Instead, he gunned the engine and sent the bike speeding down the main highway, headed for the Mission ranch. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it at the foot of the bed where his suitcase sat open on top of a large chest of drawers, his clothes still packed neatly inside.
Nell had obviously been in doing his laundry. He glanced toward the closet and noted the empty hangers. At least she'd respected his wishes and put everything back in his suitcase the way he liked it. When the restlessness hit him, he liked everything to be ready. That way, he just picked up and walked out. No packing. Nothing to hold him back even a moment longer than he wanted to stay.
He unfastened the button on his jeans, giving his erection a small measure of relief. Not that it helped. He was still hard and throbbing and he wanted her.
Damn, did he want her.
"You're an idiot," he muttered. He could be sleeping like a baby right now. His stress gone. His lust sated. If only he hadn't slowed down back at the cave.
Hell, he'd meant to go full speed ahead. She'd been so ready for him. He'd felt it in the way she'd arched toward him, the way her nipples had hardened at just a glance, the way she'd cried out with her climax and afterward, when she'd whispered the breathless word you, when he'd asked her what she wanted.
She did want him, and he wanted her, but then that soft sigh had trembled from her lips. A sound filled with awe and wonder and excitement, reminding him that she was new to all this. So things hadn't turned out quite the way he'd planned.
He hadn't been able to love her fast and furiously.
He hadn't wanted to.
He'd already admitted the truth to himself as he turned off onto the main stretch of highway that led to the Mission ranch. He didn't want to go fast. He wanted to remember the feel of her, to relish every sound she made, to memorize each curve of her body and brand the entire experience into his memory.
Because she was different. While she might not have any romantic notions about him, Paige was still a romantic. Jack couldn't help but admire her optimism after spending years with the jerk she'd had for a husband. While he didn't harbor any fanciful notions when it came to his own future, if Paige truly believed in a happily ever after, more power to her. Jack wasn't about to kill her hope by giving her another wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am experience to add to her already overflowing resume.
He was going to show Paige how thoroughly satisfying sex could be, and that meant keeping a tight rein on his own lust until the time was right. He wanted her to feel every bit like the beautiful, desirable, passionate woman she was. A woman who'd been beaten down for too many years by a senseless jerk who cared about nothing but his own satisfaction.
Just thinking about her ex sent a wave of anger through him. Strange because Jack had never been the jealous type. He didn't let himself get close enough to be jealous. Then again, Paige wasn't his typical woman. She was more, and he was fast learning that he liked her almost as much as he lusted after her.
Not that he was letting emotion cloud his judgment when it came to Paige Cassidy. Or any woman for that matter. Jack was out of here in a week and a half. He'd be through playing the dutiful brother, and he could go back to living on his own terms. There would be no one waiting for him, no responsibility to anyone except himself and whatever temporary job he decided to take. Just acres and acres of green pasture. Miles of highway. Freedom.
If only the notion sounded half as appealing as it had before Paige Cassidy had walked into his life.
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
Her very first orgasm.
The knowledge played over and over in her head as she closed the door behind Jack and listened to his motorcycle as it peeled away. Not her very first orgasm orgasm. She'd come a long way since Woodrow had walked out of her life. She'd taken a self-exploration class which had not only encouraged her to understand her mind, but her body, as well. No, tonight marked her very first orgasm with a man. Sort of.
While it had felt good, she still felt restless. Needy. Desperate.
She tossed and turned the rest of the night, only to fall asleep early the next morning and find herself late for work.
Again.
"Is everything all right with you?" Dolores asked when she walked into the office, after three cups of black coffee that hadn't come anywhere close to satisfying the craving she felt deep inside.
"Sure."
"Then you're the only one," Wally said as he walked by wearing a tank top, a pair of shorts and one of those novelty hats that had a palm-sized fan hanging down from the brim. "It's as hot as Hades in here. I swear I'm filing suit against Deb when she gets back. These are unbearable working conditions."
