When the Heart Lies

Chapter 21





It wasn’t long before Jackson and Kinsley arrived at the pier and began taking in the festivities. The day was fleeting. She wished she could flip a switch to slow motion. The music, the ocean, the arts, the crafts, the entertainers, and Jackson appearing to enjoy himself as much as she was, was delightful. The things that caught his attention surprised her. He had good taste and seemed interested in everything. And he touched her in tender, non-sexual ways. Ways that made her feel cherished. They were watching the jugglers when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and tucked his face in close to hers. It was the happiest she’d been in years. Ever. At long last, she’d found what she’d been searching for, and she had to walk away. She would, but not today.

“There’s an old dock about two miles down the beach. Do you want to grab some cold drinks and a light lunch? I can’t share you much more today.”

Without turning, she reached back and placed her hand on the side of his cheek, pulling his face closer to hers. “I’d like that.” The skin-to-skin contact made her want to wrap herself up in him and stay forever.

They picked up some Cokes and turkey sandwiches on the way. The dock was idyllic, on a strip of isolated beach with natural native grasses, and it was low to the water so they could dip their feet in. They slipped their shoes off and sat side-by-side, feet dangling in the cool water.

She took in the view. The undeveloped beach brought tranquil thoughts. Breaking the calm with conversation seemed criminal, but there was so little time. “I guess being a native pays off; you know all the best spots.”

He looked contemplative. “Yeah. This is one of my favorites.”

She opened her sandwich and took a long sip of Coke. “I can see why.”

They ate in quietness, enjoying the scenery. Eventually, she got tired, dropped her head back, and closed her eyes.

“Lie down. Rest your head in my lap.”

She nodded, pulled her feet from the water, and stretched out onto her back, laying her head on his legs. She kept her eyes open as his hand smoothed her hair and glided sweetly back to the top to stroke again.

After a few minutes, he spoke. “Did you tell Xavier not to have Nick come because you wanted to be alone with me before you went back?”

She took her time to answer, but never once looked away. “Yes.”

He sighed and smiled. “I have something for you, but before I give it to you, I need you to promise you’ll keep it.” He pulled a tiny, black, velvet bag from his pocket and opened it, revealing a brilliant, blue, square sapphire with diamonds surrounding it.

She sat up to interrupt, but he eased her back down onto his lap. He looked out onto the water, contemplative again, and it made her uneasy. She was, in spite of everything, determined to keep Max close to his father and keep Jackson far enough away so he’d never see her any other way than he did now.

“Jackson please, you know I can’t make a blind promise. I wish you wouldn’t ask me to. We barely know each other.”

“No promises. Compromise. Keep the ring forever to remember me or send it back to me in a year to tell me you want me to forget about you.”

She lifted her head from his lap and stood. “Jackson.”

He followed her up, laid his hand on her cheeks, and held her face. She couldn’t deny him, not today, although she knew she should and would when she returned home. She nodded, bit her lower lip, and blinked, attempting to swallow back tears. He took her right hand and put the ring on her finger. Her hand trembled. He held it, placing his other on top of it.

“The words that go along with this ring won’t ever be spoken unless you let me put it on your left hand someday because, unless you’re my wife, they’re just words.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I’m married? How could she have been so selfish, not thinking at all about how he’d feel when she left?

“You don’t have to say anything, but I’d like to tell you the story behind it. Less than a handful of people know it, and you’ll be the only person I’ve ever told it to.” He let go of her hands, sat down, and faced the water, holding his hands between his legs.

She sat beside him and waited.

“My real father, my mother’s lover, gave my mother the ring the day I was born. I’d never seen her without it on and never knew where it came from. It was just part of her. I never questioned it.” He looked down into the water and rubbed some non-existent item from his pant leg. “One night, my mother and father—the man I’d always believed was my father, started fighting. At first, it was nothing unusual. They’d never gotten along well.” He glanced at her and hesitated.

She nodded, and he went on.

“The fight continued until they were screaming at each other. They went into the bedroom, but I was able to hear everything they were saying. I heard her tell him he couldn’t threaten to keep me as he had done with my sister years before because I wasn’t his son. I ran to my room and covered my head with my pillow, trying to drown them out. The house became quiet. After a while, the bedroom door slammed; a few minutes later, the door slammed again. My mother screamed. I’d never heard a scream like that.” He took a huge breath. “She didn’t stop screaming until a gunshot rang out. I locked my bedroom door and hid under the bed. He killed her. Another shot followed shortly after. He’d turned the gun on himself. I don’t remember much else, except the funeral.”

