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“What’s what like?”
“Being famous.”
He slipped the gearshift into neutral and cut the engine, his hands resting idly on the steering wheel. “Nothing like it was for you. You were a phenomenon. I was just one of a half dozen kids on a really bad teen drama.” He reached over and gently swept away the hair falling across her face. “You don’t really need to hear this.”
“I do,” she insisted. “I need to know who you are.”
His hand was still a warm caress against her cheek, his eyes falling lost into hers. They’d had a version of this conversation a lifetime ago. It was the night they’d eloped. Eric had insisted she listen as he admitted to his humble childhood and troubled adolescence. At first, she tried to deny him his confession, but he begged until she agreed. Now, shewantedto know about his life, and he could hardly refuse.
“I’m still me.” He shrugged, never relishing the attention that was part and parcel of fame. “The press is a pain. They push and get too close hoping I’ll react…lose it. I still have a reputation for being a hot head even though it’s been a decade since I’ve raised my hands in anger.”
The reference to the day he beat Mark Chambers bloody stalled their conversation and they sat quiet and still in the car’s dark interior. Eric eventually spoke. “I’m not mobbed everywhere I go like you were. No one grabs at my clothing or tries to rip locks of hair from my head.” He took a heavy breath. “I should have protected you from all of that.”
“That wasn’t your job.”
“It was.” He drifted into silence again and peered through the truck’s windshield. Stars were a milky blur against the ribbons of steam rising from the tavern’s chimney. Sparks of light glinted off cars, and a black silhouette of trees was in the distance. Eric hopped out of the truck and jogged to Jenna’s door.
They stepped through the entryway of the bar and eased their way to a corner table in the back. Its wood was scuffed with age and a candle flickered in a small clay pot. They ordered burgers. But as they shared more tidbits about their lives, the more prone they were to gaze, eyes locked and lingering, their food eventually discarded.
The tavern was dark and clamoring with the sounds of a bar—plates and silverware rattling, the sharp clack of pool-balls, and the humming of voices. It became an external buzz. Sound and motion, even the bright shock of neon over the bar blurred, tuned out by two people who only had each other in their sights.
Eric took her hand. “We’ve wasted so much time, so many years. Give me another chance, Jen. Give us another chance.”
Jenna slipped her hand from his and laid it against his face. It felt good to touch him, for her palm to rest against the hard contours of his cheek and jaw, so good and so familiar.
“I love you, Jen. I never stopped.”
He paid the tab, adding three crisp hundred-dollar bills instead of the one promised. They walked out into the balmy spring night. Her hand was still in his as he drove back to her house, his declaration of love playing over and over like a perfect refrain. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I mean it. I never stopped loving you. Not for a moment.”
Jenna smiled, tears filling her eyes. She had never stopped either. The best she had ever managed to do was wrap her loneliness and heartache into a tolerable burden, one she ferried as she and Janie moved from place to place, disconnected and alone.
She gripped his hand tighter, wishing he would never let it go. An oldie about lightning striking againappropriately drifted from the radio as he pulled into the driveway.
****
Ash Baldwin sat in his car, well hidden behind the overflowing greenery of a blooming seasonal shrub. A pickup truck pulled into Jenna Black’s driveway and the sound of doors slamming broke the quiet night air. Ash’s car crept along the street as two figures in silhouette stepped through her entryway.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as the duo disappeared behind the front door. Illumination moved from window to window followed by darkness. The path of light ended upstairs. When the last rays of yellow blinked to black, he picked up his cellphone and called Jake and Harley Simpson.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jenna stood in the bedroom enveloped in shadow, her eyes picking up the low flicker of a candle. They shined like fiery twin jewels, glittering amber, topaz, and peridot, a prism of color that reminded Eric of the sun setting over an autumn glade. Even in his imagination, he couldn’t recall a more alluring sight. He stepped close without touching her and lowered his head so their lips gently brushed. “I thought I’d be giving you a gentlemanly peck on the cheek and going home.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
He swallowed hard. “No, Babes. Now that I’m here, I have no intention of being a gentleman.” He pulled her close and kissed her. The demanding press of his lips was payment for all the years they were apart and all the kisses and moments they had missed. Eric swept her into his arms and laid her on the bed. Her hair, glowing golden, fanned around her face. He leaned over and pulled the satin ribbon at the neckline of her blouse. Silk fluttered open and slipped from her shoulders. Jenna lay there, her skin pale and luminous. Shadows accented her features and transformed her into a lovely portrait.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, and he kissed her again, and again, and again.
His blood became fire, Jenna’s touch the wind making it burn and rage hotter and wilder. “If you want me to stop, tell me now.”
She slid her arms around his neck and drew him closer. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to stop. Love me.”
Straddling her hips, he sat up to unbutton his shirt. All thought abandoned him, and his body became an entity drawing on pure instinct.
Jenna stared, from beneath heavy lids, as he shrugged out of his shirt. Her eyes trailed from his wide shoulders to the swell of his arms, and the hard rippling of muscle on his stomach. A dusting of hair, unfamiliar, and a reminder of the nine years that passed, stretched across his chest and down the center of his abdomen. She reached up and undid the top of his button-fly jeans, and with a bold tug the rest gave way.
He threw his head back and took a deep breath. He kissed her again and then drew her filmy blouse from the waistband of her pants. His hands trailed along her bare ribs, and with a pinch he released the fastening on the front of her bra.
