KENDRA STARED GLUMLY at the ceiling, splayed out on her couch with the TV still on. Happy Thanksgiving to her. Nearly noon. She’d been awake from her last fitful doze since six. Hadn’t been to the beach. Hadn’t organized for a drive up the Pacific Highway. During the past six hours, she had accomplished a couple of trips to the bathroom, one tooth-brushing session, quantity ingestion of junk food and a whole lot of quality angsting.
Jameson had left the beautiful—so, so beautiful!—promise ring in its box by her bed, saying he wanted it staying there to tempt her. Yes, it had tempted her, jumping out of its box and onto her finger about once every ten minutes, until she’d gotten out of bed, driven to the 7-Eleven and bought every type of disgusting, unhealthy food she could find, then returned home and stalked into the living room, determined to escape the diamonds and sapphires taking over her brain.
She wanted to accept the ring. Of course she did. But committing to eventual marriage was a huge step, and she didn’t feel she’d known Jameson long enough.
They had fun together, they had similar taste, humor, outlooks, incredible sex. Jameson made her feel beautiful and smart and cherished and sexy as hell. They handled disagreements with care, respect and humor. He made it safe for her to take risks, if that made any sense. In the brief time since she’d known him again she’d realized how much of herself she’d held back, how much she’d been looking to the past instead of the future. Now she was ready to sell her car, get a dog and think about moving out of this house that she loved, but that had never and would never feel as though it belonged to her. Wasn’t that enough for commitment?
Yes? No?
Jameson seemed completely sure of her answer, which irritated her. How the hell did he know so much about her and what she wanted and what she was feeling? She didn’t even know.
Mom and Dad would know. They’d have sensible, practical advice that would make her worries and uncertainty seem silly. They’d say she was overcomplicating a simple yes-no situation. They’d tell her to follow her instinct. And when she told them her instinct was voting both pro and con, they’d insist one side was instinct and one was fear, and help her find out which was which. But Mom and Dad weren’t here. Which was probably just as well right now, because they’d have a fit at what she’d been eating.
Not to mention she wanted to be left the hell alone.
The doorbell rang.
Oh, the irony.
She shoved a handful of barbecue-flavor potato chips into her mouth and scowled at the front door.
The doorbell rang again.
“Go away.”
Who the hell would show up at her house on Thanksgiving? Lena was with her own family at her sister’s house in Santa Monica this year—she was the only friend who’d feel she had the right to show up unannounced on a major holiday. Kendra’s clients didn’t know her home address.
Jameson was...
Oh, no. Not with her looking like the walking dead. And smelling worse.
She got up and tiptoed to the door just as he started pounding.
“Kendra. It’s me, open up.”
Kendra groaned. Mr. Macho Military would probably break down the door if she didn’t answer. Her car was in the driveway; it didn’t take much to figure out she was home.
Wait, she could be on a long walk...
“Kendra.” He pounded again. She heard him muttering about going around to look for her in back.
Fine. She opened the door. “Hi.”
Jameson turned abruptly and ran back up the steps, his grin widening. He was carrying another beautiful bouquet for her: mixed flowers today, in autumn colors, burgundy, rust and gold. “Happy Thanksgiving, Kendra. You are beyond gorgeous this morning.”
She grunted, absurdly glad to see him, but cranky and embarrassed to be caught looking like hell. “What are you doing here?”
“Visiting my true love.” He was entirely too cheerful. She might have to slug him. “What are you doing here?”
“Nothing.” She took the flowers, stepped back and gestured him in, resigned to him seeing her pigsty.
Oink.
Jameson strode in, then stopped, hands on his hips, and surveyed the living room. Several crushed soda cans littered the coffee table along with the barbecue chips, a Pop-Tarts box, a half-eaten package of Oreos and an empty bag of peanut M&Ms.
As he stared, a throw pillow tumbled off the couch, as if it couldn’t bear being seen in such humiliating circumstances.
Kendra knew how it felt.
Jameson turned to her, chuckling. She really would have to slug him. “Have a good night?”
“Best I’ve had in a while.”
“I can see that.”
She glared at him. “What are you so happy about?”
“It’s Thanksgiving. I’m grateful for many things. My knee recovering, choosing what to do with my life and having the most wonderful woman in the world dying to marry me.”
Her hands plonked on her hips. “I am not dying to marry you.”
“No?” He drew his brows down. “Well, hey, I know! Let’s talk about it!”
“I don’t want to talk. I want you to leave me to my stench.”
“Is the living room a good place, do you think? Or the kitchen?”
