Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series)

by Jennifer Saints

  “What do you think is wrong?” Alexi asked even as Nan stirred in his arms.

  “I don’t know.” Jackson settled her on the sofa and assessed Nan’s condition. Her pulse and respiration, though slightly rapid, were steady, and still within normal range. Her skin worried him; cool and clammy to his touch and her dress was still damp in places. He ran his fingers up from the pulse at her throat to her forehead. Only then did he notice Nan watching him.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  Her brow furrowed.

  “Did that jerk—”

  “Calm down and give her a chance to talk,” Alexi said, laying a hand on his shoulder and angling closer to Nan.

  Jackson stamped on the emotion threatening to escape. This is why he didn't get involved. This is why he kept his distance. He released Nan’s shoulders and stood up to put space between them, but kept his eyes trained on her.

  Nan swallowed hard then spoke. “I’m not sure what happened. All of a sudden I became dizzy and cold.”

  “Are you allergic to anything? Any other symptoms? Nausea? Pain? Difficulty breathing?” Jackson fell back into a mode he’d thought he’d left behind years ago. He paced as he spoke.

  “No.” Nan sneezed. “Though I must be more addled than I thought. You’re beginning to sound like a doctor.”

  Alexi handed Nan a tissue. “He—”

  “Just normal questions anybody would ask,” Jackson said, interrupting Alexi. The past wasn’t anybody else’s business but his. “You probably fainted because you sat in a freezing room in a wet dress instead of going home and changing like a sensible woman.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alexi soothe her hand over the blue dress elegantly adorning her eight-month girth. His body broke out into a sweat.

  Alexi felt Nan’s forehead. “I know the feeling you described. I became dizzy and cold when I first became preg—” She clamped her hand over her mouth, suddenly realizing what she’d almost inferred.

  Nan sat up quickly. “Well that’s one problem I can definitely rule out.” Her laugh sounded forced. “Unless Superman slept in my bed and then zapped my memory.”

  Her gaze met his, and she blushed. Guiltily? But why? Unless she lied. Brad Swanson? He didn’t want to think of her with someone else. It wasn't acceptable.

  Well fool, what did you expect when you pushed her away? He could admit to himself now that was what he'd done New Year's Eve in Salty's Bar, why he'd turned down a recording deal with a music producer. He’d been weighing the pros and cons of signing on the dotted line all day, until Nan had started talking about all the wonderful opportunities he’d have. The overwhelming feeling that the mill of success was about to pull him under its grinding wheel again descended on him and he’d torn the contract up. Then asked Nan if she was ready to rent a hotel room for the night. Nan had walked.

  Nan slumped back. “It was probably the effects of white wine on an empty stomach and too little rest.”

  If she was sleeping with Swanson then it was his own fault. He shouldn’t have pushed so hard.

  “Fool,” Jackson muttered, speaking to himself again.

  Alexi and Nan looked at him, telling him he spoke aloud. He scrambled to explain. “You should take better care of yourself. Are you sure you’re not having any other problems besides dizziness?”

  “Positive. I just needed to rest a minute and then I’ll go home.” Nan stood.

  “Sit down,” Jackson ordered. “You’ve just fainted and you think that I’m going to let you drive home? He checked his watch. “As soon as I finish this last set, I’ll drive you both home.”

  Nan blinked and sat. Jackson had been more emphatic than the situation called for, but she could see his point. She was still a bit dizzy, but wasn’t about to admit it. “That isn’t necessary. I’m sure I’ll be fine after a few more minutes rest.”

  Jackson drew a deep breath and Nan braced herself for his argument. Instead she heard him exhale, before he finally said, “Please.”

  A battle the size of WWII launched itself in her stomach and the tinges of a migraine headache that she hadn’t had for years intruded. How could she resist him? Letting him take her home wouldn’t be like going out with him again. “I’ll call a cab,” she said, making one last ploy to save herself.

  Jackson scowled. “You’d trust an absolute stranger to drive you home more than you’d trust me?” His eyes glittered.

