Next time Nan saw Jackson, she’d tell him they couldn’t start seeing each other again. No more hot buns in the morning, no more kisses. Since he’d left her off at her car after a sticky bun breakfast yesterday, he’d intruded into her every thought like a movie star filling up the big screen. His voice, his every movement and every word lay amplified in her memory.
“Breathe,” Nan encouraged her patient.
The young woman’s flushed face contorted with pain, and she cried out. Up until this point she’d remained focused on her determination for as “natural” a birth as possible. Now in the Transition Stage, the woman wavered.
“I can’t,” the woman moaned. “It hurts.”
“I know, but you’re almost there. You can do this.” Nan squeezed her patient’s hand, giving what support she could. The father, who’d originally planned to be his wife’s birthing coach, had been banished to the waiting room. The man fainted every time his wife had a contraction. Nine times out of ten, it seemed to Nan that when a woman needed a man the most during life’s trials, the man let her down.
“I’ll breathe with you, remember what they taught you in Lamaze, focus and breathe. He, he, he, ho.” Nan guided her patient in the short and long breath patterns until the woman’s contraction eased. Then she bathed the woman’s flushed face with a cool cloth and received a thankful smile before the woman shut her eyes to rest a minute.
Nan checked the fetal monitor and her patient’s vital signs on the various machines. Once she determined that all was well, her mind immediately turned to Jackson. Before she’d run into Jackson Saturday night, sensual thoughts of him had been a problem, but since he’d kissed her again, her imagination had run completely amok. His preposterous proposal for sex had wiggled in the back of her mind like a worm at the end of a fishhook and she felt akin to a hungry fish, a very hungry fish.
A fish that would just have to stay hungry. She wouldn’t see him again. Much less get naked and live out all of her fantasies. What would be the point?
Getting into a relationship without even the plan of a future commitment would lead to nowhere but heartache alley. Even if Jackson came around and tried to make a go of a relationship, he still wasn’t going anywhere with his life, so the ending would be the same. That path had destroyed her mother. Passion didn’t put food on the table and clothe children.
So no matter how Jackson made her feel, she couldn’t.
Relieved she’d finally settled the issue; she drew a deep breath.
Candy stuck her head into the birthing room. “How’s she doing?”
“Good. We’re at nine centimeters. Contractions are running a little over two minutes apart. Is Dr. Schwartz here yet?”
“Yes, she’s scrubbing up.”
“Good. I think this one’s going to come in a hurry.”
The woman in labor popped her eyes open and struggled to sit a bit straighter. “Before lunch?” she said hopefully. “I’m starving. I don’t think I can face another ice chip.”
Nan smiled as she adjusted the mechanical bed higher. “Candy, call dietary.” Nan checked the chart for the doctor’s orders. “She can have a regular diet after she’s had the baby.”
“I’ll do it right now. Stop by the break room after the blessed event. You won’t believe what’s been going on all morning.” Candy dipped back out the door before Nan could question her.
An hour later, Nan left her patient the proud mother of a healthy baby girl. She ran down to the cafeteria and grabbed a deli-bag for lunch, then headed back up to the break room next to the Nurse’s Station to eat. Not only did she feel the beginnings of a headache coming on, but after Saturday night’s fainting disaster she’d decided to lay off coffee and chocolate bars for lunch. On her way through the nurses’ station to the break room, Nan immediately noticed the aura of excitement buzzing from her co-workers.
Candy angled up from her seat and motioned for Nan to join her. “Hurry before you miss them. We think they’re getting ready to break for lunch.”
“Who?” Nan murmured, walking toward Candy.
“Prime filet,” one of the other nurses said, keeping her eyes fastened to the picture window directly across from the table. Surprisingly, everyone on break sat on the same side of the table instead of around it facing each other as usual. Whatever they were looking at through the big picture window held their rapt attention.
“Prime what?” Nan placed her tray on the table to the left and opposite them, since there was no more room on the other side and pulled her chair out.
“Prime everything,” came Candy’s dreamy reply.
