“She’s sleeping by now. And you might wake her kid.”
Jack dropped his head, jerked it up again and glared at Morrie. “Tell me you didn’t say that.”
“Larry and Em are happy for her, that’s all,” Morrie said, unfazed by Jack’s glare. “You know how it goes, Em told Lucy, Lucy told Tif, Tif told Rachel who already knew and had spread the word to everyone within ten miles of the hotel. That was almost two days ago, so”—
“Everyone knows,” Jack growled.
“Not everyone. Not people who live closer to Ukiah.”
That meant Liz, although she knew now. “Fuck, maybe I’ll just go home.”
Morrie snorted.
“What? It’s late. I could go home.”
“You have cologne on. I think your dog might have cologne on. Who the fuck you kidding?”
“Jesus,” Jack grumbled. “This goddamn breathless interest is unnerving.”
“It wasn’t unnerving when women were coming and going from your house at all hours. I didn’t hear a word from you then.”
Jack suddenly went still, his gaze blank, his hands loose at his sides, the rise and fall of his chest barely visible, the world as he knew it grinding to a halt.
Morrie understood Jack’s dilemma; he’d always been good looking, attractive to women; his and Liz’s long-standing friendship special. But if he had to characterize Jack’s other relationships, he would have chosen the word, casual. Including his marriage. Morrie had been at the wedding. Rumor had it, Jack had had doubts at the last. If he’d had them, they hadn’t showed. He’d been cheerful, smiling, charming, the perfect bridegroom.
Now, suddenly, he was unnerved.
Good. It was about fucking time.
“Jillian Penrose is a nice young woman,” Morrie said. “I’m glad you met her.”
Jack’s gaze abruptly focused, narrowed. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Relax. It just means I can see why you might like her.”
Jack’s nostrils flared. “All this small town gossip is fucking annoying.”
It never was before. “It can be a problem, I agree,” Morrie noted, his voice smooth as silk.
“Jeez, what’s with that tone?”
“I’m trying not to piss you off.”
“Too fucking late.”
“Maybe you should go home. You wake her up in the mood you’re in and she’ll tell you to go to hell. You don’t want that.”
Jack groaned.
If Morrie hadn’t known Jack from the cradle he would have remained silent. But with the exception of Liz, Jack had operated on cruise control with all the women in his life. “Listen up, kid. You have to pay attention this time, get your act together. That young lady’s had enough crap in her life.”
“I’ve thought about her non-stop the last couple days,” Jack murmured, as if Morrie hadn’t spoken. “And I’ve only just met her. It’s screwing with my head.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
His brow furrowed, Jack studied the asphalt between his boots. “I don’t like feeling obsessed.” His voice was a low grumble. “It’s fucking embarrassing.”
“Better than not feeling at all.” Morrie’s voice softened. “Come on, give it a try. You’ve had all the practice you need with casual lays. Especially since you’ve come back home.”
Jack looked up, a small smile curling his mouth. “You keeping track?”
“Fuck no, not with your revolving door. Now get the hell out of here,” Morrie added, gruffly. “And be polite when you wake her in the middle of the night. That’s Lily’s advice. Women think of that shit,” he explained as Jack’s brows spiked. “I’m just the messenger.”
Jack grimaced. “Since when did my life become so goddamn fascinating to everyone?”
“Always has been. You just never noticed.”
Suddenly he recalled Morrie’s warning about his friendship with Liz. Shit.
“You and Liz are both deaf to censure,” Morrie added, as though reading Jack’s mind. “I’m not saying it’s good or bad, just giving you a head’s up.”
“Now that I’m actually paying attention.”
“Yeah. And now that Chris Chambers is walking closer to the edge. I wouldn’t want Liz taken down by his stupidity. You’ve always watched out for her. Don’t stop now.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. Seriously though, is there anything that goes on around here that you don’t know?”
“Nope. So be nice to that young lady with her cute kid. I’ll be watching you. More importantly, Lily will.”
