Jane's Gift (11 page)

They made him feel good.

“I heard the water running and figured it must’ve been you,” she said.

He jerked on her hand, urging her closer. “Sit down.”

“W-where?” Her whisper was small, almost sounded scared, but he ignored it.

He wanted her closer. And he would have her closer, too, damn it. Despite her protests, despite how both of them continued to claim they wanted nothing beyond friendship, the chemistry between them had grown too large to ignore.

He was tired of fighting it.

“Right here, on the edge of the bed.” He scooted over, giving her room, and she sat, her body warmth seeping into him, the curve of her bottom so close, so tempting.

“Christian. You need to go back to sleep,” she urged.

“In a minute. Let me thank you first.” How did he want to thank her? Well, he could think of a few ways. But would she let him?

There was only one way to find out.

“You’re welcome.” She nudged at his shoulder again with her free hand and curled her fingers around him. Damn, if he didn’t become aroused at her simple touch. “Now go back to sleep.”

“Join me,” he murmured, and he swore he heard her gasp.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.” He paused, squeezed her hand before he brought it to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. “Join me.”

Chapter Eleven

“You—you can’t be serious.” No way could he be. Even though he didn’t feel overly warm, he must still be delirious with fever.

That was the only way Jane could justify the odd request, the downright romantic way he treated her. After their kiss and then her ultimate rejection that night at the movies, he’d essentially kept his distance. Always respectful, polite, more like a friend than a lover.

Right now, he was acting very much like a lover. And she liked it. A lot.

“I’m dead serious.” He kissed the back of her hand again, his lips lingering, warm and damp on her skin. A shiver moved through her and her breasts grew heavy in reaction to his simple touch. He drifted his mouth over her hand, across her knuckles, and her lips parted on a sigh.

“Join me, Jane.” His sleepy voice was seductive, alluring, and she was tempted, so tempted. But what would happen if she did join him? Would he touch her, take this even further? Or would he recoil from her in disgust when he discovered her scars?

No way could she let him see her…but even in the dark he would feel the raised, puckered, scarred skin.

“Chris.” She tried to sound strong, firm. “I can’t. The children—”

“Are still asleep,” he finished for her. His voice was low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down her spine. “They’ll never know. Lay with me, Jane, just for a few minutes.”

“I shouldn’t.” Again, with the firm voice and the not-so-firm resolve.

“You should. You know you want to.” He actually chuckled, the cocky man, and she felt him slide over to make more room for her. He released her hand and flipped back the blankets. “Come on. Before I get cold.”

She could not believe she was doing this…but she wanted to. She was attracted to him. Giving in to him seemed natural. Kicking off her slippers, she shifted under the covers, her bare toes nudging a knee, sliding down to brush against a hairy calf. He was very warm, his body heat embracing her much like his strong arms when he drew her to him.

“Christian! You’re naked,” she said on a gasp, shock coursing through her when she realized he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.

He chuckled again, smoothing his hand up her back to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck. “You’re very perceptive.”

“I think…I think you’re hallucinating or s-something,” she stammered, and she rested her hand against his chest. His very warm, very hard chest. She couldn’t resist streaking her thumb across his skin.

“Nope, no hallucinations. I’m feeling a lot better.” He dipped his head, his still damp hair brushing against her cheek, and his mouth moved against her neck in the softest of kisses. “Just wanted to show my thanks.”

“A simple thank-you would’ve worked just fine.” She arched her neck, giving him better access as she clutched his broad shoulders, holding onto him for dear life. He was an anchor, something to cling to as the storm of emotions his mouth brought forth raged within her. That mouth slid down her neck, kissing and nipping, and his tongue licked, making her squirm, making her sigh in anticipation.

Anticipation of what? Lovemaking? Oh, no. No, no, no. She wasn’t ready for that. She couldn’t be ready for that. She needed to get to know him better first.

Right. And she’d been saying that for weeks.

