Unfortunately, Marie’s knife had sliced through Jack’s shooting arm. He was going to need a great deal of physical therapy before he would be allowed to resume his duties as a field agent. The thought of parking his ass behind a desk for the next few months would have pissed him off royally if the pain drugs he’d been given hadn’t been so damn strong.
For a week after the incident, he pretty much lay sprawled on the couch in his living room, watching mindless television and allowing his various friends and family to take care of him. Sabrina, his mother, his sister, even Cullen’s sister and sister-in-law stopped by on a rotating basis to make sure he was fed, bathed, and not in too much pain.
Cullen kept him apprised of the case’s resolution—Marie was locked up in a mental institution, and Danny hadn’t missed a beat, resuming his show in Biloxi, although, according to Cullen, he was keeping time with one of the bartenders from the club hosting the show in that city. Danny had even extended the show for an additional week because of it.
Marie confessed to killing Shannon’s birth father, Shannon, and the dancers in Danny’s revue. They fully expected her to be deemed unfit to stand trial, but Jack was fine with that, so long as she remained locked up and kept away from the general public for the rest of her life.
Vanessa’s husband showed up the day after Jack was stabbed, and much to everyone’s surprise—and relief—he demanded that his wife come home with him. As it turned out, the mysterious other woman in his life was actually just him, planning a surprise birthday trip to Milan, for he and Vanessa.
“He said he could never keep anything from her,” Cullen explained. “That’s why he was keeping his distance. He thought for sure Vanessa would figure out what he was planning.”
“Did she feel like an idiot for believing he was cheating on her?” Jack wondered.
Cullen shook his head in exasperation. “All I know is she told us not to bother them for a few hours, and then she dragged him back to the guest room. That was the point at which I took the coward’s way out and claimed I had to come over to take care of you.”
Through the haze of pain and between visitors, Jack couldn’t get Kennedy out of his head. Cullen and even Sabrina urged him to call her, but he didn’t. He was still too fucked up in the head, and if he couldn’t even figure out how to handle this … thing between them, how could he expect her to?
It was hard, though. He hated sleeping alone, hated not talking to her, and was even coming to hate his own home. It wasn’t nearly as cozy, as comfortable, as Kennedy’s. No one else’s food tasted as good as the meals he’d shared with her. He wanted her to be the one to change his bandages, help him bathe. It was damned embarrassing to ask for help from anyone else, but he had a feeling he’d thoroughly enjoy it if Kennedy bathed him.
Except every time he was ready to give in and call, he couldn’t get around Jerry, and the fact that Kennedy and Jerry were still married. Why had she handled the divorce—or lack thereof—the way she had? Why had she told everyone he’d cheated on her, when Jerry insisted he hadn’t?
Assuming she was even willing to give a relationship with him a chance, how could they make it work? He had no history with commitment, and a major hang up about married women. She had been burned badly, and then had lied about the circumstances. They were two clearly broken individuals with some serious cards stacked against them.
By the end of the week, he decided that his partner had been right, and Jack didn’t give a rat’s ass about that other bullshit, because when it came down to it, what was in their hearts was really what mattered. He loved Kennedy, and if she loved him back, well, they could figure out all the other crap. Somehow, some way, they would make it work.
This wasn’t a revelation he wanted to share over the phone, though, so he had to wait until he was cleared to drive, so that he could talk to her in person. Unfortunately, his doctor was being stingy with those orders. Jack was at the point where he was willing to call his partner, to endure the teasing, if Cullen would only give him a lift to Kennedy’s house. Hopefully he would only need a ride there, and then Cullen could take off. If luck was on his side and Kennedy felt the same way, he planned to just stay with her until he was released to go back to work.
Hell, if all went well, he intended to stay with her for the rest of his damn life.
Lucky for him, he didn’t have to call his partner and potentially embarrass himself, because Kennedy came to him.
