“He sounds perfect,” Kelly said. “What’s the catch?”
The blond woman’s gray eyes were suddenly subdued. “He wants me to marry him.”
“That’s a problem?” Kelly asked.
“Emilio is only twenty-two years old. He’s a baby. He’s ten years younger than I am.”
“So?”
“So when he’s forty, I’ll be fifty.” She shuddered. “Darling, it’s too terrible to consider.”
“But that’s eighteen years away,” Kelly protested.
Stefanie shrugged, taking a sip of her iced tea. “So tell me.” Her gray eyes were suddenly sharp and slightly accusing. “Why did you come to lunch today? Was it purely mercenary, only to drop off your manuscript, or were you hoping to see my brother?”
Kelly returned her gaze steadily. “I wanted to apologize to Jackson. I’m afraid I treated him badly.”
“You know, when he came back from Central America—” Stefanie stopped, looking at the puzzled expression on Kelly’s face. “Don’t tell me. He never told you what happened in Central America?”
“Was that before or after he went to London?”
“Oh, God.” Stefanie sat back in her chair, staring sightlessly down at her plate. Why hadn’t Jax told Kelly? He had a nearly completed 250-page manuscript of letters to her. Letters that he’d obviously never even told her about…
“Why? What happened in Central America?” Kelly asked curiously.
“No.” Stefanie looked up at her again. “Jax will tell you if he wants you to know.”
The waiter approached the table. “Ms. Winchester,” he murmured. “Phone call.”
Stefanie stood. “Excuse me. Maybe that’s Jax.”
Kelly put her chin in her hand and watched the traffic, both in the street and on the sidewalk. The café looked out on quirky Newbury Street in downtown Boston, so there was a wide variety of people passing by. Overheated men in business suits, delivery men without their shirts on, modern hippies in long, flowing skirts, teenagers with more earrings and nose rings than Kelly could count, tourists in Bermuda shorts and T-shirts with cameras around their perspiring necks….
From out of this teeming mass of humanity, Kelly suddenly saw him. T. Jackson Winchester the Second. His golden hair reflected the sunshine. His eyes were covered by his sunglasses, but the rest of his face looked calm and relaxed. He was wearing…
Kelly swallowed. He was wearing a colorful bathing suit and a tank top that was nearly nonexistent. The only thing missing was his surfboard.
As he walked down the street, his muscles rippled. As Kelly watched, he turned in to the entrance of the café and opened the door. He hadn’t spotted her yet, but it wouldn’t be long.
She took a cooling sip of her water, and then there he was. Standing in front of her.
“Hey,” he said with a quick smile. “Mind if I sit down?”
Silently she shook her head, trying not to stare at him.
Up close, she could see the light sheen of sweat on his muscles. His shirt was white, matching his teeth, contrasting with his tanned skin. A sudden vivid picture of T. Jackson wearing nothing at all popped into her mind.
She took another sip of water, wishing she could be hosed down. It was much too hot today.
T. sat down across from her, but he kept his sunglasses on. It was unnerving not to be able to see his eyes.
“How are you?” He leaned forward and casually rested his elbows on the table. “How’s the writing coming?”
She had missed him.
She hadn’t realized it until just now, but somehow she’d let herself get used to him hanging around, following her everywhere. And then when he was gone, something had been missing.
She’d missed his friendship, she told herself firmly. Because, face it, that was what their relationship had always been based on. Out of all those years of being close, they had only spent one day as lovers. Well, two, counting the night she’d spent in his hotel room.
Kelly leaned forward, too. “T., I’m really sorry about the way I treated you,” she told him. “I don’t want you to think that I slept with you as some kind of revenge thing or something like that, because I didn’t. I honestly thought it would do us both good if we could be free from the past. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I’m sorry if I did.”
His smile had faded, but she still couldn’t see behind his sunglasses. “Kel, you’re apologizing for the best night of my life,” he said softly. “Don’t do that.”
He looked up suddenly, and Kelly turned to see Stefanie returning to their table.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” Stef smiled, stopping to drop a kiss on the top of her brother’s head. She turned to Kelly as she sat down. “Sorry about that. The publisher needs some revisions by yesterday. I’m afraid Jayne hasn’t been on the ball lately.”
“That’s the second time you’ve done that,” Kelly said. “You referred to Jayne in the third person, like she’s somebody else.”
“It’s a funny thing about pseudonyms,” Jax said easily. “They seem to take on a life of their own.” He glanced at his watch. “If you’re ready, Stef, I’ll get the car and pull it around front.” He stood, looking down at Kelly from behind his shades. “Nice seeing you.”
He picked Kelly’s manuscript up off the table, and left.
She turned to Stefanie, who was signaling the waiter for the check. “But we didn’t talk about small-press newspapers.”
Stefanie smiled. “Darling, we didn’t need to in the first place.”
“But…” Kelly laughed. “What just happened here? Did I miss something? Jackson set up this elaborate plan for me to have lunch with you simply to show up, say three sentences and leave? I don’t get it.”
Stefanie just smiled.
