Whirlwind (27 page)

“This is just the bottom,” I said sleepily. I opened the closet and pulled out a sheet and blanket. “These go on top,” I said around another gaping yawn.

Jason took the linens out of my hands, set them on the open sleeping bag, then put his hands on my shoulders.

“I think I’ve got it. Why don’t you hop in the shower before you fall asleep on your feet? I can handle it from here.”

I turned my face up to his, and he kissed me sweetly.

“All right.” I found my pillows in the closet, yanked my nightshirt—a gray, over-sized T-shirt with POLY in large, green letters—out of one of the pillow cases and trudged toward the bathroom.

The shower woke me up a little, but by the time I’d toweled my hair dry, the yawns had returned. Back in my bedroom, Jason had made up our “bed” and was lounging shirtless in his pajamas, reading a Clancy paperback. Even dead tired, my skin prickled at the sight of his bare, muscular chest. He looked up and patted the spot to his left.

“I didn’t know which side you wanted. How’s this?”

“Great.” I flopped down next to him. The cool sheet felt refreshing after the hot shower, and I rolled onto my side, cuddling up on Jason’s shoulder. He pulled the sheet over both of us, holding me close. The light winked out as my eyes closed, and Jason stroked my damp hair. Sleep was only moments away.

“Goodnight, my love,” I thought I heard him whisper as my consciousness faded.

* * *

The sound of a car alarm woke me, but my eyes didn’t open. My heart skipped a beat, and I realized it wasn’t my car. The familiar sound of my neighbor’s screeching siren ended with six short beeps and a slamming door.

Warm and content, I remembered I’d been dreaming about the most handsome man. I’d almost drifted back into his heavenly kiss when the alarm went off again. Frustrated, I gave up and opened my eyes. The fuzzy image around me came into focus slowly, erasing my morning fantasy for good.

I rolled over stiffly, looking for the vibrant blue eyes I’d seen in my subconscious yearnings, but I was alone. Every muscle tensed, and I sat up, looking for some tangible evidence Jason hadn’t disappeared along with the dream. I barely managed to suppress my cry when I saw his suitcase next to the closet and heard the faint rush of the shower.

It’s irrational to behave this way
. Becoming completely immersed in Jason in just a day and a half wasn’t normal. I’d lived my entire life without him…and yet I’d never felt alive until we met.
There is something seriously wrong with me
. I rubbed my face and wondered if Beth did phone consultations; I was in dire need of a psychologist.

Until I could seek therapy, I decided to spoil myself. I rolled onto Jason’s pillow and inhaled deeply, letting his scent fill me.

Another sound joined the patter of water, one much more inviting than the car alarm. Jason’s humming hypnotized me, drawing me to my feet and down the hall. In seconds, Naughty Melissa was wide awake and turning the doorknob.

Jason mixed in a few lyrics as I quietly closed the door behind me. The shower curtain breezed seductively but revealed nothing.
Damn it.
The steam smelled like soap, and I could picture the bubbly lather gravitating downward over the contours of his sculpted chest. I chewed my lip at the thought—it was so tempting to take one little peek, just to see if my imagination was remotely close to the real thing.

But we’d agreed, things were to stay PG-13 until tonight. Ogling Jason in the shower wouldn’t help us reach that goal. I forced myself to pick up my toothbrush and face the sink, but couldn’t help but notice the towel sitting next to me, quite out of his reach.

The tenor of the water changed, and I guessed Jason was rinsing off. I finished brushing my teeth and looked at the towel again. The two times I’d woken up last night, he’d kissed my forehead and encouraged me to go back to sleep, even though his lingering touch told me he had other ideas in mind.

I wasn’t tired anymore. I picked up the towel and turned around.

Can’t even wait a few hours? Who’s treating him like an object now?
My sense of propriety—what was left of it—stopped my hand before it touched the shower curtain.

No, I wouldn’t give in to temptation, not when the anticipation of tonight was enticing on its own.

With a deep breath I unfolded the towel and hung it over the top of the shower curtain. The humming stopped abruptly.

“Melissa…thanks,” he said, his voice uncertain. “How long have you been in here?” He turned the water off, and the towel slid into the shower.

I sighed. “Awhile. I’ll see you downstairs.”
Fully clothed.

He may have thought last night was long, but tonight’s date couldn’t come soon enough for me.

Twelve

When Jason came bounding down the stairs, he found me dressed and drinking a glass of milk. He carefully took the glass and set it on the counter before catching my face in his hands. “Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered.

“Good morning, handsome,” I breathed, catching the sweetness of his toothpaste. Just like the first time, Jason’s kiss made the ground roll beneath me, and I swayed in his arms. He pressed me against the side of the fridge, preventing me from falling, and melded his long, lean body to mine. Every hard inch.

The kiss started playfully. Jason’s biceps bunched in preparation to push himself off me, but after fantasizing about him in the shower, I wasn’t about to let him go so quickly. I plunged my tongue between his minty lips, knowing the effect it would have.

