JACK WAS SOUND ASLEEP when Daisy began thrashing next to him. She had slept fitfully nearly every night since the miscarriage. Sometimes crying, sometimes whimpering and curling into a fetal position. When necessary, he woke her up just enough to quiet her. She rarely remembered those times the next morning. Other times, all he had to do was put his arms around her and hold her close and she would lapse back into a deep sleep. But tonight was not one of those nights, he realized as Daisy suddenly sat bolt upright and let out a bloodcurdling scream that made the hair on his neck stand on end.
“No,” she screamed again, even more loudly. “I won’t be quiet! I want out of here! I want out right now! Mommy!”
Jack switched on the bedside lamp, sat up and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Daisy!” He shook her once, then again and again.
Daisy opened her eyes, still not seeing him, sobbing openly now. “I won’t shut up!” she cried before letting out another bloodcurdling shriek of terror that set Jack’s heart pounding. “Mommy!”
Desperate to stop her suffering, Jack shook Daisy all the more forcefully. “Daisy, wake up, sweetheart!” he instructed her loudly.
But instead of rousing, Daisy merely flailed out at him and tried to scramble from the bed. As Jack followed, she lashed out at him, and made it as far as the door before he caught up with her. Still trying to reach her, he clamped both his arms around her and held her close. “Daisy, it’s Jack. Now come on. Look at me, honey. Look at me. It’s Jack. It’s Jack. Everything’s okay. You’re just dreaming. That’s all. It’s a bad, bad dream.”
Slowly, Daisy’s eyes cleared. She swallowed hard, still trembling from head to foot, and looked at him.
“You were dreaming,” Jack repeated even more firmly. “You’re awake now. You’re safe,” he reassured her gently as they leaned against the wall. And then Daisy broke down in the gut-wrenching sobs that just broke his heart.
DAISY DIDN’T KNOW what was the matter with her. She couldn’t seem to stop crying. Couldn’t get ahold of herself or stop the images of Rosewood flashing through her mind. Couldn’t do anything but sag against the wall and hold on to Jack for dear life.
“Hush, hush,” Jack whispered against her hair. He smoothed a hand down her spine. “You’re all right now. You’re safe. I promise you. Nothing and no one is going to hurt you now. You’re safe.”
Safe. Daisy had wanted to be this secure all her life, but not until she’d married Jack did she ever believe she could feel this way. And there was a part of her that still didn’t trust the emotion she felt. At least not all the way. She lifted her head from the dampness of his shoulder and looked up into his face. Jack was looking down at her with such unbelievable tenderness, just the way he had looked at Rosewood, when he had rescued her weeks before and suddenly she knew what she wanted. To forget those horrible dreams and whatever had happened long ago to cause her to dread going out to Rosewood, to dread ever being locked in a small, windowless room. Or left crying, alone and afraid.
“Make love to me,” Daisy whispered, already forging her lips with his. “Now, Jack. Please.”
She didn’t have to ask twice.
He threaded both his hands through her hair and lowered his mouth to hers, making her his and only his, for now, forever, and suddenly the past was just that. All that mattered to Daisy was the present. She locked her hands around the back of his neck and kissed him back passionately. She arched up against him, desperate with need and the yearning to have him buried deep inside her. Because when Jack made love to her he made her feel as if she was perfect. They were perfect. Together. And that was something she’d never felt before. Never even come close to feeling.
Aware his arousal was every bit as fierce as hers, she kicked off her shorts, opened up his pajama pants and took the hot, throbbing length of him in hand. Swearing, Jack broke the contact and lunged for the nightstand. Daisy blinked, not understanding, until she saw him reach for the box of condoms. And then belatedly, she remembered, too.
“Dr. Rametti,” Jack muttered as he stripped off his pajama pants, covered his erection swiftly and came back to join her. She tugged her camisole top over her head and held out her arms. He came into them. Just that easily, they picked up where they had left off. They rubbed against each other intimately, teasing, tormenting, until control was all but gone and they were both moaning and shaking with need, and the time for waiting, for delaying was past.
