His eyes widened comically. "You're drunk?"
Jolie's lips were numb and the warm, languid slide of the alcohol in her blood loosened her tongue. "Yes," she said, climbing clumsily into the cab of his truck. "I think I am."
Jake pulled away from the curb. "Some bridge club," he muttered. "Tell me, Jo. Do you usually get hammered at these meetings?"
Jolie let her head loll back against the seat. "Nope. First time."
"Well, that's a relief."
"Poor Jake. You've been bored out here, haven't you?" She glanced at him, then stared transfixed at the way the dashlights illuminated the strangely beautiful lines of his face. "You should be looking for the real killer, not wasting your time with me."
He shot her an inscrutable, almost wistful look. "Being with you—or even near you—isn't a waste of time," he returned softly.
Her silly heart melted. That was too sweet not to offer a small reward, so she leaned over and pressed a kiss against his woefully familiar cheek. "I've missed you," Jolie told him, then unable to make her neck support her head any longer, she let it drop against his shoulder and dozed off, the comforting scent of Jake and fresh hay in her nostrils.
The next morning when she awoke, she found herself in her bed, stripped down to her bra and undies and a note attached to her pillow.
I've missed you, too. Yours, Jake.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"How do you think it's going?"
Jake dropped into one of the chairs flanking Dean's desk and tried to think of some way to tell his boss that he'd researched every angle and wasn't any closer to finding who'd killed Marshall than he'd been the night the man had been murdered.
He finally shrugged helplessly. "It's going … nowhere," he admitted, letting go a resigned whoosh of air. "I've followed every lead, checked every alibi, followed procedure and … nothing. Nobody saw anything, nobody knows anything. It's as if a ghost waltzed into that house and shot him."
Dean tapped his pen against his desk. "What about the penis?"
Yeah, what about it? Jake wanted to ask. All he knew was that Todd hadn't found anything significant. He'd refrained from asking what the evidence tech had ultimately done with it for fear he might not want to know.
Jake told him about the thread and the fibers Todd had found on Marshall's dick. "That's all I've got, Dean, and it's not from lack of trying." Jake ticked off everybody that he'd investigated, then shook his head. "I don't know what else to do."
"Sounds to me like you've done everything you can," Dean told him, his voice measured.
Jake knew he was supposed to infer something from that careful tone, but exactly what he didn't know. He arched a brow, silently asking his boss to spell it out for him.
"I'd say you don't have any other choice but to let this case go inactive, at least until new information surfaces."
"She didn't do it, Dean," Jake felt compelled to point out.
"I don't think she did."
So long as they were on the same page, Jake thought. Still, he couldn't help but feel like he hadn't done enough, that he should have looked harder. Quite frankly, he'd gotten so caught up in keeping Jolie under surveillance—translate: watching her for the sheer sport of it—that he hadn't devoted as much time to the case as he probably could have. Then again, he did think that he'd followed every possible lead. There simply wasn't enough evidence to continue.
Which meant that she was finally in the clear.
Jake took a deep breath, but when another thought surfaced the air stuck in his throat. If she was in the clear, then he didn't have to stick to her like glue anymore. He didn't have any legitimate reason to keep hanging around her, absorbing her presence, sharing her space.
Except for the reason that he was still head over heels in love with her.
Last night when she'd leaned over and kissed his cheek, Jake had felt the world shift back into brighter focus. The innocent unaffected gesture might have landed on the side of his face, but he'd felt it all the way down to the bottoms of his feet. His belly had filled with air, then flipped, and a shiver had worked its way up his spine.
And she'd barely touched him.
Christ.
He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "What about the D.A.?" Jake asked.
Dean leaned back in his chair. "I'll talk to him."
He didn't know what Dean could tell him that Jake hadn't already, but he supposed his boss's opinion carried more weight than his. At any rate, he didn't care because it was over. She was safe and that's all that mattered. He thanked Dean, then grabbed his portfolio and made the trek home. He'd planned on following the routine he'd started this week—change clothes, check on the horse, then head back to town, to her house specifically—but after watching Marzipan for a few minutes, Jake decided that going anywhere tonight was out of the question. He unclipped his cell from his belt and keyed in Jolie's number. "It's happening," he told her. "Do you still want to come out?"
