by Helen Lacey
“Make love to me,” she muttered against his mouth, her tongue rasping his. “Tonight. Please.”
He dragged his mouth away from hers and gently grabbed her shoulders, staring down into her face, his green eyes glittering with such burning and aroused intensity it rocked her to the core.
“I thought that was against the rules?” he said raggedly. “We’re only going to be friends, remember?”
Abby shrugged. “Tonight, I don’t care about rules. I only want to feel.”
“And in the morning?”
She shrugged again and shivered. “We’ll worry about that tomorrow.”
Jake was out of his jacket within seconds and draped the garment around her shoulders. The warmth of the fabric enveloped her instantly, and she realized that was exactly how Jake had always made her feel—as though his arms were a warm and protective coat. When they broke up after graduation, that warmth and protection disappeared from her life. She’d tried to recapture it with Tom, but her husband, a man she genuinely had loved, had never made her feel the way Jake Culhane did.
They stayed out on the porch for a while, swaying to the faint sound of music coming from inside. There was an intense intimacy about the mood between them, as though they both knew the dancing was a prelude to something else, something more. By nine o’clock, the guests began leaving. The bride and groom also bailed and headed to the O’Sullivans’ hotel for the night, and Abby had to make a decision about leaving T.J. at the ranch. The decision was made for her when her son wailed loudly, demanding to stay with his newfound friends. Cousins. But of course, no one knew that. No one except, she suspected, Joss. Who clearly and thankfully hadn’t said anything to his brother. Or to her. But she knew he would at some point, which made Abby’s need to tell Jake the truth all the more urgent. She hugged her son and left the ranch at nine forty-five. It was past ten when she arrived home. And nearly eleven when she heard the familiar rumble of Jake’s motorbike in her driveway.
He didn’t say a word when he crossed the threshold. He dumped his helmet, leather jacket and gloves on the hall stand, closed the door, and grabbed her hand, bringing her knuckles to his mouth and kissing them gently.
Abby led him down the hall and into her bedroom. Her safe place. She flicked on the bedside light, slid out of her shoes and curled her toes into the carpet. He ditched his suit jacket and tie and placed them on the chair by the door. Boots and socks were next. Then his shirt. He was so spectacularly well cut and muscled; his chest was smattered with hair, his shoulders wide, his arms strong. He was perfectly proportioned and exactly as she remembered.
He extracted contraception from his wallet and dropped it onto the bedside table. Last time, the protection had failed. This time, she almost wished for the same thing, as the thought of having another child with Jake filled her with an inexplicable warmth. Of course, it wasn’t the time to think of that. Another unplanned pregnancy wasn’t on her radar. But one day...one day she would very much like to give her son a brother or sister.
“Come here, Abby,” Jake said softly, his voice like a sexy caress.
She walked toward him, placing her hands on his hips, looking up into his eyes. “I’m here.”
He undid the clip holding up her hair, and her tresses tumbled over her shoulders. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admitted.
Abby sighed and smiled. “What else would you like to do?”
“Everything,” he replied and lowered his head, taking her mouth in a scorching-hot kiss.
They were on the bed in seconds, naked barely moments after that. Even though there was nothing new to encounter, even though they had been together before and knew each other’s bodies intimately, there was still a sense of newness, of discovery. When he touched her breasts, when he kissed her there, when he caressed her aching nipples with his tongue and she arched wildly against him, Abby was lost in the sweet oblivion she’d craved from the moment he’d returned to town. And then he did more. He touched her, stroked her in the most sensitive places; he drew her higher and higher toward release. He trailed kisses down her rib cage, along her belly, lingering at the row of faded stretch marks that hadn’t been there the last time they were together. She moved to cover herself, but he gently pushed her hand away.
“Don’t,” he said against her skin, kissing her belly softly. “You’re beautiful, Abby.”
With Jake, she had always felt beautiful. There was something in his touch, a kind of reverence, a hypnotic eroticism she’d not found before or since. And when he kissed her intimately, she was utterly lost. His hands gently caressed her breasts, his mouth lingering on her center, taking her on a journey of mind-blowing pleasure that defied belief.
And touching him had its own reward. She reacquainted herself with the things he liked, quickly remembering that she could make him crazy by kissing his neck, or stroking the smooth skin below his rib cage, or running her tongue around the edge of his navel. As much as he was the expert in making her reach the peak of pleasure, Abby knew she had the same power over him.
When he moved over her, finding her warm and ready, she stared into his eyes, not wanting to lose the erotic and powerful connection. Being with Jake, feeling him inside her, urging his hips to move with hers, was a powerful aphrodisiac. They climbed the peak together, and when she felt him shudder, when she felt his strong body shake with release, Abby held him tightly, letting pleasure claim them both.
Afterward, once their breathing returned to normal, he rolled onto his side, quickly disappearing into her master bathroom for a few moments to discard the condom. When he returned, Abby was lying on her side, the duvet mostly covering her nakedness. He was still half-aroused and moved around her bed without any kind of modesty. Abby smiled, moistening her lips as she pushed back the duvet to invite him back into her bed.
