Page 37 of Making Over Maris

Chapter Seven

Walking away from Sara with the taste of her still on his lips was the toughest thing Jack had ever done. The vision of her face, soft and dewy as she wrung her fingers through his hair, was burned into his brain. He could still hear her cries, her gasps, her moans.

His steps faltered as he neared his car. He turned and glanced back over his shoulder. She stood there on her porch, hugging herself with both arms, her short black curls waving in the breeze.

When she saw him turn, she raised a hand.

Yeah. It was tough.

He raised a hand too, a brief wave, and then unlocked his car.

Damn. It was tough. But it was necessary. He gritted his teeth. Very necessary. He didn’t want a roll in the hay with her—or even several.

He wanted a lifetime.

Still, he was filled with regret as he made the long drive home. Maybe he should have taken her up on her unspoken invitation to stay. Maybe he should have yanked her into his arms again and laid her down on the carpet and—

He pulled himself up short. No. He needed to exercise discipline. Play the long game.

A thrill shot through him when he got home and checked his cell and found a message from her. He trembled as he entered his password and activated the speakerphone.

The sound of her voice flooded the room. “Hey, Jack. This is Sara. You said we have a date tomorrow but you didn’t say when. Can you call me back?”

The second message was even shorter. “Oh, and what should I wear?”

The third message from her number was a hang-up but he thought he heard her mutter a curse on the other end of the line before disconnecting.

He sat on his sofa in the dark and stared at his phone for a long time—debating whether or not to call her back. He decided to do some research online first. It didn’t take him long—now that he knew what to look for. Once he had it, he punched in her number.

“Hello?”

“Sara?”

“Jack?” Was her voice quivering? Or was it a hum on the line? “Is that you?”

“Yeah. I got your message.”

“That was an hour ago.” A tight thread wound through her tone. “What took you so long?”

He chuckled. “I just got home.”

“You left an hour ago.” This, she snapped petulantly.

So she’d called right after he left? Interesting. “Sorry.”

“Did you get my message?”

“Yep.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What are we doing tomorrow?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He bit back a grin. “It’s kind of a surprise.”

“A surprise? How will I know what to wear?”