“Especially the one on the far left,” Darla said. “Oh, honey. He’s Prime rib, prime buns, prime cut. No doubt he’s got a prime p—”
“Pectoral muscles,” Candy piped in. Everyone at the table looked naughtily at each other then burst into laughter.
Nan shook her head and turned to see what had sent her co-workers off the deep end. Her knees gave out, and she sank hard into her chair. Not more than twenty feet out the window stood a group of six men, all congregated by a huge water cooler on the back of a pickup truck. A work crew. It was Monday and groundbreaking day for the hospital’s new children’s wing. Six dirty, sweaty, well-muscled, young men. The one on the left, the tallest of the group, was in the process of pouring a huge cup of water over his familiar head and Nan’s stomach clenched. Rivulets sluiced over Jackson Weldon’s chiseled face, down his broad shoulders, and over his ripped torso. He was naked from the waist up. He shook his head vigorously, and ran his hands through his dark hair before getting more water and scrubbing his arms.
“See,” Candy said, a little breathless. “Great pecs.”
Jackson turned his back and donned a blue denim work shirt.
“Great buns,” said Sarah.
“Yeah, Jackson’s are the best,” Nan said without thinking. Her tone conveyed the familiarity of a lover, probably because she’d fantasized about him so much. She looked quickly at her friends, hoping they were too distracted by the view to notice.
No such luck. Every one of them zeroed in on her. Nan gulped her diet Coke. She was in big trouble. Her headache began to pound.
“You know him!” Candy said, her eyes rivaling saucers for size. She glanced at Jackson again and then at Nan. “You know him intimately?”
Face red, Darla fluttered her hands with excitement. “Oh, oh, oh, this is like finding the Diet Coke man naked in your hot tub—it’s just too good to be true. You have to tell all. Where did you meet him? What did you say his name was?”
Every eye in the place looked as if she was their fairy godmother about to make their every dream come true. She loosened her tongue and plunged ahead before her cowardly denials could speak up. These women had chosen her to be their voice for very real problems, she couldn’t lie to them. “His name is Jackson. Jackson Weldon. He’s my best friend’s brother-in-law. I met him at her wedding a little over a year ago. You know how it goes. He was best man and I was the maid of honor and I caught the bouquet and he caught the garter and we had to do the picture thing where he puts the garter on me.”
All of her co-workers nodded, their gazes full of expectation. “That’s how I met him,” Nan said, wincing when her voice warbled a little. Standing up, she went to take her leftovers to the trash, only to discover she hadn’t eaten anything yet.
“No, no, no,” Candy said, getting up from her chair to shoo Nan back into hers. “You’re not getting away so fast, besides, you need to eat. You’re looking a little pale. From your tone of voice, you sound as if you need us.”
Nan was sure she had to be beet red.
“Candy’s right,” Sarah said. “All joking aside. If you need to talk we’re here, girlfriend. I’m sensing some major things left unsaid. You’ve always listened to our woes and bolstered us up when we were down. It’s about time you counted on us for once.”
Nan blinked. Had she done that, only helped and never shared? Had she kept herself isolate
d? Yes, a small voice inside of her peeped up and then grew louder. Nan drew a deep breath. “We dated then stopped dating because he wants a live by the moment kind of thing and I didn’t want to go down a nowhere road. He wants to date again.” Nan glanced out the window, only to find that the men had left, gone to lunch apparently.
“I knew it was too good to be true. All those great looks can’t make up for a love’em and leave’em mentality. You did the right thing,” Darla said.
* * *
Nan walked in from work and saw Jackson’s sunglasses on the table in the hall. She picked them up, her body tingling with the memory of his mouth and his hands upon her naked breast, touching her, making her feel more of a woman than she’d ever felt before.
Geez, when had her practicality turned to melodrama? She needed a damn cold shower. Marching to her bedroom, she tossed his mirrored glasses on her dresser and glared at them. How dare he mess up her life like this? All this sex stuff was driving her crazy. She didn’t want a cold shower. She wanted a hot bath. Defiantly, she stripped and filled the tub with piping hot water and honeysuckle oil.
