Promises (16 page)

His nearness made her nerves jitter, her insides do a little flip of awareness.  Damn, he was handsome in a rough, tough kind of way.  No pretty boy, no classical handsomeness, just an honest man’s face with a handsome, hard edge.  The kind of rough handsomeness that had a woman taking a second peek when she thought he wasn’t looking. 

Expecting him to take the other armchair, she was taken aback when instead he sat down on the coffee table directly in front of her, his jean-clad legs spread apart, his forearms resting on his thighs as he held his own mug of Milo by the handle, his other hand cupping the bottom of it.

He wasn’t close enough for his knees to actually touch her, but it wouldn’t take much movement for it to happen.  Seeking to put a little breathing space between them - God, the man was sucking out her breath with just his nearness - Izzy slid back in the armchair, placed her knees together and primly held her mug in an identical hold.

Rather than speak straight away, Jason studied her.  His gaze slid slowly over her face before he captured her gaze with his.  No desire reflected in the depths this time, but something else - determination and intensity.

The man could do intensity like she’d never seen a man do before, just like she’d never seen another man study her face as though he was really seeing her.

Kinda hard not to see her, she filled out her clothes enough.

Stop it
.

“Izzy, I really like you,” Jason began.

“Okay,” was all she could think to reply.  Sounded way better than
after that kiss, I’m kind of lusting after you.
 

“I really want to get to know you better.”

This was a little delightfully old fashioned.  She relaxed a little.  “So would I.”

Frowning, Jason thrust one hand through his hair, dishevelling it.  “This isn’t coming out the way I planned.”

“You planned to talk to me?”

“Of course.”  It was his turn to blink.  “As soon as I figured out what was wrong with me, I knew I was going to talk to you about this.”

“Okay,” she said slowly.

Staring thoughtfully above her head, he took a mouthful of Milo.  She could practically hear the gears turning in his head.  Was he going to ask her on a date?  Tell her what?  He’d already apologized, he’d already - oh wait.  Yeah.  His freak out.  She did a mental head knock.  Her brains had been truly addled by that kiss.

His gaze dropped down to her, his mouth twisting up on one side, clearly doing an internal debate.

“Tell you what,” she said.  “Why don’t you just start at the beginning?”

“I’m trying to decide which beginning.”

“How many beginnings do you have?”

“You’d be surprised.  How far back do you want to go?”

Her eyes widened.  “How far back do we need to go?”

That flicker of humour appeared fleetingly.  “A long time ago in a little town far, far away…”

She couldn’t help but grin back.  “Do I get popcorn for this epic story?”

“It’s not so epic.”  The humour faded.  “Sorry, I didn’t think.  You just got home from work.  Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.  I’d rather hear what you have to say.”

“You sure?  About the food, I mean?”  He started to push upwards.  “I could grab some biccies or make a sandwich or something-”

“Jason, I’m fine.  Honestly.  Just tell me.”

He eased back down onto the coffee table.  “Okay.”

She waited, but he didn’t start.  Instead, he looked down at the mug of Milo cradled in his hands.  When the silence lengthened she leaned forward to lay a hand on his jean-clad knee.  There was a small hole in it showing some of the skin beneath.  “Jason?  Are you all right?” Geez, how bad could it be?

In a move totally unexpected, he laid his hand over hers.  His palm was really warm, almost hot from the mug, the calluses rough against her hand.  He didn’t grab her, just smoothed his palm across the back of her hand in slow sweeps.

Cripes, she felt every sweep down to her toes and back up to her loins.

Nice as it was, his continued silence was becoming unnerving.  An unwelcome thought flashed through her head - was he playing her?

As if he felt her inner tension starting to coil upwards, Jason lifted his head and looked at her.  “I want to date you, get to know you, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

That was like a slap in the face.  Shit, he
was
playing her!  Heart dropping clear out the bottom of her shoes, she yanked her hand away from beneath his.

Obviously correctly interpreting her action, Jason held up one hand while quickly placing the Milo beside him on the coffee table.  “Wait!  Wait wait wait!  That came out all wrong!”

Izzy shoved to her feet.  “You don’t say!”  God, why did she let him do this? 
Idiot!

He just as quickly shot to his.  “My father bashed my mother and I’m shit scared that I’m just like him!”

She froze. “What?”

“Yeah, that’s it in a nutshell.”  Frustrated, he tunnelled his hand through his hair again.  “Damn it to hell, I didn’t want it to just fall out like that.  I wanted to explain properly.”

“Properly?”

“Please, Iz, just sit down.”  He gestured to the armchair behind her.  “I swear I’m not giving you the brush off.  I’ll tell you everything, and if you still want to take a chance on me, I’m all yours.”

Completely uncertain just what she was wading into, now more than a little perturbed, Izzy cautiously resumed her seat.  For a man she suspected might be playing her, he looked decidedly frustrated and - okay, there was a kicker.  As he subsided onto the coffee table again, his eyes were troubled and uncertain.

Cripes, Jason Dawson, tough man, was uncertain?  What did he have to be uncertain about?  He could have almost any woman in the city.  The man was good looking and confident.  Apparently.  If she walked out now he could go downtown and within an hour have a woman in his bed, and not a paid one, either.

But right now, as he looked at her, he seemed…lost.  God, he
was
lost.  There was even a hint of trepidation in his eyes.

It hit her with hard clarity.  The man was being honest, he was afraid that whatever he’d reveal would make her walk away.  He didn’t want her to walk away.

Man, maybe he had more problems than she did.

“Just hear me out, Iz, please?”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“You mean apart from my family?”

“I mean, any other women?”

“No.”

“But you’re telling me?”

“You’re different.”

“You mean I’m safer.”

“I mean, before you I’ve never been interested enough in a woman to take it further.”

