by Joanne Rock
“I think the cold makes you want to move faster to keep warm.” She’d looked adorable in that hat he bought her.
She’d told him it was one of the most fun days she could remember, and it had been for him too. He’d never been the kind of guy to cut loose; he was always aware of his responsibility as the oldest brother in a family with no father. And later, no mother.
With Delia, it was different.
“Maybe that’s the secret to New York ambition.” She added a few more pieces of fruit to the pile, then extended the china toward him for a slice of bread.
“Frigid temperatures?” He layered on multiple pieces of bread and cheese before she pulled the plate back.
“Could be.” Her smile faded as she peered out the window into the darkened park. “I never got to ask you much about what it was like to live out on the West Coast. Did you like it there?”
The question chilled him far more than the northeast winds had during their sightseeing. Perhaps some of his reluctance to talk about it showed on his face, because Delia spoke up again.
“We don’t have to talk about that time, if you don’t want.” She chased a slice of cheese around the dish with her bread. “I was just curious how California compared to New York, since it’s my first time out of Martinique.”
He was never going to put her more at ease if he didn’t share some part of himself that wasn’t business-related. She knew plenty about his work life. But he’d kept many of the details of what he and his brothers had been through private.
“At first, I was excited to return to California since I’d lived near LA until I was thirteen.” He’d been happy enough there, until he understood how unhappy his mother was. Until it occurred to him how his father never visited them anymore, abandoning his illegitimate family for his legal wife and kids.
“That’s when your mom decided to ditch Liam and start over somewhere he couldn’t find her.”
“Right.” Jager ground his teeth, the impulse to keep the past on lockdown stronger than he’d realized. He set down his plate and refilled their water glasses to give himself something to occupy his hands. “She’d had enough with his sporadic visits and she knew by then that he’d never leave his wife and other sons.”
“Did you know about them back then?” She set aside her plate to lift the heavy crystal goblet. “Your father’s other family?”
He studied the way her lips molded around the glass to distract himself from the old anger he always felt thinking about Liam McNeill.
It had been one thing to abandon his kids. Abandoning the mother of his children? Jager found it unforgivable, especially since their mother had fought cancer and died without a partner by her side. Just three devastated sons.
“Not really. As a kid, I had the idea that Liam had another girlfriend and that’s why he didn’t stay with us more.” Remembering the confusion of those years, he had to give his mother a lot of credit for what she’d done when she left the country. “Before she died, Mom told us everything—about Liam’s connection to McNeill Resorts, about his other family. But by then, we hated him for not being there when she was battling cancer. We all agreed after she was gone that we didn’t want anything to do with him.”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for all of you.” Delia bit her lip for a moment before continuing, “Liam never knew though, did he? About your mom’s illness?”
“No. But keep in mind he lied to two women for over a decade, pretending to his wife that he was faithful and pretending to my mother—at first—that he was a single man, and later that he would leave his marriage for her.” Much later, he’d heard that Liam’s wife left him shortly after Jager’s mother, Audrey, decided to end their affair. So he’d been free. He could have come for his other family, married his mistress if he’d wanted. But he’d never even bothered to search for them.
“After my own experience being deceived, I know that must have hurt both of them deeply.” Delia placed the water goblet on the glass coffee table. The soft glow of light from the window played over her delicate features.
“I’ll never forgive him,” he told her truthfully, unwilling to give her false expectations for their visit. “I’m in New York to meet my grandfather, because I respect that it’s important to you that we know my family.”
On an intellectual level, he understood that it wasn’t Malcolm’s fault that Liam had wronged his mother. But Jager couldn’t help feeling a sense of disloyalty to his mother for setting foot in Liam’s world.
“It is important to me.” Her eyes widened as she reached out to lay her hand on his forearm. “But maybe once you reconnect with Liam, you’ll feel differently.”
“Impossible.” Jager knew his own heart, and it was cold where his father was concerned. Still, he regretted his quick response when her hand slid away. Swiftly, he changed the subject before she pursued the topic any further. “But you asked about life in Los Altos Hills. I was looking forward to it when I first got there last year, but after the hell Damon went through soon afterward, I don’t think I could ever live on the West Coast again.”
His sister-in-law had vanished without a trace after her honeymoon. Damon had punched holes in most of the walls of that big, beautiful home he’d built. Then he’d left town and shut off all means of communication.
Delia smoothed the embroidered satin cuff of her nightgown with one hand, fingering the embellishments stitched in pale blue thread. A placket on the bodice covered her breasts, while two layers of something gauzy and thin created a barely there barrier between his eyes and the rest of her. The urge to touch her had been strong all day, but now—remembering the way Damon’s life was falling apart without his wife—the need for Delia was even more fierce.
“I’ve always wanted to see the Pacific.” She had a faraway look for a moment before turning back to him. “Maybe it has to do with being a fisherman’s daughter, but I’m more curious about the water than the land.”
“I couldn’t see the Pacific from the house Damon built in the hills, but the view of San Francisco Bay was impressive.”
