by Caro Carson
Their bodies almost brushed as his hands slowed, pushing deeper. “Did I ever tell you what my plan was, if the embassy said no?”
Kendry couldn’t form the right syllables, so she only shook her head.
“In the middle of nights like these, I would see myself grabbing Sam and running. Out of the country. I’d put my money in overseas bank accounts, something I could access from a tropical island.”
His breath touched the back of her neck. “You’ve lived on a lot of islands. Tell me which one, Kendry. Tell me which one would be a safe home, and we’ll run away.”
His hands worked lower, his fingers pressing firmly into her flesh, following her spine.
She swallowed hard and whispered into the dark hallway. “You don’t mean it.”
“Don’t I? Name your island, Kendry.”
His hands reached her lower back, thumbs touching her skin under the hem of her pink pajama top.
She shivered.
“Say the name, and we’ll fly out tomorrow. We’ll go somewhere sunny and hide from the world.” His lips brushed the back of her neck as he spoke, so lightly she might have imagined it. “We’ll sleep in the shade of a coconut tree, warm on the sand of a beach.”
Oh, how she wanted him. He was only toying with her, spinning a little fantasy that he thought was harmless.
“You would never really do it.”
“You might be surprised at what I’d do. Why wouldn’t I go to your island?” His hands slid around the bare skin of her waist to the softness of her stomach.
Enough.
She turned around to face him, making his hands stop their sensual play. She shook her hair back from her face and looked him in the eye. “You would never do it, Jamie, because the beaches on my island are too warm, and everyone there is bare. I’d be topless under that coconut tree, and you don’t want that. You don’t think of me that way.”
She had the length of a heartbeat to see the look in his eyes turn dangerous.
“Oh, I think about it,” he growled. Then his hands were in her hair, tilting her face up as his mouth came down on hers.
His body crowded hers against the wall, chest to chest, his hard hips against her soft waist. On her gasp of breath, he invaded her mouth, his tongue velvet, the slide smooth and sure and certain. When he broke off the kiss to speak against her lips, he sounded angry. “I know exactly what I think about. I’ve been imagining it since the first night we were married.”
“Don’t lie.” Her thoughts were jumbled and further words wouldn’t come, but she shook her head with a tiny, quick movement of denial.
Jamie moved one hand to her back, holding her close as he spoke and kissed his way down her neck. “You were lit from behind by the television.” He licked her skin lightly. “Your legs were bare. You put a blanket over me.”
Had she? She couldn’t think straight, not in the arms of a man who so clearly desired her. She was being ravished, devoured, and she had no defense. She wanted none.
“Two months of imagination, Kendry. Two months of knowing you’d think less of me.” His words were whispered, fervent, desperate. Her pajama top had a loose neckline, exposing her collarbone, and Jamie’s hot mouth caressed the upper curve of her breast.
“I want you to put on those old glasses. I want your hair in a ponytail and your body hidden by scrubs. Anything to tame my imagination. The hell of it is, it won’t work. I know you, Kendry. I know you, and I want you, and nothing you change on the surface of you will undo that. It’s too late. I want my wife.”
He bent his head lower. Through the thin cotton of her top, she felt the heat and the moisture as he took the peak of her breast in his mouth, moving the rough cotton over her sensitive skin as he stroked the tip with his tongue.
He hadn’t really asked her a question, but she answered him anyway.
“Yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kendry woke to the sound of a baby crying, the same as she’d done every day for two months. This morning, however, she woke in Jamie’s bed.
His empty bed. For a delicious moment, she thought Jamie had gone to get the baby, and she smiled into the pillow that smelled of his aftershave. He could bring the baby back to the bed and they could laze around, admiring the perfection of Sam’s fingers and toes as he drank his bottle between adoring parents.
Not today. Jamie was gone. She had a fuzzy memory of rolling over in bed to see him standing in the darkness by his tall dresser, already wearing scrubs and fastening his watch. At the sound of her stirring, he’d come to her side and kissed her lightly. “Stay asleep,” he’d whispered. “I have to go in. Gregory’s swamped.”
It was hardly the good-morning lovemaking she might have hoped for, but it was the reality of being married to an emergency physician.
Sam reminded her he was still stuck in his crib.
“I’m coming, my little alarm clock.” Reluctantly, she left Jamie’s bed.
When Kendry didn’t hear from Jamie by midmorning, she knew he was probably still swamped. Last night had apparently been a doozy for the city, and the E.R. was undoubtedly still treating Friday night’s patients well into Saturday morning.
Kendry put Sam in his stroller and went for a long walk, wondering how Jamie could concentrate at work. She could hardly think of anything except last night, of the exquisite thrill of being able to touch him without reserve, the nearly unbearable intimacy of him moving inside her, the incredible feeling of being kissed like every square inch of her skin was delicious.
She managed not to worry until lunch came and went. Either the E.R. was still ridiculously busy, or Jamie was waiting to hear the DNA results from the lab before calling her.
Couldn’t he call just to tell me he...
