by Lori Foster
“Well, of course they do.” Appalled that she’d given him the wrong impression, Emily took her seat again, leaning forward to get his attention. “It’s just that they’ve got some pretty stringent notions about propriety. Their reputations, and the family name, mean a lot to them.”
“More than their son, evidently.” Then Judd shook his head. “No, Emily, don’t start defending them again. I really don’t give a damn what kind of parents you have. But it seems to me, if they’re willing to sweep the incident under the carpet, you should be, too. What can you hope to prove, anyway?”
This was the tricky part, trying to make him understand how important it was for John to see now, before it was too late, exactly what road he was choosing. She didn’t want to see the same disdain in Judd’s eyes when she mentioned her brother as he apparently felt for her parents. Why his opinion mattered to her, she didn’t know. But it did.
Keeping her voice low, she said, “John bought the gun, I think, because he wanted my parents’ attention. You’d have to understand how hard he tried to find his…niche. I remember last Christmas, John was crushed when my parents sent him a gift from Europe.” Her lips tilted in a vague smile. “It was a check, a substantial check, but still, it was only money. John sat in front of the stupid Christmas tree, seven feet high and professionally decorated, and he cried. I didn’t let him know I was there because I knew it would embarrass him.”
Judd looked down at his feet. “I never had a Christmas tree until Max took me in. It was only a spindly little thing, but I liked it. It beat the hell out of seeing my father passed out drunk in the front room where the Christmas tree should have been but wasn’t.”
“Oh, Judd.”
“Now, don’t start, Em. We’re talking about John, remember? I only mentioned that memory because I guess I always assumed people with money had a better holiday. I mean, more gifts, better food, a lot of cheer and all that.” He shook his head. “Shoots that theory all to hell, doesn’t it?”
“People usually think having money is wonderful, but that’s not always true. Sometimes…money spoils things. It can make people self-centered, maybe even neglectful. Because it’s so easy to do what you want, when you want, it’s easy to forget about the others who…might depend on you. It’s easy to forget that everyone can’t be bought, and money doesn’t solve every problem.”
Judd didn’t say a word, but his hand, so large and warm and rough, curled around her fingers and held on. Emily started, surprised at the gentleness of his touch, at how comforting it felt to make physical contact with him. She glanced up, and his eyes held hers. There was no more derision, and certainly no pity. Only understanding.
It was nearly her undoing.
“My…my brother, he’s a good kid, Judd, just a bit misguided. And though he’s trying to play it tough right now, he’s scared. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever look the same as he did before the accident. My parents keep assuring him they’ll find a good plastic surgeon to take care of everything, but he’s hurting. Not physically, but inside. He wanted my parents’ attention, but all he’s gained is their annoyance. They never once asked him why he bought the gun or how. They only complained about him doing something so stupid. And they made it clear, had he wanted a gun, they could have bought the finest hunting rifle available, and supplied him with lessons on how to handle it.”
“They missed the point entirely.”
Emily felt his deep voice wash over her, and she smiled. “Yes, they did.”
“Okay. So what will nailing the guy who sold him the gun prove to your brother?”
“That I love him. That I know what’s right and wrong, and that he knows it, too, if he’ll only open his eyes and realize that he is a good person, that he doesn’t need affirmation from anyone but himself.”
“Is that what you learned, honey? Do you understand your brother so well, because you’ve gone through the same thing?”
Emily forced a laugh and tried to pull her hand free, but Judd wouldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t let her look away, either. His gaze held her as securely as his fingers held her hand. “I’ve never felt the need to purchase a gun, Judd.”
“No, but you must have wanted approval from your family as much as your brother does. What did you do, Emily, to get them to notice you?”
She cleared her throat and tried to change the subject. “This is ridiculous. It doesn’t have anything to do with our deal.”
“To hell with the deal. What did you do, Em?”
