Home To You (10 page)

The memory of Kendall in that sexy, classy, amazing negligee gave him a more powerful physical reaction than he’d had from seeing any woman before. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes. Shit, he wished for the second time that he had the ability to unsee Kendall the same way he’d unlearned everything he knew about numbers. Unfortunately, with Kendall, he was blessed, or perhaps cursed, with total recall.

He knew her scent, the feel of her skin, the strength of her body against his, the softness of her hair, and, thanks to the bright sunlight shining through the bare window, that she slept commando beneath that wisp of silky fabric.

He hadn’t known women actually slept in getups like hers. Lord knew if she were going to bed with him, the damn thing would be off within seconds. That’s what he’d always assumed lingerie like that was for—a prelude to
foreplay, a sign that the woman wearing it wanted to do anything but sleep. No, a woman who wore that kind of lingerie wanted multiple orgasms, she wanted to lose her voice screaming her lover’s name, she wanted to go more than three rounds. Wearing lingerie like that was a serious, I-hope-you-ate-your-Wheaties-this-morning warning. And to think that for the first night in his erotic dreams, Kendall had worn baggy Tshirts and flannel sleep pants. Even in those, she’d been enough to drive him crazy. Every night since had been worse, but now, knowing what he knew, seeing what he’d seen, wanting her the way he did, he might never again be able to sleep under the same roof. He dropped his head in his hands, closed his eyes, trying to erase Kendall’s image, and groaned again.

“Jack, are you okay? Is it another headache? Do you want me to get you your medicine? Water?” Hands squeezed his knees and slid up his outer thighs.

His eyes shot open, and there was the real Kendall, kneeling before him on the plaster-littered floor, wearing a pair of faded denim jeans and a worn Boston College sweatshirt with the collar of a faded blue-plaid-flannel shirt poking out beneath the open neck. Concern created a gully between her dark brows—brows he’d wanted to trace more times than he could count, if he could count—which served as punctuation marks for her every expression.

He swallowed hard, and she leaned in closer, sliding between his splayed legs. His heart rear-ended his rib cage, and every muscle in his body vibrated with the need to touch her, but he knew that if he did, if he gave in, he’d be lost.

“Jack, what’s wrong?”

Her eyes met his. He couldn’t look away, no matter how hard he tried. It was like being caught in a riptide, and he was dragged underwater, powerless to fight it, his only option to go along for the ride and hope that when he was tossed back on the jagged shore, he would still be in one piece.

Kendall’s eyes widened, darkened, if that was possible, and her expression, with only the movement of her brows, morphed from one of concern to inquiry, and then slid into a knowing, powerful, self-assured. A damn sexy expression he’d never before seen grace her face.

Her breath caught, and she held it as she slid her hands to his waist and trailed her fingers over his abs. The shock of her hands on him through his shirt was enough to have his stomach muscles tighten so violently, they all but kicked the air from his lungs. She continued her exploration, pausing on his chest, where he was sure she could feel the gallop of his heart beneath her fingers.

“In all my life, I’ve only really kissed one man. I’ve only wanted to kiss one man. Until now. Now I only want to kiss you.”

“Kendall—” It had been his intention to stop her, but when her fingers wove through the hair at the back of his neck and her lips touched his, all the myriad reasons why this was a very bad idea floated away like smoke from a chimney.

Her kiss was so soft, if not for the warmth of her lips, he could have believed he’d imagined it—until he breathed, dragging in the tantalizing scent of her. It wasn’t perfume; maybe it was her soap or shampoo, but her scent was just like her—light and fun with an unexpected hit of seduction that sneaks up on a guy and grabs him by
the throat. Her next kiss was less tentative, but no less innocent. God, she was sweet.

His arms wrapped around her, dragging her up and over him as he lay back on the bed. When her hand fisted in his hair, he growled, and when he felt the weight of her body cover his, her breasts pillowed against his chest and her long legs straddling his hips, he lost his tenuous hold on the last frayed thread of his control. Jax took possession of her mouth like he’d dreamt about since she’d come crashing into his life. He cupped her head, changing the angle, and returned the kiss, which went from innocent to incendiary with one deep, hard stroke of his tongue. She tasted of coffee and toothpaste and desire.

