Dancing Barefoot (25 page)

"
We'll be there," Sela said with absolute certainty. "Jessie has a right to be there, don't you think? Simone or no Simone."

"
Yes, she should be there." Jane nodded at him. "Will Kevin be there?"

He laughed again and nodded slowly without looking away from Jane. "I cannot believe you want to be set up with him, but, yes, he will be there. He is always with me. I cannot get rid of him."

The buzzer sounded and all four of them swiveled to look at the door. Sela stood first to answer it.

"It's Kevin," came the response.

Everyone in the room started laughing. Jane blushed and smoothed her hands over her hair.

Jacques leaned close to Jessica's ear and whispered, "
Are you upset with me?"

She swiveled on the floor so that she faced him and kissed him in response. Slowly. Her lips soft against his, savoring the taste of wine on his lips and the feel of his hard body stretched against hers on the floor.

"I have decided not to quit," Kevin announced as he stood, hands on hips in the doorway and looked beyond Sela to where Jacques sat on the floor. "Are you going to apologize?"

"It is Ava who needs to apologize," Jacques replied, looking defeated and overly tired when he met her gaze.

He walked immediately to the food and started looking through the cartons before settling onto the floor next to Jane who grinned at him like a woman with a secret. "What happened to the big dinner at the restaurant? Did it catch on fire? Sorry. Bad joke." He glanced at Jane. "I'm Kevin, the assistant."

"I'm Jane, the long time college friend." She clicked her wine glass against his. "No fire, but there was some drama."

"Is it a full moon or something?" Kevin asked.

"We should be going." Sela looked longingly at the half-full wine bottle before standing.
"We all need to work in the morning."

She winced at the idea of going to work and seeing Charlie. Reputation mattered at the firm whose clients were some of the wealthiest in
New England. Public displays like the one tonight were frowned upon. She rubbed the back of her neck, the reality of the situation dampening her optimism.

"
You nine to fivers mystify me." Kevin saluted Jessica with a glass of wine, his eyes full of gratitude rather than humor. "To Jessica," he said, "I can see why Jacques fell in love with you...twice."

She nodded, suddenly overcome with emotion.
She hated that Simone had won this battle. She left it to Sela and Jane to entertain Kevin and walked to the bedroom. Her friends were comfortable enough in her house that she didn't mind leaving them alone. She needed a moment to breathe.

B
ehind closed doors, she collapsed onto the bed and pressed her hands over her eyes. Marc's betrayal ripped her to shreds, more than she could admit to anyone out there. Her heart vibrated with rage. Breathing heavily, she allowed all of the moments of their relationship to trip through her mind. Funny how a change of perspective colored everything with new light.

* * *

Jacques cleaned the kitchen in silence, happy to have an activity to occupy his mind. Everyone had retreated to their own spaces, including the dinner guests who had caught a cab minutes ago. The weight of what Simone had done sank onto his shoulders. She had told the world about the one secret that he had wanted to bury forever. Showing his face in public seemed impossible after that. He hated how Ava looked at him like he had let her down in the worst possible way.

If he had any self-respect, he would leave Boston before the exhibit and save his family and friends from ever needing to stand by him and put themselves at risk. He had heard Jessica's admission about her career being at risk because of what had happened with her mother. What would her firm think of her being engaged to an accused
—albeit acquitted—murderer?

Head bent, he gripped the side of the kitchen counter and exhaled a long breath.
Compromising to be with Simone on the one night where Jessica deserved to be by his side felt like a hundred different kinds of wrong.

He tensed when he felt Jessica's hands move up his back. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I took a bath, finished off the wine, but I'm waiting for you," she said.

"I should have kept my exhibit in Manhattan, spared you from all of this. I could have—"

"Then I would have read about it or heard about it somewhere and I would have come to you. I would have found you." She wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her head against his back.

"You would have?" He turned within the circle of her arms and tilted her chin up with his finger. "
A week ago—"

"Stop doing that. I want to accept that we are what we are and let it be."

"How can I date and romance you if I am supposedly someone else's boyfriend?"

"I'm not worried about it."
She unbuttoned his shirt without looking away from his eyes.

"How is you mother?"

"She's in the hospital, probably destined for another trip to rehab." She shrugged even though her eyes filled with tears. "It's been a helluva week, that's for sure."

He wiped a tear away with his thumb. "
I'm sorry I wasn't there with you. I would have punched Marc in the face."

"
I think we have had enough trouble for the time being. I don't want to bail you out of jail." She spread her fingers wide against his bare chest before skimming her fingertips down to his abdomen. "But I love that you would have done that for me."

She kissed the center of his chest before pulling at the zipper of his jeans.

"I would do anything for you." He pushed the robe from her shoulders and watched it fall in a pool of black silk at her feet.

Her tongue flicked over his abdomen as she knelt lower, her hands pushing his jeans over his thighs. He enjoyed watching her love him, especially now when he didn't feel too loveable.

Her hand closed over his erection before she kissed first one side of his shaft and then the other. She glanced up at him as she licked the tip. Hot breath caressed the sensitive skin while her tongue slid around the edges and her lips closed over him.

He moved his hands through her hair and whispered, "We have visitors upstairs."

She stood slowly, gliding her hands to move from his hips all the way to his shoulders, and kissed his neck.

