Page 43 of The Sandover Beach Billionaire

The answer sounded somewhat innocuous, but Jenna could feel the tension in his body. There was some back story, but she wasn’t going to push him for it. Not yet. She rubbed her hands up and down his back. “Ready to get to work?”

Jackson pulled away suddenly. Placing his hands on either side of her face, he was suddenly serious. “I need something from you, Monroe.”

Her heart pounded at his intensity. “Anything. Well, within reason. You strike me as a reasonable man.”

“I’m pretty unreasonable most of the time, but this one thing should be simple.” He paused. “I need a kiss from you in the daylight. To be sure that what happened yesterday in the elevator wasn’t a dream.”

“I need that too,” Jenna said. “I’ve been afraid you might regret—”

Before she could finish the sentence, his lips were on hers, the sweetest interruption. Where yesterday there had been feverish passion full of unspoken words, this kiss felt languid and unhurried. His lips pressed lightly against hers, never settling for long, leaving her breathless and light-headed.

He pulled only far enough away to rest his forehead on hers, his breath feather-light against her cheek.

“No regrets,” Jackson said. “Other than wishing I hadn’t waited so long. Sometimes I think—what if I had told you how I felt back then?”

“I’m not sure we were the people we needed to be back then. It may not have worked at all. It’s hard to play the what-if game.”

“I think you’re right. And I’m glad for the time right now. Speaking of right now, I’m here to help. Want to wait on the food or are you ready for a break right now?”

Jenna groaned. “Break. Food. I don’t know how much more I can do today. I’m at that point where I just want to burn it all down.”

“Dinner, then. Because we can’t have Beau and Jimmy showing up with the fire truck for every date.” Jackson began to pull things out of bags. When Jenna realized that they were Bohn’s bags, she groaned.

“I should have warned you. I don’t have pots and pans or anything to cook with.”

“Cooking?” Jackson smirked. “I think you have me confused with someone else. I let the café do the heavy lifting on this one. And you should be glad about that. The only version of cooking I do is manning a grill. I flip a mean burger.”

“Okay, so you want to address our flaws right now? Well, I don’t cook either. I do think I could grill without burning a hot dog, though. Maybe.”

“Sounds like a challenge. Next time you’re at my place, we’ll have a grill-off.”

Jenna giggled. “You’re on.” She leaned against the counter as he continued unloading: a delicious-smelling rotisserie chicken, roasted potatoes, green beans with almonds, a big salad, and a bottle of wine.

She admired the food, but also Jackson. Other than a few lines around his eyes and a much bigger build, Jackson looked like he could have stepped right out of the Sandover High yearbook in his jeans and fitted gray T-shirt.

“Like what you see?” Jackson wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Yes, dinner looks fantastic.” She bumped her hip into his. “No wine for me, though. I know that our first meeting last week was me trying to buy wine at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning, but I’ve actually stopped drinking. At least for a while. I don’t think I have a problem, per se, but it was becoming a crutch. Since we’re sharing all our flaws tonight. Might as well share that one.”

Jackson studied her. Jenna was afraid that she might see judgment or disappointment there, but instead she saw something like respect. “That’s really wise. You’ve been through a lot, so it’s understandable. Actually, other than losing your mother, which is huge, I know very little about what’s been happening with you.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. It made sense to cover all this early on, but Rachel’s warning about moving too fast echoed in her mind. Jackson didn’t miss her obvious hesitation and reached for her hand, enveloping her fingers in his. The gesture made her feel at once cared for and safe.

“You don’t have to talk to me about this, Jenna. At least not yet. I mean, we’re on date two. Or one, depending on how you count.”

“You kissed me in the elevator, so I think it has to count as our first date. Or half date. Maybe this is one-point-five. I’d like to talk to you about my disastrous marriage, if nothing else, to get it out of the way. But we definitely need food first.”

Jackson gave her fingers a final squeeze before letting go. He turned and fixed them each a paper plate of food. “I totally cheated and texted Rachel for food tips. I hope that’s okay.”

“How did you get her number?”

“Church this morning.”

“Oh.” Her jaw clenched. Jenna had refused to go with Rachel this morning, at first saying she wanted to get work done, and then, when pressed, simply snapped at her sister. It had been almost six months since she had been inside a church or cracked open the Bible. She didn’t want to talk about it with Rachel, or anyone. But of course, Jackson pressed.

“Out of curiosity, why didn’t you come?” Jackson abandoned the plates for a moment and turned to face her.

Tension radiated from her body as Jenna fought to find words. When she met his eyes, they weren’t accusing like she had expected. Only curious. Concerned, even. She sighed. “I haven’t been in months. God and I are kind of in a fight.”

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