It was 11:15pm a full week later. Anna talked quietly with Walter, her piano player, about the songs for the next set. Lee, her guitarist, picked out a baroque tune next to her. The bass player, Bill, waited as he always did, patiently.
They were an eclectic group of players she'd picked up when she got here. The friend of a friend who knew somebody who'd heard of someone who played a little piano. A studio guitarist-slash-pick-up player looking for a steady gig. A bassist who moonlighted as a pediatrician. They'd found her, or she'd found them, and she didn't question fate in these matters.
"Thank the Lord and pass the ammunition!" Walter exclaimed as he looked over her shoulder at the audience. "He's back, fellas!"
Lee added a flourish to the fanfare he strummed. He hardly said a word unless it was with his guitar. Bill grinned and said, "Finally!"
"Who's back?" She turned and saw him. He'd already made it to his usual stool, returning greetings from Tommy and the baseball boys. He directed her a casual toast with his beer glass and a look that was anything but. He waited for her wave in return before turning back to talk to Tommy.
"Aren't you going to go and say hello?" Walter questioned her, when she tried to continue their conversation.
"Should I?" She didn't really know how these kinds of things were done. She did know she felt a huge surge of relief and pure happiness on seeing him again. Perversely, it made her angry with herself. Just as the worrying she couldn't help doing had made her angry. Just as the loneliness she'd experienced these last seven days made her angry.
"Honey, you been singing the blues so often this week I'm about to go into therapy." Bill shrugged. "Any man that can make you that unhappy better at least get a hello when he comes back." Lee added a sniggering little run on the strings that had her raising her eyebrow at him.
"Has it really been that bad?" She asked quietly, looking at Jack sideways across the room, because she didn't want him to know she was looking at all.
"Just go tell him you're glad he's back so we can do some happy tunes." Walter urged her, uncharacteristically taking her arm and pushing her off the stage towards the bar.
Jack smelled her before he saw her. Funny, he wouldn't have said he'd known what she smelled like, but he did. Something floral and sexy and clean. Exactly the opposite from what he'd been smelling the last few days. Why did the Ancients have to put that last Stargate in a swamp?
She stepped up beside him and leaned an arm on the bar in an attempt at a casualness she didn't feel. "My boys want me to tell you they're glad you're back." She tapped her empty glass for Tommy to re-fill.
"Your boys, huh." He turned and saw the three of them watching and chuckling, he saluted them as well and heard a laughing riff from the guitar.
"Um-hm. Apparently I've been singing the blues more than usual this week. So they're glad you're back." She picked up the glass of water Tommy had filled for her and turned to go.
He let her get a few steps away before he called after her. "Hey, does that mean you missed me?" It was that squirmy look and the laughing smile at the same time, before she continued on.
"Hey, Flyboy!" The piano player said into the mike from the stage. "Somethin' special you wanna hear?"
Well, how perfect was that? There was only one song after all. "Somewhere over the Rainbow." He called out. After a nod from Anna, Walter began to noodle out the intro.
"When all the world is a helpless jumble, And the raindrops tumble all around,
Heaven opens a magic door.
When all the clouds darken up the skyway There's a rainbow highway to be found,
Leading from your window pane,
To a place behind the sun, Just a step beyond the rain."
That last part wasn't right, Jack thought as Anna continued the song. It rained on them more often than not on away missions. Like this last one. Not only was the Stargate in the middle of a swamp - though Daniel and Carter were both sure it hadn't been a swamp originally - it had alternated between pouring rain and blinding sun. His sunburn had mold growing on it.
"Some where over the rainbow way up high, there's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby."
She was good. He gave her that. Not Garland - who was? - but she gave the song a style all her own. It was wistful, a song about hopes and dreams, eerily reminiscent of going through the Stargate. Maybe that was why it seemed to be his theme song most of the time.
"Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops,
That's where you'll find me."
Her singing was fulfilling a promise to herself, he knew. Just from their minimal discussions he'd gathered a bit about her upbringing. More like a pampered poodle than a live human being - nannies and private tutors, chauffeurs, etiquette training - Gawd! - no friends, no unsupervised activities, no T.V., and the ultimate sin as far as he was concerned - no pets. Maybe this was her theme song, too.
"Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow, why, then oh, why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why, oh why, can't I?"
When the song ended he applauded enthusiastically. She went on with her set and it seemed no time at all before she was through singing for the night.
