Damaged In-Law (17 page)

“Oh, I
’
m sure it will be,” I reply, a
throb of desire resounding in my core.

“Just wait,” he tells me, eyes gleaming, “
We
haven
’
t even gotten started yet.”

That throb blossoms into a warm, delicious longing. As good
as all this food looks, there
’
s a very different kind of
hunger I
’
m hoping Jack satisfies for me tonight. After
years of unrequited wanting, will this finally be the night I get to have Jack
the way I
’
ve always wanted him? The way he
’
s
looking at me across the table, I can
’
t help myself from
hoping.

“There we go,” Jack says, handing me a glass and raising his
own, “We should toast to something, don
’
t you think?”

“How about...to a bat shit crazy couple of weeks and a job
well done?” I suggest.

“Actually,” he says, how voice rich with promise, “I
’
d prefer to drink to us, Callie.”

“Us?” I echo softly.

“That
’
s right,” he smiles, “Kicking
ass, taking names, and finally having a proper night on the town, just the two
of us.”

“I
’
ll
definitely
drink to that,” I reply, clinking my glass to his and taking a sip of wine.

“My high school self would be losing his shit if he could see
us now,” Jack goes on, shaking his head, “After all this time, I finally got
Callie Benson to go on a date with me.”

“Yeah fucking right,” I laugh, sipping my wine, “You had
your pick of the litter all through high school, Jack. I don
’
t
remember getting a second glance from you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jack asks, actually
surprised. “I was head over heels for with you when we were kids. You must have
known that.”

“I certainly did not,” I tell him. “I mean...I hoped that
you—That we—But I never—”

“Christ, you blush easy,” he teases, reaching across the
table to take my hand. “I can
’
t believe you didn
’
t realize back then how crazy I was for you.”

“Well, I mean...You spent most of your time with Avery,” I
say slowly, hesitating to even bring it up. “Don
’
t get me
wrong, I
’
m glad you were there for her. But I guess I just
figured...”

“Callie,” Jack says, his perfect brow furrowing
ever-so-slightly, “You
do
know that Avery and I were just friends? I
’
ve told you that a million times.”

“Just friends who spent every waking minute together, moved
across the country together, got engaged...” I point out, taking another long
sip.

“Fair enough,” Jack chuckles softly, “I definitely went out
of my way to protect her. And of course, I did that because I cared about her.
Deeply. She was my best friend. But Cal...You have to know I was doing it for
you, too.”

My heads spins dizzily as I take in what Jack is saying.
“You were watching out for Avery...because you knew how much she meant to me?”
I ask.

“That
’
s right,” Jack says seriously.

“
I...I don’
t know what to say,” I
whisper.

“Don
’
t say anything,” he replies,
rubbing his thumb against my hand, “We
’
ve got about three
tons of food to eat between us. Your mouth has better things to do.”

“That
’
s good,” I laugh, relieved for a
moment of levity amid all that seriousness. “Because I am freakin
’
famished
.”

We tuck into the feast laid out before us. With our crazy
shooting schedule, I
’
ve barely had to chance to consume
anything but coffee and the occasional crumb all week. I savor the rich, carby
goodness of the pesto pasta, the warm flaky bread, the crisp vegetables, and
glass after glass of delicious wine.

I
’
m amazed at how easily conversation
goes on between Jack and I, despite tonight
’
s heightened
atmosphere. Even on an evening that feels like a seriously important step in
our relationship, Jack still makes me laugh, roll my eyes, and adore him more
by the second. I
’
m so distracted by what a good time I
’
m having that I completely forget to address the biggest mystery
of the night—namely, how the hell Jack knew to bring me here, to The Ingenue.

Until, that is, he enlightens me himself.

“Before we both lapse into a food coma,” Jack says as we
finish our incredible meal, “I want to give you something.”

“
Another
something?” I laugh, swallowing a big old
bite of cake. “What are you trying to do, buy me off?”

“I have a feeling you
’
ll like this even
better than limos and champagne,” he replies, striding off into the wings of the
small theater to retrieve his gift. I haven
’
t the
slightest idea what it could be—or what could ever make this evening lovelier
than it already is.

But then, he reappears, and I see that he
’
s
holding a huge bouquet of flowers in his arms. And not the typical roses,
either. No, this bouquet is far more eclectic: pansies, columbine, rue, and
even a sprig of rosemary. This is no random assortment of flowers. These are
the flowers that I carried across this very stage in my final monologue as
Ophelia in
Hamlet
. The exact same flowers, straight
from Shakespeare
’
s text:

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,
remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts...There's fennel for you,
and columbines. There's rue for you, and here's some for me...

The lines come flooding back to me, even now. But how on
earth would Jackson know about that long-ago performance of mine? We fell
completely out of contact with each other after I ran away from home. After we
kissed that night of my parents
’
disastrous party, I didn
’
t speak to Jack for months. Years. It was one of the hardest
estrangements for me to bear as I started my new life. When I was cast as
Ophelia, the first person I wanted to tell was Jack, but I just couldn
’
t. And yet...

“I
’
m sure you were wondering why I
chose to bring you back to this place tonight,” Jack says, crossing the
creaking boards toward me. “It
’
s not exactly an ideal spot
for a romantic evening, is it?”

“No, it
’
s certainly not,” I whisper,
standing to meet him.

“Maybe this will give you a clue,” Jack says, placing the
bouquet into my arms and moving his hands to my hips. “These are the flowers I
wanted to give you five years ago. The night I watched you play Ophelia, right
here on this stage. And an
incredible
Ophelia, at that.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” I gasp, staring up at Jack
’
s sculpted face. “You didn
’
t...You couldn
’
t have known that I...”