“Jackson, you don’t have to—”

“I need to tell you this because you’re the reason I finally know what this ring symbolized to my mother. When I was eighteen, my biological father gave me her diary and the ring. I never knew how awful it was for my mother in our house until I read her diary. She married my father, or the man I thought was my father, because she became pregnant with my older sister. She stayed with him, afraid he’d take my sister if they divorced. He was a very wealthy attorney, and she had no money of her own. Later, she fell in love with my biological father. Now, with you, I see how much they must have loved each other. I see how much it meant to my father that she wore this ring, even though she couldn’t bring herself to be with him because of her children.” He stood and reached for her hand to help her up.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped them away. He pulled her into him, and his kiss was tender and sweet. “Don’t cry. It was a lifetime ago. I wanted you to know how much—I want you to wear it. Forever. I want you to know me. I’ve never wanted that with anyone.” He leaned his forehead against hers as he held her face in his hands.

Her hands covered his. Their lips brushed once and again, burning together, with deep connection. It seemed their thoughts were the same.

“C’mon, let’s get you a nap. You need your rest,” he said, and handed her her shoes.

~ ~ ~

The smell of hot coffee and the awareness of someone in the room woke Kinsley, and the sapphire stopped her movement when the ring caught her eye as she stretched. A split-second later, she remembered where she was, and when she turned, she saw Jackson sitting in the chair by the window, peering over his coffee cup.

She smiled. “How long have you been looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in another world.” A soft giggle slipped from her.

“Since the day I first saw you.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she had to look away. “You’re funny.”

He got up, went to the bed, sat next to her, and stroked her face with the back of his hand. “I’m not trying to be funny. I meant it. Did you sleep well?”

She took his hand in hers and kept it resting on her face. “Yes, and I needed it. How long was I out?”

With gentleness, he skimmed his hand over her hair. “Just a couple hours, we don’t have to go out if you’re still tired. How’s your head?”

She sensed a hint of disappointment in his tone. “It’s fine, just tender. I want to go, and it looks like you’re all ready. You look nice in black.” She fiddled with the collar of his shirt and adjusted his tie. He had a great sense of style. “I’ll go get ready. I won’t be long.”

After he put their things in the Escalade, he did one more sweep of the room. She was ready by the time he was done.

She’d gathered her hair up in a loose style, leaving her neck exposed, but it tumbled in soft curls down her back. The teardrop, blue topaz earrings Xavier sent to match her dress sparkled, but not as brilliantly as the sapphire when it moved as she fiddled with them. Her strapless, azure cocktail dress hugged her breasts with an inch thick, black velvet border around the bodice and at the hem, which flared just above her knees. A twinge of guilt pulled at her, considering that she was supposed to be all dressed up for Nick. It passed quickly.

When she walked out of the bedroom, he nodded his approval and stood looking at her with both hands in his side pockets. He hesitated at the black stilettos and shook his head. “You’re killing me. You know that, don’t you?”

She smiled, took his arm, and they headed out for the night.

He picked another romantic, picturesque location, an upscale Italian restaurant off the pier. They sat at a semi-secluded table close to the musicians. The smell of the ocean in the light breeze and the sound of the waves stroked the melody that played. Paper lanterns hung on droopy wire lines, giving a soft, romantic glow. Iced Cristal was on the table when they arrived. It was obvious that this was prearranged. He must have been to the restaurant before because the maître d’ called him Mr. Pierce in a familiar way.

“Do you bring a lot of women here?” she said, tongue-in-cheek.

He smiled. “No. I’ve come here on business in the past.”

“Business?” She wasn’t prying for information. She was just wondering.

“I was a prosecutor here in Le Grand for about six years. The cop deal was very short lived, too many rules. I haven’t been doing the PI stuff long, but I like it.”

“That’s wonderful.”

With a light shake of his head, he smiled and gazed at her.

“What?” She countered, confused by his response.

“Nothing, it’s just that every other woman I’ve ever told that to wonders if I’m crazy. They see it as going backwards.”

