Exposed (7 page)

Jack hadn't sounded drunk. He'd never actually said he was. He'd only asked for a ride ... and made a suggestive comment. A comment that had sent an unexpected thrill racing through her. She was so relieved that she knew where he was, and she would never admit how wifely that was—worrying about him.

So, she was going to march inside, get him, apologize to him, and then take him home.

"To his home," she muttered, correcting her thoughts from "home," which sounded too much like "their home."

She went inside, shouldering her quilted and beaded purse, and she didn't see Jack in the bar, so she turned toward the music. It was very dark in the dance area and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust as the sounds of a slow dance played.

"Let's dance." Jack's rumbled voice brushed her ear as she turned toward him.

Before she could comment, his hand cupped her waist and he had their bodies swaying. She gripped his shoulders, looking up into his face and trying to judge his mood ... or perhaps soberness. She felt both his hands settle on her hips and the imprint made her super aware of him as a man. However, he didn't coerce her into the line of his body, but kept a bit of distance between them, which she appreciated as her purse banged into his arm.

"Sorry," she murmured.

He tilted his head with a slight shrug and his gaze kept moving over her lips. "You've nothing to be sorry about."

Nia instantly thought he meant other things encompassed that. Such as how wrong she'd been earlier that day. Her return apology stuck in her throat as he moved her into a small twirl, then settled with his big hands on her hips once again. He made her want to dip closer.

"I'm sorry because I'm kind of drunk,” he murmured.

The way he said it with a boyish lift to his features made her smile. "You had a rough day, Jack," she said. "I should have come and gotten drunk with you." She gave him a rueful smile as he nodded, looking down at her lips again. She could feel him thinking about a kiss.

"You'd have been much better company than the redhead," he muttered.

Nia wasn't about to ask him about the redhead. "Thank you," she said. "I think."

He nodded. "Definitely better."

"Jack?" she asked quietly. "Should we go home now?"

"In a minute," he murmured. "I really like you calling it home. I have to tell you that your lips look so kissable. I swear they glisten." He stumbled right after his declaration and Nia grasped him closer to keep him upright. She ended up underneath one of his arms. "Okay, you are right, I guess we better head home," he muttered.

Nia kept him close, trying not to notice the contours of his strong body against hers. She'd thought he was pretty well built under his dress shirts, but it was better than that. "Come on, then, we’ll be there in a few minutes," she said.

Jack seemed to lose steam—when they got into her car, he tilted his head back with his eyes closed. She kept quiet, not wanting to disturb his tipsy reverie. Although her gaze kept returning to his profile. He was handsome. His throat was stretched, with his Adam's apple prominent. What luck to have an ally like him in the end-of-marriage mess she was tangled in. It didn't hurt her psyche one bit either that he was a hunk.

When they reached his house, she thought Jack had fallen asleep. But as she turned her car off, he muttered so lowly she barely caught it, "Can't even go out and get laid right."

If he weren't drunk she would have commented on that, but she still didn't want to take advantage. "Come on, Jack, we’re home," she said softly. He muttered something under his breath. "Do you need help?" she asked.

His hand grabbed for the door handle. "No, I'll get it."

Nia smiled, watching him fumble. It seemed he wasn't a loud or boisterous drunk. As she went around to help him with the door, she wondered if he got drunk often ... like Dan did. That made her frown, and she suddenly started to feel out of sorts.

She pulled her passenger-side door open. "Okay, big guy, I’ll get your front door open."

Jack wasn't acting like Dan at all, but feelings she didn't like remembering started to nag her. She glanced out the open front doorway and saw Jack was walking pretty steadily. She had made it to the kitchen entryway by the time he hit the open front door.

"Jack, I'm headed to bed," she called, then she left him to deal with the rest on his own.

N
ia was up next morning by eight—even though she’d wanted to sleep in later, she just couldn't stay asleep. It was the time she'd normally be getting ready for work, but she was reluctant to leave her room, thinking Jack had to still be passed out on the couch. No part of her wanted to see him like that, but eventually the need for coffee drove her out of her room, showered and dressed, thirty minutes later.

