“Jackson? What are you doing here?”

“Happy Birthday,” he said as he presented her with a small box of expensive Swiss chocolates.

She accepted the box and then set it down on the bar. “You haven’t answered me.”

“Can we find a quiet spot to talk?”

She led him through a door into a storage room. Once inside she closed the door. In the small space, there was nothing to intrude on their first meeting after three years of separation.

“You’re looking beautiful tonight,” he commented.

“Oh, please. I don’t have time for this.” Sara turned to leave.

Jackson’s hand shot out to hold her while he searched his heart for an explanation.

“I’m here because I needed to see you,” he said quietly.

Books by Michelle Monkou

Kimani Romance

Sweet Surrender

Here and Now

Straight to the Heart

No One But You

Kimani Arabesque

Open Your Heart

Finders Keepers

Give Love

Making Promises

Island Rendezvous

MICHELLE MONKOU

became a world traveler at three years old when she left her birthplace of London, England, and moved to Guyana, South America. She then moved to the United States as a young teen. She was an avid reader, which, mixed with her cultural experiences, set the tone for a vivid imagination. It wasn’t long before the stories in her head became stories on paper.

In the middle of writing romances, she added a master’s of international business to her bachelor’s degree in English. Michelle was nominated for the 2003 Emma Award for Favorite New Author. She continues to write romances with complex characters and intricate plots. Visit her Web site for further information, and to sign up for her newsletter and contests, at www.michellemonkou.com.

Having lived on three continents, Michelle currently resides in the Washington, D.C., metropolitan area with her family. To contact her, write to P.O. Box 2904, Laurel, Maryland 20709, or e-mail her at michellemonkou@comcast.net.

No One But You

MICHELLE MONKOU

Dear Reader,

Step into the world of Xi Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. Sara Lovell and her four sisters from the pledge line—the Ladies of Distinction—have forged a deep friendship. They have shared the trials and tribulations of their college years and now embark on journeys to find their destinies as young professionals. Each sister will share her story of pain, redemption and, ultimately, love.

As a member of Sigma Gamma Rho Sorority, Inc., I wanted to create stories highlighting the tight bond between sorority sisters. African-American fraternal organizations have a long history of serving our communities, forming powerful networks and working with our youth. As we cut our affiliations with the few that have negative and hurtful intentions, I look forward to focused and unified messages from the various fraternal Greek organizations in the 21st century.

If you are a member of a sorority, or enjoy a close-knit group of dear friends, share your positive experiences in building on sisterhood beyond the family. I have had great friends in my past and present, and I look forward to forging more friendships in the future. Contact me at michellemonkou@comcast.net.

Blessings,

Michelle Monkou

To my fellow Greek fraternal organizations that perform
positive works and spread uplifting messages.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

“I don’t understand why we’re at the store purchasing an outfit for me, when I have a perfectly good pair of slacks and a snazzy blouse at home.” Sara Lovell followed her four sorority sisters through the department store toward the women’s section.

“This is a milestone birthday, correct?” Denise asked, over her shoulder. Her pace didn’t slacken. She was a pint-sized dynamo whizzing past customers.

“I don’t think twenty-five is a milestone,” Sara responded, rolling her eyes at Denise’s exaggeration.

“Girl, you’d better celebrate it. How many women are twenty-five years old, a professor and no lame man hanging on?” Naomi stepped outside of their entourage to throw out her question, as Sara, who was bringing up the rear, passed her.

“I’m not tenured,” Sara corrected. This was her first semester and there were no guarantees in the collegiate world. Like anyplace else, climbing the ladder partially depended on office politics.

“Whatever! Only you highbrowed people know the difference. We, mere mortals, will continue to call you Professor Lovell.” Naomi grinned with extra effort since her braces had only been removed two days ago.

They arrived in the women’s department, not too quietly. Sara followed the direction of their scrutiny and finger-pointing, trying to catch the gist of their discussion. Her sorors were always up to something. Why did she think her birthday would be any different among these mischief-makers? But she’d be on the lookout for any pranks.

“Ooh, I like this.” Naomi held up a little black dress.

“Is that the entire dress or is that only the skirt?” Sara asked, concerned with the choice. “You like to show your skin. I don’t.”

“You’re right. This little number would look good with my long, shapely legs.” Naomi spun in front of the three-sided mirror. With a manicured hand on one hip and a haughty raise of her chin, she erupted in a fit of giggles.

“At least those legs would be good for something,” Denise added, with a smirk. “I sure enough lost a pretty penny on your lazy behind in the last basketball game. The coach should’ve left you on the bench.” Denise stood behind Naomi’s still form, fearlessly sizing her up with open disgust.

Sara foresaw the potential conflict that always ignited without much provocation. She stepped toward Naomi, removed the black dress from her iron grip and set it on the rack with other unwanted items. Then she propelled her friend out of the dressing room to another area of the women’s department to cool off.

“Don’t take on Denise. You know that she’s always in a bad mood after she loses money.”

Her friend’s budding pro basketball career wasn’t exactly taking off in the right direction. Sara empathized with her soror. One thing she’d learned the hard way was how to shoot for the stars, but end up sitting in dirt.

“Hey, Sara, I found a great pantsuit.”

Sara looked over at Asia standing next to her twin, Athena, who held up a navy blue pantsuit. The tailored cut was flattering. And how could she pass up the added bonus to wear pants, her clothing item of choice?

Asia handed off the suit to Sara, who headed for the dressing room again.

“I’ve got several blouses to go with this.” Sara changed into the pantsuit. The jacket’s cut enhanced her figure, as she expected it would. It had a longer hem that covered her well-padded behind. Although not fond of full pants legs, she did like the comfortable fabric of these that didn’t cling to her thighs.

She stepped out into the open area to model. “I really like this.” The darker shade complemented her toasty brown coloring.

“Good!” her friends answered in chorus.

Sara laughed. They’d often criticized her inability to make a quick decision. This impromptu trip did manage to improve her mood, considering that she awoke today feeling a bit bummed. The year had not been one for celebration when the highlight was a botched wedding ceremony.

Her sorors made quick business of paying for the outfit. Back at her condo, each woman found a chair and noisily flopped dramatically into the seat, as if they had just completed a marathon.

Sara, seemingly the lone survivor, stood and looked over the four women with whom she’d pledged six years ago. Her line sisters in Xi Theta Sigma were as close to her as blood relatives. Their pledge line, called Ladies of Distinction, consisted of all sophomores. After completion of their pledge process and the ensuing bonding experiences, she thought the line name more aptly described what they strived for in their post-university lives.

Sara headed to the kitchen for refreshments. The party wasn’t due to begin for another four hours, enough time for all of them to laze and get rejuvenated. They were known to dance until the houselights came up at more than a few nightclubs.

“What’s the final number for the party?” Denise questioned, popping her gum with annoying frequency.

“I got forty, but about fifteen didn’t respond. People can be so rude. Anyway, I ordered enough food for about forty-five.” Sara flipped through her writing pad with pages of copious notes and other details. “Let me go to my laptop. I’ve an Excel file with additional notes.”

“Stop agonizing,” Naomi wailed. “You make my head ache, rehashing nit-picking details. No one can control how much people will eat. When the food is done, well, then, it’s done.”

“Don’t worry, Sara. We’re following up on the big and little items,” Denise reassured.

Sara sighed, reluctantly closing her writing pad. “Thanks, guys, I’m a basket case. I’m looking forward to the party, despite feeling gun-shy about the idea earlier.” Sara sat next to Denise and leaned her head against her soror’s shoulder. “Not much to celebrate this year, I’m afraid. I’m on the loser trail when it comes to men.”

“You’re exaggerating, soror.” Denise patted her cheek.

“No, she’s not,” Naomi objected. “First, she breaks up with her college sweetheart, a.k.a. soul mate. Then she breaks up with her husband-to-be at the altar.” Naomi shook her head, clicking her tongue. She twirled her finger around the ends of her braided hair.

“She didn’t break up with her soul mate. He walked away from her. And, she didn’t have a choice about the wedding, not with his pregnant girlfriend in the audience making a big stink,” Athena stated, reciting the list of events without emotion, as if she read a shopping list.

“Thank you, Frick and Frack, for boosting my self-esteem before my birthday party.” Sara waved aside their apologies and retreated to her bedroom.

Through the walls, she heard Denise scold Athena for her thoughtlessness.

“My bad,” Athena replied in her typical droll manner.

“Sorry, Sara!” Naomi yelled.

Sara was more embarrassed than angry. Fake Prince-Charming types had worn out their welcome in her life. She only wanted to enjoy her party with her friends and sorority sisters.

Jackson Thomas searched the nearby parking lot in the complex for a space, but had no luck. He headed toward another distant area, keeping an eye out for signs that allowed visitor parking. The overhead streetlights didn’t illuminate the lot very well. Walking a little farther, if he had to, didn’t bother him, since he hoped the extra minutes calmed his nerves. He didn’t believe in blind luck, but tonight he certainly accepted this symbol as his four-leaf clover.

As he drew closer to the dimly lit community room, boisterous party-goers walked in and out of the building. Music pulsated out of the windows and door. Heavy beats from the latest R&B hit spilled into the outdoor night air.

Jackson slowed. His nerves sapped the energy from his legs. Doubts held his will in a mind-numbing grip. He wished that he’d brought one of his buddies to bolster his flagging courage as he tried to face his past. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his damp forehead. All over, his skin prickled with sweat to complete his body’s reaction to the tension.

“Hey, Jackson.”

Jackson sharply turned toward the voice. Denise waved at him, grinning with obvious enjoyment at his startled expression. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Don’t worry, I’m not springing her on you. Your girl’s chatting in the back. Asia and Athena have her in an in-depth conversation about the top African-American literary authors of all time. You know that’s right up her alley. She’s on a roll. The twins probably can’t wait for you to show up and save them.”

Jackson smiled, took a deep breath and headed for the door. He paused, then turned. “Denise, thanks for inviting me. I’ve wanted to visit—keep in touch—for a long time. You gave me a break. I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to see Sarafina. Maybe even ask for another chance, or something like that…” His voice died under the uncertainty.

“That’s our sister in there. You’ve hurt her once. Do it again, and I’ll personally hunt you down.” Denise waved away his protest. “Go. Don’t waste time talking to me.” She turned, and headed back into the building.

Jackson acted on Denise’s advice and sped up his entry. The large room was like a sauna, with the warmth and humidity. The area was populated with small table-and-chair sets already occupied with guests. Unaware of the party’s formality, he wore a jacket over a polo shirt. Jackson shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over his arm.

He weaved through the party crowd. Frankly, no one else mattered. There was only one person he cared to see. So far, he couldn’t locate her in the crowded room.

“Hi J.T.!”

A familiar young woman with a pile of micro-braids seemingly exploding from the top of her head nudged his arm.

“Naomi, good to see you,” he shouted over the music, exchanging a warm hug with her.

“Go past that column. She’s over at the bar. Hurry!” Naomi shoved him.

“Good to see you, too,” he managed to reply, although the music probably drowned his words.

He rounded the column with a slower approach. As much as he couldn’t wait to see Sarafina, he didn’t want to run blindly into her, either. Knowing how her sorority sisters operated, he was sure that they hadn’t prepared her for his appearance.

“Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Look who’s here.”

Jackson froze as Asia’s piercing scream drew several guests’ attention. “Hi, Asia. Hi, Athena. Hi…Sara…Sarafina.”

“We’re going to get some fresh air.” Athena dragged her sister away and they disappeared before Jackson could say anything else.

“Jackson? What are you doing here?”

Jackson heard and felt the coldness in the frosty acknowledgement. Still under the spotlight of curious guests, he closed the gap between her and him.

“Happy birthday,” he managed to say before he was speechless. He presented her with a small box of expensive Swiss chocolates.

She accepted the box and then set it down on the bar. “You haven’t answered me.”

“Can we find a quiet spot to talk?”

Sara hesitated, sizing him up. “Fine, come with me.”

She led him through a door into a large storage room. Once she closed the door, the music, loud chatter and frenzied atmosphere of the party disappeared. In the small space, there was nothing to intrude on their first meeting after three years of separation.

“You’re looking beautiful tonight,” he complimented as an icebreaker.

“Oh, please. I don’t have time for this.” Sara turned to leave.

Jackson’s hand shot out to hold her there until he could fully explain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound cheesy. I’m here because I want to see you.”

“This is a private party.” Her eyes squinted full of distrust.

“Your line sisters invited me.”

“I should’ve known. This time they’ve crossed the line.” Sara crossed her arms, glowering at him.

Jackson dared not share his appreciation of her looks at this time, but her beauty certainly hadn’t diminished over the years. She’d cut her long, curly, thick hair—that used to hang below her shoulders—to a short, straighter hairstyle that stopped at the base of her neck.

He always admired her long neck—a trait passed on from her Ethiopian grandmother—along with her unique angular-bone structure that he found sexy. She held up her nose, accentuating a haughty manner. If she only knew what a classically elegant profile she modeled.

Jackson had seen Sara before she pledged. But he hadn’t made his move until the first day that he saw her at the university’s Panhellenic council meeting. By then, he had to meet her. As a neophyte, she’d worn her new sorority jacket, along with every possible accessory and piece of jewelry that showed off her new sorority colors and Greek initials.

He’d chosen a seat directly opposite. Like the other fraternity brothers and sisters, he sported his fraternity colors. From there, they’d become friends and lovers, sharing dreams of a life together in a house big enough for their children and a dog.

“Since my sorors invited you, I suppose it’s only proper that they retain the right to throw you out. But from where I’m standing, I’d say that there’s no sense in holding any further conversation since you’re their guest.”

“Wait!” Jackson said, panicking. He didn’t expect Sara to roll out the welcome mat for him, considering their past history. But he certainly didn’t expect her to be completely detached, not curious enough to find out his intentions.

Being treated like a regular guy didn’t sit well. “I’m in town for two weeks,” he lied.

He was on a return flight tomorrow. His plans consisted of flying in, apologizing to Sara and convincing her to let him back into her life. The plan sounded rational and his fraternity brothers didn’t say otherwise, when he ran it past them.

Her cold stare washed away his clueless maneuver like a dash of icy water. Any chance of a reunion required more time. Maybe two weeks could create a thaw before he had to return home. A desperate man, he’d accept any glimmer of hope.

“Good for you. I hope you don’t plan to make yourself a nuisance while you’re here,” Sara replied.

“I’m here on business. When I got the invitation, it all fit. Figured I’d make the most of my time. How about dinner while I’m here?”

“Not interested. Don’t care to be part of your business expense.”

“I only have the best of intentions,” Jackson said, raising his hands in surrender.

“And what are those intentions?”

Jackson dared to take her hand, between his hands. He felt the slight tug from her, but continued his hold. “No offense to my bluntness. I want to make amends. Maybe we can become friends again.”

Sara stopped trying to pull her hand away from his firm grip, as one of his hands had casually slipped around her wrist. She didn’t feel threatened, despite her strong desire to pull away from Jackson. His touch reawakened addictive memories of his caresses along the length of her body. Yet, it also stoked the memories of his rejection.

“Jackson, I don’t need your friendship. You already used and abused my trust. Frankly, I’m still in the deficit in that department, especially where you’re concerned.”

Jackson finally released her hand.

Sara touched her wrist where the spot now cooled. His sudden appearance shocked her system to its core. The aftereffects of the adrenaline rush left her jittery. She couldn’t bear one more minute in such close proximity to him. His stated intentions added to the unease.

“I’m heading back to my party.” Sara backed away from him, and left the storage room.

“Me, too.” He followed her into the crowd.

“There you are,” Denise said, with the rest of the crew standing nearby in a cluster. They all grinned, looking pleased with themselves.

“You could’ve asked me,” she said to her girlfriends. Sara had to pull in her emotions to deal with Jackson. His appearance had shocked her to the point that she could barely handle a coherent thought.

“This was supposed to be a special birthday party. How screwed up is that!” she shouted over the music, which suddenly switched to a softer, romantic melody. Her emphatic pronouncement, now heard by nearby guests, caused an unsettling silence.

“Hey, don’t blame them. I’ll leave so you can enjoy yourself. Have a happy birthday,” Jackson said. He raised his hand to touch her, but then lowered it to his side.

Sara stayed rooted to the spot as Jackson passed. His boyish features had matured into a chiseled face with piercing eyes, a long nose and wide, full lips. His dark thick hair had been trimmed to a sharp, clean-edged contour.

Her mother claimed he reminded her of a young Harry Belafonte. But to her, she matched him with Terrence Howard—handsome with a hint of bad boy to spice up things.

Nothing about him was out of place. Jackson thrived on being in control. He glided through the room with an easy gait, drawing a healthy share of admiring glances from her female guests.

“Go after him,” Denise urged, pushing on her arm.

“No,” Sara replied. She’d done her share of running after this man, including crying and begging. Her humiliation ran deep, like a lingering wound unable to heal. Talking to Jackson, reviving memories, held no guarantee that she’d be at peace. She wasn’t at peace, now.

“Do you want me to get him?” Naomi asked, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“He’s going out the door.” Asia walked forward a couple steps, then looked back at Sara.

Athena, always the performer, took center stage in front of the group. “I can’t blame Sara. Jackson was a moron for doggin’ her. He’s not all that. She doesn’t need to be sniffing after any man. Money isn’t everything.” She pursed her lips and pointed to the exit. “But let me just say that he pulled up in a very nice Porsche.”

“Well, I’ll go to the door, but only to see the car.” Sara hurried toward the door, glad to have a good reason to show an interest.

She exited the building, amazed to feel the warm outdoor temperature only a few degrees cooler due to a slight breeze. Despite the party having started over an hour ago, more guests were still arriving. Sara greeted them, keeping a watchful eye toward the parking lot. Admittedly she didn’t claim to be an expert on identifying cars. But she could spot a Porsche with no problem.

Satisfied that he wasn’t parked in the lot immediately in front of her, she followed the sidewalk toward the side of the building. A man ahead blocked her path while he gabbed on the phone. She had the choice of walking on the grass to get around or stepping into the road. “Excuse me,” she said irritably.

“So sorry.” Jackson snapped shut the cell phone and turned. The repentant look flashed to a happy grin. “Hey, didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“I’m not out here to see you.” Sara hated being flustered every time they shared common space. “I came outside to see a car.”

Jackson followed her searching gaze over the parking lot. “Any car in particular? Maybe I can help?”

“Why should you help?” Sara glared at him, as he readily scanned the lot.

“Like I said, earlier, I’m here to make amends.”

Again she couldn’t get over now good he looked. Being this gorgeous without enhancement was too sinful. She didn’t miss his cologne lightly scenting the air. She enjoyed the smell as a guilty pleasure.

Sara twisted her lips with exasperation. “I’m looking for a Porsche.”

“Whoa! That’s an expensive item. Expecting a friend of yours?”

Sara shrugged. No need to let him get in her business.

“Hope he comes soon,” Jackson said. “Here’s my car if you want to wait.” He pointed his car keys and unlocked the door.

Sara almost stumbled on the sidewalk when Jackson headed to a basic gold-toned sedan. “This is your car?” her voice squeaked.

“Yeah, it’s a rental, what can I say.”

“I thought you had…a Porsche.” She groaned and shook her head. Athena was going to die tonight.

Jackson chuckled. “You thought I was driving a Porsche. That’s why you came out. Or maybe it was to talk?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Let me get this straight. You weren’t looking for a boyfriend?”

“You’re not allowed to get into my personal life.”

“You’re beautiful. Successful. And single.”

Sara retreated a step. Her current status and his interest spelled danger. She wanted to run.

“I know this isn’t the place to talk about us.” He held up his hand. “I meant that I’d like to talk about me.” Jackson exhaled heavily, shoving his hands into his pockets. “This isn’t coming out right. I see you and lose my concentration. I want to hear how you’re doing. I’d like to know if you’ve followed any of your dreams.”

“Sounds like you want to know if I survived you?”

“Yes,” Jackson answered.

Sara chewed on the corner of her mouth. Her heart pounded, her palms were moist, her emotions stayed in a whirl. When he’d rejected her, she’d been naive, impulsive and gullible.

She had learned quickly to reject her old patterns of behavior. Being the victim could become habitual. She didn’t want to be a repeat offender with Jackson. But darn it, he still exuded a sensuality that lessened her inhibitions.

Cupping his jaw, she took advantage of his mouth, which was slack from shock, to kiss him boldly, unapologetically and more than a little voraciously. His response came back swiftly, as he was ready to take charge, but she wasn’t finished making her mark. His wide mouth was hers to tame. When his hand slipped under her blouse and touched the small of her back, the sensation sparked her sanity to the surface.

Sara pushed him away as if afraid they’d become unnaturally stuck. “Yeah, I’d say that I’ve survived and I’m over you. Now you can have that memory to hold onto.” She spun on her heel and headed back to her party. A cup of ice should cool her lips, which were hot for more contact with Jackson’s mouth. She was at a loss as to what to do for the rest of her body, as she yearned for Jackson’s touch.

Jackson couldn’t move his legs, even if he wanted. She had jacked up his system into overload. If he’d been able to predict what she’d intended, she’d still be locked in his embrace.

Sara had been his college sweetheart. They’d pledged to love each other for the rest of their lives. Little did he know that he’d have to make the toughest decision of his life, which resulted in their relationship being torn beyond repair. All along he knew he’d made the biggest mistake.

He touched his mouth where the memory of the kiss lingered. “It’s not over, Sara. I want back in your life.”

Chapter 2

Early the next morning, Jackson reviewed his latest airline ticket. The travel agency had expressed-mailed the packet to him at the hotel. This change to his itinerary was the last item that needed to be fixed. He’d extended his stay at the hotel, changing his room selection from a standard hotel room to a business class suite. Might as well be comfortable.

One more item of business required his attention. He placed the call and waited for his father to answer.

“Hi, Dad. It’s me. I’m in Chicago.”

“Jack? Didn’t know that you were going to Chicago. Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been working on a meeting with the owner of a realty company that plans to build a development on the south side of the city. They’ve got a great sales force, plus we could be the preferred lenders for the new housing development. I want you to be the front-man on this,” his father explained.

Jackson squeezed his eyes shut. Being the front-man translated into long, tedious hours playing project manager. Nothing or no one came in front of or in place of any of his father’s visions.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jackson cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder. He clasped his hands, flexing his fingers in readiness for the explosive reaction when his father learned his new itinerary.

“Jack, are you listening?”

“Yes, Dad.” Jackson decided to plunge ahead. “I’ve also got a promising lead that I’m following up in Chicago. I’m meeting with a developer and investor, Ted Beavers, who has a lot of clout in the downtown redevelopment plans. Long-term, it may mean expanding the company, but I think it’s worth considering. I’m planning to drop in and make myself available for a few days. Two weeks should be sufficient. I don’t mind looking over a few office sites.”

“Whoa! You’re moving a little fast there. But you’ve earned a little free rein, especially with the million-dollar loan we managed to broker last month. I’m still grinning over that one. I’ll let you have one week.”

“It’ll definitely take more than a week.”

“Give me a status report at the end of the week and I’ll make the call then.”

Jackson could practically hear the calculator running figures and profit margins in his father’s head. His father constantly reminded his brother, sister and him about his childhood days when he worked brutal hours for a mere few dollars to house and feed his family.

“Okay, son, keep me posted on what’s happening with Beavers. If you need me to fly down and close the deal, let me know right away. I’ll need a few days notice, though. By the way, I’m taking your mother away for a few days to celebrate her birthday. Tired of her complaining. You know my philosophy, not working equals losing money.”

“Where are you going?” Jackson knew his mother would be pleased. His father put the company before her needs most of the time.

“I think a trip to a resort in the Caribbean will have her smiling. She can hit the beaches and whatever else you do on those islands. I don’t like to waste time, I’ve scheduled a meeting with a member from the board of tourism in Barbados. You have to be a citizen to buy land, but I’m interested in being an investor in beach-front property. There’s got to be loopholes.”

“Dad!” Jackson interrupted. “Could you, for once, focus on family. On your wife.” No one dared talk to his father in this manner. Maybe the physical distance, maybe seeing Sara, maybe approaching his limit for doing his father’s bidding inspired him to take the older man on. “Dad?” Jackson didn’t like the protracted silence.

“Let me know how the meeting goes, then get back here.”

His father wasn’t the type to yell and pound his chest. Actually, the quiet tone and enunciation of every word told him that his father didn’t care for his input. Jackson expected that he’d pay for his temporary madness one way or the other with sacrificing his free time for one of his father’s projects. Even so, he thought he’d better give his mother a heads-up about his father’s plans.

Forewarning each other had saved them from his father’s sermons about a variety of pet peeves. Jackson called his mother and filled her in quickly on his earlier conversation with his father.

“Jackson, why would you cause trouble? I’m perfectly willing to keep myself busy if your father has to conduct business. After all it’s not every day that I get a trip to Barbados. I’m sure he’ll rest a day or so.” His mother continued justifying his father’s attitude.

“He takes you for granted, Mom. This is your birthday, after all. The least he could do is pretend to be romantic.” Jackson didn’t usually get into his parents’ private affairs. Their marriage reminded him of a business arrangement, with unequal distribution of power.

“That’s enough. Don’t be callous, it’s not like you. Besides, I’ve been with your father since we struggled from the ground up. Nothing in life comes for free. We all have to make sacrifices. Look at us now. As a family we get to enjoy the fruits of your father’s labors. Respect that, son,” his mother advised.

Jackson accepted the chastisement, but stubbornly held onto the belief that he was right. There was no doubt that his family lived a comfortable life. His father wanted him to follow in his footsteps with the family business. Jackson sensed that he’d demanded the same obedience from Jackson when it came to matters of the heart.

“When you find that special someone to share your life, you’ll understand,” his mother offered.

“I once did.”

“Oh, Jackson, please let’s not talk about that mistake you almost made in your life. Move on. You risked losing everything.”

“Lucky for everyone, the family business is still intact,” Jackson said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“You have a knack for this business. Not even your brother or sister showed the business savvy necessary to survive in this market.” His mother’s praise poured over him heavy and thick in a syrupy way that always constricted him.

“And they have satisfying lives with their families,” Jackson said, continuing to stress his point.

“Yes, they do. I’m glad that your dad and I were able to ensure that would happen by sending them to Ivy League universities and joining those professional organizations. Your sister’s debutante ball landed her Minister Brown’s son. And she is as happy as a mother and a wife. She aspired to be a minister’s wife. As for your brother, we’re hoping that Thadeus will follow in his father’s footsteps soon to be a minister of his church.”

Jackson was ready to break off from this conversation and its uncomfortable direction. “Good talking to you, Mom.”

“Okay, Jackson. Hurry home. We have much to talk about.”

Jackson hated to ask, but leaving this call with an ominous parting didn’t sit well with him. “What’s the matter?”

“Sweetheart, it’s not pressing. The Rosewell and the Finney families have hinted about setting up lunch dates with you and their daughters. I think they were feeling me out when I went to my Pilates class at the club yesterday. Mrs. Finney came to me first, but the Rosewells have such a great family reputation. Don’t worry, I’ll do the prescreening.”

Jackson gritted his teeth. “Goodbye, Mom.”

He placed the phone on the receiver. He’d managed to fend off his mother’s plans to hook him up with various choice families. Apparently, her promise to stay out of that part of his life must have expired.

He and his siblings had been raised to value family connections. His father had stopped all of his children from playing basketball, football and even baseball. Instead they were signed up at the country club to play tennis, golf and polo. The ready explanation, if asked, came down to the business networking potential that these sports afforded.

Thank goodness a bad fall from a horse during his first polo match helped keep him permanently out of that sport, Jackson thought.

He rubbed his jaw, furiously trying to erase the tension that his parents caused. His two-week hiatus from his father’s grasp couldn’t be wasted. Every second counted to restore the priorities he wanted in his life.

Jackson dressed, skipped breakfast and headed out of the hotel. The continued warm temperature hit his face with a surprising level of humidity for that time of the morning. For the trip, he’d packed light with the intention to visit Sara’s party and then return home. Shopping would have to be added to his to-do list.

The first item on the list was to find out where Sara worked. He didn’t want to spend his precious two weeks trying to track her down. Short of parking near the community building that housed the party, he had no idea how to find her.

“Hey, Jackson, wait up.”

Jackson looked toward the SUV that stopped with a squeal of tires in front of him. He recognized the two faces grinning back at him. Denise and Naomi beckoned for him to approach. He looked toward the backseat. The twins were missing in action. Still, facing two of Sara’s sorors could feel like going up against an entire squad.

“Good morning, ladies. Perfect timing, as always.”

“Get in, we’re about to make your day.” Naomi motioned to the backseat.

Jackson complied. His mood lightened considerably. He tried to settle back in the seat as Denise’s erratic driving took them through the downtown area, heading north.

“We’re taking you to where our girl works.” Denise spoke to him, as she caught his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“I’m grateful for your help.” Jackson couldn’t believe his luck kept. “I’m curious, though.”

“Yeah.” Denise shot him a glance over her shoulder.

“Why are you all so intent on helping me with Sara?”

“Call it an intervention. But, the truth is that only one of us pushed for this,” Naomi clarified. “I was the one in your corner. The twins, especially, wanted the life squeezed out of you.”

“Always knew they were vicious,” he tried to joke, but couldn’t muster a laugh.

