by Sara Orwig
“Jake?”
Still only silence. Why didn’t he answer? She paused before the kitchen door.
“Jake?” When he didn’t answer, she stepped inside. The back door was slightly ajar, and her heart seemed to lurch. Where was he? Why had he left the house?
She went to the door and stood uncertainly, looking down at the moonlight spilling over her blue shirt. If she stepped outside, the chambray would probably show as clearly as if it were day.
Suddenly a shadow moved, and a man slid through the open door. She gasped, jumping back.
Chapter 7
“Hey!” Jake caught her up against him. Her hands went against his bare chest and desire burst like a flame inside her.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said in a husky voice. He reached out and placed his pistol on the table, pushing the door closed with his foot while still keeping his arm around her. She heard the faint click of the door shutting, the intake of Jake’s breath. She was aware of the warm, solid feeling of his chest. Her pulse raced, and she couldn’t catch her breath or say a word.
His left hand slipped behind her head to wind in her hair and tilt her face upward. Torn between wanting his kisses and knowing she should resist them, Rebecca fought an inner battle. While they stared at each other, her pulse roared, and beneath her palm she could feel his heart racing as rapidly as her own.
“I went outside to look around,” he whispered, and she barely heard what he said.
She tingled, her breasts grew taut, her body heated. She looked at his full underlip, remembering how it had felt to have him brush his mouth over hers, to kiss her.
“No,” she whispered in desperation, and twisted away from him. “We agreed—”
“I know what we agreed,” he said in a low, husky voice, wondering why he couldn’t keep his hands to himself around her. He didn’t have that problem with other women. The one brief moment when his arm was around her had scalded him. He had meant only to steady her, and then she’d pressed against him with only the worn chambray between her breasts and his chest. He’d felt her softness and her warmth and he had wanted to lean down and kiss her protests away. Yet she was right. It would be like placing dynamite close to a fire. He didn’t want commitment or marriage.
And he had never been tempted to mix pleasure and his professional life. To do his job, he needed to keep a cool head. And he knew they would say goodbye as suddenly as they had gotten together. Yet, damn, she was fiery and sweet at the same time!
In spite of her marriage and two children, there was an air of innocence about her. Maybe it was her big blue eyes. And yet she had a sensual side. The sexy sway of her hips and her blazing response to him were a heady combination.
“Don’t look so stricken. We didn’t hurt anything or anyone,” he said, trailing his finger along her cheek.
“I don’t even know you,” she whispered, fastening the top button of her shirt.
He reached out to release the high top button, watching her eyes widen, seeing that she wasn’t going to stop him. For a fleeting second, his imagination ran wild as he fantasized about unbuttoning all the small white buttons down the front of her shirt and pushing it open. His hand still tingled from holding her, the softness of her body etched in his mind and on his nerves. His knuckles brushed her throat.
“Relax and enjoy yourself, Rebecca.”
“I don’t know how to relax about some things. I've never known many men, because I married young. I've really never dated anyone except Dan.”
Maybe that explained part of the air of innocence she still retained. Jake thrust his hands into his pockets, something he seemed to have to do repeatedly with her.
“When I came in here, I was worried about you. Where were you?” she asked, her voice still low and breathless.
“I told you, I walked around outside,” he replied, wondering if she didn’t remember.
“I’d think you’d make a good target.”
“I was careful.” He reached back to turn the lock, and she abruptly moved away. He watched the shirt pull slightly over her bottom as she walked, and the unbidden vision of her minus the shirt taunted him.
At the kitchen door, she paused. “Good night, Jake.”
“Night,” he said, still standing by the door. He waited until she left the room before he looked outside once more and then headed toward the living room. As he passed her room, he saw that her door was closed.
Damned good thing. Next thing you know, Delancy, you'll be thinking of some excuse to go into her bedroom, he thought. He swore under his breath. Why was he so drawn to her? He remembered Melody Farrar at the banquet. She had come on to him like a fire truck roaring to a three-alarm blaze, yet he couldn’t keep his mind off Rebecca. He wiped his damp brow and walked to the living room window to gaze into the darkness, knowing it was just as well he wasn’t trying to sleep because he knew he wouldn’t be able to do so.
He thought about his past relationship with Genny Smith, who was dark-haired, earnest about her career, going to law school and working part-time in a law office. There was nothing serious between them. Genny was ambitious, all her energy and thoughts focused on her job. They had fun together and were good companions and the sex was nice. Or it had been. He hadn’t seen her for two months now. And he suspected that even if this job ended tomorrow, he wouldn’t give Genny another call.
His thoughts drifted back to Rebecca like a magnet to metal. Rebecca Bolen’s kisses were hot enough to melt his bones. She had a funny sense of humor that surfaced unexpectedly, revealing a warmth and capacity for fun. And she was more exciting than any other woman he had known.
Forget it, Delancy, he told himself. She was far more vulnerable than she realized. He intended to protect her and then to get out of her life.
He moved restlessly through the house again, standing at the kitchen window and staring at the dark shadow of the forest of pines. Beyond them was an open field and then one of the roads that were under surveillance.
