Nightingale Way: An Eternity Springs Novel (23 page)

Jack woke up aroused. He was in bed with Cat Blackburn. Go figure. She lay wrapped around him like a vine around a fence post.
Morning glory
, he thought.

He lay still, enjoying the moment. Holding her was like indulging in a tropical drink, what with the coconut scent of shampoo she used, the citrus body lotion she slathered on her skin at night, and the way touching her intoxicated him like high-dollar rum. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so turned on. It would be so easy to indulge. She used to love it when he woke her up by making love to her.

But the salient words there were “used to.” She specifically told him the invitation into her bed didn’t include what he ached to do. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—betray her trust.

Instead, maybe he’d lie down in the snow-fed waters of Angel Creek. Before he lost his resolve, he quietly slipped away from her embrace and out of her bed.

In his bed at the foot of hers, Fred opened his eyes, but he didn’t bother to get up. Jack took a long look at Cat, thinking about the choice she faced and wondering just where whatever choice she made would leave him. He asked himself where he wanted it to leave him.

The answer was easy. As long as the words “leave him” had nothing to do with it, he didn’t care what she
decided about her job. Because during the time he’d been away—actually, right about the time he’d decked Bret Barnes with a roundhouse punch—Jack had realized that he wanted to try again with Cat. She was the only woman he had ever loved, and he loved her still today.

He wanted her back. He wanted
them
back. After spending time with her here in Eternity Springs, he believed they had a chance. The trick would be to make her believe it, too.

He retreated to the cabin next door, pulled on a shirt and shoes and went for a run. Upon his return, he showered, and dressed. When he came out of the bedroom, he spied Fred on his dog bed in the front room and a basket covered with a red gingham napkin sitting on the kitchen table with a note in Cat’s familiar handwriting. “Banana nut muffins from Fresh. I’m heading to the newspaper. Want to meet me at Ali’s place for lunch at 12:30? It’s Greek Week.”

“Absolutely,” he murmured. After scarfing down the muffins, he took Fred up to Eagle’s Way, where he worked until eleven-thirty. Anticipation rode with him down into town. He entered the Yellow Kitchen restaurant ten minutes early. Cat was already there, standing by the hostess’s desk chatting with Ali Timberlake. The pleasure that flickered in her eyes when she spied him made him walk forward with a little more confidence. He said hello to Ali, then dared to lean down and kiss Cat lightly on the lips. “How was your morning?”

“Interesting,” she replied, following Ali to a table for two that had a nice view of Murphy Mountain. “Emily had to leave town again. Her poor brother is having an awful time. I’ve promised her that I’ll put the paper out for the next two weeks.”

After they took their seats and Ali handed them menus and left, he asked, “Have you talked to Lowery?”

“He’s called me three times. I haven’t picked up. My work phone has been ringing nonstop with interview requests. I could have been on ABC, FOX, and CNN today if I’d wanted. It’s just as crazy now as it was when the dogfighting story first broke.”

They both ordered the lunch sampler special, and as they waited for it to arrive, Cat asked him about his morning. It appeared that she had no intention of referring to last night, so Jack took his cue from her. Some campaigns required a slow but steady pursuit. “I worked in the office, mopping up a few messes left behind after dealing with politicians. I’m free this afternoon. Do you have photographs you’d like me to take?”

“I do.” She smiled warmly at the waiter who placed a half-dozen small plates of aromatic edibles in front of them. She inhaled deeply and moaned with pleasure. “That smells heavenly. I love the way Ali changes her menu to give her customers a variety, but I admit I could eat her lasagna every day.”

When she selected a stuffed olive, savored it with sensual delight, then licked her fingers, Jack almost moaned himself.

“I’m doing an interview with Sage Rafferty about her art. I’d love to get some shots of her in front of one of her paintings hanging in Vistas. Emily has a shot from earlier this year in her files that I could use. But since you offered …”

After lunch, Cat suggested they take the long way around to the Vistas gallery. “I told Sage I’d be by sometime after lunch, so there’s no rush. I ate too much. I need to walk off my meal.”

Jack didn’t buy that for a minute. He knew this woman. Cat had something on her mind and she was working up the nerve to talk about it.

