JACK'S CHRISTMAS MISSION

by Beverly Barton

  "I had learned to stand on my own two feet and I knew that I'd never be at the mercy of another man as long as I lived," she explained. "Not my father. Not Buck. Not some new man who might want to control me." Her gaze connected with Jack's and held fast. "I'm not willing to risk losing who I've become. Especially not for a short-lived affair with you."

  "Darling, you've got it wrong," he said. "I don't want to control you. All I want to do is love you."

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  Had she heard him right? Peggy Jo wondered. Had Jack said that he wanted to love her? He couldn't mean that in the truest sense of the word. Not love her, as in in love with her. He meant he wanted to have sex with her, right? Yes, that had to be it. Men usually didn't realize that, for many women, love and sex didn't mean the same thing. For Peggy Jo the two words belonged together, but they were not interchangeable. There was sex and then there was love. To her way of thinking sex and love went together, like bacon and eggs, like winter and cold, like a rhinestone-studded white jumpsuit and Elvis Presley. Sex was physical gratification. But love was more. Love encompassed more than the physical. Love involved the heart and the soul. Love was caring and giving, commitment and marriage and kids—and growing old together.

  "You mean you want to have sex with me."

  "Yeah, isn't that what I just said?" Jack looked at her hopefully.

  She heaved a sigh of relief. She could handle Jack putting the moves on her, couldn't she? All she had to do was keep reminding herself that if she succumbed to her own desire and gave Jack what he wanted, she would surrender more than just her body to him.

  "I thought we agreed to share war stories instead of giving in to our baser instincts." Peggy Jo turned halfway around, pulled one leg up and set her foot on the sofa cushion, then cupped her knee with her hands. "I've told you my sad tale, leaving out my usual humorous and sympathy-grabbing line that I've shared with my television audience on several occasions."

  "And just what would that line be?" he asked.

  "Oh, the one about the only thing worse than being a freckle-faced, redheaded stepchild was being a fat, freckle-faced redheaded stepchild."

  Jack chuckled. "The world isn't always kind, is it?" His good-natured smile melted away, replaced by a somber expression. "At best, children can hope they're lucky enough to have parents who'll protect them for as long as possible. But sometimes it's our parents who land the most deadly blows."

  She inspected him, noting the tension, the barely concealed anger. And the hurt. "So, you didn't have an Ozzie and Harriet childhood, either, huh?"

  "My old man was the best. We spent a lot of time together. He let me start helping him around the ranch as soon as I was big enough to sit in a saddle. I loved him and I loved being with him."

  "So, you grew up on a real ranch?"

  "Yeah, a big spread that my father had inherited from his father."

  "And do you still own the ranch? Have you kept it in the family?"

  "No, I don't still own the ranch." His voice held a cold, deadly edge. "My father left the ranch to my mother, thinking she'd keep it for me, but she sold it after he died, then shipped me off to military school and moved to Dallas with her new husband."

  Poor Jack. Did he, too, have a stepparent from hell? "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to be despised by a stepparent."

  "Oh, my stepfather wasn't the problem." Jack laughed, but there was no mirth, no sincerity in the sound. "Actually none of my stepfathers ever caused me a problem. They all liked me and I actually liked a couple of them. I felt sorry for all the unlucky saps."

  "Just how many stepfathers did you have?"

  "Four," Jack replied. "My mother buried two husbands and divorced three, and with each subsequent marriage, she got richer and richer. She started out with my father, who owned a big spread and a nice house and gave her everything he could afford and then some, but it was never enough. Husband number two was actually a millionaire businessman. She wound up with a nice divorce settlement from him.

  "It turned out that husband number three had some dirty little secrets and paid Libbie a ton of money to keep her mouth shut after their divorce. Husband number four was a bit smarter and made her sign a prenuptial agreement, but when they split after five years, he let her keep all her jewels and furs and the Dallas penthouse."

