His Witness, Her Child

by Ann Voss Peterson

  His breath lodged in his throat. He watched, unable to move, unable to speak as she closed and locked the door and turned to face him.

  Arousal pooled in his groin. Arousal only she could inspire, and only she could satisfy. He wanted to go to her, to wrap her in his arms, but he couldn’t touch her. Not yet. He had to know why she was here. He had to hear the words. “Jacqueline?”

  She licked her lips. Her eyes shimmered in the night. “I need your arms around me.”

  “I can’t promise you anything. No future.”

  “I know. It doesn’t matter. I can spend all night staring at the ceiling and wishing for what can never be, or I can grab whatever you can give with both hands.” She opened the shirt and slid the starched fabric off her shoulders. The cotton skimmed over her legs as it dropped to the floor. The moonlight caressed the perfect round globes of her breasts, the flat expanse of her belly, the soft hair between her legs. “I need you, Dillon.”

  Flames of desire spread through him like unchecked wildfire. Want pulsed inside him like a life force. In one motion he threw the sheets back and stood. Then he was beside her. The cool air skimmed over his bare, heated skin. His need pressed against the cotton of his briefs. He reached out to touch her, to pull her to him, to wrap her in his embrace.

  Her skin was as soft as he’d imagined. Butter soft. Doeskin soft. He pulled her tight against his body, cradling her head like a precious gift. Hungrily he claimed her lips with his own.

  She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her fingers intertwined with his hair. She answered his need with her need, his want with her want. Her tongue tangled with his, danced with his, made love to his.

  He couldn’t get enough. He pulled her closer, tighter against him. Her full, soft breasts pushed against his bare chest, the sweet heat of her branding his flesh. He left her lips and trailed kisses down the satin column of her neck and over the delicate perfection of her collarbone. Her scent surrounded him, infused him. The clean, sweet fragrance of her flavored with the mellow tones of vanilla. He wanted to taste all of her. Feel all of her. Lose himself in her.

  He lowered her to the rumpled sheets of the bed. Standing, he drank in the sight of her bare skin against dark sheets. His gaze lingered over her, taking in each curve, each shadow. She was everything from his fantasies and more. Much more. Hunger blasted through him, powerful, relentless.

  Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, he pushed them down, over the straining bulge of his desire and down his legs, until he was free and naked before her.

  Fire lit her eyes. A secret smile graced her lips.

  He lowered himself to the bed and stretched out next to her, skin against skin. Gathering her in his arms, he touched his mouth to the mounds of her breasts. Capturing her nipple, he licked and teased and tasted.

  She moaned softly. Her fingers combed his scalp and tangled in his hair.

  Having savored one breast, he moved to the other, the nipple instantly pebbling under the flick of his tongue. He’d waited so long for this. To touch her, to feel her, to taste her. Tonight she was his, and he was hers. And nothing, not the police, not Swain, not even the constant demands of justice could take this moment away from them.

  He moved down the flat expanse of her belly, littering kisses all the way. He couldn’t get enough. When he reached her most private place, her quiet moans washed over him like the breaking tide, sweeping him into ecstasy.

  She arched into him. Her breathing crescendoed. He took her to the edge of the cliff, and then refused to let her go over, bringing her to the pinnacle again and again. He wanted to fill her need. He wanted to chase away the worry and fear that had haunted her eyes since he met her.

  If only for one night.

  Finally her release came, shuddering through her body in waves. He held her close, letting the delicious tremor of her body shake him.

  Her body stilled. Her breathing slowed.

  Need pulsing inside him, he slid beside her and looked into her eyes. He wanted to see her strength reflected in the blue pools as he entered her, filled her, loved her.

  She returned his gaze, her eyes clear, blissful and still so eager. Placing her hands on his chest, she pressed him back against the bed. “Relax. It’s my turn.”

  Relax. Easier said than done. Desire pounded through him. He gulped air.

  She moved down his chest, his stomach, her lips wet and warm, her hair trailing over his skin in chestnut wisps that whipped his blood.

