His First Choice (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

H
E
THOUGHT
ABOUT
having sex with her. About once a minute. Interspersed with keeping his mind on their conversation. More when they weren't actually talking, like when she bent over to look in the pond to meet Levi's goldfish—all of which had names. She learned them, too.

He thought about sex with her a lot as they ate and she slipped the fork between her lips and back out again.

But he thought of a lot of other things, too. Like how much he wanted to ask her out again, to have her over again.

Alone. And when Levi was home.

They talked a little bit about the world, society. Mostly in terms of bringing up a child in tumultuous and rapidly changing times. Her views mirrored his, and he hadn't even told her where he stood. Not that that surprised him.

He had no idea who up there was in charge of this stuff, but he actually had the thought that maybe she had been picked especially for him.

He also knew that he was getting way ahead of himself.

She'd agreed to have dinner with him, not get married.

Not that he was getting married, either. He just wanted...more.

Sex, yes, but even more than that.

The sun had set. Their dishes were empty—Jem had eaten the last couple of bites of steak from her plate. They each had a little wine left in the bottom of their glasses. There was some in the bottle, too. Enough to take inside with them.

“What time did you tell Kacey we'd be home?” Levi was going to bed at Lacey's and probably wouldn't even wake up when Jem transported him to his car seat and then to his bed at his house. Even if he did, he'd go right back to sleep.

“I didn't. She said stay out as late as we want.” She smiled in the way that made him think she was hiding something. Or enjoying a private thought.

He wanted in.

“What did she really say?”

“That she didn't want me to ruin the evening with a timetable. I'm supposed to relax and just let everything flow.”

He nodded. “I like that.”

“How am I doing?”

“You tell me.”

“I think we're flowing along pretty well.”

He grinned. He knew. But it was still good to hear.

“Do you ever get angry?” He just had to ask.

“Of course! Everyone does.”

Watching her beneath the soft outdoor lighting he'd installed, he said, “I want to see you in a bad mood.”

The words didn't sound anything out loud as they had in his mind. He just couldn't imagine Lacey screaming trash like Tressa did. Like his older sister, JoAnne, had when he'd been growing up and their parents went out and left her in charge.

“What? You want to see me in a bad mood? Why?”

The look she was giving him could have made him feel odd. Except that it seemed warm somehow. Maybe he needed to slow down on the wine.

“They say you don't truly know someone until you've seen them at their worst. I want to really know you.” Now, that had come out as he'd meant it to.

“So...you show me your worst and I'll show you mine.”

He grinned. “I don't think I can find it right now.”

“Me, either.”

Leaning forward, he reached for her and pulled her toward him. She stood, and so did he. They were just standing there, looking at each other.

“You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” he said.

She shook her head. “You've seen...”

With a finger to her lips, he silenced her.

“But it's true, Jem,” she said softly, her gaze seeming to implore him to understand. “Life's hard enough to deal with without hiding from the truth. One of the things you learn as an identical twin is that you are not original.”

“But you are individual, Lacey. I know Kacey. I've seen her. Spent a lot of time with her. And she's beautiful. Sweet. Kind. But I look at you, I see into your eyes, and there's...more. Your eyes show me the essence of you, the person. Not just the body with features identical to your sister's. You could dress like Kacey and she could dress like you and I'd know you instantly.”

He had no doubt of that. He just wasn't sure how to convince her. And sensed it was vital that he do it.

With both hands, he pushed the hair back from her shoulders, let his fingers trail down her arms to her waist. Beneath the loose tunic. To the smooth skin he'd yet to see.

Lacey's hands were on his hips, almost on top of his belt. And when he moved forward, she tilted his way, into him, touching his lips as he touched hers. Pressing into him. They were melting. Her. Him.

He'd imagined starting off slowly—testing her waters, moving cautiously through the waves of desire. Tasting her lips and pulling back. Instead, her mouth opened—or his did—and their tongues were meeting as if they'd known each other their entire lives.

His penis almost exploded. Hands shaking, he held on to her, thinking that he'd sit, pull her onto his lap. Ease a small bit of his excruciating pain.

Or masochistically make it worse.

And his doorbell rang. The sound came to him faintly at first. Almost something he could ignore. Until his brain computed what it had been. His lips left Lacey's.

“That was my doorbell.”

“You expecting someone?” Her smile definitely belonged in his bedroom.

“No.”

The dread in his gut told him who it could be.

If he left Tressa standing outside, with his truck in the drive, where he'd left it so she'd know he was home and relax and leave him alone, she'd keep ringing. Or worse, come around back. She couldn't get through the privacy fence. But she could find a knothole to look through...

“Probably just a neighbor, maybe with some misdelivered mail,” he said inanely, feeling like a two-timing jerk in a bad comedy. “I'll be right back.”

The absolute last thing he wanted to do right then was leave Lacey standing out there alone.

The second last thing was to face Tressa.

So maybe it wasn't her.

He hoped to God it wasn't her.

He'd warned her about showing up at his place.

If she was there, it meant she was in a bad enough mood that she didn't give a damn.

And that was not on his agenda for the evening.

Or any evening.

He knew before he got to the door that it was Tressa. He saw her car parked behind his truck in the driveway. Her way of blocking him in. Holding him captive to her.

Hurrying to the door, before she got more upset and insisted on searching his house to see what he was doing with their son there, he hoped to God his lips didn't look kissed as he pulled open the door.

“What's wrong?” he asked the second he saw her.

“Nothing. I just...wanted to see Levi.”

“He's in bed, already asleep.”

“So, I can peek in on him.”

“No, Tressa. You know our agreement. My home is my space.” He was not going to let her drama into his world.