“But I did,” he goes on, sliding his hands around to the
small of my back. “You weren
’
t the only one who did time
in New York as a no-name actor, Cal. I had my ear to the ground in those days.
And once, as I was passing through New York for an audition, I heard that a
certain Calista Benson was appearing in a tiny little production of
Hamlet
in the East Village. I dropped what I was doing,
missed my flight back to LA, and came here to see you.”

“You...You came to see my show?” I whisper around the knot
in my throat. “You were out there, in the audience?”

“Paid a whole five bucks for my ticket,” Jack grins,
brushing a lock of hair away from my forehead, “Which was actually a lot, at
that point in my life. I
’
d barely started to get any
traction as an actor, then. But I couldn
’
t leave the city
without getting a chance to watch you perform. I knew in my gut that you were
going to be good. But Callie...you were
stunning
.”

“Jack...” I murmur, surprised by the sudden tear that
courses down my cheek.

“Absolutely
stunning
,” he repeats, lifting my face to
his. “I always knew in high school that you wanted to be an actress. Remember
how you used to hang around school play rehearsals like they were sold out
concerts or something? I could see how much you wanted it. But until I saw you
here...I had no idea how incredible you could possibly be.”

The tears are streaming down my face now, dashing themselves
against the flowers I clutch to my chest.

“Hey. Cal, what
’
s wrong?” Jack murmurs,
tugging me gently toward him. “Should I not have told you? Am I the biggest
creep in the world for showing up here, unannounced—”

“No, no. It
’s just...
” I laugh through
my tears, swiping the salty drops off my cheeks, “No one
’
s
ever told me before that they think I
’
m a good actress, I
guess.” 

“Well. I didn
’
t say you were a good
actress,” Jack cuts in, his eyes blazing, “I said you were an
incredible
actress, Callie. That
’
s the truth. Why do you think I
begged you to be in my movie? It
’
s not just because you
look like Avery. God knows, we have the budget to take a million new publicity
shots. I asked you because you
’
re fucking fantastic. And,
well, for a few other reasons too...”

Jack takes the flowers from my arms and sets them aside,
running his hands over my trembling shoulders.

“Honestly, Cal, asking you to come onto this movie was one
of the most self-serving things I
’
ve ever done,” he goes
on, running his hands down my arms.

“Wh-what do you mean?” I stammer, completely overcome by
Jack
’
s revelation. “You
’
ve given me
an incredible opportunity—”

“It was self-serving,” he cuts me off, closing the space
between our bodies, “Because not only did it land the most incredible co-star I
could have asked for, but it
’
s brought you back into my
life. You
’
re
here
, Callie. With me, after all this
time. And you can bet that fine ass of yours that I
’
m
never going to let you walk away again.”

“Who
’
s walking away?” I ask softly,
laying my hands on the panes of his hard chest.

“
Huh. Good question,
” he chuckles
roughly, enfolding me in his strong arms.

“
Well, I
’
ve got
another good question for you,” I go on with a wicked grin, “It
’
s
been on my mind these past couple of weeks...”

“Oh yeah?” Jack says, raising an eyebrow, “Go on. What is
it?”

I take a deep, ragged breath, struggling to put one word in
front of the other. Having Jack
’
s body pressed so firmly
to mine is making it tough to form even the simplest sentences. I promised
myself I
’
d ask him where we stood by the time we got back
to the set on Monday. I just wasn
’
t quite expecting to ask
him like this.

“OK. Here goes,” I rush on, “During all those love scenes we
’
ve been shooting together...You
’
ve been
more that a little, um...
worked up.
”

“That
’
s one way of putting it,” Jack
laughs, running his hands along the bare skin showing between my skirt and top.

“So...Was that Joel Brennan getting all worked up over
Rosalie Danes? Or—”

“No,” he cuts me off with a sharp growl, “That was me.
Getting hard for you, Cal. It was all I could do not to carry you back to my
dressing room and have my way with you right there on set.”

“I was hoping you
’
d say that,” I
breathe, pressing my body to his, “Because I
’
m not sure
how much longer I can go without—”

But before I can even finish my sentence, Jack brings his
mouth to mine, kissing me hard and deep as he pulls me tight against his body.
And sure enough, as I move my hips eagerly against his, the sheer enormity of
his want for me becomes crystal clear. I can
’
t help
myself. I trail my fingertips down the length of his impeccable form and run
them along that hard length. A sharp intake of breath rings out from above as I
work my hands along the impressive hardness pulsing beneath the fine wool of
Jack
’s suit.

“Callie,” Jack groans, grabbing hold of my leather-clad ass
and pulling me hard against his stiff cock, “I
can
’
t make it back to the hotel. I need to have you.
Now
.”

“Oh, thank god,” I gasp, throwing my arms around his
shoulders.

Jack catches me up in his arms, kissing along my throat and
chest as his hands slip up my flared leather skirt. He moans appreciatively as
he catches sight of the tiny, black lace panties I
’
m
wearing.

“Are those for me?” he grins, trailing his fingertips along
my tender thighs.

“Maybe,” I smile back, “OK, definitely.”

“Does that mean you were hoping we were going to fuck
tonight?” he growls, circling my waist as he runs two fingers along the thin
fabric covering my sex. His touch, coupled with the salacious f-word tripping
off his fine lips, makes me shudder with delight.

“I was,” I breathe, feeling my knees begin to tremble as he
strokes that aching, ready spot between my legs. “I was very much hoping we
’
d...You know...”