stood, then stared down at her. The candlelight from the table made his eyes appear to glisten. Hallie didn’t want to meet his probing gaze, but the pull was too strong. They stared at each other for what seemed the longest time, electricity crackling.
To relieve the moment, she said in a halting voice, “Go on.”
“I won’t be long,” he said huskily.
The second he strode off, her entire body went limp. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until she was alone. She shouldn’t have agreed to have dinner with him. But after the weird call from Darcy, she’d been feeling a tad vulnerable.
As she waited for Jackson to return, her eyes wandered around the club. Little had changed in the two years since she’d been there. Of all the clubs on Beale Street, she thought this one was the classiest and most elegant. That had been her opinion before she’d ever met Jackson.
She likened Elan to the old supper clubs that used to be so popular. Couples could drink, eat and dance, all under one roof. The one noticeable difference was that the clientele dressed down instead of up—dressy casual was the buzzword. Still, the tables, with their white linen cloths, vases of fresh flowers, and candles, were a cut above the average. Patrons felt as though they had really stepped out for the evening.
After she and Jackson had gone their separate ways, she had missed the evenings they had spent here. They had visited Elan often, not out of necessity, but rather out of preference. She loved to dance and so did Jackson. And they had been good together on the dance floor as well as in bed.
Her face flamed suddenly at her unbidden thoughts. Still, an intense longing for those days shook her to the core. Seeing Jackson again, being at the club, brought back the good memories, making her long for what she had once had.
Even though she thought about him often, she had been convinced she was over him, that his betrayal had destroyed her feelings for him. She could not have been more wrong. The idea that she might not ever get over him chilled her. Perhaps when and if they married others the fires of passion would burn themselves out.
What terrified her the most was the fact that hadn’t yet happened.
As he wound his way back toward her, she watched him smile at the patrons who were drinking and dining, and it hit her again how much she still wanted him. Even though his smile hadn’t connected with his eyes, it didn’t matter. His handsome self-assurance and good looks stole her next breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern in his voice.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged, though a smile flirted with his lips. “For starters, you’re a beautiful woman sitting alone. I expected every single man at the bar to hit on you.”
“It didn’t happen.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to kick ass this early in the evening.”
In spite of herself, Hallie laughed.
His eyes darkened on her, making him more dangerously attractive than ever.
“What?” she asked in a breathless tone.
“Your dimple. It still does crazy things when you laugh.”
She felt herself grow warm all over. Suddenly they were stepping into forbidden territory. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be in his arms on the dance floor.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject.
“What do you mean?”
“The call,” she pressed. “Remember the important message?”
For a second, his features became guarded, as if a curtain had fallen over them, shutting her out. Nonetheless, she knew that whoever the caller had been had upset him. Then he shrugged in a nonchalant fashion.
“It was nothing I can’t handle.”
“Fine.”
An awkward silence fell between them as he sat back down and reached for his drink. At moments like this, she wondered what had possessed her to take his case, to get involved with him again in any way.
“It was Roberta’s mother.” A sigh followed his words.
Hallie stared at him, wide-eyed, surprised both by his confiding in her and by who the caller was.
“She told me I wasn’t welcome at the funeral.”
“I’m sorry, Jackson,” she said, for lack of anything better to say.
“Me, too, for more reasons than one. Ruby has always been a sort of surrogate mother, and it sickens me that she thinks I’m capable of murdering anyone, most of all her daughter.”
“So she actually thinks you’re guilty?”
“Oh yeah,” he responded bitterly. “Even though she’s an old lady, she hasn’t lost her mind or her sharp tongue.”
“Was she even interested in hearing your side?”
“Nope.”
“Again, I’m sorry. I know how much Roberta and her family meant to you.”
“They did—she did, only not in the way you think.”
Hallie averted her gaze. “Let’s not go there, okay?”
“Whatever you say.” His tone was low and brusque.
Another round of silence. He broke it by asking, “How ’bout a dance for old time’s sake?” His voice sounded like it had been rubbed with sandpaper.
She whipped her head back around. His eyes collided with hers. She knew exactly what he was thinking, about the many times they had danced cheek-to-cheek, belly to belly, lips to lips, alone, after hours, until their passion was screaming for release.
Then they would leave, only just making it to the car before they lost control. Breathing heavy and with lips meshed, he’d jerk her panties down, open his fly and sit her down on his lap, ramming his hardness into her softness.
When the frenzied, almost desperate mating was over, they would collapse against each other, gasping.
For a second, she almost bought into his attempt to seduce her; her heart beating out of sync, she became conscious of the wetness between her legs. But then she came to her senses and gave her head a violent shake.
“In your dreams.”
“Every night,” he whispered.
She snapped alert. “Dammit, Jackson, do you want me to get up and walk out?”
He straightened. “Don’t be silly.”
“Then, behave yourself,” she responded with tartness.
“How can you just turn your emotions off like that, Hallie?”
“It’s
