Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs (32 page)

“What is it, honey?” His hand lay on top of hers still folded in her lap. His thumb rubbed her forefinger. Then he brought her palm up to his lips and kissed her tenderly again, her familiar soft scent opening up something he’d buried.

“You have a daughter, Jameson.”

He stood, the shock of it sending him reeling.

“How is that possible?”

She angled her head and squinted, staring up at him. “Really? You don’t understand how it works?”

“Well, I thought we—” He began to pace, rubbing the back of his neck. The room seemed extra warm, and he could smell faint traces of cigarette smoke that weren’t supposed to be in a non-smoking room. When he didn’t wake up from his dream, he stopped in front of her. “How old is she?”

“She’s three. She was conceived that week we were at the ranch, I’m pretty sure.” At last a smile formed on her pretty face. “She’s lovely, Jameson. She looks just like you. She has your eyes.”

“Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I’m just doing good being here now, talking to you. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life and never tell you.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I guess I didn’t want to know that you might not be happy about it. I still don’t know how you feel about it. I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted you to know. I’m not asking you to marry me or meet her or take any responsibility for her. My life has been fine as a single mother, and having her has been the greatest joy of my life, honest. It’s all good.”

“I wish you had told me. It wasn’t fair you had to go through all that alone.”

She inhaled deep and then spewed it out. “I’m not lying; it was hard. Nearly broke my father’s heart, too, when I told him I wasn’t going to see you and make any claims. He thought you’d want to know. I think that’s probably why I’m here tonight. Whatever happens, Jameson, I’m glad I had her. She is the love of my life. She doesn’t have to be a part of yours. That’s not why I’m here. I just wanted you to know.”

She stood up to go.

“Wait. You’ve just come here to tell me this? Now you want to leave?”

“Of course. I never came to rekindle anything we really didn’t have in the first place, Jameson.”

“We spent a wonderful week together, Lizzie. It was special for me.” He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. “Lizzie, I was crazy about you. Do you know I wrote songs about you?”

She accepted his embrace, but didn’t intensify it. “I’ve wondered about that. Anyway, thanks for being such a good sport.”

“Good sport? Are you kidding? I’m a father.”

“But not if you don’t want to be.”

“Not a question of what I want. I
am
a father.” He pulled back, placing his fingers under her chin and lifting her lips to his, and whispered to her softly, “Thank you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” Their lips touched, and as they rubbed against each other, he remembered the spark that had become that beautiful bonfire between them.

“My folks were wonderful. They loved her, right up until the day they died. They were killed in a car accident two years ago. It’s taken me this long to adjust, get my affairs in order, and then I knew I had to face this. I wasn’t sure I’d be strong enough to see you disappointed or angry with me.”

“How could I ever be disappointed, Lizzie? Just not possible.”

He would have made moves on her, perhaps try to encourage her to stay, but he didn’t want to manipulate her. She’d already suffered with the consequences of his poor decisions earlier. He certainly didn’t trust himself now. But he knew he didn’t want her to walk out of his life again.

“Stay. Stay with me tonight, Lizzie. No sex. I’m not asking that. Just let me hold you? Please?”

In the awkward silence, after he’d asked her for the third time, she agreed.

She left her underwear on, and he left his red, white, and blue boxers on. He slipped under the covers in the darkness, and she came to him, fitting perfectly in his arms. He kissed her forehead and felt the tears flow down onto his shoulder when she laid her head against him. His thigh touched hers in a natural movement she didn’t pull away from. Unforced, his arms encircling her, holding her shaking body, he was at peace with the world and suddenly grounded like he’d never been before.

It had been a day of firsts and was continuing to be so. Everything about today had been unexpected. And now he was a father.

Would he be able to stretch his heart to include her, as well as the woman in his arms who had borne him that child? He knew his life would never be the same.

‡

S
he woke up
alone in a strange-smelling bed, knowing it wasn’t hers. And then she remembered. Morning sunlight streaked through the window to her right. The chair in the corner was in shadows, and someone was sitting there in a pair of red, white, and blue boxers, bare chested.

Jameson.

She didn’t move a muscle, just let the view of him wash over her, felt her heart beat faster. He was in repose, with one leg crossed over his other knee, left hand playing an imaginary keyboard on the arm of the overstuffed chair. His right bent at the elbow, long fingers moving slowly back and forth across his lips, his eyes calculating, searching something he saw or something inside him. She wasn’t sure he could tell she’d opened her eyes, but she deliciously stole the seconds watching him in the early morning light.

She hoped he was thinking about her, but realized he probably was considering all the information she’d given him. He’d been a gentleman last night. He never once made a gesture to slide his fingers somewhere dangerous or kiss her anywhere but on her forehead or on her cheek. But his arms around her waist told her something else about the man. She’d been right to fall for him so hard. Not smart in the way it happened, but watching him now and hearing his reaction last night to her story about Charlotte, she knew that her instincts had been correct. He was an honorable man, and it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t been a part of Charlotte’s life.

He was a protector. He’d been that way when they’d made love so many times over the course of those golden days. He’d been a careful lover, attentive, and she allowed herself the luxury of feeling fully consumed by him, nearly to the point of tears half the times they’d been together. The beauty and the mastery in the way he made her feel stirred, healing everything hurt and incomplete in her soul. Mating with him—and that’s what it was—not making love or having sex, it was a mating ritual, a religious experience.