“Doing what you enjoy is never going backwards.”

Again, time was flying too fast. Dinner was already almost half over. She wondered if time ever moved at the right pace.

“So what about this book you’re writing? Tell me about it. It’s called Broken?”

She didn’t bother asking how he knew about the book. It was clear he’d made it his business to know everything possible about her in the last six months. He’d been in her home, met her family, and listened to her conversations. She was relieved he didn’t question her about Wayde, glad he somehow understood what she’d been through, and knew she wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“The title changed to Unbroken after the revisions were made. I’ve been working on something new. Unbroken is a romance about a woman who struggles with life, love, and self, but eventually heals. I received the advance a couple weeks before I came. Xavier was the only person I told; he always encouraged me to write.” She lowered her eyes.

He took her hand. “I’m glad he was there for you. Will you send it to me before it’s published, or do I have to wait?” He poured more champagne. “Would you like dessert?”

“Yes, you may read the book. I’ll send the manuscript to you, Mr. Pierce. And yes, I’d like dessert, but not here.” She pursed her lips in a pretty, smiling way.

“I know what you’re going to ask. Pierce is related. We aren’t close, and I told you how I feel about him.”

She didn’t question him further, knowing some things were difficult to share.

He turned toward the dance floor. “Well, only one thing left I’d like to do before we leave.” He signaled to the band. The music stopped, and he held his hand out leading her to the dance floor. “Flor D’ Luna” started to play. Unbelievably smooth with the Latin rhythm, he maintained steady eye contact, dancing the way he made love —with complete engagement. He pulled her in close and whispered. “Do you know why I chose this song?” He kept his mouth at her ear. The sensation of his wispy breaths roused her ache for him.

She buried her face in his neck to hide, sure that her flushed cheeks and desiring eyes reflected what was pulsing through her. “No.” She barely breathed the word out.

“Our first night, by the lake, the moon, it lit you like a Moonflower.”

Their mouths melded together; time was perfect and still. She was unsure how long they held each other once the music stopped.

~ ~ ~

They arrived at Jackson’s house shortly after leaving the restaurant. The location of the property surprised her. In her preconceived notions of his home, she’d imagined a carefree bachelor pad with haphazard décor and remnants of the previous night’s frolics. Instead, she was standing in front of a charming Sixties’ era Craftsman Bungalow with nothing but the ocean for a backyard. The inside was airy and comfortable with eclectic pieces that made her suspect each had a special place of importance. She was impressed. There were loads of books and, from the looks of it, a remarkable vinyl collection. She’d been right. Something did lie beneath.

It was late, and her heart jumped when an urgent pounding disturbed the quiet. Jackson went to the door without hesitation and opened it. Dr. Pierce stood in the doorway.

“A little late for house calls.” Jackson held the door opened, and Pierce came in.

When Pierce saw her, he hesitated. “I need to talk to you privately, Jackson.” He nodded politely toward Kinsley. “I’m sorry to bother you. This won’t take long.”

“Just say what you have to say. She can stay.”

Uncomfortable, she started to interject, but Jackson raised his hand stopping her.

“Jackson, are you sure you want to do this here,” Pierce said. “I know you’re a very private person, and I’ve tried to respect that.”

The veins in Jackson’s neck bulged. “I know what you’re here for, and it’s none of your business. The ring’s mine, to do with what I want, and I want it on Kinsley.”

Pierce was calm, but direct. “Jackson, your wife should wear that ring. Kinsley’s a married woman, and from what Rayne says, she’s going home to her husband. You’re not thinking clearly.”

Jackson took a step, throwing his hands in the air. “My mother was a married woman. Your brother’s wife for Christ’s sake!”

His Father? She stood, stunned, not knowing what to expect next.

“I loved your Mother, I still do, and I love you, too.” Pierce didn’t yell, but his voice wavered as if it was about to crack, and his head dropped down. “When I lost her, I lost both of you. We did the best we could. She wouldn’t have wanted this after all the effort she put into keeping us close to each other. Uncle Jackson, he was around for everything. Do you remember him? Well, he remembers you. My own son, my namesake, calling me uncle. It killed me. It was a mistake to lie in the first place and an even bigger mistake allowing you to stay with your sister. You were eight. You would’ve adjusted being with me, but I couldn’t bear your tears. Or you blaming me.”