"Oh, hush up," Dolores told him. "It's your own fault. Jack fixed it."
"We went from one pole to the next. My teeth were chattering. I had to try to adjust the thermostat."
"You just had to break it."
"I didn't actually break it. I relocated it. My hands were trembling so bad from the cold that I couldn't help but knock it off the wall. Technically, the tile floor is to blame for the thing shattering."
"All I know is that I can put on a coat, but I can't exactly strip naked," Delores said. She seemed thoughtful for a moment. "On second thought, I guess I could. I mean, it's no different than a nude beach—"
"Don't even think it."
"Then hand over your hat fan."
"But I had to special order this thing from a catalogue and pay extra to have them overnight it to me."
"The hat fan or I start taking it all off." To emphasize her point, Dolores did a little shimmy and hummed the tune to The Stripper.
"Okay, okay," Wally said when she reached for the second button on her blouse. "But I want it back when the stupid thing is fixed."
"We'll see." Dolores plopped the hat on her head, turned the fan on high and sat down at her desk.
Meanwhile, Paige was suffering from her own form of heatstroke that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with Jack. Not because she actually liked him. Sure, he was nice to talk with and they had things in common – they'd both been married, both lost one or more parents and both enjoyed a good chicken-fried steak over at Pancake World – but that wasn't the reason she was so anxious to see him.
She simply took her studies seriously. Nothing more. She certainly didn't want Jack Mission.
* * *
She wanted Jack Mission.
Paige admitted the truth to herself as she stood in line at the Tasty Freeze that night and watched Jack buy a double scoop cone and hand it to the small, bratty child who'd been playing with his own cone and dropped it. Paige – a self-proclaimed child lover and future mother wannabe had wanted to wring the little boy's neck, but not Jack. He'd taken the boy aside, whispered a few words that had calmed the devil child into a smiling angel and then stepped in line to buy the kid another.
He took the double chocolate dipped cone and knelt beside the child. Jack's large, work-roughened fingers dried the boy's stray tears and fluffed a few locks of blonde hair, and Paige's heart flipped.
He was handsome and sexy and nice, and she'd never wanted a man as much as she wanted Jack at that moment. Not in a love sense, she quickly reminded herself. Not the 'til death do us part, I promise to love, honor and cherish sort of love that a woman felt for her one and only. No, what she felt for Jack was purely infatuation. A crush. Like the time she'd fallen for Mister Jenkins, her eighth grade English teacher. He'd been a major hunk, and had stirred her hormones into a frenzy. He'd also been nice and had graciously helped her with her grammar when she'd been having trouble. He'd appealed to her on a sexual and a human level, and she'd been determined to marry him. Of course, she'd gotten older and the infatuation had faded.
"You're good with kids," she said when he turned to hand her a cone.
"Thanks. It's no different than dealing with an ornery colt. They'll both kick you if you give 'em your backside. You j
ust have to be calm and in control."
"You'll make a good dad someday."
"Someday far, far away."
"So you're not after the wife and proverbial two point five kids."
"I think the statistic's probably changed, but no, I'm happy just the way I am. What about you?" he asked.
"I'd like to get married again. To the right man. And I'd make sure it would be the right man this time."
"Right, as in?"
"Permanent. A man who's home when he's supposed to be. A man who wants kids and will be there forever. The right man is definitely a forever sort of man." She eyed him as they walked to a nearby table. "I guess forever gives you the creeps, huh?"
"I wouldn't go that far." He grinned. "Just a bad case of hives. So tell me, what happened with Woodrow?"
"He left me for another woman. Actually, he left me for several different women."
"The guy was a jerk," he told her as he held out a chair for her. "A real jerk."
"He just wasn't what I thought he was. I'm not angry with him. I mean, I am sometimes, but overall, I'm grateful that he left. Who knows if I would have found the courage to walk out on my own."
