by Robin Wells
Love—that was the key ingredient. That was what melded people into a family,, not marriage contracts or bloodlines.
A rush of confusion and something close to panic poured through Jake's veins. There was no place for love in this relationship. Love was emotional, and emotions muddied legal issues. The whole point of this marriage was to work out a legal custody arrangement—that, and to give Madeline a simple, normal, easily explainable family history.
Annie lifted Madeline from Jake's arms. "Are you ready to go to bed, sweetie pie?"
I sure am. The thought was so clear that for a moment, Jake was afraid he'd said it aloud. Crimony, he was really losing it. He needed to get out of here before he did something he regretted. "I'd better go. I've had a really long day."
"You're welcome to stay and spend the night."
Awareness pulsed between them. "In the guest bedroom, I mean," Annie added quickly. "Like usual."
Sexual energy hung in the room like volatile vapors, dangerous, capable of igniting at any moment. It was growing between them, every time he saw her. Jake needed to leave before the sparks between them set off an explosion.
"I need to get back to Tulsa. I have a meeting first thing in the morning." He leaned in and kissed Madeline. As he did, he got a delectable whiff of Annie's soft perfume. 'He started to kiss her on the cheek as well, then decided against it.
Her eyes held a funny light as he drew away. She knew, he thought uneasily. She knew he'd almost kissed her. He wondered if she knew why he hadn't—that he didn't trust himself to stop with just a friendly peck.
He took a step toward the nursery door and lifted his hand. "Well, I'll see both of you on Friday."
"Okay. We'll look forward to it, won't we, Madeline?" Annie lifted the baby's arm. The baby gave an engaging grin, but it was the picture of Annie's face as she watched him .leave that haunted him on the drive back to Tulsa—her lips parted, her eyes filled with wistful yearning.
Chapter Sixteen
Annie was closing the door to Madeline's room Friday evening when she heard the sound she'd been waiting for—the crunch of car tires in the drive. Her heart picked up speed. She quickly checked her appearance in the hall mirror, then chided herself for being foolish. Jake was coming to see Madeline, not her. Still, she'd taken an inordinate amount of time with her appearance—showering after dinner, donning a casual sage-green sundress with crisscrossed straps in the back, putting on make-up.
She was falling for Jake. She told herself that she was heading for a major heartache, that she was being ridiculous, that he wasn't interested in a long-term relationship, but her heart wouldn't listen to reason. It still raced like a greyhound as a knock sounded at the door.
Annie opened it. She knew Jake would be on the porch, but she was unprepared for the physical impact he had on her. When he smiled, she was hit by a knee-weakening, breath-catching bolt of magnetism that struck her square in the solar plexus. He'd obviously come straight from the office; he was wearing dress slacks and a blue shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck. A large cardboard box sat at his feet on the porch.
He seemed to feel the attraction, too. She saw it in his eyes, in the way his pupils dilated. For a moment they just stood, and looked at each other.
"Hi," she finally said.
"Hi, yourself." His gaze roamed over her, then returned to her face. It was an awkward moment, a moment when friends kiss cheeks or strangers shake hands. Jake made no move to do either. "You look really nice."
"Thanks." She opened the door wider. "Come on in."
He picked up the box and followed her into the living room. Setting the box on the coffee table, he seated himself beside her on the sofa.
She needed to focus on something, anything besides Jake and the almost palpable current between them. The box, she told herself. Focus on whatever is in the box.
She gestured towards it. "What's this?"
"A surprise for Madeline."
The package seemed to shift slightly on the table. Annie glanced at it curiously. She was dying to know what was in it, but Jake's guarded expression made her hesitant to ask. "Oh, gee, she just fell asleep. I guess you'll have to wait until morning to give it to her."
"Well, this is probably the kind of surprise. that's best in the morning, anyway. It's likely to get her pretty wound up."
Annie thought she saw the box move again. "Madeline loves surprises."
``I figured she would. I wasn't so sure about you, though."
"Oh, I like surprises, too. If they're pleasant ones.”
Jake rubbed his jaw. "Well, now, that's where this whole situation gets iffy."
