More Than Friends (24 page)

“Just like old times,” he said.

“All of it,” she agreed.

He glanced at her. The humor in her expression had faded, leaving behind an emotion he was afraid to identify. He looked back at the road.

“Are you my best girl?” Years ago, the question had been their secret code. A way to express feelings without having to say all the words.

“Always.”

She slid her hand onto his thigh. Instinctively, he covered it with his own, then laced his fingers through hers.

Yesterday she’d admitted that she had loved him with her heart and her soul. A forever kind of love. But so much had happened between them: The tragedy that led to their separation. Jenny’s loss of the baby and her recovery. The distance they had been apart had created its own problems. Yet so many of the wounds had been taken care of by the passing years. Did she still care about him?

He frowned slightly. That wasn’t the right question. He knew that she cared; it was obvious in everything she did. What he wanted to know was if she still loved him, or had time taken care of that, as well?

“I
t’s not a complicated decision,” Chase teased. “Or are you trying to decide between the milk shake and the ice-cream float?”

Jenny folded the menu in half and hit him on the shoulder. “Leave me alone. I’ll order when I’m ready.”

“You always did take forever.”

“And you always ate what I left on my plate. The human garbage disposal.”

“Hey, I was a jock. I needed the energy.”

“You were a pig.”

He leaned across the Formica table separating them in the booth. “Are you complaining about the way I turned out?”

She glanced at the crisp white cotton shirt covering his upper body. The long sleeves had been rolled up to the elbow, exposing tanned forearms and wide wrists. In her mind’s eye, she saw the way he’d looked when he’d last worked on her roof, his naked torso gleaming with a sheen of perspiration, the sprinkling of dark hair forming an upside-down triangle across his chest.

“Definitely not.”

She raised her gaze to his and watched fire consume the laughter. Electricity charged the air around them and the rest of the room faded away.

How far would he take the game? “Just like it used to be” could mean anything. The reason she was having trouble deciding what to order was that her stomach was a giant mass of knots. There wasn’t any room for food. Eleven years ago an evening like this would have ended on the banks of the river. If the night was nice, they would have sat on the grass. They usually chose a spot on the edge of the Jackson property line. No one bothered them there. If the weather grew cold, they retreated to the Camaro, where heated kisses and passionate whispers quickly steamed the windows.

“What are you kids going to have?” The gum-snapping waitress pulled a pad out of her apron pocket and clicked her pen.

“A small chef’s salad,” Jenny said, ignoring Chase’s raised eyebrow.

He ordered a burger “with the works, minus onions,” and fries.

“They haven’t changed this place at all,” he said when the waitress left. “Maybe replaced the floor and the tables, but those fixtures—” He pointed to the ceiling lights and the old jukebox in the corner. “Hard to believe places like this still exist.”

“What’s it like in Phoenix?” Jenny asked. “Do you live in the city?”

He shook his head. “The outskirts. Our construction business has taken us all over. I gave up trying to live close to the job and settled down in an area I liked. The house sits on a double lot. There’s a big backyard. Sunsets last for hours.” He smiled. “Or so it seems.”

“Sounds like you enjoy the desert.”

“It took some getting used to. The cactus don’t change colors in the fall.”

He leaned back in the booth. She jumped when she felt his foot press into the vinyl next to her. His long legs allowed him to rest the heel of his boots on her side of the bench. Her left hand moved from her lap to his leg. Chase offered a lazy smile of approval.

“Is the house big?” she asked.

“Big enough. Four bedrooms and a den. Kitchen. Family room, all the usual things.”

“That’s a lot of space.” For one person, she wanted to add.

“I always thought—” He turned and looked out the window. “I remodeled the bedroom. Put in a big fireplace and a Jacuzzi in the bathroom. In the winter, it gets cold, but there’s no snow.”

“Why Arizona?”

