Authors: Scarlett Scott
“I’m sorry,” Emma apologized. “That was obvious of her.”
Jackson shrugged. “She’s late. You don’t have to take me
home if you’re busy. It’s a nice walk from here.”
Great. Now she was being rude. “It’s not a problem,” she
assured him despite her reservations.
“Really, Em. It’s not a big deal. I could use the exercise.
I spend so much of my time pulling wrenches, it’s nice to do something else for
a change.”
Did he think she couldn’t stand to be in his presence? It
was more like she couldn’t
trust
herself to be in his presence because
their history was tumbling over her and making her dizzy. Still, she didn’t
want him to know that.
“I’ll drive you,” she insisted. “Besides, I’d love to see
your place.”
She was, she discovered, genuinely interested in seeing
where he’d gone with his life.
He gave her an easy smile that made his too-blue eyes
crinkle at the corners. “I’d love for you to see it. I built a place out on the
old Winters farm. It’s taken me a few years to finish everything off, but I’m
pleased with how it’s turned out.”
“The old Winters farm?” It was a familiar landmark in their
young days. “I’ve always loved it there. Do you remember that night we snuck
out and slept by a campfire at the pond?”
The instant the words were out of her mouth, she regretted
them, because she recalled all too well that they’d shared a sleeping bag. Open
mouth, insert foot, she mused in inner misery.
He wiped his mouth a bit too long with his napkin. Silence
hung heavy between them and for the second time, she wanted to crawl into a
hole to hide.
“It’s a night I’ll never forget, Em.”
She swallowed, her heart doing double time. Why did he have
to be so earnest and beautiful? Why couldn’t he have been seven kinds of
douchebag from the moment he’d set foot at the front door? She couldn’t relive
memories with him. It was too dangerous.
“Well.” She cleared her throat and stood, retrieving all the
dirty plates from the table. “Should we get going then? I don’t want to hold
you up.” She glanced down at her hapless outfit. “Just let me get dressed
first.”
* * * * *
No matter how much time passed, she would always know every
inch of Paradise. It was a familiar drive to the edge of town, past the high
school and football stadium where she’d cheered him on from the stands. They
headed past the town’s lone shopping center, which housed a combination grocery
store and pharmacy and not much else. But the turnoff was different now, she
realized when she almost drove right past it.
Instead of the red dirt road, the driveway was now paved a
deep ebony that shone in the sun. “Wow,” she said as she pulled in, almost as
much to herself as to Jackson. “It looks a lot different than I remember.”As
she rounded a bend, his house came into view beyond a line of trees and a
well-kept lawn. “Jackson, it’s beautiful.”
The white house was a rambling plantation style with pillars
flanking the stately front door. It was like something torn from the cover of a
lifestyle magazine. The interior designer in her was one hundred percent in
love with its classic aesthetic.
“Thanks. It’s been a hell of a ride, but it turned out to be
worth all the hassles.”
She glanced over to find him smiling at the home he’d built.
“Do I get to see the inside, or have I worn out my welcome?”
“Of course, Em. You’re always welcome at my place. You
should know that.”
She should? How could she when they hadn’t spoken in all
this time? She pulled to the front of his gorgeous home and slid the car into
park. “It’s been so long, Jackson.”
“Never too long for old friends,” he said as he took off his
seat belt. Then he startled her by reaching out and touching her hand where it
rested on the center console. “I’ve missed you. I know I’m not good at showing
it, but it’s damn good to see you.”
She turned her hand in his and gave his large, calloused
fingers a squeeze. “I feel the same.”
They were both adults now, long past the point of pain over
their old romance. Of course they could be friends. But that didn’t mean the
touch of his skin to hers didn’t send sparks of awareness through her. She
relinquished his hand and moved to get out of the car before she lost control.
The early summer air was humid and tinged with the sweet
scent of blossoming flowers. As she followed him up the paved walkway, she was
again touched by the beauty of the structure.
“You’ve done an amazing job,” she said softly as she waited
for him to unlock the front door.
“Thanks.” He threw her a crooked grin over his shoulder. “I
have to warn you to enter at your own risk. My guard dog hasn’t learned his
manners yet.”
