Never Say Goodbye (13 page)

Jess's retraction died on her lips. Scott in a homeless shelter? she thought, appalled. No way! She'd be more uncomfortable thinking about him in an environment like that than coping with him in her guest room. She had to see this through. “Like…like I said, I have a spare bedroom,” she said.

His smile warmed her all the way to her toes, making her feel a little better about her decision. She'd done the right thing after all, she assured herself as she put the car in gear.

She just wasn't sure it was the
safe
thing.

 

They made only two stops on the way home. One at a discount store so Scott could pick up a change of clothes and some toiletries. The other at a Chinese restaurant for take-out food. Nevertheless, by the time they reached her condo it was after nine.

Jess nervously hitched her purse higher on her shoulder as they approached her door. Scott was juggling both bags, so she prayed he wouldn't notice how badly her hand was shaking as she struggled to fit her key in the lock. When at last it clicked, she gave a relieved sigh and pushed open the door.

But her relief was short-lived. Because as they stepped over the threshold, the full impact of what she'd done slammed home. If she'd once been nervous because her
car
seemed too intimate, how in the world was she going to cope with living under the same roof with a man she had once loved—and who still filled her with longing?

Jess had no idea, she realized numbly as she led the way to the kitchen. But keeping her distance—both emotionally and physically—seemed like a good plan, she reasoned as she headed toward the cabinets to retrieve glasses and utensils.

“Do y-you want to clean up before we eat?”
Don't stammer,
she berated herself.
Acting nervous will only make this situation worse.
She forced herself to take a deep breath before she spoke again, and this time her voice was steadier. “I can always nuke the food if it gets cold.”

“I'd like that, thanks. These clothes really absorbed that smoke smell.”

She reached for a glass from the cabinet. “Okay. I'll show you where…oh!”

She watched in dismay as the glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the tile floor. So much for not acting nervous, she thought in disgust as she bent to retrieve the shards.

“Be careful, Jess,” Scott warned as he moved toward her. “Those pieces can cut like—”

“Ouch!” Jess jerked her hand back from a jagged shard. Already blood was dripping from her finger.

She heard his muttered oath as he moved beside her. “Let's get that under water.” Without waiting for her to respond, he reached for her hand, drew her to her feet and led her toward the sink. He turned on the water and gently cradled her hand under the steady stream, letting her blood wash over his own hand as he leaned over to examine the cut.

Jess stared down at her delicate fingers resting in Scott's sun-browned hand and for a moment she thought her lungs were actually going to explode. So much for physical distance. Not only were they physically close, they were actually
touching.
Which was
not
good. She was losing control here, she realized. And that was scary.

Instinctively she made a move to pull her hand away. But just as instinctively Scott's grasp tightened and he turned to her, his eyes troubled.

“I'm sorry. I'm trying not to hurt you, Jess, but I need to see how deep this cut is.”

Jess allowed him to put her finger back under the water. It was simpler than trying to explain that her
reaction was caused by fear, not pain, she decided resignedly.

After what seemed like an eternity Scott turned off the faucet and looked down at her. “It's pretty deep, but I don't think it needs stitches. Do you have any bandages?”

She nodded. “In the bathroom. I'll get them.” The words came out in a croak.

He frowned and looked at her worriedly, then took her arm and led her over to the table, where he gently pressed her into a chair. “I'll find them. Sit here until I come back. Your finger will just bleed more if you move around.”

Jess didn't argue. The day's emotional overload had apparently short-circuited her brain, and she was too numb even to think. So she simply sat there until Scott reappeared with bandages and antiseptic.

“Okay, I think we're set,” he said as he dropped into the chair next to her and extended his hand. “Let's have a look.”

Jess gazed down at his waiting hand. The lean fingers were familiar, but the callused palm momentarily jolted her. Blue-collar hands, work roughened and sun browned, had replaced the neatly manicured, white-collar hands she remembered. Yet there was an earthy strength to them, a steadiness and sureness that hadn't been there before.

Jess's gaze flickered back to his. He was watching her, waiting patiently, but the look in his eyes disconcerted her. There was encouragement and tenderness in their depths, but also a flicker of apprehension, as
if he was unsure whether she would willingly give him her hand. And, on a deeper level, her trust.

Jess hesitated for a moment, aware of the symbolism. Then, with sudden decision, she followed her heart and reached out to place her hand in his.

Scott hadn't even realized he was holding his breath until his lungs suddenly started working again. He knew Jess was second-guessing her invitation, and he'd been afraid that she would get cold feet at any moment and send him packing—until this simple gesture of trust, which reassured him that at least for tonight he was safe from eviction.

But not necessarily from temptation, he realized as he transferred his attention to her hand. His mouth went dry as he looked at the delicate fingers that had once touched him with such tenderness and love. A surge of longing swept over him, almost painful in its intensity, and it took every ounce of his willpower to remain still when what he really wanted to do was pull Jess into his arms and hold her. To feel her soft curves against the hard lines of his body. To bury his face in her fragrant hair and inhale her essence. To run his hands over her silky skin.

Scott drew a ragged breath, praying for control as he attended to the cut. Now that she knew his intentions he needed to move with extreme caution, he reminded himself. Patience, restraint and discipline were essential. He didn't want to make her even more nervous than she already was. To the point that she might very well ask him to leave. So he needed to appear calm and cool, even if he was anything but.

He cleared his throat and secured the end of the
bandage. “All done,” he pronounced. “Just leave the glass on the floor and I'll clean it up in a few minutes. But I could sure use a shower first.”

“I'll get you some towels,” she said, rising.

He followed more slowly, taking cover behind the bag of clothing and toiletries he'd purchased.

