Same time next week, p.4
Same Time Next Week, page 4
It wouldn't be just the sex that she'd be interested in. She'd never met a celebrity before. Not a real one, anyway. Lucas knew a lot of high powered people and she'd met them all, but no one that anyone would recognize if they walked down the street. Or ran into her with their grocery cart. None with that smile or those eyes or that voice. None that were down to earth and normal. Any celebrity that did his own shopping in the dead of night wasn't spoiled–he was trying to survive like everyone else.
Shelby transferred a few bags from the cart to her car, mentally berating herself. I can't even believe I was actually putting effort into it. Like, really trying to meet him again, after bawling my eyes out over Lucas earlier--"
"Hey, there. Thought you looked familiar." Shelby froze, her hands hanging in midair, tan plastic grocery bag dangling from two fingers. That voice. The way it sent tingles down her spine… she'd know it anywhere.
But her body wouldn't move, no matter how hard she tried to casually turn around and flip her hair back and give him a bright smile. The most she could do was turn her head, slowly, and look at his feet, clad in red and black sneakers, then let her eyes travel up his body, over jeans that pooled at the ankles and were loose all the way up the leg and hung low on his hips. She tried hard to skip over the bulge at the junction of his thighs but... she couldn't. Her gaze lingered there longer than she'd planned. Mmmph. She wondered if the rumors about him were true.
Shelby resisted licking her lips, tore her eyes away from his groin and forced them up. Up over the Ed Hardy hoodie he wore with the grey t-shirt underneath and what appeared to be a ring of dried sweat around the collar. She wondered what he'd been doing, that he was sweating so hard. And why he was out at so early… or late… again. Was he with someone? And then came to talk to her? Asshole.
A pang shot through her. Felt like envy. She hated herself for feeling it.
Her eyes finally made it to a long, thin face, with more than a 5 o'clock shadow growing, a nose that should detract from his looks but oddly enhanced them and two gorgeous pools of sparkling blue that were narrowed and hooded as he stared at her, a wrinkle of concern spreading across his forehead.
"Are you okay? Let me help you with that."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and let him reach around her for the rest of the bags in her cart and watched him gingerly place them in the trunk. He stepped back and smiled. She stared, speechless.
"Oh, this too? Let me...uh..." Jackson stepped forward again, took the bag that was hanging from her fingers and placed it among the others. "That's it? Anything else going in here? Better grab your purse."
Shelby nearly smacked herself, trying to bring her mind into focus, grabbing her purse and sliding it onto her arm. "Thank you. I appreciate your help." She smiled up at him, hoping she didn't look like a lovesick teenager. It was that he was so... so close and so much better looking in person than on TV and in pictures, and she looked better, she thought, this time around and ohmyGodpleasetalktome.
"I was going to close this..." Jackson had one hand on the top of the trunk and was moving to close it, asking for permission with a raised eyebrow. Shelby nodded and stepped back. The trunk closed with a soft thunk, after which he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and shrugged his shoulders. An uncomfortable smile drifted between them, as if each one expected the other to say something.
"So. I guess you like to shop this early, too." Shelby inwardly rolled her eyes at herself. Lame.
"Sometimes," he answered, glancing up at the neon green Publix sign outside of the store. "It's somewhere to go. And it's open and cool inside. It starts getting hot as soon as the sun comes up, so..." Jackson bobbed his head from one side to the other. Shelby thought that was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.
"I totally get that. Not a lot of places are open this early. Or... late. Miami is a twenty-four hour city. I'm surprised at how this place slows down at night."
"Mmhmm," he said, nodding. "Yeah, I uh... have spent some time down in Miami. It is like that, yeah. LA, too. I'm starting to miss that. I mean, there's places open..."
"When you get used to being able to get whatever you want, you can't settle for waffles at Denny's."
He nodded, looking relieved that she commiserated. Honestly, she was relieved that he understood. "I don't sleep well," she confessed. "There's usually no one here this time of morning. It's peaceful. A safe place to walk around, at least."
