Such Great Heights - Sydney Logan Page 0,26
with that.”
“Well, I can see why. Your wife is beautiful.”
“She is. But she’s more than that. Mrs. Healey is the rare exception, but the truth is, looks eventually fade. There has to be more than just physical attraction to keep love alive.”
I watch as he gazes at his wife. Mr. Healey’s eyes fill with so much emotion that I finally have to look away, too afraid that I’m intruding on a private moment between the two of them.
I want someone to look at me like that.
Then someone does.
Jackson’s eyes lock with mine, and once again, I find myself having to look away.
“He’s very protective of you,” Mr. Healey says, obviously noticing our exchange. “His mother and I love seeing him like this.”
I swallow nervously. “Like what?”
“Happy.”
With a flourish of a violin, our dance comes to an end. Mr. Healey takes a step back and gently kisses my hand.
“You are lovely, Olivia. Thank you for the dance.”
“Thank you, Mr. Healey.”
He leads me over to the table.
“It was wonderful to meet you, Olivia,” Mrs. Healey says. “Jackson has promised to bring you home soon for a family dinner. With Ryder and Hazel, of course.”
“I’d love that. Thank you, Mrs. Healey.”
“Please call me Joan.”
She hugs me tightly, and I wave at Dana, who’s now sitting in the lap of Jackson’s divorce attorney.
Call me, Dana mouths and gives me a wink. I nod, and Jackson takes my hand and leads me through the ballroom and out into the cool Nashville night. He hands the valet our ticket, along with what appears to be a fifty dollar bill.
“We’re in a hurry,” Jackson mutters.
I grin.
While the kid runs like the wind toward the parking garage, Jackson takes off his jacket and places it around my bare shoulders.
“Just out of curiosity,” I ask with a teasing grin, “what’s the rush?”
Jackson steps behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He nuzzles my hair, and I melt against his chest.
“I’m kissing you tonight.”
Butterflies erupt in my stomach.
“Is that right?”
“That’s exactly right,” he murmurs against my ear. “And I’d rather not do it in public for the whole world to see. However, if that kid doesn’t hurry —”
I almost confess that I couldn’t care less who sees as long as I get my kiss, but then the valet arrives with the car.
“Jackson, I’m in heels,” I remind him with a laugh.
He ignores me and the nice doorman and all but drags me to the elevator.
Not that I mind.
Jackson pushes the button for the penthouse, and my mind starts fantasizing about a hot elevator kiss just as a tuxedoed man joins us.
“Tenth floor, please,” he says, barely glancing our way.
Jackson reaches for the button.
“Oh. Evening, Jackson.”
“Pete.”
“I saw you at the benefit tonight. Meant to say hello but you seemed . . . occupied.” Pete lets his eyes roam over me. “And understandably so.”
I shudder under his gaze. Jackson notices my discomfort and pulls me close to his side.
“Anyway, it was a wonderful gala,” Pete says as the elevator reaches his floor. “Goodnight.”
“It was. Goodnight, Pete.”
Pete gives me another disgusting glance before stepping out.
“I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t introduce you.”
“Not at all. That guy’s a creep.”
“Yes, he is.”
We both forget about Creepy Pete when the elevator finally reaches the penthouse floor. Eager to get inside, Jackson clutches my hand tightly while he unlocks the door. It’s late, so we’re both surprised to find the light on in the foyer.
My stomach drops.
Surely everything’s okay. Hazel would’ve called, wouldn’t she?
Our eyes flicker around the living room. Everything seems okay. At the very least, the floor isn’t littered with broken toys.
Jackson and I slowly walk toward Ryder’s bedroom, where we find Hazel on the bed, with our sleeping boy in her arms.
“Everything’s okay,” she says softly. “But he’s been running a fever all night. I wanted to check it again. He woke up, asking for you both.”
Concerned, we walk toward the bed. I place my hand on his forehead. He does feel warm.
“Why didn’t you call?” Jackson asks.
“I didn’t want to ruin your evening because of a low-grade fever. I gave him some medicine, which he took without a fight, so you know the little guy’s not feeling well at all. His temp is down some.”
“I hope it’s not the flu,” I murmur. “His teacher said it’s going around.”
Hazel nods. “I called the pediatrician. She said if he gets worse to give her a call.”
The three of us kiss his forehead, and Hazel gingerly slips the little boy out of