Chapter 10
Outside the windows of the office, the beach was dark. Jax sat leaning back, his feet up on the conference table, as he read the last few pages of Kelly’s manuscript.
It was good. It wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn good. The heroine was a tough, feisty Katharine Hepburn type. In fact, the whole story read like a 1940s romantic comedy, with crackling, fast-paced dialogue.
In his opinion, the story had two major weaknesses. One was that the hero’s motivation seemed unclear and some of his actions were contrived. The second weakness was in the love scenes.
Kelly wasn’t comfortable writing those scenes, and it showed. Instead of being sensual explosions of emotion and feelings, they were sketchy and vague. And over much too soon.
Jax glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight. Too late to call Kelly tonight.
With a sigh, he stood, stretching his muscles, heading toward the kitchen and the cold beer in the refrigerator.
Damn, but Kelly had looked good today. He was glad that he had been wearing his sunglasses, glad that she hadn’t seen his eyes. If she had, she would’ve seen how badly he had missed her, and how much he wanted to be with her. She would have seen how badly he still wanted her.
He opened his beer with a swoosh and took a long sip.
It had nearly killed him to get up from that table after only sitting there with her for a few minutes. But his goal wasn’t to have lunch with her. He was aiming for bigger things.
Such as forever.
He’d noticed her trying not to look at his body today. She hadn’t been able to hide the flashes of desire that he’d seen in her eyes. Despite what she’d said about getting him out of her system, he knew that the magnetic pull of attraction he felt whenever he was near her was stronger than ever. And he knew she felt it, too.
She said he belonged only in her past, but she was wrong. He knew that he was her future. And she was his.
He would do whatever it took to prove that to her.
Well, almost anything.
He winced, remembering the way Stefanie had damn near chewed his head off in the car this afternoon. She didn’t understand why he hadn’t told Kelly about Central America.
<
br /> When exactly was he supposed to have told her?
At Kevin’s wedding maybe? Right after she’d dropped her own nuptial bomb?
He’d tried calling her when she was living in California, but Brad had answered the phone. Kelly’s husband had told Jax in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want him calling his wife. With a husband as jealous as Brad obviously was, there was no way Jax could resume his role in Kelly’s life as friend of the family. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to resume that role anyway. Instead, he’d stayed away from her for all those years.
So how could he have told her about Central America?
Maybe he was supposed to have told her in between her classes in Boston, as he chased her down the sidewalk. Yeah, he’d had tons of time then.
The night that they had made love, he had thought there would be plenty of opportunities to talk to her in the future, to tell her what had happened, what he had been through. But he’d been wrong.
And Jackson didn’t want to tell her now. He didn’t want her to pity him. He wanted her to love him.
Kelly couldn’t sleep.
It was much too hot in her apartment, even with all of the windows open wide and the fans blowing directly at her.
Without the shades pulled down, light from the street lamp on the corner made bright patterns on the walls as it shone through the trees. She stared at them for a while, unwilling to shut her eyes.
Because when she shut her eyes, she saw T. Jackson.
T. Jackson. Looking better than a man had a right to.
T. Jackson. Giving in to his desire, unable even to walk the short distance to the hotel bedroom before he made love to her.
T. Jackson. Dancing with her all those years ago at her junior prom, smiling down into her eyes.
With sudden clarity, Kelly could see T., dressed again in a tuxedo, standing in the church where Kevin had married Beth.
Kelly was one of the bridesmaids. She and Brad flew down to Beth’s hometown of Atlanta to take part in the ceremony….
As the organist had begun to play the wedding march, she had followed the other bridesmaids down the aisle. The crowd in the church had all risen to their feet to watch. Kelly had smiled back into the sea of friendly, happy faces until suddenly she’d seen him.
T. Jackson Winchester the Second.
Kevin hadn’t mentioned that T. was coming to the wedding.
But he was standing on the groom’s side of the church, at the end of the pew closest to the center aisle. His blond hair was cut short, and his face looked pale and gaunt, as if he’d recently been very ill. But he was smiling at her, his eyes warm and so very green.
As she stared at him in shock, his lips moved as he silently spoke her name.
The ceremony passed in a blur, with Kelly standing up and sitting down with Beth’s sisters, who were beside her at the front of the church.
Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. She’d never expected to see T. again. His estrangement with Kevin had seemed so permanent, so unmendable. The last time she asked Kevin about him, her brother had been vague, saying he thought Jax was still in London, but he wasn’t sure.
Yet here he was. In Atlanta, of all places, for Kevin’s wedding.
Kelly felt T.’s gaze on her throughout the entire ceremony. When she looked up to meet his eyes, he smiled at her. God, his smile could still take her breath away.
Her gaze flickered nervously toward Brad, who was sitting on the other side of the church. He hadn’t wanted to come to this wedding. He hated flying, and he was already worrying about tomorrow morning’s flight home. He was staring sightlessly down at the ground, the muscles in his jaw working.
As if he felt her eyes on him, Brad looked up at Kelly. But he didn’t smile. He looked at her closely, the way he did a lot lately, as if he weren’t sure exactly who she was. As if he couldn’t figure out how he’d suddenly wound up married to her.
