Rising to my knees, I curled my arm around his back and pressed my aching body against him. I tucked my face into the crook of his neck, soaking up the heady masculine scent of Jake—my Jake—shifting to entwine my legs around his waist while kissing his tender flesh and ruffling my hands through his thick hair.
“My beautiful Mare.” The mere whisper of his sweet endearment melted me, leaving me ready to be molded as he wished.
“Coffee?” Jake’s minty breath brushed against my cheek. He kneeled beside my bed, waggling the cup cradled between his fingers, a delightful smile twitching his lips.
“It’s Sunday. Why are you up?” The whiff of my rosemary shampoo and the sight of his damp, tousled hair launched me into high alert. “Where are you going?”
“I promised Greg we’d cruise up the coast and gather samples. That’s the job I’m here to do. I’m working with Greg on a joint study.” He waved a hand. “I won’t bore you with details.”
I sat and combed my fingers through my tangled locks, snagging the steaming coffee. “And then?”
“A late flight home.”
“So soon?”
“I have … responsibilities.”
“Your daughter?”
He nodded. “Sari’s a handful, so I can’t be away too long. The single parent gig isn’t the easiest and have to pay those bills.”
“Well, it’s back to reality for us.” I stroked his cheek with my fingertips, then down to caress his rough, stubbly jawline. Our sweet interlude was coming to an end. His child trumped everything. Besides, I had no right to demand anything. The man had only managed to take off his ring, which was hardly a commitment to me. Yup. I was an idiot for breaking my own rules.
He glanced at his watch, then dropped a kiss on my hair. “Greg’s waiting for me. I’ll call later.”
The sight of his retreating back followed by the hollow click of a closing door caused a stab of indescribable pain. What if he didn’t call? Or even more troubling; what if he did?
Chapter 7
Jake called late Sunday night as I rummaged through my closet, sipping a glass of white wine and preparing for my upcoming work week.
“I can’t talk long. They’ll be calling my flight.”
“Did you get your samples?” I shoved aside several tops, spotting a pair of my navy work pants hanging toward the back of the walk-in closet.
“And then some. We had a busy day, and I’m beat.” Muffled airport sounds followed by a tinny announcement carried down the line. “What did you do?”
“Not much.” Nothing but drive myself crazy with self-doubt and avoid answering the numerous texts from Beth. “Just a little laundry, and I finished my online course.”
“Oh, right. Updating your drug-pusher status.”
“I’m not—” I rolled my eyes at his snicker. Nothing ever changed with this man who’d teased me about my career aspirations in pharmacy from the first day we’d met in university. “Better than examining pond scum for a living.”
Another low laugh issued from Jake, and I tightened my grip on the phone. How I missed that laugh, his voice, along with almost everything else about him.
“Is your ankle better?”
“It’s perfect. Must have been that amazing massage.”
“My pleasure.”
I tipped back my glass, emptying the final drops. “What is this, Jake?”
“What do you mean?”
“This thing we’re doing.” I lowered myself to the edge of my bed. “Us. You live on the other side of the country.”
“I have to go. Boarding call.”
The small sigh escaped. I’d spent the entire day both dreading and anticipating this moment. Now I knew. This was a deep pit of nothingness. A dangerous quagmire, dragging me underneath its murk. “Have a safe flight.” I tapped disconnect and curled up on the bed, ignoring the insistent, periodic ringing of my phone by pressing my face into the pillow, inhaling the masculine scent lingering on my sheets. The only part of Jake that was truly mine.
Several minutes later, my phone dinged, alerting me to the text:
I hate that you’re ignoring my calls. There’s much more to say.
I stared at the tiny dots dancing across the screen, before the next message appeared:
I’m sorry. My flight is about to take off, so I have to turn off my phone. We still need to talk.
The dots danced again:
Sleep well. I’ll call tomorrow night, okay? Please answer when I do.
I tapped my phone against my forehead. Okay, so maybe they really had called his flight. Maybe it wasn’t a return to us avoiding the hard conversations. But it still didn’t mean anything.
I wandered into the kitchen, refilling my wine and settling on my couch.
“About time you called me back,” Beth said when she answered my call. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day.”
“Sorry, I had that course to do. How are you?”
“Ha.” She snorted. “You mean you had a hot guy to do. What happened with Jake?”
I twisted a hank of hair around my finger. “What do you think happened?”
“Amara,” she said softly, “please be careful with him.”
“You thought he was great the other day.”
“That’s a gross over-exaggeration. I said, ‘probably no harm in sleeping with him,’ not that having a hot affair with an ex who lives on the opposite coast is a fantastic idea. Plus I’ve gained important new information. His wife died? That makes him a widower. A high-risk proposition.”
“What else did Greg say?”
“Not much, aside from the wife’s name—Alysa—and she died barely six months ago. Greg’s a touch evasive when it comes to his friend’s home life, but it seems the situation is complicated and messy. I interpret that as meaning the man has loads of baggage and avoids commitment.”
“Who said I wanted him to?”
“Ha. This the Jake we’re talking about.” Beth let that zinger hang for a moment. “What happened to her?”
“Not sure. We haven’t gotten into it, and it’s not relevant since it’s over. The Jake is on a plane to Halifax.”
“That’s it?”
I nodded. “You’re right. It’s too complicated and messy.” Even without the ring, everything about Jakob Cavallaro screamed emotionally unavailable and unable to commit.
