But we’d never had a fight like this.
Resolving conflicts is what I do, however. There are lots of ways to resolve conflicts. Not all of them include weapons.
At least, not weapons that come in a sports bag.
And from the heat that I’d seen flare in Jesse’s eyes, I was beginning to get a good idea what kind of weapon would be best used to resolve this conflict. Fortunately, it was one I had in my arsenal. I’d been trying to use it on him, to little avail, for a long, long time.
Thanks to Paul, I now had a good idea why. It was the last thing he’d set out to do, but Paul had, in trying to split Jesse and me apart, handed me the key to finally bringing us together.
“Come on.” I reached out to seize him by the belt and was pleased when he allowed me to tug him a few inches toward me. “The best way to resolve this issue is to prove Paul wrong.”
The eyebrow with the crescent-shaped scar lifted. “In what way?”
“I think if there’s even the slightest doubt that there’s something wicked still lurking inside you,” I said, pulling him even closer, “we should work on unleashing it. It’s basically my duty as a mediator, in fact.”
He was now leaning against me, pressing me back against Jake’s car. I could feel the steady drum of his heartbeat through the material of his suit coat, along with the muscles of his thighs against mine. The heat he was giving off made it hard for me to believe there was any part of him at all that might possibly still be in the grave. But you never know.
His mouth twisted. “Susannah—”
“Shhh. I’ve been training for this for a long time.” I was still holding on to his belt buckle. “I’m ready to take on this very important mission.”
“Susannah.” He had a hand on either side of the car, trapping me within his long, muscular arms. “I know you’re joking, but this is serious. You wouldn’t have gone through all this if you didn’t at least partly believe—”
“I’m not joking, and it doesn’t matter what I believe.” I fiddled with his belt buckle. “What do you believe? If the real reason you’ve put off our making love for so long is fear that it might release something unholy, then I think we have an obligation to find out.” I kept my gaze on his, my fingers locked on his belt buckle. “The truth is, Jesse, I ain’t afraid of no ghost.”
He looked down at me with dark eyes that were filled with something unreadable.
“Perhaps,” he said, dropping his hands to my waist, “you’re right.”
My pulse gave an unsteady lurch.
“What I prescribe is that we both go back to the Crossing tonight,” I said, my voice suddenly a little hoarse, “and split a bottle of wine, and discuss how disappointing I’ve been, in great detail, in your bedroom. For therapeutic purposes I think we should do this unclothed.”
His response was the lopsided grin that I’d missed so much—no trace of cynicism in it this time.
“We could try that,” he said, ducking his head to press a kiss along my throat. “Or we could discuss some of your less disappointing qualities.”
I feigned shock. “Wait . . . I have some?”
“I can think of a few.” One of his hands had risen from my waist to linger dangerously close to my left breast.
“Name one. Let’s see what it unleashes.”
“Hmmm. Strong-willed?”
“Not very flattering. Try again.”
“Witty.”
“Oh, good.” The hand drifted closer to my breast as his lips traveled closer to my mouth. “How about another?”
“Beautiful.”
“I like it. What else?”
He said something unintelligible. As he’d continued to kiss me—one kiss for each word—I’d felt something through the front of his suit trousers that proved at least one part of him was decidedly not disappointed in me.
“We could discuss those things, too,” I said as both his hands now cupped my breasts, and his lips pressed hungrily against mine. “I’m open to winging it.”
“Susannah, Susannah, Susannah,” he whispered after a little while. “Te amo.”
“Me, too,” I whispered back, slipping my arms around his neck. The best part of fighting was always the making up afterward. “Back at you.”
He’d just given me one of those long, simmering kisses that, in my experience with him, generally led to even more long, simmering kisses, when the sound of someone clapping caused us both to start and turn around.
There was no telling how long he’d been standing there beneath the porte cochere, silently eavesdropping. The wind from the ocean was blowing the smoke from the cigar he was smoking in the opposite direction, which was why I hadn’t noticed it. I’m usually more sensitive to those kinds of things.
“Brilliant,” Paul said, still applauding, the cigar clenched between his teeth. “A stunning tour de force. I haven’t seen a performance that entertaining since . . . well, the porn in my room upstairs.”
I felt every one of Jesse’s muscles tense. I grasped the shoulders of his jacket beneath my fingers, knowing exactly what was about to happen.
“Jesse, don’t,” I warned, fear clenching my stomach. “He’s not worth—”