Jake (9 page)

              She forgot all about breaking away. Of leaving him the one frustrated.

              He broke the contact with a curse and buried his face in her hair. He continued to hold her tightly to him.

              “This is going to take a minute.” His breath fanned her neck followed by a soft kiss.

              “Longer,” she demanded. Her apartment was just blocks from where they stood. They would have to leave the truck parked here—no way would they find a spot any closer—but even as she was planning their great escape she felt him withdraw. By inches at first, so that she felt the cool ocean air seep between them and chill her skin. Then he removed his hands, pushing them through his hair while he took a deep breath that expanded his powerful chest. She knew the language—Jake was getting himself under control. She was really beginning to hate that word and all it implied. “There’s not going to be a longer,” she said and her flat tone was like a blow from a hammer. It made her feel bruised. It probably did the same to him because he winced and then rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

              “There will be a longer,” he promised.

              “Yeah,” she cut him off. “Stop right there, Ok? Because I really don’t want to hear anymore about how good waiting is going to be for us. Because it doesn’t feel good. Not right now.” She climbed into the truck and pulled the seat belt across her shoulder. “You know, Jake, sometimes the flower wilts on the vine.”

              He leaned against the door, his face tight and slightly flushed. “I’m sorry.”

Chapter Eight

              They drove to Callahan’s in silence. The sun was setting and swathes of pink and orange colored the deepening sky.

              Ivy ‘s body began to cool, her heartbeat picked up its normal rhythm. Emotionally she remained in a stink. She realized she was probably more upset that Jake could pull away from her so easily than she was about being left with a frustrated, trembling need for more. More of him, more of them and the way he made her feel with even the smallest touch. Her body had never been so hyper-aware of a man. Standing next to Jake softened her skin, made it vibrate, yearning for his touch. And while she knew she had an effect on him, had felt his body’s response to hers so that there was absolutely no room for doubt, he had mastered the art of control. She might come to appreciate that quality at some point, but not right now.

              He slid into a parking spot and turned off the engine.

              “Do you still feel like dinner?” His voice wasn’t filled with the smooth confidence she’d come to expect from him. She detected hesitancy, words as carefully chosen as footsteps in a mine field.

              She turned so that she faced him fully. “I have some rules,” she informed him and watched wariness slide into his face. “So far, you’ve been calling all the shots.
That
isn’t good for a relationship. In fact, that isn’t a relationship, that’s a dictatorship.”

              “You’re right,” he agreed. “I want you to have input.”

              “How long does the average date last—door to door?”

              He looked puzzled. “We’re talking hours?”

              “Exactly. Just give me your best guess and we can negotiate a compromise if needed.”

              “Five hours?”

              She pursed her lips, considering. “No. Three. You pick your date up, you drive to the restaurant, order, eat, have some conversation over the food. Coffee afterwards and maybe you share a piece of cake.”

              “So you’re saying there’s a certain order to how this meal should go down?”

              “No. That’s not my point at all. I’m generalizing for the sake of arriving at an agreeable time.”

              “You’re willing to spend only so much time with me?”

              “No, we’re defining a typical date, Jake. And I think three hours tops. Per date.”

              “We’re not typical,” he pointed out.

              “But you want us to be,” she returned.

              “Okay.”

              She glanced at her watch. “You picked me up at the hospital at ten after seven,” she pointed out. “It is now three minutes after nine. We’ll round that to two hours,” she informed him. “And add that to the time we spent together on Sunday, which was another three hours. So, halfway through dinner tonight, we’ll be into our third date. Do you remember what you said about third dates, Jake?”

              She could tell by the way his eyes flared that he was now following her thinking just fine.

              “It means that whatever activity we choose for our next date, it will have to be short. We’ll be an hour into it when it’ll be time to head for the sheets.”

              She watched him swallow. His features tense.

              “Now is probably not the time to bring this up,” he started, “but I report for duty tomorrow.”

              “What does that mean?”

              “Normally, it would mean seven-to-four. But we’re preparing for maneuvers. We have a training exercise coming up that will take us over land and sea and we need to be ready for that.”

              “And so you’re working longer hours?”

              “Overnight through Friday.”

              “So we’ll see each other Saturday?”

              “I thought we could take one of those trolley tours of the city,” he offered.

              She shook her head. “Too long. And I work until midnight the night before,” she

explained. “I’d like to sleep in.”

              “Ok. How about a dinner cruise?”

              “Does the boat come with overnight accommodations?”

              “No, but a prime rib dinner and dancing.”

              “Sounds lovely,” Ivy agreed. “We’ll definitely have to try that, but not on date three. You can pick me up at my apartment at four o’clock. They have a rock climbing gym around the corner form my place. In fact, we can walk there, climb a wall, and run home when the clock chimes five.”

              He was frowning and Ivy didn’t understand it. He wanted three dates—she was giving it to him. He wanted them to get to know each other more, to have a stronger foundation before they  got down and dirty—he was getting that, too.

              “What are you afraid of, Jake?”

              “Losing you before we even have a chance,” he stated bluntly.

              “You can’t think the sex is going to do that,” she returned. “Remember? I believe you promised an explosive experience.”

              “It will be that.”

              “I have no doubt about it, either,” she assured him.

              “Your treating us like a fling might do us in.”

              “We’re beyond that,” she admitted. “A fling transpires between two people who

acknowledge the brevity and superficial manner of the arrangement.”

              “You get that from Webster’s?”

              “No, from Genny. The night nurse. According to her, you’re playing for keeps, and definitely worth keeping.”

