by Val Daniels
Matt made her feel both those things.
The clerk from the men's store breezed in carrying Matt's tux over her shoulder. "We didn't quite make it," she puffed. "I hope that doesn't spoil your plans for the evening."
Jillian gestured to the feet showing beneath the bottom of the partition. "It's just as well. Matt's busy."
"That's the way it usually goes." She rolled her eyes as she handed Jillian the suit bag. "I've got to run, but you two have a nice time tonight."
"You, too," Jillian called, but the other woman was gone before the words were out.
The mall was dim and barren now, filled with a tomblike silence. Carson's was the one oasis of brightness.
Jillian decided Matt wouldn't mind if she pulled the heavy glass doors shut across the side entrance.
That done, she picked up the suit, took it to the office and sat down to wait, immediately slipping into a daydream.
"I'm sorry, Jake," Matt said sometime later, his voice making her jump guiltily at the thoughts she'd been having. "I didn't mean to take so long."
"That's okay." Jillian set her feet back on the floor, smoothing the folds of her dress self-consciously. She wasn't dressed for propping her feet up on desks any more than he was dressed for selling engagement rings. "Did you make a sale?"
"Yep," he said, "poor jerk." When she started to rise to the bait, he winked at her, then grabbed the tuxedo off the door. "I'll be ready in no time."
CHAPTER NINE
Soon, Matt was turning off lights, helping her into her jacket and ushering her out the back of the store to his Blazer.
"You realize we've missed our meal," he said, reversing wildly out of the parking space and tearing across the empty lot.
"I realized it was getting late," she agreed cheerfully. It seemed as if nothing could deflate her ballooning high. Even Matt's calling that happy man who'd bought the engagement ring a "jerk" hadn't put a pinhole in it.
"I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
Jillian's stomach rumbled in response and Matt whipped into one of the parking lots along fast-food alley.
Recovering from her initial surprise, she joined him on the pavement.
"I'm sorry." He caught her hand and swung her around to face him. The light filtering down from the street lamp lent his eyes an extra intensity. "This isn't what I had in mind, but I don't think we'll get in anywhere else tonight without a long wait. Besides, I have a thing about junk food."
"Me, too," she said, barely keeping her voice from trembling. The one thing she couldn't take from Matt was intensity. It turned her body into jelly and her brain into sawdust. She escaped toward the bright entrance. "Are you going to feed me?"
Still in a daze, Jillian merely said "same thing" when it came her turn to order. Matt's brow lifted in surprise. "With lots of ketchup," she added. She hadn't the faintest idea what she was getting, but ketchup seemed like a safe bet. She went to find them a booth.
While Matt waited for their food, she and the young man at the counter examined Matt's tux.
He looked devastating in it. She'd expected him to be stiff and uncomfortable, but he wore the suit as casually as he wore his flannel shirts and jeans. The black fabric emphasized shoulders broad enough to lean on. The white shirt contrasted with his slightly weathered complexion and perfectly matched his teeth when he smiled. She'd always thought dress clothes were designed for tall, elegantly slender men, but they made Matt's more powerful physique look fluid and graceful as he moved toward her now, carrying the tray in one hand.
"Your dinner, madame." He smiled, sliding onto the bench across from her.
"Didn't your attire meet with his approval?" she asked conversationally, frowning at the two enormous hamburgers he'd placed in front of her.
"He thought it might be nice for the prom if it came in canary yellow." Matt piled ketchup packets beside her large order of fries. "I can't quite picture it myself."
Jillian looked up at him. "I can see why he likes it. You look great, Matt." She meant the remark as a careless compliment. It sounded like heartfelt hero worship.
"You've got to stop looking at me like that, Jillian. I don't mind telling you that you're sending my thoughts in directions I didn't mean them to go."
She felt a flush spread. She'd taken off her jacket and even the skin above the stand-up front of her dress felt stained with pink.