She walked toward him through the empty tables, drinking in the sight of him, dismayed that she hadn't really seen him before. Dark circles bruised under his eyes, and the little glint wasn't in his face. His green military issue only accented how pale he was. His fatigue dragged at her as she got closer. "Jack," she asked, "When was the last time you slept?"
He winced. "That bad, huh?" She wiggled her hand back and forth to indicate the probability was high. "I came here straight from the base."
"I'm flattered. I think. But I'd like it better if you took me home and then went straight to bed."
"Yours?" Oh, Jesus. Why had he said that?
"Well." She paused to collect herself. "I'd be even more flattered if you didn't look so terrible." And if her stomach hadn't just started acting like she'd eaten a whole can of Mexican jumping beans. "Come on, Flyboy. Take me home while you're still awake enough to drive."
She let him carry her heavy bag of music out to his truck only because he insisted. It was quiet in the cab as he negotiated the blocks to her house. He didn't say anything because he didn't know where to start. She was silent because she couldn't find anything to say that didn't sound pathetic.
He pulled up and parked thinking about the last time he'd dropped her off. There was no rain, and a half-full moon shone down through the brightly twinkling stars.
And he wasn't going to make a fool of himself tonight.
"Thanks, Jack. Drive safely going home, okay? See you." She dragged her bag onto her shoulder and jumped down, slamming the door shut behind her.
"Yeah. Sure." Damn, she'd caught him off-guard. He was more tired than he thought. "Anna, wait." He followed after her up the flower-lined walk from the street to her porch. "You never said if you missed me or not."
She froze, a hand on the rail, a foot on the bottom step. She didn't look at him. "I missed you, Jack." Was her low response. "More than I thought I would. More than I wanted to. I tried not to, but it didn't seem to matter. I missed you anyway." The hand on the baluster closed into a fist as she hissed the last phrase straight ahead.
"You don't sound too happy with that." Jack shoved his hands into his pockets.
"I'm not." Why wouldn't she look at him? Her gesture chopped at the house in front of her. Her voice grew more and more heated. "I have a home I love, a job I like doing, good friends to do it with. I didn't think I needed anything else." She heaved her shoulder bag onto the porch from where she stood and rounded on him, accusing. "I didn't want to need anything else."
Perversely, this evidence of her anger made him feel better. "At least I know I'm not alone." There. That backed her up a little. "I thought about you. Too much. Too often. You got in the way." Thank God it had been routine site-checks and not an encounter with the Goa'uld. "It's been a long time since a woman's been on my mind like you. And I don't like it either."
She sat abruptly on the bottom step, head in her hands, and took a deep, calming breath. She was furious that it had come out like that, that it had been there to come out in the first place. "So what do we do now?"
Considering, Jack eased down on the step next to her. "Seems to me we've got two choices."
"Only two?" With the absurdity of her situation seeping through her irritation, her temper drained as quickly as it flared.
"Two main ones. The rest sort of follow from there."
"Two choices, then. And they are?"
"Well, choice number one is pretty simple. We don't like it, we just stop seeing each other. I'll stop coming to The Getaway. You go on singing. We both get back to the life we had before."
Anna shook her head, clearly not satisfied. "I don't think I like choice number one so much. What's number two?"
He grinned at her. "Yeah. I don't like it either. Especially since I like Belle's cooking." She wrinkled her nose at him in exasperation. "Choice number two is harder. We keep seeing each other. We find out if we want to go on seeing each other."
She cocked her head to the side and studied him. It was a posture he was familiar with, like she was looking for something and not finding it. "How do we do that?"
"I think we should try something different." Okay, Jack, now or never. "Look. I've got a debriefing early tomorrow, but I'm free after that. Why don't I come by when I'm done and we'll have lunch or something. Just seeing you when the sun's out has got to be different."
He endured another long look, nerves jumping. Then she smiled. "All right."
"All right what, exactly?" His eyes narrowed, just wanting to make sure.
"All right. Why don't you come over tomorrow and we'll have lunch or something." God, he loved it when she smiled at him like that. "During the day."
"All right. Yeah. I've been hearing rumors that you might be a vampire." Her lovely laugh made everything right.
"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Now the laugh was directed at herself, though he had no idea why. "The great Jack O'Neill dating a vampire, how scandalous!"
"Not an actual vampire, anyway. There've been a few that did a good impression." It was Anna's turn not to understand the inside joke. And really, the Goa'uld were more like snakes.
"So, is this our first date?" She asked, standing.
"I guess so. You okay with that?" Jack wasn't even sure if he was okay with it. He stood next to her, palms itching with the need to touch her, knowing that she would have to be the one to do it first.
