by Imani King
“Shall we?” Jackson asks as a song with a slow beat issues from the speakers strategically placed around the old-fashioned room. He doesn’t wait for an agreement as he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me onto the polished hardwood floor, perfectly suited for dancing.
I lean close to him, with my cheek against his jacket. I close my eyes and let my body match his movements. The rhythm of the song is simple, and I have no trouble keeping up with him.
“Having fun?” he asks in a low voice.
“Um hmm.” I sigh. “I never thought Christmas could be like this. How’s the actual day?”
“It’s only the four of us. Mom likes to entertain, but she wants just family on Christmas.”
“What about tomorrow?”
Jackson takes time to dip me before answering. “The Murphys are having a party this year. A few other friends are too, but we accepted Jim and Celine’s invitation before the others arrived.”
I gnaw on my llower lip. “I don’t have another formal outfit.” The thought of braving the shops to find one didn’t appeal.
“Wear that gorgeous red sweater set.”
I look up at him. “You remember that?”
Jackson nods. “I remember wishing I could strip it off you. You have no idea how many of my fantasies that outfit fueled.”
I giggle and return my cheek to his chest. “You fantasized about me?”
“I still do,” he says bluntly. “I can’t wait to make love to you.”
I still don’t know how I can cope with making love with Jackson but I knew I had to try. My body wanted him, burned for him, ached for him. If only my mind would cooperate and stop reliving that last terrifying evening with Brad. I know I could give myself to him freely. My throat goes suddenly dry, and I avoid comment as the music stops. One of Jackson’s friends cuts in.
She catch Jackson’s eye from across the room and smile. He’s dancing with the young daughter of a manager at Reeves Worldwide. There is one other thing I have to freely give before I can let him go through with the wedding. I have to tell him the truth about who I am, and why I came to the ranch. I also have to find a way to tell him of the love I hold close in my heart. If he still wants me after he learns of my deception, I hope that confession will free me from the emotional and physical fears Brad had bound me with..
I frown as I see Jackson stiffen. My eyes follow his gaze, and I gasp when I see who stands in the doorway of the entertainment parlor. I stumble to a halt, knocking my partner off balance.
“Ms. Davis? Are you alright?”
I force my attention back to the man for a second, attempting to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, but I should check on the baby.” Without excusing myself, I push through the crowd of dancers to the side door. I exit into the hallway and detour down the hall to the staircase. My stomach burns for the first time in weeks, and she can taste acid at the back of my throat.
I run up the stairs as fast as she can and enter the nursery. I startle Lindsay who drops a book on the floor.
“Are you okay, Shawna?”
I take a deep breath. “I’m fine. Why don’t you go downstairs and get a plate of food? I’ll stay with the baby for a few minutes.”
Lindsay looks at the half-eaten plate resting on a table by the chair. “But—”
“Please,” I say more sharply than I have intended. I immediately level my voice. “I’m sorry. I just need a few minutes alone with Tamara.”
With a shrug, Lindsay gets out of the rocker. “I wouldn’t mind some dessert.”
“Fine then.” I give her a falsely bright smile as the girl walks past, managing to maintain it until she leaves the nursery. Then my face crumples, and I rush to the crib. I run my hands over Tamara, knowing that the baby is fine, but needing to reassure myself. I lift my sleeping daughter from the crib and heod her close.
Tears run from my cheeks and wet Tamara’s sleeper. The baby doesn’t stir as I squeeze her in a tight hug. I didn’t think I could ever let her go, but I know I must. It is only when I brush a kiss across her forehead and place her back in the crib that Tamara whimpers. “My precious, don’t forget me,” I whisper before turning away from the crib.
I go into the nanny’s room and lift the empty case down from the shelf. Placing it on the bed I begin tossing in clothes without paying attention. My only thoughts are of escaping the ranch before Jackson discovers the truth. I know I can’t take Tamara with me. It wouldn’t be fair to my daughter or Jackson. I owe my baby a better life than I could give her. I don’t want Tamara’s last memory of me to be her mother pinned under a police officer.
