Broken Pieces Page 14

  She had a feeling Jack wouldn’t be disappointed that lunch was going to be for two instead of three. She hoped he hadn’t gone to too much trouble in an effort to impress Kelsey, and she wished she could control the adrenaline that pumped inside her as she drew closer to the clinic and Jack’s small house behind the business.

  The house was a small ranch painted creamy beige and sporting hunter green shutters. It looked neat and homey with spring flowers spilling out of a flower bed that bordered the sidewalk leading to the front door.

  She got out of the car with sweaty hands, which she dragged down the front of her skirt. The lyrics from the chorus of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” played in her mind and a nervous burst of laughter bubbled to her lips.

  She was pathetic. She was suffering a major regression, falling into the hormonal high of a teenager on her first date.

  Standing in front of the door, she drew a deep breath, swiped her hands once again down her skirt, then knocked on the door.

  Jack answered and she wasn’t sure whether it was the warmth of his smile or the silly barbecue apron he wore that calmed her crazy nerves.

  “Come in,” he said as he opened the door. He looked just over her shoulder. “Where’s Kelsey?”

  “She came down with a last-minute stomachache,” Mariah said as she stepped into the living room.

  “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “I have a feeling her stomach felt better the minute I left.” Mariah gazed around the living room with interest. She’d always believed you could tell a lot about a person by the space he or she inhabited.

  Jack’s space held comfortable furniture in warm earth-toned colors that instantly put Mariah at ease. “Nice,” she said.

  “It’s small, only two bedrooms. But for now it’s enough for me. Come on into the kitchen. I’ve got steaks marinating. I’m going to throw them on the grill in the backyard.”

  The kitchen was just as comfortable as the living room. A round oak table was set for three with white plates, yellow napkins. The predominant colors were yellow and black—black appliances against pale yellow walls.

  “Please, sit,” he instructed, and pointed to the table. “Would you like a glass of wine? A beer? Soda?”

  “A glass of wine would be wonderful,” she replied as she sat at the table. “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Yeah, just sit there and look beautiful.” He went to the refrigerator for the wine.

  His gaze held hers for a long moment and she wondered how many times he’d manage to make her breath catch in that wonderful, delicious way before the day was over.

  He pulled out a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. “A toast,” he said as he handed her one of the goblets. “To teenage fantasies and second chances.” His green eyes gleamed with fiery intent.

  It was at that moment she knew that before the afternoon was over, she was going to be in Dr. Hot’s bed.

  Chapter 15

  Clay entered the chaos of his house just after one on Sunday. Sherri and the boys had just arrived home from church and he was coming off an all-night shift.

  He’d spent much of the past forty-eight hours trying to find out who had spray-painted the Sayers house. He’d spoken to Joel, who insisted he’d been ticked off at Mariah for her uppity attitude but was innocent of doing anything so stupid.

  He’d corralled a dozen kids around Kelsey’s age at the pool and questioned them about the vandalism, but none of them professed to know anything about it, let alone who might be responsible.

  Mariah had called him to tell him that Kelsey had mentioned Ryan Kent. Everyone in town knew that Ryan’s daddy, Doug, had hated old man Jed Sayers. The feud had begun years ago when Doug’s mother, Lana, had gone to see the preacher for some marital counseling. After the second session she’d gone home, packed some bags and left her husband and son for parts unknown.

  Doug had been a senior in high school when this had happened and Clay had been a sophomore, but Clay remembered the scandal. Apparently Jed had convinced Lana that her husband, Lenny, and her son were demons and the only way to save her soul was for her to get as far away from them as possible. Fool woman that she’d been, she’d believed him and left behind devastation for the two men who had loved her.

  Clay had connected with Doug that morning at Raymond’s Auto Works. Over the years Doug had become a quiet loner. He worked as a mechanic and seemed to care only about cars and his son, Ryan.

  Doug laughed when Clay told him why he was there. “If I was going to spray-paint the Sayers house, why would I wait until that old man died?” Doug wiped greasy hands on an equally greasy towel. “That’s old history, Clay. I got no bone to pick with Mariah.”

  Even though Doug had said all the right words, Clay couldn’t help but notice how his eyes had narrowed when he’d talked of Jed Sayers.

  Clay left the garage, unsure whether he believed the man, but unable to do anything else. It had just been a bit of ugly vandalism, not a major crime spree.

  As he walked into his living room, where his three oldest boys were wrestling and the two-year-old was squalling from his playpen, he carried with him the memory of what Mariah had said to him when he’d asked her whom she might have upset.

  The only other person that might be anxious for me to go back to Chicago is your wife.

  GO HOME, the paint had said. Two weeks ago Clay would have scoffed at the idea that his wife might grab a can of spray paint and damage somebody’s property, but two weeks ago he hadn’t been sleeping on the sofa. There was no question that since Mariah had arrived in town, Sherri hadn’t been herself.

  “Hey, boys, knock it off,” Clay commanded to his little wrestlers as he walked through the living room in search of his wife. The boys ignored him. They’d wrestle until one of them got hurt. Then they’d come crying to him.

  He paused at the playpen to give Robbie his pacifier and then went into the kitchen, where Sherri sat at the table and stared out the window.

