No One But You (4 page)

Sara nodded, not too pleased with their table, which was located near the doors of the bustling kitchen. The alternative was to choose another restaurant or wait for a better situated table, which translated to another lengthy wait. Sara swallowed her protest. A glance over at the other patrons didn’t reveal anything in particular as to why the town was overrun with such a crowd.

“May I take your order?” a uniformed, young girl asked.

Sara gave her order and Jackson piped up soon after with his hefty-man selection. Not able to squelch her curiosity, Sara turned to the waitress. “Why is it so crowded?”

“Every year at this time, lots of hikers and their families head to Wisconsin. They stop in our town for the pie-eating contest before making the long haul. Ten years ago, this contest started the weeklong celebration of the town’s birthday. You came at the right time.”

“What kind of pie?” Jackson asked, with a wide grin, while rubbing his hands together.

“You’ve a choice of cherry, peach or apple.” The waitress clearly was ready to launch into the town’s pie-eating history.

“What’s the prize?”

Sara shifted her gaze from the waitress to Jackson, wondering what was his sudden interest in pies.

“It’s twenty-five dollars to enter and the prize is two hundred. We don’t make too much money from it. It’s sort of tradition. We give any remaining money to the little retirement village in town.”

“That’s very nice of your city.” Sara tapped Jackson’s hand. “Why don’t you enter?”

“Me? I don’t eat pies.”

“But it’s for a good cause,” Sara urged, knowing his addiction to desserts.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Wimp,” she teased.

“I’ll do it, if you do it.”

“I’m on business.” Sara raised an eyebrow.

“I’m here for pleasure.”

The waitress giggled. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell my manager about this. His mother started the contest.” The girl hurried off before Sara could stop her.

“I don’t want to eat any pies.” She glared at Jackson.

“Neither do I. We’ll both participate in this crazy endeavor and do our part to contribute to the community.”

Sara shook her head, but already admitted defeat as she saw only determination in Jackson’s face. She ate her meal without contributing much conversation. Jackson asked lots of questions, but as long as he didn’t cross into personal territory, she was fine answering them.

“How was your steak?” Jackson asked, when she set down her fork.

“A bit tough, but the potatoes were delicious,” Sara replied. Her stomach was more than satisfied with the large portions. All she wanted to do was unsnap her jeans and lay across her bed. She stifled a yawn. Now that the long drive after a full day of work was over and she’d eaten, her energy leaked from her limbs, making them feel like Silly Putty.

“Looks like you’re ready to crash. Let’s get out of here.”

“No argument from me.”

They headed over to the small, three-story hotel where Sara had made her reservation. The parking lot barely had any empty spaces. A steady flow of people walked into the small building.

“I don’t have a reservation. And with all of these people, I probably won’t get one,” Jackson said as he approached the front desk.

Sara had forgotten that tiny detail when she agreed to let him tag along. While Jackson inquired about room availability, she handed over her credit card and proceeded with her check-in process.

“Looks like I’m out of luck with a room,” Jackson announced.

“At least for now. Folks won’t leave here until Monday,” the hotel clerk explained.

“Is there anywhere in town that I could get a room?”

The hotel clerk shook his head, scratching his bald spot. “Sometimes folks in town may rent out rooms, but you’d have to go down to Dawson’s bar and look on the board.”

Jackson turned to Sara and raised an eyebrow.

Her sorors teased her that she took so long to get a clue. It wasn’t until Jackson stared—or maybe glared—at her that she realized what he wanted. “Oh, no, you can’t stay with me.”

“Should I go sleep in the car?”

“That would be best.” She didn’t care if she was being harsh. He’d invited himself.

“Ma’am, our evenings get a bit cool. Now the day is hot and muggy, but once that sun sets, then you’ll be shivering,” the hotel clerk added.

“Fine.” Sara couldn’t believe this current mess. In a small room with only double beds available, she had to share three nights with this man. Her pulse spiked at the thought. “You’d better grab an extra key, in case I get the urge to lock you out.” She headed for the elevator without looking at him.

When the elevator doors closed, Jackson turned to her.

“Don’t say a word,” she warned.

