Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) (28 page)

"I've been meaning to talk to you. I don't think
that--"

"I'm not taking no for an answer, bro."

"You don't understand. I'm not good enough to--"

Jesse gripped Jackson's shoulder and Jackson looked
up.

"You don't understand. If something happens to me,
there isn't a better man for my son than you."

Tears welled up in Jackson's eyes and he looked up
at the damn clouds. "Shit."

Jesse squeezed Jackson's shoulder and then let go.
"Welcome home, bro."

Jackson couldn't say anything. He just went back to
work.

Later, while they were all sitting on the porch
enjoying a cool drink after devouring the sandwiches Emma shuttled
over, James turned to their dad. "I want to get your opinion of a
project Jared and I are thinking about getting into after we finish
the children's wing at the hospital."

"What's that?" John stretched as if his back was
bothering him a bit.

"I'll get the blueprints out of the truck, while you
tell him." Jared jumped off the porch.

"We’re thinking about starting a subdivision. With
the profits from the hospital job and, if we can pre-sell the homes
before construction, we think we can swing it financially.”

"Sounds reasonable. Why are you asking me?"

Jared returned with the plans. "Well, James and I
thought we'd name the place Weldon Estates. It'll be near the
Intercoastal with all of those highbrow estates."

Jesse laughed. "You mean the Weldon’s are making a
name on the right side of the tracks after all these years."

Everyone laughed with Jesse.

James spread out the plans.

Jackson leaned over and gave them a cursory glance.
One minute he was just mildly interested and the next minute one of
the plans jumped out at him. It featured a big sunroom with a spa.
Whoever had drawn it had penciled in a nice sized garden in the
back. To him it had Nan written all over it. He could just see her
plants filling the sunroom. He picked up the blueprint. “Mind if I
look at this one for a while?”

His question was met with a bunch of raised
eyebrows, but no objections. He rolled up the plan and stuck it in
his truck. Then he remembered the plant she'd given him. It had
probably died after a week of neglect. He went into the cabin to
look. It still sat on the dinette table, but instead of brown and
shriveled, the little plant was green and lush. Little blue buds
had sprouted.

He walked over and stared at it. The table was wet,
too. Rain, like tears from heaven had fallen and watered the little
plant, kept it alive, despite his neglect. Jackson picked it up to
carry to his truck. Maybe…

He shut his eyes and an image of
Nan flashed through his mind.
She was
there. Naked. Lying on the bed waiting for him. He walked up to
her, nudging her knees apart and stood between her legs, looking
down at her ripe breasts, and warm sex. Everything of hers right at
his fingertips. His erection swelled against the fly of his jeans
and she reached out to cup him, rubbing him to rock
hard.

He knelt down, spread her sex open and pulled her
bottom to the edge of the bed. He looked his fill of her, caressing
her folds, sliding his finger into her warmth, caressing her until
she was wet with need, ready for him to taste of her honey. She
rose to her elbows watching him touch her, breaths gasping, nipples
begging, and her pulse pounding.

Keeping his gaze locked on hers,
he leaned down and kissed the excited, nub of her sex. She moaned
and her eyes grew misty. He kept kissing, kept tasting, kept
licking and loving until she cried for release, until her eyes
turned desperate, and she arched her back, begging for more.
Reaching up, he rolled her nipples between his fingers, playing a
sweet melody in tune to the
stroking of
his tongue until she came apart for him. When she settled into the
hazy aftermath of his loving, he started all over again. Demanding
more as he unzipped his fly, he grabbed her hips, and buried
himself deep inside of her. Then they were making love everywhere
his gaze settle around him. In the barn down the road, on his bike,
on the truck, in the truck. Anywhere and everywhere. He couldn’t
get her out of his mind. Her fantasy obsession had now taken him
over
.

He had such a hard on that he had to go take a dip
in the creek before he could climb back to the roof.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The alarm went off and Nan groaned, forcing herself
to roll out of bed. Shakespeare had a cold and Nan thought one was
trying to catch a hold of her, too.

