Switched, Bothered and Bewildered (23 page)

And did he care about that anymore? In a matter of days he'd been reduced to pacing a hallway. She'd bewitched him, that was it.

What did he really know about her? She'd worked at Pitman for quite a while, but she was a master at avoiding his questions regarding her past. She was elusive to the point of ridiculousness.

Jackson thanked Pops and climbed the stairs to his front door. He took out his keys, unlocked the door, stepped inside and took a deep breath. His sanctuary. He stood in the black-and-white-marble-tiled entry for a moment, taking in his world. The sitting room to the left, the office to the right. He slid open the pocket doors and stepped into his dark cherry-paneled den. The scent of his books, fine leather and warm wood gave him some comfort. He sat down behind the old desk, turned on the small brass lamp and swiveled in his large leather chair.

He felt so lost—like he had when his parents had split up. Like he wasn't sure where his feet should stand because the earth might shift underneath him. A sensation a San Francisco native knew well.

He reached over to a nearby shelf and grabbed the very fine decanted port and the accompanying glasses. He could be having this glass of port with her. He so rarely took his women here to his house, but she was different.

He sat stunned for a moment, then poured himself a glass and took a rather large swallow. His eyes watered.

What would his father do? Probably take a mistress and forget about it. Jackson felt a chill go through his bones. That's basically what he'd been doing, just without the marriage bit. Maybe he should forget about her.

But he just didn't want to forget her. The taste of her lingered on his lips, just as unforgettable as every other kiss he'd stolen from her.

He stared at the ceiling with its coffered square patterned beams. He needed to know more about this woman who was driving him to distraction. He should read her personnel file. He should get a little background information on her. Was that a bad thing? Probably.

Was he going to do it anyway? Without a doubt.

¹⁵

Tipped Tiaras and the Wet Dog "Blues

Why couldn't Julian just say the words?
Go ahead, Jana Lee, take Jackson for your
self. He obviously wants you. Have some fun. Have a
romp with him. He'll dump you anyway.
Maybe that was it. Maybe she was protecting her sister. Sure.

Dean had dragged the old barbeque out from the garage and cleaned it up good. He'd cooked up a whole batch of burgers for the crew, the girls, and her, complete with corn on the cob, grilled onions, potato salad that he'd scored from the supermarket, and a huge watermelon. A classic combination.

Dean was a very talented fellow, she'd noticed. A tall, good-looking, talented fellow that all the other guys seemed to respect, as if they'd been working for him for years.

The crew had gone home, promising to work through the weekend, and the girls had gone off to spend the night at Ashley's house. Musical sleep-overs. At least Jana Lee had given her thumbs-up approval to all of Carly's friends. Jillian felt like a responsible aunt for asking. Jana Lee had even expressed surprise that Carly had been hanging out with girls her age. It seemed Miss Carly was a bit of a loner and liked to hole up and paint more than socialize, according to her mom.

Of course Jillian was no dummy. She'd partied her way through her junior and senior years in high school and knew all the signs. Fortunately Carly seemed to be having a safe and sane summer so far, although talk of a drive-in movie theater in Gorst scared Jillian speechless. Boys, cars, drive-ins. She'd been lucky to make it through high school alive and not pregnant. She'd have to impart some of her wisdom on Carly before departing Seabridge.

Jillian picked up paper plates and dumped them in the large plastic garbage can they'd dragged up on the deck. It had been nice of the girls to help with dinner, but too bad she was on clean-up detail. At least Dean was there to help her. She felt slightly self-conscious about the fact they were obviously alone.

She'd watched Dean with Carly and the other girls, and she'd noticed how patient he'd been with them, teaching them some crazy thing about

getting the big pot of water boiling, then putting the fresh corn in fast so it wouldn't lose its flavor.

She'd had a completely weird moment of remembering her parents and her and her sister sitting on this deck, having a family moment. It had been a warm, loving moment. Things hadn't been perfect, but they'd been good.

She'd really blown it. She'd let all that pass her by. Children, a marriage, a real home. Well, her apartment was certainly artistic and functional. But Jana Lee had made a real home here. Jillian sat down and opened another beer. She gazed out on the moonlit bay and remembered that day so long ago with her family.

"Good memory?" Dean looked at her.

"Yes, Mom's bad cooking, Dad's burgers on the barbeque, and a day a million years ago a whole lot like this. I guess we had quite a few barbeques, but this one, I remember, was special. My sister and I figured out how to swing off this deck when the tide was high—at night, just like this. There was a rope swing my dad hung up . . ." Jillian looked up at the old fir tree next to the deck. "Up there, see?"

Dean looked to where she was pointing, turning his head to the side. "Oh yeah, I see, hey, we should get it down!"

Before she could even think about what he was saying, Dean stood on the picnic table and hoisted himself up on the lowest branch.

"Dean, you'll break your neck!"

"I've been climbing trees since I was a kid/' he called down to her.

"You're not a kid now, you're an old dude."

"Boy, you sure know how to flatter a guy." He was higher now and could almost reach the rope, wrapped over two high branches.

"You're crazier than me."

"Probably." Dean pulled on the rope and looped it over the branch. "Watch out below!"

The rope swing dropped between the fir branches, and Jillian caught it. "So what's up there, Columbus?"

Dean was examining the rope at the tie spot. "Looks secure." He turned and scanned the horizon. "Red sky at night, sailor's delight."

"Come down from there, you nutcase." Jillian stared up at him.

"Here I come!" Dean climbed down and hung like a monkey, then swung and jumped on the deck, a perfect landing.

"Ta da, ten points from the judges," Jillian laughed, watching his antics. He certainly was fit. And extremely cute in that boyish way some men have. She forgot about everything else for a brief moment except how close he was standing to her now.

