Whatever It Takes (21 page)

“Morning, yourself.” She smiled and braced a hand on his bare shoulder, sliding over on top of him. Careful not to hurt him, she twined her fingers with his one good hand. He arched upwards at the same time she sank down. Having discovered the hard way throughout the night that vigorous lovemaking jarred his ribs too much, they took their time, rocking against each other in a slow, torturous rhythm. She luxuriated in the solid warmth of him beneath her, his hard body inside of her, in watching his pleasure ripple across his features, matching the intensity raging through her. His fingers curled tightly around hers, she lost herself in him, in the connection between them.

Every slip of him inside her built the delicious friction all over again. The slow burn liquefied her insides. Until, with a final stroke, her orgasm washed over her. Pleasure pulsed through her, soft and luxurious, but powerful all the same, and she closed her eyes to savor it. Beneath her, Jackson tensed and shuddered. He let out a long, low groan, his fingers tightening around hers.

When the luscious spasms finally ceased, she dropped into the space beside him, breathless and exhausted and more sated than she ever remembered being. Even when they dated they hadn’t made love this much.

A glance at the clock confirmed it was a little after eleven, which meant they’d gotten, at most, four hours of total sleep last night. She let out a quiet laugh and gingerly laid her head on his chest. “We haven’t slept this late in a long time. After last night, how do we still have the energy to make love again?”

Still every bit as breathless as she was, Jackson let out a quiet laugh, his chest rumbling beneath her ear, and stroked his hand down her back. “Making up for lost time.”

She hadn’t felt this close to him since they’d come up here the first time. She loved the simplicity of the connection. The freedom of loving him, of seeing the emotion shining back at her from the depths of his eyes. Thirteen months ago, when she’d left him, she didn’t think she’d ever find herself here again.

They had one more day of bliss before life forced them to enter reality again. This part still had her nerves in a tangle. They’d always been good in the bedroom. Reality, day-to-day life, however, was where the real test began. They’d done it so far, but they’d only lived together for a couple of weeks. Could their relationship survive this time? She had to admit Jackson was trying. He was more open with her now, and he
was
trying to work less.

She knew what she wanted, though. To go home. To put their family back together. In truth, she’d always wanted that. Even when she’d left him, she hadn’t wanted to end their marriage. They’d have to tell Allie at some point. Becca couldn’t help worrying what the back and forth would do to her. Would she be okay with it? Or would it only confuse her? They’d have to take things slow, ease them all back into it.

Jackson’s cell phone vibrated on the bedside table, its quiet noise interrupting the silence. Becca couldn’t stop herself from tensing. Remnants of old, painful memories rose to the surface. That phone had interrupted too many things.

She closed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge the ugliness rising in her mind. They were different now.
He
was different now. Instead, she buried her face in his chest, in the heady scent of his skin. “Don’t answer it.”

“It could be about Allie.” He kissed the top of her head before easing himself upright and snatched his phone from the nightstand. As he peered down at the screen, his smile melted, taking the light in his eyes with it.

Now alarms were sounding in her head. Becca sat up, her heart hammering in rising panic. “Is it Allie?”

He shook his head and peered over at her. The anxiousness and regret in his eyes had her stomach knotting. Whoever it was, clearly he knew she wouldn’t like the news. Which meant it could only be one thing. Work.

Her spine stiffened, but she tamped down the panic threatening to rise, determined not to allow it to take root. She had to learn to trust him at some point, right? He ran his own business, the same as her, and she knew from experience you couldn’t just take days off and not stay connected. Sometimes, all the wrong things happened. Like last year, when one of her instructors up and quit on her. He simply didn’t show up to work one day.

She nodded. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be quick. I promise.” He leaned over, pecking her lips, then punched the ACCEPT button on his screen and held the phone to his ear. “What’s up, Josh?” The frown between his brows deepened, his voice growing irritated. “Have you told him I’m not available? Well, you’re going to have to do your best with him. He’s saying what?” He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders rounding. “Damn it. I was afraid of that. Put him on.”