His eyes sparkled, giving her a warning that a joke was coming. "Until some jackass runs into your cart and ruins the whole experience."
She laughed, relaxing and enjoying this encounter much more than the previous one. "Right. Or some jackass is in the way of your cart."
He laughed, much to her delight. The sound was genuine, deep and chesty and chuckle inducing itself. She wanted to hear it again. And again and again.
He gestured toward the automatic doors, opening and closing as people were walking in and out. The city was waking up. "Well, uh...I better head in and pick up my stuff. My day starts around noon. I need to get home and get some rest. It was nice seeing you, again."
Shelby could not imagine why they couldn't just stand around smiling at each other and laughing at lame jokes until sunrise. "Yeah, you too. Maybe we'll do it again... sometime."
Jackson turned before walking inside, the greatest grin on his face. "That would be nice. That would be really nice. Take care, honey." He gave her a nod, a tip of his head and wiggled a few fingers at her in a wave, then turned and walked inside. Sauntered inside.
Goddamn, that man was sexy.
Shelby unlocked her car door and poured herself inside, then slumped forward onto the steering wheel, trying not to scream. That would be ridiculous and immature. But.... he called her honey.
Chapter 8
Jackson
Jackson smiled to himself, wandering the store, feeling good about that encounter. He planned to walk around for a few minutes, give her a chance to pull out and be on her way before going back out to his car. He hadn't needed anything from the store, but as he was passing the lot, he saw her pull in and couldn't help himself. He pulled in behind her and watched her get out of the car.
She'd made up for the day before. That she tried to was obvious. He appreciated the effort. She was beautiful but that was no surprise. Big brown doe eyes, creamy toasted cinnamon skin, wavy hair that flowed past her shoulders and pretty plump kissable lips. He was impressed¸ as he knew he would be, at what she looked like when she tried. Truth be told, he liked her fine in yoga pants and messy hair. It told him what she'd look like after sex. Not bad.
He tried to decide how long he would wait for her to come back out, since he was beginning to feel creepy. Being stalked, knowing someone saw you go into a store and would be waiting for you to come out was unnerving. Yet here he was, doing the same thing to her. He now understood the appeal.
After twenty minutes he'd convinced himself that he was a rude asshole. Besides, he was tired and rehearsal was starting early because the band had a function to attend later that night. He reached toward the ignition but out of the corner of his eye spotted the double doors sliding open.
She exited the store, the corners of her mouth in a downturn. He wondered why she seemed so sad and subdued. She slowly rolled the cart to her car and popped the trunk. And then, because he was suddenly brave, he decided to get out of the car and talk to her.
Despite getting pretty, she must not have expected to see him. She froze in place for a moment, wide-eyed and dumbfounded. He kept talking, trying to get her to relax. It worked. She flashed a pretty smile at him, even laughed a couple of times. He liked the sound of it, the sound of her voice. That dimple in her cheek. The way her eyes lit up when she spoke to him.
She seemed nice. Not crazy. A little hung up but maybe that would fade... well maybe, if he'd actually asked her out like he thought of doing. Or even... he groaned, mentally smacking his forehead. He didn't get her name!
Shelby
He had come tearing out of Publix just as she had composed herself and was getting ready to pull out. He'd marched right up to her window and rapped a knuckle on the glass. Shelby pressed the lever to slide the window down and he practically shoved his head into the car.
"Still here…are you okay?"
She nodded, hoping her shaking hands weren't obvious. "I'm fine. Was about to leave."
"Just checking. Uh…so, hi." He smiled, chuckling a little.
"Hi again."
"I know you know my name, but I don't know yours. Can I? Know your name?"
"Shelby….uhm….Morris." She stuck a hand out toward him. He reached through the window and shook it, giving her a squeeze before he let go. The calluses on the tips of his fingers made her wonder what they'd feel like on her skin. "Nice to meet you."
