Once Burned (Task Force Eagle)

by Vaughan, Susan

  She glared at herself in the mirror. I’m a grown woman, not some starry-eyed teenager. She could control her hormones. Even if he did heat up her daydreams. Was it his sexy good looks or his innate kindness or the way he didn’t back down from her smart mouth? All of the above. She heaved a sigh of frustration.

  When she heard a knock, she ran the brush through her hair and dashed down the stairs.

  “Hey,” Jake said when she opened the door.

  The sight of him in a charcoal T-shirt that clung to every muscle and soft, worn jeans that clung to his lean hips rippled warmth from her neck downward regardless of the cool night. “Hey, yourself.”

  He carried a zippered sports bag into the kitchen.

  She planted her hands on her hips. “I hope you’re not planning to spend the night.”

  Flames ignited in his eyes. One side of his mouth hiked up. The playful grin shot a jolt of longing into her chest—for the boy who used to be. “I might. If I was invited. Fog’s pretty thick out there.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. She never blushed, dammit. Maybe he’d attribute the color to makeup. “In your dreams, Wescott. What’s with the bag?”

  He shook it. Metal clanked against metal. “Tools, Cameron. You did buy those new locks we talked about?”

  “I may be stubborn but I’m not stupid.” She stepped aside and gestured at the plastic packages on the table.

  Dropping the bag with a thunk on the table, he snatched her hand and turned up the palm. The scabbed-over sores were dry and healing. “Hey, looking good. No bandages. Pain?”

  The feel of his big, rough hands on hers fizzed electricity across her arms. With great effort, she shrugged. “Not enough to mention.”

  When she tried to tug her hand away, he captured the other one and held her fast. The heat in his eyes nailed her feet to the floor. “Jake.”

  He grinned. “Lani. And you’d know pain, I expect.”

  She knew, all right. Intimately. The stinging aftermath of surgeries and skin transplants. The ache of treatments and physical therapy on her shoulder. And the ever-present pain of losing her sister.

  She remembered his leg wound. “You know pain too. Sometime you’ll have to tell me about that leg.”

  “Sometime. But you’ll have new scars to add to your collection.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a collection. Only the one.”

  “Two. This one.” He sleeked his big hand over the top of her head and around to the scar surgery hadn’t eradicated. A murmur of pleasure rumbled in his chest.

  “Jake, don’t—”

  “And the bigger scar inside.” He lowered his hand and flattened it against her upper chest where her heart was tripping over itself.

  Does he know about the other scar? No, he can’t possibly.

  She saw he intended to kiss her. She tore herself away from his gaze and turned her back. Only then did she realize he’d released her hands moments ago. “We agreed not to do this.”

  She heard the rasp of a zipper and the rattle of tools behind her. So he was getting to work. She sucked in a breath but wasn’t sure if she felt relief or disappointment.

  “You agreed. Said you needed to focus. I made lame excuses. But we have this attraction. Don’t try to deny it.”

  She rounded on him. “I’m not denying it, just focusing on what has to be done.”

  “Big whoop. As a reasonably intelligent adult, I can focus on more than one thing at a time. And you can’t? I heard women were big on multi-tasking.”

  What? He turned the tables without breaking a sweat. Was having a smart mouth contagious?

  “And...I bring blueberry pie.” He held up a square box from Donna’s Garden Stand.

  “Blueberry,” she whispered, in spite of herself. Her favorite flavor. How did he know?

  “Box’s a little dented from being in the bag.” His little-boy grin made her breath catch. “When we were kids, Donna used to sell pie by the slice, like pizza.”

  Her mouth watered. “I remember.”

  “Mom would send us boys on our bikes to buy vegetables. She’d always give us enough money for a slice of pie—apple or blueberry or chocolate. If we were lucky, the filling would still be warm. Hank usually didn’t let me tag along but he made sure I went with him to Donna’s. I could always talk her into adding a scoop of ice cream.”

  In spite of herself, she smiled, picturing Jake as the mischievous little brother who always worked being cute to his advantage. He’d learned his flirting skills early.

