Just One Kiss (8 page)

Now, however, as he stared out at the water, his
pain came in mirroring waves, sweeping through him with drowning intensity.

If his leg wasn't in a cast, he'd go jogging on the beach. He would have run until he was too tired to think, too exhausted to feel. Unfortunately, at the moment that wasn't an option.

Instead, he closed his eyes, deciding that if he didn't look at the waves breaking onto the shore, perhaps he'd stop thinking about Bobby.

It worked. Almost instantly his head filled with the memory of the kiss he'd shared with Marissa. As he remembered the sweet taste of her lips, the feel of her breasts against his chest, the heat of the sun overhead seemed to intensify.

He'd known instinctively that kissing her would be pleasant. What he hadn't expected was the raw passion, the overwhelming desire that had devoured him as he'd held her in his arms.

Surely his desire for her came solely from the fact that it had been a long time since he'd been with a woman. Surely it had nothing to do with the bewitching freckles that danced across her nose and her eyes that invited a man to drown in them.

His desire for her couldn't be because she possessed a wit that rivaled his own and made him laugh as he couldn't remember laughing in a long time. It couldn't be because that humor was quickly replaced by the ferocity of a lion where her son was concerned.

He missed them. They'd been gone from his
house only an hour, but he felt their absence. They'd swept into his life, bringing chaos and laughter, and now they were gone.

He opened his eyes and once again stared at the breaking waves. It was good that they were gone. He didn't need a freckle-faced Pollyanna and her killer kid around.

The afternoon and early-evening hours crept by slowly. Jack made a couple of phone calls, putting off the cases he could until he was more mobile.

He received a phone call telling him that Samuel Jacobson had agreed to pay all back child support to his wife and that the transfer of funds had already been accomplished.

Jack ate leftover Chinese food for supper, then sat on the sofa and turned on the television, unable to stand the pressing silence of the house any longer.

After watching two sitcoms, he realized why he rarely watched television. The sitcoms were stupid and the canned laughter irritated him.

He turned off the set and once again the silence settled around him. Why did it bother him so much now when it never had before? He didn't even want to think of what the answer might be.

He finally gave up and went to bed, falling instantly into a restless sleep. He slept late the next morning and was seated at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee when a knock resounded at his door.

Eagerly Jack struggled to his feet. She must have thought of some reason to come back. He flung open
the door, knowing he wore an expectant smile. Instead of Marissa and Nathaniel, Maria stood at his door.

The disappointment that shot through him irritated him. “What are you doing here?” he snapped. “I figured by now you would have taken your bingo winnings and left the country.” He stepped aside to allow her entry.

“I would never leave the country without making sure you were taken care of first,” Maria protested.

Jack raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Yeah, right. How much did you lose?”

Maria walked into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee and sank down at the table, her dark eyes snapping with petulance. “I was just going to play five cards, but my sister said for me to play ten. She kept telling me I was going to win. ‘Before the night is over, you'll be a big winner.'” She snorted and whirled a hand through her gray hair. “My sister, the psychic. More like my sister, the psycho.”

Despite his former foul mood, Jack laughed and sat in the chair across from her.

She sat back, as if surprised by his burst of laughter. “Now, that's a rare sound in this house.” She snapped her eyes closed. “I'm getting a vision.”

“I thought your sister was the psycho,” Jack replied dryly.

She cracked open an eyelid. “It runs in our family. Anyway…I have a vision of a woman with short
blond hair and long legs. She has a little boy…a little blond boy with dancing blue eyes. I think they have brought laughter back into this house.”

For an instant, Jack was astonished by her words, then he remembered that on the morning he'd fired Maria she had been going out when Marissa had been coming in.

“Wait…I'm getting a vision of my own,” Jack replied. “I see a bingo-losing, nosy housekeeper groveling to her former employer to get her job back.”

“Ha, I guess that proves we're both fakes.”

“So, are you coming back to work for me?”

Maria's gray eyebrows danced up on her forehead. “You are giving me a raise?”

“Nope. Not this time. I already pay you twice what the going rate is for housecleaning.”

“But I'm worth every penny.”

Jack laughed, wondering how he'd managed to surround himself with mouthy women. First Maria, then Marissa. Both women were stubborn, opinionated and filled with faith. Maria just knew that any day she was going to win the Lotto or win big at bingo. Her faith in big winnings was as devout as Marissa's was in finding Mr. Right.