“You couldn’t bare it? What about an eight-year-old boy who just lost his mother and the only father he knew? Who was I supposed to blame? You were the only one left to blame. You should have endured my tears. I lost the three of you. Since then, the burdens have been on me. What kind of parent lets a traumatized child make a decision about where he’ll grow up?” He sat on the sofa, pulled his hands through his hair, and glanced at Pierce.

Everyone was still. She wondered if he even remembered she was in the room.

After a time, he looked at her, and while he spoke, he never broke his intense stare. “I want Kinsley to have the ring. I love her. As much as you loved my mother.”

The words drenched her with the desire to say she felt the same. Hearing them, even though he said them before he wanted to, filled her with the need to run to him and tell him the words mattered, regardless of the circumstances.

Pierce watched the interaction and broke the silence that followed it. “Then she should have it.” He turned to her. “Kinsley, this wasn’t about you. I’m sorry I interrupted. Jackson, I’ll see myself out.”

“Wait.” Jackson’s taut expression softened. He stood and went to the door with Pierce. Looking directly at him, he held out his hand. “Thank you for understanding. We’ll talk soon.”

Pierce gave a half nod, gulped down a swallow, and shook his hand. The sentiments put a lump in her throat that couldn’t be swallowed. Jackson closed the door behind him and took a moment before turning back to her.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you today, but I wasn’t ready. I … I didn’t know if I could forgive him. But the more time I spend with you, the more I see how he’s suffered. We’ll work things out.”

She went to him and quieted him with a kiss. “How about that wine?” She knew he’d talk to her in time. She also knew it wouldn’t be tonight. She would have felt the same in his position.

He smiled from his eyes and blew out a breath. “Wine sounds perfect.”

She refrained from telling him that what she could use was a shot of whiskey after that. Not really, but she was shaken from the intensity of the scene. With a puckered lip, she nodded her head as she looked around. “This place is something.”

“You sound surprised.” He glanced up, revealing a perceptive smile as he poured their wine.

“I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I did pigeonhole you into a typical bachelor lifestyle.” She led him to the sofa by the two tie tails that hung around his opened collar. “You’re far from typical.”

They sat, and she leaned her back against him. She didn’t want to rush. She wanted to savor their time. His arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her in close.

After they talked a while, she asked, “Why haven’t you asked me what happened at the cabin?” She felt his exhale breeze across the top of her head.

“Because it wasn’t important to me unless you wanted to talk about it. Besides, if I don’t know anything, I won’t have to perjure myself.” He chuckled.

She elbowed him in the side playfully. “How’d you know?”

“About the fire?”

“Yes.”

“It was just a hunch, and then when Olivia went over your story with me, it wrapped up like a Christmas present. A little too perfect. If Olivia wasn’t so clouded by her feelings for Xavier she might have noticed, too. She was thrilled to tell him she had you safe, sound and ready to be shipped home.”

“Do you think I’m horrible?” She didn’t completely regret that Wayde and Remy were dead, and that made her feel like a monster.

“No, I think you’re a mother who has been protecting her child. Truthfully, if I thought they’d done something to my child, I wouldn’t have had the compassion to drug them first.”

She snuggled in closer to him; his words comforted her.

He kissed her head and turned to face her. “You don’t look at yourself realistically. You put the things you hate about yourself under a microscope. Everything isn’t always your fault, and you don’t always have to fix it. Not alone anyway. I wish you were able see what I see. You’d never doubt yourself if you could see what I see.”

“Why me, Jackson? Why are you so interested when it’s obvious I’m a mess?”

He held her face in his hands and focused intently on what he was saying. “For three months, I watched you. The loneliness in you was unmistakable. It made me see the emptiness in my own life. After I met you, I saw a change. I saw you smile. I was lost in you then.”

With each word, she was falling more in love with him, but what he was saying panicked her. She moved to get up, and he pulled her back. His face tensed, his voice became pleading.

“Don’t try to run away from what’s real.”

“I don’t know what’s real.” She sounded cross, but she wasn’t. She was afraid of her growing attachment. When she tried to pull away, he grabbed her again, pinning her beneath him.

