by Laura Taylor
She turned and darted in the direction of the kitchen door. Their dirty brunch dishes were still on the table when she burst into the kitchen. She rushed through the room and then down the long hallway, pausing briefly in each doorway she passed to peer inside. Although dirt and all manner of debris covered the furniture and rugs, and the area around each broken window appeared sodden with rainwater, the interior walls still looked structurally sound.
Dev caught up to her at the bottom of the staircase. "What’s the verdict?" he asked.
"Good, so far. It’s mostly cosmetic damage, and I can fix that with time and effort."
He followed her upstairs. Turning to her right, she headed down the second floor hallway. He moved into the hallway on the left. They met five minutes later on the staircase landing.
"Two rooms with shattered window glass," she told him.
"I spotted three with the windows blown out, and a whole lot of soggy wallpaper. It’s already starting to peel off the walls."
"And most of the bedding’s wet and dirty from the rain and flying debris."
He nodded. "Ditto on the rugs. The good news is that I haven’t seen any real structural damage."
"Me, either." She dashed up the flight of stairs that led to her private apartment on the third floor.
"Jessica!" he shouted after her, her abrupt behavior starting to wear on his nerves. "What’s your hurry?"
"I need to find something," she called out over her shoulder.
Dev climbed the stairs and then began an inspection of the other apartment on the third floor of the inn. He easily identified it as Monica Cleary’s private quarters. A collection of framed photos of Jessica’s late father hung askew on the walls of her sitting room, and several other photographs had fallen to the debris and glass littered floor of her bedroom.
Dev eventually found Jessica in the bedroom of her apartment. She stood with her back to him in front of a window that overlooked Willow Lake.
He approached her, the utter stillness of her body drawing his attention. Pausing beside her, he noticed the oddly detached expression on her face. He considered it far more disturbing than the shock and distress he’d witnessed earlier.
A shudder traveled through her before she bowed her head. Her thick dark hair fell forward to conceal her pale face.
"What’ve you got there?" he asked.
Instead of answering, she gave him a wary glance and pressed her hands protectively over the framed photograph.
Dev reached out to her, feeling frustrated and helpless as he pushed her hair away from her cheek with his fingertips. He cradled the side of her face with his broad palm. "You’re fighting your emotions. Cry if you need to, Jessie. There’s no shame in feeling bad about what’s happened."
Ducking free of his touch, she looked past him. Dev suddenly wondered if she even realized he was in the room with her when he saw the glazed look in her eyes. He thought she appeared ready to shatter into a thousand small pieces.
"I don’t have time to cry," she whispered.
"Let’s get out of here. Now, Jessica. I need to get back to Washington, anyway. Come with me. We’ll figure out what to do once you’ve had a chance to rest and decide what you really want."
She eased away from him. Holding the framed photo in a white–knuckled grip, she insisted, "This is my home. I’ll fix it so that it’s the way it was. I won’t give up, and I won’t fail. I’ve worked too hard."
Dev stepped closer, alarmed by her expression. His heart lurched in his chest when she backed away from him yet again. Struggling for patience, he finally found it. "Jessica, please listen to me."
"No. You listen to me, Devlin Mackenzie, just this once. This is my world. There’s nothing else. I have to make it whole again. It’s all I have."
Stunned by her words and by the despair that glistened in her tear–filled eyes, Dev watched the framed photo clasped against her breasts slip from her hands and crash to the floor.
Jessica gave it and then Dev a startled look. "I… never… faint." In slow motion, she crumpled sideways.
Dev caught her before she hit the floor. Half–kneeling, he gathered her into his arms. And he stared in disbelief at the photo taken of the two of them as they had toasted each other with champagne on the night they’d announced their engagement.
9
Carefully balancing the dinner tray he carried, Dev sat down on the side of Jessica’s bed. "Quit pretending you’re asleep. I know you’re awake."
She reluctantly opened her eyes and squinted at him.
"Feel better?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Cat got your tongue?"
She shrugged after pulling herself up against a mound of pillows. Mortified by her earlier behavior, which she recalled with total clarity, Jessica exhaled and glanced around her bedroom. She noticed the soft glow of light in the room from the lamp on her night table and the darkness beyond the windows.
Naked beneath the sheet, she tugged at the covers and then looked at Dev. He’d obviously undressed her after bearing witness to her floundering swan act. She smothered a groan, and she tried to overcome the urge to hide beneath the blankets and remain there until next month. She also wondered what had happened to the framed photograph she’d dropped, but she refused to ask.
"It’s on the bureau."
"Stop reading my mind," she ordered. "It’s not nice."
He smiled at her. "How about some food?" Without waiting for a reply, he shifted the tray onto her lap. "Soup, sandwiches, and soft drinks. That’s the best I could do for us on short notice."
She glanced down at the over abundance of food. "It looks… very filling."
"Glad you approve."
Jessica reached for a napkin, disconcerted that he felt compelled to treat her like an invalid. "Have you already eaten?" She hoped he’d want to share the oversized bowl of chicken noodle soup and the five thick ham and cheese sandwiches he’d made.
"Just waiting for an invitation."
"Consider yourself invited."
