Long Gone Girl (7 page)

Sitting in the hushed
darkness of Point Pleasant’s Arnold Theater with Jett beside her,
Ginny almost felt like Princess Ann in ‘Roman Holiday’. She’d spent
most of the afternoon with an incredibly handsome man doing
entirely silly things—they’d had a carousel ride, eaten ice-cream,
chatted pleasantly about inconsequential things as they’d taken a
stroll along the boardwalk, and now they were watching this
wonderfully romantic movie. But unlike Audrey Hepburn’s character,
there had been no hand-holding or hugs or physical contact of any
kind for Ginny. Jett had been a perfect gentleman throughout the
entire afternoon—just as he’d promised—and Ginny was fit to burst
with frustration.

Which she knew was beyond unreasonable. Jett
was only doing as she’d asked—and it was only sensible that they
both kept this chance reconciliation platonic—but it seemed her
body had different ideas. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and
tried to focus on the final bitter-sweet scene unfolding between
the dashing Joe and the effortlessly elegant Ann. But it was
hopeless. All she could think about was the slick heaviness between
her thighs, and the ache of her tight nipples pushing against her
bra—thank heavens it was dark—as her body reacted to the
overwhelmingly male presence of Jett. The scent of him—his cologne
and the essence of the man himself—teased her nostrils. The warmth
of his body so close but not quite touching hers—it was pure
torture and it had been like this for hours. She couldn’t take much
more.

Snatches of dialogue between the
star-crossed lovers in the film caught her attention briefly. But
then Jett moved.

Even though the light was dim and her gaze
was still directed at the screen, Ginny was acutely aware of one of
Jett’s denim-clad muscular thighs as he stretched it out before
him,
almost
bumping her leg; his strong forearm with its
light dusting of dark hair, resting on the chair arm between them,
almost
brushing her own bare arm. Suddenly suspicious that
he was deliberately teasing her, she risked a furtive glance at his
absurdly handsome profile. Not a wise move. By the screen’s
flickering light she could clearly see Jett was still captivated by
the movie, but now her fingers itched to trace the sculptured lines
of his nose and cheekbones, his strong, square jaw and chiseled
lips.

Lips that she wanted to kiss again…

Ginny clenched her hands together in her lap
and bit her lip to suppress a moan of pure sexual frustration.
Lord, she was a desperate mess. As soon as this movie was over, she
should say goodbye to Jett and then take an evening dip in the cold
Atlantic to calm down.

If she didn’t, she’d be soon ripping his
clothes off. Or worse still, falling in love with him. And either
of those options was just too dangerous to contemplate.

She needed to be Ginny Williams, an
independent woman, following her dreams. And what she wanted, more
than anything, was a successful nursing career. Come Monday
afternoon, if her interview went well, she might have secured a
position as a surgical nurse at Mount Sinai Hospital, one of New
York’s most prestigious teaching hospitals. She didn’t need, or
want a man in her life right now.

Especially a man like Jefferson Kelly who
practically had heart-breaker tattooed across his impressively wide
chest.

At last the final swell of poignant
orchestral screenplay music washed over them as a melancholy
Gregory Peck disappeared from view and The End appeared on the
screen. As the house lights came up, Ginny stood and without
waiting for Jett, shuffled out into the aisle and joined the crowd
of other film-goers making their way to the theater’s vestibule.
She needed distance between her and Jett. And as far as she was
concerned, the date was over. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she
decided that she would simply thank him for a lovely day, and then
she would walk back to the boarding house…alone, where ‘My Cousin
Rachel’, Mrs. Fingle and her cat awaited.

The prospect—like the weather—was glum
indeed. Even though it was only five o’clock, the afternoon had
grown dark. The overcast sky was a depressing shade of dull pewter
and a chill breeze was blowing straight off the sea and whipping
down Arnold Avenue. Ginny shivered. It was going to rain.

“Ginny…wait.”

