Part 13 (1/2)
Her hands clenched. She didn't want to talk about their children. She wanted to hear more about how much he'd missed her. And why. Silly, frivolous words, considering her age and how long they'd been married.
All the more reason they were better off talking about their children. Safer for them. Safer for her heart.
J.T. slammed the truck door. ”I'm not sure what's up with the boy anymore. I have tried to talk to him. Guys just approach things ... differently.”
”Guess that's why men have more heart attacks than women.”
He draped his wrist over the steering wheel. ”I'll try to talk to Chris. If you have any ideas for
conversation starters, I'm not adverse to listening.” His gray eyes lit. ”Then I can translate them into manspeak.”
”Manspeak?”
”Sure. You've seen those lists that float around on the Internet. Guy says 'uh-huh' and it means-”
”It means, 'I'll agree to anything if you'll quit blocking my view of the football game.”'
”Busted.” He grinned.
”So if I asked Chris if he's upset and does he need to share what's bothering, you would ask...?”
”Something p.i.s.sing you off?”
”Or if he's suffering from any anxiety about his parents splitting?”
”You okay about everything?”
Ah. Understanding hummed through her as clearly as the airplane's drone overhead. ”Your question is a
third as long as mine. And vague. What if he misses the point because of that vagueness?””What if I'm missing the point and he tells me something I never expected?”Surprise at his insight stunned her quiet. What else might he have offered up if she'd asked his input on the parenting more often? ”Valid thought.”
”Yeah, I just made it up.”
A laugh snorted free. His dry wit always snuck up on her like that. ”But women need those extra words.
Otherwise how are we supposed to know when you're in pain?”
”There's your logic flaw. A man's never in pain.”
”That he'll admit.”
”Bingo.”
What else could she pry out of her reticent husband with a few more questions? ”So how does a woman
know when a man needs something?”
A slow smile dimpled his rugged handsomeness seconds before his smoky gray eyes steamed over her.
”Oh, babe, trust me, you'll know.”
The truck cab fogged all over again, heavier this time since it sparked the barely banked heat of their kiss
moments prior. She wanted so much from him, and she was right in demanding he pony up more in their
relations.h.i.+p.
But she'd hit a wall so many times with her clam-up husband. Regardless of whether they stayed together, they would be together in many ways because of their children. She needed to understand J.T.'s hidden emotions if she ever expected to survive without combusting into flames-from both anger and pa.s.sion. ”What does it mean when a guy stumbles on his wife in the kitchen and when she offers to share her precious chili, he says, 'What the h.e.l.l are you doing up?'”
He stared outside at the red brick building for so long, she thought he wouldn't answer her. No surprise. However, she was mega-surprised by how much she wanted that answer.
Finally, he turned, resigned, like a man heading to the gallows, scouring guilt over her for having sent him there. ”You want more words, Rena? Here they are. In this case, the snapping then and now means a guy is h.o.r.n.y as h.e.l.l since he hasn't been with a woman except for one weekend in six months. It means he misses coming home from work to his wife, being able to slip up behind her, wrap his arms around her, fill his hands with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Fill her body with his.”
The steam came straight off her overheated flesh this time. He missed her, missed what they had together. And even as she knew they needed so much more to hold it together, it felt so good to know he'd found some comfort, happiness, something in their life together.
He cupped her chin, his touch not quite gentle, but then the emotions stinging through her were anything but gentle. ”It means he's d.a.m.n tired of life being so complicated. But it is. And he's got to deal with it the best way he knows how, which means keeping things uncomplicated.”
His fingers threaded up into her hair. ”And we both know, babe, s.e.x between the two of us is never uncomplicated.” He drew his hand back, gentle, insistent, tugging against tangling curls, long, slow. ”s.e.x for us is intense and messy and mind-blowing.”
Her breaths came in heavy bursts of need, nerves along her scalp tingling with awareness. If he leaned forward, she would kiss him again. Let him kiss her, maybe more, because his words touched her as firmly as his hands.
But he didn't kiss her. ”And we both need a clear mind now more than ever.”
He pulled away. Left her again. A few months ago she would have cried. Or raged. A part of her wanted to now.
Except as she watched him retrieve her crutches from the back of the truck, she couldn't help but wonder what two-thirds he'd left unsaid. And was she really ready to hear what else she might learn from deciphering his ”manspeak” when they climbed back into the truck again?
Chapter 7.
Who would have thought he'd prefer a chemical-warfare cla.s.s to making out with his wife in a parking lot?
Saluting a pa.s.sing officer, J.T. strode up the walkway toward the brick and brown building, late afternoon sun beating down on his shoulders. d.a.m.n it, but Rena had wriggled under his skin and made him say more than he wanted. His trump card in their relations.h.i.+p had always been keeping his cool. Weathering the storm.
Somehow he'd managed to walk away a few minutes ago without giving in to the predictable urge to distract her with s.e.x. Even with that out-of-control kiss of hers, he knew she would do a ninety-degree about-face once they took the edge off their frustrations.
She would start asking more of those chick questions. If he stayed quiet, he p.i.s.sed her off. If he answered, somehow he came up short of what she wanted.
So he would go slow, soften her up since, no doubt, his prideful wife wouldn't easily get over his leaving. And with a cargo hold full of luck, they wouldn't die from hormonal overload.
He pushed through the gla.s.s door into the building, the full blast of air-conditioning catching him in the face. The soft echo of his boots on the industrial carpet echoed along with the low-pitched rumble of voices, ringing telephones, computer chimes.