“Are you sleepy?” she asked as he moved alongside her.
He traced a fingertip along her arm. “Not particularly. You?”
She chuckled, feeling young and uninhibited and totally at ease, and then looked a little more somber. “No.”
“But?”
The fact he knew her so well terrified her. “But I think we should talk.”
His gaze narrowed a fraction. “Serious talk?”
Abby nodded. “About...about T.J.”
He grasped her chin and held her face steady. “I get it, Abby. I understand that you’re a single mom and have to put him first. I’ve never dated anyone with kids before,” he admitted and then shrugged a little. “I mean, not that we’re dating. But we’re something...and that makes things complicated. I don’t want to mislead you, Abby, and I certainly didn’t come back with any intention of reconnecting or revisiting our past relationship. But we did—we have,” he added and kissed her mouth softly. “And I’m not sorry. I can’t regret being with you like this. Can you?”
She swallowed hard. “No, but T.J.—”
“Is your priority,” he said and nodded. “I know. As he should be.”
The truth teetered on the edge of her tongue. Damn him for being so understanding. Damn him for having such a tender touch, such a mind-blowing kiss.
And damn him for still being the love of my life...
The realization that she still loved him, had never stopped loving him, shook Abby to her deepest core. She knew she was in way over her head. They’d made love and it had been incredible, but the reality of their situation pressed down on her like a lead weight. Once she told him about T.J., she knew things would change. Right now, in the moment, their relationship was about them. About sex and passion and the possibility of rekindling old feelings. He was considerate of her son, aware that having a relationship with someone who had a child was complex and required certain agreements. And he had openly admitted to never having dated anyone who had children. But once he knew T.J. was his son, Abby suspected everything would change. She would
n’t be able to live in the sudden romantic bubble they were now in. Real life would intrude.
And it scared her to pieces. Because she knew what it would mean.
I’ll lose him again...
Which was an unbearable thought. And her courage dwindled. Tomorrow, she thought when he kissed her again. I’ll tell him tomorrow.
And tomorrow, she discovered, came way too soon. They slept some, in between making love again, talking and reminiscing about days gone by. They didn’t mention Tom or T.J., but she spoke about her mother and grandmother. And she talked about her father and what not having him in her life had meant to her. They talked a little about their past, reminiscing about high school, about the happy days. Jake said a few things about his family and his time in the military and how he had settled back into civilian life way easier than he’d imagined. He told her about some of his friends who hadn’t made it home, and she heard real pain in his voice. He talked about loss, about how so many of his platoon had struggled with PTSD when they’d returned from active duty. He admitted he’d visited a veterans’ support group a few times. As he talked, Abby listened, thinking they’d never been closer or more connected than they were in those few stolen hours. And she wanted to hold on to it, to keep the moment close to her heart.
“I was so scared for you,” she admitted, touching his face. “I used to light a candle every Sunday when you were overseas, as a way to protect you. Silly,” she said and traced his jawline, feeling the sexy stubble.
“It worked,” he said, grasping her hand and holding it against his heart. “I came back.”
“Tom always knew. He never said anything, never asked me not to. He wanted you to be safe, too.”
“I know. He was a good person.” Jake kissed her knuckles. “It’s sad to think he never got to meet his son.”
Tell him...
Abby’s breath caught in her throat. “Jake, I—”
“I’ve missed you, Abby,” he said huskily and kissed her mouth. “I’ve missed this.”
The kiss deepened and she was lost, quickly caught up in the passion only he could make her feel. They made love again, a slow and gentle coupling that left her mindless. Jake wrung every ounce of pleasure from her, giving and taking, possessing her in a way that was almost otherworldly and cemented what she already knew—she was still completely and totally in love with him.
When the sun rose, they made out for a while, then showered together, and Abby made him French toast for breakfast. They ate and drank coffee and she marveled at how easy it was to have him in her kitchen. The mood between them was relaxed and intimate, and she had almost worked herself into having the courage to come clean about T.J. when her cell pinged and she read a message from Annie saying that Joss was on his way with the kids.
“Your brother will be here soon,” she said, replying to the text with a thumbs-up emoji.
Jake was by the kitchen counter, sipping coffee. “Do you want me to leave?”
She shook her head. There was no point in being coy or secretive about their relationship or the fact he’d spent the night. “No. We really need to talk.”
“More talk?” he queried and snatched her hand, hauling her close and then kissing her soundly. They kissed for a while, which was crazy, she knew, because they has so much to discuss. But being in his arms was like a tonic, and she needed it to soothe the uneasiness searing through to her soul. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asked when they finally stopped kissing.
“So much,” she admitted, and her eyes burned. “I’m so sorry, Jake.”
His gaze narrowed and he tilted her chin, searching her face. “For what?”