Jason shuddered in my arms. His hands slid tantalizingly down the sides of my blouse before he managed to pull his mouth from mine. With eyes blazing in the bright morning light, he staggered back, hands in the air.

“Not until after dinner,” he chided.

Mischievously I grinned at him, picking up the carton of milk. “As you wish,” I said and bent over more than necessary to slide it into the fridge.

Jason slapped me on the ass. “You’re quite naughty this morning, aren’t you?”

I straightened up, rubbing the back of my shorts. “It’s all your fault, just remember that.”

He laughed, then picked up my glass and took a big drink before giving it back to me. Sexier than any model in a
Got Milk?
ad, he wiped away his white mustache with the back of his hand. Dressed in worn denim shorts and a deep blue polo shirt, he looked like he’d just walked off the set of a Ralph Lauren commercial. Part of me wished more of my friends were around so I could show him off.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” Jason asked, leaning against the counter.

I finished the milk and rinsed the glass. “First would be breakfast. I was thinking we could head downtown, have a quick bite, and maybe walk around a bit before it gets busy. Then it’s up to you. I’d be happy to show you the lovely Santa Lucia Polytechnic campus, or we could hit the beach, or go hiking, or something.” The phone caught my eye. “And I need to call my landlord, but that should only take a sec. What sounds good?”

Jason buried his hand in his back pocket. “You said you owed two hundred?”

I grabbed his wrist, preventing him from extracting his wallet. “Don’t you dare. I’ve already paid for the month—
he
would’ve owed
me
money for vacating early. It’s no big deal, really.”

“But—”

I held his hand fast. “No. Besides, I’d rather you worked it off.”

“Promise?” His eyebrows did a little dance.

I let go of his wrist and pinched his ass. “Oh yeah. So, what’s it going to be today?”

“I’ve only been to the campus once—years before Mitch knew a horse actually had four legs. I’d love to see where you spend your time.” His teeth flashed in the sunshine.

“Okay. Then maybe I can add some variety to your wardrobe.” I pressed a finger into the
Michigan
logo sewn into his shirt above his heart. He caught my hand and kissed my knuckles.

“My mom says I look good in this color. Don’t you like it?” he asked with false disappointment. His eyes widened to demonstrate how his shirt accentuated their bottomless blue.

Trapped in his gaze, I answered hoarsely, “Yes, I like it.” Jason laughed, and I finally tore my eyes away from him, fanning myself. “We’d better get going.”

Breakfast was a quick stop for muffins and coffee, followed by a short walk through the tree-lined streets of downtown Santa Lucia, hand in hand. Summer was tourist season in my little college town, and the store windows were filled with T-shirts, knick-knacks, and souvenirs.

Catching the sightseeing vibe, I led Jason into one of the many shirt shops. It didn’t take long to hunt down the rack of university-themed wear. After passing on the school colors of green and gold, I settled on a black golf shirt adorned with a small white Poly logo for Jason. At least he’d have one souvenir to remember me by, even if it didn’t light up his baby blues.

One mission accomplished, we left the crowded sidewalks of downtown and drove to campus. Jason’s head swiveled around, taking in the mishmash of architecture lining the main thoroughfare through the campus.

“The school adds and remodels whenever it finds the money,” I explained. We passed a large, prison-like concrete structure on the right. “Those dorms were from the early seventies.”

The road ended at a T-intersection. “Those are from the fifties, I think.” I pointed at a set of long red-brick buildings.

“That’s newer, though,” he said, looking at the curving glass and steel of the Performing Arts Center.

“Yes. It opened in the nineties. My building isn’t nearly so modern.” I turned left and drove down the hill to the single staff parking place next to the aging Graphic Arts building. After tossing my parking pass in the window, Jason and I walked up the short set of stairs to my home on campus.

“The newspaper office isn’t really that impressive. I hope your expectations aren’t very high,” I said, retrieving my keys.

With a quiet, “We’ll see,” Jason followed me into the dimly lit building.

“Here’s the campus radio station,” I said, pointing at a door covered in stickers and the graffiti-style letters KSLP. “And just down the hall…my office.” I unlocked a door with a brass plaque announcing the home of the
Mission
Daily.
I flipped on the lights, revealing the cubicle-filled bullpen. “It looks just like any other office, really.”

“It’s great. Which cube is yours?” he asked.

I led him down the second aisle of short, gray, fabric-covered walls to my “office.”

“A window seat…nice,” he said.

“Oh yeah, the view of the neighboring roof is spectacular.” I collected the papers scattered across the desk—Craig had left quite a mess behind. “I share this cube with another reporter… Well, I used to. I should take some of this stuff down, I guess.” I scowled at the walls, which were covered in research notes, Post-its, and old stories.

Jason smirked, seeing the stuffed horse labeled “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” next to the phone.

“Mitch,” I confirmed.

