Headed for Trouble - By Suzanne Brockmann Page 0,65

on her job and her life in Iraq. Arlene had backed away from that, rather emphatically, and to her surprise, Jack hadn’t pushed—not even a little.

All he said was, “I’ve been over there, on assignment. And I know it’s not the same thing, not even close, but … I’ve seen it. I know what it smells like and … If you ever want to talk, you don’t have to worry about, you know, shocking me.”

She’d nodded and pretended to study the dessert menu, but in truth she couldn’t read a word past the blur of tears that had rushed to her eyes. Tears that Jack, in turn, gallantly pretended not to see.

As Arlene now watched him, he dug into the back pocket of his pants for his wallet, from which he extracted a credit card that he slipped into the leather folder with their bill. He held it up for the young waiter to grab on his way past, again smiling his thanks at the intercept, before reaching for his mug to finish off his coffee—milk free, but with three Sweet’N Lows.

He met Arlene’s gaze then and gave her a smile that was even warmer than the ones he’d shared with the waiter. “This was great. This was … a dream come true.”

She had to laugh at that, even as she reached across the table to take his hand. He drew his breath in, as if he were surprised by the sudden contact, and he looked down at their interlaced fingers. When he glanced back up and into her eyes, she could see it again. His desire. It was warm and solid and impossible for him to hide. At least from her.

“I think the dream-come-true part happens next,” she told him, and his gaze dropped to her mouth, but only for a second. “Seriously, Jack. I just want to … I don’t know. Feel good for a little while. And then get back to Newton so I’m there when Maggie gets home from school.”

“Getting a hotel room in the afternoon on day two, after not seeing each other for more than two years is not what I’d call taking it slowly,” he pointed out.

“I’m not going to be home for very long,” she countered, holding his gaze.

Jack nodded. “I’d … rather spend the time talking. About things that matter.”

Laughing, she pulled her hand free. “God, you’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he said, laughing, too, but then immediately amended his declaration. “Well, okay, I’m lying because yes, yes, I want to say yes. I want to … Yes.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “But I don’t want to screw this up. I am not going to screw this up. So yes, I would rather talk to you. So how about this? We drive back to Newton, pick up Maggie from school, and then go to the airport where we catch the next flight to Vegas. We can talk all the way there—the flight’s about six hours, nonstop. We arrive, you marry me, we have a little celebration dinner, check into a hotel, getting Mags a separate room, and kiss her good night. At which point, I promise, I will make you feel very, very good.”

“That’s insane,” Arlene whispered, but she couldn’t look away. She just sat there, staring into his eyes, and she could see—she knew—that he wasn’t teasing or flirting or pretending. He was dead serious.

“I want you in my life,” he said quietly. “So, no. I disagree. It’s not insane. It’s quite possibly the most sane suggestion I’ve ever made. Ever.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know where to start.”

But she didn’t have to start, because he knew exactly what she was thinking. “You know me,” he persisted in that voice that had always flowed over her like velvet. “You’ve always known me. And I should’ve asked you to marry me, right on the very first day that I met you, because I knew, right then, right at that moment, that with you by my side, my life would be complete.”

“Except I was too young,” she pointed out tartly, “so saying that, doing that, would’ve meant, what? Three years of celibacy? Instead you opted to spend at least three of those months with Kim Bickford.”

“Holy shit.” Jack sat back in his seat. “You remember Kim? Jesus, I barely remember her last name.”

“She slept with me in my room,” Arlene told him, “when you and Will came to visit. It was pretty obvious, pretty quickly, that you