Back in His Bed. Heidi RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.
His lips twitched in amusement.
She snorted. “Based on what? Our long, happy history?”
Jack tilted his head, acknowledging the truth to her statement, and shrugged.
“What’s the saying? ‘Trust, yet verify’? I think on something this important, I should be sure I know exactly what I’m signing.”
“That’s a sound plan, Bren. But since there’s no trapdoors to worry about, I look forward to hearing from your lawyer sometime next week.” He raised his bottle in a small toast. “To equitable solutions.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She drained her glass with the toast. Oddly enough, the knots of tension in her stomach finally released a little. After being tied up for so long, the relief felt alien.
Although she did fully intend to go over that agreement with a microscope to be sure, she realized she trusted Jack enough to believe it said what he claimed. She was just glad to have the end of this nightmare in sight.
And it felt really good, even if her hands were still shaking from making a stand.
Jack turned up his bottle and drained it as well. “Another?” he asked as he stood and crossed behind her to the kitchen.
“Please.” She heard glass clinking, and the tiny psfft as Jack opened the bottles. Maybe she should choose something a bit stronger. It wasn’t late, by any stretch of the imagination, but if Jack was starting his second beer it meant he didn’t plan on heading back to the city tonight. As he settled back into his seat Brenna realized he might decide to spend the evening in here. With her.
Last night’s events were too fresh to ignore, and the memories came back in a disturbing rush of sensation and emotion. Goosebumps formed on her skin as she remembered the feel of his fingers teasing over her stomach, and the sincere shock in his eyes when she had accused him of not loving her. She closed her eyes, only to be met with a vision of water tracing down Jack’s chest in the dim patio lights. She quickly opened her eyes and focused on the painting on the far wall as she took deep breaths. The room felt overly warm, and the beer she gulped didn’t help cool her any.
Maybe she should go grab the bottle of port. Dull the edges a bit with something more fortified—and fortifying—than beer.
“No big plans for your Friday night?” Jack asked, snapping her back to the present.
Conversation. Focus on the conversation. “This is it. We lack a happening club scene out here. Much to my dismay, of course.” Jack snorted, and took another sip of his beer. “But I could ask you the same thing.” She was a happy homebody, while Jack was a social creature—and a popular one, she knew. His life was usually one exciting event after another; surely he had something better to do on a Friday night.
“Well, I’d planned to have a shouting match with you tonight, but it seems like that’s been shot down.” He winked at her. “Not that I mind, of course, but it has freed up my evening unexpectedly.”
“I could throw some insults at you anyway, if you’d like,” she offered, in what she hoped was a helpful, teasing tone. It would certainly help her keep her mind away from dangerous places. At the same time, though, it was nice not to be at daggers drawn with him.
“Pass.” Jack stared out through the French doors at the dark vineyard, and she wondered what he was thinking about. It was easier, though, than having him look at her, and she was glad for the reprieve. The house normally seemed so big and empty, but with Jack here she felt slightly claustrophobic.
How could he look so relaxed? Feet propped up, settled back comfortably in her second favorite chair, he looked very much like the monarch of the glen as he casually lifted the bottle to his lips. His throat worked as he swallowed, calling her attention to the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, where the crisp white cotton looked stark against his tanned neck and the dark hair that just brushed the collar.
She knew what it felt like to run her fingers over the hard muscles at the nape of his neck and thread them through the inky softness—he’d worn it longer when he was younger, and she remembered how it had tickled her skin like a silky caress…
“Don’t you get lonely out here, Bren?”
She jumped as he spoke, and felt the guilty flush rise up her neck again. Thankfully, Jack was still focused on the vineyard; maybe he hadn’t noticed her inappropriate stare. “Don’t you mean bored?” she challenged, out of habit.
“No, I meant lonely.” There was no sarcasm in his voice, and when he did turn to look at her she only saw sincere curiosity on his face.
She regretted her snark instantly. “A little. It’s been tough since Max died—being alone, that is. The house is awfully big for just one person.” She shrugged and stared into her glass, wishing for another beer. “I’ve been thinking about getting a puppy, though. I could use the company.”
Jack seemed to read her mind, and he made the short trek to the kitchen and returned with another bottle for them both. She skipped the glass this time, and held her own bottle by the neck as she drank. Drinking this much this fast was going to give her one hell of a headache tomorrow, but she needed the balm for her nerves.
Instead of returning to his seat, Jack pulled a cushion off the chair and tossed it to the floor beside the couch. As he lowered himself to the floor, he asked, “Do you mind? My back’s a little tight from my racquetball game today and the drive back.”
“Be my guest.” She shifted on the couch, turning to her side to face him more easily in his new position. Jack closed his eyes and stretched, and Brenna’s pulse kicked up as she watched. Keep the conversation going. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, a puppy. Something big, like a Boxer or a Rottweiler.”
Jack smiled without opening his eyes. “And to think you wanted that little Corgi puppy before.”
“We lived in a suite in a hotel.” A dark eyebrow went up. “Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a shoebox apartment, but still, it didn’t seem fair to a bigger dog to not have a yard.” Jack’s grin was heartstopping. She’d forgotten what it was like. “Maybe I’ll get two. They can keep each other company. Play together.”
“Then who will play with you?” he asked softly.
Her heart skipped a beat and she reached for her drink again. “It’s not like I’m a hermit out here. I’ve got Dianne and Ted and the baby—not to mention the people who work here every day.”
“And that’s enough for you? You don’t have any other…uh…company?”
She nearly choked on her drink. She swallowed and coughed painfully. “Are you seriously asking me about my love-life?”
Jack shrugged—a strange movement, considering his position. “I have to admit, I’m a bit curious.”
“You should have asked me that before you propositioned me last night.”
Jack’s eyes popped open, and she saw a strange light there in the dark blue depths. “Probably,” he answered, and she realized too late she’d said that last thought aloud.
Damn it, she should have stopped after her second beer. Now her liquor-loosened tongue had taken her smack into the middle of the one topic she’d desperately wanted to avoid. “Just forget it.”
He levered himself into a sitting position, putting him a little too close for Brenna’s comfort. Those broad shoulders were only inches from her. “I’m finding that difficult to do.”
She mustered her bravado, but it was still shaky from Jack’s simple proximity. “Guilty conscience?”
“Not at all. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”
She thought of his fingers trailing over her collarbone. We’ve always had this. She fought back the shiver. “And you don’t think your little ‘bargain’ was crass in any way?”