A Week Till the Wedding. Linda Winstead Jones
Читать онлайн книгу.
life was, how she’d never wanted for a man’s attention in the past seven years, how she hadn’t missed him at all. But while she could lie to protect an old woman, she couldn’t make herself lie to purposely cause pain.
As if he cared …
Jacob looked at Daisy as if he were seeing her for the first time. When she caught his eye he didn’t turn away, didn’t try to pretend that he wasn’t studying her as if he could see beneath her skin. He looked at her with an intensity that was so much a part of the man she’d once loved.
“I’d forgotten,” he said.
“Forgotten what?” she asked, her heart skipping a beat.
“I’d forgotten how you get to me.” He looked her in the eye, shifted slightly as if suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin, though he still didn’t turn away or drop his eyes. And Daisy could see what was coming so clearly it hurt. He’d get to her; they’d end up in bed; he’d break her heart all over again.
And she could not allow that to happen.
Chapter Three
Perhaps he’d made a mistake when he’d let Daisy go. He hadn’t had a choice, he couldn’t see how his life could’ve unfolded in any other way, but dammit, had he made a mistake?
This was the thought that plagued Jacob as he pulled his rental car to a stop in front of Daisy’s home. He never second-guessed his decisions, never looked back and wondered.
The sooner he finished up here and got out of town, the better off he’d be.
Daisy still lived in the house she’d grown up in, a yellow cottage a mere five blocks from the shop where she worked. The house was square and wide and one-story, with a large wraparound porch complete with a pair of matching white rockers and healthy ferns. The yard was dotted with ancient trees; the branches intertwined overhead, and while he couldn’t see it from here he imagined there was still a vegetable garden out back.
Her car was parked in the driveway, but instead of pulling in behind it he stopped at the curb. A concrete sidewalk ran in front of her house, and a leg of that sidewalk shot from the street to her front porch. This was a neighborhood where the residents walked, both for exercise and for more practical reasons, where they visited one another—on special occasions and sometimes for no reason at all. Both sidewalks saw a lot of wear. Or at least, they once had. He imagined that hadn’t changed.
Daisy’s entire life was right here, a general store, doctor’s office, pharmacy—and her work—within easy walking distance, while he flew from one time zone to another on a regular basis. He was good at what he did, a whiz with numbers and an unshakable faith in his own instincts. The men he worked for trusted his instincts, too. They trusted him with billions of dollars in investments, and he hadn’t let them down yet. In fact, he’d made them all lots and lots of money.
In the early days they’d called him a whiz kid. These days he was a highly valued member of a company that continued to grow, in large part thanks to him. And what had it gotten him? Insomnia. An almost nonexistent social life. And a fat bank account.
The second he stopped the car at the curb Daisy threw open the door and jumped out, as if she couldn’t wait to escape. He should wave, let her go and hurry home. But instead he shut down the engine, jumped out of the car and followed her.
She glanced over her shoulder as his car door slammed. She was not happy. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Walking you to the door.”
“If a man in a suit follows me around my neighbors are going to think someone is suing me for a bad haircut, or maybe the tax man is after me.”
“The tax man? Really?”
“Shoo,” she said, waving her fingers in his direction.
He ignored her dismissive order and took two long steps to catch up with her. “What’s your problem with the suit?”
She didn’t look at him. Her chin was in the air, her hair whipped as she glanced in the opposite direction. “I have no problem with what you wear. I don’t care at all what you wear.”
“Then why have you mentioned the damn suit so often?”
“It’s summertime in the Deep South,” she said. “Unless you’re headed to church or a funeral, the suit is downright unnatural.”
Daisy stopped in front of her porch steps, then spun around to face him. She was no longer trying to avoid him. No, instead she looked him in the eye, unflinching. She was stronger than he remembered. Tougher. “On second thought, wear a suit every day for all I care. It will serve as a constant reminder that you don’t belong here.”
“I don’t need a constant reminder that I don’t belong here.” No, he’d felt it every second of every day.
“Neither do I.” She took a step back and up, onto the bottom step.
Jacob matched her step, moving forward but not up. He wasn’t ready to let her move away. They were nose to nose, now, eye to eye. “Then who am I supposed to be reminding?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care.”
“You’re not making any sense at all….”
“I don’t have to make sense if I don’t want to.”
Jacob shook his head. “When did we start arguing?”
“Seven years ago,” Daisy snapped.
Jacob reached out, took her face in his hands, stepped into her space and kissed her. He wasn’t sure why, he just couldn’t help himself. He had to kiss her; he had to press his mouth to hers. He’d thought her scent was maddening, but her taste … he had forgotten … how the hell had he forgotten this …
She tensed for a moment then she melted. Her lips molded to his, her eyes closed and they kissed. Long and soft and easy.
He never should’ve let her go.
She tasted so good, so warm and right. Her face in his hands was soft, and he loved holding her almost as much as he loved kissing her. She kissed him back, well and deeply. She leaned toward him, into him and when he swept his tongue just inside her mouth she gasped and moaned and deepened the kiss. The years melted away, the miles that had come between them no longer mattered.
Daisy pulled away from him sharply. Her lips were swollen and wet, her eyes wide and surprised. Was she surprised by the kiss, or by her response?
“Don’t do that again,” she ordered, backing up the front porch steps, toward the front door and escape.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a very bad idea.”
He didn’t follow her onto the porch; he’d pushed his luck enough for one day.
“Tomorrow night,” he reminded her. “Lemon cake and chicken and dumplings.”
“Surely Miss Eunice will forget all about those plans by tomorrow morning,” Daisy said as she stopped by the front door and grabbed her house keys out of her small purse. “I hope,” she added beneath her breath.
“If she doesn’t …”
“She will,” Daisy said, almost as if she was commanding it to be so.
“Maybe. Probably.” Jacob stood on the walk for several minutes after Daisy had closed the front door. When he’d heard about his grandmother’s condition and decided to come home for a long visit, he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to have the past come to life again, to look at Daisy and suffer a deep regret for what he’d lost.
He shook his head, as if he could shake off unwanted thoughts, and turned around sharply to make his escape. Coming home had been a mistake. He’d had