Jack & Jilted by Cathy Yardley Page A

in the shadows. He stepped toward her, the moonlight throwing the planes of his face into sharp relief. His eyes looked shadowed, and his brown hair looked black, leached of color by the nightly illumination.
    “It’s beautiful,” she said, forcing herself to look out on the oceanscape and not at the man who had just surprised her. “And calming. You were right.”
    “Are you cold?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern. “It’s nippy tonight.”
    “I’m okay,” she said. “I was just…restless.”
    “Oh.” He sighed. “Anything I can do to help?”
    She bit her lip, hard. “I don’t know,” she said, taking a deep breath. “There might be.”
    He stood silent, waiting.
    She closed her eyes, focusing on the tranquility all around her, dredging up the courage for her next step. “Remember what you said this morning, about doing something just to feel better? For the short term?”
    “Sure,” he said.
    She felt the blush heating her skin, momentarily eliminating the chill of the wind. “I think I know what would help me feel better. I’m just not sure if I should ask you.”
    That made him pause. “I get the feeling this isn’t getting you drunk or helping you trash somebody’s car,” he said with a shaky laugh.
    She suddenly felt embarrassed. “Are you…oh, God, how do I ask this?”
    “Spit it out and we’ll deal with it.” His voice sounded a little rough.
    “Are you involved with anyone?”
    “Involved?”
    “You know, seeing anyone on a regular basis. Do you have a girlfriend? Significant other?” She suddenly blanched. “Wife?”
    “No!” His response was so quick and so horrified that she actually giggled little in relief. “I mean…I see people from time to time, but no. Nothing serious.”
    “I guess that’s a weird question to ask just before a request,” she said, her own voice turning breathless.
    “I think I can guess what you want, though,” he said softly.
    She stood there almost wilting in her own humiliation. “This is ridiculous,” she said suddenly and started to walk past him, hurrying toward her own cabin. He stopped her by putting an arm around her shoulders. She tried shrugging it off, but he held tight.
    “I said a little stupid but not self-destructive,” he said. “This may be a little more than you’re looking for. That is, if you’re asking what I think you’re asking.”
    “If you think I’m asking if you would have sex with me,” she said sharply, “then yeah, that’s what I had in mind.”
    He sighed, and she felt utterly, hopelessly foolish. “You’re not the type,” he said.
    Her back straightened. She thought about asking indignantly How do you know? but realized that it wasn’t as if she was fooling anyone. If she bumped into someone like herself on the street, she would hardly think it of her.
    “It’s an unusual situation,” she countered instead. “I wasn’t the type, that’s for damned sure. But now…” She sighed, turning toward him instinctively, his restraining arm now turning into more of a half hug. “I’ll level with you. I haven’t had sex in six months, and before then we weren’t exactly…we never…”
    “You don’t have to tell me,” he said, but she bulled forward.
    “I like sex, but with him it was never about sex,” she said quickly. “He never wanted me for that—I mean, he never really was all that passionate about me—and I dealt with it. I never cheated on him and I never lied to him, but there were times when I just wanted…someone else. A fantasy. Does that make sense?”
    He sighed heavily, but he didn’t move his arm away. “Sort of,” he finally admitted.
    “Now I find out he cheated on me. All that comfort and planning that I thought I wanted—that I thought he wanted,” she corrected, “wasn’t it at all. And now I’m realizing I cheated myself, too.”
    She turned, looking into his eyes, which were mesmerizing in the moonlight.
    “This isn’t fair,” she said,