“What do you want from me?”she asked.
She knew he coveted the divorce, but that was already part of the bargain. Lola braced herself, wished she wore a head to toe burka and not the skimpy shirt currently clinging to her sweaty skin, or the snug jeans. In all honesty, no outfit would inhibit the pulsing knot between her thighs. But at least, if she had something else on he wouldn’t be able to notice her nipples straining against her bra and shirt. Begging for release. Begging for his hands, lips, and tongue.
In an uncomfortable silence, his gaze roamed her face and body, and she stepped back until her leg pressed against one of the bigger boxes. She chewed on her lip, unsure of what to do or say. She hoped he’d turn and walk away, because the rocket of desire had begun to self-assemble inside of her again, piece by piece, and if he showed her any inclination, she’d throw her friendship plan into space and lose herself in his scorching kisses and hardbody.
No. She cracked her fingers. His somewhat truce toward her had been the perfect opportunity for her to ask for his help without begging. She didn’t need to give him the upper hand and show him she was a dumb moron controlled by raging hormones and little less. What kind of B&B owner did that make her? Jeez.
“If you end up winning our first deal and if one day you buy back the property, you give me your word you’ll never keep me from using the river that crosses my other properties.” His calm voice cut the charged air, and she gave a long, deepsigh.
“Interesting. You thought I’d be petty and not let you useit?”
He glanced down. “It has crossed mymind.”
“You have a deal. Whatever happens, I won’t keep your animals from using the river.”
“Good. Then, I’ll be… your friend.” The last word nearly vanished from his sentence.
“Great.” Her lips broke into the most compromising smile she could manage.
He shot her a charming grin. “Now can you go back? Your dog is going crazy withoutyou.”
“Pepper wants his late night snack.” She laughed. “I’ll finish this last box and go.” She pointed at the large cardboard stashed under the table, the remaining unopened one on the rightside.
“I’ll get it.” Bending down, he scooped it up and placed it on the round table, crowded with other things she’d found. She’d come here in the heat of the moment, wanting a good amount of distance from him. She didn’t want to worry about listening to his footfalls going up the stairs. But what she found was… boxes and boxes filled with remains of business ideas and interests her beloved father hadn’t mastered. Amongst them, the samples of utensils from a Japanese factory, the do-it-yourself sushi idea that never tookoff.
Jack ripped the scotch tape off with one swift movement, then slid the box in her direction. “There.”
She opened her mouth to thank him, but the words got trapped in her throat as she saw the contents inside this box. Family albums, a couple of drawings from her childhood. Instantly, suffocating warmth thickened her throat and heat pricked behind her eyes. Her fingers touched the corners of a frame, where she stood smiling between her proud father and beautiful mother during a vacation. The picture was taken just before her parents’ divorce, when the world was still unthreatening andfair.
“You were a cutekid.”
She put the frame aside, wiped the stubborn tears from her eyes, and sucked in her breath to suppress a sniff. She finally got a hold of herself, and raised her gaze to meet his. The layers of blue around his irises had never looked brighter. Jack’s partially opened lips and relaxed stance seemed to instantly comfort her, but then he’d always been able to offer her that until they fell apart. And, fool that she was, she needed it. More than she ever imagined.
“I was mad at him for a bit. Mad at myself.”
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t take care of himself after his first stroke,” she said, wishing she could lock away the pain and not sound like a hot mess, her voice strangled and another batch of tears threatened to roll down her cheeks. Daddy had always enjoyed his aged scotch and imported Cuban cigars, hadn’t he? Even when the doctors advised him against them. Repeatedly. “I didn’t take care of him the way I should.”
Sure, she’d visited him often in L.A. and called every day, but wasn’t that what any respectable daughter would do? Why couldn’t she have moved in with him, made him listen, tried harder? Commit to making him get better. Commit. The word hammered guilt inside her heart one harsh staccato beat at atime.
Jack ran his fingers through his hair, and turned his face the other way as if struggling to find the right thing to say. She took another family album from the box and placed it on the table, realizing it might be too much to unlock all those memories in one night.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it. You loved him and he knew it.” Closing the gap between them, he let his hand fall on her shoulder, and offered a rough rub on the place where her arm met her shoulder. A clumsy touch, without second intentions. “Trust me onthis.”
Closing her eyes, she soaked in the caress. The knots in her brain slowly dissipated and turned into thin air by the time she opened her eyes to facehim.
“He wouldn’t have let you change his lifestyle. Milton was stubborn.”
“Yes.”
She continued to empty the box, taking all contents out. “I’ll go through these tomorrow.”
“That’s better.”
She reached the last item at the end of the box, a single picture with rough edges. Coated by dust and with a few spots and scratches, the black and white photo showed a woman with a warm smile and black background behind her. Smooth black hair cascaded down her delicate face, but her chestnut eyes captured the attention.
Lola’s heart skipped a beat. The way she arched her eyebrow was painfully familiar.