Panic began to edge through her. Not for anything would she lay the humiliation she’d suffered out for him to see. Besides, she’d buried the memory deep. It was no longer a part of her. At least, she hoped it wasn’t.
“I’ve made my fair share of mistakes,” she told him. “But I’ve forgiven myself and gotten on with my life. That’s all any of us can do.” Once she said that, she came to her feet, knowing she had to do something, occupy herself somehow, or she’d become maudlin. A display of emotions wouldn’t serve her purpose.
But as she stood, so did Judd, and before she could move away, he had her tugged close. The morning whiskers on his jaw felt slightly abrasive, and arousing, as he brushed against her cheek. The warmth of his palms seeped through her dress to her back where he carefully stroked her in a comforting, soothing manner. She could smell his musky, male scent, and breathed deeply, filling herself with him, uncaring what had brought on this show of concern. It simply felt too good to have him hold her.
“You should always remember, Em, what a good person you are. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
His raspy tone sounded close to her ear, sending gooseflesh up her arms. And her emotions must have been closer to the surface than she’d wanted to admit, because she could feel the sting of tears behind her lids.
Not wanting Judd to know how he affected her, she hid her face in his shoulder and tried a laugh. It sounded a little wobbly, but it was the best she could produce. “You hardly know me, Judd. What makes you think I’m such a fine specimen of humanity?”
He rocked her from side to side, and she could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. “Are you kidding me? You’re obviously damn loyal since you’re willing to risk your pretty little neck for your brother, just to keep him on the right track. You’ve opened your property to the neighborhood kids, not caring that they might trample your flowers or muddy up your yard. And you told me you volunteer at the soup kitchen. I’ll bet you’ve got a whole group of charity organizations you donate to, don’t you?”
Emily squeezed herself closer, loving the solid feel of his chest against her cheek, the strength of his arms around her. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so safe. “I’m the one who benefits from the organizations. I’ve met so many really good, caring people, who just need a little help to get their lives straightened out. We talk, we laugh. Sometimes…I don’t know what I’d do without them.”
Judd groaned, and then his hand was beneath her chin, tilting her face up. Emily smiled, thinking he had a few more questions for her, when his mouth closed over hers and she couldn’t think at all.
Heat was her first impression. The added warmth seemed to be everything, touching her everywhere. She felt it in her toes as he lifted her to meet him better, to fit her more fully against him. She felt it in her breasts, pressed tight against his chest. And in her stomach, as the heat curled and expanded.
His mouth was firm, his tongue wet as he licked over her lips, insisting she open. When she did, he tasted her deeply, his hands coming up to hold her face still as he slanted his mouth over hers again and again.
Emily had never known such a kiss. She’d thought she’d experienced lust while she was engaged, but it had been nothing like this. She made a small sound of surprise, wanting the contact to go on forever—and suddenly Judd pulled away.
Emily grabbed the back of the chair to keep herself grounded. Judd stared at her, looking appalled and fascinated and…hungry. Oh, Lord, Emily, now you’ve reall
y done it.
She should have felt guilty for behaving so improperly, but all her mind kept repeating was, Let’s do it again. She shook her head at herself, dismissing that errant notion and trying to remember her purpose. Judd must have misunderstood, because he turned away.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Emily blinked several times. “I beg your pardon?”
Judd whirled to face her, once again furious. “I said, I’m sorry, dammit. I shouldn’t have done that. It won’t happen again.”
Oh, darn. “No, of course not. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been telling you all my problems and—”
“Shut up, Emily.”
She did, and stared at him, waiting to see what he would do, what he wanted her to do.
“Damn.” He snatched her close again, pressed another hard, entirely too quick kiss to her lips, then set her away. “I take it back. It probably will happen again. Hopefully, not for a while, but…I’m not making any promises. If you don’t want me ever to touch you, just say so, all right?”
