Separation Anxiety (8 page)

Cue mini-freak out number two for this meal, but this time it was because I was actually freaking out.

I played it off by drinking some more wine, pretending like I hadn’t just said that.

But Jesse didn’t let it slide.

“Hot as hell, huh?” he
murmured.

Fuck.

I put my elbows on the table and buried my face in my hands.

“Oh
my God. I can’t believe I just said that.”

I felt his hands over mine. He forced my hands from my face, and when I opened my eyes, he was sitting in the chair next to me. He had been stealthy; I hadn’t even heard him move, and suddenly we were nearly nose to nose as he held my wrists in his hands.

“Hot as hell?” he repeated one more time, that dangerous, sexy depth back in his low voice.

“Can we just pretend like you didn’t hear that part?” I whispered, nervous with him so damn close to me, his hands wrapped around my wrists.

He shook his head slowly and arched an eyebrow. “Fuck no, we can’t.”

Shit. He was going to ask me to leave, and I couldn’t figure out why my heart dropped into my stomach at the thought of moving out of his house. Surely he wouldn’t want me around now that he knew I thought he was hot. It was going to be awkward just seeing him at work from now on, never mind running into him at home, too.

I took in a sharp breath, bracing myself for his next words.

But instead of telling me he wanted me to move out, he gave me the biggest shock of my life.

“You’re a catch, too, V,” he whispered. I felt his breath against my lips. He was so close to me that I could literally lean forward two inches and my lips would be on his. Every nerve in my body leaned into him, forcing my body a little closer to his as if I had no control over it. My blood was boiling beneath the surface of my skin. “You’re amazing. You’re smart. And you’re so goddamn beautiful that sometimes it hurts to look at you and know that I can’t have you.”

I gasped at his words
.

Holy. Shit.

He just called me beautiful.

And did
he just say that he couldn’t have me?

Didn’t he know that I felt like I was already his?

I felt my body automatically leaning in toward his lips. As I gazed into his eyes and the space between us disappeared, I saw his eyes flick down to my lips for just a second. I closed my eyes and tilted my head toward his, eagerly anticipating the feel of his lips against mine.

And then the mother fucking son of a bitch oven timer starting beeping.

He dropped my wrists and stood. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

I couldn’t agree more.

He turned off the timer and grabbed some oven mitts, and then he pulled what looked like the world’s most perfect pie out of the oven.

“Pie?” I asked
stupidly, my voice about three octaves higher than normal.

He nodded, and I gulped down the rest of my wine. Not the smartest move given the fact that I was alread
y tipsy and apparently making drunken confessions.

He took a deep breath as he turned off the oven. “Thought we might want dessert later,” he said
easily, not nearly as flustered as I was by our little exchange.

Now that he wasn’t centimeters away from my face anymore, I could look at things a bit more objectively.

And guess what?

I really fucking wanted him to kiss me.

I wanted more than kissing.

I wanted everything.

And it appeared that he wanted me, too.

But, I reminded myself, I was still married.

And I wouldn’t cheat on Richard. No matter how much of an asshole he was, I would wait until I was legally, morally, and ethically available.

All I could do was hope that Jesse would still be available, too.

He sat back down and we finished our meal, chatting about school – a safer subject after the intimacy that passed between us.

I realized just exactly how tipsy I was when I stood up from the table to start cleaning up after our meal. I was slightly unbalanced on my feet as we cleaned up together; I washed the dishes while he dried and did the counters, and then, because of our teamwork, the kitchen was back to its pristine sparkle.

We moved to the couch, each of us with our wineglasses in hand after Jesse topped them off again. We settled into the same seats we had claimed the night before. I curled my legs under me, and Jesse spread the blanket out over us again. He sat with his arm draped over the back of the couch, turned toward me, and I sat facing him, leaning my cheek against the back of the couch.

