Dara Girard - Sparks

He would never be ruled by emotion.

With that criteria he was certain Maxine would never happen again.

Maxine. Even her name had power, conjuring up memories like a genie from a bottle: elusive but no less real. A simple thing—a word, a fragrance—would transport him to the death of his marriage. To the death of his dream of home and family. He shook his head in frustration. What a fool he’d been.

“Jordan?”

He had to forget and think about the business. The Medical Institute was the best way to prove that he deserved the Taylor name. With the help of Ajani Consulting he would make it one of the most renowned in the region.

“Jordan? Jordan!”

Slowly his muscles relaxed as he felt gentle kisses on his neck. He emptied his mind and gave into the soft caress. Yes, finally a brief peace. Suddenly, teeth bit in to his flesh. He leaped up, grabbing his neck.

“Ouch! What did you do that for?” He glared at Gail. She had a satisfied smirk on her face. He had been dating her for four months and that smirk was becoming a common, if not annoying, expression.

“It was the only way to get your attention,” she said without apology.

He rubbed his neck then glanced at his hand. “Did you draw blood?”

She slowly licked her lips. “No, but I tried.”

His anger dissolved. He fell back and let out a weary sigh.

“Jordan?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. When I start to think—”

“Yes, I know. There’s no harm letting someone into your thoughts.”

“They aren’t worth sharing.”

She made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Maybe. But, honey, it’s no fun making love to a man whose mind isn’t there.” She stood up and gathered her clothes.

He watched her, his heart sinking with regret. He shouldn’t let her go, but he would. He always let them go. He should jump up and grab her in his arms, say the words she wanted to hear. Ask her not to leave. Ask her to be patient with him, give him time. All he needed was time.

Gail Walters was the type of woman men held on to. Either because they wanted to or they needed to—it didn’t matter the reason. They just did. She was attractive—her eyes a bewitching hazel, her skin an almost edible mocha. He smiled as he thought of the very satisfying meals he’d enjoyed throughout their acquaintance. She was kind, a rare trait in most ambitious women, and she didn’t have that desperate look of a woman looking for a breeder. She was also smart. Not that it was a requirement, but it was a nice bonus.

She was good for him, someone he could hold on to—trust. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t stop him from letting her go. He didn’t deserve her. She deserved someone else. Someone who would be there for her. Someone who felt like a whole person instead of half of one.

Jordan sat up on his elbows and watched her pull on her sweater. “You’re leaving?” It was a stupid question, but he had nothing else to say.

“Yes.” Her voice was soft, resigned. She sat down on the bed and pulled on her boots.

The room was too quiet. Silence pounded in his ears. When he wasn’t living in his mind, he liked to have noise around him. “Look, Gail—”

She held her hand up and looked at him, tears swimming in her eyes. His heart constricted. She spoke, her voice a whisper. “No, please don’t say anything.”

Fine. He wouldn’t speak, but he couldn’t sit there and watch her cry. He hated to see a woman cry, especially if he was the cause. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. She leaped to her feet, as though he’d burned her. She glanced around the room then looked down at him. “When’s the last time you smiled, Jordan?”

He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She shrugged then grabbed her jacket. “Forget it.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Gail.”

“I know,” she said quietly, looking at everything in the room but him. “That’s what hurts the most.” She went to the door.

He jumped out of bed and spun her around. “Gail—”

She briefly closed her eyes, tired. “Don’t do this. I’m not strong enough to fight you. We both know this isn’t working. I’m not the one.”

He let her arms go. “The one what?”

She looked up at him, her voice soft. “The one to give you back your heart.”

He lifted a brow, more amused than offended. “You think I’m heartless?”

“No. I think you’re afraid of loving someone again.”

His jaw twitched. “It’s only been four months. You can’t expect me to love you yet.”

She folded her arms and leaned against the door. “I’m not even sure you like me.”

“Of course I like you. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

She shook her head, her long bangs swinging back and forth. “I’m just here because you don’t want to be alone. You’re afraid of being alone.”

“No, I—”

She placed two fingers against his lips, her voice firm. “You’re afraid of being alone, but the sad thing is you already are.” She let her fingers fall. “You won’t allow anyone close.” She turned and headed for the stairs.

He followed. “That’s not true. I spend a lot of time in my head and—”

“Ignore that someone else is in the room and trying to make love to you. Do you think that’s normal?”

He narrowed his eyes and held up a hand. “Just give me a minute to come up with a good response. I’m sure I have one.”

Gail glanced skyward then grabbed her purse from the hall table. She opened the door.

“That’s not true,” he said.

She sent him a cool glance over her shoulder. “That’s your big reply? Your witty comeback?”

He scratched his head, chagrined. “A minute hasn’t passed yet.”

“It’s over, Jordan.”

Her words should have hurt him. He hoped he didn’t look relieved. He let his gaze fall, and his voice deepened with regret. “I know.”

He listened to her heels click down the concrete steps. They stopped then came up the steps again. He could feel her looking at him, feel her considering giving him another chance. Perhaps he had played the rejected suitor too well. “If you want to try—” she began.

He met her gaze determined to look defeated, but brave. “You deserve better.”

The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Right.” She folded her arms. “So now who’s dumping whom?”

He blinked. This was the danger with dating smart women. “You’re dumping me.”

She stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his neck. He could smell the peach lotion she loved to wear. “Why?”

Instinctively his arm went around her waist; perhaps they could break up tomorrow. “Because the only thing I have to offer is a fun night in bed.”

She glanced down then searched his face. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

His voice hardened. “I wasn’t.”

She sighed and stepped back. “It’s such a waste.”

“What is?”

“Your face.”

“What do you mean by that?” He rubbed his cheek. “It’s served me well.”

“Yes, I know. I analyze things for a living and your face is one of the best illusions I’ve ever seen.” She raced down the steps before he could reply. “Bye,” she called, then jumped in her car and drove off.

Jordan watched her drive away and out of his life. His relief slipped into guilt then annoyance. He was used to the sadness and sometimes the tears, but he hadn’t expected pity. She had no right to pity him. He didn’t mind being alone, he just didn’t prefer it. Why deny yourself something when you had a choice?

He stared into the dark, quiet street lined with parked cars and a newly paved sidewalk. The headlights from a car coming up the drive next door caught his attention. He watched his neighbor, Lana Patterson, climb out of her red Acura. She was an attractive woman of forty-three and had tried for weeks to start up a flirtation. He had rebuffed her efforts. Not because she was older or because her son was on the police force, but because she lived next door. Definitely not affair material. When he broke up with a woman he wanted her gone. He liked things to end clean.