After the party, she’d kill Alexi.
Jackson turned on his heel and left. Nan had to hurry to keep up with his six-four stride. So what if he was a walking wish list—dark hair, sexy eyes, and lean, have-to-touch muscles? So what if he wanted to share all of that with her? So what if he looked even more sexy than usual in jeans and a white dress shirt instead of his usual t-shirt grunge. So what if he made her insides melt. She wanted more in a man. She wanted a man going somewhere.
Jackson stopped in the narrow hallway and turned her way. She hated the thrill pumping through her blood. His glare mirrored her mixed emotions. Even though he was angry, he still wanted her.
“Listen, Jackson—”
“The ladies room is behind you. I’d better find Alexi and tell her you’re safe and sound.” He whipped around and walked away without looking back.
* * *
Fool. Cursing himself, Jackson strode away from Nan. The woman was trouble. He should be two-stepping in the opposite direction anytime she came near with her livewire sensuality. Five minutes in her company and he became so hot he could give new meaning to the concept of “southern fried.”
But damn, seeing her bottoms up over the hood of his pick-up, all black lace and creamy skin got to him. Everything about her did. The fire of her hair, the way her blue eyes grew dark with passion and excitement, or cool with disapproval. Her honeysuckle scent with a touch of the exotic spicing it up incited him to drink from her sweet mouth. Unfortunately, she came with strings attached. Strings like commitment and a future—strings he didn’t deserve to stroke, pluck, or strum.
Like the songs he played on the guitar, something about Nan reached inside him beyond the numbness and made him feel. Jackson missed a step. No, not feel. It was just a sexual thing.
She’d gotten stuck in his head somewhere between the “I do’s” and the final toast at Jesse and Alexi’s wedding. It might have had something to do with the fact that she’d caught the bridal bouquet and he’d made damned sure that his younger twin brothers, James and Jared, didn’t catch the garter. They had no business running their hands up her long legs. He’d gotten the pleasure of touching her silky skin, of being up close and personal with her honeysuckle scent.
Grim, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans to ease the pressure off his fly and moved back into the fray of the cocktail party. People dressed in tuxedos, glittery gowns, and exchanging superficial chatter filled the room. They were as effervescent as the champagne bubbling in the flutes they held.
Alexi spotted him immediately. He quickened his step to save her from walking through the crowded room. If it weren’t for Alexi, and her zeal to improve children’s medical care at the hospital, he would have avoided this social function like the plague.
“Did you find Nan?” she asked, frowning then the blood drained from her face. “Why the serious look on your face? Something’s happened to Nan, hasn’t it?”
“No. She’s fine. A little wet, but fine. Now relax.”
“Really, you wouldn’t lie to me?”
“I promise. Nan is fine. The only thing I lied about was the wet part.” He smiled until he remembered just how well he could see the full contours of Nan’s breasts beneath the silk of her dress. Then his smile dropped as his pulse rate rose. “She’s more than just a little wet, she’s drenched. I sent her to the ladies dressing room back stage to dry off, though in my opinion she should go home and have a hot bath.”
“Thank you for going after her. Doctor on call or not, I can’t believe Brad didn’t go pick her up, not with this storm. I wanted to smack him when he showed up without Nan.”
“Swanson has always been a self-absorbed, stuffed shirt.”
“I didn’t realize you knew him.”
“In Chicago.” Realizing he’d said too much, he turned to go. “Time I went backstage to finish setting up our equipment for the dance.”
“Sure you and your band don’t want to eat in the main room?”
“Positive. No offense, but we’d be more comfortable in the backstage lounge. Where’s Jesse? I haven’t seen him around.”
“He’s not here. The storms delayed his flight from DC.”
Jackson froze, and unease crept up his spine. “You didn’t drive yourself here, did you?”
“Of course. I had to be here hours ago. I missed the rain completely.”
“You’re eight months pregnant, Alexi, you shouldn’t be driving.”
“Jesse usually runs me about when he’s in town, but when he’s gone and I’m feeling fine, I drive myself.”
