Scandalous (11 page)

Jack reached for my hand, gently removing my fingers from his work. He didn’t let go. “What do you see, Abby?” he breathed.

His hand felt warm on my skin. I didn’t know what made me do it. I knew not to touch paintings, but I saw this one and I had to. My fingers were sliding along the woman’s face when Jack lifted my hand away and kept it in his. The expression in his
eyes was hesitant, like he didn’t want to hear what I had to say about this one. I shook my head, “Jack, I don’t...” I breathed in, my words trailing off. I didn’t want to do this anymore. The rest of his paintings were melancholy, but this one... This one frightened me. It was the white painting, the one of the model the first night I arrived.

Squeezing my hand, he turned me toward him. “Say it. I know you see it. Just say it, Abby.” He was so close, his lips were right there. My stomach twisted inside of me. The butterflies and the giddy girl within me scared into silence. The intensity of Jack’s gaze made me turn back to the painting. It no longer resembled what we’d made the night it was created. The woman in white was in ecstasy, her long hair moving around her body, caressing it like a lover’s hands. Her soft skin, full pale breasts, taut nipples, the curve of her neck,
the
angle of her head... everything about it made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

“Jack, I...”

“Say it. I see it on your face. I need to hear it fall from your lips. Prove to me you know me. Tell me you see me better than any of the rest. I need to hear it from you, Abby. Tell me.” His voice was seductive, demanding, and teasing all at once.

My knees felt weak, my voice caught in my throat. I stared into his eyes with my lips parted, knowing exactly what I saw, but feeling too raw to say it. Lowering my lashes, I closed my eyes and found my voice. “I see it, Jack. Your muse is back. The thing that gave you passion, tormented you, and haunted you is back. You’re reeling in ecstasy and dread. It’s something you want, but can’t ever have. And the one that brings the pain is pure, white as snow... and standing in front of you.” The last words were barely audible.

It killed me when I saw it, when my mind snapped the puzzle pieces together. I was the missing muse, the haunting soul that made him feel lost, like he was drifting for over a decade. And that white painting, oh God. I couldn’t look at him. I stared into the darkness surrounding us, the last painting still lit.

Jack’s grip on my hand loosened. He gently stroked my skin as he leaned in and kissed my temple. Before he pulled away, I felt his breath in my ear, “You see me.
Every bit.
Every part.”
When the lights came on, he pulled away. My heart was roaring, flooding my ears with frantic beating. Jack lifted the empty wine glass out of my hands, and put it on the counter. He was tense, the muscle in his jaw tight.

I didn’t know what to say. I stood there like a fool, glancing around the room. That painting—it was untouchable sensuality.
Loneliness.
It wasn’t the women I saw anymore when viewing the paintings, it was Jack—his soul
bared
on every canvas.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

While Jack turned off the lights, I’d gone outside and sat down on a sand dune. The moon was high, barely giving off any light as it slivered into a new moon. The sound of the waves crashing into the shore calmed me. I didn’t know what to think. It felt like I’d done something wrong, something horribly wrong. It was like seeing Jack naked, but much more intimate, and much more damning. When he sat down next to me, I could barely breathe.

Our bodies were an inch apart, close enough to touch, but not. Jack stared at the sea, “That was a lot more intense than I thought it’d be. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t expect,” he laughed a short high laugh, pushing his hair out of his face and looking at me, “I didn’t expect you to do that. No one has ever done that.
There are entire books written on what makes me tick, and none of them even came close. But you, Abby, damn,” Nervously he ran his fingers through his hair, glancing at me
sideways,
“you stripped me in a matter of seconds, and saw right through everything. No one’s ever done that before. It was wonderful and awful at the same time.”

Oh my God. Someone kill me. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t mean to make him feel like that. “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean to...”

He bumped into me with his shoulder, cutting off my apology, “Hell no,
don’t
apologize. It was perfect. A moment that was scary as hell, and completely perfect.” I glanced at him and he smiled. The tension seemed to fade from his shoulders as the smile drifted across his lips. I smiled back, not knowing what to say, but glad he felt better. “So, tell me. What really happened back in Texas?” Nervous, my eyebrows shot up as I twisted toward him with
a
who
me?
expression
on my face. He laughed, “Yeah, you. If you want to go back, why’d you leave?”

“Now it’s my turn to squirm, is that it?” I eyed him half smiling.

“Tell me, Abby. Why are you here?”

Looking at him, I wondered why I felt compelled to spill my guts every time he asked me to. What was
wrong with me? It was like I had no sense of self-preservation. I made a face, “I was sent on a forced sabbatical. No warning. No pay. Just good-luck, now get out.”

He nearly choked, “Are you serious?” I nodded, “Then why do you want to go back?”

“I have to.” I repeated my story in detail, the same one I told Kate about my loans and my contract with the church. “So, if I get through this year, I go back on payroll and I can find another job. If I get canned, my career is over and I’ll die from drowning in student loans.”

He shook his head, either shocked or appalled. I couldn’t tell. I felt his gaze on the side of my face, and turned to look at him. He hesitated for a moment,
then
asked, “What’d you do? What could have you possibly done?”

More squirming.
“Jack, do you really have to know? It was stupid.
Stupid enough to get me fired and thrown in jail.”

His eyes were wide, “You went to jail?”

I sighed, “Should have. If it were any other job, I would have.” Jack looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin if I didn’t tell him. I dove into the story and didn’t come up for air until I was done. “It was bothering me. All these people pile into the pews
week after week and ignore my sermons. I’d just finished a series on helping the poor, but it fell on deaf ears.” I sneered without meaning to as I stared into space, “They bought gold plates, pricey Jesus art, and new tapestries. Meanwhile they drive around in big old Caddies with a Jesus fish on their trunks, plowing down poor people at
WalMart
like they’re parking cones. I snapped.”

