See Jane Fall (33 page)

“Are you crazy?
Way
too much
work.”

“Oh, that’s all?”

“One’s all I need.” He grinned at her.

“Random phenomena,” Jane murmured, shaking
her head.

“What?”

“Unlike every other man in the world, you
don’t covet the lifestyle of a philandering playboy. So…what’s the
attraction?”

“You make things too complicated, Jane. It’s
a good song. I like it. Makes me happy. Can’t that be enough?”

Jane didn’t answer. She wasn’t totally sure
of what they were talking about now. She looked over at him in the
dim light of the truck. His blond hair gleamed like polished silver
in the setting sun. Her fingers itched to reach over and tousle the
front, run her hands through the—

“Take a—”

“—picture. I know. You gotta get a new
line.”

“I want to ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“So, my family’s coming in tomorrow. My
brother Erik and his wife Kat are having their twin girls
christened at our church here on Sunday. Anyway, we’re definitely a
bunch of rowdy, overwhelming Swedes, but I was wondering if you’d
come with me to the luncheon tomorrow and the christening on
Sunday.”

Jane turned to look at him because she
wanted him to see her eyes, because he deserved to see how much his
invitation meant to her. “I’m really flattered…but, your family
doesn’t want some stranger tagging along with you, do they?”

“You don’t know them. They’d love to meet
you. They’ll just throw you on the pile. They adopt people…look at
Maggie…look at Paul…they’ll be there too.
I’d
love for them
to meet you, Jane.”

It reminded her of something her mother used
to say:
Won’t you come into my garden? I would like my roses to
see you.
The idea of spending a weekend with a family, anyone’s
family, was so tempting, Jane almost couldn’t think clearly. Since
losing her parents, the thing she missed most in her life was that
feeling of belonging to someone. She ached to say yes, but she was
wary of getting too attached. They’d only committed to a weekend;
Jane was still leaving on Monday.

But why not go, Jane? Why not enjoy this
weekend with him? Why not just say…

“Yes. Okay. I mean, sure, I’d love to.”

He broke into a grin, letting his breath out
and holding her eyes as he parked the truck in his driveway. “I was
so nervous to ask you.”

“Did you think I’d say no?”

“I hurt you.”

“You said you were sorry. And she
is…impossible.”

“Hey…do you think we could
please
not
talk about her this weekend?”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Jane said. “Hey…I
just remembered something—”

“What? You just remembered you’re going to
the christening with Paul?”

“Now
that’s
something we’re going to
need to talk about.”

He gave her a look. She could tell he was
still upset about Paul.

“I’m not the only one with trust issues,
Lars.”

“Fine. Then, please just tell me…what’s
going on with you two?”

“To be clear? This is it, now. I’m not
answering this question again, so here it is…you ready?”

He nodded, holding her eyes.

“You sure?”

“Jane!”

“We’re friends. Friends. Nothing else. He
kissed my
cheek
last night. He was trying to cheer me up
because I’d just heard a pretty upsetting conversation on my
cousin’s iPhone. He talked to me about the woman he’s met online,
and I talked to him about you.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him not to give me hope.”

“And what did he do?”

“He’s not good at following simple
directions.” Her lips tilted up a little and she looked at him
tenderly. “He gave me hope. He said my heart is safe with you.”

“He’s right.” He smiled at her. “That’s my
goal for the weekend, Minx. For you to trust me.”

Jane took a deep breath but crossed her legs
toward him. “Got your work cut out for you, Professor.”

“I’m a hard worker. I care about you.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know everything I need to know, Jane
Mays.” He took a deep breath, looking away from her, gesturing to
the house in front of them. “So…this is my driveway. That’s my
house. You’re in charge, so we can stay here in my truck chatting
all night if you like, or we could—”

“I’ll come in.”

***

It was taking all of his self-control not to
kiss her or touch her, but he didn’t trust their footing yet and he
meant it when he said that she was calling the shots. He couldn’t
afford to make any mistakes with Jane right now; he was fully
prepared to follow her lead. He walked around to her side of the
truck, and remembered she was about to say something before he
asked her about Paul. He opened her door and she took his hand as
she jumped out.

