Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance (25 page)

When Jack’s eyes burned with that flame, the one that wasn’t just about sex, Elise felt it to her core. Oh shit. She was sparring with Godzilla again. Only now she knew how good it felt to lose.

“I’ve lost track.” Elise’s abruptness made Jack smile. He’d been rewriting an opinion when Brenda transferred the call. Hearing from Elise was just what he needed as a reward.

“Lost track of what?” His voice was light and carefree.

“Whose weekend is it?”

He frowned and looked around the room as if this question would make more sense against a mundane backdrop. No luck. He couldn’t keep up with her thought process, which made fireflies look static.

“I don’t understand,” he began cautiously.

Elise sighed dramatically. “We’ve gotten off track. You know? The original agreement? One romantic date, one sex date? So do you remember which we should be having this weekend?”

The muscles at the top of his left shoulder twinged suddenly and he rubbed at them through his suit jacket. What exactly did Elise want in this situation? They’d made love in his chambers, spent the weekend together in Eagles Mere, attended his niece’s graduation party on Saturday and eaten brunch with Stacy’s family on Sunday. None of those events counted as either sort of date.

“Actually, I don’t. What would you like it to be?” he asked.

“Well, we got derailed with that business about the Mather complaint during a sex date at my place. How about we pick up there?” Her tone was serious and a little challenging.

Jack’s shoulders slumped. He could tell she really needed to get their relationship back to that arbitrary and narrowly defined exchange. Too little too late, he’d have said, but instinct told him not to argue. This felt backward, as though he’d glanced out the window near the end of a train trip only to see that he’d been traveling in the wrong direction.

“Jack?”

“Yeah, I’m here. That sounds fine. Your place, Saturday?”

“Great,” she exclaimed in a gush of relief, enthusiasm back in her voice. She’d been worried about something and he somehow reassured her. He should be glad. Instead, it annoyed him that she needed to reverse their recent progress.

“I’ve got a treat for you,” she cooed. “Do you want a hint?”

No. He didn’t. Her sex-kitten voice was normally enticing, but while his body responded to the come-on, he rather resented her attitude. “Just sex” should be any red-blooded male’s idea of the perfect relationship with a woman, while he kept seeing all the things he wanted that didn’t fall under the heading of “just sex.”

The silence seemed to worry her. “Oh, lord—I’ve interrupted a settlement conference, haven’t I? Why did Brenda transfer the call? I could have just left a message. Look, I’ll go and you can call—”

“No, that’s not it,” he cut her off. “I’m alone.”

“Busy?” A note of uncertainty made her sound young. He wanted to reassure her again. If only he knew what her anxiety was about.

He checked his watch. “There’s a summary judgment hearing in a half hour, but now’s fine.” He deliberately kept his tone light, as though he was going into a witness interview that needed special handling. “How’s work over there?”

“Oh, you know. It’s the start of summer, so between clients being on vacation and partners off at a Phillies afternoon game, it can be hard to get things done. I have a deposition this week, so I’m keeping my hours up.”

He kept her talking about her work so that he could twist the bigger problem in his mind, viewing it like a complicated spatial puzzle. Maybe she didn’t realize how much of his life she’d infiltrated recently. She’d seen where he’d spent his childhood summers, she’d met and charmed his family, she’d been in every room in his house. Her ghost haunted corners no one else had even entered.

“So I was thinking I’d hammer him with the evidence of spoliation at the dep. What do you think?”

“As opposed to holding it back, in case you need to sandbag him?” Jack asked.

“Exactly. What would you do?”

“I’m not sure,” he hedged. “Tell me what you gain versus what you’d lose with each approach.”

As he’d predicted, Elise took off like a wind-up toy, nattering on about her case with far more passion than he’d seen her expend on their relationship.

He sighed.
Marathon, remember?
And the hardest part of any marathon was the middle. He needed to figure out how to get from their current position—wherever that was—to a point where she had to see they were in love and supposed to be together.

He was still mulling over his options when Elise’s voice slowed down, then sputtered to a stop.

“So? What do you think?” she asked.

“I think you’ve answered your own question.”

Stunned silence, then she laughed. “God, Jack. You’re so smart. Of course that’s what I have to do! I love how good you are at this stuff.”

He smiled as they hung up, cheered by her enthusiasm.

At least she’d gotten a solution for her problem. He was left with the same challenge he’d started with—how to get Elise Carroll to see him as more than a “sex date.”

Had he really not been inside her house since the disaster over the Professional Review Board? That was weeks ago, more than a month.

“Mmm,” Elise greeted him, pulling him into a deep kiss before he had a chance to say anything. He kicked the door shut behind him and gave himself over to the knee-melting delight of holding her so close.

When they pulled apart, her blue eyes gleamed with dazed wonder. It wasn’t “just sex” that put that look on her face. He was sure of it. Nonetheless, she wasn’t conscious of whatever she felt for him. He’d gain nothing by pointing it out to her. He stepped back and put his hands on his hips. He cast a mocking eye down her body, which was lushly clad in shorts and a tank top.

