Love Everlasting (Isle of Hope series Book 2) (23 page)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Skimming his jaw with one last swipe of the razor, Jack rinsed the shaving cream and dried his face, mouth slanting at the notion that he was shaving at ten o’clock at night, something he’d never done before. At least not until the honeymoon when Lacey woke up the first morning with awful razor burn. His mouth tipped in a gentle smile.

God bless her.
She’d been so mortified by the heavy rash that broke out on her face that she’d talked him into hiding out in their honeymoon bungalow all day and all night. His smile eased into a grin.

Not that she had much persuading to do.

He patted his clean-shaven face with her favorite cologne—Obsession—which fit perfectly because if ever a man was obsessed with a woman, it was him. Lacey Carmichael O’Bryen was the love of his life, and he would do anything for her. His lips inched up as he dragged a comb through his dark, unruly hair, still damp from his shower.

Including
shaving every night since.

But he sure wasn’t complaining. Applying deodorant, he assessed the tan he’d managed to maintain from their Bahamas getaway, bicep bulging with the motion. Nope, because attached to his late-night shaving ritual was Lacey’s own personal obsession of getting pregnant, which meant Dr. Jack was on call every night of the week. He slathered toothpaste on his toothbrush with a decadent grin.

With his very sexy and very determined wife.

Swishing water in his mouth, he spit it out and wiped his face with the towel. “Ready or not, Mrs. O’Bryen, here I come,” he said under his breath, pretty sure Lacey was more than ready, a baby foremost on her mind. And frankly, he was too. Not that making love to his wife every night was a hardship by any means, but seeing her disappointed month after month certainly was, and he wanted his bubbly and lively Lacey back. He jerked his pajama bottoms up a fraction of an inch as he shot a smug smile into the mirror. And hopefully soon, God willing, he could share news with her that would do just that.

Turning off the bathroom light, Jack entered the darkened master bedroom Lacey’s dad insisted they keep after Ben returned from his mission trip. Making his way to the bed, he was surprised his very thorough wife didn’t have her lavender-scented candle lit. He grinned as he eased under the sheet. The one she’d read promoted both relaxation and romantic mood.

Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he nibbled her neck while he spooned her close. “No ambiance tonight?” He skimmed his palm down the length of her body, caught off-guard by the feel of pajama bottoms instead of skin. Ignoring a niggle of worry, he burrowed into the crook of her shoulder, gently feathering the lobe of her ear with his mouth. “No worries, babe, candlelight or pitch dark, you’re all I need to set the mood …”

“Jack?” Her voice sounded off.

“Yeah, Lace?”

“Would you mind terribly if we just cuddled tonight?” She reached to brace his arm to her waist, wrapping her own arms around his. “I don’t feel so great.”

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, brows crinkling as he slowly turned her to face him, stomach plunging at the moisture he felt when he gently kissed her cheek. “Lace—why are you crying—are you in pain?”

Eyes squeezed shut, she started to shake her head, but the moment her face crumpled with tears, he swallowed her up, holding her tightly as they lay side by side. “Aw, babe, we’ll have lots of babies, I promise, whether biological or adopted, you have my word.”

“I … know,” she whispered, “b-but that’s not the only reason I’m sad.”

“What, then?” He pressed a kiss to her hair.

“It’s D-Debbie.”

Jack’s pulse stalled.

“It’s just not fair, Jack.” Lacey sat up to wipe the tears from her face, and he reached for a tissue from the nightstand, nudging it into her hand. “That sweet little girl has had so much rejection and pain in her life and now she has to start all over again with heaven knows how many other foster families.” She blew her nose, words nasal from weeping. “All of whom will probably never really want her because of her risky health issues ...”

Her voice trailed off into another sob, and Jack held her close, rubbing her back in a soothing up-and-down motion. “Babe, God has a plan for Debbie’s life, I promise, and it will be good.”

“I believe that, Jack, I do, but how long will it take?” Lacey pushed away, her eyes wide and wet while frustration threaded her tone. “The poor kid’s been waiting her whole life just to get well and be loved, and now she’s gotta wait some more? Without any guarantee she’ll find a family who will love her or want her?”

