A Little Bit of Déjà Vu (28 page)

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, squirming in his arms.

“Shhh,” he whispered into her hair, “I’m taking you to bed.”

As he headed down the hallway to her bedroom, she wiggled out of his arms and escaped into the kitchen. He caught her and pressed his lips to her temple. “Maggie, I can’t stop thinking about you and how good we are together.”

She backed up until her fanny hit the cabinets. “The champagne just made it seem good.”

“Oh, no.” He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her, trapping her. “Champagne lowers inhibitions, but it doesn’t excite a person. I’m going to prove that, right now.”

He gently brushed his lips over hers, flicking open the buttons on his shirt.

She didn’t want to know if he was right. She couldn’t bear to discover it was only Jake who could make her feel the way he had. Not when all he wanted was a few nights with her.

“Please.” She squeezed her eyes shut as he parted her robe. “I don’t want you.”

“You’re not being honest, Rosebud. Not with me and not with yourself.”

“What makes you an authority on what I want?”

When she tried to slip past him, he grabbed her wrist. Pinning her lower half against the work island with his body, he covered her mouth tenderly with his. His fingers did a sensual slide down her throat to caress her breast. He lightly pinched her nipple, murmuring into her lips, “Now, tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll walk straight out the door.”

Whimpering, she thrust her peak more fully into his hand. She couldn’t say it, because, whether he was just using her to gratify himself or not, she
did
want him. Desperately. Her lack of sex the last few years, coupled by the memory of her five orgasms two weeks ago, had every nerve in her screaming,
Let him do any damn thing he wants to you! For as long as he wants
.

He lifted her onto the counter and unzipped his fly. “It’s just
me
you need. No spiked punch. No champagne.”

She might regret it for the rest of her life, but she wanted one last night with Jake before he tossed her aside again.

He dug his wallet out of his jeans and fished out a square packet. Smiling, he handed it to her and pulled his erection out of his shorts. “Would you like to do the honors?”

She rolled the condom down his hard length jutting between the V of his open fly. He slid his fingers into the dampness between her legs and groaned. “Damn, you’re as ready I am. I’ve done nothing but think about being inside you again.”

No more than she’d thought about it. She had no willpower where he was concerned.

“Do you realize how rare it is for two people to have this kind of chemistry?” Spreading her thighs, he stepped between them and pulled her bottom to the counter’s edge. He plunged deep into her aching void as she leaned back and gasped, wrapping her legs tightly around him. “Oh, Maggie,” he panted. “You feel like heaven. I want this to last all night.”

Still deep inside her, he carried her into the bedroom and lowered her to the mattress. Her body throbbed inside as he pulled out of her just long enough to strip off his clothes. He loved her slowly and sweetly, making long lazy strokes into her.

Her chest ached from his gentle kisses and the tender words he whispered to her. She rode an endless wave of blissful sensation while he kissed her breasts, telling her with each thrust of his hips and every ecstatic groan how much he loved being inside her.

Jake was right, damn him. Champagne had nothing to do with how good sex was with him. He gave her more pleasure that night than any time before as he brought her to one soul-shattering climax on top of another.

Cuddled in his arms in the early morning hours, she listened to the steady thump of his heart and his sporadic mumbling. How would she ever survive loving him and having him walk away again? She didn’t have Dan to pick up the pieces and make her life worth living this time.

While she lay there, breathing in time with the slow rise and fall of Jake’s chest, her mind drifted back to the day they parted in San Francisco nineteen years ago.

The salty wind had whipped Margie’s hair in her face as they’d crossed the fog-shrouded Golden Gate Bridge in the convertible Jake had rented. The closer they got to her home, the harder her stomach churned. By the time they arrived at the small two-story house she and her mother lived in, Margie was on the verge of upchucking.

She pointed to Jake’s carry-on as he removed her overnight bag from the rental car’s trunk. “What about your suitcase?”

“I don’t think we should assume I’ll be welcome to stay here. Let’s see how things go.”

She led him through the back door, and her mother’s strident voice drifted into the kitchen. “Is that you, Margaret?”

“Yes,” Margie called back, encouraged by Jake hugging her to his side.