They walked toward Aspen Street, then ambled north to Sixth. She veered into Davenport Park, and when
they passed the bleachers behind the baseball diamond, she abruptly took a seat. “There is something I need to say.”

He braced himself. “Okay. Say it.”

“About last night …”

“In my experience, when a sentence begins that way, it’s not good for me. Obviously, I made the wrong choice this morning. I should have followed my physical instincts rather than my mental ones.”

She patted his knee. “Oh, stop it. You did exactly the right thing and you know it.”

“Because of the eyes-wide-open thing.”

“Yes. But that’s not what I want to say.”

That wasn’t what Jack wanted to hear.

“Well, that’s part of it,” she corrected, which mollified him to some extent. “I made a decision about the
Post
. That is not what I want to do anymore. I’m going to tell Douglas no, and …”

For the first time, he heard real hesitation in her voice, and he braced himself for a challenge.

“… I’m going to stay in Eternity Springs.”

“Stay here? As in, live here? Move here?”

“Live here, yes. At least until winter comes. I’m not sure how much I’d like living here in the winter. But I do love it here now, and I love writing for the
Times
, and I can write my blog from anywhere. If I feel the urge to dive into an investigation, there’s a Ponzi scheme waiting for me in Gunnison.”

Jack cleared his throat. “This sounds like a cliché, but what about me?”

“Yes, what about you?” She offered him a warm but nervous smile. “I’ve enjoyed your company these past few weeks, Jack. I’m interested in taking that next step and seeing where it takes us.”

“Define ‘next step.’ ”

“Well, I guess it’d be testing the waters of a relationship. Slowly. With no strings attached.”

“One that includes sex?” He wanted everybody clear on that detail.

“Well, yes.”

“What if I’m planning to return to D.C. now that the danger to you is over?”

“Are you?”

“Would you care?”

“Yes, I’d care.”

“But not enough to return to D.C. with me.”

She stretched her legs out in front of her. Jack’s gaze focused on her sexy heeled sandals and the coral-colored polish on her toes as she wiggled them—a nervous habit of hers. “That’s not a matter of caring, but of commitment. I do care about you, Jack, I’ve always cared about you, even when we split. But it’s too soon to have an answer to that question. I’m not ready to commit to you any more than you’re ready to commit to me.”

“Not to be argumentative, but you don’t know how I feel. We haven’t talked about the changes in our relationship.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do now.”

Jack took a seat beside her. He didn’t know why he was annoyed. It was stupid of him. After all, he was getting what he wanted, wasn’t he? Cat back in his bed?

But—she “cared” about him. That’s it? He loved her, he’d always loved her, and she “cared” about him?

Better than telling him to take a hike, he guessed, but really. “So, what do you expect from this ‘next step’?”

She blew out a breath. “For one thing, I expect us to enjoy ourselves. I don’t want high drama or expectations or strings. I don’t want to go into another relationship thinking that I can change you. I’m older, and wiser, and I have those battle scars already.”

“You didn’t try to change me, Cat.”

“Is that what you think? Really? I was twenty years old, Jack. Of course I tried to change you. That’s what girls do.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

“Infinitely. Look, I think slow and easy should be our goal this time around. We shouldn’t get hung up on ‘what ifs’ or ‘if onlys.’ I don’t want us to fly high and then crash and burn again. I think we should give ourselves time to sift through the ash and figure out if there’s anything left to build on.”

Of course they had something left to build on. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here now talking about it, would they? Jack knew better than to speak that aloud, however. If Cat needed to think that for now, then let her.

And yet, maybe she had a point. Yes, he wanted her back in his life. No doubt about that. But was he totally sure to what extent he wanted her back? Did he want to try for the whole thing again—marriage? And what about children?

His stomach rolled at the thought of traveling down that path again.

All right, then, she did have a point. Maybe they should take it slow and for the time being, anyway, let tomorrow worry about itself. They couldn’t just step back into their old life. Nor would he want to do that. He wanted better, and he was a whole lot closer to it today than he’d been the day before. “Your plan makes sense, honey. Our goal is to enjoy ourselves. Enjoy each other. Life is too damn short to do otherwise.” He didn’t miss her slight shiver as he trailed a touch down her arm before lacing their fingers and bringing her hand to his mouth, where he placed a kiss against her soft skin. “You smell like oranges.”

