A Week Till the Wedding (11 page)

“No, ma’am, but...” The man wisely stopped speaking, and then he sighed into the phone. That sigh really carried over the phone lines.

“Do it,” Eunice said sharply, “or I’ll find someone else who will. I want everything to be put into motion this week. This needs to happen immediately.” Anyone who had ever worked with or for her knew that if she wanted something, it happened. Maybe she didn’t have a controlling interest in the business any longer, but she did control a large portion of the family fortune, and her reputation made it difficult for many old business acquaintances to refuse her requests.

She hung up the phone without a proper goodbye, leaving the man on the other end of the call sputtering a bit.

Eunice lay back down and relaxed. She smiled as she drifted toward sleep. By God, this was going to happen. One way or another...

* * *

Mari was gone, and the house was oddly quiet again. Even the squirrels in her attic were silent as dusk settled and the light in the house dimmed. Daisy had taken off her good clothes hours earlier, and had put on a pair of cutoff shorts and a blue tank top—an outfit more suitable for the late-June weather. She should be thinking about putting together a light supper, but she wasn’t hungry. She’d eaten too much at dinnertime.

Then again, maybe her lack of appetite was Jacob’s fault. He had her turned inside out and upside down. As far as she was concerned, she could even blame him for the squirrels that had taken up residence in her attic. After all, she hadn’t had any trouble with critters before Jacob had come back to town.

The knock on the door made her jump. Without looking through the glass, without asking “Who’s there?” she knew who it was. It was as if when Jacob was near her body shifted into another gear.

If she opened the door and it was someone else, would she be relieved or disappointed? Did she
want
Jacob to be on her front porch? She did, even though she knew that letting him into her house was the worst thing she could do. Or the best. No, it would definitely be a bad idea!

She could refuse to answer, simply pretend she wasn’t at home. She could yell at him to go away, and take the chance that she was right about who had rung her doorbell. If she prepared herself, she might even be able to sound as if she meant it.

She did neither of those things.

Daisy opened the door on a Jacob who reminded her too vividly of the boy she’d once loved. Tonight there was no suit, no preppy golf shirt. Even his posture had changed a bit, as if he’d finally remembered that he was home, and relaxed. He was still wound pretty tight, just not as tightly as he’d been the day he’d walked into her shop and asked for the favor that would turn her life upside down. He held a large woven sack in one hand, and a small paper bag in the other.

“Your dishes,” he said, lifting the well-worn woven sack. He raised up the paper bag. “Strawberry sundaes.”

Daisy hesitated a moment before she backed farther into the house, opening the door wide, silently asking Jacob to come inside. For a moment she actually convinced herself that they could share a strawberry sundae and then she’d send him on his way, but that delusion didn’t last long.

It didn’t last long at all.

Chapter Seven

J
acob hadn’t been sure what kind of reception he’d get when he showed up at Daisy’s door unannounced. Since his return to Bell Grove, she’d never been exactly happy to see him. But if he was going to court her, if he was going to try to reignite an old flame for the next two weeks, that would have to change.

So many emotions passed across her face when she opened the door to him, he wasn’t certain he could register them all. Annoyance, anger, resignation, lust. Maybe the lust that seemed to flicker in her eyes was wishful thinking on his part. Maybe he used her as a mirror for his own emotions.

She invited him inside—a good sign, he thought—took the sack of dishes from his hand and set them down. After a moment’s hesitation she took the sack of sundaes, too, and carefully placed it on the coffee table.

And then Daisy surprised him. She stepped into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his as she lifted her mouth to his and kissed him. There was no hesitation in the kiss, or in the way she melded to him. There was no uncertainty or anger in the mouth that devoured, in the tongue that danced. She was soft and certain, warm and gentle.

For a split second he was taken back to a time when he and Daisy had been together, when kisses like this one had been an everyday pleasure. But the flashback didn’t last. That was then, this was now. And now was fine. Very fine. They were both different. Older, if not necessarily wiser. The past seven years had changed them both, had shaped the people they’d become. This wasn’t an echo, it was something new. New and powerful.

