19 Headed for Trouble (19 page)

“That’s crazy,” she breathed, but she didn’t look away. And he knew, just from gazing into her beautiful eyes, that she was still as attracted to him as he was to her. That spark they’d flamed to an inferno on that amazing, unforgettable night was still ready to ignite. “
You’re
crazy.”

Jack shook his head. “All these years, our timing’s been off—”

“And you don’t think it’s a little off
now
?”

“No,” he said. “I think it’s perfect.”

“In less than four weeks, I’m going back to Iraq.”

“Maybe not,” he pointed out.

“No,” she argued. “I am. I definitely am.”

“Arlene—”

“Jack.” She was holding tightly to his hands now as if trying to squeeze some sense into him. She was gazing into his eyes, too, to make him understand. “I have to. If I don’t go back, they’ll send someone else. Someone who hasn’t been as well trained, someone who hasn’t learned how to keep the kids in my unit safe. And even if that didn’t matter to me …? God, I’m not sure I even want to have another baby. And I’m certainly not having one unless I’m married to someone I
know
is going to be there for the next twenty years.”

He opened his mouth to speak and she cut him off again. “I’m not going to have a baby just to … have a baby. So, nice try. Good attempt. I don’t know what Will is blackmailing you with, but you can tell him you did your best.”

“Leenie—”

“Shhh.” She reached out and brushed his hair back from his face, her fingers cool against his skin. “Let it go, Jack. That night? The sex was great, but …” She shook her head. “We’d drive each other nuts.”

It was then that the phone rang—Maggie, right on schedule.

Arlene let go of Jack’s hands, and pushed herself out of the chair, stepping over him to go into the kitchen. She picked up the phone and didn’t even bother to say hello. “You get your butt home, young lady. Right now.”

She didn’t wait to hear any excuses or counterarguments. She just hung up the phone with some force.

“You should
definitely
not be here when she gets back,” she called to Jack.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

“Huh,” Robin said. “That was weird.”

As Jules Cassidy inched his way out of the busy airport parking lot, he glanced at his husband of less than a year, who was staring at his cell phone, his movie-star-perfect brow furrowed in puzzlement.

Robin’s hair was jarhead short. Apparently Joe Laughlin, the character—a closeted gay A-list actor—he played on his hit cable-TV series,
Shadowland
, was “starring” in a war movie as an enlisted Marine.

As usual, Robin had been nervous about Jules’s reaction to the crew cut, since he’d had it buzzed while Jules was away. But, also as usual, Jules loved it, just as he’d loved every haircut and style—long, short, in-between and a multitude of colors—that Robin had ever had.

His spouse was freakin’ gorgeous
—and
a full triple screaming-bejeezus hot. And it had been eons since Jules had kissed the man, let alone …

The car in front of him was stopped by the car in front of
them
, and on and on it went, out of Jules’s line of sight, and probably all of the way out of Logan and right to the front steps of their South End of Boston home. Still he tried to mind-control the car at the front of this mess, no matter that it was miles away, willing whoever-it-was to put the pedal to the metal.

“I just called Will’s, to see if Dolphina was there,” Robin was explaining, “and I’m pretty sure Maggie’s mother answered.”

“Arlene, right?” Jules said, as the solid, endless minute they’d been sitting in this exact spot turned to two and began working its way to three. “Does she go by Bristol, or—”

“She’s Schroeder, like Will,” Robin reported.

Jules nodded. That was what he’d thought. Ted Bristol, Maggie’s dad, not only lived across the country in
Seattle, but, according to Will, was a textbook functioning alcoholic. Despite being capable of holding a job and paying his rent, his was not the household that Arlene had wanted Maggie to live in for a week, let alone a year.

Years plural, now—because Arlene was being sent back to Iraq for her third tour. Which made Jules’s impatience about the traffic seem petty and selfish, but for the love of God, was he the only one here who was in a hurry to get home?

“She didn’t sound happy,” Robin was telling Jules now—she being Arlene, whom he’d just spoken to on the phone. “And she didn’t wait to find out that I wasn’t Maggie before she
young-ladied
me and ordered my butt home.”