“I don't grovel,” Maria said indignantly. “But if you want, I could work for you right now. My supplies are in the car.” She rose from the sofa.

“That'll work,” Jack agreed. “I'm going to pack
up a few things in Bobby's room, so make sure you dust and vacuum in there.”

Maria looked at him in surprise. That room was usually off-limits to everyone, including her. “Okay, then I'll be right back.”

Jack remained seated as Maria let herself out the door. He'd vaguely surprised himself with his statement about packing up things in Bobby's room. But he realized now the idea had been floating around in the back of his head for most of the morning.

He pulled himself to his feet and went to Bobby's bedroom. He saw the toys that would never be played with, the clothing that would now be too small to wear.

There was really no reason to hang on to the stuff. Jack knew that on Bobby's birth date he would go out and buy something appropriate for an eight-year-old. He would continue to add to the collection, but there was really no reason to hang on to the stuff Bobby would have already outgrown.

Might as well give it to somebody who could put it to use, he thought. He picked up a small blue sweater with a denim collar and pockets. It was just about the right size for the terminator. A smile curved his mouth as he thought of Nathaniel.

He wasn't sure when it had happened, but somehow the kid had gotten under his skin. There was little in the blue-eyed, blond boy to remind him of Bobby, so Jack knew his growing affection for Na
thaniel had nothing to do with transference of affections from his own son to a child like his son.

Nathaniel was simply Nathaniel. He placed the sweater back on the toddler bed, then went to the closet to look for an empty box.

When he finished boxing up the items, he'd call Marissa and tell her to come and get them.

He steadfastly refused to acknowledge how his heart leapt with the idea of seeing her one last time.

M
arissa awakened with the dawn. With Nathaniel still sleeping in the crib, she quietly got up and made coffee in the coffeemaker the motel provided. As she waited for the brew to finish, she washed and dressed.

Minutes later, with a cup of coffee in hand, she peered out the window and tried to decide how to spend the day. The sun was already peeking over the horizon, promising another warm, cloudless day, but lazing on the beach held little appeal.

She and Nathaniel had spent the whole day yesterday at the beach, playing in the sand, building castles and frolicking at the water's edge. The fresh air and sunshine had exhausted them both and they'd come back to their room, cleaned up and gone to bed early.

Maybe sight-seeing, she thought and took a sip of her coffee. Although the small town of Mason Bridge didn't particularly cater to tourists, she'd seen several shops that had looked interesting and demanded further exploration.

Jack.

His image filled her head and a tiny surge of regret swept through her as she thought of the way they had parted. He'd been angry and she'd been offended, and she wished they had parted on more amicable terms.

She frowned, steadfastly attempting to shove thoughts of him away. There was nothing to gain by entertaining thoughts of him.

She would finish her vacation, then go home and get back to her life. Jack had been an interesting diversion, but nothing more. He had been her very own ship passing in the night.

She managed to avoid thinking about Jack all day, as she and Nathaniel drove around the small town. It was just after two when they returned to their motel room. Almost immediately Nathaniel went down for a nap and Marissa unloaded the bags of items she had purchased.

She'd found a beautifully decorated trinket box for her grandmother, who collected them. She'd bought herself an oversize nightshirt that read Mason Bridge Beach. She only hoped sleeping in the shirt wouldn't evoke dreams of a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed grouch.

After tucking the trinket box into a padded compartment of her suitcase, she decided to give her grandmother a quick call and tell her again how grateful she was for the gift of the vacation.

As she sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the phone, she saw the message light blinking. She pressed the buttons to retrieve the message and was surprised to hear Jack's voice.

“Marissa…it's me. Jack…Jack Coffey. Uh…could you give me a call?” The message ended with him reciting his phone number.

Marissa committed the number to memory, but hesitated before dialing it. Why had he called? Was it possible she'd left something at his place? She ran through a quick mental checklist, but couldn't think of what she might possibly have left behind.

So why had he called? He'd sounded ill at ease, hesitant, so unlike himself.

“There's only one way to find out what he wants,” she said aloud, and quickly punched in his number. “Jack,” she said when he answered. “It's me.”

“Hi, Marissa.”

She tried to ignore the slight flutter of her heart at the sound of his deep voice. Heartburn, she told herself, probably from the burritos at lunch. “I got your message. What's up?”

“I've got something for you and I was wondering if you could come by and get it.”

“Something for me?” She frowned, wondering what it could be.

