ThreeReasonsWhy Page 5

  She rose and finished tidying, using the hard work to ease the ache in her chest. She was just about to turn off the lights when she heard a soft knock on the front door. She considered ignoring it but when the sound came again, she walked over and raised the blind.

  “We’re closed,” she said before she realized it was Wes on the other side.

  He smiled and held up a picnic basket.

  She turned the lock, trying not to be so pleased by his unexpected appearance.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked as he walked in and placed his basket on the nearest booth. She locked the door behind him.

  “Since you couldn’t go out for dinner, I thought maybe I could entice you into joining me for dessert.” He opened the basket, pulling out large, fresh strawberries and a container of melted chocolate sauce.

  “Strawberries and chocolate, my favorite.”

  “I know,” he said.

  She was taken aback by his admission. Wes had been paying closer attention to her over the years than she’d realized. The wildflowers and dessert all proved he had indeed done his homework. The idea put the lump back in her throat. He wasn’t making this easy.

  “Here.” He pulled out several more items from the basket. “Why don’t you pop this CD in the stereo and I’ll light a candle and open the wine?”

  She grinned. Candlelight, music, wine. He was certainly pulling out all the stops, and her traitorous heart was falling for every delectable bit of it.

  “Wes.” She needed to find a way to get him out of here. She’d always thought herself too practical, too cynical to fall for such romantic trappings. “I’m sort of tired.”

  He turned and softly ran his finger along her cheek, studying her face. She tried to hide the traces of her earlier anguish, tried to erase all evidence of how depressed she truly was. “You work too hard. I just want to take care of you, Jill. Give you a few minutes to relax, to throw off the stress.”

  His words soothed her soul, cooled the red-hot pain like aloe on a sunburn. She nodded, unable to speak. Turning away, she walked to the CD player.

  She returned to the corner booth he’d set up for them. Just a few minutes. She wanted just a few minutes with him. Tomorrow she’d be strong. Tomorrow she’d tell him the real reason she couldn’t be with him and he’d leave. Leave her alone forever.

  The soft sounds of George Strait singing a slow song filled the air. Damn, how did he know she was a sucker for a country love song?

  “So how was your job interview?” she asked, desperate to find something innocuous to lighten the spell he was slowly putting her under.

  “Pretty good. I’m not sure it was an ‘are we going to hire you’ interview as much as a ‘get to know you before you start’ interview.”

  “So you got the job?” She reached for a strawberry only to have him swat her hand away.

  “Let me.” He picked up a strawberry and dipped it into the chocolate before raising the fruit to her lips. She leaned forward, biting the entire berry, her lips brushing his fingertips where he held the stem. His eyes darkened at her movement, and he stared at her mouth without moving.

  “You have a bit of chocolate on your lips.” He bent to swipe the sweet sauce from the corner of her mouth with his tongue. His lips lingered on hers and she closed her eyes, lost to the soft touch.

  She was disappointed when he sat down and pointed to the seat across from him. She struggled to gather her composure.

  “I got the job.”

  “So tonight is a celebration?” She gestured at the wine.

  “Every night I’m with you is a celebration.”

  She expected him to follow his compliment with some sort of joke. When he merely smiled at her as if she were Cleopatra, Helen of Troy and Aphrodite all rolled into one, her face flushed. Shit, he meant what he was saying. This wasn’t good.

  She cleared her throat. “So what’s the job?”

  He shook his head. “It’s a surprise.”

  “A surprise?”

  “Yep. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight I just want to be with you.” He fed her two more strawberries before he rose from the booth. Holding out his hand as another slow song came on, he reached for her. “Dance with me.”

  She started to refuse but the idea of being held in his arms was too great a temptation. She took his hand as he led her to the large aisle next to the table. They swayed slowly in time with the music, and Jill closed her eyes, reveling in the moment. He was a wonderful dancer, and as the Dixie Chicks sang about a cowboy taking them away, Jill marveled at the sensation that she truly was flying away with him, free at last from her fears, her responsibilities, her loneliness.

  She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the sure, strong sound of his heartbeat. His hand drifted along her back, up and down in time with the music, and she savored the sensations his gentle touch created. She was relaxed, comfortable, at peace. All those concepts that were always just out of her reach permeated every part of her being, and she was hard-pressed to resist the magic of it.

  As the song ended, Wes loosened his grip, reaching up to cup the back of her head. She raised her face to his as he kissed her. The kiss was warm and slow, the sort of kiss every girl dreams of receiving just once in her life.

  It was perfect.

  He was perfect.

  And she was in big, big trouble. She backed away from him.

  “I have to go.”

  He frowned, confused. “Jill—”

  “I can’t do this. I wish you would try to understand.” She continued moving away.

  He took a step toward her, raised his hand as if to touch her.

  “Please.” The broken plea gave her away, and he froze.

  She remained still, forcing herself to look at his sad face. She chiseled the image on her heart so she wouldn’t forget. She couldn’t forget. This was the only future they could have. One of sadness, regret, loss. Better to suffer it now than later.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. And she did the one thing she’d wanted to do at Christmas. She ran.