“Remember before I pledged with Sara, you’d talk to me about her in science lab. You left those trust-fund babes to talk to the shy little girl from Ohio. My sorors didn’t know you until much later, but I got to witness that first blush of romance. I got to see how your face lit up when you talked about her. Even your boys couldn’t shake your lovesick attitude with their constant ribbing.”

Jackson recalled some of those cherished memories of Sara, as Naomi talked. Sarafina had captured his interest when she’d modeled for an art student. Her body cut a graceful portrait, with its elegant lines and soft expressions. Draped along a reclining chair, she looked like a queen of any continent. Posed in front of an assortment of clay pottery, her skin had gleamed its own shade of bronze with a hint of cinnamon coloring.

“What I want to know is what you plan to do if she doesn’t want you,” Denise’s voice intruded with harsh practicality.

Jackson shrugged. “I have two weeks to convince her otherwise.”

“And you think that you’re the man to do that,” Denise mocked. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you. We’ll all help you because my soror’s heart is weak enough to still want you.”

“She said that?” Jackson stared out of the window. He sounded pathetically hopeful. Hope was all he had. “What has she been up to? I can’t imagine that there isn’t someone in the background.”

“There was—” Naomi began.

“That’s for Sara to tell.” Denise turned to Naomi, not hiding their exchange of looks.

Sara with another man sickened him. But why should she stick around for him? Did this man still play a role in her life?

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Jackson didn’t mind. He wanted time to focus on what he wanted to say. The change from the busy downtown area to the more residential landscape quieted his mind from the unpleasant scenarios about Sara’s personal life.

Denise turned on to a university campus. The landscape had a New England quality with old English-style buildings and a backdrop of golden-and-brown hues heralding the incoming fall foliage. Jackson read the simple sign for Dickenson Women’s College. So this was where Sara worked, on a quiet campus nestled on the edge of an expansive field.

The layout of the campus provided an open setting with low-lying buildings dotting the tree-populated area. Several walking paths crisscrossed the acres, connecting buildings, like a busy beehive. Students milled around in various groups or as solitary figures sitting on benches or reclining under trees.

Denise pulled into a staff-only parking area and pulled up next to the curb. “Hop out, big man. Head down this path and make a right into the Clarendon Building. That’s where she teaches.” Denise stared at him in the mirror.

“Is she teaching at this minute?”

“Yep, but the class lets out in five minutes. Then she’ll have a two-hour break,” Naomi answered. “Jackson, she’s gone through a lot, but the girl you fell in love with is still in there.”

Jackson nodded, although he didn’t understand the cryptic advice.

“Give me a buzz when you’re ready.” Denise scribbled her number and handed it over to Naomi.

“Thanks.” Jackson took the note from Naomi and then stepped back onto the curb. He watched Denise head out of the parking lot, leaning on her horn as a few girls took too long to make their way through the crosswalk. He shook his head and then turned to face the unknown.

Jackson entered the building, scanning the lobby in case Sara stood among the students. No one paid him any attention as he slowly walked through the lobby. Although Denise had given him good information, he didn’t know what class Sara taught. He looked at his watch. Two minutes left before class ended.

Jackson opted for the right wing of the building. Afraid that time would sabotage his efforts, he ran down the hall, peeking into the small windows in the middle of each door. He made it toward the end of the hall with no sign of her. Which way to go? One option was to take the stairs to the next upper level, or stay on the current level and head down the left side of the building.

Undecided, he remained stuck pondering the pros and cons with little time left before classrooms emptied of their students. A group of young women approached one of the classrooms that he’d checked.

“Excuse me, have you heard of Sarafina Lovell?” Jackson asked.

“No,” the women responded in unison, barely giving him a glance.

“Thanks.” Jackson hated to have to call Denise so soon to tell her that he was ready.

“Were you asking about the professor?”

Jackson nodded at the woman who poked her head out of the room.

“Check room two-oh-two.” The woman pointed upward. “She’s my colleague. Check the second floor.”

“Gotcha. Thanks.” Jackson spun toward the stairwell and took the steps two at a time.

He hurried down the hall, running and slowing at each door. There was one room left with an open door. He ran forward, skidding into the doorway.

Sara looked up at him. Her expression went from a quiet blandness to shock. Dare he hope that a small smile crossed her lips before sternness descended, tightening her face into a formidable scowl.

“Oh, my gosh, Jackson, why do you keep popping up?”

“Again, I got a little help.” Jackson smiled sheepishly.

“The party is over. There’s no need to hang on,” Sara stated. She busily stuffed papers into her briefcase.

“My partying days are long gone.” Jackson plunged ahead with his request. “How about coffee?”

Sara didn’t want to think about coffee. More important matters came to mind…like Jackson invading her space again. Whether he came in peace or as conquering hero, he dominated her senses.

“Coffee would be fine,” she said after a moment. She approached him, but stopped at the doorway. “Let’s head to the food court. You first.” Sara waited until he pushed off the door frame and walked from the room.

Now, it was official. Jackson looked good, coming as well as going. His height at six-one turned her on. While her friends went for the pretty-boy, metrosexual, clean-perfection types, she liked the rugged physique that Jackson sported. The thin, faint scar along the side of his face—from a polo accident—gave him character. She remembered teasing him that he needed to lay off multitasking on a horse.

Sara maintained her silence on the way to the coffee shop. Occasionally she caught Jackson looking at her, but did her best to keep her expression muted. He certainly didn’t need to know that his presence short-circuited what little sense she had. Just the tilt of his head when something intrigued him or a raise of an eyebrow when he was trying to get a point reminded her of how much she knew Jackson. He was supposed to be her one and only friend, lover and husband. He’d claimed to be her protector in life. But she didn’t know that she’d need protecting from him. Armed with this thought, she strengthened her resolve to stay firm against his efforts.

“Hear me out before you jump to a decision,” Jackson offered.

“Am I that obvious?” Sara didn’t bother to apologize.

He nodded, then frowned. “But you kissed me.”

“Yeah, I used you for my own selfish impulses. Kind of like what you did to me.”

“No other motivation?”

Sara looked up at the ceiling, biting her lip as if pondering the question. Then she gave him her undivided attention and shrugged. “Nope. No other motivation.”

“That kiss reminded me of old times.” Jackson reached for her hand.

Sara pulled her hand under the table and immediately placed her other hand around the coffee cup. She could lie about the kiss, as long as she didn’t have any physical contact with Jackson.

If he held her hand, and said anything remotely complimentary, she might swoon and be a weak mess. Regardless of whether she wanted to allow Jackson into her life, her body lobbied for more instances when their lips could touch in a sensual reunion.

“You talk about our past as if we parted friends,” Sara said with deliberate harshness to her tone.

“I’ve always kept a soft spot for you.”

“I suppose this soft spot varied depending on the woman you were courting. You see, I figured that I was your test case for dumping any future unwanted women. You know, kind of like a starter wife.”

“I thought that I was doing what was right at the time.”

“And you were because we saved having to go through our eventual breakup. Your family and all their demands have enslaved you totally. I couldn’t compete from my side of the tracks.”

“After a couple of years, I know better. I’m here in Chicago because of you and no one else. There is no one back home waiting for me. I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t date. But I couldn’t move past you. I even bought a house with you in mind, remembering what we’d discussed about our family home.” Jackson drained his coffee and set down the cup with a sharp tap. “We have unfinished business. Tell me that you don’t feel something. Tell me that it’s all in my head, Sarafina.”

This man didn’t play fair. Saying her name in a soft voice reminded her of their past, when their youthful ideals had them planning a long, happy life together in love and in marriage. But her heart had been hurt, not once, but twice.

“Jackson, let’s not whitewash the issues that stood between us. Your family didn’t want me in your life and most certainly not as part of the clan. I’m sure that you have remorse, otherwise, you’d truly be a coldhearted dog.”

His body flinched with the impact of her words. He remained silent.

“But in your zeal for a reunion, I don’t want you to mistake regret for anything like love. I’m still looking for that elusive thing called love. And in the meantime, I’ve had my heart trampled. I’m taking a breather, but I’m not ready to give up.” Her voice wavered slightly. “Make no mistake though, I’m also not planning to settle on your version of love and honor, as substitutes.” Sara pushed back her chair, rose and stuck out her hand. “Goodbye, Jackson.” She shook his hand, keeping her gaze on his wide hand, which dwarfed hers.

He hadn’t responded.

She grabbed her pocketbook and left the shop to head back to the campus building. No more than a few seconds later, she had to reach in her bag to retrieve a tissue for the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

Chapter 3

Two days later, Jackson still couldn’t accept the current state of affairs of being frozen out of Sara’s life. Denise and Naomi were no help in providing him with information about Sara’s other “bad experience.” The fact that he led the list rubbed him raw.

His way of dealing with his guilt was to bury himself in work with exhaustive ten-and twelve-hour days. Dating and hanging out with friends didn’t happen frequently. Three years after that fateful day, he’d emerged a more successful businessman backed by a powerhouse of a family business. And yet, he yearned for only one woman.

He popped open a can of soda and settled back in the driver’s seat. The word stalker popped into his mind, but he rationalized that unlike those degenerates, he meant no harm. With the late afternoon hour, he expected the campus to be empty of most students. Instead, the area resembled a shift change in a factory. There was always a large number of students going to and from the campus library, even on Saturdays.

Not too long afterward, Sara emerged from the building, her arms laden with books. She looked like one of the students dressed in jeans and a college sweatshirt. A pencil stuck in her ponytail completed the image. Jackson hesitated briefly before getting out of the car.

“Need help?” He opened his arms for her to transfer some of the load. Instead, she pulled the bundle closer to her chest.

“Stop this, Jackson,” she said.

“Last time, you had your say. I want a chance to have my say,” he challenged.

“That’s childish.” Sara stopped abruptly. “I don’t have time to deal with you. I’m heading out of town on a research assignment. You can drop me an e-mail.” She veered off onto another path where the sidewalk split, and walked toward the staff parking lot.

Jackson allowed her the comfort of walking ahead of him. With the view from behind, he had no complaints. The sweatshirt hung loose on her frame. The jeans, however, hung low on her curvy hips. And he loved a woman with a little meat on the bones, he thought.

He observed her awkward maneuver to open her car door and throw her bundle into the backseat. Since assisting her would draw more heat, he didn’t try. Instead he hovered, just in case. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Where are you headed?”

“I’m not telling.”

“Then I’ll follow.”

“You’re being extremely stubborn and annoying.” Sara ran her hand over the strands of hair that had gotten loose with her exertions.

“I seem to remember that trait, in particular, made me adorable,” he teased.

“Yeah, well, I’m no longer a wide-eyed, college coed waiting for her man to swoop her off her feet. There’s nothing adorable about you.” Her nostrils flared, as anger underlined her words.

“I’m not buying that. You used to think I was adorable because the color of my eyes reminded you of toffee crunch. And I’ve long eyelashes that you’d kill for. One particular night of passion, when you were on top, you said the slight slant to my eyes gives me an exotic edge. Do you want me to recite your further admiration for each of my body parts?” He offered a wide, mischievous smile.

“Be quiet, Jackson.” Sara shook her head. Her eyes traveled the length of his body before she turned away.

He recognized a blush when he saw one. Mission accomplished. His smile widened and he was suddenly full of confidence.

“I see you haven’t lost your arrogance,” Sara accused.

Jackson shrugged. “Ready to tell me where you’re going?”

“I’m heading north to interview a reclusive author for a project. I’ll be out of town for a few days. I’ll probably miss your departure.”

He noted her lack of remorse. “I hope that I’m not running you out of town.”

Sara leaned against the car door and folded her arms across her chest. “Unlike you, I have to work for my living. I don’t have time to play the reunion game with you any longer.”

Jackson ignored the jab. He walked over to the passenger side, noting the unlocked doors, and got in.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Sara jumped in the driver’s seat. Her brow furrowed deeply.

“I’m going with you. I figure it’s more cost-effective and efficient if we travel together.”

Sara stared at him for several seconds before sighing heavily. She started the car and reversed out of the parking lot. “Jackson, where is your car?”

He pointed to the rental in the other general parking lot. He was unperturbed when she drove and stopped next to his car.

“Out!”

“Okay.” He placed his hand on the door handle. “I’ll go, but only if you let me kiss you.”

Sara turned her head toward the window. “I don’t believe you.” She exhaled and turned to face him. “Fine. If that’s going to get you to move on, go ahead—kiss.” She offered her cheek, her lips drooped quite slack and her gaze fixed on an unknown spot beyond the windshield.

Her affected disinterest didn’t matter. If she’d have objected, he wouldn’t have pushed it. But he knew when to spot an opportunity and take the plunge. For now, he wanted to be near her.

Jackson leaned forward until he was millimeters away from the gentle, vanilla-scented lips. He was feeling a bit cocky. “If I kiss you and make you moan, then I get to come with you.”

Sara’s neck snapped back. “Have you lost your mind?” She shook her head, and the frown hadn’t left. “I’m not playing games with you. Get out, Jackson.” She pulled out her lip balm, increasing the vanilla scent. She ran the balm over her lips. “You’ve got a lot of nerve if you think that you can change my mind with a kiss.”

“Prove me wrong.” Jackson didn’t believe in the power of a kiss, but heck if he was going home without feeling her in his arms once more. Playing dirty was his only option.

“Fine.”

Jackson slowly brushed aside her hair. He wanted to admire her perfect, oval-shaped face with its small, delicate features. Her beautiful brown skin matched the color of hot chocolate with a hint of cream. Gently with his thumb, he touched her soft lips, which had shifted into a pout, like Cupid’s bow.

Her lips parted under his ministrations. For a few seconds, she held her breath, before exhaling a rush of warm air. Cupping her face, he shut out any space between them with the crush of his lips upon hers.

He paid homage to her mouth, kissing her small, luscious bottom lip before honoring her equally full top lip. Damn the cup holder between the car seats separating them. He wanted to pull her onto his body so that his hands could fully embrace her.

His pulse leaped when Sara’s muted reaction stirred to life with gentle enthusiasm. When she finally proffered an invitation for him to enter her mouth, he followed her bidding with an eager tongue to honor her.

They kissed in a tangle of energy—natural and carefree. He poured his regrets and apology into his kiss, wanting to hold her until she forgave him.

Sara sighed against Jackson’s mouth, pulling away with a soft groan. She placed her hand against his mouth to block the sensual reminder that almost took her down a road that she was not willing to go. Her mouth ached from the absence of his warm attention. She bit her lip to snap herself out of the hypnotic seduction that Jackson delivered.

“Listen to your heart, baby,” Jackson pleaded.

“No,” Sara cried. “I’ll not let you play tricks with my heart.” She sat back and closed her eyes, wishing he was only a dream. “My mind. My thoughts. My plans. I can’t let you near to tear any of that apart,” she said. Her words came pouring out in a breathless rush that choked her with emotion.

“I think getting away from all of these distractions can help us put things into perspective.”

“There is no us!” Sara massaged her temples.

“Tell me that you felt nothing when we kissed.”

How she would love to crush him with cruel words. Vengeance snaked through her blood. After all these years, working to push away any thoughts of him, she didn’t relish now slipping back into the same groove. On the other hand, she’d gotten over the shock of seeing him. Although she refused to admit that she looked forward to him popping up with his pleas, she wasn’t altogether sure what she wanted.

“Fine, you have this weekend to unburden your soul.” She surrendered, wondering if she’d committed to making the biggest mistake. “Let’s get one thing straight, though. Don’t think that you’re going up there to create some love shack with me. I’m working. You’re obviously not. There will be no kissing. No coppin’a feel. Don’t even think that our bodies will be touching.” There was no chance that he’d weakened her resolve. She could get through this weekend.

“As you wish.” Jackson looked out the window toward his car. “I’m going to have to go to the hotel to pack. Didn’t quite expect a minitrip,” he explained.

“I have to go home, also. Meet me at my place.”

When he didn’t answer, Sara shifted her gaze to his face. “Don’t worry, I won’t take off without you…maybe.”

Jackson bent his tall frame to look at her through the window. “I’ll track you down, if you don’t show up.”

Sara saluted him. Then she drove off, enjoying his lingering cologne in her car. What would have been a normal work assignment for an article she had to write now had the potential to turn into a weekend of unexpected adventure.

At home, the magnitude of her decision hit her. Too late to second-guess. Now, she was wired.

Just like that, she replaced the clothes that she would’ve taken. In addition to a blouse and skirt for the interview, she threw in a pair of low-rider jeans, spaghetti-strapped tank top and a skimpy bikini panty set. She had no plans to let him seduce her. She merely wanted to remind him with a touch of harmless flirtation of what he’d missed before he headed back to his blue-blood family.

An hour later, Jackson called to let her know he was in the parking lot. She met him near her car, where Jackson already waited with a large duffel bag at his side.

“It’s about an hour, hour-and-a-half drive. Do you want to eat on this side of town?” Sara inquired.

“I can hold out, if you want to get there before it’s too late.” Jackson pulled out a chocolate bar, unwrapped a portion and bit almost half of its length. His cheek bulged, as he chewed and hummed to the beat of the song playing on the radio.

Sara stared at the chocolate and then at Jackson. Her mouth watered at the sight of the strand of caramel flipped over the peanut-and-nougat filling. She sniffed the scent of the chocolate, hoping that her imagination filled in to pacify her taste buds.

It didn’t.

“Would you like a bite of my candy bar?” Jackson asked with childlike innocence.

“Yes.” She had no pride. Candy was her downfall. She only had to run her hands along her thighs to acknowledge their effect. But she’d count calories later. Right now, she wanted to taste that chocolate melting in her mouth.

Jackson held the chocolate to her mouth. Sara leaned forward to bite, maintaining a keen eye on the road. She bit tentatively, then stopped. “Is that your finger?”

“Yes, that’s to guide you,” he said.

“Well, that’s only a smidgen. Are you going to be stingy with your chocolate?” Sara asked, irritable at the delay.

“I know you have an addiction. I don’t want you to have a relapse, so I’m helping you.”

“What a load of crock! Move your finger or lose it.” She changed lanes, getting into the slower lane, even willing to get completely off the road, in case she had to fight him.

“Fine. Here’s the other half. Enjoy it.”

Sara took the bar without any guilt. Whatever! He’d have to pay with more than this to get back in her good graces. She made light work of the remaining piece, licking away the traces of chocolate from her fingers.

“I hope it was worth the next size of jeans you’ll have to buy.”

Sara looked down at her legs, horrified at the thought that she’d expanded exponentially with every bite of chocolate, peanuts and caramel. “You don’t have to worry about what I wear. I suppose your frame of reference is your BOTOX-injected bimbos.”

“I didn’t say that I didn’t like a woman that I could hold onto.” Jackson leaned his seat back and rested a foot on the dashboard. “If I recall, your butt was a good handful to grab onto when—”

Sara pinched Jackson on the arm to shut him up. He’d already swayed her mouth and stomach to be traitorous. She didn’t need much temptation for her brain to be swayed by his charm as well.

She returned to the fast lane and refocused on her journey ahead. The urban sprawl of Chicago was quickly left behind as Sara followed the traffic heading out of town to the northern suburbs. Extensive farmlands dotted the scenery, breaking up the encroaching suburban sprawl. As the line of cars and trailer trucks thinned, Sara clicked on the cruise control.

“Are we there yet?”

“Gosh, you’re annoying,” Sara snapped. Jackson’s repeated question during the last several miles plucked her nerve.

“It was my first question in a long time,” Jackson complained. He stretched in the confines of the compact car, showing his dismay that he couldn’t get comfortable.

“See that sign.” Sara pointed to a green sign at the roadside with the remaining miles. “We’ll hit a small shopping center that has a few restaurants before we go to the hotel.”

“Five miles. Guess I’ll live until then,” he grumbled.

Sara ignored him. She also needed to stretch, but hated stopping on the way. Delaying their arrival meant a longer stretch of time in close confines next to Jackson.

As she approached the shopping area, the traffic grew thick. Maybe there was an accident, although she didn’t see any emergency lights. Carefully, she melted into the bumper-to-bumper traffic meandering into the town of Blue Hills, her final destination.

Another hour passed before they were seated in a small, family-owned restaurant. With only three restaurants in the center of town, Sara considered herself lucky to get in at all. Scores of pedestrians milled through the streets and loitered in front of tiny storefronts. She chose a local home-style restaurant, over a familiar restaurant chain.

“I hope service is fast,” Jackson whispered behind her when the hostess led them to their table.

Sara nodded, not too pleased with their table, which was located near the doors of the bustling kitchen. The alternative was to choose another restaurant or wait for a better situated table, which translated to another lengthy wait. Sara swallowed her protest. A glance over at the other patrons didn’t reveal anything in particular as to why the town was overrun with such a crowd.

“May I take your order?” a uniformed, young girl asked.

Sara gave her order and Jackson piped up soon after with his hefty-man selection. Not able to squelch her curiosity, Sara turned to the waitress. “Why is it so crowded?”

“Every year at this time, lots of hikers and their families head to Wisconsin. They stop in our town for the pie-eating contest before making the long haul. Ten years ago, this contest started the weeklong celebration of the town’s birthday. You came at the right time.”

“What kind of pie?” Jackson asked, with a wide grin, while rubbing his hands together.

“You’ve a choice of cherry, peach or apple.” The waitress clearly was ready to launch into the town’s pie-eating history.

“What’s the prize?”

Sara shifted her gaze from the waitress to Jackson, wondering what was his sudden interest in pies.

“It’s twenty-five dollars to enter and the prize is two hundred. We don’t make too much money from it. It’s sort of tradition. We give any remaining money to the little retirement village in town.”

“That’s very nice of your city.” Sara tapped Jackson’s hand. “Why don’t you enter?”

“Me? I don’t eat pies.”

“But it’s for a good cause,” Sara urged, knowing his addiction to desserts.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Wimp,” she teased.

“I’ll do it, if you do it.”

“I’m on business.” Sara raised an eyebrow.

“I’m here for pleasure.”

The waitress giggled. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell my manager about this. His mother started the contest.” The girl hurried off before Sara could stop her.

“I don’t want to eat any pies.” She glared at Jackson.

“Neither do I. We’ll both participate in this crazy endeavor and do our part to contribute to the community.”

Sara shook her head, but already admitted defeat as she saw only determination in Jackson’s face. She ate her meal without contributing much conversation. Jackson asked lots of questions, but as long as he didn’t cross into personal territory, she was fine answering them.

“How was your steak?” Jackson asked, when she set down her fork.

“A bit tough, but the potatoes were delicious,” Sara replied. Her stomach was more than satisfied with the large portions. All she wanted to do was unsnap her jeans and lay across her bed. She stifled a yawn. Now that the long drive after a full day of work was over and she’d eaten, her energy leaked from her limbs, making them feel like Silly Putty.

“Looks like you’re ready to crash. Let’s get out of here.”

“No argument from me.”

They headed over to the small, three-story hotel where Sara had made her reservation. The parking lot barely had any empty spaces. A steady flow of people walked into the small building.

“I don’t have a reservation. And with all of these people, I probably won’t get one,” Jackson said as he approached the front desk.

Sara had forgotten that tiny detail when she agreed to let him tag along. While Jackson inquired about room availability, she handed over her credit card and proceeded with her check-in process.

“Looks like I’m out of luck with a room,” Jackson announced.

“At least for now. Folks won’t leave here until Monday,” the hotel clerk explained.

“Is there anywhere in town that I could get a room?”

The hotel clerk shook his head, scratching his bald spot. “Sometimes folks in town may rent out rooms, but you’d have to go down to Dawson’s bar and look on the board.”

Jackson turned to Sara and raised an eyebrow.

Her sorors teased her that she took so long to get a clue. It wasn’t until Jackson stared—or maybe glared—at her that she realized what he wanted. “Oh, no, you can’t stay with me.”

“Should I go sleep in the car?”

“That would be best.” She didn’t care if she was being harsh. He’d invited himself.

“Ma’am, our evenings get a bit cool. Now the day is hot and muggy, but once that sun sets, then you’ll be shivering,” the hotel clerk added.

“Fine.” Sara couldn’t believe this current mess. In a small room with only double beds available, she had to share three nights with this man. Her pulse spiked at the thought. “You’d better grab an extra key, in case I get the urge to lock you out.” She headed for the elevator without looking at him.

When the elevator doors closed, Jackson turned to her.

“Don’t say a word,” she warned.

“I was only going to say that I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

Sara grunted. “Like you were in the car.”

“You kissed me first at the party, if I recall. And I didn’t protest.”

Sara opened the door and stared at the furniture arrangement with dismay. In the middle of the room was one queen-sized bed.

“They obviously made a mistake,” she said with a little panic. She hurried to the phone and dialed the front desk. After a few minutes, she put the phone down in defeat.

“I take it that we’ll be spooning. I like to sleep on the left side…and in the nude, if you remember.”

Chapter 4

Sara walked over to the side of the bed, staring down at the floral-printed comforter. One bed for them to share. Her mind had difficulty wrapping around that reality.

What had she done? She should’ve let him go home, while she went on this trip by herself. And now, she’d actually agreed that he could stay in her room. Maybe the next town had available hotel rooms.

She trailed her hand toward the pillow with its ruffled edges. The room screamed romantic interlude. Rose, pink and coral hues covered the walls. Floral patterns were reserved for the linens. Even the ceramic pieces had a whimsical style. Sara surmised that the room was part of a universal conspiracy to entice and keep lovers romantically occupied.

“Hey, what’s on your mind?” Jackson nudged her arm. “Looks like you’ve got the gears cranking at full speed. I promise to be the perfect gentleman. I know this is hard for you.”

Sara couldn’t answer. Her throat ached with dryness, as if she’d run through a desert at high noon. His claim to be a perfect gentleman didn’t quite mesh with the fact that he really did sleep in the nude.

Technicolor images flashed of Jackson naked, buffed and smiling. Her heartbeat accelerated. Her fantasy continued. She was also naked, waiting, expectant, like in the old days. The traitorous thoughts sent scorching waves of desire pouring like molten lava slowly through her entire body.

Her eyes lighted upon Jackson standing on the other side of the bed. He was busy adjusting his set of pillows. She blushed over her secret musings.

“Room seems a little hot,” she complained, pulling at her top.

Jackson shrugged. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it over the back of the chair. “Feels good to me.”

“Don’t you dare get into that bed.” Sara raised her hand like a crossing guard on patrol.

Jackson froze in his attempt to climb into the bed. “What now?” His brow furrowed with open irritation.

“You’re going to have to wear clothing.”

“Come on, Sara. You know that I don’t wear anything when I sleep. I can barely stand these pants.”

Jackson always complained to her about wearing pajamas. He’d argue that all of his waking hours were spent in suits or equally restrictive clothes. In bed, he preferred his natural state. She’d preferred it, too, once upon a time.

“Fine. I’ll deal with you not wearing a shirt. But you’d better not take off your pants when you get under the covers, or you’re out of here.”

Jackson nodded and eagerly slid under the comforter. He reached for the remote and aimed it at the TV.

Sara readied herself for bed. The closer the time got to when she actually would have to get in bed, the slower she moved. Brushing her teeth became an examination of her mouth. She even stretched out her tongue, leaned closer to the mirror and searched for anything that didn’t look right. Anything to delay the inevitable.

Eventually she got to the end of her nightly routine. She wished that she could be as calm and relaxed as Jackson, who lay back against the pillows with a hand under his head, watching TV.

She emerged from the bathroom and walked purposefully to her side of the bed. “I’m not watching any sports. And you’ll need to put a pillow between us. Are you still wearing your pants? I have an early morning ahead of me, so you’re going to have to turn off the TV soon.” Sara slid down on her side of the bed, making sure to keep her thigh away from his. The edge of the bed was her moral guide.

She waited nervously to fall asleep. Several times, she held her breath to keep from shifting her position, or to still her restless limbs. Her sorors would never believe that she shared a bed with Jackson and nothing happened. But if he didn’t tell, she wouldn’t, either.

“I just want to see the business section of the news to see how much the stock market went up. After that I promise to shut off the TV,” Jack said. He opened the newspapers, completely blocking her view of him.

“Good night,” she said.

“’Night, Sarafina.”

Sara squeezed her eyes tightly shut, praying for sleep to come quickly. Otherwise, the night promised to be a long, arduous exercise of making sure she remained on her side of the bed.

Between the newspapers and TV Jackson had plenty to keep his mind busy. Even so, he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman in the bed beside him. He’d maneuvered his way into her business, and no way did his initial scenario include sharing a bed with Sara.

He wasn’t going to play the choirboy and pretend that he didn’t plan to seduce her with mind-blowing sex. Yet, if he didn’t know better, he’d wonder if her line sisters had planned this situation somehow.

He looked over. Only her back was visible. There was no discernible movement, except for her steady breathing. Lucky woman.

His woman. That was his goal. That was why he was here on this mission.

Resigned that he’d suffer a sleepless night, Jackson refolded the newspapers and placed it on the night table. Then he turned off the TV, no longer interested in the night-time police drama. Once more he looked over at Sara.

He wanted to touch her. Instead he turned off the light and stared into the darkness, hoping that he’d fall asleep soon.

Someplace between being fully awake and an incredibly drowsy state, he turned toward Sara. He scooted his body onto her side of the bed until they touched. Like the snug fit of a glove, he framed his body behind hers, draping an arm over her waist. Only then did he drift to sleep.

Light filtered through the thin line of space between the heavy drapes. Jackson awoke, frowning at the intrusion of daylight. He tried to move his arm, but it remained stubbornly in place. Furiously blinking away his drowsy state, he rubbed his face with his free hand.

