No One But You (12 page)

If she dared leave early, he’d make a scene in the airport. He wasn’t ready to let her walk out of his life. After seeing her again at her birthday party, he knew that he never wanted to repeat their separation.

When the taxi passed the airport exit, he relaxed a little, but then was left wondering where the final destination was. Forty minutes later, Jackson followed the taxi onto the exit near the harbor. He stayed a little way behind, watching Sara pay the cab and then stroll toward the boardwalk.

Jackson headed for the closest parking lot and stowed his car. He hoped that he wouldn’t lose sight of her.

He returned to where he last saw her. His pulse was in a state of panic when he couldn’t locate her. Maybe he should have honked and let her know that he was there. But he’d been afraid that she’d run off before he got a chance to undo the damage wrought by his mother.

He walked along the waterfront toward the large expanse of water where tourists flocked to take pictures. He glanced into the small shops along the boardwalk. Disappointment nipped at him, but he refused to give in. He kept up his vigilance, scanning the crowd who happily and noisily passed him.

Ready to give up, he turned away from the foot traffic and leaned against the rail. He looked at the water lapping at the edge of the posts that penetrated the waterbed to support the pier. Maybe he had been too confident that he could change his parents’ minds.

On one side, his parents and the family business stood, and the other side was Sara without all that baggage. Was he too cynical to believe that his love for Sara would make everything all right?

“Jackson?” A soft touch roused him from his musings.

“Winifred!”

Winifred slammed into Jackson with arms opened wide before they clenched around him in a tightly locked embrace. “I can’t believe that I’ve run in to you.”

Jackson had to wrestle out of the young woman’s arms. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t care if he sounded rude.

“I’m here with my friends. I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Your mother didn’t tell you.”

“She knew you were back?” Winifred frowned.

“I saw her today, that’s why I asked.” Jackson couldn’t believe his rotten luck.

“When can we get together for lunch…or dinner?” Winifred squeezed the arm that she hadn’t let go.

Jackson tried to pull his arm free. “How about I call you when I get a chance?”

“I don’t trust you.” She pouted.

“Seriously. I’ll call.” Jackson adjusted his clothes that Winifred had managed to crumple. He didn’t want to make a scene, but he wasn’t going to commit, either. He’d dealt with an angry mother, he didn’t need to deal with an angry daughter.

“Okay, I’ll back off for the moment. I’m going to the movies with my friends.” She leaned into kiss him, but he was quick enough to turn his head slightly so that she caught the side of his mouth and cheek.

Over the top of her head, he saw Sara. She stood very still across the boardwalk with her hands behind her back. Her face was blank, but she was clearly looking at him. How long had she been standing there? Her quiet demeanor made him nervous.

“’Bye Jackson.” Winifred, looking quite miffed, rejoined her friends. She waved at him.

Jackson didn’t return her wave. As a matter of fact, Winifred no longer held his attention. He watched Sara approach.

“Before you say anything, let me do this.” She wiped the side of his mouth with a paper napkin.

“That was Winifred. Her mother is Portia. You met Portia at my mother’s book club. But I didn’t know Winifred was here. I came looking for you.”

“Shh.” Sara slid her arm through the crook of his arm. “Let’s walk.”

Jackson obeyed, still uneasy after seeing Sara’s demeanor. Was it that she didn’t care anymore, so it didn’t matter that she’d seen him in the arms of another woman?

S
ara opened her hotel room door. From the time they’d left the harbor, she warred with herself on how to handle this day. Although seeing Jackson with another woman certainly spun a jealous streak through her system, she knew that it was meaningless from Jackson’s actions.

Jackson closed the door behind him. “I didn’t know whether you’d let me come in.”

“You’re acting awfully guilty about everything. Why the nagging conscience?” Sara slipped off her shoes and made herself comfortable on the bed.

“I feel guilty about bringing you here and about my mother’s actions.”

“Do you think Romeo and Juliet shouldn’t have tried to get together? Because if they’d obeyed everyone’s wishes, maybe they would’ve survived in the end.”

“But would they have been happy? Two warring families can’t keep people in love apart.” Jackson took a seat in the chair next to the wide window.

“But they would have survived,” Sara reiterated.

“Living without love,” Jackson insisted.

“Since when have you become the romantic?” Sara turned her attention from the TV to him. She pushed the Mute button. “I’ve had a day of revelations. A day when I’ve realized that Shakespeare and his tragic romantic story and my reality don’t have too much in common.”

“Pick another writer,” Jackson challenged.

“Alethea.”

“And do you believe that she is happy? She did walk away from her love. Yes, she’s alive, but she also appears to be lonely.”

Sara had spent the last three hours since the nasty book club meeting working on protecting her feelings. The pain she’d experienced the first time Jackson rejected her hadn’t disappeared. Today’s melodrama stoked the fires.

“Sara, don’t shut me out. Don’t stop caring.”

“I care too much. I feel too much. And it’s sucking me dry.” Sara didn’t care if she sounded loopy. His words spurred her with a sharpness that angered her.

“Would you marry me?”

Sara grew angrier. “To soothe your fears of me leaving?”