Jack chuckled. “Fucking pressure.”
“I doubt it. Enjoy yourself. Call me tomorrow night.”
After Morrie walked away, Jack stood motionless in the driveway, absorbing the unwelcome realization that he’d been living in a fish bowl. “Jesus, Sam, who knew the whole town was keeping track of every damn detail. Fuck. Do you think Jillian is aware of the avid scrutiny?”
Sam tipped his head, as if to say: Need you ask?
Jack blew out a breath. “I suppose I better say something to her.” Although when it came to serious discussions with women, he was a novice unless drinks or sex were involved. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”
Sam moved toward the SUV.
Jack grinned. “We leaving? If you know so much, clue me in on what to say to Jillian about us being under a microscope. This is not business as usual for me.”
He received a dog smile in answer.
“I hope that means ignore it cause it’s way too early to have any discussion about us,” Jack said, flatly.
A flurry of tail-wagging barks.
Jack smiled. “Good, that’s what I was thinking too.” Jesus, was he losing his mind talking to a dog? Could he blame Jillian Penrose for fucking with his head? Well, yeah. But screw it, if he wanted to talk to Sam he would, just like he was going to see Jillian cause he could. “Now be nice to Zeke. No matter what. At his age he’ll probably pull your ears, but I’m counting on you to suck it up.”
Two crisp barks in affirmation.
Jack laughed. “I’ll see that you get a steak when we get home.” He opened the back door of the SUV, Sam hopped in and holding the door open for a moment, Jack went over his long-standing rules apropos male/female interpersonal relations: take it slow, remember commitment complicates everything, life is already too complicated so chill. Check, check, and check.
Shit. If only wild, raging lust wasn’t powering through his body.
If only the uncharted territory of super-hot sex with a super-nice woman came with flashing warning signs.
If only he wasn’t stoked with the memory of Jillian lying beneath him, sexed up and panting hard.
Most significantly, if his climaxes with her hadn’t been burned deep into his psyche, maybe, just maybe, his long-standing relationship check list might have withstood his current, high-octane, pedal-to-the-metal mood.
Since the answer to all of the above was You wish, Jack shut the door on Sam, slid behind the wheel, dropped the shift into reverse, backed out of Morrie’s driveway, cranked a sharp left, flipped into drive and hit the accelerator.
Don’t overthink this, he warned himself.
Keep it simple.
Sex is sex, like a rose is a rose is a rose.
He suddenly smiled. Flowers. Good idea. Seeing how he was going to be knocking on her door at midnight.
Come on now, focus. What the hell’s open this time of night?
Chapter 30
With a village this small, his options were limited: the two bars were probably a no go, the three, four restaurants still lit up maybes, some B&B’s with owners who lived on site might be a possibility.
Jack decided to scratch the bars; he knew both owners. He made a circuit of the probable restaurants; three were locked up tight, a fourth still had its neon sign on but no one answered his knock. Just as he was making a U-turn on the deserted street to check out a B&B south of the school, mid-turn, a glimmer of light caught hi
s eyes. Jackpot. The Beaujolais porch light was still on. Todd must be having more than his customary one drink after closing.
Two minutes later, Jack strode into the restaurant’s miniscule entrance hall. “Dude, you made my day!”
Jack’s ringing tone and smile were so uber-bright, the man behind the reception counter set down his drink and grinned. “You high, Morg?”
Jack’s smile widened. “Just high on life. I need your flowers.” Jack pointed at the artistic display of asters and fall foliage on the counter. “How much?”
“Hot date?” Todd’s blond brows arched high. “Kinda late.”
“Yeah, that why I need the flowers.”
“Who’s the babe?”
A blank look, a two second pause. “You selling or do I have to arm wrestle you?”
“Jesus, how many married women you doing?”
“Just a price, Todd, okay?”
Jack’s blink-free look made its point loud and clear. “Take the flowers. Keep your money. Enjoy.”