Jillian fought a tingly shiver and looked away from him. "Have you thought any more about what you're going to do when your deal goes through?" she asked. "Maybe you should go into some kind of marketing. You must like selling things—at least you seemed to enjoy it tonight."
Matt bit into his sandwich. "I don't enjoy selling per se," he admitted. "And I'm out of practice. I don't get to do much of it anymore." He shrugged. "I liked selling John's earrings door to door, though. I made a lot of people happy. It was satisfying."
"Which reminds me." Matt shifted and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Here." He pulled out the small wooden box he'd made. "I want you to have these."
"John's earrings?" She jerked her hand away.
"We're not going to go through this again, are we?" Taking hold of her hand, he placed the box on her palm. Her fingers curled up protectively. "No strings," he said, cupping her hand between his.
"I didn't think that," she said. "But I can't take these. You probably don't have many more of them and what you've got you'd better keep."
His hands tightened around hers. "This is the last pair, actually. I've held on to them for years."
The air in the bright and silent fast-food restaurant became electric. The one customer who'd shared their solitude was gone, and even the boy behind the counter had deserted them.
"Matt," she said hesitantly, "wouldn't you like to save them for someone very special?"
"I did." Neither of them spoke for long moments, then he released her and picked up a French fry. "My mother and my sister both have several pairs." She had to strain to hear his low voice above the quiet background music. "I used to give them quite regularly to other friends."
She didn't need to ask what kind of other friends he spoke of.
"They aren't ever going to do me any good. I want you to have this last pair." He finally looked up at her again. "John would have liked you. I think he would have liked knowing they're in your keeping."
The lump in Jillian's throat refused to dissolve and her vision became by blurred with tears. "Look what you're doing, Matt," she whispered hoarsely. "All that time I spent on my makeup, and you're going to have it smeared all over my face." She dabbed at the corner of her eye with a knuckle. "You don't know how much this means to me. I'll take them and treasure them," she added quietly, "but on one condition."
He looked at her quizzically.
"If you ever change your mind, if you should find someone you wished you'd saved them for—"
"Back to the inevitable marriage discussion, huh?" He regarded her with open amusement, suddenly reverting to his old self.
"You never know." Jillian lifted one bare shoulder defensively. "Things change."
"Yes, they do." His mouth curved into a smile that forced her to smile at him in return.
She looked at him soberly. "I mean it, Matt. If they do change, I would never feel you were out of line if you wanted them back. We'll consider it—" she searched for the right word "—joint custody."
He threw back his head and laughed outright. She couldn't help but regret her choice of terms. "You never quit, do you, Jake?" His tone was rich with enjoyment. "Does this mean I have permanent visitation rights?" Underlying the teasing note was a serious one.
Her heart swelled until it seemed to fill her chest. How could she ever turn him away? "I guess," she agreed softly and they were back to a tense and dangerously charged silence.
"You'd better eat," Matt said finally. "We're going to miss the dancing and champagne if we don't get a move on."
"Can I keep these in your pocket for now
?" She handed the little box back to him. "I didn't bring a purse."
"I'd assumed that's what the front of your dress was for." He grinned, gazing at the ruffled bodice of her strapless dress.
She blushed and directed her attention to the huge meal she'd unknowingly ordered. She wasn't the least bit hungry.
"So-o-o?" Silence between them was too provocative. "What are you going to do after you sell your stores? Have you had time to think about it yet?"
"I toyed with a concept years ago. Maybe now is the right time for it."
"What is it?"
"When I first thought about this, I wanted to do it in conjunction with the stores, but I realized that wouldn't do either my old business or this new idea justice. Have you ever been to Branson, Missouri?"
"Silver Dollar City? Grandma and I went there twice and it was fascinating."
"Silver Dollar City reminds me of John—watching the craftsmen work, hearing them explain why things are done a certain way. I'd like to try something similar in Colorado. A colony of sorts for craftsmen."
"And women," Jillian inserted.