“There’s a lot about the McNeill lifestyle that’s impressive,” she noted drily, straightening.
It was a welcome change of subject.
“We’ve been fortunate financially,” he admitted, wondering how he could tempt her into eating some more. To keep her strength up. “But I hope you know I’d trade it all to see Damon happy again. Hell. I’d trade it all to see him.” Jager worried about him. Damon wasn’t himself when he’d left.
Jager grabbed the white china plate Delia had set aside and refilled it. It might not be a high-risk pregnancy, but she still needed to take care of herself. He’d read online that exhaustion would kick in over the next few weeks and she could lose her appetite even more.
“I wonder where he went?” She frowned down at the plate as he handed it to her, but she took a raspberry and popped it in her mouth. “Do you think he had a plan?”
“I think he was going to look for Caroline himself. Visit places her credit card was used in the last year. I spoke briefly to the investigator Cameron told us about—the one who said he could find Damon. But ultimately, I know my brother wants to find the men responsible for his wife’s disappearance.”
“That sounds dangerous. Can you stop him?” Delia set her plate aside again, worry etched in her features. Damn it. He hadn’t meant to upset her. “Before he does something rash?”
He hesitated. The truth would only make her more uneasy. But Delia had been lied to before. He had no option besides being completely forthright.
“I’m not sure I’d want to, even if I could.” The police had honored a request from Caroline’s father that they “respect his daughter’s wish for privacy.” But Jager didn’t believe for a moment that she’d left by her own free will, and neither did Damon.
Unfolding herself from the couch cushion, Delia rose to her feet. Clearly agitated, she paced around the sofa before returning to the window.
“But he could get in serious trouble.” She laid a hand on the back of Jager’s. “I didn’t have time to get to know Damon very well before you all left Martinique, but I spoke with him often enough to realize he’s a good person. If you could talk to him, you could convince him to speak to the police again.”
Jager came to his feet, wishing he had more comfort to offer her. But his words were unlikely to ease her mind.
“Men came into his house. Took the woman he loved. And, as far as we can tell, those same men let her die alone at sea rather than return her to him after he did everything they asked.” Talking about it made him agitated. Putting himself in Damon’s shoes lit a fiery rage inside him. “If someone hurt you, I’d turn over heaven and earth to find them too. How can I blame my brother for doing the same?”
His heart slugged hard as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close.
“What if he finds the men he’s searching for? He could get hurt. Or killed. Or end up in prison for the rest of his life if he—” Delia objected.
He gently quieted the torrent of worries with a finger on her lips.
“He’s already suffering more than we can imagine. I’m not sure there’s any punishment worse than what he’s going through right now.”
When she sighed, her shoulders sagging, he shifted his finger away from her soft mouth, feeling his way along her smooth cheek. His hand traveled down her warm neck to the curve of her collarbone, mostly bare above the square neck of her nightgown.
“Damon’s in hell.” The truth had been apparent to Jager when they parted. “He may never have the chance to touch his wife this way again.”
He meant to comfort Delia somehow, but as he glanced up into her hazel eyes, he wondered if he was the one who needed the warmth of this connection. The solace of her touch.
The vanilla scent of her skin beckoned him. Her hair, still damp from a bath, was beginning to dry in soft waves. And damn it all, no matter who needed who, he couldn’t deny himself the feel of her any longer.
Gently, he tipped her head back, giving her time to walk away if she chose. But her eyelids slowly lowered, her lashes a dark sweep of fringe fluttering down. He kissed her there. One press of his lips to the right eye. One press of his lips to the left.
Her raspberry-scented breath teased his cheek in a soft puff of air. Her fingers trailed lightly up his arm through the worn cotton of the well-washed Henley shirt that he’d pulled on along with a pair of sweats after his shower. The light, tentative feel of her hands on him seared away the conversation they’d been having. All he cared about was touching her.
Tasting her.
Cradling her face in his hands, he waited for her eyes to open again. He wanted to see acceptance there. When her entranced gaze found his, there was more than just acceptance. He saw hunger. A need as stark as his own.
Ten
Delia’s world tilted sideways, her breath catching as she stared up into the laser focus of Jager’s blue eyes. She felt herself falling and she was powerless to stop it.
If this night had been just about passion, maybe she could have walked away. But she’d glimpsed Jager’s heart tonight, and the stark emotions she’d seen there had ripped her raw too. As the self-appointed head of his family, he took his responsibility to Damon seriously.
How could she argue with him when he would one day give their child that same undivided loyalty that he showed his brother? The power of that devotion was foreign to her, and it took her breath away.
“Kiss me.” She whispered the command softly, knowing he awaited her wishes.
The two simple words unleashed a torrent.
He drew her into him, sealing her body to his, chest to thigh. Sensations blazed through her. Her breasts molded to the hard plane of his chest, her heartbeat hammering against him in a rapid, urgent rhythm. He bent to wrap an arm around her thighs, lifting her higher so his sex nudged her hip. Her belly.