  "Your mother sounds like an old movie star, marrying and divorcing again and again."

  "Libbie liked to think of herself as a Dallas socialite, but until she married Orson Reid, she had never actually made it to the top. But old Orson, bless him, finally gave her everything she'd always wanted."

  "Which was?"

  "More money than she could spend in ten lifetimes and a position at the top of the social register."

  Peggy Jo had studied his expressions while he'd been talking about his mother's marriages. She had seen a myriad of emotions. Humor. Pity. Sympathy. But those feelings had been for his numerous stepfathers. Whenever he had referred specifically to his mother, there had been no warm emotions evident in either his facial expression or his voice.

  "You hated her, didn't you?"

  "Oh, yeah, darling, I hated her till the day she died."

  The whole time he'd been talking, he hadn't once made direct eye contact with Peggy Jo, but he did then, and his gaze pleaded with her for understanding.

  "Some people would think you're awful for saying such a thing about your mother, but I don't. A part of me hated my father as much as I loved him. I blamed him for so much of the bad in my life. But once I was able to stop hoping that he'd be a real father to me again, the hatred gradually went away and I was able to forgive him. We spoke on the phone from time to time, and he even drove to Chattanooga from Cleveland once a year for us to spend the day together. It was only an hour trip. We could have seen each other more often, but … Vernon McNair died several years ago, but my daddy died in my heart a long, long time before then."

  "I'm glad you were able to forgive your father before he died," Jack said. "Maybe it meant something to him. But you see, my mother never regretted anything she did. She didn't think she needed forgiveness for the horrible things she did, not even murder."

  "Murder?"

  Jack clenched his jaw. The pulse in his neck throbbed. Peggy Jo sensed the rage inside him. When she reached out and touched his arm, he flinched.

  "Yeah, she might as well have put a bullet in my father's heart. It would have saved him the trouble of putting one in his brain."

  Shadows created by the small fluorescent light over the sink played with the semidarkness in the den to create shadows. A hushed silence permeated the area as Peggy Jo sat beside Jack. She was speechless. He was all talked out. She curved her hand over his forearm and squeezed gently. When he didn't look at her, she wondered if it was because he couldn't.

  He cleared his throat loudly, swallowed hard and got to his feet. Without saying another word, he walked out of the den and into the kitchen, then stood at the back door and stared into the yard. Peggy Jo gave him a few minutes alone in the other room before she joined him. She chose not to speak as she went straight to the man whose pain had captured her heart in a way his charm never could have. Her only thought to comfort Jack, she slipped her arms around his waist, hugged him to her and laid her head on his back. That simple, consoling gesture told him what her words alone could never say. Slowly, almost as if he were fighting an inner battle, Jack turned to her, then grabbed her and held her close, burying his face against her shoulder.

  "Ah, darling, what is it about you?" he whispered the words against her neck as he lifted his head.

  "Jack, I—"

  He covered her mouth with his in a hungry, devouring action that took her breath away. She didn't even think about resisting. She couldn't have, even if she'd wanted to. Somehow they had connected on a deeply emotional basis while sharing stories of their pasts. Each had allowed the other brief glimpses into their souls and in doing so had shar
ed an intimacy as profound on a spiritual level as love-making was on physical level. It seemed only appropriate that one would lead to the other, that the physical would simply be an affirmation of the spiritual.

  She realized that Jack would probably laugh if she told him what she was thinking. He'd say something typically male, like "Darling, all I want is to get into your pants." But she knew better. And if he were completely honest with himself, he did, too.

  Peggy Jo had known, in her heart of hearts, that this day would come. Despite all her denials of never wanting another man in her life, of preferring to avoid the complications sexual relationships brought into a person's life, she had feared that someday some irresistible man would tempt her beyond reason. She had gone through years of therapy after her divorce from Buck, learning by slow degrees how to recover emotionally from having endured three and a half years of brutality from a man who had once vowed to love and cherish her. So, she was years beyond being ready for lovemaking. She usually didn't like to be touched, didn't really trust men enough to allow one the simple intimacy that seemed so natural and right with Jack. Her body ached with a need so desperate that she almost cried when his big hand slid inside her robe, covered her breast and kneaded softly.