She turned around to find Jett was only a
few feet away. Within a moment he was right in front of her, close
but not touching.
Again
. Ginny was starting to suspect it
truly was a deliberate ploy on his part to get her hot and
bothered.
And it was working, damn him
. She gripped her
purse tightly to stop herself pummeling his chest in exasperation.
Or throwing her arms about his neck.

“Hey,” he said softly, his gaze searching
her face. “Are you okay?”

“Just dandy,” she said with false gaiety,
determined not let him know his plan was succeeding all too well.
“Look, it’s been wonderful spending the afternoon with you, Jett,
but I think I’m going to call it a day.”

He crossed his arms across his chest and
raised a jet-black eyebrow in query. “What’s wrong?”

Did he do that just so his biceps would be
shown off to perfection?

Urgh.
She couldn’t take
it
.

She huffed out a sigh in frustrated defeat.
“I know I said no funny business and you’ve been strictly abiding
by the rules…but now I feel like you’re playing games with me,” she
said, holding his gaze, determined not to blush. “Teasing me in
fact. And I’ve had enough.”

“I’m not following.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Please, give me a
break. I’m not a teenager anymore. All afternoon you’ve been
standing too close, almost but not quite touching me. I mean, I
wouldn’t have minded if you’d tried to hold my hand at the movies
for heaven’s sake. It isn’t exactly hanky-panky now is it? Aren’t
we supposed to be on a date?”

Lord, she might not be an adolescent but she
sounded like one. And a petulant one at that. She only just
smothered the impulse to stamp her foot.

Jett’s mouth tilted into a cocky, lop-sided
grin and his blue eyes flashed with amusement. “It bothers you that
you’re attracted to me.”

She blushed hotly.
How can he read me so
easily?
“Yes, damn you.”

Jett’s smile softened and he stepped a
little closer. “I’m more than happy to hold hands, Ginny.” He
reached for her and entwined his fingers with hers. Tingling heat
immediately spread up her arm before radiating through her entire
body. She shivered.

He frowned. “You’re cold.” He raked his free
hand through his hair and glanced down the avenue towards the
shore. “Darn. I left my leather jacket back at The Beacon.”

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up. “The Beacon
Hotel?” Suspicion sharpened her voice. The Beacon was one of the
biggest and fanciest hotels at Point Pleasant. And she’d assumed
Jett had only come to the shore for the day.
Not the
night.

“Yeah,” he admitted, innocently enough. “I
checked in when I first arrived this morning. I have plans to spend
the whole weekend here. You know, get away from it all.” He smiled.
“Kinda like you I guess.”

Oh boy.

Her wariness must have shown on her
face.

Jett squeezed her hand. “Hey, don’t look so
worried, Ginny. I don’t have a secret agenda. Remember I said that
if you wanted anything else, it’s up to you. Even if it’s just
hand-holding. I’ll follow your lead. Does that help?”

Ginny sighed then nodded. “Yes it does.”
Hand-holding was fine. Maybe even a quick kiss goodnight. Scratch
that, farewell. She couldn’t afford to spend the night with Jett.
That would be a slippery slope to all kinds of trouble and
potential heart-break that she didn’t need.

Better to end this now. She made eye contact
with Jett and forced a smile, while a heaviness she didn’t care to
identify settled in her chest. “Well… It’s been great—”

Jett reached for her other hand. “Have
dinner with me,” he said, a beseeching look in his eyes. “I know a
great little Italian place just off Ocean Avenue. It’s only a
couple of blocks from here.” He glanced at the sky. “Hopefully the
rain will hold off a bit longer. What do you say?”

Italian food. Ginny loved Italian. And it
seemed watching Roman Holiday and the sea air had made her
famished. The prospect of grabbing another hot dog or a hamburger
at the Pavilion to eat on her own wasn’t exactly appealing
either.

“All right,” she conceded. “But then I
really should get going. It’s been a long couple of weeks for me
and I’m beat.”