Her lower lip began to quiver, and Jack held her face in his hands, fusing his gaze to hers. “Lace, there
is
no greater guarantee than God’s love, and although His timing is not always in sync with ours, He
will
provide a loving family for her soon, I promise.”

“But that’s just it, Jack, you
can’t
promise that,” she whispered, jaw trembling as she swiped at more tears on her face. “Nobody can.”

He stared at the woman he loved more than life itself and knew he should wait. Knew he should just love her and comfort her and keep the promise he’d made. But the pain in her eyes stabbed straight into his soul, and suddenly nothing mattered more than making it go away.

Even if it meant breaking a promise.

Drawing in a deep swell of air, he slowly traced the line of her jaw with the pad of his thumb, hoping to still its awful tremor of grief. “No, nobody can promise absolutely, Lace, but I believe I can come pretty darn close.” He leaned in to caress her lips with his own, gently cupping her face like the precious treasure she was. “Maybe not on the timing,” he said softly, his breath warm against the dampness of her skin, “but definitely on a loving family for Deb.”

She jerked away, breathing erratic as she stared at him with saucer eyes, fingers digging into his arms. “What do you know, Jack?” she rasped, the hope in her face completely doing him in. “You have to tell me or I will never be able to sleep.”

His smile was tender. “You won’t either way, babe, but that’s okay, because I know one or two ways we can pass the time.”

Hopping up on her knees, she grabbed his shoulders and rattled him hard, the fire in her eyes making him grin. “So help me, Jack O’Bryen, if you don’t tell me what you know right now …”

He chuckled and flopped back on the bed, hauling her along with him while he nestled his mouth into the curve of her neck. “Well, I had an opportunity to talk to Miss Myra a few weeks ago, and she confided it’s a fairly young couple with no kids who actually met Debbie already and promptly fell in love.” He paused to fondle her earlobe with kisses. “So …  they’re actually talking adoption rather than foster care.”

Lacey popped up from his chest, her smile half-hearted at best. “Are they a decent couple? Can they afford her healthcare? And both Miss Myra and Will have approved of them?”

Grinning, he tugged her back down. “Yes, a very decent, church-going, solid-income couple with a close-knit extended family who will be over the moon to welcome Debbie.”

“They’re not too old, are they?” The worry in her tone made him grin.

“Well, he’s a bit long in the tooth, I’m afraid, but she’s much younger and a teacher, I understand.”

Her sigh feathered the bare skin of his chest. “Well that’s good because Debbie is going to need all the extra tutoring she can get.” She jolted up again, panic lacing her tone. “They do live in Savannah, right, or at least not too far away?”

He brushed a wisp of hair from her face, fingers straying from her ear to her jaw. “No, babe, they don’t live in Savannah, but close.”

“How close?” she rasped, clutching so tightly, he was certain he’d have handprints embedded in his chest.

A tiny squeal squeaked from her lips when he whooshed her onto her back, hovering over her with a wayward gleam in his eye. “This close,” he whispered, bending to tenderly skim her mouth with his own.

Her body seized right before she dug her fingernails into his arms like meat hooks, tears pooling in her eyes as she shoved him back. “Don’t toy with me, O’Bryen, or I will
so
make you pay.”

Rolling onto his side, he brought her along, flashing some teeth while he cocked an elbow to rest his head in his hand. “Actually, I’m pretty fond of toying with you, Mrs. O’Byren,” he said with a tender smile, voice fading to a whisper, “but I’m also fond of making you happy.
Which
is why I talked to Miss Myra months ago about possibly adopting Debbie.”

Lacey blinked, the whites of her eyes growing in the dark before she launched into his arms with another squeal so loud, Jack was grateful Ben was still out. And then, in the span of a heartbeat, she jerked back again, fingers still clutched to his arms. “B-But … b-but you refused to even consider the possibility of adoption when I mentioned it months ago. You said maybe years down the road if we couldn’t have children of our own, but not this early in our marriage.”

