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in Washington, holding the baseball was as close as Jack had ever come to returning
to his family. Returning to what he wanted more than anything else in the world.
The handful of rubber and leather and string was the final remnant of what his life
had once been, a symbol of his disrupted destiny. It was what New Age chumps
would have called a comfort object. To Jack, however, it was far more than that.
Everything he was now, everything he'd ever fought to achieve, every step he'd taken
in life had been with one intention and one alone to find his brother and sister and
bring them back to where they belonged. To their family. To him.
To Georgia.
For some reason, her face roared up alongside the forgotten images of his brother
and sister, and Jack jerked forward in his chair at the realization of what that meant.
He associated Georgia with his family. Somewhere deep in his subconscious he
wanted her to be a part of the reunion, too.
And then he realized that he wasn't as surprised by the revelation as he should have
been. Maybe, without his fully recognizing it, she had been part of the plan all along.
Maybe that was really why he'd never married, and maybe it was really why he'd
come back to Carlisle after all these years. Not because he wanted to get even with
Georgia's father. But because he wanted to finish what he and Geo had started so
many years ago.
He leaned back in his chair and tossed the baseball toward the ceiling, contemplating
it absently as it slowly arced, catching it deftly in his other hand when it completed
its lazy descent. So what happened when one's best friend suddenly became one's
lover? he wondered. He gripped the baseball firmly in one hand and turned to stare
at the moon shining outside the French doors. Then, in one swift, heady rush of
recollection, he remembered the way Georgia had felt and tasted and smelled.
He smiled devilishly. He supposed he was about to find out.
* * *
This time Jack was waiting for her.
Even though she was ten minutes early, he was already there ahead of her. When
Georgia pushed through the big brass doors of The Bluffs, he was the first thing she
saw. Dressed for success in a dark power suit and sapphire necktie that warred with
his eyes for blueness, he leaned against an unmanned concierge desk, with a black
eelskin briefcase propped against his expensive Italian loafers.
With one elbow resting on the counter behind him, he was glancing down at his
watch and didn't see her come in, so she halted where she was and took a minute to
simply gaze at him. And she wondered what on earth she'd gotten herself into.
Jack McCormick had been out of her league when she was a teenager, she thought.
And he was out of her league now. Maybe for far different reasons, but he and
Georgia were still at polar opposites in so many ways. She wondered who she was
trying to kid that anything that might develop with the two of them could last. There
was just too much there between them, she thought. Too much past, too much pain,
too much missed out on, too much unexplored emotion. Whatever spark had ignited
last night would doubtless kindle and burn and expand to an unruly fire. And then it
would explode in their faces.
In spite of the Tightness she'd always felt about him, she suddenly realized that Jack
wasn't the kind of man for her. She wasn't sure why she knew that so well, especially
when all her life she'd been convinced otherwise, but there was something about him
now that hadn't been there before. And somehow she knew it would be responsible
for squelching any potential they had for something wonderful.
As if he'd heard her unspoken thought, Jack's head snapped up, and he held her
gaze fixed with his. Something hot and unmanageable awakened deep inside her, and
she knew that regardless of her certainty that their future was ill-fated, she would go
through with what she had come here for today.
She wanted Jack. She always had. From the time she'd been old enough to
understand what wanting was. And even if all the two of them managed to steal was
a couple of weeks one winter, she'd take it. She'd take it and store it in a secret place
way down deep inside, and she would feed off it for the rest of her life. She told
herself it would be enough. It would have to be.
Without even realizing she had made the decision to do so, Georgia strode toward
him, her steps faltering a little when he bent to pick up his briefcase and approach
her. They met at a point halfway between where each had started, and they smiled
when they simultaneously realized the significance of that.
"Hi," Jack said.
"Hi, yourself."
"I was half afraid you weren't going to show up."
"But I'm early."
His smile broadened. "I know."
She bit her lip, though whether because she was nervous or just scared of saying
something she'd regret later, she couldn't be sure. Her heart hammered erratically in
her rib cage, her palms were hot and damp, other parts of her body were warming
that had no business being warm in a public place, yet she hadn't even touched him.
Again she wondered just what she'd gotten herself into.
"Do you mind?" he asked. "I thought we could just order lunch to be delivered in
my room for us."
Did she mind? Georgia echoed. How did he know she'd been wondering if they
could do exactly that? She'd been more than a little disconcerted at the thought of
having to sit across from him in a crowded dining room, thinking the things she
would be thinking, realizing that what the two of them would be having for dessert
would be totally different from what everyone else at The Bluffs was having.
"No, of course I don't mind," she assured him, hoping she only imagined the wealth
of relief she detected in her own voice. "Actually, I was kind of hoping we could be
alone."
He nodded slowly. "Just you and me," he said. "Like old times."
Well, not quite like old times, she thought. There was that small matter of countless
hours of unbridled sex she was hoping for today that had been totally absent from
their relationship before. But she supposed it would earn her nothing to mention that
now, so she kept the thought to herself.
"Just like old times," she agreed a little breathlessly. Except that you wouldn 't
believe what kind of underwear I have on under this outfit, and it's absolutely
nothing like the white cotton stuff I used to wear. Which he'd never seen anyway,
she reminded herself. So how was he going to know how much trouble she'd gone
to today?
He'd know, she assured herself. Oh, yeah. He'd know.
"So what's your pleasure?" he asked her.
Georgia felt heat seep into her face at the inquiry, wondering how he could ask her
such an intimate question in the middle of a hotel lobby full of people who she was
certain just knew she was there for a...a...what was that word?...oh, yeah, a
nooner...then realized too late that he was talking about lunch.
His responding chuckle was low and lascivious. "I meant before that," he said, his
words punctuated by more laughter. "What's your pleasure for lunch?" Then, as if
he just couldn't resist, he added, "The other pleasures we'll get to later. I promise."
"How should I know what I want for lunch?" she snapped in response to the first
part of his statement, thinking it might be best to just ignore the last part.
He laughed harder. "Ooh, a little testy today, are we?"
"No," she barked. Then she, too, surrendered to the anxious laughter she couldn't
fight back. "No," she said less vehemently. "I'm not testy. Just..."
"What?"
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