A suspicious snuffling noise emanated from the box. Annie shot him an amused glance. "Are you going to make me wait until morning, too?"
Whatever was inside the box began scratching at the cardboard. Jake gave a wry grin. "I don't think I can. This present is about to open itself."
He pulled his gift onto the sofa and set it between them, then folded back the top. Annie peered in. A tiny russet dachshund puppy not much bigger than Jake's hand gave a joyful yap.
"Oh—how adorable!" she exclaimed. The creature wagged its long, thin tail as Jake reached in and gently lifted it out. Annie held out her arms.
Jake passed it to her. "If you don't want to keep it, I'll take it back to Tulsa and keep it there. I just.thought that Madeline would like to have a dog of her own."
"I'd love to keep him. Madeline will be crazy about him. Is it a him?"
"Actually, it's a her. The lady at the kennel told me females were easier to train than males, unless the males were neutered"
Annie grinned. "That rule doesn't only apply to dogs."
Jake winced. "I hope you aren't getting any ideas."
Oh, I'm getting ideas, all right. But they don't have anything to do with neutering. Annie forced her attention back to the dog. "She's beautiful."
"Yeah." Jake reached across Annie's lap and stroked the dog. "She reminded me of you."
Annie's pulse quickened. She tried to hide it under a dry smile. "Now there's a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one."
Jake laughed. "I meant her coloring. Her coat is almost the exact same color as your hair." He lifted a strand of Annie's hair from her shoulder and draped it across the dog's coat. "See?"
I see that your slightest touch makes me quiver. I see that you have a five o'clock shadow I'd love to touch. And I see that your lips look like they were just made for kissing.
The puppy leaped up and licked her on the chin. The dog, Annie reminded herself. I'm supposed to be focusing on the dog.
Picking up the puppy, Annie rose to her feet. "I'll bet she could use some water."
Jake stood, too. "I've got food and water bowls for her in the car—along with some other supplies. I'll go get them."
He returned with a large wicker pet bed, a red dog pillow, a huge bag of puppy chow, and a big plastic bag of toys and other accessories.
"We can fix her up in the kitchen," Annie said. "I have a baby gate we can use to keep her in there until she's house-trained."
While Jake fixed the puppy a bowl each of food and water, Annie stretched the white plastic gate across a section of the kitchen by the back door and spread newspapers on the floor. The puppy gobbled up its chow, then eagerly slurped- some water.
"She probably needs to go outside," Annie said.
She opened the back door and stepped out into the night, the little dog at her heels. Jake followed them onto the flagstone patio.
Overhead, the stars glowed like Christmas lights in December. A chorus of crickets and tree frogs sang a throaty, seductive song. The scent of honeysuckle wafted on the light breeze, making the air seem thick and sweet. The night offered a feast for the senses, but it was a sixth sense that set Annie's heart to pounding—a sense of mutual awareness, of mutual attraction. The night seemed full of possibilities.
The little dog ran along the fence, investigating her surroundings. Annie eased herself
into the wooden porch swing and let her eyes adjust to the ' dark. The seat creaked as Jake sat down beside her. He stretched his arm along the back of the swing, his hand near her hair. Annie fought the urge to lean back against it.
The dog, she reminded herself, forcing her thoughts back to it like a mantra. "Madeline will love her new puppy.”
"I hope so. I probably should have called and asked your permission, but I don't have a great track record of getting people to agree to keep pets."
They set the swing to rocking, keeping perfect time with each other. "You told me your parents wouldn't allow you to have any pets."
"Rachel wouldn't go for the idea, either. She said a dog wasn't compatible with white carpeting."
Annie started to say that white carpeting wasn't compatible with life, then thought better of it. It would sound like a criticism of Rachel, and she didn't want to do that.
The little dachshund trotted across the patio and through the partially open door into the kitchen. Annie craned her neck, but couldn't see through the door. "Is . she going back for more food?"
Jake turned and peered through the panes of the window behind him.
"No. It looks like she's going to bed."