“Jameson, I think you should—”
“Yeah, I like the kitchen, too, it’s brighter.” He strode toward it without looking back.
Kendra shuffled behind him, rolling her eyes. He was the most wonderful and annoying person on the planet, and how was she supposed to be dying to marry him when technically he hadn’t even asked her? He was breaking all rules of politeness and consideration, shoving his way in, talking over her, not listening to what she was saying.
But he looked damn hot. Eyes bright, body filling out neat black pants the way pants should be filled out. His shirt was a rich dark green with a subtle black stripe, his shoulders broad, movements confident and graceful.
Yum.
She laid the flowers on the table, grabbed a vase from the cabinet and arranged them in fresh water. They were gorgeous. And he was sweet to have brought them, especially since he’d only just brought her roses. And she’d been very ungracious to him about it.
“Jameson, I’m—” She broke off at the sight of him sitting calmly at her kitchen table with two stacked pads of paper and a pen in front of him. “What are you doing?’
“Sit.” He gestured to the chair opposite. “I have a few questions. I can’t stay long, about five more minutes. I promised to help Mom in the kitchen.”
“What questions? What is this?” She scowled her way to the chair he’d indicated and slouched into it, scratchy and hot.
“Tell me what you’re feeling.” He looked up, all impish seriousness, pen poised to record her answer.
Kendra narrowed her eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Yup.”
“You have no clipboard.”
“I know.” He shook his head in disgust. “I’m an amateur. But a serious amateur. Feelings?”
“Okay.” She thunked her elbows on the table, chin flanked by her fists. “Troubled. Confused. Lethargic.”
“Appetite okay?”
“As long as the food isn’t healthy.”
“Sleeping well?”
“No.”
“Sexual appetite?”
“Um. That seems to have perked up lately.”
“How lately?”
“Like...in the last five minutes.”
A brief smile sneaked onto his face. “Hmm. We’ll take that into consideration.”
“We?”
“Me and my questions. Let’s see...any major gifts of jewelry recently?”
She snorted. “Yes.”
“Any urges to buy a pet?”
“Yes.”
“Desire to trade in your current vehicle?”
“Yes again.”
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” He tapped the pencil against the pad. “I think I’m getting the picture. Oh, and speaking of pictures, I brought the ones I drew on Rat Beach.”
“Jameson, thank you.” Pleasure jolted her out of her bad mood, at least temporarily. She was curious to see what he’d done.
“I’ll leave them with you since I need to go. But before I do, I have one more question. Very important.”
“Uh-oh.” She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that?”
“Kendra Lonergan.” He leaned forward, touched her cheek gently. “What are you most afraid of?”
* * *
JAMESON PUSHED BACK his plate, leaving his last few bites of pecan pie untouched. He’d had enough—of food and family. As usual his father and brothers had dominated the meal, while Matty and Mom had listened in annoyance, amusement or some combination. His brothers had hooked up with a new crop of women beautiful to look at and tedious to listen to. Every now and then one of the men would get in some “funny” dig about Jameson not making a career of the Air Force. Matty and Mom would look uncomfortable. The boobsy twins would laugh. The topic would change, then return.
A few weeks ago the teasing would have made him miserable. Now? He just nodded, smiled, acknowledging the jokes but not commenting or defending himself. He didn’t have to. He no longer cared what they thought of his life decisions. He could love his family without being victim to their...Cartwrightness.
And he had somewhere else to feel accepted as he was.
The burn in his chest that had become his constant companion became stronger. Thrill and fear. For all his supposed confidence that Kendra would stay with him, for all his belief that their love was the real thing and would survive the next four years and on until death, he could answer that favorite last question of Kendra’s easily now, the one he’d turned on her.
His biggest fear? That she wouldn’t give them a chance. That she’d need someone right here, who could reassure her every day in his arms, in his bed that he was not going to leave her, not going to disappear.
Jameson couldn’t offer her that now. And he couldn’t ask her to pick up her life and hard-won practice and start over now and every other time the Air Force moved him.
The doorbell rang, stopping Mark from recounting every detail of some reality show he’d been watching the night before.
“Who could that be?” Katherine rose from the table.
“Aunt Bea?” Hayden suggested.
Jameson groaned silently. God, no.
“She’s in Missouri with a friend who isn’t well,” Jeremiah announced.
“Oh, yes, yes, hello, come in. Nice to see you.” Katherine’s voice grew louder from the foyer. A musical female voice answered her.
Jameson stood, eyes trained on the dining room door, aware that everyone at the table was staring at him.
Kendra. She stepped into the dining room and so far into his heart that he thought it was going to stop beating.