Oh boy.  That this man would really be interested in her enough to tell her his experiences was heart-warming.  It sent little tingles down her spine.  But still, what he’d said - abusive?  She knew some people who’d come from abusive backgrounds.  Two of them became abusers, three of them were happily married.

Then again, abuse came in many forms and people came out of abusive situations differently.  That he would want to share his situation with her before anything happened between them - if it happened - meant he was serious.

Besides, she might be a bit of a nitwit at times but she wasn’t a complete drongo.  She’d listen, watch, judge for herself.  It wasn’t as if there was anything between them yet. 

Slowly, Izzy nodded.  “Okay.”

“Thank you.”  Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees, clasping his hands together.  Without further hesitation he began quietly, “My father abused my mother, physically, mentally and emotionally.  My brother, Brand, and I were troublemakers and heading down that same pathway.  We got drunk, got into fights, harassed people a few times, ran with a bad crowd.  Not my proudest memories.  I’m not proud of the fact that I knew my father hit my mother when I wasn’t there and I did nothing about it, except one time…”  At her arched eyebrow, he said briefly, “He nearly put me in hospital.”

She winced.

“When I got older he never hit Mum in front of me, and he was good at keeping her bruises from my sight under her clothes.  Not like I was going to look, right?”

“Be creepy if you did.”

“Yeah.”  Picking up the mug of Milo, he turned it round and round in his hands.  “One day my brother lifted his hand to our mother, he hit her.  I went ape shit.  He hit our
mother
.  Neither Brand nor I had ever raised a hand to a woman regardless of Dad doing it.  That Brand did it that day made me see clearly.  Anyway, to cut a long story short, we got into a fight and I took Mum and drove here to the city.  Her brother, my Uncle Harris, took us in, taught me a trade, and I’ve done the best I can to keep my head down and work hard, make both he and Mum proud.  Uncle Harris gave me a second chance at a decent life and I took it.”

And she’d thought some bad crap had happened to her.  At least her whole life had been happy except for that horrible time.  “He’s a nice man.  You work for him.”

“Yep.  Best man ever.  My cousins follow close behind.  They taught me a lot about family, about being able to get into an argument without trying to kill or deliberately hurt each other.”  Swirling the Milo around in the mug, Jason smiled slightly.  “Now that was a real learning curve for us all.”

“I bet.”  Especially after what he’d been used to.  Relaxing back in the armchair, Izzy drank some Milo and listened, watching him, gauging the way he looked, his expression, his tone of voice.

Jason regarded her with that intent way he had.  “I’ve been out with several women, nothing serious.  Nothing to worry about.  I believed after all this time that I wasn’t like my father, that I’ve learned to be a decent bloke.”

Izzy smiled.  “I think you might be a decent bloke.”

His visage remained deadly serious.  “I’ve worked hard to be a worthwhile human being.  Then the other night I lost control.”

“You got into a fight?”

Now he looked incredulous.  “No, Iz.  When I grabbed you, kissed you, didn’t give you a say, didn’t think how you felt.  I just grabbed you.”

Understanding dawned.  “You mean…?”

“I mean,” he said tightly, “my father forced my mother to do things she didn’t want to do.  I’m afraid I forced you.”

Now it all made sense. Leaning forward in turn, Izzy looked him right in the eyes.  “Jason, what you did and what your father did are worlds apart.”

The muscle in his jaw ticced.

“Seriously.  Jason.”  She laid her hand on his arm.  “If you were like your Dad, you wouldn’t have stopped.  But you did. In fact,” she sought to ease his tension, “you let me go and took off like a rocket.”

“I realised what I’d done-”

“Jason, I did not feel forced or threatened.  If you’d bothered to stay it would have been clear to you.  Trust me, if you’d done anything I didn’t want I’d have fought back.  Now, if you hadn’t let me go then, that would be force in my book.”

His expression was dubious.  “You were shocked.”

“Of course I was, I didn’t expect you to kiss me.  But my shock was that the disgust I saw on your face I thought was because you kissed me, not because you thought you’d forced me.”

“You don’t understand, Izzy,” he said heavily.

“Of course I do.”

“No, you don’t.  When I kissed you, I had this urge to just back you to up to the wall and…”  Dull red filled his cheeks, but he refused to break their gaze.  “My urge wasn’t gentle.”

Tantalizing thought.  It had her girly parts a little tingly.  But her inbred caution wasn’t letting her just get caught up in a horny daydream.

“Yeah.”  He looked down at the mug, took a mouthful of Milo.  “Now you know.”

She didn’t miss the slump of his shoulders.  Okay, she was cautious, but she wasn’t stupid with it.  “Jason, let’s get one thing straight.”

“I’m trying,” he muttered.  “God knows I’m trying, it’s just not easy.”

“If life was easy none of us would ever make dumb arse mistakes.  I learned that myself a couple of years ago.”  When he regarded her curiously, she shrugged.  “Never mind that now.  Look, just because kissing and things aren’t always gentle, just because things get a little heated and, well, vigorous I guess you could say, doesn’t mean it’s force.  Consenting adults and all that.  As long as you know the cut-off line, as long as we’re - I mean, the couple-”
holy cow, that was a slip of the tongue! 
“-is being honest with each other, it shouldn’t matter.  Being a couple means learning the boundaries, knowing when gentle loving or something more - um - robust is wanted.”

He was watching her so closely that the blush in her cheeks deepened.  Not one glimpse of amusement showed on his face.  Geez, he was really listening to her, not pretending.

“Um…”  Clearing her throat, her grip tightened on the mug.  “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Still leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs, he brought his clasped hands up to his mouth, thoughtfully brushing the backs of his thumbs across those firm lips.  “I’m hearing you.”