• • •
For a week, she stayed away from Jack. She had a few things of her own to get into order. Such as contacting her lawyer to find out what were the necessary steps to ensure her divorce was finalized as soon as possible. Kennedy did not want to wait any longer than absolutely necessary to be officially free of Jerry.
She also assumed Jack needed a little space. The wound he’d gotten in the line of duty—trying to protect her—had been serious. If she had not reacted so instantaneously to stem the flow of blood, he very well might have died. The thought kept her up at night, and when she did fall asleep, it caused terrible nightmares that had her waking, shouting his name.
And truthfully, she was a little afraid. Afraid that he wouldn’t see her in the first place. Afraid that the fact she was still married to Jerry would deter him from acknowledging what Kennedy felt: that they should be together.
After a week, though, she could take no more. She had to know. And she still had to tell him her version of the events surrounding her lack of divorce.
So she stood on the front porch of Jack’s house on a sunny Friday afternoon, smoothing the front of her peach-colored sundress as she waited for him to answer the doorbell. She heard a shouted, “Come in,” and she twisted the knob and stepped into the cool, dim interior of Jack’s home.
He was sprawled on the couch, his arm bandaged to his side to keep movement to a minimum while the tendons, muscles, and skin healed. The second injury had been to the same arm as the first, which Kennedy figured was a good thing, if only to allow him uninhibited movement of at least one appendage.
He had a bottle of beer in the hand attached to his uninjured arm, with the television remote in the other. His chest was bare, save for the bandage, and he wore a pair of black running pants. His hair was uncombed; his face covered with a week’s worth of stubble.
Her insides warmed with affection and attraction.
He looked up and blinked in surprise. “Hey,” he said.
She stepped tentatively into the room. “Did you know the New Orleans Regional Office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation made a hefty donation to the children’s wing of the hospital where I work?” she asked by way of greeting.
He shrugged.
“You made a lot of tips,” she said, guessing that was where the donation came from. Yet another item to add to the seemingly never-ending list of reasons she did not want to let this man go.
“Trust me, I’m happier as an agent. That lifestyle’s not for me.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig.
“Should you be drinking?” she asked, instead of the hundred other things she wanted to say.
Jack looked down at the bottle in his hand. “You tell me. You’re the nurse.”
“It depends on the pain medicine,” she said. “What it is and how much you’re taking.”
“I’m not taking any right now. It made me feel loopy. I don’t like not being in control.”
Kennedy smiled. “I can see that about you.”
There was an awkward silence.
“So, how’ve you been?” he asked, obviously trying to sound casual and nonchalant.
Kennedy ran a hand through her hair. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” she admitted.
“Oh? Why not?”
She blew out a sigh. “Jack, I need to explain.”
“Explain what?”
“My divorce. Or lack thereof. I had no idea I—”
He cut her off. “I know. I was pretty pissed off at first, but I get it now.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. Did that mean he forgave her? Did that mean he was interested in … something between them? His heartfelt words, when he’d been coaxing Marie to let her go, had been the one bright light in the nightmares that had plagued her sleep. But had he only been saying those words, because that’s what FBI agents were trained to do in that type of situation?
“I think I’ve figured most of it out. Everything except the cheating part. Why did you tell everyone he cheated on you?”
She shifted her eyes to the sliding glass door, where vertical blinds were pulled closed, blocking the sunlight from pouring into the room. Then she stiffened her resolve. If she was going to do this, she had to be completely honest. Otherwise, what was the point?
“I was embarrassed. I had no idea he had a gambling addiction. I felt like such a fool afterward. He stole literally everything I had. Took cash advances on all my credit cards. Then, when I served him with divorce papers, he came to the house when I was at work and took everything of value I had there, too. I struggled on the edge of bankruptcy for years. It’s only been in the last few months that I’ve finally begun to feel … normal again.”
“I never should have hit on you at Cullen’s wedding.” He looked genuinely sorry.
Her throat constricted. She lifted a hand to her neck, curled her fingers over the bodice of her dress. He didn’t really mean that. He couldn’t. She was absolutely certain she could not live without this man in her life.