Dev reached for a napkin and a sandwich. Before biting into the ham and cheese, he said, "Try the soup. My mother claims it cures everything from the common cold to cramps. I don’t know about the latter, of course, but I’ve always suspected it’s the steam, not the soup itself, that clears out my sinuses."
More than a little wary of the self–satisfied expression on his face, she picked up a soup spoon. "Exactly how late is it?"
Dev glanced at his watch. "A little before midnight."
She looked horrified. "I’ve been asleep all day?"
"Suppressed tension or excessive stress will do that to a person, according to the doctor I spoke with."
She gave him a wide–eyed look. "What doctor?"
"Your neighbor. An old guy named Willoughby."
"He was here?" she squeaked in surprise.
"Yeah. He dropped in to see if you were alright. Said he knew Monica was out of town and that you were due back before she left. He was suspicious of me at first, but once I showed him my driver’s license and military i.d., he decided I could hang around. I had him look you over after you came around and announced your intention to sleep into the next century."
"I did no such thing."
"Of course, you did. You were embarrassed."
"Why would I have been embarrassed?" she muttered, hating that she’d made a fool of herself in front of him.
He reached for another sandwich. "Eat up, Jessica. Doc said he’d come by again tomorrow."
"Lovely. I suppose you know the man’s been retired from veterinary medicine for over twenty years." When Jessica saw his smile dim slightly, she felt good enough to down two spoonfuls of broth and noodles. "Any other visitors?"
"A fellow from the power company. The lines should be repaired by late tomorrow or the next day. As you can see," he said as he gestured in the direction of the lamp, "the generator’s working just fine. A truckload of phone company people from Little Rock stopped by when t
hey saw the downed power lines at the end of the driveway, but they weren’t optimistic about service being restored before the end of the week. I told them we weren’t in a hurry since we have my cell phone and chatting on the land line with the neighbors isn’t high on our priority list."
"You’ve been very busy," she huffed.
He grinned. "I also covered the broken windows with some sheets of plastic I found in Monica’s sewing room."
Irritated by his efficiency and his assumption, she snapped, "How do you know it’s not my sewing room?"
"I honestly can’t imagine you having the patience to sit still that long. Besides, you sewed a button on one of my uniform shirts once. It wasn’t a sight I’ll ever forget."
She sank back against the pillows. The soup sloshed. Dev kept smiling, even after she tossed her napkin at him. He caught it easily and lobbed it back at her.
"I appreciate everything you’ve done," she said, finally remembering her manners.
Dev gave her a surprised look, swallowed wrong, and almost choked on his ham and cheese. After chugging half a can of cola to wash down his food, his expression grew thoughtful. "You’re welcome. We need to clear the air, Jessie."
"Clear the air about what? It sounds like you’ve been busy running the entire world since I… fell asleep."
He snorted. "You mean since you keeled over?"
His expression no longer even vaguely pleasant, he moved the tray to a safe spot on the bedside table, jerked the covers away from her, and dragged her into his lap.
"Dev! I’m naked!"
"No shit! Now hold still." He subdued her flailing arms and legs. Seizing her chin, he forced her to look at him. "You scared the living hell out of me this morning," he barked, his temper flaring to life. "Do you think I’m going to sit still for another episode like that?"
She stiffened in his arms. "I’ll run my own life, thank you very much."
"And you’re doing a really great job of it, aren’t you?"
She struggled to free herself, but to no avail.
"Relax, Jessie. You’re not going anywhere."
"Stop this."
"Not until you accept the fact that we’re going to start sharing our lives as of right now."
"Like hell we are!" she exploded. "Go fly your blasted jets, and let me rebuild my resort in peace."
He closed his hands over her breasts.
Jessica bit back a moan of shock and desire as she glared at him. "You’re not playing fair."
"This isn’t a game." When she didn’t contradict him, he gentled his touch and smoothed his fingertips across her already distended nipples.
"Please…"
His gaze narrowed speculatively. "Please, what?"
Looking bewildered, she peered down at his hands, which still cupped her swollen breasts. The erotic sight caused sensations of pure pleasure to gush into her bloodstream.
He lowered his hands, but not before she felt the tremor of desire that shook his entire body. When she didn’t try to scramble free of him, he wrapped his arms around her.
"You look tired," she said.
"I am." He cleared his throat. "I spoke to your mother."
Jessica stared at him. "Next time, just dump a bucket of cold water over my head if you want to get my attention."
He grinned so boyishly, she almost chucked him under the chin. Almost. She thought he looked far too pleased with himself.
Some of the stiffness left her very naked limbs as she relaxed into his strength. "Keep talking. You called my mother," she prompted. "Why?"
"Yes, I called her. I didn’t think you wanted to ruin her vacation, but I also assumed you didn’t want her to worry when she heard the news about the tornadoes."
"The phone is out."
"Yes, it is. Welcome to the 21st century… I used my cell phone. You should have one, too."
"I do. I just keep misplacing it."
"Christ, woman, do not expect me to believe that Miss Organization could possibly misplace her cell phone."
"Alright, it’s in my Jeep… if I still have a Jeep."