"Yes, Jack. I'm very okay with that."
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The next morning, Jack stood nervously at Anna's front door, waiting for her to answer his knock. He looked in the window and ran a hand through his hair, knowing that it wouldn't do much good. He needed a haircut. At least he'd made it home to change into civies. Blue shirt, khakis, Nikies. Casual. Relaxed.
He was anything but.
She finally opened the door and Jack had to make a conscious effort not to drool. She wore only a short terry cloth robe that ended about mid-thigh, emphasizing the length of her legs. God, they went on for miles. She was rubbing her damp hair with a white towel, clearly just out of the shower.
"Am I early?" He managed as she stepped back to let him enter.
"How can you be early when we didn't set a time?" The sun slanted through the sheer curtains that covered the glass surround and lit up the entry. "I was out gardening. Composting, actually. And chicken manure isn't my favorite perfume for a date."
"Eau de poultry. Definitely an acquired smell." He followed after her when she walked back down hall. The front room, he supposed in a Victorian it was a parlour, and the dining room were to his right at the front of the house. A library-slash-music room with a black grand piano and walls of books took up the room on his left. The furnishings fit the lady - an eclectic, artful, elegant mix of antique and contemporary.
"There's fresh coffee in the kitchen." She indicated a pair of swinging panel doors on the other side of the stairs. "Make yourself at home. It'll just take me a minute to get ready." Her bare feet made no sound as she started up. Jack shut his eyes to keep them in his head.
"Don't get dressed on my account." He said, mostly to himself, smiling broadly when she called down, "I heard that!" He pushed through into a modern kitchen. The coffee maker stood on a white tile counter. French doors and large windows showed him a lush back yard beyond the breakfast bar. There was pile of compost with a large bite gone out of the side, testifying to her morning's work.
Opening what seemed to him to be the right cabinet - cherry wood, solid and well-made - he found mugs and poured a cup. At the first sip, he glanced down in surprise. The coffee was good enough that Daniel would have approved.
He wandered around the blue and white kitchen with his cup. Clusters of herbs hung upside down in the window over the sink. And though the counters and appliances were spotless, the air only smelled of - air, he decided. Fresh, and faintly herbal. Kind of like Anna.
Restaurant quality range and ovens, dishwasher, a large refrigerator that was well stocked when he looked inside, all stainless steel. Great! Maybe she could even cook.
With that happy thought, he pushed through the other set of doors into the dining room to continue his exploration of the first floor. The rooms were neat without being severely organized, though he found the absence of any dust a bit ominous.
Here and there, sitting casually on gleaming antiques, were clusters of crystals. Some large enough to strain a weight-lifter, others small enough to disappear inside his closed fist. There were clusters that reminded him of wild mountain ranges, and crystals polished to perfect roundness. Some were smoky, some oddly opaque, and some in every color of the rainbow.
He found himself reluctantly drawn by the glitter of them as he wandered around, the way they winked and gleamed in the sunlight.
When Anna came downstairs a few minutes later, she found Jack in her living room and paused a moment just to watch him. It was almost as astonishing for her to see a man in her living room as it was to see he was holding a large cluster of quartz crystals. The cluster was one of her most cherished possessions, having been given to her by her mother, passed down through the generations for several hundred years. She hadn't felt him pick it up.
Wondering why she wasn't fighting the urge to snatch it out of his hands, she entered the room. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah, sure. Any time." He gestured broadly with the rocks in his hands and didn't see Anna swallow and dig her fingers into her palms. "I like your house. You live here all by yourself?"
"Um-hm. I like my space."
"Me, too." He looked down at the crystals. "Um... You're... Ah... not into all that New Age sh- stuff are you?" He changed the word at the last second, in case she was.
"Define 'New Age' and 'into.' " She eased the cluster out of his hands and replaced it on the bookshelf beside him. Good thing it was sunny outside and bright in the room.
"I don't know... You don't align your chakras with Betelgeuse, or fung shway your bathroom, or stuff like that." He indicated the rest of the room.
"Ah. No. I do meditate, and practice yoga and Tai chi." She smiled and looked around with fresh eyes. Her collection probably did look a little strange to someone else. She had no need for props or crutches, but she had a great deal of respect for tradition. "Basically, I just like rocks. I have these things because I think they're pretty and I like looking at them. Not because they serve any purpose for me."
"Not that I'd mind, or anything, if you did, you know. 'Cause I'm pretty open-minded, you know... about stuff. Like that." He winced and tried to recover. "So. Ready to go?"
She accepted his change of subject, but he saw the laughter in her smile. "Have you eaten yet?"