“Let’s forget about my family. I’m sure your family isn’t ready to roll out the welcome mat for me, either. We know that we were meant to be together.”

“We do? Because you sprang up at my party? Because you whispered sweet nonsense in my ear? Because your mother was rude to me? Why exactly are you an expert about our survival as a couple?” Sara waited to hear the words that seemed to be so difficult for Jackson to say.

Jackson slid off the seat to his knees. He leaned on the bed to be closer to Sara. “I thought you wanted to marry me.”

“When did I say anything like that? I want to be able to trust you.”

“I don’t think you know what you want,” he accused. “You want me to marry you, while you sit on the fence about your life. That’s no life for me.”

“No one can make everything perfect for you. Don’t ask for the stars, so that when I fall short, you have an excuse to kick me to the curb.”

“And I’m afraid!” Jack threw back his head and laughed. “Are you any better? You’re ready to concede victory to my mother and run back to Chicago.”

Sara didn’t like the tables being turned on her. “For your information, I’m not running off. If I was running off, you wouldn’t have been able to find me.”

Jackson pulled her down onto the bed, steering her head close to his face. “I think you’re stalling. I’m going to make you agree to marry me.”

Sara soaked in his handsome face, with thick eyebrows framing his soft brown eyes. His nose, bold and strong, was punctuated by a distinctive mouth. This devilishly handsome man could woo her with just a glance. Maybe he knew his power. Maybe that’s why he asked his piercing questions just before he kissed her.

“Marry me, Sara.”

Sara cupped Jackson’s chin, closed her eyes and kissed him gently.

“Yes?” Jackson whispered.

She kissed him again, loving the feel of his firm lips against hers. He’d been her first love and gave her her first real kiss. “My answer is still no.”

Jackson’s body stiffened and his frustration surfaced. Without responding, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He gathered his car keys, hesitated, but shook the keys slightly and headed for the door.

Sara bit her lip. Maybe she had been too harsh. She could have softened her rejection. But she hadn’t trusted herself to be able to explain her feelings without sounding wishy-washy. Because a part of her wanted to say yes. The part of her that spoke for her heart.

Instead of leaving, Jackson locked the door and put the chain on. He turned off the light over the entry area.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked, not really caring if he had an answer. She looked forward to whatever Jackson had in mind.

“I’m going to change your decision.”

“I’m ready for the challenge.” Sara tucked the sheet around her body. “I have no intention of making it easy for you.”

“There you go trying to control everything. Well, you can add marrying me to one of your infernal lists.”

Sara pulled the cover over her head. “I’m not making any changes to my life plan,” Sara replied, her voice muted under the cover.

“We’ll see about that.”

Then she felt the cover lift near her feet. A strong grip on each ankle kept her pinned to the bed. Trust Jackson to have a few hidden moves. A burst of giggles erupted. She tried to move her legs, but could only twist her body from side to side.

“No matter what you do, it’s still no.”

Jackson didn’t relent despite her brave stand. Instead he crept up along her legs, which parted of their own volition. The palm of his hands traced the outer part of her thighs up to her underwear.

Sara sucked air through clenched teeth. His fingers didn’t rest. They prowled around the trimming of her underwear, sliding underneath the elastic binding. She grabbed the cover and bit on the edge to mute the groan that ached to be released.

His hand pulled the edge of her panties down over her hip. She raised her hip to help with her partial disrobing. “You are too wicked,” she managed to say.

“I’m a man on a mission.” Jackson pulled her underwear completely off and tossed it behind him.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sara teased.

This man could make love to her all day long. He erased the meaning of time. All she could think about was his attention to every part of her body. His soft, moist kisses leading up to her belly button sent her body into convulsions. Her stomach clenched as if she was completing a marathon of crunches.

Jackson laid the length of his body against her, pulling the sheet from her face. “Changed your mind?”

Without waiting for her response, he slipped his hand between her legs, playing, teasing, coaxing her awake. Little did he know that her body wasn’t asleep. Feelings of desire shot through her system like the effects of caffeine. Her muscles twitched with each loving stroke, making her body respond with its own moist welcome.

“What do you want me to do?” Jackson whispered against her ear. She loved the sound of his voice, deep. He was soft and smooth all at the same time.

She wrapped her arms around his body, rubbing the expanse of his wide back. She loved touching him, noting every contour of his muscles as they moved and twitched under her fingers. He asked her questions, but since he had ignited the fire in her, she couldn’t concentrate on what he wanted from her.

She only knew what she wanted from him.

Brushing aside his hand from between her legs, she guided him to enter her. No words were necessary. She surrendered to whatever her body craved, allowing the natural rhythms to take over. In this erotic dance, she followed his lead, wrapping her legs around his hips.

Her fingers closed around his hips, as he pushed against her, rocking with a steady beat, making their own music. Sara wished they could stay like this until they passed out. The way her pulse raced, she figured that the unconscious state wasn’t that far away.

“Sara,” Jackson whispered.

“Stop!” Sara cried. She couldn’t possibly talk now. He would be truly unfair, if he persisted with any questions. To ensure that he didn’t talk and only communicated through his actions, she tilted her hips to increase the mutual sensation.

