I nod to accept his present offer, and he stands, leaning toward me. Again, the fantasies take over, the one where he’ll lean down and kiss my temple. He hesitates a second, and then straightens as if reading my thoughts. Quickly excusing himself, he disappears behind me, through his sitting area and out the entrance of his room. Neither his room which is the entire north end of the house nor his sister’s room on the south end has a door, just an opening to their private spaces. A loft bridge connects the two sides, but the siblings rarely entered each other’s bedrooms.
I consider myself a friend to his stepsister. Ella has had a rough couple of years, and I know the feeling. She needed to find herself—outside of Jacob, outside of this town, and even outside of Ethan Scott, her one true love. I helped her with that when she escaped to New York. I didn’t think Jacob would forgive me at first for helping her leave, but he came around, apologizing for overreacting toward me. It might be the one time he’s truly been angry with me and asked my forgiveness afterward. I finish the soup with additional wandering thoughts. I’m curious about Jacob’s surprise that I hadn’t told my mother about him.
Mary Carter is what everyone would call good people, and I admire her for raising four kids and surviving the death of my father, who was the love of her life. His passing was difficult on all of us in our own way. My father and I were close. He knew how lost I was in my early thirties, and it’s something I like to think I recognize in Jacob. He has a put together look on the outside, but he’s dying on the inside. His dungeon door is locked tight, and I’ll never have the key to understanding him.
+ + +
To my surprise, I nap for three hours after the soup and eventually wander down to the entrance of Jacob’s office again.
“Jesus, I thought you would never rise,” he teases, glancing up at me over the rim of his glasses. These are relatively new to him and give him a sexy professor appearance. With rumpled hair, the flannel shirt, and bare feet, Jacob takes sexy to a new level of torture for me.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I question.
“Because you’re sick, Lilac, and you need the rest. But I’m starving.” He stands and pats his rock-hard belly, which thuds in response. I’ve never seen him without a shirt, not even the other night when he laid behind me in bed, but I have a strong imagination of the tightness in those lower stomach muscles as I’ve seen him in fitted tees.
“I don’t think I can handle pizza,” I warn him. Jacob has an obsession with frozen pizzas.
“What do you feel like?” His voice drops when he asks, as do his eyes to my legs. The sweats he gave me are too big, and a ripple of something unwarranted seeps through my body under his gaze. I hate when he speaks in that seductive manner because he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s only teasing me.
“I’d love scrambled eggs and toast.” A little protein and some bread sound divine.
“Coming right up, breakfast in bed.” He winks at me, and I grin. He’s such an ass in an adorable way. As he nears me, he stops at my side. “Back in bed, Lilac.” His voice drops even lower, and over my shoulder, I look up at him. He’s so close to me, closer than necessary for a man heading to his kitchen. His fingers brush the back of my hand. Another ripple of excitement quickly turns into a tornado whirling through my midsection.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper. Jacob bites his lip, his eyes dropping to mine once more. There’s a tic in his jaw, and the vein in his neck strains.
“Lilac.” A warning resonates in the nickname. For the first time ever, I’m deliciously frightened of Jacob. Not for the first time, I imagine what it would be like to kiss him. To have the lip he’s chewing press against mine. To feel his tongue slip past my lips and tangle with mine. To have his body over me.
Heat rushes my face while Jacob stares at me.
Without a word, I roll from the doorjamb and turn to the staircase, slowly taking it upward and sensing Jacob watching my retreat. There’s nothing sexy about wearing his too large sweats or his oversized tee, so I have no idea what he’s looking at other than the expanse of my backside, probably noting it isn’t tight like Malibu Mandi.
Chapter 5
And The Oscar Goes To . . .
[Jacob]
She’s going to be the death of me. It’s evident watching her climb my stairs she isn’t wearing underwear under those sweats, and I want nothing more than to tug them down and take her right there on the steps. Not to mention, she’s not wearing a bra under the T-shirt I gave her, and I want to lift the shirt and place my mouth over one of those weighty globes. Pam has a lush body, and she just does it for me without even knowing it. And dammit, I’m hammer stiff again, and I’ve already taken care of business in the shower once this morning.
I head to the kitchen, in hopes to cool off and prepare our eclectic meal of her eggs, my frozen pizza, and a bowl of popcorn for the movie. She’s right. I’m not a cook. I want food without effort on my part. It’s one reason I hired Ethan Scott last fall. If someone doesn’t feed me, I can forget to eat. I also hired him because I had a six-week book tour, and I needed someone to look after my stepsister, who was living with me at the time.
Pam and I have already discussed her part in aiding my stepsister’s disappearance last fall. All’s forgiven although I was pissed at Pam at first. Ella’s the one who did the soothing over, eventually calling me and explaining her thought process, her feelings, and how she wanted to get help, but on her own terms. It’s noble actually, but as soon as she hinted I needed help—I needed to face my past—it was time to shut that conversation down. I ended up easily forgiving Pam. How could I not? She’s the only friend I have.
Thinking of Ella, I give her a call while I’m working on the makeshift dinner.
“Belly,” I tease when she answers. She’s thirty years old, but I still call her by the nickname I gave her when she came to live with me and my father. Her mother was sixteen years younger than my dad and a former model. Both parents doted on Ella as they shaped and molded her into the shining star they wanted her to be. She equaled dollar signs for them. On the other hand, I was a huge disappointment to my father, and my stepmother was indifferent. I had nothing to offer her, so she had nothing to give me except Ella. Her daughter was ten years younger than me but looked up to me for everything. Kindness. Friendship. Protection. And I failed her on the last one. I brought an unsuspected villain into her life, and he scarred her. It was all my fault.
“Jacob,” she exhales with excitement. “I haven’t heard from you in days. How is the writing going?”
“The writing is good.”
“Wow, what a way with words,” she teases. Once my sister moved to New York, I diligently checked in on her, and it drove her crazy. I just wanted her safe, happy, and whole. Even though I’m not much of a romantic myself, I did think the one thing that could give Ella the happily ever after she deserved was Ethan.
“How was your trip?” The question is asked through clenched teeth. Ella hates Mandi and held nothing back about how bad she thinks the relationship was for me. For the past six months, she’s been telling me I should find a woman like Pam. When I think about it, Ella’s been saying Pam specifically. I should be looking at Pam.