Emily's Daughter. Linda Warren
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words trailed away as he stepped close to her—so close she could smell his aftershave and feel the heat from his body. He cupped her face in his hands, and her heart pounded in her chest in anticipation of what she knew was coming.
His lips gently touched hers, then covered them with a fierce possessiveness she remembered despite all the years that had passed. He didn’t touch her anywhere else. He didn’t need to. Her lips moved under his and she kissed him back. She couldn’t help it.
“I don’t think we have to recapture anything,” he whispered against her lips. “It’s there. It’s always been there. Ever since I first saw you in your mother’s kitchen.”
He was right. The feelings were still alive. Oh, God, they were. Her body was on fire and she hadn’t felt this way since…since those winter nights on the beach. But she couldn’t give in to this. She wouldn’t.
“Jackson—”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“No, I—”
“Yes,” he asserted, and she got into the car without another word. Just before he slammed her door, he said, “Tomorrow, Emily.”
EMILY DIDN’T REMEMBER much of the drive home. She kept hearing Jackson’s words. “Tomorrow, Emily.” Over and over they echoed through her head, her heart, and she realized she’d crossed a dangerous line between the past and the future.
Now she was older and much wiser, and the words shouldn’t affect her so intensely, but they did. Had she learned nothing? Yes, Jackson’s explanation for not coming back was a good one, but still… If he’d loved her as much as she’d loved him, nothing would have kept him away. Instead he’d managed to resume his life without her and she had dealt with hers as best she could.
She’d made bad decisions, and nothing she did now would change that. She sensed that seeing Jackson again was another bad choice. It was probably best to leave the past where it was—in the past. She couldn’t handle anything else.
As she climbed into bed, she decided there would be no tomorrow for her and Jackson. She’d call him and make an excuse. Having settled that, she felt better. Surprisingly she fell asleep easily.
Except that she had a different dream.
And Jackson was in it.
She didn’t wake up crying or trembling. She was actually smiling, and that shook her. She tried to understand this new dream. She and Jackson were on the beach and they were holding a little girl. Their daughter. Emily kept saying “I’m so glad I told you,” and he kept saying “Thank you.”
She pulled her knees up to her chin, trying to still the joy inside her. She didn’t have to look far to grasp the meaning of her dream. She wanted to tell Jackson about their daughter.
She closed her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts. The dream was also about guilt—her guilt. It was consuming her, and it had become more voracious since yesterday. Since his return. Her subconscious had clarified what she had to do and why. She would tell him. He deserved that much; he believed their time together was innocent and beautiful, but it was marred with so many ugly things.
She would tell Jackson about their baby…and the adoption. She wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, but he had a right to know. Beyond that she didn’t want to think. But she had to.
Whatever the consequences, she’d pursue this unaccustomed urge, this need to tell him the truth. Maybe it was the love in his voice when he talked about having kids. Maybe that had triggered her dream. Or it could just be plain old selfishness. She wanted to tell him because she had a desire to share her precious baby with someone. She’d never done that. She’d never spoken of her daughter or the adoption and the grief she’d experienced, and she desperately needed to. She wanted to talk about all of this with her baby’s father…Jackson.
She curled up in bed. If she told him, there would be disbelief in his eyes, along with hatred and anger and disgust. She would see herself through his eyes. Could she endure that?
Grabbing a pillow, she held it tight. “Yes,” she said into the darkness. Right or wrong, she would tell Jackson about their daughter.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN JACKSON REACHED the hotel, the first thing he did was call his friend and partner, Colton Prescott.
“Hey, Jackson, I’m glad you’re home,” Colton said before Jackson could speak. “I’m dealing with the Conley contract, but they want to talk to you.”
“I’m not home. I’m still in Houston.”
There was a pause, then, “Problems with the system?”
“No, everything’s running fine.”
“Then why aren’t you back?”
“Because I’ve met someone and I’m staying for a few more days.”
This time there was a very long pause. “Met someone? You mean a woman?”
Jackson laughed at Colton’s disbelieving tone. After his divorce, he’d tried to date, but it became more trouble than it was worth. Every woman he got involved with wanted to rush him to the altar, and he wasn’t ready to tackle marriage again. These days he spent time with his dad and at the company. When he went out, it was strictly for pleasure and he made that clear up front.
“Yeah, a real live woman.”
“Damn, those women in Houston must be a helluva lot better-looking than the ones in Dallas.”
Jackson laughed again. “It doesn’t have anything to do with looks. She’s someone I knew a long time ago.”
“O-o-oh.”
From that drawn-out exclamation, Jackson knew what Colton was thinking. “It wasn’t some one-night stand. This woman means a lot to me.” As he said the words, he realized that he cared a lot about Emily—probably always had.
“Really. Well, that sounds interesting.”
“I’ll let you know when I plan to return.”
“Wait a minute.” Colton stopped him before he could hang up. “What am I supposed to do about Bill Conley?”
“Use some of that Prescott charm on him.”
“But he wants the system in by the first of the month. That’s pushing it and I refuse to do that. Fast work creates glitches that take much more time to fix.”
“I’ll talk to Bill in the morning. Will that help?”
“It sure will. He treats me like a twelve-year-old.”
Jackson smiled. At thirty-two, Colton had a youthful exuberance, but there wasn’t a thing he didn’t know about computers. Once their customers recognized that, everything went smoothly. “See you next week,” he said, ending the conversation.
“Oh, Jackson, your dad called.”
A knot formed in his stomach. “Did he say if something was wrong?”
“No, he just wanted to talk to you.”
“I see,” Jackson said slowly. He’d spoken with his dad last night and everything was fine. So why had he called again? Eager to get off the phone, he added, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
As soon as he’d hung up, he dialed his father’s number. Six rings. Seven… Finally the phone was picked up. “Hello,” a sleepy voice said.
“Dad, it’s Jackson.”
“Jack, my boy, why are you calling so late? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m fine, but Colton said you called the office. Thought it might be something important.”
“No, not like you mean. I was just mad and