  She moved down the trail of hair that bisected his stomach and over his surging need, her tongue flicking, feeding his passion.

  He clenched his teeth. It took every shred of willpower to keep from tipping into oblivion. He clutched her shoulders in desperate hands. “Jacqueline. Please.”

  She moved up his body and straddled him, her warm wetness making his need so acute, so painful, he could barely keep from rolling her onto her back and driving into her.

  Slowly she lowered herself over him and accepted him into her body. His breath escaped with a whoosh. He was inside her, joined to her in the way only lovers can join. Their bodies, their hearts, their souls melded together.

  If only for this moment.

  He circled her waist with his hands. She rose and fell over him, accepting the length of him deep inside her, the waves of passion building until he couldn’t hold out any longer. He felt her crest just as he did, soaring, shattering, splintering. The need inside him pouring out.

  And she accepted his need and matched it with her own.

  Chapter Fourteen

  If possible, Jacqueline was even more beautiful in the first rays of dawn. Dillon propped himself on an elbow in the bed beside her and watched the steady rise and fall of her breasts in the gentle light. Her eyelids fluttered and a soft smile skittered over her lips.

  Dreaming. Dillon smiled. He didn’t need to sleep in order to dream. His dream was right here in the circle of his arms.

  He glanced at the ancient clock radio sitting on the bedside table and willed the hands to move more slowly. He didn’t want this time to end. Didn’t want to awake to another day of struggling for justice. He was tired of the criminal justice system, tired of his crusade, tired of putting criminals behind bars only to have them out on the streets in a few short years causing more innocent people pain.

  He was bone tired, and he wanted to sleep. He wanted to dream forever.

  Jacqueline moaned softly beside him and her eyelids fluttered open. She looked up at Dillon, a smile spreading over her lips, ripe with remembered loving. “Good morning, cowboy.”

  “Good morning.” He lowered himself over her and kissed her, indulging in her taste, in the satin feel of her breasts pressed against his chest. How could he go back to a life without this? How could he never touch her, never kiss her, never bury himself inside her again?

  He pulled back from the kiss and peered into her eyes. So clear, so blue, so blissfully peaceful. If only he could keep her this way. In his bed. Happy. Loved.

  But he couldn’t. Soon he would have to turn his mind to Swain, to material witness warrants—to protecting the innocent and making the guilty pay. Soon the feel of Jacqueline’s skin would be only a sweet memory.

  He lowered his head to the pillow beside hers, savoring the closeness for a few extra moments. “I’ll have to go into town today to call Mylinski again. For what good it will do. The tavern where I used the phone last night won’t be open until noon.”

  He tried not to notice the bleakness that settled over her features, the little lines of worry that creased the bridge of her nose, the weight of reality that settled back on her shoulders like a yoke.

  A pain cramped the muscles in his neck and shoulders. He couldn’t change reality. Not for her or for himself. He forced himself to continue. “Other than that, there isn’t much I can do right now. We’ll just have to sit tight and—”

  She held a finger to his lips, halting the flow of his words.

  He
kissed her finger. Inhaling deeply, he drew in her scent. A scent he would remember for the rest of his life.

  She replaced her finger with her lips, kissing him firmly, hungrily. When she pulled back, the sadness in her eyes was almost unbearable. “Will you do something for me?”

  “Anything I can, darlin’,” he whispered, and he meant it. With every fiber of his being.

  “Will you pretend?”

  He looked at her in question.

  “Will you pretend that we do have a future? Just for a couple of days? For as long as we’re here at the cabin? You, me and Amanda. Can we all be happy, just for a little while?”

  Dillon’s throat tightened. Her request was so simple. So naked. How could he not comply? It was what he wanted, too, after all. What could a few days hurt? After that they would have a lifetime of regrets. She was offering him a shot at heaven. And he was going to take it.

  “Yes, we can pretend. It’ll be my pleasure.” He pulled her close and kissed her. Let the devil take tomorrow. He had all he wanted, all he needed, right now.

  “ARE YOU READY?”

  Buck Swain clenched the phone in his injured hand. A smile spread over his lips. “You found them?”

