Jake frowned. “No.”
Silence, intimidating in itself. Gordon kept watching Jake with eyes that did not blink. Blinking would have been considered a millisecond of vulnerability. His pointer finger tapped in time with a crystal clock on the wall.
“The owners have a problem with you vetoing their backup generators.”
Blood began to inch its way up Jake’s neck. He took a deep breath. “Their original design called for fuel-powered generators that would require nearly 150,000 liters of fuel stored in tanks within the building. Do I need to point out how unsafe that is?”
Something flickered in those black eyes. A spark to indicate the hunt had begun—and Jake was the quarry. Gordon sat down in his chair. Though the man barely moved, Jake felt as if he were being stalked.
“The owners want to be independent of the Northeast grid.” Gordon continued in a dispassionate voice, “They don’t want to suffer any blackout disasters. Those generators will ensure that everything’s business as usual when the rest of the city is left in darkness.”
Bullshit. Jake bit down the retort. “The concept of generators like that is archaic and hazardous. I’ve proposed an AC-load-management system that will be wired into the circuit breakers and monitor them for anything above peak use. If necessary, the breakers will automatically shut off, but in a fashion that will stabilize the electricity and prevent the whole system from going down.”
It was apparent in those gleaming eyes that his speech did little to alter the man’s opinion.
“It’s safer,” Jake said. “It’s efficient.”
“It’s not going to happen.” Gordon’s glinting head shook in negation. “The owners will not sign these papers.” His lips turned into a feral slash that spoiled his polished veneer. “I’m sorry, Mr. Grogan, you are no longer contracted to work on this project.”
It was as simple as that. Jake was young and still obstinate and righteous enough to ignore the fact that he had just lost a ton of money. After that meeting, Gordon’s power had been like a ripple effect, and it took Jake years to regain his reputation.
Was it so hard to imagine the man as being a criminal? A murderer? There was something he felt when he sat in that office—the sense that he was the prey in Gordon’s favorite pastime. Hunt and kill. But then again, it was long ago and Jake had surpassed the power of any one lawyer. His reputation stood strong, and owners now sought him out. He no longer had to vie for a contract. Gordon Fortran was an annoying memory that just now resurfaced.
If Gordon was truly on the hunt again, this time his prey was going to fight back.
The grandfather clock chimed three times. Three solemn peals that made Jake’s heart throb in an even cadence. Aside from the omnipresent wind, Wakefield House was unnaturally quiet and the invasion of the clock was enough to shock him from his reverie. The outside bulb poured uninterrupted across the front porch, though every now and then the light flickered as a strong lash of the Atlantic winds shook its mount.
He rose on stiff legs to approach the window. Beyond the light that basked over the rusted deck furniture, the night was an impenetrable barricade, a black hole into which the universe could collapse, leaving only this house on this cliff. He strained to look into that obscurity, but only his tense reflection peered back from the discolored glass. It was a troubling image. He was not ready to deal with his own reflection just yet.
A scream pierced the core of Wakefield House.
Jake was on the run before the aftershock shrieks ensued. Agile, despite cramped muscles, he hurdled the landing at the bottom of the staircase and took the steps three at a time. The dark was no longer a deterrent. Perhaps he wasn’t as adept with the layout of the house as Megan, but he was learning, and he reached her door just as the anxious cries reached their highest pitch.
Megan writhed in the blankets, not even realizing that the restraints in her dreams were of her own doing as the material wormed around her arms like shackles. She cried and twisted to be free.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered with despair.
He reached the edge of the bed, diligent enough to find the handgun and put it out of arm’s reach before he touched her. Gently, he laid his hand on Megan’s thigh, but her long legs were too busy pumping to even notice.
He whispered softly, “Megan.”
No response.
“Meg?”
Megan’s head twisted from side to side on the pillow.
“Margaret.”
