One Last Kiss

by Jessica Lemmon

  Jayson opened one webpage and another, and then another. He opened a social media app. He uploaded a game, played it for a few minutes, and then closed it and opened a documents file.

  No crashing. Not a whisper that anything hadn’t been operating before.

  She did it. She did it!

  He was thrilled and awed by her brilliant mind. He was also disappointed for not discovering the fix himself. Had it been his stroke of genius that fixed the tablet, they’d be naked by now, her under him, moaning his name.

  Not that he was giving up.

  “Anything bad happen yet?” he asked.

  “Not yet.” She showed him her screen. “Other than a new addiction to Candy Blaster. I’m on level thirteen already. You know what that means?”

  “You can blast candy with the best of them?”

  “Har-har. It means I am owed a homemade pasta dinner.” Her grin was contagious. Once upon a time she’d called that recipe a “panty dropper.”

  No, he wasn’t giving up on getting her into bed yet.

  He rose and walked to the sofa. “You should be proud. An issue that stumped the best minds at ThomKnox didn’t stand a chance against yours.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a sheepish smile. He loved her humility, even though he’d argued with her to own her smarts on more than one occasion.

  “I’ll let everyone know the race is over, then I’ll head to the office.” He grabbed his tablet and bag and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Now?” She stood and fidgeted with her own tablet. “I mean. We should at least soak in the win.”

  She didn’t want him to go? Interesting.

  While he would be the first to admit that a celebration was in order, he also knew she’d been hard at work on this for long enough. Once the adrenaline wore off she was going to be exhausted and grouchy. He could handle both, but he wasn’t sure she could handle both with him around.

  “I don’t want to wait another second to input this fix in the system. Good job, Gia. Killed it.” Rubbing her biceps with his palm, he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. When he pulled back she turned her head, her dark eyes seeking his with so much want he could feel it in his bones.

  He thought for a second she might kiss him. Thought that her lingering gaze might lead to more. If that was the case, he’d have a hard time making himself leave, no matter what needed to be done at work.

  “Okay.” She blinked, at that dash of errant lust dissipated. “You owe me dinner.”

  “I do,” he agreed. One panty-dropper dinner, coming right up. Once upon a time he’d had his sights set on wooing her. How interesting to find himself back in that same boat now. “How’s Saturday? Six o’clock?”

  She nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Enjoy the spoils that come with winning.” He headed for the door and she called out good-night. He glanced at his hand on the doorknob, all but forcing himself to leave the house and her behind tonight.

  “Good night, G,” he said to himself once he was outside.

  Nineteen

  Jayson sat on the corner of his desk in the center of the tech department, addressing his team. Everyone was sitting at their surrounding desks, eyes on him while he delivered the very good news that the software glitch had been unglitched.

  Gia lingered at the threshold of her office, arms folded, hip propped on the doorway. In case anyone was watching her, she needed to appear both supportive and comfortable. The supportive part was easy. Jayson was amazingly adept at work and was a respected and admired leader.

  The comfortable part took some doing.

  Watching him sit there, one foot on the floor, the other dangling off the corner of the desk, his hands folded between the spread of his thick thighs made her want him. The way she’d wanted him last night.

  He hadn’t tried anything and she kept telling herself she was glad. After all she’d been trying to establish boundaries.

  And now, voilà. Boundaries.

  His team laughed at something he said and Jayson smiled. He had an easy way of wielding power. Like a gladiator in the ring who knew he was in charge of the crowd. Even the standard office attire of a gray-blue button-down shirt and dark tie, dark gray pants and leather shoes didn’t distract from that power.

  She had been surrounded by powerful men all her life. Men, this one included, who thought they knew what was best for her. She’d never been intimidated or afraid to stick up for herself. She’d never been afraid to speak her mind.

  She recalled his moment of vulnerability, when he’d admitted he’d been heavy-handed while they were married. He had, but their problems weren’t only caused by him. He’d been trying to help, which made her wonder... Had she been so concerned with asserting herself that she’d trampled on his efforts to care for her?

  That was an uncomfortable thought. Almost as uncomfortable as her cheeks going warm the moment he turned his head and focused on her.

  Oh, how she’d been tempted to keep him at the house a little longer. To talk him into a glass of wine and some kissing on the couch. It would have been playing with fire, she knew. So why was she so disappointed that he’d left instead?

  He’d confused her lately.

  She’d thought she knew him. Knew his tendency to steamroll her, and that he hadn’t been the best listener, but lately she was beginning to think he’d changed. Not only had he admitted he didn’t handle things best while they were married, but he’d also argued with Royce that she could handle things on her own.

  She’d been unable to believe what she was hearing.

  While she’d been hyperfocused on their inability to work things out in the past, she couldn’t help thinking that fixing the unfixable tablet issue was a symbol of how much she and Jayson had grown since they’d divorced.

  Her body wasn’t helping matters.

  Every nonsexual thing he said now grew wings and flapped low in her belly. The phrase integrated software analysis shouldn’t make her want him.