  “Almost. Reese made a call from a tavern along the Wisconsin River last night. One of the regulars at the bar confirmed that it was him. The area is being canvassed as we speak. Are you ready to move?”

  Swain glanced at his weapon. It lay in its case on the kitchen table. Cleaned, polished. Not just combat ready, but inspection ready, as well. His smile grew. He wished Reese could appreciate the trouble he’d gone to to ensure this kill would be picture-perfect. Too bad the lying SOB would be dead long before he had the chance. “I’m good to go. Just give me the location.”

  “MOMMY, LOOK WHAT I FOUND.” Amanda held a broad piece of bark in the air.

  “Wow. That’s a big piece, punkin.” She glanced at Dillon standing next to her and gave him a little smile. She wanted to take his hand in hers, to soak up his warmth like a sponge, but they had decided to keep their relationship merely friendly in front of Amanda. There would be time for touching tonight after she’d tucked her little girl safely under the covers. Then they could explore each other, savor each other, love each other.

  For what little time they had.

  She directed her mind back to Amanda. The night would be wonderful, but she would cherish the day, too, exploring the river, playing with Amanda on its twisting sandbars. She would drink in the moments like a precious elixir, experiencing both the days and nights to their fullest. She knelt next to Amanda and studied the chunk of bark in her little hands more closely. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I’m going to make a boat and float it down the river.”

  Dillon crouched, joining them on the moist sand. “That’s one great idea.”

  “First I have to get a guy to put in the boat.”

  Dillon crooked an eyebrow. “A guy?”

  Amanda nodded emphatically. “Like a person or animal.”

  He eyed the hunk of bark. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think a person or animal is going to fit in a boat that small.”

  Amanda rolled her eyes at Jacqueline and let out an exasperated sigh. “Not a real person or animal, silly. A guy.”

  Dillon nodded, duly corrected.

  Jacqueline stifled a laugh. Amanda had always had her own little imaginary world and her own vocabulary to go along with it.

  She glanced at Dillon. He looked so intent and serious. He might not know Amanda’s favorite terms, but he was willing to learn. A warm glow flowed down her spine and spread outward in waves, washing over her from head to toe.

  Dillon held up a hand. “Now let me see if I’ve got this straight. A guy is pretend.”

  “No.” Amanda propped a little fist on one hip, her voice taking on the instructional quality of a patient, if bossy, teacher. “A guy is just little. Like a little plastic elephant. Or one of my dollhouse people. Or something you make. I’m going to make a guy for this boat.”

  He nodded in understanding. “And what are you going to use to make your guy?”

  She raised her little shoulders in a shrug. “Don’t know yet.” She eyed the flat expanse of the sandbar, zeroing in on a tangle of scrub brush directly across the narrow river channel from the cabin. “Maybe sticks.”

  He stroked his chin in a thoughtful manner. “Sticks. Good idea.”

  Amanda gave him a serious look. “Yes, I thought so.” With a brief nod, she scampered off in search of guy-making materials, cradling the hunk of bark in one arm like a baby doll. The hood of her parka flopped up and down on her back as she ran.

  Jacqueline watched her go, a glow of gratitude filling her chest. Amanda had come so far in the past few days. This morning she’d even been brave enough to separate herself from Dorsey the Horsey. She’d decided to leave him home in the cabin for fear he’d get wet and sandy if he came on their adventure. She was bouncing back to her old self, right in front of Jacqueline’s eyes. Given time, Amanda might recover from what she’d witnessed. Children truly were resilient. Amazingly so.

  Dillon shifted next to her. His hand closed over her gloveless fingers, warm, strong. “It seems so long since the last time I touched you.”

  She didn’t even try to suppress her laugh. He had touched her while rowing Mylinski’s old fishing boat across the narrow backwater channel to the sandbar they now explored. While Amanda had been busy watching out for chunks of ice at the stern, he had kissed his fingertips and pressed them to Jacqueline’s lips. She squeezed his hand, reveling in the warmth, the texture of his skin, and tossed him a teasing smile. “I hate to break it to you, cowboy, but it’s only been ten minutes since you last touched me.”