I close the case with a snap, not sure if I have packed everything I need, but there’s no time to double check. Within minutes, surely my deception will be exposed. If I was lucky, Jackson might wait until the guests left to throw me out. I have to be gone before he confronted me. I can’t let Brad involve the police to arrest me. I would never get a chance to redeem myself with Jackson if that happened. Nor would I ever see my daughter again.
I don’t take time to change from the Christmas dress as I lift the case from the bed. I hurry to the door, consumed with worry about how to escape the house without being seen. I know Jackson keeps a set of keys to the Prius in the garage. If I go down the side way, I only have to pass by the doorway of the entertaining parlor, which cuts down the chances of anyone seeing me. I could borrow the car until I get to the airport and leave it in short-term parking. I will call him later and try to explain. If he doesn’t listen, at least I can tell him where I left his car.
I am so focused on plotting an escape that I fail to realize someone is standing in front of me when I almost touch him reaching to open the door. It takes less than a second for me to recognize my visitor. My heart skips with fear, and I back away. My eyes search for Jackson, expecting him to be standing there too, but we are alone. Just the two of us.
Brad gives me a cold smile. “Going so soon, darling?”
36
Shawna
He steps into the room, forcing me back, and slams the door. “I’m hurt. You weren’t even going to say hello.”
The suitcase slips from my trembling fingers as I back away from him. Acid burns all the way up my esophagus, making my mouth and throat dry. I have to swallow several times before words will emerge. “Where’s Jackson?”
Brad shrugs as he takes a step closer. “Downstairs, I imagine. I saw you leave and followed you.”
I don’t ask why. I already know the answer. He would never let me be happy without him. “What do you want?”
He sighs. “I saw your pictures in the magazine. I was shocked to think you had pushed your way in here and pulled the wool over Jackson’s eyes. It’s not at all like you.” He takes another step closer.
I take two more steps back. “It wasn’t like that.”
He lifts a brow. “You didn’t seduce Jackson into letting you stay? Didn’t shove some sob story down his throat about how I separated you from the brat?”
I blinks in confusion. He doesn’t realize that Jackson doesn’t know I am Tamara’s mother? How could that be? The reporters called me the nanny, not the baby’s mother. How could he have missed that?
His eyes narrow when they fall on the ring. “I never would have thought he’d marry you. Why did you do this, Shawna?” he asks, his voice a whine. “He’s my brother. How do you think I feel?”
Anger causes my brown eyes to darken. “How you feel? I don’t care how you feel. You took my baby, and I did what I had to so I could be with her again.”
Brad seems to sag. “I knew it. You don’t really love him. You’re just using him.”
I hesitate, knowing it’s safer for Brad to believe that, but also knowing Jackson will be destroyed if he hears that version. “I didn’t say that.”
Brad’s mouth tightens. “What do you feel for my brother?”
“That’s between us.”
He stares at me for a long moment without speaking. “It doesn
’t make sense, you know. You aren’t his type at all. Anastasia was the kind of woman to please him, not someone like you.” He shakes his head. “He wouldn’t just open his house to the kind of woman I painted you to be.”
My throat grows as dry as the desert, and I find myself incapable of responding. I eye him nervously, almost seeing the wheels in his mind turning.
Brad’s head suddenly snaps up. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
“Wh—”
The smile on his face gains a sharp edge. “Jackson thinks you’re just the nanny. He wouldn’t marry you if he knew who you really are.”
“He knows everything.” I wince when my voice emerges as a high-pitched squeak.
He laughs. “You aren’t much of a liar, darling.” He takes another step closer to me.
I back up until my back hits the closet. My gaze sweeps around the immediate area, searching for a weapon. I find nothing as he closes the distance between us and presses his body against mine. I shove against him. “Get away from me.”