Of course he had a dog. She knew he’d always wanted one, but
his mother had been allergic. Emma loved dogs but a pet wasn’t conducive to her
busy lifestyle. “What’s his name?”
“Tinker Bell.”
She laughed. “Just what I always imagined you’d name your
dog. No, really. What is it?”
Jackson opened the door and gestured for her to enter before
him. He wore an embarrassed expression. “Really. My niece named him and I
didn’t have the heart to change it, so he goes by Tinker.”
“That’s adorable.” Emma stepped inside a spacious front hall
to the sound of nails clicking on the polished hardwood floor. A small,
brindle-colored blur flew at her, paws first. She bent down to pet him and
received a very wet puppy kiss on her cheek. “You must be a good uncle,
Jackson. Is your niece Evan’s or Cara’s?”
Jackson was the middle child, with an older brother and a
younger sister. She hadn’t forgotten and he looked surprised. “Livie is Evan’s
daughter. She’s three and Tink’s biggest fan.” He sank down on his knees and
rustled his energetic dog’s fur. “Tinker, down. I’m sorry. He’s only nine
months old, and he hasn’t finished his obedience training yet.”
“I don’t mind.” She laughed again as Tinker frantically
wagged his tail and attempted to kiss his master as well. With his floppy ears
and wrinkly face, Tinker was adorable. “What breed is he?”
“He’s called a Bug.” Jackson looked up at her and she
realized they were unsettlingly close again. “Half Boston Terrier, half Pug.”
“More like half-crazy energy.” Tinker launched himself at
her again and she obliged the dog by lavishing him with more attention. “He’s
cute.”
“Only when he’s not eating my socks and chewing on the damn
coffee table.” He broke the headiness of the moment by standing again. “He
likes you. You should feel honored. He doesn’t like many people other than
Livie and me. Every time he sees my mother, he growls.”
Emma stood too. “Maybe he knows she’s allergic?”
He raked a hand through his hair and considered her. “You
sure do have a mean memory, Em.”
She was about to blurt that she always remembered things
that were important, but she bit her tongue at the last second. His life wasn’t
important to her, hadn’t been in years. And yet here she was, mooning over him
like a girl.
“It comes in handy sometimes,” she simply said, turning to
take in the vaulted ceiling and breathtaking staircase in the entry hall. “So,
are you going to show me around, Jackson, or do I have to stand here in the
foyer forever?”
“There’s that acid tongue again. L.A. turned you into a
spitfire.”
“I always was one and you know it.”
“True enough. I guess some things don’t change.” He gestured
for her to follow him. “This way.”
The tour of his house left her in awe. It was an
architectural gem, as carefully constructed on the inside as the outside
suggested. His furniture was spare but well constructed, befitting a bachelor
pad. He didn’t take her through the master bedroom, and it was just as well she
reasoned as they wound up in the bright kitchen. They sat on barstools around a
granite-topped island, sipping coffee. It was all very innocent and grownup.
Tink chewed on a bone in a slat of sunlight on the tile floor.
There was no reason why her thoughts should continuously
veer into sexual white-water territory. Except they did. She watched his strong
hands stroking the handle of his mug and then lifted her gaze to study his
handsome face, hardened into a mature masculine beauty. He still had eyelashes
a woman would kill for. His nose was a straight blade between high cheekbones,
his jaw wide and strong, made all the more appealing by a dark shadow of
scruff. And his sculpted mouth begged to be kissed. She wanted him, and the
realization both appalled and fascinated her.
“You’re staring,” he murmured, cutting her thoughts short.
“I’m sorry.” Her cheeks warmed. “It’s just strange seeing
you this way.”
“I feel the same. You’re even more beautiful than I
remembered, Em.”
His words cut straight through her with the efficacy of a
knife. She lost her breath for a few beats. “Do you ever think about back
then?” Before he could answer, her nerve abandoned her. “Forget I said that. It
was stupid. This is the first time I’ve been back here in years, and I’m
getting sentimental. I’m sorry.”
He stood slowly. “Don’t apologize.” In two strides, he
closed the distance between them, standing close enough to her back that she
could feel the heat radiating from his muscled body. He ran a hand up her left
arm, gently trailing to rest above her heart. His lips grazed her ear. “Would
it sound crazy if I said I do?”
