Letters to Kelly

by Suzanne Brockmann

  It wasn’t hard to picture T. asleep in that bed, his hair tousled, his muscles relaxed.

  His arms around her.

  Kelly took a step back and bumped into him. Her entire back pressed against his entire front, and he put his arms around her to steady her. But he moved away almost immediately, giving her space.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  His mouth twisted into a quick smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey, it’s your rule. If it were up to me…”

  Kelly followed his gaze back to his rumpled bed.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was thinking. It would have been even easier to give in, to throw her arms around his neck and pull him toward that bed.

  Kelly was suddenly very grateful that she had set up those rules, because she knew that if T. so much as touched her right now, her willpower would dissolve.

  But he barely even glanced at her before putting his sunglasses back on. “I’ll get the rest of your stuff in from the car. Why don’t you pick which guest room you want to use? There’s one more at the end of this hall, and three down on Stef’s wing.”

  He disappeared, leaving Kelly still standing in the doorway to his bedroom. She looked back at his bed one more time, then quickly went into the hall. Moving down to the other side of the hall, Stefanie’s wing, he had called it, she picked the room that was farthest away from T.’s.

  It was decorated all in green. Green wallpaper, green bedspread, green curtains. There was a dresser and a rocking chair and a huge walk-in closet that was empty. The room also had its own bathroom. Maybe all the bedrooms did, Kelly thought suddenly, wondering at the value of a house this size, with all those bathrooms, on the beach.

  As T. Jackson carried her suitcase in, he didn’t comment on the geography of her room choice. He set her luggage on the floor and nodded toward the bed. “Did you know that’s a water bed?”

  Kelly looked at it in surprise. “No, I didn’t.” She sat down on the bed, and felt waves rolling back and forth inside the water-filled mattress. It was fun, kind of like an amusement park ride. She lay back on the bed, letting herself float.

  She bounced higher as T. jumped onto the bed next to her. “My parents got it in the seventies,” he said with a grin. “Needless to say, this is the room I slept in when I was in high school.”

  Kelly sat up, staring at him. “Forget this room. I can’t stay in here. It’s probably haunted with the ghosts of high school girlfriends past. I’d never get any sleep.”

  T. laughed, propping his head up on his hand, his arm bent at the elbow. “I never brought anyone home, because I didn’t want to risk people finding out that I lived alone,” he said. “Well, no, that’s not entirely true. Mary Jo Matthews came over once. Uninvited, though. We went steady for about a month during my senior year. She dumped me for the captain of the football team.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I got over it.”

  Stretched out next to him on the gently rolling bed, she could remember him as an eighteen-year-old. No doubt all the girls in the school had sighed over him, some of them doing more than sighing.

  “I’ll bet you did,” she said.

  “If we had gone to high school together, I would’ve been scared to death of you.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “You were a math nerd, remember?” He grinned. “I really stank at math.”

  “I could’ve tutored you.” God, why did she say that?

  “I would’ve invited you over anytime.”

  “I think I’d rather have a room with a regular bed,” Kelly said.

  The water shifted as Jax stood, and the force of the internal waves knocked Kelly over. She laughed helplessly, trying to regain her balance.

  Jax held out his hand to help her up, and she reached for it automatically. But he let go of her almost immediately, and she bounced back down onto the rolling surface of the water bed.

  “Rule number one,” he reminded her.

  No touching.

  Trying not to swear too loudly, Kelly scrambled for the edge of the bed and got herself back onto the steadiness of the floor.

  T. had already carried her suitcase out of the room, and she went into the hall and watched him walk back down toward his wing.

  “What’s wrong with this room?” Kelly asked, stopping in front of the next closest guest room.

  He glanced back at her. “That one doesn’t have its own bathroom.”

  “And this room?” She pointed to the door directly across the hall.

  “No bay view.”

  “Figures,” she muttered, following him into a guest bedroom that was on the bay side of the house, one door down from his office, two doors down from his bedroom.

  It was larger than the green room, with bigger windows and a bigger bathroom. The carpeting was a dusty rose, and the curtains and bedspread were white. Besides the double bed, the room held a dresser and a wicker chair.

  T. Jackson put her suitcase down on the bed. “I’ll bring your computer up to the office while you unpack.”

  Kelly followed him out into the hall again. “Hey,” she said, and he turned around to look at her. At least she thought he was looking at her. It was hard to tell since he’d put his sunglasses back on.

  “I don’t want to unpack,” she told him. “At least two years have passed since I’ve been within twenty miles of a beach. I’m going to go for a swim.”

  “Mind if I come along?”

  Yes. No. Oh, brother, she didn’t know what she wanted.

  No, she knew exactly what she wanted. And what she wanted and what was good for her were two very different things.

  What had she been thinking when she agreed to come and spend more than two months here with T.? Had she really thought she’d be able to come to Cape Cod and not wind up in bed with him? She couldn’t be in the same room with him without wanting him. Heck, she couldn’t be on the same continent, the same planet with him without wanting him.

  But she had no intention of giving in to her desire. No, thank you. There was just no way she was going to risk letting him back into her heart. And if she let him get close to her in any way, he was bound to be able to break through her protection. And then she’d wind up hurt.