His thoughts went back to Rebecca and the hurt in her voice when she had explained that the kiss they’d shared had been her first since her husband. Jake felt a strange twist of pain for her. Was she scared to love again, afraid of getting hurt again, or still grieving over her loss?
Forget it, he told himself, annoyed at the stirring of sympathy. The lady is doing what she wants to do. If she wants to live out here like a hermit, that’s her choice. Yet what a waste it was. He moved impatiently, rubbing the back of his neck, memories of holding her, dancing with her, swirling in his mind like fascinating bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. The images taunted him, and he was hard again, aching and thinking about her fiery kisses. He swore and strode through the house, feeling as if he were in a cage.
For the next hour, Jake prowled around the house. He was restless, but gradually exhaustion overcame him. As dawn broke, he put his pistol in the holster and placed it on a high shelf where the girls couldn’t reach it. Sinking back on the lumpy chair, he stretched out his legs and closed his eyes.
* * *
Less than two hours later, something tickled his nose. Jake batted at it and felt it again, on his cheek. Something warm wriggled on his lap. He opened his eyes to look down into big blue eyes and a dimpled smile. Dressed in a fresh blue T-shirt and blue shorts, Sissy trailed a large white feather along his jaw. She was a warm bundle, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She smelled sweet and soapy, and tendrils of her hair were wet.
“Did I wake you?”
“What did you expect to do, tickling me with that feather?” he asked with amusement.
She shrugged and grinned. “You're sleeping late. Mommy is in the kitchen. Do you like to feel a feather on your face?”
She looked hopeful, expectant, and suddenly he wondered if this was something she had done with her father. He didn’t know anything about what would please her. Standing, he caught her around the waist and swung her over his head. She squealed and giggled and he laughed in return.
> “That’s what you get when you wake a sleeping man with feather tickles!”
“Sissy!”
He heard Rebecca’s voice and swung Sissy to the floor. Wearing a pink T-shirt and cutoffs, Rebecca stood in the doorway. Her face had drained of color, and she was staring at them both. “Sissy, you shouldn’t have awakened Mr. Delancy.”
“He was almost awake.”
“Now I'm completely awake, so it doesn’t matter,” he said. Sissy laughed up at him and then ran for the kitchen.
“Breakfast!” she called, and then she was gone, leaving him with Rebecca. Raising his arms over his head, he stretched.
“I'm sorry she woke you. You couldn’t have slept very long,” she said, and suddenly her voice sounded different. He lowered his arms and caught her looking at his chest. Her gaze flicked up and met his, and she blushed. He wondered what was running through her mind to make her blush. He would have been willing to give a month’s pay to find out.
“She used to do that with her father, didn’t she?”
“How’d you know that?” Rebecca asked, frowning at him as he moved closer to her. He wanted to tilt her chin up and kiss her lips, which were pursed. Mother and daughter were both irresistible.
“Just a guess.”
“I hope she wasn’t sticky.”
“Not at all. She smelled sweet. Maybe it’s just little boys like my rowdy nephews who are noisy and sticky. Little girls are nice. So are big girls,” he added softly, unable to stop. Something flickered in her gaze and she drew a deep breath, making her shirt strain over her full breasts.
“Come eat breakfast,” she said abruptly, turning for the kitchen.
“I'll be there in a few minutes. I'll shower first.” He watched her walk away down the hall and then he strode outside to the pickup to get his things, coming back to step into the shower.
Twenty minutes later he was dressed in jeans and a navy T-shirt and cowhide Western boots. When he entered the kitchen, he glanced at the girls.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” Tara said, bending her head over a small object in her lap, her long brown braid over her shoulder, a bright blue ribbon tied around it. Sissy played with a small stuffed rabbit. Patches of its fur were worn away, and one ear was patched. She gave him a wide grin while Rebecca glanced at him and handed him a glass of orange juice and placed slices of bread in the toaster.
They sat at the table, and she pulled a tablet in front of her. “I've made a list of things I want brought home from my shop, and I've tried to think of everything.” She raised her head to look at him, and Jake could see the annoyance in her eyes. “It seems to me that we should be able to go into town and gather everything that needs to be moved out here. It would be so much simpler.”
“You're moving your work here?” Tara asked, raising her head.
“My department is going to move your mom’s shop to the barn so she can work at home,” Jake answered.
“Awesome!” Tara exclaimed.
“Here at home?” Sissy’s eyes sparkled while Tara continued to stare at Rebecca.
“You're going to work here? All the time, or until that man is caught?” Tara persisted.
“Just until they catch him,” Rebecca replied with a note of exasperation.
“As soon as he’s caught,” Jake added, “we'll move all her work back to town.”
“You're certain this is necessary? It’s going to cause a dreadful disruption to my business.”
“It’s important,” he replied quietly, aware that the girls were looking back and forth between their mother and him.
Sighing in resignation, she turned to look at her girls.
“This also means that for the coming week, Tara, you and Sissy will have to stay home and miss your lessons in town.”
