Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) (14 page)

“You’ll be a great mom.” Nan leaned forward and
grasped Alexi’s fingers. “I don’t mean to scare you. Just keep in
close contact with your doctor and do as she prescribes.”

“Do you think I can get a prescription for
Godivas?”

“We’ll share a box and a bottle of bubbly in about
six months.”

“Six months? That’s too depressing. Let’s change the
subject. If you’re biking with Jackson where does that leave
Brad?”

Nan shrugged. She’d wondered the same thing herself.
“I’m not sure that I’m really anywhere with him. He took me to see
‘the perfect’ house he’s buying, then left town saying he would
call. We’re supposed to go yachting the weekend after next with Dr.
Dennison. You know the plastic surgeon who keeps the aging
young?”

“I’ve heard of him. Are you going to go?”

“I’m not sure. Part of me wants to and part of me
doesn’t. Brad seems to have this checklist of perfect traits for a
perfect mate and perfect kids. He has everything all figured out,
planned to the last detail. There’s very little room in his life
for the human factor. ”

“Human factor?”

“You know, the fun, the spontaneity; the concept
that it’s okay to be less than perfect. I don’t think I would enjoy
life very much if I had to constantly measure up to something. Yet
on the other hand I’d be completely miserable if I didn’t have
goals. Go figure.”

“You want to live in the middle and not in the
extremes.”

“Put that way, it makes sense.”

“If you ask me, people living in the extremes seem
like they’re going to fall off the edge.”

“Speaking of living on the edge, the only
information I get about Jackson comes from you. He’s very adept at
leaving little time for conversation. We hardly talk.”

“That good, huh?”

“That frustrating. I consider myself an intelligent
woman until Jackson is around. Now I don’t know what I am, or much
about him. Is he still grieving for his wife? How long ago did she
die?”

“About four years ago. The family doesn’t talk about
it much, and since I’m new to the family I haven’t done much
pushing on the subject. Jesse keeps saying Jackson just needs some
time and we need to respect that. I think it goes deeper.”

“In what way? Was he driving? Was he in the
accident?”

“No and yes. He was with her, but she was driving.
It happened in Chicago. After the accident, he left his internship
at Chicago General and moved back to Georgia.”

Surprise hit Nan at first, but then once she
recalled all the little details the dots connected. Dennison’s
question to Brad, Jackson’s behavior when she fainted, and his
knowledge of preeclampsia when she described some of the problems
Alexi was having. “It takes a lot more than just a drifting
good-timing attitude about life to become a doctor. So why is
Jackson out hammering nails and strumming a guitar now?”

Alexi shrugged.

The question plagued Nan throughout the play and for
the next two days. Why had he given it all up? Was he so devastated
by his wife’s death? She watched Jackson work outside the Nurse’s
Station’s window by day and began to note little things that showed
her he had probably been a very good doctor. It was in the way he
looked at the people around him. She sensed he really saw them, and
listened to them. And when he was with her, he had left her no
doubt he was very aware of her. Brad made a brilliant surgeon, but
was he aware of her as a person?

During the nights, she dreamed about Jackson’s
passion, his kisses, and the depth of the desire between them. What
in the world was she going to do? The man was not only consuming
her thoughts but was encroaching upon her heart as steadily as the
ocean swept across the shore. The weekend loomed. What would she
do?

CHAPTER NINE

Nan threw her black book of fantasies on the bed and
paced across the room. The last two fantasies she’d written had
scared her. They were just as sensual as before, but another
element was easing into the text that was decidedly more
personal.

Her pen had filled the pages of the book with her
physical wants, and secret sensual desires, desires she never even
knew she had. All of the fantasies centered on one man, Jackson.
And she’d been okay with that. A woman would have to be dead not to
respond to him. But the stories were starting to become more than
just about sex and the emotional needs emerging frightened her.

If she didn’t leave now, she would be late to
Jesse’s birthday party. D-day had arrived. It was Friday evening
and she still hadn’t made up her mind whether to stay the weekend
with Jackson. Part of her wanted to stay, play out her fantasies
and get him out of her system and another part of her feared she
would lose more to him than she could afford. Like her heart. No,
it was just sex. She wouldn’t let it be anything more than that.
She’d take the plunge and then she’d be able to settle down with a
respectable man out living life rather than hiding from it as her
father had done.

