by Carol Caiton
Her arms tightened around his waist, then eased as she caressed his back. "Soon, Kyle."
He inhaled the fragrance of her shampoo, the scent of her skin, and wondered how in hell this little nineteen-year-old girl had him so tangled up.
"No more than a couple of weeks, honey. Just a couple of weeks." Because her last name needed to be Falkner before he could make love to her and he couldn't last any longer than that.
"I want you to meet my family," he said. He lowered her down so both feet stood flat on the concrete deck.
"In Philadelphia?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want to be married there?"
He thought about that for a minute. He had a lot of friends on the force, some who would drop everything and fly south if they knew he was getting married. Jessica, as far as he knew, only had Hannah. So it would be less of an ordeal if she came north.
"Would you be okay with that?" he asked.
"I'm sure Simon would give Hannah time away from work. And since he owns part of RUSH, he might be able to take time away too."
"Simon?"
"Yes. He's my friend."
"Your friend."
"Yes. I don't have any others yet. Except you. But I hope to."
What the hell could he say to that?
"Then I guess Simon's invited too."
"Thank you, Kyle." She smiled. "You can be most reasonable sometimes."
"Honey, I'm always reasonable. You'll figure that out soon enough." He slid an arm around her waist and started her back toward the house. "We should go back inside."
Halfway there he spotted two large male bodies at the sliding glass door.
"We have an audience," he told her.
Her arm around his waist tightened and she ducked her head.
"Jess." He pulled her to a stop. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about, okay?"
Her cheeks were flushed, making her eyes appear more blue than gray. "Kyle, what are you doing here? How do you know Michael Vassek?"
Her question caught him up short. He had twenty-nine years of history she knew nothing about. And the truth was, he knew only bits and pieces of her background. But he knew the essence of who she was. And she must feel the same way or she wouldn't have told him she loved him . . . some.
"Honey, I've known Michael all my life. In every way that matters, he's my brother."
"You grew up together? In Philadelphia?"
"Yes." They'd grown up together, saved one another's butts more times than he could remember, and had leaned on each other for survival. "I'm going to ask him to be my best man."
"And he's gonna accept," came a voice from the sliding door.
The screen slid open and Michael stepped outside, grinning. "I take it there's gonna be a wedding."
Kyle tucked Jessica into his side and started toward the house again. "Yeah, there's gonna be a wedding. How do you feel about a trip to Philly?"
Michael's grin widened. But Kyle caught the sudden faltering in his step.
Shit. He should have thought things through before telling Jessica he'd like to get married in Philly. As far as he knew, Michael hadn't set foot in Philadelphia for seventeen years.
"This is pretty short notice though," he said, providing an easy out. "So if Philly doesn't work for you, we'll get married in Florida."
Michael met his eyes and a lifetime of unspoken emotion flashed between them. Kyle's chest constricted with the fullness of it and Michael gave a short nod, as though understanding.
"Actually," Michael said, "Rachel's good to travel for another couple of months. So yeah, a trip to Philly would be okay if you're thinking sometime soon. Besides," he grinned, "I left something behind the last time I was up there. If it hasn't disappeared, I want it back."
Kyle frowned. Anything Michael left behind—if it was still there—would be buried inside a wall or under a floorboard in what was probably a crack house by now. These days, the old neighborhood was a hell of a lot more dangerous than it had been twenty years ago.
But he'd discuss that with Michael later. For now, he looked over at Simon.
"Jessica considers you one of her friends, so you're welcome to join us. My family's up in Philly," he explained," and there's plenty of room."
As an olive branch it was a damn big one. The asshole was always somewhere nearby one or both of the Breckenridge sisters and until Kyle had a chance to sit down with the guy and figure out where he was coming from, he was reserving judgment.
For reasons unknown, however, Simon took his peace offering. He stepped over the threshold and opened an arm to Jessica, which she stepped into, leaving Kyle to watch as the asshole gave her a hug.
"Congratulations, sweetheart."
Sweetheart?
"I wouldn't miss it."
Then he looked over her head, directly into Kyle's eyes and said, "But you're fired from Urns & Leaves. Effective immediately."
Okay . . . an olive branch in return. One that Kyle wasn't about to turn down, so he gave a quick nod of appreciation.
Jessica, however, pulled back and frowned with displeasure. "But I'm not married yet."
"That's just a formality as far as RUSH is concerned."
"And my membership?"
"If your membership is independent of your employment contract—"
"It is."
Simon sighed. "Then it stands until the day of the wedding."
"But not my job."
"No. Not your job. If there's an unattached woman waiting to fill your position, she'd be better suited to RUSH's objectives." He smiled down at her. "It's not personal, Jessica, just business."
Jessica scowled. "This is not a pleasant feeling, Simon. I've never been fired from anything before." Put out, she came back over to stand beside Kyle.
"It's got nothing to do with performance. If you want a reference, you'll get an excellent one."
"Hmmph." She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it and turned to look up at Kyle. "Will you please introduce me to Michael's wife now? I have a need for female company."
