wanted to argue with him, to try to explain, again, how wrong he was. This wasn’t just
stuff
. This was her life. But he dragged a hand through his hair, and out the corner of her eye, she caught the tremor in his fingers as he dropped his arm to his side again. That this place scared him, of all people, got to her, and the dam broke. The pain welled up and over, an unstoppable river, and she buried her face in her hands, unable to hold back the sob that rose in her throat.
“Hey.” Calm and cool, Jackson took her by the shoulders, turned her and pulled her into him.
She went, because she couldn’t keep herself up anymore, and because he was there, warm and solid and soothing. She buried her face in the familiar warmth of his chest, and he crushed her to him.
He kissed the top of her head, then rested his cheek there. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart. I’ll fix this. I promise.”
Ten minutes later they were seated in his Mercedes, parked at the curb. She’d gone numb. It was all she could do. She was essentially homeless and she had . . . nothing. Not even a scrap of clothing, save her bra, a single pair of panties, and her karate uniform. Allie at least had the essentials. She had her toothbrush and toothpaste, her pajamas, and enough clothing to get her through Sunday night, but Becca had nothing. Nothing but memories.
He turned in the seat to look at her, offering a hopeful smile. “How ’bout we go shopping? Pick up the essentials. Clothing, pajamas, toiletries. Then we can go have some lunch.”
Becca shook her head, staring out the windshield at the street in front of her but seeing nothing. “I just want to go home. Take me home.”
“All right. I’ll take you home.” He reached over and squeezed her fingers, his voice calm and soothing. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. I’m not much, but you’re not alone.”
Chapter Four
One step through the doorway the following Monday evening, Jackson halted in the foyer and set the bag he’d been carrying beside the welcome mat. Thoughts of the surprise he had for Becca became lost as the tantalizing aromas wafting through the house assaulted his senses. Temporarily distracted, he closed his eyes and inhaled. His lungs filled with the crisp, spicy aroma of baked ham and the tangy sweetness of pineapple. He sniffed again, his stomach rumbling as a hint of chocolate hit his nostrils.
From somewhere down the hall, beneath the upbeat sounds of cartoons, a low, sultry song drifted into existence, one meant to be made love to. The images the song conjured threatened to push all other thoughts from his mind. To make matters worse, Becca hummed along, her voice low and throaty, invoking flashes of memory. Of soft lips grazing his earlobe, of heated whispers in the dark.
The scents and sounds made him feel like he’d stepped back in time and made him wish like hell that he had. She’d only been here for two days and three nights, yet having her here already proved hard on his sanity. She was filling his house with everything he desperately missed. Like her bare feet padding across the hardwood floor, or her quiet conversations with Allie. Or like now, coming home at the end of the day to her humming to the radio. The house smelled like her again. All of which did nothing but fill his head with bittersweet memories.
Her presence was killing him. She reminded him too much of everything he missed. Her being here left him at odds with the pain and betrayal he’d felt when she walked out on him. Standing in the kitchen staring at the divorce papers the day they arrived, he hadn’t been certain if he’d wanted their marriage fixed. If she didn’t want to be married to him, he wouldn’t force her to stay. Except in the months since, he’d come to miss her. Desperately.
Now here she was, making him hope all over again when he knew damn well she would eventually leave. And he’d have to let her.
Allie came running around the corner, hurling herself
stuff
. This was her life. But he dragged a hand through his hair, and out the corner of her eye, she caught the tremor in his fingers as he dropped his arm to his side again. That this place scared him, of all people, got to her, and the dam broke. The pain welled up and over, an unstoppable river, and she buried her face in her hands, unable to hold back the sob that rose in her throat.
“Hey.” Calm and cool, Jackson took her by the shoulders, turned her and pulled her into him.
She went, because she couldn’t keep herself up anymore, and because he was there, warm and solid and soothing. She buried her face in the familiar warmth of his chest, and he crushed her to him.
He kissed the top of her head, then rested his cheek there. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart. I’ll fix this. I promise.”
Ten minutes later they were seated in his Mercedes, parked at the curb. She’d gone numb. It was all she could do. She was essentially homeless and she had . . . nothing. Not even a scrap of clothing, save her bra, a single pair of panties, and her karate uniform. Allie at least had the essentials. She had her toothbrush and toothpaste, her pajamas, and enough clothing to get her through Sunday night, but Becca had nothing. Nothing but memories.
He turned in the seat to look at her, offering a hopeful smile. “How ’bout we go shopping? Pick up the essentials. Clothing, pajamas, toiletries. Then we can go have some lunch.”
Becca shook her head, staring out the windshield at the street in front of her but seeing nothing. “I just want to go home. Take me home.”
“All right. I’ll take you home.” He reached over and squeezed her fingers, his voice calm and soothing. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. I’m not much, but you’re not alone.”
Chapter Four
One step through the doorway the following Monday evening, Jackson halted in the foyer and set the bag he’d been carrying beside the welcome mat. Thoughts of the surprise he had for Becca became lost as the tantalizing aromas wafting through the house assaulted his senses. Temporarily distracted, he closed his eyes and inhaled. His lungs filled with the crisp, spicy aroma of baked ham and the tangy sweetness of pineapple. He sniffed again, his stomach rumbling as a hint of chocolate hit his nostrils.
From somewhere down the hall, beneath the upbeat sounds of cartoons, a low, sultry song drifted into existence, one meant to be made love to. The images the song conjured threatened to push all other thoughts from his mind. To make matters worse, Becca hummed along, her voice low and throaty, invoking flashes of memory. Of soft lips grazing his earlobe, of heated whispers in the dark.
The scents and sounds made him feel like he’d stepped back in time and made him wish like hell that he had. She’d only been here for two days and three nights, yet having her here already proved hard on his sanity. She was filling his house with everything he desperately missed. Like her bare feet padding across the hardwood floor, or her quiet conversations with Allie. Or like now, coming home at the end of the day to her humming to the radio. The house smelled like her again. All of which did nothing but fill his head with bittersweet memories.
Her presence was killing him. She reminded him too much of everything he missed. Her being here left him at odds with the pain and betrayal he’d felt when she walked out on him. Standing in the kitchen staring at the divorce papers the day they arrived, he hadn’t been certain if he’d wanted their marriage fixed. If she didn’t want to be married to him, he wouldn’t force her to stay. Except in the months since, he’d come to miss her. Desperately.
Now here she was, making him hope all over again when he knew damn well she would eventually leave. And he’d have to let her.
Allie came running around the corner, hurling herself
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