“Hello, everyone.” She gave a huge smile, looking cool and beautiful in a room of stuffed, bored and lethargic people. About as far from the way she’d looked at home that morning as she could get. It even seemed she’d brought in fresher air. Her gaze met Jameson’s; her smile widened. “Sorry to interrupt your dinner.”
He shook his head, trying to communicate his pleasure at seeing her without making his brothers start gagging. “I was just finished.”
“Would you like some pie, Kendra?” His mother was already at the china cabinet looking for another plate.
“No, no, I already ate, thank you.” She winked at him, knowing he was picturing Pop-Tarts, then went around the room introducing herself, charming each of the men in his family. Hayden cracked up. Mark blushed. His father took her hand and held it longer than was appropriate. Even the girlfriends smiled approvingly. Matty gave her a huge hug, beaming. Jameson was happy for Matty, though he still owed Chris a punch in the face. Maybe at the altar.
“I get it now.” Dad brought his hand down on the table. “This beautiful woman is the reason you’re quitting the Air Force, Jameson.”
“I’m afraid I am.” Kendra laughed easily. “In four years we plan to join a commune in North Dakota to raise goats and llamas. I’m already carrying his triplets.”
Her smile continued to shine through the atmosphere of sudden horror in the room. Finally Matty couldn’t suppress her laughter anymore; eventually, even the boobsy twins got it.
Jameson walked to Kendra and put his arm around her. “We do have news.”
He felt her stiffen. “What are you doing?”
Jameson squeezed her shoulder. “About another commitment I’ve made.”
“Jameson.” Her furious whisper made him chuckle.
“I promised to spend the afternoon with Kendra at her place.” Beside him Kendra went limp with relief.
“You won’t stay for pie?” Jameson’s mom had finally found a plate.
“No, really, thank you, Mrs. Cartwright.” Kendra smiled brilliantly and kicked Jameson in the shins. “I just came to kidnap your son.”
“Well, all right.” His mom grinned at him, looking much younger than her fifty years, and walked them to the door amid a chorus of goodbyes and wishes of happy Thanksgiving. Jameson didn’t think he’d ever left his family feeling so warm and fuzzy.
Kendra was a miracle.
The door closed behind them. Four steps later, Kendra turned and threw herself at him at the same time he threw himself at her. Their kisses were deep and desperate, arms tight around each other, pelvises pressed close.
One of the windows in the dining room grated open.
“Hey, get a room.” Hayden’s voice, booming out into the front yard.
Jameson chuckled and gave him a brotherly finger, then pulled Kendra down the front walk toward her car.
“Your brothers are charming as ever,” Kendra said dryly.
“Aren’t they?” He followed her around to the driver’s side and pressed her against the door, kissing her with more appetite than he’d had for his dinner. It had to mean something that she’d shown up today. That she’d introduced herself to his family. That she seemed so cheerful and calm, all while carrying triplets. He wanted to ask what she’d decided—hell, he wanted to demand she marry him right now. But this was her kidnapping, so he’d let her take the lead.
“Where are you taking me to?”
“My house.”
“Yeah?” He leaned back slightly to get a better look at her green-eyed, auburn-haired beauty, keeping his hips pressed tightly to hers. He was still half-erect from their passionate kisses. “What are we going to do there?”
“You’ll see.”
“I think I’m going to like this.”
“I think you are, too.” She tipped her head back; her eyes went past him. Her breath caught.
“What is it?” Jameson peered into the sky and saw a red hawk swooping over their heads.
“Nothing.” She laughed softly. “Reminds me of an old friend.”
“You have bird friends?”
“Don’t you?” She snapped out of her trance and opened her car door. “Let’s go. Silly to drive less than a mile, but I wanted to get you back fast.”
“Ah, so this is urgent?” He slid into the passenger side.
She flashed him a sultry-eyed look that made his half erection go for three-quarters. “Very.”
“I understand. I’m pretty sure I can help you with whatever you need.”
Kendra squeezed his hand, then put the pedal down and drove like a wild woman until they reached her driveway, where she bounced to a stop.
“I’m going car shopping tomorrow. Want to come?” She opened the door and jumped down.
“Absolutely.” He was already out, hurrying her to the front door, both of them giggling like idiots.
Inside, their mouths joined; they moved together toward her room, shedding clothes along the way.
Naked, they fell onto the bed, tangling their limbs, touching and writhing to be closer, then closer still.
Crap. He pulled his mouth off hers. Immediately Kendra started in on his neck. “No condom.”
She pulled away slightly, started exploring between his legs with her hand, fisting his cock, reaching past it to stroke his balls. “Don’t need one.”