He slid a hand along her back, beneath the flannel shirt, amazed by the heat and softness of her skin. Had he ever paid attention to the feel of a woman’s skin before? If he had, he couldn’t recall. His hand explored each bump of her spine, the dip of her waist, and the dimples right below the loose waistband of her jeans. He wished he could trace the same path with his mouth.

She slid higher, ground her pelvis into his, and damned if his dick didn’t jump for joy. It didn’t seem to matter that he might very well end up with a permanent zipper tattoo. All that mattered was the sweet sound she made and the way her eyes shot open in surprise and what looked like amazement. Her breathing came in gasps as he kissed her neck, tugging down the collar of her sweatshirt and surging against her heat, swallowing back a groan of his own. God, he didn’t think he’d ever been this hard with clothes on. He cursed the layers and layers of clothing separating them. All he wanted to do was touch,
kiss, and lick her bare skin. Okay, that wasn’t all he wanted. He wanted all of her. He wanted her now. And he wanted her with a fierce, mindless urgency that rattled him and left him panting and shaking.

Kendall rose above him, and, with one swift move, pulled both her shirt and sweatshirt off.

For the second time in one day, all the air burst from his lungs. He stared and realized he’d never seen a woman as intrinsically beautiful as the one offering herself to him now. “God, you’re breathtaking.” And she was. Dark, almost black, hair fell over her beautifully shaped pale shoulders, teasing her collarbones. The baby-pink lace bra was incongruous with the outfit—but, then, he wasn’t sure if there were bras that would reflect denim and flannel. Her skin was opalescent, so pale; he could see the faint blue veins on the inside of her arms. Although he knew it was a mistake, he couldn’t stop himself from touching her just once more. But he knew all the same that if they went any further, she’d regret it, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her regretting a second of their time together.

“Jack?”

It was all he could do not to cringe. He felt more like Jack than he did Jax or Jackson Finneus Sullivan, but he doubted she’d understand the subtle difference. If she knew the truth, she’d see him as a man just like her ex. Maybe she’d have been right before the accident, but that’s not who he was now. “Kendall.” He took a deep breath and sat, taking her hips in his hands and sliding her toward his knees and away from his straining erection.

Kendall stared at him a moment and then practically vaulted from his lap, grabbed the inside-out ball of her
wadded shirts off the floor, and hugged them against her chest. “I’m sorry. I . . . I thought that you wanted . . .”

“I did. I mean, I do. It’s just that you’re on the rebound—as cliché as that sounds, that’s where you are right now. And me, I don’t even know where I am. The thing I do know is that I don’t want to be your rebound guy. I don’t want to do anything that you’ll end up regretting. If we’re nothing else to each other, I hope we’ll always be friends, and, as a friend, I can’t . . .”

A look of horror crossed her face. “You want to be friends?”

“We are friends. As for what I want—” He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to figure out how to explain the jumble of feelings ping-ponging around his brain. “Kendall, we’re in two different places, you and I.” He stood and pulled the tightly held bundle of knotted shirts from her—she didn’t let it go easily, and then she hugged herself, covering her breasts with her crossed arms.

Hurt and confusion radiated from her, her eyes wide and glassy.

He took both her forearms in his hands, forcing her to bare herself to him once again before tugging her against him and placing a gentle kiss on her swollen lips. “You have to believe me when I say I want you. I think that’s more than obvious.” He ran his hands down her back to her waist and pulled her closer so there was no way she could miss his raging erection. “But this can’t be just about sex—at least not for me. I want you to want me, not just because I’m here and we’re attracted to each other. Not just because you’re curious about what it would be like to be with someone other than David. I want you to be with me for the same reasons I want to
be with you—because there’s no one on earth with whom I’d rather make love.”

“But I—”

He cut her words off with another kiss. “Believe me, this is not over. You need time, and I guess I do too. Let’s just hope what they say is true.”

She held him close and buried her face in his neck.

She fit against him like they’d been molded to each other’s specifications—the perfect height; their arms were the perfect length for hand holding; and, he knew, if they were to walk with their arms around each other, hip to hip, their steps would match too.

She burrowed closer—was that wetness he felt against his neck? Had he made her cry? He couldn’t tell.

