An Offer He Can't Refuse (19 page)

She took a deep breath.

When she heard the jingle of keys, she clasped her hands together and turned toward the door. Only it wasn’t Jackson who walked through the door. It was Sheila, the same woman who had shown up at their wedding, and she looked like a million bucks.

Why would Jackson bring her here to their house? But it wasn’t their house, she reminded herself. It was
his
house and he’d thought she would be gone tonight.

Jackson followed Sheila in, chuckling over some amusing tidbit shared between just the two of them. Sheila let out a small cough in an obvious attempt to catch Jackson’s attention, no doubt to let him know the jig was up—they’d been found out.

Jackson looked up, both of his thick, two-timing brows lifting in surprise when he saw her.

Madison’s eyes stung. The decked out table behind her was going to give her away. The last thing she wanted was for Jackson to see all the trouble she’d gone to. “Oh, you’re home,” she said indifferently. “I was just on my way out.” She turned about and blew out the candles.

The soft, romantic music playing in the background wasn’t helping matters. She scuttled over to the stereo, tripping on the Persian rug in her haste to make a hasty getaway. “You two go ahead and do whatever you were about to do,” she said with a casual wave of her hand. “Don’t mind me.”

Neither Jackson nor Sheila moved.

As Madison gathered the Waterford crystal from the table and returned it to the hutch, she said, “I was just leaving, so your timing couldn’t have been better. I’m supposed to—”

Madison’s mind went suddenly blank. She was supposed to do what? Her heart was lodged in her throat. Her eyes misted. Blinking, she inwardly scolded herself for even entertaining the idea of crying in front of the man. She’d never forgive herself.

“It appears that your wife had plans.” Sheila’s voice resembled the purr of a well-tuned Mercedes: buttery soft, elegant…expensive.

Madison shook her head. “No, no. I had no plans. I happened to see a television show the other day about setting tables. I thought I’d give it a whirl. That’s all.” She collected the napkins and shoved them in the top drawer of the hutch. This was ridiculous. What had she been thinking? That Jackson was going to gaze into her eyes, tell her she was the only woman for him, and then confess his love for her? What a fool she was.
Always the fool
.

Jackson came to her side and touched her arm, setting her back in motion. Leaning over the wide mahogany table, Madison picked up the silverware and tried to pretend he wasn’t even there.

“Sheila stopped by the office to apologize for the scene at the wedding,” he explained, “and to invite us both out for a drink.”

He sounded sincere. They always did when they’d been caught red-handed.

“I was hoping you would come, too.”

Madison looked into his eyes. “Is that so?”

He looked at the glinting forks in her hand. “Are you upset about something?”

Tall, gorgeous Sheila, who should be gracing the cover of
Vogue
, waited patiently by the front entrance. No, she wasn’t upset. Liar. Madison pointed the forks at her chest. “Me? Upset? Whatever gave you that idea? You didn’t think this”—she pointed to the table—“was for you, did you?”

He looked at the table as if he were noticing it for the first time. “It wasn’t?”

“Of course not,” she said, feigning a chuckle. “I told you I was going out tonight, but I never told you who with. You probably assumed it was Jen.”

Jackson appeared baffled.

She breezed past him, making her way to the hutch. She opened the silverware drawer and threw in the forks. She should’ve known that there wasn’t a man in the world who could love just her.

“You’ve got my curiosity piqued,” Jackson said. “Who were you meeting?”

“You mean, who
am
I meeting?”

“Okay, that’s what I mean.”

His mouth was a straight line. She’d made him angry. She didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
Stop now before you bury yourself, Madison. Before you say something you don’t mean
.

Sheila cleared her throat.

They both ignored her.

“His name is Zachary,” Madison lied. She watched Sheila make herself comfortable on the Colonial Revival settee in the marbled entry. Probably placed there for just this sort of occasion. Jackson’s little waiting area.

“Zachary.” Jackson repeated. “I haven’t heard you mention him before. A friend of Adam’s?”

She put a hand to her chest. “No, no. Zachary is a man. A
real
man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sheila sighed. “I think what she means—”

They both silenced her with twin glares.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Madison told Jackson with a sigh. “I really should get going.”

