Begin Again: Short stories from the heart (4 page)

“When Genie and I first met she didn’t much like me.
Said I was too bold, too brash, and too damn full of myself.”
Richard
Deeling
beamed at his wife and squeezed her hand. “She was right, you know. And she was the only one with enough nerve to tell me. I think I fell in love right then and there.”

Jack shifted in his seat and slid a glance at Sam who sat with her hands folded on the table and a smile pasted on her face. So, she didn’t like the
Deelings’s
matchmaking attempts any more than he did. It really was a ludicrous idea.
Sam and Jack—together?

Ridiculous.
He had to shut Richard and Eugenia down before they painted an even more embarrassing picture than they already had. Jack opened his mouth to speak but Eugenia
Deeling
shook her head and said, “He might have fallen in love right then and there but it took him almost six months to do something about it.”

That didn’t sound like the man Jack knew. There had to be more to the story, chapters more. He couldn’t help himself.
“Really?”

Richard did something Jack was sure he’d never witnessed before—the man blushed. “There was a slight complication.”

His wife leaned over and patted Jack’s hand.
“The complication known as a fiancé.”

“You’re kidding,” Jack said, pulled in despite himself.
“Richard’s or yours?”

Eugenia huffed and straightened her shoulders. “I assure you, I did not have a fiancé.”

Richard shrugged and clasped his wife’s hand. “Once I met Genie, I couldn’t marry anyone else.” The smile he gave his wife held warmth and feeling. “She swallowed me whole and kept my heart.”

“How romantic,” Sam said.

Jack glanced at Sam.
“How…. visual.”

Richard chuckled and brought his wife’s hand to his lips. “It’s been a glorious thirty-eight years, hasn’t it, dear?”

Eugenia’s eyes grew bright. “It certainly has. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Richard cleared his throat and looked at Sam and Jack. “There you have it. True love conquers all, even the wrong fiancé and self-important jackasses.” He nodded at Jack. “The right woman can make a better man out of you.”

Jack lifted his wine glass and saluted Richard. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do that.” His gaze shifted to Sam. “And the right man—”

“—can make a woman blossom into a magnificent butterfly,” Eugenia finished, her voice whisper soft.

Sam nodded and raised her glass. “It was obviously true for both of you.”

Jack cleared his throat and then not knowing what else to do,
turned
to Sam. “Would you like to dance?”

“I’d love to,” she said, with a look of relief on her face that almost made him smile.

“We’ve escaped,” she whispered as they glided along the dance floor.

“I wonder what’s gotten into them,” Jack mused. “Can you imagine the two of us together?” He laughed softly and looked down at Sam.

“No, I can’t even imagine it,” she murmured, her blue eyes bright.

“It would be utter madness.” His voice was low and husky as he gathered her closer to him. She felt good, all soft and silky … he could get lost in that softness. He lowered his head.

“Absolute insanity,” she whispered as her eyes fluttered shut just before his lips touched hers. The kiss was feather light, hovering, seeking, capturing but a moment in time.

Then it was over. The music ended and they were still holding one another. What
had
they just done? Jack cleared his throat three times and released her. She stared at him, confusion and uncertainty on her face. Why was she looking at him like that, like she expected him to say something? What should he say? It was a dance and as such they were required to touch one another. Hand to hand, shoulder to shoulder, waist to waist.
Thigh to thigh.
Perfectly normal.
Perfectly acceptable.

And the kiss?
Was that part of the perfectly normal, perfectly acceptable dance routine also? The truth battered him over the head.
Definitely not.
That was part of the perfectly stupid routine with Jack being the perfectly stupid one.

***

The next two weeks were miserable. Jack seemed to have resolved whatever concerns he had about Sam taking over his project because he was suddenly agreeable, considerate,
very
helpful.
And aloof.
He didn’t lose his temper as he had the first day they’d met, but he’d erected a barricade so high she’d never get over it.

Not that she wanted to… Who would want to get involved with someone like Jack Torrence? The very thought sucked the oxygen from her lungs. She wasn’t interested in him, she was merely curious about him. At least, that’s what she told herself whenever visions of him flitted through her brain, which was much too often.

Several times when she was bent over her paperwork, she’d look up to find his hazel eyes trained on her, studying her every movement. Was he waiting for her to make a mistake so he could pounce on her or was there another motive for the intense scrutiny? She wished she knew because his change in attitude confused and frustrated her. Where
were the sudden outbursts she’d grown
accustomed to in the short time she’d worked with him? And where were the rare smiles that made her pulse beat triple time?
Gone, all of them.

At the end of the second week, Sam admitted something to herself she’d been trying to deny; Jack sparked a fire in her that burned low and hot, threatening to explode every time he came near. Since the night he kissed her she’d become all too aware of him—his cologne, his voice,
even the sound of his footsteps. She was falling for Jack Torrence and for once in her very controlled, very organized life, there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

“Why don’t we quit for tonight?” Jack broke through her thoughts. “It’s Friday and I’m sure you have better things to do than crunch numbers and take measurements.”

“Oh. Of course,” she mumbled.
Better things, like what? Take out Thai and a tear jerker On Demand?

“Got any big plans?” he asked casually.

“Not really.” She busied herself straightening papers.
“You?”

“The usual.”

The usual?
What exactly did that mean?
More specifically, with whom?
She’d only been here a few weeks but she’d heard the snippets of office gossip about Jack’s string of ladies. Word was he didn’t even need to pick up a phone because
they
called him, asked him out, and made sure he had everything a man could possibly want.