“I love the way you smell.” He lifted his head, his face in front of hers, his mouth so close she swore she felt his lips move when he spoke. “It drives me crazy.”

“It does not.” No man had ever said anything like that to her, not even her husband.

“It does.” He kissed her, his mouth connected with hers, and oh, she wanted more. “You drive me crazy. All day. Every day.”

“Chris…”

“Do you think about me? At night, all alone in your bed, do you close your eyes and think about me, Jane? Because I think about you.” He kissed her again, this time his mouth lingering. His tongue touched the seam of her lips and she opened for him, let him in, wanted him in.

His words, his kisses, were like a drug. She needed to hear more, taste more, experience more. More, more, more.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she said the second he lifted his lips from hers. Though she could barely speak, she was so breathless, swept away by his seductive mouth and delicious tongue.

“What’s stopping us?” He kissed her cheeks, her chin, and nipped her there. He gripped her waist and his fingers slipped beneath her shirt.

“Me. I’m stopping us. Um, you could get me sick, you know.” What a weak excuse. She really should tell him she couldn’t risk the involvement, the idea of being with this man in beyond a friendly manner.

Chris paused, his face nuzzling hers, his stubble-covered cheeks scratchy in a most pleasant way. “Sweetheart, if that was going to happen, it’s too late. I already kissed you. Thoroughly.”

Yes, he had. And yes, he was right. But she wasn’t one to throw caution to the wind, let bygones be bygones, or any of those other silly, stupid clichés. She was boring. She was normal. She was a widow who didn’t have much of a social life and definitely didn’t have any kind of sex life.

It seemed the man who lay with her, his naked legs entwined with her clothed ones, was determined to change that.

“Please don’t tell me to stop.” His voice lowered another fraction, sexy and deep and rumbling from his chest. “You can’t deny what’s happening between us.”

“And what is that?” She wanted to hear him say it, but he kissed her again, his tongue sweeping the recesses of her mouth before he answered her.

“Chemistry. Attraction. I think I wanted you the second I saw you.”

“Really?” No way could she believe that, could she? She’d been so shy, so quiet, so nothing special. It was hard for her to think of herself as anything else. But right now, being in Chris’s arms, his hands all over her, his mouth attached to hers, he made her feel like a woman. And until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she needed that.

“You like to contradict me, don’t you?” Again, another chuckle, another nuzzle of his cheek against hers. He slid his hand beneath her shirt, curved around and up her front, until he cupped her naked right breast in his wide palm. “No bra. I thought so.”

“You were hoping I didn’t have a bra on?”

“Oh, yeah. I thought about a lot of things. All of them good. All of them involving you. And me. Like this.”

There was no way she could deny him, not when he thumbed her nipple with such aching precision, not when he slipped his other hand beneath the waistband of her flannel pants to smooth over her bottom, his palm burning through the soft cotton of her panties.

His hands were magic, his mouth not allowing her the chance to protest, since he swallowed all of her words with one delicious, long kiss. He devoured her, his lips soft and damp, his velvety tongue tangling with hers. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She could only feel, and it all felt so, so right.

“Chris.” She stiffened, fear turning her spine to ice, and she shoved at his shoulders. “I—I can’t.”

“I know you’re scared.” He drew away so he could look at her. She hated that he could see her, that the light was on, and she wished they were in darkness. It wouldn’t be so bad, then, and she might’ve felt braver.

Right now, she didn’t feel brave at all. She wanted to run. She wished for her old body, her old confidence.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” she confessed, feeling like an insecure fool.

He didn’t stop touching her. Just traced her skin with gentle fingers, along her hairline, touching her scars. She tried to jerk away but he held tight. “I think you might be, honey. I have a feeling you are, but you’re just cautious. Afraid.”

“It’s been a long time.” She paused. “I’ve only been with, truly with, one man. And that was my husband.”

He was silent, absorbing her words, and probably getting ready to run.

“Then he was a lucky man, your husband.”

