Sweat Equity (20 page)

"Look, Heather, spare me another reminder about who owns Jack, okay?"

The tall woman took a deep breath and gripped Sara's arm, startling her. "I'm sorry, honestly. Can we talk a second?" Sara glanced at Jason, who shrugged and moved into the crowd, leaving them alone. A tingling in her scalp signaled Jack's eyes on her again. She looked across the room and saw him, frowning at the sight of the two women standing together. He raised an eyebrow at her. She mouthed "it's okay" to him before turning her attention to the tall brunette with her long fingers clenched together. She opened her mouth speak but Heather beat her to it.

"You have to get back together with him." Sara closed her eyes.
What in the hell?

She reopened them, leveling a stare at the woman.

"Changed your tune fairly significantly. What happened?"

"He needs you. You need him. I was just a distraction. I get that now." She slid into a bar chair, her face a mask of misery. "You two should be together. It won't be easy but he's worth it and you know that. He's," Sara held up her hand as words she didn't really mean rushed past her lips as if in self-defense.

"It's over between us Heather."

"But you have to give him a chance. He needs that. It's part of why you're so perfect together." She stood. "He'll do anything for you, why can't you see that? Are you that stubborn?" Sara opened her mouth, but no words came out. "You are about to throw away the best thing that could happen to you. He's not perfect, but no one is. Give him a chance. You won't be sorry." Tears glinted in the woman's dark eyes.

 Jack appeared behind her, and Sara's skin prickled in anticipation of a scene. Heather turned and gave him a hug, whispered something in his ear and walked away. He stood, hands in his pockets, within two feet of her, but as far as Sara was concerned, on the other side of a chasm suddenly too wide and deep for her to breach. Even talking to him seemed futile. The intensity was too much. She should escape while she still could.

Jack's entire body buzzed and every nerve ending danced with need as he kept himself separate from her. "Sorry. Hope she didn't upset you."

Sara touched her hair. He felt the nervousness and anxiety pour off her like a wave.
That crazy bitch. Leave it to her to mess up his plan
. Sara smiled, keeping her distance from him. "No, she's fine. Pleaded your case for you, actually. Cute."

"Oh, um, okay." He blinked and tried to convince himself the other thing he picked up from her mirrored his own thoughts of pure, unbridled, need. He gulped, then recovered. "So, good call on the music." She laughed, sending chills down his spine. He curled his hands into fists, kept them hidden in his pockets.
Keep it casual, for now.
"I think you'll like this band too," he nodded toward the stage where the group of guys and one girl prepared to perform. "Can I get you a drink?"

She kept her eyes on him, making him nervous with the intensity of her stare. "No, thanks. I'll, um, just go see…" She gave up and dropped onto a barstool. "Why are you doing this?" He moved closer, letting his body take over then clamping down on the urge to kiss her, an urge that pierced him straight through the chest. His vision darkened, the room went quiet in his ears as he zeroed in on her lips. Suddenly he knew what he had to do. It was not a simple matter of playtime later. He had a harder job, one that would prove his intentions for the long run. He sighed, touched her lips with a finger. She shivered. "Go away, Jack. Work the party. Leave me alone."

He turned without a word, lest he risk acting like a complete idiot. The word "headspace" flittered through his brain. He'd done it before. Taken a woman right to the edge of pleasure again and again, making her so completely satisfied with words and action she'd been a limp ragdoll for hours after, and had gone completely nuts begging for it again. He took a breath. He knew her so well; he could make that happen, but it meant an even deeper plunge into his role. One he likely would have a tough time giving up ever again. He looked around, spotted Evan chatting with members of city council at the other end of the bar and headed over to him, needing his advice once more.

Sara watched his broad retreating shoulders and fixed her mind on resistance. She had to. It couldn't be any other way with him. No matter what anyone said now, no matter that Blake even seemed to think it inevitable. She would not go there again with him. The dialogue she'd imagined between them, the way they could ease back into their relationship, seemed ludicrous and naive to her. She couldn't handle it. Didn't want to, at the same time, she wanted nothing more.

She let Greg Stewart drag her onto the dance floor as the band launched into their first set. She stayed there for a solid forty-five minutes, doing her best to avoid the one man she wanted, needed, to see again.

By the time she'd broken a sweat and danced with three or four different guys, she realized every single song the band covered, were ones she had on her playlist. She laughed, raised her arms, let herself go, and caught his eye again. He stood at the bar with his friend Evan. The other man seemed to be worried about something, his mouth moved, talking intently to Jack while he stared straight at her, eyes dark and searching. She winked and turned, shook her hips probably more than was necessary, but no longer caring. She wanted to have fun goddamn it and he could take his obsessive whatever and stuff it. She needed some release from the buckets full of tensions she'd been lugging around with her for months now.

The band took a break and she let one of the guys from her office tug her over the to bar. She slammed back some water, keeping her gaze on the guy running his mouth next to her, unable to hear him, or feel anything but raw need for the man across the room.

The room had narrowed to two people as far as Jack was concerned. He had planned this thing weeks ago, but had spent the past ten days or so working every last detail. He made small talk, flirted, and pretended to drink knowing he'd require his wits about him later, all of the usual, while aware of exactly where Sara was in the room the whole time. She moved around, doing her thing, unaware of what he had planned for her. Evan had been skeptical, even worried that taking Sara that far tonight meant nothing but potential trouble.

"She's not ready for that man. Seriously." Still, he'd given Jack a few tips, a pat on the back, and a sincere wish good luck.

Jack put his glass down on a passing tray and looked up to see Greg Stewart frowning at him, cigar clenched in his teeth.

"Hey Greg," he muttered as he watched some tool tug Sara off the dance floor and monopolize her in a way that set his teeth on edge. "What's up? Don't you like the stogie?"