Sinking into the heat she glared at Jackson’s glasses peeping at her.
No one knew she was here, and she’d never tell a soul that she had come. She had saved years for this. The small town where life kept passing her by was a thousand miles away. They all thought she was nursing a sick friend, instead, she was nursing her starved soul. She lay on a cushioned chair on the beach, nude, soaking up the sun as the breeze caressed her like a lover. During the week she’d been here, her skin had tanned to a sensual dark and her peach nipples had turned golden. Her whole body glistened and waited, wanting more than the breeze could satisfy.
She knew he watched. He had every day. The man whose beach house was next to the one she rented. She’d seen him come and go in his expensive cars. Seen him on his deck watching. It made her feel deliciously naughty.
Suddenly, something blocked the sun’s heat and she opened her eyes. He stood there, raven-haired and tanned. He was nude as well, only his eyes were hidden behind the mirrored glasses. But she didn’t need to look into his eyes to gauge his appreciation. He advertised it as only a man could. And my, did he advertise well.
She felt a moment of uncertainty, as if she shouldn’t be here. But all of her life she had waited, waited for that moment of excitement that stayed just beyond her staid grasp.
This wasn’t about love. Love always passed her by. This was sex--pure and simple. This was about the moment, and she forced herself to grab it even though her heart thundered at the thought.
“You want me, baby. Don’t you?” She ran a finger from her lips down between her breasts.
“Depends on what you’re offering, sugar.” He leaned over and followed her finger with his. She had to force herself to stay still beneath the heat of his touch.
Her blood roared in her ears and liquid fire licked at her desire. What did she say now? Her mind went blank.
“A seat?” She slid her legs to one side so he could sit down.
His answering laugh was deep and full. “That’ll do for a start.” Instead of sitting where she’d made room for him, he ran a hand down her leg, caught hold of her ankle and slid her leg back to rest along the edge of the chair.
“This suits me better,” he said as he nudged her legs off each side of the chair and sat facing her, his knees to her knees.
She gasped and sat up straight. She was completely open to him and he took his time lifting his gaze to hers.
“What’s your name, sugar?”
She licked her lips, her mouth dry. “Nan. And yours?”
“Just call me Jack.” He cupped her breasts in his hands and thumbed her nipples. She gasped again, automatically arching to him.
“Relax, sugar. We aren’t going to do anything you don’t want to do.” He gently pressed her back against the lounge to where she was almost lying down in from of him. “Today, I think we won’t worry about anything else except tasting each other.”
His hand slid from her breast and moved down the soft expanse of her stomach until his fingers disappeared into the curls of her sex. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you sugar? You’d like me tasting you, making you hot, so hot all you can do is--
An insistent knock reverberated through her apartment. Nan sat up from her bath, shocked and her body throbbing. Someone impatiently knocked on her door again. Her eyes flew to Jackson’s sunglasses on her dresser. Was he back to get them?
Pulling on her fuzzy robe, much as she had done just the other morning, she glanced through the peephole and opened the door with a sense of disappointment. “Brad?”
Brad looked up from his watch and frowned. “Nan? You’re not ready?
“Ready?” she said, shaking her head confused. She was ready but not for Brad. “For what?” She opened the door wider and Brad stepped inside.
“Our date. Remember Saturday night at the banquet, I told you I wanted to show you something. I believe I said I’d pick you up at six. Surely you didn’t forget. That would be so unlike you.”
“Sorry, I guess I did. I had a hectic day at work.”
“That’s rough. Can you hurry? We’ve an appointment with the real estate agent in twenty minutes.”
Nan felt as if she’d drifted into the Twilight Zone. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
“I’ve bought a house. Well, I will have by tomorrow afternoon. The real estate agent is giving me one more walk through before I close on it. I’d like you to see it and give me your opinion.”
A house? They'd shared one kiss and he wanted her opinion of a house? Nan opened her mouth and shut it. She supposed it would be rude to decline.
"I'll be ready in a minute." She swung around and headed back to her bedroom where she threw on some clothes, ever conscious of Jackson’s mirrored glasses watching her as she dressed to go with Brad. She could still feel the heat of that damn beach.