Oh, God. She absolutely melted. What could she say to that? How was she supposed to react to something so sweet, so sincere? The corners of her eyes pricked with tears and she shook her head, refusing to let them fall. She’d cried enough to last a lifetime. No way did she want to break out in sobs while in bed with this sexy, thoughtful man.

“No one has seen me since—since the accident.” She nibbled on her lower lip, tried to tell him without actually saying it that she didn’t want to reveal the scars all over her body.

“I won’t push you into doing something you don’t want, Jane.” He traced his finger along the side of her face, touching her scars again, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t move.

“I know.” And she did know that. She believed it with all her heart.

“I’ll stop if you ask me to.”

“I know that, too.” She trusted him. She cared for him, even.

This was why she lay with him, why she wanted more but was too afraid to admit it.

“Turn off the light.” Her voice trembled, a breathy little whisper, and he did as she requested, reaching over and shutting off the lamp with a flick of his fingers.

He drew her close and she held onto him. She slid her hands down his chest and marveled at his smooth skin, the hard muscles beneath her palms. He was so big, so strong, and his slowly exhaled hiss of breath made her pause.

“Don’t stop,” he said, his voice tight. “Keep touching me.”

Jane continued her exploration, skimming her hands down his rib cage, along his stomach, tracing every dip and ridge, the soft hair that grew just below his belly button tickling her fingers. She couldn’t believe she’d taken it this far.

Without a word, he reached for the hem of her shirt and tugged, a silent request to continue. She surrendered, held her arms up, and slowly he pulled the shirt over her head, then tossed it onto the floor.

“You’re so soft.” He caressed her, a slow, soothing glide of his hands over her skin. She shut her eyes, let herself be carried away by the exquisite sensations his touch brought forth.

She couldn’t wrap her head around it, that he wanted to be with her. And so she wouldn’t frazzle her brain by thinking about it too much. This time she was the one who kissed him. Who snuck her tongue into his mouth and tasted him.

The kiss turned instantly hot. She clutched him close, slung her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his hair. His hands were everywhere, applying pressure where she wanted it. So gentle, so careful, and she needed that gentleness, appreciated it more than he would ever know.

He broke the kiss, his ragged moan so close to her ear it made her snap her eyes open. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart.

“God, Jane.” The desperate groan that escaped him matched the desperation rising in her body. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

This was it—this was the moment where she could tell him to stop or beg him to continue. She’d never done something like this before, taken a chance where usually she was so careful

For once, she was willing to risk her heart.

“Then don’t.” She pressed a kiss to his neck, savoring the heavy weight of him when he settled his body over hers.

Oh.
Her eyes flew open and she stared blindly at the ceiling. She sunk her hands into the thick mass of his hair, holding him in place. His hair tickled her sensitive skin and tingles sparked all over her body.

And when he finished thoroughly making love to her, as he rolled onto his side and draped his arm over her, holding her so close she could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath her ear, she knew she’d never felt so content.

Chapter Twelve

Chris was in a state of…something. He couldn’t think of any words to describe how he felt.

Panic, maybe? Anxiety? A major freak-out of epic proportions?

Yeah, that just about summed it up.

Five days ago, he’d slept with Jane. Well, little sleep had actually been involved. No, five days ago, he’d had sex with Jane.

Sweet, beautiful, giving Jane.

Impulse had led him to do it. That and good old-fashioned lust. And want. And need. Once he’d touched her, he needed her as if he needed his very last breath. The intensity behind their every mutual shift and movement, every kiss, every caress had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

Caught up in the moment, that’s what he’d chalked it up to. Caught up in her and her delicious scent, her touch, her mouth; damn that lush, seductive mouth. Those little hands had fluttered over him as if too cautious to touch, but once she’d gotten into it, oh, how she’d touched him. Touched his heart.

It had been all-consuming.

But when he’d come down from his Jane high, reality had crashed around him.