His brain went blank. No, no, he had to think...
“Why don’t we need one?”
“Because I say so.”
He rolled his eyes, grabbed her hands, pinned them above her head and lunged over her. “Really? Is that how things will be from now on? How you say?”
“Uh-huh.” She blinked sweetly at him. God, he loved her. “For instance. You’re going to slip inside me right now just the way you are, and feel me around your cock, all naturally hot and wet.”
Jameson swallowed. “Ungh.”
“Then you’ll start moving and be able to feel me gripping you.” She lifted her head and dragged the tip of her tongue slowly across his lips. “Really tightly.”
He shifted on top of her, breathing hard, the tip of his penis planted at the juncture of her tightly closed thighs.
“Then I’ll whisper what I want you to do to me tomorrow, and the next day, until you can’t take it anymore and explode inside me.”
“Yes.” He sounded desperate. Because he was.
She spread her legs slowly. Jameson lifted to look down at her sex, so sweetly formed and so inviting, all reddish-brown curls and lush pink lips. He couldn’t get enough—wouldn’t get enough for a long time, if ever. Not using a condom must mean she’d decided to accept the ring and all it symbolized. He wanted to hear her say it.
But he’d play this game her way.
Slowly he slid inside her, and without the barrier of the condom her flesh was as slick and warm as she’d promised and embraced him like the world’s most sensual glove.
Within three minutes he knew he was not going to be able to last, that he was going to come too soon for her to be ready. He gritted his teeth and held on to her buttocks, forced his body to go still.
“What is it?”
“I’m too close.”
“Yeah?” She started pushing up and down, then lifted one leg nearly up to his shoulder, increasing the pressure.
“Kendra.” He was practically going blind from lust. “If you do that—”
“Oh, but I am doing that, Jameson.”
She was. It was too much. He groaned and thrust into her; the orgasm swept him like a hurricane, leaving him flattened and powerless, overwhelmed by the physical and emotional power of what lay between them. She had to know how he felt.
“I love you.” He murmured the words into her neck. He didn’t care if she didn’t answer, he just wanted her to know.
She was doing something. He couldn’t tell what. He couldn’t lift his head. It was all he could do to keep breathing.
“Jameson,” she said softly. “Look.”
He dragged himself up to peer at her, blinking stupidly, then followed her gaze.
His ring. She was wearing his ring.
Energy flooded back into his body. He held her hand, gazing at the stones, so perfect on her slender finger. “Kendra.”
“I love you too, Jameson.” Her eyes were sweet green, shining, melting him. “I’ll be proud to wear this.”
He kissed her, holding her, tasting every inch of her beautiful lips until finally, remarkably, he wanted to talk to her more than he wanted to kiss her. “What changed your mind?”
“Two things, actually. First, that picture you drew of me in high school.” She tipped her head, looking at him with awe. “You really saw me. You remembered me. That was...amazing.”
“I’ve kept you in my head all these years.” He traced her beautiful mouth with his finger. “I’ve loved you all my life.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Worm sandwich, Kendra...” He laughed with her, happier than he could ever remember being. “And reason two?”
“Believe it or not, that question, what did I fear the most. I’d been going back and forth and over and under our situation, making myself crazy. But once I was able to sit alone and really consider my answer—it was so obvious.” She touched his face tenderly. “My greatest fear was losing you. I realized that if losing you was my worst fear, then the only thing I should be worried about was keeping you.”
He kissed her, kissed her again and again, lowering her back down to the mattress to kiss her better. And then even so soon after his climax, he started adding hot thoughts to the loving ones and moved down to make sure she enjoyed this time in bed as much as he had. This time and every time, stretching ahead for four tough years apart—but then the rest of their lives together.
As his tongue entered her and he felt her shuddering response, he knew she was made for him and he was made for her.
Afterward, they lay in a blissful haze of joy, stroking, touching, planning, daydreaming about their future.
“Will you come with me to the Humane Society in the morning, Jameson? I’ve decided in order to survive your absence I need company in the house.”
“Sure, of course.” He’d walk on coals for her—but the Humane Society would be less painful. In fact, he loved the idea of doing a domestic errand with her. “What kind of dog were you thinking about getting?”
“Well...” She stretched luxuriously against him, a mischievous smile growing on her gorgeous face. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, what kind would work with my lifestyle and how Byron would feel about being replaced. It wasn’t until last night when I sorted myself out about you that I realized. This animal would belong to you, too. Then the obvious solution came to me.”
“What’s that?”
She reached to squeeze his injured knee gently, grinning sweetly. “I’m going to buy us a cat.”
* * * * *