“Hey, before I interrupted you…you were
about to say something. Something you remembered. What were you
going to say?” She laced her fingers through his as they walked up
the porch steps. Her hand was soft and warm and it felt
ridiculously good to have it back in his. He looked down at their
interlocked hands. Flat-out sexy.

“The grizzlies.”

The grizzlies.
She wanted him to take
her to the park. Through the haze of his lust for her it occurred
to him that this—right now, right this second holding hands with
Jane in his driveway staring into her eyes while the sun died
behind them—was a
perfect
moment. And he never wanted it to
end. He thought he had a grip on his feelings for her, but suddenly
he knew that he was deeper into this than he had realized. If it
didn’t feel so damn good, it would have been sobering to pinpoint
the second he knew that he was just about gone.

“Want to see ’em tomorrow?”

“Will you take me?” she asked, bright eyes
twinkling up at him.

Anywhere, Minx. I’ll take you anywhere.

“Yeah. Tomorrow morning. Early.”

“How early is early?” she asked, as they
walked up the steps and he unlocked the door that led into his
living room.

“So early it’d be smarter for you to just
stay over.” He meant for this to be playful, but his voice, laced
with hunger for her, came out gruffer and more serious than he
intended. He shut the door behind him, and as his eyes adjusted to
the darkness, she dropped his hand.

Damn it, Lars. You overplayed that hand.
Don’t push h—

He could barely see more than the outline of
her head and shoulders in the dim light, but feeling her hands on
his chest made his breath catch. First just her fingers, flat
against his pecs before she slid them up to his neck. He took a
shallow breath as she pressed the base of her hands flush to his
jaw, fingers resting cool and light on his cheeks. Reaching out, he
found her waist, and then lowered his hands to her hips, pulling
her up against his chest. He knew that the back of the sofa was
just behind her, so he stepped forward holding her, once, twice.
When she bumped up against the upholstery, he slipped his hands
under her backside and lifted her so she was perched up in front of
him. He stepped forward once more, between her legs, and his blood
raced as he felt her legs rise, brushing against his thighs until
she locked them around his waist, behind his back, pulling him as
close to her as possible. She reached up to wrap her arms around
his neck, pulling him down to her until his lips made contact with
hers. It was so sweet, and he was so grateful not to have lost her,
his eyes burned and he shuddered.

He wanted her. God, how he wanted her.

His lips slanted over hers again and again
until they matched perfectly, and their tongues touched, licked,
stroked each other gently, tenderly. He found the edge of her
flimsy little shirt and lifted it up over her head, until there was
nothing between him and her skin but her bra and his polo shirt,
which he pulled up and off one-handed, breaking contact with her
for only a second, before finding her lips in the dark again.

He ran his palms up and down the smooth,
warm skin of her back, finding the clasp of her bra and dispatching
it quickly. She loosened her arms from his neck so that he could
slip it off her body, then he ran his palms up and down her bare
back, sighing into her mouth, blood rushing like lava to his groin
as his chest pressed against hers for the first time. Her soft
breasts were crushed against the hair of his chest and his heart
beat relentlessly, a riot of feelings wreaking havoc on his body,
in his head, in his heart.

She tore her lips away from his and he heard
her voice as if through gauze, “Wait. Lars, wait.”

Lars bent his head to her shoulder, pressing
his lips to her soft, sweet-smelling skin, dragging his lips from
her shoulder, along her collarbone to the spot where her pulse
fluttered. He rested his lips there with his eyes closed, fingers
still running slowly, reverently, up and down the smooth planes of
her back.

Finally he raised his head and leaned back
to look at her. His eyes had adjusted to the soft twilight flooding
the room from the windows and he could just make out her face: red
lips, tendrils from her little ponytail loose around her face, wide
eyes tender and soft as they gazed up at him.