"I don't think a stale donut at 7 a.m. actually counts as eating. I'm starving."
"There a hamburger place, over on Hoover..."
"McMurty's. They've got burgers the size of dinner plates..." He held his hands up outlining a large circle.
"And real ice cream milkshakes. I want strawberry." She opened the door and followed him out.
"I'm driving?" He asked, jingling his keys down the walk.
"You have to since I don't know how." At his astonished look she shrugged. "Chauffeurs."
"Weird." He grinned at her. "I could teach you."
"I'm sure you will, Jack. Absolutely sure."
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Jack didn't want their date to end so soon. Lunch seemed to take next to no time at all. He was elated when she suggested they drive around and see if there was anything to do. Not having any specific plans was fine with him. That way, there wasn't any reason to take her home.
They worked their way through town, not finding anything that interested them enough to stop and get out, until Anna saw a summer carnival set up in the city park. She nearly had her nose pressed to the window in excitement, and when she turned to him, a question in her eyes, Jack laughed and turned on his blinker, checking the traffic before making a slightly illegal turn towards the parking lot.
Jack had a close and personal relationship with his inner child. He knew many people thought it was unnaturally close. But, darn it, if something wasn't fun why would anyone want to do it? And being with Anna was certainly fun.
He had to look at things differently when he was around her. She had a child-like curiosity and joy about the simplest things. He couldn't get a grip on the split in her personality. One minute they were talking seriously about revolutionary political philosophy, and the next they were walking along the game aisle at a carnival deciding which prizes were worth playing for.
He was growing to intensely dislike the people who had raised her. When he asked her if she'd ever been to a carnival before, her answer was a telling: "I was taken through Coney Island once."
She had to ride every ride and go through every fun house. He indulged her by throwing baseballs and darts, making baskets with spongy balls, and tossing rings until she had an armload of stuffed animals. She laughed and buried her face in garishly colored fur. And when she saw a group of children from a special needs school, she unselfishly distributed the fruits of his labors among them.
She pointed at the last booth in the row and asked him to win her one more, for the memories, and he couldn't refuse. Fortunately, it was a target shooting game and it took him about a minute to knock down every duck and deer silhouette spinning around the tent's opposite wall.
She took the huge yellow bear and hugged it close. Jack found himself envying the stuffed animal. It was her laughing smile though her eyes were serious. "You're very good at that."
"It's a side benefit." He shrugged. He'd always been a good shot and rarely thought about the skill. "You want to try?" He held out the air rifle towards her.
She shook her head and hugged her bear again. "No thanks. We've done this game, let's find another one." But she was quiet as they walked down the next row.
She decided on tossing ping pong balls for fish in little bowls. She was pretty good and he had to persuade her to stop when she'd won six. They left the bowls of colorful Bettas in a box under the counter to pick up when they went home.
Next they headed for the merchandise booths. Again, she had to stop in every one and look at everything. When they passed a booth selling CD's of early rock-and-roll, she starting singing under her breath.
"I love this song!" She exclaimed to him.
It was an early Beatles tune, one he remembered fondly from high school. "Yeah. You should have heard it when it came out."
She tilted her head to look at him quizzically. "I did."
"No way." No way she was as old - or nearly - as old as he was. "You can't be over thirty!" He was a pretty good judge of people and there was no way.
"Hmm. I won't embarrass myself and tell you how old I was, but it was before my mother died and I went to live with the Sullivans." Her expression turned melancholy as she looked back on a memory. "My Mom and I would turn the radio up loud enough to shake the dishes and dance around the kitchen."
"You were nine when she passed away, right?"
"Um-hm." Anna held her yellow bear in front of her by the arms as if to dance with it down the grassy row. "I wasn't allowed to listen to pop music after..." She trailed off and shook her head to expel the sadness. "I persuaded one of the cooks to sneak me a little transistor radio. At night, I'd hide under the covers and listen to the top 10 countdown. At least, until Mrs. Sullivan caught me." Jack watched anger and regret flicker across her expressive face. Yellow Bear got another hug. "Anyway... People always say I look young. I guess I just have good genes."
To try and regain her laugh, he paused a step until he could look her up and down with a leer. "Oh, I'd say you've got excellent jeans." She blushed. A quality he found fascinating and he delighted in causing it.
Anna looked back at him and swatted out with her bear in retaliation. In doing so, she wasn't watching where she was walking and tripped over a guy wire.