Jackson shrugged. It wasn’t any skin off of his back what his brother and sister-in-law did. He turned to go again, but couldn’t make his feet move. “Look. Next time Jesse’s not around and you need to go somewhere, call me. Hell, call James, or Jared, or anybody. Okay?”
“Well, that seems like a lot of trouble to impose—”
Jackson could already see she wasn’t going to pick up the phone. He grabbed her hand. “Just promise me you won’t get behind the steering wheel again until after the baby’s been born. I’ll drive you home tonight and you call me even if it's to fetch ice cream in the middle of the night. Okay?”
Suddenly realizing people about them were beginning to stare, Jackson eased his grip on Alexi’s hand and lowered his voice. “Please.”
Alexi blinked her obvious surprise, but relented. “Okay, Jack. But you’re worrying over nothing. It won’t be much longer before I won’t even fit behind the wheel and still reach the pedals.” Her smile came at odds to the questions he saw in her eyes.
He didn’t want questions. This is why he avoided family. This is why he avoided people. Proximity led to involvement, something he didn’t want.
“I’ll check on Nan,” Alexi said and left.
Jackson drew a deep breath and headed backstage. As he strode across the crowded room, the sugarcoated atmosphere swirling about him clashed with the feelings crowding in on him. He’d have to talk to Jesse. The fool didn’t realize he could lose everything he held dear.
Rolling his shoulders to dispel some of the tension knotting his muscles, he focused on the mess of cold metal equipment. He preferred handling the mechanics of music to dealing with the dynamics of relationships on any level. Nan left him feeling like a rolled up hot-to-go pretzel. As many times as he told himself to forget her, she boomeranged right back into his mind.
* * *
Nan, bent doubled under the hand dryer, fluffed the curtain of her damp hair. Her dress hung under the other hand-dryer receiving intermittent blasts of hot air. All she had on was her black lace lingerie topped by Jackson’s jacket, which barely covered her garters. Her lack of dress in comparison to the marble, gold-leafed plushness of the dressing room made her feel decadent. Beneath the heat of the dryer, another fantasy had taken root. This time she sat on Jackson’s Harley, and they were taking a wild ride, but he wasn’t driving down a road. He was driving deep inside. . .
“What did you do to Jackson?” Alexi demanded. She waddled into the room like she couldn’t make the last step of a long journey.
“Jackson!” Nan yelped guiltily then bit her lip, ashamed over her disappointment at seeing her friend enter. Giving her hair a last scrunch, Nan stood upright. The cool, sophisticated style she started the night with was now a jumble of bedroom-mussed hair. Nan frowned at Alexi. “I didn’t do anything to him. Why?”
“The expression on his face is rivaling the storm outside. He was fine before he went to look for you.” Alexi rubbed the small of her back and stretched her shoulders.
“He went out looking for me?”
“Yeah, I was worried and when I got no answer at your apartment, he volunteered to make sure you were all right.”
Nan let the subject of Jackson drop, but finding out he’d ventured into the storm for her stuck in her head. Had Brad been concerned? He obviously hadn't been watching the front for her or he would have seen her drive up.
Alexi sank into
the jade leather loveseat just inside the dressing room door. She slipped her feet from her pumps and tried to massage them. The girth of the child growing within made the task nearly impossible. She gave up and rolled back against the cushions, then commented on Nan’s attire. “Black garters and leather. I wore mine for Jesse the other night.”
“And?”
“He laughed.”
“I’ll kill him.”
“No you won’t, because I love him. Besides, he laughed because he didn’t think there was anything on this God’s earth I couldn’t make sexy.”
“He can live. That’s so romantic.”
Alexi grinned. “Since my sex life is fruitful, let’s discuss yours.”
“I’m not about to discuss my non-existent sex life. But I am going to read you the riot act while I massage your feet. That whole shopping trip and dress buying thing was a set up. You knew Jackson was going to be here tonight, didn’t you?” Nan pushed the button to keep drying her dress and joined Alexi, motioning for Alexi’s feet.
“Guilty,” Alexi winced. “I thought it would do him good to see you looking great and out with another man. God, that feels good.” Alexi moaned.