Jack lifted her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He slid into her in one powerful thrust. By the second, Daisy had begun to shatter. He followed soon after. Her fingertips dug into his back as they hung there together in ecstasy, and then came slowly back to reality. His breathing still coming as hard and fast as hers, Jack wrapped her in his arms, holding her close. “I think we just broke all land-speed records there,” he murmured teasingly against her neck.
Daisy pressed a kiss in his hair and cuddled closer, knowing she had never felt as content—and wanted—and full of joy as she did at that very moment. It wasn’t that Jack made all the bad things in her life go away—no one had that kind of power. He just made her think that the problems—and they still had plenty of them—weren’t anywhere near as important as the joy and fulfillment the two of them felt whenever they were together like this, or just talking, being. Enjoying each other. Enjoying sex.
“I know.”
He drew back to look at her. “Want to go again?”
Daisy grinned as he slowly, reluctantly, disengaged their bodies where they were still joined and ripped off the overflowing condom. “That’s not possible.” She creased her forehead, trying to recall what she had read on the subject, because what she had read was the sum total of her knowledge. She narrowed her eyes at him, and almost ashamed to admit how much she wanted him still, asked playfully, “Is it…?”
Jack slanted her a sexy smile, swept her into his arms and carried her over to the rumpled covers. “Maybe not this very second,” he allowed with cheerful abandon, following her down onto the bed.
He reached over and turned down the bedside lamp to its lowest setting so the room was illuminated with a soft glow, then turned her gently onto her stomach and swung his body overtop hers so his knees were on either side of her and he was straddling her thighs. Keeping his weight off her, he flattened his palms against the bare skin of her back, and began a slow, heavenly massage that could have relaxed her no matter how tense she was. And she wasn’t the least bit tense. Aware she had never been pampered like this, never even imagined it could happen, especially inside a marriage, Daisy groaned at the gentle kneading and caressing.
“Good?” Jack asked.
“Mmm,” Daisy agreed. She had never felt anything so good in her entire life.
“Not too hard?”
“No.”
“Too soft?” His fingers worked their magic on either side of her spine.
Daisy took a long, deep breath, wondering if anyone had ever climaxed from just this, because she was beginning to feel as if she would if he kept up his ministrations. “Perfect,” she murmured.
“That’s good. You keep right on enjoying yourself, you hear?”
“Mmm. I will.” Daisy sank farther into the soft king-size mattress, her whole body feeling as if it was turning to the consistency of melting butter. And that was, of course, when the mood between them began to change once again. He left her shoulders to start on her calves. Worked slowly and patiently up to the backs of her knees. Then her thighs. Daisy’s mixture of relaxation and pleasure faded completely, to be replaced by something else. Something distinctly sexual, and perhaps a little frustrating. “Jack,” she moaned hungrily.
“You seem a little tense here,” he noted as his fingertips worked the insides of her thighs.
“And you know why,” Daisy murmured as he stroked the lower curves of her buttocks, tracing inward, until he reached the petal softness there.
“I think so.” Strong hands turned her again.
He looked
down at her with a sexy smile, ruggedly handsome in the soft light of the masculinely appointed bedroom. “You need a front massage, too.”
“Somehow,” Daisy drawled, loving the way he was still straddling her almost as much as the sight of his renewed arousal, “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”
His hands started low, just above her knees. Relaxing, rubbing. Then moved higher, to the insides of her thighs again. A fierce burning started inside her, and by the time he reached the apex of her thighs, her every nerve ending was quivering, vibrating at the slightest contact. Looking as determined to make it last as he was to get her there, Jack moved past her feminine mound and gently massaged her waist. Rib cage. Shoulders.
Daisy arched as he kissed her breasts and sent a new round of pleasure ricocheting through her.
The next thing she knew, he was sliding downward and settling between her legs. She whimpered softly as he slid a finger deep between the tender folds, and then followed it with a series of light, butterfly kisses. She knew he wanted her to come, but if she did, it was going to be over too soon again and she had yet to enjoy his body the way he had just enjoyed her.