He lifted her into his arms and held her close for a minute, simply hugging her, skin on skin, and breathing in the scent of her hair.
"Tu m'as manqué, mon amour."

"I missed you, my love," she repeated the English translation against his ear. "See? I told you I learned all the useful phrases."

Holding her close, he kicked his ankles free of the pants that bound him and carried her down the hall. "Now tell me in Italian."

"Are you testing me?" She smiled against his mouth.
"I bought Rosetta Stone for French and Italian, what can I say? I've had a lot of time on my hands thinking of you all these years. But I still only know—"

"The useful phrases, yes." He laughed as he kissed her.
"Tell me anything in Italian."

"
Tu sei il mio cuore e non sarà mai lasciarti andare."
You are my heart and I will never let you go.

He paused, surprised that she answered so effortlessly. Longing for what should have been was
hed over him. He kissed her as he eased her back onto the bed. His hands moved over her with tenderness as if discovering her body for the first time. She mirrored his gentleness as her fingers barely touched his face and her feet grazed the side of his legs.

Every kiss, each breath moved in time with one another. Slow. Lingering. Touches became promises. Whispers transformed into vows.
Moonlight fell through the window, creating shadows on their bodies as they moved together, rolled across the sheets, laughed softly as they joined together in a steady rhythm that left no room for doubts.

He laced his fingers through hers as he thrust inside her and felt her body embrace his. Her legs wrapped around his hips, binding him to her. He had been wrong when he thought he had never known what 'home' meant. This feeling of belonging, of knowing, of security, of love...this was home. Jessica equaled home. Home equaled Jessica.

* * *

Chapter
Seventeen

Her feet pounded on the pavement with a persistent thud. Sunrise peeked over the Charles River where rowers skimmed with absolute precision over the water. After this week, she had needed a hard run before beginning her day. Her mind snapped with possible
scenarios for the day. She hoped Charlie wouldn't mention last night's fiasco. They had enough challenges facing them with demolition beginning today. The fire had aided them in many ways.

She faltered, breathing more labored than normal at the thought of losing Jacques to Simone. A day, a week, a month, a year, all
were too long in her opinion. Thoughts rocked her brain, rattled her like one aftershock after another. Hands on her hips, she walked into the park and stared at the river leading to the sea with the glass and stone buildings of Boston rising around it. A group laid out yoga mats on the grass, their laughter and conversation drifting to her as they prepared.

I'm tired of co
mpromising.
She rubbed the sole of her shoe against the ground before stretching out her hamstring. Her gaze rested on the high-rise building that housed her office. She counted up the floors until finding hers.

Simone, Marc, Simone, Marc...to hell with them both.
A hard run usually silenced the murmurings of regret. Not today. Today they persisted their quiet goading.  

Focus. She gulped from her water bottle, gaze drifting again toward the sunrise. Think. With renewed intensity, she jogged toward home. She concentrated on the rhythm of her breath, the sweat on her bare arms, and the sunlight on her neck.

“Jessica!” Sam, her downstairs’ neighbor, called as he passed on his bike.  “You’re slow today. I finally beat you home!”

“I’m older than you, remember.” She waved, the platinum ring on her hand caught the sunlight and reminded her that she needed to fight for what belonged to her.

She took the stairs of the brownstone two at a time, narrowly missing Sam’s discarded bike, and searched her pocket for the key to the security door. Black curls danced in front of her eyes as she struggled with the lock. 

Unwanted thoughts of another apartment building in Florence, Italy, slammed into her mind.
Bella Italia
. Keys fell from trembling fingers.

“Problems with the lock?” Sam opened the door from inside. 

“Thanks, I guess I’m a bit off my game today.” 

She walked the remaining stairs to her apartment. She yanked the iPod from her arm and zombie-walked to the shower.

Water poured over her face. Steam fogged the room. She flattened her hand against the tile, held a deep breath and counted to ten. Then twenty. 

"I love it when you come home all sweaty and wound up." Jacques stepped into the shower behind her and slid his hands over wet breasts.

She closed her eyes and sighed when his mouth created havoc on the back of her neck. "Don't leave, it's not the right thing to do. You know it as well as I do."

He turned her around and
worshiped her body, hands seeking, exploring, claiming. His mouth slid between her legs, finger slipping inside while his other hand held her wrist. 

Strength evaporated with a moan. Legs betrayed her. Head dropped against the tile. “Please, I am begging you.”

“I love it when you beg.” His laugh tickled her abdomen as he slid up her torso to reclaim her mouth. 

“Stop torturing me.” Both hands curled into his hair and held him firm against her. 

He lifted her leg and plunged deep inside her. For a moment, she forgot that five years had passed, forgot the pain she had caused, forgot that there had ever been anyone else for either of them, forgot everything that no longer mattered. 

She linked her legs behind his hips and buried her fingernails into his shoulders. Tongues collided with the rhythm of his hips. Warm water flowed over their joined bodies.

With him she had known more intensity for life at large than either before or since. Time—or the lack of—didn't matter. Their souls recognized one another.

Eyes heavy with satisfaction,
he grinned against her mouth. "I love you. Know what else I love?"

"What?" She curled her fingers into his wet hair.

"Being able to say that again. I love you." He kissed her chin. "I love you." He kissed her mouth.

"Stay with me." She held his face against hers and looked into his eyes as the water ran cold. "She made her big announcement last night. So what? Who cares? It's meaningless where we are concerned."