  If T. cooperated and followed the rules she’d set down, that would be only half the battle. The other half was her own feelings, her own wants. Please, God, don’t let me start sleepwalking, because my subconscious will surely lead me directly to T.’s bed.

  Maybe it would be easier when Stefanie was here. After all, it was Stefanie she’d be working with day after day, not T.

  Meanwhile, he was standing at the top of the stairs, watching her, waiting for her to answer his question.

  “I’ll meet you out on the deck,” she finally said, and was rewarded by a quiet smile.

  It was the quiet smiles that were the most dangerous.

  She went into her room and tightly closed the door.

  Kelly stood out on the restaurant patio, leaning on the rail, watching the sunset and drinking a beer. Despite all the sunblock she’d put on today, she’d gotten a slight sunburn, just enough to give her skin a tingling, sensitive feeling. In order to avoid the discomfort that a bra would cause, she had put on a sundress with a halter top.

  At first she had hesitated, not wanting to give T. the wrong idea. In fact, for precisely that reason, she had intended to wear either jeans or shorts and T-shirts during her entire stay, but she had a particularly bright red stripe of sunburn at the edge of her bathing suit on her back, and the thought of pulling jeans or even shorts on over that was just too dreadful.

  On the other hand, if she’d intended to only wear androgynous, casual clothes while she was here on the Cape, then why had she even packed this sundress in the first place? Or the three other skirts and dresses she’d brought?

  “Am I allowed to tell you how beautiful you look?”

  She turned to see T. standing next to her.

  “Or is that
against the rules?” He leaned next to her against the railing, taking a sip from his own glass of beer.

  “I think you already managed to tell me.” She stared out at the water. “And, yes, it’s against the rules. But thank you, anyway.”

  “Oh, now, wait. If I’m going to break a rule, I’m going to do it right.” He looked at her, letting his eyes caress her face. “You’re incredibly lovely,” he told her. “Your beauty rivals the sunset and—”

  Kelly laughed. “Oh, ack.”

  “Ack?” he repeated, eyebrows elevated. “I’m waxing poetic, and all you can say is ack?”

  “Rule six—No waxing poetic. Especially not on an empty stomach. Speaking of empty stomachs, are we going to eat sometime this century by any chance?”

  “It shouldn’t take more than another ten minutes.” Jax sighed melodramatically. “I remember a time when food didn’t matter to you, when my kisses were sufficient nourishment.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m on a diet, remember?” Kelly countered.

  “Just let me know when you’re ready for a little bingeing,” Jax said.

  “Tyrone,” she said, all kidding pushed aside. “You promised. I’m not going to stick around if I have to fight you off for the rest of the summer.”

  “So stop fighting,” Jackson’s eyes were equally grave. “Surrender, Kel. I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

  The breeze ruffled his blond hair and he carelessly pushed it out of his face as he watched her.

  Surrender. She could imagine how good it would feel right now to lean back against his chest and watch the sunset with his arms wrapped around her. She could imagine the way his breath would feel against her neck as he leaned close to whisper soft, seductive words to her—

  “Winchester. Table for two,” a voice announced.

  Saved.

  Not that she had any intention of actually surrendering, Kelly told herself as she followed the hostess through the restaurant to the small, lantern-lit table at the railing of a covered open deck. She slid into her seat, watching as T. Jackson somehow managed to squeeze his long legs into the small space opposite her.

  “Please, will you ask the waitress to bring us a couple of bowls of clam chowder right away?” T. asked the hostess as she handed them their menus. He smiled across the table at Kelly. “My friend here is starving. I don’t want her to start eating the tablecloth.”

  Kelly could see the bold interest in the woman’s eyes as she smiled down at T. Well, sure, why not? T. had to be the best-looking man in the place. Kelly was getting quite a number of envious glances from other women. But if he noticed, he was hiding it well. To look at him, anyone would think he was oblivious to everyone in the restaurant besides Kelly.

  Another woman might’ve been flattered, or made to feel special by his undivided attention. But not her, no way. In fact, she’d prefer it if he found someone else to look at that way.

  He was being careful to keep that hot, hungry, gobble-her-up look from his eyes, but this soft, faintly amused adoration was unbearable in its own way.

  The soup came out almost right away, and T. soon gave some of his attention to eating. As they ate, and throughout the rest of dinner, he kept the conversation light and almost pointedly not flirtatious.

  Kelly felt herself relax.

  Jax felt himself start to sweat. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the big-brother act.

  Somehow he’d managed to spend three and a half hours on the beach with Kelly without breaking any of her damned rules. Despite the fact that her bathing suit was a chlorine-faded one-piece, she did look good enough to eat. And watching her rub sunblock onto her long, slender legs…

  God, he was in trouble here.

  Jax couldn’t wait until tomorrow, until he could break her rules again. What was that expression? Go big or stay home. Maybe tomorrow he’d break those rules in a big way. Like by crawling into bed with her in the morning.

  Inwardly he laughed, imagining the expression on her face.

  On the other hand, he didn’t want to push so far that she’d go running back to Boston.

