She reached up to push his hair back from his face.
Jax’s smile was sheepish and utterly charming. “I really wasn’t planning for this to happen, you know, for us to make love. I was totally unprepared. I’m glad you had a condom.” He leaned down and kissed her, a long, lazy, unhurried kiss.
Kelly closed her eyes, feeling her heart begin to beat faster. Could she really want him again? Already?
When Jackson swung her up into his arms and carried her through the bedroom into the huge bathroom, she didn’t protest. He set her down in the big shower stall and gently washed them both clean, and still she didn’t protest. By the time he had wrapped her in the thick, white hotel towel, she was on fire again. And from the looks of things, he was, too.
He pulled her to his bed and sat down, holding her on his lap. He kissed her, another slow, leisurely kiss that made her tremble. As he held her close, she could feel his heart pounding and knew that he hadn’t gotten her out of his system any more than she had removed him from hers.
Once had definitely not been enough.
“Kelly, why did you give in?” Jax murmured into her neck as his hands caressed the smooth, clean length of her body. “Don’t get me wrong—I love it that you’re here, but I’m just…kind of surprised.”
She pulled back slightly to look at him. “I guess I figured that it’s time to move on with my life,” she said. “We’ve both had this attraction for each other for such a long time, and…” Neither one of us would ever really have been free until we proved that sex between us wasn’t the magnificent event we’d imagined, she wanted to say, but couldn’t. Because in reality, making love to T. Jackson had been far, far more magnificent than any fantasy she’d dreamed. Instead of being freed by finally making love to this man, she had simply made the chains that bound her to him that much tighter.
But Jax couldn’t read her mind, and the words he heard filled him with happiness. She was ready to move on with her life, and it sure seemed as if she’d chosen to move in his direction. “Kelly, I want to make love to you again,” he whispered. “If that’s okay with you.”
She told him just how okay it was with a kiss, and he pulled her back with him onto the bed.
Maybe this time, thought Kelly. Maybe making love to him this time would chase his memory back to where it belonged—securely in the past.
Chapter 8
Kelly awoke as dawn was beginning to edge its way past the hotel room curtains. T. lay in the big bed beside her, his arm possessively draped across her, holding her close, her back against his chest.
She felt the familiar jolt of sexual excitement that always shot through her when she was near this man. It flared into full-blown desire as she felt his most masculine part pressing into her leg.
T. Jackson even wanted her in his sleep.
Being desired so intensely gave her a powerfully strong feeling. It was similar to the way she’d felt as a kid when she’d climbed out onto the roof of the house. She felt daring, bold and adventurous. She felt an adrenaline high, a rush.
But that wasn’t the kind of feeling she wanted from a relationship.
She wanted to feel safe and warm. She wanted to feel secure. She wanted to be cherished, not hungered for.
T. looked so peaceful, so serene, so content as he slept. With his hair disheveled, an unruly jumble of waves falling down across his forehead, with his long, dark lashes lying against his smooth, tanned cheeks, he was, truly, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was funny, smart, bright and fun to be around. But he’d broken her heart once, and there was no reason to believe that he wouldn’t do it again. No, she could not let herself love him again.
How could you love T. again, when you never stopped loving him? a little voice in her head asked.
But she had stopped loving him. She could remember the exact time, the exact hour it had happened.
That was when you wanted to stop loving him, the voice said. It doesn’t mean you really stopped. People can’t just turn their feelings off like a light switch. You still love him.
No, Kelly thought almost desperately. She didn’t love T., and she could prove it.
Quietly she slipped out of bed and went into the living room. She dressed quickly and grabbed her backpack and jacket, and crept out of the room and out of the hotel.
Standing at the underground trolley stop, she waited for the train that would take her home.
See, she told herself, she didn’t love him. If she loved him, she wouldn’t have been able to walk away.
Okay, the little voice in her head said. So how come you’re crying?
Dear Kelly,
Toilet paper.
They found my book and took it away and now they use the pages for toilet paper.
The warden laughs at the look on my face, at the tears I can’t keep from my eyes, knowing he has at last found a way to hurt me.
You come to me then, for the first time appearing when others are around. They can’t see you. They don’t know it is your strength that keeps me from crumbling.
“Don’t cry,” you order me, your eyes fiery with determination. “Keep your head up. You’ve got that book practically memorized anyway. So what if they take the paper that it’s written on? They can’t take your memory. It’s in your head, T., you can write it again.”
You look so beautiful, trembling with your conviction. I smile at you, and I am rewarded by your bright grin.
The warden frowns and sends me back to my cell.
I love you.
Love, T.
Jax woke up with a smile on his face that faded as soon as he rolled over and saw that he was alone in his bed.
“Kel?” he called out, going first into the bathroom and then out in the living room.
He saw right away that her things were gone. He looked around for a note, thinking maybe she had an appointment and she didn’t want to wake him.
But there was no note.