Michael grinned. "C'mon back inside. Rachel's in the kitchen putting out some food and stuff."
Kyle looked down at his watch. They should have been at the track five minutes ago.
"Don't worry about it," Michael said. "I already called and cancelled. We'll go another time."
CHAPTER 20
The thickness of the yellow clasp envelope Michael handed her as she and Kyle prepared to leave surprised not only her, but Kyle as well. It was, by far, the most comprehensive dossier ever delivered into her hands. Its weight alone told her this was so. And Michael's sober expression told her that what she held was a very private and extraordinarily thorough account of Kyle's life.
She looked up at Kyle. He was staring at the envelope and had grown as quiet and somber as Michael. The fact that he didn't reach for it said much, and it took only a few seconds to decide what to do.
She looked down at the package, shifted its bulkiness in her hands, then looked back up at Michael.
"If I ask you to shred this, will you do it? Tonight?"
The warmth that softened his eyes was unexpected and did a lot toward earning her friendship. This man cared deeply for Kyle. She may not have seen evidence of it until now, but the bond of his loyalty was unmistakable.
He held out his hand and she realized she'd gained his friendship as well. It was there in the blue of his eyes and the new acceptance she saw.
"You have my word on it," he said as she returned it into his keeping.
She smiled. "Whatever you charge for this service," she told him, "it isn't enough. I have experience with these things."
He returned the smile. "I'll take that into consideration."
Something, perhaps some elemental instinct, sent a small shiver through her. She knew suddenly that Michael Vassek had in his possession a very similar dossier on her. Perhaps because of his care for Kyle he'd performed just as thorough a search.
She held his ey
es, and in that moment, she knew she was right and that he had guessed her thoughts.
"If an envelope such as this exists with my name on it, I would appreciate its destruction as well," she said.
There wasn't so much as a blinking of his eyes. "You have nothing to worry about, Jessica."
It was neither a confirmation nor a denial. She'd have to accept that there was, indeed, nothing to worry about. So she nodded. "All right."
Rachel joined them then and Michael opened an arm to her. The lovely girl smiled, slid comfortably into his embrace, and leaned her head against his chest. Their devotion to one another was like an exchange of energies, Jessica thought, as though each gained strength from the presence of the other.
Goodbyes were said, and Simon told her he didn't mind driving back to Orlando alone. He and Michael had some things to discuss and the solitude would give him time to put things into perspective.
Jessica smiled. She knew he'd purposely made it easy for her to leave with Kyle. Simon was becoming a good friend and she hoped he meant it when he said he wouldn't miss her wedding.
Once inside Kyle's jeep, it was only a few minutes before she began to recognize where they were, but it wasn't long before she no longer recognized anything.
"Where are we going?"
Kyle released the gear shifter and reached for her hand. "To my place," he said. "I need you to myself for a while." He squeezed her fingers, then released her.
To his place.
At once she felt both excitement and reserve.
Away from the others, it began to settle inside her that she was going to be Kyle's wife. He'd asked her to marry him and she'd said yes. The memory of that moment—his eyes, his words—was a treasure she'd hold close for a very long time. Because he'd looked at her and told her what was in his heart. She'd seen his soul in his words and he'd said that losing her scared him. This man, strong and arrogant and surly and wonderful, had felt fear at the thought of losing her and she knew she was cherished in his heart.
When they arrived at his home, alone and without the presence of others, would he reach for her? Would he want to touch her again in places only he had touched? Should she allow it. Could she stop it?
"You've gone all quiet on me over there," he said. "What's on your mind?"
He steered the jeep into a subdivision of houses and she wondered where they were.
"Jess?"
"I'm wishing I had a mother who could advise me."
He didn't speak as he turned into the wide driveway of a single-storied house and shut off the engine. Then he looked at her. "Why do you need your mother's advice?"
If he had read a report such as the one Michael was able to compile, he would have scorned her desire to ask advice from a flamboyant and thoroughly promiscuous mother. So his question told her he'd neither requested such a dossier on her nor read one.
"I don't know the right and wrong of things now," she said. "We're going to be married, but I don't know if being alone with you is something I should discourage until then."
He was watching her, but he remained silent. Then he opened his door, got out, and walked around to open hers.
Unfastening her seatbelt, she turned and accepted his helping hand. But instead of letting go of her when she stood up, he put his hands on her waist.
"Do you trust me, Jess?"
"Yes, of course I do." Then she qualified that. "In most things."
"In most things," he said, smiling. "But you're not sure about being alone with me."
She shook her head.
"I said you wouldn't be a used bride."
"I remember."
"I won't break my word, honey. But I am going to make love to you tonight."
"Kyle—"
"Shhh." He lifted one hand a placed his fingers over her lips. "You're going to find out that you can trust me in this too. You won't be a used bride, honey."
She hesitated. Then she pressed her lips to his fingers, kissed them, and nodded.