              “Genny is a smart woman.”

              “So, the rock wall on Saturday,” Ivy recapped and then released her seat belt. “And no touching until then,” she said, sliding out of the truck and standing in the open door. “Those are the rules of engagement.”

              “Define ‘no touching.’”

              “None. Nada. No holding hands. No standing close enough we might brush against each other. I’ll open my own doors, pull out my own seat—just in case.” She leaned into the cab. “It hurts too much, Jake, having you touch me and knowing it’ll go nowhere.”

              He nodded. “Okay.”

              They took a table on the patio. The heat lamps were on, holding back the mist that came off the rolling surf. By the time they were seated, the sky was a deep indigo. A few stars, a sliver of moon and nighttime running lights on boats heading to dock did little to illuminate the vast darkness of the ocean. Across the table, he caught a glimpse of Ivy’s face as she turned a page in the menu. Other than ordering a glass of sangria, she had said little since delivering her expectations in the truck.

              He winced when he thought about the pain sexual frustration was causing her. He felt it himself. When it was at its most acute, he stepped into the shower and took care of himself as efficiently as possible but he knew that paled considerably in comparison to the release he would find in Ivy’s arms. Just thinking about it made his balls ache.

              “I’m having the sea bass,” he announced. He wasn’t able to focus on the menu and gave up trying. He also wanted to test her level of tolerance for him at this point.

              She lowered the menu and spared him a glance. It held no animosity but the look she gave him wasn’t encouraging, either.

              “I can never pass it up,” he told her and smiled, hoping to soften her mood a little. “How about you?”

              “I like to try new things,” she told him and let her glance flicker over him. Not quite condescending, but he was definitely lacking in adventure if her expression was anything to go by. “I’m thinking the New York strip steak and king crab legs.”

              “Great choice.”

              “We should start with an appetizer,” she suggested. “Maybe the lobster strudel?”

              “I like shellfish,” he agreed.

              “And then a salad. Spinach. I’ll take my dressing on the side. What about you?”

              He wasn’t sure, but it was entirely possible she was trying to stretch the evening out as long as possible. He said as much and watched the gleam in her eyes thicken to challenge. And damn if it didn’t get his blood pumping.

              “It’s totally possible to close this place down,” she said.

              Her confidence was delightful; her desire for him heady and tampered with his resolve. He laughed, which only encouraged her.

              “And the average date being three hours means that some are shorter.”

              “And some longer.”

              “Yes, like the fourth or fifth date. That boat cruise is five hours easy.”

              “I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman work so hard to get me into bed,” he said.

              “That’s because until now you were thinking with your dick.”

              “You’re right. And it has a one word vocabulary: ‘Now.’”

              “And you’re trying to think about later.” She nodded. “Thank you. Really. I’m glad you know I’m worth it. But I’ll be as worth it tomorrow as I am today.”

              “And next week, too,” he agreed.

              “And maybe even next year.”

              “That’s just it, Ivy. I can see tomorrow with you. I can see next year and, if I let myself go there, I can see diamond rings and make up where my razor should be.”

              She frowned. “We’ll need a bigger bathroom.”

              “I’m serious.”

              “How can you be? We’ve known each other--" she glanced at her watch, “Five hours

and forty-five minutes.” She peered at him with suspicion. “Nice try.” The compliment was issued with a twist of her lips before she changed tactics, “Did you know there’s a whole school of thought that believes the world will end September thirteenth, two-thousand and thirteen. It’s a Friday.”

              “They believed the end of the Mayan calendar meant the end of human life, too.” He spread his arms to indicate all the tables surrounding them, each one occupied. Callahan’s was popular, even after the traditional dinner hour. “Anyway, we’re a few weeks from Armageddon.”

              “You wouldn’t want to spend your last breath wishing you’d had more of me,” she taunted.

              Her words hit home. Except the present moment, nothing about life was guaranteed. When he was in Afghanistan, he’d lived with that on a daily basis, held proof of it in his arms as Arturo died. Her words made him think about how temporary life could be. How we often lived our days doing more of what we didn’t want to do, and far less of what we longed for. But he was done with the any port in a storm thinking. He wanted more than that.  He
needed
more than that.

              The conflict waged inside him as he considered her determination. Ivy knew her mind. He should respect that. And not just because it served him well, though for that reason he began to pick apart his easy capitulation. Coming together had to be good for both of them. Physically, he would make sure that Ivy got everything she needed and more. Emotionally, he’d gotten a lot of push and pull from her. He suspected she didn’t know where she stood as far as developing a relationship with him. And he wanted her to be sure. Would sex confuse her emotions? Or would  intimacy nurture the positive? And shouldn’t she have some control over where they went and how fast?

              Ivy seemed to need that. She’d made it pretty clear—she resented his position and had sought to weaken it.

              He let his gaze rest on Ivy’s face. She was beautiful—expressive eyes and full lips—but he saw more than surface qualities. Her inner strength made her gaze direct. It lifted her chin and created an air of challenge. It did crazy things to him—made him want to meet her on the mats, but hold her close and be her shield when needed. It was an intoxicating combination bottled in perfection. He had no chance against it. And very little fight left in him.

              “Okay.” He nodded, glancing at his watch.  “Let’s call it six hours. Which means we need to get through three more before we start taking off our clothes.”

              His agreement caused her pause. She folded the menu and laid it on the table. “We’re having sex in three hours?”

              “That’s right.”

              “At twelve-thirty
am
,” she further clarified, glancing at her watch.