Jake's Love (Courthouse Connections, #7) Read online

  He took her hand, traced the wedding band Meghan still wore although he knew from reading Joci’s chart that she’d been a widow since before Joci’s liver transplant. “Would I be out of line if I asked you out, just you?”

  Meghan smiled, met his gaze with serious green eyes, not at all like Joci’s. “Not at all. If you’re wondering, Bruce died in an accident before Joci was born. I quit grieving a long time ago. I just never had a good reason to take his ring off. Here, I’ll do it now.” Her fingers shaking, she took off the plain band and slipped it into her purse. “What do I call you? Dr. Levinson sounds a little formal if we’re going to be dating.”

  “Jake will do. Or any endearments that may come into your beautiful head.” He squeezed her hand, lifted it to his lips. “What about you?”

  “Mom sometimes calls me Meg, but I’m mostly just Meghan.”

  “Meghan seems to fit you. Irish, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so, but I’m not. Irish, that is. You know, you make me feel like an awkward teenager again. I sort of like it.” Her cheeks turned red, as though she wasn’t used to having a man kiss her hand.

  He intended to change that. “There’s a jazz concert at the Tampa Center for Performing Arts on Saturday night. A patient’s father gave me a pair of tickets. Would you like to go?”

  “I’d enjoy that, if Mom can take Joci for the night.” Like the good mother she was, Meghan searched the sea of little bodies until she found her daughter riding on a rocking horse. “I know she’s been doing fine since the transplant, but I don’t like the idea of leaving her with a teenage babysitter.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to.” Meghan wouldn’t have been the woman who’d haunted his dreams for over a year if she weren’t such a conscientious mom. Not all mothers of his seriously ill patients were half as patient and loving. He’d known the time wasn’t right to make his move when Joci had been so ill, but he’d kept Meghan on his mind, not to mention in his late-night fantasies. “Most times we can take Joci with us,” he said, sandwiching one of her hands between his.

  “Don’t apologize. I’m sure you sometimes need a break from children, sick or not. So do I. I’m sure my mother will be delighted that I’m finally going on a date with a real, live man,” she said, her eyes sparkling with humor. “A doctor, yet, and Jewish to boot, right? Not to mention that you’re awfully good-looking. Yes, Mom will be enraptured, no doubt about it.”

  Jake laughed. “Yes, I’m Jewish. It sounds as if your mom’s as devoted a matchmaker as mine. So far, though, I’ve managed to dodge her traps.” Not that he was at all sure he’d mind if Mother were using Meghan to bait the hook, as unlikely as that was to happen.

  Small yet strong inside, Meghan had been through more than his mother had endured in twice as many years. Not important—no, the hell it wasn’t—was the fact she looked as hot as any of the Buccaneers’ cheerleaders and managed to empty his mind of any thoughts other than making love with her until they both collapsed in a boneless heap. Jake figured he had a case of mindless lust mixed with a genuine liking for Meghan—her zest for life, her humor and her unwavering love for her little girl.

  What would it feel like if she were to fall in love with him? Caught up in the aura of her sweet perfume, the spell of those bluish-green eyes that held his gaze with promise, even a little bit of the lust that was beginning to drive him, Jake leaned over and brushed her lips with his own.

  Too little, his hormones told him. Too much, too soon, argued his brain. Reluctantly he pulled back, leaving his arm draped loosely around her shoulders and tracing a light pattern on the soft, creamy skin of her upper arm. He appreciated her modest outfit, white Capri pants and a bright multicolor patterned t-shirt. Even in her high-heeled sandals, she barely came up to his shoulder, making him feel powerful, in control, but more than that, protective.

  “I haven’t had so much fun in years, but I think Joci’s had enough excitement for one evening, don’t you?” Meghan stood and motioned the little girl back to the table.

  Joci might have had enough, but Jake hadn’t. “How about we take Joci home and tuck her in for the night? Would you like that?” He recalled her front porch with its old-fashioned swing and imagined Meghan cuddling with him under the stars.