“This
real
man is picking you up?”

“Of course he is. If he wasn’t real, how could he pick me up?” She forced a small laugh. “He should be here any minute.”

Jackson stood in her way.

Madison crossed her arms over her chest. Now that she’d calmed some, she decided to see what he had to say for himself. “Why would you stop by the house, if you thought I was out?”

“I tried to call before I left. The line was busy.”

She remembered the phone in the kitchen, the one she’d taken off the hook so nobody could interrupt them tonight. She was struck with an incredible urge to crawl under a rug and die.

Jackson’s jaw twitched. “Wait right here,” he said. He walked over to Sheila and told her he was sorry but it would be better if they had drinks another time. She wished him all the best on his birthday before she left.

They both watched Sheila leave. The door clicked shut.

Madison didn’t know what to say, opting to stay quiet.

“Better not keep Zachary waiting,” he said.

Madison stiffened. She wanted to tell him there was no Zachary, but the words, along with her pride, were stuck in her throat like a cork. She grabbed her purse, went to the door, and glanced back at him over her shoulder. Jackson wasn’t looking her way. He didn’t try to stop her as she walked out.

~~~

Jackson rubbed the back of his neck.

The saying, “Never a dull moment,” crossed his mind.

The last few months had been incredible, but somehow he had let himself forget how relationships work—or more precisely, how they didn’t work. After he loosened his tie, he picked up the gift box from the table and untied the gold ribbon.

Zachary
.

He gritted his teeth at the thought of Madison with another man. Obviously, she hadn’t forgotten this marriage was temporary. No strings attached. How in the world had
he
forgotten?

He pulled the lid off the box.

He cared way too much about Madison. One kiss in a coffee shop was all it had taken for him to know she was special. He’d never met another woman as charming or as exciting.

A glint of gold caught his eye. Inside the box was a wedding band. The card read:

To Jackson, you make me feel special.

Thank you for taking me up on my offer so many months ago
.

He stared at the ring for a moment. There was an inscription. He picked up the ring and examined it closer.
I love you. Madison
.

His stomach contracted into a tight ball. He went to the window. Peering out, he could see Madison’s silhouette as she leaned against a palm in the driveway, the breeze sweeping her hair from her face. No eyeglasses tonight. The goddess of darkness…waiting for a man who didn’t exist.

He smiled, and then looked down at the ring and placed it back in the box. She loved him. The words conjured up feelings of wonder and…claustrophobia.

Love and marriage equaled commitment, obligations, responsibilities. With mixed emotions, he slid the box into his pocket, along with the hopeless realization that he wasn’t ready to give up his freedom.

Heading outside, he knew it was time to tell her the truth about Heather. The truth was all he could give her.

~~~

Damn
. Madison heard footsteps coming down the driveway. She held perfectly still, praying he wouldn’t notice her standing there. Maybe he was just putting his car away for the—

“Zachary hasn’t arrived, I see.”

Grimacing, she pushed herself away from the tree. “I guess I’ve been stood up.”

“Looks that way.”

The moonlight cast its shadowy light, highlighting his bluish-black hair, rugged five o’clock shadow and square, disciplined jaw.

For a moment, nobody said a word.

Finally, Madison gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m sure this’ll be one birthday you’ll always want to remember.”

He gave her a subtle nod. “It’s getting cold. Why don’t you come inside? If Zachary shows up, I’m sure he’ll honk or come to the door.”

She sighed. “There is no Zachary.”

“You don’t say?” Sarcasm laced his words.

“You knew all along?”

“Not
all
along.” He took a strand of her hair between his fingers and played with it. “Why is it so difficult for you to trust me, to be honest with me?”

Shivers coursed over her. She took his offered hand and let him lead her toward the house. “A lot of reasons, I guess.” She watched the hard angles of his jaw as they went along. “I’ve never known a married man who didn’t have a woman waiting in the wings. My dad, my grandfather, my grandfather’s father—”

“I didn’t know my father,” Jackson told her, “but from what my mother used to tell me, I’d bet he never strayed.”