Why would she leave like that, without saying goodbye? Why would she slip out of his room as if last night had been nothing more than a casual one-night stand?
Fear hit him, squeezing all of the air out of his lungs.
No.
No, he wouldn’t believe that. Things had gotten pretty intense last night. She must’ve gotten scared and felt the need for some time alone, to think about what was going on, about what was happening between them.
He crossed the room and picked up the telephone, quickly punching in her number.
She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
Jackson took a deep breath, determined not to let his paranoia show. “Hey,” he said, his voice light. “Good morning.”
“Jackson,” she said.
Not a very enthusiastic greeting. And was that trepidation he heard in her voice? Or were his insecurities making him imagine things?
“I missed you this morning.” He still kept his voice easygoing. “I’m dying to see you again. What do you say I pick you up in about an hour and we have lunch?”
There was a brief moment of silence, during which time Jackson died over and over and over again. Say yes, he prayed. Please say yes.
“I’d planned to write all day,” Kelly finally answered. “I’m not as far along as I’d hoped to be with this story and…”
It sounded like a lame excuse. But Jax understood what it meant to need time to write, so maybe it really wasn’t. “How about I pick you up at six? You should be ready for a break by then. We can have dinner.”
“I don’t think so.”
Her words echoed in the great, big, heavy silence that followed. Jax slowly sat down. His heart was in his throat as he finally said, “Kelly, what’s going on? I don’t—I don’t understand.”
“T., I already told you that I don’t want to become involved with you,” she said softly. “I’m not ready to be in a relationship right now.”
All that was left of last night’s happiness crashed and burned. Jax’s knuckles were white as he clutche
d the telephone. But still he managed to keep his voice calm. “I think you’re too late, Kel. I don’t know what you’d call last night, but I’d say at this point we’ve started something that’s pretty involved.”
“Last night we were finishing something, Jackson,” Kelly said quietly. “Not starting it.”
“Kelly, please don’t say that.” Desperation was starting to creep into his voice.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go—”
“Wait, please! Talk to me—”
But she’d already hung up.
Kelly sat in front of her computer, trying to find the right words to finish her latest manuscript’s final love scene. This was the hardest part of writing romances. At least it was for her. She kept her thesaurus handy, and had even made a list of words such as tempestuous and untamed but when she reread the scenes, there always seemed to be something missing.
The telephone rang again and she closed her eyes, trying not to listen as her answering machine intercepted yet another of T. Jackson’s telephone calls.
“Kelly, I know you’re home.” His normally easygoing voice sounded tight, his words clipped. “So answer the damn phone. If you don’t, I’m coming over.”
She swore softly under her breath, then shut down the power to her computer.
The spring day had dawned warm and sunny after yesterday’s dismal rain. It was a perfect day to go running. And now seemed like an especially perfect time.
She changed quickly into a pair of running shorts and her sneakers, pulling a T-shirt on over an athletic bra. Automatically she reached up to pull her hair back into a ponytail, then smiled as she realized that with her new short hairstyle, that was no longer possible. She tied her house key onto her shoelace, trying not to think about T. Jackson.
She’d spent the entire day trying not to think about him. She hadn’t thought once about the way his green eyes seemed to glow as he made love to her. She hadn’t thought about his rich laugh or the sexy catch that she heard in his voice when he wanted her. And she certainly hadn’t thought once about his hard, lean, muscular body, or about that golden tan that intriguingly covered every inch of him.
No, she hadn’t thought about him once. She’d thought about him too many times to count.
But she was more than a walking hormone. And there was more to life than good sex.
She wanted a man who would stick around for the rest of his life, not just for a few years until he got tired of her.
But what would it hurt, that pesky little voice popped into her head and said, if you spent the summer with T.? Spend one last summer with a man who drives you wild, then start dating only safe, down-to-earth types.
No, she couldn’t do that. The emotional risk was too great.
What emotional risk? the voice argued. You say you don’t still love the guy. You say you’re not going to fall in love with him again, no way—
Damn right. And the best way to not fall in love with T. was to avoid him. There was no doubt about that.
She closed her apartment door, checking to see that it was locked, then quickly went down the stairs. She pushed open the screen door at a run, went out on the porch, down the steps—
And skidded to a stop to keep from slamming into T.
How the hell did he get over here so quickly? Cell phone, she realized instantly. Of course. He must’ve called her on his cell phone. So much for making an easy escape. So much for avoiding him.
His face looked hard. There was definitely a determined set to his jaw, but his eyes held more than a glimmer of hurt as he stared at her.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
Kelly sighed. “Yeah, I was going to go running.”
“Running away, you mean,” he said tightly.
“You’re really angry at me.” Her heart sank further. She had hoped he’d see that this was for the best.
He laughed, a quick burst of exasperated air. “Did you actually think I wouldn’t be angry? Or hurt?” He shook his head. “God, Kelly, what are you trying to prove?”
