Chapter Six
She did it. She sold the Pogue. It was probably one of the most difficult things she had ever done in her life, but she did it. It was purchased by another bar owner in the city. She had taken the check and deposited it in an interest-bearing account she set up for her father. It would remain there until he decided to return.
Jordan drove home after work that day, not knowing what to do with herself…in the past she had left work and went straight to the bar. Now she had hours….hours….that she didn't know what to do with. She could go back to work…Garret would love that. She could go shopping. She could clean the house…let Woody have a break. He had been picking up her slack there since he moved in.
Ah. Woody. There he was again. The man always managed to sneak into even her most mundane thoughts…her platonic roommate. His curiosity had been satisfied….and he seemed to be happy with the way things were. Good for him. She only wished she were as content. She wished the word "platonic" had never come out of her mouth. She unlocked the door and let herself in, heading toward the kitchen to get a beer out of the refrigerator, but pulling up short when she came to the table. There were apartment magazines all over the surface. He was looking for another place to stay.
She swallowed hard, and then flinched as she heard his key in the lock. "Hey, Jordan," he said, seeing her in the kitchen. "Are you not working tonight?"
"No…I'm not. I took your advice."
He chuckled. "Since when did you ever listen to me?"
"I've always listened to you."
Woody looked at her for a beat. "I mean, when did you actually start doing what I said?"
"I sold the Pogue."
"You what?"
"I sold the Pogue. This afternoon. To another bar owner. I just got back from the bank. I put the money in an account for my dad, so when he comes back home, he'll have something to start all over with again."
He walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulders. "You're serious?"
She nodded. Then motioned to the magazines on the table. "Are you moving?"
"I'm still looking…"
"Have you found anything, yet?"
"Nothing definite, but there's a few I really like that would work out. I'm going to look at them tomorrow. I can't stay here forever, Jordan. We both knew that when I moved in…that this was only temporary. I'm sure you're ready for your life and your house back."
She swallowed hard. "I don't mind, Woody…I really don't. It's…it's nice having you here. Really."
"I appreciate that, Jordan. I do. I just …" He ran his fingers through his hair, wondering if it wasn't the right time to be totally honest with this woman….and what would she do if he told her how he really felt…would she run? Would she laugh?
Would she reject him?
"Just what, Woody? Feel like you're not wanted….if so, that's not true. I've loved having you stay…"
"It's not that," he cut her off abruptly. "It's not that at all. Jordan, I can't stay here any longer because if I do…I'm afraid that I won't be able to keep this relationship platonic much longer. I've had a difficult time not keeping my hands off of you since I held you that night after the robbery. If I stay here…you've got to know that I can't promise to keep our relationship the way it is right now. In fact, if platonic is the way you want it, I'd better leave tonight…" There he had said it…it was in a rush, but at least now it was out in the open. He glanced over at her, apprehension showing in the depth of his blue eyes.
She wasn't running. She wasn't laughing. She was just standing there, looking at him with those warm brown eyes of hers. Oh damn. Here comes the rejection, he thought. "I understand…I'll leave now," he said, inching for the door.
"Woody, wait…please." She walked over to where he was at and looked up at him. "I thought you said your curiosity was satisfied when we kissed in here that afternoon you were helping me put the groceries up."
"About kissing you, yeah." She arched an eyebrow. Clearly he needed to explain himself. "I like kissing you. I want to do it again. That's what I meant when I said my curiosity was satisfied.
"Oh. I thought you meant you didn't want to do it again."
He shook his head. "Not a chance. But if I stay here…I can't promise I won't…"
She smiled and then raised herself up on tiptoe to brush a chaste kiss across his lips. "Then don't make me any promises."
"Jordan?" She kissed him again. "Jordan…if you're not serious, you need to stop," he said, watching her loosen his tie and slide the knot down a bit…then busied her fingers with the top two buttons of his shirt.
"Oh. I'm very serious detective."
He sucked in a deep breath. "This may change everything about this roommate situation."
"Oh, I'm counting on it."
"Are you sure?"
"Oh yes. Very." She tugged at his tie until his lips met hers. And that was the last time she had control of the situation. His arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her to him and kissing her until she couldn't think about anything but Woody…and the feeling of his lips against hers. When he finally let her go, she was flustered and breathless, leaning against him for support.
"Still sure?" he asked, roughly. And felt her nod against his chest. "Good. Because I intend for this to happen….a lot."
"You do?"
"Most definitely. But right now, we need to talk." He took her by the hand and led her to the living room, sitting down with her on the couch. "I've got to move out, Jordan."
She was confused, and it showed in her eyes. "Why? I thought…"
Woody softly stroked the hair off her shoulder. "Because…I want this to be right….I don't want our relationship to be casual or convenient. And that's what it might become if I stay here. I want it to be real and right…and forever. The temptation would be too much for me. It's been hard enough trying to keep things 'platonic' between us while I've been staying here. Especially after the night you asked me to sleep with you after the robbery. Holding you ranks right up there with breathing for me."
Jordan had the good grace to blush. "But Woody…."
"No buts. I want to do this right…I need to move out."
She sighed and looked down at their hands…still holding on to one another. "I understand…and on one level, I'm flattered…no one has ever been that considerate of me. On the other hand, I've gotten so used to you being here, I'm not sure I'll like it when you're gone."
"I'll be as close as the phone, sweetheart."