“What is it they say that you hope is true?”

“Time heals all wounds. We’re both wounded, just differently.” But then when he thought about it, maybe they weren’t so different after all. They’d both had the foundation of their lives rocked with the force of a catastrophic earthquake. They were both trying to envision a life completely different from the one they’d led before. They were trying to find their balance on a swiftly shifting landscape. For better or worse, they had only each other to lean against and hold on to.

“I don’t want you to be my rebound guy, Jack. I want you because of who you are.”

“Have you ever been on the rebound before?”

She pulled away slightly, and he saw fire in her eyes. “You know I haven’t.”

“Then you don’t really know that, do you?”

“I know what I feel. I don’t want to be with you because I need to prove I can. I don’t want to be with you because I’m not complete without a man in my life. I
want to be with you because I care about you, and, well, when I’m with you, I feel this overwhelming, urgent, almost uncontrollable need to rip your clothes off and have my way with you. I’ve never felt that way before—not even with David. Nothing even close. I never thought I could feel like this.”

“Yeah, well, the feeling is definitely mutual.” He was all for sexual honesty, but damn, he wished just this once she’d have kept that beautiful mouth of hers shut. He stepped back, turned away, and raked both hands through his hair. It was either that or dragging the rest of her clothes off and taking her up against the wall. “Christ, Kendall, I’m trying to be a gentleman here, and you’re not helping.”

“I don’t want you to be a gentleman.”

“Yeah, I got that. But do me a favor and put your shirt on anyway.”

J
ack stood in his room with his back to her, shaking, so charged with frustrated sexual energy, he vibrated with it.

Kendall wanted to slide in behind him, pull his tightly tucked T-shirt out of his pants, and run her hands over the bare skin of his stomach and chest just to see his reaction. Still, the pleading in his voice had her following his stupid instructions.

“Fine.” She pulled the two shirts apart and fumbled with the buttons on the flannel shirt. Her hands shook, and she felt like a chastised child. She finally got the damn buttons unfastened and shoved her arms through the sleeves, holding the button band together in a tightly fisted hand, and stomped out of Jack’s room.

What had she been thinking, throwing herself at him like that? And why, of all the men in the world, did Jack have to be the one man who, no matter how badly he wanted her, put honor above all else? She’d usually find that quality really attractive—just not now.

She grabbed her jacket by the front door, stuffed it under the same arm that held her wadded sweatshirt, and stomped out to the porch, slamming the cabin door. Cold
air sliced through her, stealing her breath, which wasn’t surprising, considering she’d yet to button the damn shirt.

“Running away?”

She hadn’t heard Jack follow her. Every muscle in her back coiled into knots. “No. I just needed some air.” Which was the truth, but she also wanted to get away from him—not that it worked.

“If you were going for air, it looks as if you got more than you bargained for.” He stepped forward and pulled the two sides of her shirt together and buttoned the third button, making quick work of the rest, while she stared dumbly up at him. She wondered if that was a dimple she spied peeking through his beard. He took the sweatshirt and coat from her, turned the sweatshirt right side out, and then pulled it over her head, as if she were a four-year-old.

“I can dress myself.”

“Then let’s see you do it before you freeze to death.”

She punched her hands through the sleeves and tugged the sweatshirt down. “Happy now?”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Welcome to the club.”

He held her coat for her to shrug into, which she grudgingly did. She zipped it right up to her chin, stuffing her hands into the pockets to keep them from shaking or from possibly reaching up to either to kiss him or strangle him. Either would have been a mistake. But, then, she imagined, even mistakes could be enjoyable.

Jack blew out a long and tortured breath and ran his hands through his hair—again. “Kendall, I didn’t put the brakes on to hurt you.”

All the steam she’d built up cooled and left her feeling like a deflated balloon hovering a foot off the ground. “I know you didn’t. It’s just that I’m—”

“Frustrated?”

“Yes.”

“Horny?”

“Incredibly.”

He smiled at that. “Welcome to the club. I’d kiss you now, but I’m afraid it would be like adding gasoline to an already raging fire.”

“But you said you just wanted to be friends.”

“No, I said we
are
friends. There’s a difference.”