Jacob’s rational thoughts drifted away as he was swept up in the kiss, in the sensation of Daisy’s hands on his neck and in his hair, in the feel of her soft, warm body against his, in the way her mouth and his connected. One small, soft hand slipped just beneath his shirt. Her fingers swayed there, matching the rhythm of her mouth. The kiss deepened; her breathing changed. He was lost, caught up in that place where nothing mattered but touching her.

If she stopped, she was going to kill him.

As that thought flitted through what was left of his brain, she did stop. She pulled her mouth from his—slowly, and with a reluctance he tasted—dropped her arms, and took one step away. It was all Jacob could do not to grab her and pull her back. He didn’t. Instead he fisted his hands and took a deep breath. If this was her idea of torture, it was successful. He was definitely tortured.

And then Daisy surprised him again. She grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head. After dropping the tank to the floor, she reached out and unsnapped his jeans.

“Daisy...”

“Don’t talk,” she said. “If you talk I might change my mind, and I don’t want to change my mind.”

He remained silent.

“Just this once,” she said softly, not looking him in the eye. “I don’t love you anymore, so don’t go thinking this is anything more than it is, but we didn’t end things between us properly. We never did really end us at all.” She unzipped him, reached her hand inside his jeans, moved in close again. For a long, wonderful moment, he held his breath and allowed himself to just
feel
. “So we’re going to get this out of our systems tonight. We’re going to make love and say goodbye, and then we’re both going to move on.”

He would’ve agreed to chop off his right hand at the moment, if she’d just keep going, so he didn’t argue.

“We were good in bed, Jacob,” she whispered, her breath warm on his skin. “Maybe we screwed up everything else, maybe life screwed it up for us, but...we did this right.”

He whipped off his shirt, as she had, and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. One condom wouldn’t be enough, but it would have to do.

She wasn’t wrong; they
had
done this right.

“You can speak, now,” she said.

“Have I told you that you’re more beautiful than ever?” he asked as he backed her toward the hallway.

“No.” She smiled.

“It’s true.”

“You only say that because I’m mostly naked.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re not looking so bad yourself,” she said, walking backward very slowly, reaching up to brush her fingers against his upper arm, then his chest. “I’m glad you don’t wax your chest. A little chest hair is a good thing on a grown man. You only had the one, when I last saw you without a shirt.”

“You’ve been worrying about my chest hair?”

“Maybe just a little.” She smiled, but then her expression changed, shifted slightly and he could see a concern there. Where had her mind taken her?

“No more talking,” he said as they arrived at her bedroom door. She opened the door on the small bedroom, the same one she’d slept in as a child.

She sighed in relief as she backed toward the double bed. “Fine by me. Talking was never our strong suit.”

* * *

For a moment, an unpleasant split second, Daisy had imagined what Jacob’s life in San Francisco was really like. It wasn’t a thought she’d wanted, wasn’t one she’d reached for. But like it or not, she’d found herself wondering if he seduced other women with ice cream, if those other women seduced him with a kiss, if they touched his biceps and his chest—where thankfully a decent but not overwhelming dusting of chest hair grew—as he walked them to a bed to make love. She’d wondered if he looked at them this way, visibly on the edge of losing control, his dark eyes narrowing and going darker, his focus on her and her alone. When he looked at her like this she felt like she was the only woman in the world. Did he make other women feel the same way?

Then she let the unpleasant thought drift away. She forced it to disappear, she let it go. None of that mattered; nothing mattered but right now. One night, one last hurrah, and then she could truly let
him
go.

And she’d only lied to him once, when she’d told him that she didn’t love him anymore.

By the side of the bed, illuminated by what was left of the day’s light streaming through the blinds, he finished undressing her, unfastening her bra and dropping it to the floor, pushing her shorts and panties down and off. He was anxious, but didn’t rush. Ready, but not out of control. Naked, Daisy slipped her hands into his jeans again, this time shucking them—along with a pair of dark green good-heavens-was-that-silk boxers—down and off.