They’d dozed in each other’s arms until one of the kids had cried out for her. Jane had withdrawn from him, sadness and a hint of hesitation clouding her soulful green eyes. Dawn had started to break, dim gray light slowly filling the room, and he’d watched as she hurriedly dressed.

The scars, the raised, disfigured skin he’d touched, was laid bare in the thin light of the morning. He caught sight of them; she knew it. And for once, she hadn’t shied away or tried to hide. He touched her there, lightly tracing her scars, his gaze locked with hers. And she stood before him, unflinching, so brave. The sight of her shattered him.

He told himself they didn’t bother him, the scars. But they
did
affect him. Not because they made Jane unappealing or ugly or whatever her fears were. They affected him because they showed the extensive damage this woman had gone through. Everything she’d suffered in the past, and from what he could tell, she’d suffered a lot.

Seeing them, seeing Jane, making love to her, had been almost too much. After she left, he’d quietly lost it. The urge to leave, to flee like some sort of trapped animal, had pushed him to hurriedly get dressed. Rush out of her house as if the devil nipped at his heels, her children sitting around the kitchen table staring at him like he’d grown horns and carried a pitchfork.

The disappointment on Jane’s face had been undeniable. He’d let her down, and he didn’t quite know how to rectify it. It didn’t help that he’d gone home and crashed for over twenty-four hours—the lingering effects of his utter emotional exhaustion. He’d recovered just in time to go back on shift for the next four days. Considering it was the slowest time of year, it had been a busy four days as well.

And so now, he was off for the next three days. The perfect opportunity for him to swing by Jane’s house and talk to her. Beg her forgiveness for being such an ass. He’d bolted from fear of taking it too seriously. Then he’d stayed away after he started hearing rumors about his truck being seen in Jane’s driveway. And when Dolores, the checker who’d worked at Hillside Market for as long as he’d been alive asked when he and Jane were going to get married, he knew he was in trouble.

God. He hadn’t even called her. He wouldn’t blame Jane if she told him to get lost. Staying away from her had made him realize, though—he missed her. He’d made a mistake, bailing out and then not calling. He could only imagine how much of an asshole she thought he was.

Chris went straight home, not ready to face her yet. He needed to gather some courage first. He changed out of his uniform and took a quick shower. Shaved carefully, actually put gel in his hair. Dressed even more carefully, dug his newest jeans out of the dresser, and slipped them on. Dressing to impress was the plan. Would it work?

Okay, yeah, he was acting like a chick. He needed to get the hell out of his house and over to Jane’s. Now.

Gathering his wallet and keys, he went to the front door and opened it to find Mac standing on his doorstep, his hand poised as if ready to knock.

“Going somewhere?” Mac’s brows lifted.

“As a matter of fact, I am.” Chris didn’t quite know how to admit he was going to Mac’s sister’s house. He wasn’t sure if Jane even wanted anyone to know they were seeing each other.

And could he even call it that? Seeing each other? Dating?

“So you don’t have time to talk.” Mac moved past him and strode into the living room. “I was headed home and saw your truck in the driveway. Planned on calling you, but thought now is as good a time as ever.”

Chris slowly shut the door and turned to face his friend. “I don’t think I have a choice. What’s up?”

Mac at least had the dignity to look sheepish. “Sorry to keep you. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions.”

“About what?” Chris tensed.

“Well, Mindy and I got to talking, and she was saying Jane hasn’t been acting right lately. She thinks something’s bothering her, but she doesn’t know what, and Mindy’s worried. Do you know? What’s wrong with Jane?”

How could Chris word this delicately without getting his face bashed in by a protective brother? He needed to be somewhat honest. “I was headed over there right now, actually.”

“Are you seeing my sister?”

“Kind of.” Chris shrugged, saw the suspicious gleam in his friend’s eye, and hurried to explain. “We haven’t officially defined it yet.”

Mac sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Bro, don’t screw this up.”

