Save My Soul (14 page)

“I gotta go. Carlos needs me,” she lied. Karma would make her pay. But now more than ever, she needed to fix Carlos and leave … before she weakened enough to make a terrible mistake.

• • •

The next day, Maggie sunk into the deep cushions of the couch while Justin Guarini belted out Al Green's
Let's Stay Together
from the flat screen above the fireplace.

“Do you think we could talk about what happened in the lake?” she asked.

Carlos flinched and stared at the screen. “I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize. You were in pain. People in pain sometimes do things they wouldn't normally do. You're feeling better now, and that's what matters.”

He nodded and pressed his lips together.

Another one-sided conversation
, she thought.
Great.
And yet this time she couldn't back down. Jordon's phone call left her with a new sense of urgency.

Taking a breath in, Maggie gripped the amulet through her shirt. “Sometimes our emotions hold us prisoner. The way we feel about another person or the way another person feels about us can have a negative impact on our lives if we let it. Carlos, romantic love isn't … ” She stopped before she gave her mother's abysmal version. “Romantic love is complicated and confusing.”

He widened his eyes, and she had the distinct impression that she was getting through.

“Are you in love with Jordon?” he asked.

“No. No,” she sputtered. “I wasn't talking about me. I was talking about you.”

Every muscle in his face contorted before he hid the ugly reaction with a turn of his head. He dug his fingers into the arms of the chair with such force the gesture made Maggie's skin crawl. Watching his body contort, an ominous feeling replaced Maggie's excitement at breaking through. She tried to stomp the dread, but the more he tensed, the more she sensed some accuracy.

“Do
you
love Jordon?” she whispered.

He snapped his head around and stared at her. “No.”

Maggie exhaled and allowed herself a small smile. “I'm sorry if I insulted you. I was going with my gut. I figured it was a girlfriend issue, but then I got this feeling, and you seemed so pained I thought … I'm sorry.”

She didn't have time to pout at her inaccuracy, because Carlos shook his head slowly. “But I am … gay.” He paled.

Maggie squared her shoulders and nodded. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense. “Okay,” she said, smiling.

He shook his head again and blinked back tears.

Maggie swallowed hard, trying to choose a course of action, wishing she could celebrate the break through she'd been working for. But one thought of Jordon quelled her satisfaction. Could a man like Jordon Kemmons understand a man like Carlos Nunez?

As if the young man read her mind, he bit into his bottom lip. “Don't tell Jordon.”

She sighed. “I can't. It's called patient-doctor confidentiality, and it's an important part of what I do.”

The words seemed to relax Carlos, but they worried Maggie. Jordon expected answers, and this was a big one, maybe the reason a multi-million dollar player failed to live up to expectations.

“Beckett got traded,” Carlos blurted, shoving the back of his hand across his runny nose. “Now I can't visit him. What if someone finds out?”

Maggie slid across the couch and rested a hand on his shoulder as he cried. She didn't follow sports. She hated the idea of men proving their worth by beating on each other. Even in baseball where contact wasn't part of every play, Maggie didn't understand the allure. Men with big sticks, swinging at balls and running around a bunch of bags — it wasn't quantum physics. They weren't feeding the hungry. They weren't saving souls. Still, Maggie understood one thing: pro sports and homosexuality didn't mix. One definitely threatened the macho image of the other.

She slipped an arm around Carlos's shoulder. “Does your family know you're gay?”

He hung his head. “No. They can never know. Never. No one can know, but you. Please, Maggie.”

She gulped. “You have my word.”

By sunset, Maggie's nerves were shot. The only thing keeping her calm was the entrancing motion of the rocking pier. She thought about leaving and continuing treatment virtually, but a revelation like Carlos's couldn't be taken lightly. If she left him now, he could misconstrue her departure and plunge into despair.

Then there was Crystal. Maggie hadn't spoken to her mother for over a week, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Even though Maggie was desperate for information about the Idaho trip, she was going to have to prioritize the souls she saved. Crystal was an adult, and for the time being, Crystal was going to have to take care of herself. Maggie had enough to take care of around here.