A long yawn erupted from him, but caught in his throat as realization took hold. Sara was molded against the entire length of his body with her arm casually thrown over him. Her head fit neatly under his chin. Her face pressed against his chest. Knowing that Sara sleeping in his arms was temporary, he lay there, as still as possible, enjoying the moment while the sun continued its ascent.

Sara awoke to her stomach’s hungry grumble. She tried to move, but her head snapped back into solid flesh. Her mind wasn’t so jumbled that she didn’t know the difference between the pillow and a body.

Please let her not be in any compromised state, she thought. At least her pajamas were still in place. She couldn’t bear his snide insinuations. Nor did she want to see the humor in the situation, if she had become disrobed.

Awareness sank in. Her leg covered his thigh. As she slid it back in place, she brushed his arousal. She almost yelped.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Sara jumped, immediately pushing away from Jackson. Her sudden movement, more violent than she intended, sent her careening over the side of the bed. She landed on the floor with a muffled thud from the comforter she dragged with her. In an ungraceful heap, she laid there, staring up at the ceiling.

“Whoa! Didn’t mean to startle you.” Jackson’s face appeared over the side. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His eyes betrayed his enjoyment at her expense. He offered her his hand.

“I’m fine.”

His hand remained outstretched, but Sara shook her head. She rolled over and struggled to her feet. There was no way they were staying another night like this. Her resolution to stay firm and detached was at the breaking point. And from what she could tell, so was his.

“Could you order room service?” she mumbled, as she made her way to the bathroom with the comforter trailing behind her.

She quickly showered and dressed in time for the arrival of breakfast. After the waiter left, Jackson picked up a slice of bacon. He grinned at her while he slid the slice of bacon in between his lips. The man didn’t know when to quit. The mischievous glint warned her that he was in a playful, sexy mood. Sara opted for the upright winged-back chair in the corner of the room away from him. She set her portion of the breakfast on the small table and pulled it close to her. The table could act as a barrier to any crazy antics that Jackson had in mind.

He bit into the bacon and chewed, looking at her.

“What?” She couldn’t take his scrutiny any longer. “What do you want?” Sara sipped her coffee.

“Just admiring how beautiful and desirable you look early in the morning.”

“Thanks.” She kept a watchful eye over the rim of her coffee cup.

“Good enough to eat.” He bit into a fluffy biscuit and winked.

“Looks like you’ll get your fill of this food tray with no problems.”

Jackson shrugged. “What are we going to do today?”

“We aren’t doing anything, at least not for the next few hours. I’ve got to go on my interview. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“Don’t forget the pie-eating contest. That starts at five.”

“I really don’t think that I’m up for any pie-eating contest. I keep telling you this isn’t a pleasure trip.”

“It’s not a pleasure trip for me, either. I’m here conducting my business.”

“What business is that?” Sara raised her eyebrow at Jackson’s statement.

“Figuring out the different stages of relationships with you and then wondering where I am on the ladder.”

“I only have two main divisions. You’re either a friend or an enemy. Then there is the category where it’s blank. That’s reserved for a person not worth the effort to categorize.”

“But we slept together. That’s not the action of an enemy.”

“There was no alternative.” Sara looked at her watch. “Got to run.” She hurried to gather her materials. “I should be back before noon. I’ll check out, then. We can have lunch before heading back.”

“Would you change your mind and stay, if I pay for another night?”

“Why?” Sara paused in the doorway. Her face set with stony determination against his manipulation. “Jackson, aren’t you tired of this. What exactly do you hope to get from me? We know each other. Nothing much has changed, except that we’ve grown up and moved on with our lives. Well, at least I have. Keep your cell phone on. I’ll call,” she said before leaving.

Jackson turned his back on her and went into the bathroom. Sara the college student only existed on the external, physical level. Sara the professional woman exhibited a steely determination that drew his respect. Short of stalking her, he might have to deal with the reality that time was not on his side to win her back.

After a quick shower, Jackson dressed in a T-shirt and khakis. A walk around town would occupy him. Avoiding any part of the pie-eating contest, he’d try to discover any other weekend activities.

Remembering her instructions, he repacked his clothing and stowed his toiletries. After he surveyed the area, he spied several books poking out of her suitcase on the chair. Sara wasn’t a reader. She preferred her magazines. And if she did read, it would be biographies.

Cautiously he flipped open the suitcase, revealing several books. He pushed the top book aside to view the other titles. The common theme drew a frown. Twelve Steps to Financial Well-Being. Getting Comfortable with Wealth Building. Embrace the Rich Lifestyle.

These books didn’t connect with Sara. She believed in hard work, but didn’t obsess over money. They probably had to do with her current interview, considering the caliber of her subject. He closed the suitcase, wondering about the contents, and left the room.

Jackson exited the hotel, immediately feeling as if he’d entered a different time period. Small towns weren’t his thing. He liked the energy and diversity of a city with diverse population. Since the town sucked in tourists in good quantity, Jackson surmised that it wouldn’t be long before the open acreage turned into clusters of homes for upper middle income families.

Here in this community, a short drive from Wisconsin, the small-town pace brought on a wave of nostalgia for his grandparents. They’d resided and owned a grocery store in a similar town before a powerful franchise rolled in. The big, chain store had swept the mom-and-pop shops out of business. But as much as he liked visiting them, he’d always looked forward to getting back to the busy, anonymous life of the modern city.

“Good morning.”

Jackson barely mumbled a response to the passing man. Did he know him? From his view of the man walking away, he didn’t think that they’d ever met.

“Good morning to you.”

Jackson swung his head around to see a smiling, older woman easing past him. He nodded. No one in the city greeted strangers. As a matter of fact, speaking to each passerby would probably earn an ugly look, or a few choice words from the recipient.

He spent his time greeting or nodding to various people, while strolling down Main Street. A library sign up ahead caught his attention. At the corner, he looked down the narrow side street where a small white building stood. Jackson didn’t claim to be an avid reader, but enjoyed reading about historical events. Maybe he could spend an hour or so learning about Blue Hills.

He entered the old brick building, which could have done with a face-lift, he thought. Close up, the white paint peeled off the wood and was faded off the brick. Yet the structure had the old-style architecture that he found charming. A white picket fence surrounded the property with a short graveled path that led to three steps. A few families, parents and kids entered. His father used to think going to the library was a mother’s job.

Jackson pulled open the door wide to see where the hours of operation were posted. Like all libraries, outdoor sounds were banished. Brightly lit and equipped with state-of-the-art computers, the inside encouraged patrons to think and slow down for a few moments.

Once Jackson got directions from a librarian, he strolled to the local history section. He took his time pulling out titles, examining back covers and sliding the books back into place.

“What are you doing here?”

Jackson looked around in surprise to hear Sara’s husky whisper. Turning in a full circle, he still couldn’t locate her. “Sara?”

“I’m right here.”

Jackson frowned at the voice coming from the other side of the bookshelf in front of him. An impatient tapping drew his attention. He pulled out a book sitting at eye level for a better view. “Sara?”

“Shh.”

Jackson looked on either side to see why he should be quiet. From his vantage point, no one seemed to be paying attention to them. He turned to look at Sara’s face, which was almost pressed against the small opening.

“What are you doing? Who are you hiding from?” Jackson whispered back to her, growing alarmed.

“I’m not hiding. I’m in the middle of my interview with Alethea Walker. I actually didn’t expect to see you.”

“I wandered in here. Go back and do your thing with the writer lady.”

“It’s Alethea Walker.” Sara appeared next to him, looking quite displeased. “And I don’t want to mess this up.” She bit her lip. “So could you just leave, please.”

“Fine. You’re acting like you’re interviewing the Queen of England.”

Sara pushed him out of the aisle. “Go,” she mouthed.

“I’ll take the title Queen, but of England, no way. I’ll leave that to Beth, the second, to do her thing in Buckingham,” a raspy voice interrupted them.

“Ms. Walker!” Sara exclaimed, looking mortified.

Jackson stepped back to allow an elderly dark-skinned woman—who was tall, stately and handsome—-approach. When she joined them she smiled and offered her hand.

“I’m Alethea, young man.”

“Jackson.”

“A last name for a first name. Interesting.” She turned to Sara. “You know a name says a lot about a person.” She rested her hand on Jackson’s arm. “I sense strength in you.” She glanced over at Sara, who looked miserable. “Young man, I also sense a gentle spirit in your darling eyes.” She turned her back on them. “I’ve gotten the books I need. No need to stay in this musty building any longer.” She looked over her shoulder. “I don’t do this often, but I’m going to go with my gut. Both of you, join me for lunch.”

Jackson didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t mean to interrupt Sara’s meeting. Clearly Alethea’s invitation caught her unaware. And the blazing anger crackling from her told him that she wanted him gone.

“Ms. Walker, thank you so much for the invitation. I’ve got a couple things to do around town. I’ll catch up with Sara later.” He nodded to Sara, letting her know that he’d read and understood the message. When she offered a small smile, he relaxed.

“First things first—please call me Alethea. Ms. Walker is for my mama, who’s long gone. There’s no way that you’re not coming to my house. It’s been a while since I had a handsome hunk of a man as my captive audience.”

“I’m sure that you exaggerate, Alethea,” Jackson said.

The old woman headed toward the exit, as if expecting them to follow her. “Sarafina, you’ll also benefit from my hospitality, which will be better for your interview. When I’m relaxed on my own turf, I’ll open up. But I hope you don’t have the standard, boring questions. See both of you in an hour.” Alethea waved, jangling the many silver bracelets decorating her wrist.

Jackson waited for Sara to indicate what she wanted to do. Once again, he screwed up. All he had planned to do this morning was wander around the town. Now he was all caught up in a situation that could make either woman peeved at him. Although he didn’t care about Alethea, making her irritated at Sara because of him wouldn’t help his cause with Sara.

“Do you want me to process the hotel checkout?” he asked, hoping to be helpful.

“Yes. I’m heading back to the city right after this.”

Jackson followed Sara out of the library. He stood at the passenger door, hoping that she was going to unlock it. His body slightly relaxed when he saw the knob in the door pop up.

“Did you get much of the interview completed?” He chanced a glance at her profile.

Her mouth tightened slightly before she responded. “No, she’s not an easy subject. She hops from one subject to the next. She refused to sit. Basically she maintained control and let me know that she wasn’t going to make my job easy.” She turned an accusatory glare at him. “Well, that is, until you came along.”

“Hey, I’d rather be heading down to the pie-eating contest than sitting in on a school project.” Since this opportunity didn’t allow him personal time with Sara, he wasn’t that excited about this new game plan. “I’m not jumping up and down.”

“You should feel honored to be in the company of Alethea Walker,” Sara shot back. “She’s a legend. Her life is rich and her experiences make us seem as if we’re standing still. Her essays reflect so much passion and even anger for the injustice and inequalities that she has seen and experienced.”

Jackson snorted. “Sounds like a snoozer.” He shook his head, chuckling. “You can hero-worship Alethea and I’ll hero-worship Sanaa Lathan—she was hot in Blade.”

Sara grabbed the seat belt and pulled it around his neck until he choked. “Take that back.”

Jackson reached out and tickled Sara, who giggled and squirmed away from him. Their levity eased the tension, somewhat.

Minutes later at the hotel, Jackson tried to stay out of Sara’s way as she moved through the room in a harried state, muttering about how irritating men were. And why she didn’t need to bother with dealing with the past. So much for the few minutes of laughter they shared.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk about me like I wasn’t here.”

Sara held up her fist with clothing balled in her hands. “As if I was that lucky.”

“What did I do wrong, now?” Jackson wanted to get out of the small quarters. He needed fresh air and open space. He didn’t know how to fix the problem. But more importantly, he hated being the bad guy in this scenario.

Sara opened her mouth, but then shook her head. She continued gathering her belongings, her muttering much subdued.

“Look, I’ll accompany you to Alethea’s home. And then disappear into the background.” Jackson walked slowly toward Sara. Her nervous pacing had worked its way under his skin like an army of startled ants. He reached out when she bustled past him with the same piece of clothing that she’d had in her hand for the past few minutes. “Come here,” Jackson said.

“Look, I don’t have time for any pep talks.”

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her gently into his chest. Like a cocoon, he wrapped his arms around her, willing her to be still. Gradually her protests quieted. Jackson breathed in the floral scent of her soft hair.

“I know that you like to have everything and everyone marching to your beat. Sometimes, there is an exception. Alethea looks like she’s going to be your exception.” He smoothed her hair, cradling the back of her head. “Let’s get out of here. Get your interview done, and we’ll head back home.” He sensed that he’d reached down to where her fear had manifested. He didn’t want to let go until the calmer side of Sara emerged.

Sara kept her head against Jackson’s chest. His heart beating at her ear sounded steady and consistent, unlike hers. For so long she yearned for his arms to be around her. With his surprise visit, she’d been afraid to enjoy his touch. His soothing words calmed the rising unease that overwhelmed her thoughts with Alethea’s change of plans.

“Are you okay now?” Jackson raised her chin with his finger.

Sara nodded, releasing a big sigh. “All set.”

“We’re cutting it close to checking out.” Jackson looked at his watch. “Sure you don’t want to stay tonight? You might be beat by the time you’re done.”

Another night in a hotel room with Jackson would definitely break her willpower. In his arms, she had to fight giving in to the hunger that her body and mind craved. She refused to believe that her body’s aching needs were anything more than physical.

Nothing soft and romantic could be the reason.

“No, we need to get on the road.” Sara pushed away from Jackson. “We can get back early and you can make it back to your hotel in Chicago.” He would be in his bed and she in hers.

She witnessed the droop in Jackson’s shoulders, but he remained quiet. Sara enjoyed a small feeling of victory at standing up to her weakness. She may have craved Jackson’s touch, but she wasn’t about to give in and fall into bed—in a sexual sense—with him.

After checking out of the hotel and loading up the car, they arrived at the author’s home with time to spare. In keeping with the rural surroundings, the modest-sized house sat on about three acres of land. Alethea led a brief tour, explaining that the previous owner was a farmer, but she didn’t follow suit with raising cattle. Instead, she had a conglomeration of dogs that represented the major breeds and a few that Sara couldn’t identify.

“These are my babies. I keep them cordoned off when I have company. Otherwise, you’d be licked to death.” Alethea headed up the steps to the house. “Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you for inviting us.” Sara tried not to sound like an overzealous fan, but failed.

“Here, let’s sit in the sunroom. We can enjoy the view without the crisp fall air chilling us to the bone. I hope you’re ready to eat. I had Rose make her delicious chicken salad. I have either garden salad greens or freshly baked sourdough bread.”

“Sourdough bread for me.” Jackson provided the biggest grin to their host.

Alethea’s face lit up, much brighter than when Sara shared her appreciation with the author. Sara glanced at Jackson, wondering what got him talking. Was it the fresh bread?

After everyone helped themselves to the simple, but tasty fare, Sara set aside her plate. She wiped her mouth and fingers, hoping to communicate the clue that she was ready to start the interview. However, Alethea and Jackson, with heads close together, were in deep conversation. Sara cleared her throat to regain control of her interview.

“Alethea, let’s start again.” Sara took out her small tape recorder and set it on the table. She pushed in the Record button and sat back.

“Oh, no.” Alethea looked up and shook her head fiercely. “I will not be taped.”

“My apologies,” Sara said quickly, grabbing the tape recorder to stop it. “I wanted to prevent misquoting you and making sure that I captured the essence of your thoughts and motivation.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, but I still can’t give you permission.”

Sara didn’t want to make the incident into a big deal. She wasn’t a reporter by trade. Knowing when to lay low and when to go charging after a topic was based on gut reaction. She sensed that her subject today would test those abilities.

“Plus I’m not partial to being interviewed, like I warned you. But we can chat over our meal and maybe you’ll get some kernels of information. Okay?”

Sara nodded. What choice did she have?

Alethea turned her undivided attention toward Jackson. “I don’t think that you are from here, right?” She didn’t wait for his nod. “How long have you been chasing after this young lady?” Alethea chuckled, clapping her hands.

“I wouldn’t say that he’s chasing after me,” Sara felt compelled to explain, especially at the smug look on Jackson’s face.

“If you say so.” Alethea turned back to Jackson.

“I’m an old friend of Sara’s. I’m in town for a few days and didn’t want to pass up any opportunity to hang out with her. However, I was fine keeping myself busy for these few hours while she conducted her interview with you.”

Alethea waved her hand dismissively. “I’m always up for the company of a hunky young man. As a matter of fact, my interest motivated my parents into sending me to Smith College for women. I wouldn’t say that it toned down my wayward personality, but I directed my juices toward writing.”

Sara relaxed against the chair. She sensed a great story about to be told. Although Alethea carried her fifty-five years well with only fine lines and a slender body, the author had a well-documented lifestyle that bordered occasionally on the wild side.

“My first couple of essays had a militant edge. Hey, I was young and idealistic.” Alethea chuckled. Her gaze took on a faraway look, while a small smile played on her lips. “My parents had a fit when I decided that I was moving to Africa.”

“Africa?” Jackson queried in awe.

Sara looked over at Jackson. Even he’d fallen under Alethea’s spell.

“Hey, it was the seventies. I was celebrating the various African countries’ independence. Met quite a few notable leaders of the Pan-African movement, which took me on a journey through the Caribbean.”

Sara could only shake her head. Alethea lived the life that she dreamed. At a young age, this author had purpose and passion. After the emotional upheaval in her past, Sara couldn’t fathom moving around, much less taking off to live on a faraway continent. She craved order and stability—two things that life hadn’t offered up to her.

“Which country?” Jackson asked.

“Guyana.”

Sara couldn’t comment since she’d barely heard about the country.

“What took you there? Was there a revolution? Civil rights issue? Protests and marches?” Jackson probed.

Alethea shook her head. “Unfortunately it wasn’t such a noble cause.”

“Love?” Sara asked, before raising her hand to her mouth. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound…”

“Uh-oh, sounds like you have a strong opinion.” Alethea stared hard at Sara, who shifted uncomfortably, knowing that Jackson also studied her.

“Why did you go to Guyana?” Sara opted to refocus on her interview.

“A man who meant the world to me invited me to his homeland. We’d met in Africa. He was a popular political figure who had garnered support from two sides who were bitter enemies. I loved his fervor for politics. Often I went to his rallies, ready to help with his cause.”

“What happened?” Sara prompted, fully engrossed in the story.

“Elections were at hand. He decided to throw his hat in the ring, rather than let the old establishment take over, or allow some of the more radical parties to step in.” Alethea played with her bracelets. “Those were exciting times, let me tell you.” She grinned at them. Her face appeared years younger with her recollection of the past. “We decided that we wouldn’t bring me out as his woman until after the elections, so voters wouldn’t be distracted.”

From what Sara remembered in Alethea’s bio, she’d never married. There were no children. As a matter of fact, there were rumors about her sexual preferences. Somewhere in this, Sara doubted that the ending of this story included a husband.

“Did you write during this time?” Jackson asked.

“I wrote my memoirs and published a couple books in the Caribbean, but writing wasn’t my focus. I was madly in love. I had my future mapped out with a husband and little children on my knees.” Alethea grew serious, almost sad. She appeared to lose inches, as she shrunk into the chair. She continued, in a softer voice, “After he won the election, his political handlers and financiers advised him that having a foreign first lady was not in his best interest.” Her hands balled into fists at her side. “Suddenly I couldn’t get close to him. They, however, got unnaturally close to him. They were the gatekeepers who made sure that we would be separated.”

Sara’s body tingled with the similarities of their stories. They had different circumstances, but the outcome was eerily similar—rejection for not being good enough.

“And it worked. After his inner circle went to work on my reputation, the newspapers took a chunk, and then people who I considered friends turned on me. That’s when I decided to write fiction. Life and my idealistic notions didn’t mix. I made my pain, my love, my dreams larger than life, using a crazy set of characters.”

“That’s the book that earned you the National Book Club award,” Sara said. She could hardly contain her excitement that they were discussing one of her favorite books.

“I can admit it now that I’m older and have a few nuggets of wisdom that the book is a four hundred page, male-bashing thesis. But at the time, it was a balm to my ego and hurt feelings,” Alethea said.

“Uh-oh, I think this is when I need to take a hasty exit.”

Jackson stood, straightening his pants legs. He approached Alethea with an outstretched hand. “It’s been a pleasure, but male-bashing scares me,” he said.

“Just like a man to run away when things get going. Can’t I entice you to stay?”

Sara looked up for Jackson’s response.

Jackson matched her gaze and winked. “I’m sure Sara would rather get going with the interview.” He touched his forehead with his finger in salute.

“Hmm. I’d suspected that you had a thing for Sara. But I didn’t realize how badly you’d been bitten by the love bug.”

Sara blushed, concentrating on her notepad.

“Sara, call me when you’re ready,” Jackson said and slipped out the doorway before either one of them could respond.

Nevertheless, Alethea followed him to the door. Jackson’s departure did take some of the energy out of the room. His presence offered a reassurance while she worked. His instinct for her needs felt like a partnership. Now wasn’t the time to indulge her fantasy. And that was all it was.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, took a deep cleansing breath and reopened them. Time to get back to Alethea.

Her visit with Alethea wasn’t going the way she’d anticipated. Now they were teetering on the edge of each other’s personal business. Sara adjusted herself in the large overstuffed chair and waited for Alethea to return.

“What’s keeping you and Jackson apart?”

“Excuse me?” Sara dropped her pen and had to retrieve it.

“He wants you. You want him. What’s the issue? Is he married? You’re not holding out for love, are you? That could leave you living in a house by yourself, forgotten and misunderstood,” the older woman said.

Sara shook her head at all of Alethea’s statements. This interview had taken a weird turn. A spotlight with too much intensity had flipped on her. Sara wrestled for control.

“A new generation is reading your works in college. Is there any update to your message?”

Alethea chuckled. “Have some lemonade. I like your tenacity. Okay, let’s get down to business.”

Chapter 5

Jackson looked out the window, admiring the view that he wouldn’t have had a chance to enjoy if he’d helped drive on the way up to northern Illinois. As the passenger, he leaned his car seat back and folded his arms. Classical jazz music played softly in the background. Another minute of silence and he’d go insane.

“I don’t think we should pull off. I don’t mind driving back to Chicago.” Sara had one hand on the steering wheel and the other propping her head up.

“Why are you so set on going home? It’s later than we’d planned.”

Sara shrugged.

“I think you’re spooked by what that author said,” Jackson said. He wanted to touch her shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. He knew from the way her hand tightened on the steering wheel and her jaw clenched that she was working through a new set of worries.

“I’ll admit that Alethea’s interview wasn’t quite what I had in mind. But don’t let her crazy opinions lead you down the wrong path.”

“You’re working extra hard to negate your feelings,” Jackson replied.

“Oh, my, didn’t know that you also majored in psychology.” Sara glared at him before returning her focus to the road. “What do you want from me? I don’t have anything in my emotional reserves for you, Jackson. You and your kind have wiped me out.”

“My kind. Am I some sort of a subspecies?”

“Something like that. And I manage to select the worst, time and time again.” Sara veered off the road and onto the off ramp.

Jackson relaxed when he noticed that she headed for a gas station. The needle wasn’t quite at E, but he sensed that she wanted a chance to escape from him. “I’ll pump the gas,” he said. He stepped out of the car and began to fill the tank.

As he waited, he spied on her through the back window. She looked tired and tense. Granted, he didn’t feel completely at ease, either. They needed time to talk—really talk—and get some things out of the way.

“I can drive.”

“I know you can. But I’m fine.” Sara ran a hand through her hair.

When she yawned for the third time, Jackson pushed his point. “Look, don’t bite my head off. We both need to sleep. I’ll get you home and then take off. Remember, my car is at your place.”

Sara didn’t respond immediately. But after one more in a series of yawns she said, “Okay.”

They finally pulled into her apartment complex close to midnight. Jackson lifted out their overnight bags and followed Sara up to her apartment. As much as she tried to pretend otherwise, Jackson recognized the tired droop of her shoulders. Several times, she tripped as she navigated the steps up to the third level.

“Oh!”

Jackson almost bumped into Sara when she stopped suddenly. A woman paced in front of Sara’s door. She looked startled when they appeared. At her feet, there was a baby carrier with a little baby asleep under a blanket.

“I need to talk to you,” the woman said to Sara, her gaze shifting down at the baby.

“I’ve nothing to say to you.”

Jackson didn’t like his vantage point from the stairway and eased his way onto the landing to stand next to Sara. He’d seen Sara angry, but not like this. There was a quiet fury that permeated her tight-lipped expression.

The woman was dark-skinned, with a medium build, and her hair was in an untidy ponytail. She clutched a white tissue in one hand, while the other hand played with keys. She looked a few years younger than Sara. The baby, now awake, began to squirm. Jackson touched Sara’s elbow to let her know that he was by her side. He couldn’t determine if this woman was family or friend. One thing was certain, she was not welcomed.

Sara appreciated Jackson’s presence. He provided a warm comfort for the iciness that had wrapped around her limbs and extremities. After a long drive, she barely had the energy to deal with anything out of the ordinary. Yet, life continued to test her. This was the same woman who brought her wedding ceremony to a devastating halt.

“May I come in, please?”

Sara shook her head. “Have you lost your mind?”

Then the baby grunted, with face contorted, as it worked up to a full blast.

Sara hesitated. When she had to pull her windbreaker close because the cool temperature pierced her clothing, she surrendered. This baby needed to get out of the night air. She took out her keys, opened the door and stepped back, without uttering a word.

“Thank you.” The woman set down the baby. “Sara, my name is Martha.”

“I know who you are,” Sara snapped. She’d learned Martha’s name nine months ago, but her name hadn’t been the only thing that would be seared into Sara’s memory.

“I’ll take your bag into your room,” Jackson said and he sidled past her.

Sara barely nodded. Her place was small enough that no matter where Jackson went, he’d more than likely hear the entire conversation. There wasn’t anything she could do about that. Once again, Martha invaded her world, setting things in motion.

“May I sit? Just for a minute. I’ve been standing out there for two hours.”

Sara nodded, keeping a close eye on Martha, who sank into a chair. “What do you want?” Sara asked.

“I’m looking for Blake.” Martha’s hand didn’t stop its constant motion of picking at her skirt, which had worked itself several inches above the knee.

“Blake!” Just saying his name set Sara on edge. “I don’t know anything about Blake. Nor do I want to know anything about him.” Her voice rose, as did her temper.

This woman had the nerve to sit in her apartment, asking for help to find Blake. Her wide-eyed, baby face didn’t move Sara one bit.

“Look, before you toss me out of your home, hear me out, please,” Martha said.

The baby’s low-pitched grunt turned into a wail.

“Shh, sweetie.” Martha retrieved the struggling bundle from the carrier and held the baby tightly to her chest. “She’s all I have.”

Sara noticed that Martha didn’t have a bag for the baby and only a blanket remained in the carrier. “Do you need to breast-feed?”

Martha shook her head. “I have a bottle, but I need to make the formula.” She pulled out a Baggie of white powder and a large baby bottle. “Do you know how to make the bottle?”

“No!”

“Well, could you hold Sonia and I’ll make it.” Martha unburdened her load into Sara’s arms before she could protest.

Sara held the baby stiffly away from her body. This scenario was not normal. The baby burrowed into her neck, still grunting her protests. Martha’s slamming of cabinets and rattling of silverware shifted Sara’s attention toward the kitchen.

Sara entered the small area, bristling and ready to do battle. The small bundle in her arms diluted her anger when the child grabbed hold of her thumb and started cooing.

Martha could be her opposite. She had to be close to six feet. There was nothing delicate about her frame or movements. She was solid, even thick, by some standards. Where Sara bordered between light and medium brown, Martha had a tone of dark walnut and short hair.

Her attitude was bold, even brash. Did she bulldoze her way into Blake’s life? What about this young girl ultimately took him away from a life with her? Like Jackson had with her, did he conclude that Martha wasn’t good enough?

Sara directed Martha around the kitchen. While the water boiled for the mixture, she excused herself to check on Jackson. Since his escape to her bedroom, he hadn’t stepped a foot out of the room.

“Hey,” she called, popping her head in the doorway. “Comfortable?”

“I’m fine. How about you?” He looked down at her arms. “Now that’s a pretty picture.”

“Don’t even go down that road.” Sara paused, wondering if she should even begin to explain about this situation. “She’s Blake, my ex’s, woman.”

Jackson nodded. Whatever he thought, he kept to himself. “She wants to know where’s Blake?”

“And…can you help her?” He reached up and stroked the baby’s hair.

“No, I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t.” Now he played with the baby’s fingers, cooing right along with her.

“Don’t start with me. This baby is the only thing saving her mother from getting kicked out of my apartment. She doesn’t deserve anything better.”

“Okay, calm down before you agitate the baby.” He stood and reached for the baby. “I want to hold her.”

“All yours. Her name is Sonia.” Sara handed over the baby. “Let me see if her bottle is ready.”

“Hello, little one,” Jackson said in a singsong lilt. Then he whispered, “I think there is about to be some drama going on.”

The baby’s response was a loud wail that had Sara running into the room. Even Jackson looked surprised as the little body squirmed and tensed in full rage. Her brown face turned darker.

“All yours.” Jackson promptly deposited the baby back in Sara’s arms.

“Wimp,” Sara called over her shoulder, as she hurried back into the living room.