Jolie wheeled her car down the narrow dirt drive that would deliver her to Jake's house and felt the strangest sense of anxiety and homecoming push into her throat. She knew this land and its owner as well as she knew herself and yet something about driving here now made her feel like her insides were too big for her body. She topped a little hill and, backlit by a beautiful setting sun, the house and barn rose in the distance.
The old farmhouse replica was white with green shutters, with full sweeping porches and tall multi-paned windows. Instead of going with modern asphalt shingles, Jake had opted for a green metal roof, one that would make beautiful music when it rained. A bittersweet pang squeezed her chest. From the looks of things, he'd built precisely what they'd planned. He could have modified things on the inside, Jolie knew, but if he'd kept the facade the same, then she thought it was relatively safe to assume that he'd left everything else as it was as well.
She pulled around back, close to the barn, then snagged the picnic basket she'd packed from the back seat. Evidently hearing her drive up, Jake stepped into the wide doorway of the barn.
"Hey," he called.
Jolie smiled, gestured toward the basket as she made her way toward him. "I thought we might get hungry."
Wearing a pair of faded jeans, beat-up boots and a navy blue T-shirt with a hole in the sleeve, he walked out and took the basket from her. "Thanks. Since it's her first, we could be in for a long night."
That's what she'd figured. As Jolie fell into step beside him, she felt the brush of his sleeve against her arm. A tingle hit her breasts, causing the air to thin in her lungs. "Er … how's she doing?"
Jake set the basket on a tack table, walked over to Marzipan's stall and put a boot up on the bottom rail of her door. "She can't get comfortable. Keeps circling, twitching her tail."
Jolie moved in beside him, put a hand over the top of the door and, throat tight with emotion, called the horse. Her ears pricked at the sound of Jolie's voice, then she walked over and nudged her muzzle beneath Jolie's palm.
Smiling, she rubbed the horse's velvety nose. "Look at you, Mama," Jolie told her softly. "Big, beautiful girl," she soothed. The horse sidled closer for more attention, nipped at Jolie's hair.
A deep masculine chuckle sounded beside her. "Looks like she's missed you."
Stroking her neck, Jolie darted a glance at Jake. "It's a feeling that's reciprocated." She paused, scoping out some of the other stalls. "So who's the proud papa?"
"Smoke."
Jolie turned her attention back to the horse. "Ah," she sighed. "Then we can expect a beautiful baby then, eh?"
Seemingly unable to stand still any longer, Marzipan resumed her pacing, absently nibbled at the feed in her bin.
Jake picked up the picnic basket and pilfered through what she'd brought.
"If you're expecting prime rib, then you're out of luck," she said. "I brought what I had on hand—peanut butter and banana sandwiches, chips and beer."
Jake looked up and a slow grin slid across those incredibly sexy l
ips. "Ah," he sighed. "A feast fit for a king."
Jolie rolled her eyes and helped him spread a horse blanket on the ground in front of Marzipan's stall. "Does that make you the king, then?"
He laughed. "That goes without saying."
"I suppose so," she agreed. "You've always been a royal pain the ass."
He opened a beer and handed it to her, then tutted under his breath. "Ah, now. That's a fine way to talk to the man who's saved yours."
Jolie bit into her sandwich and shot him a look. "What are you talking about?"
"I talked with Dean today."
"Oh?" she asked, intrigued by an indiscernible note in his voice.
"Yeah. He told me he thought that Marshall's case should go inactive until new leads or evidence surfaces."
Jolie frowned. "Inactive? What does that mean?"
"It means the case isn't closed, but we're no longer actively pursuing it." He smiled at her, but something about that half-hearted grin seemed … off. "In laymen's terms, it means you're in the clear." He took another bite of his sandwich.