“What’d you do?” he asked.

“I kind of took their lavish stuff and sold it. You know, the communion plates, the flower arrangements, the carved mahogany table that was just like one Jesus might have carved.” I rolled my eyes, not looking at Jack. He was completely still. “Basically, I took all their crap and got rid of it. I switched things back to baskets and tin, and gave the money to the poor. I proudly announced what I’d done after the cheap
WalMart
baskets were passed through the church. People murmured about the gold plates. When I said I sold them there was a collective gasp, until someone asked where the silver ones went.” Looking Jack straight in the eye, I said, “They went the way of the gold plates. That nearly caused a mob. The town sheriff was there, getting his holy on, and said it could have been considered theft, but since churches are supposed to give to the poor—
and I was their only minister—they couldn’t fire me without breaking my contract. Doing that would’ve meant they had to pay out my contract right then and there before they could
shoo
me out the door.”

“Holy shit, Abby!” he grinned, clearly excited. “You went all Robin Hood on your own church! What’d they do?”

“Yeah, that’s where this story goes south. They turned things around one me. They did to me what I did to them. After a few hours of debating in the boardroom, they came up with my sentence. They said if I survived a year on nothing but the grace of God, they’d take me back. There are stipulations in my contract that were put there for other reasons, but they twisted it. So it was walk away and come back in a year, or
resign
. I can’t get another job if they fire me and resigning is just as bad—it shows I didn’t have the skill to manage the people entrusted to me. Score one for the rich pew-sitters.” I held up my pointer finger and swirled it once in the air, unenthusiastically.

“That’s not the same—throwing you out with nothing. That’s totally different than you giving their things to the poor,” he said it like I didn’t realize it. I gave him a look that said I did.

“I realize it’s not the same. They still have food, shelter, and money. They didn’t pay me enough to have any savings. I have nothing. They kicked me out without a cardboard box. If Kate didn’t help me out, things would have been bad. I don’t really want to go back, but I’m kind of trapped.”

Jack nearly choked. Blue eyes wide, he asked, leaning closer, “You don’t want to go back?”

I don’t know when it happened, but the idea of going back made me sick. When I left I thought it’d be awesome if I survived the year on their terms. It would really show them what I was made of, but they already knew what I was made of and they didn’t like it. They threw me out on my ass because of it.

I shook my head, “No, I don’t. Would you want to see Belinda again?” He cringed, “Me neither. They did the same amount of damage; they just gave a different explanation for justification. The thing is
,
I wonder if I was right. It’s been gnawing at me, constantly in the back of my head... I brought this upon myself.”

He was quiet, staring at the sand for a moment. Finally he sighed, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, “So, we both have our futures in the hands of crazy people who don’t give a rat’s ass.”

“So it would seem,” I answered staring blindly at the crest of another wave. My stomach turned to lead while I was speaking. It felt like I was being crushed from the inside out. Dread spread through my body, pooling in my stomach, making me nauseous.

Without a word, Jack moved to my feet. Crouching in front of me, I looked at him. He was smiling softly, dark hair messy from the wind. With his hands draped over his knees, he said, “Miss Tyndale, there is one thing I know beyond a shadow of a doubt—you did what was right. There’s no mistake about that.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he spoke over me, shaking his head. “And to make sure you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I’m going to drag you around in the sand until you admit it.”

There was no hesitation. Jack reached for my ankles, and pulled hard as he stood up suddenly. I fell back into the sand, my hair trailing behind me. Jack started to walk and I started to scream. With every step he took, sand inched into my pants, shirt, and hair.

I was half-screaming, half-laughing.
“
Ahh
!
Stop! Put me down! Sand’s going places it shouldn’t go!” my voice was shrill. Jack was getting closer to the water. The sand went down the waist of my jeans and
was making a sandcastle in my panties. I’d been at the beach when I was a kid and there was always a ton of sand in my swimsuit when I went home, but it was never like this. Dragging me, fully clothed, was forcing enough sand down my pants to fill a sandbox.

Jack was laughing so hard he almost fell over. The muscles in his arms were ripped as he fought to hold onto my kicking legs. “Then say it,” he laughed with his hair in his face, beautiful eyes sparkling. “Say you were right or this demonstration ends in the water!” Laughter erupted from him, as he moved faster toward the sea.

Twisting my body, I tried to flip over and kick him to make him let go, but that only filled my bra full of sand, too. “Jack! Put me down!” Pushing off the ground with my hands, I raised my head to avoid a mouth full of sand.

“Say it!” he yelled back, smiling so wide his dimples were showing.

The sand was damp under my hands. Clumps of cold wet grains were being forced into my pants as he pulled. It felt so disgusting that I shrieked, “I was right! I was right!
Stop!”
Jack dropped my legs in the sand, my feet falling into the surf.

Breathing heavily, he said, “That was really close. I thought you were going in.” He was doubled over, hands on his knees grinning ear to ear.

I laid on my back, staring at the sky, laughing, and spitting out sand that had gotten into my mouth. “You suck, you know that?” I laughed, cringing as I felt sand in places sand shouldn’t be. “I’m full of sand. All my clothes could be from Sandcastles-R-Us.”

He straightened, “Is that so?”

“Which one?
The sucking or the sand?”
I laughed. I couldn’t stop. I hadn’t laughed so hard in forever. My sides felt like they were going split open. Before I knew it, Jack was leaning down, reaching for me. I laughed, swatting him away, not realizing what he was doing. He managed to get a hold of my wrist and my thigh. He swung me up over his shoulders while I kicked and screamed.