  Jocelyn left her chair and crawled onto Jake’s lap. “Would you really tuck me in and read me a story?”

  Jake figured he had more than one fan, which pleased him immeasurably. Joci seemed as needy for male company as Meghan. The girl’s strawberry blonde curls tickled his nose when she snuggled up against him. “Sure, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you home before you fall asleep.”

  Chapter Two

  Once Joci was asleep and they’d transferred her car seat back to Meghan’s car, they sat together on the lazily swaying porch swing, watching the moon and stars and chatting casually about the few people they both knew. Little by little, they edged closer together until Jake’s muscular thigh made contact with hers.

  “Tell me more about you, Meghan. Seems to me we’re already good friends, and yet we know very little about each other except that we both have feelings for kids and animals.”

  Meghan turned and met his gaze, liking the warmth and weight of his arm on her shoulder.

  “What do you do for a living, for instance?”

  She leaned a little closer when he spoke again and laid her cheek on his chest. “I do freelance graphic art—book covers, logos for businesses, occasionally designs for neon signs and billboards. I’ve designed invitations for some of my friends’ weddings and baby showers. It’s a sort of feast or famine existence, but I like it because it lets me be home with Joci most of the time. Before she was born, I worked for an advertising agency downtown.”

  “You knew right away then that she had biliary atresia, then?”

  “I found out when she was seven weeks old. It was quite a blow, but then Dr. Kramer did the shunt and she got better for a while, but he was always upfront with me—told me that sooner or later she’d have to have a transplant.”

  “I hope you had family close by, to help you out.” He massaged her shoulder, his touch strong yet gentle.

  She smiled up at him. “My parents are divorced, but both of them have always been here for me whenever I’ve needed help. Mom teaches American literature part-time at University of South Florida. Dad’s retired now, but he still maintains interests in several companies as a consultant. He has a condo down in Englewood. My older sister, Amy, is married and lives on a ranch outside Brooksville.” The gentle creaking of the swing as it swayed slowly back and forth lent a soothing sense of normalcy, of rightness.

  “How about you?” she asked. “I’m sure your life’s been at lot more interesting than mine.”

  “I’m thirty-six. An only child. I’ve never married. No kids and no serious past relationships. Up until now I’ve been too busy with residencies and fellowships.” He hesitated then continued. “My father died when I was in high school. He was a lot older than Mom, who’s older than she’ll admit to and is enjoying her retirement in Atlanta. I lived there all my life through college, medical school, and surgical residency at Emory, until I got the transplant fellowship here four years ago.”

  “Do you like Tampa?”

  “I’m liking it more every minute since I met you.” His dark eyes looked almost black in the moonlight. “You know, Meghan, what I want to do right now is kiss you.”

  He didn’t wait for permission but tilted her chin up and claimed her mouth, steadying her with one hand at the back of her head. He slid his tongue along her lower lip, coaxing it open, tasting her. A soft exploration, sure not tentative, full of promise for more. Much more.

  When he broke the kiss he was breathing hard. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you in the hospital, before Joci’s surgery.”

  He had? He’d never given her any indication, not then and not anytime until tonight. “You never said anything before. I wouldn’t have minded if you had.”

&nbs
p; “It wouldn’t have been right for me to, not as long as I was part of Joci’s surgical team. You have no idea how hard it was for me to wait until I finished my fellowship and joined Dr. Kramer’s private practice, so I could ask you out without there being an issue of ethics.”

  “Oh.” She’d wondered why Jake had never been scheduled to handle Joci’s follow-up visits even after he’d joined the practice with her chief surgeon. “I felt bad that I didn’t get to see you when I brought Joci in the office for her check-ups.”

  His dazzling smile made her want to hug him. “I was biding my time, waiting for the chance to ask you out.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I’m glad the wait is over.” He kissed her again, this time his touch as gentle as the first had been intense.

