First Time For Everything

She was near enough for him to see the flecks of brown and green in her eyes. But he didn’t require a close-up view to see the fire snapping in her gaze, the stubborn insistence that she would do what she wanted and damn the consequences.

Including touching him...

The memory resurfaced, resurrecting the acute need she’d created when she’d held his lips. Her soft fingers. The heated skin. And the smell of vanilla filling the car. Suddenly he was struck with the realization that Jax’s scent was always changing, as unpredictable as the woman herself.

With his heart pounding, his tone was rough as he dished up a dose of harsh reality. “Your choices are my business now.”

At the reminder of her current living arrangements—made more alarming by the chemistry sizzling between them—time stretched. Expanded to impossible lengths. Gazes locked, the moment lasted ten forevers as awareness pulsed between them. Until they were interrupted by a woman about Jax’s age as she poked her head through the doorway.

“Janet Bennet stopped by looking for you, Jax,” the blonde said. Blake cleared his throat, willing his libido to heel, and Jax took a small step back as her coworker sent her an encouraging smile. “There’s a private-practice therapy group in town that’s looking to hire a music therapist, and she recommended you. Apparently the job is yours if you want it,” the woman continued. “They can afford to pay you a lot better, too.”

Looking unconcerned, Jax retrieved her mail from the cubbyholes lining one wall and began flipping through the envelopes. “I’ll hold out until South Glade is back on its feet.”

“You haven’t heard?” her coworker said.

Eyes now alert, Jax looked up from her mail. “Heard what?”

“The board held an emergency meeting. Even if we get the funds back—”

“When,” Jax said. Mail clutched tightly in her hand, she lowered her arms a bit. “Not if.”

The blonde’s face softened in sympathy. “When we get the funds, their rehiring of you depends on the outcome of your charges.”

Jax’s face lost a little of its color and a lot of its usual vitality, and an unwanted stab of sympathy hit Blake. Unable to stop himself, he stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on her arm.

“Tell Janet I said thanks for thinking of me,” Jax said, her voice strained. She sent Blake a look that was hard to interpret. “But I’ll beat the charges.”

And, without a word of warning, Jax headed out of the office, murmuring a thanks to her coworker as she passed. Blake sent the woman a polite smile and muttered an “excuse me” before following Jax out of the office. He caught up with her silent form as she neared a line of lockers along the scuffed hallway. The graceful sway of her hips was marked by a slight stiffness he knew was due to tension, and this time was not of the sexual kind.

Making her way down the line of lockers, she stopped at one and worked the lock. Her fingers took several tries to finagle the combination, and Blake’s sympathy soared higher.

“You should take the job offer,” he said.

She jerked the door open, the inside plastered with posters of bands and music artists, a wide assortment of country, rock, hip-hop and blues, just to name a few. Her jaw was set. “I’ll wait until the club gets the money to reinstate the music program here.”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall of lockers adorned with graffiti and crossed his arms as she pulled out her guitar.

“And what if they don’t get the money?” he said.

“We will.” Hand on the locker door, she turned to face him. “Because I’m going to make sure that we do.”

“Okay,” he said doubtfully, a part of him impressed by her perseverance—a by-product of her stubbornness, clearly—and her natural confidence.

But one thing he’d learned long ago: you couldn’t change the world through sheer force of will. And he felt obligated to be the voice of reason. Because someone needed to be pragmatic and, just like with his own family, apparently that someone had to be him.

“What happens if the board doesn’t approve of the outcome of your charges?” he said.