For the next two hours, she was privy to exactly what money could buy when you had money to burn. The experience gave her a headache and she was thankful to get back home.
“It’s perfect, don’t you think?” Brad pulled up before her apartment and shifted his Mercedes in park.
“Yes,” Nan said honestly. The house she’d just seen with Brad had been perfect. With large picture windows and thousands of square feet, the house was a marvel of upscale architecture and design. The mini-mansion came completely furnished from fine china in the kitchen to the linens on the antique beds. So why did the house leave her feeling as if something very important was missing?
“Experts put the whole package together. All I have to do is move in.”
“It’s lovely, but doesn’t it bother you that you won’t have things around that you’ve chosen?”
“Not at all. I wanted a perfect show place, besides decorating is a waste of time. Only a man who chooses to spend his time productively can make his mark in the world. That’s one thing that impressed me about you. You have a reputation for being the most disciplined and organized nurse in the hospital. They don’t hand out the Lois Emerson Merit Award to just anybody and you’ve managed to get it two years in a row. You know how to plan.”
Nan rubbed her temples a moment. She expected a man like Brad to have certain expectations for a mate, just as she did, but he sounded as if he’d come up with a list and was measuring her up to it. “Do you think you can plan every detail of life?”
Brad’s eyes widened with surprise. “Of course. Don’t you?”
Nan opened her mouth, ready to deny she’d ever approach life with such cold calculation, and promptly shut it when Jackson came roaring up to her apartment on a Harley. He parked directly in front of Brad’s Mercedes. Nan's mouth watered. Jackson was as smooth and addictive as melt in your mouth chocolate.
“What’s Weldon doing here?”
Unjustified guilt rushed up her cheeks. That Brad took her to see a house he was buying clued her in that his interest in her ran dee
per than their relationship called for.
She had no doubt that the kisses she’d shared with Jackson wouldn’t make it onto any of Brad’s approval lists.
In fact, kissing Jackson had to rank as one of the ten top stupidest things she’d ever done on her own list. But her lists were different from Brad's list. She wasn't as cold and calculating as Brad seemed to be. Brad looked at her, waiting for an explanation as to why Jackson was here.
“Uh, maybe he’s here about Alexi. She wasn’t feeling too well at the hospital benefit. How do you know him?”
Brad didn’t answer her question as he exited the car and came around to open her door. Offering a tense smile of thanks to Brad, she walked over to Jackson
Brad was right behind her.
“Is Alexi all right?” Nan shouted over the motorcycle’s rumbling engine. The deep sound vibrated through her body. He wore jeans, black leather chaps, black boots, and a black cotton Tee that had shrunk to a touch-me-tight fit.
Jackson slid off his helmet and ran his hands through his wild black hair. Her fantasy of making love on his Harley while wearing nothing but his black leather jacket came back in spades. She frowned at the unwelcome flush of heat that being this close to him on his Harley triggered and shouted her question again. “Is Alexi okay?”
“Just left her and Jesse. She’s fine,” he said. A frown of irritation crossed his brow. “Sorry to interrupt your hot date. I came to get my sunglasses off the hall table. If the door is unlocked, I’ll just grab them and be out of your way.”
“I’ll get them. They’re in the bedroom.” He killed the engine just as she finished her sentence making her last word ring through the air. A dead silence followed.
“Bedroom?” Brad said from just behind her. She could see the question in Jackson’s devilishly amused gaze, and she could hear the even bigger question in Brad’s surprised voice.
“I didn’t want Shakespeare to gnaw on them,” Nan muttered.
“What?” said Brad.
“You’re kidding, right?” Jackson asked, amusement fading.
“I’ll be right back.” Nan bit her tongue as she turned around and rushed to her door. Though she dreaded leaving them alone together, the thought of facing Brad that second was worse. What was he thinking? How could she explain about Jackson’s glasses being in her bedroom? Considering her fantasies, she had little doubt what Freud would have said about the maneuver. Her headache edged closer to a migraine as she fumbled with the door.
Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) Page 8