  Chapter Four

  Jill wasn’t surprised to find Kate at the end of her diner counter bright and early the next morning.

  “I suppose Wes sent you.”

  Kate pretended to be hurt. “What? Can’t a sister come for a visit without an ulterior motive?”

  Jill glanced at the clock. “It’s seven o’clock in the morning, Kate. Bit early for a social call, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I don’t get it.”

  Jill didn’t pretend to misunderstand. She and Kate weren’t just sisters, they were friends. After a lifetime together, they could move between conversations and never miss a beat. “There’s a lot of that going around. I don’t know why you and Wes can’t accept that I’m not interested in a relationship. Not with him. Not with anybody.”

  Jill turned to pick up the coffeepot and filled her sister’s mug. There were only a few diners around, none within earshot. Kate had chosen her seat and her time wisely. The diner wouldn’t fill up for another hour.

  “Sell that bullshit to someone else, Jill. You and Wes are perfect for each other. And you are most definitely interested. More than interested. I’d say you were downright hot for the man.”

  Jill leaned her arms on the counter, moving closer to her sister. “Please just trust me when I say I know what Wes wants in a woman, and I can’t give it to him.”

  Kate frowned. “What’s your hang-up about commitment? You know, you never used to be like this. You had steady boyfriends in high school and after graduation. What changed?”

  Jill sucked in a deep breath. She’d practiced saying the words last night, knowing things with Wes would never be resolved until she confessed her secret. Having a conversation like this in the diner probably wasn’t wise. It was bound to become too emotional. Then Jill decided it was the perfect place. Things wouldn’t get too heavy. If they did, there was a good chance she’d be interrupted and could escape for a
few minutes to get her shit back together. Plus, Kate wouldn’t try to console her in public. Jill knew that was the one thing that couldn’t happen. If Kate tried to hug her, she’d fall apart and she refused to do that.

  “You know I’ve always had bad periods.”

  Kate nodded.

  “I was diagnosed with endometriosis a few years ago. It’s bad. Really bad.”

  “How bad is really bad?”

  “I can’t have children.”

  Jill had to hand it to her sister. Kate managed to maintain a stone face, though her eyes spoke volumes. No one in the diner would think they were talking about anything more serious than the weather.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Jill struggled to answer. Her mother had always accused her of having more pride than sense. Obviously that was true. She’d just felt so inadequate. So broken. It had taken her weeks to accept the diagnosis, and saying the words to another person had gotten harder with each passing day until she’d given up trying. “I don’t know why. I couldn’t.”

  Kate nodded, took her answer at face value. Jill was grateful for that easy acceptance. She knew the rest of the conversation was going to be hard enough without Kate expecting her to dive too deeply into her fucked-up psyche.

  “You haven’t told Wes about this?”

  Jill shook her head.

  Kate leaned back. “Don’t you think you should?”

  “Why? Wes just wants to go out on a few dates. It’s not like he’s asking me to marry him.”

  Kate scowled. “Don’t play stupid, Jill. It doesn’t suit you. You know as well as I do Wes is looking at a long-term, possibly forever, kind of commitment.”

  Jill sighed. “I know. Why do you think I’ve been trying to discourage his advances?”

  “I have no idea why.”

  Kate’s response took her aback.

  “You heard Wes at Christmas, Kate. He wants a big brood of kids. Hell, he deserves them. God knows he’ll be a better father than our dear old dad. How could I ask him to give up that dream?”

  “There’s more than one way to make a family, Jill. Jesus. Adopt.”

  Jill shook her head. She’d thought of that. She wanted children desperately and it wouldn’t bother her one bit if they didn’t have her genes, but she couldn’t ask the same of Wes. She wouldn’t. “It’s not the same thing. I would never ask Wes to give up the opportunity to make a son or daughter in his own image. Imagine a little boy with Wes’ eyes and strong jawline.” She smiled at the thought of a miniature Wes, before the crushing weight that she couldn’t give that to him threatened to suffocate her.

  “Fine. Hire a surrogate.”

  Jill closed her eyes and released a long breath. “You’re relentless.”

  “And you’re a coward.”

  Jill reared back as if her sister had struck her. “What?”

  “You aren’t giving Wes the credit he deserves because you’re too wrapped up in your own self-pity.”

  “Jesus, Kate. Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think.” Her words were a weak, sarcastic attempt at avoiding the truth. Kate was right. Unfortunately, the rightness of her sister’s words weren’t enough.

  “God. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You know I love you more than my luggage.” They smiled at the Steel Magnolias quote. She and her sister had watched it a thousand times in their lives, often pulling out lines from the movie at appropriate times. “I hate to see you deprive yourself of true happiness because you’re afraid.” Kate reached out and grasped her hands. “Wes is crazy about you.”

  Jill bit her lower lip and spoke her true fear. “What if I tell him and it does matter? What if it changes the way he sees me?”

  “It won’t.” Kate’s words were sure and strong, but they didn’t help.

  “What if it does?”

  Kate squeezed her hands. “You’re in love with him.”

  Jill only shook her head once, not bothering to lie. Her sister would see through it anyway. “When he’s with me, it’s like I’m a different person. When he looks at me, I feel like a whole woman, perfect in his eyes. I can’t give that up. Not yet.”