  He picked up the tool bag and the locks and ambled into the hallway. A left took him toward the front door.

  Just because he brought her food and just because he dazzled her with a smile, she couldn’t allow anything to come of whatever was zinging between them. His sensitivity and flashes of humor were cracking her defenses. She wanted him but didn’t see any way but to protect herself behind her usual defenses. And it wasn’t her he wanted anyway.

  Men didn’t stay when the going got tough. Especially with her.

  *****

  Jake squinted in the dim light over the back door leading to the attached barn, now a garage. He pushed up from his crouching position and dropped the screwdriver in his bag. Done. The last of the three rusty antique locks replaced. He checked both—door handle and deadbolt. Keys worked. He flipped the deadbolt. Secure. Window latches were better than he’d thought. And at least on the first floor, some worker bee doing maintenance had painted some of them shut. Damn secure.

  Unless her slimeball attacker broke the glass. Or knew how to pick locks. She was too isolated out here. He shook his head as he made the trek down the long back hallway.

  His thoughts detoured at the smell of coffee brewing. “Woman, you read my mind,” he said as he entered the kitchen. “Caffeine to keep me awake while we talk suspects.”

  “And blueberry pie. Thank you for this.” Smiling, she slid wedges onto two plates and set them on a wooden tray painted with pale blue flowers.

  He followed her to the living room. Always liked its comfortable feel. Only outlines on the wall remained of an array of family pictures. The wallpaper’s bright colors had faded but the welcome lingered.

  When they were settled on opposite ends of the cushy sofa, Lani poured the coffee.

  He forked in a mouthful. Buttery crust and sweet, wild Maine berries. Perfect. Just as he remembered. A look at Lani stopped him in mid-chew.

  Apparently she loved Donna’s pies as much as he did. More. Eyes closed. Beatific curve of lips as she chewed. Fierce hums of delight from her throat coursed heat through him. Blueberry goo dribbled from one corner of her mouth. She lapped it up with her tongue and caught him staring.

  Sparks shot from her eyes. “What? Pie on my face?”

  He cleared his throat. “Nice to see a beautiful woman enjoying her food. That’s all.”

  Eyeing him with suspicion, she set down her now empty plate. Did she think he was making fun of her? There was that uncertainty about herself again. Or distrust of him. Whatever, he liked that high color in her cheeks even if it was temper.

  “Hey, no big deal. Just enjoying the pie, enjoying your, um, pleasure, having fun. You have heard of fun?”

  Her mouth compressed and her shoulders shook. Lines fanned out from her eyes and a sputter like a broken faucet erupted into a rolling gust of laughter.

  Whew, he’d been worried she might toss the pie at him or toss him out on his ass.

  No dainty feminine titter, her hearty laugh was way sexier. The mirth that lighted her hazel eyes let the real woman come out to play. The only reason he didn’t pull her into his arms was the certainty it would shatter the light mood.

  When her mirth trailed off in raspy chuckle, she collapsed against the sofa cushion. “Oh, Jake, you’re right. I needed a little fun.”

  So did he, he realized, chuckling with her. “Honey, you need more than a little, but that laugh’ll do for starters. Good for the soul. Like Donna’s pie.”
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  She laughed again as she pulled a spiral-bound notebook from the table and opened it.

  He scooted closer to her and waited for her to call him on it. When she said nothing, he unzipped the folio pad he’d carried in the gym bag. “Looks like we’re open for business.”

  “I have only a few names on my list.”

  “I’ll make a copy of the fire report for you. Got a few names from that. I’ll take your names and get started right away.”

  She propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Excuse me. You’ll get started? I’m not sitting on my butt eating bonbons while you do your federal agent thing. We can divvy up the interviews, share information.”

  Jake’s jaw clenched. He knew she wouldn’t stay out of trouble. He pressed an index finger to her lips. “I meant I need your list so I can have my ATF contact start checking backgrounds. We agreed to do this together. But I won’t let you go out alone.”