“You can pretty much use this bath exclusively,” Jess said, striving with limited success for an even tone as she placed clean towels on the counter. “I have an attached bath in my bedroom. The guest room is across the hall. I keep it ready, because Mark visits occasionally when he's passing through town. If you need anything, let me know. I'll be in the kitchen when you're finished.” And with that rush of words, she made a fast exit.

Scott took a long, cold shower, and by the time he returned to the kitchen Jess had cleaned up the floor. He thought about saying something, but decided to let it pass. “The food smells great,” he pronounced.

At the sound of his voice, the pulse rate Jess had just gotten under control once again accelerated. And when she turned from the sink, it slammed into high gear. Scott was standing in the doorway, and he looked…
fabulous
was the word that came to mind. His damp hair was slicked back, and though his clothes might not be designer brands, they fit as if custom made. The jeans hugged his slim hips and outlined his long muscular legs, and his black T-shirt revealed impressive biceps. Jess nodded jerkily toward the table, where she'd set two places. “I reheated everything,” she said a bit breathlessly. “Have a seat.”

“Can I help with anything?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. That wasn't an offer she was used to hearing. Even in the early days of their marriage Scott hadn't been into housekeeping-type duties. He'd taken care of the outdoor chores, leaving indoor jobs to her. “No. Everything's ready. What would you like to drink?”

He glanced at the glasses of water on the table. “This is fine.”

Jess scooped the food onto platters, then joined him at the table. He eyed it hungrily and smiled. “I haven't had any really good Chinese food in a long time,” he said, reaching for a serving spoon.

“Even since…in the few months?”

He shook his head. “I usually eat in.”

Because it was cheaper. The words were left unsaid, but Jess could read between the lines. “Well, I think you'll like this. I found this place shortly after I moved in here, and I go so often we're on a first-name basis now.”

Scott ate as if he hadn't seen food in a week, clearly savoring every bite. “You don't cook anymore?”

“Not much.”

“I thought you enjoyed it.”

“I did. Once upon a time. But cooking for one isn't much fun. I just…got out of the habit.”

They ate in silence for a few moments, then Scott gestured toward his surroundings. “I like the condo. And you've done a nice job decorating it.”

“Thanks.”

It was a perfunctory reply to what she clearly considered to be a perfunctory compliment, so Scott tried
again. “I mean it, Jess. It's comfortable and homey, but not cluttered. I like the clean lines and colors.”

She looked at him in surprise, and this time her tone was warmer. “Thank you. Actually, I haven't devoted too much attention to the place. I just wanted something simple and uncomplicated to come home to at the end of the day.”

“A haven from a world that usually isn't either of those things,” he said quietly.

She gave him a thoughtful look, struck by his insight. “I hadn't thought of it that way,” she said slowly. “But you're probably right.”

“Simple is good,” he reflected. “That's why I wasn't very upset by the fire. Almost everything is replaceable. And I salvaged the things I really wanted. The horticulture books were given to me by Karen and Reverend Young, so they have sentimental—and practical—value. The cross was made by a former inmate who became a good friend. He sent it to me a few months ago, after he got out. And the picture—well, that's been with me ever since I…since the accident. I'll clean it all up later.”

She nodded. “I put everything in the laundry room. And feel free to use the washer and dryer.”

“Thanks. I'd also like to call Karen to let her know where I am, if that's okay. She can ring me right back so we don't run up your bill.”

She waved his offer aside. “Don't worry about it.”

“Thanks.” Scott scraped up the last bite of chicken broccoli and then gave a sigh of satisfaction. “That was great.” He nodded toward her plate, well aware that she'd spent more time pushing her food around
than eating, which probably explained why she was so thin. “Are you finished?”

“Yes.”

He reached for her plate and stood. “I'll take care of the dishes.” At her astonished look, he chuckled. “I told you I've changed,” he reminded her with a wink. Then he glanced at his watch and gave a low whistle. “Hey, this is way past your bedtime! Why don't you turn in? You're going to have trouble getting in your eight hours tonight as it is.”

Which was nothing new, she thought. Five or six hours were about the most she could manage these days. But she let the comment pass. “All right. Thanks. See you in the morning.”

She got as far as the door before his voice stopped her.

“Jess.”

She paused and slowly turned. Though they were several feet apart, she could feel the warmth in his gaze as if it was a caress.

“Thank you again for doing this,” he said quietly.

“You're welcome,” she whispered. And then she fled.

 

“Karen? Sorry to call you so late.”

“Scott? What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I'm fine. Relax,” he hastened to reassure her. “I'm at a different phone number for the next couple of nights, and I just wanted to give it to you in case you need to reach me for any reason.”

“Why are you at a different number?”

“Just take it down, then call me back and I'll an
swer all your questions.” He gave her the number, then hung up. When the phone rang a moment later, he snatched it up immediately so Jess wouldn't be disturbed.

“Okay, what gives?” Karen demanded without preamble.

“There was a fire at my flat, and—”

“Are you hurt?” she asked in alarm.

“No. I'm fine. I just need to find a new place to stay.”

“What happened at the flat?”

“Faulty wiring.”

He heard her unladylike snort across the wire. “Why am I not surprised? Well, as far as I'm concerned, good riddance. That place was a dive.”

“Oh, come on. Don't hold back. Tell me how you really feel,” he teased her.

“Ha ha. So where are you staying?”

“Jess's condo.”

For once, his sister was struck dumb. At least for a moment. “Do you want to explain that?” she asked when she finally found her voice.

He chuckled. “I thought you'd be surprised.”

“That, my dear brother, is a gross understatement.”

“Remember the retreat I told you about, the one where I was going to speak?”

“Yes. It was today. I was going to call you tomorrow and see how it went.”

“It went fine. No surprises. Except one. Jess was there.”

“You're kidding! You never told me she was coming!”