Her Fifth Husband?

by Dixie Browning

  Jake nodded silently, as if he were processing the information. “Do you know if she’s married?”

  “We’ve never really discussed much besides budgets and timetables. Once we had coffee together at Southern Bean, but I don’t remember anything we talked about except the damage Hurricane Isabel did to her cottages.” Increasingly puzzled, she asked, “Why do you need to know all this?”

  Absently, Jake stroked his jaw. “Then you wouldn’t happen to know if she’s, um—involved in a relationship?”

  “I told you, we’ve never discussed anything like that. Is there a reason why you need to know?” She forced herself to stamp down a twinge of jealousy. Katie had to be on the sunny side of thirty. She’d probably end up managing the agency one of these days, because she was every bit as smart as she was attractive. “Why don’t you just ask her? I don’t like talking about people behind their back.”

  The vertical lines between his dark eyebrows deepened. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Something unexpected came up on my way here and I wanted to get a feel for it before I went any further.”

  “I read enough suspense novels to know about questioning witnesses. I couldn’t help you even if I wanted to. Why don’t you ask Katie whatever it is you want to know? I’ve got her cell phone number if I can remember where I put it.”

  “This case I was working on when you and I met?”

  “When you invaded my privacy, you mean,” she corrected. Arms crossed over her bosom, she tried a chilly look, but she was in too deep. She gave up trying. “But then you came to my rescue after I hurt my ankle, so I suppose we’re even,” she admitted grudgingly.

  “Yeah, well…things got sort of crazy there for a while. I don’t know how much I told you before, but the owners of the cottage where you were, ah—”

  “Working, but taking a tiny, well-earned break,” she supplied before he could accuse her of goofing off on the job.

  “Right. Anyway, they’re getting a divorce and the wife hired me to check out her suspicions concerning her husband and another woman. She got the idea he was using their cottage as a—a—”

  “Love nest?” Sasha thought about the scent of cigarette smoke and the rumpled cushions. And there was the cork she’d found in an otherwise empty trash can.

  “I don’t know how much love was involved, but yeah—I guess you could call it that.”

  “Did she have any evidence? The wife, I mean?”

  “A friend told her she’d heard rumors that Jamison might be using the place as his private playground.” Jake settled into the green leather-covered chair. “Evidence is what I’m supposed to get.”

  Indignation built swiftly. “You took all those pictures of me thinking I was waiting to meet a lover? I don’t know whether to be amused, flattered or insulted.” She settled on amusement as the least problematic.

  “Hey, I never claimed to be one of those super sleuths you read about or watch on TV. Every now and then I like to try my hand at something besides security systems just to prove I’m not—”

  “Over the hill,” she finished for him, and stopped just short of saying, take it from me, you’re not.

  Judging from his expression, the same thought occurred to Jake. Sasha settled on the sofa, putting the coffee table between them.

  Over the hill?

  Uh-uh, no way. She’d had lovers both older and younger. Jake was in a class by himself.

  He smiled. “I was going to say rusty, but back to what we were talking about.” The smile faded. “My client called a few days ago to say they’d gotten back together and my services were no longer needed. She called again just as I was about to leave this morning.”

  “To say what, sic him?”

  Jake nodded. “Words to that effect.”

  “And—?” Sasha prompted.

  “And I just came across evidence possibly involving your rental agent.”

  “What evidence? Circumstantial? Gossip?”

  “Nothing circumstantial about a lip-lock that timed out at just under two minutes.”

  “You’re kidding,” she said slowly. “Katie and Mr. Jamison? How can you be sure? I’ve never even seen the man, much less met him. I’ve never met either of the owners.”

  “His face is plastered on campaign posters every time we have another election. One of the reasons why he can’t just book a room for a few hours.” Jake described the frustrating, off-again, on-again case he’d been working on for the past several days.

  “Hmm…you know what it sounds like to me?” Rising, Sasha went to the bottom of the stairs and listened for sounds from the baby. A moment later, she settled back into the chair. “All’s quiet. Bless her heart, she’ll probably sleep for another hour, at least.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “You know what I think? I think he patched things up just long enough to throw his wife off guard and get her signature on a few documents.” The soft contours of her face hardened imperceptibly. “Any woman who signs anything at all under those circumstances—anything but a restraining order—is asking for trouble.”

  When he continued to watch her, she averted her face. “Have you ever had to sign one of those?” He sounded grim.

  “We’re not talking about me. Besides, the kind of man who needs a restraining order usually ignores it.”

  “Sasha?”

  He waited.

  Finally, she said, “One of my husbands was…physical. When he drank too much, or when I didn’t do things just fast enough or high enough to suit him.”

  Jake closed his eyes momentarily, as if ignoring it could change the past.

  She shrugged. “At least by the time I was old enough to marry, I’d learned how to handle—that sort of thing. I only had to get a restraining order once.”

  Jake leaned forward as if to rise, but she shook her head. “Honey, let me tell you something, if shedding husbands was an Olympic sport, I’d win gold every single time.” She laughed, but with her eyes glittering, the effect was hardly amusing. “You want me to advise your client on the proper way to get rid of unwanted rodents?”