It took some doing, but she finally wiggled free of him. “My turn.”
He looked at her, perplexed. “But you haven’t—”
“My turn,” Daisy reiterated even more deliberately. Enjoying the sight of him, naked, rumpled and aroused, she steered him onto his stomach. He chuckled, reluctantly complying, as she prepared to torture him the way he had just sensually tortured her.
Figuring he might as well give in—and pretend to let her call the shots in their relationship—for a few minutes anyway—Jack folded his arms beneath his head and let Daisy have her way with him. And what a way it was, he thought wistfully as her nimble fingers worked their way across his shoulders, down his spine, to the curve of his buttocks, and lower still, to the sensitive insides of his thighs. She knew just how to touch him, how to make him want her, and more important, give. And that was something. Jack had never wanted a woman in his life before Daisy, never imagined himself willingly sharing his bed, his home, his life. But now that Daisy was a part of his existence, he couldn’t imagine a life—a night—without her. Not when she made him feel as if he knew how to love, and maybe even be loved, after all.
Daisy turned him onto his back. Stroked his shaft, bent her head and kissed the tip, then turned her attention to his chest once again, her sweet lips finding his pecs and the mat of hair and nipples. He groaned again and reached for the box on the nightstand. Daisy plucked the condom from his fingers. “Let me,” she said.
She opened the packet with her teeth and pulled out the condom. After a moment’s shy hesitation that was as sweet as it was comical, she was able to figure out how to open the latex sheath and roll it over his now-throbbing shaft. Figuring playtime was over, Jack wanted her beneath him. Wanted her to be his.
But once again, Daisy had her own ideas she was determined to implement. Looking beautiful and wild, vulnerable and possessive, with her wavy blond hair floating around her face and tumbling onto her shoulders, she straddled his body, took him in hand, and slowly, deliberately, lowered herself onto him. Jack moaned with a mixture of pleasure and frustration as she jerked in a shuddering breath and accepted him into her tight silky warmth a torturous half inch at a time. Able to see the depth of her arousal in her lidded eyes, he felt his need for her with every fiber of his being.
Hearts pounding in tandem, pulses racing, they moved together, slowly, awkwardly at first, then more and more expertly. Enjoying the sight of her riding him, as much as the physical act of their joining, Jack slid a hand between their bodies.
Daisy was trying to hide it, but he knew she was holding back, trying to keep some small part of her separate from him—and thought by not kissing him on the mouth she could manage it, but he wasn’t going to allow the ruse. Smiling up at her with everything he felt for her in his heart, he continued watching her. Even as he found the tender nub, rubbing, stroking, making love to her by touch and physical possession until she was straining against him, whimpering with need. And still she rotated her body over his, taking the time to discover what she liked as she opened her body up to him in slow, inexorable, circular degrees, while beneath her he controlled each long, slow, deeply thrusting upward stroke. Until he was finding that spot inside her once again, the one guaranteed to send her over the edge with stunning intensity. The insides of her thighs were tightly nudging his hips, and she was arching back, gasping for breath, and she was coming exactly the way he wanted her to…so hard she was shaking and crying out… And he was following her, fast, hard, irrevocably. And this time there was no holding back, no pretending that something significant hadn’t happened. Because it had, Jack thought in satisfaction. She had reached out to him in need, and he had answered her, and there was no turning back. No pretending that this marriage of theirs wasn’t slowly and steadily becoming a real and viable one, after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“TOM, WHAT A NICE SURPRISE!” Grace said when Tom walked into the studio, where a gardening segment featuring houseplants was being set up.
Tom’s son-in-law, Nick Everton, waved hello and went back to his producing duties. On the other side of the soundstage, Daisy caught sight of Tom, too, and deliberately went the other way. So much for the father-daughter unity he had tried to jump-start the previous evening, Tom thought.
