More Than Friends (7 page)

“Why?”

“It’s mine. My first place and all that. Alec and I had talked about buying a house, but it didn’t work out and I decided to stay here.”

“Alec?” He said the name without any emotion at all.

Jenny took a breath and faced the table. “My ex-fiancé.”

“What happened?” He calmly spread the jam on his second slice of toast; nothing in his face gave away what he was feeling, but she thought she heard a hint of relief in his voice. Hope fluttered in her chest. Foolish hope, she thought, squashing it with a large dose of reality. Chase was only in Harrisville because his father was in the hospital. If she’d meant anything to him over the years, he would have contacted her. He hadn’t. End of story.

She watched as he finished off the omelette. It gave her time to figure out how to condense her relationship with Alec into one or two sentences.

“What usually happens. We grew apart, realized that we didn’t love each other. Nothing spectacular.”

“Did he live here with you?”

Her first instinct was to tell him the answer was none of his business. Her second was that the truth might serve as protection for her fragile heart. “Yes. For about two years.”

“I see.”

“What about you, Chase? Is there a Mrs. Jackson waiting back in Phoenix?”

He tossed his napkin on the table and glared at her. “No. You taught me all I needed to know about women. I don’t trust ’em any farther than my bed.”

So much for the truce. She didn’t want to fight with him, she realized. She understood his need to lash out. Temptation stirred. It would be easy to tell the rest of the story, to defuse his temper with a few simple facts. But to what end? He was suffering so much already. In the past, he’d been her hero, she the innocent young princess waiting to be rescued. Now it was her turn to be strong. The truth would only hurt him. Between his father and the town, he’d had enough pain for one day.

She set the cup in front of him and lowered herself to the opposite chair. “What did you think of the mill?”

“I didn’t go inside. Seems about the same.”

“My dad says people are worried about their jobs. They’re afraid the place is going to be shut down.”

He frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because if anything happens, the mill will be yours.”

“I don’t want it.” He pushed back the chair and rose to his feet. “Why the hell did I come back here?” He raked his hands through his dark hair and strode into the living room.

“Chase.” She followed him.

“I can feel it, you know,” he said, pacing her small living room. From end to end it was only four of his steps, then he had to turn and go the other way. “The walls, the town, everything is closing in on me. What do they all want?” He glanced at her, as if seeking an answer, then shook his head and kept on pacing. “I like my life in Phoenix. No mill, no iron ore. You can look out the kitchen windows and see across the desert. The air is clean.”

“What do you do there?” She stood off to the side and watched him work out his frustrations.

“Construction. I have a couple of partners and we build offices, houses, just about anything new.” He stopped in front of her and grabbed her arms. “I smell sawdust instead of iron. I spend a good part of my days outside on site. Nothing could make me go back into that mill again.”

Jenny tried to ignore the panic welling within her. If William Jackson died, the mill would belong to Chase. A thousand people were employed by Jackson Steel, including her father, a sister, two brothers-in-law and herself. Who would run it? Would he sell? Close it down? Either possibility was too awful to consider.

“What about you, Jenny?” he asked, his brown eyes blazing with confusion and anger. “Why are you still here? What happened to your dreams of getting away from this company town?”

“My family’s here.”

“So? They were here when we spent our nights planning our escape. What happened to you? Was it Alec?”

“No.” She tried to twist away, but he held her firmly in his grasp. The past threatened to overwhelm her; she held on to the present. “I…I got lost for a while. Forgot about the dreams we had. By the time I remembered, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.”

He released her. His hands formed tight fists at his side. “Like me, you mean.”

“Yes,” she whispered, drowning in his intensity. This was the Chase she remembered. The man who radiated heat and passion hot enough to sear anything in his way. She’d always stood too close to the flame. Even now, it rippled across her skin, burning scars into her heart and soul.

How long had she waited for his return, praying night after night that he’d come back and make it all okay for her? How many years had she watched out the front window of her parent’s house, waiting for the familiar rumble of his old Camaro? When had she at last realized that Chase Jackson never intended to come back for her? That he hadn’t forgiven the lies she’d never spoken, had never even thought?