A grin curled his lips. “Had to do something to throw you off the track.” He slowly grazed the curve of her jaw. “And it
was
‘early’ in our marriage, if you recall.” He arched a brow. “Uh … like on our honeymoon?” His smile softened into serious. “We were always on the same wavelength with Debbie, babe, but I didn’t want you to get your hopes up till I could make sure it was a definite possibility with no roadblocks.” He brushed his lips gently against hers. “I can’t stand to see you disappointed, Lace, especially with all the frustration you’ve gone through trying to get pregnant.” He gave a slight shrug. “So I figured derailing your thoughts about Debbie in the meantime was the best course of action till I made sure it could actually happen.”

Eyes misty, she flung herself into his arms once again. “Oh, Jack, I didn’t think I could love you anymore than I do, but I adore you!”

His chuckle fluttered her hair as he returned a hug of his own. “That’s good, babe, because I plan to be around for a long, long time, taking good care of you and Debbie and all of her brothers and sisters.” His tone sobered as he held her at arm’s length, hoping the sobriety in his eyes would temper her joy with caution. “But … you need to know, Lace, by telling you this now, it means I had to break a promise I made to Miss Myra not to say anything until she has a few more details tied down, just in case.”

The smile dissolved on Lacey’s face, which tore at his gut.

But not as much as it would if things didn’t work out with Debbie …

A lump wallowed in her throat. “I understand, Jack, and I won’t say a word, but how … long will it take?”

He coaxed her head back to his chest. “Miss Myra tells me the process is broken down into three basic parts: certification, placement and transition, and then severance to adoption. Which means there’ll be mandatory trainings to attend, paperwork to file on our finances and health, a background check, and a home study. She says it can take anywhere from a few weeks to a few months barring any problems. Then, depending on how busy the courts are, an adoption date can be set within a couple months or longer once all appropriate documents are submitted and processed. Which, by the way” —he pressed a kiss to her nose— “are all ready to go, just awaiting your signature.”

“Problems,” she whispered, the dread in her voice heavy against his chest. “What kind of problems?”

He kissed her head, wishing he didn’t have to tell her, but he knew the damage would be far greater to be blindsided if the adoption fell through. “With parental termination,” he said quietly, “although the likelihood is remote given Debbie’s mom’s history and lack of interest.”

Her sigh breezed across his skin. “Well, we’re just going to have to pray about it then, every step of the way.”

“I’d say that’s a given, babe.”

He winced when her nails dug into his sides once again as she cut loose with a joyous shriek. “But Oh. My. Goodness!” She smothered his chest with a flurry of kisses, working her way up to capture his mouth with such passion, his moan was lost in her kiss. She broke loose with another high-pitched squeal as her feet danced against his. “I am so over-the-moon excited, Jack O’Bryen,” she said with a giggle, burrowing her head into the slope of his neck, “that I’m pretty sure I won’t sleep even a wink.”

“Yep …” His low chuckle rumbled against her hair as he rolled her back over, swooping in to capture her mouth with his own. “My plan exactly.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“You
do
realize I’ll have to get up very early to run extra miles after this meal, don’t you?” Sam groaned as he pushed away from the glass patio table on Jazz’s river-view condo veranda, pretty sure additional sit-ups were in his future too.

Arms crossed, Jazz leaned in to give him the benefit of her low-cut tank top that tempted as much as the seductive smile she wore. “Not if I give you a workout here,” she said with a mischievous wink, rising to collect the dirty dishes from the table.

Opting to steer clear of Jazz’s idea of a workout, Sam stood to help, relieving her of the dishes in her hands. “Nope, you cooked, I clean. House rules.”

“But this is
my
house, mister,” she teased, sliding her arms around his waist from behind, “so why are
you
the one making the rules?” Her fingers fiddled with a button on his dress shirt, which had long been stripped of his tie and opened at the collar, with sleeves rolled to his elbows.

He craned his neck to press a kiss to her hair before piling more dishes on his stack. “Because I’m bigger than you, Miss Augustine,
and
because at this venture in our relationship, I’m the one with enough self-control to keep us in line.”

“Humph.” She removed her hands, but not before allowing a rebellious glide down the sides of his thighs, reminding him once again that Jasmine did not agree with his new moral code. “I liked you better before you got religion,” she said with a pout.