“Did you come by to watch the taping?” Grace asked. To Tom’s pleasure, his ex looked genuinely happy to see him. “Or,” she continued, her voice dropping a notch, “has something come up I need to know about.”
“The latter,” Tom said, glad he could still come to Grace about family matters. “Is there somewhere we could talk?”
Grace cast a look over her shoulder and made a face. “My dressing room has been taken over by wardrobe people right now. How about we go over there?” Being careful where she walked—there seemed to be cables taped to the floor all over the place—she led the way to the dining-room set, where nothing much was happening at the moment. She leaned against the side of the table, folded her arms in front of her and crossed one ankle delicately over the other. “What’s up?”
“Did Daisy tell you what happened last night?”
“No.” Grace’s smile was frozen on her face, but there was a new wariness in her eyes. “Why?” she asked just as softly, looking as if she, too, was braced for the worst.
Tom wished there were some way he could cushion the news, but there wasn’t, so he just said it straight out. “She and Jack had dinner with me last night. The DNA results were in, and they were what we suspected.”
Grace’s expression remained serene as she hazarded a concerned look at Daisy. “How did she take it?”
Tom sighed, then motioned for Grace to sit. “With mixed emotions.” He paused to help Grace into one of the chairs, and sat down opposite her. “Anyway, when she and Jack got home, they found their house had been broken into. Daisy caught sight of two intruders dressed in black, with ski masks pulled down over their faces. Beyond that, she couldn’t give much of a description. Anyway, the only things missing pertained to Daisy’s recent visit to Switzerland.”
Abruptly, Grace’s expression turned as somber as Tom’s mood. She knew as well as he did what that could mean to both of them. If the tabloids caught wind of the real reason Tom and Grace’s marriage had fallen apart years before, their divorce would become news again. Grace plucked at the crease on the knee of her buttercup-yellow tunic and slacks. “I gather no one was hurt.”
“No. Thank God.” Tom paused, glad Grace was taking what could be a devastating turn of events so well. “Jack called Harlan Decker in lieu of the police. Harlan thinks it was the work of amateurs who wanted only one thing. Information about Daisy.”
Grace sat back in her chair, so her spine was touching the ladder back. “Any idea who that might be?” she asked.
Shrugging, Tom did his best to appear that th
ey were discussing something not so serious. “Jack thinks Bucky Jerome is the prime suspect. And apparently there was a woman who was hanging around the beach outside their place a few days ago, who seemed to want something from Daisy but took off before telling Daisy what. Anyway, I wanted to warn you. If it was Jerome, or some other ambitious journalist, or even the woman looking for something to blackmail Daisy with, for money, we could all have a problem on our hands. And if this leads to a leak of information, it could concern you.”
“Thank you.” Grace stood and straightened the hem of her tunic. “I appreciate your telling me,” she said graciously.
Tom stood, too, and put the chairs back the way he’d found them. “I thought maybe the two of us should talk, come up with some strategy,” he continued casually, wishing they had more time, but already Grace’s producer, and their son-in-law, Nick Everton, was pointing at his watch.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, and I absolutely want to do it, but not here and not now.” Grace gently grasped his arm just above the elbow, and steered him toward the soundstage exit. She leaned closer, still smiling up at him, and said, “Tell you what. I’ve got a full day of taping ahead of me, but I’m free this evening. Why don’t you come by my place tonight around eight—” she rose on tiptoe and let her lips brush his cheek as they reached the double metal doors “—and we’ll have some dinner and figure out what to do.”
BUCKY HAD JUST SAT DOWN at his desk in the newsroom, when Jack Granger walked in. Steam was practically coming out the attorney’s ears as he made his way toward Bucky’s station. Which was odd, Bucky thought, since he hadn’t written a thing about Jack’s wife in oh…three days.
Jack stopped short of Bucky’s desk. He looked as if he wanted to punch something. Namely, Bucky. “We need to talk.” Jack pushed the words through his teeth.
No fool, Bucky kicked back in his task chair and folded his hands behind his head. “Okay. Shoot.”
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