It was just sex she told herself again as she
stuffed her fantasy book back under her pillow and snatched up an
overnight bag, cramming things into it. Minutes later, she turned
the corner to the hall and encountered a flurry of activity.

“Shakespeare!” Nan wailed. Miracle of miracles her
casserole on the hall table remained unscathed, but the wrapping
and ribbons on Jesse’s present were flying in the air like fur in a
catfight.

“Meow.” Shakespeare flicked his tail, then jumped up
and sat on the present as the paper rained down on him.

She glared at him. She didn’t have any more wrapping
paper and she didn’t have time to stop and buy more. “Maybe
Jackson’s idea of a few ground rules wasn’t so bad. I won’t string
you up for shark bait, but you won’t get any tuna treats either.
You’re lucky Mrs. Brodrick next door is going to feed you this
weekend.”

Shakespeare purred as she picked him up and she
couldn’t resist giving the silly cat a hug before she set him down.
Even as a kitten he’d gone from one disastrous mess to another, but
she loved him anyway. The thought stopped Nan in her tracks. What
if she had had a list of traits she expected her pet to have? What
if she had expected Shakespeare to live up to her perfect idea of a
cat? Would she have him to love now?

Disturbed by the new idea and the thought she may
have done just exactly that to Jackson, she gathered everything and
wrestled her way out the door. The phone rang and Nan popped her
head back inside. Brad’s voice piped over the answering machine.
Had he called at any other time this week, she would have welcomed
the chance to speak to him. But he hadn’t called and now that she
was on her way to see Jackson, she didn’t want to talk to Brad. She
locked the door.

* * *

Sitting on the porch of his parent’s farm with his
three brothers, Jackson took a long swig of beer. Party balloons
and crepe paper hung from one end of the wooden beams to the other
and inside he could hear the comfortable chaos of his mother
bustling about getting ready for the shin dig. That was one thing
that could be counted on in life. Emma Weldon knew how to have a
country hoe down better than anybody did.

Out back, his father had BBQ ribs and pork cooking
over huge spits. John Weldon’s BBQ stood unmatched in the south.
Picnic tables were draped with bright red and white checked cloths,
and bales of hay had been spread over the southern red dirt to make
the ground just right for two stepping to the twang of a hot
fiddle.

He should be happy with his life the way he’d set it
up. He had no cares, no responsibilities. He did what he wanted,
when he wanted. So why in the hell was he so insistent on tangling
up with Nan? Why not just let her go?

Even if he were of the mind to have an ongoing
relationship, she’d be a bad choice. She’d already walked away once
and he had no doubt she’d do it again. Not that he could blame her.
Few people could live life as casually as he chose to live it these
days and he’d never go back to his old ways. Not for anything. So
what in the hell did he expect to get out of this weekend?

Nan. He wanted her. For so damn long after Amy died
he’d felt nothing but pain, then the pain sank into a sea of
numbness and he’d developed a take-it or leave-it indifference
about life and women. At least he had until Nan appeared.
Indifference was one thing he’d yet to feel about her.

What would he do if Nan didn’t show? It had nearly
killed him to ride away last Monday, and he’d tortured himself with
thoughts of her all week. Every day that he worked on the hospital
wing, he was aware she was inside, behind the closed doors. Did she
know he was out there?

“What’s gotten into you lately, big brother?” Jared
came up and punched Jackson in the arm.

“Ouch.” Jackson rubbed his shoulder. “What are you
talking about?”

“You’ve cut your hair for one, and you’ve shown up
for work every damn day this week.” Jared parked his large frame
smack dab in front of Jackson, crossed his arms, and planted his
booted feet in an I’m-not-going-to-move-until-you-fess-up
stance.

“You’re also on time for the birthday party,” James,
Jared’s twin joined in. Hell, Jackson thought, his younger brothers
were like bulldogs when they got a hold of something.

“You never cut your hair until Mom hog-ties you to
do it.”

“You haven’t worked a week solid in years.”