"Yeah, you too. So, I was thinking..." He hesitated, blinking rapidly, licking his lips. "Maybe you'd want to do a little shopping later?"
"Shopping?"
He laughed, propping his elbow in the window. "It was a joke. About how we keep seeing each other at the grocery store."
"Oh. Because honestly? I just bought a ton of shit I don't need."
He smiled, laughing a short burst of ‘ha'. "Honestly, I was about to do the same. So..." Jackson stared, like he was expecting an answer.
"So...I'm sorry. Were you serious about shopping?"
"Oh, no. Sorry. I wondered if you were free later on. If not, maybe we could meet up another time..."
"Uhm… I'm free."
"Cool. Uh. I'm working with Rod Phillips Band– you know him?" She nodded. "We're working today so, I don't exactly know what time I'll be available. Sometimes I get caught up in writing or organizing, since I have paper everywhere and four different notebooks that I keep for music but uhm..."
He scratched his temple as his voice trailed off. Then he regrouped. "Well, anyway. How can I reach you?"
Shelby smirked. "They have these things called cell phones. They're pretty handy. You can call me on mine. From yours."
He laughed, thank God. Kind of hard, with his eyes closed. "I guess I deserved that. Could I get that number from you?"
She dug into her purse for a pen and a piece of paper, scribbled her name and number onto the back of the moving company's business card and handed it to him. He stared at it for a few seconds and then slid it into the front pocket of his jeans.
"Thanks. So. I'll give you a call."
"Sounds good. Looking forward to it."
"Me too. So. I'll let ya go."
Jackson stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets again, moving to the sidewalk outside the store entrance. Shelby pulled out of the spot, waiving as she drove past him. He waved back. And in her rearview mirror, as she turned onto the side street that ran alongside the store, he was still standing in the same spot, watching her tail lights retreat.
What should I wear? I wonder where we'll go. What should I wear? I wonder what time he'll call. What should I wear?!
Damn. It was going to be a long day.
Jackson
You have a date with a girl you met at a grocery store. Do you even know where you're taking her?
The answer was no, of course. But he wasn't worried about it. He'd come up with something.
What he was worried about was making it through the day and making enough headway that he'd be able to take off early and not feel guilty about it. What he worried about was sitting across from her somewhere... or next to her somewhere... and not being able to concentrate on being with her. He needed this date. He needed this time away, to be somewhere other than home or holed up in a windowless studio with five other guys. He needed the company and pleasure and sight and sound of a woman. A beautiful woman.
There was something about her, this Shelby… something that intrigued him. Something in her smile, her laugh, her sense of humor. When she finally relaxed, he relaxed. He wanted to get to know her.
‘Well,' he thought to himself, ‘let's be honest.' He wanted to fuck her.
Jackson wanted to have hot, steamy sex with this Shelby girl, this hot little thing he met at the grocery store, who seemed to want it too if he read her right. He could use some sex; it had been a while. Six weeks, almost exactly. In fact, the day that Rod called him about taking this job, he'd awakened next to a bony, passed out girl in Covina.
It had been even longer since he'd had meaningful sex with someone he actually liked and wouldn't mind seeing outside of the bedroom. Or off of the kitchen counter. Or even if she wasn't up against a wall, moaning his name and screaming dirty, nasty things into the air, he'd be okay with it. He had a feeling that this Shelby was going to be one of those women.
But first he wanted to get to know her, to decide if the need to fuck her came from the fact that he was missing Kim like he'd miss an arm or because she was an engaging, beautiful, sexy little thing. He hoped it was the latter.
By the time he finally made it home, bands of sunlight threatened over the horizon and peeked through the blinds in the living room. Jackson pulled the car into the garage and headed straight through the kitchen and up the steps. Yawning, he peeled off his clothes down to plain boxer briefs and scratched his belly as he rolled into the bed. He lay on his stomach and pointed a remote at the TV that hung in the corner of the room.