“No, please don’t say that. That was … I don’t regret what happened between us, Jack. I’m … I’m glad. You helped me. Like the last step in the healing process.” She stood stock-still, afraid to move, afraid to hear his response, and yet desperate for it. He let the silence stretch on until she fidgeted, wringing her hands in a nervous motion that normally annoyed her when someone else did it.
After a few moments of increasingly uncomfortable silence, Jack commented, “I checked out your … Jerry. Through the system, at work.”
She didn’t say anything, just looked at him.
“He’s in for a lot of money at one of the local casinos. A hell of a lot. A dangerous amount. And he’s overdue to pay it back. As it happens, I know the boss who runs that particular casino. You could say we’re … business acquaintances.”
“Are you suggesting you could get Jerry’s debt waived?”
“No. I’m suggesting that I could postpone the inevitable. Long enough for him to receive divorce papers and sign them this time.”
“I … I’ve started the process again. Divorce proceedings, I mean.”
Jack nodded, then asked, “Want to sit down?” He struggled to sit up, no small feat with one arm taped to his side.
“Oh no, don’t do that,” she said as she rushed over to help. But instead of pulling him into a seated position, she pushed him back down onto his back.
“Stay there,” she insisted. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I’d say it’s a little late for that,” he grumbled. “But I’ll stay like this if you lie down with me.”
“Huh?”
He grinned slyly. “And take this beer and remote and put them on the coffee table. Please?”
She obediently did as he asked but remained standing next to the couch, unsure of how to read his signals. Was he simply being polite? Was he still sorry they hooked up in the first place? And what was he implying by offering to postpone the inevitable so that she could finally fully divorce Jerry?
“Are you going to lie down or what?”
“I … I’m not sure. Why do you want me to lie down?”
Jack reached out with his good arm and cupped the back of one of her knees. “Because I’m hoping one thing will lead to another, and I might finally get laid again. It’s been forever, or at least that’s what it feels like.”
“You want—?” She let out a little squeal as he gave her knee a hard pull, causing her to tumble onto the couch on top of him. She twisted her body to avoid landing on his bad arm, and after a moment’s disorientation, she finally managed to situate herself, lying on her stomach on top of Jack. She could feel his erection pressing into her belly.
“You,” he said as he twisted the hand of his good arm into her hair. “I want you. Any way I can get you. Every way I can get you.” He pulled her head down and captured her lips, kissing her with all the passion of a man who hadn’t had the pleasure in far too long.
She gasped when he finally broke the kiss. “But what about Jerry?”
Jack scowled. “What about him?”
“We’re still married.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that I’m not so crazy about that part of the deal. Maybe we can just not talk about it until the divorce is final?”
“Oh.”
“You’re not saying it breathy enough. I think I need to be inside you.”
“Oh, Jack.” This time, it was a sigh.
“Kennedy?”
“Mmm?” She bent her head and kissed his neck, trailing wet kisses down to his chest.
“Do you love me?”
She froze, and then very slowly, lifted her head to stare into his eyes. “Do you love me?”
“I asked you first.”
She sighed. “I’m afraid I do.”
Jack laughed. “Afraid you do?”
She nodded solemnly. “As I recall, you told me once that you were a difficult man to live with, and I assume that means you are also a difficult man to love. But I’m afraid I don’t have a choice.”
“Why do you think you don’t have a choice?”
“Right before her wedding, Sabrina and I discussed what attributes would make up the perfect man. I recently realized that I’d described you, and at the time, I hadn’t even formally met you yet.”
He stared at her, his mouth slightly open, his face registering shock. After a few moments, he shook his head, as if to clear it. “Damn, I love you.”
“Oh, Jack…”
Having apparently decided they were done talking, he twisted his hand more tightly into her hair and pulled her head down for another kiss. Which led to other, more physical activities, which led to the breathy “ohs” he liked so much, and, eventually, to Kennedy screaming his name.
He informed her that he really liked that. A lot. In fact, he insisted, he loved it.