Constellation Read online

  Constellation

  by

  Jennifer Locklear

  Copyright © 2016 Jennifer Locklear

  Published by Enchanted Publications

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Enchanted Publications

  www.enchantedpublications.com

  [email protected].

  First Edition: October 2016

  ISBN 0997860707

  For Morgan,

  With all my love.

  AJ

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Constellation: A grouping of stars that make an imaginary picture in the sky.

  UPON WAKING, I became aware of the cotton sheets brushing against my naked skin. The sensation was so foreign and so tantalizing that it distracted me from the realization I’d fallen asleep in someone else’s bed.

  I lay on my side, facing the edge of the mattress with my back to the window. I lifted my eyelids and glanced into the reflection of the bedroom through a mirrored closet door. The reflected venetian blinds glimmered with brilliant pinpoints of sunlight.

  It was impossible to ignore the radiant specks. I attempted to make sense of the randomness, searching for patterns and trying to detect images among the scattered fragments. In the midst of all the incandescence, I was surprised when my mind connected the individual dots and found the basic outline of a human form. Once discovered, the head, limbs and torso were visible.

  The morning light that filtered into the room provided warmth and the air in the space was thick. Hours earlier, when everything was enveloped by darkness, we’d been rendered breathless by our erotic exertions. The lack of fresh oxygen in the room proved the entire thing wasn’t a dream.

  While recalling the encounter, I detected the weight of another body nearby. My gaze shifted across the mirror once again, this time coming to rest on the reflection of the beautiful man who was wide-awake behind me.

  Jack sat behind me holding his tablet, his focus on the screen. He’d awoken before me but hadn’t strayed far. His dark, wavy hair stuck out in odd shapes all over his head and he remained shirtless. The sun illuminated his toned, muscular chest in a brilliant display of fine masculinity. His olive complexion was entrancing and in complete contrast to my own pale appearance.

  My consideration returned to the mirrored closet to inventory myself. In distinction to Jack, I appeared chaotic. My dark blond hair, which was long and fine, fanned about my pillow in tangled disarray. All traces of cosmetics, applied and maintained the day before, were gone, and I could see more than a few freckles in my reflection. My green eyes were almost as pale as my skin. And my body was more uncovered by the sheets than not.

  Warmth pulsed through me as I remembered the tight grip of Jack’s hands on my waist, positioning me in the center of the bed before moving his body over mine.

  I beheld him once more, and my heart expanded upon seeing him. I willed him to turn toward me, but he didn’t. I waited and yet his focus remained elsewhere. After a time, mild discouragement spread through me, its oppressive weight settling within my body. Attempting to combat the anxiety, I rolled over to face the window, and him.

  I perceived the slightest hesitation of his fingers against the screen, the smallest brush of his long eyelashes against his cheek as he blinked, and the softest hint of an exhalation as more air escaped into the already stuffy room. I prepared to smile just as soon as he turned his eyes and settled their brownish depths on me.

  But he didn’t acknowledge me.

  And I continued to wait, stubbornly insisting he initiate the morning ritual in whatever new reality we’d shaped for ourselves over the course of the night.

  I can’t recall how long I waited for him. It was long enough for me to become drowsy and allow my eyes to close. Perhaps it was a subtle act of defiance for when Jack decided he was ready to address me.

  Suits him right.

  I dozed long enough to distinguish a small passage of time upon reawakening. And there he was, still riveted to his tablet. And there I was, still laying on my side, waiting for his greeting.

  Jack and I had worked together for close to a year, but had never socialized outside office functions. He’d competed against many other qualified candidates for his position and had agreed to relocate his family from Baltimore when offered the job. His marriage had fallen apart after he started at the company, and his wife had retreated to Maryland, presumably to return to a life she preferred. For reasons I couldn’t comprehend she went alone, leaving Jack to look after their child. There was speculation at the office about the demise of his marriage, but no one had the nerve to discuss it with him. Myself included.

  So much had changed in just one day. There was a great deal to consider, including how very little I knew of Jack Evans.

  I looked back to the human shaped constellation on the window blinds. I’d drifted off long enough that the sunlight had shifted, and with interest I realized the head and shoulders of my discovery had vanished from sight, the outline demonstrating my increasing sense of invisibility.

  I stretched my legs and my foot bumped into a solid form resting in the corner of the bed. The lump pushed back in response, and I realized it was the cat I’d been introduced to the night before. Jack must have let her in at some point. By the force of the shove back, there was little doubt I was messing with the cat’s routine by occupying her side of the bed. I wasn’t invisible after all. And I wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy about the morning’s events.

  Provoked by the cat’s assertiveness, I decided enough was enough. I was going to have to be the one to break the ice, and opened my mouth to speak, not even sure what words would come tumbling out. My rising voice was quelled, however, as a rapid series of knocks at the bedroom door broke the exasperating silence.

  The noise startled me and I froze, knowing who was on the other side. It wasn’t my place to lead the moment. It was his, and for the first time since I’d opened my eyes that Saturday morning, Jack turned his attention to something other than his tablet.

  “Yes?” he answered with authority, although his voic
e held a tone of deep affection.

  “It’s me.” The child’s muffled response came from the other side of the door.

  I remained immobile, convinced the slightest movement would reveal my existence to the little girl in a way neither I nor her father wanted.

  “Do you need something? Are you all right?” he asked with a tone that somehow translated to an order for his seven-year-old daughter not to enter the room.

  “Can I play the Wii?” The hope in his daughter’s voice indicated she knew a golden opportunity when she heard one.

  “Sure. Go ahead. I’ll be out in a little bit.”

  “Okay!” Her already retreating footsteps and voice echoed from farther down the hallway. She wasn’t going to risk missing a moment of bliss, and I was envious of her fearlessness.

  With his daughter up and temporarily distracted, Jack placed his tablet on the bedside table and pushed the covers back.

  Already unsure and vulnerable because of my state of undress, my dismay amplified when the blankets unveiled his body. At some point, perhaps whenever he let the cat into the room, he’d taken the opportunity to pull on a pair of light blue boxer briefs. The fact that he was somewhat clothed while I was naked under the sheets undid what little courage I’d gathered.

  Perplexed, I watched him as he rose from the bed and walked around it. He disappeared from my line of sight, and I listened as he passed my side of the bed. He entered the adjoining en suite through an area he’d converted to his office after his wife moved out of the house. It was information I’d learned the evening before during my tour of his home.

  He has to know I’m awake.

  The sounds of his bare feet padding on the floor of the bathroom echoed before the door closed. The muffled resonances of water flowing into the sink drifted into the bedroom along with the familiar sounds of someone brushing his teeth. I pulled the covers up to cover my own mouth.

  When Jack emerged from his bathroom, I heard the sliding of a closet door in the adjacent space, followed by the gentle clinking of hangers as he selected an outfit for the day. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking how the closet across from my side of the bed must have been hers, and I wondered if I would be bold enough to look inside. It was in this moment, after sleeping with her ex-husband, that I first thought it important to know if it was empty.

  My agitation increased along with my curiosity, but the rustling sound his pants made as he pulled them over his legs provided a welcome distraction. Moments later, he reemerged into my line of sight, dressed in slacks and a long sleeve shirt.

  Jack paused at my corner of the bed, and I convinced myself he would say something—anything—to me. Despite my mounting confusion over the course of the morning, my heart swelled as a slow, relaxed smile began to spread across his features. He held the expression of contentment while anxiety emerged on mine.

  He reached down toward my foot. I held my breath, remembering how the sensation of his fingers stroking my hair at midnight had ignited our mutual desire. Instead of touching me, however, he petted the damn cat, which squeaked her approval while I frowned and began to fume.

  Wrong pussy, pal.

  My patience was evaporating, but I continued to watch him in silence, knowing anything said or done in that particular moment would disrupt his entire household. Jack’s lack of acknowledgment was undoing me. I wanted to yell. I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw something, but instead I remained frozen by shock.

  I coached myself to calm down, and as I tried to listen to my own advice, Jack ceased petting the cat. He moved to sit on the opposite corner of the bed with his back to me. Jack leaned forward to pull open a drawer of the dresser sitting across from him and grabbed something. His misguided focus took hold once again and I watched in total frustration as he held his socks out to his side and studied them. He soon changed his mind, putting the socks back into the drawer and selecting a more satisfying pair.

  As he bent forward to put them on, he didn’t utter a sound.

  Not a hum. Not a whistle. Not a breath. Nothing.

  The task done, he stood back up and strode toward the bedroom door. I was angry but yet enthralled. Jack’s confident posture and his graceful movements were the very things that caught my attention in the first place, and I couldn’t help but admire them.

  He opened the door, walked into the hall and closed it. He didn’t even pause long enough to see that the door had drifted open, leaving a small but distinct gap between it and the doorjamb.

  As a result, I was able to catch a glimpse of the hallway. If Jack’s daughter happened to bound by, she would be able to see a confounded and naked stranger in her father’s bed. The possibility should have compelled me to get up, but my bafflement held me in place.