“I was only going to say that I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

Sara grunted. “Like you were in the car.”

“You kissed me first at the party, if I recall. And I didn’t protest.”

Sara opened the door and stared at the furniture arrangement with dismay. In the middle of the room was one queen-sized bed.

“They obviously made a mistake,” she said with a little panic. She hurried to the phone and dialed the front desk. After a few minutes, she put the phone down in defeat.

“I take it that we’ll be spooning. I like to sleep on the left side…and in the nude, if you remember.”

S
ara walked over to the side of the bed, staring down at the floral-printed comforter. One bed for them to share. Her mind had difficulty wrapping around that reality.

What had she done? She should’ve let him go home, while she went on this trip by herself. And now, she’d actually agreed that he could stay in her room. Maybe the next town had available hotel rooms.

She trailed her hand toward the pillow with its ruffled edges. The room screamed romantic interlude. Rose, pink and coral hues covered the walls. Floral patterns were reserved for the linens. Even the ceramic pieces had a whimsical style. Sara surmised that the room was part of a universal conspiracy to entice and keep lovers romantically occupied.

“Hey, what’s on your mind?” Jackson nudged her arm. “Looks like you’ve got the gears cranking at full speed. I promise to be the perfect gentleman. I know this is hard for you.”

Sara couldn’t answer. Her throat ached with dryness, as if she’d run through a desert at high noon. His claim to be a perfect gentleman didn’t quite mesh with the fact that he really did sleep in the nude.

Technicolor images flashed of Jackson naked, buffed and smiling. Her heartbeat accelerated. Her fantasy continued. She was also naked, waiting, expectant, like in the old days. The traitorous thoughts sent scorching waves of desire pouring like molten lava slowly through her entire body.

Her eyes lighted upon Jackson standing on the other side of the bed. He was busy adjusting his set of pillows. She blushed over her secret musings.

“Room seems a little hot,” she complained, pulling at her top.

Jackson shrugged. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it over the back of the chair. “Feels good to me.”

“Don’t you dare get into that bed.” Sara raised her hand like a crossing guard on patrol.

Jackson froze in his attempt to climb into the bed. “What now?” His brow furrowed with open irritation.

“You’re going to have to wear clothing.”

“Come on, Sara. You know that I don’t wear anything when I sleep. I can barely stand these pants.”

Jackson always complained to her about wearing pajamas. He’d argue that all of his waking hours were spent in suits or equally restrictive clothes. In bed, he preferred his natural state. She’d preferred it, too, once upon a time.

“Fine. I’ll deal with you not wearing a shirt. But you’d better not take off your pants when you get under the covers, or you’re out of here.”

Jackson nodded and eagerly slid under the comforter. He reached for the remote and aimed it at the TV.

Sara readied herself for bed. The closer the time got to when she actually would have to get in bed, the slower she moved. Brushing her teeth became an examination of her mouth. She even stretched out her tongue, leaned closer to the mirror and searched for anything that didn’t look right. Anything to delay the inevitable.

Eventually she got to the end of her nightly routine. She wished that she could be as calm and relaxed as Jackson, who lay back against the pillows with a hand under his head, watching TV.

She emerged from the bathroom and walked purposefully to her side of the bed. “I’m not watching any sports. And you’ll need to put a pillow between us. Are you still wearing your pants? I have an early morning ahead of me, so you’re going to have to turn off the TV soon.” Sara slid down on her side of the bed, making sure to keep her thigh away from his. The edge of the bed was her moral guide.

She waited nervously to fall asleep. Several times, she held her breath to keep from shifting her position, or to still her restless limbs. Her sorors would never believe that she shared a bed with Jackson and nothing happened. But if he didn’t tell, she wouldn’t, either.

“I just want to see the business section of the news to see how much the stock market went up. After that I promise to shut off the TV,” Jack said. He opened the newspapers, completely blocking her view of him.

“Good night,” she said.

“’Night, Sarafina.”

Sara squeezed her eyes tightly shut, praying for sleep to come quickly. Otherwise, the night promised to be a long, arduous exercise of making sure she remained on her side of the bed.

