Page 26 of It's You
“You’re a lost cause.” She handed Darcy an envelope with her MRI images. “Glad you’re not crazy. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.”
Darcy winked at Willow and turned to leave.
“Darce?”
She turned to look back at her friend, who was half turned away from Darcy, looking out the window between the bookcases behind her desk.
“If you’re ready to talk to Jack Beauloup…” She pointed to the window without looking back at Darcy. “I think he’s ready too.”
Darcy walkedout of Willow’s office, turning right to walk by Willow’s small, white picket-fenced herb garden, then stopped abruptly. She’d known he was waiting there, but she still wasn’t prepared for the impact of seeing him so close to her.
Jack Beauloup stood at the edge of the garden, one elbow leaning lazily against the corner fencepost. He was impossibly handsome, standing in the mid-morning sun, the light picking up the silver strands in his hair and close-cropped beard. The scruff made her fingers tingle by her sides as she approached him, longing to reach out and run her fingers over the prickly texture. He wore a heather-gray long-sleeved Henley shirt pushed up to his elbows that showed off his tan, corded arms and hugged the insane contours of his muscular chest. Her eyes drifted lower, lingering on his waist as her heart thumped like crazy, and finally dropping to muddy hiking boots.
If she could call the Almighty and ask him to deliver the most perfect, delicious, mind-bogglingly beautiful man to the corner of Main and Chilton, even He in all His power couldn’t have improved upon the person who stood waiting for her.
Jack had noticed her frank perusal, and a teasing smile tilted the corners of his mouth up as his eyes sparkled with delight.Shoot.Where were her sunglasses when she needed them, anyway? She took a deep breath, steeling herself for another possible brush with crazy.
“Darcy Turner. Imagine running into you.”
She gave him an exasperated look and started walking again. He fell into step beside her.
“You stalking me, Jack Beauloup?”
“Pretty crappy stalker, if that’s my game. Haven’t seen you since Saturday.”
“Well, Saturday was just about enough for me.”
“So, are you crazy?”
“Not officially.”
“Told you it would be okay.”
She turned to face him, locking her eyes with his.
Please leave me alone?
I can’t.
She started walking again. “What do you mean, youcan’t?”
“I have to talk to you. I came back to Carlisle for?—”
For me?Her head whipped to face him, and she missed an uneven seam in the sidewalk. She would have fallen if Jack hadn’t snaked his arm lightning quick around her waist, hauling her up against his chest. She heard his breath hitch as she relaxed in his arms. His other arm moved around her waist, pulling her flush against his body as she raised her eyes to his.
Darcy.
Jack.
She saw the familiar expression in his eyes as he stared at her, the pain she used to see on his face when they were teenagers, and she’d discover him watching her from across the library or auditorium. But it dawned on her, with the experience and wisdom that comes with age and adulthood, that what she had translated as pain when she was young was nuanced with age, and, in fact, it wasn’t pain at all. It was longing. All these years, she’d thought he’d found something objectionable or unlikeable when he looked at her, but that wasn’t it at all. It hurt to look at her because hewantedher, and, for whatever reason, he must have believed she was off-limits to him.
She felt her face soften with tenderness as she stared at him, and he closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes too, but her thoughts kept circling back to one specific place. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel his lips on hers again after so long. His breath on her skin was hot and ragged as he pressed his lips on the tissue-thin shades of each eyelid in turn. She moved her hands up the hard contours of his chest to his neck, her fingers lightly tickling the hairs on the back of his neck as she pulled him?—
“Darcy.” He spoke aloud, his lips a breath away from hers. She could feel the force of his breathing, the hot puffs of exhaled breath on the sensitive skin of her lips. His voice was hoarse and raspy as he cleared his throat, taking a big gulp of air. “Not here. Not on Main Street.”
Her eyes flew open, and her face flushed hot with embarrassment as her neck snapped back to look at him. “You’re shutting this down?”
She dropped her hands from his neck, palms splayed on his chest to push him away.