Sam could do nothing but grin on his way to the kitchen. “No you didn’t, babe, so you may as well admit it.” He placed the dirty dishes on the counter while she followed him in, rinsing spaghetti sauce off each one before stacking them in the dishwasher. “Deep down you like my commitment to faith just like you liked it in Jack because you, Jasmine Joy Augustine,” he said with a stern arch of his brow while he loaded the dishwasher, “are just like me—a sucker for a challenge.”

Rinsing a tomato-sauced dishrag under the tap, she sighed as she squeezed it, orange water streaming into the sink. “And you, Dr. Cunningham, have become most proficient at offering them, it seems, especially in areas near and dear to my heart.”

He hooked her waist before she could leave to wipe off the table, brushing a tender kiss to her lips. “But just think how fun it’ll be on our honeymoon,” he whispered.

Those gorgeous blue eyes narrowed while her mouth took a twist. “It was fun
before
, Sam,” she muttered, smile as flat as her tone. “I just hope you remember how.”

He dove for her neck, making her squeal when he nibbled the soft flesh of her ear. “Don’t you worry about my memory, Nurse Augustine, because it’s only exceeded by my skill in making love.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, Doc,” she said with a pout, wet dishrag in hand as she looped her arms around his neck to give him a lingering kiss. “I remember
all
too well, and it’s killing me.” She apparently gave the dishrag a squeeze because a stream of cold water dribbled down the collar of his Armani slim-fit shirt.

“Hey!” Sam gripped her arms and pushed her away before swatting at the dribble of water at the back of his neck. “Okay, Augustine, orange water on my best dress shirt? This is war …” Snatching the wet rag, he locked her to his chest with one hand while he rinsed the rag under the tap with the other, Jazz’s giggles bouncing off the walls as she thrashed in his arms.

“Sam, I’m sorry,” she said with a heave, laughter rippling her words. “I’ll never do it again, I promise—”

“I know, babe, but just to make sure …” Butting her to the counter, he cut her off with a possessive kiss that took the fight out of her as she melted into his arms … right before he squeezed and dribbled the sopping rag down her back.

She squealed and darted away, scrambling to the other side of her island table, hands braced to a chair. “Okay, Sam, we’re even now,” she said, voice breathless and eyes lit with a mischief he didn’t trust for one solitary moment.

He slowly walked toward the island, grin decadent as he sloshed the rag back and forth in his hands. “That’s just it, babe—I’m not looking for ‘even,’” he said with a shuttered look, “I’m looking for world domination.”

She bolted for the sink, snatching up the sprayer so fast, Sam didn’t know what hit him until a blast of water pelted him in the face, drowning him, his shirt, and his favorite Cole Haan shoes. “Domination sounds nice, Sam, but if you think you’re going to win this battle, you’re all wet.”

Ignoring the geyser of water splatting off his face, he confiscated the sprayer with ease, both of them laughing as he immobilized her with a steel hold, drenching her until she was soaking wet. “Give up?” he breathed in her ear, giving the spray a rest.

“Always.” Her body relaxed in his arms as she surrendered with a languorous kiss that turned up the heat so high, his clothes should have been dry. One hand cupped to the back of his neck, her other slid down the front of his shirt to slowly undo the buttons. “We need to get out of these wet clothes,” she whispered.

Alarm curled in his belly along with desire, and he quickly held her back, grip gentle but firm. “We both know that’s not a good idea,” he said quietly, his body aching with need. He deposited a soft kiss on her nose before grabbing a wad of paper towels. Squatting to mop up the floor, he glanced up, mind grappling for something they could do while they dried off outside. “Hey, you ever play basketball?”

“What?” She stared at him like his brain was soggy, too, her nose in a cute, little scrunch.

“Basketball,” he said as he finished cleaning up his mess. “I have a ball in my trunk, and there’s a park down the street that has a court.” He rose to his feet, sailing the sodden paper towels across the room into the trash with a grin. “Two points.”

“Sam …” Shoulders slumping, she tipped her head in a patient look that said there was no way she was playing basketball. “I would rather not run around on some public court in this heat, if it’s all the same to you.” She reached out to undo another button of his shirt. “Let me just throw your shirt in the dryer, okay? And I’ll change clothes so we can snuggle on the sofa and watch a movie.”