  “Not wanting to impose doesn’t suggest I don’t trust you.” It was herself she didn't trust.

  “Then wait for me,” Jackson said and left the room.

  * * *

  The door slammed shut behind him with the finality of a trap snapping closed.

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” Alexi said from across the room.

  Nan glared. “A lot of help you were. What happened to women’s independence? Sisterhood and all that rot.”

  “Too busy watching the fireworks. You and Jackson spark like a match to dry tinder.”

  “Yeah, well I grew up listening to Smoky the Bear. Forest fires kill.” Nan rolled the tension from her shoulders. The man was as touchy as a hound after a porcupine encounter. “I sense some heavy emotions running hot beneath his way-too-casually-cool surface. He’s never shown them before.”

  “He’s a hard man to get to know. He keeps everyone at a distance. Even Jesse.” She leaned her head back to rest against the chair’s ample cushion. “You know when you first met Jackson, even a blind man could see the sparks fly between you two. I told Jesse that if any woman could reach his brother, it would be you. I still think he’s one man you shouldn’t have let go.” Alexi eyed her with a determined angle to her chin.

  Nan bit her lip. How did she tell Alexi, a woman who’d always had everything, that no matter how much appeal Jackson held, if he didn’t want to move forward and share goals in life, she couldn’t afford to involve herself with him?

  She wanted to own her own home. She wanted to travel. She wanted to send her children to good schools. She wanted success, and she wanted the hope that came with working every day toward a brighter future. A man like Brad could help her in that direction. A man like Jackson would only drag her back to what she had left behind.

  “Things between us just didn’t work out. We aren’t going the same direction in life.”

  “Moving in opposite directions can make for explosive collisions, like me and Jesse for example. While parallel motion can get pretty dull. From the hot and heavy looks between you two, I bet your paths are destined to intercourse, uh, I mean, intersect. Why avoid it?”

  “Cute,” Nan said dryly. “Jackson isn’t the man for me.”

  “Hmm,” Alexi said, clearly not believing. She rolled to her feet. “I’m going after some crackers, decaf, and water. You sure you’re feeling better?”

  Nan waved Alexi away. “I’m sure.”

  Alexi left and images of “intersecting” with Jackson filled Nan’s thoughts. She had no idea geometry could be so interesting. . .

  An Indiana Jones-like Jackson, visiting professor in mathematics, walked into her classroom. She stood, precariously balanced on a stool, reaching for an overhead-projecting screen that stubbornly refused to lower. She froze, her heart fluttering dangerously. In the three months he’d been at the university, her hemline had risen three inches in hopes of catching his eye. She could tell by the look he leveled over the rim of his sexy glasses that she finally had his attention.

  “I like your line segments, Professor Miller,” he said.

  She wanted him, had wanted him from the moment she’d seen him. “And I ‘love’ the way you work a problem, Professor Weldon.”

  He locked her classroom door before he crossed the room. She stayed on the stool, frozen with anticipation. He slipped off his glasses as he approached.

  “You say that as if you have a problem for me to solve, Professor Miller.” He slid his hand up her leg, then pressed the inside of the back of her knee, making her fall into his arms.


  “I do, though it’s more like a puzzle than a problem,” she said, breathless with the feel of his hard chest against her.

  “Puzzles require more time and ingenuity than simple problems. You’ve intrigued me. Do tell.”

  She licked her lips, readying her mouth for his kiss. “Can two objects on a horizontal plane be both parallel and perpendicular to each other, Professor?”

  “Let’s see if we can find out.” He cleared her desk as he laid her upon it. Papers, books, and tests flew, but she didn’t care. She knew the highest-grade possible was about to be made in her classroom.

  “Top grade coffee and a pitcher of ice water, coming right up.” Alexi plowed into the room.

  Top grade? Coming? Nan blinked back to reality, then slumped back onto the couch muttering, “He was and I was.”

  “Did you say something?”