"And craftswomen." Matt chuckled. "No rides or shows, but something that would give people a look at how beautiful things used to be made."
"That sounds like a wonderful idea." It genuinely did. And it would help ease any lingering guilt he might have about turning his back on the start John had given him. Her eyes were on Matt as she idly picked up a French fry, not realizing that it was dripping ketchup until she felt wetness against her skin.
She reached for her napkin, self-consciously glancing at Matt to see if he'd noticed.
He'd noticed. His hand was frozen in midair, his own French fry hovering as he strained to see over the ruffles.
Jillian's mouth went dry. Matt's eyes jolted up to meet hers. He swallowed hard, then blinked as if trying to erase the longing apparent in them.
"See I told you the front of that dress was good for something besides piquing curiosity," he said roughly, adding "I've never been jealous of ketchup before."
She blotted it up quickly.
"You're making me regret all the promises I made to myself tonight." He picked up the napkin she'd just put down and flattened it between his hands, gently smoothing out the wrinkles.
Her skin quivered as if he'd touched her. To disguise her reaction, she laughed nervously. She had to say something. "You are rude, crude and lewd, Matthew Carson. I'll never be able to wear this dress again without thinking…"
His eyes reflected his pleasure at that idea.
"I don't know why I like you." Her words came out low and shaky.
"I know why."
"Why?" Jillian wondered if she'd ever be able to breathe normally again.
"Because it's hard not to like someone who likes you as much as I do," he answered simply. "Despite the fact that I'm rude, crude and…"
"And lewd," Jillian supplied.
"Yeah. Now let's go off and join Karen and Jim, before I can't remember what we wanted to celebrate."
They drove to the big hotel where the New Year's Eve bash was taking place. Matt parked his vehicle and they made it halfway to the entrance.
As he guided her across the snow-crusted parking lot, his arm slipped around her, and suddenly her chest was hard against his. "I can't do this any longer." He sighed heavily. "I promised myself we'd keep it friendly but I've been dying to kiss you all day."
He followed the words with the action. And then, she was on tiptoe, responding as if she'd never get enough of him. He didn't stop until his hands slipped beneath her coat to stroke the soft skin of her back.
"The bad thing, Jake," he murmured against her lips, "is that I still want you." He raised his head, savoring her with his eyes.
Jillian let her heart open wide. I love him. He makes me crazy with wanting. He can hurt me like I've never been hurt before—and I still want him.
"I thought seeing you again under normal circumstances would make a difference. It has," he muttered thickly. "For the worse."
His hand tightened, pressing her even closer, his warmth enveloping her, protecting her from the cold night air. It felt like love.
He ran his fingers along the low back of her dress, and an ache grew deep inside her.
Whether he admits it or not, he loves me. She'd felt it since he'd walked into her apartment that afternoon. The feeling was even stronger now.
"I shouldn't have said anything." He started to turn away.
"No," she protested, "no, I'm…" She let the words drift away and stared up at him.
If she didn't take whatever he was willing to give, would she regret it? Yes, the answer came swift and sure. And if she did accept what he could give, would she regret it? Probably, she answered just as truthfully.
She'd begged him to make love to her at the cabin. Then, she wasn't sorry he hadn't. But now—now that she knew she loved him, now that she wasn't tied to Harrison—she didn't want her regrets to be based on not knowing what could have been.
She took a deep breath. He was the man she'd waited for all this time. She knew it as surely as she knew Grandma was smiling from her heaven.
Matt was studying her anxiously.
"The bad thing, Matt," she whispered slowly, "is that I want you, too."
Matt's brows rose as if he were afraid he'd misunderstood. "Are you saying… ?"
"Yes."
His grin spread slowly. "Let's get out of here."
Matt didn't speak until they were almost back at her apartment. His arm tightened around her shoulders and he pulled her closer. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
He drew her out his door when he parked the car, as if reluctant to let go of her for even a minute.
She fumbled clumsily with the keys as they climbed the stairs. He took them from her impatiently and unlocked the door.
