Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series)

by Jennifer Saints

  She was in big trouble. The GQ man with the IQ to match was having less and less appeal and the smooth southern bad boy was almost more than she could resist. She feared that rather than sticking to the high road, she was about to take a wrong fork that would lead her to a dead end. If the ride was anything like the one Jackson gave her the other night on his motorcycle, she was a goner. The wild exhilaration had appealed to her more than she wanted to admit. She had just reached the point in her career at which she felt established. Now she could look to doing some of the fun things she had listed, like taking a gourmet cooking class, or vacation to a new place, or learn a second language, or even take a creative writing class—all good safe things.

  She sighed. She’d rather kiss Jackson on a moonlit beach or a sun scorching one for that matter.

  Alexi stepped outside and waddled her way over before Nan could gather her thoughts and get out of the car.

  “Boy, am I glad to see you!”

  “Why?” Nan smiled at Alexi’s method of fitting her rotund figure into the passenger’s seat—a one leg at a time scoot. She’d grown larger in just two weeks.

  “Jesse has hovered and fussed this week until I feel like I’m smothering. It’s a wonder he didn’t chain me to the couch. Believe me, this play tonight is a Godsend.” Once in, Alexi leaned back and shut her eyes.

  “Don’t forget to buckle up.” Nan backed out of the drive, turning her BMW onto the coastal road leading them off Tybee Island, back the few miles to Savannah. She and Alexi planned to stop for seafood before going to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the outdoor Shakespeare Festival. “Jesse can’t be fussing over you that badly.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Alexi gasped, short of breath.

  Seeing the dark circles under her friend’s eyes and the tense lines of stress on her face, Nan held her tongue and quickly drove them to the restaurant. Luckily they were eating early enough to avoid the dinner rush and were seated immediately at a table overlooking the Intercoastal Waterway. Gulls flew by, fat white clouds dotted the hazy blue horizon, and crusty pelicans hovered, looking for a tasty fish to flash on the shimmering water.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m tired. It’s harder to get comfortable at night, and once I do get comfortable enough to sleep, I have to wake up and go to the bathroom because junior here has decided to play football with my bladder. I’m out of sorts and want my baby now. I don’t want to wait another month. Can you imagine how big I’m going to be then?” Alexi picked up the menu. “I’m starving. The fried shrimp and fish platter looks great, doesn’t it?”

  “Baked,” Nan said. Alexi looked as if she’d gained about ten more pounds. “You need the protein, not the fats. And no salt. When did you last see the doctor?”

  “Today.” Alexi rolled her eyes. “I should have left you at home with Jesse. Scratch that. You’re too gorgeous to leave at home with my husband while I’m looking like a beached whale.”

  “Does Jesse have a Harley?”

  “A motorcycle?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, not since he was in high school.”

  “Then don’t worry. Jesse is safe.” Nan picked up her glass of water. She had to go and open her big mouth didn’t she? Now she’d have Jackson on her mind the rest of the evening.

  “My goodness, I think there’s more to the story than Jackson said.”

  Nan choked on her water. “What do you mean by that?” she wheezed out.

  “Just mentioned he gave you your first ride the other night. Did you enjoy it?”

  Nan swiped her napkin off the table and dabbed the perspiration off her flushing brow. “It?”

  “The bike.”

  “Oh, the bike. Yeah, it was…great.”

  “What else?” Alexi narrowed her eyes.

  “Nothing else, absolutely nothing,” Nan squeaked. “Tell me what’s going on with Jesse.”

  “I think you’re lying through your teeth. Jackson had a long talk with Jesse the day after the hospital benefit and Jesse hasn’t left my side since.”

  “I assume that this talk was about leaving you at home alone. I have to agree with Jackson on this one. You’re too far along in your pregnancy. Four weeks is nothing when it comes to babies. We get women into the Labor and Deliver Department all the time that go into labor well before their due date. We fuss because we love you.”