“You also made it sound as if Brad and I had a relationship.”
Alexi winced. “Well maybe a little. If he thought that you were—”
“Let it go, Lex. Jackson isn’t the right man for me.”
“Better than Brad. If a man let me fend for myself during the storm of the century on our first date, there wouldn’t be a second.”
“He’s dedicated to his career and his patients. I understand and admire that.” Nan sighed. “Besides, what you have with Jesse doesn’t happen for everyone.”
“So, you’ve never met a man that lights your fire?” Alexi asked, tongue in cheek.
Nan narrowed her eyes. “I’m not discussing Jackson.”
Alexi smiled, pleased. “Who brought up his name? Not me.”
Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Nan turned the spotlight on Alexi. “Your feet are swollen. Bet you haven’t rested all day.”
“I did rest for about an hour. My feet are always swollen these days. I suppose its part of the package.” Alexi lovingly rubbed the side of her protruding stomach. “By evening junior and I are ready to call it a day.”
“You need to slow down. Not do so much. Maybe we better not go to the play Wednesday night.” Worried, Nan ran an assessing eye over Alexi, searching for any other signs that a complication might be rising.
“No. I’m fine, really. I’m looking forward to seeing A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Sitting and laughing isn’t going to overtire me.”
“Have you told Dr. Schwartz how you’re feeling?”
“A little.”
“That doesn’t tell me much. What was your last blood pressure?” Nan pressed her fingers against Alexi swollen ankles to determine the level of edema and checked the pulses there.
Alexi laughed. “I’m fine, really. My blood pressure was a hundred and twenty over eighty-five at my last check-up. She said some swelling at the end of the day is normal, though it wasn’t as bad as this then.”
“That’s a higher pressure than normal for you. Any headaches, dizziness, blurred vision? Swelling in your hands?”
“Just a little, but nothing to speak of, Nurse Miller. You’re sounding as worried about the baby as Jackson was a few minutes ago. You’d think I was planning to go skydiving instead of just drive myself home. Both of you are going to have me spooked.”
“Maybe I’m being a little paranoid. But do me a favor. Stay off your feet a few days, call Dr. Schwartz for another check-up, cut back on your salt, and increase your protein intake.”
Alexi groaned. “You do know how to knock a woman when she’s down. All I’ve been craving lately is French fries dripping with catsup. Between you and Jackson, I’ll be propped up and homebound for a whole month with nothing to console me.” Alexi lowered her feet to the floor and slipped on her shoes.
Nan frowned. “This late in your pregnancy the least little fender bender could cause a major problem.”
“You know how many do’s and don’ts are dumped on a woman the moment she gets pregnant? I had to give up chocolate. Caffeine isn’t good for the baby. Pretty soon they’re probably going to tell me I have to give up sex, too. I’ll go crazy. A beached whale, stuck at home, no chocolate, and no Jesse.” Alexi frowned, seemingly having the weight of the world settle on her.
“Come on, it can’t be all that bad. Just think. In a little over a month, you’ll have it all. Jesse, a baby, and choc—uh, scratch the chocolate while breastfeeding. I’ve heard it gives babies gas. Call me. I’ll drive you where you need to go until after the baby is born, but I won’t take you to get French fries or chocolate.” She hugged Alexi. “I’d better get dressed.”
“No fries. I’m dying here!” Alexi wailed in mock distress. “This is pain!”
“Think about something else.” Nan scooted off the couch and struck a pose. “How about this outfit for dinner with the hospital’s bigwigs—”
The door burst open, and Jackson filled its frame. “What in the hell’s going on? Is she having the baby?”
Nan jumped with fright at the thunder in Jackson voice. Her jaw dropped and she froze on the spot, much as she supposed a deer would pinned by the headlights of a Mack truck. Jackson looked wild and dangerous.
“I heard dying. . .pain—” His gaze fell on her and he stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth wide open mid-word. His eyes blazed to laser points as he cut a path down her body. His look sucker-punched Nan in the gut. It wasn’t until her breath whooshed from her lungs and she felt the suspicious tickle of air on her left breast that she realized what he was seeing. Oh God. She snapped the jacket closed.
