Authors: Kimberley Reeves
“What kind of project are you working on?” Abby asked in an attempt to prevent herself from dwelling on it.
“Nothing exciting. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my stuffy research work.”
“Just because I don’t like doing it doesn’t mean I’m not interested in hearing what you’re working on.”
“I’d rather wait until it’s finished to tell you about it.”
“Is that a polite way of saying you don’t discuss your work while it’s in progress?”
“Does that bother you?”
“No, I understand. I’m usually pretty guarded about my own work too.” Abby smiled up at him. “It seems a lot of my hard fast rules have been abandoned since meeting you.”
“Just what hard fast rules have been broken for my sake?”
“For starters, never get involved with a man living within two miles of your home.”
Jack laughed. “Your pickings were pretty slim since I’m the only man around for ten miles. Tell me another one.”
“Never sleep with a man who hasn’t even asked you out on a proper date.”
He thought about that for a moment. “That one couldn’t be helped either. The only place to take a woman around here is a little country bar full of drunk, ornery cowboys. What else?”
Abby hid the mischievous smile. “Never, ever have unprotected sex.”
Jack sat in shocked silence for a moment. “Abby, I…I just assumed when you never said anything that you were on the pill. You don’t think you’re pregnant, do you?”
“Jack…”
“I won’t abandon you if you are, Abby. I don’t want you worry about that. Do you think you might be?”
“Jack…”
“We could get married,” Jack rambled on as if she wasn’t even there. “Yeah, we could get married, but you would have to move into my cabin because it’s bigger. And no one would ever have to know you were pregnant before…”
Abby sat up. “Jack, it was a joke!”
“What?”
“I’m so sorry. I thought it would scare the hell out of you, not encourage you to start making wedding plans. I
am
on the pill, Jack, I promise. I can show them to you if you don’t believe me.”
“So there’s no chance you could be pregnant?”
Abby was confused by the dismal tone of his voice. “Why do you sound upset about finding out I couldn’t be pregnant? Most men would be deliriously happy to discover they’d dodged that particular bullet.”
Jack pulled her back into his arms so she couldn’t see the disappointment on his face. He wasn’t sure why the idea of her being pregnant didn’t terrify him. He only knew that for a moment when he thought she might be carrying his child, he felt…happy. Now all he felt was a strange sense of loss and regret.
“Jack?”
“I’m okay, honey.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, I’m not mad.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“No.”
“Why not? Haven’t you ever been in love?”
“I’ve never been very good at relationships.”
Abby looked up at him. “You’re doing fine in this one.”
“Give me time,” he chuckled. “I’ll figure out a way to mess it up.”
“That doesn’t sound very promising for me,” she said dismally. “Why haven’t any of your relationships worked out?”
“My work mostly, I guess. When I’m writing…working on a project, I get pretty wrapped up in it. I tend to forget there are other people around. The usual complaint is that I’m inattentive, self-absorbed, neglectful, selfish.” Jack glanced down at Abby. “You can stop me anytime, you know.”
“Maybe you just never found anyone who understood you and could relate to the passion that drives you when you’re on a project. This world doesn’t even exist for me when I write. It used to drive Shane crazy because he thought I was purposely ignoring him. He never understood me. He thought it was just a dream, that I would never get published.”
Her voice was low and sad and it pulled at his heart. “I believe in you, Abby.” When she lifted her eyes to his, Jack saw the glimmer of tears. “Why are you crying?”
“Because it feels good to have someone believe in me, someone who understands writing isn’t just something I want to do, but something I
need
to do.”
He did understand. It was a hunger, a thirst, and writing was the only thing that fed the hunger, quenched the thirst. Jack ran his finger slowly down the delicate line of her jaw to her chin. He should have told her the truth at the beginning when he first discovered she was a writer too, but he’d wanted to help work on her novel and one writer simply didn’t share their work with another. She’d be angry with him when she found out but he would figure a way to soothe her hurt feelings when it happened. For now he needed it exactly as it was, simply enjoying each other’s company.
“What are you thinking, Jack?”
He leaned down and kissed her. “That it’s getting late and we should go to bed.”
***
Abby woke to the feel of Jack’s lips making a warm trail down her neck and back up again. He made love to her in a slow, easy manner, holding her for a long time afterwards as if he knew she was dreading the time away from each other. It was silly, she knew, especially when they were within hollering distance, but it wouldn’t be the same.
For the first time since she arrived, Abby made breakfast for Jack. Afterwards, he offered to wash the dishes if she dried and they were done in no time. When it was time for him to leave, she slipped her hand into his and walked with him to the edge of the path. Jack took one look at her somber face and laughed.
“Honey, I’m just up the hill, not a hundred miles away.”
“I know. I’ve just gotten so used to having you around, it’s going to be lonely.”
“You’ll be so busy with your writing in a few minutes you’ll forget I even exist.”
Abby looked up at him. “That’s just the problem. I’m not sure I can keep you out of my mind while I write.”
“Then it’ll seem like I’m right there beside you anyway.”
She hadn’t thought about it that way and smiled. “Maybe you’re right. Go do your work, Jack Burton, then come back as soon as you’re done for the day.”
She watched him disappear through the foliage that lined the path before wandering back into her cabin.
“What are you doing to me, Jack?” she murmured.
From the moment he’d first kissed her, Abby’s orderly world had been turned upside down and sideways. She’d been attracted to certain men off and on throughout the years, occasionally even considered accepting a second date when it was offered. But then she would think of Shane and all the complications of a relationship and she shied away.