“So,” he said,
reaching toward my brown hair that was resting on the couch behind me and twirling a few strands of my hair between his fingertips. “As I said earlier, I’m yours for the night. What would you like to do?” His voice was quiet, and the moment felt intimate between us as we stared at each other.

It was a fair question, but I wasn’t sure how to answer. If I was being honest, I wanted to mount him and take him right there on the couch until we were both shuddering in pleasure.

“I want to know more about Jesse Drake,” I said instead.

“What do you want to know?”
he asked, those fantastic eyes pinning me in my place.

“I just feel like we’ve only talked about me
for the past twenty-four hours.”

“Not much to tell.” He shrugged modestly. “You know a lot already. I woodwork in my spare time. I like to cook. I’m a high school counselor.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“Good parents. Still married after thirty-five years.”

“Siblings?”

“An older sister.
You?” he asked.

“I have two brothers, one older and one younger. Both are married with kids. My parents are great, but, as I already told you, they’re super conservative and quite religious. I was shunned when I moved in with Richard before we got married, so I can only imagine what they’ll do now that I’m getting a divorce. Seriously, growing up, the ‘d’ word was just as bad as saying the ‘f’ word.” I thought about that for a minute, realizing how true it was.
We never used the word “divorce” in my house. And then I narrowed my eyes at Jesse. “And I just realized you turned this back on me.”

He smiled. “I like
learning new things about you,” he said. “I’ve never been one for talking about myself.”

“Time to start, Drake,” I teased.

“My favorite color is blue.” He raised both eyebrows. “Good?” he asked.

I shook my head. “More.”

“My favorite meal is fish and chips. Good?”

I shook my head again. “More,” I repeated.

He rolled his eyes and I giggled. “I tend to date blondes, but I prefer brunettes,” he said. His eyes glinted wickedly. “Good?”

“I like
that one,” I said, “but I still want more.”

“
Typical woman always wanting more,” he muttered, and I had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about our conversation. “My favorite movie is
The Godfather.
”

“Cliché.”

“Cliché?”

“Yeah. That’s every guy’s favorite movie.”

“Fine. Then my favorite movie is
Austin Powers
.”

“At least that’s honest. More.”

“Not until you answer all of those.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Pink, that chicken marsala
we just ate, dark hair, and
Pretty Woman
.”

“
The Godfather
is cliché but
Pretty Woman
isn’t?”

“Correct. Continue, please.”

“Fucking women,” he said. “Impossible to please.”

He gazed at me for a moment, and I saw something change in his eyes. He seemed like he was about to tell me something important, but then he looked away. He was quiet as I wondered where he went for that moment.

“Jesse, what is it?” I asked.

His eyes met mine. “Nothing,” he said. “I, uh, like going to concerts.”

“Best live band?” I asked, trying to pull him back to me.

He thought about it. “Metallica.”

“Really? Like the heavy metal hair band from the eighties?”

He nodded. “Do you like concerts?”

“Of course. But on a teacher’s salary, I don’t make it to too many.”

“We’ll have to change that.”

His promise for the future sent a spark of desire through my veins.

“Sounds perf.”

He grinned. “Let’s watch
Austin Powers
,” he said out of the blue.

“Put it in,”
I said. And then I realized my innuendo. If Quinn was here with us, she definitely would’ve said, “That’s what she said.”

I chuckled at the thought. “What?” he asked, still fingering my hair between his fingertips.

“I just said ‘put it in.’”

He laughed. “Perv.”

“See? I’m not the only one who abbreviates my words.”

“Guess we’re perf together, then.”

He stood up to get the movie, and I flushed as I allowed his words to wrap around me and warm me from the inside out.

We watched the movie together, and, big surprise, I fell asleep on his shoulder again and woke up twelve hours later in the bed in the guest room.

Something about Jesse Drake’s house just allowed me the peace and comfort of uninterrupted rest.

And, apparently, really intense sex dreams.

I felt a dull, achy throb between my legs as snippets of that dream came back to me.

It had been so real.