“If there is a difference, it’s lost on me.”

“I never said
just
. I said we are friends. But I’m not saying that’s all we’ll be. I’m not putting any boundaries on our relationship.”

“What’s that mean—friends with benefits?”

Blue eyes squinted in the sun, revealing tiny lines at the corners. “It means we’re friends now, and there’s no telling what we’ll be in the future. It’s a starting point—who knows where we’ll end up? After all, we never really know what the future holds, do we?”

“I guess not.” She turned it over in her mind, not that it helped. This was just great; she was dealing with a closet Confucius. She was more confused than ever. “So, we’re friends without boundaries.”

He moved closer and looked down at her with one of those self-deprecating, totally disarming smiles that made her want to reach up and feel if the dimple she spied in his cheek was real or just a play of light on his beard. “So, does that mean you’ll take the measurements of the room for me?”

“Sure, why not? What are friends for?”

Jack’s smile rounded into a pearly white grin, and he opened the door. “After you.”

He followed her into the cabin, and she made sure to swish her hips—just a little. Boundaries. Bah.

Kendall saw Jack’s sat phone on his desk while she was taking the measurements and decided, while he was on his quest for drywall, he wouldn’t mind if she called her friend, Erin. Besides, who else could she bitch to—Jaime? She didn’t think so. And there was no way in hell she could call Addie. But Erin would be there for her, and, on the plus side, she was all the way in Boston, living with the new loves of her life, her fiancé, Cameron, and his little girl, Janie.

Kendall gave herself a pat on the back for fixing them up. She had known the three of them would be perfect for each other, and, in that respect at least, she’d been right. Too bad she didn’t have that same psychic karma when it came to her own life.

She handed the measurements to Jack and followed him back to the door, admiring how his jeans molded to his ass. Damn, was he playing tit for tat?

He turned back just before he stepped off the porch and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then jumped off the porch and strode down the path toward Jaime’s place.

Boundaries, my ass. Kendall closed the door and headed straight for the sat phone. She dialed Erin’s number from memory, curled up on the couch that was never quite big enough, and pulled a quilt over her.

“Hello?”

“Erin, it’s Kendall.”

“Kendall, I’ve been so worried about you. Where the hell have you been? Jodi called and told me what happened at work. I’m so sorry. I’ve been calling your cell and the apartment nonstop for a week.”

“I’m sorry. I should have thought to call you. It’s just that so much has happened, and I’ve been . . . overwhelmed, I guess. I had to get out of the apartment. There were just too many memories there, you know?”

“Too many memories at the apartment? You’re not making sense, Kendall. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine now.” And she was. Even after the fiasco with Jack, she was still much better than she’d been before she’d met him.

“Is David with you? Because no matter what time I called your place, no one answered.”

“Um . . . that’s the thing. After I was laid off, I went home early and caught David packing. It turns out he was offered a job promotion in San Francisco and decided to take it.”

“You’re moving to San Francisco?”

“No, you don’t understand. I caught David packing to move out. He’d planned to slither away without even telling me he was leaving.”

“What were you supposed to do—figure it out on your own?”

“No, he said he wanted to avoid the drama of an in-person breakup and planned to e-mail me a Dear Jane letter from the airport.”

“That . . . that . . . that—”

“Asshole? Dickhead? Coward?” Kendall found herself smiling. Erin was never one to curse, so Kendall helped whenever she could.

“Yes, any or all of the above will do. Do you want to come over? Cam and Janie went over to his dad’s for the day. We can hang out here or do some retail therapy.”

“No, but thanks. I’m in Harmony. I couldn’t stand to
be in the apartment, and, well, I needed to disappear for a while and get my head together.”

“Are you okay, sweetie? I know you might not think this now, but maybe it’s for the best.” Erin sounded angry at David and concerned about her, yet not surprised by the turn of events.

“Not you too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t stand David either.” There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because what did I know? The two of you have been together since—what? Puberty? And, really, Cam is the first man I dated seriously. I was hardly in a position to be giving you or anyone else relationship advice. Besides, every time I asked how things were going between you and David, you said you were happy. I honestly couldn’t understand it. I thought he must be different in private, because every time I met him, I thought he was kind of a . . . well, you know.”