“You better call back.” Jules was in four-weeks-and-three-days of a hurry to get home, to be accurate. Which was four weeks longer than he’d expected to be gone when he’d packed his carry-on bag last month.

Yeah, kids. Last
month
.

His meeting in Washington had turned into a meeting in London, which had morphed into an FBI assignment in Afghanistan. Which was not the kind of place where Robin could join him for a long weekend.

Jules had more than half expected Robin to meet him here at the airport with a limousine and driver. If he had, this traffic wouldn’t matter. They’d be in the back, with music playing and the privacy shield up.

“I’m getting one of those circuit’s-busy signals,” Robin reported, and then smiled ruefully as he met Jules’s gaze, as he accurately read Jules’s mind. “Sorry about—”

“It’s all right.” Jules took his life partner’s hand, intertwined their fingers. Robin had broken the no-limo news to him mere seconds after they’d first embraced.

I couldn’t get a limo at such short notice, but Jesus, I’m glad you’re home
.

Jules had laughed at the time, thinking that Robin was just being Robin—the king of immediate gratification. When it came to expressing the physical side of their love,
here and now
was Robin’s mission statement, and Jules often found himself being coerced into receiving and/or giving some of that immediate gratification at times he normally would have considered inappropriate.

In the middle of the day, when they were already both late for work.

In the bathroom at a friend’s house, during a party.

In the back of a limo.

And okay,
coerced
wasn’t really the right word. He’d never needed much convincing. Still, as Robin often pointed out, Jules always had been something of a Yankee in terms of his definition of
inappropriate
.

Had been.

But right now, as they sat and sat and sat in traffic, Jules realized that somewhere over the past year or so, the idea of sex—with his wonderful, fabulous, lovely husband—in the very private back of a limo had become not only entirely appropriate but eagerly anticipated.

“God, babe, I missed you,” Robin breathed, as Jules lost himself in the warm ocean-blueness of his eyes.

And even though kissing this man to whom he was legally wed could be dangerous while trapped in a parking lot with lots of other cars and drivers who were also trapped and no doubt angry at the world, Jules leaned forward and caught Robin’s mouth with his.

Because, fuck it. They kept a tire iron under the front seat, and Jules and Robin both knew how to use it. Not only that, but there were additional items that could be used as weapons in the back of the car. A military entrenching
tool, with a little shovel that unfolded, which was allegedly kept in the car in case they got stuck in snow and ice, but was heavy and could do some serious damage if slammed into an attacker’s face. Plus he had his sidearm. Yeah, it was locked in a travel case but he could open it quickly enough and
what
was wrong with this world that he was sitting here, mentally taking inventory of weapons that he might need to defend both Robin and himself, merely for publicly expressing their eternal, committed love?

Jules shut off his internal FBI agent—well, as much of it as he could—and cleared his mind of everything but the softness of Robin’s lips, the sweetness of his mouth, the love he could practically taste, and God
damn
, it was good to be home.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

“I mean it, Jack.” Arlene came out of the kitchen, temper blazing. “You do
not
want to be here when Maggie gets home.”

Jack settled back in the chair she’d recently vacated, ready to argue, but the phone rang again.

Arlene was still holding the cordless handset, and she forcefully clicked it to
talk
, and put it to her ear. “I don’t care if your rehearsal’s not over yet, you
get
yourself
home
.” She looked surprised, then, as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone—it was probably not Maggie, judging from the heightened color along her delicate cheekbones.

She was beautiful, and Jack knew full well that the gorgeous red hair and charming freckles, the big green eyes and gracefully shaped mouth, and the lithe, athletic body were just the outer package. He’d fallen in love with the funny, sharp-witted, often sarcastic, sometimes
tough, and always kind girl—and yes, Leenie had been a girl when he’d fallen for her.

And Jack had been an idiot, because he’d run away from her, because along with everything that he found attractive about her, she was also messily emotional, always getting into trouble, too much of a tomboy, too freaking independent, and yet way too vulnerable and shockingly naive.

