4. Carina - Then
four
Carina - Then
J acques pulled his mouthguard out, and I swallowed. He’d grown into a beautiful man, but when he smiled, he was breathtaking.
“Carina, you made it,” Jacques bellowed over the roar of the crowd.
His gaze didn’t leave mine, and my cheeks heated. Butterflies took flight, and my heart beat too hard. I giggled self-consciously. Jacques looked especially happy with himself, and it only made things worse. My belly flip-flopped, and his smile turned into a smirk that was downright filthy.
“The team is going out to celebrate. You should join us,” Jacques said to me.
I heard Cara’s refusal, but I couldn’t look away. I was captivated by this young man who’d changed so much since he was a pimply teenager.
He unclipped his helmet and took it off. His sweaty hair was a mess, but it made no difference to his attractiveness.
“Where?” I asked on the spur of the moment.
Jacques grinned happily and shouted, “I’ll leave details at the hotel reception.”
***
I spent some time with Cara after the game, but I knew she needed some alone time. She had a lot going on, and I wasn’t making it easier.
I’d acted impulsively by asking where the team was going. I hadn’t really intended to join them, but when the hotel reception had delivered a message to Cara with a name, I knew I would be.
I pulled into the parking lot near the Prince Edward Hotel and walked down the hilly street to the old sandstone building. It had a wraparound veranda, bullnose awnings over the street, and was easily a hundred years old. The dark polished timber floors had seen a century of raucousness. It was one of the most well-known sports bars in the city, the crowds usually cheering for rugby players, but tonight it was all about the Americans who’d landed there.
It wasn’t hard to spot Jacques when I walked into the pub. I watched as Alec slipped out of the booth and Jacques was instantly surrounded by gorgeous women. I stepped back, about to walk out.
He looked up, and our gazes locked. A smile lit up his face.
“Carina,” he called out and waved.
I pressed my lips into a strained smile and gestured over my shoulder. He shoved out of the booth and dashed toward me before I could make my feet move.
“You came.” He greeted me with a hand to my elbow and a brush of his lips across my cheek. His voice was deep and rumbly, and it sent shivers through me.
“You don’t look like you needed company.” I hated the insecurity in my voice.
He shook his head and looked me in the eye. “I didn’t ask them to sit down.” He gestured back to the reserved table that was now empty. “Come and join me.”
“Okay.”
He led me there and slid into the booth beside me, not giving me a chance to escape. Not that I’d been plotting my disappearance, but I was sorely out of place. The girls who were hovering were Cara’s age and younger.
Jacques ignored them, solely focused on me. The noise inside the pub faded away. It was as if we were wrapped in silence, suddenly alone, and I sucked in a breath. Holy hell, he smelled good—fresh and clean with a spicy aftershave. His arm was pressed against mine, our thighs touching underneath the table. He was a wall of muscle. Every inch of his body was hard and tight. David was fit with a trim physique, especially for his age, but he had nothing on Jacques.
He flagged down a waiter, and we ordered a round of drinks. He played with the label on his light beer, peeling one corner away as I sipped my French martini. I tried not to cringe at the building awkwardness between us. It was as if I was suddenly aware of only him, like everything else had faded into the background. But that was ridiculous. He wasn’t a member of the pool of available men I could, one day, date.
He looked at me, and our eyes locked. Ensnared in his whiskey-colored gaze, I couldn’t turn away. I sucked in another shaky breath and shifted in my seat, instinctively moving closer to him.
“Did you enjoy the game?” he asked without breaking eye contact. His voice was smoky, a deep rasp that seemed to wrap around me like his scent.
“So much. You’re all incredible athletes,” I gushed, both grateful I had something to focus on and overwhelmed by his talent. I’d watched all three periods and heard Cara screaming and cheering next to me like the other fans in the arena, but I’d barely noticed anyone else on the ice. He had my entire focus.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s vicious and graceful all at once. You were incredible. I saw you play as a teenager, and you were so much better than everyone else, but now….” I blinked and my cheeks heated, the liquor already going to my head. I fanned myself and choked out a laugh. “Well, you’re very good.”
“Hmm,” he rumbled, making a slow perusal of my body. He licked his lips, then seemed to snap out of it, blinking a couple of times. He grinned and said, “Fill me in on everything that’s happened to you since we left. Mom has told me bits and pieces, but not a lot.”
I thought back to the moment we’d said goodbye to them at the airport and gave him a smile. It was a long time ago now. “Well, Cara grew up, as you know. She just graduated with a business degree but doesn’t want to work for the family business. David now has seventeen warehouses across the eastern states. It’s grown a lot.” I spoke for another few minutes, telling him how Cara was the inspiration for the Seals’ trip and how proud I was that she was working with the team.