“A prick?”

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

“I thought we were happy, but you know what they say about hindsight being twenty-twenty. Well, let’s just say the view from here hasn’t been pretty, and, believe me, I got an eyeful. It’s making me question my sanity and my occupation. How can I be a therapist and not have seen the signs? Am I blind?”

“Kendall, you didn’t see the signs because you’re not your own therapist. You of all people know how important distance is, and when it comes to your own life, there is no distance. This has nothing to do with your ability as
a therapist. David was the only man you’ve ever dated, and you’d been together forever. I’m sure the relationship was comfortable, and it was all you’ve ever known. You had no other personal experience with which to compare.”

She certainly did now—at least when it came to kissing—although she couldn’t really consider what she and Jack had done a mere kiss. It was so much more. It was explosive; it was like nothing she’d ever experienced before—not even when she and David were hot and heavy for each other. It made her question every sexual experience she’d ever had with David. Comparing her sex life with David to the kiss with Jack was like comparing a firecracker to a nuclear bomb. She’d never known she could feel like that—so wild, so out of control. It scared her, but, then, a part of her wanted to experience it again.

“I could come up there, if you want—just give me directions. I’ll let Cam know, and we can have a sleepover. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m not.”

“I thought your parents were still in Europe on their cruise.”

“They are.”

“Are you staying with Addie, then?”

“No, I came up to the hunting cabin. I thought I could come up here and no one in town would know. I wanted to be alone and reassess my life, and, more importantly, no one would e-mail or call my parents and tell them what happened. I don’t want to ruin their vacation.”

“Okay, I can understand that.”

Erin might understand, but she couldn’t keep the sound of hurt and disappointment out of her voice.

“I turned up the trail to the cabin and broke the axle
on my Jeep. So there I was, sitting in my broken-down car, crying my eyes out, and the next thing I know, there’s a guy knocking on my window.”

“But you said the cabin was miles from anywhere.”

“It is. It turns out Dad rented the cabin to someone at a reduced rate in exchange for fixing the place up. I was stuck—the Jeep wasn’t going anywhere, so he invited me to stay. It was too late to go hiking to the closest house, so now I’m here with Jack.”

“Are you nuts? You’re staying with a complete stranger who is serving as your parents’ handyman? What do you know about this guy? Give me the address, and I’ll come get you.”

“You don’t have to. Jack is great, really. I told you about how my dad checks out everyone who rents any of the houses on Sullivan’s Tarn, so I know he’s not an ax murderer. It turns out we have a lot in common. He’s up here for the same reasons I am—”

“He lost his job and his fiancé left him too?”

“No, at least I don’t think so. I never asked him if he was involved with someone else. He doesn’t wear a wedding ring.”

“Someone else? You make it sound as if the two of you are involved. What’s going on? And just because he doesn’t wear a ring doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not married. Most men who work with their hands don’t wear rings—it’s a hazard. I went on a couple of dates with a carpenter who lost his ring finger because his wedding ring got caught on a nail while he was falling off a roof. He survived the fall—his finger, however, didn’t, and neither did his marriage, apparently.”

Kendall’s face tightened. Could that be why Jack put the brakes on their, for lack of a better word, kiss? Could
he be in a relationship with someone else? God, and she’d practically thrown herself at him. Of course, she’d planned to only kiss him, but that Robert Burns poem was as true now as the day he wrote it:
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men/Gang aft agley.
Or, in her case, incendiary
.
And what was the poor guy supposed to do? She knew he was attracted her; that wasn’t the problem.

“Kendall, are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I was just thinking.”

“So, on a scale of one to ten, how hot is this guy Jack?”

“Off-the-charts hot—maybe even hotter. I think there are dimples hiding behind his vacation beard. It’s hard to tell, though.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he could use a haircut, but I kind of like the just-curling-over-the-collar, a-little-on-the-scruffy-side look.”

“You do? David was always so . . . I don’t know, perfectly groomed.”

“Not Jack—no, he and David are nothing alike. And what can I say? The man looks great in a tool belt. The whole slightly scruffy, he-man thing really works for him.”

“Is it working for him or for you?”

“For him. Jack and I are friends.”