“When an accident like that happens, Dillon, isn’t it human nature for us to search for an explanation? And isn’t it also customary that—because we have to blame something—we blame ourselves?”
“But I made a science of it. It started when my folks got killed. I remember worrying myself sick over what I had done to get God so pissed off at me. That was before child counselors knew to tell kids that when things go wrong, it isn’t their fault.”
He turned up one of his palms and examined the calluses at the base of his fingers. “If you start thinking that way when you’re a kid, it carries over into adolescence and adulthood. I was constantly juggling to keep good deeds in balance with mistakes so I wouldn’t get out of favor with fate. If I did something wrong, I waited for the hammer to fall.”
He turned his head, giving her his profile. “When Debra and Charlie died, I figured I’d fucked up real bad.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “It’s the height of conceit to believe that you control other people’s destinies, isn’t it?
“But for all these years I’ve taken the blame for their deaths. I figured it was retribution for something I had done or had failed to do.”
Jade crossed the veranda to stand near him at the railing, but she didn’t interrupt. He shook his head with chagrin. “The bottom line is that shit happens, just like the bumper sticker says. Shit happens. Tragedies befall good people. Fortune smiles on pond scum.” His eyes connected with hers. “I can’t tell you how good if feels to be out from under that burden of guilt.”
“Debra and Charlie were victims of misfortune, Dillon. And so were you.”
“Thanks for helping me to see that.” He raised his hands to either side of her head, letting her adjust to the idea that he was about to touch her. Then the backs of his fingers swept dark tendrils of hair away from her cheeks. “You’re beautiful, Jade.”
She became very still and quiet on the inside. Because she wasn’t experiencing the clamorous alarm she usually did when a man touched her, she didn’t want to do anything—not even blink, swallow, or breathe—that would set off her clanging terror.
Instead of concentrating on herself and her reactions, she tried directing all her attention to Dillon. What did he see when he looked at her with those intense gray-green eyes? Did her hair feel silky against his fingertips? Was he subject to the same breathless anticipation as she?
Anticipation for what? she wondered.
It was a jarringly disruptive thought, so she impatiently shoved it aside. She would take this one heartbeat at a time, and, for right now, she didn’t want anything disturbed.
He extended his right arm at shoulder level, bracing himself against the support column behind her. Trapped between it and him, she felt a flurry of panic. When he spoke her name, however, his deep, calm voice was reassuring.
“Jade?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m about to do something you’ve told me repeatedly not to do.”
Her stomach rose and fell weightlessly. She felt his breath, warm and dewy, on her face. She kept her eyes open for as long as she could, before they closed involuntarily. His mustache tickled her upper lip. He flicked the center of her lips with the very tip of his tongue, so lightly that, at first, she thought she had imagined it.
“I’m going to taste you now, Jade.”
Tilting his head, he aligned his lips with hers. Shockingly, her lips parted receptively. He made a low, wanting sound and pressed his tongue into her mouth. He applied a safe and nonaggressive amount of pressure to her lips and a delicious suction to her mouth. His tongue moved inside it, but it didn’t feel invasive.
The dark heat of the night descended over her along with the deep mystery of his kiss. Feeling lightheaded, she reflexively reached for support. Her hand curled around his arm, which was still supporting him against the column. He sighed her name and relaxed his elbow, which brought him close enough for their clothes to touch.
Tentatively, he placed his other hand at her waist. His lips nuzzled and nibbled hers. He brushed them with his mustache. He gently drew her lower lip between his teeth. He ducked his head and kissed her neck.
She gave a little gasp. “I’m afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of this.”
“Don’t be.”
Jade closed her eyes and tried not to think.
Dillon waited. “Is it all right?” He raised his head and looked into her face. “Jade?”
She flatted her hand on her quickening chest. “I can’t breathe.”
One corner of his mustache tilted up. “Is that a good sign or a bad one?”
“I’m not sure.”