Nia peeked in the living room. No Jack. She turned back to the kitchen. He had to be up taking a shower or something, so she went to make coffee. That was when she registered the smell of coffee and she saw the half-filled pot sitting in the coffee maker. There was a piece of paper propped in front of it.

She picked it up, reading it aloud: "'Dear Nia, I apologize for being drunk last night. That is the first time I have been in more than a couple years. I got a ride to my truck and on to work. The house is yours, just treat it like your own. Call if you need anything. Glad you are here. Jack.'"

Weighty worries lifted off her shoulders, and she sighed. It was a happy sound. "So he's not a drinker."

Of course, she could understand with the tragedy going on how one could drink. To drown out the pain.
Or in the hopes of getting sex.
A pesky thought, but she couldn't get what Jack said about "getting laid" out of her mind. As much as she had trouble going to sleep early that morning thinking about him drinking, she had to admit the thoughts of him looking as if he wanted to kiss her in the bar kept her mind whirling more.

Going to sit down at the kitchen table, she contemplated her thoughts. She couldn't be getting attracted to Jack, could she? It would be easy too ... sure. But she was just confused because of her husband's cheating? She'd thought it once before, but the cheating was a rejection; maybe she wasn't pretty enough, or fun enough in bed, or any number of things.

"That can blow your self-esteem," she muttered. But having Jack look at her like she'd caught him looking a few times? "That can make a girl feel good about herself,” she whispered.

She still hadn't apologized to him the right way, either. So she was going to go pick up her last check from the Fabric Barn, maybe see if there was any hope to save her job, and then she was going shopping.

"I'm going to fix Jack dinner."

Nia also went to see a lawyer after her manager at Fabric Barn told her there would be no hiring her back. The lawyer was a good thing, because he was going straight to the county judge to force Dan to put all the money back into their accounts. Dan couldn't "hide" money. There were bad penalties for that. The lawyer promised it shouldn't be more than a week before she had access to some money.

Later, she went to the store and bought the makings for lasagna. It was one of her better dishes and not too expensive to make. Once she got back to Jack's she started making it right away; however, by the time she got it into the oven, she wondered what time Jack might come home.

Nia leaned her hip against the counter, surveying the nice table she'd set with a candle, napkins, and ... "Too much," she muttered. She hadn't thought it out at all, and she rubbed her temple with worry. "He might not come home tonight at all, or he could be really late."

It was typical of her, jumping and not thinking it through. She fiddled with a strand of her hair while looking at her cell phone. Maybe she could call him. It was strange just calling him. She really didn't know him well, and she was nervous. Finally, she just did it.

He picked up before the first ring ended. "Nia?"

Of course he could see it was her. "Ah ... hi, Jack." Could she sound any lamer?

"Hi there. Glad you called. I've been thinking about you."

Wow, that made her feel very good. "I was thinking about you too. About when you might be home tonight."

"I usually leave at five, if nothing comes up." He hesitated, cleared his throat, and then said, "I was thinking I could take you to dinner, since there’s no food in my house—"

"Jack, I cooked," she blurted over him. Cool and collected she was not.

"You did? Amazing. I, ah, can't remember the last time I had a home-cooked ... well, never mind. Sure, I'm looking forward to that. What say I’ll definitely be there by five thirty?"

Nia bit down on her fingernail. "It's an 'I'm sorry' dinner," she added bravely.

"We can talk about that," he said in a low and more intimate voice. "I might have something I’m sorry for too."

She smiled. "Maybe we will get lucky and they will cancel each other out."

He chuckled. "See you soon, hon."

Her eyes widened as the cells disconnected. Was there anything better than Jack's warm voice calling her "hon"?

Jack drove down his street twenty minutes early.

"Whoa, boy, don't be so eager."