And instead of waiting for her to grow up, and then kissing the hell out of her and marrying her ass, he’d convinced himself that Becca—cool, aloof, mature, with handbags that always matched her expensive shoes—was the kind of woman he should want.

Should.

But didn’t.

Yes, he was an idiot.

“I’m so sorry,” Arlene was saying into the phone. “No, Dolphina’s not here. She and Will were going to dinner—she was going to meet him downtown at the
Globe
office and …” She cleared her throat. “I have to tell you how much I enjoyed
Rip Tide
. And
American Hero
. I think that one’s still my favorite. You were amazing.”

Okay. That had to be Robin Chadwick Cassidy on the other end of the phone. And now Arlene’s cheeks were tinged with color for an entirely different reason, her anger at her daughter momentarily forgotten as she had a fangrrl moment.

And as she continued to speak to the movie star, she smiled, which made her look young and sweet, and Jack’s heart lurched in his chest, and he knew—without a doubt—that he was
not
going to leave here without at least a promise that she’d think about giving the two of them a solid try.

“Okay, maybe the ring was too much too soon,” Jack
told her as she hung up the phone. “We’ve got a month. Let’s see each other.”

“See?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “Or have sex?”

“The two are not mutually exclusive,” he pointed out. “Frankly, I’d like very much to take you to dinner every night and then back to my place to—”

“And you seriously think it’s just the
ring
that’s too much too soon?”

“I’m just saying,” Jack confessed. “If I had my way, we’d be on a plane to Vegas tonight and you’d be my wife before I—”

“Stop.” She cut him off again.

“I know the attraction’s still there,” Jack pushed harder. “You can pretend all you want that it’s not, but I know, Arlene, so—”

“I’m not denying the attraction. I’m just …”

“What?”

“The timing’s not right.” But now Arlene wouldn’t meet his gaze. In fact, she turned away. “I need to call Maggie, and tell her to get home.”

“You want to take it slowly,” Jack persisted. “We’ll take it slowly. Although not too slowly, because you’ve only got a month and—”

But Arlene had apparently dialed Maggie’s cell phone, and she now spoke to the girl. “Get home.”

Jack could hear the higher-pitched sound of Maggie’s voice, coming through the speaker of the phone. Arlene cut her off. “This isn’t a game, Maggie. This is my life.
And
Jack’s life. And you had no business …” She shook her head. “No.
No
. I’m
not
going to argue with you. You get home and—No, you can’t speak to Jack,” she exhaled on something that sounded like laughter but was, in fact, disbelief. “Get. Home.
Now
.”

She cut the connection, turned back and aimed her fury at Jack. But it was mixed with despair and that was
what came out when she spoke. “Please,” she begged him. “Please. Just … go.”

He nodded and got to his feet. “Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked. “See. Not have sex. Although do let me know if you change your mind.”

The look she gave him was so black, he immediately backpedaled. “I’ll stop with the teasing,” he said. “I’m kidding when I say things like that, okay?”

She shook her head, half laughing again, but also rolling her eyes in exasperation. “There’s no point in—”

“Spending a pleasant afternoon with a friend,” he finished for her. “There’s always a point to that. Let’s have lunch. We can drive out to Baldwin’s Bridge, eat down by the marina.”

“Don’t you work?” she asked.

“All the time,” Jack said. “In fact, I’m writing an article on Governor Patrick’s reinstatement of the Massachusetts Film Council. I’ll finish it tonight, have tomorrow completely free. Come on. We can walk on the beach, stick our feet in the ocean.”

She was wavering. “I don’t know.…”

“Say yes,” he whispered, his hope growing into something real, taking root in his stomach, in his soul. It was that hope that made him reach for her, and he slid his hand into her hair, his palm brushing the smoothness of her cheek, her curls soft between his fingers as he held her there, leaning in to caress her lips with his own in the briefest of kisses.

He wanted, more than anything, to crush her against him, to kiss her the way he’d kissed her that magic night in Copley Square.

But he didn’t. He stepped back. He let her go.

“I’ll call you later,” he said. And he made himself walk out the door.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE