Francie woke up as the first hint of sunlight hit her face. It took a moment to remember where she was and then she grinned. Opening her eyes, she noticed the dent in the pillow next to her. Reaching over, she felt the slight warmth of the sheets; he'd not been gone long.
Snuggling up to his pillow, she strained to hear him moving around. She heard a cabinet open and close in the kitchen and knew that he was just starting to fix her breakfast. A Western Omelet. No cheese. Just like the first time.
She thought about the date. Did he realize that they'd been seeing each other for three months now? Ever since the night of Sydney's birthday . . .
"Happy birthday," she said as she stopped at table 15.
The man looked up at her, and she felt herself starting to blush. "It's not my birthday," he said with his usual cool tone.
"I know. But it's Sydney's, and I thought we might celebrate it together." She held out the wine bottle, and Jack hesitated a moment before reaching and taking it from her hand. She set the two wine glasses down in front of him and offered him the corkscrew. Nodding, he took it from her hand as she slid into the seat across from him.
Playing with the napkin in front of her, she looked around her restaurant as he poured their wine. This was a crazy impulse; she didn't even know why she'd done it. But just seeing him sitting at her restaurant all alone on Syd's birthday had struck her as so wrong. And lonely.
"You've done a great job," Jack said.
She turned to stare at him, stunned by the compliment. It had been given with hesitation, but she didn't doubt his sincerity. She smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Bristow."
"Jack. Please." He handed her the glass of merlot. "I still think of my father when I hear 'Mr. Bristow'," he admitted.
For some reason, she thought that was mostly a lie, but she nodded and said, "Jack."
"Here you go," Janet said as she stopped by their table. The waitress sat down the salad Francie had ordered before heading over to Jack's side of the table. The waitress had been shocked by Francie's choice for a dinner companion. "Isn't he a little old for you?" she'd asked in a horrified whisper. Francie had laughed before explaining that he was the father of a friend.
Jack's steak was grilled rare, and Francie studied the presentation. This chef was working out much better than her last one. The kitchen was calm, and there was no strange food "art" on the customer's plates anymore.
She held up her glass. "To Sydney. May her birthday being as great a day as she is a woman."
Their glasses clinked together, and Jack took a small sip before setting his down. He picked up his knife and fork and cut into the blood-red meat. Francie poured her Ranch dressing across her salad and mixed it around.
They continued to eat in silence. After finishing half his meal, Jack set down his fork. "Sydney is a remarkable person."
Looking up from her salad, she replied, "Of course she is." She sat down her fork and studied him. "I've never doubted it."
He looked away, and then back at her. "But you've doubted that I've felt the same way."
She shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. She'd imagined that they would exchange a few pleasantries, eat, and then go their separate ways. No serious discussion.
She could lie to him, laugh away what he'd said, but it wasn't her way. She looked him straight in the eyes. "Yes, I have."
He took a sip of his wine. "I don't blame you."
She took a bite of salad. Swallowing, she said, "You've really been there a lot since Danny died. I know you're trying."
Playing with her food, she thought about the Sydney she'd first met. Still grieving for her mother, but mourning the emotional absence of her father more. "It couldn't have been easy for you after Mrs. Bristow died."
His face became expressionless. "No." He reached for his wine glass and took a gulp. "It wasn't."
Something wasn't right tonight. She'd met him a few times over the years, and he wasn't one to worry about other's opinions. "Jack, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," was his first answer. Then, he picked up his fork and looked at his half-eaten steak. "I'm--just concerned about Sydney."
"She's done a lot of traveling, Jack. She knows how to take care of herself," she answered. She waved Janet away before the waitress could even move towards their table.
"Yes," Jack said before taking a bite. He looked over at another table and frowned before returning his attention to her. "But she's not traveling with Dixon this time. Sloane decided to send her to New York with someone new."
"I bet Sydney wasn't happy; Dixon's a good guy," she said as she picked up her wine glass.
"Yes," Jack answered. "He is. And I trust him to look after her."
Francie rested her elbows on the table. "It's just New York, Jack."
He looked down at his plate. "Yes, it's just New York."
"And maybe Dixon's not with her, but she can take care of herself," she finished.
Jack looked at her and Francie saw a hint of something that almost made her scared--a fierceness, a sense of pride, that almost seemed too intense in the circumstances. "Yes, she can." He picked at his potato. "How are your parents doing, Francie?"
Smiling, she accepted his desire to change the subject. "Good," she answered before taking a sip of wine.
To her surprise the conversation continued to flow. Jack did not share many of his thoughts, but he listened and asked questions that showed he was paying attention. It felt good to talk to someone who actually cared to listen to her answers without being paid to do so. They continued to sit and talk as their dinner plates were cleared, and Francie asked Janet to bring over an urn of coffee.
The coffee was long finished when Francie admitted, "Well, I wish I hadn't said it." She wasn't sure how the conversation had headed in this direction, and she wasn't sure why she was sharing something so personal with Jack, a man she barely knew. Thinking back to that dark day she'd learned the truth about the man she'd planned to marry, she looked over her shoulder and blinked away tears. She had long ago gotten over him, but it still hurt to remember how she'd attacked Sydney when her friend had tried to tell her the truth.
It was then that she noticed that her restaurant was empty except for some staff and them. Talking to Jack, she'd been oblivious to the activity going on around them.
"I'm sure Sydney understood," he said.
She bit her lip and nodded. "I know she did, but I never should have lashed out at her like that. She's my best friend; I should've known that she would never hurt me if she could help it."
He reached across the table and touched her hand. A familiar warmth--one that she hadn't felt in a long time--swirled around in her belly; she told herself that she was being silly. This was Jack. Sydney's father. Besides being too old, he was out of her league. Too complex. Too emotionally stifled.
Staring down at their hands, Jack muttered, "Sydney understands saying words you don't mean in the heat of anger. Unfortunately, she and I have exchanged our share of harmful words when we've fought."
"I still shouldn't have said them," she whispered.
His thumb trailed across her knuckle. "No," he agreed. "But you need to forgive yourself for making a mistake." He looked into her eyes, and the warmth in her belly grew. "You're only human."
"Francie?" Janet's voice intruded. Jack pulled away his hand, and Francie wondered why she was having a hard time focusing on her employee. "We're all done."
She looked down at her watch and couldn't believe that it was so late. "Oh, no. I didn't realize--"
"I've got the receipts tallied and the deposit ready to go, but I can't make it tonight. I'm going out with some friends. Missy and Marla are coming to pick me up here."
"That's right. You told me. I was going to ask Billy--"
Janet winced. "He left fifteen minutes ago."
She closed her eyes and sighed. "And I don't have my car." It was in the shop getting repaired. Again. She'd had three separate wrecks since her restaurant opened. She sometimes wondered if the place had jinxed her. None had been her fault, but she kept expecting the insurance company to come up with some reason to cancel her policy.
"I'll take you," Jack offered.
She shook her head. "You don't have to--"
"I'll take you," he said again, making it sound more like an order than an offer.
Staring back at him, knowing it wasn't a good idea, she nodded. "Okay. Let me go get my stuff."
The trip to the bank was done in almost total silence. She sat in his comfortable car and twitched. Her hands wouldn't stay still, and she had a hard time telling him how to get to the bank she went to every day at least once.
When they pulled up in front of her apartment, neither one of them moved or spoke. The tension in the car didn't make any sense to her mind. It was Jack, not someone she'd gone out on a date with. All she had to do was say "thank you" and "good night" and head towards the door. It was all she had to do. "Would you like to come in for coffee?"
Jack's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "It's getting late."
"Not that late, and I'm used to staying up a couple of hours after closing." She gulped and looked down at her hands. "I'd appreciate the company."
She felt his eyes on her. The heat her body was feeling intensified. Hearing him nod, she closed her eyes and asked herself if she was crazy. This was Jack. Jack. Sydney's father; the one that had never been there when she was growing up.
He got out of the car and walked over to her side. Opening the door, he reached in and offered his hand. Her fingers felt scorched when they touched the tip of his. As she slid out, her dress fell down around her ankles, and she felt the cool night breeze blowing.
She met his eyes and licked her lips. His focus shifted to the where her tongue had just been. "Francie--" he whispered.
She started walking forward, forcing him to follow. Reaching into her purse, she looked for the keys with shaking hands. Even as she opened the door, she denied to herself what she was planning on doing.
Blinking in the brightness of the kitchen, she walked towards the counter. "Syd said you like your coffee strong, and I do, too," she babbled. Her hands were shaking as she pulled down the canister of coffee beans. "I like mine fresh, too. It doesn't take all that long to grind the beans. I don't know how so many people drink that pre-ground stuff."
She turned and saw him standing there with his overcoat still on. "I'm sorry," she said, putting down the beans. She reached up to touch his lapel. "Let me take this."
Her mouth was on his. She wasn't sure who initiated the kiss, but she knew it was moving up the ranks on her list of best kisses. His tongue slid into her mouth as she used his lapel to pull him closer.
She wasn't aware of how long they were kissing, but she was aware when he started pulling away. "Francie." She kissed him. "This really isn't--" Her mouth stopped him from saying the words.
Pushing his coat off his shoulders, she directed him towards the living room. Somehow they ended up lying on the couch with her on top of him.
Jack tried one more time to stop their rush into madness. "Francie, this is--"
She pulled away from him. "Crazy? Stupid? Nuts? I already know that, Jack. But I don't care. Do you?"
Jack stared at her. And she felt him struggling to calm his breathing. He closed his eyes and then opened them again. He shook his head as his fingers worked their way through her hair and brought her mouth back to his.
She went up in flames . . ..
***
Sometime later, she was shocked to find herself lying on his chest. This time the stroke of his fingers on her back weren't awakening desire. They were comfortable, and Francie was scared that she'd made a bigger mistake than she'd thought.
As much as she was loving--liking being in his arms, she wished he would go so she could gather her thoughts. Gathering her courage, she pushed herself up on her forearms and looked down at him. Tell him to go, she told herself. "Do you want to stay the night?"
Jack looked almost as surprised as she felt. She prepared herself for his blunt no, followed by his departure. Instead, he nodded hesitantly.
Leaning down, she kissed him. And the familiar warmth started in her belly again . . ..
"What are you thinking about?" Jack asked as he brought in a tray of food.
Sitting up, Francie grinned as she looked down at her usual: a Western Omelet--no cheese--and two slices of toast, light on the butter. It was the meal he fixed for her every morning they were together.
"I'm thinking about three months ago," she answered as she bit into her toast.
"Our first date," he said.
She blushed, thrilled that he remembered. "Well, I thought about dinner, too." She giggled.
Jack managed a small smile. He sat down next to her on the bed and played with her hair. "You were beautiful that night."
"I'm not beautiful now?" she teased.
The look in his eyes made her shiver. "Yes," was all he said, but she hadn't needed to hear the words to know his opinion on her looks.
She set down the piece of toast. "I never thought to be here, Jack."
He understood that she didn't mean his apartment. "I never thought to be here, either."
She picked up the tray and set it to the side. She slid into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. "Do you regret it?"
Feeling the muscles tense beneath her, she expected the question. "Do you?"
"No," she answered, playing with the hairs of his chest through his robe.
"I don't either," he said before covering her mouth with his.