She turned to hang their coats in the closet, suddenly shy and reluctant to face him again.
"Come here," he growled, taking their coats and flinging them over the back of the nearest chair. He circled her with his arms. "Seven days is a long time to wait to unwrap a Christmas present."
Matt's kiss, his touch, made her tremble. Her fingers felt the heavy thud of his heart as they splayed against his chest. She relaxed in his arms enjoying the feeling of delicious weakness.
His lips covered hers, desperately at first, then with infinite tenderness. She moaned and he scattered warm kisses along the column of her throat, molding her to him with a wide sweeping stroke of his hand along her back. The sensation made her dizzy and her neck arched, giving him full access to the sensitive spot behind her ear. He covered the line of her jaw with his kisses until her breathing grew uneven.
Releasing her zipper, he smoothed her dress down her body, leaning back to feast with his eyes, exciting her with his obvious pleasure. She felt enchanted. Beautiful. He boldly examined the length of her, seeding confidence amid the uncertainty. "Jillian. I've never wanted anyone like I want you." Hunger throbbed in his voice.
"I've never felt this way before," she said, awed.
"I aim to please," Matt said, with the suggestion of a laugh. And the tuxedo jacket they'd spent so long waiting for landed in a heap on the end of the sofa, along with his tie.
She watched as his fingers released the tiny buttons of his stark white shirt, then he drew her to him again. His skin burned hers as he pressed her closer.
He braced her hips against his as he bent to shower kisses on her satiny skin.
When her legs grew too shaky to support her, he picked her up and carried her down the dark hall to her bedroom. His lips still on hers, he placed her gently on the bed, leaning on his elbows to keep his full weight from crushing her.
Jillian's hands ceased their restless wandering and settled on the muscular breadth of his shoulders. Her hips instinctively pressed against his. His murmur of satisfaction settled on her lips as he kissed her. Slowly, he explored her breasts while he unclasped her bra. Easing it away, his mout
h lowered to taste her. "You're even more wonderful than I'd imagined."
Jillian moaned, wanting the wild sensations to go on, yet sure she'd die if they didn't end soon.
"Touch me, Jillian," he breathed impatiently, guiding her hand to the waistband of his slacks.
One finger stroked the velvety skin bared by his open shirt. He drew slightly away, enjoying her caress. Her hand shook nervously as it flattened against his chest.
"You're as shy as a virgin," he whispered, as if the idea amused and pleased him. Then his eyes jolted open.
Jillian's hand curled against his warm skin and his body tensed under her touch.
His eyes narrowed. "You are, aren't you?"
She nodded slowly, meeting his eyes even though she wanted to look away.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked hoarsely. He gently withdrew from her.
She tried to move closer. "Please, Matt," she finally managed to say. "Does it matter?"
"Why didn't you tell me?" he repeated. His jaw tightened spasmodically.
"I didn't think it was important," she said, reining in a growing uneasiness. "I thought you knew." She sat up and pulled the edge of the bedspread around her. "Besides, no one can stay a virgin forever." She'd expected him to appreciate the gift she'd saved for a lifetime.
Matt bolted from the bed and paced to the window, jamming his hands into the pockets of his dress pants so violently she expected the fabric to shred.
"Should I have asked if there were any strings attached?"
It was suddenly very cold in the room. Jillian got stiffly out of bed and walked to the closet. Away from him. Matt remained silent while she slipped into the heaviest, warmest, fleeciest robe she owned.
When she turned he was looking through her as if she weren't there.
"I finally understand how my father fell into the trap he did," he stated flatly.
"How?"
"The obligation he felt to my mother."
Jillian threw up her hands in exasperation. "What makes you think I want anything from you?"
His eyes focused. "Don't you?"
"No," she lied, and felt her heart tear and start to bleed. "You've forgotten that I made this choice. No one thinks anything of sleeping with anyone they want to. Why should I? I'm all grown-up now."