Jacques reached out and brushed his fingers over my hand. It was the barest of touches, but it sent a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in my belly, swooping and soaring. I basked in it as if I’d been touch starved for half my life, and my eyelids drifted closed.
“It’s been lovely hearing what your daughter and ex-husband have been up to, but what about you?”
His words jarred me out of my stupor. That word—ex-husband—was like a bucket of iced-water landing on me, and the only thing I could focus on was that he’d found out. “You know?” I asked, but it was more of a statement.
He nodded. I closed my eyes again, and my chin hit my chest. I wanted to curl into myself and hide. It wasn’t a secret that we’d split, but I was embarrassed about it. I couldn’t even keep my husband from straying. He’d found someone better than me, and I wasn’t even worth the vows that he’d made. I was a failure as a wife, and now my whole future was teetering on the edge of an abyss. I’d lost my husband, my job, my career, and my home in one fell swoop. Worst of all, I’d been the last one to find out. I was ashamed and appalled that I hadn’t seen it earlier and was now having to listen to evidence of it every time I arrived home to the pool house.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asked gently, slipping his hand into mine. His hands were warm and big, his palms calloused and his grip gentle but firm. I held onto him like a life preserver, his solid presence a balm easing my disquiet.
I shook my head but found myself telling him anyway. “He cheated on me. At work. With the new hire.”
“He’s a pig.”
“Cara walked in on him mid-act.” I cringed and shuddered. The thought of walking in on my parents having sex was gross. There were some things kids never needed to see their parents doing, especially not when it involved cheating.
“Oh shit! That’s enough to land her in therapy for the rest of her life,” he joked. He knocked his shoulder into mine and pressed our temples together. I could feel his chuckle as it vibrated through him until he became serious once more and said, “You know that his cheating is on him, don’t you? It was nothing you did. There’s nothing about you that pushed him to do it.”
I shrugged. Maybe I hadn’t done anything, and that was the problem. Danielle highlighted every insecurity I didn’t even know I had. Until David cheated, I’d loved my curves. I’d never dieted or wanted to lose weight because I liked my body just the way it was. But seeing her strutting around the office and even in the shop downstairs made me look at myself in a way I hadn’t ever before. I didn’t find myself attractive anymore. I certainly didn’t feel desirable.
“It doesn’t feel like that,” I admitted quietly. “She’s everything I’m not—young, pretty, skinny.”
“First off, you’re young—”
I barked out an incredulous laugh. “You’re young. I’m….” I scrunched my nose up in disgust and said in a horrified whisper, “Nearly middle-aged.”
He waved off my comment and brushed a piece of hair off my cheek. “Your curves are….” He exhaled and leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “Damn fine.”
I sucked in a breath and held it, both desperate to get closer and terrified of what would happen if I did.
“You are gorgeous. Absolutely, incredibly stunning. You’ll announce you’re single, and men will be falling over themselves to date you.”
I giggled at his ridiculousness. As. If.
“You’ll be fighting them off—Greek-goddess style with those white flowing robes and a sword.” He held his bottle out like a dagger and swished it across the table. It was a good thing he’d drunk half of it—he didn’t spill a drop. “Can’t you picture it?” he added.
I laughed, and Jacques grinned. “There’s that beautiful smile.”
“Tell me about you,” I directed him. “How do you like living in San Diego?”
“I love it. When we graduated college, my roommate and our friend decided to get a house together. It took a while for us to all find work in the same city, but we have now. We’ve got a ranch with a big house and stables for horses, sheds, and animals. It’s our piece of paradise.”
“It sounds amazing.”
“It is,” he said with a soft smile. Then he continued, “The team is great. I never expected to be captain. I’m still not even sure how it happened. I was starting my second year, and the captain got traded.” He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Coach tapped me on the shoulder. I thought I’d been traded, too, until they told me they were appointing me captain.”
“It’s recognition of your hard work and talent.” I didn’t really know if it was—I imagined captains needed more than that. Surely leadership qualities were necessary. But even as I thought that, I knew he had those too. He’d been vocal on the ice, encouraging his team and rallying them whenever they needed it.
“Maybe.” He smiled.
“Tell me about your roommates,” I said, and his face lit up.
“Travis is a firefighter. He’s funny and the life of the party. He was the one you’d find drunk dancing on a table at a frat party. Mind you, I was usually right there next to him.” He chuckled and shook his head. “He’s a good guy, takes care of all our animals, and doesn’t sweat the small stuff. Rusty’s smart. He’s quiet and an introvert, doesn’t like being around a lot of people, but once you get to know him, he opens up. He’s loyal and kind and is always there for you.”
