Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) by Jennifer Saints Page B

shrunk to a touch-me-tight fit.
    Jackson slid off his helmet and ran his hands
through his wild black hair. Her fantasy of making love on his
Harley while wearing nothing but his black leather jacket came back
in spades. She frowned at the unwelcome flush of heat that being
this close to him on his Harley triggered and shouted her question
again. “Is Alexi okay?”
    “Just left her and Jesse. She’s fine,” he said. A
frown of irritation crossed his brow. “Sorry to interrupt your hot
date. I came to get my sunglasses off the hall table. If the door
is unlocked, I’ll just grab them and be out of your way.”
    “I’ll get them. They’re in the bedroom.” He killed
the engine just as she finished her sentence making her last word
ring through the air. A dead silence followed.
    “Bedroom?” Brad said from just behind her. She could
see the question in Jackson’s devilishly amused gaze, and she could
hear the even bigger question in Brad’s surprised voice.
    “I didn’t want Shakespeare to gnaw on them,” Nan
muttered.
    “What?” said Brad.
    “You’re kidding, right?” Jackson asked, amusement
fading.
    “I’ll be right back.” Nan bit her tongue as she
turned around and rushed to her door. Though she dreaded leaving
them alone together, the thought of facing Brad that second was
worse. What was he thinking? How could she explain about Jackson’s
glasses being in her bedroom? Considering her fantasies, she had
little doubt what Freud would have said about the maneuver. Her
headache edged closer to a migraine as she fumbled with the
door.
    Shakespeare had found them. He lay curled up on
her dresser with the glasses pinned beneath his paws. Nan quickly
snatched them and hurried back. The moment she stepped outside, the
world sort of faded before her eyes, and she had to grab the wall
to steady herself. A wave of dizziness swept through her. When her
vision cleared, she saw Jackson watching her, a serious expression
on his face.
    “What’s wrong?” He took the sunglasses from her and
placed a steadying hand on her arm. “You look like you’re about to
pass out.”
    “It’s nothing. I just got dizzy there for a
moment.”
    “Like at the benefit?” His thumb brushed the inside
of her arm.
    Nan brought her hand up to her head, escaping his
touch before he short-circuited her thought processes again. “Not
really. I have a headache. I shouldn’t have run.”
    “Did you eat today?” He brushed her hair back from
her face. There was no way she could hide from his direct gaze.
“When was the last time you had a checkup? Do you have frequent
headaches?”
    “Yes, I ate lunch. I’m not sure when my last checkup
was. And I suffered migraines as a teenager, but not since. I
probably need to relax and get a little fresh air.” She looked over
Jackson’s shoulder. “Where’s Brad?”
    “Lover boy left for the hospital to the tune of his
cell phone.” Jackson placed a hand on each of her shoulders and
ushered her back inside her apartment, gently squeezing the muscles
at the base of her neck. “You’re tight as a banjo.”
    He worked miracles on her neck for a few minutes,
then guided her to the big easy chair in her living room and pushed
her softly down into its pillowy depths. He stood in front of her
and resumed rubbing her shoulders, letting her head rest against
his stomach. Her plan to tell him they couldn’t see each other
wavered like a mirage before her eyes. She couldn’t quite grab hold
of it right then. His moves were so smooth it turned her blood to
liquid honey. He felt like heaven, and he smelled even better.
    “So, did you have a date with Swanson?”
    “Not really. He took me to see a house he’s
buying.”
    Jackson’s hands on her neck stilled. “House?”
    “Yes, in Garden Hills. He wanted me to see it.”
    “Bet it’s just what you were looking for.”
    Nan shrugged off his hands and stood. “What’s that
supposed to mean?”
    “Nothing,” Jackson