Jack Who?

CHAPTER 18

♪♫••════════CHAPTER 18════════••♬ ♭

“It won’t be a problem.” A naughty look accompanied his assurance. “I will think about you. I have a good imagination and even better memory.”

     The implications of those words had her flushing for so many reasons, and her rejection and dejection must have been plain on her face because empathy replaced the evil smirk in his eyes.

     “Get some sleep, okay? I know you’ve been stressed.”

     “So de-stress me.” Keeping her voice light, she tried not to let the desperation show. Even though making out with Jack on the couch had not been a part of any immediate phase, she was ready to roll out a future phase and roll with him. “You owe me. Remember? Stage fright cure?”

     This drew a smile, and encouraged, she bribed, “I’m wearing red…”

     A couple of steps brought him closer where he hooked a finger inside the neckline of the dress enough to peer inside. Upon finding that the lingerie matched the dark dress, he only raised challenging brows.

     “Well, I was hoping you would figure out the truth in a more fun way.”

     It was insane that his nearness and just the barest brush of his finger on her skin could turn her into some hormonal teenager.

     “That’s how you roll then? Just let people figure out the truth?” Lightly, he bantered back, his gaze holding hers a slight second.

     There was a tone in his voice, and she stepped back although he was moving away.

     “What?” she wondered and nervously fiddled with the bracelet cuffed on her wrist.

     Remaining quiet, he grabbed his jacket from the arm of the couch, and as she watched his decorated arms slide into the sleeves, a horrible feeling stained her senses. A feeling that his light words were anything but.

     “What did you mean by that?” Letting him leave without opening this can of worms was what she should have done. Yet, at the hospital, he had hinted of an issue he had with her before backing off the topic.

     “Nothing, I was joking around…” Crouching, he laced up his shoes.

     Dubiously, she stared, feeling on the brink of some major something in their relationship that had nothing to do with her planned phases. Was she reading too much into it? When he glanced at her again, she saw in his eyes the same fleeting shadow she had glimpsed a few times. In agitation, her arms folded across her heavy chest.

     Relenting with a last tug of a shoelace, he straightened and spoke. His tone was turbulent like her feelings. “It seems like just when I feel like something is happening between us, I get mad at you all over again.”

     ‘Feel like something is happening between us…’

     Her heart thudded with happiness and then dropped to the pit of her stomach as the rest of his words sank in.

     “Mad? At me?!” Her voice incredulously cracked.

     “It’s hard not to be when you hid my son from me for almost five years.”

     The accusation reeled harder than a slap, and she shouted, “I thought you would be mad if you knew! I thought you would think that I was an– an opportunist!” When his eyes remained stormy with censure, she steamrolled on, “You were so afraid of being screwed over you required a– a sex contract!”