  “I appreciate the team’s attention to detail,” Jayson’s voice dipped into an unintentionally sexy husk. “You should be proud of how hard you’ve worked. I know you’ve been sweating over the details in search of that magical sweet spot...”

  As she absently twirled a few strands of her hair, her eyes feasted on the broadness of his chest. The hardness of his body. She’d stayed up past dark working up a different kind of sweat with him when they were married... And she recalled with clarity how tirelessly he’d searched for her magical sweet spot...

  “Now the confession,” he said, his gaze arrowing straight to her. “Gia solved the problem. We had a bet going, too. I lost.”

  After applause, and her demure curtsy, one of their tech gurus, Ric, called out, “What’d you lose, Coop?”

  “I have to spend several hours in a hot kitchen making my grandmother’s homemade pasta recipe.” One eyebrow rose in an insanely sexy way. With a heated glance toward her he added, “If I would have won—”

  “I would’ve had to cook for him,” she blurted out. “Great work everyone. It was a team effort, no matter who found the glitch. Sometimes finding what doesn’t work can be just as important as what does.”

  Jayson gave her an approving smile. “Well said, Gia.” He turned back to the group. “We’re going to celebrate with a party here at ThomKnox for our department. Champagne will flow, but not yet. First we have to finish the corrections that I started, coordinate our efforts with Marketing, and then put the update back on the calendar. Thanks, everyone. You know what to do.”

  The team turned around in their chairs, opened computers or laptops, reached for their tablets and did as Jayson asked. He stood from his desk and followed her inside her office.

  “Champagne?” She asked when he shut the door. “That was nice of you.”

  “Nice, huh?” He took anoth
er step closer to her and she tightened her arms over her chest, refusing to let him in on the fact that her nipples were desperately trying to get his attention. “I didn’t know you were going to cook for me if I won.”

  “Well... I couldn’t tell them the truth,” she whispered.

  “Which was what, again?”

  She ignored his devilish, tempting grin, which wasn’t easy. “I have work to do too, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So do I.” Before he left, he turned. She felt his eyes raking over her black pencil skirt and red silk button-down shirt. “Proud of you, G. I mean it.”

  “Thank you.” She meant that, too.

  His lips pulled into a quick, tight-lipped smile, and then he left the office, and left her to wonder if maybe they had both changed over the last few years after all.

  * * *

  After promising champagne to the staff, Jayson considered that he and Gia hadn’t yet properly celebrated their win. Yes, it was a team effort, blah, blah, blah, but she deserved to toast to her accomplishments in private, and without having to put on her work face.

  Outside her house, he rang the doorbell, which felt odd considering he used to live here. But as they’d established recently, they were no longer the same people who used to live here. She’d changed since then, and so had he. Now they were somewhere in the middle, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

  The door opened and there stood his ex-wife, in that same scintillating red shirt that hugged her breasts. She’d kicked off her shoes in favor of bare feet, which he liked even more.

  “Did I black out? Is it Saturday already?” Her eyes went to the champagne bottle, tied with a gold bow—the biggest one he’d been able to find at the convenience store. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a bow.” He flicked the fringed ribbon. “I was going to go with red to match your shirt, but this one matches the label.” He spun the bottle to show her a familiar gold label.

  “My favorite.”

  “It’s the same brand I chose for the party for the team. It got me thinking that you and I never celebrated.”

  She chewed on her lip, considering.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Only because it’s my favorite champagne and I could never turn it down. Which I’m sure you knew.”

  “Guilty.” He smiled.

  “One glass.” She stepped aside for him to come in. There was a candle lit in the kitchen, soft music playing from a speaker in the living room.

  “Feels different in here.” Like it used to, he thought, but didn’t say. She had a way of putting her feminine stamp on everything. He hadn’t been able to achieve this sort of warm, welcoming vibe at his apartment. It still felt stale and drab.

  “I had to air out the stench of defeat.” She sent him a feisty smile as she reached for the handle on a tall cabinet. “You didn’t have to give me credit for fixing the glitch, by the way.” Her T-shirt rode up and exposed her flat, tan belly.

  He set the champagne aside, the bottle sweating from the ride over in the car, and placed a chilly hand on the side of her waist.

  “Your hands are freezing!” she shrieked. She swatted him away but there was a playful glint in her eyes.

  “Never could resist that move.” He eased her to one side and pulled down the pair of fluted glasses.

  “I could’ve done that,” she mumbled.

  “Yes, but I’m here so you didn’t have to.” He handed the stemware over, upside down. When she took them in her hands, she brushed his fingers. An innocent touch, but his heart mule-kicked his chest in response.

  “They don’t get a lot of use. That cabinet is high.” That was her way of saying thank you, he guessed. Or avoiding mentioning that those were the very champagne flutes they’d toasted with at their wedding.

  Had Gia been anyone else he might have been surprised that she hadn’t thrown out every item that had anything to do with them, but she’d never been petty.

