in the bud and dash her hopes now, before she gets too much more invested in the whole us-dating thing.”
They weren’t dating? They were sleeping together but not dating? He opened his mouth to protest before he thought better of it. This was every bachelor’s perfect situation, right? Hot girl is happy to jump in the sack with you but wants no emotional commitment whatsoever?
“My impulsive grandmother? That ship has sailed. She’s convinced you and I are headed for happily ever after.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.
“Nothing to apologize for, Ana. Everything’s great.” Except he didn’t feel great as she turned silently and returned to her own room without a backward glance for him.
* * *
Ana dragged herself out of bed reluctantly. Every day for the past week, she and Jackson had been rehearsing, running lines and practicing fight scenes with each other and with the stuntmen in the movie. Each day had been worse than the last. Jackson seemed to have relegated her to finished business in his mind and was treating her like one of the guys. Distant. Professional. Impersonal. He still had trouble hitting her properly, though.
At least something had come out of their onetime romantic interlude. He’d figured out that she was a girl. And now he was totally hinky about punching her. But apparently, she wasn’t woman enough for him to be interested in having an actual relationship with.
She’d been hunting for a place of her own each day after work, but the price of housing in this exclusive beach community took her breath away. And it was just possible that she didn’t really want to move out of Jackson’s house and sever the last tentative emotional tie she had to him.
As for who had mugged her and trashed her motel room, no obvious suspects were forthcoming. The local police seemed to think it had been some sort of domestic dispute, and that she was refusing to hand over the name of whoever’d done it. As if she would ever protect some man who would act like that. Hah!
She kept getting the feeling that she was being watched, but she kept her suspicions to herself. The sensation of being followed was bad enough to make her sleep terribly and feel cranky when she was awake. For the first few days, she whipped around to look behind her when the sensation overcame her. But eventually, she started to feel crazy and forced herself not to react anymore to the feeling of a malevolent glare boring into her shoulder blades.
She knew that it was perfectly normal to experience heightened sensitivity and anxiety after a traumatic experience. The shrinks taught her that after Chandler had nearly killed her. But just because her head understood it, that didn’t mean her gut was listening to reason. At all.
It wasn’t listening to her regarding her hunky costar, either. She had to find a way to survive the agony of living in close proximity to Jackson at his grandmother’s house and yet being so very distant from him. The worst of it was that he didn’t seem to think anything was wrong.
He chatted pleasantly with her at breakfast, worked with her and the other members of his crew during the day, and wished her sweet dreams every night when she went up to bed, inevitably well before him. She’d known he would have to work hard both producing and acting in this movie, but she’d had no idea how hard moviemaking was.
Despite how late he came home most nights, she was still awake when she heard him come into his room. She tossed and turned, tangling herself in the hot sheets most nights, too, her lust ragingly unsatisfied. If only she could creep next door in the middle of the night and make love with him one more time. Although, she suspected one more time wouldn’t be nearly enough for her. She would never get enough of him. The man was an addiction she wasn’t likely to kick anytime soon.
The good news was that Jackson didn’t seem to be sleeping any better than she was. She heard his mattress creak and groan for hours sometimes as he tossed and turned. What kept him awake in the wee hours? She would give anything for it to be fantasies of her. Of course, it was more likely issues at work weighing on his mind. She was neither naive nor stupid, and she knew Jackson was done with her.
After one of those nights where neither she nor Jackson had gotten any rest at all, Ana stumbled downstairs in the morning to the sound of rain pounding at the big picture windows ocean-side. The gray, gloomy weather fit her mood perfectly.
Minerva announced cheerfully over breakfast in the not-sunny sunroom, “I have a surprise for the two of you. It was just delivered.”
Ana looked up at Jackson in quick alarm. He looked as unpleasantly surprised as her as he ground out, “Please tell me that yoga guy isn’t back.”
“He’s a yogi, dear. And no. He’s not back. We already know the sex of your baby. Come with me.”
Perplexed, Ana rose from her seat and followed Jackson and Minerva into the kitchen. The older woman opened the garage door with a flourish, announcing, “A gift. For the two of you.”
Jackson was first to step into the garage. His voice floated back to her in outrage. “What the hell?”
Ana stepped outside and spied a chunky maroon minivan beside the Viper. The new vehicle looked like a beached whale parked next to a barracuda.
“Look,” Minerva said excitedly. “It’s already got a baby seat preinstalled and everything. And the rear row of seats folds down automatically. The man at the dealership said you can fit all kinds of baby gear in the back. Playpen. Stroller. Even a high chair. It’s perfect for when the baby gets here. You can’t exactly put an infant on a Harley, and the Viper has only two seats and no storage room at all. It was totally impractical for a young family.”
Shocked to her core, Ana turned to stare at Jackson, who was noticeably pale. The man looked like he’d just been run over by a freight train.
“Since it’s raining today, you two can drive it to work and see how you like it.” Minerva held out the key fob and Jackson took it, staring numbly at the little black device in his hand like he’d never seen an electronic car key before.
“You need me to drive, big guy?” Ana asked, amused. “There’s no shame in not knowing how to drive a mommy-mobile.”
“I can drive the damned car,” he snapped. Color was returning to his face. A lot of it. Fast.
“We should name it, don’t you think?” Ana said cheerfully. “Any ideas, Minerva?”
“Oooh. Something cuddly. The Hugster.”
“There will be no Hugster in this house. Is that clear?” Jackson declared forcefully.
Ana slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. He was too pissed off to see the humor in the moment just yet. If she wasn’t mistaken, Minerva’s eyes were glinting with something evilly akin to humor as the woman sailed into the kitchen with a wave of a hand. “You two enjoy the ride. Let me know how it go
es.”
The kitchen door closed behind her, and the garage fell silent.
Ana tiptoed around to the passenger side of the luxuriously appointed minivan and slid into the heated glove-leather seat. It actually was a pretty snazzy vehicle with all the latest bells and whistles.
Jaw set, and steam all but shooting out his ears, Jackson adjusted the driver’s seat back to accommodate his height and strapped himself in. He backed out of the garage and into the rain, his movements precise. Tense. She had to give him credit for being a great grandson. He was going to drive the minivan once for Minerva.
He pulled out of the driveway onto the main road and the car behind them honked as it ran up on their slowly accelerating tailgate. Ana had to choke back a giggle yet again.
“I’ll kill her,” Jackson growled.
That was it. Ana dissolved into gales of laughter as he grasped the big steering wheel in angry fists, his foot jammed to the floor on the accelerator.
“Aw, c’mon,” she chortled. “You wear the Hugster well. It looks great on you.”
“Shut up, Izzolo. This is not funny.”
“Yes. Yes, it is. Just think. You can fit six...” she turned around to count seats “...no, five—because of the baby seat—drunks in here when you go out partying. You’ll be the most popular guy on set. Designated driver forever. On guys’ nights out, you can call it the Shaggin’ Wagon.”
“That’ll be enough out of you.”
“Minerva’s just twisting your arm a little. That’s why you’re so mad. She one-upped you. I have to give her props for this one. I didn’t see it coming.”
Jackson fumed in silence most of the way across town to the studio. As they turned onto the long drive that led back to the big soundstage, he surprised her by commenting, “I’ve been staying late at the studio for the past week in hopes that your stalker would show up there again and try to sabotage something else.”
