Finally Jackson stepped back. “I’ll move your car.”
“All right.” She missed his presence next to her already.
“I’ll be back in time for supper.”
She nodded.
“You’ll be here when I get back?”
“I will.”
He nodded and then strode across the porch and down the stairs. He didn’t look back as he climbed in her chair and drove it toward a smaller barn just beyond the big one. Emerald slowly eased herself down onto the porch swing. Pushing off with one foot, she let it swing as she pressed her fingers against her still-tingling lips.
Chapter Nine
Emerald was pulling a roast chicken out of the oven when the back door opened. She didn’t even bother to turn around. It was just past five o’clock in the evening and Jackson’s boots had made their familiar stomping sound as he’d climbed the few steps to the back door. She’d only been here a week, but already she found herself listening for the sound of his footsteps in the evening.
The screen door opened and he stepped inside. He brought with him the smell of summer and sweaty male. Emerald busied herself with laying the roaster on the counter then checking the pots on the stove. Anything to keep herself from going over to him and burying her face against his shirt.
“That smells great.” His voice was so close she knew he was standing right behind her. He didn’t touch her, yet she could feel the heat from his large body practically surrounding her. “I’ll be down as soon as I shower.”
“That’s fine.” She was proud of the way that her voice didn’t wobble. She sounded steady and matter-of-fact. She raised the lid on the pot of carrots and gave them a stir with her fork. She could sense him hovering behind her, undecided, but a second later the air stirred and he was gone. His footsteps echoed as he took the stairs quickly.
She all but slumped against the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. Ever since her first night here, she’d made it a point of keeping her distance from Jackson. And boy, it hadn’t been easy. That first night had been too intense and her common sense had forced her to take a step back and examine the situation. She’d been ready to climb into bed with a man she’d barely known. That just wasn’t like her at all.
With everything else that had happened, the last thing she’d wanted to do was get into a relationship, so she’d backed off. She’d sensed Jackson’s impatience and confusion, but he’d accepted the fact that she wasn’t ready or willing to pursue the attraction between them. But that resolve was weakening as each day went by.
The more she got to know Jackson, the more she liked him. He was exactly what he seemed to be—loyal, honorable, hardworking, earthy and sexy as all get-out. He had a quick wit and a dry sense of humor that appealed to her. She’d never seen him lose his cool or his temper, but she hadn’t heard him laugh either, although when he turned his smile on her, she felt lightheaded. The man was good-looking in a rugged sort of way, but when he smiled, he was something special.
Rather than abating, the attraction she felt toward him was growing as each day went by. He hadn’t made any overt moves toward her, but he was always touching her. Small touches. The graze of his finger over her cheek, the firm squeeze of his hand over her shoulder, the brush of his muscular body against hers.
She sighed as she lifted the chicken onto a platter and began to carve it. There was really no reason why she couldn’t or shouldn’t let nature take its course. Sex with Jackson would be spectacular. Of that, she had no doubt. If they came together physically, it would be explosive. No, that wasn’t why she was holding back. It was the emotional attachment that worried her.
Emerald had never slept with a man she hadn’t been in love with. It just wasn’t in her nature to take these things lightly. The fact that she was seriously considering sleeping with Jackson told her that she was already in over her head when it came to him. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she spooned up carrots, mashed potatoes and corn onto their plates. She was already half in love with the man.
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she hugged herself tight. As if her life wasn’t confused enough at the moment, she had to go and add something like this on top of it. Shaking her head, she picked up the plates and placed them on the table. The shower had gone off and Jackson would be here any moment.
By the time she’d placed the platter of chicken on the table, she could hear him on the stairs. Taking one last look to make sure that everything was in place, she slipped into her chair just as he strode into the kitchen.
“Everything smells great.” His hair was still damp and brushed the back of his denim shirt. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled back to reveal darkly tanned forearms sprinkled with dark hair. His fingers were thick and long, his palm broad. They were strong, capable hands and she remembered all too well what they felt like against her skin.
Sucking in a deep breath, she picked up her fork. “Thanks.”
They ate in silence, the only sounds the scrape of their utensils against the plates, the clink of their drinking glasses as they sipped iced tea and their deep breathing. Finally, Emerald couldn’t take it any longer. “Tell me about the farm.” In the week she’d been here, she’d barely ventured beyond the yard.
Jackson finished chewing and swallowed. He laid his fork down and sat back. She could tell she’d surprised him with her willingness to talk. He’d tried the first few days she was here, but she’d shut him down. Now she was feeling badly about that. He’d only been trying to be friendly and put her at ease, but she’d been feeling too raw and had just wanted to be left alone.
“What do you want to know?”
She shrugged. “Everything.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin. His jaw was covered with evening stubble and a lock of hair tumbled over his forehead. The collar of his shirt was open, exposing his strong throat and neck. A tuft of hair peeked out from between the parted fabric. It gave him a roguish look, like a sexy pirate. His blue eyes stared intently at her, making her squirm in her chair.
He leaned back and linked his hands over his flat belly. She swallowed and laid her fork down on her plate. She couldn’t eat with him watching her so intently.
“This farm has been in my family for several generations. My grandfather owned it first and then my father.”
“And now it’s yours.” She marveled at having such a family legacy.
“Not quite mine.” He looked thoughtful. She could tell he was picking his words carefully. “It belongs to the three of us—me, Nathan and Erin. Our father never liked the farm, never truly wanted it or us. Our mother died when Erin was just a kid and he just went through his days until I was eighteen. I knew he was going to sell the farm and I offered to buy it from him. At first he laughed.”
Emerald couldn’t look away from Jackson. She could sense his underlying pain even though his words were matter-of-fact. She thought about her own parents—so loving and giving—and couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like for Jackson and his siblings. She and her sisters had known nothing but love and acceptance and encouragement. They’d been very lucky.
“Then what happened?” she prompted after he went silent.
“He agreed to give it a go and moved to Florida. The three of us worked like dogs and finished paying off the farm a few years back.”
Jackson was the oldest, so she knew he’d born the brunt of the workload on his shoulders. She could also tell from the way he was shifting in his seat that he didn’t want to talk about this subject any longer. “So, tell me about the farm itself. What kind of apples do you grow?”