“They sound like good guys.”
“They are.”
I went to take another sip of my drink, but it was empty. Jacques waved the waiter over again and was about to order another, but I couldn’t. I needed to drive back to the pool house. But I didn’t want to. After listening to Jacques talk about his house, I realized that the house I lived in wasn’t home anymore.
“Want to play a game of pool?” Jacques asked.
“Sure.” I grinned playfully. “I’m a shark. You’ll need to bring your A-game.”
He guided me out of the booth and over to the tables at the back, then racked the balls up. I was actually hopeless at pool. When all my friends had been out during their university days, I’d been at home with a toddler. My game didn’t even count as beginner level.
“Ladies first,” Jacques offered, gesturing to the balls.
I was going to fake it until I made it. If I got a single ball in, I’d be ecstatic. Hell, if I hit one , I’d be happy.
I grasped the cue and tried to remember scenes in movies where they’d played pool. How did they hold it? I had no clue. I rested my hand on the table, placed the cue on top, and hit the white ball. It bounced off the others but without much oomph. They sort of rolled pathetically apart and stopped a few centimeters away from their starting point. None even landed close to a pocket.
“So…,” Jacques started, biting back a smile. “Gummy shark?”
“Well, I’m clearly not a great white, am I?” I joked, my cheeks heating.
Jacques racked up the balls again and said, “Let’s try again, shall we?”
He showed me how to position my hand, then stepped behind me, adjusting my grip on the cue. His touch was sure, and that quiet confidence was so freaking attractive.
He rested his hands on my waist, and it sent an electric current through me. I sucked in a breath and fought every instinct to lean back against him. Desire zinged through me, and with it a healthy dose of shame and self-recrimination. I couldn’t be attracted to Jacques. It was so far beyond appropriate that it wasn’t even in the same solar system.
He was a boy—at least that’s what I told myself—and my best friend’s son. I was almost old enough to be his mother—literally. My daughter was only a couple of years younger than him.
I was fresh off a separation too… and why was I even thinking about him like that?
Jacques was a family friend.
There was no attraction between us.
Yes, he’d grown up to be a beautiful man, but I said the same thing about Hollywood movie stars. It didn’t mean I wanted to sleep with them.
One day, he’d make a much younger person very happy.
Not me.
Never me.
Not at all.
We were just having a game of pool.
Two friends.
Barely acquaintances, really.
I hadn’t seen him for years, not since he was a teenager. That was all this was. We were reminiscing about old times—not that we’d done much of that—but it was all I could do.
“Bend over, Carina. Get nice and close to the table,” he murmured, pressing his groin against my ass. I bit back a whimper. He was a wall of muscle, hard in all the right places, and I meant every. Single. One of the right places.
Oh Jesus H. Christ.
I bent further, but he didn’t back up. With my ass pressed against him, the way his cock twitched, hardening even further, was unmistakable.
I needed this to stop. Immediately.
I took the shot, but I missed the white ball altogether.
I groaned, then ducked out from his grip. “Yeah, so, apparently I’m not very good at this. Who would have thought? I was at home raising Cara, you know, my daughter, the one who’s nearly your age when people my age—your age now, actually—were playing pool. You take the next shot. I’m sure you’ll be great,” I rambled, my words speeding up with each one that spilled out of my mouth. My pulse rocketed through me, and I flushed, heat crawling up my throat to my cheeks.
I held the cue out to him, but he didn’t immediately reach for it. Instead, Jacques looked down and pressed his lips into a tight smile. “Carina, I—”
“No, it’s okay, Jacques. Seriously, I’ve just got no talent for this.”
“Please,” he said and then took the cue out of my hand and laid it on the table. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I apologize.”
“No, it’s nothing. I’m just not used to… never mind.” I shook my head and plastered on a smile that I was sure looked more like a grimace.
“You’re not used to what?” he asked gently. He hooked his finger under my chin and lifted my face until I had no choice but to look him in the eye. He gazed at me with puppy dog eyes, and I got lost in his stare. He was so freaking beautiful. “You can talk to me,” he murmured.
I said the first thing that came to mind. “Muscles. I’m not used to muscles.”
That wasn’t it—well, not all of it, anyway. David didn’t have muscles like Jacques, but he also hadn’t made me feel this desirable in a long time either. I didn’t know whether our marriage had fallen into that flatmate rut or if he simply wasn’t attracted to me anymore. If we were comparing heat levels, my marriage to David was barely lukewarm, while with Jacques, I could have been standing on the surface of the sun.
Jacques bit back a smile and gestured to the table with a tilt of his chin. “Would you like to try again? I’ll keep my… muscles away from you.”