  “Jill—”

  “I’ll tell him. I will. Just give me a little time to figure out how.”

  Kate smiled sadly. “You know how to tell him. That’s not why you want more time. If you can’t be honest with Wes, at least be honest with yourself.”

  Kate was right. She wanted to be with Wes. Just once, she wanted to lie in his arms and pretend she could be everything he needed. There would be plenty of time for heartbreak later. Time for regret and resentment.

  For now, she’d take the make-believe and hope it would be enough.

  * * * * *

  The sound of wolf whistles and catcalls dragged Jill out of the kitchen in the midst of the lunch rush hour. As she turned the corner, she caught sight of Wes in a Madison police uniform. She was so taken aback by the change in his appearance, she giggled.

  “What the hell are you supposed to be?”

  Wes’ eyes narrowed and she silently taunted him with her gaze. Daring him to utter a comeback.

  “I think he looks handsome,” Lottie said. Her words were accompanied by more than a few head nods amongst the female diners.

  “Handsome, nothing,” Cheryl said from behind the counter. “That boy looks sexy as sin.”

  A couple of women cheered, and the mayor’s eighty-year-old mother asked if Wes would arrest her. Through it all, Wes grinned and accepted their teasing with good grace, but he never took his gaze off her.

  “Bit early for Halloween, isn’t it, Wes?” she added, and several of the men clapped at her cut down, while the women remained firmly in Officer Robson’s camp.

  “Come on now, sweetie,” Cheryl persuaded. “You gotta admit Wes looks good enough to eat.”

  “So does my cherry pie, but I wouldn’t strap a gun on it.”

  Wes’ eyes twinkled at her joke. Something about the man’s presence brought out a lightheartedness that she enjoyed. After her talk with Kate earlier, she’d decided she was going to let the cards fall where they may for a while. She’d wanted Wes Robson since the first day he’d walked into her diner nearly six years ago. She was finished denying that. The truth would come out…eventually. For now, she was going to take exactly what she wanted and she’d gladly pay the piper later.

  “Seems to me,” he said when the catcalls and hooting died down, “that there’s someone in here who’s lacking the proper respect owed to an officer of the law.”

  The women in the diner giggled, offering all sorts of advice in terms of how she should be dealt with.

  “Arrest her,” one woman yelled.

  The fire chief suggested he strip search her, and Jill’s eyes widened at the risqué remark from the older gentleman.

  “Jonesy,” she chastised. “Shame on you. I’m going to tell your wife you said that.”

  The man had the good grace to look abashed while the other customers roared with laughter.

  “Now, now,” Wes said, walking toward her. She fought desperately against the impulse to back away. She refused to lose face in front of the crowd. “I think Jonesy’s suggestion has some merit.”

  She raised her eyebrows, ready to berate him, when he startled her by placing his hands on her shoulders and spinning her away from him.

  “What the hell—” she started when he gripped her wrists and placed his handcuffs on her.

  “You have the right to remain silent,” he said loudly, for the amusement of all the patrons.

  “Wes Robson, you better take these off me right now.”

  “Are you resisting arrest?”

  “You’re damn right I’m resisting, you dumbass. Take off these handcuffs before I make you sorry you were ever born.”

  “You heard it, folks. You’re my witnesses. She resisted arrest and threatened the well-being of an officer of the law. I think I’m going to have to place her under house arrest until, oh s
ay…?”

  From over her shoulder, Jill watched as Wes looked toward Cheryl for an answer.

  “I think you should keep her under lock and key until at least tomorrow morning. Lottie and I can handle things here tonight, but I’ve got a dentist appointment in the morning.”

  Wes grinned. “Very well. You’re under arrest until breakfast.” He used his grip on her wrists to push her toward the stairs to her apartment.

  “I am so kicking your ass when you take these off me,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Wes ignored her comment as well as those of the diners as they yelled out their suggestions of how he should punish the hardened criminal.

  When they reached her apartment, Wes reached around her and opened the door. “How many times do I have to tell you to lock this damn thing when you’re down in the diner?” he asked, repeating the now-familiar argument.

  “My unlocked door is the least of your worries. Take off these cuffs. You’ve taken this joke way too far.”

  Rather than release her, he shut the door before turning her and pushing her chest lightly against it.

  “Who said I was joking?” He caged her against the hard surface as his hands began the sexiest frisking in the history of law enforcement. He left no part of her body unexplored, taking his time to become familiar with the more sensitive areas. Her breasts throbbed from his intense investigation, her nipples hard and aching against his rough palms. He pulled her short skirt above her waist, his hand lingering over her pussy, rubbing her clit through the material of her silk panties. She thrust against his firm touch, anxious for more. She was on the verge of begging when his fingers moved around her hips, gripping her ass in his hands. His fingertips drifted into the crack between the globes, only minimally hampered by the thin material.

  “God,” she breathed out.

  He continued his exploration, dragging his hands down her legs to her feet. He wrapped his hand around her ankles, one at a time, lifting them to remove her shoes and socks. When he finished, he ran his hands back up along the inside of her thighs and she shuddered at the intensity of his touch.