  She rinsed out the glasses and took her time drying them while he unwrapped the foil from the neck of the bottle. When he moved to twist off the cork she stopped him with one hand.

  “Wait! Don’t you want to...” She gestured outside.

  “Risky.” He pretended to deliberate.

  “Worth it,” she said before dashing outside.

  In the backyard, he angled the bottle so the cork would shoot into the privacy fence rather than into the sky—a mistake he’d made once before with near disastrous consequences. He twisted the cork so that it was halfway out and then popped it with his thumb. It sailed over the pool and hit the privacy fence with a soft thump.

  “I love that noise. Smart aim,” she praised. “Remember that time when you shot the cork over the fence? It must’ve gone a mile.”

  “How could I forget? It was the shot of a lifetime. If I was trying to hit Neil’s lit grill, I never could have done it.”

  “Not for a million dollars,” she agreed with a laugh. He laughed with her, enjoying the memory and the ease between them—a rarity over the last couple of years. “Guess it wasn’t all bad. Our marriage.”

  “No. It wasn’t.” She took the bottle from his hand and tilted it to her mouth, swallowing a fizzy mouthful of the very expensive champagne. He followed her lead, taking a slug from the bottle next before settling onto the chaise lounger. He patted the cushion next to him, remembering what they’d done the last time they were on this piece of furniture.

  “No funny business,” she warned as she sat down, proving her memory was as good as his.

  “Just an innocent bottle of champagne shared between two ex-spouses. What could possibly go wrong?”

  She took a drink, this time holding on to the bottle while she stared off into the distance.

  He wondered if, like him, her mind returned to the last bottle of champagne they’d shared out here.

  It was one of the worst nights of his life...

  Twenty

  Two months before the divorce

  “I thought you’d be happy,” Jayson growled, equal parts confused and pissed off.

  Making Gia happy was a target he couldn’t hit. God knew he’d tried. It made him feel like a failure when she was unhappy and lately that’d been more often than not.

  “Happy?” she asked, her tone filled with accusation.

  “Yes.” He glugged a few inches of champagne into her glass and then into his. “You had a problem. I fixed it.”

  She threw her hands up. “Without talking to me!”

  “What was there to talk about?”

  She snatched the bottle from him, nearly knocking over her glass. He snatched the glass before it hit the newly installed ceramic tile, sloshing champagne onto his hand in the process.

  “Unbelievable,” she grumbled, sliding the patio door aside and stomping outside.

  With a sigh, he followed.

  “You making a decision without me, on something as large as a vehicle parked in our shared garage does not make me happy. You should have asked my opinion.”

  “All you do is complain about my truck!” He’d bought the exact Mercedes she’d cooed over when they saw it advertised the other day. “You wanted something classier. You said so yourself.”

  “I didn’t mean I wanted you to go out and buy it for me!”

  “Why? Because you can buy it for yourself? I am aware of the Knox family fortune you’re sitting on, Gia. You don’t have to rub my nose in it.”

  She set the champagne bottle on the ground next to her and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re never going to understand, Jay.”

  He was beginning to think she was right.

  “I love the car,” she said. Cryptically. “But I would rather you have included me in the decision to buy it. Stop assuming you know what I want and ask me.”

  Blinded by anger, and em
barrassment, he didn’t hear what she was really saying. So, of course, he continued to defend himself. “All I do is cater to what you want. It’d be nice if you appreciated it once in a while.”

  “You want me to thank you for bypassing me and doing what you feel is best?”

  He’d dug in then, a mistake, but he was too pissed off to change course. “That’d be a nice change of pace.”

  * * *

  Jayson sat next to her now on the lounge, the starry sky black above them, the water in the pool still and dark.

  He hadn’t handled that night well. He hadn’t handled much well when they were married. He constantly felt insulted. Like a failure. He’d been trying to be her hero. How was a guy like him supposed to out-hero Jack and Brannon and Royce Knox, the three giants in her life?

  He couldn’t.

  And so, he’d attempted to prove himself over and over. But he hadn’t known what she’d wanted. Finally, he thought he knew what that was.

  She wanted to be heard. To be considered.

  That night’s argument wasn’t about the Mercedes. It was about her wanting to be included in the decisions and choices in their shared marriage. He saw that now. As crystal clear as the glassware they didn’t bother using.

  “You’re thinking about the night you bought the car,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “So am I.”

  “It was the last time I saw you drink champagne from the bottle.”

  “It was the last time I did it.” She took another swig and then handed him the bottle.

  He set the champagne aside and rested his elbows on his knees, watching the water on the surface of the pool ripple in the evening breeze. “I should have talked to you before I bought it.”

  He sensed more than saw her shake her head. “I should’ve accepted it for what it was. A gift. Instead I accused you of making choices for me.”

  “That evening didn’t go the way I wanted,” he said, remembering what came next. She’d been the one to point out that if they couldn’t relate on a basic level they were better off apart. He’d asked her if she cared to clarify that, and she’d said divorce wasn’t out of the question.