Between the newspapers and TV Jackson had plenty to keep his mind busy. Even so, he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman in the bed beside him. He’d maneuvered his way into her business, and no way did his initial scenario include sharing a bed with Sara.

He wasn’t going to play the choirboy and pretend that he didn’t plan to seduce her with mind-blowing sex. Yet, if he didn’t know better, he’d wonder if her line sisters had planned this situation somehow.

He looked over. Only her back was visible. There was no discernible movement, except for her steady breathing. Lucky woman.

His woman. That was his goal. That was why he was here on this mission.

Resigned that he’d suffer a sleepless night, Jackson refolded the newspapers and placed it on the night table. Then he turned off the TV, no longer interested in the night-time police drama. Once more he looked over at Sara.

He wanted to touch her. Instead he turned off the light and stared into the darkness, hoping that he’d fall asleep soon.

Someplace between being fully awake and an incredibly drowsy state, he turned toward Sara. He scooted his body onto her side of the bed until they touched. Like the snug fit of a glove, he framed his body behind hers, draping an arm over her waist. Only then did he drift to sleep.

Light filtered through the thin line of space between the heavy drapes. Jackson awoke, frowning at the intrusion of daylight. He tried to move his arm, but it remained stubbornly in place. Furiously blinking away his drowsy state, he rubbed his face with his free hand.

A long yawn erupted from him, but caught in his throat as realization took hold. Sara was molded against the entire length of his body with her arm casually thrown over him. Her head fit neatly under his chin. Her face pressed against his chest. Knowing that Sara sleeping in his arms was temporary, he lay there, as still as possible, enjoying the moment while the sun continued its ascent.

Sara awoke to her stomach’s hungry grumble. She tried to move, but her head snapped back into solid flesh. Her mind wasn’t so jumbled that she didn’t know the difference between the pillow and a body.

Please let her not be in any compromised state, she thought. At least her pajamas were still in place. She couldn’t bear his snide insinuations. Nor did she want to see the humor in the situation, if she had become disrobed.

Awareness sank in. Her leg covered his thigh. As she slid it back in place, she brushed his arousal. She almost yelped.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Sara jumped, immediately pushing away from Jackson. Her sudden movement, more violent than she intended, sent her careening over the side of the bed. She landed on the floor with a muffled thud from the comforter she dragged with her. In an ungraceful heap, she laid there, staring up at the ceiling.

“Whoa! Didn’t mean to startle you.” Jackson’s face appeared over the side. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His eyes betrayed his enjoyment at her expense. He offered her his hand.

“I’m fine.”

His hand remained outstretched, but Sara shook her head. She rolled over and struggled to her feet. There was no way they were staying another night like this. Her resolution to stay firm and detached was at the breaking point. And from what she could tell, so was his.

“Could you order room service?” she mumbled, as she made her way to the bathroom with the comforter trailing behind her.

She quickly showered and dressed in time for the arrival of breakfast. After the waiter left, Jackson picked up a slice of bacon. He grinned at her while he slid the slice of bacon in between his lips. The man didn’t know when to quit. The mischievous glint warned her that he was in a playful, sexy mood. Sara opted for the upright winged-back chair in the corner of the room away from him. She set her portion of the breakfast on the small table and pulled it close to her. The table could act as a barrier to any crazy antics that Jackson had in mind.

He bit into the bacon and chewed, looking at her.

“What?” She couldn’t take his scrutiny any longer. “What do you want?” Sara sipped her coffee.

“Just admiring how beautiful and desirable you look early in the morning.”

“Thanks.” She kept a watchful eye over the rim of her coffee cup.

“Good enough to eat.” He bit into a fluffy biscuit and winked.

“Looks like you’ll get your fill of this food tray with no problems.”

Jackson shrugged. “What are we going to do today?”

“
We
aren’t doing anything, at least not for the next few hours. I’ve got to go on my interview. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“Don’t forget the pie-eating contest. That starts at five.”

“I really don’t think that I’m up for any pie-eating contest. I keep telling you this isn’t a pleasure trip.”

“It’s not a pleasure trip for me, either. I’m here conducting my business.”

