McCall - Jackson Rule by Sharon Sala

Author:Sharon Sala
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 1996-12-15T07:00:00+00:00

of her shirt and centered upon the nipple protruding against the wet fabric of her shirt, tears shot to her eyes. She wrapped her fingers in his thick wet hair.

“Jackson... Jackson... Jackson.”

It was a plea he understood all too well. But their timing was off. Way off. This had to stop now. He had nothing with him in the way of protection, and he’d already crossed too many lines with this woman to take that unforgivable step.

“Ah damn,” Jackson whispered, as he tore himself away from her.

Rebecca staggered as her feet hit the floor. The ache between her legs was so great that she could not stand, and the emptiness in her arms was too great to bear. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands, then wrapped her arms around her waist in an effort to keep from falling apart.

“My God... why did you stop?”

“Someone had to.” His voice was rough, his anger at himself overriding his sense of caution. “You would have hated yourself... and me... in the morning, lady.” And that would have killed me for sure.

“Dear Lord,” Rebecca whispered, and pressed her fingers to her lips to keep from screaming. “What are we going to do?”

Jackson’s voice was full of anger. “We aren’t going to do anything. And when I leave, lock the god-damned door behind you this time. The next man to come along might not be so willing to give up a good thing.”

She gasped at the rudeness of his words, and when he spun and walked out into the storm, she crawled to her feet and followed him to the door. Rain sliced across her face and peppered her vision, but not enough to keep her from seeing the man straddle his bike and disappear into the night like a dark ghost. She stood on the threshold and shouted until she was choking on her own tears.

“Damn you, Jackson Rule! Damn you for making me care.” And damn you for making me love you, she thought, even though she didn’t have the nerve to say it aloud.

Jackson hurt in every bone and muscle of his body. But not even the storm could drown out the sound of her voice ringing in his ears, and he roared away into the night. Damn me? Hell, honey, you’re a little too late. I was damned before we met.

By Monday, the storm was a thing of the past. Rebecca had worked all day Sunday picking up debris and hauling off things too damaged to salvage, wishing that she could pick up the mess she’d made of her life as easily.

With every step she took, Jackson’s ghost was right beside her, taunting her, reminding her that he’d turned down what she’d offered without a fight. She didn’t know what hurt worse, her pride or her heart.

When she turned into the driveway to open up for the day, Jackson’s bike was parked in its usual place, but he was nowhere in sight.

“God give me strength,” she muttered as she killed the engine and got out on shaky legs.

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