“Understood.” Jett slid an arm around her
waist and drew her close as they began to walk down the avenue.
“Just to keep you warm,” he said in a low voice against her temple.
“I wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”

“A likely story. I bet you say that to all
the girls.”

Jett clutched at his chest with his free
hand as though he’d been struck. “Ouch. I’m wounded that you
mistake my chivalry for something else. You don’t think Mr. Joe
Bradley in Roman Holiday would have done the same for his
princess?”

“I’m starting to think that like Mr.
Bradley, you have another job on the side. Jefferson Kelly,
fertilizer salesman.”

Jett laughed—a rich, deep throaty
chuckle—and his large warm hand pulled her closer into his side.
“Are you sure you’re not a surgeon, Nurse Williams? Because I
literally feel like you’ve taken a scalpel to me. I’m starting to
wonder if I’ll survive dinner intact.”

“Hmph. I think you should be more worried
about whether you’ll remain intact after dinner, Captain Kelly.
I’ll have my scalpel at the ready if you try to make any
unsanctioned moves on me.”

“Point taken, well and truly, Ginny. Point
taken.”

This time it was Ginny who threw back her
head and laughed. A bubbly feeling of happiness like the buzz she
got from champagne fizzed through her veins, warming her from
within. There would be more to look forward to during dinner than
just great Italian cuisine.

Slipping her own arm around Jett’s lean
hips, she smiled, resolving to enjoy the moment for once. She’d
worry about what might happen after dinner, later.

The night air was cool,
damp and redolent of brine, and the crash of the surf thunderous
when Jett and Ginny emerged from La Pesce Piccolo a couple of hours
later. The pavement was wet from an earlier passing downpour but
Ginny didn’t seem to mind as she walked quietly beside Jett, his
arm around her slender shoulders. In the intermittent light cast by
the streetlights and windows of shops and houses, he could see that
she was smiling quietly to herself, suddenly withdrawn compared to
how she’d been during dinner. Gone was the laughing, witty girl who
had chatted with him and teased him as they’d shared a bottle of
Chianti whilst trying to eat
spaghetti alle vongole
without
wearing it. Glancing down at her pensive face right now, he was
dying to know what she was thinking.

Jett couldn’t help but smile ruefully to
himself also.
Face it Kelly, she’s probably plotting an escape
plan.

She’d agreed to walk back to the Pavilion
with him, but after that, Jett’s gut feeling told him she would say
good-bye. For good.

But he just couldn’t—no wouldn’t—accept
defeat. Running his hand lightly up and down Ginny’s smooth bare
arm to help keep her warm, he acknowledged that she was under his
skin and he had to see more of her. There was no doubt that he
wanted her in his bed. But even if that didn’t happen tonight, at
the very least he wanted another date, or three or four. The crush
he’d harbored for so long could easily develop into something
more.

What the hell?
Jett nearly stopped
dead in his tracks at the realization that he was truly smitten,
for the first time ever. Christ Almighty, could he really be that
far gone after only a few hours in Ginny’s company?

Yes he was
.
But then perhaps he
always had been.

Jett swallowed down a groan of defeat. He
couldn’t fight these feelings for Ginny any longer. More telling
still was the fact that he didn’t even want to try. Problem was, he
didn’t have a clue what to do or say next to keep her by his side.
His arsenal was well and truly out of ammo. Ginny was completely
unlike any other woman he’d ever dated. Not only was she beautiful
and funny, she was smart, perhaps even too smart for him. She’d
seen through every one of his ploys this evening and he had no idea
how to keep her engaged. This was proving to be Goddamned harder
than executing maneuvers in a dog fight with a MiG-15 over
Korea.

It hadn’t helped matters that Ginny had been
sending him mixed messages all afternoon and even this evening.
After the movie, when she’d finally admitted that she was still
attracted to him, he’d been doing mental barrel rolls of joy. She
seemed to enjoy his company during dinner. But something was
holding her back from being fully open with him. And now, judging
by her continued silence, she was completely closed off from
him.