Pierce nodded. “And her parents sent her to live with a cousin in Seattle. It was unfair. No one would listen to anything we said.”
“And so you acted out. That makes perfect sense. What do I do with this zest?”
He checked the recipe and Jacquie knew that having a distraction from his story helped. “Put it in the bowl, then juice the lemon.”
“Got it.”
The kitchen was filled with the quiet sounds of them working together. Pierce’s voice was low when he finally continued. “I resented that I couldn’t choose to not be Caucasian. I resented that I couldn’t be my brother. I felt like I fell short of every measure.” Jacquie nodded understanding but didn’t interrupt. “But a teacher and counselor intervened and got me back on track. He taught me to find strength within myself, instead of relying on others, and to be proud of what I was, instead of regretting what I wasn’t. He was the one who suggested the military, and I loved it. The service helped me build my own strengths, gave me challenges, and taught me how to work with a team.” He scraped the last of the diced shallots into the bowl. “End of story.” There was a challenge in his sidelong glance.
“You’re getting better at that.”
“I’ve always been able to cut onions.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
The corner of his mouth lifted and Jacquie’s heart went thump. “It could be said that you’re encouraging.”
“Or pushy,” she agreed with a smile.
He smiled back at her. “Easy to talk to.” Their gazes locked again, the heat of admiration in his taking her breath away.
She looked down at the juice. “I’ll bet you don’t talk to Midori, either.”
Pierce exhaled. “She sends me oranges every year. It was her family that bought the new grove. She’s married and sends me pictures of her kids.”
“You must thank her for the oranges.”
“I do. I send her an email thanking her, within two days, just as I was taught.” He gave her a look.
Jacquie looked back. “Sharing all your news?”
“Changes of address,” he admitted.
Jacquie put a hand on her hip. “I thought you were friends!”
“We were. That was years ago.”
Jacquie glared.
Pierce almost squirmed. “I wish her well, and that means she doesn’t need my interference in her life.”
“You need to call her,” Jacquie said fiercely. She gave him a poke with her elbow. “You need to acknowledge your ghosts. Just because your parents didn’t care whether you were there doesn’t mean that no one else wants you in their life. Make a call and find out.”
He nodded. “I called Lisa Mack. It was good to hear her laugh again.”
“Ha.”
“What about you?” he asked. “What are you changing?”
Jacquie didn’t have an answer to that. “Well, there was you.”
“Past tense,” Pierce noted. “Since we’re sharing hard truths, why did you call me tonight?”
Jacquie figured she owed him that. “Because I didn’t want to be alone, and you were the one person I wanted to be with. Maybe that’s because you’re easy to talk to.” She looked up at him, surprised to find him watching her so intently. The air was sizzling between them again and her chest was tight. She had to make a joke to lighten the mood. “Or maybe I just want to jump your bones.”
Pierce shook his head. “Friends don’t have sex, at least not in my world.”
“No, not in mine either.”
The air was charged between them and Jacquie couldn’t take a breath.
She licked her lips and Pierce watched her mouth avidly.
“We, um, don’t have to be just friends.”
“No?” He waited, damn him, making her work for it. His eyes were twinkling, a sure sign that he was practically reading her thoughts. “I thought that was your decision.”
“I can change my mind.”
“But can you change mine?” he asked, his tone silky.
“I’m willing to give it a try.”
Pierce shook his head again. “I don’t bring condoms when I cook for friends.”
Jacquie backed him into the counter, knowing he was just messing with her. The way he was fighting that smile was a big clue. “Fortunately for you, I’m home and have a supply.”
“I thought it would be fortunate for you.”
“Fortunate for both of us,” she said and untucked his T-shirt. She slid her hands across his rock-hard stomach, then around the back of his waist, liking how warm and smooth his skin was. He’d seized the dishtowel and was drying his hands behind her back, watching her with that smile. Jacquie reached up and slid her fingertip across it. “Do something better with that mouth than smile,” she murmured.
His hands locked around her waist, lifting her against him with purpose. “You’ll have to inspire me,” he whispered, stealing a quick kiss.
“How?”
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured in her ear, his breath making her shiver to her toes.
And Jacquie, being Jacquie, did just that.
It was an easy answer, after all.
It was her honesty that finished him.
Not only did Jacquie share her own history readily, but she pushed Pierce to confide in her and her nature made it easy for him to do so. There were no games with her, no guessing, no judgment—she listened to him, she offered understanding and compassion, and then she told him exactly what she wanted from him. Pierce found the combination as intoxicating as her kisses.
She still wanted him.
And he was going to give as much positive reinforcement to that idea as possible. He already knew that they were good together. Pierce didn’t know a thing about being part of a couple, but he understood teams and they already made a great one.
If she thought sex was going to be less good this time, he could trash that conviction, too.
It was going to be awesome.
Jacquie backed him into the counter as she whispered what she wanted, tugging at his clothes with impatience. “Fast and hard this time,” she whispered with urgency before he kissed her to silence.
Their kiss was hot and hungry, all the sweeter because