  “No. I’ll take the ice water first.”

  “I thought you were cold.”

  “That was before.” Before the Jackson invasion.

  * * *

  Wrapped in the warmth and scents of Jackson’s jacket, Nan watched him slide back into the car after seeing Alexi inside her door. His movements fit his demeanor, terse and tense.

  Before he started his pick-up, she placed her hand on his arm. “How does Alexi look to you?”

  “Tired. Why?”

  Nan shrugged, dropped her hand from his arm, and breathed. Something she had a hard time remembering to do around him. “She’d shoot me for mentioning it, but her ankles were pretty swollen tonight. I don’t think it’s anything to immediately worry about, but I told her to lay off the salt and increase her protein. She promised to go in early for a check up. I don't like the idea of her being alone this late in her pregnancy. Anything can happen.”

  Jackson expelled a heavy breath and ran his hand through his hair, mussing the raven-wing layers. “You think she’s showing signs of preeclampsia?”

  Nan’s brow stretched with surprise. “How did you know that?” Jackson had astutely picked up on a possible complication few people outside the medical profession would know about unless they personally knew someone stricken with it.

  “How doesn’t really matter. Do you think Alexi is in trouble?” Jackson’s face in the almost moonless night was more shadow than substance.

  “No. Not exactly. I do think the potential is there.”

  “Jesse left a message on the answering machine a few minutes ago that his flight had just landed in Savannah. He should be home inside of thirty minutes. After I get you home, I’ll call and check. My bro and me are going to have a long talk. Alexi’s too far along for him to be out of town.”

  “I agree. I’ll call her tomorrow and see how she’s doing.”

  Jackson started his truck and backed out of the drive. Nan turned her attention to the shadowed scenery to escape looking at Jackson. The he-who-she-shall-not-name tactic had failed miserably.

  The effects of the earlier storm had faded completely. The world had settled back into a comfortable status quo. Salt and the scent of the sea laced the night breeze whipping in the open window. Through the passing live oaks and historic cottages of Tybee Island, Nan caught glimpses of silver waves cresting in the Atlantic before Jackson pulled onto Highway 80 and headed west. Unfortunately, for Nan, her world was far from returning to status quo. It was as if the storm had blown her life off course, tossing her back into Jackson’s dangerous proximity.

  The atmosphere between them was tense and fraught with expectation. It was as if a live wire danced between them and neither of them knew who it would zap next.

  During the two months they'd dated, more often than not, she’d sat at a table watching Jackson and his band play. Her seven A.M. work shift and every-other-weekend work schedule tended to curtail their dating time. His night owl lifestyle hadn’t meshed well with the demands of her job.

  He’d also kept every moment so damn sexually intense, that she didn’t think a thing was missing from their time together until the euphoria wore off. Then she'd been able to assess where Jackson was going with his life and where she wanted her life to go.

  Things had crystallized for her on New Year's Eve, sitting with him in Salty's Bar. He’d just torn up a recording contract from a country music producer, telling her he had no interest in accomplishing more with his life than twanging out a tune in a local bar, late nights, and sleeping till noon. Then he pretty much asked her to share his bed for a while.

  She’d left then. Left before she lost more to him than she could afford. He was a man going nowhere and after watching her mother waste her life on a man just like that, Nan wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

  She had best remember that. But instead of keeping up the safe silence, Nan dug at Jackson's stony wall. Maybe she couldn’t get him out of her head because he was somewhat of a mystery she’d never solved. She knew there was more to him than he let her see. She also knew there was more to his past than he was willing to share. Maybe if she satisfied some of her questions, she could move on past him.

  “You were worried about Alexi even before I said anything. What do you know about eclampsia. Have you noticed something that I've missed?” she asked as he pulled into the drive to her apartment and cut the engine.

  The chirp of crickets, a passing motorist, and an occasionally barking dog filled the silence. Jackson folded his arms and adjusted his long legs in the cramped cab. “She’s my sister-in-law. I…”

  Nan thought she would turn blue from holding her breath, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He didn’t.