“There’s really nothing to screw up.”
Liar. You left her alone and might’ve screwed this up big-time already.

And this was why he was running to her. Before it was too late—or was it too late already?

He was such an idiot.

“Mindy said she’s been withdrawn, emotional, and short with the kids. Hell, I don’t know, I haven’t seen her lately and if anyone’s all of those things, it’s Mindy.” Mac’s expression went grim. “Marty left her. They’re going to file for divorce.”

“Ah man, that sucks.” Chris liked Mindy, though he didn’t know Marty very well.

“Yeah, I guess it’s better than staying in a miserable marriage. My mom’s freaking out. Upset it’s going to ruin Christmas.” Mac rolled his eyes. “Family drama. Gotta love it.”

Chris had no idea what it was like, to deal with family drama. Not really. His parents had fought like crazy, but they didn’t involve him. And once he’d figured out how bad their marriage really was, how much they hated each other, his mother had dragged him away from his dad. That was a whole different kind of drama, though. The drama Mac referred to involved a family that loved each other. Picked on each other, yes, but loved each other just the same.

“Yeah, drama,” Chris echoed, only because he thought he should.

“Well, you’ll find yourself right smack-dab in the middle of it if you and Jane start dating.” Mac shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You sure you’re up to this? Especially since she’s so moody lately?”

No. He wasn’t sure at all. But he knew he was willing to give it a try. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Mac watched him, quiet until he gave a short nod. “I’ll let you go. Sorry to bother you.”

“Hey, no problem. Want to get together and go quad riding next week?” Both Chris and Mac owned all-terrain vehicles and liked to go riding the many trails just above town.

“Sounds good. I’ll call you.”

They walked together out into the cold darkness, Mac giving Chris a friendly wave as he climbed into his car. Chris got in his truck and started it, his thoughts slowing him down. What if this thing didn’t work between him and Jane? Would it wreck his friendship with Mac? He’d met Mac the first week he’d moved to Lone Pine Lake and they’d become fast friends. He hated the thought of losing him because he broke up with his sister.

A sobering thought. Something he hadn’t considered. There were many things he hadn’t considered, he realized, even though he had always been a think-ahead sort of guy. He liked to plot things through. He didn’t normally make rash, spontaneous decisions.

Like buying Jane a Christmas gift, maybe. Something special, something…momentous. He didn’t usually buy anyone presents. He’d been called a Grinch more than once.

But from the moment he met Jane, he’d gone against the grain and behaved like a completely different man.

And he realized it felt pretty good.

…

“Mommy, how much more popcorn are you gonna make us string?”

Jane sighed and shot a stern glance toward her oldest child. “Aren’t you the one who wanted to put a popcorn garland on the tree?”

Lexi nodded, her lips pursed. She clutched a half-filled string, a bowl of popcorn sitting at her feet. She looked bored.

“If you’d rather do something else, go ahead.” Jane didn’t want to make Lexi suffer. Sophia wasn’t even around the tree, having long ago abandoned them in favor of playing with her dolls. Logan was hanging and re-hanging and re-hanging various ornaments so the tree looked completely bottom-heavy.

“Thanks!” Lexi took off before Jane could say anything else, and she shook her head, pushed away the bowl of popcorn. Try as she might, her patience had worn thin; she’d caught herself mid-snap with the kids more than once. She hurt for Mindy, who was in a delicate state after Marty left her. Jane tried to brush off her own mood, to blame it on anything but what was really bothering her. She hoped no one realized what that was.

Christian Nelson. And his seeming abandonment of her after they’d made love.

She still couldn’t believe it had happened, that she’d given in so easily. She’d wanted it; she couldn’t deny that. And she’d been so overwhelmed with emotions afterward, things she’d wanted to discuss with him, but then real life had butted in.

And he’d run like a scared little boy with his tail tucked between his legs, never to be heard from again.