He slacked a hip, just the mention of lying on a couch with Jasmine at the moment spiking his body temperature several degrees. He cuffed the back of his neck.

Uh, yeah, horizontal’s not working for me right now, babe …

“Come on, Sam,” she said in that pouty tone that always weakened his defenses. She slid her hands into the open V of his shirt, thumbs massaging his chest. “I’ve been wanting to watch
Fifty Shades of Gray
anyway.”

He stifled a groan.
More like Fifty Shades of Temptation. No, thanks.
He carefully removed her hands from his chest, distancing himself as he twined his fingers through hers. “Miniature golf then. Come on, Jazz, I really need to work off that meal.”

She moved in close again with that sultry look in her eyes, and he tightened his grip to hold her at bay. “Out in the fresh air,” he emphasized with a jag of his brow.

“So, I’ll open a window,” she purred.

Plopping his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around and prodded her toward the door, expelling a silent sigh when she actually went. “Go change, and I’ll take you to play miniature golf,” he said as he rebuttoned his shirt. “You’re gonna love it. I promise.”

“I’d rather love
you
,” she said with a mock scowl over her shoulder.

“You are, babe. Trust me.”

She turned at the door, eyes troubled as she clutched at the jamb, as if girding herself for what she was about to say. “You
are
still attracted to me, Sam, aren’t you?”

Heat scorched his collar as he slacked a hip, hands on his thighs. “Are you serious?” Dropping his head, he laughed, never in a million years wanting her to know that his desire for her was considerably tamer than before, except when she kissed him or came on to him like she always did. But that was part of the commitment he’d given to Shannon, wasn’t it? Knowing he couldn’t give in because he’d given his word? Not to mention the seeds of faith both Shannon and Jack had planted, no matter how small. He shook his head, peering up with a tender smile. “You are the sexiest woman alive, Jasmine Augustine, and trust me—I will devour you on our honeymoon.”

Eyes somber, she gave him the barest of smiles before it faded as quickly as it had come. “Did you ever …” She chewed on her lip as if unwilling to utter a question that would produce an answer she didn’t want to hear. A lump bobbed in her beautiful throat. “Ever make love to her?”

His blood turned to ice.
Her?
Heat blasted his cheeks, knowing full well who she was talking about. She’d hinted more than once that she blamed Shannon for his “lack of interest” in what he’d so readily taken from Jazz before. A powerful mix of fury and shame surged through his body—anger at Jazz for sullying Shannon that way and shame that at one time he would have done the same if given the chance. Then. Not now. “Lust isn’t love,” Shannon had told him once, “serving self instead of others,” and for the first time, Sam understood that concept like never before. Because Shannon’s “no” to him and to herself that night had said “yes” to a friendship that was saving his soul. He swallowed hard. A soul as empty as his life had been before she had driven him home the night of the fundraiser.

“You did, didn’t you?” The tears swelling in her eyes twisted his gut.

“No, I didn’t,” he said quietly, slowly approaching to tenderly gather her in his arms.

She crumpled against his chest with a sob, and he bent his head to hers, eyes squeezed shut as he held her close, stunned at how truly sacred lovemaking actually was. Not moments of lust and selfish pleasure as he’d always seen it before, but a merging of souls as well as bodies, a holy covenant sanctioned by God. Just like Shannon had said.

And the two shall become one flesh.

Moisture stinging beneath his lids, he pressed a gentle kiss to her hair. “Which is why I want to wait, Jazz, because I want to love my wife the way that love was actually meant to be.”

Sniffing, she nodded against his shirt. “Okay, Sam.” She pulled away and swiped at her eyes, her smile tremulous at best. “But do you mind if we go get ice cream instead?” She lifted on tiptoe to brush a soft kiss to his lips. “I think I need to cool off.”

“Me too,” he said with a smile, buffing her arms. “So go on and change, and we’ll go to Cold Stone, okay?”

“Oh, yum!” She gave him a quick hug before heading to her room, tossing a grin over her shoulder. “Nothing cools a body down like a water fight and Cold Stone.”

“Yep.” Sam ambled back to the sink to wipe it down, a sense of calm and peace flooding his soul.

That and the prayers of a very good friend.