Mary Margret Daughtridge SEALed Bundle

by Mary Margret Daughtridge

  Pickett felt Jax reach across her to the nightstand for one of the foil packets then pull away for a second while he readied himself. When he reached under her buttocks to open the swollen petals there, she could not control a fine trembling that swept over her.

  Jax paused just at her entrance. “Are you all right? You’re not scared, are you?”

  “Now.” Pickett pushed her hips at him. “I need you now.”

  He filled her with a slowness that made her want to scream. And then an intensity of pure pleasure jolted through her. “Oh my God!”

  Jax stilled abruptly. “Have I hurt you?”

  “No. It’s so good. It’s—um—when you move like that, yes, just like that, it is so good.”

  “Like that?” he repeated the movement.

  “Yes. I’ve never …”

  “This must be a good position for your G-spot. You know about them, don’t you?”

  Pickett couldn’t help but laugh, an amazingly sultry sound even to her own ears. “I know about G-spots in theory. This is my first acquaintance with my own.”

  Jax’s answering laugh was full of masculine triumph. “Now we know another thing you like.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  You are going to do what?” Pickett’s body, seconds before so sweetly nestled into the curve of his, stiffened.

  Jax rapidly reviewed what he had just been saying. They had been lying in bed, talking over their plans for the day in sleepy, relaxed murmurs. He’d been idly wondering if the slow stroking of Pickett’s breasts would give her the same idea he was getting. With her bare bottom pressed against his arousal, she’d have to know what was on his mind.

  Jax liked sex in the morning, and it wasn’t something he got much of. If his schedule didn’t make it impossible to linger in bed, the twenty-four-hour rule did. What the hell had he said? Whatever it was, they didn’t have to talk about it right now.

  Jax pulled her back against him, stroking her soft belly. “It’s not important, sweetheart. Just a phone call to my lawyer. I can do it later.”

  “You said you were going to change the custody agreement to make sure you got more visitation with Tyler.” Her tone was accusatory. What was the matter with her? She ought to think that was a good thing.

  He smoothed a circle around the velvety areola of one plump breast. She really liked that last night. It might work.

  Pickett pushed his hand away. “Do you mean Lauren, your mother-in-law—the one that treated me to a diatribe about your deficiencies—that Lauren is going to have custody of Tyler?”

  He could try a kiss behind her ear. He moved his lips over the velvety skin. He liked the way she smelled there. Shampoo and soap and warm, sleepy smell.

  Pickett shoved a remarkably sharp elbow into his midriff and squirmed away.

  No morning sex this morning. Jax flopped onto his back. He covered his eyes with his arm. “This isn’t news, Pickett.” He sounded a lot more patient than he felt. “She’s had custody since his mother died. You know that.”

  Pickett sat up and swung her legs over the side, grabbing the first article of clothing that her hand came across. Her back to him, she pulled on the blue knit shirt Jax had worn last night, then stood up.

  “I knew he was staying with her until you could come for him. It never occurred to me you would give her permanent custody.”

  “Did you think I would keep him?”

  “Yes!”

  Jax blinked at her vehemence. “Why are you so offended?”

  “I’m not offended. I’m appalled!”

  “Pay attention, Pickett. I am a SEAL. I’m away two hundred or more days a year. Even when I’m at the base, most of our training takes place at night. I’m gone twelve to fourteen hours at a time. That’s reality. Tyler’s too young to stay by himself. How am I supposed to take care of him?”

  “Two hundred days a year?”

  “Yes. Lauren isn’t perfect, but she does care about Tyler and I trust her more than hired help I wouldn’t be present to supervise. So I’m doing what’s best for Tyler, okay?”

  After a long pause Pickett spoke. “Have you asked yourself what being deserted by you again is going to do to Tyler?” she asked quietly.

  The question burned him. SEALs never abandoned one of their own. “I’m not deserting him,” he said through clenched teeth. “I just told you. I’m going to change the visitation agreement. I’m going to make sure I see more of him, and I want him to visit me as often as possible.”

  Pickett was silent. She picked up a brush and began to pull it through the tossed golden curls. The motion pulled up the shirt, revealing creamy expanse of thigh.

  She seemed to live to show him things that were just outside his reach. To hell with trying to defend himself. Jax stood up, disregarding his nudity and half-aroused state. He caught Pickett watching him in the mirror.

  “I’m already on notice that I will have to justify every arrangement I make to Commander Kohn, but frankly, I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

  Pickett’s eyes prickled but she found if she breathed shallowly she could bear the blow he’d dealt to her heart. She met his crystal gray gaze in the mirror. His dark brows were low across his eyes and absolutely straight. This was the man, the warrior, she’d warned herself about repeatedly. Just one of those implacable looks, and no man under him would ever forget his position in the scheme of things again. Nor would she.

