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the stray tear before it hit his bare shoulder.
    She rolled off Jackson knowing he probably wanted space to breathe. Her eyes were still watery and she was so emotional she turned from him, curling on her side and 28

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    looking out her window as she listened to Jackson’s breathing fall back to a normal pace.
    He rolled over, a strong arm wrapping around her from behind, his voice a whisper against her skin. “Will you sleep here tonight?”
    “Sure,” she squeaked, the tears obvious in her voice. She cleared her throat, fighting for strength to hide the vulnerability from him. “I-I mean, yes, sure. I’d love to stay here.”
    He was silent for a moment, as if wanting to say more. He finally leaned forward, placing a kiss against the back of her bare shoulder. “I hope this year is good to you,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin, his voice aching. “You deserve it, Clara Bow. I want you to be happy. I want it more than anything.”
    She bit her lip, not knowing why she was so emotional. She had to take a few quivering breaths before she whispered, “Ditto.”
    29

    Kele Moon

Chapter Three
    For a doctor Clara slept deeply and Jackson sat there wishing he could learn that trick. He was too conditioned to wake on a dime. Even if he weren’t he wouldn’t be doing a whole lot of sleeping with Clara curled up naked next to him.
    Unable to help himself, he reached out and brushed her dark, curly hair from her face. He studied her beautiful features relaxed in sleep like a man starved. This was something he had dreamed of since ninth grade when he had sat in Clara’s living room attempting to comprehend the algebra his parents paid her to teach him. Yet the reality of how much he had confessed to weighed on him. He should have kept his hands to himself and his mouth shut. Even if the sex was incredible it wasn’t worth losing his best friend over.
    He had always been attracted to women like Clara—brilliant, successful, self-assured women who made things happen for themselves. He saw those traits in her when they were both teenagers, an intelligence and bold independence that made her so very different from the ditzy, shallow girls he dated because he knew there would never be any pressure on him to be witty or make clever conversation. The girls he had dated usually didn’t care about anything other than his abs and his ability to open a beer with the muscles on his forearm.
    They whetted his appetite and distracted him through high school and college. Had even sustained him through the first year of Clara’s marriage when his unhappiness over losing her to a man he loathed had left him lonely and desperate for a distraction from the pain.
    He groaned, wishing for what had to be the millionth time for a change in preference as far as women went. With an acute attention deficit disorder and dyslexia, he had never been brilliant enough to appeal to someone as well educated as Clara for 30

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    anything other than a drunken roll in the hay. He couldn’t go to medical functions and conferences and blend in like Frank did.
    Not that he thought Frank was good for her. Jackson hated that bastard. He was a condescending prick, one of those who somehow sensed Jackson’s insecurities around intellectuals and preyed on them like any good bully would. The guy was such an asshole Jackson and Clara had nearly stopped being friends when she’d married him.
    But ultimately Jackson was a little too much of a glutton for punishment to let Clara go.
    Now here she was, naked in his bed and he fought the urge to run away because the reality of him not being good enough for her was making him sick when he knew now how amazing it really was. Better than any fantasy, she wasn’t just beautiful, brilliant and successful, she was also wildly passionate, yet oddly innocent in a way that had him hard and aching for her.
    Knowing what a rare commodity a deep sleep was to Clara, Jackson got out of