  He returned her smile in kind. “Like I said, too long. Much too long.”

  A giddiness bubbled up inside her, an effervescence she’d never quite felt before.

  Flavors of last night swirled in her mind like complex wine. Her skin still burned this morning from the roughness of his beard stubble. Her thighs still ached from their lovemaking. It had been wonderful. Each moment delicious. And she wanted more. She wanted it to last forever.

  She shook thoughts of the future from her mind. There would be plenty of time to deal with reality. To deal with being alone again. To look back. To remember.

  Right now she had memories to make.

  She tilted her head and shot him a wicked smile. “Wait until I get hold of you tonight. You’ll get more touching than you can handle.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Is that a promise?”

  “No, it’s a threat.”

  His laugh boomed across the flat sandbar. “Now, that’s the kind of threat I can live with.”

  “You won’t be laughing tonight.”

  “Laughing? No, I guarantee I won’t be laughing.” His eyes smoldered with ideas of what he might be doing instead. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.

  A tingle shot up her arm and over her skin. A delicious promise of what was to come. “I can’t wait. But now we’d better catch up with Amanda. She’s probably had about enough exploring on her own by now.”

  “Mommy?” As if on cue, Amanda’s little voice drifted across the sand. She stood near the clump of scrub brush. The chunk of bark still in her hand, she bounced up and down in an impatient jig.

  “I’ll be right there, punkin.” Jacqueline cocked her head in the direction of her daughter. “What did I tell you?”

  Dillon nodded and withdrew his hand from hers. “I never doubted you.”

  Her hand felt cool at the absence of his touch. She fought the urge to throw herself into his arms. Tonight. She would snuggle in his strong arms tonight. She inhaled deeply, drawing the fresh, clean air into her lungs. Now she’d enjoy every giggle from Amanda’s lips, every secret smile from Dillon’s twinkling eyes. And she would dream about touching Dillon in the dark.

  “Mommy!”

  Jacqueline’s head sn
apped up. There was an urgency in her daughter’s voice. An edge of panic. Fear shot through her. She launched into a sprint.

  Dillon ran beside her. It didn’t take them long to reach the tangle of scrub brush. Amanda’s face was pale, her eyes round with terror. She clutched the hunk of bark like a shield, her little fingernails digging into the rough surface. “There’s a man at the cabin. I saw him.”

  “Drop to the sand. Now,” Dillon commanded.

  Jacqueline and Amanda did as he said, lying on their bellies in the cold, wet sand and snow. Jacqueline looped her arm over Amanda’s back to shield her from danger with her body. The sand’s chill pressed against her cheek and seeped through her parka. The chill of dread seeped into her being.

  Dillon crouched low next to them. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the revolver. He crept toward the edge of the clump of brush.

  “Be careful.” Jacqueline’s whisper wobbled with fear.

  He gave her a reassuring smile. “Damn straight.” Hunching low behind the naked branches, he circled the clump of brush and disappeared from sight.

  Jacqueline’s heart hammered in her chest. She tried to slow her breathing, but her lungs screamed for air. Under her arm, Amanda’s shoulders trembled. “It’s okay, baby. Dillon is going to find out who the man is. He’ll protect us.”

  Her little girl nodded, almost imperceptibly. “He’ll shoot the man, won’t he, Mommy? Dillon will shoot the man and kill him?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. If he’s a bad man, Dillon will shoot him. We’ll be safe.” She silently prayed that she’d be proven right.

  Seconds ticked by. Minutes.

  Finally Dillon circled back around the brush, walking fully upright. He swung his arms by his sides, the gun tucked safely out of sight. “It’s Mylinski. Everything’s okay.”

  Relief whooshed from Jacqueline’s lips on a stream of air. She sat up and helped her little girl up from the sand.

  Dillon smiled, a smile she could tell he’d meant to be comforting, reassuring. But the smile wasn’t the carefree, devil-may-care smile of a few minutes ago. His eyes were once again filled with worry.