“T., I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her eyes filled with tears and she fought to blink them back. “I thought…”
“What?” T. pulled her chin up so that Kelly was forced to look him in the eye. “What did you think? That I wouldn’t care? That I’d just walk away, disappear, stop bothering you? Say, ‘thanks, it was a lot of fun?’”
“Yes,” she said honestly, then backed away from the sudden flare of anger in his stormy eyes. “I thought that if we made—if we had sex, we’d both realize that the attraction between us wasn’t real, that it was based on fantasy, on the past.”
He turned away from her, screwing his eyes shut as if in sudden pain. “That’s what you meant when you said you wanted to move ahead with your life. I thought you were talking about having a future with me, but damn it, you were exorcising me, weren’t you?”
When she didn’t answer, he turned back to face her. “Weren’t you?”
Kelly stared into his accusing eyes, and felt a tear escape and roll down her cheek. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Well, did it work?” T.’s voice was raspy. “Did you get me out of your system, Kel? ’Cause it sure as hell didn’t work for me.”
“I don’t know,” Kelly said, another tear joining the first.
Jax stared at her. Her eyes were so big in her pale face. She looked little more than a child. But she was no child. Not anymore. They’d both proved that last night.
“Did you really think that all I wanted was to make love to you?” He felt tears burning his own eyelids. “No, not make love, you called it sex. Is that really all it was to you, Kelly? Sex? Just a one-goddamned-night stand? God, I made love to you last night.”
His voice shook with emotion, and he turned away, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Goddamn it, Kelly,” he whispered. “Goddamn you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Are you?” He turned back to her. “Then have dinner with me. Spend time with me. Let this thing between us have a chance—”
“No.” She realized how brusque she sounded, and tried to soften it. “T., I can’t, I—”
“Come to the Cape with me.” He took a step toward her, reached for her. “Please, Kelly. God, I’m begging you—”
She moved away. “No!”
He shook his head, defeated, and turned away, heading for his car. But he’d only gone a few steps before he came back. As Kelly watched, he took a business card out of his wallet and held it out to her.
“Take it,” he ordered her, and Kelly reluctantly reached for it. “It’s my phone number on Cape Cod. In case you need me for anything. In case…” His voice shook again, and he took a deep breath. “This is not over,” he said, gazing directly into her eyes. “I’m under your skin—you just don’t know it yet. But I’m under there and you’re not going to be able to forget me. Especially now, after last night. If that really was just sex for you, Kelly, imagine how good making love to me could be.”
Kelly stood staring, long after his car had disappeared.
Chapter 9
Dear Kelly,
For the first time in months I have hope.
A piece of paper has appeared, slipped by unknown hands through the crack under the heavy wooden door to my cell. It lies on the damp dirt floor, white and shining in the dim morning light.
I pick it up slowly, carefully.
It is a card. The paper is a thick linen blend and I run my fingers lightly over the texture of the fibers. It has the feel of a wedding invitation.
I turn it over. There’s a picture on the front. A drawing.
A white dove flies up to the sky, escaping the bars of a prison cell. Inside the darkness of the cell, a single candle burns. It is wrapped in barbed wire.
My hands tremble as I open the card. There is writing inside—plain block letters. In English.
“Jackson Winchester, we know you are there,” I read. “We are working and praying for your immediate and uncondition
al release.”
There is no signature, but I know who it is from.
Amnesty International.
One month later I am free.
“Oh, please, don’t tell me that’s your breakfast.” Stefanie looked with pointed distaste at the cold slice of pizza Jax held in one hand as he opened the refrigerator with the other.
“All right, I won’t tell you,” he said, pulling out a bottle of beer and opening it.
“When was the last time you shaved?” She followed him up the stairs and into his office.
The spacious room had big windows that looked out over the bay, and an entire wall of bookshelves filled with books of all shapes and sizes, covering a vast plethora of subjects. Jax’s computer was set up so that he could look out over the water with a simple turn of his head, but directly above the monitor was a huge corkboard to which he’d pinned information on his current characters and a brief list of the major plot points of his story.
There was a large oak table in the room, with several comfortable chairs placed around it. A couch ran along another wall. The floors were hardwood and the ceiling was high, angling up dramatically.
Jax stood in front of the windows, eating the cold pizza and staring at the sunlight on the water. There was a boat way out, almost beyond the edge of the horizon, and he could see only the tiny speck of its red sail against the brilliant blue sky.
He scratched the back of the hand that held the bottle of beer with the rough stubble on his chin. When had he last shaved? But who cared, really? “Why? Are guests coming today?”
“Just Emilio,” Stefanie said.
Jax turned to look at her, smiling grimly after he took a long swig of beer. “Thank God. For a minute I thought we were going to get a royal visit from the King or Queen of Winchester.”
Stefanie laughed. “Someday you’re going to have children of your own, and you better hope they treat you with a little more respect than you treat our parents.”
His eyes clouded, and he looked back out the window. “I’m never going to have children.”
Letters to Kelly Page 11