Jackson had already covered half the distance to her. The look in his eyes was one of a man intent on retrieving his jacket. Now.
From the sidelines of this tableau, Alexi burst into laughter, holding her baby-swollen girth. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, but I’d better get out now.”
Jackson shook his head as if coming out of a trance. “I thought. . .” Nan saw him spare Alexi a brief glance.
Alexi grinned. “You heard a pregnant woman who just realized she had to give up French fries.”
Jackson frowned then grinned. “I came to tell you both they’re serving dinner.” He swung his gaze back to her and Nan wanted to run and hide. “You wear my jacket well.”
“Doesn’t she?” Alexi piped on her way to the door. “You should see what’s underneath.”
“I did,” Jackson drawled.
Mortified, Nan hugged Jackson’s coat closer and sent him and Alexi a murderous look. “Both of you shut up and get out.”
Alexi laughed and disappeared out the door. Jackson followed, only he didn’t leave. The door closed, shutting them intimately together. He folded his arms and leaned against the door as his bedroom blues made another slow assessment of her. She burned, wanting his electric touch like a desert thirsting for water. Yet, she denied herself and kept a disapproving frown centered on her face.
He moved her way then, coming so close that she could feel his heat. He cocked his brow at her and glanced down at her exposed cleavage before he grabbed the jacket and pulled her against his arousal. “I’ll get it later,” he said softly.
Nan mouth went dry. Still, she managed to add just the right touch of ennui to her voice. “Will you?”
Smiling, he backed away and opened the door then looked at her. “Of course. A man can’t live without his jacket.” Nan swore his grin housed the devil.
Minutes later, Nan dashed from the dressing room as if Satan was on her heels. He who she was again trying not to name seemed to be everywhere. She slid into her seat next to Brad Swanson at the banquet table, seeing that the salads had already been served, but no one was eating.
Several members of the upper echelon of Memorial Hospital were seated at the table and were wai
ting for her with disapproving frowns—the Chairman of the Board of Directors, the long dead founder’s great-granddaughter, the administrator, several departmental heads, and Isabel Barra—a VIP consultant from Switzerland known in the nursing circles as Bella Barracuda. This was not good.
Cheeks flushing, Nan nodded a greeting. They watched as she unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap. She cleared her throat. “Sorry I’m late.”
Her apology seemed to set everyone in motion, but their looks of disapproval remained. Nan expelled the air she had trapped in her lungs.
“Didn’t think there’d be much traffic out,” Brad whispered, leaning her way.
“No traffic. Just rain, buckets of it and a wicked wind from the West.” Nan rubbed her temple at the beginnings of a headache. She was a storm blown mess, while not a hair on Brad’s GQ-cover-head would think to lie out of place, or a wrinkle would dare crease his tux.
So, why did her salad have more appeal at the moment?
She shouldn’t have skipped lunch, she thought as she forked a delicate bite of Romaine lettuce into her mouth.
“Time got away from me at the hospital, and I couldn’t pick you up. I didn’t know it was raining so hard when I called. Glad you’re finally here.” Brad picked up the salad dressing, poured it on her salad, his own, and handed it to the man on his right.
“Looks like some of that rain got you,” the man said as he took the salad dressing from Brad. She recognized him as the head of radiology. The nurses called him x-ray eyes because he always looked as if he were trying to see through their clothes.
“Just a bit,” Nan managed to say past the lettuce lodged in her throat. Brad hadn't even asked her if she wanted salad dressing. She grabbed her water goblet.
“So, Ms. Milner, Brad says you work for us in the Labor and Delivery Department.” Nan recognized Talbert Townsend, the hospital’s Chairman of the Board from the huge portrait of him hanging in the hospital lobby.
“Yes I do, Mr. Townsend.” The man had her name wrong. Mentally scrambling on how to set him straight, she smiled over the elegant bouquet of magnolias serving as the table’s centerpiece—the crowning touch to the linen tablecloth, crystal, and gold rimmed china.
Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) Page 4