Jack’s smile broke, free and easy. “Appreciate it, thanks. Lemme pay for the vase though. It looks like one of Mick’s.” Shoving his hand in his jean’s pocket, Jack pulled out a small roll of bills, peeled off three hundreds, set them on the counter and grabbed the vase. “You saved my ass.” He gave Todd a quick finger-gun salute. “Thanks again. I owe you.”
“That’s what I like,” Todd drawled. “Having a cop in my debt.”
“No problem.” A vague answer from a man with things on his mind other than who owed what to whom. Shoving the door open with his shoulder, careful not to brush the colorful foliage on the jambs, Jack walked out.
Todd mentioned Jack’s visit when he got home. “I thought he was high when he walked in he was so damn cheerful. I’m guessing the babe getting our flowers is special.”
Todd’s wife, Tammy, set down the book she’d been reading in bed. “Jack’s been pretty busy with the ladies since he came home. I doubt his new one’s any more special than the others.”
“His new one?” Todd said, bending over to untie his boots.
“He took a redhead to breakfast at the hotel a couple days ago. Some grade school teacher from Bragg. It’s making the rounds on the village gossip circuit.”
Todd came upright and kicked off one boot. “What’s her name? I asked but he shut me down.” A second boot landed under the bed.
“Penrose. I forget the first name. Not that it matters. You know how many women have knocked on Jack’s door since he came home? I swear a notice went out over social media saying he was giving it away.”
“Or it might have been that photo of his dick Zoe shared with the world. You’re right, though, Jack likes his freedom.” Todd stripped off his t-shirt. “Find me some documentary on Tivo will you? I’m going to shower, then zone out on TV.”
But regardless Tammy’s dismissive comments about Jack’s interest in any particular woman, her curiosity was piqued. It was unusual for Jack to play the role of gentleman caller. With the exception of Liz, whose position in his life was unique, Jack wasn’t a hearts and flowers guy. She reached for her cell, hit her FB app and began messaging her friends.
If there was a mystery woman in Jack’s life who actually mattered, that would qualify as front page news.
Chapter 31
Since his conversation with Morrie, Jack understood that his life was of interest to a whole helluva lot of people. He shouldn’t have been surprised; he’d always been aware of small town gossip. But seriously, he had no fucking privacy.
Zip, nada, zilch.
Although…now that he was closing in on his destination after two seemingly endless days of waiting, he could care less about privacy. All he cared about was having hot, wild sex with the woman who’d been on his mind since he left her; all he wanted was to feel her soft, silken warmth closing around him as he slid deep inside her. All his cranked-up libido wanted was to get off ASAP and often—with no expiration date on the fun and games. Christ, put a leash on it. You’ll scare the lady.
Mentally stomping on the brakes, he took a few long, slow breaths, gave himself a short lecture on sexual courtesy and self-restraint, and made sure his dick got the message. Fucking behave. With his non-conformist sensibilities duly warned, he doused his car lights, turned into Jillian’s driveway, cut the engine and silently rolled up to within a few yards of her front porch.
The house was dark, except for six lit jack-o-lanterns in the first floor windows. It took a fraction of a second to reconcile pumpkins with the date; still September, he noted. A tad early for Halloween. Although it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d been looking at Christmas decorations in the windows since he was single-mindedly focused on having sex, sex, and more sex with Jillian Penrose--unless she refused. Although in his current frame of mind, even a refusal was open to discussion.
Jesus, he was losing it big time. Not that he actually gave a damn with his full-steam-ahead libido calling the shots. And honestly, he’d never been refused. Although, he’d never called on a woman in the middle of the night either.
So…should he phone her first or just knock on the door?
Would she freak? Did she have a shot gun? If she did, was she a good shot?
Goddamn. Wanting someone this badly was in sharp contrast to just opening his front door when some lady knocked, giving her a kiss and asking if she wanted a drink first. Most didn’t.
And now he was the one uptight and horny.