"Oh," Jolie said, her eyes widening as the import sunk in. Now it was over. She felt her spine sag with relief. Her gaze slid to Jake's impassive profile and the reason he'd seemed off about the new status of the case surfaced belatedly in her sluggish mind.
If she was in the clear … then there was no reason for him to "stick to her like glue" anymore.
A sickening sensation swelled in her gut, pushing the bite of sandwich she'd just taken back up her throat.
No reason for him to come to her house every night.
No reason for him to be with her.
Jolie knew that she should say something, should pretend she was happy that she was no longer the prime suspect in a murder investigation, but she couldn't seem to muster the enthusiasm for the required response. The silence swelled between them, a grim reminder of the wedge that had been in place just a little over a week ago. She swallowed a whimper and tried to steady her suddenly shaking hands.
God, she didn't want to go back to that. She wanted to go back to him, for them to find their way back to each other.
Jake took a long draw from his beer, and then that silvery gaze drifted to her, causing her breath to hitch. "There's something that I want to say to you that's long overdue."
Jolie knew what he wanted to say, knew that it had to be said for them to move forward and, God, how she'd waited for it. She felt tears burn the backs of her lids and nodded at him.
"I'm sorry," he said simply. He didn't elaborate because he didn't have to. They both knew what had happened, both knew that he'd been primarily at fault. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking," he told her, his voice riddled with self-disgust, "and if it makes you feel any better, I've regretted asking for that time more than you can ever know." A bitter laugh spilled from his mouth, punctuating the truth of that statement. "So much more than you can ever know."
Every cell in her body warmed with delight and once again she was hit with the urge to simply rest her head on his shoulder, to feel those beautiful hands against her face. Jolie took a pull from her own beer. "Oh, I think I've got a pretty good idea. I've certainly regretted some choices I made, one in particular." She shot him a tentative look, then asked him the one thing that she'd always wondered. "Why'd you ask for it, Jake?" She moistened her lips. "Were you that unsure of me?"
She felt his soft gaze trace her face. "Oh, babe, I was never unsure of you. I was unsure of myself." He picked up a piece of hay and twirled it around his fingers. "After your dad died, I guess it all just sort of hit me, you know, how important I was in your life … and I wasn't sure I could live up to the expectation. I was afraid I'd fail you." He shrugged helplessly. "I got scared, and thought I'd better get my head on straight." He looked away and swore softly. "Stupid."
"You were stupid for thinking that you'd ever fail me."
"But I did," Jake said.
"Only because you walked away. If you'd stuck it out, I would have been happy no matter what." Jolie swallowed, then made a face. "Besides, you weren't the only one to blame. I should have had enough faith in you to wait it out. Instead, I got pissed off, then decided to get even." She grimaced. "And look what happened."
Seeming to mull it over, Jake took another drink. "And I regret that, too."
"We were both stupid," she said magnanimously.
He inclined his head.
She slid him a smile, relieved that they'd had this talk. "But you were more stupid."
He laughed. "Gotta have the last word, don't you?"
She shrugged unrepentantly. "Just tell it like it is."
A noise from the stall drew their attention and Jake's gaze sharpened, and then he bolted into action. He leapt up, then offered her a hand. "She's down," he said quietly. "Here we go."
An excited thrill whipped through her as she moved into place next to Jake. Marzipan had indeed lain down, fortunately in the center of the stall.
Jake lowered his head toward hers and she caught a whiff of his woodsy cologne. "That's a contraction," he whispered, inadvertently sending a chill down her spine.
Jolie watched, not realizing she was holding her breath until she was forced to let it go. Then something amazing happened. She grabbed Jake's arm. "I see hooves!"
He chuckled softly at her. "That's a good sign. Hooves first, then head, then the rest of the body."
She moved in closer, inadvertently—but oh so pleasantly—putting herself in front of him. Jake dropped his chin on top of her head, wrapped his arms around her waist and absorbed her weight against him. Jolie felt his breath leak slowly out of him, then her eyes fluttered shut, and she drank in the sensation of coming home. This was where she belonged, she thought.
Right here. With him.