"Yeah, I do, thanks," Greg growled at him. "What I don't like is what is going on with you and my new superstar over there. You know, the hot one in the black dress?"

Jack pulled his eyes away from her and stared at his broker.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about Gordon. Pam made me come over here and tell you to leave her the fuck alone."

"Well, if I remember correctly, if you and your wife had your way, I'd be her manager right now," Jack stated. He wasn't about to take personal life advice from Greg Stewart. He'd lucked into a wife who put up with his fucking around for years before he got too old and too fat to appeal to anyone else.

"Yeah, well good thing you passed on that because that would be one mess I would not want to untangle. She cut you loose once. Can't you take a hint?"

Greg put a hand on his arm.

 "Look, Jack, you have no reason to take advice from me." Jack kept watching Sara flirt with the guy across the room. "We're just worried about her, and I don't think you should mess with her anymore. Just my two cents."

They both turned an observed Sara a minute in silence. As Greg walked way, Jack grabbed a drink off a passing tray and drained it. He'd not been drinking much at all in the weeks since the football game and the two he'd had so far were going down way too fast. He snagged water and held onto it trying not to look as conflicted as he felt.

Sara begged off from the next round of dancing, needing to hydrate some more and found herself standing next to Adam, Mr. Floor Fucker with a Fiancée.

"Hi Sara, you look amazing tonight," he said leaning over to kiss her.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what next?
She kissed him back, lightly.

"Well hello there," she said as she turned away from him, and finished her water. It was amazing what a year did. There had been a time when this guy had been the Next Best Thing in her universe. Now, he represented a moment in time she wanted back–the early rush of adrenaline as she and Jack got to know each other.

"….and so, I ended up rattling around that huge place on my own," she heard him say and she turned back and stared at him.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Oh, just that Lou ended up, um, moving away before, you know..." he trailed off and glanced around the room.

She shrugged. Figured. "Well, sorry about that." She moved a few inches away from him as the band switched gears into some more modern stuff and she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"May I?" Blake. She smiled at Adam and waved as her brother led her onto the dance floor. Within seconds of tuning to face him she locked eyes with the blonde woman who'd tried to insert herself as Mrs. Jack Gordon, the one whose house Sara had sold, bringing on this entire insanity with the man as far as she was concerned..
Dear God, the gang is certainly all here.
She rolled her eyes as the woman zeroed in on the tall man standing alone across the dance floor.

The room's lighting changed. It got darker, more like a club with lights over the bar and from the street casing a glow over the band and dancers. The noise in the room escalated as the non-dancers carried on conversations over the live music.

Yet another one of her favorite indie rock songs blasted out from the speakers. Sara broke away from Blake and danced alone for a moment before Jack appeared in front of her, his presence sucking up the oxygen in her space. She moved nearer, warning bells clanging in her head, but her body warming, getting lighter as he danced with her. He had an unselfconscious rhythm, matching hers, not too over to top but not the bogus shuffling so many less-confident guys adopted on the dance floor.

 They'd hit some pretty great nightclubs in St. Bart's. Sara grinned at the memory. He'd made her play a game with him there. Pretend they didn't know each other, let him pick her up, work for it a little until they slammed the bathroom door shut and he fucked her up against the wall. Her face heated up, matching the slow burn in her core.

They didn't talk. Just danced, and danced. Sara felt sweat pooling between her breasts but her hands stayed ice cold. She suddenly needed to get away – to escape Jack's inevitable, unexplainable pull. She held her hands up.

"Break time," she stated and started to turn away from him before she made a fool of herself by jumping into his arms.

"Wait. One more song." He tugged her back as the band launched into a popular country rock duet with the male and female lead singers.

He released her to let her spin under his upheld arm, and then pulled her back, laughing, as they moved together two-stepping to the country beat. She couldn't ignore his eyes, deep midnight blue, as he moved with her, and she reveled in the oh-so-familiar strength of his arms under her hands. She sensed the eyes of the crowd on them as the song ended and she remained in his arms, her hands behind her back, not allowing herself to touch him but leaning back and looking up at him as his hands ran up her bare back, setting her skin on fire.

Jack started, sensing someone next to them. Suzanne stood there, a hand on his arm.

"Next dance for me?"

"Uh, sure," he forced himself to take his eyes off Sara. "Hey, short stuff, you look fucking hot–why don't you wear that to work? I'd be by more often," he took a deep breath and re-focused as he watched Blake lead Sara towards the bar.

He mentally pictured the room again. The one where he'd take Sara to a place in her head she would love, but could also hate at the same time. He smiled at Suzanne, held her close as they danced to a slow song, giving her a squeeze at the end. Jason waved frantically from across the room so he made his way over, counting minutes now that it approached eleven. He had to get her upstairs, soon, or he could possibly implode.

"Jack, the caterer's almost out of food. Do you want them to get more?"

He frowned at his watch. "No. Let's wind it down."

It was Jason's turn to frown. "Really? It's only ten forty-five." Jack ground his teeth.

"I know but I need this thing to end on time. I gotta get on with…oh hell you handle it. If you and the party girl think we need more food, you make the call. Consider yourself empowered." Jason lifted an eyebrow at him. Jack sighed. "Sorry. I'm just, preoccupied. Handle it. I'm gonna get some air." He shouldered past the blonde woman poised to grab his arm and made it outside, took huge gulps of the cold Michigan night. Keeping his hands propped on his knees he let the air calm his nerves. He knew upping the ante for Sara that night meant taking a lot of energy from him. But he wanted it and figured it was likely his last chance. He needed to make it meaningful. Needed to rock her so hard she'd realize how much she completed him.