A howl of protests rose in the air, and Jake wished they had settled this issue before he joined them. Rebecca looked unruffled as she gazed at her girls. She reached out to touch Sissy’s curls.
“I don’t like it, either,” she said gently, “but hopefully, it'll be for a very short time and then we'll go back to the way we've always lived. Right now we're in some danger until they catch the bad man, so we just have to be careful. It won’t last long. Okay?”
“Sure,” Tara said with a sigh, and Sissy’s lower lip thrust out, but she nodded.
“Maybe there’s some special thing you’d like to have added to this list,” Rebecca suggested. “Maybe that Disney video you two have been wanting—you could watch it this week.”
“Right! Super!” Their frowns melted into smiles, and Tara wiggled with eagerness. “And what about another tablet for my paints?” she asked.
Rebecca laughed. “Whoa. Not too many requests. But I think we can add the tablet, and maybe a coloring book for Sissy.”
“Yeah!” Sissy exclaimed. Both girls seemed content and the problem resolved, and Jake wished their mother was that easy to placate.
Tara turned her attention back to the bits and pieces of plastic on the table. “What do you have there, Tara?” Jake asked.
She glanced up at him, holding a black object. “It’s the remote control for the television in the living room. It doesn’t work because it’s been dropped. I found some of the pieces to it this morning.”
“Want some help?” he asked.
She climbed down and came over to hand him all the pieces of the remote. He placed them on his knee and began to put them back together, concentrating on them, aware that Rebecca was bent over her list, writing furiously.
She got up to pass out the toast that had popped up. His gaze drifted down over her shirt and trim, faded cutoffs, her long shapely legs, which looked smooth as silk. With an effort, he returned his attention to the remote as Sissy came to stand beside him. He fit another pin in the control.
“Why don’t you have whiskers?” Sissy asked.
“I just shaved them off. I'll have whiskers by tonight, if you want to see some.”
“You have a lot of hair, but it’s not as long as my daddy’s was.”
“Is that right? You have very pretty hair,” he remarked easily, and she smiled at him.
“Do you like curly hair or straight hair?”
“I like both,” he answered, aware of Tara’s straight brown hair.
“Do you like orange juice?”
“Yes. Do you?” he asked, and she shook her head and wrinkled her nose.
“Do you like strawberry jam?”
“Sissy, stop asking Mr. Delancy so many questions,” Rebecca said.
He shook his head. “I don’t mind questions, and yes, I like strawberry jam, and I'll bet you do, too.”
Sissy nodded. “I like strawberry jam and bread and butter. Do you have a sister?”
“No, I have three younger brothers, but they are all grown up now and married. Now, Tara,” he said, closing the remote. “Take this into the front room and see if it works.”
“Thanks.” She took the box and ran out of the room with Sissy trailing after her, while he turned to take a drink of cold orange juice.
“She never runs out of questions. They've had their breakfasts, so this is for us. Would you like coffee?”
“Have any made?” he asked, thinking she looked as refreshed and bright-eyed as if she slept the whole night, instead of only a few hours.
She stood and moved around the kitchen. “I will in just a minute. I don’t drink coffee, and I just didn’t think about it. And don’t protest. It’s no trouble to make.”
“You win.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him, a sudden twinkle in her eyes. For an instant he wished things were different between them. But then logic set in and he realized it was a good thing that their relationship remained strictly business.
He passed the plate of toast to Rebecca, who was placing a sugar bowl and cream pitcher on the table.
“It works!” Tara called from the living room. With her pigtail bouncing, she came running to the door. “The remote wor
ks! I can change the channels!”
“Good.”
“Thank you for fixing it.” She turned to race back to the living room.
“She'll be happy now,” Rebecca said, sitting down to butter her toast, giving him one of her dazzling smiles. “Tara loves the remote. I don’t know why, because she never sits down. I think she likes to watch the channels flash past.”
“You should smile more often,” he said quietly, and something flickered in the depths of her eyes.
“I will when Meskell is caught,” she replied solemnly. The only reaction to his compliment that he could detect was the breathlessness of her voice.
“When he’s caught and this is over, Rebecca, you should get out more. Get back into life and start dating.”
“I'll remember that bit of advice.”
He gave a rueful grin and shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. None of my business again.”
“I'll bet you gave your brothers fits with your 'advice.'”
He smiled and shrugged. “They gave me fits, so we're even.”
“Considering your line of work,” she said, “I suppose it’s a good thing you can take charge of situations.”
“Considering my line of work... You sound as if you view me as Count Dracula.”
“No, you're just a tough, hard man. It surprises me when you show another side.”
He was a hard man, all right. She could turn him on with the slightest bit of teasing or one of her dimpled smiles.
“You don’t really know me,” he said quietly. “Don’t be so quick to judge.”
“I know that you're accustomed to taking charge, giving orders and having people do what you want,” she said, and suddenly all the lightness was gone from her voice and the chilling dislike was back. “And you thrive on peril.”
“Rebecca, you loved a guy who wasn’t afraid to get out and do a dangerous job. Someone has to do those jobs, but your loss is influencing your opinion of other men.”