Emily remained perfectly still, unwilling to take a chance that he might misunderstand her response if she moved. She prided herself on the fact she wasn’t a hypocrite. No, she wanted Judd, and she was thrilled beyond reason that he apparently wanted her, too. And since he held rather obvious scorn for her background—that of money and privilege—he wouldn’t expect her to play the part of the proper lady. No, Judd had already made it clear where his preferences lay. Any man who could strip for a living was obviously on the earthy side, primal and lusty and…her heart skipped two beats while she waited to see what he’d do next.
He laughed. It wasn’t a humorous laugh, but one of wonder and disbelief. “You’re something else, Emily, you know that? Here, sit down.” He loosened her death grip on the chair back and nudged her toward the seat. “Don’t go away. I’m going to shower and finish getting dressed, then we’ll make some plans, okay?”
She sat. She nodded. She felt ready to explode with anticipation.
Judd ruffled her hair, still shaking his head, and left the room.
HE MADE CERTAIN it was a cold shower, but the temperature of the water didn’t help to cool the heat of his body. Never could he remember being hit so hard. Holding her felt right, talking to her felt right. Hell, kissing her had been as right as it could get—bordering on blissful death.
He could only imagine how it would feel to…no. He’d better not imagine or he’d find himself right back in the shower.
How could one woman be so damn sweet? He’d have thought all that money and her parents’ attitudes would have soured her, but it hadn’t. Emily loved. She loved her brother, she loved the children in her neighborhood. She even loved the homeless who visited the kitchen where she volunteered. He’d heard it in her tone, seen it in her eyes.
God, she was killing him.
He had to stay objective, and that meant getting back to business. He finished dragging a comb through his damp hair and left the bathroom.
Emily hadn’t moved a single inch. And if he hadn’t already had a little taste of her, he’d believe her prissy pose, with her knees pressed tightly together, and her slim hands folded in her lap. Ha! What a facade. He dragged his eyes away from her wary gaze and began stuffing her thermos and empty dishes back into the basket. “You ready to go?”
“Ah…go where?”
He flicked an impatient glance her way. “To find your gun dealer. I thought we’d hit some of the local establishments. The pool hall, first. Then maybe the diner. And tonight, the bar.”
“Are you…dancing tonight?”
“No. I’ve got all weekend free. I only dance on Tuesdays and Thursdays, remember?” He noticed her sigh of relief and frowned at her. “But you will be there when I dance, Em. To pull this off, you’re going to have to be my biggest fan. Everyone will have to believe I’m yours. You can be as territorial as you like. Besides, I can use you as a smoke screen. If the ladies all believe I’m already spoken for, they might not be so persistent.”
Emily pursed her lips, her shoulders going a little straighter. “Are you certain that’s what you want? I don’t wish to interfere in your social life.”
“You know, Em, you don’t sound the least bit sincere.”
She looked totally flustered now, and it was all he could do not to laugh. “Come on, let’s get going.”
Holding her arm, a manner that felt as right as everything else he did with her, Judd hustled her down to the street and into his truck. He waited until she’d settled herself, then asked, “Did your brother mention what the guy who sold him the gun looked like?”
Emily shook her head. “He wasn’t in much condition to talk when I saw him last. I did get him to tell me where he’d bought it, though. But all he said about the man was that he’d grinned when he sold him the gun.”
Judd noticed she’d tucked her hands into fists again, and he reached over to entwine her fingers with his. “When was your brother hurt?”
“Not quite a month ago. I saw him right afterward and then my parents took him away as soon as the hospital allowed it. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
“So you have no idea how he’s doing?”
Emily turned away to stare out the side window. Her voice dropped to a low pitch, indicating her worry. “I’ve talked to him on the phone. He…he’s very depressed. Though my parents evidently refuse to believe it, the plastic surgeons have already done all they can. The worst of the scars have been minimized. But the burns from the backfire did some extensive damage to the underlying tissue around his upper cheek and temple. He claims his face still looks horrid, but I don’t believe it’s as bad as he thinks. He’s…he’s always been popular in school, especially with the girls. I guess he thinks his life is over. I tried to make him look on the positive side, that his eyesight wasn’t permanently damaged, but I don’t suppose he can see a bright side right now.”
