A Pretend Proposal. Jackie Braun
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decades: Had the choice been left to his father, Hoyt would have saved his wife rather than his son.
But Thomas’s mother hadn’t given her husband the option. As murky water had gushed into the car through the broken windshield, and Hoyt had struggled to unbuckle her jammed seat belt, she’d batted his hands away and screamed, Don’t worry about me! Get Tommy out! Get Tommy out!
“Oh, Thomas. I’m so sorry.”
Elizabeth’s sincere sympathy wasn’t able to banish the hellish memories. Nothing was. He knew that from experience. But he couldn’t deny that he found her concern soothing, settling.
“It’s not something I like talking about it,” he admitted. Even with Nana Jo, he preferred to steer clear of the subject. It was just too damned painful, for her as well, he figured, since she’d lost her only child.
“I understand. Ordinarily, I would consider this none of my business, but, given our unique set of circumstances … how did your grandmother come to raise you if your father is still alive?”
“My father’s an alcoholic.” Another admission he rarely shared. “He was what I’d call a social drinker before the accident. Afterward.” Thomas set the wine he’d barely touched on the coffee table. “He could down a fifth of whiskey in a day and then stumble to the store for more. He tried rehab, more than once. But I don’t think his heart was in it. He was lost without my mother. He still is. And he’s still drinking. Of that much I’m sure, even though I rarely see him.”
Thomas glanced over, fully expecting to see pity in Elizabeth’s eyes. It was there, along with something else, something that made him almost yearn for the comfort he knew she wanted to give him.
“It’s hard when someone you love walks out of your life.”
“I had no choice in the matter,” Thomas heard himself say.
He swallowed thickly afterward. Even so, feelings welled up, helplessness chief among them. He’d had no say in his father’s emotional and physical defection, just as he’d had no say in surviving the accident. Get Tommy out! How ironic that his mother’s unconditional love had made him unlovable in his father’s eyes. At least that was the way Thomas saw it.
Elizabeth said nothing. Instead, she came over and sat next to him on the love seat, angled toward him. Their knees bumped. She laid one of her small hands overtop of his, which were clenched tightly together in front of him. The gesture was one of comfort. Because that was what he knew he would find, he pulled away and stood.
“You know, it’s getting late.”
“Oh. I guess it is.” She wasn’t quite successful in hiding her bafflement.
“Thanks for dinner.”
“You brought the Chinese,” she pointed out.
“The company, then.” He started for the door.
“You’re welcome.” But her smile was uncertain.
She followed him onto the porch. Outside, darkness was falling. Up and down the street, landscape lights were starting to click on. Elizabeth reached back into the house and flipped on the porch light, but it barely illuminated beyond the steps.
“Be careful getting to your car,” she said as he started down her walk.
“I’m good.” He waved and then made a liar of himself by tripping on the buckled pavement.
“Thomas—”
“I’m fine!”
“Good night,” she called.
Rather than echo the sentiment, he halted midstep, turned around and returned to her, stopping one crumbling cement step shy of the porch where she still stood.
“Did you forget something?”
In his haste to leave, he almost had.
“My jacket.” The engagement ring was in its pocket still. He would hand her the box and go. That way he’d be gone before he had to listen to her ooh and aah over it. She could put it on her own finger.
“It’s in the kitchen.”
He followed her back inside the tidy little home that still felt too welcoming for his peace of mind. But his gaze wasn’t drawn to the furnishings or kitschy bric-a-brac. It was on her back, sliding south even as he ordered it to return to a safe point between her shoulder blades. She might not have a lot in the way of curves, but what she had filled out the seat of her pants well enough to make his mouth water. A groan slipped out as need surged in. She turned. The view from the front was just as appealing.
“Did you say something?”
Tell her no, get your jacket and go, he ordered silently. But what came out was her name. He stepped closer, until a mere whisper of space separated them. Then his hands were in her hair and he was moving closer. The kiss started out light and gentle, just as it had the night before. With mouths meeting. Breath mingling. Passion still leashed, but straining to break free.
And no wonder. One taste of the woman wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. He angled his head, delving deeper and giving himself over to need. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she kept up with him just fine. Her hands had gone from trapped safely between their bodies to his shoulders and now were fisted in his hair, letting him know he wasn’t the only one being carried away.
Stop!
His silent command went unheeded. Thomas wanted more and, gauging from her response, so did Elizabeth. It was mutual, consensual. Briefly, he considered his options. Her bedroom was just down the hall, but occupied at the moment with one very large and overprotective dog that Thomas could hear whining for freedom even over the blood rushing in his ears. The love seat was closer anyway. He backed toward it and lowered himself onto the curved arm. They could work their way around to the cushions in a minute. Right now, he preferred Elizabeth right where she was, standing between the V of his legs with her small, perfect breasts nearly level with his mouth.
Her hair was mussed from his fingers. Her lips full and inviting. Her gaze was wide. Expectant? Eager?
Go slow.
This silent command was easier to follow than the last one. He brought his mouth to her neck, nipping softly with his teeth as he worked his way lower. Elizabeth tilted her head to the side and he continued down. At her collarbone, he stopped, savored, even as the buttons on her blouse beckoned.
As his eager fingers fumbled with the top one, her breath sighed out as if she were luxuriating in the moment. Meanwhile, his pulse had picked up speed and the breath sawed from his lungs, hot and urgent.
Thomas was two buttons in when she decided to return the favor. Her fingers were much more nimble than his and made fast work of the buttons holding his shirt together. When she finished, she pushed it back onto his shoulders. The corners of that sexy mouth curved up. There was no mistaking the desire in her dark eyes. No mistaking it at all.
Curiously, it helped stopped him from doing something foolish. He couldn’t do this. They couldn’t do this. Sex would complicate things. No doubt, Elizabeth would read too much into the act, especially given the current role-playing that was going on. Physical need would turn into emotional need. She would expect more than he was able to give. It was best to nip this in the bud before she got hurt, Thomas decided, refusing to consider that the heart he was hoping to protect from harm very well might be his own.
He pulled his shirt back over his shoulders.
“This got a little out of hand, I’m afraid. I only meant to kiss you like I did last night. Sorry.”
Elizabeth stumbled back a couple steps, looking as if she’d been slapped. He regretted that, but it was better this way. For both of them. He needed her to act as if she loved him. Not to actually fall for him.
She reworked the buttons on her blouse, fastening them all the way to the