He loved her? He hadn’t said that last night.
That quickly, the terrible truth hit her: nothing had changed for him. Jamie didn’t usually call her from work, so why should he call today? They’d been friends yesterday, and they were still friends today. Friends with benefits, now.
She hated the term. It was touted as highly civilized, a bit of harmless fun even, to have friends with benefits, but Kendry had never understood the philosophy. She wondered now if Jamie did.
Stop it. You’ll make yourself crazy. He’s probably reluctant to call until he’s heard from the lab.
The DNA test. The possibility of losing Sam. Yes, Jamie had more to worry about than calling her to see if she’d enjoyed herself in his bed.
Sam drank his afternoon bottle lazily, taking his time and getting drowsy. Kendry made the effort to block out thoughts of lab tests and friends with benefits, so that Sam wouldn’t be held by tense arms.
Then, finally, Jamie texted her.
Want to talk to you. E.R. slammed. Will call as soon as I can. No lab results yet.
She put Sam down for his nap. Kendry stood in the hallway and touched her fingertips to the wall. They had made love, hadn’t they? It had been more than just sex. More than tension-relieving, stress-reducing sex between two consenting adults.
She glanced down the hall toward the bed they’d barely reached. Actually, they’d gone at each other like starving people at a feast. He was a man, one who hadn’t taken a woman to bed in a year of mourning, a man whose world hung in the balance of a lab test, a man in desperate need of mindless relief.
Here Kendry had stood, female, healthy, willing. She’d dared him to imagine her undressed in the tropics.
A second, more terrible possibility arose. Instead of treating her as if nothing had changed, maybe Jamie hadn’t called because he didn’t know what to say to a
woman he regretted sleeping with.
They’d mindlessly crossed a line he’d never meant to cross. He’d never wanted them to be lovers. He’d never wanted there to be “that kind of thing” between them.
Whether last night had been casual fun or a horrible mistake, one thing seemed certain: Jamie would have called if last night had made him fall in love with her.
* * *
Kendry couldn’t find Jamie in the crush at the premiere. He’d sent her one more text as she was dressing for the event:
Austin gone crazy. Will have to meet you there. Quinn picking you up. No labs yet.
The hotel’s conference space had been turned into a movie theater and cocktail lounge, with tables and chairs grouped before a giant screen and bartenders serving drinks from kiosks in every corner. It wasn’t yet dark outside, only five o’clock in the evening, but inside, it looked like midnight.
Kendry had chosen her dress with modesty in mind, knowing many of the film crew were native Afghanis. When Kendry thought of women in Afghanistan, she pictured women who peeked suspiciously from behind scarves held over their faces.
Over Bailey’s objection, Kendry had chosen a plain burgundy dress with bracelet-length sleeves and a below-the-knee hem. The round collar and the wide cuffs were trimmed in burgundy sequins, adding a subtle sparkle that saved Kendry from having to buy jewelry.
She’d guessed, correctly, that Afghani women would be present tonight, their heads covered with scarves, but they were far from plain. Colors and patterns swirled around the room, and the women looked exotic in their brilliant blues and emphatic oranges and yellows. Kendry felt dull in comparison.
At last, she saw Jamie. His back was to her, but she knew the height and breadth of him, filling out his tuxedo. She waited a step behind him as he finished his conversation, then tapped his arm.
He turned around. Not Jamie. A handsome man who smiled at her, but not Jamie.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were someone I knew.”
“Who? Quinn or Jamie?” Almost immediately, as if he’d answered his own question, he called out, “Jamie.”
Kendry spotted her husband cutting his way through the crowd. He wore his formal military uniform, the dark blue coat decorated with medals, the epaulettes of gold thread shining with his rank.
“Braden,” Jamie said, sounding surprised as he came within a step of them. Before shaking hands or hugging his brother, Jamie stepped close enough to Kendry to kiss her cheek.
Her cheek.
Introductions followed. “I need to steal Kendry away for a moment, before the movie starts. We’ll catch you at the table. Thanks for being here.” They did the manly clap-on-the-shoulder thing, and then Jamie guided Kendry toward the exit with a hand on her back. “I’ve got news.”
A man stepped into their path. “Captain MacDowell, so good to see you, sir.” More men gathered around. As Jamie introduced her to the film crew, Kendry struggled to control her patience. Jamie had news, but was it good or bad?
The lights dimmed three times. The film’s producer escorted them to the front of the room and sat with them at a reserved table where Braden and Quinn already waited. Another gentleman walked to a waiting microphone to address the crowd.
Kendry leaned over to Jamie. “Did you hear from the lab?” she whispered.
Jamie nodded, then stood. Surprised, Kendry looked around and realized other uniformed personnel in the audience were also standing. She felt foolish for not paying attention to the speaker.
After a round of applause, Jamie took his seat. “They won’t give results over the phone. I got there just before they closed. That’s why I was so late, but—”
The speaker gestured toward their table, and all eyes turned to them. Kendry, sitting between Jamie and the producer, assumed a neutral, attentive expression until the moment passed. She grabbed Jamie’s leg under the tablecloth. “But?”