  “Yes?” Nan prompted.

  “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. She could practically see the wall slide back into place.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”

  Sighing, she slid out of his truck, attempting to maintain her dignity in the short dress, though after the view Jackson had caught earlier it was kind of a moot point. The dizziness had run its course and the coffee with extra sugar and cream had taken the edge off her headache.

  She followed him to the door, deciding that she’d find out more about Jackson’s past, and how Brad and Dr. Dennison knew him.

  To what end? Her mind whispered. Nothing she could learn would change the direction he was going, which was opposite hers.

  She shoved her key into the lock. Irritated with herself for even wondering about him.

  Jackson closed his hand over hers on the knob. The jolt of his touch tingled all the way to her toes; they curled.

  “Nan, about earlier—“

  “No. Let me say something.” She turned to him, angling her neck to see him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you when I walked out of Salty’s.”

  Jackson shrugged. The yellow glare of a street lamp, barely muted by the eaves of her porch, cast a revealing light upon the square lines of his stubble-rough jaw and lean face. He frowned, his eyes intense. “I was out of line about you baiting your hook tonight.”

  Nan pressed her finger to his full lips, closing her eyes at the pleasure tingling through her. “What I think is that we both want different things in life. You can’t deny that.”

  “No,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward him. “But neither can I deny this.”

  Jackson was like the storm, all wild, knock-you-off-your-feet power. His mouth closed over hers with hot, liquid passion. He did nothing more than cradle the nape of her neck with his hands, bury his fingers into her hair, and kiss her deeply. Yet, her heart pounded with dizzying force and a flood of aching desire pooled in her center.

  After one long, soul-wrenching kiss, he groaned, and kissed her again. Varying his need, he nipped lightly at the corners of her mouth, tasted the tender flesh of her bottom lip, and then dipped deeply into her mouth again.

  Drawn beyond the safety of her common sense, Nan demanded more from him. She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled her body close to his. His coat gaped open, and her satin-draped cleavage brushed his che
st. He pulled her closer, close enough to feel the hard ripples of his chest against her aching breasts. Close enough to feel his muscled thighs against her legs. He answered her demand with one of his own, then leaned back against the door and urged her closer still.

  She didn’t hesitate to follow. As months of longing broke loose, she pressed tightly against the growing ridge of his arousal. He growled deep in his throat, slid his hands down her back, and cupped her bottom, lifting her up and pulling her hard against his sex. The hem of her short dress bunched and the rough material of his jeans rubbed her thighs. From the breath of air against her bottom she knew that only her lace underwear separated the bare flesh of his hands from her most intimate parts. Still she didn’t care. She wanted nothing between them.

  Jackson pulled his mouth from hers, breathing hard. “Damn, Lady, I still want to make love to you,” he said softly. “That’s something I can’t seem to walk away from.” He set her back on her feet, slowly easing his hands from beneath her dress to rest on her shoulders. His blue eyes were so dark with desire; they were blacker than the night, and more electric than a crack of lightning.

  “We went through this before, Jack. I can’t—”

  He stopped her denial with a gentle, firm kiss. “Don’t say anything. Think about it again. Just you and me together. No strings. We’ll get it out of our system and move on.”

  He opened her door. She stepped inside, still stunned by his kiss and the depth of her want for him. Instead of dying out over their months apart, desire had mushroomed, grown larger, more needy. What was she going to do?

  “I’ll come by and take you to get your car tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, but you don’t know what you’re offering. I’m working the early shift, and from what I remember, you don’t do morning. I’ll just catch a cab.”

  Jackson frowned. “I do mornings, sugar. In fact, I’m very good at mornings.”

  She tingled at his words, but started to protest. He staved off her reply by brushing her lips lightly with his thumb. Automatically her tongue slid out to taste his warm, slightly salty skin. He pressed his finger to her tongue, lingered in its moistness a moment, then slipped his thumb to his own mouth.