She melted inside, the hunger becoming frenzied. Imperative.
When his lips met hers, she speared her fingers into his dark hair, holding him where she wanted him. Every silken stroke of his tongue awakened new fires in her body. A nip to the right made her breasts ache. A kiss to the left caused her thighs to tremble.
The fevered urgency spiked higher. Hotter.
“Delia.” He reared away from the kiss abruptly, his eyes blazing. “A kiss won’t be enough.” His eyelids lowered, shuttering the raw hunger she’d spied. “That is, if you don’t want things to proceed—”
“I do want. This. You.” Tracing the line of his bristly jaw with her fingers, she inhaled the musky pine scent of his aftershave, then licked a spot in the hollow of his throat to breathe in more. “Very much.”
Returning his mouth to hers, he palmed a thigh in each of his hands, wrapping her legs around him. Never breaking the kiss, he charged toward the bedroom. His bedroom. The feel of his muscles shifting against her as he walked provided a sultry prelude to the pleasures she knew came next. Her silk nightgown was a scant barrier to the feel of him, and he felt every bit as amazing as she’d remembered from their first time together.
“I thought I dreamed how good this felt,” she murmured, keeping her arms looped around his neck while he toed open the bedroom door and strode into the darkened interior.
His blinds were drawn, the blankets turned down the same way hers had been. He paused near the dimmer switch on one wall to turn a sconce to the lowest setting.
“It was no dream.” Carrying her over to the king-size bed, he lowered her slowly to the center. “Although I’ve been reliving that night often enough when I close my eyes.”
“Me too.” The harder she’d tried to forget about it, the more often every touch and kiss replayed in her brain.
He stood up and dragged his shirt up and over his head. Tossing it aside, he untied the drawstring on his sweats, the waistband dropping enough to reveal his lower abs. And...more.
He wasn’t wearing boxers.
Lured by the sight of him, she pushed herself up to her knees. Her palms landed on his chest before he could join her on the bed, and she held him there, wanting a chance to explore, needing to imprint the feel of him in her memory.
Hands splayed, she covered as much of him as possible, skimming her palms down his chest, then turning at an angle to line up her fingers with the ridges of his abs. His breath hissed between his teeth, but she couldn’t stop until she tested the feel of his erection, trailing her fingers down the rigid length then back up again.
She bent to place a kiss there, her lips following the line of the raised vein.
The harsh sound Jager made was her only warning before he hauled her up by the shoulders. “You play with fire.”
“I’m already burning.” She reached for the tie on her nightdress, a single yellow ribbon that wound through the satin bodice. “I need to be naked.”
His gaze dipped to her body, his hands tunneling under the diaphanous layers of pale yellow to draw the fabric up and over her head, bringing with it the lavender scent of the bath oils she’d used.
Jager set the gown aside and stroked her arms. Shoulders. Breasts. There was a slow reverence in his touch that made her heart turn over, stirring feelings she couldn’t afford to have yet. Not with so much uncertainty between them.
So she wrapped her arms around him and dragged him down to the bed with her, losing herself in a mind-drugging kiss. He covered her gently, keeping an elbow on the bed to ensure he didn’t put his full weight on her. But she wanted, needed, to feel the full impact of being with him. She kissed him harder and skimmed her leg up one side of his, snaking it around his thigh until she could roll him to the side and lie on top of him.
“You said you had a fantasy about having me here,” she reminded him, rubbing her cheek on his chest, soaking up the feel of him. “Straddling you.”
“The real thing surpasses it.” He captured her hands and held them on either side of his head.
To make sure he remembered it, she rolled her hips against him for emphasis.
He reversed their positions in an instant, flipping her to her back. His move surprised a giggle out of her. When his erection nudged between her thighs, she gripped his shoulders, fire rushing through her veins.
“Please.” She needed this. Him. “Come inside me.”
“Do you want to use protection? I have it, but—”
“We’re both clean.” They’d shared medical records for the sake of their child. She shrugged. “And I’m already pregnant. Let’s enjoy the benefits.”
The last words were muffled by his kiss before he licked his way down to her breast, drawing on the taut crest. She arched against him, wanting more. Everything.
He came inside her then, edging deeper. Deeper.
He lifted his head to watch her, his blue gaze fixed on her eyes. She bit her lip against a rush of pleasure so sweet it threatened to drag her under. She tingled everywhere, her pulse an erratic throb at her throat. Clamping her thighs around his waist, she let the sensations roll through her. Poised on the edge of an orgasm, she simply held on and let herself feel it all.
Jager. Pleasure. Passion.
When he reached between their bodies to tease a finger over the slick center of her, she went completely still. He felt so good. So. Impossibly. Good.
Her release rolled over her like a rogue wave, tossing her helplessly against the bed, having its way with her. She was so lost in her own pleasure that his almost took her by surprise. But his hoarse shout of completion let her know she wasn’t alone in the powerful throes of passion.