and to become a member of the community who everyone could rely on for help and empathy. She most definitely would not want to be the centre of idle chitchat at the corner store or in the pub. Jess wasn’t as lucky as he and Sasha were, she didn’t have her family to believe in her and stand by her.
Biting down on a sudden flare of anger, he dressed and headed to the kitchen to find pen and paper. He wouldn’t leave without saying thank you. Or something. Anything but nothing. He did not want her waking up and thinking he’d done a dash while she’d slept because he hadn’t had a good time or couldn’t face her in the light of day.
Back in the bedroom he quietly crossed to place the note on her bedside table. Then he stood looking down at her in the glimmer of light from the bathroom opposite. Sleeping Jess appeared completely relaxed. No sass, no uncertainty. His heart lurched. And before he could think about it he bent down to kiss her warm cheek. His hand seemed to rise of its own volition and he had to snatch it back before he made the monumental error of cupping her face and leaning in for one of those brain-melting, hormone-firing kisses.
Another lurch in his chest. She was like a drug; slowing his thought processes, making him forget things he should never forget. So, he was already half under her influence. If he didn’t leave immediately he might never go away. Which would cause all sorts of difficulties. He and Jessica were light years apart in what they wanted for their futures. Futures that could never blend comfortably. He didn’t need the hassle of trying to make it work and failing, and neither did Jessica.
Walking away was hard, and for every step his heart made a loud thud against his ribs. But he had to—for Jess. Making sure the front door was locked behind him to keep her safe—which also meant he couldn’t go back to her—he began the ten-kilometre walk back to his parents’ house.
Hopefully, if anyone he or Jess knew happened by at this early hour they wouldn’t put two and two together and come up with...four. Because there might be gossip about them spending the night together, but this was one story that would be based on truth.
Three hundred metres on and headlights swept over him. A car sped past, the horn tooting loud in the early morning. Again anger flared, sped along his veins. So much for being discreet. It just wasn’t possible around here. Increasing his pace, he tried to outrun the temper threatening to overwhelm him. When would these surges of anger stop? It had been more than a month since the attack. He should have got past that terrifying night by now.
The nearly healed wound in his side pulled as Jackson swung his arms to loosen the knots in his neck and back. There was another reason for leaving before the sun came up. That bloody scar. If Jess saw it she’d have a stream of unwanted questions to fire his way. Somehow she hadn’t noticed the rough ridge of puckered skin during the night. Amazing, considering he doubted there was a square millimetre of his body she hadn’t touched at one time or another.
‘So, Jackson,’ he muttered, as he focused on the road and not tripping over some unseen obstacle in the semi light of dawn, ‘where to from here, eh?’
His lips tightened as he grimaced.
‘That’s a tricky one. I don’t want commitment, gossip or questions about why I’ve got an ugly red scar on my body.’ That about covered everything.
If only he’d worn running shoes he could be jogging now. Like they’d have been a good match for the wedding clobber he still wore. But who was around to notice? It was weird how quiet it was around here. No hordes of people bumping into him, no thousands of locals talking nonstop as they began their day. Very, very quiet. Peaceful. A complete contrast to Hong Kong.
‘Don’t get too comfortable. You’re heading out of here before the end of April.’ He spat the words. ‘But I wouldn’t mind a repeat of last night with Jess.’ Just the mention of her name calmed him, slowed his angry thoughts. A smile began deep in his belly, sending tentacles of warmth to every corner of his body, curving his mouth upwards. ‘Oh, yeah. I could do that all over again.’
But would he?
Even if it meant talking about things he preferred buried deep inside his psyche?
Right at this moment he had no damned idea.
CHAPTER THREE
KEEPING HER EYES closed, Jess reached across the bed for Jackson and came up cold. What? She scrambled up and looked around. She was alone.
‘Jackson?’ she called.
Nothing. No cheeky reply. No deep chuckle. Silence except for the house creaking as the sun warmed up the day.
‘Great. Bloody wonderful, even. I hate it when the guy of the night before leaves without at least saying good bye.’ Her stomach tightened. Jackson had enjoyed their lovemaking as much as she had. She’d swear to it. ‘Maybe he didn’t want the whole bay knowing we’ve been doing the deed.’
Was that good or bad? Did she want the whole of Golden Bay discussing her sex life? Nope. Definitely not. The muscles in her stomach released their death grip.
Did she want to do it again? With Jackson? Oh, yes. Her stomach tightened again. Absolutely wanted that. Which was a very good reason not to. Already she felt the need to see him pulling at her, wanted his arms around her, to hear his sexy chuckle. And that was after one night. Blimey. Was she falling for her best friend’s brother? Even when she knew she shouldn’t? That was a sure-fire way to fall out with Sasha, especially once Jackson packed his bags and headed back to his job. But there was no helping those feelings of want and desire that seemed to sneak out of her skull when she wasn’t looking.
Throwing the sheet aside, she leapt out of bed. He might’ve left but, darn, she felt good this morning. Despite the uncertainty of today and, in fact, every other day of the coming months with Jackson in the bay, she felt great. Just went to show what a healthy dose of sex could do for her.
‘What’s that?’ A piece of paper lay on the floor by the bed. Picking it up, she read:
Hey, sleepyhead, thought I’d get away before the bay woke up. Thanks for a great night. See you at brunch. Hugs, Jackson.
Hugs, eh? That was good, wasn’t it? Seemed he wasn’t hiding from her if he’d mentioned the post-wedding brunch. What was the time? Eight-thirty. Yikes. She was supposed to be at the Wilsons’ by nine-thirty and she had to pick up Nicholas. Her boy, the light of her life. She might’ve had a fantastic night but she missed him.
The piping-hot shower softened those aching muscles that had had a rare workout during the night. Singing loudly—and badly—she lathered shampoo through her hair while memories of last night with Jackson ran like a nonstop film through her mind. Hugging herself, she screeched out the words to a favourite song.
The phone was ringing as she towelled herself. Knowing she had no babies due at the moment, she wondered who’d be calling. Sasha would be too busy with Grady, it being the first day of married bliss and all that.
‘Hello,’ she sang.
‘Is that Jessica Baxter? The midwife?’ a strained male voice asked hesitantly.
Her stomach dropped. ‘Yes, it is. Who’s this?’
‘You don’t know me, but my wife’s having a baby and I think something’s wrong. It’s too early. Can we come and see you? Like now?’
No.