  It was ironic. Making recommendations about custody was her business. Her job, at any rate. Not many times, thank God, but she had been called as an expert witness in custody trials. But he hadn’t asked for her opinion.

  She was not his therapist.

  She wasn’t his anything.

  She felt her face grow hot. She knew—she knew—that an invitation to a man’s bed was not an invitation to his life, and yet at the first opportunity, it seemed, she had stepped over the line. It was a good thing—eventually, it would be a good thing—he was so willing to set her straight.

  She set the brush on the dresser with great care and slowly turned to face him. “You’re right, of course, it isn’t my business,” she said, and she was very proud of how cool and steady her voice sounded. “I apologize.” She turned back to the dresser to extract lingerie and clean clothes. “If you want to use the shower in the master bath, I’ll use the one off my office.”

  He had been dismissed by admirals, and wing commanders, once by a two star general.

  Jax rounded the corner of the house at a slow jog, letting his body cool down from his run. The sun had just cleared the pines, and heavy dew sparkled in the grass.

  Yep. He’d been dismissed before, but never more effectively than by a one-hundred-pound woman with a mop of golden curls dressed in his faded navy blue shirt. It was soft and thin from many washings and clung to the slope of her breasts. It had hung down to her forearms and almost to her rosy knees. She should have looked ridiculous, like a child dressed in her father’s clothing. Instead she did that queen thing with her head and proceeded to hunt through her underwear as if his presence was not significant enough to be an irritation.

  It had turned him on so completely he had to bend over to scoop up his discarded shorts and turn his back to put them on.

  He was right. She said so. So why did he feel like he had lost out on something—besides the obvious, of course. Damn, she turned him on. But it wasn’t just that a pleasant interlude had gotten derailed. It was … what?

  I was a shit.

  You’re not one now. What happened?

  She’d sure changed her opinion of him since last night. Today she thought he was a shit and worse. That remark about him deserting Tyler still burned with an acid sting.

  He wiped sweat from his forehead with the hem of his T-shirt. His running shoes were plastered with leaf fragments and so wet from dew they squished. He dropped to the porch steps to untie them.

  But what if she was right? About Tyler, he meant. He brushed away the fear that she was right abo
ut him. She had a way of anticipating what Tyler felt that he couldn’t match. In the past several days he had gotten used to sharing the responsibility for Tyler with someone. Someone whose opinion he respected. Not that Tyler was her responsibility. But somehow they shared him in a way that he and Danielle never had. He would hate to give that up when he left, but Tyler would be with his grandmother. There wouldn’t be much point continuing. For now though he would need to do stuff to make sure Tyler knew he wouldn’t be deserted. And the person who could help him most was Pickett.

  He shouldn’t have said it was none of her business. He wondered how mad she still was.

  Coffee and two white mugs waited on the counter when he padded barefoot through the kitchen, but the house was silent. Upstairs he found Tyler still asleep, but without Lucy. Pickett must be outside with the dogs somewhere.

  He tracked her footprints through the dew-wet grass to the garage to find her wrestling a sack of corn into the 30-gallon garbage can she stored the duck’s food in.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled at him and pushed an errant lock of hair from her forehead. “I keep Quackers’s food in this can so it won’t attract raccoons and rats, but I dumped it in upside down and now I can’t get to the tape to open it.”

  She was doing the same thing she had been doing ever since they’d argued. Not pouting, perfectly friendly, in fact, and yet …

  Jax pulled up the large sack of feed, reversed it, dropped it back in the can, and then dexterously pulled the string that released the tape.

  He replaced the metal lid and turned to face her. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure.” She started toward the door, angling her body to go wide around him. “Is Tyler up yet?”

  “He was still sound asleep when I looked.” Jax planted himself in front of Pickett again. “Look, about this morning. Can we get back to where we were?”

  “Where we were.” Her eyes searched the exposed beams of the shed, while she pretended to think it over. “Having sex, you mean?” She smiled brightly. “Sure. Why not?”

  She was still doing it. That thing. Smiling, even meeting his eyes, but not really. She was deliberately misunderstanding him, but still, it ticked him off—her acting like the sex hadn’t meant anything. Like it meant no more than pouring a cup of coffee or passing the toast.

  He grabbed for his patience. “Don’t be dismissive. But since you brought it up, that wasn’t just sex. It was—you know—amazing. Wasn’t it? Tell me you know it was more.”

  “Well, we already agreed you’re the one with experience.” She shrugged but he could tell she was thinking about it. Remembering.