Brad grasps my hands at my sides and nuzzles my neck. “You don’t want him to know, obviously.”
“Tell him whatever you want,” I challenge. “It won’t change how we feel about each other.”
He lifts his head. A hint of anger creeps into his blue eyes, but he still sounds amused. “This could work for everyone.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“I bet you would do anything to make sure he doesn’t find out.” Brad keeps hold of my left hand as he uses his finger to touch my nipple. He squeezes the hand when I try to pull away, not stopping until I whimper. “I promise not to tell—”
“Liar,” I spit at him.
He releases my wrist and clamps his hand over my mouth. “If you do what I ask.”
I stare up at him with wide, frightened eyes. I wince as the burning in my stomach intensifies.
“It’s been so long, Shawna.” He presses himself closer to me, pinning my arms, before he brings his other hand up to my hip. “I want to take you to bed.”
I try to respond, but can’t with his hand in the way. When he cups my cheek, I say, “I wouldn’t let you touch me for anything.”
He pulls lightly on my hair. “I won’t ask again.”
“You never asked,” I say, barely restraining my anger. “You thought it was your right to take anything you wanted.”
Brad sighs. “Do we always have to fight? Stop being so stubborn, and we’ll both get what we want.”
I shake my head. “I don’t trust you. You would never let me be happy with Jackson and Tamara.”
All traces of amusement disappear from his expression. “You’re right, but you’ll get a little more time with them if you give in. I won’t tell him.”
“You will.”
Brad shrugs. “I might not.”
I glare at him. “I don’t believe you. The minute you finished, you would be off to find him.”
Brad scowls. “I promise not to tell him for a few hours. All I want in return is a few hours with you.” He runs his thumb lightly across her lip.
I bite down on the digit as hard as I can, until he is cursing and trying to pull away. I grimace as he slaps me, but don’t let go. I don’t release my hold until his palm connects with my jaw. It feels like my teeth rattle, and I am forced to let go. I turn my head to spit out the coppery taste of blood.
His eyes burn black with rage when he lifts me in his arms. I kick out at him, biting back a scream as he drops me on the bed. It’s only the knowledge that the baby—and possibly Lindsay—is in the next room that keeps me from crying out. I can’t drag the teenager into this, and I don’t want to upset Tamara. Nor do I want a house full of guests learning the truth right along with Jackson.
When Brad tries to climb on top of me, I roll away. He lands on my leg as I drop onto the floor and try to pull away from him. I sob with fear and anger, but I am determined that he won’t touch me.
Brad pushes up the skirt of the dress to touch my thigh. “Sexy,” he says, running his hand across the slip. “I remember how you hated to dress that way for me.”
“Only because you showed me off and put me on display in front of your friends,” I retort as I twist onto my buttocks and kick out with my free leg. The heel of my shoe catches him in the arm and a savage smile slashes across my face when he curses. “You didn’t care about me. You only cared that I made others envy you.”
He grins down at me. “You certainly did. All of my friends wanted you, but I wouldn’t give them a chance to be alone with you.” He grimaces. “I don’t like to share.” Brad’s hand continues to move upward to my lacy white briefs. “You were mine first. I’ll be damned if I let Jackson have you.”
With a surge of strength, I pull my leg from his grasp before his hand gets past mid-thigh. I scoot away from him, putting several feet between us before I stand up. I could sob with relief when I hear a knock on the door. “Yes?” I know my voice is shaky, but try to gain control.
“Shawna? Are you okay?” Jackson asks. “Lindsay said you wanted a few minutes alone. She’s waiting outside to see if she can come back in.”
I bite hard on my lip until my shaking subsides. “I’m fine. Just a minute.” I shoot a look at Brad, who lounges on my bed with an aura of cool self-assurance. Only his bleeding thumb gives any indication that he isn’t in complete control. I pause to restore order to my hair before running to the door. I open it and hurl myself into Jackson’s arms before I slam the door shut.