"You still have a Jeep, but the garage collapsed around it. We’ll eventually rescue your cell phone and the Jeep."
Her thoughts shot back to Monica. "How did you know where she was?"
He frowned at her. "If you start forgetting things, Doc Willoughby said I’m supposed to get you to a hospital ASAP."
She pursed her lips, and then she remembered. "Her itinerary’s taped to the front of the refrigerator."
"Good girl."
Jessica lowered her head to his shoulder. She felt some of the tension ease out of him when she looped her arms around his neck. He stroked her back, his touch light and soothing, his anger gone as quickly as it had surfaced. She felt much of her own tension depart, too.
She loved his hands with their long, narrow fingers, and she melted inside whenever and however he touched her. She also savored his compassion, his tenderness, and the fierceness of his passion when they made love. She loved him—her warrior—and she hated the idea of living her life without him.
"I’ve never fainted before," she admitted in a voice that sounded vulnerable even to her.
"So you said just before you took a nose–dive." His hands drifted down her narrow back before he smoothed his fingertips over the silken skin of her bare hip. "Why did you keep the photograph?"
She stopped breathing for a long moment, but then she confessed, "I wanted to remember us when we were happy."
Easing backward so that she could see his expression, she studied the shadows of fatigue beneath his dark eyes and saw the caution that seemed to add gravity to his already hard features. With all of the humor now absent from his expression, she thought he looked profoundly sad. She realized that she felt as melancholy as he appeared.
His grip on her tightened. His eyes probed until she felt as though he intended to discover every secret she insisted on keeping.
Jessica looked away. "You meant for me to keep it, or you wouldn’t have sent it to me." Her gaze snagged on the framed photo in question.
"I guess I didn’t think you would."
"I didn’t leave you because I didn’t love you."
"But you still left me, Jessie. I deserve to know the real reason why, but not tonight. This isn’t the time for that particular conversation."
Wide–eyed and pale, she nodded. She knew she couldn’t put off telling him the complete truth, just as she realized he was right about this not being the right time for a difficult conversation. She would need all of her wits. At the moment, she felt as though the tornadoes had scattered every last one of her so–called wits across the entire county.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" Her voice was so faint, she unknowingly conveyed the anxiety she was attempting to conceal.
"If that’s what you want."
"It’s what I need, Dev."
He held her for a long while, his kisses gentle but consuming, his touch tender but also possessive.
Later, after they finished their meal, showered, and returned to her bed, she heard him say, "You’ve brought the color back into my world, Jessie. I believe in myself again. Even more important, I believe in us again."
She blinked back tears as he fell asleep, his strong arms encircling her, his muscular legs tangled with hers, and his capable hands curved over her breasts.
** ** **
Seated opposite each other at the kitchen table the following morning, Dev and Jessica discovered that their organizational instincts meshed as they decided exactly how to begin the process of dealing with the destructive impact of multiple tornadoes on the resort. They agreed that the clean–up phase couldn’t begin until they assembled a visual record for Jessica’s insurance company.
Armed with his cell phone camera and his iPad, Dev and Jessica worked as a team. They started with the interior of the inn, photographing blown–out windows, waterlogged furnishings, equally sodden rugs and bedding, and great swaths of peeling wallpaper.
While Dev inspected the attic for damage to the roof and leakage around the eaves, Jessica checked the ceilings of every room. They quickly confirmed the cosmetic rather than structural nature of the repairs that would be needed for the inn, but they agreed that the final determination should be made by an engineer.
They moved on to photographically record the exterior damage to the resort. Fortunately, Jessica had countless photographs that displayed the once pristine condition of the inn, the boat dock, boats, kayaks, storage sheds, and the eight small cottages that had once lined the edge of the lake, not to mention promotional literature that displayed the now missing fences and the once–welcoming front veranda of the inn.
As they stood in the kitchen several hours later, Dev hooked his arm around her shoulders and drew her into a loose embrace as he rested a hip against the counter. "How’re you feeling?"
"I’m hanging in there."
"Not too overwhelmed?"
She smiled up at him. "Oddly enough, no. Being busy is always the best medicine for me."
He leaned down and kissed her, a lingering kiss filled with passion and approval. "Being with you is the best medicine for what’s been troubling me."
Feeling relaxed, she grinned against his mouth and trailed the back of her hand down his chest, across his flat stomach, and over the bulge in his jeans. She felt him go utterly still against her hand when she curved her fingers over him, and she absorbed the pulsing strength of his sex through the snug fabric that barely contained him.
He gave her a look that absolutely incinerated her senses before he matched her boldness by slipping one hand beneath the pullover she wore and sliding the other one down between her thighs to intimately caress her. She groaned against his lips, aroused so quickly by his touch that she started to tremble.
"Are you cold, love?" he teased.
He made stabbing forays into the wet warmth of her mouth while also tantalizing her body and her senses with the very deliberate stroking of his fingers.
"Hot," she eventually murmured once their lips parted. "Very, very hot."
Releasing the snap of his jeans, she lowered the zipper and freed his sex. She touched and stroked and teased and delighted, determined to make him tremble with desires that only she could satisfy.