  How was he going to live through the rest of tonight? How could he continue to sit here and pretend that Kelly didn’t own his heart?

  Worst of all, how was he going to tell her the truth about Jayne Tyler? He had to tell her. Tonight.

  As the busboys cleared the table, as the waitress brought out mugs of coffee, Jax was silent, staring out at the darkness that had fallen over the water. How was Kelly going to react to his news?

  She was probably going to be angry, upset maybe, annoyed at the very least. She might think that he had purposely tricked her, purposely lied to her.

  Jax considered waiting until they got home to tell her, but figured maybe if he told her in public, here at the restaurant, she might not yell at him quite as loudly.

  She met his eyes as she took a sip of her coffee.

  “You’re so quiet,” she said. “What are you thinking about?”

  This was it. The perfect opportunity. “I have a secret I’ve got to tell you.”

  Kelly stopped drinking and slowly put her mug down. He could tell that she was thinking carefully, trying to decide what her response should be. He didn’t give her time to say anything.

  “I haven’t told anyone,” he said. “Ever. Not in the three years since—well, it’s been four, really.”

  Kelly watched him as the light from the lantern on the table flickered across his face and reflected the shiny gold of his hair. What kind of secret could it possibly be? She was curious and a little worried. He looked so serious, so solemn.

  “Well, Stefanie knows,” T. said, then smiled. “She’d have to know. I mean, of course she knows.”

  Kelly hadn’t said a word. She just sat there, watching him, the soft light playing across her beautiful face. Her eyes were dark and almost colorless in the dimness, and her hair curled slightly in the damp ocean air.

  “I’m not sure I really want to know what this secret is,” she said finally. “But I’m dying of curiosity. What’d ya do, T.? Kill somebody? Rob a bank? Run for office? Have an illegitimate child? What?”

  T. Jackson laughed. He was fooling with the container that held little packs of sugar for coffee, and the salt and pepper shakers that were in the center of the table. His large, strong fingers toyed with them nervously.

  Nervously. If T. was so nervous that it showed, if he was that nervous about telling her whatever this secret was, then it must be serious. Kelly swallowed. Was it his health? Was he sick? She remembered how terrible he’d looked at Kevin’s wedding. That was just about four years ago, wasn’t it?

  Even though she knew she shouldn’t touch him, Kelly reached across the table and took T.’s hand, lacing her fingers with his. He looked up at her, his eyes momentarily opened wide in surprise. For that one instant, he was stripped of all his pretense of ease and his self-assuredness. His face looked younger, more vulnerable.

  This was the same T. Jackson she’d had a glimpse of the night she’d gone to his hotel room with him. She’d seen that same look in his eyes the second time he’d made love to her that night. She hadn’t thought they’d be able to surpass their first explosive joining, but T. had made love to her again so slowly, so unhurriedly, so sensually, the memory could still leave her feeling weak. And as she had gazed up into his eyes, as he had touched her, caressed her, filled her, it had been as if he let her see into his soul.

  Now he looked down at her hand intertwined with his and smiled.

  “Tell me,” she said, squeezing his hand gently.

  Jax looked into the depths of Kelly’s eyes, carefully hiding the surge of triumph that he felt. She cared about him enough to take his hand. She cared about him enough to worry that this secret was something serious. She cared—

  Great. Inwardly he shook his head with disgust as the triumphant feeling vanished as quickly as it came. She had cared enough to break one of her rules—no touching—and that was a step forward,
that was real progress in his fight to win her back, but as soon as he told her the truth, she was going to take about twenty-five giant steps back. Toward Boston, no doubt.

  “Kel.” He wondered if there was some easier way to tell her this. “I’m really…”

  She was waiting.

  Crap. “No, it’s nothing.”

  “T.!” She let go of his hand, her eyes lit with exasperation.

  Now that she wasn’t touching him, it was easier. He didn’t have to be afraid she would release his hand when he told her, because she already had.

  “You’re really what?” she asked, her steady gaze giving him no quarter.

  “Whom.” He smiled weakly. “It’s not a what, it’s a whom.”

  She blinked. Then laughed. Then pinned him to the seat with a look of disbelief. “Don’t tell me. Don’t you dare say this is some kind of secret identity or alter ego thing.”

  “Yes,” T. said, and Kelly knew that he wasn’t kidding by the amount of guilt she could see in his eyes. “That’s it exactly.”

  Kelly pushed her coffee away, reaching instead for the half-full glass of white wine that she hadn’t finished with her dinner. She took a calming sip and slowly put the long-stemmed glass back down. For several long moments she studied the light from the lantern as it shone through the wine, before she looked back at T.

  “Are you trying to tell me that you’re, like…Batman?” she said, one eyebrow raised.

  Jax laughed. “Close.” He braced himself. “I’m Jayne Tyler.”

  She stared at him in shock. Gee, maybe a superhero would’ve gone over better, Jax thought.

  “You’re…what?”

  “Whom,” he said gently. “Jayne. Tyler. She may have my sister’s face on the book covers, but the words are all mine.”

  He looked down at his mug of coffee, resisting the urge to shut his eyes tightly against the accusations he was so sure were going to follow.

  But Kelly didn’t make any accusations. She laughed.