Page 140 of On the Power Play

Delia motioned for Jack to walk with her to the kitchen. There was so much she hadn’t told her mom yet. Their phone calls had been sporadic at best while she was in Calgary, and when they had talked, there hadn’t been anything new to share.

Now, there was everything.

“Mom, what did you do with the beef bones?” Delia turned in a circle looking for the stock pot.

“When Mary phoned, I couldn’t get back to sleep. They were still frozen, so I put them back in the freezer.”

Delia reached excitedly into one of the shopping bags and pulled out a sack of onions. “I know what we’re doing tonight.”

Jack pulled out the apples and cucumbers. “I’m devastated I won’t be here for it.”

Delia nudged his arm and set down the onions, then transferred the other fruits and veggies to the fridge. When she turned, her mom was watching her with a satisfied expression. “What?” she mouthed.

“I didn’t sleep well, so I’m off for a nap. Lovely to meet you, Jack Harrison.”

He turned, holding a head of romaine. “The pleasure was all mine.”

As her mother turned down the hall, Delia exhaled. “You’ve gone and made her fall in love with you.”

“Good.” Jack grabbed onto her waist and reeled her in.

Delia grimaced as pain shot across her shoulders. “Sorry. Fast movements.”

He curled his hand around her neck, as if he were cradling a Fabergé egg. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Jack smoothed his thumb over her skin and wrapped his other arm around her waist. His eyes dropped to her lips, and he kissed her.

She’d been bone weary after the accident, but breathing him in had the same effect on her as smelling salts. “What is that scent?”

Jack grinned against her lips. “It’s called all night on an airplane and?—”

“No!” Delia laughed. “Your smell. It’s your deodorant or cologne or something. I can’t figure it out.” She’d looked for his toiletries in the hotel room, but none of them had been sitting on the counter.

He kissed her again. “I don’t wear cologne.” Kiss. “I used to in college.” Kiss. “But then I dated a girl who was allergic to synthetic fragrances.” Kiss. “I never went back.”

Delia grinned. “Thank you for the thorough explanation.”

“I knew you’d want the details.” Kiss. Kiss.

“So deodorant, then.”

“Must be.” Kiss. “I have it in my bag.” He pulled back, but Delia gripped his waist.

“I’d rather smell it on you. Products smell different when they aren’t on skin.”

Kiss. “True.”

Delia leaned back as far as she could without her neck complaining and trailed her hands up his arms until her fingers slipped under the soft cotton of his shirt sleeves. “You said four hours till your flight leaves?”

Jack’s eyes turned liquid. “Mmhmm.”

“So . . . you have an hour before you need to leave for the airport.”

“At least.” His fingers trembled against her skin. Jack watched her for a long moment, his chest rising and falling like he was fighting for more air. “I was so relieved when I landed. When Mary told me you were okay.”

Delia nodded. She reached up and pushed his dark hair off his forehead. Relief. She thought of everything Jack had told her over the past month. She remembered the first time she saw him in person. The image of him sitting at the table with his sister, Tony, and Kels at the concert flooded her mind. How the lights turned from glaring to a soft purple haze, making his face visible for a few seconds, and when she’d looked in his eyes, the only song that had filled her head was “Oubliet.”

“Dans le soulagement et le regret,” she whispered.

Jack lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “De toi, je n'ai point oubliet.” Delia’s eyes widened, and his lips curved into a slow smile. “I know those lyrics. Because they’re yours.”

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