“You bought me pajamas?”
“Well, you are on bed rest. I figure it’s what you’ll be wearing for the foreseeable future. Hawk Winchester’s wife, Natalie, told me that women like silky jammies,” he said, and his own cheeks seemed to turn a little pink.
“Wow, Jackson, you really didn’t need to do all of this.” Alyssa was surprised that she was having a difficult time not choking up.
“I wanted to.”
“Thank you, but please, don’t do it again. There’s enough stuff here to entertain me for the rest of my pregnancy.”
“I find I like getting gifts for you. The romance novels were a little hard to explain to the clerk. But once I told her what I was doing, she was more than happy to help, and said these were bestsellers with ‘real steamy scenes’—her words, not mine.”
“Want to read one? I’ve always thought men should read romance. Then maybe they’d know how to treat a woman, and learn what not to do.”
“Baby, I don’t need to read a romance. I know exactly what to do with a woman.”
“Oh, you mean follow her around until she caves in to your demands? Yes, I see advice columnists tell that to stalkers all the time. And of course would-be lotharios are always told to hog the remote control in a woman’s own bedroom.”
But she did have to agree with him in part, though she had to think back almost five months. He knew just how to stroke a woman’s body to give her the ultimate pleasure. The mere thought made her breasts tingle and her nipples harden. She was grateful for the thick pajamas and thicker blankets protecting her from his view.
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” he said before pausing and looking concerned. “Is that what you really think?”
He could have been a gentleman and dropped the subject, but she was learning that Jackson was anything but a gentleman.
“No comment.”
“I’ll take the sparkle in your eyes and the quickening of your breath as definite proof that you have no problems with my skills as a lover.”
“You are so cocky. Did that take years of practice, or is it something that just comes naturally to you?”
“Baby, when you’re good, you know it.”
“I guess that means you practice a lot.”
The narrowing of his eyes gave her great satisfaction.
“You can fight me all you want, but I like being around you. I’ve decided to hang out—a lot. At least until you give me what I want,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.
“Is that a threat?”
“Oh, no, Alyssa. I would never threaten you. I have only the best of intentions when it comes to us.”
“Well, it’s certainly not a promise.”
“I’m like a fine wine: the longer I age, the better I am. You see, the more you’re around me, the more you’ll want to be.”
“Did you honestly just say that?” Her jaw had dropped, and nothing she did could get her mouth to close.
“I have all sorts of lines, love.”
“You actually seem proud of yourself for that, Jackson. I’m flabbergasted.”
“I bought romance books. Doesn’t that tell you how much effort I’m putting into our relationship?”
“First of all, we aren’t in a relationship, and second, would you like a pat on the back for understanding the heart of a woman?” She spoke with enough sarcasm that even he couldn’t miss it, thick skull or not.
“Well . . .” His tone implied he wanted a heck of a lot more than a pat on the back.
“Jackson Whitman, I would leave right now if I were you. I mean it. Right now! The words coming out of your mouth certainly aren’t winning you any points. At least I have these puzzle books to occupy me, so maybe, just maybe, I’ll forget this conversation ever happened.”
“I can see that you want to play with your new toys. Don’t worry, I’ll be back real soon, and I’ll come bearing more gifts.” Jackson stood up and, to her utter amazement, bent down and kissed her.
Alyssa was dumbfounded. By the time she came up with a scathing reply, he was long gone. Next time she’d be more than ready for him.
“What in the world are you doing, Jackson?”
Jackson turned to find his brother Michael looking at him . . . and gaping. Busted looking at car seats and fairy wing thingies for infants! Jackson had to fight to suppress a raging blush.
“Um . . . can you just pretend you didn’t see me here in the baby section?” Jackson asked hopefully. He was in no way ready to explain any of this to his family.
“Yeah, I can guarantee you there’s no chance at all of that happening,” Michael said as he took a stance and folded his arms. He wasn’t going anywhere until Jackson spilled his guts.
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Jackson told him firmly.
“Okay, I guess I can go home and tell Dad I saw you looking through baby items. It looks like he finally may get to be a grandfather,” Michael said, and he turned as if about to leave.
“Stop!” Jackson yelled, winning a dirty look from a passing customer whose baby had just started to cry. “Sorry,” he muttered, then chased after Michael.
“I’m heading to my car now,” Michael said, and Jackson couldn’t tell whether he was bluffing or not. The thing with his brothers, though, was that even if they were bluffing, they had no problem throwing each other under the bus. So if Jackson didn’t give Michael something, his brother would indeed run home and tell his father where Jackson had been.
The two of them stepped out of the store in Billings and Jackson grabbed his arm. “Come with me to lunch and I’ll tell you everything,” Jackson said with a resigned sigh.
“I’ll take a free meal,” Michael said as he started following Jackson back to the parking lot. “Don’t even think about not bringing me back here for my truck, though.”
Jackson was seriously considering it. They jumped into his truck and he took them downtown to a bar he liked that served pretty damn good burgers and played great music.
After ordering a beer and their meal, Michael leaned back expectantly, waiting for Jackson to spill all. There was no way around it, and maybe it would help to talk to someone, ’cause he sure as hell didn’t know what he was doing half the time.
“You know Alyssa Gerard, right?” he began.
“Yeah, the waitress at the Country Saloon. She’s a great girl,” he said before his eyes widened. “What in the hell have you done to her? You only met a few weeks ago.”