With his eyes on the speaker, Jamie leaned back in his chair to whisper in her ear. “Sam’s mine.”
Two simple words. Two incredibly important, life-altering words. Tears filled her eyes. She was happy, so happy, for Sam. He belonged with Jamie, and that was where he’d stay, loved and cherished his entire life.
The speaker finished as the movie opened with a soaring view of Afghanistan’s landscape and the sounds of lush ethnic music. As the camera came in closer and closer, first to one valley, then to one village, then to one house, the music became quieter and simpler, until only one instrument was playing and one woman was laboring in a hopelessly dry garden plot.
Jamie whispered to her. “I’m sorry I put you through this. You didn’t need to be dragged into it. I shouldn’t have doubted her.”
And then Amina filled the screen, vibrant and alive. She was young, so young, unveiled and full of energy. Long moments passed before Kendry could focus on Amina’s words. They were intelligent, articulate.
Passionate.
Jamie bowed his head.
Nausea crawled up the back of Kendry’s throat, fear and pain making themselves felt. This was the woman Jamie loved. How could she, plain Kendry Harrison, have ever thought to replace her?
You didn’t need to be dragged into it.
Jamie would have gotten that DNA test without her. He would have survived the overnight wait without her in his bed. Perhaps he was feeling guilty for sleeping with Kendry when he loved Amina.
The film moved on, showing scenes of young girls’ lives, images Kendry could hardly absorb while she studied Jamie’s profile each time Amina appeared. Kendry couldn’t fool herself. She was second best for Jamie. She always had been, and she always would be.
She could no longer bear to live her life that way.
When she wiped away a disobedient tear, one that refused to be blinked back, the film’s producer nodded, apparently believing her tears were evoked by his people’s plight.
She felt like a fake.
She had to leave. Now.
* * *
“Kendry!”
Jamie’s voice cut through the night air. Kendry winced and hugged her arms more tightly around her waist. She wanted more time to brood out here alone, on the hotel’s pool deck. She needed more minutes to breathe the cool November air and listen to the calming sound of the muted downtown traffic.
Jamie called her name again.
She couldn’t hide from Jamie any more than she could hide from her feelings. This sparkling blue pool, brightly lit in the night but deserted at this time of year, was as good a place as any to end a marriage.
Solemnly, she stepped out from behind a concrete arch. Jamie came toward her immediately, pushing a deck chair out of his way. She nearly smiled, remembering the way he’d shoved her garage apartment’s chair aside, angry when he’d thought she was a neglected child.
She wasn’t neglected, and she was no child. She was done living a compromise.
“Are you all right?” The concern in his voice was genuine.
“Jamie, we need to talk.” He was the kind of man who would listen. He always had been.
“Only if by talk, you mean this.” He pulled her to him as if she didn’t have her arms wrapped protectively around her middle and kissed her without hesitation.
Her body was a traitor, responding immediately, eager for more of last night’s bliss. It was so easy to give in, to let him open her mouth and taste her. Her body tried to overrule her mind. It nearly won the battle, but as the kiss b
uilt in intensity, Kendry turned her head sharply to the side. “Stop. Please.”
“Why? Why on earth—”
“I need to end this before it goes any further. For my own sake.”
Jamie’s breathing wasn’t perfectly controlled. The hand in her hair wasn’t steady. “And by this, what do you mean?”
She bit her lip. This was going to be hard, finishing something that she shouldn’t have started. “Last night was my fault. I gave you the wrong impression.”
Jamie let go of her slowly, letting his hand graze the length of her hair before he took a step back.
“I’m not a friends-with-benefits kind of girl.” Now that the first words were out, the rest could follow. “I can’t have sex now and then with a man I’m so in—that I’m such good friends with. It ruins our relationship.”
“I won’t do anything to ruin what we have. If you don’t want me to touch you, then I won’t touch you.”
The words were meant caringly, but they also confirmed what she’d known, deep down. Sex with her was a take-it-or-leave-it situation for him. She’d been willing and available, nothing more.
She uncrossed her arms and shook her hands out, cramped as they were from holding all her tension in. “I can’t keep living with you.”
“We’ve had no problems until now. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you comfortable again. Our family is everything to me. Everything.”
“You won’t lose that. Sam is yours, safe and sound.” She gestured in the general direction of the ballroom. “You’ve got Quinn, and Braden, and your mom. Your family will always be yours.”
He caught her hand and brought it to his chest. “Not my family. Our family. Our family is everything.”
She felt the hard rectangles of his medals pressing into the back of her hand while he used his free hand to search his pockets.
“If you don’t believe me, then believe this.” He held up a band of plain gold. “I bought it for you after the football game, and I’ve been carrying it around ever since. I couldn’t find the right time to give it to you, not after the DVD arrived. It’s not the kind of thing you can give a woman while she’s praying the State Department won’t put up a fight.”