Jack's reflexes reacted automatically. He caught her before she hit the ground and set her back on her feet. The moment stretched when their eyes met. Hers shaken, his intense. Jack felt the skin of her upper arms against his palms, smooth, warmed by the sun, surprising muscles under satin.
He let go immediately when she stiffened. "Sorry." Though he wasn't in the least. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. They tingled.
She was still a moment, studying him with a carefully blank expression. Jack shrugged uncomfortably and looked away. Damn, he couldn't just let her fall could he?
"I should be more careful." Oh, yes. Much, much more careful. Though she knew - absolutely - that she wouldn't be. She deliberately held out her hand to him. "Come on. I'm hungry."
He looked at her offered hand, then at her face. She was smiling again - Thank God - that sweet smile she reserved only for him. He slowly reached out and clasped her hand, twining their fingers together. He felt a jolt shock up his arm that he put down to static electricity. "How can you be hungry after eating that big a lunch?"
"More good genes." She gave a tug and they started walking together. "Okay. Curly Fries are pretty self-explanatory, but what are Elephant Ears?"
"They're kinda round thingies. Dough, cinnamon sugar, jam." The relief at just holding her hand threatened to swamp him. Why was it that so simple an act felt so tremendous? He gave her a grin. "You wanna split one?"
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"Just don't forget to keep them all separated." Jack admonished, holding her front door open for her to go through. "If you put them together, they'll fight."
"I'll remember." Anna linked her arm through his as they continued slowly down the steps to his truck. Jack knew about tropical fish. Why didn't that surprise her? She chuckled. "Well, here we are saying goodbye in the dark again."
"I don't mind." A whole day, or nearly. He hadn't spent a whole day in one woman's company, outside of Carter, in a month of Sundays.
"It is beautiful, isn't it?" She stood a few steps from him, her head tipped back to the moon.
He leaned a hip on the balustrade and just looked at her. In the dim light, she looked like some pagan goddess worshiping the stars. "I'll say. Never seen anything like it."
When she glanced back at him, she knew he didn't mean the night. "Jack..." At least he couldn't see her blushing in the dark. It was a reaction she couldn't control no matter how hard she tried.
She wasn't used to compliments, personal ones, any way. If he'd been saying something about her singing she'd know exactly what to say. Something witty and intelligent to pass it off, deflect the focus from herself. But he was looking at her. Looking at her, into her, through her, all at once. With that intense concentration that was his specialty. Looking at her. "I never know how to respond when you say things like that to me."
"Yes, you do." He didn't need light to see the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. God, he loved that. "And you do it very well, if I must say."
Gravely, she shook her head and came back to take his hand once more. "I wish you wouldn't."
He fell into step beside her, deliberately dragging his feet. He simply didn't want this day to end. "Because you think it's not true?" She only looked at him seriously. "Well. If wishes were horses, and all that. You'll just have to get used to it because I don't intend to stop."
She gave an exasperated sigh. When he had that tone of voice it wasn't any good to try and talk him out of it. Stubbornness, thy name is Jack O'Neill. "You just do it to embarrass me."
He arched an eyebrow at her. "Your point being...?" She laughed, like he wanted. Blushing and laughing. He didn't know when he'd developed a fondness for those two responses, but it had become his goal to make both happen as often as possible.
Anna wondered how her walkway had gotten so short. They were at his truck in an impossibly few number of steps. "Will I..." She stopped abruptly, appalled that she was about to ask a very leading question. She shook her head quickly at his questioning look. "Never mind."
"Anna." He faced her. With one of her hands captured in his, he used his other one to push back the hair from her face. "Don't. Not ever with me." In the moonlight, her eyes were huge dark pools. "Ask me."
Gathering her courage, because he asked her to, she took his free hand so they stood together. "Will I see you tomorrow?"
"If you want to, sure." Sweet! "Why don't you come to my place for dinner?"
Add that shyly sweet smile to the list of things he liked to see. "All right."
"All right, what?" He jokingly repeated their conversation from the night before.
"All right. I'll come to dinner at your house tomorrow night." Her smile turned teasing. "Can you cook?"
"Only if you count a mean barbecued hot dog. But I'm a master at take-out." He told her his address, sure that her photographic memory would lodge it firmly. "Look. I'm not sure exactly what time I'll be done. You just come on over, late afternoon-ish. If I'm not there, there's a spare key behind the frog." At her surprised look, he shrugged his shoulders. Cassie had made him that Frog Prince plaque during an art class in seventh grade. "A friend made it for me. You can't miss it."
"All right. Spare key behind the frog. Late afternoon. I'll be there." He would leave now. She didn't want him to go so soon. "I had a really wonderful time today, Jack."