He knew it was silly to wait, but he did it anyway. He pulled his truck to the curb two blocks away to wait a few minutes. He didn't want to hurry her. Truth was he was a little nervous about going to his house to eat alone with a beautiful woman. Two days ago, he'd have been wondering if Sadie was very drunk by now or just a little drunk, and the next thing he’d wonder was whether they'd argue over what to eat.

"'Fess up, Jack," he muttered. "Two days ago you didn't come home until after ten." He'd stayed in the office, hiding from Sadie. Jack rubbed his face. "Do not want to think about her."

Sadie had called him five times that day. It had been hell arguing with her. He couldn't convince her she'd really been served divorce papers. He'd advised her to get a lawyer right away and quit calling him. He'd also mentioned all debt she incurred was hers from that moment on.

Then his lawyer had called saying he might have to move out of the house, because he couldn't keep Sadie out of it just because she’d cheated. It didn't work that way, no matter how justified it felt. His lawyer had said it would take Sadie a while to get the court to order it ... and to just be prepared.

"Okay—seriously, buddy, I'm not ruining this special thing about to happen."

Jack forced himself to turn his thoughts away from the demise of his marriage.
Think of Nia
. Pretty little Nia, waiting at his house with dinner ready.

The anxiety he'd been feeling eased. This was going to be really nice. He started his truck, hoping he'd waited long enough, but knowing he'd still be early and he’d probably look too eager for the homemade dinner with good company.

He glanced at the flowers on the seat next to him. He really wanted to give them to Nia, but he'd been back and forth in his thoughts about whether he should. Finally, he just grabbed them on the way out of his truck. He was glad a minute later when he walked into the house and Nia met him in the hallway.

"They're beautiful, Jack," she exclaimed. "I love roses and I've never seen white ones before."

"The woman at the flower shop said white roses symbolized new beginnings, so I thought ..."

Nia smiled. "Even more special. You make me feel better—that I didn't get carried away." She backed into the kitchen, where he could smell something very good—as he came around the corner he saw his small kitchen table was decked out.

Looking at the candle and nice wine glasses, he smiled at her reference about doing too much. "I like it, and it smells great in here."

Jack went to put his jacket in the closet and set his laptop and small briefcase in the living room. He undid his tie, slinging it off to lie on the arm of the couch that he called his bed for the time being. Then he unbuttoned the top of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves a bit, getting relaxed.

"I didn't buy wine or anything, but I thought the glasses looked nice and I made sweet tea if you like that," Nia called from the kitchen.

Jack took his cell out and turned it off. "I love sweet tea," he called back.

He stood for a moment where Nia couldn't see him, memorizing the way she’d looked in jeans and a yellow summer top with thin straps. She'd been wearing a Fabric Barn tunic the day before ... both days he'd seen her. However, he knew from the other morning she had a slender body, rounded in all the right places. The curve of her bottom in the jeans she was wearing was going to taunt him all night.

He'd admitted she was a pretty woman before this, but coming home and seeing her dressed in the sexy little top she was wearing ... it just crashed over him. He had a hot babe in his house—going to sit down and eat dinner with him.

"Whoa, boy," he muttered.

He had to keep his cool and treat it like the innocent dinner it was. Okay—now that he'd gotten through his first reaction he could just appreciate having dinner with a lovely woman, for that and nothing else.

"So," he said, reentering the kitchen, "what smells so good?"

But he halted immediately, staring at Nia bent over the oven with her jean-clad ass tilted up toward him. Obviously, she was getting something from deep within the oven; nevertheless, the part of his brain in charge of attraction began to go into overload. He knew that he should look away, but his eyes watched every nuance of her bottom moving.

This was not a bottom he could have. This was not a bottom he should be interested in. He needed to let go of the sexy bottom.

She finally pulled a big baking dish out and he watched her straighten, making the cheeks of her behind into a curvy heart.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath.

"Don't you like lasagna?" Nia asked, swinging the baking dish over to the counter.

Jack studied her figure in profile. He was messed up ... totally messed up, but God she was hot. "I ... do," he muttered.

Her gaze turned to him and he dragged his from looking at her body. "Good. I made a lot. Sit down, Jack. Relax."