“Thanks for keeping her.” Martha took her child, who recognized the bottle as her tool for ultimate satisfaction. The baby opened her little mouth to speed up the process. Once she was fully engaged in her meal, Martha resumed her seat.

Sara remained standing with her arms folded.

“I know this looks bad—me, being here with my child, asking for your help.”

“That’s an understatement,” Sara said.

“I don’t know what I was thinking that day at the church. You couldn’t marry him.” Martha’s voice cracked. “I loved him.”

“Telling me a week, even a day before the wedding wasn’t an option? If you’re sleeping with my—Blake, you had to know my schedule. But you waited until I was in church with my family, friends, even co-workers to desecrate everything with your swollen belly and vile accusations.” Sara tapped her foot as the memory that didn’t need much coercion replayed. The sordid revelation took place when the priest asked if there was anyone who knew why these two should not be married. She used to think that question was rhetorical. No one expected anyone to speak up.

However on that bitterly cold January morning, the exception ruled. At first, she thought Blake was being silly and had brought in one of his friends to play the part of the other woman. Martha had looked like a cartoon character with her bright-red, cocktail length dress. Her hair was styled in an upswept French roll, and her makeup was thick and theatrical. When she stood after raising a noisy objection, the church gasped because her stomach protruded as if delivery could occur in the next second.

Sara’d wished that her body was weak because she would have liked to have closed her eyes and fainted and remained that way until everyone was long gone. Instead, her body stiffened from the onslaught of Martha’s nasty words, which weren’t acceptable in a polite crowd, much less in a church. Then Martha proceeded to tearfully explain to the church how Blake came to her bed when he wasn’t getting anything worthy in Sara’s. He was trying to do the honorable thing by taking care of both of them.

But she wasn’t having it. Reliving it with the star player only a few feet away reignited her fury. Her face tightened as the anger stirred. “I don’t know where Blake is. The last time that I saw him was when he was being taken to the hospital after my uncles beat him senseless.”

Martha shook her head. “That was messed-up.”

“You would have been next if it wasn’t for that belly.”

“I know you hate me because I have a child and you don’t. Blake said you had some problems.”

This woman was beyond clueless. “Martha, did you drive here?”

“I took the bus.”

“Here’s what I’m going to do for you. I’m going to pay for a taxi to take you back to the rock you crawled out from,” Sara said.

Martha’s face screwed up with misery. “Please. I don’t have anywhere to go. Blake was paying the rent. Then he stopped.”

“And you still love this man?” Sara walked over to the telephone directory and started flipping through the yellow pages. “Ever heard of the saying ‘what goes around’? Do you think that you were the only woman in his life? Were you that naive to think that you had him like that?” Sara snapped her fingers.

“I figured you’d know where his family is. Maybe they will help me, since this is their granddaughter.”

Clueless was too kind of a word to describe Martha’s inability to understand her current state of abandonment. Sara, however, acknowledged her awareness and also accepted that Blake was a hustler. Not marrying him, saved her from his good-for-nothing ways.

“This is what I know about his family. Blake said that his father died soon after he came back from Vietnam. His mother remarried and he doesn’t speak to her because of his stepfather,” Sara offered.

“He told me that his mother and father lived in Jamaica. His father is a retired doctor. He was here to finish up law school and then he was returning to open his own practice. We were going to be married in Jamaica after he finished law school,” Martha said.

“Did he need money for law school?”

Martha looked down at her baby, who had fallen asleep. A large teardrop fell onto the baby’s arm. “He asked for a couple hundred, at first.” She looked up at Sara. “I got my money back, though.”

“I did too, at first,” she said.

Martha wiped her cheeks with the tissue Sara handed her. “Then he borrowed a couple thousand. I didn’t make my car payment and missed a couple bills for a few months to give him the money.” A sob broke from her. “He never paid me back. They repossessed the car. My credit cards are at the limit.”

“Why come to me? I should be the last person you’d want in your face.”

“I haven’t told my parents.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.” Martha shrugged. “I look older than my age.”

Sara had her beat by three years, but felt worlds apart from her. She was young enough to be gullible and had an ego that got her in trouble.

“Look, Martha. I don’t know where Blake is. I don’t really care to know or have any dealings with him. I’m talking to you because you basically gave me no choice when you showed up at my door with your daughter. However, it took me a while to get over the drama. I’m still in cleansing mode. The only thing that I can do is help you get to your parents. Are they local?”

“They’re in Philly.”

Sara blew out an exasperated sigh. “It’s too late, but I will buy you a train ticket in the morning.”

“I can’t stay in your house.”

“Where are you going to go at this time of the night?”

“I’ve got friends.”

Sara wondered why she didn’t go to them. She would have had a far warmer welcome.

“Most of them are mad at me.”

Good. At least, her girlfriends had some sense.

“The couch can be pulled out into a bed. You and Sonia will be comfortable.”

On cue, Jackson stepped out. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He had his overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

“Don’t you leave.” Sara followed him.

Jackson put his hand on the doorknob and grinned. “There’s only one bed,” he whispered as he leaned toward her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sara replied.

He looked over at the new guests. “I’m Jackson.”

“Martha Lewis.” Martha looked curiously at them.

“Martha and Sonia are staying on the sofa bed. I’ll need your help with readying the bed.” She glared at Jackson, fighting the urge to wipe the silly grin from his face.

“What you’re doing is very kind, Sarafina.”

Sara didn’t know whether he was pulling her leg, or if he was really impressed that she’d managed to be civil throughout this ordeal. They got busy fixing the bed with extra pillows to keep the baby in place.

“May I use the bathroom?” Martha asked.

“Sure. I have a couple large T-shirts and sweatpants you can use to sleep in.”

“Thanks.” Martha disappeared into the bathroom, gratefully holding onto the clothes.

Sara volunteered to keep watch over the baby. For the first time, she actually looked at the child. She couldn’t trust her feelings when she held Sonia in her arms. Whenever she looked down at the child, her anger was tempered. The innocence of this baby girl wound its way into her heart. This child was an involuntary player in this ugly episode.

“I’m proud of you,” Jackson whispered in her ear. He stood behind her with his hand casually on her waist.

Sara pulled her hand away from the baby as if she had been caught in an embarrassing act. The child stirred, but then sank into sleepy oblivion. “She looks like him.”

Jackson pulled her against him and rested his chin on her shoulder. “You’ve got to let it go.”

He had no idea how close she was to letting go and letting him in. But this current state of events reminded her of what surrendering to any man could do. She had been made a fool of in two major relationships. Although she played by the book, apparently no one else with whom she’d been involved had the same rules.

Martha emerged from the bathroom. Sara stepped away from Jackson, her face a little warm at being caught.

“This means that I get to shack up with you for another evening.” Jackson’s voice tickled her ear with a warm breath.

“Good night, Martha.” Sara ignored Jackson while she turned off the main lights and went into the kitchen to turn on that light as a night-light. “Let me know if you need anything, Martha.”

“God bless you.”

Sara shrugged. Her anger was turning to pity.

Jackson closed the bedroom door when they entered.

Suddenly she felt drained. Her emotions strained at her like contracted muscles. She struggled with the buttons on her shirt, but her fingers felt thick and unwieldy. “Darn it.” She dropped her hands to her side, weary and irritable. Hot tears crested on the edges of her lids. Her lips trembled. A swell of emotion grew heavy in her chest. She looked around blindly through the thick veil of tears for someplace to escape.

“Baby, are you okay?” Jackson straightened up from taking off his pants.

Sara rubbed her forehead. She wanted to run. Run out of the room, out of the apartment. She wanted to breathe in fresh air away from everyone. Too many memories collided. Too many emotions warred.

Jackson, who she thought she’d hated, now stood with his arms outstretched. All she had to do was hold onto those strong hands that knew her so intimately. She was tempted to have his arms wrap around her body in a fierce embrace and melt under his strength.

That would be so easy.

And that would be so weak.

Jackson dropped his hands to his sides when she did not react.

Sara went into the bathroom and undressed. For a second time, she would be sharing her bed with Jackson. Methodically she applied her facial cleaner, working it against her skin. She felt like the bad guy with Martha and her baby. She felt like an unfeeling, insensitive boob with Jackson. After washing off the cleanser and patting her face dry, she inspected her skin for any signs of a wayward pimple before applying an astringent. The vapor stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly. She had a right to be furious and angry and to feel put upon. Skipping the moisturizing stage, she swung open the bathroom door.

Jackson was in his usual position under the covers, remote in hand, with the other hand propped behind his head. “Hey, join me.” He flipped back the cover for her.

Sara slid under the cover, but didn’t snuggle against Jackson’s body, as he further invited. Instead she slid a pillow into place between them.

“Thought we were buds now that we’ve shared a bed or two,” he said and grinned.

“You know what bothers me?” She paused, but not really for him to answer. “You’ve come bouncing back into my life with all intentions for a do-over. But did you lose any sleep over what you did to me?”

Jackson had the grace to look startled by her comments. He turned to her. “What I did to you still bothers me. I tried to do what I thought was best for you and my family.”

“So I put you in a difficult position because I wasn’t from good stock? Well, my stock hasn’t improved since you left,” she said.

“We were young.”

Sara only stared. She wanted a guarantee. But what could he possibly do to grant her that wish?

“Do you love Blake?”

“I can honestly say that I never loved Blake. What he did to me was not only treacherous, but more of a blow to my ego.” She turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “What you did to me was like ripping out a part of my heart. Repairs are in progress, but it’s not healed. And yes, we were young, so I gave unconditionally and expected the same. I feel like an injured soldier after a dirty battle and I won’t make that mistake twice.” She closed her eyes to hold back tears. She shook her head to reaffirm her position on the matter.

“I’m not perfect, Sarafina. I thought I could have both worlds. I thought…Darn it, I don’t know what I thought. I screwed up.” He gently turned her face to his.

Sara opened her eyes and stared into the stormy darkness of his. “Good night,” she whispered before turning her back to him. She hugged her pillow tightly to keep from turning to him and hugging him tightly.

After four hours of tossing and turning, Sara decided to get out of the bed. She felt lousy and would have to upgrade her small cup of coffee to a large mug. Jackson’s soft buzzing snore filled the room. She strained to hear if Martha and the baby had roused.

Hearing nothing, she left the room to investigate. The sofa bed had been slept in, but there was no sign of them. Instead, there was a handwritten note in the middle of the bed. On closer inspection, Sara noticed that the paper was a receipt from a children’s toy store. On the back was a message addressed to her:

Sarafina,

I took your advice and called my parents. They will buy a ticket and I have to pick it up at the station. I took a taxi. I’m sorry for hurting you.

Martha

Sara couldn’t deny that she felt relief that Martha had gone. She did hope that the young girl and baby got safely on their way. Her wounds were simply too fresh to deal with Martha.

She looked back at the bedroom. Again, she didn’t want to deal. Quietly she got dressed. This time she left a note and slipped out the door to escape into the world of American Women’s Literature.

Chapter 6

Jackson didn’t stir until the sun penetrated the sheer curtains. He opened his eyes, shielding it from the light. For a moment, his surroundings confused him. He looked around the room, first at the familiar pajama set draped over the back of a chair, then at the wide array of perfumes and colognes on the vanity. A lingering floral scent was still in the air. Contentment settled over him as he lay back in the bed, enjoying his stroke of luck.

He sniffed the air, hoping to smell the aroma of a fabulous breakfast. When his taste buds didn’t respond, he called out. “Sara!” He yawned and stretched. “Sarafina, where’s breakfast?” He smiled, waiting for her tart response, but only silence greeted him.

Jackson slid out of the bed, fully stretching his body. He knocked on the bathroom door before entering. The apartment was too quiet. At least the baby should be stirring, unless something happened. A little alarmed, he hurried out of the bedroom.

He looked down at the empty sofa bed, then stepped into the empty kitchen. No one was in sight. The apartment wasn’t so expansive that he shouldn’t catch sight of anyone. A long beep of some appliance caught his attention. He followed the sound to find the coffeemaker had brewed a pot.

Figuring that Sara had provided this kind act before disappearing into thin air, he helped himself. With his unsweetened black coffee, he went back to the bedroom to check his cell phone. Maybe she’d left a message. He really hoped that there hadn’t been a medical emergency.

He unsnapped his cell phone off his waistband and flipped it open. There were no messages or missed calls. Now he scanned the room for clues. As his glance brushed over the bed, he saw the notepaper on Sara’s pillow. He stretched over and retrieved the note.

J

I had to get to work. Martha and Sonia have left. Thank you for staying last night. I know you’ll be busy in these last few days before you leave. Things on my side are swamped, too. I don’t want you to feel that you have to worry about me.

I’m a big girl.

S

Jackson shook his head. He didn’t need a translation of the message to sense Sara brushing him off. The sudden appearance of Martha had spooked her, just when he thought they had made a breakthrough. Like his father, he wasn’t great with words and baring his inner thoughts.

What to do now? One thing was certain. Only two more days remained of his extended visit. He had his meeting today at noon that he’d instigated as his main reason for staying in Chicago. But after that, he would be returning to Ohio. If he didn’t make any advance in Sara’s confidence, he was certain that she’d not maintain any type of relationship with him.

He popped open his cell phone. “Denise, sorry to call you at work. Need your help.”

Sara struggled to keep her mind on the class presentations. Each group of three students took turns presenting their latest assignment. The current group defended its stance that the women’s liberation movement was influenced by literature from the earliest works by female authors.

This group could consider itself lucky that her mind was elsewhere. She’d been known to make groups vigorously defend their positions with well-researched evidence. Instead, she was holding mental pro-and-con arguments for resuming her relationship with Jackson.

The class applauded for their fellow students, bringing her attention back to the present. She thanked the group and then looked at the clock positioned over the door. Thank goodness class was over.

“Hey, soror, ready for the meeting?” Denise stood in the doorway dressed in a black skirt and red blouse, the sorority colors.

Sara wore a solid red dress, with hose and pumps. Sara rarely endured the agony of pantyhose and heels, but this was a special occasion. She followed Denise out of the building. The undergraduate chapter met on campus. However, the graduate chapter met in the meeting rooms of a local hotel.

“Is everyone coming?” Sara asked, referring to their line sisters. The chapter had over two hundred members, but only a fifth of that number regularly attended meetings.

She’d made a pact with her line sisters that they would continue to participate in the sorority after graduating from university. Building the sisterhood was vital to surviving on a big campus. Strengthening the networking system with sorority members and fellow Greeks could make all the difference in corporate America.

“Everyone except Athena will be there. She’s got a late class. But if she can get someone to record the lecture for her, she’ll be there.”

“Sounds good.”

“You look tired,” Denise remarked.

“I’m beyond beat. I had a rough night last night. By midmorning, I was dragging.”

“I heard.”

“You did? Who?” Sara’s mind flew to Martha. Then she thought for a second. “Jackson? Does he tell you everything? What the—”

“Calm down, girl. I called your place this morning, but you had left already.” Denise bumped her with her elbow. “And I was quite surprised to hear his voice.”

“Don’t start. Ain’t a darn thing going on.” Sara unlocked her car. “I’ll see you at the hotel in fifteen minutes.”

“We aren’t finished talking. And you’d better fill me in before I give my version of things to our line sisters,” Denise said.

Sara started her car. She shifted the gear and eased out in front of Denise’s car. “Here’s something for you. Jackson is leaving in a few days. And I will still be here. You and the rest of the gang went to a lot of trouble for nothing,” Sara said as she pulled off before Denise could reply.

Putting it out there that Jackson would be gone in a matter of days was for her own benefit. She had to tell herself that he would return to his life. Then, her life could return to normal.

Sara arrived to the meeting with several other sorors. She greeted them with the secret handshake and accompanying three pats on the right side of their backs. Since she didn’t hold an officer position, she opted for the back of the room. She hoped the meeting wouldn’t last more than ninety minutes.

With the craziness that she’d dealt with in the last few days—well, ever since Jackson appeared—she felt as if she’d been strapped to a roller coaster and taken for a wild ride. Being alone had become a habit. She now craved that comfort zone.

“Sorors, we’ll begin the meeting.” The president banged her gavel and stood.

The entire room of sorority sisters followed suit and stood. Discussions ceased. Everyone stood still, respectfully.

“Let’s begin with the pledge.” The president clasped her hands, with fingers intertwined before turning toward the east. She led off with the first line of the pledge and then the others turned to the East and recited the pledge.

Sara spoke the words that she learned during her days as a pledge. Their collective voices uttered the sixteen lines about their devotion to the sorority, its founders, principles and sorors. When they finished, they turned to face the president and waited for her to hit the gavel once, signaling them to take their seats.

The meeting started with the previous meeting’s minutes, then the financial information. None of these items drew much discussion. Thankfully she could cross out the agenda items quickly.

“Soror Watkins, would you present your suggestion for Founders’ Day.”

“Thank you, Madame President.” Soror Watkins walked up to the front of the room to address everyone. “Founders’ Day this year falls on Wednesday. I’d like to suggest that we host a light dinner affair rather than a weekend activity. It would be less labor-intensive and cheaper.”

Sara didn’t have a preference. Founders’ Day was one activity for which she always volunteered. The others laughed at her sentimentality, but she loved this sorority. The five founders had made history on their campuses by starting an African-American sorority on the campus of a small Midwestern university.

“We need volunteers.” Soror Watkins looked around the room. Not too many hands shot up.

With the function being a part of the traditional programs, there was a template for the event with small variations each year. Not having too many volunteers was probably a blessing.

Sara wrote a note on her writing pad to follow up with Soror Watkins. An idea had popped into her mind. Since the international president was from a local chapter, maybe they could have a special presentation from their undergraduate chapters. She’d have to mull it over before presenting it to Soror Watkins.

Sara spotted a couple of her line sisters who had slipped in after the meeting started. Lucky for them, the sergeant at arms was absent. Otherwise, that soror, known for her adherence to the laws, would have barred them from entering the meeting after the pledge was recited.

Her line sisters had missed many meetings due to their late arrival one too many times. Sara had only been barred once since moving to the area. She wondered if other chapters were as strict.

Craning her neck, she spotted the twins, Asia and Athena. Then a couple rows behind them, she saw Naomi. Whoever sat behind her had to adjust her seat to see around her tall frame. With a quick glance around the room, she noted that Denise hadn’t arrived. Maybe she figured that she wasn’t going to make it and wouldn’t get in on time.

Speak her name and she appeared. The door opened a little and her familiar head popped in the doorway. Denise did a quick finger wave at her. Sara responded, beckoning her to come in. Soror Watkins had finished up her presentation. The next person wasn’t ready so it would take a few additional minutes to begin the next agenda item. Sara motioned to her more vigorously.

Denise could be so frustrating at times. Now she beckoned for her to come out of the room. What could Denise want? They had just talked.

She was about to shift her focus to the remainder of the meeting when out of the corner of her eye, a man popped into view.

Sara did a double take. Her mind couldn’t be so focused on Jackson to conjure him in the doorway. For heaven’s sake, she wasn’t a teen with a schoolgirl crush. But if she wasn’t mistaken, that was Jackson signaling for her to come and Denise’s head popping over his shoulder making comical faces.

“Soror Lovell, is there a problem?” the president asked.

All heads turned toward Sara. Embarrassed at the attention, she indicated that there was no problem. She pushed back her chair quietly and eased out of the seat. Why had she sat at the far end of the room?

The president had little patience for cell phone or sidebar chatter during chapter meetings. She’d even gone so far as to have the sergeant at arms levy a penalty for repeat offenders.

Thankfully she made it to the door and slipped out, making sure to close it behind her. “What do you think both of you are doing?”

“I don’t know what he’s doing?” Denise motioned at Jackson with her thumb. “I wanted you to come out and deal with him before he got called out by the sorors. And now that you’re here, I’m heading into the meeting.”

“What? No.” Sara grabbed Denise’s arm. “You’re not leaving me here.”

“Am I so frightening?” Jackson provided her with the toothiest grin.

“Denise, this wasn’t the time. Not here.” Sara shook her head. “Jackson, I can’t take this anymore. I think we’ve had all the meetings that we need to have between us.”

“Look, sweetie, don’t be afraid of him.” Denise patted her on the cheek, opened the door and slipped inside.

“I’m going to kick her—”

“Shh…” Jackson grabbed her by the arm, halting her momentum. He spun her toward him, allowing her body to crash against his.

She opened her mouth to protest.

Instead of words escaping, she only managed a surprised blink before his mouth settled on hers. Electric shock zigzagged its way from the source, his lips ravaging hers.

She clutched his shirt in her hands. If he’d only stayed away. If he’d only gone back to Ohio.

Now she was no longer safe. Contact with his body made her melt. Without breaking contact with his body, she slid her hands along his chest, up to his shoulders. His muscles rippled under her hands as he wound his arms around her body.

No kiss had ever tasted so sweet. His tongue made its acquaintance, reminding her of what she had turned away from so long ago.

Her body powered up like a battery, full of power and energy. Her breasts ached for his attention. She pulled him tighter, hoping that his contact would quench her body’s hunger. Their tongues intertwined with their unique rhythm.

“Pssst!”

Sara closed her eyes tightly at the intruding noise. In Jackson’s arms, she only wanted to concentrate on him. While his lips remained on hers, there was no room for anything else.

“Pssst, Sara. Everyone is waiting.”

Sara’s eyes opened, before her lips detached their hold from Jackson’s. Her senses didn’t settle into place. Intoxication didn’t only come from alcohol. Her legs felt rubbery. She kept her hands on his chest for support until reality staked its place.

Jackson’s smoky eyes still had their hypnotic hold. She could easily ignore Denise’s irritating hissing in her ears.

“Could you two take a breather. The sorors are waiting for you to join the circle. It’s time for the hymn.”

“Why can’t they go on without me?” Sara kissed Jackson’s chin.

“Soror Lovell! Do you think that you can extricate yourself from this young man long enough to join us in our closing tradition.” Soror Watkins stood in the hallway with her hand on her hip.

Sara giggled. The comical side to being caught in the hallway like a schoolgirl grew funnier. Her giggling continued unchecked.

Jackson had his gaze fastened over her head. Unlike her, he remained serious.

“Sorry,” she managed to say behind her hand.

“I’ll wait here.” Jackson pushed her toward the door.

Sara followed Soror Watkins, with Denise bringing up the rear. The threesome entered the room to many snickers. Quite a few sorors strained to see who had occupied her attention for the last few minutes.

They formed a circle, as had been the tradition from the creation of the sorority. They held hands with the soror next to them. Once they were in a circle, they maintained solemnity.

In unison, they rocked side-to-side before the gentle first notes of their hymn sounded. The melody was simple, even sad, but the lyrics were uplifting and reflected on the glory of sisterhood, the beauty of womanhood and the perpetual love to the sorority. After three verses, the hymn ended with the final two lines being hummed while they stood still until the last note died into silence.

“Sorors, I’ll see you next month,” the president said, marking the end of the meeting.

The hospitality committee served light refreshments for the half-hour social period for sorors to mingle and catch up on news. Sara ignored the iced lemon cake, double chocolate brownie and apple juice that filled the table.

Unfortunately several sorors also passed on the food. They perused Jackson—the object of their curiosity—causing a bottleneck in the doorway. Her line sisters struggled to create a path for her.

Maybe Jackson had taken flight. If she had so many sorors bearing down on her, she’d want to escape. Sara impatiently waited until she could get into the hallway.

One sorority sister boldly asked Jackson, “Who might you be?”

“’Ello, luv,” another soror—known for her acting talent—said.

“My, aren’t you a handsome one.”

“What are your intentions with my soror? After all, I am my sister’s keeper.”

That last statement—spoken so crisply by one of the older sorors—drew laughter. Sara smiled, hoping that Jackson wouldn’t encourage any of these remarks with more information.

“Excuse me, ladies, could you give the man some breathing space.” Sara walked over to Jackson, who leaned against the wall. His shades were in place, as a barrier. “Let’s go,” she said, only to him. She was ready to move forward, at this moment and with him. Though she knew he had to return, she had a few days to enjoy him.

They walked off together, arm-in-arm, out of the building.

“I didn’t think you would see me.” Jackson looked down at her.

“I didn’t think I would see you.”

“Your note hurt to the core.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was aiming to be practical.” She motioned in the direction where she’d parked. “And right now I don’t want to really think about any of it. I’m afraid my brain will make me do something sensible like—tell you to have a safe trip.”

At the car, Jackson kissed her. This time his hands cupped her backside and raised her effortlessly. He devoured her with raw emotion and with a hunger that she found contagious.

Sara held nothing back in return. She was amazed that time didn’t matter when she kissed Jackson. She didn’t know how long their lips connected. He pulled away and kissed her cheek, leaving a trail as he kissed his way to the sensitive skin behind her ear. “I hope your brain won’t stick to being sensible,” he whispered.

“I hope not,” Sara responded in a husky voice. Her heart raced, as if she’d completed a marathon.

The drive to her home should have been an express trip. She wanted him in the worst way. Concentrating on using the turn signals, slowing down for the yellow lights and stopping at four-way stop signs proved to be difficult. Her mind chose to play erotic images of her on top, on the bottom, on her side.

This man was like an addiction. She couldn’t get enough of him to soothe her craving. She sneaked a glance at him. His head was laid back against the headrest. He’d better not think about sleeping. With an evil grin, she rested her hand on his leg, then finger-walked her hand to his inner thigh.

A strong hand closed over hers. He raised his head off the headrest and shot her a mischievous grin. “Don’t start what you may not have the stamina to finish.”

Sara turned into a shopping center and parked in front of a drugstore. “Go on, get what you need. Then, we’ll see who needs a shot of vitamin B-12 when we’re done.”

Jackson stepped out of the car. He’d been so leery of Denise’s advice to go to Sara. There was no way that he wouldn’t have seen her at least once more before he left. But never had he planned to go to her sorority meeting for his showdown.

He wandered down the aisle, back toward the pharmacy counter. He scanned the many items on the shelves, looking for the familiar boxes for sexual protection. Finally he spotted them, but pulled up short.

A mother and her two kids stood at the counter. The boxes of various designs hung from the little hooks next to the children. He may never see this family again in his life, but he couldn’t risk it. What if a sharp child’s voice announced his selection.

Jackson made a detour down another aisle. From his vantage point, he kept an eye on the family. The mother was in deep conversation with the pharmacist. Maybe he could make a running start, scoop up the box and head to the cashier at the front of the store.

“What on earth are you doing?” Sara asked from behind him.

Jackson started. “Stop sneaking up on me.” He turned an irritable gaze on her.

“Why are you in this aisle?” Sara motioned to the aisle markers hanging above that showed feminine hygiene. “And why are you peeking over these?”

“Shh.” Jackson pushed Sara out of the aisle. She was enjoying herself too much at his expense.

“You do know that the condoms are right over there.”

“The stuff is near a child,” he argued.

“So,” Sara said and laughed.

“You’re no help. Why did you come out of the car?”

“Because I didn’t think it would take you fifteen minutes to get a pack of—”

“Shh.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, you’re making me cool down.” Sara marched up to the family, asked them to move aside and pulled out a box.

When the mother followed her action, she looked first at Sara and then at Jackson with horror. Her conversation with the pharmacist wrapped up and she pulled her kids away in a quick trot.

“Here, catch.” Sara tossed him the box. “I’ll be in the car.”

Jackson paid for the item of necessity and headed to Sara’s car. “That was a nightmare.” He closed his eyes and laid back his head on the headrest.

“I’ll make it all worth your while.”

“Promises, promises,” Jackson teased.

Jackson went to the refrigerator, where he knew a bottle of wine was chilling. He pulled two long-stemmed glasses from the cabinet. With hands loaded, he entered the bedroom.

Between the sheets, Sara waited. Then she reached out for him.

“Your pressed grapes.” Jackson handed over the wineglass.

Sara waited until he poured his share. “Toast.”

Jackson held up his glass.

“Here’s celebrating the present.”

Jackson couldn’t argue. The present was kind to them and their relationship. They could stand the scrutiny of the present where they both enjoyed each other’s company. He clinked his glass with hers and drank the wine.

While he set aside their glasses, she turned on the mood music with a romantic CD.

There was so much he wanted to say, to promise her. But they’d promised to stick to the present. He pulled the peach-colored sheet away from her body. At present, he’d enjoy all the gifts she bore.

In between her legs, along her body, he laid his body, resting his head against her breasts. He wanted to feel the thump of her heartbeat. As he stroked the roused peak of her nipple, he enjoyed the quickening beat. Gently he cupped the fullness and brought it to his mouth. Her soft moan tantalized him.

He moved from her breast to the base of her neck to kiss the indentation. Her legs crossed over his buttocks, locking him into place. He felt the moist invitation between her legs.

With condom in place, he coaxed her sensitive folds with his fingers. Gently he stroked the lips, swollen with desire. Her hips bucked under him. He kissed her, loving her moans against his mouth.

When she arched back, body shuddering from desire, he entered the sweet cavern. They moved with the familiar motions. Sara rocked harder against him. He followed suit, holding onto the headboard with one hand.

He tried to open his eyes. He wanted to admire her face. He had so much to say. But logic and reason had no place. Instead intense pleasure flooded his system in waves. The more she gave, the more he took.

His legs contracted. Toes curled. His face tightened into a grimace. An explosion so sweet rocked his body as her body pulsated around his penetration with synchronized climaxes. At this very moment he could swear that the bed spun. He held onto the headboard until his nervous system calmed down. If he stood at this moment, he was bound to fall.