“It's not a big deal,” he added hurriedly. “Just a little something I thought you might be able to use. So, can you come and get it?”

“You mean right now?” She looked at the sleeping Nathaniel. “Nathaniel is taking a nap right now, so it will have to be some time later this afternoon.”

There was a long pause. “Why don't you come for supper? I think I've got a couple of steaks in the freezer and can manage cooking them up…unless you have other plans.”

“No, no other plans,” she said quickly. She was confused. Day before yesterday, he'd all but thrown her out of his place. Now suddenly he wanted to cook her a steak dinner?

“Why don't you and junior come by about six? I'll grill a hot dog for him.”

“Okay, then, I'll see you at six.”

Marissa hung up, as confused as ever. She almost felt as if Jack had asked her for a date. But that was ridiculous.

Still, that evening as she got ready to go to Jack's, she felt as if she were dressing for a date. She put on and took off half a dozen outfits before finally settling on a light pink sundress that was casual, yet more dressy than shorts.

A touch of mascara, a dab of lipstick and a spritz of perfume later, she proclaimed herself ready to go. With Nathaniel clad in navy shorts and shirt and
with diaper bag in hand, she got into her car and headed for Jack's place.

As she drove the short distance, she tried to still the anticipation that beat in her heart. Jack Coffey was a hopeless pessimist, a grouch and, worst of all, a man without hope…without dreams.

However, she knew it would have been easier to write him off as such had she not learned the reason he'd become such a man.

Despite his many faults, Marissa liked the man. But she refused to allow her feelings about him to deepen.

Her Mr. Right wouldn't be crabby and he wouldn't be a man without hope. She'd tried to make Bill into her Mr. Right, but it hadn't worked. She didn't intend to go through the same futility in trying to transform Jack Coffey into her Mr. Right.

When her Mr. Right entered her life she would know in an instant, and she wouldn't have to worry about changing him. He'd be perfect already.

However, she couldn't explain the sweet anticipation that rushed through her as his house came into view. She couldn't explain the flutter of excitement that rippled through her as she thought of seeing him once again.

“Daddy,” Nathaniel said as she pulled him from his car seat and started up the steps to Jack's door.

“No. Jack,” Marissa corrected her son.

Nathaniel laughed and pointed to the door. “Daddy,” he repeated.

Marissa frowned as she knocked on the door. She wasn't going to argue with a two-year-old, but this daddy fixation Nathaniel had developed worried her a little.

Jack opened the door and her breath caught slightly in her throat. Never had he looked more handsome than at the moment. He was clean shaven, with his hair neatly combed. He was dressed in a pair of navy slacks, one leg cut off to accommodate the bulk of the cast, and a pale blue short-sleeved shirt that emphasized the azure depths of his eyes. He'd apparently given up the crutches altogether now, relying on the walking cast.

“Right on time,” he said, and opened the door more fully to let her in.

She was greeted by the scents of window cleaner and furniture polish, and as they entered the living room it was obvious the place had been thoroughly vacuumed and cleaned. “The place looks great,” she said in surprise.

“Maria came yesterday,” he replied.

Marissa set Nathaniel on the floor. “Did you have to give her a raise?”

Jack grinned. “No, I got lucky. She lost her shirt at bingo and was properly contrite in her return. Come on into the kitchen.”

She took Nathaniel's hand and together the three of them went into the kitchen, where it was obvious Jack had been in the midst of making a salad.

Marissa opened the diaper bag and handed Na
thaniel several of his toys. He plopped down on the floor, seemingly content.

“Why don't you let me do that,” she said, gesturing to the salad fixings.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I have to confess, wielding a knife one-handed was making me a little nervous. How about a glass of wine?”

“That sounds great,” she agreed. There was a stiff formality between them that had not existed before, and Marissa wasn't sure what had caused it.

“Here you are.” He set a glass of red wine next to where she was chopping green peppers. “The potatoes are already baking on the grill and the charcoal is just about ready for the steaks.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “When I finish with the salad do you want me to set the table?”

“I've already done that. I thought we'd eat on the deck.”

Marissa nodded. She finished chopping the peppers and added them to the salad he'd already prepared. “Anything else?” she asked, knife poised in her hand.

“Nope. That should do it. Why don't we move to the deck and I'll get the steaks cooking.”

“All right,” she agreed.

It took them three trips to get everything they needed from the kitchen to the deck. But finally they settled in, Marissa in a chair at the table, Jack standing before the grill and Nathaniel sitting on the deck amid his favorite toys.