In one artful lunge, her arm scooped beneath the mattress, but Jake was there first, touching her hand, and hauling her up against his chest. The embrace heightened her panic as he knew it would, but he also banked on the fact that she would sense him before her mind even registered what was happening. And so was the case. Megan gulped in deep breaths, and one of them must have caught his scent. She cried and strained, and ultimately collapsed against him.
“Dammit.” The curse was muffled against his shoulder. “Dammit, dammit,” she repeated with her hand in a fist near his neck.
“It’s okay,” he soothed.
“No it’s not,” Megan whispered into his collar. “Jake,” she rushed, her breath warm against his throat. “Don’t let me go.”
He realized that Megan had latched on to him, with every warm curve of her body fused to his like a second coat of skin.
“Not a chance.”
And in a sobering flash, Jake realized that there truly wasn’t a chance in the world he was going to let go. With this woman there was a need that ripped through him and it wasn’t physical. It was poignant and debilitating.
And he welcomed it.
“Never,” he repeated into her hair.
Megan’s arms linked behind his neck. His head dipped even farther until he touched her lips. He meant to whisper the word never against them, but the fevered brush of her mouth and the strangled cry of need deep in her throat undid him.
He kissed her with an urgency that turned him on, yet at the same time made him fear that everything habitual in his life had just changed.
“You are beautiful,” she whispered in awe.
Something akin to nausea struck him, although it was not all that unpleasant. To the contrary, he felt light-headed with a sense of belonging. Just a short time ago he couldn’t bear to look at his reflection—afraid of what he saw, afraid of what others saw. And now, this woman, this incredible woman, told him that he was beautiful.
“Why do you say that?” He took advantage of Megan’s segue down his neck to speak.
“Why beautiful? No one has ever called me beautiful.”
The subject matter was too crucial to him and he sat up, extracting himself from Megan’s embrace. She made a sound of protest, but her eyes immediately refocused and she propped herself back against the headboard, reaching out to touch his jaw.
“I’m still guessing that Gabrielle is your mother. And she must have been a special person. She bore a son with a heart that knows no prejudice. You accept me as I am.”
“I know prejudice.” He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but it was there. Megan’s words bore such irony as he had not yet told her of Crow Musgrave. He indeed knew prejudice if he was afraid to look in the mirror.
Undaunted by his agitation, she rubbed her thumb across his chin. “You should have left here. You should have left me. You should have called the police to report me, even if you convinced yourself that it was in your best interest. Yet, you accept me.”
“Maybe I just wanted to get some.”
The words did not rattle her as he hoped they would. Suddenly balance was shifting to a point that the nausea was returning.
“About the only male companionship I’ve had in a year are a couple of bold seagulls that landed on the back deck and nibbled at my bread.”
Jake snorted. “You have tasty bread.”
Megan did not react. She was serious when she said, “I don’t know you, Jake Grogan. And you don’t know me. And yet, here we are, seconds fro
m making love despite the fact that a maniac might be approaching. You can sit there and say it’s because you want some, but we both know something greater is happening here. You have become my hero. A man who charges through the dark hallways of this mausoleum to fight my demons when I scream in the night. A man who blindly takes on my battle and rigs up a security system with a toothpick and a tissue. A man who sits there and looks at me with eyes the color of sunlight over a cornfield.” A strangled sound came from her throat. “And you ask me how I can think you’re beautiful.”
Jake wrenched away. Maybe not physically, but his mind recoiled. He felt undeserving of the adoration. His own mother had not seen fit to keep him. He was not beautiful.
Still preoccupied, he didn’t even notice that Megan leaned forward and her lips gently touched his. He jerked back, but her hands came up to cup each side of his face and she swiped his lips again.
“Make me feel beautiful,” she whispered.
“Christ, you are.”
“Make me feel it, Jake.”
He should have denied her. He should have waited till clarity returned with the light of morning—but her hand was on his thigh and her lips were so close.
To hell with it all. To hell with his insecurity. To hell with her stalker. He could fuss and fight all he wanted, but that simple touch of her lips undid him.