“I think you killed me,” he accused against Sara’s neck.

“I love you.”

Jackson remained still. He hugged Sara tighter. They could start where they’d left off. “You’ve made me a happy man.”

“Are we still in the present?”

Jackson nodded. “I think so. But I want us to consider a future together. Are you ready for that?”

“I was always ready.” Sara held his face between her hands. Her eyes glistened with naked tenderness. Jackson treasured her forgiveness. He didn’t want to imagine her not in his life any longer.

Chapter 7

“I really don’t know about this.” Sara twirled her raspberry iced tea, staring at the ice cubes dancing around in the dark liquid. “Getting back with Jackson was one thing. Meeting his family wasn’t the next chapter, but more like a separate book in another century.”

Her line sisters steadily munched through a large basket of warm nachos with deep bowls of salsa and melted cheese. Every week, they staked their claim in the not-so-new southwest restaurant by the city’s lake. As regulars, they didn’t have to wait long for service.

“Are you all listening to me?” Sara complained.

“We hear you whining like a little girl. Why do you go for so much drama?” Naomi dipped her nacho into the salsa and then into the cheese, much to her sorors’ dismay.

“You know that’s disgusting,” Denise remarked, wrinkling her nose.

“Look, back up off me. Now that I have my braces off, I’m going to enjoy myself.”

“I hear you, girl.” Asia raised her hand for a high five.

“Is anyone listening to me?” Sara shouted over the din.

Asia and Athena took turns patting her back. Sara shrugged and polished off her raspberry tea. Obviously none of her line sisters cared what happened since they had successfully completed their mission. She and Jackson had reunited.

Denise ordered another screwdriver. “Don’t worry about Jackson’s family. You’re not marrying them.”

“Who said anything about marrying?” Sara had forced herself not to think about marriage. Getting back with Jackson didn’t mean that she was out of the quicksand. “He wants me to meet them so they’ll know we’re together again. I don’t think that’s necessary. He could easily tell them and leave it at that.”

“Since when did you run away from a fight?” Naomi scraped the almost empty salsa bowl with a chip.

“You love him,” Asia stated.

Sara motioned for the waitress to refill the glass. “That’s true, but he didn’t say anything when I said that to him.” She kept her head down, feeling quite silly.

“Wow. I didn’t expect you to jump in with both feet. I don’t tell any man that I love him.” Asia nibbled on a barbecued wing.

“You shouldn’t. It’s not words that you throw at every man you sleep with, Miss Frisky,” Athena scolded.

“To me, even if it’s a man you care for, you shouldn’t use those words. They run like the wind when you try to pin them down with sentimentality.” Denise stole a wing from Asia’s plate, signaling the waiter for another drink.

“Slow down, cowpoke,” Naomi warned Denise. “I don’t want to have to drive you home.”

“I’ve had a rough week. Give me a break, will you?” Denise ordered yet another screwdriver. She turned from the retreating waitress to see all the sorors looking at her. “What? Are you all going to play my mother?” Denise took a long drink from her glass, set it down with a snap and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Sara had seen this side of Denise once. She surmised that Denise had had more than a tough week. The others probably didn’t recognize the signs. She’d held Denise’s confidence the first time, but didn’t know whether Denise had shared her troubles with the others. Naomi seemed to be the only one staring at her. Her forehead wrinkled with worry.

“Let’s go for a walk, Denise.” Sara pushed Asia, who had to push Naomi out of the booth.

“Do you think she can give you the answers we can’t?” Athena asked.

“Maybe.” Sara smiled to take the edge out of her reply. Denise protested, but not enough to deter her.

Sara kept her arm linked through Denise’s and propelled her toward the restroom. The facility had a sitting area where they could have a conversation with some semblance of privacy.

“What are you doing? I don’t need to go to the bathroom,” Denise protested. Her feet stumbled, giving evidence her inebriation. Denise was also slurring her words, another clear sign of her condition.

“Let’s sit over here.” Sara helped Denise sit before taking a seat next to her. She kept a light hand over her wrist, as if that would make a difference if Denise chose to run.

Denise groaned. “I wish that I could turn back the clock.”

“No, Denise, not again, please tell me you didn’t do it again.”

Her line sister shrugged. Her dismal expression made her shoulders sag. “Looks like I slipped.”

“How much did this slip cost?” Sara didn’t bother to hide her irritation.

“Five.” Denise echoed her words with her hand in the air.

“And I guess you don’t have the money.” Sara shook her head. “Never mind, I’ll fork over five hundred to your account.”

“Thousand.” Denise sniffed. Her gaze slid off Sara and fastened on the floor.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I don’t have five thousand to help you. I can’t believe you. How irresponsible! Did you think that I would be around to bail you out, so you could throw caution out the window?” Sara shot out of the seat. She wanted to pummel Denise. Her line sister was taking the sister’s keeper mantra to a whole new level.

“Stop being so…so above it all.” Denise pushed away from her and stumbled to the door. She put a hand to her forehead, then shook off whatever she may have been feeling.

“When do you have to pay?” Sara feared that Denise would owe money to the wrong person. The possibilities made her shudder.

“I have until tomorrow. It’s payday.”

“But you don’t get paid five thousand a pop.”

“I know. That’s why I’m drowning my sorrows.”

Sara took Denise’s car keys. “Looks like your sorrows will be with you tomorrow, along with a hangover.”

Out of all her line sisters, Denise was the one Sara was closest to. They had similar backgrounds, with blended families and the difficulty of accepting stepparents and stepsiblings. They had become sisters to each other, like blood relatives.

As the first generation to enter and graduate from university, they both had experienced the added pressure to be successful. Denise had graduated with honors, was very active with various social groups and could attract any man she wanted. Gambling was her one vice. Sara feared that this terrible burden could be big enough to pull her down to an unsavory depth.

“Come home with me. Sleep it off, then we can get your car tomorrow,” Sara offered.

They made it back to the table where the others had consumed more food and drinks. Discussion hadn’t seemed to lag despite their absence. Denise tried to sit, but Sara didn’t allow her.

“We’re leaving now. Denise needs to sleep this off. Then we need to have an emergency meeting in the morning.”

“Hello, we’ve all got to go to work,” Naomi retorted. “Well, for me I guess I’ve got a bench to warm.”

Sara knew that Naomi had to be hurting with the downward slope of her career. But now wasn’t the time to play therapist for her. Denise’s worries required immediate attention. If she didn’t pay, someone was coming after her.

“How about if we call in and have a conference call,” Athena remarked.

Sara looked over at Denise. “It’s an emergency, ladies. We’ve never let any of us down.”

“Fine. Enough with the lecture, before you start babbling more sorority stuff and end with a plea to the ladies of distinction.” Athena pushed aside the empty plates.

Happy hour was over.

“Do you want to talk now? We can follow you back to your apartment?” Asia asked, more showing concern.

“That sounds good, but I think we all should have a good night’s sleep. Plus I want Denise to be coherent.”

They settled their bills. Then they hugged each other at their cars. Sara pulled away first, glad that they assisted with getting Denise in the car. Her line sister groaned as the car began to move. Sara prayed that Denise wouldn’t get sick in her car. She pushed down on the accelerator and hoped that no gung-ho cop lay in wait.

“Denise, do you want some hot tea before you crash?”

“No, the alcohol is wearing off. I’d rather not be fully conscious before I try to sleep.” Denise emerged from the bathroom with one of Sara’s sheets tied around her body like a toga. Like an occasional roommate, she moved around the apartment with familiarity. She walked over to the couch and pulled out the sofa bed.

“I hope these linens are fresh. This bed looks so good.” Denise sank heavily onto the sofa and scooted her body under the sheet.

“Yeah, they’re clean.”

“Good night, my guardian angel.”

“All right.” Sara tucked in her friend and then turned off the lamps on the side tables.

She looked down at the sleeping form. Life just seemed to be throwing one hard pitch after another. All the planning and strategizing couldn’t stand up to the unknown.

She succumbed to a long yawn. Minutes later, she slid under her sheets and snuggled against her pillow. Her heartbreaks had taught her to make lists, put her life down in a planner and stay far away from any potentially emotional entanglements.

Then Jackson entered looking like a dashing hero at her party. Ever since that point in time, her life presented too many blind curves ahead. Her stomach lurched and her nerves were a mess from the effort to predict what would come next.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Denise said. She stood over Sara’s bed with a steaming cup of coffee.

“Thanks.” Sara took the coffee and took a quick sip. “Did I oversleep?”

“You might have, but I got you up early enough to go to work.”

“I’m not working this morning.” Sara took another sip, coming completely awake. “Denise, I called an emergency meeting.”

“Emergency. What emergency?” Denise may have pretended she didn’t know what Sara was talking about, but the realization that she did was plain on her face.

“I’m not handling this on my own. I did the first time, hoping that you’d tell them.” She raised a tired hand. “However, this time, you’ll need all of us to bail you out of this mess.” Sara glanced at the clock. “Everyone will be here in an hour. I suggest you get cleaned up.”

“I don’t have clean clothes.”

“You left a couple things here during your last sleepover. They’re clean and in my bottom drawer. Now quit complaining.” Sara got out of bed and made her way into the bathroom.

No sooner had she turned off the faucet in the shower stall, than she heard her doorbell ring. She grabbed the thick towel hanging near the shower door and wiped her face and body. “Denise, get the door!”

She stepped onto the floor and resumed drying. The small bathroom area was very misty. She reached for the switch to turn on the fan.

“Here, let me,” a deep voice said.

Sara yelped. “Jackson?” She poked out her head to see him smiling back at her.

“Looks like I’m just in time.”

“In time for what?”

He unbuttoned his shirt, fingers nimbly moving over the buttons. In seconds, his shirt was hung on a wall hook.

“What are you doing?” She clutched her towel in front of her, too amazed to say anything more.

“I’m joining you,” he said.

“I’m taking a shower. I mean…I’m done taking a shower.”

“Well, you can help me with mine.” He pulled the towel from her weak grasp and replaced it on the hook. “You may want to step back while I adjust the faucet.” He stepped into the small shower stall, placing his body in front of hers to shield her from the initial water spray.

Behind him, Sara closed her eyes, holding her breath to keep her body from touching his. It didn’t work. Her knees brushed the back of his legs. His behind brushed her stomach. Her nipples aroused and perked, and grazed his back.

“Why do you do this to me?” she groaned, wrapping her arms around him so that they stood as if melded together under the warm beating of the shower.

He turned in her arms, replacing the dryness of his back with the slippery wet front torso. Sara planted kisses on his chest, her fingers playing along the thick, smooth muscles.

“This is the only way I know how to tell you that I care.”

“I’m not complaining, but it might not always be appropriate for public displays of affection, baby.” Her tongue played with his nipple enjoying his high state of arousal.

“I definitely won’t want anyone to see you in that pink, old-lady shower cap you are wearing.”

She gasped.

He pounced on the opportunity to kiss her. His mouth ravaged her, stroking with intensity and purpose. She wrapped a leg around him, moving her hips against him.

As if she weighed nothing, he picked her up, using the wall for support. The cool tiles contrasted with the hot blazing rush she felt when he plunged deep within her. Her neck arched. Thank goodness for the water that cooled her body on the outside. What Jackson did to her internal system was akin to a series of climactic explosions. If she hung on long enough, she imagined that they would explode like a rocket into the stratosphere.

Not until his body stopped rippling, his shoulders came to a still and his groans grew softer did she lower her legs. As if she had just stepped off a rocking ship onto firm land, she needed the support of the tiled wall to keep her steady.

They dried each other in silence. She could barely deal with him drying her legs. He dried her thighs, then the dark patch between her legs. Imagining him, placing his lips on her made her blush.

With her towel wrapped around her for the second time, she left the bathroom. Only then did she think about Denise. What time was it? She didn’t remember hearing the doorbell. Had her line sisters arrived? She dressed quickly, hoping Jackson could be dressed and gone before they came. They’d be on him like a pack of wild dogs, nipping until they got satisfaction. Why couldn’t he have waited until later to treat her to this wonderful little interlude?

She turned when she heard him exit the bathroom. “Why did you come over this morning?”

“I wanted to change your mind about not coming with me when I return home.”

Sara sighed. They’d talked this issue to death. And she’d thought about it all night. Her line sisters had been no help. Though she didn’t know where they were going with this very physical relationship, she was blind with fear when she thought about meeting his family again.

Jackson raised her chin with his finger. “Look at me, Sara. You’ve got to trust me.”

“If I can get coverage for my classes, I will come.”

“Good.” He picked up an envelope off her chest of drawers. “Here’s your tickets. First class.”

“You sneak. You’d better hope that I find a substitute.”

“Like your students will cry a river if you don’t show up,” he teased.

They walked into the living room and stopped short.

“Well, I don’t know if you broke a record or what?” Naomi looked at her watch. “If I count from the time that the shower went on to the time that you came out, you should be walking with bow legs.”

Sara giggled, though she was completely embarrassed by Naomi’s banter.

“You ladies are jealous.” Jackson passed them and their raucous hoots. He swept Sara into an embrace and kissed her deeply. The kiss left her surprised and winded. “Now you take care, l’il miss,” he said as he left.

Sara had always been a little partial to cowboys.

She turned to her sorors with a huge grin.

“I can’t believe that you got busy while we were out here.” Denise emerged with warm slices of coffee cake.

“Who brought those? I’m famished.” Sara took a plate and helped herself to a huge bite.

“Guess you worked up an appetite.” Asia had her usual glass of milk and chocolate bar for breakfast.

“Does this mean that you’ve made up?” Athena asked.

“We didn’t have a falling-out. I needed a little more time to decide on whether to go with Jackson. He played dirty. Now I have an airline ticket,” Sara said.

Denise set down the platter. “I hope you said yes.”

Sara nodded. She’d keep the rumblings of fear to herself. No one wanted to think of the practical side to the situation. They were all a bunch of romantics.

Naomi clapped her hands. “Okay, let’s get this meeting rolling. What’s up?”

In the stark brightness of the day, the truth of the meeting seemed uglier. How to break Denise’s news to them? Yet, Sara knew that she couldn’t back away. Although Denise would feel the heat of their anger, in the end, she would receive help and advice.

“I need a small loan.”

“Sure, hon.” Asia pulled out her checkbook.

Sara looked at Denise, who refused to meet her scrutiny. “If you don’t say something, I will.” This was no time for Denise’s stubbornness.

“Denise, what is she talking about?” Naomi pushed. She scooted to the edge of the couch and turned her undivided attention on Denise. “Sara, talk.”

“Denise owes five thousand dollars in gambling debts.”

“Sara, shut up!” Denise barked.

Sara accepted her anger. “No, you need to own up to the mess you’ve created.”

“It’s my business.”

“Everyone calm down,” Athena urged. “Denise, look it’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’ll put our money together and see what we come up with.”

“Thank you, Athena,” Denise said in a sulky tone and looked pointedly at Sara.

“I’m not going to let you label me the bad guy in this. This is more than repaying a debt. This is about you having a gambling problem,” Sara stated.

Naomi chuckled. “A bit overdramatic even for you, Sara.”

“It’s true. This is the third time she’s been in trouble because of the amount she bet.”

Naomi’s smile faltered and disappeared. “Denise?”

“And that’s probably only what I discovered.”

Denise set down her coffee mug with a sharp thud. The black liquid sloshed over the side. She didn’t seem to care. Tears glistened in her eyes and her mouth trembled, but there was no sorrow. Denise was known for her temper. She looked like a kettle on boil ready to blow.

“Stay out of it. Don’t you have some bad habits? Are you all so perfect?” She smacked her head. “Oh, let me refresh your memories, you bunch of hypocrites. Naomi, didn’t you get all warm and cozy with that basketball player that had just put an engagement ring on his woman’s finger.”

“That’s only a rumor.”

“Asia and Athena, didn’t you take tests for each other during college?”

“Prove it.” Asia sulked.

“Sara, didn’t you pledge so you could shake off your humble roots.”

Sara gasped. “I didn’t know you could be so cruel.”

Her friend’s viciousness rattled her. They had never fought among themselves. She tried to remain calm, but Denise had managed to poke at each of their hot buttons. Now only angry silence hung over the room.

Athena cleared her throat. “We’ve intervened on each other’s behalf on many things. We do it out of love for each other. When we pledged, we learned about true sisterhood beyond our natural family ties. When it counted, we’ve had each other’s backs. This is just another struggle to overcome. Denise, we want to be at your side to help you through this.” When Denise opened her mouth to speak, Athena sliced her hand through the air. “No, you listen. You owe us an apology. What you just did was childish and you sunk low with your comments. I can only presume that you’re hurting. Maybe we’ve been too busy in our lives to pay attention when one of us needs a little help.”

Sara took a deep breath, cleansing herself of the quick, hot anger generated by Denise’s accusation. She placed a comforting arm around Denise’s shoulders. Trust Athena to say the right thing. She had that calm demeanor that earned her the nickname “counselor.” Denise cried softly into her hands. Sara mouthed to Asia to get the box of tissues from her room.

“I am truly sorry,” Denise admitted. “I don’t know how I started and how it got to this point. I don’t know what to do!” She sank into Sara’s arms, sobbing outright.

“I know. I know.” Sara rubbed her back. “We’ll find a good clinic to help, if you’re willing?”

Denise nodded.

“In the meantime, I’ll cover the entire expense,” Naomi said.

“Oh, Naomi, you can’t,” Denise protested.

“Oh yes, she can,” the twins affirmed.

“Who the heck else has that kind of money,” Asia responded, taking a completely different tack from her sister.

“Who do you have to pay?” Naomi inquired.

“It’s a private thing,” Denise said, a bit mysteriously.

“Uh-huh.” Naomi nodded. “And I’m Tyra, the supermodel.” She twirled in the living room. She may have been tall, like Tyra Banks but Naomi had none of her grace.

“Well, we’ve got to run.” Asia and Athena rose.

“Denise, please get some help,” Athena urged.

“I’ll help her.” Sara gave her friend a hug.

Naomi stood. “I’m leaving, too. Denise, come with me. I’ll get the money for you and take you to your car.”

“Thanks.” Denise gathered her stuff.

Sara didn’t like how quiet and subdued she’d become. They’d only taken care of one problem—the debt. But they hadn’t gotten close to the root of what took hold of Denise’s willpower. She’d gladly stay with her and let Jackson go on his way.

“Denise, if you need me this weekend…”

“I know where you’re heading with that statement. Don’t use me as your excuse.” Denise kissed her cheek. “Thanks for the sofa bed. I have to face my demons. You have to blow through yours. It’s all relative.”

They hugged, long and hard, mending the wound that had so recently gaped between them.

Chapter 8

Jackson headed to Ted Beavers’s office, not as confident as he had sounded on the phone. He’d used Beavers as his excuse to stay in Chicago until he could convince Sara to give him a second chance. Ted Beavers now presented an unexpected option for him. The underlying reason did rattle him a bit, taking him down a strange and unchartered personal path. But the idea of his father discovering his tentative plans twisted his nerves in knots.

His old man would see his action as no less than an act of betrayal. He might even be labeled a thief. His father held a rather dim view of anyone or anything that took money from his pocket. And having the heir to the throne walk away would indict him of that crime.

“Good morning, Jackson. Come on in.” The older man had thick gray hair and his heavily lined face beamed. His suit looked tailor-made, and was a deep, rich blue color. “Your company’s reputation precedes you.”

Maybe that’s why Jackson had managed to get an appointment on such short notice.

Ted Beavers had a bustling office. It probably helped that he was in a booming city with downtown revitalization prospects and plans for more suburban sprawl. Jackson followed Beaver into a small conference room with lots of glass and cherry wood.

An assistant came in and took their beverage selection. Jackson casually checked his surroundings. The office didn’t boast the company’s success, but appeared to be efficient. Given the location of the office, Jackson assumed a lot of money went into rent. The types of deals that Beavers netted could more than support the heavy overhead costs. As far as he knew, Beavers was the sole owner—a good thing for his purpose.

But what did he bring to the table?

Jackson didn’t want to begin speaking until the drinks arrived. He didn’t want any distraction or interruption when he launched into his spiel. Beavers, more than likely, multitasked, but for his own selfish reason, Jackson wanted the man’s undivided attention.

Jackson accepted the tall glass of cold water. No need for caffeine. But as his nerves grew jumpy, his throat was bound to get dry. He took a long drink before launching his great idea.

“Ted, I’m always looking for the next frontier. From everything I’ve heard in the industry news, trends of businesses and the demographics, a lot is happening in Chicago.”

“You’re absolutely correct on that point. Chicago will continue to be a mix of the old with the new. The city rivals New York, Miami and Los Angeles. I’m proud to be a part of that transformation.” Ted pushed back his chair and stared out at the sea of high-rise buildings.

“I want to be part of this transformation, too.” On the spur of the moment, Jackson decided to be simple and truthful. Ted looked like the type of person who had seen a lot and heard all the BS that people had to offer.

“We can do the two-step dance here, but that’s not going to get us anywhere. Plus it’s a waste of time.” Ted propped his chin on his steepled fingers. “What are you pitching to me?”

“Our company has developed strong networks with a couple of mortgage companies. We can get secured financing for most credit. Now we are ready to look at other opportunities.”

“I’ve got resources, too.”

“This is true. I’ve also learned that there will be a sister city modeled here in Illinois after my hometown. I’m familiar with the obstacles that may occur,” Jackson said.

“Still not seeing an advantage for me.”

Jackson didn’t need Ted to say that he wasn’t interested. His stoic expression never changed, his eyes didn’t glitter over anything he’d said. If Jackson didn’t say something meaningful in the next few minutes, this meeting would be over.

“My interest is purely personal, Ted.”

Ted’s eyes narrowed with unconcealed interest. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“I’m interested in the commercial development side of the business.”

“Why Chicago?”

“A woman.”

Ted’s tight-lipped expression broke into a toothy grin before a loud rumbling chuckle shook his body. “Mrs. Beavers would be happy to hear that response. I’ve done my homework on you. I must admit that I was looking forward to our meeting. And so far, I like what I heard. Why don’t we get together next week, I’m meeting a few of my investors at a chamber-of-commerce event.”

“I’m heading home in a couple days. But I’d be willing to fly down by the end of the month.” Jackson didn’t expect his father to remain behind on the next trip to Chicago. But he’d made considerable headway, so he wasn’t going to bring up the potential roadblocks.

“Keep in touch. I like your style. You remind me of my younger days.”

Jackson left the meeting with the urge to strut from his success. He didn’t entertain superstitious notions. But once again, he counted himself lucky. Reuniting with Sara was proving to be a new and rewarding phase in his life.

“Are you okay?”

Sara didn’t immediately respond to Jackson’s show of concern. All her muscles tensed into painful knots along her shoulders, where she carried her stress. Although she had a wonderful and comfortable flight, the purpose of her journey increased her tension.

“We’ll be there in no time,” Jackson reassured, clearly misreading the situation.

Sara gulped. Her throat ached for a glass of wine. She barely survived the plane’s bumpy landing. After leaving the plane, she and Jackson walked through the airport in Columbus, heading to the area where people held up signs for inbound passengers. Sara wanted to turn around to get a return flight immediately.

“I need to run to the restroom.” Sara sought refuge in the crowded ladies’ room. She rounded the corner and faced one of the oversized mirrors for a quick examination.

Denise had talked her into leaving her wardrobe behind and buying several new outfits. Instead of the regular department store selections, they’d gone to a little boutique in the town center that featured European designers. After forking over close to the amount of a paycheck, she had three outfits that should stand the scrutiny of Jackson’s parents, specifically his mother.

Jackson had indicated that he didn’t intend to delay the meeting with his parents. He’d arranged to meet them for that evening. She retouched her lipstick, powdered her nose and then rejoined Jackson.

“I know you’re worrying yourself to death, but baby, you look fantastic. Trust me. I’ll be at your side.” Despite his message, she spotted signs of his unease. She wasn’t the only one having an attack of nerves. This observation gave a small crumb of comfort. They shared a mutual reaction.

Once they retrieved their luggage, a driver met them in the waiting area. He stood in front of a black sedan. Trust Jackson to work at treating her to all the pomp and circumstance. Thank goodness for her wardrobe selection. She’d worn the black pantsuit and crisp white shirt for conservative elegance. She’d learned her lesson the hard way.

“Your hands are cold,” Jackson noted, squeezing her hand.

“Guess all the attention is on my heart, trying to keep it as calm as possible.” Sara didn’t bother admiring the view. With every turn and mile passed, she knew that it brought her closer to the destination.

“What would you like to do this weekend?”

“Gosh, I haven’t really thought about it. I’m meeting your parents today. Aren’t you going to be busy playing catch-up?”

“I’ll have to talk to my father and he won’t wait until Monday. But I can get that out of the way in the morning. Then we can spend the afternoon leisurely, maybe take in a show.”

“Now that sounds fabulous.”

“And then there is the post-show performance.” He leaned in to kiss her on the corner of her mouth. “Don’t want to wreck that lipstick. It looks like it was applied with an artist’s precision,” he teased, before kissing her again.

Sara giggled. Nevertheless, she popped out her compact mirror to check that he hadn’t smeared the color. Perfection had zero tolerance. Satisfied, she snapped the case closed and put it back in her pocketbook. For her protection, she slid away from Jackson.

“Oh, so it’s like that, now,” he said.

“Yes, it is.” Sara blew him a kiss, figuring it was better than nothing.

The car pulled into a familiar neighborhood with a mixture of condominiums, single-family homes and what could only be called mansions. The condominiums didn’t look that different from most of the others in a middle-income community. But by the very nature of the zip code, Sara knew that these buildings started at half a million, the single family homes at a million, and the mansions…Well, if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford.

Sara placed her forearm against her stomach. She felt incredibly queasy and flushed. This was no time to allow her stress to make her physically ill. The car cruised up the cobbled driveway, passing the five-car garage that looked like a separate dwelling. Under a columned canopy, the car stopped. Sara readied herself just before the door opened and she exited the vehicle with the aid of the driver’s gloved hand.

She didn’t have time to get her hair cut, but it was styled in an easy hairdo with a small part in the middle. She ran a hand down each side of her head to make sure any stray strands were set back into place. She pulled on the bottom of her jacket and checked that the embroidered collar was sitting against the jacket’s lapels. A quick glance at her shoes, and she was all set. The new pumps were not fancy, but had an elegant cut, and the visible designer tag was positioned near the edging.

She joined Jackson and walked up to the door. As the door was opened by a uniformed maid, Sara counted off all the things that she should be proud of—she graduated with honors, she was an associate professor at a renowned university and she was a member of a prestigious sorority.

She took a deep breath. She wasn’t that young college coed, giddy and in love, naive about the realities of the social ladder in polite society. Was this how Eliza Doolittle felt before entering the ball?

“Vernetta, how are you doing?” Jackson asked, addressing the maid.

“Fine, thank you. Your mother is waiting in the family room. Your father will be home shortly.”

Jackson nodded. Sara could tell that Jackson wasn’t happy that his father wasn’t home.

“Don’t get all upset. He’s got a business to run. No need to pop home for my sake.” Sara squeezed his arm.

“He lives for the business,” Jackson said, with more than a touch of bitterness.

Jackson led the way into the family room. Sara willed her legs to continue into the large room. This room hadn’t changed much in décor. The rich rose walls and cream highlights remained. A large grand piano dominated one corner of the room.

Previously there had been large painted portraits of the family and various members. The room used to remind her of a museum. The austerity had been reduced somewhat by framed photographs of the next generation. The smiling faces of grandchildren drew her in. She picked up a larger photograph that showed six grandkids. She wondered if they had changed Jackson’s mother’s personality.

“Oh, Jackson, you’re back.” His mother remained seated in her chair with her arms outstretched. Anyone who didn’t know her would be taken in by the sweetness that enveloped her face. She cradled his face between hands that were perfectly manicured and bejeweled. “Come sit next to your mother.”

Jackson complied.

And in that instant, Sara no longer felt like a visitor, but a defendant at a trial. She looked at him, but he was like a kid smiling brightly at her while sitting next to his mother. All kinds of words, none of them flattering, entered her mind. But she could do this. She could get through one visit.

“Mrs. Thomas, it’s good to see you.”

“Thank you. Imagine my surprise when Jackson mentioned seeing you in Chicago.” Her mother patted his hand. “You didn’t tell me that you were going to run in to old friends.”

Sara wondered how far to go with the truth. So far, Jackson had thrown her out into the deep water. “Now I’m surprised at you, Jackson. You didn’t tell your mother that you came to Chicago for my birthday. You see, my line sisters wanted to deliver him to me, as a birthday present.”

Yes. Now that’s the kind of shock she liked to see. First Mrs. Thomas turned bright pink under her creamy beige complexion. And then Jackson opened and closed his mouth like a guppie swimming in the deep end of her ocean. Welcome to her world.

“I did have business, too. I have to bring Dad up-to-date on a few things. When is he going to be home?”

“Shortly.” His mother adjusted the hem of her skirt. “I do hope you’ll be staying for dinner, er…”

“Sarafina.”

“Ah, yes, that unusual name. Was it passed down in your history? A favorite aunt, grandmother, or cousin?”

“I don’t know the history.” Sara grew tired of standing. Since Jackson’s mother had no intention of offering a seat, she selected the farthest chair. “How about your name? Is there a history?”

“Eleanor. I was named after my great-grandmother, whose father was a Scottish missionary and mother was a learned woman.”