  He couldn’t think of a single thing to say—nothing that made sense under the circumstances. He’d known her for less than a week, yet he’d instinctively trusted her with his granddaughter. He’d seen her all dressed up in her fancy outfits, her makeup and her gaudy jewelry—he’d seen her barefoot, wearing a shapeless, colorless tent with her makeup smeared over half her face.

  Either way, the effect she had on him was the same. The thought of any man mistreating her made his blood boil. She might pretend to be tough, but it didn’t take a security expert to see through her defenses.

  With a Sashalike toss of the head, she said, “Peaches is probably going to sleep for a while, so why don’t I make us something for lunch? Or have you already eaten?”

  Over Marty’s leftover casserole Sasha asked about the progress on his house. She had tiptoed upstairs to check on the sleeping baby.

  Jake said, “Another few days and the work will be finished. I can use a window fan to pump the place out.” He asked about any commitments she had that might take her out of town over the next several days, and she told him that wouldn’t be a problem.

  “This close to the season, I’ve already done most of the hands-on work.” She wouldn’t allow it to be a problem. She happened to be in the middle of doing a new suite of offices and was angling to get a bid on another one, but Marty or Faye could baby-sit if she had to run over to the beach. At least she had her car back now, even if her ankle wasn’t quite a hundred percent.

  Sasha watched his throat move as he finished off his iced tea. In all her experience with the opposite sex it had never even occurred to her that the throat was a major erogenous zone.

  On the other hand, just thinking about the way he had flicked his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat was enough to steal the air right out of her lungs.

  Jake caught her staring and lifted one eyebrow. He looked delicious, but then, when had he ever looked
any other way? The man was no clotheshorse, which suited her just fine, having been married to a couple of GQ types.

  “About Katie and Jamison—are you sure?” she asked. “Maybe it was just an air kiss. I mean, if she’s been managing his cottage all these years, chances are they’re friends.”

  “You want a demonstration?” Shoving his chair back from the table, Jake took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “They were standing about like this.”

  He was no more than five inches away, close enough to feel the heat, to smell his soap and aftershave. Sasha breathed deeply, as if to fill herself with his essence. Her pulse was pounding, her lips parted and waited.

  “She was facing me—his back was to me, but once he moved closer, like this—” Jake closed the distance until her breasts were pressed against his chest “—I couldn’t see all that much, but I seriously doubt if they were discussing the weather.” His voice was starting to sound thick, almost strangled.

  Sasha couldn’t have spoken if her life depended on it.

  “Actually, I think it was more like this,” he whispered, his breath stirring tendrils of hair against her face.

  Just as it had before, his kiss began slowly with a soft, moist touch—a gentle, teasing brush of lips that quickly escalated into a major event. Was there a Richter scale for kisses?

  If so, his registered at least a twelve.

  Standing on her tiptoes, Sasha lifted her arms around his neck and pressed against him. Through two layers of clothing, she couldn’t get close enough. While his teasing tongue explored her mouth, driving her mad with need, his hands cupped her hips, moving her back and forth against his erection until her trembling legs were barely able to support her. She could feel the moisture gathering, preparing her for what was to come.

  Lifting his mouth from hers, he whispered, “Is that bed still available?”

  His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs stroking her taut nipples. She managed to nod. At this point, speech was beyond her. This is crazy, she thought. She was already in over her head. If he took her to bed one more time, she might sink without a trace.

  Exactly what are your intentions, Mr. Smith?

  Great sex, what else?

  Exactly! Great sex and what else?

  But if ever there was a time for that old T-shirt philosophy to kick in, it was now. She shut up and went with the flow.

  Jake closed the bedroom door and turned to her, his eyes glittering with an intensity that was purely electric. “You’re sure?”

  Reading her answer in her eyes—there were some things no amount of artifice could hide—he pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his belt. Then, with his jeans unfastened, they came together for another bone-melting kiss, and any lingering uncertainty she might have harbored about the way she felt melted right along with her bones.

  Using both hands, she slid his jeans and briefs down over his hips, then laughed shakily when he nearly stumbled trying to kick them off over his shoes.

  “Oh, no,” he taunted, “you’re not getting me naked while you’re still wrapped up in that circus tent. I know all about power plays.”

  “This circus tent, as you call it, just happens to be the most comfortable thing I own,” she informed him, her voice muffled as she pulled the caftan over her head. At least it was one of her newer ones. Besides, it was a little late to dash upstairs and change into something from Victoria’s Secret.

  The moment she was undressed, Jake lowered her to the bed and came down beside her. “You’re incredibly beautiful,” he murmured.

  She was so far gone she actually believed him. “So are you,” she whispered. “Your nose—”

  “Broken twice.”

  “Your eyes…”

  “Reading glasses.”

  “Me, too,” she admitted, but then all thought of minor flaws disappeared. When she trailed her fingers through the narrow pelt of flat curls that arrowed down from his chest, past his hard middle to his groin, Jake sucked his breath audibly.

  He was hard everywhere.