The events leading up to their marriage had happened fast. Kelly would be the first to admit it. She’d met Brad her senior year of high school, during an orientation session at Boston University. He was an upperclassman, and he had, as he later told her, fallen in love with her instantly.
He was tall, like T., and blond, like T., with the same zest for life evident in his winning smile. He was a senior when she was a college freshman, and almost before she knew it, he had taken her virginity and, she thought, her heart.
Carried along on the waves of romance, Kelly had married him in the fall of her sophomore year of college. Four months had passed since then, and now, looking into Brad’s shuttered, expressionless blue eyes, she was starting to wonder just what they’d gotten themselves into.
The ceremony finally ended, and then the wedding party posed for pictures. When that was over, Kelly was whisked into a waiting limo with the other bridesmaids. As the big, white car pulled away from the church, she could see T. Jackson standing there, watching her. He lifted his hand in a wave.
It wasn’t until the reception that T. caught up with her. Kelly and Brad were standing near the bar, talking to Beth’s older sister as the band played an old, slow song. Couples were on the dance floor, swaying to the music.
Kelly spotted T. on the other side of the room, and knew that he was heading in her direction. She felt the urge to run or hide or—
“Kelly.”
She looked up into the swirling colors of T. Jackson’s eyes. He looked so thin as to be unhealthy, but his eyes were still the same marvelous mix of colors. Had it really been three years since she’d seen him last? Three long years since the night of her junior prom…
“You look beautiful,” he said.
His lips curved into a small smile, and as he stepped even closer to her, he reached out and his warm fingers touched her arm, sliding gently down to her hand. As he pulled her toward him, his gaze dropped to her mouth.
He was going to kiss her, right there, right in front of Brad—
And he did.
T. Jackson gently brushed her lips with his.
“I need to talk to you.” He smiled down at her. “Dance with me, will you—”
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Brad’s voice cut in.
T. looked up, surprised, and Kelly took the opportunity to step back, out of his embrace. Beth’s older sister was watching with unabashed interest as the two tall, blond men sized each other up.
“No, you’re right,” T. said. “We haven’t met. I’m sorry, Kelly tends to…distract me.”
“Oh, really?” Brad crossed his arms in front of him.
T. looked slightly surprised at the hostility in Brad’s voice, and he glanced at Kelly as if looking for an explanation.
That’s when it hit her.
T. Jackson didn’t know that she and Brad were married. Kevin hadn’t bothered to tell him.
“Are you gonna introduce us?” Brad asked her, a touch impatiently.
“Brad, this is Jackson Winchester,” she said. “He was my brother’s college roommate.”
She looked up at T., who had held out a friendly hand toward Brad. The two men shook.
“T., I’d like you to meet Brad Foster,” Kelly said. “My husband.” For some mysterious reason, her eyes had suddenly filled with tears.
T. stared at her, an expression of shock clearly written across his usually unflappable face.
“Oh, God,” he breathed. “You’re married?”
She tried to smile. “Yeah.”
“How could you be married?” he asked, disbelief in his voice. “You’re only nineteen.”
He reached out, pulling her chin up so he could look into her eyes, as if he were hoping that something he saw there would prove her words wrong.
Brad stepped forward. “I’d appreciate it if you kept your hands off my wife.”
T. Jackson let go of Kelly as if he’d been burned.
As she watched, tears formed in his eyes. He tried to blink them back. “I guess I missed your eighteenth birthday,” he said softly.
“Oh, Kelly,” he said.
She glanced back up into his eyes, and for one brief moment, he held her gaze, and she saw the white heat of his pain, the depth of his misery.
“Excuse me,” T. whispered, and nearly ran from the room.
Brad stared after him. “People always have too much to drink at these things.”
Kelly had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince herself that seeing T. hadn’t really been that big a deal. Naturally she’d felt rattled; having him there had been a surprise. And as for the nearly overpowering urge to throw herself down on the floor and cry, well, that had had more to do with Brad’s news that he’d found a job in California, than with anything else. Hadn’t it…?
But as Kelly lay in the heat of the summer night nearly four years later, it all clicked into place.
She’d married Brad not because she loved him, but because he was so much like T. Jackson—or at least she thought he was—with his imposing height and blond hair. And even though she denied it, when she saw T. again at Kevin’s wedding, deep down she realized the magnitude of her mistake.
Kelly stared at the ceiling, seeing T. as he had looked at lunchtime today, walking down the city street, dressed down for comfort in the afternoon heat. She could see the tanned planes and angles of his handsome face as he sat across from her at the café table. She could see the longing in her own eyes, mirrored in the reflective lenses of his sunglasses.
There was no denying that she missed him.
She missed him following her around campus all day and all night, popping up in the most unexpected places to give her a lift or ask her out. She missed hearing his voice and talking to him. She missed the way he listened to her as if every word she said was of the utmost importance.
She missed his friendship, that much was clear.
But she couldn’t deny that she missed him in other ways, too. When she saw him at lunch, her body had responded with astonishing speed to his nearness, and she walked away feeling utterly frustrated.
Letters to Kelly Page 13
