Save Me (9 page)

"I didn't tell you my name was Jack. That's what Bub called me in the sex shop and you just assumed it was my name. He calls me Jack, short for Lumberjack. I own Webster Sawmill."

Wham, it all makes sense.

"Oh," I mutter. I look at Jack's face and feel a mixture of relief and attraction.

"You look amazing," Jack says, taking a sip from his water glass. I barely hear him in my stunned state.

"This is fucked up, you realize that, right?" I take a drink from my own glass and feel only the cold sensation as I swallow. My head is still spinning, trying to toss one emotion ahead of all the others.

"In a good way, though," Jack says, giving me that megawatt grin. I see dark chest hair barely creeping above the collar of his white button down shirt.

I shake my head in an attempt to clear it. "This is nuts."

"Well, don't be too disappointed," Jack says, feigning hurt feelings. "When Mark said he wanted to fix me up with an accounting major, I was expecting a nerdy intellectual who would regale me with stories of Math Camp and instead I get the sexiest woman I've ever met.”

"I'm not disappointed, quite the opposite," I say quickly, regaining a bit of my senses. I look into those chocolate eyes and I'm fucking ecstatic. "I wondered if I'd luck up and see you again."

"I'm sorry about how I left you at the club. I thought you were giving me the brush off." He looks a little sheepish and a little injured.

"I thought you weren't all that interested in me because you didn't ask for my number." I shift in my seat; my nerves are humming a different tune now as I respond to Jack's proximity.

"How could I
not
be interested?" Jack asks. He smiles at me and I stare at those thick lips.

The server arrives, interrupting us before I have a chance to answer. "Hello, Mr. Webster," he says, nodding at Jack, "Miss," he says, turning to me. "My name is Brent. I'll be your server this evening. May I suggest something off the wine list?" He produces a long skinny piece of parchment.

"I'll have a double Jack Daniels on the rocks, no wine, please," I say quickly.

Jack's eyebrows go up in surprise. "I'll have the same, please."

"Very good," Brent says. He turns and vanishes from the table.

"You shaved," I say.

Jack rubs his naked chin. "Don't you like it?"

"It looks good on you, Jack," I say. "Shit, I'm sorry. I just can't get used to calling you 'Robert'."

"You can call me Jack," he says. "Lots of people do." He leans back in his chair and looks at me. "I'm going to call you Carlene, though."

He's messing with me and his eyes are full of impish light.

"Please, don't. I'm named after my grandma and I've always been just 'Carly'."

"Well then, 'Just Carly'," Jack says, leaning in toward me. "I'm so glad you turned out to be you."

I can't recall the last time I blushed. I mean, full on, red cheeks, intense burning in the face blushed. I can't talk about anything sexual without pause, but a compliment from Jack has me flustered. "I'm glad you're you, too."

"Like I said earlier, you look gorgeous tonight.” The maroon dress wasn't a waste at all, it turns out.

"Thank you," I say. Brent returns with two glasses, the ice clinking in the tumblers like a melody.

"Ready to order?"

I haven't even opened the menu. "Would you like to suggest something, Jack?"

He wrinkles his mouth for a second, those plump lips twisting into a pucker before he speaks. "Let's have the pecan caramelized brie to start with, followed by lobster tail and apple dumplings for dessert." Jack holds the menus out to Brent and he gives a polite nod before disappearing again.

"That's an awful lot of food," I say. "What makes you think I'm going to stay for three courses?" I smile at him and I watch his eyes come to rest on my lips.

"That smile makes me think you're going to stay," Jack says. "That smile makes me think a lot of things."

Again, I blush.

"How'd your friend fair the other night?" Jack takes a drink from his glass.

"She was a little ill for a couple of days. She thinks that guy roofied her."

"I hear that's happening a lot around here lately," Jack says.

"Men are dicks and that's all they think with," I say automatically. It's my usual response when someone tells me something shitty a guy did.

"Hey now," Jack says, throwing his hands up in mock defense. "Not all men. Not me, for example. I'm as pure as a field of daisies and I rarely ever think with my dick."

I have to give him the laugh he earned with that daisy remark. "Sure, and you're not thinking with it right now, either, are you?"

Jack's eyes flit to my cleavage and a broad, guilty smile spreads across his face. "I said
rarely
, not
never
."

"It's okay. After that dance last weekend, I'll let you look on occasion." I smile at him and let my eyes drink him in.

"You are a little pistol," Jack says, his grin going lopsided and sexy again.

"You have no idea," I say. I tip up the Jack Daniels and take a sip. "So what's it like, owning a sawmill?"

Jack launches into conversation about his mill and I can see he has a real passion for it. He talks about being the largest mill in the Mid-Eastern part of the U.S. I watch his mouth as he speaks; those perfectly carved lips and how they shape his eloquent words. His eyes are the greatest enhancement to his face, coming alive and flickering with each expression.