She'd dreamed about Jackson last night. Not the hot
sexy dreams she used to have. This dream was different and
recurring. Jackson was ahead of her on a long road leading directly
into a black void, and she was running after him. Running as hard
as she could, but she never reached him before he disappeared into
the black void. All she could see of him was his back and as much
as she cried for him, he never turned towards her.

Jackson had returned to the construction site. And
every day she was at work, she saw him outside the window. He never
looked her way. The windows were mirrored so he couldn't see that
she watched, but didn't he wonder?

It'd been two weeks and thirty-six hours since she'd
left him standing at the dock and had told him that she was sorry
she'd ever let him into her life.

Part of her shouted no, that she didn’t regret
knowing Jackson's touch and the fire of his passion even if she
never saw him again. But another part of her that still hurt so
bad, cried, wishing she’d never known him.

Climbing into the shower, Nan turned her face to the
water's sting, shocking herself to stop the tears. She had to put
her mind towards the meeting today. It was D-day with the hospital
board and the Nurses Trouble Shooting Committee and Nan hoped she'd
written her opening speech in such a way as to express the nurses'
concerns as well as garner the board's support.

She dressed, managed to get down a bagel and a glass
of juice as she misted her plants. Then she saw the offensive gray
hairs. Her beautiful gloxinia had Botrytis! How could she have let
gray mold invade her plant? It'd grow like a cancer unless she
weeded it out today. A dozen things preyed on her mind and nausea
churned all morning long.

She walked into the meeting-room with all of her
worries, nerves, and heartache sitting like a heavy rock in the pit
of her stomach.

"You must be excited," Candy said, nursing a cup of
coffee.

"I've had better moments." Nan smoothed her chignon
and straightened her collar. "How do I look?"

"Like a professional. Relax. Believe me, there's
more nurses awed by your reputation with the Lois Emerson Merit
Award than you can imagine. Most that I know are coming this
morning just to see you."

"Candy, if you think you're helping. You're not. I'm
just a regular person, and a messed up one at that."

"You'll do fine. Here's Head Nurse Litton."

Nan turned. "Good, I want to run a few questions by
her, before the meeting."

Time crept up and bit Nan on the seat of her nurse’s
whites before she realized. The meeting began. Her nerves jittered
and her legs wobbled, but soon she slid into a rhythm and held her
own. The welcome speech went well. She had competent answers to the
board's questions. And by the end of the meeting, the board had
decided to appoint a small committee to review the hospital's
policies in regards to the nurses’ grievances. For the first time
it looked like real change in the hospital’s policies was possible.
It was more than the Trouble Shooting Committee had hoped for and
afterward, rather than running to escape as usual, many of the
board members stayed to talk a bit.

Mr. Townsend, having remembered her from the
banquet, spoke of her as if she were his long lost daughter. "Nan,
I want you to meet Wylan Merit. His wife was Lois Emerson Merit,
for whom the award is named.

"Mr. Merit, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"No, Ms. Miller the pleasure is mine. Thank you for
making my wife's memory an ongoing honor. It makes losing her to
cancer a little more bearable."

Sadness laced Mr. Merit's voice, and edged into his
gray eyes, but it was the sadness of a soft bittersweet memory and
not the destroying regret that ate at Jackson. Tears pricked Nan's
eyes and she forced a smile to her lips even as her heart wanted to
know why? Why couldn't Jackson take Amy's memory and cherish it
rather than punish himself with it?

Mr. Townsend dropped his cane and Nan leaned over to
pick it up. When she stood, the world around her swam, grew dark,
and disappeared.

She woke to find herself on a stretcher.

"What happened?" She tried to sit up.

Candy pushed her back down. "You fainted dead away
and we're taking you to the ER."

"No. There's no need."

"Relax. There isn't anything you can do about it.
It's hospital policy. Besides, Townsend has already called down
there and ordered them to make his star nurse well."

"Oh, hell," Nan muttered. "Who came up with such an
idiotic policy idea?"