He shrugged. “I left Harrisville with only three hundred dollars and I knew it wouldn’t last long. There was a construction project on the side of the highway and a help-wanted sign. I didn’t know a damn thing about building houses, but when I didn’t fall off the roof of a two-story house the first day, the boss kept me on. Eventually a couple of buddies and I bought him out.” He straightened and placed his foot back on the floor. Leaning forward, he captured her hand in his. “And that’s the life story of Chase Jackson.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Good.”

With callused fingertips, he stroked from the top of her fingers down, across her palm to the base of her hand, then back up. The motion tickled as much as it aroused. She’d shrugged out of the jacket when she’d taken her seat. His gaze lingered on her bare skin, dipping slightly to search the hollow between her breasts. Her breathing grew more rapid, forcing her chest against the lacy top. The thin lining, soft enough when she first zipped the bustier on, rubbed her puckering nipples. A quick glance told her their outline was becoming visible. Chase stared, as if willing her to show proof of her desire. And still his hand moved up and down against hers.

“Head’s up,” the waitress said.

Jenny drew back her arm and tried to smile as the older woman slid a salad in front of her. Chase nodded his thanks, then took a french fry and bit it in half. His thick dark hair fell over the top of his collar. The wavy curls would be silken to the touch. The merging of the boy she’d loved and the man she wanted created an ache inside that only he could soothe. There had been no discussion of if or when. In a week, he’d be gone forever. Once the mill was sold, Chase would leave Harrisville without looking back. Be it for a week, or a night, she would have her answers to all the “what ifs.”

*

As they left the diner, Chase looped his arm around her shoulders. “That was great,” he said. “I haven’t had a burger like that in—” He paused.

“Eleven years?” she offered helpfully.

“Cute.” He cupped her chin and planted a kiss on her nose. “Did you get enough to eat? You only picked at your salad.”

Jenny pressed her hand against her stomach. The butterflies were soft-shoeing again. “I’m overwhelmed by your masculine charm,” she said, only half kidding. “I’ve been swept off my feet and can’t think of anything so mundane as food.”

“Then how about a movie?” he asked, stopping to read the marquee across the street.

Was he kidding? What about the way he’d looked at her in the restaurant? Had that been an act? Something left over from before? Didn’t he know how much she wanted, no, needed to be with him?

“I’d rather not,” she said at last.

“A drive?”

“Fine. Whatever you’d like.”

He unlocked the car and opened the passenger door. After settling her in and slipping into his own seat, he turned to look at her.

“I sense a resistance to my plans,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

That was putting it out there. Did she have the courage to tell him the truth?

“It’s not that I don’t want to see a movie, it’s just I’d hoped for something more—” her voice dropped “—intimate.”

“Like tag-team wrestling?”

“Chase!” She glared at him. “I’m being serious.”

His smile faded. “Me, too. I always make you say it first, but this time, I’ll take the risk. I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted any woman. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this much desire and still sit in a public place and not say a word. It took every ounce of strength not to take you right there in the booth.”

She swallowed a moan of desire. “I—I think the waitress might have wanted a bigger tip if you had.”

He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Come home with me, Jenny. Spend the night in my arms.”

She didn’t have to think about it. There had only ever been one answer she could give.

“Yes.”

They drove in silence. When they reached the house, Chase led the way up to the double-wide front door, then pushed her inside.

“Where are you going?” she asked softly when he walked past the stairs and toward the back of the house.

“To the kitchen.” His voice was quiet also. “There’s some champagne in the refrigerator.”

“Oh.”

“Why are we whispering?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“There’s no one here. The housekeeper only works days.”

“Good.”

She giggled nervously. He took her hand and laced their fingers together. After collecting the chilled bottle and a couple of glasses, he led them to the second floor.

At the entrance to his room, Jenny came to a halt.

“What?” he asked, looking down at her.

“I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

She saw the panic flare and tried to smile. “It’s not about what happened. I’m not afraid of making love.” She covered her eyes. “Okay, I am a little, but it’s you rather than the act itself.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” he asked. “Because so far, it’s not working.”