The hand at her waist tightened. Then it slid down to the small of her back and gently pulled her close until her body was flush against his.
* * *
Kyle held her. He could do nothing about the hard-on that had been throbbing since the moment he asked her to marry him. So he smoothed his hand comfortingly over her back. He'd been careful at Michael's, careful not to embarrass her or frighten her. But the need that drove him was a vicious thing, both physical and emotional. He'd nearly lost her again and everything primal inside him demanded full possession. He needed to push inside her sweet untouched body and own it.
Yes, he was going to touch her. And a hell of a lot more. But he wouldn't break his word.
"Kyle?"
The apprehension in her voice pulled him under control.
He dragged in a breath and slid his hand back to her waist. "Come on," he said. "Let's go inside."
He kept her close as he guided her toward the door. He needed to touch her, to maintain physical contact. And he needed to feel her arm around his waist, returning that touch.
He slid his key into the lock and paused.
"When I moved here, I didn't know how long I'd be staying," he told her. "So I furnished the place with odds and ends. Second-hand furniture."
"I understand."
"No, honey, you don't. I'm telling you this because it's a bunch of junk. And because I want you to know I have money, Jess." He had money that had been gathering interest for a lot of years. Money she'd taught him to start looking at as a gift. A gift that would enable him to provide well for his wife.
He touched her chin with his thumb. "When we decide where we want to live, I'll buy us a house and I'll take you shopping for furniture."
She raised up on her toes, but he still had to bend his head for her kiss. When he straightened again, she said, "I'll look forward to it then."
He stared at her mouth. Her lips were soft and gently curved. "I need you, Jess."
She stared up into his eyes, but he knew she didn't understand. So he took a steadying breath, released her, and unlocked the door.
She followed him inside, silent, and he switched on the lamp beside the sofa, wondering what she'd think when she saw his shitty furniture. The apartment was clean, but the sofa cushions sagged, the coffee table sported a long scratch from center to far corner, and the fabric on the footstool was worn bare from the friction of too many rough-soled shoes.
"Kyle?"
Looking over his shoulder, he watched as she dropped her over-sized handbag to the floor. Then, oh baby, she started unbuttoning the little sun top she wore.
He straightened.
The single bulb in the lamp had a lot of area to cover, but it put out enough light for him to see the warm rush of color to her face.
"I'm not very good at this yet," she murmured, "but I hope . . . ."
Her words trailed off. She stared down at her fingers as though unbuttoning that little blouse was the most interesting thing she'd done all day.
But when she was finished, she didn't raise her eyes. The blouse hung open, her hands fell to her sides, and her breasts rose and fell with quick, unsteady breaths.
Apparently she understood more than he gave her credit for. But those jerky little gasps told him she was nervous, and maybe a little afraid. And that shy embarrassment, her willingness to give in spite of the uncertainty and fear . . . .
"Every minute, Jess," he whispered into the quiet. "I love you more every minute I'm with you."
He crossed the few steps that separated them and cupped her face with both hands. He knew they shook. He could feel the slight tremor. This combination of urgency and emotion was too strong.
She lifted her hands to his sides, then, eyes on his, moved one hand across to his stomach, then down.
"Tell me, Kyle," she breathed, "if I'm doing it wrong."
Wrong?
Her hand smoothed down over his zipper and fire roared through his veins.
Jesus!
He nudged his knee between her thighs, slipped his thumbs beneath the collar of her blouse, and slid it down her arms. He'd never needed a woman with such focused intensity in his life.
When the sleeves of her top caught on her wrists and pulled her hand away from his cock it was a painful relief.
"Put your hands around my neck, honey."
He dropped her blouse onto the floor and lifted her so she rode his thigh, her feminine heat rubbing against him with each step toward the bedroom.
Keeping her there, he lowered them both to the bed and freed one hand to unhook her bra and peel the cups away from her breasts. Damn, but she was beautiful. He stroked his thumb over a nipple and her whole body quivered.
Sucking in a breath, he yanked off his shirt and leaned over to brush his chest over her breasts, up, down, back, and forth, loving the feel of her dragging against his chest hair. He trailed his mouth down the side of her face, nuzzled her neck, and began working his way down one swollen globe.
"Kyle?" She caught her breath and held it.
That same thread of apprehension was in her voice again and he paused. "I won't break my word, Jess." He lifted his head to look down at her.
"I know. I'm just . . . . Kyle?"
His blood roared in his ears. "What is it, honey?"
"Kyle, you make me feel . . . things."
Christ, he sure hoped so.
But she was still nervous. Still frightened. He lifted a hand and caressed her jaw. "It's okay, Jess. What you feel . . . it's supposed to be that way."
"But it's so much."
"Yeah." He smiled. "I know it is. Close your eyes. Go on, close your eyes. I'm not going to do anything you'll regret. Just feel the pleasure."
A soft, broken sigh whispered across his chin and her lashes lowered.
If she was still this nervous and afraid, then he was way too focused on his own satisfaction. How the hell was he gonna last two weeks?