"So what about you?" he asks.

"What
about
me?" I ask.

"What's your story?" Jack asks, sipping from his glass. I watch as the ice cubes slide down the upturned glass and touch his lips.

"Well, I'm an accounting major and I just love, love numbers.” I put my hands together and under my chin. “I've gone to Math Camp every year since I was fourteen. Oh gee whiz, math is just the funnest!" I say with over the top enthusiasm. Jack grins and gives me a little laugh.

"That's what I get for judging you before I met you," Jack admits. He holds out his glass and tips it to me.

"I judged you, too," I confess. "I thought you were going to be an arrogant, boring prick and I just knew this wasn't going to be anything I'd do again."

Jack puts his hands over his heart as though he's been wounded. "Oh, the things she says."

Brent arrives with the brie and after being assured that everything looks great, beelines for the kitchen again.

A small perfect cylinder of creamy white cheese rests underneath a criminal amount of caramel and pecans. Jack picks up a fork and cuts through the gooey cheese.

"Here," he says, holding the fork out to me. I look past the fork and at him. "Go ahead," he urges.

I lean in, never taking my eyes off his, and close my lips around the tines of the fork. I slide the brie into my mouth. A stray drop of caramel slides down my lip and I catch it with the tip of my tongue. It tastes marvelous.

Jack lets a little breath out between his pursed lips. "The way you did that..." he trails off.

"If you can't take the heat, get out of the restaurant," I say.

Jack gives me another inspecting look before taking a bite of the brie with the same fork. I watch his mouth as he lets the sweet caramel hit his tongue.

"That's pretty tasty," he says. I pick up my own fork, not really sure who would end up turned on the most if I continued to let him feed me. We finish the brie as Brent makes his way to our table carrying two large silver domed plates. He sits them in front of us and removes the domes.

The lobster tails have already been cracked and little dishes of butter and lemon sit between them. I pick up my fork and carve away a bite of the tender white meat, dip it in butter, then squeeze a little lemon juice over it. It is divine.

I would never have ordered something this expensive on any date, but I'm glad Jack did the ordering.

We manage to do a little eating between jokes and conversation. Each time Jack makes me laugh, I have to admit to myself that this is the best date I've ever had. I don't want it to end.

Finally, the server clears away our plates and sits down two servings of apple dumplings. "I don't think I can eat another bite," I say honestly. I didn't eat a lot of my food, but everything was so filling.

"Me, either," Jack says. He waves his hand and Brent comes back to our table. "Could we get the check, please?" He nods and pulls a black leather book from his pocket. Jack slides his credit card inside and Brent disappears.

"You should let me pay for my food," I say.

"No," Jack says. "It's my treat. You can pay next time."

Next time.
Just like that my heart hammers between my throat and my feet.

"It'll be beer and pizza," I warn.

"As long as the beer's cold and the pizza's hot," Jack says with a grin. Brent hands Jack the black notebook again and Jack takes his card, scribbling on the white slip.

We stand at the same time and Jack towers over me. He pulls his jacket tight and for the first time tonight, I get a good dose of his scent. Jack pulls a pack of gum from his pocket and unwraps it. He holds the pack out to me and I shake my head.

I dig through my clutch and find the familiar plastic box. I shake a couple of Tic-tac's loose and pop them in my mouth. We walk out of the restaurant and into the crisp night air.

"So, where to now?" Jack asks.

"Um, is there more? I don't remember agreeing to more," I say, acting confused.

"Okay then," Jack says with a sigh. He leans in and quickly kisses my mouth; the taste of his lips is surprisingly sweet. "See ya 'round."

I stare at him a second as he starts to walk away. "Get your ass back here," I say.

Jack turns around, his face so damned devilish in the streetlight.

"I thought you don't like people?" I ask, walking toward him. "You want to go somewhere, but no matter where we go there are going to be more people."

"I want to go wherever you are," Jack says.

I reach where he's standing and, not intent on doing it; gently press my lips to his. He hesitates for a second before sliding his hands up and on my face. His fingers move to my temples and he twists them into my hair as he kisses me back. The cold air does nothing to us as every single small sound disappears. It’s as though our kiss has hit an invisible mute button on the world. I pray this is the silence before the storm.

I taste a glimpse of his tongue and he moves his mouth slowly, giving me ample opportunity. I finally pull away due to shortness of breath.

"Let's go to your club," Jack says. "It'd be a shame for you to not get a night out of that dress."

"Should I leave my car here?" I ask as he slides his big hand into mine.

"Yeah, I know the owner of the place, so it'll be fine." Jack takes his keys out of his pocket and clicks the button. Halogen lights flood the parking lot as the shiny black Cadillac Escalade roars to life. It's the douche-mobile I scowled at earlier.