Maybe we should do the same. Annie drew in a deep, steadying breath. Focus on the dog, she silently ordered herself. "Is the carpeting the reason you still don't have a dog?"
"Nah. I'm not home much. I don't think it's good for dogs to be alone for long stretches of time."
"It's not good for people, either," Annie. said softly.
Jake looked at her, and the intensity in his gaze made her heart skip a beat. "Sometimes people don't have a choice."
"Sometimes they do, but they just don't realize it."
Awareness hovered in the air, thick as the scent of honeysuckle. It was getting harder and harder to think of anything but Jake and the way his mouth had felt when he'd kissed her.
Annie forced herself to look away, forced herself to direct the conversation back to the animal kingdom."So did you just figure me as a sucker for puppies?'
Jake lifted his shoulders. "I was hoping that if you saw her, you'd have a hard time saying no."
His eyes gleamed in the soft light from the kitchen window. He was gazing at her lips. When he raised his eyes to hers, she could no longer ignore all that was zinging back and forth between them.
Attraction. Hunger. Need. Desire. It was all there, exposed in his gaze, naked and irresistible.
"I'd have a hard time saying no to you, Jake, about anything," she found herself saying.
She'd spoken in a low whisper, but the meaning came through loud and clear. The swing quit moving. The air grew still. Even the• tree frogs seemed to hold their breath.
Jake's eyes moved over her face, hot and close, reading her eyes, searching her expression. Whatever he was looking for, he evidently found. His lips moved, and one word came out. "Annie."
And then she was in his arms. He smelled of shaving cream and Juicy Fruit gum, a combination that was unexpectedly erotic. His arm on the back of the swing came down to her hair, his other arm moved around to her back, and his mouth angled down over hers in a hungry swoop. And then she was lost, hopelessly lost, in a kiss so full of passion, she never wanted to be found.
Everything about the kiss was hot and wet and compelling—the slick feel of his lips on hers, the slide of his tongue inside her mouth, the way it made her insides melt and turn to liquid flame.
She wound her hand around his head and threaded her fingers in his hair, holding him to her, not wanting to give him the option of letting go. She'd wanted to kiss him like this ever since she'd first set eyes on him, before she'd even known who he was. And now that she was in his arms, she never wanted to leave.
His breath was hot against her neck. His hand reached around the back of her dress, to the straps that crisscrossed her spine, his fingers gently burrowing under the strips of fabric. Never had a touch felt so hot, so intense. He kissed her again, a deep, plundering kiss, and eased the strap off one shoulder, pulling it down, exposing her breast.
"Ah, Annie," he murmured, his gaze caressing her. "You're almost too beautiful to touch."
"Touch me anyway," she urged.
He lowered his head and took her nipple in his mouth. Sensation, warm and exquisite and deep and needy, shot from her breast straight -through to the center of her being, to the womb that had carried his child.
She wanted to touch him, too—wanted to feel his skin against hers. Her hands trembled as she unfastened the buttons of his shirt—trembled not with nerves, but with eagerness. She pushed back the shirt and ran a hand over his chest. Flat and hard-muscled, it was covered with rough-textured hair. Her hand moved lower, to the buckle of his belt.
"Slow down, angel," he groaned.
"I don't want to go slow.".
The next thing . she knew, he was standing, and he'd scooped her up in his arms. He carried her through the open kitchen door, kicking it closed behind him. And as she clung to his neck, inhaling the scent of. him, feeling his chest hair against her cheek, he carried her to her room and placed her on the bed.
He peeled off his unbuttoned shirt. His eyes were dark and hungry, and they never left her face. Her hands moved to . the other strap of her dress. He knelt on the mattress and covered her hands with his, stopping her. "No. Let me do it."
His fingers eased it down. The soft, sage-green fabric pooled at her waist.
His eyes drank her in. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined."
The thought that he'd imagined her naked excited her almost as much as the feel of his hand cupping her breast, and his thumb flicking against the sensitive tip. His mouth followed his fingers. She stretched back on the bed, giving herself up to the pleasure of his beard- shadowed skin on her flesh, of his lips trailing hotly across her breast. When he took her nipple in his mouth and suckled, a shiver of pleasure shot through her, pooling into hot, molten pleasure between her thighs.