“That’s a bunch of crap. You know exactly what’s real. And you run from it because you know you can’t control reality like a make believe story. Do you think Nick is all you deserve? Do you think that little of yourself?” He paused. “You go back. If you think living a lie is going to be good for Max, you’re kidding yourself.” He said it, low and icy, close to her face, penetrating her eyes with his. Then he kissed her. It was possessive and passionate. She was his.

“Please, Jackson. Don’t do this.”

He lifted his chest off hers. “Tell me you don’t want the same thing I do, and I won’t take you into that bedroom and make you forget any other man ever existed.”

Overwhelmed with love and need for him, she pulled him back down onto her by the neck of his shirt. Before her lips met his, he stood, pulled her from the couch—onto her feet, and into his arms. He backed them into the bedroom, kissing her en route. When the back of his legs hit the bed, he sat, pushed her gently away from him, and leaned back onto his forearms.

“Take your clothes off for me. I need to be able to picture you. I need to burn you into my memory.”

His words, his stare, that moment –he could’ve asked anything of her, and she would’ve done it. Reaching around, she unzipped her dress. It fell around her feet, leaving only her strapless, black lace bra, panties, and garter stockings. She stepped out of the dress and started to kick off her heels. He raised his hand to stop her.

“Save those for last.”

With the snap of two fingers, she unclasped her bra, and it fell to the floor. They locked eyes, and she seductively wiggled out of her panties. When she stepped away, the lace caught on one of her heels. She bent her knee, bringing the heel and the panties up behind her. With a sexy smile, she reached back to grab them, lost her balance, and did a three sixty trying to catch them. Like a cat chasing his tail. When she finally caught the stubborn panties, she tossed them right into his wide-eyed grin. He grasped them in midair, an inch or so from his face. Recovered and confident again, she lifted her foot into his lap for him to remove the sexy black pump. He removed both, slowly. When his thumb ran firm along her instep, it burned her core. He kissed her to her knees and slid the tip of his tongue sensuously along her inner thigh, nibbling as he went. Both hands slid up her outer thighs, and in turn, he peeled off each stocking, sliding them sensuously down her legs. Slowly, softly, he ran his hand across her taut belly, following with kisses as he went. He buried his face into her middle, inhaled, and released a faint rumble.

“My God, you’re perfect.” He said the words between ragged breaths as he stood and turned her back to his front. When he buried his face in her neck—her weak spot, his hands cradled her breasts. Fingers and thumbs pinched and rolled her hardened nipples firmly. The sound of her own whines echoed in her ears. Swollen and hard, he pressed divinely against her ass. Half kissing, half-nibbling and licking, he slid his silky lips down her spine and brought them back up slowly.

Instinctively, she rocked back to connect with his hardness. He teased her and inched himself beyond her reach. Her moans begged for him. As he reached around and slid his fingers between her legs, he seized one breast, caressing, and drew her firmly against him. When she faltered from his touch, he steadied her. She pulled his head downward, from behind, and his mouth nuzzled her neck. Her head fell back and pressed against his. Words formed unconsciously and came rough and unrecognizable from her throat. “My God—where did you come from?”

A guttural moan escaped him, and he let himself fall back onto the bed, reversing her position so she was straddling him. Her hair fell covering her face. He held it back, and watched her as she sheathed him fully into the heat they created. She moved along, stroking him from within. As his eyes glided over her, they produced ripples of shiver heightening her sensations. Her body shuddered as she gasped short breaths and held his gaze through her orgasm. A teardrop fell on the hand that held her hair. She turned her head away.

He stopped her, and his hands brought her eyes back to his. “Please, don’t ever turn away from me. I want your tears to fall on me. Always.”

She leaned down kissing him. Her lips burning, full and moist, met his with crazed passion. She rode him close to his body, her orgasm building again.

His mouth abandoned hers. He ignored her parting whines of discontent while tugging on her lower lip. “I have to see you.”

Eyes connected, bodies and minds joined together, the completion of their union rocked them, giving way to gentle waves of final yielding motion. When she collapsed onto him, she wept at the thought of leaving him. As she slept, he held her with his lips against her temple. He held her like that until she slept.

“I’ll love you forever,” he whispered into the darkness. Wrapping himself around her, he rolled them onto their sides and pulled her in.

They slept that way, but she awoke alone.