When he sputtered and groaned, she knew that she had accomplished her mission.

“Hold on,” Jackson muttered.

He wrapped her in his arms and moved her as if she weighed nothing to sit on his lap. He certainly played dirty, knowing that she turned to jelly when he brushed her breasts with his cheek and the stubble of his jaw stroked her sensitive nipples. She grabbed his shoulders and arched up to the touch of his tongue attending to her nipples.

Desire increased with each small wave, rolling in with growing force. Sara needed an anchor or else she would float away.

She tightened her legs against Jackson’s hips. Only seconds remained before her body contorted into a series of tremors as she released, along with him, in a synchronized choreography. She clenched his head against her breast until they were both spent and until their breathing could return to a normal range.

They remained still, the normal ritual after a rousing time spent in each other’s arms.

“What’s your answer now?” Jackson’s voice sounded loud, erupting through the silence.

Sara disengaged herself from Jackson’s lap. “You make my head spin. You make me feel as if I’m about to have a heart attack. My body aches for you as if I’m an addict.” She entered the bathroom. “But I can’t marry you, Jackson. I simply can’t.” She closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower faucet.

Jackson hid his disappointment with a wry smile. Each time he’d asked the question, he wanted to hear her assent. Somehow he’d hoped that she could tell how much he loved her a few minutes ago. But that didn’t happen. Now she had turned him down in the cold reality of the present.

As she took her shower, he dressed. He knew better than to press her incessantly. Instead of waiting for her to come out of the bathroom, he wrote a short note on the pad and left it on the pillow.

Tomorrow she’d return to Chicago without him. All his efforts were proving futile. He didn’t know what else to do to change her mind.

His cell phone buzzed. He flipped it open to see that his father was calling. The last thing that he wanted to do was sit across from his father and talk about business.

The legacy didn’t matter to him. As far as he was concerned, his charge in life stood between him and Sara. He sighed, heavily weighed by the boulder-sized burden threatening to buckle his knees.

With the note in place, he left the room. He’d wanted to wake up next to Sara eating breakfast in bed. But that was his fantasy. He had to get used to the fact that not all his fantasies would come true.

He dialed his father once he was in the car.

“Dad, you called?”

“Yes, come on by the house. Let’s eat dinner here. Your mother is still not feeling great.”

“Does she need to go to the hospital?” Jackson had thought his mother was bluffing, but this was a bit long to carry out one of her episodes. “I’ll be right over.” Jackson started the car and left the hotel parking lot.

Once he pulled into the driveway of his parents’ home and parked, he hopped out, eager to enter the house. Immediately, he looked around for any signs of his brother and sister. Whenever a parent was ill, they managed to reunite. However, the house was very quiet.

“Mom,” Jackson called out, looking into the family room.

“Up here,” her faint voice called out.

Jackson ran up the stairs, heading for her bedroom. He knocked and waited for her response before entering. She was on her lounge chair, reclining with lots of brown medicinal bottles at arms’ reach.

“How are you doing?” Jackson stooped to touch her face. She felt normal to his touch. “Have you taken your temperature or blood pressure?”

“No, dear. I told your father that I just needed to lie down.”

“Where is Dad?”

“Downstairs, I suppose,” she sighed. “He’s probably in his office. Aren’t you going to dinner with him?”

“He told me that he’d stay at the house since you weren’t feeling good.”

“Well, that’s very considerate of him. Go on, son. I know he’s looking forward to having dinner with you.” His mother patted the side of his cheek, offering him a small smile. “I’m going to take a quick nap.”

He left her and headed downstairs to his father’s office.

“Jackson, is that you?”

“I’m here.” Jackson entered his father’s office, which was normally off-limits to everyone else.

The room was his domain, where he sat behind his desk lording over everyone. Jackson used to feel intimidated by the overpowering presence of the furniture, high ceiling and his father’s authoritarian attitude.

“Where are Becky and Thadeus? Didn’t they know mom wasn’t feeling well?”

“I didn’t call them because she’s not sick enough to need the hospital. Why would Becky take time away from the church to visit? She thinks that by distancing herself from the family, it makes her more like one of the average people who come to their church. I expect that kind of thinking from her. But your brother is another matter. I’m tired of fighting with him.”

His father poured himself his usual quarter glass of whiskey from his bar. He was straight from a Bogart movie with all his preconceived notions about the man’s role.

“Let’s go to the kitchen and see what we can rustle up to eat.” His father exited through another door behind him. The door opened to the other side of the house, shortening the distance to the kitchen.

Jackson knew that he had landed the job to cook dinner. His father’s familiarity with the kitchen was minimal. He wouldn’t have a clue where to find the glasses or where the spices were located.

In short order, Jackson cooked his version of chicken-fried rice from the various containers of left-overs. He added a healthy dose of the hot sauce his father liked to the pot. He shared a plate and poured a glass of iced tea for his mother.

He took the iced tea to her, but had to return it to the kitchen. She had fallen asleep. Maybe when she awoke, she’d appreciate a hot meal, he thought.