by Susan Conley
“Well, I told you to do it.”
“Exactly.” She watched his eyes narrow.
Jack stood very still. “Look, Abby, I’m through arguing with you.”
She snatched up her leather bag from the corner and began packing her cosmetics. “I’d like to keep my breakables in one piece,” she arched one brow, “that is, if you don’t mind.”
Jack shrugged. “Be my guest. But get the lead out.”
“Just back off,” she warned over one shoulder, “I said I’m going with you. Don’t push it.”
He jammed both fists into his pants pockets. How on earth could getting one woman out of a hotel room be so difficult? He should have gone with his gut instinct and just yelled fire. A twisted smile quirked his lips.
As Jack stepped back and watched Abby gather the last of her belongings, he couldn’t help but notice how pale her cheeks had become. Unshed tears had welled up in her eyes. Her hands were shaking so badly she fumbled as she jammed the bag full of bottles and containers. His grin faded.
That was his undoing. He could handle her strength. He could go head-to-head with her stubbornness. But, what in God’s name was he supposed to do when she looked so defenseless?
Dammit, he had always tried to protect her, keep her safe.
Always?
Where the hell had that come from? His vision? Or mind flash? Or whatever the hell you called it? The hanging at Gallows Hill flashed through his mind and just as quickly he pushed aside the disturbing scene. He hadn’t known this woman more than a couple of days, so she couldn’t possibly have anything to do with that. Regardless, from the look on her face, whatever protection he had offered hadn’t been enough.
Then or now.
When, his mind ranted? When exactly was then? Never, he insisted. They were strangers — period. Regardless, she was in over her head, and he had to help her get to the bottom of whatever was going on. Had he tried, even once, to understand how scared she must be? Hell, no. He’d just bullied his way into her room and ordered her to pack.
“Abby, we need to talk,” he began, then stopped. There she stood, wide-eyed and innocent, expecting him to say something, anything … except that someone had tried to kill her. He cleared his throat and looked away. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to discuss this here.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go home.”
Abby took one deep breath and gave Jack’s hand a squeeze. “Let’s go.”
Jack didn’t say a word, and the quiet ride gave Abby a chance to think. What concerned her now was the reason for his visible edginess. Hard lines creased his forehead. The tenseness in his jaw betrayed deep frustration. Determination cast a harsh shadow across his features. Was it possible his expression mirrored the same turmoil that churned inside her? Not much consolation there.
As they pulled into the driveway, Jack parked and took her bags to the loft. He heard the soft music Abby had turned on before he saw her curled up in his favorite chair, eyes closed and feet propped up on the coffee table. He scraped a hand over his day-old beard and cleared his throat. “I’m going to jump in the shower, then we’ll talk.”
Abby looked up and offered a shaky grin. “Okay, want me to make some coffee?”
Jack returned her smile. Just having her here made him feel so much better. And from the look on her face, he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. “Sounds good.”
The early morning sun stenciled a warm pattern across the dining room table. Abby leaned back, drawing comfort from a strange sense of familiarity. Without a second thought, she’d gone straight to the coffee canister, knew right where the sugar was kept, and filled Shadow’s dish with dry cat food. He purred his utmost appreciation before cuddling up under the table next to her feet.
When Jack walked into the room, she merely stared. The shower had washed away his tension. The grim lines around his mouth had vanished and the creases across his forehead were gone. He eased into the chair beside her, smelling of spicy after-shave and shampoo.
“Feel better?” she asked, fascinated by the way his damp hair curled on the neck of his sweater.
“Much.”
“Me next,” she said, heading for the bathroom.
He drank the coffee and tried to organize his thoughts while she was in the shower. Unfortunately, a weird sense of urgency nagged at his consciousness, picked at his psyche and undercut his concentration.
Jack’s logical, legal mind wanted to dissect the irrational decision he had made on the way home. He had offered to take Abby to the Halloween Ball, but it made no sense. One of them was definitely in danger, so the last thing they needed to do was show up at such a high profile event. The thought was ludicrous, and the timing was ridiculous.
Besides that, Jack didn’t even like Halloween. In fact, he’d always had an intense, albeit unexplained, dislike for the legendary holiday. So why had an overwhelming need to accompany Abby to the ball hit him like a sucker punch? Never one to run from a fight, Jack decided round two would definitely be his.
Abby reappeared a few minutes later, refreshed and relaxed by the comforting warmth of the shower. She took the seat opposite his. “Now, what did you want to talk about?”
“It’s about your car wreck,” he began.
“Okay.” She sat up a little straighter. “What about it?”
“It was no accident.” He paused and let the meaning of his words soak in. “My friend, Detective Venucci, called first thing this morning and confirmed it.”
“So … ” Abby thought a moment. “That’s why there weren’t any brakes.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s why I hit the phone booth,” she said, reliving the blind terror.
Jack nodded.
“I thought it was just an accident,” she whispered. “But it wasn’t.” Unable to stay seated, she stood.