  “Hi, babe.” He would have leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, but since the night of the barbecue at Finn’s, Sherri had acted like she’d rather slap him than kiss him. “How was church?”

  “Same as always.”

  He sat in the chair next to hers. “I feel like it’s been a month since I’ve had a little time at home.”

  “You’ve certainly been putting in the hours the last week or so,” she replied, her gaze still directed outside.

  “I told you Aaron had the flu and I’ve been covering his time as well as my own. Hopefully he’ll be back to work tomorrow and I can slow down.” He wished she’d look at him. He’d like to look into her pretty brown eyes. “So, what have you been doing the last couple of days? What did you do Friday?”

  She finally turned to look at him, her eyes giving nothing away of her thoughts or feelings. “Friday? Mom kept the boys, I had lunch with Linda and then I did a little shopping. Why?”

  Clay drew a deep breath. “Somebody spray-painted GO HOME across Mariah’s front door sometime on Friday afternoon.”

  Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and Clay knew in that instant he’d handled it badly. “And you think I’d do something like that?” She shot out of the chair, which sent it careening backward, and it toppled over with a crash. “You checking my alibi, Sheriff Butthead?”

  When Sherri called him butthead, it was the same as that hrumping noise she made just before she exploded. “Hell, Sherri, I don’t know what to think. You’ve been acting like a crazy woman since she got into town.”

  “Crazy enough to paint her house? Have you considered that maybe she spray-painted it herself so she could call you and you’d come running to her rescue?” Sherri exclaimed, her face mottling with her anger.

  “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Clay scoffed. “She doesn’t want me and I sure as hell don’t want her.”

  “So you say,” she replied. “But why have hamburger when you can have filet mignon?”

  “I�
�m telling you that I love you and you’re talking about steak,” Clay said in frustration.

  Sherri stared at him for a long minute, her lush chest heaving as she shook her head. “Sometimes, Clay, you’re dumber than a doorbell.” With that, she whirled out of the kitchen and seconds later he heard the slam of their bedroom door.

  Robbie started crying again and Benny ran into the kitchen to tattle on one of his brothers. Clay drew a weary sigh.

  How was it that a woman who’d been absent from this town for the past sixteen years could wreak such havoc in his life?

  Chapter 16

  The steaks were amazing, the salad was crisp and fresh and the potatoes were baked to perfection. For a man who professed he didn’t cook, Jack had put on a terrific meal.

  The conversation had been just as good. They’d talked about their lives and what they’d like to see for themselves in the future.

  “I liked being married,” Jack said as they cleared the table. “I enjoyed sharing my life with somebody. What about you?”

  Mariah averted her gaze from him as she put one of the plates in his dishwasher. “I wasn’t married long enough to really know what true marriage is all about.”

  “That’s too bad. When a marriage is good, I think it’s one of the most valuable things in the world. My parents have been married for forty years and I watch them and I want that closeness, that comfort that they have together.”

  “Where do they live?” Mariah asked.

  “In a retirement village in Kansas City. They travel a lot, so I don’t see them much, but my mother is a great letter writer.”

  “A lost art,” Mariah said. “The young kids today don’t know how to write a letter. They either e-mail or text message everything.”

  He placed the last dish in the washer, then straightened and smiled. “I used to write notes to you when we were in school.”

  “Really? Why didn’t you ever give me one of them?” she asked.

  He looked horrified. “I would have died if you’d actually read one. You were dating Clay, the star of the football team. I was a nothing, a nobody. I could only yearn for you from afar.”

  Mariah smiled at his dramatics. “You appear to have survived that time of unrequited love just fine.”

  “True, I managed to suck up my heartache and go on.” He stepped closer to her. “But you never forget your first crush.” He reached out with his index finger and traced it down the side of her face. “Especially when the girl you had a crush on grows up to be an amazing woman.”

  “I’m not so amazing,” she protested. Her mouth suddenly grew dry as he continued to trace her jaw-line with strong fingers.

  “Oh, but you are,” he countered. He took one of her hands in his and placed it on his broad chest, where she could feel the strong, rapid beat of his heart. “Only an amazing woman could make my heart do that.”

  “Then you must be a pretty amazing man.” She took his hand and placed it just above her breast where the beat of her heart was so fast, so strong, it felt as if it would burst right out of her chest.

  He held his hand there for only a moment, then dropped it to his side. She knew by the look in his eyes that this wasn’t going to be a slow seduction. The pulsing energy between them indicated an explosive storm about to come and Mariah wanted it. She wanted wild and frantic, sensation without thought, pleasure without recriminations.

  “I’ve told you before, but I’ll tell you again—you drive me crazy,” he said as he rubbed her lower lip with his index finger. She drew his finger into her mouth and sucked, tasting the slight saltiness of his skin.

  His entire body tensed and he looked at her as if he was dazed. “Jesus,” he managed to gasp just before he backed her up against the refrigerator. He crashed his mouth down to hers and the storm was unleashed.

  Her hands found his broad shoulders and swept down his muscled arms as their tongues battled and swirled. His fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons down the front of her blouse and her nipples hardened as if in anticipation.