Her heart had rooted in her throat as she watched, as if from within the haze of a dream, as he eased himself off the bed and made his way into the living room. Becca knotted her fingers together and held her breath, listening, waiting, hoping. He was quiet for what seemed like a full minute.

“Mr. Rembrandt, I’m afraid I’m not available this weekend. Everything is set up, I’ve seen to it myself. Josh is my top executive, and I’ve—”

He went silent again. This time the floor creaked in rhythmic fashion, telling her he’d begun to pace. The sick sensation twisting in her stomach told her she knew how this would end. She’d seen it a thousand times. Work was about to interrupt their time together.

“Yes, sir. I realize that. You’re my oldest client, and I’m not sure Kade Advertising would be where it is without your business, but . . .” He let out another heavy sigh, this one laden with remorse and defeat. “Yes, sir. I’ll be down as soon as I can. I’m afraid it’ll take me an hour to get there.”

In the other room, Jackson swore, and something shattered as it crashed to the floor. Becca flinched, every inch of her trembling as she waited. Finally, he appeared in the doorway. The regret on his face told her she hadn’t heard wrong.

When he finally came back into the room, Becca bit her bottom lip and clasped her hands together hard, determined not to let the disappointment twisting her stomach into knots show on her face. It was fear, that was all, and she wouldn’t let it ruin their time together. It was an extenuating circumstance. She couldn’t be angry at him for this one. At some point, she had to learn to trust him. If he could give, so could she. “You have to go.”

Panic rose swift and palpable in the deep-blue eyes staring back at her. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and eased down onto the bed beside her. “A couple of hours, sweetheart. That’s all it’ll take. I’ll make sure to take Monday off to make up for lost time.”

Becca forced a brave smile and waved a hand at him. “Go. Just hurry back.”

He cupped her chin in the warmth of his palm, his fingers stroking her skin. “Will you be here when I get back?”

For a moment, she could only stare at him. She couldn’t deny that fear had a hold of her. Everything inside of her yearned to hear him tell her he wouldn’t go. But she had to give him this one. If only in large part because he clearly understood what this moment meant for her. Fear shined back at her from the depths of his eyes, and the fingers stroking her chin trembled.

She couldn’t deny either that she’d fallen in love with him again. She was prepared to go home.
Home
. For the entire last year, that word meant a small two-bedroom house she could barely afford with what little revenue her dojo created. Somewhere over the last month, she’d started thinking of him, of their house, as home again.

Finally, she nodded. “I’ll be here.”

His stiff posture deflated, his relief palpable. “Any other client, I’d tell them they had to wait until Monday, but this one, I’m afraid can’t. Thank you. For having faith in me.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, then rose from the bed.

He put in a call to his limo driver, and while waiting for it to arrive, she helped him get dressed. Tension rose between them that had them both shaking. She forced herself to stay positive. This was it, the moment she’d waited for. When their lives would officially return to normal, when reality would enter their relationship. How they handled this would tell her whether or not they’d make it this time.

When his cell phone buzzed twenty minutes later and the popping of rocks under tires sounded outside, announcing the arrival of his limo, her stomach tightened, but she smiled. She held tight to the hope that this time would be different.

He rose from the bed, pulled his wallet from his back pocket, and dug through it for a moment. He came out with a business card, and set it, along with his cell phone, on the bedside table. “I’m assuming you don’t have your cell with you?”

She shook her head. “I assumed you’d have yours, so I left mine at home.”

He nodded. “I thought as much. I’ll leave you mine, in case you need it. My driver’s number is on that card, along with the number for the service he works for. Should you need it—”

She shook her head. “I won’t.”

His brows rose. “But if you do . . . all you have to do is tell ’em my name and where you are. They’ll come get you.” He stood over her for a moment, anxiousness in his searching eyes, then bent to kiss her cheek, his warm, soft lips lingering on her skin. “It’s an hour there and an hour back, so four hours, give or take, depending on how backed up traffic is on I-5. It’s rush hour, and you know how horrid rush hour can be.”