“It’s the hand soap in Ali’s lavatory.”

“You know, we could be at Nightingale Cottage in five minutes.”

“Can’t. Sage is expecting me at Vistas.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. “Now, if you were to ask me up to Eagle’s Way later, I suspect I could be convinced to make my coq au vin for supper.”

“I have an excellent Burgundy to serve with it.” He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck. “My dear Ms. Blackburn. Would you do me the honor of cooking my dinner up at Eagle’s Way this evening?”

She batted her lashes. “I’d be delighted.”

“Excellent. I think that after we stop at Vistas, we should pick up Fred, make a stop at the Trading Post for groceries, then head up to my place.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

They held hands as they continued their walk toward Sage’s art gallery. When a truck’s horn beeped, Jack glanced up to see Cam’s son, Devin, waving at them. As he and Cat waved back, he was struck by the wonderful simplicity of the moment. Walking down a small-town street on a pretty summer afternoon holding hands with a gorgeous woman—wasn’t this how life should be? Weren’t moments like this really what he and Cat’s mother worked so hard to protect? The irony of that, of course, was that he seldom had the opportunity to enjoy them himself.

Well, he’d enjoy this moment, because in truth, it couldn’t be much better. As they passed the Taste of Texas Creamery, he coaxed her inside for something sweet to top off a delicious moment. As they exited the shop moments later carrying ice cream cones—Rocky Road for him, butterscotch for her—he thought the day was damn near perfect. Only when they waved at Gabe Callahan, who had one of his twins seated on his shoulders with her little legs and arms wrapped around her daddy’s neck as she giggled with delight, did he admit that something—someone—was missing. If he had just been able to buy Lauren an ice cream cone, the day
would have been sublime. Walking into Vistas and seeing a very pregnant Sage glowing with happiness put a period on the thought.

“There you are,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder if another breaking story about a bear might get my
Eternity Times
article bumped to another week.”

“You got bumped by a bear?” Cat asked.

Jack tore his gaze off her stomach. “I’d say she definitely got bumped by somebody. How much longer?”

“About two weeks, give or take a few days.” Sage rested her hand on her belly and beamed with such joy that Jack reached for his camera. This was a look that deserved to be captured for all time.

As Cat began the interview for the article intended to focus on Sage Anderson the artist rather than Sage Anderson Rafferty the mother-to-be, Jack focused on his photography and barely listened to what the women were saying, until Cat’s horrified gasp brought him up short. “They killed the children?”

“They massacred everyone there but me.”

“Even the newborns?”

Sage’s pained and weary smile answered that question. Jack was compelled to capture that expression, too. Now as he framed his shots, he listened to the conversation. “For a long time, I wasn’t able to talk about it. I had demons chasing through my dreams.”

Jack could relate to that.

“I used work to exorcise them.”

Jack could relate to that, too.

“I’ve come a long, long way, and while I’m nervous about motherhood, it’s the normal sort of nervous.”

Cat asked, “How did painting fairies tackle your demons?”

“Celeste has decided they’re not fairies, but angels. I spent my days immersed in happy, joyful images so that
I had the strength to battle the ugly ones that populated my nights.”

Cat turned away from studying the fairy-filled forest hanging on the wall. “I’ve seen pictures of your dark paintings, but I’ve never seen one in person. You don’t hang your midnight paintings at Vistas?”

“No. It’s bad energy. A gallery in Fort Worth has an exclusive on those, and I haven’t painted one in quite some time now.” Her smile reappeared as she added, “It’s a goal of mine never to paint in that style again. In fact, I’m all about puppies these days. After many hours of debate—okay, it was really argument—Colt and I decided on puppies as the theme for our nursery.”

“I was always partial to ducks,” Cat said.

Jack darted a look at Cat. Sure enough, her smile had turned brittle, though Sage didn’t appear to notice.

Sage continued, “I could have gone with ducks. They’re nice and traditional. Puppies were a compromise. We know we’re having a boy, and Colt wanted a sports-themed nursery.”