Dear God, she still wanted him. Every fiber of her being longed to be next to him, under him, joining in the one way youth and time had denied them. The need wasn’t about sex, it was about healing—the completion of what should have been, if only fate had been more kind.

He reached up and touched her cheek, brushing away the tear she hadn’t felt fall. “What happened to us, Jenny? Why did we have to become enemies?”

“I don’t know. It’s late. We both need to get some sleep.”

He stiffened at her words. “I should leave.”

“You don’t have to.” She held his palm tightly against her face, savoring the rough calluses against her smooth skin. He asked silent questions. “I have a spare room. You’re welcome to use it. I know how you hate the big house.”

His fingers tightened slightly, pulling her closer. His free hand cupped the back of her head. “You shouldn’t trust me. I’ve turned into one hell of a bastard.”

There wasn’t a whole lot more damage he could do. The man had already broken her heart. “Maybe. But you can stay anyway.”

She led him down the short hall. The spare room held a daybed and an old dresser. The white ruffled spread looked especially feminine as she watched Chase look around the small space.

“Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate this. I really didn’t want to go back to the house.”

Jenny pulled linens and a blanket out of the hall closet, while Chase went to retrieve his luggage. Their good-night was brief and awkward, consisting of avoided glances and mumbled words.

Lying in her own bed, listening to the muffled noises of the shower, she wondered if she’d been mad to invite him to stay. If her father found out… Jenny chuckled, already hearing his lecture on morals and behaving like a lady.

Plumping up the pillow, she turned on her side. Part of her prayed that William Jackson would outlive them all. Most of her believed that was unlikely. That the old man had survived this long seemed a miracle. And when he was gone, Chase would leave, too.

It wasn’t just about leaving, she thought, staring at the sliver of light shining under her door. Chase had always believed in looking out for himself. Time and both their fathers had only reinforced the lesson. Once, she’d believed that, too. But the last eleven years had taught her that family was everything. When she’d expected them to turn away from her shame, they’d stood by her, offering support and a place to live. She couldn’t turn her back on what she owed them. Not for herself, not even for Chase.

Once she and Chase had been two halves of the same whole. Now they were just two people who’d once been in love.

*

Chase looked out the window and watched the sky lighten from black to gray to pale blue. From his place on the daybed, he could see a little of the roof and part of an old gnarled oak tree.

Sleep had been welcome, if unexpected, but he’d suddenly awakened a little after five a.m. and had been unable to relax since. His mind leaped from topic to topic, thinking about his father lying in the hospital, shying away from his responsibility to the mill, wondering how it was possible Jenny had become more beautiful and how he could still be attracted to the one woman he’d done his damnedest to hate.

He heard her alarm buzz, then the soft pad of her feet as she stumbled to the bathroom. She’d never been a morning person. He still recalled the time they’d gone camping together. He’d risen with the sun and caught fish for their breakfast. When he woke her up to proudly show her his catch, she’d screamed so loud, he’d dropped them in the fire and they’d ended up eating cold cereal, without milk.

Ah, Jenny, he thought. If only they could go back and make it all right between them. If he could take back leaving and she could take back being with—

He swore under his breath. After all this time, it still bugged him. Telling himself it shouldn’t matter didn’t seem to help. In Phoenix it had been easy to forget, but here, there were too many reminders. When would he learn to let go?

They were different people now; adults carrying scars too deep to ignore. Even so, she wasn’t part of his agenda. He hadn’t come back to stir up old flames—he was damn sure not going to get burned by this one.

Chase sat up, then swung his feet to the floor. The room was cold and he quickly reached for briefs and jeans. Last night he hadn’t bothered to unpack more than what he’d need. A single shirt hung in the small closet. She stored her winter clothes in the cramped space. When he pulled open the door, the scent of cedar crept out to greet him. Underneath was the lingering fragrance of Jenny herself.