He straightened but didn’t move.

So she rose and pressed lightly into his arms. “I’ll tell you what.” She darted a glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. “Just promise you’ll be back by dinner, and I’ll whip something up here. We’ll make up for lost time when you get back.”

The tension in his body drained, and his arm came around her back, tugging her hard against him. Despite how much it must have hurt his ribs to do it, he held her tightly and claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss, then leaned his forehead against hers. “Thank you. Your trust means a lot, darlin’. Dinner, I can do. I love you, Becca. Please don’t forget that.”

He kissed her one last time, then released her, pivoted, and strode from the room. She followed the sounds of him leaving but couldn’t force herself to go after him. The quiet thumps of his footsteps across the old floorboards. The creak of the rusty hinges as the front door opened. When the door snapped shut behind him again, she dropped onto the edge of the bed, releasing a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding.

This had to work. It had to. If he didn’t come back. . . . She shook off the thought before it fully formed. No. He’d be back. He’d promised.

***

Seven hours later, Becca sat at the small, round table just outside the kitchen. The quiet of the little cabin echoed around her, so silent her breathing seemed loud. A lump rising in her throat, she glanced around her. Every emergency candle she could find sat lit on every available surface, lending a warm, intimate glow to the space. The table was set. The dinner she’d had delivered sat on the stove, waiting. She’d even donned the lingerie she’d packed for this weekend. The see-through lace was completely not her style, but she’d wanted to surprise Jackson, and tonight seemed the perfect night for it. She’d even lit a fire, and although its heat cut the chill seeping in from outside, she couldn’t seem to get warm.

She’d been waiting all day, her nerves shattered, for him to come back. She’d kept herself busy by taking a walk on the beach, then preparing her intimate evening. Except dinner had come and gone an hour ago and Jackson had yet to return. He’d called from the office, but she couldn’t bring herself to listen to the message. She was too afraid. That he wasn’t here told her she already knew what his message was, and she couldn’t bear hearing it. Not now.

Looking around her, the weight of an elephant sat on her chest, crushing the breath from her lungs. She couldn’t ignore the moment they’d arrived at. Despite all hope for the contrary, it was happening again, and the hard questions rose within her. Did she really want to go through this again? All those lonely nights, waiting for him to find time to spend with her and Allie? Watching the pain on her daughter’s face when her father had to work yet again, instead of coming to the dojo to watch her practice?

Sitting night after night at an empty dinner table, knowing he wouldn’t be home on time, that she’d more than likely be in bed by the time he finally did?

Tears welled in her eyes as the truth settled over her. She couldn’t. She refused to go back to being that ghost, invisible to him, taking the scraps of time he offered her. She’d hoped, prayed, that he really had changed, but clearly he hadn’t. When push came to shove, he reverted to what he knew.

The hardest part was, she couldn’t be angry with him this time. He was who he was, and his business
was
at stake. He’d told her about this particular client before. She almost wondered if he’d done so to warn her. Besides, she had her own business. She knew how difficult running one could be.

But at what point did she insist their relationship come first? It was selfish and she knew it, but at some point, she had to put herself and Allie first. She wanted more for their daughter than a father who wasn’t there.

Which meant drawing a line. Again. This time, she had to stand firm by it. Jackson hadn’t changed, and she couldn’t settle for less. Maybe they were just too different. Maybe she was asking too much from him, but at some point, she had to do what was right for herself and for Allie.

As the finality of her decision settled over her, so too did their time together, and the shell she’d buried herself in this morning cracked. Tears welled and overflowed, an unstoppable river, and she buried her face in her hands and let them come. She had to let him go again, and it was breaking her heart.

“Can you see what’s happening?” Jackson rolled down the limo partition, eyeing the driver’s reflection in the rearview mirror. The car had come to a dead halt on the highway and hadn’t budged. They’d been sitting there an hour now, a sea of red taillights spanning for miles on both sides of them.