“It’s about time you got home.” Katherine Hunter strolled into the kitchen and froze at the sight of Jake’s arm around Margie. She shifted her gaze between them several times. “Who’s this?”

“Hello, Mrs. Hunter.” He smiled. “I’m Jake Manion. I met Maggie when she visited the university.”

“Margaret, what’s going on?” Katherine peered into Margie’s face. “You weren’t at Jillian’s house this weekend, were you?”

Margie swallowed hard and squeezed Jake’s arm, trying not to hyperventilate. “No, ma’am.”

He stepped in front of her, shielding her from her mother’s line of vision. “She was in New Jersey with me. Could we sit down and talk?”

Her mother’s face turned to a mask of stone as she patted her short curly hair. She waved toward a chair at the kitchen table and eased her angular frame into the seat across from them.

Jake held Margie’s hand under the table and sighed. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I guess straight out is best. Maggie is pregnant with my baby, and I’d like to marry her.”

Her mother didn’t yell or scream. She simply glared at him and narrowed her arctic blue gaze. “How old are you?”

Jake’s workouts had filled out his build in a way most men’s physiques didn’t develop until their late twenties.

“Twenty-three.”

Katherine arched one light brown eyebrow. “So then I assume you’ve just graduated.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And exactly how do you expect to support my daughter and a baby with no job?”

“I have a job. Your daughter and our child will be very well taken care of.” He told Margie’s mother how much he’d be earning his first year in the NFL, and her jaw dropped.

She turned to Margie, her upper lip drawn up in disdain. “How could you sleep with him? You were at that school two lousy nights.”

Margie clamped her mouth closed to keep from screaming that her night with Jake had not been lousy. It’d been the most wonderful one of her life.

“Mrs. Hunter, please don’t blame Maggie. None of this was her fault.”

“Unless you’re admitting you raped her, she is most certainly responsible.”

He closed his eyes a moment. “No, I thought she was a—” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “Look, I seduced her. But if I’d known she was so young, I never would’ve touched her.”

Katherine sliced her hand through the air. “Well, you can forget the wedding. She’s not having your baby.”

“What!” Margie catapulted out of her seat. “You can’t be suggesting I should—”

“Wake up, Margaret. Can’t you see this man only proposed out of a sense of duty?”

Margie didn’t want to admit to her mother or herself how true that was. “For your information, Jake is breaking his engagement to Alexander Warrington’s daughter to marry me.”

Katherine’s gaze snapped to hers. “Don’t you think his lack of fidelity says something about his character?”

“I love him, and I want to be his wife.”

“What do you know about being in love?” Her mother snorted. “You’re not even eighteen. And what about your plans to go to medical school?”

Jake turned Margie’s face toward him. “Sweetheart, you didn’t tell me you wanted to be a doctor.”

“See.” Her mother waved toward him. “You don’t know a thing about each other, and you want to tie yourself to him for the rest of your life? Over my dead body. I was pushed into a shotgun marriage, and your father ran around on me my entire pregnancy. I’m not letting this skirt-chaser destroy your life, too.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Jake stared into Margie’s eyes and smiled. “Your daughter has come to mean a great deal to me. I swear I’ll be faithful to her.”

“You’re damn straight it won’t happen, because I’m taking her for an abortion.”

“I will do no such thing!” Margie began to hyperventilate.

“Mrs. Hunter, you don’t have anything to say about it. You can either accept this and wish us well, or you can say good-bye to your daughter when she turns eighteen next week. And that will be the last you’ll see of her. Either way, I’m coming back for her after she graduates, and we’re getting married.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, what’s it going to be?”

Margie almost hoped her mother would kick her out so she wouldn’t have to stay there when Jake left. Katherine pursed her lips and stared at him for several minutes before she raised her hands in surrender. “As you say, I have no choice.”

Jake jerked his head toward the door. “Walk me out to the car, Rosebud.”

Trembling, she clutched his hand and strolled out to the road with him. Stepping off the curb, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. The dam containing the tears, which had threatened to spill all day, finally burst.