"Yeah, me, too." They were still standing close together, his hands holding hers. He made no move to leave. "I haven't enjoyed a carnival so much since Margie Jenkins kissed me on the Tilt-O-Whirl in sixth grade."
"Hmm. Margie Jenkins?" He watched her eyes deepen another shade, her smile go from shy to tempting. She took a step forward, he took a step back. Another step forward, another back, until he was up against the fender of his truck.
"Aah. Yeah. Margie..." Her lips brushed over his, barely making contact. He felt like he'd been struck by lightening. Her eyes were open, watching him, so green he could swear that they glowed. Her mouth was still on his, soft and warm. Her breath sighed, a silent moan that hummed through him as he sank into surprising heat, bringing her body against him.
She jolted like a startled doe when his mouth slid away from hers, grazing her cheek. He cupped her chin in his hand to keep her from bolting. He felt her pulse throb under his fingers as he eased back to look in her eyes. "That was loads better than Margie Jenkins. Let's try that again."
Her mind was a blur of shocked pleasure, her head reeled in long, slow circles. This wasn't what she'd thought it was going to be. She'd only meant to tease him, to laugh with him again, to thank him for a wonderful day. But a kiss had never been like that before. "I don't think...."
"That's good. Don't think." Jack pushed back the hair from her face with both hands, his fingers diving deep into the thickness of it. Her breathing was trembling audibly now. He saw the fear, and the excitement, as he leaned closer. He hesitated, giving her a chance to protest, to tell him to stop.
She didn't. She was under a spell made of moonlight and couldn't move, couldn't speak. Anna's lips trembled apart, the hands fisted on his chest spread until she felt his speeding heartbeat in her palms.
He watched her eyes drift shut before his mouth touched hers. His lips were firm and gentle, barely touching hers, as she had done before. He lingered for a moment, keeping the kiss soft. He brushed his mouth over hers, once, again, then returned with more pressure.
Anna felt her knees about to buckle. In defense, she curled her hands around his arms. There were muscles, hard muscles that she wouldn't remember until much later. Now she could only think of his mouth. He was barely kissing her at all, yet the shock of the impact winded her, made her head spin faster.
Under his patient urging her lips grew mobile, generous. Trusting. Slowly, because there was no other way, he deepened the kiss. Anna's fingers tightened on his arms convulsively. Jack kept his hands in her hair, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from her mouth alone.
He'd wondered - God knew how often - what it would be like. The reality surpassed even his vivid imagination. Here was a mouth to savor. Full, generous. It wasn't a mouth a man could hurry over. He scraped his teeth lightly over her bottom lip and thrilled to the low, helpless purr that answered him.
He knew what it was to be hungry - for food, for love, even for a woman - but he had never experienced this raw, painful need. There was fire here, a furnace under the shyness, struggling to burn through the armor of her composure. She was trembling, erotic, unconscious little shivers that shot need through him. A greedy roaring began to grow in his head. He hadn't realized it was so close to the surface. So close to breaking free. Losing control.
She was trembling - or maybe he was. The uncertainty over who was more dazed had him slowly, carefully drawing away. Though it took some effort, he lifted his head and waited for Anna's eyes to open.
She could do nothing but stare at him, her green eyes dark, cloudy, aroused. Stunned.
"Jack." It came out in a shaky whisper. Never before, and she was sure, never again would a man affect her that thoroughly, that quickly. She craved it, at the same time she feared it. Taking a quivering breath, she tried to steady her voice. "Do you want to come back inside?"
"Yes. Yes, I really, really, want to come inside." He lowered his brow to hers. "Which is why I'm going to get in my truck and drive home." And take a really - really - cold shower, maybe beat my head against the wall for several minutes.
"I don't understand." He saw the confusion in her expression, cursed himself for causing it when her fingers loosened and her hands dropped away from his arms.
"Anna..." How could he make her understand? He didn't even understand himself. He caught her eyes with his. To stop himself from touching her again he slid his hands in his pockets. She was watching him with a combination of hurt and humiliation. "I can't just..." God, he was bad at this. "It's too much. Too soon."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I'll..." Anna felt tears, hated, weak tears, gather in her throat. She turned to run back up the walkway.
He stopped her with a hand on her arm, though she didn't look at him. "Anna. Don't." He watched a tear squeeze out of her closed eyes and trail down her cheek. He tugged her around until she faced him again, lifting her tear-streaked face and brushing at the wetness with his thumb. Tears got to him every time. It didn't matter that he knew she didn't want to shed them. "I think we just got ahead of ourselves a little bit."