The driver met his gaze in the mirror. “Traffic accident, sir. According to the radio, it’s a twelve-car pileup. Traffic’s backed up for fourteen miles.”

Jackson cursed under his breath. Panic had begun to take root in his chest a half hour ago, way too many thoughts churning in his mind. He’d left Nathan Rembrandt slack-jawed in his boardroom an hour and a half ago. Lord, he’d said things to that man he likely shouldn’t have said.

The meeting had run a half hour late. The old coot was a perfectionist and used to getting his own way. Normally he coddled the man, but he was arguing things that could damn well wait until Monday. He’d probably regret his hasty decision when Monday actually came and the man called to fire him, but he’d been so focused on getting things completed so he could get back to Becca that his nerves had snapped.

All he could focus on right then was the damn traffic. He ought to be back at the cabin by now. He’d called Becca before he’d left the office, had used his driver’s phone to call her again twenty minutes ago, but she hadn’t answered either call. Nor had she called him back. He prayed it was just spotty cell reception. Or that maybe she was napping, biding her time by making up for the sleep they hadn’t gotten last night. He refused to ponder anything else, or the thoughts would sink him. A twelve-car pileup? Accidents that size could take hours to clear. Would Becca wait? Would she even still be there when he got back to the cabin?

His chest constricted. That was the trouble. He didn’t know. He was entirely too aware he had one shot at this. This weekend was a test, and he was clearly failing. Not that there was anything he could do now, except pray that when he got back, she’d still be there. He desperately wanted to prove to her that he wasn’t the man he’d been. He had every intention of never being that man again. Yet here he was, stuck in this goddamn mess. The drive from his office in Seattle to the cabin in Port Townsend was easily an hour. With a mess this size, three or four hours could pass by the time he got back.

Drumming his fingers in impatience on the armrest, he turned back to the driver. “Can you go around?”

The driver flashed an apologetic smile. “Not at the moment, sir. Next exit’s a couple miles ahead.”

Jackson dropped his head onto the seatback and closed his eyes as the hopelessness of the situation slid over him. He should never have gone. He’d left the love of his life naked in bed, alone in a romantic little cabin. All this work to convince her he wasn’t the man he used to be, and he’d probably just succeeded in convincing her that divorcing him had been the correct decision. All for what?

To compete with his father. To prove to the one person who never gave an ounce of care for him in his entire life that he was worthy. Meanwhile, the one person who’d always stood by him was back in a cabin on a deserted stretch of beach. Alone.

She had to be hurt. The very thought made his chest ache. He was lower than the filth on a flea. Maybe he really didn’t deserve her. Maybe she’d be happier without him.

No.

He opened his eyes, determination swelling in his chest. He wouldn’t let her slip away again. She had to know. Telling her might not get him anywhere except the door slammed in his face, which he damn well deserved, but he had to say the words.

He lifted his head, eyeing the driver in the rearview mirror again. “When you can, go around this. Please. I need to get back as soon as possible.”

The driver nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Jackson cursed the sea of traffic in front of them again and prayed Becca would still be at the cabin when he finally reached it.
Please, God, let her still be there.

***

Two hours later, though, revealed an empty cabin. Becca had straightened up the place, making the bed, picking up the clothing they’d used. The fireplace showed evidence that it had once been burning, though it looked like she’d doused it. She’d taken her belongings with her, but the dinner she’d apparently had delivered still sat in its containers on the stove. Jackson swore under his breath as he eyed the dinnerware still sitting neatly at their places on the table. She’d gone through a lot of trouble for him.

With a heavy heart, he gathered the dinner containers, closed up the cabin, made sure the doors and windows were locked, and then climbed into the back of the limo. The small space filled with the aroma of barbecue. No doubt pulled pork sandwiches. She’d ordered his favorites. Call him a walking cliché, but one of the things he missed about the South was the food. His parents had insisted on the best of the best. Fancy dishes. Things like pulled pork sandwiches had been a rare treat, usually made for him in secret by their cook, Ida Mae. That Becca had remembered made his chest ache.

