Chapter Five

Kitchen Encounters

Woody glanced over at Jordan on the way home. The evening had been flawless. Gains and his wife had enjoyed the company of Woody and his wife and Jordan gave a convincing act that she had come home to re-establish their relationship. Woody had even got to dance with her one more time.

But now she was sound asleep, in the seat next to him…it must be exhausting for to keep pretending like this…I know it is for me. She sighed in her sleep and snuggled down closer in her seat. Woody grinned to himself. She was out. He pulled the car into the garage and cut off the engine. He got out on his side and walked over to hers. Opening the door, he bent down and unbuckled her seatbelt. She stirred then and opened her eyes…to find herself staring directly into his blue ones. "Wake up, sleepyhead…we're home," he said. He helped her from the car.

"I must have been out like a light," she joked, regaining her balance. "Please tell me I didn't have that much to drink in front of Gains."

Woody chuckled out loud then. "No…I have a feeling it's just exhaustion from this situation."

Jordan nodded. "Sometimes it's difficult," she said, entering the house and taking her shoes off at the door.

"Difficult as in acting married again, or difficult as in remembering how it used to be?" Woody asked in a low voice.

Jordan paused at the foot of the stairs, shoes dangling by one finger…her back to him…his comment and tone of voice hitting at the base of spine and causing cold chills to run up it. Without turning around, she whispered, "Both. Good night, Woody." She climbed the stairs, changed into her nightgown, and got into bed.

And proceeded to toss and turn for the next several hours….thinking about what Woody said…thinking about how good it was after they first got married….and how that was making what she had to do now so very, very difficult.

She still loved her husband. That fact had not changed. It never would. She wanted so much to have the opportunity to turn her "act" into reality. But Woody never gave her the chance. As soon as they were out of sight of the public crowd, his arm would drop from her waist, or he would pull his hand away…he remained polite, cordial, but always distant.

And who could blame him? She left him…even if her reasons for leaving were justified. It seemed Woody had stopped loving her…he hadn't touched her for months before she left and was working a God-awful amount of hours. She felt hot tears beneath her lids as the fact sunk home that he didn't love her. At least not anymore.

She wiped her tears away and rolled over, determined to get a few hours of sleep before she had to go to the morgue tomorrow. Thank God for Garret….and her job. She'd go nuts if it weren't for both of them…then another feeling brought her attention closer to home.

Her stomach growled. Loudly. Jordan was hungry…she never ate much at these public functions with Woody…more like pushed the food around on her plate. She was always so stressed out that she would slip up….make an irretrievable mistake that would doom Woody's chance at being the next police chief that her stomach would tie itself in knots to the point where it hurt to eat.

And tonight had been no exception. If anything, dinner with Gains had at least doubled her stress level to the point she barely ate a mouthful. She finally threw back the covers, grabbed her thin robe and tiptoed down the stairs. Woody's bedroom light was off and it was quiet. He was asleep.

She found her way into the kitchen, made herself a peanut butter sandwich, then reached into the cabinet for glass…milk was the only thing Jordan would drink with a peanut butter sandwich…when she accidentally knocked the glass off the shelf. Cursing at her clumsiness, she bent over and began cleaning up her mess.

Upstairs, all Woody heard was glass breaking. Swearing at the fact he had never had a burglar alarm system put in, he reached beside the bed to the night stand and grabbed his service revolver and slid on his boxers….stealthily he made his way downstairs…nothing in the hall…nothing in the living room…but the light in the kitchen caught his eyes immediately. "What the hell are you doing up?" he asked Jordan, laying his weapon on the counter. "Don't you know you could have gotten yourself killed?"

"I was hungry…I came downstairs to get something to eat," she said, still kneeling, cleaning up the final remnants of her mess. Suddenly she hissed and put her fingers in her mouth…the fine fragments of the broken glass had cut her fingertips.

"Now let me see what you've done," Woody said, coming over and kneeling beside her, taking her hand out of her mouth so he could examine her fingers. "Not too bad... Come here." He helped her to her feet and over to the sink, turning on the tap and allowing the cold water to run over her skin and rinse away the remaining microscopic fragments. He lightly ran his hands over her fingers and hands, making sure they were glass free. When he was certain of this, he turned the water off, grabbed a dishtowel and dried her hands.

Jordan wondered if he was aware what his touch was doing to her…the tiny flickers of heat his touched caused…or that warming sense in the pit of her stomach. Garret's warning flickered through her thoughts, be careful, Jordan. He threw the dishtowel down and looked at her fingers one more time.

"I think you're fine," he said, looking into her eyes and pausing…her hair was a tangled mass of chestnut curls…and she had on one of those white silky nighties he could never have resisted before…scraps of satin and lace…and her eyes were dark…like rich chocolate. Oh damn…he scrambled to get control of his lower regions when he realized they were standing a lot closer than he had realized. "Very…very…fine," his voice lowered to a whisper, when without a coherent thought he pulled her to him and kissed her.

What the hell am I doing? He asked himself a few seconds into the kiss…and then as more seconds passed, he really didn't care….it was a moot point. Jordan was kissing him back….opening her mouth and tangling her fingers in the hair at the back of his head. You're doing what you've wanted to do since the minute you laid eyes on her again in New York…you're loving your wife…and is anything so wrong with that?

No. There wasn't. As a matter of fact, he couldn't think of a damn thing wrong with it. He skated his tongue gently beside and over hers…and felt the passion rise in her kiss. His hands moved down her sides and untied the sash on her robe, spread it wide, then slid his hands inside and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer than before. It briefly registered in his sexually heat-filled mind that she didn't protest, but pulled him nearer. He deepened his kiss again. She moaned against his lips.

She couldn't breathe except through his kiss…and she wasn't aware of anything … anyone but him. So when he ran his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her onto the counter, she was barely aware of his actions…not even when he pressed her thighs open and stood between her legs….kissing the side of her neck, pushing her gown aside to lay quick, soft kisses along her shoulder, then reclaiming her lips, while his hands found their way to her breasts, gently caressing them until he heard her catch her breath and moan again. Deftly, the tiny buttons on her gown came undone and his hands found their way inside. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist.

Woody didn't know which one of them was more lost in the moment. If he had to place a wager on the odds, it was Jordan. She wasn't even aware that she had murmured his name…or that she loved him.

It was that statement that stopped him cold. I love you, Woody…I've never stopped…please….What had he done? Started something he couldn't finish … but wanted to so badly he ached? He began to slow down his caresses…lighten his kisses…until he felt her legs release him. Slowly and gently he buttoned her gown back up and pulled her robe shut. And felt his heart break just a little when he heard her whisper "No…" He stepped away from her and carefully lifted her down from the counter, holding her close until both of their hearts stopped beating so hard.

"Why?" she asked, confusion in her eyes and passion still evident in her face.

"Because…in a few weeks, you'll be going back to New York…and I'll be in Boston."

"But…"

"There are no but's, Jordan," he replied softly, stroking her cheek to try to take the bite out of his words. "This…between us…can't happen again. It's for your own good."

"My own good?"

"Believe me…it is…now go upstairs…and get in your bed…and go to sleep."

"But…"

"Jordan. Go. Now." His voice carried a more desperate edge to it than he wanted. If she remained in that kitchen another minute, he knew what he would do…clear the table with one sweep of his arm and take her on it.

And possibly impregnate her again…God knows, he had nothing in the house to try to prevent it…he hadn't in years. She looked up at him again…"Woody…" Damn the beseeching tone in her voice.

"Go." He put all the force behind that one word he could muster and watched as she nearly ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

It was another good five minutes before his southern parts would allow him the same movement.