  As I began to weigh my few available options, I peered at the window, distracted from my dilemma. The sunlight had changed once more. In fleeting moments like these, it astounded me how quickly the earth spun through space.

  My sunlit human companion had disappeared in the span of just a few minutes, and the relocated spots of light had already created an innovative image in its place. The new constellation was in the shape of a cat.

  “Son of a bitch.” I shook my head and sighed, accepting my humiliating defeat.

  Spurred into action, I pushed back the covers, swung my legs over the edge of the bed and scooped my discarded shirt from the floor. I also made sure to avoid my own reflection in his ex-wife’s mirrored closet door while seeking refuge. Holding the wrinkled garment against my body, I raced into the master bathroom and took great care to close and lock the door behind me.

  It wasn’t the notion of Jack’s ex-wife I was desperate to avoid.

  Simply put, I was the last thing I wanted to look at.

  SHUT AWAY inside Jack’s private bathroom, I untangled my blouse, thrust my arms into the sleeves and pulled it over my shoulders. My fingers trembled as I buttoned up the front of my blouse, and I pulled the hem as far down as it would go, consumed by discomfort.

  I looked down to make sure my body was covered and found my head too heavy to lift back up. My long hair fell forward, draping my face, and my eyes welled up as I stared at my feet. I didn’t know how to escape Jack’s home without a confrontation of some kind.

  I was determined not to cry until I was all alone and took some deep breaths to keep the tears from spilling out. I welcomed the relief when the effort only took a few moments. My plan was simple—gather up the rest of my clothes, get dressed and get the hell out of Jack’s house. I raised my head and opened the bathroom door.

  I stomped back into the bedroom with determination and found my things. With the exception of my panties, which I pulled back on, I threw the rest of my clothes onto the bed. Upon reaching for my skirt, I froze in mid-grab. Jack stood in the bedroom doorway, holding a bath towel. True to the morning’s form, he didn’t speak a word and his sudden appearance stunned me.

  Jack looked uncertain, even hurt, and clenched the towel in his hands.

  It was the first sign of nervousness I’d ever seen in him, but I did my best to keep it to myself. I clutched my skirt while my bra, garter belt, stockings and shoes remained unclaimed on his duvet.

  “Do you need to be somewhere?” Jack’s baritone voice was calm, but quiet. He closed the bedroom door behind him and then held still, as though preparing for an onslaught.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “No.” My answer was technically true, but the word felt like a lie as it escaped my lips.

  Jack studied me and then softened his expression as he spoke. “Good. I’d like to make you breakfast.”

  There was no mistaking the gesture. His offer was genuine, sweet and unexpected. It confused the hell out of me, and the strength of my glare withered with a few surprised blinks. The sudden shift in my emotional state was so powerful I looked away.

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed Jack tilt his head. The action compelled me to look at him once again.

  As we both regained our
stances, he continued, “To be honest, what I’d love to do is bring you breakfast in bed, but …”

  Jack looked over his shoulder, toward the door. In another room, the sounds of a child playing a video game carried down the hall. When he turned back to me, he shrugged and offered a tight grin.

  My foot tapped as I considered if this was a line of bullshit, but it was a useless endeavor. From the times I’d observed Jack and his daughter together, it was clear he was a devoted father. He was a man who took his responsibility as a parent seriously. My anger dissipated. Whatever we thought would happen the evening before, the consideration of holding an “About Last Night” discussion hadn’t occurred to either of us. If it had, I would have gone home before things went too far.

  My shoulders relaxed in the face of Jack’s predicament. “Your daughter. Of course. I understand.”

  “Will you stay? For breakfast?”

  The insistence I glimpsed within his dark brown eyes surprised me. “What about your daughter? I don’t want to cause trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about her. It’s fine.”

  “Aren’t you worried about her reaction to me?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  I arched a suspicious brow.

  “I’m not worried because she’ll be fine. If we don’t make a big deal about this, she won’t think twice about it.”

  “Aren’t you worried about what she might say to her mother?”

  My mind raced to cover all the bases and the words were out of my mouth before I realized their potential sting.

  Jack’s mouth set into a hard line.

  I had struck a raw nerve and despite my earlier frustrations, I felt terrible over my lack of consideration. I held my breath.

  “That won’t be an issue. I’ll speak to her mother before she’ll have a chance to,” he said with a tone of terseness that didn’t surprise me.

  I counted to three before moving forward with the conversation. “Sorry, Jack. I don’t want to complicate things for you. I can be careful. Discreet.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I know that. Don’t worry about any of this. We’ll all be fine.”