Carlos slept peacefully after Maggie assured him for the thousandth time that she wouldn't reveal his secret. Sitting on the end of the pier, struggling to warm herself against the chilly wind, Maggie wondered if she'd ever sleep peacefully again. Panic blocked the air to her chest, and she opened her mouth to breath. She was tired of saving other people. Worse yet, she didn't know how to save herself. Lifting her face to the starry sky, she prayed for a savior.

• • •

Jordon owned houses in New York City, Tampa and Lake Norman, but the only one he cared about was this one … because Maggie was here. In five years of marriage, he never rushed home to Bethany. Then again, Bethany stopped being at home shortly after the wedding: “Why should I wait around for you to come to me?” Seeing her brought back all the ugly words, and they hurt.

Jordon didn't want to hurt anymore.

Besides, he had reason to celebrate. All anybody had to do was turn on twenty-four hour sports television to learn that Jordon Kemmons was once again “the man.” Manuel deserved the pay raise, and Jordon deserved the cut. It took guts to go in with outlandish demands. It took bigger guts to expect results from those demands. Jordon knew the people around that table thought he was crazy, but he didn't care. Negotiating an eight-year, one-hundred-and-eighty-million-dollar contract gave a man confidence enough to wear crazy like a Valentino suit.

Jordon dropped his leather bag in the darkened foyer and headed up the stairs. Carlos's door was closed as usual, but last night, the kid had sounded good on the phone. Hope surged in Jordon as he recalled Carlos talking about conditioning. Maggie deserved praise for the progress, and Jordon fully intended to praise her … all night long.

The thought painted a lusty smile on his face. He'd been waiting for her, for this. He only hoped the reality would live up to his expectations.

Spying Maggie's bedroom door ajar, Jordon loosened his tie. A few steps more and he stood in the darkened room. Blankets gathered at the end of the empty bed. No light spilled from the bath. He tensed. Glancing at the dresser, he caught the glimmer of her jewelry in the moonlight, and he filled with relief. Of course she wasn't gone. He gave his head a self-deprecating shake.

Back on the loft, Jordon stopped to stare out the picture windows. It was too black to see much more than flickering lights on the water, but his gut told him she was there. He raced through the house, his pounding heart his guide. He'd been away from her long enough to know the separation didn't make him happy. Which was ironic, since he hadn't been away long enough to forget how tumultuous their interactions could be. It didn't make sense, but he was tired of analyzing it. He was done fighting whatever supreme power got a sadistic kick out of pushing them together.

When he finally settled his eyes over her body sitting on the end of the pier, the shadowy sight sent electricity shooting through him like bolts of heat lightning.

She swung around on her bottom with a startled look on her face. “You're home.”

Jordon felt flu-ish, his head spinning, his muscles weakening, his temperature soaring. “I am.”

“Was your week … productive?”

“You could say that.” He didn't want to brag. Besides, contracts and dollar amounts couldn't keep him warm at night. He unbuttoned his suit coat and let it slip off his shoulders. “Aren't you cold?” He couldn't stop his gaze from dipping to chest level, looking for the answer beneath her plain white T-shirt.

She pulled her knees to her chest, blocking his view. “No. I'm fine. Listen, Jordon. A lot has happened this week. It was … productive.”

He figured the shock on her face and the tripping over her words had something to do with his unannounced arrival. He should've been clear about his return, and he planned to apologize for his facetious behavior. Later.

Jordon stood over her, tugging his shirt tails from his dress pants. “Carlos told me he's working out, and all his laundry's clean. Thank you.”

Her shoulders dropped as she released a breath, and her eyes twinkled in the darkness like tractor beams of energy, pulling him to his knees. He leaned in for a kiss.

Maggie leaned back. “Why is it you call him every night, but you rarely call me?”

All right. Maybe he'd apologize now. He smiled. “I'm sorry. I thought about calling you a lot more than I did, but I needed to concentrate on the negotiations. I think about you enough without talking to you. I just needed some space.” He attempted to kiss her again, and she pulled back even more, bracing her weight on her palms.