“Do I even get to eat before you take me upstairs and unwrap me like a Christmas present?” He pretended to think for a moment. “Or would that be a Flag Day present?”

She slapped his shoulder. “Silly judge. Of course you get to eat first. In fact, I’ve planned a rather elaborate menu.”

He followed her through the living room toward the French doors, open to the late afternoon warmth. The table on the patio had been set with colorful linens and multicolored dishes. She’d already uncorked some red wine, which was quite the concession in the June heat. He’d have been happy with an ice-cold beer.

Elise was pulling things out of the refrigerator, unpeeling the plastic wrap and passing them to Jack to walk over to the table. They had an elaborate spread when she closed the fridge door for the last time.

Jack was impressed. “What are we having?”

Elise stood over the table, eying the food anxiously. “Well, I did some research online. Turkey has some chemical that helps you sleep—”

“Tryptophan. Sure. So?”

“So I made a salad with turkey and noodles. I would like us both to get a good night’s sleep this time.” She flicked a glance in his direction but didn’t turn her body enough to make eye contact. “And red wine is supposed to help too.”

Jack nodded solemnly but he was giddy with happiness. Sleeping together. How wonderfully normal and—and nonsexual.

He nodded again. “So if I’m sleeping over, I assume you have something planned for breakfast?”

She lit up like a nighttime baseball game. “You bet. It’s been so hectic, hasn’t it, with Libby’s graduation and—and everything.” She trailed off with a half shrug.

Jack’s heart ached to tell her how happy he was, how much he appreciated the care she’d taken to extend their date beyond the parameters of “just sex.” It was painful not to release his love and optimism, let them loose like balloons floating in the sultry air. Holding his emotions in check, ironically, aroused him even more than her welcoming embrace.

Sex and love chased one another in his brain. He reined them in as he squeezed Elise’s hand for a moment, then poured the wine.

There was a tiny breeze in her walled garden. Elise noticed it when it ruffled Jack’s hair. “You’ve let it grow,” she blurted out.

He’d been in the middle of some story about court—she wasn’t sure what it had been about, she’d been lost in thought imagining what would happen after dinner—when she saw his hair flutter.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just noticed that it’s longer.”

Jack reached up to pull his fingertips through the hair at his nape. “It’s driving me crazy. I should have asked you how long I have to grow it. I’ve got to visit the barber eventually.”

He’d grown his hair for her. Elise put down her fork and stood up. She crossed over to his chair and tugged on his hand to get him to angle his body away from the table. She perched on his knees. He frowned and glanced up at the windows of the house that backed onto her property.

She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Okay, so I won’t actually strip you naked in the garden.” She nuzzled the hair that was just starting to curl around his ear. “But I didn’t ask you to grow your hair for no reason, you know.”

“I gathered as much.” Jack moved his lips along her jaw line, setting off mini-tremors of need along her skin. She felt the goose bumps, her nipples budding, desire deepening in her core. Chills and heat confused her body, which had stopped registering anything other than the way he was making her feel.

“What had you planned for dessert? And by ‘dessert’ I mean, can we get upstairs soon?” His voice was a hum along the ridge of her ear. She considered the issue of whether they could leave the table as it was, with food uncovered and the dishes dirty, versus the challenge of keeping this peak of arousal going even as they tidied up. The rest of her mind had vaporized in a red mist of sensation as Jack slid his fingers under her top, around her ribcage to fondle her breasts. She was throbbing hard, like the bass line of a jacked-up car stereo.

“We have to clean up dinner first.”

Had she said that? She pulled back to look at Jack’s face, his heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips.

“Right?” he asked.

Oh. Cleaning up had been
his
idea.

She jerked slightly as she took a huge breath. “Wow.” She’d been released from a powerful undertow, shot back out into the surf, desperate to breathe but also longing to go under again. She stared at Jack, who looked back at her with passion-filled eyes.

She dragged in more air. “Yeah. I guess.” She looked at the table over her shoulder. “Yes.” She looked back at Jack. She could feel his erection pressing against her left thigh. It was giving her ideas that she struggled to block.

Jack helped by putting his hands, hot and powerful, on her waist and lifting her off his lap. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be done,” he reassured her in that dark chocolate voice she couldn’t get enough of.

When he stood up, Elise pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“The dishes—?”

“Mmm,” she agreed. His arms came around her shoulders and the relief and comfort flowed over her like a warm shower.

They stood there, his cheek pressed against her head, her face tucked into his shoulder. She could hear his heart beating, his life and passion and soul tight in her arms. She needed this closeness with Jack. When she wondered why, she broke away and went on to the next chore. She hurried to get them upstairs.

The sex was great, as always. Jack did care about her, Elise could tell from the endearments, his attentive caresses, the crescendo of sensation they shared. All the same, it wasn’t until she was lying in his arms that she felt again the contentment—the bliss of knowing her needs were met. His heart was thumping hard and fast, his skin was slick with exertion, and his arm around her shoulders was heavy. She could tell they were both exhausted. Suddenly the same pure joy she’d known downstairs welled up again. And this time she was tired enough, sleepy enough to let her mind skate over the question of why his embrace had the power to comfort her.

She was asleep before she had an answer.