“Where to, sir?” The driver peered at him in the rearview mirror.

Jackson released a heavy breath, dropped his head back against the seat, and closed his eyes. The dejection swallowed him, and he let it. “Home. Take me home, if you don’t mind.”

***

Wading through the heavy traffic had taken them another hour. Traffic had been rerouted, making the already crowded side streets jam-packed with more cars than usual. As they pulled into the driveway, Jackson’s stomach tied itself in sickening knots. He had no idea what he’d find in the house, but only one light was burning inside. The one they’d left on when they’d left. The kitchen light.

No doubt the house was still as empty as when they’d left it. He’d have to call around her family to figure out whose house she’d gone to. With a sigh, he exited the car, thanked his driver, and trudged up the porch steps. His heart hung heavy in his chest as he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.

One step through the doorway, he halted in his tracks, hand still holding the knob. Stunned surprise slid over him. Halfway down the hallway, Becca stood with her hands fisted at her sides. The light burning in the kitchen spilled out into the hallway, illuminating her face. Her brow was furrowed, and her eyes shot daggers at him, warning him of the oncoming onslaught of anger.

All he could focus on, though, was how glad he was to see her. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss the hell out of her. Even glaring at him, she was the best damn thing he’d ever seen. She hadn’t gone to her family. She’d come
home
. If only to give him a piece of her mind, maybe, but at least she’d come. She’d left without a word last time. That she’d come at all meant he had a fighting chance this time. That chance might be a tiny speck of dust, but he’d take what he could get.

So he closed the door behind him and started talking while he could, while she’d let him. The words rushed from his mouth on a desperate need to make her understand. To tell her, yet again, all those things he should have told her a long time ago. “When I left my father’s company, Nathan Rembrandt came with me. His family is older than Savannah itself, and they’re worth billions. The man makes me millions every year. I’ve worked his campaigns since I started with my father after college, and he said he’d never change. He left my father’s larger, more experienced firm to come with me to a new company. He’d been with my father since before I got there, but he took a chance on me, and I have never let him down.”

He paused, waiting for a reaction, but she didn’t say anything or so much as move or even blink. So he drew a breath, dragged a shaking hand through his hair, and continued. Before she
did
say something. Before she walked around him and out the door behind him.

“Do you know what my father said to me when I told him I wanted to open my own advertising company?” His shoulders rounded as the painful memory rose over him, sinking inside of him. “He told me I’d fail. Said fifty percent of companies failed their first year out and he couldn’t understand why I wanted to start one when someday his would be mine. He told me starting my own company was a foolish waste of money, and if I insisted, he wouldn’t support me. So when Nathan Rembrandt says jump, I ask how high. I go out of my way to accommodate him, because I’m damn grateful to him.”

He paused again to gauge her reaction. She was silent and it was grating on his already raw nerves. The soft light drifting out from the kitchen glinted off the tears hovering in her eyes. Red-rimmed eyes. Seeing the evidence of her pain, a pain he’d caused, broke his heart. Becca only cried when she was desperate and hopeless. He’d been the one to put those tears in her eyes.

He dropped his arm to his side, helplessness washing over him. “Becca, say something. Yell at me. Tell me I’m a fool.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She finally moved from her spot, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. “I was going to leave again, you know. I sat in that damn cabin for seven hours by myself. I called and had dinner delivered. Lit every candle I could find in the drawers. Made a romantic little fire to go with it, too. Lila helped me pack my bag for this weekend. She left a surprise for you, and I put it on. Sat at that table for an hour, waiting.”

His gut wrenched, shame rising over him. He opened his mouth and moved toward her, ready to throw himself at her mercy, when her words finally sank in. He halted halfway to her. “Wait.
Was
?”