  “I know. I worry, too. About the baby and the delivery and if everything will go all right. And then there’s afterward. Will I be a good mom?”

  “You’ll be a great mom.” Nan leaned forward and grasped Alexi’s fingers. “I don’t mean to scare you. Just keep in close contact with your doctor and do as she prescribes.”

  “Do you think I can get a prescription for Godivas?”

  “We’ll share a box and a bottle of bubbly in about six months.”

  “Six months? That’s too depressing. Let’s change the subject. If you’re biking with Jackson where does that leave Brad?”

  Nan shrugged. She’d wondered the same thing herself. “I’m not sure that I’m really anywhere with him. He took me to see ‘the perfect’ house he’s buying, then left town saying he would call. We’re supposed to go yachting the weekend after next with Dr. Dennison. You know the plastic surgeon who keeps the aging young?”

  “I’ve heard of him. Are you going to go?”

  “I’m not sure. Part of me wants to and part of me doesn’t. Brad seems to have this checklist of perfect traits for a perfect mate and perfect kids. He has everything all figured out, planned to the last detail. There’s very little room in his life for the human factor. ”

  “Human factor?”

  “You know, the fun, the spontaneity; the concept that it’s okay to be less than perfect. I don’t think I would enjoy life very much if I had to constantly measure up to something. Yet on the other hand I’d be completely miserable if I didn’t have goals. Go figure.”

  “You want to live in the middle and not in the extremes.”

  “Put that way, it makes sense.”

  “If you ask me, people living in the extremes seem like they’re going to fall off the edge.”

  “Speaking of living on the edge, the only information I get about Jackson comes from you. He’s very adept at leaving little time for conversation. We hardly talk.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “That frustrating. I consider myself an intelligent woman until Jackson is around. Now I don’t know what I am, or much about him. Is he still grieving for his wife? How long ago did she die?”

  “About four years ago. The family doesn’t talk about it much, and since I’m new to the family I haven’t done much pushing on the subject. Jesse keeps saying Jackson just needs some time and we need to respect that. I think it goes deeper.”

  “In what way? Was he driving? Was he in the accident?”

  “No and yes. He was with her, but she was driving. It happened in Chicago. After the accident, he left his internship at Chicago General and moved back to Georgia.”

  Surprise hit Nan at first, but then once she recalled all the little details the dots connected. Dennison’s question to Brad, Jackson’s behavior when she fainted, and his knowledge of preeclampsia when she described some of the problems Alexi was having. “It takes a lot more than just a drifting good-timing attitude about life to become a doctor. So why is Jackson out hammering nails and strumming a guitar now?”

  Alexi shrugged.

  The question plagued Nan throughout the play and for the next two days. Why had he given it all up? Was he so devastated by his wife’s death? She watched Jackson work outside the Nurse’s Station’s window by day and began to note little things that showed her he had probably been a very good doctor. It was in the way he looked at the people around him. She sensed he really saw them, and listened to them. And when he was with her, he had left her no doubt he was very aware of her. Brad made a brilliant surgeon, but was he aware of her as a person?

&n
bsp; During the nights, she dreamed about Jackson’s passion, his kisses, and the depth of the desire between them. What in the world was she going to do? The man was not only consuming her thoughts but was encroaching upon her heart as steadily as the ocean swept across the shore. The weekend loomed. What would she do?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Nan threw her black book of fantasies on the bed and paced across the room. The last two fantasies she’d written had scared her. They were just as sensual as before, but another element was easing into the text that was decidedly more personal.

  Her pen had filled the pages of the book with her physical wants, and secret sensual desires, desires she never even knew she had. All of the fantasies centered on one man, Jackson. And she’d been okay with that. A woman would have to be dead not to respond to him. But the stories were starting to become more than just about sex and the emotional needs emerging frightened her.