And there they stood with nothing between them but whatever lingering doubts might remain. Daisy had none. Did Jacob?

She was so ready, one touch and she’d be done. It had been so long, too long, and she already throbbed in places that she’d forgotten could respond this way. Jacob tossed his condom to the bedside table and laid her down on the bed. They kissed, easy and deep. It reminded her that until Jacob had come back to town she hadn’t been kissed in a very long time. No one had ever kissed her like this, no one but Jacob. Was a kiss more intimate and important than sex? Was it the true moment of soul connection? It seemed that way, as their mouths came together and incredible sensations danced through her body.

She loved the feel of his skin against hers, loved the heat of his body enveloping her. Her body swayed up and into his, slid down as she attempted to bring them closer together. She was ready; she wanted him
now
.

But he was stubborn, moving just out of reach, making this moment last.

He gently spread her legs with his knee, lifted up and looked at her—his eyes holding hers for a long, powerful moment—and then he slid down and dipped his head between her thighs. Her heart thudded, and she grasped the sheet as he lightly flicked his tongue against her where she throbbed for him. One flick and then another, and then he moved away. It was maddening, and then he intensified his efforts and she crested hard and fast, with a jerk of her body and a cry of release and relief.

That done, he crept up over her body. “If I just have this one night with you, do you really think I’ll make it fast?”

No, no, not fast, please
.
Slow. Easy. Stay a while
. But she was breathless, unable to speak coherently. So she said nothing. She didn’t need to say anything as Jacob kissed his way up her body. Slowly and well. She melted into the mattress, satisfied—for the moment—and languid. Happy to have Jacob with her, thrilled to have this fantasy come true. Maybe it wouldn’t last, maybe it wasn’t the way it had once been, but this was fine on its own.

More than fine. She felt alive, cherished, a part of something greater than herself. She felt like a woman.

Jacob had developed some serious and impressive control in the past seven years. For a split second she allowed herself to think about how and why he’d developed that control, but she let that go, as she’d let so many other thoughts go. Sex had always been fast and furious in the old days. This was different. Jacob took his time arousing her all over again, kissing, touching. Maybe his control wasn’t perfect, though, maybe it wasn’t as infallible as he’d like for her to believe. He was hard and ready and hot. When she touched him, when she attempted to wrap her fingers around him, he always gently but insistently moved her hand away.

The faint light that had been streaming through the window when they’d entered the room soon faded entirely. She could no longer see Jacob well. She couldn’t see his face, or the way his hands looked against her skin. And still he played with her. No, not
with
her. He played her like she was his guitar and he was a talented musician, and she gave herself over to him.

And then he was inside her. Finally. Perfectly. Daisy closed her eyes and let her body take over. They found a rhythm that was slow and easy, at first. It was nice, it was perfection. She had the brief thought that she could do this all night, happily giving herself over to the amazing connection of body to body, to the gentle movements that were so right.

All night? No. Her need and his grew, their rhythm changed, became more frantic, and she found herself gasping as he drove deep one last time and they both shattered. She clung to him, crying out softly, holding on for dear life as her body shook.
I love you
flitted through her brain and almost escaped, but she stopped the words from flowing out in the heat of the moment.

“You’re amazing,” Jacob whispered. “And to think, I came over here to volunteer to be your critter man.”

“You would make a lousy critter man,” she responded in a whisper, surprised she had the strength to speak at all.

Jacob raised up, propped his head in one hand and looked down at her. She could barely see his face, and she wanted to see that face while she could.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

She smiled. “How do I count the ways? First of all, your suit would get dirty when you climbed into the attic. I suspect you have no squirrel traps or bait in your fancy rental car, and what on earth would you do if you came face-to-face with a squirrel or a raccoon or a possum? They don’t negotiate.”