Just Friends To . . . Just Married. Renee Roszel

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СКАЧАТЬ the rest of his attire spoke of solidness, reliability and good character, that one curl screamed “sexy bad boy.”

      She giggled at the absurd notion. The preoccupied nerd who won Science Fairs, who was valedictorian of his senior class and whose dog never ate his homework, a bad boy ! “Very funny,” she said aloud. She’d purposely dropped the word “sexy” from the “bad boy” image, since long ago she’d placed Jax in a category where sexy and sex and all its ups and downs had no place.

      Suddenly restless, she decided she’d soaked long enough. Besides she could smell pancakes. She turned off the stimulating jets and rose from the tub, feeling better, at least physically. The delicious aroma of the pancakes reminded her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, a cold muffin and bitter airport coffee as she ran for her flight.

      “Jax,” she said as she toweled off with the softest, thickest navy terry towel she’d ever seen, “You are my rock. I love you.” She grimaced, stopped, then shrugged it off. “Of course you love him,” she said. “He’s your best friend in the world. You can say ‘I love you’ and not rock any boats.” She hung her towel on its bar and walked into a bedroom decorated in tasteful shades of green and beige. “Naturally, though, you probably shouldn’t say it to him.”

      She didn’t know why not, really. It just seemed like going too far. Every man to whom she’d said those three words had eventually walked out of her life. “No,” she said. “That must never happen to me and Jax.”

      A few moments later, dressed in comfortable navy sweats and a pair of thick athletic socks, she bounded down the stairs. “It smells good in here,” she called. “Where are you, Jax?”

      “In the Lunar Module preparing for landing. Where do you think?”

      She laughed, amazed that she could. “In the Lunar Module preparing for landing, of course. I keep up.” Around the corner from the main living area, she headed past a contemporary dining-room table and chairs. Beyond that she spied a door and walked through it into the kitchen where a small, round oak breakfast table and four matching chairs snuggled in an alcove before a floor-to-ceiling bay window.

      Outside, Kim could see the light show of downtown Chicago’s high-rises. When she turned away from the scenery, she noticed the table set for one, and looked curiously at Jax. Shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, he stood over a skillet. A platter sat beside the gas range piled high with pancakes. “Hey, how many of those do you think I can eat?”

      He turned toward her. “You mean I can stop now?”

      “You could have stopped about a dozen pancakes ago.” She plunked her hands on her hips. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m attempting to keep my figure.”

      He turned away and flipped the last pancake on the griddle. “Can’t say that I have,” he murmured.

      “Gee thanks.” She took an extra minute to gaze at him. He was such a wonderful person, and he’d matured into a very handsome man. She couldn’t recall his shoulders being that broad, or his hips that trim. “Do you work out?” she asked, then registered she’d said it aloud. She snapped her gaze from his buttocks to his face just as he turned to look at her.

      “What?”

      She shrugged sheepishly. “Making conversation. I asked if you work out.”

      “Oh.” He nodded and turned away. “I hit the gym several times a week.”

      “See, I can compliment you even if you can’t compliment me,” she teased. “You have a great butt.”

      He glanced at her again, this time frowning slightly. “Thanks.”

      She walked up behind him and slid her arms around his chest to hug him from behind. He felt solid. My good, solid Jax. She inhaled. My good, solid, great smelling Jax. “Isn’t it weird the way we can be apart for so long, but we get back together and it seems like we just saw each other yesterday? I don’t feel like I’ve been away at all.”

      He said nothing for a moment then, “Yeah.” He sounded a little hoarse. After a few more seconds, he gently disengaged her hold on him. “Weird isn’t the word.” He turned off the gas and headed to the refrigerator. “Do you want butter, syrup, whipped cream or all of the above?”

      Left alone facing the gas range, she made herself useful by taking the serving platter to the table. “Syrup and butter.” She pulled out the chair where he’d set a plate and silverware, then paused to glance at him. “Do you have any nonfat butter?”

      A corner of his mouth lifted, but less with mirth than cynicism. “Yeah, sure.”

      She shook her head. “Oh, fine. All my efforts will take a big nosedive if you feed me like I’m a two-hundred-fifty-pound trucker.”

      “Your reservations were relatively last minute. Even I need a little time to tend to details like nonfat butter, if there is such a thing.”

      “Okay, okay.” She sat down. When he brought the syrup dispenser to the table she took his wrist. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

      “I just ate.” He took an adjacent seat. His knee grazed hers but she didn’t move away. When he did, she experienced a stab of deprivation. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but Jax seemed somehow different. Like he wasn’t completely thrilled that she was here. Oh, that’s crazy Kimberly, she told herself. He’s your best friend and you’re his. You’re just super-sensitive right now.

      “I’m here to listen, remember?”

      His prompt brought her back. She nodded. The reminder of why she’d come to him rushed back full force, almost overwhelming her. She struggled to keep from bursting into tears. She stared at the platter of pancakes for a time, then picked up her fork and stabbed several, sliding them onto her plate. She spread butter over them and doused it all with syrup. With a quick, grateful smile in his direction, she picked up her fork, cut into the stack and took a bite. Delicious. Jax’s pancakes were so light and airy they melted in her mouth. She winked her approval at him, feeling less depressed. Upon finishing the first taste, she said, “You, Mr. Gideon, should be in jail.”

      “What?” His brow crinkled. He looked so cute she felt a zing in the pit of her stomach. “Why?” he asked.

      “Because, it’s a crime that you didn’t go into the pancake-making business. That’s why.”

      He lay a forearm on the table and leaned toward her. “I think you’re stalling.” His expression was gentle, earthy brown eyes direct. “So tell me. What happened to get you up here to doom me to prison in the middle of the night?”

      “It isn’t the middle of the night.” He might be right. She probably was stalling. But she didn’t intend to admit it, so she checked the kitchen wall clock and said, “It’s not even midnight.”

      “Okay, so what got you up here at ‘not even’ midnight?”

      She cut into the pancakes and took another bite. This time she had more trouble swallowing. Not because the food was any less delicious, but because Perry’s desertion loomed so large in her mind. The harsh image of that empty condo and the pile of rejected gifts hurt to think about.

      Her meal blurred and she blinked back tears. Realizing putting it off would make the telling no less hurtful, she laid her fork aside, СКАЧАТЬ