Jackson’s eyes glittered in amusement. “What about it?”
“I’m game if you are. What do we do first?”
His gaze dropped to her chest. “You can start by taking off that tank top.”
Scarlett hoped he wouldn’t notice the slight trembling of her hands as she obediently reached for the hem and began to peel it up over her head.
Chapter Eighteen
November
“Dude, my boss just handed me his tickets for tomorrow night’s Suns game. And they’re playing the Clippers so one of the primo games of the year. So how about it, Jack? You, me, some brews and wings before the game, then tenth row seats for a little basketball. Is it a date?”
Jackson hesitated before replying to his best friend’s enthusiastic invitation, knowing that Riley would see right through any sort of lame ass excuse he might offer up. No, he acknowledged with a sigh, he was going to finally have to fess up about Scarlett - without, of course, revealing too many details to his nosy friend, the friend who couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. After all, he’d been putting Riley off for months now on those weekends he spent with Scarlett, and there were only so many times he could use work, family events, illness, etc. to fob a person off.
“Too bad it wasn’t next weekend,” he told Riley with real regret. “That would have been a great time. But I’ve already got plans for this weekend, plans that involve me being out of town starting tomorrow afternoon.”
Riley whistled in response. “Oh, and you can bet I know what that means, buddy! You’re heading off to see this mystery woman that I know exists even though you keep changing the subject every time I hint at her existence. So fess up, Jack. What’s her name, where does she live, and more importantly, how’s the sex?”
Jackson laughed. “Why did I know that would be one of the top three questions? Not is she a nice person, how serious are things between the two of you, has your family met her yet? And sorry to break the news, Rye, but I need to continue keeping her a secret. Even from you.”
“Hey!” exclaimed Riley, sounding genuinely hurt. “Are you trying to imply that I can’t keep a secret or something? For Christ’s sake, Jack, how many years have you and I been best buds? You know damned well you can trust me with your life.”
“My life, yes,” agreed Jackson calmly. “My secrets not so much. Especially since alcohol loosens not just your inhibitions but your tongue, my friend. And unless you’re prepared to go on the wagon, I’m going to have to keep this particular secret from you. At least until I can figure some stuff out. You wouldn’t believe what a mess I’ve gotten myself into.”
“Like what?” asked Riley, who was usually as eager for some really juicy gossip as he was for a pint of beer or a shot or two of whiskey. “Is she some sort of celebrity and you don’t want the publicity? Or maybe she’s in witness protection or something, doesn’t want her cover blown. Or - oh, Jesus - please tell me she isn’t married, Jack? I mean, come on, dude. You could get any chick you wanted so why would you - ”
“She’s not married. Neither is she a celebrity or in witness protection. You watch way too many of those CSI type shows, Rye. And the reason I can’t tell you much about her, the reason things are messed up, is because my family would shit a brick if they knew the truth about her.”
“What truth?” demanded Riley, who was clearly not intending to let this go without a fight. “Is she some biker chick with lots of tats and piercings? I can just imagine your mother’s reaction bringing someone like that home. Or is she a liberal Democrat? Your dad really would shit a brick. Or maybe she’s a lot older than you? Didn’t know you were into the whole cougar scene, Jack. Or is she a lot younger, like eighteen or something?”
Jackson chuckled. “Once again, that imagination of yours is really working overtime, isn’t it? She’s a little younger than I am, a senior in college matter of fact, but over twenty-one and definitely not a teenager. Or a cougar. No tats or piercings and she does ride a bike but it’s a ten-speed not a Harley. We don’t talk much about politics but she’s a big environmentalist, volunteers at some shelter once in awhile, so pretty sure she’s liberal about that stuff. And the reason my family would go apeshit if I brought her home is - well, complicated. Let’s just say some bad blood would rise to the surface if they knew about her, knew who her parents were to be specific. And that’s all I’m telling you, Rye. Except that I’m pretty crazy about her.”
“Fine.” Riley sighed in exasperated defeat. “Be that way, asshole. Don’t trust your best friend with your secrets. Though you might be right about the booze loosening my tongue. You know I’d never willingly give away any of your secrets, Jack, but I also have trouble saying no if someone offers to buy a few rounds. Your dad or one of your brothers would have me singing like a canary before I was halfway wasted.”
“Yep,” agreed Jackson without hesitation. “Glad you admitted that, Rye. So don’t take it personally, okay? Hey, I’d love nothing better than to tell you everything about her if I wasn’t afraid my father would start pumping you for info. As it is, the family is pretty suspicious about the fact I haven’t brought a female home to meet them since I broke up with Devon back in the summer.”
Riley whistled. “Damn, that’s exactly right, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you out with a woman or heard you mention one since you stopped seeing her. Was your mystery girl the reason you broke up with Devon?”
“Let’s call her the motivation to break things off,” corrected Jackson. “It wasn’t going to last much longer with Devon no matter what, not with her constantly throwing hints about wanting an engagement ring and getting married. So meeting - er, let’s just call her Vivien - and knowing I wanted to be with her was the kick in the butt I needed to end things with Devon.”
“Vivien, huh?” joked Riley. “Where’d you dream that name up?”
Jackson couldn’t admit that he’d thought of Vivien on the spur of the moment because that had been the name of the actress - Vivien Leigh - who’d played the role of Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With The Wind.
“Who knows?” he replied casually. “We might have had an elderly neighbor once upon a time with that name. So to make a long story short, the reason I can’t go to the game with you tomorrow night is because I’m flying to see her. She lives out of state, so this has been sort of a long distance romance. And no, I’m not telling you what state or city she lives in.”
“Hmm,” mused Riley. “Can’t be too far away, though, if you’ve been seeing each other on the weekends. Probably California or maybe Nevada or even Colorado. Does she ever fly down here to see you?”
“Not here, no. But we have met in the middle before, sort of halfway between homes. And that’s all I’m telling you for now, Rye. Sorry, but you have no idea how careful I’ve been about all of this. It would be a shit show of epic proportions if my father learned about her. So I don’t want to put you in the position of having to lie for me. Better all around if you know as little as possible.”