“I’m nervous. Feel.” She took his free hand and placed it above her left breast. “My heart is pounding and my palms are sweaty. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed, that we’ve waited eleven years to do this only to find out we aren’t good together. My stomach’s all tied up in knots and I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“That’s disgusting,” he said, taking a step back. “We’ll have to forget the whole thing.”

“Chase!” She placed her hands on her hips.

“Aw, Jenny, don’t give up on us now.” Wrapping his arm around her waist, he urged her into his room.

“Stand right there,” he said, positioning her beside the bed. “And don’t move or speak for the next thirty seconds.”

She did as she was told. While she watched, he put the champagne and glasses on the empty nightstand. Short, fat candles in glass holders had been scattered around the room. One by one, he held a long match to their wicks and lit them. Then he put a tape into the cassette player.

The opening strains of a familiar ballad filled the room. She knew the words as well as she knew her name. Lost love, found memories, a world filled with hope because of what had once been. Her favorite song. Their song.

“Dance with me,” he said, reaching for her.

In the small bedroom, with the flickering candles casting broken shadows on the wall, they swayed together. Their feet barely moved, as their bodies pressed together. Her head fit perfectly in the hollow created by his shoulder. She inhaled against his neck, savoring the scent of his body and the familiar after-shave he’d always worn. The freshly shaved skin invited her touch, and she pressed a kiss above his collar.

The song ended. The tape continued silently, then the music began again.

“How did you find it?” she asked, her words muffled against him.

“It was in the desk drawer. I didn’t think it would still work. I played it all last night.”

The cassette contained only one song, recorded over and over. He’d made it their senior year. On the nights they’d parked down by the river, the car stereo had provided the music.

The curtain of time that separated today from the past rippled then tore, and once again she was seventeen. He was Chase Jackson, the only boy she’d ever loved, and she belonged to him heart and soul.

His hands spanned her waist, then began to move higher. She raised her head slightly and pressed her mouth against his. He pulled back.

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

“I’m not.” She touched her cheek. It was wet. She tried to smile. “Don’t worry. I think it’s just too much emotion. I want you, Chase. Make love to me.”

He reached over and flipped a switch on the tape machine. “So it’ll automatically change sides,” he said, then bent down and pulled off his cowboy boots and socks. She slipped out of her flats.

They came together again, but this time there was no hesitation in his touch. Sure hands pulled her close, while his mouth descended to hers.

Somewhere outside the room, life went on for other people. But for her, there was only the man and the fire he created. His tongue plunged and retreated. When she dared to follow, he challenged her with deep thrusts. She matched his movements, feeling the tension build within her body.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, then drifted lower, to the first button on his shirt. As she undid it, she felt the zipper of her bustier pulled down an inch. She moved to the next button. The zipper slipped farther. Impatiently, she pulled the shirttails out of his jeans and crushed the warm fabric in her hands.

He lowered his head to kiss and nibble along her jaw, then leisurely flicked his tongue inside her ear. She moaned as white-hot shivers zigzagged along her spine. And still they danced.

Three more buttons remained. She worked them quickly, trying to ignore the zipper sliding soundlessly down. When she pushed his shirt over his shoulder, he released the tab and the bustier fell to the floor.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, raising his head to stare at her. “Perfect.”

His praise, the husky quality of his voice and the hard arousal pressing against her stomach erased the last of her shyness. She was proud to be female, proud to please him.

He shifted until one of his legs settled between hers. He bent his knee and brought up his thigh to rub against her moist heat. As the tempo of the song slowed to the finale, he held her shoulder blades and urged her to arch back. The position forced her sensitive center against the thick seam of her jeans and hard muscle of his thigh, while exposing her breasts to his gaze. His slow back-and-forth movement had her clutching his arms and fighting a whimper of pleasure.

Slowly, he drew her upright. His hands cupped her breasts, tenderly supporting the full curves in his palms. He stepped closer until the hair of his chest grazed her nipples. The silky mat, feather-soft and warm, forced the rose-colored tips to harden. And still they danced.