Holding her tightly, he stroked her hair. “Shhh—the worst is over. I’ll call you later with my motel’s phone number. If your mom gives you too hard a time, I’ll come right back for you.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her deeply. “I’ll stop by here before you go to school tomorrow so we can say goodbye before my flight leaves.”

“Okay.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Thank you for handling her.”

He brushed Margie’s hair back from her face and grazed her lips with another light kiss. As Jake drove off, she glanced up at the house and saw her mother scowling at her out the window. She’d seen everything.

And nothing.

Her mother had no idea of the gentle tenderness Jake was capable of. The reverent way he’d loved her the last two nights had been more beautiful than if they’d actually had sex. He’d insisted on waiting until they were married before claiming that privilege again, so they’d spent half the night in a sensual exploration of each other. Margie had learned the scent, texture, and taste of nearly every inch of Jake.

She treasured the memory of his teasing kisses and the sounds of pleasure he’d made in her ear to accompany the sweet words he’d whispered throughout the night.

No one
. Not her mother, not Jake, nor even a panel of psychiatrists would ever convince Margie she wasn’t in love with Jacob Nicholas Manion III.

~~~

Dawn crept through the cracks between the blinds and nudged Jake awake. As a ray of morning light snuck past his eyelashes, he bolted upright in Maggie’s bed.

Shit! It was morning. Alex and Emma would be wondering what happened to him.

He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t six yet. He should be able to get home before they got up. After tugging on his boxer shorts and jeans, he planted a kiss on Maggie’s cheek as he zipped his fly and whispered, “I’ll call you later, Rosebud.”

Shrugging on his shirt, he rushed into the living room to hunt down his sneakers. He wiggled his bare feet into them and stuffed his socks in his shirt pocket.

The Vantage slid around the curves like a lover’s caress as he sped home, replaying the previous night in his head. He felt like a damn adolescent after having sex for the first time. Instead of being sated, he wanted Maggie more than ever.

All those years of dreaming about her must have been about more than just bitterness. After all, would he have been so angry if he hadn’t been falling in love with her nineteen years ago?

At six-fifteen, he tiptoed through the laundry room. His heart leapt into his throat as he swung open the kitchen door and nearly bowled his son over.

Alex’s eyes narrowed to two suspicious slits. “Where’d you go so early?”

Jake bit his lip while heat crept up his neck. “I, uhh....I went out to get bagels, but the shop wasn’t open yet.”

One corner of his son’s mouth turned up. Alex glanced down and pointed at Jake’s chest. “Is that a new fashion trend I haven’t heard about?”

“What?

“Carrying your socks in your pocket instead of wearing them.” Alex chuckled, tipping his head, studying Jake’s shirt. “You’re buttoned crooked, too. Were you running
late
to be
too early
for the bagels?”

“Very funny.”

“You’re just getting home, aren’t you? You know the house rules, Dad. You made them. Call, no matter what time it is.”

“I’m sorry.”

Alex lifted his eyebrows and grinned. “So? Where were you all night?”

“None of your business. And if you’re smart, you’ll keep your mouth shut to your wife.”

“Maggie’s, huh? If you don’t want Em to know, I suggest you head to your room. She’ll be out here any second to fix breakfast.” Alex grabbed his arm to stop him. “And I hope you’re practicing safe sex, Dad. That’s my mother-in-law you’re messing around with.”

Jake glared at him and stomped toward his bedroom followed by his son’s laughter. Alex should only know how irresponsible his father had been.

By the time Jake finished showering and shaving, his son had already left for work. Emma had been doing all of the cooking, cleaning, and laundry since she’d moved in. When Jake finally meandered back to the kitchen, she placed a stack of steaming blueberry pancakes at his place and poured him a cup of coffee and orange juice.

“You know, Emma, I appreciate all of your help, but you don’t have to do everything around here. You’re spoiling me.”

“That’s okay, Mr. M. Alex and I want to pay our own way and do our share.”

It seemed, no matter what he did, Emma refused to warm back up toward him.

He took a bite of blueberry pancakes and let out a soft groan. “Umm, these are incredible. Alex must’ve gone to work a happy man. Did your mother teach you to cook?”