Yet here she was, practically in a panic the second Jack was obscured from her view. Well, she would just have to bury herself in her work and hope his own project didn’t keep him away too long.
Abby poured a glass of iced tea and then stood for a moment, eyeing the living room. She hadn’t done anything with the furniture since she’d been here and now it looked ludicrous to her, lined up all along the walls. She hadn’t really noticed when Jack was here, but then he filled so much of her mind she probably wouldn’t have noticed if everything had been stacked on top of each other. She set her tea on the mantle and looked around. It was time to make the cabin look like a home.
***
Jack sat at his desk with his laptop open, fingers poised to type and…nothing.
Total blank
. It was a foreign experience for him. There was always something there to grab on to; a thought, an idea, a word,
something
. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Abby’s smile, that’s what came to his mind first. Then the soft scent of her shampoo, the way her hand felt when it moved across his chest, the taste of her lips. Jack’s eyes snapped open.
“Damn.”
The last two paragraphs had been written just before he discovered Abby trying to split her head open with the axe. He’d stopped right before a love scene, which was something he always did because he knew they were the one weakness in his otherwise strong writing. Normally, he prowled around the cabin for a while, forcing himself to play out the scene in his mind before he wrote, but today it had been an exercise in futility.
Jack gave up and walked out to the balcony. He couldn’t see Abby, but he could still feel her. He recalled her reaction when he told her she was cheating her readers and it suddenly occurred to him that he was doing exactly the same thing with his love scenes. With renewed determination, he hurried back to his desk and sat down.
He could almost hear Abby talking him through it, explaining the difference between simply looking into his eyes and gazing into them with raw desire. He liked it better when she demonstrated, but right now he didn’t have that luxury. Jack closed his eyes, picturing his hero and heroine in a heated embrace, but the woman in his mind smiled at him with Abby’s lips, touched him with Abby’s hands, called out his name in Abby’s soft, sexy voice. That’s when Jack realized he’d been going about it all wrong. He’d done everything he could to drive Abby out of his head when he should have let her guide him through the love scenes. Placing his fingers on the keyboard, Jack began to type.
He held her in his arms, his heart hammering against his chest as her elegant hands glided over his bare skin. Full, rose-tinted lips smiled up at him, igniting a ravenous hunger that made his insides quiver and burn…
***
Abby looked around the room with a smile of satisfaction. She’d moved the sofa down a few feet, but kept it against the wall because the light was better there. Then she’d pulled the loveseat and matching lounge chair over by the fireplace with a small end table between them, creating a cozy nook for her and Jack. Now that the place was in order and the atmosphere seemed warmer, she would be able to concentrate on her work.
There was a small desk that had been facing the wall before, but was now arranged so she could see out the sliding glass windows whenever she looked up. Abby sat down and opened her laptop, reread a few paragraphs, and then let her fingers fly.
She didn’t outline her novels beforehand, never worked out how the hero and heroine would meet or when they would finally admit their love for one other. It had been that way from the beginning. Abby let her characters decide which path their story took and rarely tried to steer it in a particular direction. Sometimes, she got so lost in that other world she wasn’t even aware of what she had written until she read over it afterwards.
Abby had been going strong for quite some time and had just finished a scene where a murder had taken place and the Crime Scene Unit had shown up to collect evidence. She stopped, breaking her own cardinal rule about reading what she’d just written, and wondered what Jack would say if he was here.
You’re cheating again
, that’s what he would tell her.
Logging onto the internet, Abby reminded herself to keep the search simple as Jack had taught her. Typing in only key phrases, she was rewarded when the search results provided her with some very informative websites. It was surprising to discover the research work wasn’t nearly as tedious as she had expected and that incorporating solid facts into her story gave her a satisfying sense of accomplishment. If only Jack were here to see how well she’d done. But, Abby couldn’t begrudge him the time he needed to attend to his responsibilities, regardless of how badly she wished he would!
***
The only problem with writing hot love scenes, Jack discovered, was that he was left with an ache for Abby that was downright painful. He’d been typing for hours and was building up to another heated conversation between hero and heroine that would end in his taking her to bed. Jack stopped typing. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that particular scene yet, at least not without talking to Abby first.
He’d listened carefully when she described how to build the emotions of the characters so the reader was swept along with them. And, with a little coaxing from him, Abby had demonstrated the different ways foreplay could be accomplished without a stitch of clothing being removed, although she chastised him for pouncing on her like an animal in heat once the demonstration was over. He couldn’t help it, and even while she was scolding him for ruining the tender moment between hero and heroine, she had been tugging at his shirt with an urgency that told Jack she was just as eager to tumble into bed as he was.
She inspired him, and that was something Jack hadn’t felt for quite some time. The novels came almost automatically to him now, and though he was always excited about starting a new one, he hadn’t been able to reach inside himself and tap into that well of inspiration that used to drive him so hard. Abby had given that back to him, had made him want to go beyond what would put him in the top ten best sellers. Jack wanted his novel at the top of the rack right under the number one.
He could tell by the waning light that it was late afternoon and was happy accomplishing so much on his novel, but also regretted being away from Abby for so long. By now, he knew her routine. She wasn’t a morning person and didn’t even attempt to sit down and write until after ten in the morning. Jack, on the other hand, often got up at five in the morning and wrote for four or five hours without stopping.