He touches my hot cheek, frowning down at me. “Are you okay?”
“A headache,” I say, trying to sound casual. I put my arm through his as I walk with him out of the nursery.
He continues to frown. “You look disheveled. What—”
“I laid down for a few minutes,” I say quickly. “Do I look too disheveled?”
“Of course not.”
We pass Lindsay, and I force a smile, wondering how Brad will leave my room without the girl seeing. I swallow heavily, wondering if he will leave. Will he just lie in wait for me to return?
I walk down the stairs with Jackson, waiting for him to mention his brother’s surprise arrival. He remains silent, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or to worry. Has Brad already gotten to Jackson? No, that can’t be, or he wouldn’t be so caring and considerate. He would have barged his way into the room to personally throw me out of the house.
When we reenter the fray, I try to keep a smile on my face and a pleasant tone for the visitors. It is a relief to shepherd the last one out more than an hour later, but then I realize I have no reason not to return to my room. I knew I couldn’t make myself face Brad again, so I frantically search my mind for a solution.
Jackson yawns. “Over for another year.”
Lillian nods. She looks as if she is running on her last reserve of energy. Yet, a sparkle in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks indicates she had enjoyed the evening. “What did you think, Shawna?”
“It was wonderful.” I try to inject a note of enthusiasm into my voice, knowing how much Lillian wanted me to enjoy the party. I had, until Brad’s appearance. I lean forward and kiss the other woman’s lightly wrinkled cheek. “Thank you so much for letting me share this with your family.”
Lillian hugs me. “Our family,” she corrects, casting an eye around the room. “The cleaning crew I hired will deal with all of this in the morning.” She yawns. “I’m going to bed.”
“So am I,” Jackson says. He puts his arm around his mother’s shoulders in the guise of affection. We all know it’s actually to offer extra support.
I trail behind them up the stairs. I pause outside the nursery as they continue on. Once they enter Lillian’s room, I bite my lip. I don’t want to go in the room. I’m not up to dealing with Brad. Lindsay had brought a sleeping bag to stay all night in case the party ran late, so the baby wouldn’t be left alone. I can sleep in one of the guest rooms.
My eyes fall on the door to Jackson’s ro
om, and I walk to it before I can change my mind. I have to tell him everything before Brad gets to him and makes me sound so much worse.
I close the door behind me and flick on the light. His room is as masculine as Jackson himself, with hardwood floors, a rustic timber head and footboard set for the king-size bed, a sturdy recliner by the stone fireplace, and a thick fur rug in shades of gray and white spread before the fire. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for him to arrive. My stomach churns with nausea as I wait, dreading the confrontation.
I try imagining his worst reactions to my confession to take away some of my fears, but that doesn’t help. It serves only to exacerbate my dread. I’m so deeply immersed in my thoughts that the opening of the door makes me jump.
Jackson pauses when he sees me sitting on his bed. He has a frown on his face. “Shawna? Is something wrong?”
I shake my head and clear my throat. “I have to tell you something.”
He closes the door behind him and comes farther into the room. He unbuttons the jacket and hangs it over the mirror on his way to the bed. Then he sits beside me and lifts my hand. “What is it? You haven’t been yourself for the last couple of hours.”
Tears threaten to fall at the concern in his voice. I can’t help wondering what he will sound like in a few minutes. “I’ve lied to you,” I say in a shaky whisper. He doesn’t say anything, and I peek at him from under the veil of my lashes. His concerned expression hasn’t faltered. “Did you hear me? I lied to you.”
Jackson looks calm. “About what?”
Confusion fills me. How could he be so unemotional at my confession? Maybe because he hasn’t heard the worst of it yet. “I’m not really a photography student. I’ve never even been to college, except one semester at Topeka Tech.”
He nods. “Go on.”
I blink. “Go on? I’ve been taking care of your niece for more than a month, and that’s all you can say?”