He endured her drenched eyes studying him once again. What was she looking for? He hadn't a clue, only that she seemed to find it. "Too much. Too soon." She restated.
He nodded and risked letting go of her arm to reach in his pocket for a handkerchief. She accepted it cautiously, drying her face. When she looked at him she was under control. He took another risk in trying to put his feelings into words. "God knows I want you, Anna. I just need to be sure why."
"All right. I think I understand that." She nodded to accent her agreement, unconsciously twisting his handkerchief in a gesture that revealed her nerves. "I guess I shouldn't come over tomorrow."
"No way. I think it's a great idea." He caressed her smooth cheek one more time. "Remember, the spare key's behind the frog."
"I'll remember."
"I'll see you tomorrow, then." He hesitated, opened his mouth to say - something, he wasn't sure what - then shook his head and slid a grin at her. "Hey. Ask me to stay again sometime, okay?"
She responded with a smile and he knew everything was all right. He kissed her again, a quick pressure of lips, just to prove to himself that he could. Dropping his hand from framing her face, he went around the front of his truck and climbed in the driver's side.
He turned the ignition and gazed at her for a long moment through the window. She was still smiling, her fingers pressed to her lips. When he put the truck in gear and drove off, it took a great deal of concentration not to look back in the mirror.
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Jack was tired and pissed in the way only high-level brass and politicians could piss him off. He'd had his fill of both earlier - right up to there - during a long afternoon of useless meetings and long, boring briefings. He wanted several beers, a shower and dinner in no particular order. He tugged hard at the knot of his uniform's dress tie on his way in from the driveway.
His mood was awful enough that he considered calling Anna and cancelling. He didn't want to inflict himself on anyone else. Pushing the door shut, he dropped his briefcase, threw his keys and hat onto the table, and froze.
His house smelled - good. In fact, his house hadn't smelled this good in - well, it had never smelled quite this good.
A radio was playing accompanied by familiar humming and vaguely industrious clinking sounds in the kitchen. His mood did a quick and complete one-eighty at the thought of a beautiful woman and a home-cooked dinner. Garlic, tomatoes, cheese, something Italian. Hot damn!
"Anna?" He called out. Maybe Thor had had a yen to learn about Earth cooking, but he was betting on her.
"Back here, Jack." Came her reply. He went down the hall to the kitchen doorway and paused. He took in the picture she made standing in his kitchen while he folded his aviator sunglasses into his pocket. How long had it been since he'd come home to find a woman puttering in the kitchen?
She wore a pair of well-worn cut-offs and tank top, flip-flops on her feet, her hair pulled back into a curling ponytail. He couldn't really believe she was as old as she said she was when she looked like a college student. She was frosting a cake with pink tinged icing. "Hey! What's cookin'?"
He popped open the oven door to take a peek and get a good whiff. "I thought we were doing take-out?"
"We were. Until I woke up this morning and felt like home-made." She leaned a hip against the counter, struggling with nerves. Was she supposed to act like last night had never happened? It might be the safest thing to do, but if that meant she would never feel again what she'd felt last night, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be safe anymore. "I hope you like lasagna."
"Love it. And cake?" She had a smudge of frosting on her chin. The urge to see what her skin tasted like was strong. His mouth was watering and it had nothing to do with powdered sugar.
"Lemon with raspberry icing. And a salad as well." He was looking at her again. She self-consciously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She supposed it was the directness of his candid examination that made it uncomfortably intimate and so different from being on stage. "I did most of it at home." He stuck his finger into the frosting bowl for a taste. "I bribed Walter to drive me over after our practice this afternoon with some extra lasagna."
"I wondered how you got here." She was watching him again. Her green eyes calm like a cat's, a little smile curving her lips. What was she looking for?"What?"
"I've never seen you in uniform before. You look different - intimidating." Handsome as sin. She tempted herself by taking a step closer, running a finger over the colored squares and medals on his chest. There were a lot of them. "I don't suppose you can tell me what any of these are for?"
"I'd have to shoot you if I did." He said with a smile, though it was true. Most of the honors he'd earned were from very classified, very secret, missions. "Believe me, I wouldn't be wearing this get-up if I didn't have to. We had a dog and pony show today." He tested himself by spanning his hands around her waist. The small remaining distance between them disappeared.
"Were you the dog or the pony?" She rested her hands on his shoulders. Anna knew that she should be nervous, that she should take a step away. That she shouldn't let him. But she wasn't, and she didn't. And, oh, she wanted him to.