She came to a stop in front of him, head tipped back to meet his gaze. Her lower lip wobbled, and those damn tears continued to stubbornly hover in the corners of her eyes, but Becca drew up straight. Her eyes narrowed and she poked a finger into his chest. “
You
are going to have to figure this out, Jack.”

He blinked, processed, his mind still stuck on the last thing she’d said. She’d said
was
. Not “I
am
leaving you,” but, “I
was
leaving you.”

“You’re going to have to start rearranging your schedule to fit us in. Start putting your foot down with those clients of yours, hire more people.” She waved a flippant hand in the air, then glared at him again. “I don’t care how you do it. But you’re going to figure this out, because damn it . . .”

Her voice wobbled, and she swallowed, her throat bobbing. Her angry expression faltered, her eyes searching his. After a moment, she straightened her shoulders, hiked her chin a notch, and furrowed her brow again.

“Because I refuse to live without you.” Despite the fierceness of the words, her voice cracked, and her stiff posture deflated. A single tear escaped, sliding down her cheek.

All the breath rushed from his lungs. Relief shuddered through him, so keen he wanted to shout from the rooftops. She wasn’t leaving him again. Of all the things he thought she’d say, he hadn’t expected
that
. That was the best damn thing he’d ever heard.

Too stunned and too grateful to do much more than react, he did the only thing he could think of. He slid his hand into her hair and seized her mouth. He savored the luscious flavor of her tongue, luxuriated in the way her lips melted beneath his. When she leaned into him and a soft whimper escaped, he forced himself to release her.

“I’m sorry.” Beating him to the punch again, she whispered the words between them. Another tear broke loose, following its predecessor down her cheek.

“What on earth for?” His chest aching, he swiped away the wetness with the pad of his thumb. If only he could take away the pain he’d caused her as easily. Regret sat like a stone, hard and immobile, in his gut. “I’m the idiot who left.”

She slid her hand up his chest, settling it over his heart. “I left that cabin positive I was leaving you again. I was terrified. When you didn’t come back on time, all I could think was that the past was repeating itself, and I decided I couldn’t do it again.”

He lifted a hand, stroking her cheek, running his fingers along her jawline, any part he could, simply
because
he could. “So what’s changed?”

She gave a helpless shake of her head. “I came back here to gather my things, and the empty house got to me. I got to sitting in the living room, thinking about how much I’d miss this place. And then I got thinking about all those nights we sat in there, watching the news together, and that’s when it really hit me. The silence. The empty house. When Allie went to bed at night, I’d be alone. You told me a couple of weeks ago that I scare the hell out of you? Well, you scare the hell out of me, too.” She slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. When she spoke again, her words came out in a trembling whisper. “Nobody makes me feel as vulnerable as you do.”

“You had every right to be upset with me.” He stroked her back, enjoying the familiar curves of her body beneath his fingers, grateful beyond words that he could touch her at all. “I should never have left. I had a long talk with my client before I left the office. It’s why I was late. The meeting was running long, because he’s an old Southern gentlemen, used to getting his own way. He was dissecting the small details, and it frustrated the hell out of me. I told Nathan I couldn’t do it anymore. That weekends had to be my time. With my family.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, remembering the conversation. The old buzzard was a talker, and Jackson had grown frustrated.

“Lord, Becca, I told that man things I probably shouldn’t have said, in front of a full room. I told him everything. The divorce. The fire. You coming home. Christ. I even told him I’d left my wife, naked, at a romantic little cabin on the coast to come cater to his needs. Took me forever to get back to the cabin. Damn accident on the highway. Twelve-car pileup, of all things. Traffic had backed up for fourteen miles. By the time I got to the cabin, you’d already left.”

She leaned back to peer at him. “I came to find you.”

He smiled, quirking a brow at her. “To give me a piece of your mind?”

A soft flush slid into her cheeks. “I got to sitting around in the house. I hadn’t realized how much I’d gotten used to you being there every day. I realized how much I’d miss you if you were gone.”