"You would have," he told her as he seated himself across from her. "You're a strong woman. You would have."
"I like to think that, but…" She shook away the rush of insecurity and tried to concentrate on the here and now.
Jack handed her a napkin, his fingertips brushing hers, and electricity shimmied through her body.
Yep, a good, old-fashioned crush, and everyone knew that crushes were healthy. So long as the "crusher" didn't get any unrealistic notions about the "crushee," and Paige certainly had no misconceptions when it came to Jack.
He was a tutor, plain and simple, trading his knowledge for some extra cash. Otherwise, a man like Jack Mission never would have come within spitting distance of Paige. She'd never been a raving beauty, never attracted men in droves the way some girls did. She'd always been plain. Average.
She glanced down at the shorts and matching shirt she wore. It was a far cry better than the baggy jeans and oversized T-shirts she'd lived in less than six months ago. But her attire still wasn't anything flashy. Not like the woman wearing a halter top and miniskirt who sat at a nearby table and smiled when Jack caught her eye. He smiled back and dread settled in Paige's stomach because it solidified the truth – Jack Mission didn't go for average.
Men like Jack, handsome, made-for-sex men like Jack went for long legs and big bosoms, like the halter top woman. The type of female she could never be, no matter how many self-improvement classes she took. Not that she wanted to be such a woman. She wanted a man to love her for who she was, on the inside as well as the outside. A man who would be there for her always.
By his own admission, always wasn't a part of Jack's vocabulary.
Even so, her heart fluttered when he straddled a chair across from her, an ice-cream cone in his hand, and turned his full attention on her.
He took a lick of his vanilla cone and grinned. "So you like ice cream?"
"I don't see how you giving me bedroom lessons has anything to do with eating ice cream."
"Being good in the sack is all about being sensual. You have to be in tune with yourself, with each of your senses. Sight, sound, smell, touch, taste."
"I doubt the fact that I'm eating strawberry ice cream will make me good in bed."
"I don't know. With a little strawberry ice cream strategically placed…"
His meaning sank in and her cheeks heated. She refused to let her embarrassment get the best of her, however. "Then let's grab a pint and head back home."
"A pint? Darlin', try a half gallon."
Not knowing what to say, she kept her mouth shut and concentrated on eating. Not a difficult task with Jack sitting across from her, his hard thigh pressed against hers beneath the small table. His tongue flicked out to scoop some ice cream and her heart jumped.
"What's the matter?" he asked, after taking a long lick. "You okay?"
"F-fine." But she wasn't fine. She was hot and hungry and she needed more than an ice-cream cone. She needed his kiss, his touch, his taste. Yes, she wanted to taste him more than she wanted her next breath.
The next fifteen minutes passed painfully slowly. She swallowed the last of her ice cream and watched with relief as he pushed his chair back, signalling that it was finally, finally time to go.
In her eagerness to get to the parking lot, she ran into a nearby table. A milk shake took a tumble and spilled across the metal top.
"I'm sorry…" The words died as her gaze locked with Jenny Turnover's. "Hi, Jenny."
"Um, hi."
"You know my wife?" The question came from the gentleman seated across from her.
Paige turned and found herself face-to-face with Jenny's husband, who looked none too pleased that she'd said hello.
"Aren't you the girl from the newspaper? The one who writes those Fun Fact columns."
"Why, yes."
He frowned. "I hate those columns. Talk about destroying the moral fiber of this country. It's people like you who corrupt our youth."
"Mr. Turnover, my column is strictly for fun. The single women in town get a kick out of it."
"And they're liable to stay single because of it. What a cockamamie bunch of nonsense."
"Is there a problem?" The question came from Jack, who'd just come up behind Paige. His intense gaze zeroed in on Mr. Turnover.
"Just the breakdown of our society."
"Glad to hear it's nothing too serious. You ready?"