“How do you like your steaks?” Jack asked.

“Medium well.” She took a sip of her wine, trying to figure out why the air felt thick between them, why they were acting like strangers who knew nothing about each other.

Something had changed between them, and that change filled her with a nervous tension she hadn't felt with him before.

She took another sip of her wine and studied him as he tended the steaks on the grill. Was the tension coming from him? Because she had learned the secrets of his past? The source of his pain?

She knew he'd shared the information about Sherry and Bobby only with great reluctance and probably would never have shared it with her had she not accidentally stepped into that bedroom.

She frowned thoughtfully. Still, she didn't believe that was the reason for the underlying tension.

The steaks sizzled and the air filled with the scent of cooking meat. Jack left the grill and eased down in the chair next to her. As he did, his leg brushed against hers, and suddenly Marissa knew what had caused the change between them.

The kiss.

Her mind exploded with the memory of his mouth on hers…hot…hungry…demanding. That kiss had stirred her to the depths of her soul, stirred her as no other kiss she'd ever experienced before.

She realized in an instant that it wasn't uneasiness she was feeling—it was tension. Raw sexual tension.
Every nerve she possessed tingled and she couldn't get the memory of that kiss out of her head.

And what really bothered her was the fact that she desperately hoped he would kiss her again before the night was over.

 

She not only had freckles across the bridge of her nose, but also possessed a splattering of flirtatious freckles on her chest. Jack noticed them as she leaned forward to pat Nathaniel on the head.

The movement exposed not only her freckles, but also a flash of cleavage and the rounded curves of the top of her breasts. For a moment Jack had a lot in common with the steak on the grill. He felt himself sizzling.

Kissing her two days before had been a huge mistake. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the taste of her out of his mouth, couldn't get the feel of her warm curves pressed tightly against him out of his head.

He focused his attention on the steaks, wondering what madness had prompted his invitation for dinner. All he'd meant to do was have her come by to get the box of Bobby's things that Nathaniel might use. But when she'd called him, he'd found himself extending the dinner invitation.

He turned the steaks with a frown. It had been easier than he'd thought it would be to pack up some of the things in Bobby's room. As he'd packed them
up, memories had engulfed him…sweet memories of loving Bobby, of being loved by Bobby.

At first he'd fought those memories, unwanted treasures from a time that no longer existed. Finally he'd simply given in to them and was surprised that although there was pain attached to the remembrances of Bobby, there was also incredible joy.

Somewhere in the past months, a healing of sorts had occurred. Although his heart would always ache for the child he had lost, the pain was slowly becoming manageable.

“You're very quiet,” Marissa said. “Is your leg hurting you? Maybe it's too soon to be walking on it.”

“No, it's feeling all right.” He slapped the cast. “I guess I was just concentrating on getting these steaks cooked just right.”

She smiled, and the warmth of her smile shot heat through him. “It's been my experience that you can't screw up a good steak.”

“You'd be surprised what I can do when attempting to cook.”

“You're that bad?” Her eyes twinkled merrily.

“Terrible, the absolute worst.” He grinned. “Dogs don't mess with my garbage because they're afraid it might be filled with the leftovers of meals I've cooked.”

She laughed, picked up her wineglass, then left the table and joined him at the grill. “Maybe I'd better supervise, just to be on the safe side.”

She stood close enough to him that despite the aroma of the barbecuing meat, he could smell the scent of her. He was intensely aware of her as he hadn't been of a woman for a very long time.

Oh, yes, kissing her had been a definite mistake. Before the kiss, she'd been nothing more than a cheerful irritant, a necessary helpmate. But at the moment all he could think about was the fact that she was a very attractive woman who kissed with a heat and passion that had moved him.

“Jack, you better flip them.”

Her voice pulled him from his thoughts and he stared at her blankly.

“The steaks…they're starting to burn.”

He flipped them quickly, aware of her gaze lingering on him.

“Are you sure you're all right?” she asked, a worried frown crinkling the center of her forehead.

“I'm fine,” he assured her. “Just a little distracted.”

“Thinking about one of your cases?” The frown in her forehead deepened. “You know, if you need me to drive you someplace, or help you type some more reports, I'll be happy to help.”

“No, I've taken advantage of you long enough.” He added a hot dog to the grill, then looked at her. “I've played on your guilt over what was nothing more than a hapless accident.”