Jake was a shock to her senses. Every time Megan was at her worst, gone astray in the depth of her nightmares, Jake was there to offer this erotic negation to her fear. The balance she strove for over the past year toppled backward—or was that Jake sliding her body back onto the mattress? More likely, she was dragging him down. Every thought was muddled under the spell of his kisses. He whispered incoherent words to console her, but Megan didn’t want consoling. She wanted fusion—his flesh, warm against hers.
“Please,” she begged without knowing how to form her request.
Jake knew though. He lifted off her on strong forearms and stayed balanced above, his hips nestled tight against hers. God, that hardness was something to make her cherish the night again.
“Meg, not like this.” He whispered hoarsely, “You’re afraid, I don’t want you to be afraid.”
Afraid? Yes. Afraid he would pull away. “I want you.” Did that husky voice really belong to her? “Jake, if it’s just now—please—”
In the dark, his silhouette was visible by the faint spill of light from the foyer downstairs. She couldn’t see his eyes. She wished she could. But every nuance of Jake’s breath, every hidden flex of muscle painted a portrait of a man who desired her. Not just the physical lure that was so blatant between them, but the hidden tenderness that spoke of something much greater.
“At this moment—” her tone rang of a clarity born from truth, “—I have never been less afraid in my life. Dammit, Jake, don’t make me beg.”
His deep chuckle tickled her body. In agonizing slowness, Jake crooked his arms and dropped close against her.
“You are—” he dipped his head and nipped at her neck, “—the hottest woman ever.”
Warm lips caressed her throat, dipping into her cleavage. He didn’t stop and kissed the fevered tip of her breast right through the thin cotton fabric. Megan’s breath rushed in.
“Oh.”
The coarse friction of Jake’s palm slipped under her top and sought what his mouth had just coveted. The sensation made her cry out again. Helplessly she struggled with the buttons on Jake’s shirt, and with a muffled sound of relief, Megan unfastened them all and her hands surged between the cotton flaps to touch his rugged male chest.
“You’re stunning,” she whispered in awe.
Jake chuckled again, and in one quick move, hoisted her tank top over her head, his hand in her hair as it spilled back onto the pillow.
“You can barely see me.”
“It’s not the way you look.” Megan tried to convey her point, though his kisses were making it difficult. “Which happens to be drop-dead gorgeous. It’s the way you make me feel.”
Jake felt the vise around his heart squeeze tighter. Ironically it was not all that unpleasant a sensation.
“I should say the same to you,” he managed, even though Megan’s probing hand had dipped beneath the waistband of his jeans.
Stubborn, she attacked the metal button.
“You’re determined, aren’t you?” he asked in a husky voice as her nimble fingers came away victorious.
“Very.”
Jake’s palm coursed down her bare torso and slipped beneath the fabric of her sweatpants. He sculpted the warm curve of her hip and cupped the firm arch of her bottom, using this grip to haul her on top of him. He soaked up the strong smell of citrus as he reached into her hair, cupping her head to still it for his kiss.
Willingly, Megan’s mouth opened and her soft breath infused him with warmth. Jake invaded that sanctuary and felt the tiny tremor of approval course through the body splayed across him. In search of every inch of exposed flesh, his hands left Megan’s hair and trailed down the arch of her spine, toying with the dimples at the base before he hooked the waistline of her sweats and dragged them to her knees. With one kick of her foot, they were off.
“You are much too beautiful to stay hidden in the dark,” Jake said thickly as he reached for the bedside lamp.
The light made Megan recoil, but his hand was on her face, cupping her cheek, soothing with the caress of his thumb.
“Easy,” he whispered.
He could now see every glorious inch of her. Legs that seemed to climb forever scissored between his. Megan twisted and writhed just as she had done in the mud, only this time he knew that it was only a matter of moments before he was inside her.
Wide black pupils nearly eclipsed the faint rim of azure in Megan’s eyes. She watched him in a seemingly drugged state until he saw the tip of her tongue reach out to brush her bottom lip. Jake reached behind her neck and dragged her mouth to his.