That’s what bothered her the most. How he’d never contacted her. Hell, he’d even left the Christmas tree he’d cut down for her on her front porch. She’d hauled it in and put it up herself.

Well, and with a little help from Mindy. That had been the moment she’d discovered her sister’s marriage was indeed falling apart.

“Mama, someone’s here,” Logan announced, and Jane blew out an aggravated breath.

Good lord, now what? She hoped it wasn’t Mindy again. She wasn’t in the mood for her sister and her all-of-a-sudden hellion children. Acting out because their father was gone, they were annoying, and their behavior only seemed to work up her own kids.

“Is it Aunt Mindy?” She knew Logan would recognize her car.

“No. I don’t know who it is.” Logan stood at the window that looked out the front yard, his face pressed against the glass.

“Is it Uncle Mac?” She hadn’t seen her little brother lately, and Mindy had mentioned him when they’d talked on the phone this morning.

“Nooo, I know his car, too.” Logan sounded insulted. Then he pressed his face against the window even more, leaving smudges on the glass. “It’s Captain Nelson! The fire captain, Mama! I knew it was his truck!”

Jane’s heart flopped like a flailing fish in her chest. She wished her son had recognized that truck sooner. It would’ve given her a little more time to prepare.

But prepare for what? Why was he here? What did he have to say? If she were smart, she’d shut the door in his face and demand he never contact her again. But that wasn’t in her blood, to be so rude. And when the doorbell rang and Logan ran to it, screaming like a wild man, she knew she couldn’t avoid him, either.

It was time to face reality. Instead of being rude, she’d give Chris the polite treatment. Listen to what he had to say, and then let him know she didn’t want to see him ever again.

Yes, that’s what she needed to do. What was best for her well-being.

“Hey, Jane. Can I come in?” Chris asked in that deliciously low, sexy voice when she opened the door. He skimmed his gaze up and down her frame as if he had x-ray vision and liked what he saw.

Any other time, she would’ve appreciated his blatant perusal. Tonight? Not so much. His scent reached her immediately, a hint of cologne and clean, fresh soap, as if he’d just showered. His hair curled casually about the back of his neck, and he wore a dark gray Henley that stretched taut across his broad chest, emphasizing his quiet power.

“I don’t know. Are you going to run in a few hours and not call me for the next five days?” Oh, there went the polite route. Where did that come from? She was actually proud of her outburst.

He shuffled his feet and dipped his head, looking embarrassed.
Good
. “I’m sorry for doing that.”

“You should be.” Oh, another rude comment. Look at her, standing up for herself. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can’t believe it, either.” He lifted his head, his eyes dark, his expression somber. “I’d ask for your forgiveness, but I figure I have to earn it first.”

“You figured right.” She lifted her chin, strength filling her. She could stand her ground and still get what she wanted.

Because she couldn’t deny it—she did still want Chris. Despite his crappy treatment and seeming abandonment of her, she wasn’t ready to let go. It might be stupid, but she had a feeling about him.

A good one.

“So can I come in?” He waved his hand at the door. “Please?”

Jane opened the door wider and he moved past her, his arm brushing against hers as he walked into the living room where Logan enthusiastically greeted him.

“We’re decorating the tree you cut for us, Captain Nelson!” Logan hopped up and down, pointing at the tree that stood in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, I see that. I like it.” Chris stood with Logan in front of the tree, casting it a critical eye before he glanced in Lexi’s direction. “Hi, Lexi.”

“Hi.” She’d snuck back into the living room, once again focusing on her popcorn stringing task, her mouth screwed up, the tip of her tongue sticking out, a study in concentration.

“Stringing popcorn for the tree?”

Lexi finally glanced up at him. “Yes.”

Chris’s gaze met Jane’s, his eyes golden brown and oh, so warm in the dim light of the room. She only had on a single lamp plus the multi-colored Christmas lights on the tree, wanting an almost magical effect while they decorated. Christmas carols played; Bing Crosby crooned about dreaming of a white Christmas in the background.