"A smart mouth. I knew there was a smart mouth in there." He grinned at her and got a smile in return. Not a shy one either. This one was a total dare.
"What are you going to do about that?" His eyes dropped to her lips. She could practically feel his mouth on hers. A breath trembled in and out.
"Oh, I've got some ideas." But instead of kissing her senseless, he reached over to the counter and picked up the glass of wine she'd poured for herself and took a quick sip, all the while keeping his gaze locked on hers. "Is there any more of this?"
"What?" Her eyes blinked as she struggled to keep up. They weren't calm anymore, weren't clear, bottle-glass green. They were cloudy with anticipation, the color of the lake in front of his cabin in Minnesota. "What did you say?"
"Is there any more of this wine?" He swirled the red liquid around in the crystal before taking another drink. "I thought I'd change before dinner, if there's time."
"You want something to drink." She had to lean against the sink when she lost the support of his body. How was she supposed to think when she could barely breath? He hadn't even kissed her and every ounce of blood in her body tingled.
"Yeah. Pour me a glass, would you?" Jack set her glass down and fingered up another swipe of frosting as he left the room, throwing her a grin over his shoulder. He was back in seconds. "Oh, yeah. There's this, too."H
He came to her, grabbed her thick, dark hair, and brought her mouth within a breath of his. He was close enough to see the pupils of her eyes dilate. Close enough that her sigh warmed his face. Throwing caution right after common sense, he pressed his mouth to hers, taking them both deep in an instant. He was over his head, drowning in the deep green lake that was Anna. The sugar on her cheek only added to the taste of her. Moonlight and starlight, right there in his kitchen.
His mouth was hot and eager on hers. Not asking, but she gave freely. She would give him whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed. She clung to him, the only point of stability, her mouth wild and willing, her body vibrating like a live wire under his possessive, urging hands.
She would have begged if she'd had the breath, if she could have formed a thought, for something, anything, to ease the grinding ache he'd set free. She wanted, but she didn't know what. She needed, and that need was only him.
She feared - him, herself. She feared this unknown place where he was taking her. Feared it, and desired it. One as equally as the other.
He wasn't sure why he drew back, why he resisted finishing what he'd started, even if he hadn't meant to start something this serious. Maybe it was the subtle waves of anxiety he felt vibrating from her. Or maybe it was the shock of discovering the echo of that apprehension in himself.
He took a step back, a small but vital step, and watched her gorgeous eyes slowly clear.
She struggled to firm her buckling knees. "I don't know what you want me to do." She touched trembling fingers to trembling lips. "No one's ever wanted me the way you seem to want me. No one's ever made me feel the way you do."
"This is going to sound like a huge cliche, but it's never been like this for me either." That was a dangerous thought. One he would have to think about very carefully.
"I thought..." She swallowed before she could continue. "I thought we agreed we were going too fast."
"I don't know." He combed his fingers through mahogany silk until it lay shining on her shoulders. Ran his hands down her arms to link their fingers together. "I might have been wrong about that." He squeezed once and released his hold on her. "I do know that I like being with you. I like touching you. And I like kissing you. And somewhere down the road, we're going to like doing a lot more than that. But there's two of us on this trip, Anna, and we'll only get to the end together. If you don't want to go along, you better tell me now."
Only her determination not to embarrass herself further kept her voice from shaking. "I can't say that I don't like it... this... whatever this is that's happening between us, because I obviously did. It's just...."
"Too fast. Too soon." He tilted his head and studied her while she nodded in agreement. The pulse at her throat was jumping, and her skin was flushed. "I guess we should try to slow down some then."
"Some." She put together the scraps of her nerve and stepped forward to slip her hands up from his chest to frame his face. "Just don't let it be too slow, okay?"
"I can do that." He touched his lips to hers and drew her closer, careful to keep his hands easy, his mouth gentle before he stepped back once more. "Pour me some wine. I'll just be a minute."
When he was out of sight and, she hoped, out of earshot, she let out an explosive sigh, feeling like she'd just avoided a tumble from a very high cliff. And part of her regretted not taking the plunge. She realized that she might not have the choice to jump or not still in front of her if Jack O'Neill had been a different kind of man.
He wanted her, but he didn't know her. He didn't know what she wanted, what she needed. She wasn't certain herself, so how could he be?
Well, maybe it was time - past time - for her to find out. Anna turned to take a glass from the cupboard and poured his wine. With a self-deprecating chuckle she set it down and went back to frosting her cake.
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