Forehead to forehead, he whispered against her lips. “We better talk about this,” he breathed. “I didn’t exactly come up here looking for—” Oh God, Megan’s tongue was on his throat, and across his collarbone with warm, misty swirls. Jake hooked his finger under her chin and gently lifted her head. Her dusky eyes basked over him in languorous sweeps. He looked at her lips, swollen and glossy, and didn’t think he’d ever grow tired of kissing them.
Jake cleared his throat. “I didn’t bring any protection.”
A brief flash of clarity returned to Megan’s eyes. She nodded and propped herself up on one arm, giving Jake a glorious view of the soft curves of her breasts. He wanted to taste them again.
“Well, I’m not exactly on any protection.” She half laughed. “Remember? Seagulls are my only companions.”
Jake tried to look wounded. “So anything must look appealing to you right now?”
“I have lost control, Jake.” Her voice hitched, negating the levity of his comment. “You have to stop me.”
Rain pattered against the glass. Jake’s fingertip slid from the fevered peak of one breast, down the length of her stomach and hesitated before reaching its goal. The path that finger took left a trail of goose bumps in its wake. He looked down at her and smiled.
“I’m going to touch you. There is no way I can stop touching you right now.” He drew in air to try and stabilize himself, and then finally nodded with conviction. “But I’m going to stop there until we can make sure we’re safe. If we were to make love right now—well, call me old-fashioned but I’m all about children being born from happy, stable couples.” He tried to chuckle to lighten the mood.
Megan reached up and touched his cheek. “I’m all about that too.” Soft fingers covered his and continued his original path. “As long as I get to reciprocate.”
Jake stooped to kiss her and whispered against her lips, “Of course.”
The shattering sound of the phone destroyed their pleasure.
Chapter Fourteen
Jake’s palm swept the nights
tand, his grip circling firmly around the barrel of the gun. Simultaneously, Megan’s hand rushed under the mattress and she cried out in shock when she came away empty.
“I’ve got it.” His voice was tight, but his free hand reached out to soothe her bare shoulder.
“Dammit,” Megan cried. “I can’t take it anymore, Jake. I—I can’t—”
The phone continued to blare, but he ignored it. There was enough light to see that Megan meant what she said. Her hands shook, and her eyes turned from a misty shade of passion to anxious shadows all in one chime.
Beneath his palm, he felt her tremble. Not the pulsing tremors of moments ago, but a chaotic, angst-ridden shudder. Chocolate hair tumbled over her shoulders as her chest heaved in mounting panic.
“I’m going to answer this.” He left no room for argument, but Megan’s eyes had gone wild and he suspected she heard nothing but that invasive ring.
He released his hold on her to yank the handset to his ear. He did not announce himself. Instead, he listened. At first he thought no one was there, but there was a suspicious weight to the silence on the other end, as if someone held their breath, as if they listened as intently as he.
The temptation was strong to shout, she’s not alone, you bastard, but then he would lose his advantage. Let Gordon show up here. Let him believe that Megan was alone.
Jake heard a quick intake of breath on the other end of the receiver, and then a deep voice whispered, “I’m coming, Margaret.”
And I’m waiting, Gordon.
Jake slammed the phone back down and reached for Megan. In his hand he still possessed the gun, but his free palm soothed down her back.
“Listen to me.” He waited to see if he broke through to her, but Megan’s worried glance darted to the phone, to the gun, and to the door in a hectic sweep of the room.
“Meg, listen to me.” Jake touched her chin and guided her eyes to his. He felt his heart clench at the mournful look on the face of the woman who had called him beautiful—the woman he loved.
“You are not alone,” he said, his thumb touching her cheek when she would have looked away. To arrest her attention he leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. He felt the instinctive jerk of her head, the attempt to retreat, but his hand was there. Jake kissed her again—a slow sensual sweep. It was his goal to captivate her, to take the worry from her eyes, to negate her fear with passion. He wanted Megan to see that they were in this together, but the kisses had a reverse effect, and he found himself under her influence.
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