  With the cool surface of the refrigerator at her back and Jack’s fiery heat in front of her, she felt wild and needy. She thrust her hips against his, reveling in the fact that he was fully aroused.

  He pushed back with his groin as he parted her blouse and pulled his mouth from hers. She threw her head back as his mouth trailed down her throat, frantically nipping and licking, as if he wanted to taste every inch of her. And she wanted him to. Oh God, she wanted his mouth all over her.

  As his mouth worked down her chest to her belly, his hands cupped her breasts, still covered by her wispy silk bra. She shrugged off her blouse and reached behind her to unfasten her bra.

  She plucked at his shirt, wanting to feel his hard, muscled chest against hers. With Tom she’d been a passive lover, but Jack demanded more and she willingly gave it, wanting her own pleasure as well as giving it to him.

  As she cast aside her bra, his hands moved up her skirt, caressing her legs with hot hands. He stopped only when he reached the backs of her upper thighs.

  He froze.

  He looked up into her eyes, his dark gaze holding an unspoken question.

  “Don’t stop,” she hissed, and arched against him. She knew what had stopped him, but she didn’t want to talk about it—she didn’t want to think about it right now. All she wanted was him, touching her, tasting her.

  He fell to his knees and she raised her skirt as he pulled down her panties. Her knees almost buckled as his mouth kissed her upper thighs, her lower abdomen. His warm breath on her fevered skin drove her half-mad.

  Everywhere but where she wanted him, he tormented her with teasing nips and his hot mouth. He licked her inner thighs and she wanted to scream for him to take her now before she went insane with need.

  She cried out as he cupped her buttocks and pulled her tight against his mouth. Electric sensations sizzled through her. She grabbed his hair, tangled her fingers there and hung on tight as an orgasm ripped through her.

  He didn’t give her time to recover. He unzipped his pants and pulled himself out. Hard and eager, he entered her and at the same time his mouth found hers again.

  Her gasps mingled with his as he pumped into her. She raised a leg and curled it around his back, allowing him to drive deeper into her. He was so deep inside her she felt as if he were a part of her.

  She clung to him, her arms wrapped tight around his neck as the waves of pleasure intensified. She was on fire, mindless with want.

  Harder, faster, they moved and her body screamed for a second release. She was almost there and a sob escaped her as it overtook her, shuddering through her with the force of a tornado.

  He groaned as he came. With his head thrown back and neck muscles taut he pulsed inside her. When he was finished, almost as if by silent communication, the two of them slid to the kitchen floor and stared at each other.

  “Is that what you fantasized?” she finally managed to ask.

  A slow, sexy grin curved his lips. “In a million years at seventeen years old I couldn’t have fantasized that.” He blew a puff of air and warmed her with his gaze. “My fantasy had more to do with the backseat of a car and the possibility of touching your breast.”

  Mariah laughed, then gazed around the room. “This is definitely a first for me, looking for my panties in a man’s kitchen.” She had no idea when exactly they had completely left her possession.

  He pointed next to the kitchen island where the lacy underwear lay on the floor. He stood and held out his hand to help her up. Grabbing his hand, she went into his embrace.

  His lips touched her forehead softly, tenderly. Then he framed her face with his hands. “Next time it will be slow and romantic.” He smiled. “And definitely in a bed.”

  With just those words he made her want him again. Nodding, she moved out of his embrace, grabbed the clothing that had come off during their lovemaking, then hurried toward the bathroom.

  As she re-dressed, his words played and replayed
in her mind. Next time. Next time it will be slow and romantic. How was it possible to be stirred by the idea of making love to him again when her body still tingled with the aftermath of their explosive, intense coupling that had just taken place?

  God, Kelsey, your mother has become a slut. She almost laughed out loud at the thought.

  Once she was cleaned up and dressed, she lingered for a moment in the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Swollen lips. Tousled hair. Cheeks red and eyes too bright. She looked like a woman who had been ridden hard and put away wet, as the old saying went.

  She finger-combed her hair and then got a cool damp tissue to run across her face. Nothing she had experienced with Tom had prepared her for what she’d just shared with Jack. Jack had tapped into a primal sexual energy she hadn’t known she possessed and she embraced it, loved the fact that she was wonderfully, magically human.

  She left the bathroom and found Jack in the living room staring out the window. He turned to face her as she entered the room. He gestured her toward the sofa and together they sat side by side.

  “I’m not usually so reckless when it comes to birth control,” he said as he reached for her hand. “I was just so crazy. You made me so wild.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m on the pill.” She’d started taking birth control pills when she was seeing Tom and had never stopped even when that relationship bit the dust.

  He tightened his grip on her hand and gazed at her with steady intent. “The scars on the back of your thighs? Want to talk about it?”

  She rarely thought about the remnants of her father’s rages, the flayed skin that had healed into raised welts. As far as she was concerned, they were her father’s shame, not hers.

  “My father’s favorite form of discipline was a willow switch,” she said.

  The green of his eyes darkened to near black and he squeezed her hand painfully tight. “Then it’s a good thing he’s already dead,” he said. “Otherwise I would have been happy to use a switch on him.” He eased his grip.