After he had left and went back on the road, she was seriously hoping to follow the circuit he was traveling and show up at some future venue when she found out she was pregnant. That changed everything. It changed her whole life.

There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think of him. As she brushed Charlotte’s angel-spun hair, braided it into tiny braids no bigger than the size of her shoelaces, when she tucked her under her arm and read a story to her, or when the little one stared up into her eyes, she saw him there. It was only a matter of time before she was old enough to ask,
where’s my daddy?

Lizzie figured she could always say he’d gone away, just like her father had, before Charlotte was old enough to remember him. That brought tears to her eyes. She was happy her father was able to meet his granddaughter before he passed. At the same time, she was sad that she would forever miss the relationship only a loving man like her father could give Charlotte. This meeting was for her, after all. This was to give Charlotte the chance at a man in her life that she could call father, if he wanted that. But if he didn’t, well, then Lizzie would spare her that uncertainty and the pain of being unwanted.

There was no other way to do it but to show up.
Take a number
as she’d told him last night. She’d arranged for her Nashville friend to babysit Charlotte overnight. Her friend’s toddler was nearly the same age. Kendra’s husband had been killed overseas, and so the two of them spent time together, raising girls without fathers or husbands. They were good support to each other during the dark, lonely times.

She moved her legs and stretched her arms up over her head, noting when Jameson sat erect and took notice. He dropped his hand from his lips to the chair, seeming to take a minute to adjust to the sight of her again, and then stood slowly.

“You sleep okay?” he asked her.

She arched back and did another stretch. This time the sheet fell back from her white lace bra, and she quickly covered it up, returning a shy grin.

“I’ll go make some coffee,” he whispered, walking around the foot of the bed in his boxers. The tent in his shorts was hard to miss.

“Jameson, come here for a second first.”

“I’ll just be a second,” he whispered as he disappeared into the kitchenette. She listened to the water running and the gurgling sounds sending a fresh caffeine scent she loved even as a child.

He sat on the bed and handed her the ivory crockery mug filled with the brown steamy liquid. “I don’t have any cream. Sorry. Just the powdered stuff, and I remember—”

He stopped himself and gazed off through the lighted window. She had propped herself up in the bed, her knees bent, clutching the mug. With one hand, she allowed two fingers to trace down his upper arm from his shoulder to his elbow. He tilted his head to watch her touch him and then took stock of her expression. Their eyes made the connection they always had, but he didn’t act on the impulse she could see was there.

He sighed and once again took a sip of coffee and stared out the window.

“Tell me, Jameson. I’ve had three years to get used to the day I’d see you again. And I’m just as unsure as the first time I thought about it.”

He nodded his agreement, clutching the mug in both his hands, his long tanned back barely visible in the early morning shadows. She found a way to touch his back without spilling her coffee and gained his attention back.

“Thank you for being a gentleman, Jameson.”

His smile was lopsided. “Well, I appreciate that. Maybe you can tell me what we’re doing here.”

She waited until he looked her in the eyes again. “I think the room’s beginning to get warm.”

“Well, I agree with you there.”

“Should we talk or—” She smiled instead of finishing her sentence.

His attention was revved to full alert. He licked his lips, set down his coffee cup, and slid under the sheets next to her. She nearly spilled her mug. “I think you better take this,” she said as she held it out to him.

He set her coffee on the floor, so close she heard the clinking of the ceramic. He climbed on top of her body as she pulled her knees to the side and, leaning on his elbows, let his fingers lace through her hair. One thumb dragged along her lower lip. With complete focus, he inserted his thumb into her mouth. His chest rose with his inhale, just before he bent down, his thumbs caressing her cheeks on both sides as he took his kiss at last. His fingers gently cradled her head. They fell into the warm intensity and familiarity of what their combined chemistry had always been, and was building again. The sights and smells of the room, the talks from last night, even her years as a single mother, all floated away. She was focused on her need for this man. It was basic, like breathing, something she’d held back and hadn’t allowed herself to own. Releasing those portions of her soul felt so good, to be lost in the arms of someone who transported her to the heavenly delights as a real woman, not a plaything. Again, her emotions got the better of her. When he came up for air and looked into her eyes, he carefully rubbed the tears away.

As if reading every breath she took, absorbing every expression on her face, he let his fingers draw down to her panties. The smell of her arousal was unmistakable, seeming to drive him wild. He urgently pulled them off her, spread her nether lips with his thumbs again, and kissed her there, sucking and biting her nub as she arched backward from the pulsating pleasure he brought her. The sight of his light brown hair between her legs sent off a warm tickling sensation, a delicate feather was lightly brushing up her spine. Her skin was warmed all over, her nipples engorged and hard, craving his touch. Her ears buzzed. Her breasts ached, bulging under the confines of the lacy undergarment. His lovemaking started slow, then gained gradual speed as he rose up again and searched her face, intent on the way she bit her lip. His fingers pinched her nub, and he drank from her arousal. Her moan was all for him.

He lowered his mouth again, finding her opening, laving her while her rocking pelvis performed the dance for his hot tongue he inserted deep.

Suddenly, she could take no more and pulled under his arms as if she could lift him, bringing him up on top of her, begging for his cock.

“Please, I need you inside me.”

He slipped down his boxers with ease, and her fingers clutched his muscled butt cheeks as she pulled him hard into her, eliciting a resonant moan from his massive chest, his arms bracing his shoulders. She melted beneath him as he arched, rocking forward and back over her lower body, spreading her knees wider, and begging for his thrusting penetration.