Without You. Mary Baxter Lynn

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СКАЧАТЬ a woman. Nonetheless, he suspected that was what Terrance’s urging was all about. For sure, Jackson had had plenty of women. A man didn’t reach forty without having had his share of affairs.

      But that was exactly what they had been—affairs. None of the women he’d been involved with had been what he considered “wife material,” though he wasn’t sure he knew what that meant. He’d been too busy with the club to think in those terms. Besides, tying the knot had scared the hell out of him. He’d been alone too long to take a waltz down the aisle.

      The second he had walked into the club, where a band was playing a waltz, he’d felt out of place. Terrance had left him on his own almost immediately, having spotted a woman whom he’d dated. Jackson was about to turn and walk out the same door he’d come in, when he saw her. He’d stopped dead in his tracks.

      He thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was tall and thin with spectacular chocolate-colored hair, a lovely face and shapely legs—a Southern beauty in all her glory.

      When she smiled, the effect was electric. He had fallen madly in love on the spot.

      If she’d been with a man, perhaps he wouldn’t have had the courage to approach her. She appeared to be alone. As though his legs had a will all their own, he moved toward her. Something made her turn and face him directly. He paused for a second and their eyes met. An electric current seemed to instantly connect them. It hadn’t been his imagination, either. That radiant smile on her face had slipped a bit while something unidentifiable jumped into her eyes.

      Finally, he reached her and, without mincing words, said, “Would you like to dance?”

      “I don’t make a habit of dancing with strangers.”

      Her voice was as sexy as her body—husky and warm. He felt himself turn hard and prayed she wouldn’t notice.

      “I can take care of that. I’m Jackson Cole.” He held out his hand. At first she appeared reluctant to touch him but then she did. When he grasped her thin hand, that current shot all the way up his arm. He knew she experienced the same sensation—she withdrew her hand immediately, her eyes wide.

      “And you are?” he asked into the blistering silence.

      “Hallie Hunter.”

      He smiled. “Since we’re no longer strangers, shall we dance?”

      “Suppose I don’t want to dance with you?”

      He peered deeply into her eyes as he lowered his voice. “Only you do, don’t you.”

      “You’re awfully sure of yourself, Mr. Cole.”

      “Jackson,” he corrected.

      Before she could answer him, he reached out and pulled her gently into his arms, then onto the dance floor.

      Heady stuff.

      The feel and smell of her body against him penetrated his skin and went straight to his heart. She was utterly captivating, and he prayed the song would never end, so he wouldn’t have to let her go. Yet when it ended, she made no effort to leave his arms.

      “I like your style, Mr. Cole,” she said with a confident smile, displaying her delightful dimple.

      “Jackson,” he reminded her.

      She laughed. “All right, Jackson.”

      “So when can I see you again?”

      She gave him a sassy look. “How do you know I’m free?”

      “Are you?”

      “Yes.” That tiny word came out a whisper.

      “So am I, which means we have a green light.”

      “For what?”

      “To make love,” he whispered. “Tonight.”

      She gasped. Then he did something he’d never done spontaneously before. He drew her even closer and lowered his lips to hers with explosive force.

      From then on, they were inseparable, and within weeks they were officially engaged. And all was well in paradise, until Roberta reentered his life and ripped the bloom off the rose.

      Now, disgusted with the direction his thoughts had taken, Jackson shook himself and walked back to the bar, then poured himself another drink. But he knew that drinking wasn’t the answer.

      Regardless of how much booze he put in his body, it couldn’t override his thoughts of Hallie. She had set up housekeeping in his head and heart forever. He still loved her; her absence in his life hadn’t changed that.

      But he couldn’t think about Hallie in those terms. She had moved on and up and was totally lost to him. In order not to lose himself, he had to concentrate on getting out of this latest trouble. With the mob breathing hot and heavy down his neck, there was no way he could afford to be charged with murder, arrested, and detained indefinitely. Suddenly he felt as though he had a ticking time bomb strapped to his body.

      He must remain completely focused, no matter how much he would like to concentrate on Hallie and what might have been.

      Five

      Hallie loved her home.

      The only problem was, she didn’t get to spend nearly as much time there as she would have liked. But it was by choice that she put in such long hours at the office. Without a husband or children to come home to, advancing in her career had been her goal. Now it appeared it was her life.

      If she thought about that fact too much, it would depress her, so she made a conscious effort not to. Sighing, she plopped her briefcase in the nearest chair in the living room, then paused and surveyed her surroundings, which never failed to lift her spirits.

      Brightened by the recessed ceiling lights, the spacious living area was an eclectic mixture of vivid colors and textures. A hodgepodge of family photos, books, antique cups and saucers occupied the shelves in the custom-made entertainment center.

      In place of drapes, she had chosen white wooden shutters. During the day she opened them, letting the sunshine filtrate the room, giving it warmth and light. After sundown, the glow of the fireplace and burning candles replaced the sunlight.

      After turning on the gas logs and lighting a couple of candles, Hallie walked to the windows. The gas lanterns were on, allowing her full view of the patio. First to greet her eyes were the mums she’d planted. She called them her pots of gold.

      When she had any spare time, which wasn’t often, she loved to dig in the dirt, then watch her handiwork grow. That was often her panacea after a long, tension-filled day at the firm.

      A year ago she had decided to bite the bullet and purchase this garden home with a fenced-in yard and patio. Until then, she had lived in a condo, where she had felt cramped and claustrophobic. She hadn’t been sorry a day since she’d made the change, though she didn’t spend as much time here as she had planned. She hoped that would soon change, especially after she made partner. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so pressured.

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