Chase caught his breath as the desire throbbed in his groin. He still wanted her. That hadn’t changed. Whereas before, he’d longed for her with the undefined need of an untried boy, now he ached with the hard knowledge of a man. Their embrace last night had shown him that time had filled the lean lines of girlhood to the lush curves of a woman. She was still petite, with tiny bones that made him worry he could crush her without even trying, but the breasts pressing against his chest had been full and warm, straining with promise.

“No!” he growled, pulling out his shirt and tossing it on the bed. When his father was well—he didn’t allow himself to consider the other possibility—he was heading back to Arizona. There was nothing for him in Harrisville.

He’d seen the look on her face when she’d gone on about the mill and the employees. Somehow she’d become a part of the town, even after swearing she’d never allow it to take away her dream. She’d been wrong. Whatever happened, Jenny’s life revolved around Harrisville and her family.

The bathroom door opened and he heard her walk toward the kitchen. Chase gathered up his shaving kit and slipped into the steamy room.

An oversize T-shirt lay crumpled on the floor. A dab of makeup dotted the counter. The air was filled with the scent of soap and perfume and products he couldn’t begin to identify.

It had been a long time since he’d shared close quarters with a woman and he found himself smiling as he spread shaving cream along his jaw.

When he’d finished washing up, Chase strapped on his watch and glanced at the dial. He still had plenty of time before Dr. Martin was due to start on her rounds. He pulled open the bathroom door and walked toward his bedroom.

As he crossed the threshold, a movement in the room caught his attention. Jenny turned swiftly, color flaming across her cheeks as her gaze fell to the floor.

“I was just bringing you coffee,” she said, motioning to the mug perched on top of the dresser.

“Thanks.” Chase tossed his shaving kit on the bed and crossed the hardwood floor.

She stood her ground, tilting her chin to look up at him as he approached. A soft cotton blouse covered but didn’t conceal the fullness of her breasts thrusting forward in female invitation. Jeans, well-worn and faded, clung to her hips, then reached down to emphasize long, curvy legs. He could feel his dark emotions flowing away, diluted by clear, green eyes and a tentative but welcoming smile.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, her voice lower and slightly husky.

“Yes. And you?”

“Fine.” She licked her bottom lip. He followed the motion, then took that final step and rested his hands on her shoulders.

“Jenny,” he whispered, needing to hear her name as much as needing to feel her in his arms.

Some small sensible portion of his brain called out a warning. Touching Jenny, kissing her, would only lead to trouble. He was here because of his father and nothing else. If he allowed himself to get lost in the past, he might never find his way back. He and Jenny had become too different to connect now. He knew he hadn’t forgiven her. She belonged to the town and the mill; he’d never been welcome in either.

He acknowledged the reasonableness of the argument and started to move back. Then she placed her hand on his bare chest. Her palm burned him as she rubbed against the hair, as if seeking the warm skin below.

“Chase,” she breathed, the single word sounding like a plea.

The hell with it, he thought and lowered his mouth to hers.

S
he could have stepped away.

Jenny knew she’d remind herself of that fact over and over in the days that followed. Chase would never have held her against her will; he’d always been a gentleman. A single whisper of hesitation, a slight stiffening of her body would have been more than enough.

Instead, she moved closer and let her hands slide up his bare chest and shoulders until her fingers tangled in the thick, dark strands of his hair. In the split second before their lips joined, she murmured his name again.

He caught the sound, inhaled it, and the world became awash with sensation. Hard and soft, familiar and strange. Her eyes drifted shut as she felt his mouth mold itself to hers. Firm lips, confident and masculine but gentle enough to make her melt, moved back and forth, discovering anew what had once been known.

They pressed together from knee to shoulder, jean-clad legs brushing. She’d never thought the sound of denim on denim could be the least bit erotic, until now. How easy it would be to forget the present and return to that magic time long past. The years fell away—to when she was a teenager again and her whole world consisted of loving and being loved by Chase.