Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) (12 page)

His lips brushed at her hairline. “It’s okay. I know you don’t like hard metal–”

“I like your metal,” she interrupted, and with that confession, her nerves calmed. To busy herself, she began to disengage an earring from its velvet resting place.

His forehead rested against the side of her head. “Need some help?” Goosebumps pricked her skin when his lips moved to her ear, his tongue teasing the sensitive parts.

Closing her eyes, she let a murmur escape as this attention continued–maybe more intent than ever before. Seriously, never had he lingered so long on her ear... With a brush of his head against the side of hers, he pulled slightly back reaching for her wrist.

Turning it so that the palm was face up, she felt a shudder of expectation when his head dropped to it. But, instead of teasing with his tongue, he spit the ruby earring into her hand.

Her squeal was part surprised, part revolted, and at least half impressed. “Weirdo!” Her repulsed reproach held a tremor of laughter, and he curved a crooked grin.

“Want me to do the other?” he offered.

“No!” Pushing away, she promptly put distance between them and another screech escaped when he playfully tried to grasp her arm.

“Yes you do!”

“How many earrings have you stolen from unsuspecting women?!” Taking her gift, she stalked to the vanity in the bathroom.

Jack left the bed and began to change out what he was wearing. Shorts, for ripped jeans and a studded belt...

Often the jewelry in his ears didn’t match, and she taunted through the doorway, “Is that how you build up your collection of earrings?”

He pulled on a long-sleeved Jackal tee shirt and pushed the sleeves up to his elbows.

“You act like it’s easy.” With an affronted air, he lifted his dark brows before turning away again. Opening the door of a tall jewelry caddy, he plucked from the necklaces that dangled. “You have no idea how long it took to find a girl wearing those–”

“Do not even dare to think about saying my earrings.” With that warning, she dropped the cotton ball used to clean her ears and the new jewelry and sent a threatening frown through the arched doorway.

Ducking his head into the necklace strands as he walked, he came up behind her.

“I ordered those the day before I left for your house.” Her heart pumped harder, but she managed to thread the first into her lobe and clasp the safety. There would be no kissing these out...“Spent half the day at the kitchen bar, then the pool, then the couch, looking for just the right ones.” The next one went in easier now that she was more adept with the design, and she enjoyed the effect in the mirror almost as much as she enjoyed his voice. “Then the bracelets...What screamed Mariss?”

“These definitely scream Mariss,” she went along caught up in the story dialogue and picked up the tennis bracelet. It bent like a snake in her hand, and the flashy backside oddly begged for attention.

The inscription had to be done, letter by letter, one on the back of each stone’s setting, and it was antiqued to make it clear.

‘M all my heart’.

On the verge of a great discovery, she picked the next one up, a band with the diamonds set into it. The back read:

‘Marissa, love of my life’.

Her eyes flew to his, and she almost drowned in the emotion swimming in the dark depths. The next band was her favorite.

‘Marissa, every song in my soul’.

“I’m going to cry again...”

CHAPTER 15

Jack descended the stairs ahead of her, and if she had preconceived any idea of what he was up to, she would have darted back up to the safety of the bathroom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, sons and dogs, I present Miss, for now, Marissa, don’t get used to the name, Duplei!”

The empty hallway quickly filled. First came Tristan, with Rusty at his ankles. Next, Candace and Marc playfully shoved as they raced.

“What name should we not get used to, Jack?” his aunt goaded while bringing her phone before her face.

“Aunt Candi, there will be enough pictures of tonight...”

“I promised your mother.”

Candace continued her video, and for the first time, Marissa wondered why Jack’s parents had not come to the drop party, or had not at least flown in for the weekend of such an important event.

The video continued despite the clowning as they got last-minute things together. When Candace switched to camera mode, they dutifully posed for a couple of still shots on the staircase and the panther sofa.

After snapping several, Candace instructed, “Tristan why don’t you get in the picture with your mom and dad.”

Tristan, in his day old pajamas, climbed in between them thrilled to be on the panther couch. Never one for patience with pictures, the youngster scampered back to the den area, his crutch barely hitting the floor, and Candace snapped a couple more.

“Jack, you’ve seen the family pictures. You know the tradition,” his uncle inserted as his aunt had them posing in front of the door. Jack was behind her with his hands resting on her waist.

“Don’t do it Jack...” his aunt admonished as she centered her frame.

“Oh paybacks,” Jack sounded pleased. “I was blinded growing up by Mom and Dad’s wedding pics–”

“Don’t...” Candace actually lowered the camera as she repeated the warning.

“We gotta go Aunt Candi. Take the pic if you’re going to.” A smile actually rang out in his words. Candace didn’t seem convinced, but she again put her phone’s lens to her eye.

Before Marissa could more than briefly wonder what was going on, the picture was snapped with Jack’s arms around her shoulders— and his hands down the front of her dress!

The echo in the hall made her jump although she was responsible.

“Damn Mariss,” Jack complained carefully rubbing his fingers along his jaw.

Her fingers tingled from the contact, and she tried to remember if ever in her life she had hit anyone other than her sibling during childhood. Twice now, she had slapped Jack, and she was not proud. Spousal hitting, from either spouse, or in this case, almost spouses, was shameful.

Jack’s aunt and uncle silently slunk from the hallway, their shocked expressions frozen on their faces. Thankfully, Tristan was nowhere in sight so the scene had not been witnessed by their son.

“I’m sorry!” The moment they were alone, the apology blurted from her lips. However, the words had not come from her heart, and that surprised her. More than anything, she was angry and embarrassed. Her breasts buzzed with awareness, her fingers continued to sting, and her voice was indignant. “Why the hell did you do that?!”