We were sitting at the kitchen table, and Jesse held my wrists in his hands. That same scene from the night before replayed in my head, but this time, the oven timer hadn’t interrupted us as his lips found mine. His tongue thrust into my mouth as those little tremors of lust exploded everywhere inside of my body, the aching need for him becoming more and more apparent as my fingers dove into that thick, perfect hair of his.

I remembered another snippet of dream, this time with clothes flying off in every direction. For some reason, I couldn’t remember the part of the dream where I saw his completely naked body standing in front of me, but surely I could never dream how perfect it would actually be.

And then there was the piece de resistance of my dream. I remembered the way his body connected with mine, when he positioned himself at my entrance and plunged into me for the very first time. I remembered whispering his name as he pushed me higher and higher and then screaming his name as he sent me over the edge.

I awoke with wet panties,
some raging hormones, and a terrible headache.

Fucking
wine.

CHAPTER 5

Sunday morning – ahem, afternoon – started in much the same way that Saturday had, except this time I showered first before heading out to find my Jesse. I mean, before I headed out to find Jesse. Just Jesse. No “my” in there.

I sauntered into the kitchen, and the house was quiet. There was another note:

In the garage. Help yourself to anything. Thanks for a great night last night.
–J

P.S. I think I have a solution for you.

I melted into a giant puddle of Jesse lust, and then I ate the muffin (bottom first) that he left next to the pad of paper and helped myself to some coffee – which I had to reheat in the microwave because it was already cold. I wondered what time my roommate had gotten up as I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 11:00 already.

I headed out to the garage and was intensely pleased to find Jesse without a shirt,
Metallica’s “One” blaring from the stereo as he worked. He was holding some little tool and leaning closely over his work. I watched the muscles move in his back as I imagined them moving under my hands while he thrust into me.

Jesus.

I needed to get some, and soon. I was denying myself what I really needed because of my crumbling marriage. I was horny as hell and it was because of this man walking around without a fucking shirt, and I was more convinced than ever that I had to find a way to get Richard to sign those papers so that I could move on. With Jesse.

I just enjoyed the view for a moment, sipping my coffee and watching as he worked. I could literally sit out there all day and watch him do his thing. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t even realize that I was there, and I could see how passionate and what a perfectionist he was. Maybe he held a lot back about himself, but piecing together the puzzle that created the perfect picture standing before me was already a fun adventure, and I couldn’t wait to discover more and fit the next piece into place.

He turned off his tool, which he later informed me was a Dremel, and set it down. He blew away some saw dust.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing protective eyewear?” I asked.

He turned around slowly, giving me another perfect view of his intricate tattoo, and he grinned at me. “I like to live dangerously,” he said, quoting
Austin Powers
from the night before.

I chuckled. “Well, Jesse Danger Drake, please use caution with those lovely eyes of yours when working with power tools.”

“I’ll give you a power tool,” he said suggestively, and then he wiggled his eyebrows and I just lost it with laughter. I liked the goofy Jesse I woke up to that morning.

“Got plans for the day?” I asked.

“You’re looking at it,” he said. “I need to do a little yard work, too. You?” he asked.

“I’ve got some lesson plans to work on for the week, and I really do have some grading to do. I can help you with the yard work, if you want.”

“I’ve got it covered, but thanks for the offer.”

“Of course. Someone told me that I need to pull my weight around here, so I’m trying.”

He chuckled. “Go do your thing and let’s do lunch in an hour or so.”

“Perf,” I grinned, and he smiled and then turned back to his work.

I was thanking the good Lord that he didn’t feel the need to pull a shirt on over that gorgeous torso for once. Maybe he was becoming more comfortable with having me around after the conversations we’d shared. I felt closer to him as a friend, notwithstanding some of the intimacy that had passed between us the night before. And even though nothing had happened between us, there was the threat of something happening, and that was enough for me for now. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t go beyond that yet.

