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He didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “There is no equivalent to meeting my parents.”
Liza felt the tension in his body, heard it in his voice. She thought about the stuffy Reverend Bain being his uncle—didn’t really see how the two could possibly share the same DNA, if that were the case. “Not a close family unit?”
“Not a topic of conversation.”
“I told you about my dad,” she reminded him.
He seemed to consider this, then countered, “But you haven’t mentioned your mother.”
“Ah well.” She reached for the rolled-up flatware and toyed with the white band taped around the napkin. “Wicked Witch of the Upper Eastside. Very self-absorbed. In fact, she still thinks I’m in New York, because it’s more convenient for her to believe that. She’s left a dozen voicemail messages over the past week, wondering why I missed so-and-so’s party or why I haven’t stopped by for cocktails. ‘What is wrong with you, Elizabeth Lavinia Brooks? Have you no manners at all’?” she sighed. “It’s all about her. Always.”
He nodded. “I get the picture. Your mother and my mother should do lunch.”
Liza whistled under her breath. “Sounds like a waiter’s worst nightmare.”
“Better him than us.”
She laughed. “Good point.”
Jack drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. As though cleansing his soul of the unpleasant thoughts of his mother. A practice she was quite familiar with herself.
And yet… She wasn’t inclined to let him off the hook so easily. “So
how is it that a sinner is the nephew of a preacher?” she asked.
Jack’s teeth gritted together. He didn’t look at her as he shook his head, as though to dismiss her question.
“Oh come on,” she chided in a light tone. “Inquiring minds wanna know.”
Jack’s tone was dark when he said, “My mother had an affair with the reverend’s brother. She divorced my father and married Bill after the scandal broke. Little towns like this…” He shook his head again as he seemed to war with his emotions. “They’re not so forgiving of the sins of the flesh. They cite weak constitutions, but aren’t willing to overlook the trespass. And believe the bad apples don’t fall far from the trees.”
“Must make things difficult for you.”
His shoulders squared. He didn’t say another word on the matter.
A little tickle of frustration at how closed off he was emotionally made Liza prod him. “I’m sure the reverend frowned upon the affair. And likely the second marriage. Is that why you don’t get along with him?”
“Part of it.”
Seriously, this was worse than pulling teeth. “So what’s the crux of the problem?”
Jack waved a hand in the air and, just like that, his mood changed. Lightening up dramatically. That hand returned to Liza’s leg and his fingers started to caress the inside of her thigh as he said, “None of this matters, darlin’. We are who we are because or regardless of our parents and their actions. Yet we still have our own lives to live. What we do is up to us, not them.”
“Nice sentiment. And true.” Sadly, she had to admit that she’d given into her mother’s bidding the whole of her life. She’d done the same with Peter, regrettably.
But the man sitting next to her had, thus far, asked Liza to be nothing more than herself. He didn’t expect her to change from big city socialite to small town girl because she’d “settled in” to town, as he’d put it last night. He still expected her to be herself.
“You’re very astute,” she told him. “Despite the hokey pick-up line you used on me last night.”
He laughed. “I told you that was real. Ask Ruby if you don’t believe me.”
His electric blue eyes were lit up with sincerity so she conceded the point. “Okay, fine. I believe you.”
“Well, if it takes some convincing…” he whispered in her ear as his hand moved a little higher up her leg. His long fingers dipped between the slight parting of her thighs and his thumb disappeared beneath the turquoise material.
“Jack,” she whispered back as a five-alarm rager instantly erupted deep in her pussy. The arm that was draped over her shoulders pulled her a bit closer to him.
“Don’t worry,” he said into her ear. “No one can see us.”