“That’s nice. My nickname is Sara. Do people call you Nelly? My grandmother used to have a horse…ah, well, let’s not dwell on the past.”

While Eleanor sputtered, Sara shifted an innocent gaze to Jackson, who did his best to stop from smiling.

“I will check on dinner.” As Eleanor passed, she muttered, “The manners of these young people today.”

Whatever! Sara felt as if her back had straightened and lengthened two inches. Once Eleanor left the room, she turned her attention on Jackson.

“Don’t bother grinning at me. You were no help. What happened to ‘I’ll be at your side.’ Yeah, I saw whose side you were on, all right.”

“I love it when you get riled. I knew you could handle my mother.” He came over and dropped on his knees. “Forgiven?”

“Not so easy, buster.” Sara folded her arms over her chest. “Tell me why you lied about coming to see me.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure how you would have reacted. This trip was more of an exploratory venture. Maybe you would’ve sent me on my way.” He slid a hand along her thigh, causing her to erupt into a fit of giggles.

“Jackson!” his mother exclaimed.

They broke apart like guilty children. The giggles evaporated. Sara slid Jackson’s hand off her lap. He rose to his feet and helped her up from the chair.

“Your father is home. Dinner will be served in five minutes.” His mother’s stern countenance marked her disapproval. She glared at them before exiting the room.

“I guess whatever little points I thought I’d earned went into the negative.” Sara sighed. “I can’t take much more of this, Jackson.” She wanted to leave this big, coldhearted house, get on the plane and go back to her cozy apartment.

Jackson’s response was to kiss her. After the expression of horror that his mother showed, Sara wasn’t looking for a repeat performance. She stepped away and nervously adjusted her clothing.

“Let’s go.” Jackson again led the way to the formal dining room. Sara had only been in the family room and on the deck in the back of the house. The demise of their relationship had been so swift and complete that she’d never gotten familiar with the surroundings.

The dining room screamed money—big money. Waterford crystal vases and candle sconces decorated the dark, wood furnishings. Lace was the material in full use for the curtains and the table. They couldn’t possibly use this room on a daily basis, unless they had several tablecloths for all the inevitable spills. The crisp whiteness added another level of stress as she maneuvered around Eleanor’s barbs.

“Jackson, you will sit here. Sarafina, over there.”

Sara raised an eyebrow, but was wise enough to keep her mouth shut. The men had either end of the table. Jackson’s mother and she faced each other from the sides. If this evening didn’t end in reasonable order, she was going to plot such an act of vengeance that Jackson wouldn’t know what hit him.

They remained standing next to their chairs until his father walked into the room and took his seat first. Sara wouldn’t have had a problem with these oddities if she had agreed to take part in this version of an old English play.

“Jackson has brought Sarafina to meet us, Cecil.” Eleanor’s statement hung in the air.

“Good to meet you, Sarafina. Here on business?” his father asked. He was first to select his portion from the platter as the maid made her way around the table.

Sara chose a couple of slices of thinly sliced roast beef and some roasted potatoes. Once she managed to transport the slippery potatoes onto her plate, she turned her attention to Jackson’s father. “Actually I took a little break from the job to hang out with Jackson for a few days.”

“Oh, so this is a short visit.” Eleanor smiled at her son, all sweetness again.

“It’s a short visit, this time. I’m hoping that I can convince Sara to come back more often and for longer.” Jackson took a sip of wine.

“And I hope that he’ll return more often and for longer visits.” Sara raised her glass in mock salute.

“I’m sure you can take off whenever the mood hits, but Jackson, here, has a lot of responsibility. One day I will retire. And the business will be his.”

“Golden opportunities are around the corner for you, son,” Eleanor remarked.

“Let’s not rush things,” Jackson answered, his focus on the meat he cut. “There may be other opportunities in Chicago. Remember I told you about the broker.”

“Oh, yes, please tell me about it.” His mother gave him her attention.

“Let’s not talk about business at the table. I’m sure Sarafina would rather us talk about something else,” his father interrupted.

“Don’t mind me.” Sara figured she could learn a lot by listening.

His father waved his fork. “How about tomorrow during golf? I’ve put together a great team with the corporate developers for the downtown financial center. Join us. I want to introduce you.”

“What time?” Jackson asked.

“Seven.”

“Um…” Jackson looked at her. Sara didn’t want to make a scene. However, what would she do for the entire morning? Eighteen holes of golf didn’t start and finish in an hour. So far, her man—what a nice thought—was making this visit quite a memorable one.

“Don’t worry about Sarafina, Jackson. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind going with me to my book club meeting.”

“No, that’s okay.” Sara wanted to gag. She needed Asia’s brashness to get out of this muddle.

“Think nothing of it. Well, you men run along and do what you do. We ladies will have our fun.”

Jackson beamed with open relief. “Thanks, Mom. Dad, we’re on.” He winked at Sara, looking pleased with the turn of events.

Jackson drove Sara to the hotel. He’d tried to get her to stay at the house, but she had been adamantly against the idea. From her stony silence, he knew that she didn’t agree with his estimation that the night had been a success. But she underestimated his mother’s generosity. She wouldn’t have invited Sara for the fun of it.

“You’re so tense,” Jackson noted.

“Wouldn’t you be? I feel like an insect under a microscope.”

“But all parents do that. Look, if it’ll make you feel better, let me visit with your family.”

Sara couldn’t imagine how he would take the drabness of her parents’ house in comparison to the opulent extravagance of his family home. Plus she’d have to pretend that her family was a cozy unit.

“Can I come up?”

“For a late night booty call? Nope. Better save your strength for your meeting in the morning.”

“Now that’s cruel. I told you that I don’t do well with words.”

Sara slid out of the car and slammed the door shut. “I don’t have that problem. Good night.”

Jackson groaned, but he wasn’t too heartbroken. At least Sara didn’t ask for a change to her flight plans. He knew that his family wouldn’t be overjoyed to see her, but he had to make his case that she was now in his life and would be for however long she’d let him be there.

Playing golf with his father had a purpose, too. His father wasn’t really the type to think about having a father-son bonding moment. Each waking hour was spent strategizing on how to make money, increase his wealth, or get rid of the weakest link. The way his father’s eyes gleamed as he talked about the corporate developers let him know that this was about increasing wealth.

Jackson alternated between staying at his parents’ home and at his house. Since he’d be around them this weekend with Sara, he found it more convenient to stay with his parents.

“Jackson, is that you?”

“Yeah, Mom.” He hoped she didn’t want to talk. He was beat and would have to get up before the sun broke the horizon to head out to their country club’s golf course.

“Join me in my sitting room.”

He slapped his forehead, but headed to her room. She was seated in a small love seat wearing her nightgown and matching slippers. She looked like a pink cotton ball with too much chiffon-type material. He remained standing, although she patted the seat next to her. She didn’t fool him with the carefully crafted blank innocence.

“You’re angry with me.” She picked off nonexistent lint from her dressing gown. “Please, sit. You’re making my neck hurt looking up at you.”

“I’ve got to get sleep. You know I have to be on my game to play with Dad.”

She sighed. “I do hope we will get a chance to chat, like we used to.”

“Mom, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Really. I didn’t get that impression from Sarafina. The girl sounded pretty sure of herself.”

“Would that be so terrible?”

“Don’t say that, Jackson. Must I keep telling you how much your father values you?”

“From his mouth, sometimes it sounds like I’m a piece of depreciating property.”

“Ever since you left and I’ve talked to you, you seem angry. I thought everything in your life was going the way you wanted it.”

“I thought so, too. I was ready to tow the line and become the workaholic that Dad wanted. Sara has always been on my mind, knowing how I’d done her wrong. I couldn’t believe my luck when her sorority sisters sent me an invitation to her birthday party. I saw it as a second chance,” he said.

“In order for you to see something as a second chance, it means that you initially had made a mistake. Nothing about you or your life is a mistake. Your father and I have always seen to it that you had the best.”

“It’s appreciated.” His mother would never understand what a burden they had set on him. “I’m going to bed now.” He leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. Before he walked out, he decided to impart a little caution. “Mom, would you be kind to Sara tomorrow.”

“I take offense to that statement.”

Jackson didn’t add to his advisory. His mother was shrewd enough to know that he was on to her. He headed for his room, ready to fall into bed. His last thought before he drifted to sleep was whether Sara was in bed thinking about him.

Chapter 9

Sara awoke early, dressed and sat on her bed. She wanted to come up with a brilliant excuse why she couldn’t attend the book club meeting with Eleanor. Nothing that sounded genuine came to mind. Canceling the book club invitation would probably have a negative impact.

Jackson also would be disappointed. But then he had idealistic expectations that didn’t jive with reality. And his mother would feel justified that she’d lived up to her low opinion.

That wouldn’t do.

Sara called the Thomas house. Apparently her call was expected. A driver was on his way to pick her up in a matter of minutes.

The black suit had already been used. Two outfits remained. She opted for a strawberry-red-toned skirt suit. From her small jewelry collection, she picked a single-strand pearl necklace and matching pearl stud earrings. Unfortunately she’d have to wear the same black pumps. As she turned and critically examined her image, she was sure that she looked like a character from a 1950s TV series when the TV moms wore heels at home.

Dealing with Eleanor required such a formal approach. She grabbed her pocketbook and headed to the lobby. Luckily, she was staying not far from the family’s house.

Her timing was perfect. As she entered the lobby, the familiar black sedan pulled up in front of the hotel. Sara recognized the driver and waved. Sitting in the back and being chauffeured was a wonderful habit that she could get used to. It sure did beat driving or dealing with public transportation.

With the light traffic, the driver made good time. They pulled up in the driveway. Before he assisted her out of the car, the front door opened.

“No need to come in. If we leave now, we’ll be the first to arrive.” Eleanor entered the car with a lot of fuss. Her pungent perfume filled the passenger compartment of the sedan. “I do like to be the first to arrive.”

The width of the backseat afforded Sara the ability to sit without brushing against Eleanor. No need to pretend they were girlfriends out on a lark.

“Becoming color,” Eleanor complimented. Her eyes examined the entire outfit and she gave an approving grunt after a highly scrutinizing assessment.

“Thank you. Wasn’t sure if it worked for me.”

“Of course it would. Your shade of brown can handle such colors. It’s a risky choice, but in your case, it works.”

Sara looked out the window. Talking fashion didn’t particularly make her feel better. She suspected that Eleanor knew a lot about fashion and would end up embarrassing her poor attempts at playing a fashionista. Eleanor wore a burnt orange pantsuit with a caramel hued blouse. Although the older woman wore flats, her shoes were stylish and complementary to the outfit, staying in the same color palette.

“Oh, good, we’ve made it in plenty of time.” Eleanor’s attitude perked up upon their arrival at the country club.

“Country club” was an understatement for the beautifully landscaped property. The clubhouse resembled an English country estate, with two floors, several windows and large white columns framing the entryway. Shrubbery pruned to exact detail decorated the lower half of the building.

Inside the gated area, the property buzzed with activity, but not the hectic, vulgar pace of the masses. These patrons with their haughty profiles, designer athletic wear and pinched mannerisms took their sweet time strolling as they discussed the benefits and perks of their wealth.

“Come on, let’s go in.” Eleanor granted her with a wide smile that did nothing to warm Sara’s heart.

“After you.” Sara kept pace next to Eleanor, but the woman’s imperious demeanor managed to make her feel like the hired help.

They entered the restaurant within the country club. After Eleanor gave her name, they were led to a private salon in the rear. From what Sara observed, her choice of clothing was perfect. The patrons seemed to make every occasion a high-fashion event.

As soon as they got close to the room, the door opened. A woman who matched Eleanor in style and attitude glanced at Eleanor, but stared at Sara. The woman seemingly sized her up, with open curiosity before she was dismissed. Then a purely artificially sweetened smile emerged.

“Eleanor, good to see you.” The woman opened her arms, but never stepped forward to actually embrace.

“Hi, Phoebe, I am so delighted to be here.” Eleanor entered the room, alternating waves and hugs with the other women around the table. “I may be the only one to feel this way, but I do look forward to our monthly meetings.”

A murmur of agreement sounded around the room.

Sara stayed out of the way, sensing that she could be rejected by this group for the smallest misstep in social decorum. Attending might not have been such a good idea, considering she hadn’t read the book.

“And who do we have here?” Phoebe asked, turning the attention toward Sara.

Sara didn’t wait for Eleanor. “Sara Lovell.”

No one responded.

“She’s one of Jackson’s friends visiting for a couple days,” Eleanor clarified with enough casualness to send the message that she wasn’t worth remembering.

Discussion in husky whispers moved steadily around the table to each person, like a train with scheduled, intermittent stops. Sara guessed that Eleanor had to provide some type of endorsement before these rich biddies would respond. Sara offered a friendly smile and took the chair that Phoebe indicated. Each neighbor slid her chair over, lengthening the space between them.

“Sara, I’m Phoebe, this month’s hostess. Now that Eleanor is here, we will begin. Ladies, would you please introduce yourselves to Sara.”

The twelve women complied with the request. The names like Victoria, Lacy, Brooke and Brigette didn’t quite make it to her short-term memory.

“Well, actually her name is Sarafina,” Eleanor addressed the group.

“I don’t mind being called Sara.”

A tense standoff began.

“Who would like to give a summary of our book selection?” Phoebe asked, putting an end to the awkward moment.

Sara did her best to look interested while one of the members provided the description of an autobiography of a Hollywood star from the 1950s. She twisted her wrist to look discreetly at her watch. An hour and a half to go. Her eyes were beginning to cross from the uninteresting story. Then she spied a side table of pastries and muffins, cheese and crackers, and coffee and tea. Good, at least she didn’t have to starve. Sara helped herself without caring whether the group minded that she wasn’t sitting and attentively listening.

An hour later, Phoebe raised her hand. “I think we’ve discussed this book to death. There wasn’t much meat to the subject to hold a discussion for longer than an hour. If no one objects, I suggest we have lunch, at this time.”

Everyone, including Sara, nodded in agreement.

On cue, waiters bustled into the room with several rolling tables of covered platters and equipment to refresh the beverages. The efficiency and attention to details spoke volumes about the caliber of the restaurant.

“Sara, I hope we’re not boring you. Eleanor, why did you make Sara endure this torture?” Gladys winked at Sara.

Eleanor didn’t appreciate the joke. “Since Jackson was busy with his father this morning, I didn’t want Sara to feel neglected.”

“I’m glad you brought her to the meeting.” Gladys, who was seated at the opposite end of the table, leaned forward. She wore a crisp, winter-white blouse that contrasted beautifully with her soft brown complexion. Her hair was prematurely grey, curly and trimmed close to her head. She could have been a model with the fine features that had been expertly made up in bold, brown and gold shades.

Eleanor nodded toward the woman. “Yes, Gladys.”

“I’m glad we have a new face with us, too,” said a woman who was a great deal shorter and dressed in a pastel green shirt and had a small white scarf tied around her neck. Her light complexion didn’t exhibit the same amount of makeup as Gladys’s, or that of the other women, but her features were thin and long. Her dyed honey-blond hair hung past her shoulders, as if she was of mixed heritage.

“Yes, Portia.” Eleanor couldn’t hide the fact that she didn’t necessarily agree with them.

“Is Jackson making an announcement? I mean, when was the last time he brought home a girlfriend?” Phoebe prodded.

Sara opened her mouth to respond and correct any misconceptions. Eleanor interrupted with a loud clearing of the throat.

“Sara is not Jackson’s girlfriend. She is simply a friend who tagged along with him after his trip to Chicago.”

Sara’s ears burned. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Eleanor because she wouldn’t be able to hide the anger. And showing her temper among Eleanor’s friends would make the odds more than uneven.

“Is she staying at the house?” Portia curtly tossed out her question.

“Oh, dear, no. She’ll be leaving soon.” Eleanor waved a cavalier hand in the air.

Sara caught Gladys’s eye and saw the sympathy. The woman’s kind gesture made her feel worse, like she was helpless. What had she done wrong? She didn’t expect Eleanor to change overnight and be her best friend, but they could at least be civil. Her cold, slightly brutal edge certainly sharpened in front of her friends. At this point, Sara wondered if she would need a taxi to return to her hotel. She couldn’t imagine getting into a car with Eleanor and exchanging pleasantries, as if this uncomfortable situation never happened. But she may have to curb her anger for another reason. This was Jackson’s mother.

“Why don’t we get our lunch before it gets cold.” Gladys pushed her chair back and approached Sara to join her at the table.

The other women followed suit. Some whispered among themselves. Eleanor, Portia and another woman remained seated, staring at Sara as she moved through the line. Eleanor had her little posse. Sara wished she had her line sisters there in like mind. Eleanor and her friends were the epitome of all that was negative with sorority life. They had their clique and anyone who didn’t fit in was made to feel uncomfortable until she left or was banished.

“We’ve got some good selections.” Phoebe opened the covered dishes to uncover rice pilaf, thinly sliced chicken breast, cornbread stuffing, asparagus tips, broccoli spears and a vegetarian tomato-based casserole. “Desserts are over there. I picked some really great items.” She winked at Sara. “Don’t worry about those fuddy-duddies,” she whispered.

“Thank you.” Sara wasn’t sure for what specifically she wanted to thank Phoebe. She wanted to acknowledge the woman’s hospitality, but there was an underlying kindness in her manner that set her apart from the other women.

“Sweetheart, you’re welcome.” She stepped aside and leaned close to Sara’s ear. “Don’t let any one of these women get the better of you. I was also new to the bunch and probably have the bite marks to prove it. I’ve survived worst than them, though.”

Sara nodded. A big wave of relief washed over her. At least one person in the room didn’t see her as a germ invasion.

With her plate loaded with a colorful array of food, Sara returned to her seat. Maybe if she focused on eating and polishing off the crème brûlée, she could ignore the frigid undercurrent.

“Eleanor, were you able to pin down a lunch day for Jackson and Winifred?” Portia asked in an unnaturally loud voice.

“My apologies, it’s been difficult. Business pulled Jackson to Chicago unexpectedly. Now that he’s back, his father has him so busy I haven’t had a chance to get with him about his calendar.”

“Winifred will be disappointed, but I’ll make her understand. Jackson is a very busy and important man, as heir to the throne.” Portia and Eleanor shared a laugh.

Sara tried to pretend that she didn’t know what these women talked about, but she wasn’t clueless.

“Don’t act like Winifred is a shoe-in,” another woman piped up. “My Barbara is also on the calendar.”

Eleanor couldn’t stop smiling. Her enjoyment was as annoying as her manners. “Lucinda, don’t fret.”

“After our book club meeting, we are entertained by all the hopeful mothers ready to throw their daughters on the auction block for Jackson Thomas,” Phoebe explained.

“Now you’re being quite crass,” Eleanor replied.

“Crass is what just occurred,” Gladys replied.

Sara, like everyone else, focused on the heated exchange. Eleanor had the height and haughtiness to be a force. But Phoebe looked like she could take on a few of these women in a street fight in a former life. If Sara was a betting person, she’d push all her chips toward Gladys.

“I’m being crass! Why don’t you let your children meet and find whomever they want?”

“It’s called protecting the legacy,” Portia chimed in. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Don’t start what you can’t finish.” Gladys raised a highly arched eyebrow, her warning pretty clear. “You’re not a Rockefeller or a Kennedy. Most of you just got your wealth and status from your husband’s careers and not from the families you’ve left behind in the projects. You’re not even a generation from regular folk.”

“Unlike you, Gladys, we have children’s futures to think about.” Portia stood and picked up her pocketbook. “Eleanor, give me a call. Once again Gladys and her liberal views have spoiled the party.” Portia strode past, but not before casting a vile glance at Sara.

“I’m right behind you, Portia.” The third woman in the group picked up her pocketbook. “We struggled to get where we are. And there’s always an around-the-way girl who thinks they can move in and get their hooks in by way of marriage or a baby.”

In an instant, Sara had been thrown at the mob to represent all gold-digging women. Gladys may have been a good defense lawyer, during the showdown, but she also was outnumbered. Although some women weren’t as vocal, they didn’t come to her defense, either.

Sara tried to play along, but she wasn’t leaving without sharing her two cents on the matter. “Would it help if I said that I’m going back home tomorrow…without Jackson?”

She walked up to Eleanor, enjoying the panicked expression when she left only two inches between them. “Eleanor, you can consider the job well done because Jackson left me the first time to protect the family wealth. This time, I’ll be the one to walk away and protect my life from the likes of you.” Sara walked past Phoebe, touching her shoulder to acknowledge her sweetness, and left the room.

She walked through the country club, wondering how she could have wanted to be a part of all of this. No matter how hard she worked to earn a living, and tried to be positive, she wouldn’t fit neatly into this life. And to attempt to fit in was too high a sacrifice.

She saw Jackson, his father and two men walking and laughing as they returned from their golf game. Jackson’s father had his arm around his son’s shoulders. The four men looked comfortable in their friendship. The camaraderie among the men was quite different than what she’d encountered with the women.

Sara hoped Jackson didn’t look up as she made her retreat. She knew that once word from his mother got out, he’d be there trying to explain away his mother’s actions. But she wanted to hear no more excuses. The innuendos had managed to work under the surface of self-doubts she harbored.

“May I help you, ma’am.” The valet stepped into her view.

“I need a taxi.”

“Sure. Not a problem.” The young boy, eager to please, headed to his station.

Sara looked over her shoulder, making sure that she was still undetected. Through the glass double doors, she saw Eleanor talking to Jackson. Her hand went repeatedly to her throat, as she told her story. She wore a bewildered expression that brought attention from her husband. Jackson, however, looked agitated.

Jackson turned to look toward the door. Sara quickly stepped out of view. “Will the taxi be here, soon?” She hated to sound pushy, but circumstances required it.

“Here it comes, ma’am.”

“Not a moment too soon.” She gave him a tip and hurriedly entered the car. “Belmont Hotel, please.”

The taxi had to make a U-turn around the country club’s driveway to enter the major road in the direction she needed. As it passed the entrance, she saw Jackson talking to the valet, who pointed at her taxi.

“Sir, if it’s not a bother, could you take me to the Scioto River waterfront. I think I’d like to walk around a bit.” She expected Jackson to head for her hotel.

“Sure, miss.”

Sara settled back, ready to enjoy a bit of calm. If she had things her way, Jackson would have stayed in Chicago a bit longer, at least long enough that the precious daughters—Winifred and Barbara—would be distant memories. In this world, there was more to their lives than falling in love. And in her world, falling in love was all she knew how to do.

Earlier that day, Jackson’s morning had started too early. He met his father at the country club with all the other golfers who didn’t mind losing a few hours of sleep to play. Most days Jackson could share that mindset, but this morning he wanted to be with Sara. These few hours on the weekend that they had to be with each other weren’t enough.

Despite the thaw in her attitude to him, he didn’t entertain the belief that she wouldn’t run at the first sign of trouble. He’d broken her trust in the worst way. And for all he knew, he may never gain her complete openness again with him.

“Jackson, come over here and meet Edgar Feldman and Tony Barnes. Gentlemen, this is my son.” His father thumped him on the back with an overabundance of pride.

“Cecil, here, has been raving about you. Good to see a father and son so close and working together.” Edgar Feldman shook Jackson’s hand, flashing a gold Rolex. His overall slim body was offset by a slight paunch. Although his clothes weren’t necessarily stylish, he had the extra accessories—his golf clubs, shoes and jewelry—that reflected his taste for extravagance.

Tony Barnes had a smile that featured a super white set of capped teeth. His tan, healthy physique and good looks could make him a most-wanted man in a senior living facility where the women outnumbered the men.

Jackson was paired with Edgar, while his father played with Tony. He and his father were excellent golfers. But this wasn’t just a round of golf. This game had purpose beyond the eighteen holes. Strategically they split their talent between the two guests.

Since there was no conversation while each golfer set up and took his swing, the networking occurred as they drove from one hole to the next. At the end, in front of the clubhouse, his father would close the deal. The atmosphere at drinks and dinner indicated the level of success from the day’s round of golf.

Between the first and second hole, Jackson hopped into the golf cart. He deferred to Edgar, who wanted to drive. From what he surmised, this man was old school. He’d made his money at an early age working with large, reputable firms. In the industry he’d earned the reputation for working hard and always being fair.

“I can feel your mind churning.” Edgar looked at Jackson.

“Wondering what a man in your position puts down as his goals. Looks like you’re at the pinnacle of success.”

“Son, there is always something out of reach. I was the type of man who would do anything to get to the next level. Not illegal, but probably not ethical—yet, I’m successful.”

“You’re talking past tense.” Jackson got out of the cart, hating the fact that they were at the second hole. He looked over at his father, who was talking intently to Tony. Someone who walked up on the scene may think his father was passing on tips to a fellow partner. Jackson knew better. His father didn’t share. He believed in every man for himself.

Jackson had been the exception to his father’s rule. Maybe he learned too late that he couldn’t bring that mentality to his children. Two siblings later, his father showered him with more attention than he really wanted. His attention was similar to a vise grip. The way Tony leaned into his father’s words was a sure sign that his father’s mastery had worked again.

“Do you have a son?” Jackson asked.

“No. I have four daughters. Then my wife said ‘no more.’” Edgar shook his head ruefully.

“Any of them want to be in the business.”

Edgar shrugged. “I never thought about raising them in the business. Maybe it’s sexist of me, but I made this business work to give them the best in life. Then they can go out and do whatever they want to do. If it happens to be the business, that’s fine.” Edgar turned a sharp glance on him. “How about you? Is this what you want to do?”

The perceptive question nailed him. The tables had been deftly turned on him. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Maybe he read too much into Edgar’s question.

“I know this business.”

“Diplomatic, but no closer to the truth.” Edgar stopped the cart. He looked over to where Jackson’s father and Tony waited.

Jackson shrugged. He didn’t want to be in the position to betray his father.

They continued the game of polite conversation that had no hidden meanings. Jackson sensed that his retreat had disappointed Edgar. He didn’t know why that bothered him.

“What’s happening with you and Edgar?” His father had managed to get to him before he could get into the cart. Jackson examined his golf club, as if they were discussing it.

“It’s going fine. We’re chatting about his family.”

“Family? What the heck! Jackson, these men are part of the study committee on the state’s revitalization plan. We need to know what the state has planned. That’s why we’re out here, not to know if he’s married, or whether he has kids. Who cares?”

“He has four daughters.” Jackson turned to head to the cart. His father’s bulldog attitude grated on his nerves. People were no better than pawns for his manipulation. He tried hard to seek a softer side to his father. An equal number of times he found no signs of his father’s humility.

“Get it together.” His father squinted at him. “You’re worrying me. Let’s have dinner, tonight. I want to hear about Chicago.”

Jackson nodded.

To any non-golf enthusiast, the game’s length seemed arduous. Eighteen holes could take up the better half of the morning. Most times, Jackson could get in to the game and not notice the time.

This morning, his mind drifted in many directions, all leading to Sara. He wondered if she was laughing it up with the women. Hopefully his mother wouldn’t muck up the day with her old-fashioned ideas.

“You know, I had to marry my wife twice before I got it right.”

Jackson was momentarily stunned by the switch to the personal nature of the conversation. “What does that mean?”

Edgar grinned at him. “We married early, probably too early, but we were in love and hardheaded. She got pregnant back-to-back, right after we married. I’d just landed a job on the bottom rung of the ladder. My wife couldn’t work because of the babies. Plus I didn’t want her to work. Told you I was old-fashioned.”

They arrived at the fifteenth hole, again behind his father, who was none too pleased. His frustration showed in his game, which seemed to have deteriorated from the twelfth hole. Jackson kept his correcting tips to himself.

“Cecil, I’m having a wonderful chat with your son.” Edgar waved his club and stepped up to tee the ball.

Jackson didn’t bother to look his father’s way. Instead he focused on the ball, which had been soundly hit at least 200 yards down the fairway.

Once they were back in the cart, Jackson resumed the conversation with Edgar. “When did you start working for yourself?”

“It was a while ago. I was divorced before all that happened. Lack of money, long hours, immaturity ate away at our marriage. We stopped talking and stopped loving. She left with the girls and went back to her family. I could just hear them tell her ‘I told you so.’” He shook his head, as if to rid himself of the memory. “After I stopped feeling sorry for myself, I decided that not only would I be a success in my profession, I would get my wife and family back.”

Jackson listened, loving Edgar’s style of storytelling, with his boisterous laughter and animated hand gestures.

“I worked at the job during the day. Then in the evening, I worked on my business. I had to work hard to convince my wife to go out with me again. It meant courting her all over, doing the things I should’ve done the first time, saying the things that I thought men shouldn’t say. And yet, she didn’t marry me right away. She didn’t trust me not to take her for granted and change. One of the major lessons I learned was that I needed her at my side, not behind me.”

Jackson looked over at his father who had a very different story from Edgar’s. Yet, he seemed happy. His mother didn’t complain.

“Then she remarried you.” Jackson was glad that Edgar had a happy ending.

“Yes, we remarried and immediately had two more girls.” Edgar laughed. “The last were twins. Guess they figured they’d better come in a package before we regained our senses.”

They went off to play the last hole. Jackson enjoyed his chat with Edgar. His father didn’t realize what a gift he’d provided him by partnering him with Edgar. He didn’t know what he’d say over dinner to show that he’d achieved the success his father wanted.