  She whimpered with longing when he removed his mouth from hers, then kissed a trail across her jaw and down her neck. His mouth halted at the top button on her gown. He brought his hand up from her breast to undo every button, from neck to belly. With that accomplished, he eased the robe from her shoulders and it dropped to the floor behind her. His other hand clamped down on her hip and pulled her toward him. She drew in a deep breath when she felt his erection thrusting against her. Before she could do more than lay her hands on his chest, he rubbed himself against her, wordlessly asking her to separate her thighs so he could settle himself against her mound.

  Like a madwoman she grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and jerked it up to his armpits, revealing his hairy chest and stomach. When she tugged on the thin cotton garment, he released her long enough to lift his arms into the air to assist her in removing it. She flung the white T-shirt aside and placed her hands on his naked chest. He was a beautiful sight. Wide shoulders, muscular arms and thick swirls of dark brown hair covering his chest. She wanted to see all of him, every rock-hard inch. And she wanted to touch him everywhere.

  While she caressed his upper torso, familiarizing herself with his neck, shoulders, chest, belly and tiny male nipples, he spread apart her gown, just enough to reveal her left breast. He cupped and then lifted the full, soft globe and at the same time lowered his head until his lips met her breast. He flicked the nipple with the tip of his tongue and groaned deep in his throat. When fierce sucking replaced the tantalizing flicks, she cried out as her body vibrated with preparatory shock waves and moisture flooded her femininity. And all the while his other hand caressed her buttocks.

  Peggy Jo explored Jack's back, lovingly at first, then she raked her nails over his flesh, her actions those of a woman in need. He returned to her mouth, devouring, while he crushed her naked breast against his bare chest and pressed his arousal against the cradle of her thighs.

  When she reached out and slipped her fingers inside the fly of his pajama bottoms, he grabbed her hand and stilled it over his crotch. "Be very sure this is what you want," he told her. "Once you touch me, there won't be any going back. Do you understand?"

  She nodded, her breath quick and ragged with desire.

  "Say it," he demanded. "Tell me that you want me, so there'll be no doubts later that this was what you wanted."

  "I want you, Jack."

  That was all she had to say. He not only released her hand, but he shucked off his pajama bottoms and stood before her totally naked. She gasped at the sight of him. Big. Bold. And ready.

  "It's just sex, isn't it?" she asked, half-afraid he'd say yes and equally afraid he'd say no.

  "It's whatever you want it to be, darling."

  While her mind tried to control her sex-starved body long enough to make a rational decision, Jack walked her backward toward the den, his hands caressing her arms, his lips nipping at her neck. She bumped into the kitchen wall, which halted their return to the den. Jack pinned her there against the wall, then swept down to consume her mouth with his. He deepened the ravenous kiss when she parted her lips, invited him inside and put her own tongue into play. Heat spread through her like a wildfire, burning her from inside out. This sexual frenzy was an unknown element, one she had never before experienced. It was gloriously exhilarating and at the same time frightening in its intensity.

  When she realized that Jack felt what she felt, that uncontrollable desire dominated his actions just as it did hers, she should have been afraid of him, of all that raw, masculine power. But she wasn't. Because this was Jack. And Jack would never hurt her.

  He cursed softly as he shoved her gown up her leg until he could grab her naked buttocks with both hands and grind his sex against her. "You need a bed," he told her. "I should wait … but I want you now."

  Her body wept with need, begging for release, longing for a fulfillment that it somehow knew only Jack could provide. She grabbed his shoulders to keep her weak knees from buckling and gave herself over completely to the urgent, age-old message encoded in her female brain. This man was her mate. She must take him into her body and procreate.