“Let’s get going.” With that mutter, Jack pulled open the double door to the left of the one leading to the hallway bathroom and she saw that it was a closet.

“I’ve, uh, just got to say good-bye to Tristan.” Leaving him pulling on a leather jacket, she moved toward the den wishing she didn’t have to face Candace and Marc. Before she reached that destination at the end of the hall, Jack fell into step beside her. They stopped behind the couch where Tristan was reading his new books, and she flashed a totally humiliated glance at his relatives.

“Hey buddy.” Ruffling the tiny boy’s hair, Jack explained, “Dad and Momma are going to a party–”

“Not a party,” she interjected when Tristan’s eyes lit with too much interest. Not yet realizing his mistake and most probably because he was still aggravated, Jack sent a mild glare her way. Withering some beneath that look, she hastily explained to their son, “No cake or presents. Just a grown up thing where we walk around and talk about how our kids stayed in their pajamas all day!” At this point, Tristan howled with laughter when she tickled him, and she swung her gaze to Candace. “I can give him a bath in the morning.”

“Not necessary,” Jack teased and swung their son into his arms. “I can throw him in the pool in the morning!”

Tristan laughed in delight at the mention of swimming and then quickly sobered. “Don’t throw me in, Daddy. I can’t swim.”

Jack’s smile straightened and he promised, “I won’t. But I can assure you, swimming is easy, so easy that you will be swimming like a shark by the end of the day!”

Marissa watched father and son use their hands as makeshift fins while Candace verified with a few concerned questions such as any allergies and typical bedtime routine.

Jack sat Tristan back on the sofa, and as the laughing between them dwindled, he inquired, “So can you keep Rusty company? If he gets lonely?”

“By myself?” Tristan’s eyes uncertainly rose to hers, and she easily read the insecurity.

“Of course not!” Marissa assured and knelt to pull him close.

Jack added his own reassurance. “Aunt Candi will be here and Uncle Marc loves games. Get him to show you the surfing one, huh?”

“When will you be home Momma?” Ignoring Jack, Tristan locked gazes with her, and her heart swelled with empathy. She knew how he felt. This house was strange. These people were strangers. As for this moment, in Tristan’s eyes, Jack was the cause of it all.

Holding his tiny frame even tighter, she promised, “I will be home before the sun comes up.” Bribery came next. “You can show Aunt Candi your new room. And, if you want you can sleep in my bed. When I get home I will find you no matter where you are sleeping and give you a big hug.” Here, she emphasized her words with a huge hug.

“Why do you always have to stay out until the sun comes up?” Tristan shoved himself from her arms, and his voice went into whine mode. “I want to stay with Aunt Olivia like I always do.”

Three pairs of adult eyes hit her face, but it was Jack’s incredulous and angered gaze that she squirmed under.

“I don’t want to spend the night at Aunt Candi’s...”

Although Jack’s aunt and uncle had politely averted their eyes, Jack’s look was still speculative.

Quietly, he searched her face, a new realization dawning, that possibly, she was not the shy woman and responsible mother he thought her to be.

“I want Aunt Liv! She makes whatever pancakes I want for breakfast...”

Her dismayed eyes affixed on her traitorous son as she reluctantly recalled, on several instances, using the words of ‘when the sun comes up.’ Never because she actually stayed out that late, but because it was a measure of time to a small child of when she would pick him up!

“Tristan–”

She had no idea what she was about to say. She only knew that something had to be said.

However, Jack was quicker, rounding the couch and pulling Tristan against him. “We will be back way before the sun comes up. If you want, you can sleep here on the couch with Rusty, and I will carry you up to your room when we get home.”

Tristan agreeably calmed, and after wrapping his tiny arms around their necks in a hug, he waved goodbye.

When Jack reached for her hand, she was surprised. The wary provocation in his eyes during Tristan’s innocent insinuations had been clear just moments ago. Before opening the front door, he squeezed his fingers tightly around hers. Though she did not try to pull away, she recognized the hold as more imprisoning than affectionate.

JACK DID NOT RELEASE HIS GRASP
as they descended the steps to the drive where a sporty limo awaited.

Once, on the night of her high school prom, she and several friends had made their arrival in a stretch limo, but this car was way different. If she had to guess, it was a hybrid Lamborghini, and it was nowhere as long as a stretch limo. The door lifted, instead of swung open, and an L shaped seating arrangement awaited.

Jack gentlemanly assisted her in, and she flexed her throbbing hand while looking around. A mini fridge, bar, and flat screen took up the wall dividing the front from the rear. The door latched, enclosing them, and they were soon in motion, surrounded by the city lights through the windows of the three remaining sides.

“Um...” Clearing her throat, she eyed Jack’s profile as he prepared a drink. A stiff one. “About what happened at the house–”

“Can we forget it for now?”

“Okay. But you seem mad and–”

“I’m not. So just stop. And if you still want to talk later, we will.” In between each sentence, he chugged the drink.

As he hadn’t offered her anything, she rebelliously reached over him to make her own drink. The moment she picked up a glass, he took it from her and congenially asked, “What’s your pleasure tonight, Mariss?”

As if a switch had flipped, his face relaxed, his voice was more affectionate, and the atmosphere between them lightened. Yet again, she was a little troubled at the easy way his frowns could become smiles. This trait was, no doubt, learned from so much time in the public eye, and she wondered if he was even aware of it spilling naturally into private altercations.

“Why don’t you have a shot first? Since we are almost there?” he offered, extracting two of the tiny glasses from their cubbyhole.

Never had she been one to quell her nerves with alcohol, but tonight she was in need of something. What she had been briefed to expect, aggressively by Emmajesty and gently by Jack, had her on edge.