  Because of the C-4’s probable connection to the Mexican cartel, Holt Donovan would be doubly thorough and quick with whatever he needed.

  As if removing a dead insect, she lifted his finger with her forefinger and thumb. Way to squash a guy’s ego. And his libido.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I doubt my sister’s girlfriends are dangerous. I’m having lunch with two of them tomorrow.”

  “You wouldn’t be with them every minute.”

  “They won’t tell me anything if you’re with me. Guaranteed.”

  The set of her chin said he wouldn’t win that argument. “Okay. But don’t go off on your own on any other interviews. You’re not The Closer. Even Brenda takes detectives with her.”

  She grinned at the analogy, then turned serious. “I know damned well how dangerous what I’m doing is, Jake. I’ll be careful.”

  He crossed mental fingers she meant it.

  They spent the next few minutes dividing up who would talk with whom. Jake took the guys they hung out with, including Kevin, although he was keeping that to himself for now. One he wondered about was Steve Quimby, who’d arrived at the poker game as the fire trucks had screamed down the peninsula. To keep Lani out of too much trouble, he made sure she’d see mostly Gail’s friends and Ava Warren. Gail had waited tables with Ava at the Eastward Inn that summer.

  “I talked to Mike Spear this morning.” She outlined her encounter with the marina store manager. “I didn’t trust he’d actually ask his wife, so I went to see Patti. Nothing, just as he said. Patti couldn’t remember Gail ever talking about guys.”

  He noted her suspicions. “You had good instincts there. Doesn’t mean Spear isn’t keeping something from you.” He was afraid he knew Spear’s secret about Gail but he’d wait for a check on the man before he warned Lani off a second chat. Or he’d talk to Spear.

  She glanced over her list. “Some other old friends don’t live here anymore. Some were summer people. None of them can be the one threatening me.” Her expression brightened, putting the gold glow back in her eyes. “It can’t be a person no longer in Dragon Harbor.”

  “Good point but he could’ve hired someone. There could be more than one person.”

  “Oh, great.” She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Mr. Ray O’Sunshine. Two killers.”

  “This is serious shit. Don’t let down your guard. My guy’ll do checks on absentees as well as locals.”

  “On Kevin too?” She glared at his open zipper pad, then stood and marched back to the kitchen with their plates.

  He followed in her wake. “You don’t miss much. Kevin too.”

  She plunked the plates into the sink with a clatter of china. “You didn’t mention him. Why’s his name on your list?”

  He really didn’t want to tell her. Temporizing, he tucked her hair behind one ear. “I can’t keep from wanting to touch you.”

  She leaned into his caress for a split second before her ire won out. Her brows drew together, crinkling the tender skin above her nose. He enjoyed rattling her. “Jake.”

  Shit, she wouldn’t be deterred. He lowered his hand but only to her shoulder. “I don’t know where he was that night. Not with you apparently.”

  “You’re right. He had to accompany his father to the hospital fundraiser. His mother had just had a chemotherapy treatment for her breast cancer. She wasn’t in shape to go. John Junior stayed with her. Figures Kevin would prefer to party. An opportunity to glad-hand, show how much they cared about sick people.” She huffed out a breath.

  Her snarky tone had him asking, “You doubt J.T. cared?”

  “Politicians. Who knows?” Her jaw worked and her tone turned thoughtful. “That was the last night we were happy.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Take your pick.” Her jab was tempered by the hurt in her eyes. “One look at me in the hospital with all the tubes and IVs and bandages turned Kevin pale as snow. Then it was adios, adieu, and ciao, baby. He added some bull about giving me space before he peeled out of the room like his shoes were jet powered. I wonder how he treated his mom a year later when she lay dying.”

  Hearing her tell it made Kevin’s actions worse. Appalling. Jake didn’t know what to say. He slipped an arm around her shoulders. Felt the shiver of her nerves under his hand but she let him draw her closer and then leaned into his embrace.

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “When you came a couple days later, you didn’t run from the Phantomette. You stayed. You talked to me about getting lost on Boston streets, about being back at college. Even left me a funny get-well card.”