She ached to be touched there, and he seemed to sense it. Still kissing her breast, his hand moved higher. Slowly, slowly, with infinitely tormenting slowness, his fingers inched up the soft cotton of her dress. She moaned as he langorously stroked the bare flesh of her inner thigh.
She reached down, wanting to touch him as well, but he moved lower, raining kisses on the underside of her breast, down her belly, all the while pushing up the hem of her dress.
His touch glided to the edge of her silk bikini panties. He ran a finger slowly along the elastic edge, first one side, then the other. Just when: she thought she couldn't stand it his finger slid right down the center, pressing the silk first against her swollen nub, then against the wet, aching center that throbbed to be touched and filled. She moved against him, groaning.
"Easy, sugar," he murmured.
"Please. Please..." she begged.
He moved up and reclaimed her mouth, all the while continuing the exquisite stroking. She reached up and unfastened the button on his, slacks. He gave a low, .:.; throaty moan, then rose and quickly shed his clothes.
He returned to the bed, immensely aroused. She reached for him, but he moved low on the mattress, slowly tugging her dress down, then off. Tantalizingly slowly, Jake pulled off her panties. His hand ran from her breasts to the top of her pubic mound, pausing to trace the horizontal' scar just above her curls.
"Your C-section?" he asked.
"Yes," Annie murmured, moving her hand to cover it.
He caught her hand and eased it away. "It's beautiful." He bent his head and feathered kisses along the scar—long, slow, adoring kisses. Annie's heart opened like a freshly cracked safe.
Jake's lips moved lower, and his fingers followed. Slowly, he began a. torturous teasing, inciting her until she was wet and pulsing and moaning with need.
"Jake—Jake ..."
His mouth urged her on, and his fingers drove' her over the edge, She spiraled past a point of no return, into a star-strewn dimension that was bright and
hot and urgently sweet.
She shuddered, pulsed, cried out.
She clutched at his head, all but dragging him upward by the hair. She ached for him to be inside her, ached for him to fill her, ached to complete the circle that had begun before they'd even met.
"Easy, sugar. Easy."
"I want ...”
"Tell me what you want”
"You. I want you." Her voice was a breathy whisper. "In me."
He could hold back no longer. Hovering above, he plunged' into her sweet heat. She moved against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, her hands pulling him closer, urging him deeper, pushing him higher. She felt her muscles tighten again, felt herself quiver, felt herself scale the wall. But this time he went with her, into a honey-kissed place of mutual, surrender, a place where their two hearts pounded in a single humming rush, drumming so hard and fast and perfectly in sync that there were no spaces between beats.
Chapter Seventeen
A high, plaintive yip pulled Jake from the depths of a deep, sated sleep. He burrowed his face in the pillow, not wanting to awaken. He was having the most amazing dream—hot and erotic and so real he thought he could actually smell a trace of perfume. He'd been making love to Annie, and...
Annie. His eyes flew open, and he found himself inside a floral covered wagon. It had been no dream. He was in Annie's bedroom, in Annie's bed. A shot of pleasure raced through him, quickly followed by a chaser of fear.
Dear God. What had he done? Sex complicated everything. This marriage was supposed to simplify everyone's life, to keep Annie from bolting off to Timbuktu with the baby, to give Madeline a readily explainable family history. He hadn't intended for things to get physical. Sexual involvement always made things emotional, and when things got emotional, reason and logic went right out the window.
He sat up in bed, trying to shake the fog from his brain,. trying to remember how it all had happened. Where the hell was Annie, anyway? And what was that weird yapping sound down the hall? It sounded like a dog.
The dog. The details of the previous evening came back in a rush. One moment he and Annie had been talking about dogs, and the next thing he knew, they'd been in each other arms. He wasn't- sure exactly how one thing had led to another, but once they'd started kissing, there had been no turning back. The events of the evening had taken on a life of their own, rushing downhill with the momentum of a freight train, a momentum against which he had been entirely, completely powerless.