“I just want to see him, Jem. He gets his cast off soon and I just... I feel horrible that it happened, and...”

Her tears softened the steel around his heart. Tressa really did care. She loved Levi. And he knew how much she let things eat her up inside.

“You'll wake him up, and since he knows he only sees Mommy at her house, he'll be confused. Hasn't he already been through enough?” He hated to use her own tactics against her, feeling dirty, like he was becoming her, but since he obviously couldn't do as she wanted—mostly because Levi wasn't in his room—she left him no choice.

A chair scraped against a paver outside. He realized, too late, that he'd left the sliding glass door open in his haste to prevent a Tressa meltdown.

Turning her sharp gaze from behind him, to Jem, she said, “You have someone here.”

Not now, Tressa. For God's sake, not now.

“A buddy is out back sharing a beer with me.”

“Don't lie to me, Jem.”

“Fine. I'm on a date. We just finished dinner.”

“With Levi in the house?” Her voice had already raised an octave, the sharpness growing more acute.

He wanted to help her. To make her see how she looked when she got this way. To hear how she sounded. He knew she didn't mean it. And would be sorry later. She'd make it up to him.

Except that it just wasn't possible anymore. Because he knew that no matter how sorry she was, there'd be another time. And so—God help him—he'd taken their son and walked out on her when she'd thrown out the divorce challenge one particularly exhausting Sunday afternoon.

“Single father's date, Tressa. And it's just dinner. Outside.”

“No. Don't you pull that bullshit on me, Jem Bridges.” Tressa's voice rose another octave. “You forget, I know you.”

He hoped none of his neighbors had their windows open. One of the reasons he'd made the stipulation that Tressa couldn't come to his house was because he couldn't stand the way people looked at him after one of her screaming episodes. Like he should somehow be able to stop her.

Like he must have done something pretty heinous to have upset her like that.

“You can't wait to stick it in her, can you?” she spat. Literally. Her saliva landed on his chin. “You're nothing but a whore, Jem Bridges. A whore! I worked like a dog, helping you get where you are, supporting all the long hours, the responsibilities I had to take on alone, while you climbed up in your world. And now that you're the boss, what do you do? Do you take care of me? The one who had your back during the hard years? No. You walk out on me. On our family. So you can whore around. You think I don't know what's going on?”

“It's not what you think, Tressa.” It wasn't a one-night stand, a cheap liaison. But she'd like the truth even less. Because if Jem had another woman in his life, she'd lose even more control...

“I see that twinkle in your eye, Jem,” she said. “It hasn't been there in a long time. I'd actually forgotten it. Until suddenly—ta-da!—here it is. Just like you to rub my face in it.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Tressa had no right looking into his soul. He'd taken all rights back from her when he'd left their marriage.

“You're a damned loser, Jem. You know it, and so do I. She's welcome to you.”

She turned to leave and Jem breathed a sigh of relief. Until she turned back. “Don't you think you're going to get away with this, Jem.” Her voice was lowered, but not enough. “I came over here to make love with you. Because I know it's been a while for you and I know you have your needs, and how do you repay my kindness?” If a guy could die of the cringes, he'd be gone. “This is how you repay me? By tramping around on me? Well, forget it, buddy. You better hope you get some from her, because you sure as hell aren't getting it from me. This door is closed.”

He'd heard that one so many times it didn't even faze him. He only wished it were true. When was Tressa going to figure out that he couldn't get it up for her anymore? Not even if he'd wanted to.

“I hate you,” she said. “If Levi weren't asleep, I'd take him out of this house right now. He's way too good for you, Jem. I wish to God you weren't his father.”

She'd been back down the walk as she spoke. Reaching the grass, she turned and fled to her car.

But not before he'd seen the tears pouring down her face.

She was hurting. More than she could bear.

And he was sorry.

* * *

S
HE
HADN
'
T
WANTED
to overhear, had tried her best not to. But then, when she'd resigned herself to her fate, she'd tried to hear every word so that she could know what they were dealing with. She'd expected him to reappear as soon as the screaming stopped. She heard the front door shut and heard Tressa's car starting up in the distance.

It was another two or three minutes before Jem reappeared. His gaze sought hers. And then moved away.

“I'm assuming you heard that?” he asked almost nonchalantly as he stacked their dirty dishes, silverware on top.

“Most of it.” All of it. But having counseled many people on the victim end of abuse, she wanted to spare him as much humiliation as she could.

Instead of sitting and talking to her like she expected, he carried their dishes into the house and came back for their wineglasses.

“Sorry about that, I just wanted to get them rinsed and in the dishwasher before stuff hardened.”

Since when did steak juice harden? But she understood. He'd needed time to collect himself.

He might be forgetting, but this wasn't her first rodeo. Or even her fiftieth.

“And I'm sorry about back there, too.”

“You have no reason to apologize.”

Their wineglasses sat on the table, untouched. The bottle looked forlorn next to them.

“You ready to go?” He was still just standing there.

“If you want me to,” she said, not sure what was going on. Weren't they going to talk about what had just happened?

He knew what she did for a living.

“Of course I don't want you to, but I'm sure you want to. Come on, I'll take you home.” He reached out a hand to her.

She ignored it. “If I wanted to go home, I'd say so, Jem.”

Even if he wanted her to go, she didn't feel like she should. What she'd just witnessed... It had strengthened the suspicions she'd been having since Sunday. Mara was right. Levi was being abused. By his mother.

The woman was clearly out of control.

She thought Jem was going to argue with her, insist on taking her home. He surprised her when he sat down.

“Kind of ruined the evening,” he said.

“Not unless we let it.”

His grin was forced.

And Lacey wasn't sure what to do. She was too close. Couldn't find her boundaries...