  Meghan sensed that this was a man she could lean on, nothing at all like the spoiled boy Bruce had been. Jake managed to have a fire burning inside her with nothing more than a touch, a feather-light kiss. His big, sure hands slid down her back, drew her closer until her nipples tingled at the delicious contact with his chest. “Mm. So am I.” Her sigh against his lips made him deepen the contact, as if he knew she wanted more.

  When he broke the kiss, he was trembling when he held her both hands and met her gaze. Moonlight etched his features, made them seem taut, hawkish, as if he was barely able to restrain himself from swooping down on his prey. “You pack one hell of a wallop, sweetheart. I’d better leave now while I still can.”

  She’d have been tempted to drag him into her bed if Joci hadn’t been sleeping in the next room. God help her, she hadn’t been so aroused for years. “I hate to have you go.”

  “Not half as much as I want to stay.” He playfully nipped at her nose then got up and drew her into his arms. “Good nose job, beautiful.”

  “What nose job? I’ll have you know I’m all natural, from my hair to every other part of me.”

  “So you say,” he said, but his accompanying grin told her he was teasing. “Until Saturday, then. I’ll pick you up around six, and we’ll have dinner first. I’ll be counting the hours.”

  With that he gave her one more quick, hard kiss then went to his car and drove away. Meghan watched the dust swirl up on her gravel driveway, her mind wandering toward Saturday night. Would it be an isolated interlude...or the beginning of something much, much more?

  ● ● ●

  On Saturday morning Meghan took Joci and her small menagerie to spend the night with her mother. She then spent the rest of the day at her favorite salon and day spa. Sometimes a woman had to pamper herself, and she hadn’t done this for a long time. In honor of her first real date since Bruce had swept her off her feet when they’d met in college, she ordered “the works.”

  By five she’d been treated to everything the day spa had to offer, including a Brazilian wax job and a full-body massage with fragrant, soothing lotion. Her usual hairdresser had trimmed and blow-dried the casual, shoulder-length style that had been her trademark since high school, except for the one time Bruce had talked her into getting blonde highlights. Finally a makeup artist did her face so subtly that she looked like herself, only better. Meghan felt like a million bucks, although “the works” had been on special for only three hundred dollars, plus tips all around.

  At home, all she had to do was dress. Anticipation building, she stripped then put on the clothes she’d laid out earlier—a black silk bra and panties and her going-out standby, a classic-cut short black slip dress with a matching jacket. Shoving her feet into plain black pumps, she looked critically at herself from all angles in the full-length mirror.

  Had she really thought this outfit would look festive? It needed something to jazz it up so she didn’t look as though she were headed to sit Shiva with a friend who’d just lost a loved one. Had she really worn this to every art festival she’d attended for the past few years?

  A few minutes later she was pacing the living room in crystal-trimmed black satin high-heeled sandals. She’d put on several rows of sparkly, clear crystal beads that almost filled the low neckline of the dress. The jacket was back in her closet, replaced by a black crepe shawl that shimmered with a fringe of crystal beads. Smiling at her giddiness, she imagined Jake taking off the wrapping she’d chosen so carefully to please him, discovering the body she’d spruced up just for him.

  “Damn it, woman, I’ll have to fight off every single man we run into.” Admiration was obvious in Jake’s eyes when she opened the door and let him in. But she sensed something else he didn’t say, and she imagined that it had as much to do with growing affection as it did with sexual attraction.

  ● ● ●

  Mellow, soulful music still rang in Jake’s ears hours later as he and Meghan walked upstairs to his rented condo on Harbour Island. He’d spent most of the afternoon tidying the place up. Who’d have thought one reasonably meticulous guy could have accumulated five bags of trash to be hauled down to the dumpster? His mind firmly set on them having a long, serious talk, he steered her into the living room and onto the black leather couch that, except for his high-tech entertainment center, was the only real furniture in the room. “I’ll be right back with drinks and some snacks I bought down at the deli.”

  She’d kicked off her shoes and folded up the shawl that had barely covered her smooth, golden shoulders and back. The woman was temptation too strong to resist. And she apparently hadn’t noticed the opened Hebrew Bible and yarmulke he’d left out in plain sight on the antique steamer trunk that served as his coffee table. Or if she had, she’d attached no great significance to them.