He turned his attention to the wall of paper. Closest to the doorway were clippings of the two front-page articles I’d written. The yellowing article about Mitch was pinned next to my more recent article about the first Poly football player invited to the Senior Bowl.

“Wow, this is impressive.” He bent over so he could examine the scraps and printouts.

“It’s what I do,” I replied simply. “Have a seat.” I offered him the single chair in the cube.

He sat slowly, his eyes darting from one scribbled note to another.

The office door opened, and a bushy mass of black hair headed our direction.

“Hi, Mark. What’re you doing here?” I called. He threw a hand in the air when he saw me peeking, prairie dog-style, out of the cubicle.

“I thought that was your car, Mel. I’m just grabbing a few things before I take off for break. Are you hanging around here this summer?” Mark stepped into the cube across the aisle from mine with a smile on his face. A nice guy with an easygoing demeanor and friendly chocolate eyes, Mark made work enjoyable for everyone. The paper was lucky he’d agreed to stay on as editor-in-chief his senior year.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jason had stopped reading and was listening intently to our small talk. “I’m here for a few more days, then it’s home for the summer. How about you?”

Mark disappeared behind the partition, rummaging through a drawer. “Same thing, basically. Hey, if you’re not doing anything tonight, how about I treat you to Spike’s for dinner?”

He’d barely spoken the words when Jason shot out of his chair like a rocket and snaked his arm possessively around my shoulders.

“Relax,” I whispered. “The group goes out together all the time.”

“What group?” he asked through his teeth.

“Sorry?” Mark replied.

Ignoring Jason, I raised my voice. “I said I wish I could. I didn’t know anyone else was still in town.”

Mark cleared his throat. “Actually, no one else is. I thought it would be nice to have dinner alone for a change.”

I hoped he didn’t hear Jason’s
humph
.

He doesn’t understand. Mark isn’t interested in—

Just then, Mark’s chair squeaked and he stood up. He continued speaking, slowly turning around to face me while sorting through his own pile of papers. “I’ve been meaning to ask you out for a while, Mel. With everyone gone, I thought tonight would…be…perfect…” His sentence trailed away to nothing when he saw Jason standing behind me.

Ask me out? Why?
Stunned, I gawked at him. It wasn’t until he glanced at me that I found my voice. “I…um…Mark, I’d like you to meet Jason McAlister.”

Recovering my faculties, I turned to Jason. “Jason, this is the editor—editor-in-chief, actually—of the
Mission
Daily
, Mark
Caldwell
.”

Mark had gone back to staring at Jason. Neither man said anything, so I stumbled on. “Mark, Jason is Mitch McAlister’s brother. You remember Mitch, right?”

Jason was the first to break out of the trance. “Nice to meet you, Mark. The newspaper has done well under your guidance. I’ve been happy to see more of Melissa’s work on the front page since you became editor,” he said smoothly. He rested his right arm casually on the low cubicle wall and made no attempt to shake Mark’s hand.

What?
My mouth dropped open. How’d he know that? Jason’s icy stare erased my curiosity
.

Mark returned the glare, his eyes narrowing. “Thank you, Jason. I assume you’re here visiting?” he asked, his tone equally cool as his eyes slipped to the logo on Jason’s shirt. I’d never seen such intense scrutiny.

Jason’s expression didn’t change. “Yes. And I’m afraid Melissa’s already spoken for this evening,” he said. His fingers started to massage my shoulder—softly but very visibly.

I hissed his name, but he ignored me.

Mark looked at Jason, then at me, and I smiled sheepishly. What could I say? It was just dinner.

Setting his jaw, Mark tried to stand a little taller. He had an inch or two on me but would need to stand on a box to match Jason. “So I see. Will you be staying long?”

“Until Melissa leaves for
San Jose
,” Jason said, and I shuffled my feet. This battle for male dominance was unexpected and nerve-racking.

“Maybe we’ll get together when you come back in the fall, Mel,” Mark suggested, smiling widely at me.

I’d opened my mouth to explain my plans, but Jason cut me off.

“Doubtful, since
Melissa
will be on an internship then.”

I slapped him in the stomach, but he didn’t even flinch, winking at me instead.

My anxiousness gave way to irritation. Having two men fight over me wasn’t the turn-on the movies made it out to be. And what exactly
were
they fighting over? Jason was leaving in a few days, and Mark…well, I had no explanation for his behavior.

Mark’s eyes narrowed. “You’re very well informed, Jason. You two must be close.”

“Very,” Jason said. He took his hand from my shoulder and tenderly traced my cheekbone, immediately raising my already-pink face to a blazing red.

I looked away, wishing I could crawl into a hole. If only Mark would forget this meeting while I was gone.

Before I could chastise Jason again, Mark stepped across the aisle, his fists clenched. I felt Jason tense as well.

“Don’t,” I said to both men.

Jason didn’t move but stared down at Mark, refusing to even blink. Thank goodness the cubicle wall separated them.