“Then I can give you space.”

He inched closer. “I don't want any more space.”

“Then we can talk.”

“I don't want to talk.” He unfastened the buttons of his shirt, the cat-and-mouse game stirring his desire. “I want you.”

A little sound escaped her mouth a second before his lips covered hers.

Jordon figured this could go one of two ways. Either he had a hell of a lot of convincing to do, or Maggie missed him as much as he missed her.

She kissed him back, which was a good sign, and he lifted a hand to the side of her neck, deepening the kiss. When her fingers grazed his bare chest, he crumbled, crawling into her until her body flattened against the pier.

Her tongue mixed with his in a mysterious rhythm he couldn't imagine replicating with anyone else: light swirls, firm sweeps and desperate plunges, flooding his throat with lust and making his body ache for more. He held the back of her head, pushing deeper into her mouth.

For a moment, he rested on top of her, filling with need, but the heat and friction of her body threatened his resolve. He slipped to her side and settled on the pier, their mouths still tangled.

With one arm cradling her head, he ran the other hand down the top of her chest, stopping to explore her breasts. Seventeen again with shaky hands and shallow breaths, Jordon fumbled through the motions. But then Maggie smoothed her hand over his zipper, and the gentle pressure nearly sent him off the pier to douse the flames.

Slow down.
The words roared in his head. He grabbed her hand and pressed it to her stomach. “Keep your hands to yourself. It's my turn.”

“Okay.” She sounded distant, and he hoped it had something to do with the hem of her shirt being lifted over the smooth skin of her stomach and his mouth dipping to her navel. If there was another reason, one that meant she was having second thoughts, he didn't want to know. But if there were doubts, he'd be damn sure to erase them.

Jordon circled his tongue and lapped at the shallow hole of velvet. He smiled against her belly when she arched her lower back in search of more pleasure. All too happy to oblige, he ran his tongue higher along her stomach, pushing the fabric over her breasts.

The moonlight blanketed her body in beautiful shadows, and he recognized the silhouette of his face floating on her milky skin as if she were branded … as if she were his. Lightheadedness returned, and he had to remind himself to breath before he passed out.

He couldn't remember feeling so much torment. Covering her breast with his mouth, he slid his tongue around the hardened skin and then wrapped both arms underneath her arching back, drawing her body deeper into his, sucking the light out of her, directing it straight into the blackest parts of him.

She gasped and held his head to her heart. In that moment, he wished she'd never let him go.

Brushing his lips across the breast he'd worshipped, he turned to the other, but before he ravaged the sensitive mound, words spilled into the silent night. “You're mine, Maggie. I claim you.”

He sucked her into his mouth and into his soul.

• • •

Maggie opened her passion-weary eyes and tried to calm her breathing by focusing on the stars. But there was nothing she could do to stop it now. This wasn't salvation. This was possession.

Crystal's words barged into Maggie's head:
Love is a word we use to describe an obsessive need to possess. And possession leads to loss and loss leads to pain.

Maggie knew a moment of terror, but then a tremor of pleasure rocked her body so soundly she expected the heavens to open and swallow her whole. This was sex. This wasn't love. There was no need for panic. With an ache for him building in her core, she managed a weak promise to keep perspective.

Jordon released her, and chilly wind rushed across her wet chest as he pushed to sit. She burned for him. And when his eyes locked with hers before they roved over her body, she saw such tenderness her promise shattered.

“Take off your shirt.”

Maggie obeyed, despite nagging reminders that she received too much and gave too little.

He ran a hand down the curve of her shoulder and then gripped her neck with his other hand, pulling her in for a deep, draining kiss. She slipped a hand beneath the open edge of his dress shirt, anxious to give more than she received.

“Not yet,” he said, snatching her hand and holding it to his heart. “I want you to stand first.”

She held onto him as she stood on the rocking pier. He kneeled and her heart swelled with understanding. This beautiful, powerful man wanted to spend tonight giving pleasure to her.