  Procreate!

  Peggy Jo gasped. What was she thinking? She was on the verge of having unprotected sex with a man she'd known only a few days.

  "Jack!"

  His fingers slid up and inside her. She cried out with pure pleasure. "Ah, darling, you're so ready."

  "No, I'm not," she said breathlessly. "I mean, you're not … we're not."

  "You can't change your mind. Not now." He all but whimpered.

  "I haven't changed my mind. Not exactly. It's just … I'm not on the pill. And … and you don't have a—"

  "Damn!" He heaved a deep sigh. "Yeah, I do have something. Upstairs. In my duffel bag."

  "Oh"

  "Now, Peggy Jo, don't go getting the wrong idea," he said. "I do not make a habit of having sex with my female clients. It's just I'm the type of guy who is always prepared. I'm always careful to protect myself and the lady I'm with. It's just that tonight … with you … I got a little more carried away than usual."

  She shoved him, just enough to put some space between them, then she looked him over from head to … but her gaze never made it to his feet. It stopped on his erection. Merciful heavens, he was standing there in the middle of her kitchen, stark naked with an impressive arousal, and he seemed totally nonplussed by the fact. Obviously, he was a man quite comfortable with his own body.

  Peggy Jo burst into laughter. The situation somehow struck her as funny.

  "What the hell's the matter with you?" he asked. "Why are you laughing?"

  "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing about us."

  "Well, darling, I'm not in a laughing mood." He eased toward her, closing the minuscule gap between them. "I'm in the mood for loving." He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek and down her throat.

  She closed her eyes, savoring his touch. Where she had only recently shied away from a man's touch, she now longed for Jack's hands on her body.

  "Let's go up to my room." He indicated the direction with his head.

  She kissed his nose. "Don't you think you'd better put on your pajama bottoms first, just in case we wake Hetty when we go upstairs."

  He glanced down at his nakedness and chuckled. "Damn, woman, you've got me so hot and bothered that I'm not thinking straight."

  "Then it's a good thing I am." She adjusted her gown, covered her naked breast and redid several buttons.

  "You won't be, once I get you in my bed." Jack left her long enough to find his pajama bottoms and T-shirt. He put them on, then picked up her robe off the den floor and motioned to her. "Let's go."

  When she came to him, he draped the robe around her shoulders, then slid his arm aroun
d her waist and led her out of the den. They walked side by side up the wide stairs that creaked softly with each step they took.

  "Old houses creak and groan," she whispered. "Hetty and Wendy are used to the sounds. They won't wake up."

  He nodded but didn't slow his pace. He ushered her upstairs and into his room, then locked the door behind them. He took a long, hard look at her, trailing his gaze over every inch of her.

  "Would you take off your gown and let me look at you?" he asked.

  Oh, gee, I can't do this, Peggy Jo thought. He was asking an awful lot of her, to expose herself completely for his inspection. It wasn't that she was ashamed of her body or thought herself ugly. Counseling and years of struggling with self-esteem issues had convinced her that all the horrible, cruel things Buck had said to her and about her were unfounded. No, she wasn't slim and she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world, but men found her attractive. She could have had her pick of quite a few admirers.

  "You aren't getting shy on me now, are you, darling?"

  "You first, okay?"

  He grinned. That sinfully enticing grin that heated her blood. "No problem." He removed his T-shirt and pajamas and tossed them aside. Without the least bit of modesty and totally without embarrassment, he stood boldly, proudly before her.

  He's waiting for you, she reminded herself. "Turn the overhead light off first."

  He did as she requested, which left only the bedside lamp still burning. She knocked the robe from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His gaze met and locked with hers.

  "Shouldn't you get the … the … protection out of your duffel bag?" she asked.

  "Sure, I'll do it now, if that's what you want." He went straight to the closet, opened the door and reached inside to remove his bag. She listened but didn't watch while he unzipped the bag and rummaged around inside.