His cell rang and he debated answering it. This wasn’t a convenient time for a call. At midnight it was either work or a random woman, neither one high on his list of priorities with his hard-on aching like a sonofabitch.
But when he glanced at the screen, the beauty of his smile could have lured the angels from heaven, the devil from hell and random spirits from their respective habitats.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Thanks for calling.”
“Wade gave me your number. I didn’t know if I should use it, but since you were parked outside my door...”
“It’s so late I wasn’t sure I could”—
“The door’s open.”
Not a phrase likely to curb his horniness. He sucked in a hard breath.
“You okay?”
“Sorta. Maybe not.” Another smaller inhale before he said, “I’m trying not to frighten you.”
“Thirty-six hours, fifty minutes. I might scare you.”
“Thirty-seven hours, ten minutes. No, you won’t.”
She heard the smile in his voice, felt a rush of joy and almost told him how desperate she’d been to see him again. “You have to be quiet,” she said, instead, being practical about a man who looked like Jack and had women waiting for him at his house. “Zeke’s a light sleeper.”
He was already stepping out of the SUV. “Want me to”—Then he saw her walk out onto the porch and felt a small cosmic lurch, as if the earth had momentarily shuddered to a halt. She was a vision of unadorned beauty in a white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, her hair curling softly on her shoulders, her face and arms glowing pale in the moonlight, her image one of such profound purity he stood in rapt attention. So this is how it happens, he thought, taken by surprise.
Then he heard her say, “Yes,” in his ear and smiled, back on familiar ground. “Actually I was going to ask you if I should take off my boots.”
“I want you to take off everything. But not there.” She beckoned him with a flutter of her fingers. “I want all of you,” she whispered. “So hurry.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered as softly. “Be right there.” He slid his phone in his pocket.
She watched him open the car door behind him, stared wide-eyed as a huge dog leaped to the ground, then blinked and gave her head a shake, wondering if this was another of her crazy day-dreams.
He turned and blew her a kiss.
She wasn’t dreaming! A rush of joy struck her senses with such brilliance, she’d remember forever where she was when it happened. Jack Morgan was here! He
was real!
Too long deprived of happiness, the last few years the most difficult of her life, she vowed to simply live for the moment, savor every sensation tonight, abandon herself to pleasure. And who better to indulge her, than Jack.
As if in confirmation, she saw him lift a large bouquet of flowers from his car and decided that some mystic synchronicity must be in play. He came bearing gifts.
Walking toward her with a lithe, easy grace, his tattooed arms a tracery of dark and light in the shadowed night, his stark, handsome features modeled in chiaroscuro under the silvery moon, he raised the bouquet slightly as he ascended the short flight of stairs, the dog keeping pace at his side. “I’ll do better next time.” His smile was sweetly boyish. “There wasn’t much open this time of night.”
She practically melted into a puddle of bliss when he said, next time, and her heart racing, she wondered at her foolishness that so small a phrase exercised such power. “They’re lovely, thank you,” she said, speaking calmly with effort. “I’ve never been given flowers before.”
Her simple declaration both touched and angered him. Maybe he hadn’t been the best husband, but hers could have used a swift kick in the ass. He almost said, I’ll give you everything. But not yet lost to all reason, he said, instead, “My pleasure. If you’ll open the door, I’ll carry them in. You’ve been on my mind a lot and”—
“Me too. You I mean. I almost called you a hundred times.” Or a thousand.
“You should have.”
“I was afraid I’d offend you. You’d think me too aggressive.” She smiled. “Now I wish I”--
“Please open the door,” he said, taut and low, and the dog’s ears stood up.
Her eyes flared wide.
“Sam’s fine; neither one of us are dangerous,” he added, conscious of the reasons for her alarm, telling himself to keep it together. “I’m just a little edgy.” He shifted his feet slightly to accommodate his goddamn hard-on that was inconveniently surging, thought about apologizing, decided against it.
A Fine Balance Page 19