  If she didn’t leave now, she would be late to Jesse’s birthday party. D-day had arrived. It was Friday evening and she still hadn’t made up her mind whether to stay the weekend with Jackson. Part of her wanted to stay, play out her fantasies and get him out of her system and another part of her feared she would lose more to him than she could afford. Like her heart. No, it was just sex. She wouldn’t let it be anything more than that. She’d take the plunge and then she’d be able to settle down with a respectable man out living life rather than hiding from it as her father had done.

  It was just sex she told herself again as she stuffed her fantasy book back under her pillow and snatched up an overnight bag, cramming things into it. Minutes later, she turned the corner to the hall and encountered a flurry of activity.

  “Shakespeare!” Nan wailed. Miracle of miracles her casserole on the hall table remained unscathed, but the wrapping and ribbons on Jesse’s present were flying in the air like fur in a catfight.

  “Meow.” Shakespeare flicked his tail, then jumped up and sat on the present as the paper rained down on him.

  She glared at him. She didn’t have any more wrapping paper and she didn’t have time to stop and buy more. “Maybe Jackson’s idea of a few ground rules wasn’t so bad. I won’t string you up for shark bait, but you won’t get any tuna treats either. You’re lucky Mrs. Brodrick next door is going to feed you this weekend.”

  Shakespeare purred as she picked him up and she couldn’t resist giving the silly cat a hug before she set him down. Even as a kitten he’d gone from one disastrous mess to another, but she loved him anyway. The thought stopped Nan in her tracks. What if she had had a list of traits she expected her pet to have? What if she had expected Shakespeare to live up to her perfect idea of a cat? Would she have him to love now?

  Disturbed by the new idea and the thought she may have done just exactly that to Jackson, she gathered everything and wrestled her way out the door. The phone rang and Nan popped her head back inside. Brad’s voice piped over the answering machine. Had he called at any other time this week, she would have welcomed the chance to speak to him. But he hadn’t called and now that she was on her way to see Jackson, she didn’t want to talk to Brad. She locked the door.

  * * *

  Sitting on the porch of his parent’s farm with his three brothers, Jackson took a long swig of beer. Party balloons and crepe paper hung from one end of the wooden beams to the other and inside he could hear the comfortable chaos of his mother bustling about getting ready for the shin dig. That was one thing that could be counted on in life. Emma Weldon knew how to have a country hoe down better than anybody did.

  Out back, his father had BBQ ribs and pork cooking over huge spits. John Weldon’s BBQ stood unmatched in the south. Picnic tables were draped with bright red and white checked cloths, and bales of hay had been spread over the southern red dirt to make the ground just right for two stepping to the twang of a hot fiddle.

  He should be happy with his life the way he’d set it up. He had no cares, no responsibilities. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. So why in the hell was he so insistent on tangling up with Nan? Why not just let her go?

  Even if he were of the mind to have an ongoing relationship, she’d be a bad choice. She’d already walked away once and he had no doubt she’d do it again. Not that he could blame her. Few people could live life as casually as he chose to live it these days and he’d never go back to his old ways. Not for anything. So what in the hell did he expect to get out of this weekend?

  Nan. He wanted her. For so damn long after Amy died he’d felt nothing but pain, then the pain sank into a sea of numbness and he’d developed a take-it or leave-it indifference about life and women. At least he had until Nan appeared. Indifference was one thing he’d yet to feel about her.

  What would he do if Nan didn’t show? It had nearly killed him to ride away last Monday, and he’d tortured himself with thoughts of her all week. Every day that he worked on the hospital wing, he was aware she was inside, behind the closed doors. Did she know he was out there?

  “What’s gotten into you lately, big brother?” Jared came up and punched Jackson in the arm.

  “Ouch.” Jackson rubbed his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve cut your hair for one, and you’ve shown up for work every damn day this week.” Jared parked his large frame smack dab in front of Jackson, crossed his arms, and planted his booted feet in an I’m-not-going-to-move-until-you-fess-up stance.