Paige fought to keep the smile from her face, but it appeared anyway. Waiter Turnover's frown deepened.
"Come on, Jenny. We're leaving."
"But she's getting me another shake—"
"Now." He took her hand and hauled her after him. "I'll not have you associating with people like that. Why, that woman is feeding the moral decline of our nation…"
As Paige watched Jenny follow her husband to the car, a scene flashed in her head. She saw herself as she'd been so long ago, following in Woodrow's footsteps, going along with whatever he said, doing whatever he said, enduring whatever he said. Jenny's husband didn't do anything more severe than hold her firmly by the arm, but it went beyond any physical abuse.
This was mental, emotional abuse, and on some levels it was even worse than getting punched or slapped because it didn't just break bones. It broke a woman's spirit.
Paige caught Jenny's eyes and did the only thing she could. She smiled, a heartfelt, genuine smile to let the other woman know that Paige was there for her.
"Are you okay?" Jack's deep voice reached her ears, followed by the strong touch of his fingers on her arm as he came up next to her.
"I just remembered something."
"What?"
"How thankful I am that I'm divorced. Do you know that guy?"
"I know him from way back. He's always been a little conservative, but this isn't like him." Jack watched as they walked away. Maybe he and Walter needed to have a little talk.
"Is he mean?" Paige said, interrupting his thoughts.
"I don't know about that, but he doesn't look exactly nice now, does he?" He stared at the couple and watched as Walter hauled Jenny around and literally shoved her inside the car.
"Don't." Paige touched his arm. "You'll only make things worse."
"Punching him out for manhandling a lady will make things worse? I'm banking it will make me feel a whole lot better."
"You, but not her. You'll make it worse for her."
"I'd be helping her."
"You can't help her until she wants help. She doesn't. Not yet."
But hopefully she would want that help soon. She'd taken the first step by showing up at an SAT meeting, not once but twice now. If only she made it to a third.
Paige would find out tomorrow. Until then…
"Where are we going?" she asked, sliding her arms around Jack's waist and holding tight as he steered them dow
n the main strip through town. "The bedroom?"
"Not yet."
"I'm getting tired of hearing that."
"Then stop asking."
They ended up at the football stadium, the stands deserted, the field dark. "Why are we here?"
"For a little privacy," he said, pulling her off the bike and directing her toward the seats. "It's basketball season and the football players don't start practicing for another few weeks."
"Wouldn't we have more privacy at home?"
"It's not about privacy. It's about freeing your inhibitions and relaxing. You worry too much about the little things. It doesn't matter where you are or what you wear. Sex is mental, Paige."
"You keep saying that, but I get the impression you're avoiding the bedroom on purpose." She stared into his eyes, searching for an answer. Were her instincts right or was she just being paranoid?
Maybe he was avoiding the bedroom on purpose because he didn't want to get intimate with her. Maybe her ignorance was too much of a turn-off and he hadn't found a way to let her down easy. Maybe…
The endless maybes faded as Jack pulled her close and kissed her.
Her lips parted instinctively and he pushed his tongue deep, stroking and tasting and stirring her senses into a frenzy. His deep breaths filled her ears. The scent of him inflamed her senses. His nearness set her entire body on fire.
A wet heat pooled between her legs. Her skin came alive, ultrasensitive as she concentrated on truly feeling as Jack had instructed her. She felt everything – the night wind whispering over her skin, the hard wood of the bleacher seat at her back, the solid warmth of the man pressing into her, the heat of his fingertips as he worked at the button on her jeans.
Soon the material slid free and she found herself wearing nothing but her T-shirt and panties. A quick swipe of cotton, and he pulled the shirt up and over her head, tossing it to the ground with the rest of her clothes.
She covered her breasts with her arms, but Jack was there, pulling her hands aside so that he could look. Her heart pounded with a sudden panic, but she soothed herself with the fact that it was dark. There was nothing but moonlight to illuminate her less than perfect body.
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