I gazed at him a few seconds longer than strictly necessary and then went back inside to start my work. I gathered all of my materials and settled in at the kitchen table, facing out the patio doors. I was in the midst of mapping out my week, totally engrossed in what I was doing, when something moved in my peripherals. My head snapped up and I looked out the patio doors, and there was Jesse, still shirtless, bending over and pulling a few weeds that I hadn’t noticed.

“Damn,” I whispered under my breath. I watched him stand up straight and scan the yard, and then I saw him kneel down and mess with one of the plants.

Totally distracted from my work now,
I took a moment to study his tattoo from where I sat. The phoenix symbolized rebirth, renewal, and immortality in literature, from the old legend of the bird bursting into flames upon its death and then rising again from the ashes. I wondered what sort of ordeal someone had to live through in order to put that symbol permanently on his body.

And then there was the name and the cross. The cross was a beautiful symbol
in itself, its intricate and twining design unique and stunning. I gazed at the red heart with the name in the middle of the cross.

The symbolism indicated to me that he lost whoever Allison was. Had she broken his heart? Had she died?

Was he still in love with her?

Was that why he had such a difficult time getting close to women?

For the five years I had known him, I’d never seen him in a relationship, even though he talked a big game about the women he was seeing. But in the two days I’d been staying with him, to my knowledge, he hadn’t been with another woman.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when my cell phone started ringing.
I picked up my phone and glanced at the screen. I sighed as I answered. “Hey, Quinn.”

“Veronica Thomas, I need to see you.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just
need my Sunday date with my best friend. I want to talk about boys and drink coffee and figure out what the fuck I’m teaching this week.”

I didn’t want to miss out on any Jesse time, but I also didn’t want to be that girl that planned my entire life around the possibility of spending time with a man. Even if that man happened to be Jesse Drake.

“I’m in the middle of planning. Let me get my shit mapped out, eat some lunch, and then I’ll meet you a little later this afternoon.”

“Three-ish? At the usual?”

“Perf,” I said, knowing “the usual” meant the Starbucks where we had our typical Sunday planning, grading, and gossiping get together.

Jesse came in a few minutes later
(with his shirt back on, much to my dismay). I was just finishing my weekly outline. I cleared my papers off the table while he prepared us each a salad, asking questions about my preferences as he worked. I had to admit, I was thoroughly enjoying being taken care of by my host.

We sat together at the table in the same seats we’d been in the night before, right across from each other. I enjoyed the view as I took my first bite of salad. It was that same delicious dressing from the day before. “Jesse Drake’s Delightful Dressing?” I teased.

He grinned and nodded, taking a bite of his own salad. “It’s my favorite.”

“Mine, too,” I said. “It’s delicious.”

“Thanks,” he said.

I couldn’t help but stare over at him, entranced as ever by those eyes. I averted my eyes and glanced out the patio doors.
“Quinn called. I’m meeting her in a few hours for coffee and lesson plans.”

“
Okay. You know you don’t have to run your plans by me, right?”

I nodded, and I felt my cheeks heat up a little
in mortification. Of course I didn’t have to. It was such a relationship thing to do, almost like I was asking permission. But we weren’t in a relationship, despite the fact that I wanted to be. I had to remind myself of that, because I was only setting myself up to be hurt the way I was going. I couldn’t expect Jesse to put his life on hold for me, and I couldn’t expect him to wait around for me. His sexy words from the night before floated back into my mind:
You’re so goddamn beautiful that sometimes it hurts to look at you and know that I can’t have you.

I brushed those words away immediately. It had just been the wine talking for both of us, and in the light of day, I knew that.

I pretended that I was so into my salad that I couldn’t possibly even talk. I found myself shoveling in forkfuls of food, barely tasting it. Shoveling meant not having to respond. Maybe it was immature, but so was my out of control crush on Jesse Drake, and I wasn’t sure what the hell to do about it anymore.

“No one’s gonna steal it,” he said.