She couldn’t move, hyperaware of his palm flattened over her
madly tripping heart. “Not any crazier than me asking in the first place.”
“Em.” Jackson’s mouth was somehow on her neck. “I want you.”
Emma turned, pressing her face into his. “Jackson?”
Their gazes met, their lips just a hesitation apart. “Em?”
“Kiss me.” She sank her fingers into his thick hair and
closed the distance between them.
His mouth opened over hers with just enough force to
tantalize. Their tongues slid together. He pulled her from the stool and turned
her so their bodies met, deepening the kiss. His cock was a demanding ridge
against her belly. An answering ache blossomed in her pussy. She was wet in an
instant. Talk about crazy. This was insanity. This was wrong. Hooking up with
Jackson was trouble, capital T, hell to the no. So why couldn’t she stop
sucking on his tongue? And why was she getting up on tiptoes to rub herself
against his hard-on like she’d die if she didn’t have him inside her, pronto?
As it turned out, she didn’t need to worry. Tink brought her
back to earth, barking and pawing at their legs. They broke the kiss, laughing.
She should have been relieved for the interruption, but she had to admit to a
secret surge of disappointment.
“Thanks for bringing us back to earth, Tink.” Emma sank to
her knees and threw herself into ruffling his velvety ears as embarrassment set
in.
Jack followed suit, raking a hand through his hair as he
knelt alongside her. “Damn, I’m sorry Em.”
“Don’t apologize,” she hurried to assure him in an effort to
hide her roiling emotions. “It was nothing.”
If only it had felt like nothing. Her libido was raging. She
was practically ready to throw him to the floor and ride him naughty-cowgirl
style until they both came. This wasn’t good at all.
“Nothing,” he agreed, scratching Tink’s head.
“Really, I’m the one who should apologize. I don’t know what
happened.” She blew out a breath, frantically rummaging through her brain for
an explanation. “I haven’t been back here in so long.”
Yeah, Emma. Like that wasn’t the lamest excuse you’ve
ever used.
She inwardly grimaced.
Way to keep your cool, idiot.
He met her gaze, searching. “Are you happy to be back? You
couldn’t wait to hightail it out of here.”
Emma winced. “Now that’s a loaded question.”
“How so?”
“I’m happy to see you, which honestly shocks the hell out of
me. Not that we left things on a bad note, but they were—”
“Awkward,” he supplied with a rueful grin. “I was pissed and
you were determined, and we had one hell of a fight.”
“We did.” She remembered it all too well. “You rammed your
fist through the wall in your parents’ garage.”
“The hole is still there, believe it or not.”
“And then you ignored every email I sent you,” she said
before she could stop herself. Maybe his kisses had gone to her head. Suddenly
she was playing a game of reveal-all-your-deepest secrets. She wanted to kick
herself.
He stilled. “I was doing you a favor, Em. Paradise wasn’t
big enough for a girl like you.”
“I still don’t think Paradise is big enough for a girl like
me.” There was a sadness to her voice even she heard.
“Are you really happy in L.A.?”
The question took her by surprise. “Of course.” Her personal
life currently sucked, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know it. “My work
is going great. I’ve got an amazing client list, and I couldn’t be more pleased
with how far my business has come.”
He stood, making her feel awkward so far below him. She
stood too, and they faced one another with Tink at their feet. The sexual
tension was back. She was incredibly aware of him. She could smell his cologne
and it made her want to press her nose to his neck and inhale deeply. Maybe
lick his skin.
“I wasn’t talking about your work.” He reached out and
brushed a loose tendril of hair from her face. The gesture was so intimate, so
caring she melted that much more. “I was talking about you.”
“Me?” His fingers were lingering at her jawline and she was
having a hard time concentrating. Her whole body was thrumming with need. He
was going to be her undoing.
“You,” he agreed, skimming a tantalizing path down her neck,
following the line of her shirt. He stopped when he reached her breast, not
moving.
Her nipple hardened. She wanted to thrust herself into his
waiting hand. Her pussy pulsed. How had this happened? Emma tried to summon up
her earlier irritation with him, the old hurts, but found she couldn’t. All she
wanted was him naked and hard and about to fuck her like a wild man.