Her voice broke, but Judd pretended he hadn’t heard. He instinctively knew she wouldn’t appreciate her loss of control. For such a small woman, she had an overabundance of pride and gumption, and he had no intention of denting it.
He squeezed her fingers again and kept his eyes focused on the road. “When will he be home again?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken with my parents.” She sent him a tilted smile. “They’re blaming me for this. They say I’m a bad influence on him.”
“You?” Judd couldn’t hide his surprise.
“I work with the underprivileged. I don’t own a single fur coat. And I live in an old house that constantly needs repair.”
“Your house? I thought your house was terrific.”
She seemed genuinely pleased by his praise. “Thank you. But the plumbing is dreadful. I’ve had almost everything replaced, but now the hot-water heater is about to go. Either the water is ice-cold, or so hot it could scald you. I thought my father would disown me when he burned his hand on the kitchen faucet. But even more than my house, my parents hate that I refuse to marry a man they approve of. They want me to ‘settle into my station in life.’” Emily laughed. “Doesn’t that sound ridiculous?”
“Settling down? Not really. I think you’d make a fantastic wife and mother.” Dead silence followed his claim, and Judd could have bitten his tongue in two. It was bad enough that he still yearned for a real family. But to say as much to Emily? She was probably worried, especially after that kiss he’d given her, that he might have designs on her.
He slanted a look her way, and noticed a bright blush on her cheeks. Trying to put her at ease, he said, “You look like a domestic little creature, Em. That’s all I meant.”
Those wide brown eyes of hers blinked, and then she started mumbling to herself. He couldn’t quite catch what she was saying. Judging from the tone, though, he probably wouldn’t want to hear it, anyway. He had the suspicion she was giving him a proper set-down—in her own, polite way.
Judd was contemplating her reaction, and the reason for it,
when they pulled up in front of the pool hall. It was still early, well before noon, so he didn’t expect the place to be overly crowded. Only the regulars would be there, the men who made shooting pool an active part of their livelihood.
Clayton Donner was one of those men.
Judd didn’t expect to see him here today, but he never knew when he might get lucky. And in the meantime, he’d find out a little more about Donner.
Emily was silent as he led her into the smoky interior. Unlike the lighting at the bar, it was bright here, and country music twanged from a jukebox in the far corner. Some of the men looked as if they’d been there all night and the low-hanging fluorescent lights added a gray cast to their skin. Others looked merely bored, and still others were intent on their game. But they all looked up at Emily. Judd could feel her uneasiness, but for the moment, he played his role and, other than put his arm around her shoulders to mark his claim, he paid her little attention.
Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he said, “Play along with me now. And remember, no matter what happens, don’t lose your cool.” Then he gave her a kiss on the cheek and a swat on the behind. “Get me a drink, will ya, honey?”
He gave a silent prayer she’d do as she was told, then sauntered over to the nearest table. “Hey, Frog. You been here all night?”
Frog, as his friends called him, had a croak for a voice, due to a chop to the larynx that had damaged his throat during a street fight. Frog didn’t croak now, though. He was too busy watching Emily as she made her way cautiously to the bar, careful not to touch anyone or anything.
Judd gave a feral grin. “That’s mine, Frog, so put your eyes back in your head.”
Frog grunted. “What the hell are you doing with her? She ain’t your type.”
Judd shrugged. “She’s rich. She’s my type.”
Frog thought that was hilarious, and was still laughing when Emily carried a glass of cola to Judd. He took a sip, then choked. Glaring in mock anger, Judd demanded, “What the hell is that?”
Emily raised her eyebrows, but didn’t look particularly intimidated by his tone. “A drink?”