Candy laughed. "I believe nurses did some years
back, when working conditions were even more grueling than they are
now."

Nan groaned. The ER would put her through the
ringer.

Four hours later, she was more than ready to go
home. The doctor finally returned. Nan felt as if she'd been
through a week's worth of lab test since the ER doctor's admitting
assessment.

The doctor walked into the room and Nan didn’t like
his grim expression. “We’ve received the results of your blood work
and there are a few things we need to talk about. Why don’t you sit
down,” he said, opening her chart.

“I’ve been lying for hours. I’m okay.”
“No. I insist. I have to write you several prescriptions and we
need to discuss your condition.”

Nan sat. “What condition?”

“There isn’t any easy way to say this. You’re a
nurse, so I’m just going to spell it out. You’re pregnant and
you’re anemic.”

Nan blinked. Then shut her eyes completely and
leaned back against her chair. “Did you just say what I thought you
said?”

“Yes. I’m going to write you a prescription for iron
and prenatal vitamins. You’ll get a list of foods high in iron
along with your discharge papers. I want you to see an obstetrician
immediately. Your hemoglobin is much lower than it should be and
you’re going to need close monitoring with this pregnancy. I also
want you to see your physician and get a thorough check-up done.
Based on my findings, I suspect that this anemia is a result of
poor dietary habits and not anything more serious, but it wouldn’t
hurt to have everything checked out.”

How could she be pregnant? She and Jackson had been
responsible. They’d used protection. A little refrain that taunted
the words “nothing is a hundred percent” ran circles in her mind.
Just why in the world did she have to fall into the percentage that
didn’t work?

Her life was snowballing to disaster. How was she
going to work and raise a child? Her mom had been a working mom and
Nan had sworn she would be there for her child. She’d have to come
up with a plan. There wasn’t any other option.

A baby. She was going to have a baby, a soft cuddly,
wailing bundle of lovable trouble. Both joy and fear filled her
heart. She wasn’t even sure what she said to the ER doctor. She
took her prescriptions and papers and stumbled out of the
hospital.

She headed to her car, but stopped halfway through
the parking lot, blinking in disbelief.

Jackson, all work-boot-grubby-gorgeous sat on her
car hood.

Tears sprang to her eyes. Tears for all the things
she had dreamed she wanted for her family. Tears for the fact that
she loved a man who could never be the husband she needed. She
started to cry and couldn’t seem to stop.

He saw her then. Got off the hood and walked her
way. Nan started to run right at him. He quickened his pace, opened
his arms. Just as Nan got to him, she ducked under his arm and
dashed for her car. Hands trembling, she fumbled with her keys,
trying to see through the tears.

"Nan, what wrong?" Jackson came up behind her.

"Nothing." She got the door opened.

"Nan, damn it. Tell me what has happened?"

Swiping her tears, she looked at him. Oh, God. How
could he still look so good? "What do you want, Jack?"

He held up a little plastic bag. In it was a tiny
blue flower. "The plant you gave me. It bloomed."

Nan could barely speak from the emotion clogging her
throat. "I lied," she said. "I lied about African Violets bringing
happiness to those who keep them. I made it up when I was a little
girl because I wanted it to be true." He voice caught on a sob and
she got into the car, shutting and locking the doors.

Jackson knocked on the window. Nan shook her head
and started the car, taking off and nearly knocking Jackson
over.

* * *

Jackson picked up the little bag with the flower.
He'd dropped it in trying to get Nan to open the door and she'd run
over it as she left.

What in the hell was wrong with her?

He got into his truck and followed her.

At her apartment, he knocked twice, didn't get an
answer so he pounded on the door. “Damn it, Nan. Open up and tell
me what is wrong or I’m going to call an ambulance.”

He heard her sobs on the other side of the door and
his heart wrenched painfully. In that moment, he knew he loved her.
Whether he wanted to or not, whether he was able to or not. He
loved her.

“Go away, Jack. You can’t help me.”

“Nan, for God’s sake. What is wrong?” The pain in
her voice ripped at him.