  “You’re also on time for the birthday party,” James, Jared’s twin joined in. Hell, Jackson thought, his younger brothers were like bulldogs when they got a hold of something.

  “You never cut your hair until Mom hog-ties you to do it.”

  “You haven’t worked a week solid in years.”

  “And you’re never on time for a party. In fact you were an hour late to your own birthday party.”

  James leaned in, taking a big whiff. “You smell good.”

  Jared squatted down. “I think I’ve figured it out, James.”

  James joined Jared to stare at Jackson’s boots. “He gave his boots more than a spit shine. Those suckers are gleaming.”

  They looked at each other, grinned, and spoke at the same time. “A woman.”

  Seeing that his brother Jesse, who sat grinning on the porch swing wasn’t going to be any help, Jackson hiked his bottom up on the rail behind him and gave his brothers a light kick, knocking them onto their butts. “Don’t sell the construction company, guys. The world isn't ready for you two No-Shit-Sherlocks. We’re Irish and we’re Weldons. There’s always a woman.”

  “True,” Jared stood, brushing his backside.

  “Yeah,” James concurred, opting to stay seated on the floor, and leaning his back against the porch post. “But when a man starts changing his routine, then the woman is more than just ‘a woman.’ Right, Jesse? It hasn’t been too long since Alexi turned your routine upside down.”

  “Yeah,” Jesse agreed. “There’s one more thing you all need to add. We’re Irish, Weldons, and too damn stubborn for our own good. A boot shine and a hair cut aren’t going to be worth a flip in the long run.”

  “Hell,” Jared said. “Alexi has ruined Jesse for life. The man’s going philosophical on us.”

  Jackson looked over to where Jesse sprawled. Jesse’s comment had been directed right at him. Things between them had been a bit uncomfortable since their talk after the hospital benefit. Jesse wanted to know more than Jackson could say.

  Jared let out a wolf whistle. “Ooo wee. Here comes a babe. Who is she?”

  Jackson swung his gaze out to the driveway. Nan had just stepped from the car. She turned her back and leaned in, apparently to gather a few things out of the passenger’s seat. The short skirt she wore rose up. Jackson’s beer bottle fell from his hand, clattered to the floor, and spewed over with foam. Nan never wore short skirts. This one covered the essentials, but just barely. Jackson was on his feet in a second.

  James scrambled up from the floor. “Remember from Jesse’s wedding
? It’s Alexi’s friend, the nurse. Man, I’d love to have some of her TLC.”

  “Yeah, she looks as if she has a bedside manner to die for. Give me some mouth to mouth, baby,” Jared added.

  Jackson stopped at the end of the porch and glared at his brothers. “Hit on her and I’ll plaster you both to the wall.”

  James and Jared held up their hands and backed away.

  “Guess we found ‘the woman,’” Jared muttered.

  “No, shit Sherlock,” James added. “Why is it our brothers find all the babes first?”

  Jesse stood. “Bide your time, boys. The way Jackson’s going he won’t have her for long.”

  Jackson turned away disgusted. It didn’t matter what Jesse thought. Jackson wasn’t looking for long term anyway. He crossed the driveway, making sure he kept his body between the view of the porch and Nan’s barely covered bottom.

  “Need help, sugar?” He came up behind her, close enough that when she backed out to stand up her bottom slid nicely against his fly.

  She gasped, but he didn’t feel the least bit sorry. He’d waited too long for her already.

  “Here.” She turned around and stuffed a package into his hands that looked as if it had been through a paper shredder.

  “Don’t tell me. Shakespeare helped you wrap it.”

  “He did a good job, don’t you think?” She picked up a casserole dish and her purse, leaving a large tote bag still in the car. She wore her hair loose in a mass of fiery waves that smelled like sunshine and honeysuckle.

  “That cat is a master,” Jackson said, leaning closer. His gaze zeroed in on the overnight bag and his already hot blood revved up. If he didn’t miss his guess, Nan had come prepared to spend the weekend with him.

  * * *