“Oh.” I huffed out a laugh, my cheeks heating again. “Sure, okay.”
I got back into position, and Jacques adjusted my grip again, but instead of moving behind me, he stood to my side and demonstrated how to take the shot. It was ridiculous, but I missed him. I missed his heat and the vibrance that emanated from him. I missed his masculinity and the way he’d held me.
No, Carina, eyes back on the game.
I copied Jacques’s stance, and he grinned. “Now hit the white ball hard. You aren’t going to break it.”
I put some force behind the hit and broke the racked-up balls, sending a few bouncing off the edge of the table and one teetering close to a pocket. “Oh shit. I did it!” I exclaimed excitedly, turning to him.
We were standing close to each other. Too close for friends. Too close for family friends with a massive age gap and an attraction that was completely and utterly inappropriate.
“You did.” He grinned and held his hand up for a high five.
I slapped my palm against his and met his gaze. Heat swirled in the depths of his eyes, and I sucked in another breath. His eyes flicked to my mouth, and I bit my lip, fighting to stop the moan from escaping. It took everything in me to drop my hand rather than interlace our fingers.
“Take another shot, Carina,” Jacques ordered, his voice a deep rasp. Even that was sexy.
“Which one do I go for?”
He licked his lips and tore his gaze away from mine, assessing the table. “The red.” It was near the middle pocket, but to reach it, I’d have to lean over the table.
I moved around and lined up the way he showed me, then bent. I heard a noise that sounded like a strangled moan and flicked my eyes up to Jacques. He wasn’t looking at my face. His eyes were glued on my ass, and he subtly reached down and adjusted himself. My pussy clenched, throbbing hard.
This couldn’t happen. It shouldn’t.
I shouldn’t.
No, I wouldn’t.
I closed my eyes and tried to wipe the visual from my brain. It was easier said than done.
When I opened them again, I took the shot.
I missed.
I passed the cue to Jacques, and he silently assessed the balls, then lined up to take a shot.
He bent, leaning most of the way over the table. His suit pants pulled tight over a chunky bubble butt that was high and tight. My mouth watered at the sight.
Bad, Carina!
I tore my eyes away and watched as he hit the white ball up in the air. It sailed over the yellow, landed, and hit the purple straight into the corner pocket. I blinked. Had that really just happened?
Jacques walked around and sank another ball, then another, and even more until he’d cleared most of the table. He only had one colored ball plus the black to sink. I rested my hands on the table and leaned forward. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. He was graceful and fluid, every movement like the coil and pounce of a tiger. His muscles shifted under the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down shirt, down his back, and along his thick legs and that gorgeous ass.
He shot again. It went wide.
“Fuck,” he groaned. Somehow I knew it wasn’t because he’d missed.
We played two more games of pool until the band started playing “Working Class Man” by Cold Chisel.
“God, I listened to this song a thousand times when I was a kid,” Jacques said. “It was on the radio all the time.”
“It still is,” I said.
“Dance with me.” Jacques held out his hand, and I put the cue down.
We wandered over to the makeshift dance floor, just a small area in front of the band, and Jacques pulled me into his arms. He rested his hand low on my back, barely above my ass, and I looked up at him, trying to figure out how I’d had so much fun with him. I was happy. After we’d reined in the desire arcing between us, we’d laughed our way through the games of pool. Now, he was showing me another side of himself—he was a romantic.
He twirled me around, and I giggled as he pulled me against him again. With a smile, he said, “You’re a much better dancer than pool player.”
“Is there anything you’re not good at?” I asked playfully.
“Hmm, can’t give away all my secrets.”
The song ended, and exhaustion hit me. I stifled my yawn, but there was no hiding it from Jacques.
“How did you get here?” he asked.
“I drove. I’m parked across the road.”
Jacques walked me back to the parking garage, and once we’d reached my car, he leaned on the driver’s door and clasped my left hand. “I had fun tonight.”
“So did I.”
He was quiet for a moment, looking at the spot where my wedding ring once was. “Don’t go back to him,” he pleaded. “Don’t believe him when he says he’ll be faithful. He won’t, and you deserve so much better.”
“I—”
“Come to the States. Visit Mom. I know she wants to see you.” He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “I’d like to see you again too.”
“Jacques,” I started, but then I hesitated. I’d had fun tonight. He’d made me forget all the shitty things going on in my life for a few hours, and I’d been happy. I wanted more of that joy as well as the butterflies in my belly. We were only flirting. It was harmless. Certainly nothing would ever come of it.
I smiled and stepped closer, rising onto tip toes to brush a kiss on his cheek. “Maybe I will.”