FrenchQuarter.htm by Alexander Lacey (good fiction books to read TXT) 📗

I’m also breaking our date tonight. Sorry, but my boss asked me to work late on an overdue pitch for a big client.

Liz

Jack read the message over twice, then simply sat staring at the screen.

He’d been so damn happy this morning when she’d agreed to move in with him and he’d been on top of the world all day. Now, as his heart constricted in his chest, his father’s age-old warning came back to him: Don’t fall for a woman—she’ll only hurt you in the end. Her message was polite—something he thought the old Liz would send—but equally as brisk and short, and he could read between the lines. He’d pushed too far by pressing her to move in with him. She’d realized she didn’t want to be tied down to him that way, didn’t want to go from one committed relationship to another so quickly. She hadn’t even mentioned the future, when they would see each other again, which—as far as Jack knew—might mean she was ready for this to be over, her and him. She was ready to move on.

Fuck. Talk about hurt. He hadn’t even known hurt like this existed. He’d been right all along—she was having way too much fun to settle down now. If only he’d stuck to his guns and not ever let himself believe anything differently.

As for the safety issue, he couldn’t help feeling angry at her. Hadn’t Todd proven over and over again what he was capable of? Why was she so thick-headed about this? Didn’t she realize a guy like that was dangerous and that if she didn’t change her situation he was probably going to do her real harm?

Jack closed his eyes against the vague but ugly picture in his head—Liz, and Todd, and rape. He couldn’t help thinking how horrible it would be to have her burgeoning sexuality crushed by an ugly, violent act—somehow he feared it would affect Liz even more than the average woman; she’d decide it was punishment for the wild things she’d done with Jack and that she should have kept on letting other people dictate her life. The very idea nearly took the breath from his lungs.

“Damn it, Liz,” he said, and banged his fist on his desk. “What do I have to do to get through to you?” If she wasn’t scared of Todd after their encounter two mornings ago, what would it take? She’d told Jack she’d been afraid, so what had happened to change that? It wasn’t that he wanted her to live in fear—just the opposite. He wanted her to live in freedom, and safety, and love.

Love. He rolled his eyes, hating the word, hating that he’d let himself feel it for a woman who couldn’t return it.

When it came to the Todd issue, well, he could at least keep an eye on the guy, something he’d already put into play. But as for Liz and building a real relationship, he had no choice but to abandon that idea. He just didn’t think he could be with her anymore, knowing it was only sex to her, only fun, that it would lead nowhere in the end. Funny, only a week ago that had been just fine with him, but not anymore. He couldn’t be with her and not have her completely.

Chapter 12

Liz waited to hear from Jack, at work, or at Lynda’s, or even by e-mail—since she’d used that method of contacting him, but no matter where she waited or checked, he didn’t get in touch with her.

Three days later, she was strung as tightly as a violin—she still hadn’t heard from him and she felt herself growing more and more anxious. Her body was on edge, almost painfully. She missed his hands roaming her curves; she missed his incredible cock buried deep inside her, fulfilling her in a way nothing else ever had. But it was more than sexual frustration eating at her. She missed him—his voice, his sexy smile, his sweet indulgences of her newfound sexuality, his concern over her safety. She missed simply kissing him, seeing his face, his eyes. She missed the warmth of his embrace.

Each time the phone rang at Lynda’s, and even at work, where the phone rang all day, she tensed—hoping desperately it would be him.

But his call never came. And she began to wonder if she’d been foolish to let Todd’s threat interfere with her plans for Jack.

Fortunately, Todd didn’t attempt to contact her, either, but whereas his absence in her life was a tremendous relief, being without Jack made her feel like she was missing some part of her self.

One day when she came home from work, Todd appeared to have pulled in just before her. He did no more than lift his hand in a small wave as he went to the mailbox, but something in his gaze was sharp and cutting, reminding her again exactly why she’d let him talk her out of moving in with Jack. He was clearly watching her—and as long as she stayed put, it kept Jack safe and seemed to be keeping her out of harm’s way, as well.

Of course, if she’d known her message to Jack would result in driving him away from her, she’d definitely have found another way to deliver it. She’d have gone out with him that night as planned, despite how hard it would have been. Somehow, unwittingly, she seemed to have closed the lines of communication between them.

When Liz got home from work the following Friday, she kicked off her shoes, pulled her pantyhose off under her skirt, and plopped on the bed, far too tired from the work week. She knew it was really just missing Jack that was tearing her up, breaking her down. Even now, as exhausted as she felt, she ached for him. She wished he were there to push up her skirt, unbutton her blouse, tell her how beautiful her breasts were, then