  Those articles were part of Jake. Part of a heritage he wasn’t able to ignore, no matter how hard he often tried. Why did he have to straddle two worlds, one he wanted to embrace and the other he felt he had to honor? What he wanted, a typical American family with a pretty, accomplished wife and two or three typically American kids, was diametrically opposed to what he’d been brought up to believe he must have—a traditional, Orthodox household like the one in which he’d been brought up.

  When he’d spoken with his mother this afternoon, he told her tentatively about Meghan. Mama had asked if Meghan kept a kosher house, and he’d told her he didn’t know. While that was strictly the truth—he’d never asked—he was fairly certain she didn’t. From the first day they’d spoken while Joci was a patient in the transplant unit, Jake had pegged Meghan as a nonobservant Jew despite the jewel-encrusted Star of David pendant she wore around her slender neck. It was obvious from her last name that Joci’s father—or at least her grandfather—hadn’t been Jewish.

  Mama wouldn’t like the idea of him possibly having a daughter whose biological father was goyim. She’d like even less the fact that he was thinking about marrying a widow, not a virgin.

  Virginity was a mixed virtue, not to mention that virgins mature enough to interest Jake were probably as rare as a total eclipse of the sun. “Juice or wine?” he asked Meghan, wondering if he should have also bought beer and fixings for mixed drinks.

  “Juice, please.” Her sexy, husky voice drove everything from his mind except her—and his bed in the other room. He’d changed the sheets and turned the covers back, hopefully and eagerly anticipating the next step in this relationship.

  “Oooh, these look good,” she said when he set a plate full of knishes and cheese blintzes on the trunk that doubled as a coffee table.

  “Enjoy.” Sitting beside her and munching one of the knishes, he felt her warmth. A light fragrance that reminded him of a bouquet of mixed flowers tickled his nose, as it had all evening, sweet yet incredibly sensual.

  He’d be sorry to disappoint his mother, but not sorry enough to give up the woman he was pretty certain he wanted for his wife. Meghan had stolen Jake’s heart, probably from the moment he first saw her, terrified for her daughter with tears in her beautiful eyes. He wanted her and intended to have her. He already loved Joci and would be proud if the brave little girl someday called him Dad. At the moment, though,
he just wanted to make Meghan purr with contentment.

  The complications and compromises he foresaw, well, they could work them out later. Right now he couldn’t think for wanting her. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he said, sliding his hand around her neck. Her incredibly smooth skin entranced him as he delved his fingers beneath the glitter of all those crystals that lay above the plunging neckline of her dress. “You can’t begin to guess how much I want you.”

  She laid her cheek on his hand and nipped his knuckles with her small, white teeth. “I think you’re pretty hot, yourself, Dr. Levinson.” Her words slid like honey over his ego and fired the need that burned inside him to claim her, make her his own.

  “Come on, then. The snacks can wait for later. I want to show you my etchings,” he told her, keeping his tone light, teasing. Standing, he finished off his juice and moved the snacks to the refrigerator. When she tossed back the rich, red pomegranate juice in her glass, he couldn’t take his eyes off her scarlet-stained lips.

  Chapter Three

  Jake’s conscience got the better of him as they stood beside his bed. “Meghan, I want to make love with you, but before we do this I need to know—“

  “I want you, too. There’s no thinking about it. Right now, what I want to do is crawl in this bed with you and explore every inch of your hot, muscular body.” It was obvious from her eagerness that she wasn’t interested in hearing any bedside confessions he might think he needed to make.

  His smaller brain agreed, and when she wiggled out of that scandalous black dress and stood before him wearing nothing but lacy black underwear that gave him a tantalizing view of her creamy skin and delightful curves, he told his conscience to stow it and gathered her in his arms. “You’re pure temptation, little one. Hold on, let me catch up with you.” Right then he couldn’t care less if she were actually having her period, much less whether she’d visited the mikveh after the seven white days afterward.