“What business is that?” Sara raised her eyebrow at Jackson’s statement.

“Figuring out the different stages of relationships with you and then wondering where I am on the ladder.”

“I only have two main divisions. You’re either a friend or an enemy. Then there is the category where it’s blank. That’s reserved for a person not worth the effort to categorize.”

“But we slept together. That’s not the action of an enemy.”

“There was no alternative.” Sara looked at her watch. “Got to run.” She hurried to gather her materials. “I should be back before noon. I’ll check out, then. We can have lunch before heading back.”

“Would you change your mind and stay, if I pay for another night?”

“Why?” Sara paused in the doorway. Her face set with stony determination against his manipulation. “Jackson, aren’t you tired of this. What exactly do you hope to get from me? We know each other. Nothing much has changed, except that we’ve grown up and moved on with our lives. Well, at least I have. Keep your cell phone on. I’ll call,” she said before leaving.

Jackson turned his back on her and went into the bathroom. Sara the college student only existed on the external, physical level. Sara the professional woman exhibited a steely determination that drew his respect. Short of stalking her, he might have to deal with the reality that time was not on his side to win her back.

After a quick shower, Jackson dressed in a T-shirt and khakis. A walk around town would occupy him. Avoiding any part of the pie-eating contest, he’d try to discover any other weekend activities.

Remembering her instructions, he repacked his clothing and stowed his toiletries. After he surveyed the area, he spied several books poking out of her suitcase on the chair. Sara wasn’t a reader. She preferred her magazines. And if she did read, it would be biographies.

Cautiously he flipped open the suitcase, revealing several books. He pushed the top book aside to view the other titles. The common theme drew a frown.
Twelve Steps to Financial Well-Being. Getting Comfortable with Wealth Building. Embrace the Rich Lifestyle.

These books didn’t connect with Sara. She believed in hard work, but didn’t obsess over money. They probably had to do with her current interview, considering the caliber of her subject. He closed the suitcase, wondering about the contents, and left the room.

Jackson exited the hotel, immediately feeling as if he’d entered a different time period. Small towns weren’t his thing. He liked the energy and diversity of a city with diverse population. Since the town sucked in tourists in good quantity, Jackson surmised that it wouldn’t be long before the open acreage turned into clusters of homes for upper middle income families.

Here in this community, a short drive from Wisconsin, the small-town pace brought on a wave of nostalgia for his grandparents. They’d resided and owned a grocery store in a similar town before a powerful franchise rolled in. The big, chain store had swept the mom-and-pop shops out of business. But as much as he liked visiting them, he’d always looked forward to getting back to the busy, anonymous life of the modern city.

“Good morning.”

Jackson barely mumbled a response to the passing man. Did he know him? From his view of the man walking away, he didn’t think that they’d ever met.

“Good morning to you.”

Jackson swung his head around to see a smiling, older woman easing past him. He nodded. No one in the city greeted strangers. As a matter of fact, speaking to each passerby would probably earn an ugly look, or a few choice words from the recipient.

He spent his time greeting or nodding to various people, while strolling down Main Street. A library sign up ahead caught his attention. At the corner, he looked down the narrow side street where a small white building stood. Jackson didn’t claim to be an avid reader, but enjoyed reading about historical events. Maybe he could spend an hour or so learning about Blue Hills.

He entered the old brick building, which could have done with a face-lift, he thought. Close up, the white paint peeled off the wood and was faded off the brick. Yet the structure had the old-style architecture that he found charming. A white picket fence surrounded the property with a short graveled path that led to three steps. A few families, parents and kids entered. His father used to think going to the library was a mother’s job.

Jackson pulled open the door wide to see where the hours of operation were posted. Like all libraries, outdoor sounds were banished. Brightly lit and equipped with state-of-the-art computers, the inside encouraged patrons to think and slow down for a few moments.

Once Jackson got directions from a librarian, he strolled to the local history section. He took his time pulling out titles, examining back covers and sliding the books back into place.

“What are you doing here?”

Jackson looked around in surprise to hear Sara’s husky whisper. Turning in a full circle, he still couldn’t locate her. “Sara?”