His arms were still wrapped around her as
she perched on the back of the sofa, and she felt small and warm in
his arms, which were dark and tan against the white skin of her
body. Trying to slow down his heart was impossible. This wasn’t
enough. This wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted her. All of her.

“Lars,” she murmured in her throaty voice,
reaching up to touch his cheek with her palm. “We have all
night.”

All night.
He glanced down between
them where her breasts pressed against his chest. The impulse to
kiss his way from her neck to her waist, loving every spot of skin
in between, was almost unbearable.

All night.
It was more than he had
hoped for. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. She was
calling the shots and she wanted to slow down, so he wouldn’t
pressure her, no matter how much he wanted her. He nodded, sighing
loudly, maybe even a little sorry for himself.

She pulled back a little, her arm folding
across her chest to cover her breasts. He set her back down on the
back of the couch and felt around for her shirt on the floor and
handed it to her. She slipped her arms through the straps, wiggling
it over her head as he leaned over and turned on the lamp beside
her. Her hair was disheveled and her lips were just a little puffy.
He groaned, wondering how he was going to make it through tonight
if she didn’t call the shots he was hoping for, dying for.

“All night, huh?”

She gave him a half smile, flicking her eyes
to his waist, to below his waist where they rested for a moment
with amusement before returning to his face. She bit her upper lip,
trying not to grin and failing wildly.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, looking down at the
prominent bulge in his jeans, then back up at her teasing face.
“Yeah, that’s the way it is. You’re
killing
me, Jane.”

“Sorry. I got carried away.” She hopped off
the couch, and stopped trying not to grin. She beamed at him.
“Self-control, my fine Swedish friend. I haven’t had the grand tour
yet and we’ve already gotten…distracted.”

He leaned back from her, crossing his arms
over his chest and couldn’t help but notice her eyes widen, staring
at his chest, which he loved. Her mouth opened slightly and she
licked her lips, her face concealing nothing. “I—I mean…Sorry for
staring. That is just…
unreal
.”

Lars chuckled at her, raising his eyebrows,
before snatching his shirt off the ground and throwing it on over
his head, ruining her view. “And…off limits, apparently. Remember:
self-control, Minx.”

“Duly noted.” She tilted her head to the
side, sighing with a little moan. “Seriously, though, don’t give me
a song and dance about working out. That’s gotta be Viking genes or
something.”

He chuckled at her, shrugging, feeling
pleased. “Partially genes…Hikes. Climbs. Free weights. I can think
of some other aerobic activities I wouldn’t mind adding to the
roster…like, immediately.”

“Like, what?” she rasped with a teasing
grin.

“Like, in my bed.”

“Like, with a partner?” She leaned up
against the couch, staring at him, then bit her lower lip slowly.
His eyes darted to it and he actually felt his body sway toward her
like he was drunk.

“
Killing
me, Minx,” he repeated,
straightening up.

The room was quiet and they stood before one
another, eyes locked, a little stunned, maybe, both seeming to need
a minute to process what was happening between them. Lars reached
out gently and put his arms around her, and Jane wrapped her arms
around him, leaning her cheek on his chest under his chin. They
stood there together, not moving, not kissing, not speaking, just
holding each other.

Finally Lars leaned back to look into her
eyes.

“Nothing feels as good as this, Jane,” he
whispered. “Nothing ever has.”

Jane smiled, but he thought he saw some
sadness creep into her expression before she looked away, resting
her cheek back on his chest and answering, softly,

“Agreed.”

***

Lars hadn’t expected a dinner guest, but he
always kept the fixings for
våfflor
, or Swedish waffles, on
hand. Jane sat up on the counter beside the waffle iron, heckling
him as various ’60s songs played on the kitchen CD player.

“It is a damn shame you’ve never tried
Svensk
våfflor
, Jane. We need to remedy your
embarrassing lack of culinary experience.”

“By making waffles in an electric waffle
iron?”

“Yes,
smärta i nacken
, in a waffle
iron.”

“What does that mean?”