Before she could reply, they heard a car pull up outside, and within minutes there were feet stomping on the porch. Abby was quickly at the front door, and seconds later her son flung himself at her legs.
“Mommy!” he announced excitedly. “I’m home.”
“So I see. I missed you.”
“I missed you more!”
Joss’s daughters followed him inside, and Abby invited Jake’s brother across the threshold and into the kitchen. If Joss thought it was strange to see Jake sitting at the big scrubbed table, drinking coffee, wearing most of the same suit he’d worn the night before, he gave a good impression of acting as though it were an everyday occurrence. And Abby was so wound up she didn’t have the strength to overthink the situation. T.J. dumped his knapsack on the table and unzipped his sweater, and she spotted a large stain down the front of his T-shirt.
“A slight mishap with a container of chocolate chip ice cream this morning, I believe,” Joss said and laughed, ushering his daughters to stay by his side.
Abby made a face and regarded her son. “You ate ice cream for breakfast?”
T.J. shrugged. “I was hungry, Mommy. I found it in the freezer. They got a freezer that’s as big as a house,” he added dramatically. “I didn’t get in trouble. Ellie said she eats ice cream for breakfast, too, sometimes.”
She couldn’t be angry with him, since he looked so adorable with the remnants of chocolate on his face, his green eyes filled with excitement. He’d clearly had a fabulous time at the ranch.
With his family...
Abby looked toward Jake, saw that he was watching them, then she glanced at Joss, wishing the other man would leave so she could come clean and tell Jake the truth. Or maybe she was hoping that Joss would announce the obvious and she’d be off the hook—which made her feel like the greatest coward of all time. She shook off her cowardice, determined that once Joss left, she would tell Jake the truth. But then T.J., her beautiful and amazing son, unexpectedly pulled off his soiled shirt, struggling with the neck, giggling and laughing, oblivious to the chain of events he was about to set off.
Because there, on his small shoulder, for everyone to see, was the lightning-bolt birthmark that clearly branded him as Jake’s son.
Chapter Eight
Jake wasn’t sure how long it took him to get to his feet. One second? Two? Not long. Long enough for him to hear Abby’s startled gasp, for him to see the concerned look on his brother’s face.
The birthmark.
He knew it well. He had one in the same spot. In the same shape.
It was an impossible coincidence.
Oh my freaking god.
He quickly registered the sudden terror in Abby’s expression, and for a few excruciating seconds he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. He simply stared. At T.J. Then at Abby. Into Abby. And he knew, without a doubt, exactly what he was seeing. And what he hadn’t seen for the last couple of weeks.
The truth.
He heard Abby’s voice, registered she was instructing T.J. to put his sweater back on.
“Joss,” he heard her say over the white noise that was now screeching through his eardrums. “Could you take T.J. next door to my grandmother’s house? Your brother and I need to talk.”
“Yeah...sure,” Joss replied with a heavy sigh.
“But I wanna stay here, Mommy,” T.J. wailed. “With you and Jake.”
“Come on, kiddo,” Joss said and quickly ushered the kids together, including T.J. “You can tell your grandmother all about the ice cream you ate for breakfast.”
“Great-Gran makes me eat oatmeal.”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Joss said and managed to smile despite the chaos in the room. “I think oatmeal tastes like rubber. So how about we go now?”
Jake watched as T.J. resisted for a moment but then agreed. Jake caught his brother’s stare, saw sympathy and acknowledgment—as though his brother knew exactly what was happening, but couldn’t muster the strength to respond. He could only stare at Abby.
Once the room was cleared and the definitive sound of the door closing made its way to his ears, Jake faced her squarely, his rage and confusion rising and gathering m
omentum with every passing second. “One question.”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Yes?” he barked back instantly.
“Yes,” she said again. “He’s your son.”
Jake grabbed the edge of the table, watching his fingers turn white as his grip tightened. Fury and disbelief churned through his blood, across his skin, into every cell he possessed. He swallowed hard, his throat aching, trying to form words. Finally, he managed to say something. “How is that possible?”
She sucked in a breath. “I got pregnant that afternoon we spent together.”
“The math doesn’t add up,” he reminded her harshly. “Tom’s funeral was in September. T.J. was born in March. That’s seven months.”
“He was premature,” she said quietly, twisting her hands together. “Almost seven weeks.”
Jake’s temple throbbed. “He’s not Tom’s child?”
“No,” she replied.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive,” she said and nodded. “Tom had a very low sperm count. We’d tried conceiving and it never happened. We were talking about using a sperm donor when he got sick. He’s not Tom’s, Jake. He’s yours.”
Jake straightened, filled his lungs with air and glared at her. “He’s mine. You’ve just been passing him off as Tom Perkins’s son for the last six years, then?”
She didn’t deny it. Instead, she shrugged and moved across the room, her back to him, her arms crossed, her head held at a tight angle. A mix of feelings raced through him, crawling across his skin. The white noise increased, deafening him, becoming the only sound he heard as he endeavored to understand what was happening.