Just as he'd predicted, the foal's head emerged next and though the baby was covered in placenta, it was easily recognizable as Marzipan's. "Oh, it's white," she said softly.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Jake hedged. "We'll have to wait until it's dry to really tell."
"Come on, Mama," Jolie softly crooned to the horse. "Almost there."
And then it was. The rest of the body emerged.
Marzipan made quick work of the placenta and the baby horse started to move around.
Absolutely awed and delighted, Jolie impulsively turned and hugged Jake. "Oh, my God," she breathed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "That was … amazing."
Jake laughed, wrapping his arms even more firmly around her. His lips curling into an inherently sexy grin, he looked down and those twinkling silvery-gray eyes captured hers. And in that instant the mood changed. Her belly trembled, gooseflesh raced down her back, and the air leaked out of her lungs.
The hug might have been impulsive, but her kiss wouldn't be. She wanted him—wanted them—and wanted him to know it. Jolie reached up and tenderly framed his face with her hands, watching as his lids dropped at her touch, then ever so gently—reverently—pressed her lips to his.
The feeling was so exquisite, so perfect that for a moment she forgot to breathe.
The sky could have fallen, the earth could have opened up beneath her feet and she wouldn't have noticed.
Jake sighed into her mouth and she savored that breath, then slipped her tongue against his and silently asked for more.
With a low growl of almost desperate approval, he pulled her closer, tunneled his fingers into her hair, then tilted her head to better align their mouths. He fed at her, sucked at her tongue, her bottom lip, then came back for more.
"God, I've missed you," he growled softly. "Missed you so damned much."
Jolie's heart melted … along with other parts of her. Her nipples tingled, her sex pulsed and every nerve seemed to vibrate. She couldn't feel enough of him, couldn't taste enough of him. It had been so long, so very, very long.
To her immense regret and frustration, Jake very tenderly ended the kiss, and breathing heavily, rested his forehead against hers. "Will you spend the night w
ith me?" he asked softly. "Stay here and let me love you?"
Feeling a slow smile drift across her lips, Jolie nodded.
Jake kissed her again, seemingly unable to keep from tasting her. Then after checking on Marzipan and the foal, he threaded his fingers through hers and took his time leading her through the house.
As impatient as she was, she couldn't help but appreciate that he wanted to take things slowly, savor their reunion and honor it with the respect that it deserved. Her hand in his, he led her through the house, and just as she'd suspected, he'd stayed true to their plan, almost as if he'd prepared it for her return. Pressed copper tiles lined the ceiling in the kitchen and a small wood-burning fireplace sat in the corner of the room. The living room had been equipped with built-in bookshelves and big open windows that caught the late afternoon breeze.
It was beautiful, Jolie thought. Every bit as wonderful as she'd always imagined it would be. Despite the fact that she'd spent the past couple of weeks making her little house on Lelia Street
a home, she suddenly didn't care if she ever went back there. This was where she belonged.
Right here, with him.
Jake tugged her toward the bedroom. "Do you have any idea how many times I've imagined you here?" he said, his gaze, hot with desire and warm with affection, slipping over her, feasting on her. Loving her. "How many times I've been driven from this room—.this house—because being in it without you felt so wrong?"
Jolie felt tears mist her eyes. "Oh, Jake," she said unable to elaborate as her heart pushed into her aching throat. She knew what he meant because she'd felt it, too. She'd been like a ship without an anchor for years, drifting miserably through life without him, and the idea that she didn't have to anymore—that he was hers again—burrowed into her tripping heart and sent a warm tingle to her very fingertips.
He slipped the pad of his thumb over her cheek, guided her into the bathroom where he turned on the tap and adjusted the shower, then slowly set about undressing her. His fingers skimmed over her rib cage as he pulled off her shirt, sent gooseflesh racing up her back as he unbuttoned her shorts and pushed them down her hips. Soon she was naked, mesmerized by the sweet sensual brush of his hot hands slipping reverently over her body.
THE FUTURE WIDOW'S CLUB Page 18