Great.
She was falling for a man with a harem. Maybe it was time to get out and date again. Maybe Jack only interested her because it had been so long since she’d stopped to enjoy men, enjoy life. That was the problem. She wasn’t really interested in Jack Torrence at all; she was just deficient in the male attention department right now.

Thank goodness. That she could correct. But even as she talked herself into the male attention arena and out of Jack Torrence, she knew it was all a farce. The man had gotten to her and that was a problem.

***

When the doorbell rang at ten fifteen that evening, Sam emerged from her bedroom clad in a teal sweat suit, wondering who could be calling in a city where she knew less than five people. She ran a hand through her hair and peeked through the security hole. Her pulse quadrupled as she opened the door.

Jack Torrence stood before her, tall and formidable. His hazel gaze devoured her as he stepped over the threshold and closed the door.

“Jack?” Was that breathy voice really hers? “Is something wrong?”

“Everything’s wrong,” he muttered a second before he hauled her against him and kissed her. His hands roamed her body, touching and stroking with fierce possession. Sam forgot about logic, forgot about sensible, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and reveled in the taste and feel of him.

“Sam,” he groaned, his lips working a slow path down her neck, “I’ve tried to forget you, but you’re like a fire in my blood.”

She
moaned,
a desperate sound of need and desire. Jack Torrence was in her blood too and there was no use denying or pretending it wasn’t so.

Jack deepened the kiss, his tongue mating with hers in a slow, sensual dance of desire and need. She couldn’t think when he kissed her like that. Couldn’t formulate one single reason why they shouldn’t kiss, touch … Sam gave herself up to pure sensation; the desperateness of his tongue on hers, the gentleness of his fingers as they unzipped her sweat jacket, the hardness of his body against hers. She wanted him.
All of him.
And if she didn’t have him soon she was certain she’d burst from sheer wanting.

Jack led her to the sofa, one caress, one sigh, one heated kiss at a time. He made her sizzle and burn with a heat she’d never felt before. He eased her onto the cushions, pushing her further into their softness as his strong body covered hers.

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life,” he whispered against her lips.

Sam slid her hands along his back. He was all muscle and raw strength. “Neither have I,” she murmured.

“Your skin is softer than velvet.” He traced her collarbone and trailed a finger along the pulse in her neck. “And before the night is over I’m going to touch every velvety inch of you.”

He planted soft kisses along her nose, her brow, her jaw before taking her mouth in a searing kiss filled with promise and possession.

Somewhere in the distance the phone rang. She ignored the sound and stroked his back, pulling him closer.

The ringing stopped.
Thank God.

Three little beeps surged through her brain as the answering machine kicked in. “Hello, dear. It’s Uncle Richard.
Just calling to invite you to dinner tomorrow.
By the way, how are you making out with Jack?” He chuckled. “I’m not giving up on you two yet. I still think he’d make a fine addition to the family. You just need to try a little harder, he’s a stubborn boy.
Until tomorrow.”
Click.

She froze and hoped Jack hadn’t heard the call. What a ridiculous wish. Of course he’d heard. She fixed her gaze on his shoulder and waited. He was staring at her, the heat of his gaze burning through her defenses with the same intensity as the desire he’d shown mere seconds before.

“Dammit!” He flung himself off her as though the thought of touching her now repulsed him.

Sam forced herself to look at him. Jack towered over her, his expression dark, menacing, unforgiving. “Jack, I can explain.” She struggled to sit up, pulling her clothes into place.

“I’ll bet you can,” he bit out. “Now I understand why you got the project. It’s called nepotism.” He rifled a hand through his hair and cursed again. “It was all a plan, wasn’t it? One big rotten scheme and I was the prize.”

“No! It wasn’t that way.”

“Wasn’t it?” His eyes narrowed. She shook her head. He moved closer. His expression grew fiercer. “Then tell me, how exactly was it?”

She had to make him understand. “Richard
Deeling
is my uncle. He’s the reason I’m an architect. When he contacted me to head up this project, I was thrilled. It was a major challenge, one I wanted badly. I couldn’t tell anyone who I was or I’d never be taken seriously. I needed my work to stand
on its own,
and owning up to Uncle Richard would have damaged my credibility.”

“And lying wouldn’t?”

“No one was supposed to find out.”

Jack raised a dark brow. “Oh?”

“You weren’t supposed to happen, not where I was concerned. I was here to do a job. No involvement, no strings. Just like always.” She swiped at a tear. “Then I met you. Obviously, Uncle Richard had other plans. I confronted him after the night at the club and he admitted as much. His health is failing and he wants to retire.”

“He’s looking for his successor,” Jack spat out.

Sam shrugged. “Something
like
that, only he wants to keep it in the family.”

“So, why not you?
You’re already in the family.”

“He doesn’t think I have the skill level yet. He told me he wanted you.”

Jack
laughed,
a harsh short sound that held no humor.
“Oh, really?
And Richard
Deeling
always gets what he wants, doesn’t he? I suppose he thinks I should be flattered.”

That comment hurt but Sam refused to let him see how much. She watched him pace the room and wished she were back in New York, hundreds of miles away.

“So, I marry the ice-princess, get the company, and live happily ever after.” His laughter this time was filled with bitterness and resentment.

Ice-princess.
The name jabbed her heart. “I … I don’t know.” But if she thought about it, she did know. That’s exactly what Uncle Richard would want.