  He kissed her eyes, her nose, and then he found her mouth again, hurling her into another dimension. The only reality was the aching, pulsating sweetness that left her helpless and needy, from the top of her Spice Tea hair to her Rhinestone Pink toenails. She shivered as his hands skimmed down her sides to cup her hips. When his fingers spanned the exquisitely sensitive skin of her groin, tracing the line and teasing her with quick forays into her moist center, her hips moved involuntarily.

  She gasped, “Please—I need—”

  “Hold on while I—”

  “Now,” she begged.

  “First I need to—”

  She could feel him hot and hard and heavy, pulsing against her. When he leaned on one elbow to reach the bedside table, she knew what he was doing. She’d seen him remove the foil package from his wallet and place it there. By her own standards, at least, she’d been safe and sensible all her life, and look where it had got her.

  He covered her hand with his and began moving it toward ground zero. When her hand closed around him she forgot to breathe.

  He groaned. Moving against her palm, he whispered, “No—no, wait a minute—”

  As if waiting were even a faint possibility. He was like molten steel, and she wanted him desperately, wildly, far beyond the reach of common sense. She wanted him any way she could have him, but most of all she wanted him inside her where a five-alarm need was blazing out of control.

  Using her thumb to caress, she squeezed and stroked, slowly at first and then faster. Curled around his naked back, her hips moved in unison with her hand until he gripped her wrist, lifting her hand away.

  Moments later he moved over her again. “Now,” he whispered roughly as he plunged inside her hot, tight center. The sweetest pleasure pulsated around them as they raced toward the finish line. All too soon her climax triggered his and Jake shouted hoarsely, collapsing on top of her.

  Eventually, with both their bodies slick with sweat, he rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. Later, when she could gather enough energy to speak, Sasha said, “I’m too heavy for you.”

  He barely opened his eyes. “You move and I’ll…”

  “Take your toys and go home?” she teased lazily.

  “Yeah, something like that.” He grinned without opening his eyes. A few minutes later, when both their pulse rates slowed to something approximating normal, he said, “What toys are we talking about, hmm?”

  She chuckled. “The one I’m playing with at the moment?”

  There went the old pulse rate again, like one of those test-your-strength gizmos at the county fair. “It takes two to play that game.”

  “I know,” she purred. “Interested in a rematch?”

  “You talked me into it.”

  “Best two out of three?”

  “You’re on,” he drawled, and rolled over onto his side, facing her.

  This time they made love at almost a leisurely pace. Sated, they took the time to explore, to discover and exploit newly sensitized areas that had been neglected in their earlier rush.

  One tiny spot between her thigh and her belly. Attention there drove her wild.

  The thin skin behind Jake’s knees and the arches of his feet, where a single stroke could render him helpless. Sasha tickled him there, then took advantage of his helplessness to kiss every inch of his torso, lingering in places that made him close his eyes and groan. When it was her turn, he returned the favor. She twisted and whimpered under his sweet assault until neither of them could wait another second.

  This time she straddled him, clasping him with her thighs. Panting, she matched him stroke for stroke, her head flung back, her eyes tightly closed. She felt herself tightening around him, heard him cry out her name, and then she collapsed, her sweat-damp body melting into his.

  Eventually, Jake said, “That’s it. Write me off as a casualty.”

  Sliding off him onto her side, Sasha curled up in a fetal position—as if that migh
t postpone facing reality. Either she’d forgotten everything she’d ever known about men—about sex—or she’d just entered an alternate reality.

  She thought, I hardly even know this man, but I don’t know if I can live without him. Oh, God, what have I done?

  I’m not ready for this, Jake thought. He pretended to be asleep because he wasn’t ready to answer any questions. In case she asked any questions.

  In case she asked what? About his intentions?

  Who had “intentions” in these days of instant gratification? You parked your brain, unleashed your libido, a good time was had by all, and that was the end of it, right?

  Wrong. He knew better than that. He’d always known better than that, even in his wildest oat-sowing days. The trouble was, this woman had somehow managed to infiltrate his dull, orderly life until now she was as necessary to him as the air he breathed. He had no idea how it had happened, he only knew it had.

  While she’d been watching him undress, he’d been thanking his lucky stars he’d been a swimmer all his life. He could still run five miles, although not with any great speed. There might be a few gray hairs on his head, but the hair on his body was still dark.

  She stirred beside him and murmured, “Jake?”

  “Hmm?” A smart man would get up, get dressed and get going before he got in any deeper. But then, he’d never been known for his intellect.

  “You ’wake?”

  “Umm-hmm.”

  When she rolled over toward him, his hand brushed against her. The gentle swell of her belly was far sexier than anything revealed by all those rail-thin, near-naked beach bunnies that flocked to the area each season. If ever a woman was made for love…

  “Who won?” she murmured. He could tell by the sound of her voice that she was smiling.

  So he smiled, too. “Who’s keeping score? Call it a draw.”

  When they heard a familiar wail, he sat up. “I’ll get her, honey, you stay here.”

  Still without opening her eyes, Sasha smiled. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “You change her while I get a bottle ready.”