“And you’re never on time for a party. In fact you
were an hour late to your own birthday party.”

James leaned in, taking a big whiff. “You smell
good.”

Jared squatted down. “I think I’ve figured it out,
James.”

James joined Jared to stare at Jackson’s boots. “He
gave his boots more than a spit shine. Those suckers are
gleaming.”

They looked at each other, grinned, and spoke at the
same time. “A woman.”

Seeing that his brother Jesse, who sat grinning on
the porch swing wasn’t going to be any help, Jackson hiked his
bottom up on the rail behind him and gave his brothers a light
kick, knocking them onto their butts. “Don’t sell the construction
company, guys. The world isn't ready for you two No-Shit-Sherlocks.
We’re Irish and we’re Weldons. There’s always a woman.”

“True,” Jared stood, brushing his backside.

“Yeah,” James concurred, opting to stay seated on
the floor, and leaning his back against the porch post. “But when a
man starts changing his routine, then the woman is more than just
‘a woman.’ Right, Jesse? It hasn’t been too long since Alexi turned
your routine upside down.”

“Yeah,” Jesse agreed. “There’s one more thing you
all need to add. We’re Irish, Weldons, and too damn stubborn for
our own good. A boot shine and a hair cut aren’t going to be worth
a flip in the long run.”

“Hell,” Jared said. “Alexi has ruined Jesse for
life. The man’s going philosophical on us.”

Jackson looked over to where Jesse sprawled. Jesse’s
comment had been directed right at him. Things between them had
been a bit uncomfortable since their talk after the hospital
benefit. Jesse wanted to know more than Jackson could say.

Jared let out a wolf whistle. “Ooo wee. Here comes a
babe. Who is she?”

Jackson swung his gaze out to the driveway. Nan had
just stepped from the car. She turned her back and leaned in,
apparently to gather a few things out of the passenger’s seat. The
short skirt she wore rose up. Jackson’s beer bottle fell from his
hand, clattered to the floor, and spewed over with foam. Nan never
wore short skirts. This one covered the essentials, but just
barely. Jackson was on his feet in a second.

James scrambled up from the floor. “Remember from
Jesse’s wedding? It’s Alexi’s friend, the nurse. Man, I’d love to
have some of her TLC.”

“Yeah, she looks as if she has a bedside manner to
die for. Give me some mouth to mouth, baby,” Jared added.

Jackson stopped at the end of the porch and glared
at his brothers. “Hit on her and I’ll plaster you both to the
wall.”

James and Jared held up their hands and backed
away.

“Guess we found ‘the woman,’” Jared muttered.

“No, shit Sherlock,” James added. “Why is it our
brothers find all the babes first?”

Jesse stood. “Bide your time, boys. The way
Jackson’s going he won’t have her for long.”

Jackson turned away disgusted. It didn’t matter what
Jesse thought. Jackson wasn’t looking for long term anyway. He
crossed the driveway, making sure he kept his body between the view
of the porch and Nan’s barely covered bottom.

“Need help, sugar?” He came up behind her, close
enough that when she backed out to stand up her bottom slid nicely
against his fly.

She gasped, but he didn’t feel the least bit sorry.
He’d waited too long for her already.

“Here.” She turned around and stuffed a package into
his hands that looked as if it had been through a paper
shredder.

“Don’t tell me. Shakespeare helped you wrap it.”

“He did a good job, don’t you think?” She picked up
a casserole dish and her purse, leaving a large tote bag still in
the car. She wore her hair loose in a mass of fiery waves that
smelled like sunshine and honeysuckle.

“That cat is a master,” Jackson said, leaning
closer. His gaze zeroed in on the overnight bag and his already hot
blood revved up. If he didn’t miss his guess, Nan had come prepared
to spend the weekend with him.

* * *

Alexi stood at the head of the table and patted her
stomach. “I have an announcement to make.”

“Little late for confessions, Lexi,” James called
out.

“Looks like Jesse has made you a walking
announcement,” Jared added.

Laughter followed the remarks and Alexi joined the
cheer.

“She looks good,” Nan said to Jackson. He sat in the
lounge chair next to her with his long legs stretched out and his
arm across the back of her seat.