Chapter Eighteen

Jordan coped with the inner turmoil in her life the same way she always had. She worked. All hours. All shifts. Doubles. Rotation. Weekends. And as much as she could, she dodged Charles' calls.

Woody knew what she was doing…this was his wife's defense mechanism. It always had been…get lost in your work and maybe everything else will work out on its own without your input. Only now, it wouldn't. He let her continue this behavior until he decided she had dodged his calls one too many times. Finally, he showed up at the door of their home one Friday afternoon. Propping himself up against the door jam after she had answered his knock, he quietly said, "I don't see how you're even going to go on with your life…meet someone else, when all you do is work. And if all you want to do is work, and you won't date coworkers, you've really got yourself over a barrel, Jordan Marie."

She stepped aside to let him in. "So…what are you now, a psychiatrist that makes house calls?" She walked into the living room, her back to him.

He smiled grimly and shut the door behind him. "No. Just someone that cares about you very much."

"You shouldn't."

"Shouldn't what?"

"Care about me."

Woody raised his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"I don't deserve it."

Woody walked over to her and turned her around. Unshed tears were shining bright in her eyes. "Sweetheart, what makes you think you don't deserve someone caring about you?"

"If it weren't for me…my husband would still be alive. You see, I had started putting things …work…people, before him. After a while, he got tired of it … of waiting for me to have time for him. He filed for divorce. I kind of lost it…resigned from the morgue here and ran away to Phoenix to work for a while. Woody followed me out there eventually. He came to talk to me one night about reconciling…getting back together…and I told him the divorce was up to him…I wouldn't file, but neither would I contest it. He left that night and began to drive back to Boston….that was when he wrecked. If I had told him what my heart really felt…that I loved him and I was sorry….he'd still be with me. He would have stayed with me that night instead of driving down that highway.

You're a wonderful man, Charles. Warm. Caring. Loving. Strong. But I don't deserve you. I don't deserve anyone. I'm not sure I'm capable of really loving anyone…."

Woody cut her off then, pulling her into his arms. Not capable of loving? Jordan? He had felt her compassion more times than he could count during their time together. Her gentle touch…the sweetness of her spirit beneath her tough exterior. "That's not true, Jordan…so not true…" He saw the tears on her cheeks. He gently wiped them away with the tip of a finger…and before he could stop himself, he was kissing her.

And she responded. She wasn't sure why…whether it was because it had been so long since a man had touched her the way Charles was doing now…or if it was because somewhere in her mind the images of Charles and Woody were still merging….Woody, with his dimpled grin and crystalline blue eyes…Charles, with his intense blue eyes, and soft, shy smile behind his beard. Whatever it was, for tonight at least, she wasn't going to let it matter. When he made a move to break the kiss, she snaked her hand around to the back of his head and pulled him in for a deeper one.

Sweet Jesus, was all that went through Woody's mind. The months melted away for him…all the time he had worried about her…longed for her…wondered if things could get back to normal with them…it all left him as he got caught up in her kiss, which was growing more intense with each passing minute. Feeling the need to breathe, he broke the kiss, only to allow his lips to begin to travel over her face. He became intent on kissing her senseless.

And he knew what would happen when he did. She'd melt…straight into his arms…holding on to his shoulders for support as she gave him back kiss for kiss…until he moved his lips to that sweet curve in her neck…and then the softness of her shoulder. Her head would go back then, allowing him better access to her throat….he'd skate his mouth down it to that hollow in the base of her neck.

He'd kiss her lips again, then. And regaining some of her ground, she'd softly run her hands down his chest, then back up to begin unbuttoning his shirt, kissing him where each button released from the fabric, until his shirt was completely open and his skin was flushing. He'd return the favor, gently stroking the tender underside of her breast with his thumb. She'd arch against him then, and moan.

It would be all over then. Impatiently, they'd end up undressing each other with little regard to where the clothes would land. He had lived for the feel of her against him again. He would lay her down, smooth back her hair and kiss her again, stroking and caressing her as he did so. She would return the favor…she had the softest touch he had ever known. Finally, feeling the grind of her hips against his, he'd enter her…slowly…judging her reaction…seeing just how ready she was…

That would be how it would go…he knew it. That was where things were heading…and she knew it, too. So it didn't surprise him when she pulled away and took a shaky breath. "Charles," she said softly, "this has got to stop. I can't go there…I'm not ready yet. I mean, I don't even have any…" Woody could have sworn he saw her blush. He hugged her to him again.

"So you won't date coworkers? Then what are we supposed to do about this, Jordan? Ignore it?"

She looked at him, her whiskey-colored eyes big in her face and her lips soft from his kisses. "I don't know…I just simply don't know…if it would be fair for you or for me."

Woody thought for a minute. "I respect how you feel, Jordan. I understand your feelings about dating coworkers…and becoming intimately involved with someone right now. I really do. And I'm willing to give you time. But I would like to take you out one time…on a real date, before I let you and time decide the outcome of our relationship…okay?"

She slowly nodded. That seemed fair – at least it would be fair to him. "Okay…when?" Despite her words, she was reluctant to move out of the warmth and security of his arms.

"Tomorrow night. Wear a nice dress. I'll pick you up at seven." He pulled her to him one more time and dropped a chaste kiss on the top of her head. "Meanwhile…don't worry too much sweetheart. Everything's going to be fine….more than fine."