He looked into her eyes. "You go change into some swim thing. I have a pair of cutoffs in the truck." Dean stuck his hands in his pockets, turned, and whistled down the stairs of the deck,

walking toward the back of the house, where his truck was parked.

Jillian ran into the house and up the stairs. God knows where Jana Lee had a swimsuit. She got to the bedroom and peeled back plastic to get to the dressers. Except for the one drawer she'd made her own, her sister's drawers were a hodgepodge of weirdness: underwear, photographs, decks of cards, art pencils, business cards, a worm-pile of mismatched socks, all jumbled together.

Underneath a scrunched-up pile of old T-shirts she found a swimsuit. Whoa, it was old lady blue with a skirt, even. Did Jana Lee think she was that ancient? Good grief, they both still had good figures.

Oh well, it was better than going naked. Jillian shimmied out of the shorts and T-shirt she'd changed into after their ceiling texture fight and pulled the ugly swimsuit on.

She looked at herself in the mirror and laughed at the floppy hanging fabric of the suit. Boy, she was going to buy her sister some new clothes. New clothes, new kitchen floor, new house decor, new boyfriend. What was it with her and her extreme need to remake her sister's life?

The reflection in the mirror made her feel uneasy. She touched her face in the glass. Who was she? Was she just a clone of her sister? Was it her own life she kept trying to remake? She'd read stuff about how similar identical twins were, but it didn't seem

like she and Jana Lee had the same taste or desires or thoughts at all. They were one cell split into two people. Two very different people.

But Jana Lee must have gotten the larger share of the goodness genes. Jillian had done some rotten things to her sister. And then to have watched Jana Lee suffer so much grief when her husband had died so young—it just wasn't fair.

"Hey Jane, Tarzan wants to go for a swing," Dean called up the stairs.

Jillian broke out of her thoughts. "Coming, Tarzan."

"Grab towels out of the hall closet, okay?"

"Will do."

Dean now knew where everything was kept in this house. He'd made himself right at home. He was such an easygoing guy. She should try to be more like that.

She pulled up the straps and reshifted herself. It was hopeless. She slipped into her sister's flip-flops and flip-flapped down the stairs.

"Oooo, wow. Jane looks um... is that your mom's suit?"

"Shuddup, it's the only thing I could find. Are you ready to freeze your ass off?"

Dean climbed on top of the picnic table bench and readied himself, one foot on the big knot of the marine-sized rope, one on the table. "Aye aye ayyyyyyaaaaaaa eya eya . . ." He did a pretty good Tarzan yell and went for it. The swing went a

decent distance out across the deck, but not quite far enough to jump in. He landed back on the table.

"Hmm. Logistical difficulties. Let's get higher."

"It was easier when we were twelve."

"Everything is." He let go and hooked the swing on the deck railing. "I'll get the ladder."

"I'll help."

They went around the side of the house and retrieved the tall ladder together. Dean set it up while she steadied it. He climbed up halfway, and she handed him the rope.

"Wait, I have to turn the lights off. It's cool, trust me." She ran in and flicked the downstairs lights off. She'd already turned off the upstairs, so now it was pitch dark except for the moon and the glittering harbor lights across the water.

"Okay, this is it! No giant boulders out there, right?"

"Just barnacles and crabs. Go for it!"

She watched him, his strong, muscular legs flexing, his bare chest with more muscles than the original black-and-white Tarzan movie for sure. He swung out wide and dropped right into the bay with a big huge yelping cannonball.

He came up sputtering. "It's great! Water's warm. Hurry up!"

Monty the dog took this opportunity to prove that he was a Golden Retriever and leaped into the water after Dean.
  
He yelped and swam and

yelped again, probably surprised by his own boldness.

"Monty! You insane mutt!" Jillian called and clapped her hands. "Come on
back
here."

Dean caught Monty and gave him a big dog hug, then sent him back after a piece of kelp. It looked like a tennis ball and smelled like seaweed, but Monty went for it. Jillian caught the dog on the return and made him sit. Monty shook all over her, then lay down very nicely like he hadn't just jumped in the sea. "Akkkk," she yelled. She was soaked. She might as well jump in now.

She took the rope with her and climbed up the ladder, positioned herself, and swung out. It was a perfect hit, and she knew just when to let go, as if by instinct. She'd done this so many times as a kid. She hit the water, which was just deep enough, resurfaced and gasped. "Wow, it's just as good! It's warmer than I thought, too." They swam to where they were chest high and stood for a moment. Monty barked a few times but didn't join them.

"Look, you're glowing." Dean came close to her.

"That's why I turned the lights off. Watch." She took his hands and ruffled the surface of the water. A strange greenish sparkle shimmered around them.

"Beautiful," he whispered.

"Phosphorous." She submerged slowly, then rose out of the water. She could see the flicker of tiny light molecules all around her.

He was there when she surfaced, very close. Her hands touched his arms. He moved back one step and held her hands at first, then slowly drew her back into him. The feel of his touch encircling her sent a shock wave of realization through her. She looked into his eyes.

He was smiling a very friendly come-over-here-and-play smile, then his whole look changed as she sank into the pleasure of his warmth. She knew that look. Her head went dizzy. Her body felt like the phosphorous was on the inside.

She parted her lips and did what she'd wanted to do a thousand times in the last week, and at least twenty times today. She kissed him. Rivulets of water danced between them. He took her kiss and sent it deeper. So deep she forgot about everything in the world, and went shimmering away into the perfection that was his mouth. He hungrily devoured her in the tenderest way she had ever experienced.

She ran her hands across the muscles of his back and sighed inside that kiss, pressing into him. His first touches were slow and easy, as if he was being sure—asking for permission. She slid her hands across his waist and down to his low, wet cutoffs. She wanted to feel every part of his tan, strong, gorgeous body.