I stopped chewing and looked up at him. “What?” I asked, mouth full. Attractive of me, I know.

“Your food. No one’s going to steal it.”

I furrowed my brow and swallowed my salad. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating it like someone’s going to take it away from you.”

Oh.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, obviously caught. My plan to avoid chatting by eating quickly wasn’t working.

“Take your time. We only get three meals a day. We might as well enjoy them, right?”

I nodded. “Absolutely.” I made a point to slow down. “So what are your afternoon plans?”

“I’ve got a little bit of work to do, and I’d like to work on my table some more.”

“Did your mom ask for it?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “It’s a gift. She doesn’t know.”

“That’s sweet of you,” I said, thinking about that old saying that if a man knew how to treat his mother right, he’d treat his woman right.

He shrugged modestly. “What time are you meeting Quinn?” he asked, ever the expert at deflecting the attention from himself.

“Three o’clock,” I said, and he glanced at the clock.
“I have a question for you.”

He looked up at me with curiosity.

“Your note this morning said that you think you have a solution to my problem. I assume you meant my Richard problem.”

He smiled and nodded. “I think I might.”

His cell phone started ringing, and his eyes darkened as he listened to a ring tone that wasn’t his usual tone. Something in his eyes told me that this was not a call he was expecting. He scrambled to quickly pull his phone out of his pocket, and then he stole a quick glance at the screen.

“Sorry,” he said to me, and then he answered his call.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. I wondered if he talked to all of his women in that tone. It was tender and sensual and something about his deep voice and that tone sent a shot of lust through every nerve in my body. “Everything okay?”

He listened, his brow furrowing.
“It’s okay, Carly.”

Carly? First Allison, and now Carly? How many more were there?

I mentally chided myself. He could talk to whoever he wanted to. My little (okay, enormous) crush on him didn’t give me proprietary rights over him, and I certainly knew that he had a life before I started crashing at his place.

“Carly, baby,
I’m on my way. Just stay right where you are, okay?”

What the fuck?

His voice was soft and soothing, and I suddenly wanted it to be me who he was comforting.

So we were back to the womanizing Jesse. Just when I thought that I’d read him all wrong, reality hit me square in the face.

“Hold on, okay, Carly?”

He listened for a moment, and then he pulled the phone from his ear and sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, V, but I’ve gotta run. Have fun with Quinn and I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. But I didn’t have a choice. I had no hold over him other than my ridiculous attraction to him, and he was free to go see whatever girl he wanted to go see.

So I nodded, and he shoved one last bite of salad in his mouth and then grabbed his plate and threw it in the sink. “I’ll take care of that when I get back,” he said, picking up his keys and heading toward the door. “Catch ya later,” he called over his shoulder.

“Catch ya later,” I echoed, but he was already out the door.

I finished eating, realizing that for the very first time, I was alone in Jesse Drake’s house. I wished that made me feel more excited than it actually did, but thinking about how Jesse just ran out the door after some other girl made me feel a little queasy and a lot jealous.

Despite the tipsy moment we’d shared the night before, his mind was obviously on other girls. And I had to admit that I knew virtually nothing about Jesse. Every time I started digging for information about him, he somehow turned our conversation around so that I was the one doing the talking again. I wasn’t sure how he managed to constantly do that, but he had a real knack for it.

I cleaned up our dishes despite Jesse’s protest that he’d be back to clean his stuff up later, and I put all of the salad ingredients back into the fridge, hoping I was placing everything where he wanted it since he appeared to be very particular about the organizational pattern of his refrigerator.

As I put everything away, the thought entered my mind that I could, technically, snoop around. It would be a complete and total invasion of his privacy, but I was so curious to know more about Jesse Drake. I would never do it, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to. I would wait for him to reveal the things I wanted to know. And then the terrible thought entered my mind that maybe he never would tell me those things. Maybe “we” would never happen. Even though I felt a definite attraction between us, maybe we’d never be anything more than friends.