Jack’s gut tightened. Why would anybody do that to her? The hint of a bruise still remained on her cheek. He remembered bringing her home from the hospital that night. Even the thought of such a deliberate act could outrage him all over again, so he worked to keep his emotions in check. Anger would only slow him down. He knew that. With his control hanging by a thread, he had to dig deep to find enough discipline to ensure his advantage. He wanted a full head of steam, but he had to keep a lid on his temper to deal with this situation. And he would deal with it. “I don’t suppose you’d consider going back to Springfield and leaving this to me?”
She steadied herself before stepping out of his reach. “I can’t.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” he admitted, impressed by the proud, albeit forced, tilt of her chin. He moved to her side and warmed her icy-cold hands between his. “Okay, then. Here’s the deal. You stay with me for the remainder of your vacation, and we’ll try to get to the bottom of this.”
Considering the source, Abby knew she was being offered one hell of a compromise. She paused. There was something in Jack’s expression — a soft, understanding look in his eyes — that rushed in and filled the emptiness that had threatened to devour her. “I can live with that,” she answered quietly.
He pulled her into his arms. His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. “Can you really?”
Abby stared wordlessly at him. Filled with fear and doubt and need, her heart pounded. “Yes.”
Jack rested his forehead against hers and groaned. Abby wasn’t a woman who offered anything casually. And, she was giving him her trust. Jaw clenched, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. As he rubbed his cheek against hers, he felt her body mold to his, yielding and pliant. He laced his fingers through her hair and tilted her head back.
Jack’s steady gaze bore into Abby with silent expectation. His invitation was a passionate challenge, impossible to resist. She could feel his uneven breathing, the beat of his heart. Her body felt heavy and warm against
him. His lips met hers and melted her weary resolve. Time ceased to exist.
He pressed his mouth to hers again, this time teasing and enticing, coaxing her emotions to the surface, leaving her no choice. His teeth nipped and tormented. His tongue probed and plundered. Her unsteady hands found their way beneath his sweater to the warm skin of his well-muscled back. His body shuddered in response, filling her with exhilaration.
Abby’s delicate fingers against his bare flesh were Jack’s undoing. He swept her into his arms and his long strides consumed the distance between the dining room and the stairway.
Stunned by the magnitude of her own desire, Abby realized how desperately she needed more from Jack. She buried her face in his neck and breathed a kiss there. The sensation of his pulse beating hard and fast beneath her lips empowered her.
Jack took the steps two at a time.
The bed was warm and inviting. Sunshine streamed through the skylight. No darkness. No shadows. No secrets. But, just for a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if she would have preferred moonbeams.
Jack lowered Abby onto the bed and felt her tremble beneath his touch as he traced her delicate features with his fingertips. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled the intoxicating scent of her. She sighed. He took her face in his hand and parted her lips … ever … so … slowly … with his tongue.
His mouth did not become softer with each kiss, but more demanding. He tempted and taunted until a need, so strong, so violent, ignited like a flame in her belly.
Jack pulled Abby to her knees in the middle of the bed. His erratic heartbeat matched her passion-darkened eyes. He eased her out of her clothing, leaving her fiery auburn mane to tumble around her bare shoulders and tease across each breast. Bathed in sunlight, her creamy skin took on a magnificent golden glow.
Abby ran her palm down his chest and, with shaky fingers, unsnapped his jeans.
Swearing an oath, he grabbed her wrists. His voice was hoarse. “Careful, love, or this will be over before it begins.” He peeled off his jeans and tossed them aside.
Abby felt Jack’s urgent fingers dig into her arms as he laid her down. She met his blazing stare, the cords in his neck standing taut against his skin. Perspiration beaded his forehead. So, this is the dark side of love — where the animal lives. Crouched and hungry, waiting for me. And I for him. She raised her arms, offering, inviting.
Raw, primitive desire thundered through Jack’s body like a stampede. He laced his fingers through hers and pressed them over her head, her arms beneath his, sinking into the lush covers. Lowering his lips to hers, his tongue plundered the soft fullness of her mouth. God, she was sweet. Teasing, but not satisfying, his teeth scraped a path down her neck. He nipped at the tender skin on her shoulder, leading her, showing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. How could he possibly know every sensitive spot on her body? But he did. With each sigh that trembled past her lips, she craved more. His hands roamed freely, seeking, finding. She gasped for air, writhing beneath his touch. When the first shudder hit, she reached out, desperate to hold onto something. Her hands slipped off his sweat-slicked shoulders to grab wildly at the bed covers.
Jack moaned through gritted teeth. This is what he had wanted, what he had dreamed about, what he had waited for. The passionate, demanding side of Abby that could — that would — let go. His control exploded. In a tangle of arms and legs, they frantically rolled across the bed. Jack steadied himself over Abby and her shaky smile was all he needed. Heart to heart, they left the rest of the world behind. For now, everything else could wait.
Exhausted and clinging to one another, Jack shifted his weight. He lay down beside Abby and pulled her close. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she draped one arm across his chest.
Abby snuggled closer, trying hard not to think about the overwhelming familiarity of making love with Jack. “I suppose you’re pretty pleased with yourself?”