Madison smiled at his certainty. “Sometimes I feel as if I’m always fighting my instincts and my heart. I can’t quite shake the idea that my life doesn’t have to reflect everything that’s happened in my youth, or even in the not-so-distant past.”

“The past is the past.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry about tonight. I acted like a fool.”

“I was the fool. I should have come up to the house first to warn you. But it’s over now. The past—”

“Is the past.”

He squeezed her hand.

Beneath a full, bright moon, the chirping of crickets serenaded them up the wide expanse of stairs and into the house. They stepped inside, and Madison noticed that the gift box was gone.

He’d seen the ring. He knew.

Madison swallowed dryly. She gazed into his eyes, breathed in his scent. “Loving someone doesn’t have to be an obligation,” she said. “Loving someone can be liberating, freeing.”

Sadness lined his face.

Tell me you love me
. But she could see he wasn’t ready. She felt married in every sense of the word, and yet to Jackson, this was still a business deal.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Judging by the tone of his voice, she thought she knew where this was headed. And Jen was right. She wasn’t ready to hear it. “Not tonight,” she said in a low voice. “It’s your birthday. Let’s forget all about Sheila—and Zachary,” she teased, “and celebrate your birthday together.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled her head against his chest. When she looked at him, he pressed his lips to hers, and she closed her eyes and prayed he’d see what she already did—that they were made for each other.

Chapter Thirteen

It was Saturday. Another week had come and gone. Jackson sauntered into the kitchen wearing a soft terrycloth robe. He took a seat at the kitchen table and admired Madison’s backside as she reached high into the cupboard.

“The kids should be here in about an hour,” she told him as she poured coffee into two mugs.

“Kids?”

“Eight of them, maybe nine.”

“Nine kids?”

“I mentioned it over a week ago,” she said, handing him his coffee.

“You are one tricky lady, you know that?”

He set his cup on the table, hooked the elastic band of the boxers she wore with one finger and pulled her snugly between his legs. “You must have told me in the middle of heated passion.”

She rolled her eyes. “You were in the shower and I said, ‘The kids are coming over next week.’ And you said, ‘Anything you want, baby.’”

Jackson raised a skeptical brow. “I said that?”

She nodded.

“It’s coming back to me now, but barely.” His stubbled jaw grazed her arm, making her tingle. “If I do recall, you were naked,” he told her. He trailed a finger beneath her T-shirt, over her belly, between her breasts. “I don’t think that’s considered fair play.”

“You were naked, too,” she said.

His mouth followed his finger now. His tongue began to play havoc with her body. Her hands rested on his shoulders, toying with the thick curls at his nape. She breathed in his clean, soapy scent and once again tried to forget he wouldn’t be
hers
for very much longer. Although they had yet to have the “talk” Jackson had referred to on his birthday, she knew it wouldn’t be long in coming. Nothing could stop the tick of the clock. Their time together would soon be coming to an end and she would move back to her own house.

His hands cupped her buttocks, kneading her flesh. “What were we talking about?” he asked in that husky voice of his. “Something about being fair?”

She whimpered, her fingers splayed against the back of his head, bringing his mouth impossibly closer to her breast. Even after making love all night, she was hot for him. His mouth changed directions, trailed downward, over her belly button.

He paused, peeking up at her. “Kids. We were talking about kids.”

She moaned. “Forget about the kids. Forget about everything but pleasing me.”

“Have you forgotten about pleasing me?” he asked.

She leaned low and brushed her lips over his hard jaw. “Thirty minutes ago you said it pleased you to please me. So I am thinking of you as well.”

“Hmmm, why do I get the feeling that the fox has once again out-witted the wolf?” He stood, pulled her against him and then slid her legs around his waist. He headed out the kitchen and toward the stairs. But desire overwhelmed them both. They were frantic and they had no time to get to the bedroom. Instead, they removed each other’s clothes as Jackson tried to stay upward. He pulled his lips from hers and said, “To hell with it!” He laid her down right there on the Persian rug centering the entryway. Urgently, they stripped.