  “You faker. I thought you were asleep or so drugged you didn’t know I was there.”

  “After Kevin, I wasn’t taking chances.”

  He started to say that Kevin had been young but couldn’t cut the guy slack on this one. “A lot of people can’t deal with people’s injuries. Especially people they care about.”

  “Like my father.” She pressed fingers to her mouth as if she hadn’t meant to speak the thought.

  His pulse jumped. “You said your parents divorced. What happened?”

  Her shoulders twitched in what she probably intended as a shrug of nonchalance but beneath his hands felt like anger. “He couldn’t handle it. All of it. Gail’s death. Seeing her in my face, even with bandages and scars. My surgeries, the long recovery. My parents fought constantly. He finally left.”

  Jake brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Maybe it wasn’t you or your recovery. Maybe your parents had their own problems.”

  She shook her head with vehemence. “They fought about Mom having no time for him. She was either at the hospital with me or tending me at home. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t blame myself. Dad wimped out.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No big deal. I’m over it.” She leaned her head against him, giving him a solid whiff of her hair, her flowery shampoo.

  “Honey, no one gets over parents’ divorce, like I won’t get over my dad’s death. You get used to it and move ahead one step at a time.”

  “How did you get to be so wise? Or is that wiseass?”

  “Can’t resist, can you? Neither can I—” He curled a finger in a strand and tugged so she’d look up. He made sure she was looking at him. “Lani.”

  Another tug on her hair brought her mouth to his. He settled his lips over hers, testing, until she parted to let him in. She tasted of blueberries and coffee. Defiance and courage and a burning spirit that blazed brighter than any fire. She answered his demands with equal hunger, drinking him in as if parched. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed against him.

  Lifting her onto the counter, he shuddered. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He savored the feel, the scent, the taste of her. His feelings for her went beyond sex. How could he ask her to trust him to keep her safe? His heart raced and he made himself back off.

  “You have your moves, don’t you, Wescott?” Her voice was husky.

  “So do you, Cameron. Objections?”

  “I don’t know what you want. Who you want.” The turbulence i
n her expressive eyes told of her warring emotions, her fears.

  “I don’t know why I said Gail’s name, but it’s you I want.” He couldn’t explain it to himself, so why should she believe him or trust him? Shit.

  She stared at him, as if wanting to believe, wanting to incinerate her doubts. Then she looped her arms around his neck and tangled her tongue with his. Wrapped her long, sexy legs around him and ground against him where he strained against his fly.

  When he slid his hand beneath her sweater and trailed his fingers over the smooth skin of her belly, she shifted to give him better access.

  “So soft,” he growled. “You feel like cream.”

  Unsnapping the front closure of her bra, he stroked the silken curves and budded nipples, moaned into her mouth at the feel of that exquisite flesh. His body thrummed. A rush swept through his blood, strong and deep, nothing like the slam-bam hook-ups that were his norm. Physical release but empty and unsatisfying. Only once had he ever felt like this. With Gail—a driving need, a burning to possess. In the darkened barn...

  But holding Lani obliterated his thoughts. She tangled his circuits, cracked his shell and made him long for completion. With her. Blanking out the world, he let the warmth and the feel of her fill his senses. Reality dissolved into feverish sensations and a rush of furnace heat that left them both gasping for breath when he finally pulled away.

  “I hope you’re not going to say you have to focus.” She scooted from the counter and twisted around to fix her bra. She pushed a hand through her hair.

  “Not me.” His chest heaved with the effort not to carry her to the sofa and continue what they’d begun. He could have her naked in sixty seconds. But with her, he wanted to take things slow. He needed her to be sure. Of herself. Of him. “Just didn’t want to exceed the speed limit.”

  “Cryptic but a lame excuse. I’m used to guys kicking me to the curb. If you don’t want me, just say so.”

  Before she could step away, he swung her around, clamping her against his arousal. He rotated his pelvis and thrust against her. “Lani, Lani, Lani, does that feel like I don’t want you?”

  She didn’t answer but tightened her mouth.