Fighting the gut feeling that he and Abby had danced this dance before, Jack’s grin widened. Hair tousled, he propped himself up on one elbow and faced her. “Only if you are.” He pressed a kiss to her hand.
Abby traced the hollow of his cheek with her fingertips. As chiseled and striking … as ever? She shoved the unsettling thought aside and stroked his jaw line. His skin was warm — but then, so was hers. Since the fortuneteller had been right about her wild, sensuous side, had she been right about belonging here, too? She looked at Jack, sunlight glinting off his damp body, and wondered.
Her soul-searching ended the moment she looked around and realized they were at the foot of the bed. She couldn’t help but laugh. “How’d we get down here?”
Eyes bright, face flushed, lips pouty, she ignited the fire in him that still smoldered just below the surface. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll show you,” he promised.
Abby leaned up and lazily kissed Jack. “I have to warn you,” she began, nibbling his lower lip, “sometimes,” she tickled his earlobe with the tip of her tongue, “I can be a … very … very … slow … learner.”
Jack struggled to listen to every delicious syllable, each wistful sigh.
Put your pants on so you can think straight, pal. Either you can play ‘circus act’ again from one end of this bed to the other, or you can keep your appointment at the police station. What’s it gonna be?
Jack sat up and checked his watch. “Damn.” At her confused expression, he continued. “I nearly forgot. We have to meet with Venucci.”
Abby’s heart sank. “About the accident?”
Jack nodded.
As casually as she could manage, Abby asked, “When?”
He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her expression crumble. Once again, tense lines creased her forehead and bracketed her mouth. God, he’d wanted to spare her all this. “About an hour and a half.”
She gathered her scattered clothing like a tiny bundle of courage and shot him one brave smile before disappearing into the bathroom.
“I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” she shouted through the closed door.
• • •
Waiting for Jack and the Corey woman to arrive, Lucky tapped his pencil. He had shut his office door to drown out the incessant squad room noise. Ringing phones. Clicking computer keyboards. Occasional outbursts. Sometimes good. Sometimes not good at all.
Following up on the break in at Hannah’s Inn, Lucky had put the word out on the street. He had a couple of reliable snitches that he could count on for leads. If there was any information to be had. And he still wasn’t convinced of that. After all, Jack had just met this woman. How could he be so sure she wasn’t playing him? The fact was — Jack couldn’t.
Regardless of how sure Jack was, Lucky was not. He respected Jack enough to take his opinion into account, but he would maintain his objectivity. Had to in order to get to the bottom of it. For Jack. He owed the guy. Big time. And he would damned well make sure this Corey woman wasn’t dragging Jack into some pile of shit. That sure as hell wasn’t going to happen on his watch.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jack waited for her by the front door, but the look on his face did not reflect the passion they had just shared. His dark, somber expression spoke volumes, and none of it was good.
“What?” Adjusting the collar of her jacket, she took the envelope he handed her.
“Someone slipped this through the mail slot.”
Abby didn’t recognize the ornate handwriting, but her name had been scrawled across the front. She looked from the writing to Jack and saw every one of her concerns mirrored in his eyes. Someone not only knew she was staying here, but they were bold enough to come to the house in broad daylight to deliver a message.
With shaky fingers she pulled out the single sheet that had been tucked inside and read the message. “If you want your amulet, meet me at the Hallo
ween Ball. Eight o’clock sharp. I’ll be the clown.”
Without a word, Abby raced upstairs and yanked open what remained of her shredded suitcase. Digging through her clothes, she grabbed the pine box and fumbled it open.
Hurrying back downstairs, she confirmed, “The amulet’s not there.”
“Sonofabitch.” Jack scrubbed his face with one hand.
“It must have been stolen from my room at Adam’s Inn. The box was right where I left it, so I just figured the necklace was inside. But I never looked.”
“Let’s go. At least the timing’s right. We can show this to Lucky.”
As they drove, Jack tried his best to relax Abby with easy conversation. And, despite her cool, calm demeanor he noticed how tightly her hands were clasped in her lap. Dammit, he didn’t want her to think about thievery or deceit much less murder. There would be time enough for all that. But right now, after making love with her, he wanted to take all of her burdens away. Not that he could, but he could try.
When the car veered into an unfamiliar parking lot, Abby asked, “Why are we stopping here?”
Jack pulled the key from the ignition and pointed toward a slatted wooden sign: Ye Ole Costume Shoppe.
“I know, because of that note, we have to go to the ball, but we can’t do this now. We’ll be late.”
“Relax.” He came around to the passenger’s side and took her by the hand. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
Abby hesitated. “So you do think we should go to the ball.”
“What?” He looked around innocently. “Oh, you mean because we’re here?”
She said nothing.
“No way.” He winked, trying his best to make her smile. At least for a little while. “This is for later.”
“I don’t play dress-up, Hawthorne.”
“I don’t remember asking, love.” He reached across and opened her door. “Now let’s go.”
Love? Jack had used the same endearment the man in her dream had spoken. Abby shook her head. Such a common term simply meant coincidence, didn’t it?