“Well, gentlemen, I think I can speak for my son in saying that we had a great time. I hope we can do this again soon.” Cecil shook hands and again placed his arm around Jackson’s shoulders. “Tony, definitely keep me in the loop if you’re looking for input on the study committee. Edgar, next time, we’ll play together.”

Tony nodded.

Edgar looked at Jackson. “Actually I enjoyed Jackson’s game. We’re not done getting to know each other.” Edgar shook Cecil’s hand, but pulled Jackson away from his father’s side. “Look, son, I didn’t launch into my story for the heck of it. There’s a lesson to be learned. I’ve got a successful business and connections. I have a wonderful, loving family.”

“Yes.” Jackson didn’t know what else to say.

“And I have prostate cancer.”

“Oh, sorry to hear.” Jackson couldn’t believe what he heard, considering how exuberant Edgar appeared to be.

“I’m fighting it. But I also have no regrets and that’s my reason for sharing.” He pointed at Jackson’s chest. “The key to life is no regrets.”

Their group disintegrated as Edgar and Tony headed off to their cars. Jackson and his father entered the club house. They both walked in the direction of the room where his mother’s book club met.

Jackson didn’t think he was late, but the room seemed fairly empty. He scanned the room for Sara, but didn’t see her. His mother was in a huddle with that darn Portia Rosewell and a few others. He wondered what half-baked plan they were cooking up for him and their daughters.

His mother looked up, startled. “Jackson, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“What’s the matter?” While he asked the question, he knew that her expression had to be connected to Sara.

“It’s Sara.” His mother fanned her neck and pulled her hair. She grabbed his father’s shirt and leaned into him with more drama than an opera diva. “She left in a huff. Her manners are atrocious. I’ll have to apologize to the group for her tantrum. How embarrassing.”

Gladys stepped up from behind his mother. “Your friend Sara was treated to a heavy dose of country club snobbery. If she hadn’t left, I would have told her to leave.”

“Gladys, mind your own business. You caused this scene with your low—”

“Mind what you say, Eleanor,” Phoebe warned.

Jackson turned to Gladys, trusting her to tell him the truth. “What happened?”

“We had a lively discussion on picking the right mates for our children.”

“Jackson, when can I tell Winifred about your lunch date?” Portia asked.

Jackson had no patience for his mother’s friends. “Gladys, where did Sara go?”

“She walked out to the front.” Gladys grabbed him by the sleeve. “Go after her.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said.

“But we have dinner plans.” His father’s voice boomed across the open area.

Jackson hesitated, but didn’t slow down. “We’ll have to reschedule.”

“Oh, Cecil, take me home. I’m not feeling well.” His mother leaned heavily against his father.

Jackson looked at his mother, who was still swooning in her husband’s arms. He’d have to apologize to his parents, but he couldn’t let Sara go off with any notions, perceived or real, that he didn’t want her.

He hurried outside, hoping that she was still there. Thankfully the valet filled him in, with the additional luck that Sara was in the backseat of a taxi that had just pulled away.

Jackson followed the taxi cab, wondering where Sara headed. They’d already passed the hotel. The green signs dotting the highway stated that the airport was ten miles away. His heart sank with the possibility.

If she dared leave early, he’d make a scene in the airport. He wasn’t ready to let her walk out of his life. After seeing her again at her birthday party, he knew that he never wanted to repeat their separation.

When the taxi passed the airport exit, he relaxed a little, but then was left wondering where the final destination was. Forty minutes later, Jackson followed the taxi onto the exit near the harbor. He stayed a little way behind, watching Sara pay the cab and then stroll toward the boardwalk.

Jackson headed for the closest parking lot and stowed his car. He hoped that he wouldn’t lose sight of her.

He returned to where he last saw her. His pulse was in a state of panic when he couldn’t locate her. Maybe he should have honked and let her know that he was there. But he’d been afraid that she’d run off before he got a chance to undo the damage wrought by his mother.

He walked along the waterfront toward the large expanse of water where tourists flocked to take pictures. He glanced into the small shops along the boardwalk. Disappointment nipped at him, but he refused to give in. He kept up his vigilance, scanning the crowd who happily and noisily passed him.

Ready to give up, he turned away from the foot traffic and leaned against the rail. He looked at the water lapping at the edge of the posts that penetrated the waterbed to support the pier. Maybe he had been too confident that he could change his parents’ minds.

On one side, his parents and the family business stood, and the other side was Sara without all that baggage. Was he too cynical to believe that his love for Sara would make everything all right?

“Jackson?” A soft touch roused him from his musings.

“Winifred!”

Winifred slammed into Jackson with arms opened wide before they clenched around him in a tightly locked embrace. “I can’t believe that I’ve run in to you.”

Jackson had to wrestle out of the young woman’s arms. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t care if he sounded rude.

“I’m here with my friends. I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Your mother didn’t tell you.”

“She knew you were back?” Winifred frowned.

“I saw her today, that’s why I asked.” Jackson couldn’t believe his rotten luck.

“When can we get together for lunch…or dinner?” Winifred squeezed the arm that she hadn’t let go.

Jackson tried to pull his arm free. “How about I call you when I get a chance?”

“I don’t trust you.” She pouted.

“Seriously. I’ll call.” Jackson adjusted his clothes that Winifred had managed to crumple. He didn’t want to make a scene, but he wasn’t going to commit, either. He’d dealt with an angry mother, he didn’t need to deal with an angry daughter.

“Okay, I’ll back off for the moment. I’m going to the movies with my friends.” She leaned into kiss him, but he was quick enough to turn his head slightly so that she caught the side of his mouth and cheek.

Over the top of her head, he saw Sara. She stood very still across the boardwalk with her hands behind her back. Her face was blank, but she was clearly looking at him. How long had she been standing there? Her quiet demeanor made him nervous.

“’Bye Jackson.” Winifred, looking quite miffed, rejoined her friends. She waved at him.

Jackson didn’t return her wave. As a matter of fact, Winifred no longer held his attention. He watched Sara approach.

“Before you say anything, let me do this.” She wiped the side of his mouth with a paper napkin.

“That was Winifred. Her mother is Portia. You met Portia at my mother’s book club. But I didn’t know Winifred was here. I came looking for you.”

“Shh.” Sara slid her arm through the crook of his arm. “Let’s walk.”

Jackson obeyed, still uneasy after seeing Sara’s demeanor. Was it that she didn’t care anymore, so it didn’t matter that she’d seen him in the arms of another woman?

Chapter 10

Sara opened her hotel room door. From the time they’d left the harbor, she warred with herself on how to handle this day. Although seeing Jackson with another woman certainly spun a jealous streak through her system, she knew that it was meaningless from Jackson’s actions.

Jackson closed the door behind him. “I didn’t know whether you’d let me come in.”

“You’re acting awfully guilty about everything. Why the nagging conscience?” Sara slipped off her shoes and made herself comfortable on the bed.

“I feel guilty about bringing you here and about my mother’s actions.”

“Do you think Romeo and Juliet shouldn’t have tried to get together? Because if they’d obeyed everyone’s wishes, maybe they would’ve survived in the end.”

“But would they have been happy? Two warring families can’t keep people in love apart.” Jackson took a seat in the chair next to the wide window.

“But they would have survived,” Sara reiterated.

“Living without love,” Jackson insisted.

“Since when have you become the romantic?” Sara turned her attention from the TV to him. She pushed the Mute button. “I’ve had a day of revelations. A day when I’ve realized that Shakespeare and his tragic romantic story and my reality don’t have too much in common.”

“Pick another writer,” Jackson challenged.

“Alethea.”

“And do you believe that she is happy? She did walk away from her love. Yes, she’s alive, but she also appears to be lonely.”

Sara had spent the last three hours since the nasty book club meeting working on protecting her feelings. The pain she’d experienced the first time Jackson rejected her hadn’t disappeared. Today’s melodrama stoked the fires.

“Sara, don’t shut me out. Don’t stop caring.”

“I care too much. I feel too much. And it’s sucking me dry.” Sara didn’t care if she sounded loopy. His words spurred her with a sharpness that angered her.

“Would you marry me?”

Sara grew angrier. “To soothe your fears of me leaving?”

“Let’s forget about my family. I’m sure your family isn’t ready to roll out the welcome mat for me, either. We know that we were meant to be together.”

“We do? Because you sprang up at my party? Because you whispered sweet nonsense in my ear? Because your mother was rude to me? Why exactly are you an expert about our survival as a couple?” Sara waited to hear the words that seemed to be so difficult for Jackson to say.

Jackson slid off the seat to his knees. He leaned on the bed to be closer to Sara. “I thought you wanted to marry me.”

“When did I say anything like that? I want to be able to trust you.”

“I don’t think you know what you want,” he accused. “You want me to marry you, while you sit on the fence about your life. That’s no life for me.”

“No one can make everything perfect for you. Don’t ask for the stars, so that when I fall short, you have an excuse to kick me to the curb.”

“And I’m afraid!” Jack threw back his head and laughed. “Are you any better? You’re ready to concede victory to my mother and run back to Chicago.”

Sara didn’t like the tables being turned on her. “For your information, I’m not running off. If I was running off, you wouldn’t have been able to find me.”

Jackson pulled her down onto the bed, steering her head close to his face. “I think you’re stalling. I’m going to make you agree to marry me.”

Sara soaked in his handsome face, with thick eyebrows framing his soft brown eyes. His nose, bold and strong, was punctuated by a distinctive mouth. This devilishly handsome man could woo her with just a glance. Maybe he knew his power. Maybe that’s why he asked his piercing questions just before he kissed her.

“Marry me, Sara.”

Sara cupped Jackson’s chin, closed her eyes and kissed him gently.

“Yes?” Jackson whispered.

She kissed him again, loving the feel of his firm lips against hers. He’d been her first love and gave her her first real kiss. “My answer is still no.”

Jackson’s body stiffened and his frustration surfaced. Without responding, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He gathered his car keys, hesitated, but shook the keys slightly and headed for the door.

Sara bit her lip. Maybe she had been too harsh. She could have softened her rejection. But she hadn’t trusted herself to be able to explain her feelings without sounding wishy-washy. Because a part of her wanted to say yes. The part of her that spoke for her heart.

Instead of leaving, Jackson locked the door and put the chain on. He turned off the light over the entry area.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked, not really caring if he had an answer. She looked forward to whatever Jackson had in mind.

“I’m going to change your decision.”

“I’m ready for the challenge.” Sara tucked the sheet around her body. “I have no intention of making it easy for you.”

“There you go trying to control everything. Well, you can add marrying me to one of your infernal lists.”

Sara pulled the cover over her head. “I’m not making any changes to my life plan,” Sara replied, her voice muted under the cover.

“We’ll see about that.”

Then she felt the cover lift near her feet. A strong grip on each ankle kept her pinned to the bed. Trust Jackson to have a few hidden moves. A burst of giggles erupted. She tried to move her legs, but could only twist her body from side to side.

“No matter what you do, it’s still no.”

Jackson didn’t relent despite her brave stand. Instead he crept up along her legs, which parted of their own volition. The palm of his hands traced the outer part of her thighs up to her underwear.

Sara sucked air through clenched teeth. His fingers didn’t rest. They prowled around the trimming of her underwear, sliding underneath the elastic binding. She grabbed the cover and bit on the edge to mute the groan that ached to be released.

His hand pulled the edge of her panties down over her hip. She raised her hip to help with her partial disrobing. “You are too wicked,” she managed to say.

“I’m a man on a mission.” Jackson pulled her underwear completely off and tossed it behind him.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sara teased.

This man could make love to her all day long. He erased the meaning of time. All she could think about was his attention to every part of her body. His soft, moist kisses leading up to her belly button sent her body into convulsions. Her stomach clenched as if she was completing a marathon of crunches.

Jackson laid the length of his body against her, pulling the sheet from her face. “Changed your mind?”

Without waiting for her response, he slipped his hand between her legs, playing, teasing, coaxing her awake. Little did he know that her body wasn’t asleep. Feelings of desire shot through her system like the effects of caffeine. Her muscles twitched with each loving stroke, making her body respond with its own moist welcome.

“What do you want me to do?” Jackson whispered against her ear. She loved the sound of his voice, deep. He was soft and smooth all at the same time.

She wrapped her arms around his body, rubbing the expanse of his wide back. She loved touching him, noting every contour of his muscles as they moved and twitched under her fingers. He asked her questions, but since he had ignited the fire in her, she couldn’t concentrate on what he wanted from her.

She only knew what she wanted from him.

Brushing aside his hand from between her legs, she guided him to enter her. No words were necessary. She surrendered to whatever her body craved, allowing the natural rhythms to take over. In this erotic dance, she followed his lead, wrapping her legs around his hips.

Her fingers closed around his hips, as he pushed against her, rocking with a steady beat, making their own music. Sara wished they could stay like this until they passed out. The way her pulse raced, she figured that the unconscious state wasn’t that far away.

“Sara,” Jackson whispered.

“Stop!” Sara cried. She couldn’t possibly talk now. He would be truly unfair, if he persisted with any questions. To ensure that he didn’t talk and only communicated through his actions, she tilted her hips to increase the mutual sensation.

When he sputtered and groaned, she knew that she had accomplished her mission.

“Hold on,” Jackson muttered.

He wrapped her in his arms and moved her as if she weighed nothing to sit on his lap. He certainly played dirty, knowing that she turned to jelly when he brushed her breasts with his cheek and the stubble of his jaw stroked her sensitive nipples. She grabbed his shoulders and arched up to the touch of his tongue attending to her nipples.

Desire increased with each small wave, rolling in with growing force. Sara needed an anchor or else she would float away.

She tightened her legs against Jackson’s hips. Only seconds remained before her body contorted into a series of tremors as she released, along with him, in a synchronized choreography. She clenched his head against her breast until they were both spent and until their breathing could return to a normal range.

They remained still, the normal ritual after a rousing time spent in each other’s arms.

“What’s your answer now?” Jackson’s voice sounded loud, erupting through the silence.

Sara disengaged herself from Jackson’s lap. “You make my head spin. You make me feel as if I’m about to have a heart attack. My body aches for you as if I’m an addict.” She entered the bathroom. “But I can’t marry you, Jackson. I simply can’t.” She closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower faucet.

Jackson hid his disappointment with a wry smile. Each time he’d asked the question, he wanted to hear her assent. Somehow he’d hoped that she could tell how much he loved her a few minutes ago. But that didn’t happen. Now she had turned him down in the cold reality of the present.

As she took her shower, he dressed. He knew better than to press her incessantly. Instead of waiting for her to come out of the bathroom, he wrote a short note on the pad and left it on the pillow.

Tomorrow she’d return to Chicago without him. All his efforts were proving futile. He didn’t know what else to do to change her mind.

His cell phone buzzed. He flipped it open to see that his father was calling. The last thing that he wanted to do was sit across from his father and talk about business.

The legacy didn’t matter to him. As far as he was concerned, his charge in life stood between him and Sara. He sighed, heavily weighed by the boulder-sized burden threatening to buckle his knees.

With the note in place, he left the room. He’d wanted to wake up next to Sara eating breakfast in bed. But that was his fantasy. He had to get used to the fact that not all his fantasies would come true.

He dialed his father once he was in the car.

“Dad, you called?”

“Yes, come on by the house. Let’s eat dinner here. Your mother is still not feeling great.”

“Does she need to go to the hospital?” Jackson had thought his mother was bluffing, but this was a bit long to carry out one of her episodes. “I’ll be right over.” Jackson started the car and left the hotel parking lot.

Once he pulled into the driveway of his parents’ home and parked, he hopped out, eager to enter the house. Immediately, he looked around for any signs of his brother and sister. Whenever a parent was ill, they managed to reunite. However, the house was very quiet.

“Mom,” Jackson called out, looking into the family room.

“Up here,” her faint voice called out.

Jackson ran up the stairs, heading for her bedroom. He knocked and waited for her response before entering. She was on her lounge chair, reclining with lots of brown medicinal bottles at arms’ reach.

“How are you doing?” Jackson stooped to touch her face. She felt normal to his touch. “Have you taken your temperature or blood pressure?”

“No, dear. I told your father that I just needed to lie down.”

“Where is Dad?”

“Downstairs, I suppose,” she sighed. “He’s probably in his office. Aren’t you going to dinner with him?”

“He told me that he’d stay at the house since you weren’t feeling good.”

“Well, that’s very considerate of him. Go on, son. I know he’s looking forward to having dinner with you.” His mother patted the side of his cheek, offering him a small smile. “I’m going to take a quick nap.”

He left her and headed downstairs to his father’s office.

“Jackson, is that you?”

“I’m here.” Jackson entered his father’s office, which was normally off-limits to everyone else.

The room was his domain, where he sat behind his desk lording over everyone. Jackson used to feel intimidated by the overpowering presence of the furniture, high ceiling and his father’s authoritarian attitude.

“Where are Becky and Thadeus? Didn’t they know mom wasn’t feeling well?”

“I didn’t call them because she’s not sick enough to need the hospital. Why would Becky take time away from the church to visit? She thinks that by distancing herself from the family, it makes her more like one of the average people who come to their church. I expect that kind of thinking from her. But your brother is another matter. I’m tired of fighting with him.”

His father poured himself his usual quarter glass of whiskey from his bar. He was straight from a Bogart movie with all his preconceived notions about the man’s role.

“Let’s go to the kitchen and see what we can rustle up to eat.” His father exited through another door behind him. The door opened to the other side of the house, shortening the distance to the kitchen.

Jackson knew that he had landed the job to cook dinner. His father’s familiarity with the kitchen was minimal. He wouldn’t have a clue where to find the glasses or where the spices were located.

In short order, Jackson cooked his version of chicken-fried rice from the various containers of left-overs. He added a healthy dose of the hot sauce his father liked to the pot. He shared a plate and poured a glass of iced tea for his mother.

He took the iced tea to her, but had to return it to the kitchen. She had fallen asleep. Maybe when she awoke, she’d appreciate a hot meal, he thought.

“So, Jackson, where did you disappear to this afternoon?” His father dived into his food, giving him a thumbs-up as his only act of approval.

“I went to find Sara. I didn’t like the way the day ended for her.”

“Ah, Sara.” His father waved his fork in the air. “Now, I’m confused about her. What exactly is her role?”

To his father’s way of thinking, everyone in someone’s life had a role. The roles were either good or bad, no in between. If they did happen to sit on the fence in the neutral zone, then they had the potential to be flipped onto the bad side, and so should be summarily ditched.

“I want her to be a part of my life.” There, he had said the words.

“You’re too young.”

“I’m not too young for the business.”

“Yes, you are, but you’re focused. A woman will drain your focus.”

“You married mom at an early age.”

“Yes, I did.” His father glared at him in his usual challenging manner.

“And you love her.” Jackson hoped he wasn’t wrong about that. His father’s cold way of looking at things could spill over into his personal life. That coldness had turned off his children on more than one occasion. His mother seemed to have grown used to it. Yet, what had been her expectations at the beginning?

“Of course, I love her. Why wouldn’t I?” His father stabbed at a piece of chicken on his plate. “Oh, I see. It’s all or nothing for you.” He chewed the chicken, his expression thoughtful.

“I’m not you, Dad.” Jackson pushed aside his plate. Like his father said, it was all or nothing. “I appreciate what you’ve taught me. I’ve learned to like the business, but it’s your business. While you may feel that the legacy is an obligation, I look at it as a burden. I walked away from Sara once before because of the business. Second chances are rare. I don’t want to blow it, but I’m afraid that I may be too late.”

His father finished eating, as if he hadn’t spoken. Not until he’d finished the last mouthful did he set down the fork. Then he reached for his drink and drained the whiskey in his glass.

His father pushed away the dishes and leaned back in the chair. His gaze fastened onto an unknown spot on the ceiling. “I’m a simple man. I have no frills. I say what I have to say and move on. More unsettling, I’ve seen you listen to others outside of this family. And I’ve seen the admiration in your eyes. This is my business—legitimate and successful. Those same people that you admire so much aren’t necessarily clean. They didn’t start out on the up-and-up. Yet you’re ready to cast judgment on me.” His father didn’t sound sad. He was angry.

“Wanting to be with Sara is not a reflection on my feelings for you, Dad.”

“You’re throwing an ultimatum at me. Does Sara love you?”

Jackson nodded, but deep down he wasn’t sure that the strength and depth of his love matched what she may feel.

“Keep fooling yourself that she cares for you in the same way and you’ll be the one holding the bag. You’re leaving yourself wide open for a lot of pain.” His father drained his glass of whiskey. “You didn’t lose her. She couldn’t understand that you needed to concentrate on the job. She wanted your full and undivided attention, as if your future was of no consequence. Isn’t that a bit selfish?”

“Dad, that’s enough. Sara did nothing to deserve what I’d done. Wanting my attention was a minor reason. You and Mom didn’t think she was good enough for me. And you used a bogus excuse that the business was in crisis to pull me away.”

“You saved the family business. If she was that in love with you, she would’ve waited.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Your mother waited for me lots of times. She’s a good woman because she didn’t push and demand.”

Jackson heard what his father said. Yet, he didn’t look at his parents’ marriage as a model for what he wanted. His father had lived his life feeling that he had the right to be dominant and, at many times, domineering.

“I’ve said all that I have to say on the subject.” His father motioned toward his office. “We have a list of appointments on Monday. I’ll need you to go to a couple of them. Come into my office, so I can give you the rundown.” He walked out of the dining room, dismissing the heated conversation.

Jackson stacked the dishes and took them to the kitchen. He knew what he wanted to do. Though he may not be able to convince his father, at the moment, he wasn’t put off. His father had done a good job teaching him how to be stubborn and not budge from a position.

He rejoined his father in his office. Across from his desk, he sat, waiting for acknowledgement of his presence. He’d displeased his father. Silence would be his punishment.

“The mayor has a meeting at eleven. She’s meeting with various land developers, real estate folks and mortgage brokers about the new communities because of declining residential sales and the high foreclosure rates.”

Jackson scribbled down the notes. He’d go along until Plan B came to mind.

“Then in the afternoon, at two, you will be meeting with the Hendersons.”

“Our competitor?”

“Word is that they aren’t doing well. Maybe there are hidden opportunities. I’ll need you to handle this.”

Jackson sensed the potential gold mine. If Henderson was going under, his father’s business would become one of the biggest mortgage brokers in the state.

His father grinned. He’d been forgiven.

“Doesn’t the smell of success hit you right in the gut? That’s what it’s all about, Jackson.”

Chapter 11

Monday proved to be like any first workday of the week. Sara’s morning started early with a list of items that she’d put off and now loomed with impending deadlines. Setting aside her work wasn’t her style, but a lot of things that she’d done lately weren’t her style.

Ever since Jackson popped up, her world had gone into a spin. She’d run around, moping about him, craving his touch. This past weekend was like a wiper clearing away the muck that covered her eyes and her senses. Jackson’s note helped nudge her to pick which path to head down, instead of staying at the fork and waffling.

After her first class, she went to her cramped office. Piles of paper were on every empty surface, including the floor. She had class papers to edit, her essays from the publisher to edit and her paper on Alethea to be completed. This isolated world of research, theory and philosophy suited her.

Was it fair for her to expect Jackson to step away from his world? They had both followed their calling. This momentary fling did more harm with the doubts it stirred.

A knock on her office door stirred her from her musings.

“Come in,” Sara invited. She looked at her desk calendar to see if a student had an appointment. The time slot was blank.

“Hey, soror.” Denise stepped in with a wide grin. “Figured I’d stop by. Missed you. Tell me all about it.”

“My weekend? Memorable. Not much else to say.”

“That’s a bunch a crap.” Denise set down a pile of books from a chair and plopped herself down into the seat. “You know I’m a hopeless romantic, so I want to hear.”

“I don’t believe that you have a romantic bone in your body. You enjoy the single life too much.”

“And you don’t? You like to play the martyr.”

“Did you come to insult me on my territory?” Sara knew the signs when Denise was distressed. Her tongue turned acidic with barbs being flung at the victim in a steady stream. “And I’m sure that you’ve been this way all weekend with the others, and no one wants to deal with you now.”

“Bingo.” Denise scratched at her midsection as if the clothes were uncomfortably restraining.

Sara frowned. Denise’s close proximity to her drew her attention. She sniffed the air once more to make sure that her presumption was correct. She hadn’t noticed at first, considering her office smelled of old books and the lack of ventilation.

“Have you been drinking?” Sara scooted her chair forward to get a closer look at Denise.

“Bingo.” Denise smiled, her eyes drooping a little as if she’d had a long night. “One more and you win the grand prize.”

Sara had a class in fifteen minutes. If she left, Denise wouldn’t hang around. “Did you pay your gambling debt?” She held her breath for the response that she sensed wouldn’t be a good one.

“Yes.”

“Oh, good.” Sara resumed opening her mail.

“But it wasn’t good enough.” Denise slouched in the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest. “They said that I have to pay interest. Fifty percent.” Denise groaned. “That wasn’t the deal.”

The letter opener dropped from Sara’s hand. She looked over at Denise, wondering if this was a sick joke. “Where are you going to get another couple thousand?”

“Naomi made it clear that she didn’t have any more to give me.” Denise balled her fist, her face contorted with inner pain.

“Let’s figure out what to do.”

“Believe me, I’ve thought of all the options.” Denise had started to cry. She wiped her face on the back of her sleeves, sniffing loudly.

“All except one. Your parents.” Lately she seemed to be sending everyone back to their parents for answers. Jackson’s parents had certainly made it clear with their solution to the problems in their lives. Sara shook off what could have been, maybe even what should have been.

“If I go to them, they’ll set all kinds of conditions.”

“You can’t have everything you want. And the mess you’ve created is so deep that none of us can get you out. Safely, I might add.”

“Do you really think they will help me?”

“Do you really need me to answer that question?” Sara had met Denise’s parents. They loved their daughter, possibly spoiling her in the process. Financially, they could handle it.

“I’m going to feel like a kid.”

“As long as you get the help you need, you can handle some structure in your life. Having rules isn’t such a bad thing.” Sara grabbed her teaching materials for the next class. “I have to go to work. Don’t sit here a moment longer. You need to call your parents.”

Denise dragged herself out of the chair. She hugged Sara, her body hanging heavily against her friend. “I’ll call. Can I do it from here?”

“Sure. I’ll let the department assistant know that you’re in here.”

“Thanks.” Denise wrung her hands. She took deep breaths, shook her hands and then picked up the phone.

Sara looked at her watch. She was already five minutes late. “Gotta run. Let me know how it goes.” She hurried to class before her students used her tardiness as an excuse to exit the class early.

After class, Sara checked her office to see if Denise was still there. But her friend had left with only a scribbled note that she was gone to see her parents. Sara’s heart felt a little lighter, knowing that Denise would be taken care of. She’d be sure to tell the other line sisters about Denise’s status.

With her classes over, Sara headed home. There was still Alethea’s paper to write. Work was far from over. She stopped at a Chinese take-out and grabbed dinner. Since she’d been gone for so many days, her cabinets were bare and the expired milk had to be poured down the sink.

At home, she changed her clothes and then headed for the food. Skipping lunch hadn’t been deliberate, but the aftereffects made her famished. The smell of Hunan chicken and vegetarian fried rice called to her. After fixing a plate, she pressed the voice mail button to listen to her messages.

After the announcement that she had ten messages, Sara started eating. She keenly listened to the messages from her line sisters, her mother and a telemarketer. She perked up when she heard Jackson’s voice, but it was an old message when he’d been in the city.

Time would erase that expectation.

Her phone rang. She answered, a small smidgen of hope burning for Jackson’s voice.

“Sara, it’s Martha.”

“Martha?” Sara hoped there wouldn’t be any more drama with this woman and Blake.

“I’m back in town.”

“Yes.” Sara grew uneasy. An unspoken request hovered in the air.

“I didn’t get to speak to Blake.”

Sara kept quiet.

“I tried to get in touch with him. Don’t know why.” The young woman sighed, her voice trembled. “My parents were so angry with me that I thought I had made a mistake coming home.”

“But you didn’t make a mistake, did you?” Sara eased back into the conversation, sensing that Martha only wanted to talk through her fears. Seemingly she had been thrust into the counselor position to solve the problems of others. Who would help with her problems? Who would counsel her?

“They love the baby. I think that they prefer her to me.” Martha laughed, a sad haunting sound. “They will keep my baby while I go back to school full-time.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“As a mother, should I leave my child? I feel like I’m abandoning her. Will she understand what I did? I’ve already made so many mistakes.”

“Don’t focus on your faults, Martha. Your family is giving you a gift with a second chance. Do your best.” Sara ended the call with ambivalent feelings.

Martha was an unexpected variable who kept popping into her life. Some of those appearances hurt with crushing cruelty. Other times, like this one, there was a whimsical quality about it. Martha treated her like a mentor. She didn’t want to accept the title and all its responsibilities.

Yet she didn’t want to befriend Martha. She wanted to hold onto the hurt, but the woman wouldn’t let her. Martha’s sentimental nature and her phone call made Sara’s anger dissipate.

Her hand lingered on the phone. In her empty apartment, and with her empty life, she closed her eyes in meditation. Too many questions nagged at her. Sara noted that the answers she arrived at weren’t necessarily happy, neat ones. “Let go,” she whispered. She’d have to deal with accepting life’s disappointments.