It didn't matter what was on–he wasn't watching it anyway. It was noise to drown out the thoughts that kept coming. After a few minutes, he snapped the TV off again and flipped to his back, staring at the ceiling, watching the fan make endless revolutions. Around and around, it turned, providing a light breeze that cut through early morning mugginess, when the cool of night gave way to the heat of the day. The fan needed to be dusted.
Finally he gave in, tucking one hand behind his head, the other under the band of his boxers.
He closed his eyes, filling his mind with her face, from the dimple in her cheek to her long, elegant neck, to that dip at the bottom of her throat. His breathing sped up, matching the rate of his heart beat and the speed of his palm along a rigid length. Pulling and twisting and groaning and breathing deeply, his mind raced with images–the curve of her breasts and the telltale twin signs of arousal poking out of the t-shirt she wore. He pictured her walk, that great ass and the way it moved in those pants she wore yesterday. He heard her voice in his head, loved how it was sort of husky, how it dug right under his skin and danced across his nerve endings and... uuunnnggghhhh...
His head rocked back in sweet relief as he panted, catching his breath. The fan, coupled with the sheen of sweat over his skin cooled him, though his blood boiled red-hot. His eyelids grew heavy, but his mind was still alive with the thought that he would see her again. Soon.
Shit. It was going to be a long day.
Chapter 9
Shelby
Shelby was slowly finding solace in the new life she was building, like maybe this move far, far away from anything and everything she'd ever known was the best thing she could have done for herself.
Being out of her comfort zone and away from a lifestyle she had become accustomed to, maybe even depended on, pushed her into doing things she thought a twenty-something year old woman should be doing. Going on dates and having fun, putting one foot in front of the other, making it in the world on the merit of her own hard work and life skills. Not hanging on the arm of a man nearly twenty years her senior, playing the trophy girlfriend while trying not to notice the glares of the women that were married to his colleagues. The days may be droll and monotonous and the nights low-key now, but at least they were her own and not dedicated to whatever event Lucas had committed them to–symphony or ballet or some Executive Retreat in the Keys. The golf tournaments were the worst.
And, instead of wandering a mausoleum of a house, watching the help clean and cook and do the same damn thing they did the day before in the same way, at the same time, Shelby was humming to music on the radio, organizing books in the bookcase in the study and digging around in the dirt behind the house.
The chime of her cell phone rang out over the soft jazz playing through the speakers on the patio. She checked her watch and her stomach lurched. Shelby found her phone on the table next to the very chair she'd sat in a few nights before, staring up at the sky, wondering when her life would fall into place. What a difference a day made.
"Hi," she chirped, hoping she sounded breezy and casual and not overly eager.
"Hey. Uh... can I speak to Shelby?" His voice was muffled by background noise. He sounded like he was in his car.
"Oh, I'm hurt. You didn't recognize my voice."
"Actually, I did," he answered. He sounded amused. "I was being polite."
"Oh. Well, hi."
"Hi, there." He laughed, which made her laugh and then there was that awful, awkward silence and pregnant pause. "So, how are you?"
"I'm good. How was your uhm... workday? Is that what you call it when you don't work till noon and get off early?"
"I'm fine, thanks. Actually, I ended up not working."
Shelby sat in the nearest patio chair, stretching her feet out in front of her, basking in the sun. It was a beautiful day, calm and relaxing. She hoped it was about to be a beautiful night.
"So what did you do, if you didn't work?"
"I took care of a few things. Ran some errands, you know. I thought I would give you a call and see what was up."
Putting it out there, in 3...2... "I'm excited about maybe meeting up with you. Hoping maybe turns into definitely."
She almost heard him smile across the line. "Definitely. We could run into each other at Antigua tonight. Do you know where that is? Downtown?"
"I'll find it. What time should I run into you down there?"
"Let's say... 8 o'clock? I'll try to grab a table in the back."
