Chapter 37
CHAPTER
37
Adelaide didn’t have time to second-guess her decision to kiss Jack, because the moment her lips touched his, she combusted.
All rational thought left her brain as his lips commanded hers in a familiarity that snatched her breath. Her mouth opened beneath his, their tongues duelling, their hands everywhere as she couldn’t get enough of her soon-to-be ex-husband.
Her palms skated over his damp skin, exploring, savouring, remembering old dips and ridges, discovering new ones. And when his hands slid over her butt and pulled her flush against him, the evidence of how much he wanted her made her devour him anew.
They kissed until breathless, dragging in great gulps of air before going back for more, making out like a couple of teenagers. Lost in their passion, they staggered and bumped into the kitchen bench, resulting in a pot clattering to the floor with a resounding crash.
It didn’t stop them. They clung to each other, frantic and desperate, and Adelaide knew she’d never felt more alive.
As her fingers toyed with Jack’s towel, he stilled and wrenched his mouth from hers. They stared at each other, wild-eyed, as reality crashed over them.
‘What the … I mean … You …’ He trailed off, lost for words, and she didn’t blame him. She could hardly form a coherent thought, let alone an explanation for the way she’d launched herself at him.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she managed to engage her brain and mouth to work in sync. ‘I wanted to thank you for the easel, canvas, and paints. I guess I got overwhelmed by emotion and a little carried away.’
‘Uh-huh,’ he mumbled, still appearing shell-shocked, so she aimed for levity.
‘Then again, who can blame a gal if you answer the door wearing nothing but a towel?’
He glanced down, his expression horrified as he belatedly realised the cotton towel with frayed edges had seen better days and still sported an impressive tenting.
‘I just got out of the shower. Back in a minute,’ he said, all but running from the kitchen, and she stifled a laugh.
What the hell had she done?
Mauling her husband before she divorced him hadn’t been on her agenda. What they’d just done … what she would’ve done if he’d let her whip off that towel … a giant complication she hadn’t anticipated.
Considering their lack of intimacy for the last few years of their marriage, she’d long ceased to equate Jack with sex in her head. The two were poles apart. But their passionate interlude a few minutes ago seriously messed with her logic.
They’d spent fourteen years apart.
She’d walked away from him, and he hadn’t come after her.
She had to finalise their divorce and stop skirting around it.
So how could she explain their make-out session? She might’ve lost her head in the heat of the moment, caught up in her gratitude for his thoughtfulness.
What was his excuse?
She paced the kitchen and eyed the back door. She could make a run for it. But what would that achieve other than staving off the inevitable? She couldn’t avoid him forever—she had no car, was taking advantage of his hospitality, and he lived about a hundred metres away.
When Jack hadn’t appeared five minutes later, she filled the kettle and flicked the switch on. A nice chamomile tea would be perfect right about now to calm her nerves, but she settled for English Breakfast.
She’d just poured boiling water into two cups when she heard Jack clearing his throat behind her. She didn’t know what to expect when she turned around. Would he be able to look her in the eye or would mortification set in? Would he make light of what they’d done or avoid the topic altogether?
The old Jack would’ve chosen the avoidance method, but when she turned, the vulnerability in his eyes slayed her.
‘I fancy a cuppa,’ he said, crossing the kitchen, and she bit back her first flirty response, ‘But do you fancy me?’
‘I made it extra strong.’ She handed him a cup, and as their fingers brushed a sizzle shot up her arm. So much for forgetting their lapse in reason. Looks like her body hadn’t got the memo.
‘Thanks.’
He didn’t sit and she didn’t either. No point getting cosy. They needed to confront the elephant in the room before she escaped, never to come out of the bungalow ever again until her car was fixed and she could zoom out of town. After that one important meeting with the lawyer, that is.
Adelaide inwardly groaned. What would Jack think when she told him about making an appointment with Samuel Nobil to get divorce proceedings underway? After their kissing session, he’d probably think she’d been buttering him up, and that didn’t sit well with her. She’d never do something like that. Underhanded wasn’t her style. Then again, Jack probably already thought the worst of her, considering she abandoned him years ago.
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, gathering her nerve. ‘Jack, we probably need to talk about what happened.’
‘Let’s not,’ he mumbled, staring into his teacup as if the leaves would tell him his fortune. Pity she’d used tea bags.
This was the Jack she knew. Recalcitrant. Guarded. Non-communicative.
But she’d learned a lot the last fourteen years—particularly never put up with shit—so she confronted problems head-on.
‘I like how we’ve been getting on. Dinner at the pub last night was great, best time I’ve had in ages, so I don’t want what we just did to ruin the tentative friendship we’ve re-established.’
He raised his head and eyeballed her. ‘Is that what we’re doing here? Becoming friends?’
‘Honestly? I haven’t got a clue what we’re doing but I’d like to think we’re friends.’
He snorted and gestured at the bench where they’d knocked the pot off in their stumbling around while lip-locked. ‘Friends don’t do that.’
‘Friends with benefits do.’
His eyebrows rose so high they almost reached his hairline. ‘Is that what you want? A quickie for old times’ sake before you hit the road again?’
She winced at how crass that sounded. ‘I don’t know what I want.’
But that was a lie.
She wanted him.
And that confused her more than ever.
She’d walked away from this man because she didn’t want him. Because he’d morphed into a stranger over the years. Because he didn’t love her anymore. Because their marriage had become a trap rather than a haven.
So why on earth did she want him now, in every sense of the word?
Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I think it’s pretty obvious we’re attracted to each other. But I’m not screwing around here, Ads. If we do … this …’—he waved his hand between the two of them—‘it’s going to mean something. At least, it will for me, and I won’t have my heart broken all over again when you leave.’
Her jaw dropped at his honesty.
‘What? Is that too blunt for you? Well, here’s another dose of reality. I know I was a shitty husband to you. I know running the farm consumed me and maintaining my family legacy became all-important.’ Pain shadowed his eyes as his mouth twisted into a self-deprecating sneer. ‘And I also know I should’ve come after you when you left but I was too damn hurt to see straight.’ He thumped his chest. ‘Have I missed you? Hell yes. Have I grown accustomed to living on my own? Yes. And I’m doing okay. But then you strut in here all gorgeous and friendly and I can’t see straight let alone think …’
He sighed and shook his head. ‘I haven’t got a bloody clue what’s happening here, Ads, and it terrifies me.’
That made two of them, and as she laid her hand on the table palm up, and he placed his over hers, she had no idea where they went from here.