She washed her single plate and fork. Refilling her glass, she took a long drink of iced tea. Time to work on Alethea’s story. Before she placed her fingers on the keyboard, she wanted to clear her mind. Her view of Alethea shouldn’t color the depiction of her life. This woman wasn’t to be pitied. She wasn’t perfect with her participation in men’s infidelities. And despite all of that, Sara was drawn to her.

“Let go,” she repeated.

Her prejudices needed to disappear before they destroyed her humility. She needed to let go of the aching sorrow that resulted from walking away from Jackson.

From her pocket where she kept Jackson’s note, she reopened the worn folded paper. Once again, she read the message:

Sara, I am a man of few real words, but larger-than-life emotions. Together we can ignore whatever we want to ignore. I need you in my life. If I’m by your side in the morning, I will know that we have jumped over the hurdles together.

Jackson.

Sara took the note and held it over the stove. Her hand trembled. Her act to turn this note into ashes may be overkill, but she had to let go of every reminder of her love.

Jackson worked long, hard hours with little sleep and far less food. He threw himself into mind-numbing work so that, when he put his head on the pillow, he’d be too exhausted to think about Sara. His body wouldn’t crave her touch. He would be too exhausted to be aroused by memories of their lovemaking.

His father popped into his office. “Did you have a staff meeting this morning?”

Jackson shook his head. He coughed to clear the scratching in his throat. “Most of the brokers had client meetings this morning.” He coughed again, reaching for the tea laced with honey.

“Why don’t you go home,” his father suggested.

Jackson looked up, surprised by his father’s soft response. He’d self-medicated to mask his symptoms of headache, runny nose and coughing that he attributed to the fall allergy season. “I’ll be okay. What are you planning to do for the rest of the day?”

“Heading home.”

Jackson couldn’t hide his shock.

“I know. The workaholic is going home early.” His father turned away and headed out of the office.

“What’s the matter? Are you ill?”

“Not at all.” His father thumped his chest. “I’m fit.”

Jackson couldn’t contradict the statement because his father was a model of good health. “Is it Mom?” Jackson hadn’t made it home since his parents returned from their trip.

“She’s quiet. I want to make sure that she is okay.” His father’s expression was shuttered, closed to any further questions.

“I’ll come by later this evening to see her.”

“She’d like that.” His father didn’t wear his subdued demeanor well. He looked uncomfortable, as if wanting to keep his worry in a private place.

Jackson rubbed his throat, wishing he could shake the irritation. He popped a few more pills and went back to work. Feeling a little hot, he opened the top button of his shirt and slackened his tie.

The phone on his desk beeped. “Mr. Thomas, you have a call from Ted Beavers,” his assistant announced.

“Please transfer him.” He had given Beavers a vague promise of when he would return. He was curious as to why he was calling.

“Ted! It’s Jackson.” Jackson popped a throat lozenge so he wouldn’t sound so froggy.

“Jackson, I’d hoped that you would return to Chicago soon.”

Jackson listened to Beavers rehash their conversation. He wiped his brow, growing uncomfortable. “I’m hip deep in several projects here. I have to move my timeline on doing anything in Chicago.” A headache loomed just below the surface like a heavy rolling pin pressing down from one end of his head to the other side.

“I look forward to reopening our discussion. I’m heading out of the country on business for a month. When I get back, let’s talk.”

Jackson jumped on the fact that he’d have four weeks before he would have to repeat his canned response that he had to move the timeline for coming to Chicago.

He polished off his tea, but not before sneezing three times. Getting a doctor’s appointment would take longer than going to the drugstore and picking up strong allergy medicine. He headed out of the office, letting his assistant know where he was going.

His phone buzzed at his side on the way to the store. He attached the ear piece and pressed the button to talk. “Hello.”

“Jackson, it’s Edgar Feldman, your golf buddy.”

“Hi, Edgar.”

“Do you have time around three to stop by my office? There is a task force that we’re commissioned to create. I think you’d work great with some of the other people.”

Jackson stroked his forehead, trying to soothe the pounding of his head. He sneezed and coughed, suddenly feeling chilled. He turned up the heat in his SUV, even while he felt the sweat bead on his forehead.

“You sound awful.”

Jackson acknowledged his illness, and every word and grunt hurt his throat. “I’m interested, but I’m not sure I can make it this afternoon.”

“That’s all I need to hear. You take care of yourself, young man. We can catch up in a day or so.” Edgar hung up.

Jackson got his medicine and promptly downed the prescribed two pills. His calendar still had several important appointments for the day. He continued with his schedule, pushing his mind to overcome the physical discomfort.

Nine o’clock that evening, Jackson left the restaurant where he’d met with three brokers. He managed a small bowl of chicken soup, but he didn’t feel any better. As a matter of fact, his condition broke up the meeting because he looked so terrible.

Jackson went to his condo. He dropped his keys on his bedside table and dropped onto the bed. His head spun and he leaned back against the pillows, hoping that the bed would stop spinning.

His phone, which was still clipped on his belt, buzzed. He ignored the small gadget. It quieted. A few minutes later, the phone buzzed again. Again, he tried to ignore it. But then he remembered that his mother may be under the weather.

He answered.

“Jackson, were you sleeping?”

“Denise?” He struggled to sit up. He was glad to hear from her, especially since she could give him news about Sara. He’d almost managed the entire day without thinking about her. But he was glad that Denise blew away that accomplishment.

“I feel bad calling you so late, but I wanted to return a favor.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sara gave me some great advice. I’m getting my life together and I hate to see my friends struggling. Hold a minute.”

Jackson heard the phone click. He rested his head in his hand to wait for her to return to the call. His stomach rumbled. He dropped the phone from the sharp pain.

His stomach lurched. Stabbing pains had him clenching his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep from crying out. Something he ate didn’t agree with him.

Finally he was able to pick up the phone. The brief episode wiped him out. “Hello,” he said, struggling to speak.

“Hey, I thought I’d lost you there. Sara?”

“Yeah.” Sara’s voice sounded hesitant.

Jackson tried to focus. “What’s going on?”

“Sara and Jackson, you’re both my friends. I’ve stood on the sideline throughout your relationship and saw love as it truly is. I don’t know what happened this last time. But I think there is a lot of unfinished business. So go ahead and talk. I’ll go back to what I was doing.”

Jackson couldn’t believe what Denise had done. He wanted to call her name and ask her more questions. But he knew that Sara was on the line. He could hear her breathing. Was she equally confused?

“Jackson, how are you?”

“I’m hanging in there.”

“You sound different. Did she wake you? I can’t believe she pulled this conference call stunt. She’s lucky that she’s not here.”

“I know what you mean. I have a cold or something. I thought it was allergies, but I’m not sure. Where is Denise?”

“She’s at home with her parents taking care of personal business.”

“But she’s okay, otherwise?”

“Yeah.”

Jackson remained still on the bed. His mouth felt dry. But he didn’t want to waste a second getting water from the refrigerator. He desperately wanted her to stay on the phone and not run off.

“How’s work?” she asked.

“Busy. Are you busy?” This two-step dance frustrated him. He wanted to know if she thought about him. Did she have sleepless nights? Had anyone turned her attention?

“I’m working on my first draft of Alethea’s story. Tough going sometimes. I wrote her a letter because I wanted to ask a few more questions. I need her detailed response, not her usual, casual off-the-cuff remarks.”

“I’m confident that you’ll write a wonderful, eye-opening essay on that remarkable woman.”

“Thanks.”

“I may have to come back to Chicago.” He uttered the statement and waited. A coughing fit erupted.

“Jackson, you don’t sound good at all. Look, you need to rest.”

“I don’t want to hang up.” He didn’t care how he sounded. He wanted to hear Sara’s voice.

“I know,” she said softly. “I don’t, either. But you need rest. Call me when you feel better.”

Jackson closed his eyes, disappointed that the call was about to end. “I will.”

He hung up with enough time to run to the bathroom. For the remainder of the evening, he repeated the pattern of lying down, sitting up with sudden pain and running to the bathroom. By the morning, his sheets were soaked with sweat. But he couldn’t move to change it. He felt as if something held him down, pinned him to the bed.

His throat was beyond dry. His lips were cracked and hurt when he moved them. The light bothered his eyes and he kept them closed.

He struggled to hold onto one thought. Sara wanted him to call her. She hadn’t turned her back on him.

Sara hung up the phone slowly. Her forehead wrinkled by a worried frown. Jackson didn’t sound good at all. She didn’t know anyone who could check on him. And he sounded bad enough to need the attention.

She got out of her bed to get her pocketbook. She pulled out all the business cards that accumulated in her bag. Among the lot, she looked for Gladys’s card. Before the big falling out during the book club meeting, she had passed out her card. At the time, Sara had slipped it in her bag with no plan to ever use it. She’d thought that she’d leave that city and its crazy social rules.

Now at ten o’clock, she was about to call someone she’d only briefly met to get Eleanor’s number. Sara took a deep breath, hoping that she’d get lucky.

“Gladys, this is Sara. Please accept my apologies for calling so late.”

“Sara?” Gladys yawned. “I was watching TV. How can I help you? Everything okay?”

Sara did feel guilty for not calling Gladys and thanking her for defending her. She’d been such an emotional mess that she’d forgotten. Later, calling her would have been her excuse to learn what Eleanor was up to with her son and the infamous daughters. She’d rather not know.

“Do you have Eleanor’s number?” Sara explained why she needed the number. Gladys didn’t object, and provided her with the number quickly.

“If you need anything else, I’m here.”

Sara rang off and then redialed the Thomases’ residence. She didn’t expect to get through to Eleanor so easily. The staff were probably experts at fending off callers. Now the time grew later, but she wasn’t about to give up.

Jackson’s father answered. His irritation was apparent in his greeting.

“Mr. Thomas, this is Sara.”

“Who?”

“Sara Lovell. I visited your home a few weekends ago.”

“Oh, yes. Jackson isn’t here. I’ll let him know you called.”

“Wait!” She could visualize him lowering the phone to the base. “I just hung up from Jackson.”

“And you had a fight and want me to intervene on your behalf.” He cleared his throat. “Jackson is an adult, Miss, ah…”

Sara shook her head. Now his father was going to be a pain. “Sir, I’m not calling about me. Jackson is ill.”

“Yes, I know. It’s allergies. But what does that have to do with you?”

“I just spoke to him and he sounded very weak. I think someone should check on him.”

“I saw him today, Sara. He’s probably got a sinus infection. No need to get dramatic. Let him rest tonight. You have a good evening.”

This time, she couldn’t stop him from hanging up. “What a schmuck!” Sara didn’t know whether to call back.

She readied for bed, but felt restless. She didn’t believe in mystical reasoning about having a cosmic tie with soul mates, and the like, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Jackson.

She called his number. Maybe if he answered, she’d feel more reassured. The phone switched to his voice message. In the next ten minutes, she called three times, giving him time in case he was in the bathroom. There was no answer.

She didn’t think that he would refuse to pick up her calls. The next time she picked up the phone, it was to order airline tickets. The cost for a short-notice trip put a dent in her bank account, but she didn’t care.

By midnight, she crawled into bed, hoping that she could catch a couple hours of sleep before having to head to the airport. She didn’t want to be tired when she got to Columbus. If Jackson needed her help, she wanted to be able to help him.

She closed her eyes and said a prayer. He may need all the help she couldn’t provide.

Chapter 12

Sara landed at seven on a rainy day. The weather blanketed the area in a soggy dampness. The traffic of morning rush hour slowed her down even more. The good thing was that Jackson lived at the edge of the city limits.

Her taxi driver did his best to weave through the traffic to Jackson’s home. She’d never been there, but had a personal card he’d given her with his private information.

She pressed his doorbell, shifting back and forth, waiting for him to answer. She called once more, on the cell, acknowledging that she’d probably overloaded his voice mail. Still no reply.

This time she called his father ready to make him understand that he needed to take her seriously.

“Sara, I’m on my way. I’ve been trying to reach Jackson since you called and there’s no answer. I have a key.”

Sara sat at Jackson’s door. People walking their dogs or jogging looked at her strangely. She waved when they didn’t seem to get their fill of her sitting there. One concerned resident sent the neighborhood security to investigate. Sara produced her identification upon their request. They scrutinized the small card, not listening or caring to hear her explanation. She could already read from their body language that she was about to be told to leave.

“It’s okay, gentlemen. She’s with me.” Cecil Thomas emerged from his car. His distinguished manner immediately made them back off.

They handed back her identification.

“Don’t leave, though. I may need your services.” Cecil opened the door and entered.

Sara squeezed past him, calling out to Jackson. The sound of water running drew her past the kitchen, into the bedroom. The bedsheets were rumpled, and pillows were strewn around the bed.

She’d stopped calling out to him. Dread had a hold on her, like cold fingers icily spreading over her body. Her stomach tightened with uncertainty. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, she followed the sound of running water. As she came around the corner to the doorway of the bathroom, she saw Jackson lying on the floor.

“Help! Help me.” She dropped to her knees, reaching out to touch him.

“Don’t touch anything,” Jackson’s father ordered. He touched his son’s head and then his neck. “Call an ambulance!”

“Jackson,” Sara called. She disobeyed Cecil’s order and touched Jackson’s cheek. “Please answer me, baby.” He was so still and pale, but his skin was hot.

She looked down the length of his body. He still wore his work clothes. How long had he been like this?

Fifteen minutes later, the paramedics arrived and Sara and his father had to leave to give them room. Sara strained to hear their assessment at the scene. Once they knew that Cecil was the father and she was…well, a mere friend, they directed their comments to him. Sara hoped the man would have the decency to share the information with her.

In a matter of minutes, they lifted Jackson onto the gurney and rolled him out of the building. Sara stood in the living room, glad to see that they hadn’t pulled a sheet over his face.

“They are taking him to the hospital. He’s dehydrated with a raging fever. They are afraid that his kidneys may have started shutting down.”

“I’m coming,” Sara declared, ready to do battle if he contradicted her.

“I’d have it no other way. Come with me.”

Sara blinked. She welcomed his inclusion, but didn’t trust that it would hold once his son was better. Her theory was strengthened when they rode to the hospital with barely any conversation between them. For right now, she only wanted to concentrate on Jackson.

They sat in the hospital waiting room until a doctor visited them. He explained that they were giving him IVs and strong antibiotics. They would need to monitor him carefully for the next few days. Jackson wasn’t necessarily in the clear, but he was now in capable hands.

“After he talks to his father, may I see him?” Sara asked the doctor, still unsure that Cecil would not object.

“Sure. Are you Sara?”

Sara looked at Cecil. “Yes.”

“He’s been repeating your name since he regained consciousness.” The doctor shook their hands and left.

“Maybe you should go in first.” Cecil paced, his hands nervously rubbing his chin.

“I’ll be here in the hospital for a while. You go ahead.” Sara did feel much better that Jackson was awake, but also because he called for her. She dropped wearily into one of the chairs, grabbed one of the celebrity gossip magazines and tried to exercise patience while Cecil visited his son.

Jackson listened to the beeps of the medical equipment surrounding him, looking over at the IVs. He wondered about the uniformed medical personnel bustling past the window of his room. His last memory was of washing his face in the bathroom. While his memory wasn’t holding onto all the details, he couldn’t explain why he thought he’d heard Sara.

One conversation with her and he was like a lovesick pup. Even in sickness, he’d heard her call his name. If it were only true, he’d be the happiest patient.

“Son, how are you doing?”

“Dad? I’m confused.” Jackson hadn’t been sick a lot as a child. And he certainly had never been in the hospital. So the look of deep concern from his father disturbed him. His father was the rock.

Cecil filled him in on how he managed to end up in the hospital. “You have Sara to thank. She’s here.”

Jackson perked up. He tried to raise himself, but he didn’t have the energy.

“Hey, take it easy. She’ll be in soon. And I do have to call your mother. She will be a mess when she hears this.”

“Sorry to cause all this fuss. I thought it was just my allergies.”

“They think it was a strong strain of the flu virus. You’re working so hard that you probably compromised your immune system.”

“What health book have you been reading?” Jackson joked with his father, a little embarrassed by his father’s show of concern. Emotions were to be hid and displayed only when necessary and, more importantly, in private moments.

“I know Sara wants to see you. I’ll go get her.” His father placed a hand over his and then turned away.

Jackson rested his eyes, waiting for Sara to enter. His energy had waned with his father’s visit. He hoped that he would not drift off to sleep. But he was so tired.

Sara entered the room. Jackson was still. She wanted to cry. The steady beeps of the various heart and blood pressure machines gave her small comfort. Otherwise, his pale sunken features would unravel what small self-control she had.

She approached the bed and gently took his hand. Unfortunately he’d fallen asleep, but as long as the nurses didn’t mind, she wanted to be at his side. Simply watching him sleep comforted her.

Making herself as comfortable as a hospital chair allowed, she took her position next to him. She stroked his fingers, placing small kisses on those hands she knew so well. Her tears spilled on them and she brushed them off his skin.

“Sara,” he whispered.

At first, she thought that she’d imagined the sound of her name.

“Sara,” he said, slightly louder.

She raised her head to see his eyes flicker open. She smiled, then grinned. “Oh, baby, don’t say anything.” She kissed him softly on his lips.

“I’m so glad to see you.”

“Shh. I didn’t think you were so desperate to see me.” She winked at him.

His mouth trembled, forming a weak smile. “Thank you.”

Sara started to cry again. “No, thank you.” She kissed his forehead, as he slipped back into a peaceful slumber. “I’ll be back.”

Sara left the hospital, but she was in a quandary. There was no way that she was going back home to Chicago while Jackson was still touch-and-go. She had her small duffel bag and not much else and no place to stay.

Her cell phone rang. “Yes?”

“Sara, this is Cecil. I’m sending a car to the hospital for you. I want you to stay at the house.”

“Oh, sure.” Sara hung up the phone, more than a little shocked. She didn’t know how long Cecil’s generosity would last or whether it spread to his wife. But she wouldn’t pass up free accommodations, especially since she didn’t know how long Jackson would be in the hospital.

An hour later, she entered the house that she thought she’d never visit again. The maid led her into the house away from the familiar family room to Cecil’s office. His style and personality definitely marked this room.

“Have a seat.”

Sara complied, her nervousness returned. She didn’t expect to feel as if she were on an interview.

“I want to thank you for being so persistent. And while Jackson is in the hospital, I’m hoping that I will get to know you.”

So this was like a job interview. Who knew that she had to be judged worthy of being a friend? Was this where she’d gone wrong the first time? Sara kept her theory to herself.

“My wife and I will be going to the hospital this afternoon. You’re welcome to accompany us.” He stood.

Sara followed suit. She hoped Jackson’s recovery would be on the fast track. She didn’t take orders well. The whole male dominant attitude made her want to snort.

“Vernetta will show you to your room. Eleanor is resting and will see you later. I have a few calls to make and don’t want you to feel that you have to eat in the dining room. You may eat lunch in your room, if you wish.”

“Your thoughtfulness is appreciated.” Sara meant it. She’d rather be in the private, smaller confines of the room.

Sara followed the maid up to the room. They passed several closed doors. The room chosen for her was at the far corner toward the front of the house. She looked around, wondering which one was his parents’ and, more importantly, which one was Jackson’s when he stayed here.

She entered the bedroom. The room color reminded her of a creamy blueberry with white trimmings around the window. A small spattering of a shade of raspberry accented the décor. At the window, she noted that she had the front view.

Growing up in this large house with servants and chauffeurs must have seemed quite natural, unlike her memories of home life with her mother and stepfather, where the blending of families didn’t quite work like the Brady Bunch. She had counted the time when she could escape to college. Two worlds, miles apart, and she and Jackson were attracted to each other.

Sara touched the curtains, fingered the decorations and admired the picturesque landscape paintings on the walls. At least there was a TV to keep her occupied.

The maid returned with her lunch on a tray.

“Thanks. Do you know if Eleanor is up and around?” Sara wasn’t exactly dying to see Jackson’s mother, but considering that she’d been invited to the house, she should show her appreciation in person.

“Mrs. Thomas is in her room. If you’d like to visit her, I’ll let her know.”

“No, that’s okay.” No need to rush the process since they would see each other on the way to the hospital.

Sara ate her soup, sandwich and warm apple crisp. Only crumbs remained in a matter of minutes. With only tea on the plane, she hadn’t eaten anything else.

Eating made her feel much better. She pulled out her laptop and set up a small work area at the desk in the corner of the room. Before long, she was fully engrossed in Alethea’s story as the words continued to flow.

The maid returned and instead of bothering her, she brought a fresh pot of hot water and an assortment of tea bags. Sara paused long enough to thank her profusely. If she stayed in this environment for too long, she’d be spoiled rotten.

Two hours later, she’d run out of anything further to write. She needed to think about the direction that her essay took. Taking a break at this time didn’t upset her. The time away from the work provided her with time to rejuvenate.

“Miss Sara, the Thomases are waiting for you,” the maid said through the door.

Sara hurriedly fixed her hair, straightened her clothing and grabbed her pocketbook. She went down the grand staircase, wishing that she’d heard them so that she could have been ready. As she entered the foyer, the maid said, “They are in the car.”

She hoped they hadn’t been waiting too long. Hurrying, she ran toward the car, almost stopping short at the sight of Eleanor. She certainly didn’t look herself.

She looked quiet and withdrawn.

Cecil sat in the front with the driver. He was visibly subdued. She and Eleanor were directed to the back. Sara stepped aside to allow Eleanor to enter first. She offered a weak, tired smile before sliding into the seat. Sara took her seat, wondering what she should say to Eleanor. They had separated under unpleasant circumstances. But Jackson’s illness looked like it had sucked the energy out of his mother. Sara couldn’t hold onto the anger when Eleanor appeared so weak.

Jackson’s father chatted with the driver. Sara could only see his profile occasionally when he turned to address him. Cecil didn’t seem to be able to relax. From where she sat, he appeared to be stiff and deliberate in how he thought and what he said.

Muffled sounds of sobbing startled her. Eleanor was crying into a handkerchief, trying to mute her misery. Sara acted on instinct and moved closer to the older woman. Eleanor looked up with redrimmed eyes, her fingers working at the lace trimmed handkerchief. Sara couldn’t offer supportive words, but she had a shoulder for lots of hurting folks. She wrapped her arm around Eleanor’s small frame and eased her head against her shoulder.

“Jackson is a fighter. He’ll be fine.” Sara believed every word she said.

By the time they reached the hospital, Eleanor had regained her composure. She didn’t look much better, but her emotions were being held in check. When they exited the car, Cecil was not the wiser of his wife’s meltdown.

On the way to his room, Sara remained respectfully behind the Thomases. Cecil and Eleanor walked together. Sara was glad to see that Cecil had his arm around his wife. Maybe his aloof personality didn’t run deep.

They navigated the long hallways, elevators and additional hallways. Sara trailed the couple to Jackson’s room. When they entered, she retreated and headed for the waiting room.

The waiting room was empty. A TV situated overhead showed network news. Sara had no interest in current news and events. Trying to be patient was proving difficult. She decided to call Denise, then each line sister, to update them about Jackson’s condition. Their comforting words made her feel good, and their loving support moved her to tears.

“Sara, would you join us?”

Sara hung up, not sure whether she told Naomi that she had to go. Jackson’s father stood in the doorway. He motioned with his head for her to follow.

She caught up with him, thinking that he would enlighten her with regard to Jackson’s current condition. He didn’t say anything. But when she stole a glance, she felt better that he didn’t look angry, just slightly worn at the edges.

“Cecil, thank you for everything and for sharing this time with me.”

Cecil nodded. “Go to him.”

Sara entered the room. “Jackson?” Sara couldn’t believe what she saw. Jackson looked so much better and sat up in the bed. His face was still gaunt, but the fluids and antibiotics had done a marvelous job on his condition.

“It’s me.” He raised his hands for her, but then they dropped at his side from the effort.

“Don’t tax your system.” She kissed his mouth with small pecks until his father cleared his throat. She blushed, remembering that Cecil and Eleanor were still in the room.

“The bad news is that you missed meeting my brother, Thadeus, and my sister, Becky, and their families. On the other hand, the good news is that the doctor says because I’m in such healthy condition, I should make a good and quick recovery.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll get to meet them eventually. I’ll be here until you get out of the hospital.”

Jackson eased back against the pillow with a small smile.

Sara wondered if he was feeling pain. She touched the side of his face, hoping that she could ease the tension.

“I think it’s time for me to say what has been on my mind and in my heart. Jackson lying here ill was my wake up call.” Eleanor stepped forward and took her place on the other side of the bed. She took Jackson’s hand and brought it up to her cheek before placing it back on his chest.

Out of respect, Sara moved from her position next to Jackson. She didn’t want to intrude on a private moment. Plus she was satisfied to see Jackson looking much better.

“No, child, this is not the time for you to retreat. You saved my son’s life.”

Sara’s face flushed—she was a little flustered with the emotional statement.

“You saved my life, too.” Eleanor looked at her. Sara didn’t know how to respond. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.” She looked at Jackson and her eyes swelled with tears.

His gaze was fixed on his mother’s face. “Mom, don’t cry.”

Jackson’s father stepped forward and placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders. She brushed her cheek against his hand. “No, Cecil. I’ve got to have my say. Let’s not waste any more precious time.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll be outside. I have to check on a couple things. Eleanor, let me know when you’re ready.”

“Thanks for coming, Dad.”

His father left the room.

What was going on? Sara didn’t like surprises, especially when they were family-related. Suddenly she grew nervous, dreading Eleanor’s announcement.

“Son, sometimes it takes almost losing someone to hit you over the head with what is important in life. Sarafina, give me your hand.”

Sara complied, still a little off balance by Eleanor’s change of attitude.

Even Jackson looked surprised by his mother’s actions.

“Eleanor, you don’t have to say anything.” Sara didn’t want to rely on her charity that would disappear in a matter of days when Jackson returned home.

“The first thing I have to say is sorry to both of you. Jackson, I wanted your life to be perfect as a child and even into adulthood. You were my baby. Nothing could be too good for you. Plus you made your father so proud. He saw himself in you. He went about teaching you the way he’d learned. Showing emotions was a sign of weakness. A man had the sole responsibility to take care of his family.” Eleanor opened her hand for Sara’s. “Don’t be angry with him. I told him what I wanted to say today. Of course, he didn’t agree. But I’m not going to be talked out of what I needed to say. I dismissed your feelings because I had learned to dismiss matters of my heart.”

Sara didn’t know what to say, how to respond. As much as she wanted to she didn’t know the appropriate comments.

“And thank goodness, despite my intervention, you found your way back to each other. Each time I’ve witnessed how Jackson’s face lights up when you’re around. He doesn’t have to tell me that he loves you because it radiates off his body.” She squeezed Sara’s hand. “When you walked in that day, looking so mature, I had no doubt that you loved Jackson. Son, you have stepped out beyond your father’s footsteps. Go after your dreams.” Eleanor wiped the corners of her eyes.

“Mom, don’t worry about me. I’m happy.”

“Be quiet, Jackson. You’re not happy because I said so.”

There was momentary silence before they burst into laughter. Jackson pushed his bed down a bit, already looking fatigued.

Cecil reentered the room. “Look, Jackson, I know you want to leave the company. And although your mom tries to make me understand, I still don’t want you to leave.” He exhaled and stuck his hands in his pockets, a move that was so unlike him. “And I know that you love this young lady sitting beside you. You have my blessing. I won’t stand in the way.” He shifted from foot to foot. “That’s all I had to say.” Jackson’s father left the room as abruptly as he’d entered.

“That took a lot of him,” Jackson remarked.

“Yeah, we’re quite a pair, I must admit.” Eleanor stood. “As much as we pretend, we’re not perfect. My marriage to your father was arranged by our parents right after high school. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t as if I didn’t have any feelings for him. But our parents manipulated every part of our relationship, from courtship to engagement to wedding. After all this time, I’ve learned to love your father.”

“Too much information, Mom.”

“No, it’s not. I want to hear,” Sara said, now understanding the impact of his mother’s message.

“I want to save what I see as a pure love between two people,” Eleanor declared.

“Well, thank you, Mom, but I don’t plan to let Sara go again.”

“Looks like both of you have my life planned for me.” Sara surveyed the two family members. “I’m not to be manipulated.”

“I wouldn’t manipulate you with words. I’m too weak to do what I’d really like to do with the right action.” Jackson grinned.

His mother gasped, putting a hand to her cheek.

Sara grinned back at her man. “Until you get better, you’d better learn to tell me.”

Jackson motioned her closer. “The only thing that I have for you is that I love you, woman.”

“You finally said it!” Sara exclaimed.

“I’ve learned a thing or two, also. I may have grown up where we keep our emotions out of view. But I’ve listened to what my mother said. I’ve watched how difficult my father has been. I’ve seen how much I’ve hurt you.” He took a deep breath. “I look into your eyes and can shout to the rooftops that I love you.”

“And I can look into your eyes and block out the world to say I love you.” She kissed him, softly, enjoying his lips against hers. The machines beeped with increasing annoyance.

Jackson’s mother waved away the nurse, as they both eased out of the room.

Sara laid her head on Jackson’s chest, loving the sound of his heart. She couldn’t bear to lose him.

“I hope you’ll let me share your bed…in Chicago,” Jackson said.

Sara looked up into his dark, sexy eyes.

“Just try and stop me.”

“But only as my wife.”

Sara grinned. “That’s a deal I can live with.”

ISBN: 978-1-4268-1524-9

NO ONE BUT YOU

Copyright © 2008 by Michelle Monkou

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