  At last Pickett’s ocean eyes met his, really met his, and softened.

  “Okay,” she said. Yeah, that was it, the soft eyes, soft smile. “Okay, it was amazing. I didn’t know it could be like that.”

  He pressed for more. “And it wasn’t just physical. It was talking and just being together. Can we get that back?”

  Pickett let out a big breath.

  “Listen.” Jax stepped closer. “I’m a SEAL. There are some harsh realities that go with that. And they’re not going to change. I know you don’t like what I’m doing with Tyler,” he lifted a hand, dropped it back to his thigh, “but can you accept that I’m doing the best I can?”

  “I’ve already apologized,” she pointed out firmly.

  “I know. And I’m apologizing now, I think.”

  Pickett’s eyes gleamed. “You think?”

  Jax grinned in acquiescence. “All right. I am apologizing. I won’t tell you to butt out again.”

  “But you were in the right. I stepped over the line. Where Tyler will live is not my decision to make.”

  “I wasn’t right. We had something good going. We still can. For as long as I’m here, I need and want you to talk to me about Tyler. I want to do the best I can, even if it’s not up to your standards. Can you deal with that?”

  Pickett was silent a long time. Jax remained silent too. He had said everything he could think of to say. Sometimes you just had to let people make up their own minds.

  At last her mobile features settled, and she sighed as if she had come to a conclusion. She didn’t look especially happy.

  “Pickett?”

  She lifted eyes that were both wise and sad. “There’s a whole world full of children that are not being raised according to my standards,” she said slowly. Then in one of her agile shifts, she smiled self-deprecatingly. “And when I have children of my own, they will probably be among that number. So, even if you’re not absolutely perfect, I guess I can deal with it.”

  He wanted to crush her to him. He wanted to pull her down on the cracked concrete and ravish her completely. He wanted to shout in triumph, but the thoughtful little smile that played around her mouth made him tip her chin up very, very gently. She was back with him, on his side again, but not all the way. He couldn’t push it.

  Until she smiled into his eyes.

  Then he kissed her with the hunger that had gnawed at him for over an hour. Gnawed at him a long, long time. Maybe forever.

  She tasted of coffee and mint toothpaste and some kind of certainty in an uncertain world.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Uh-oh.

  As soon as the kitchen phone rang, she knew it was her mother.

  Pickett was in the laundry sorting yet another load of clothes, amazed at how many outfits Tyler dirtied in a day, not to mention how towels piled up, and now, sheets.

  Pickett was supposed to call as soon as the hurricane was over, but she hadn’t even thought of it until this minute. She slammed the lid of the washer, and dashed for the phone, but Jax answered it before Pickett could stop him.

  “Lieutenant Graham,” he growled in that indescribably military way.

  Pickett’s mind squirreled frantically for how she was going to explain Jax’s presence to her mom. Just tell her the truth and let her deal with it. Yeah, like that was going to happen. Pickett would never hear the last of it. It would be one more proof of her flawed judgment, one more instance of Pickett’s eccentric lifestyle.

  “No, ma’am,” Jax was saying. “Nothing’s wrong. We came through the hurricane just fine … No, ma’am, no damage to the house … You didn’t have to worry, Pickett wasn’t alone, I was here … Yes, ma’am, the whole time … Sure, I’ll get her.”

  Pickett allowed her knees to give way and laid her burning cheek on the cool metal of the washing machine lid. That’s how Jax found her.

  “Um, Pickett? Are you okay?”

  Pickett nodded, rubbing her face against the coolness. She started to rise up then slumped back.

  “Your mother is on the phone.”

  “I know.” Disgusted at her own cowardice Pickett pushed herself upright and swiped her hair out of her eyes. “I wish you hadn’t answered it.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know it would be a problem. She seems like a nice lady. She’s real concerned about you.”

  Pickett smiled wearily. She toyed with asking Jax to tell her mother she would call back, but it really wouldn’t help to put it off. She might as well face the music.

  Jax eavesdropped on Pickett’s side of the conversation with unabashed curiosity. This was a side of her he’d never seen.

  At last Pickett hung up the phone and turned to him.

  “Okay, this is the plan.” She sounded like a general. “You vacuum the downstairs and I’ll clean the bathrooms. Then I’ll mop the kitchen floor while you get all your stuff out of the bedroom. Make sure that you empty all trash. Do you take my meaning?”

  “We’re getting rid of the evidence?” Jax hazarded a guess. “But why?”

  “Because my mother and as many of my sisters as she can collect will be here in two hours,” Pickett said grimly.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Pickett had often observed that hugs were metaphors. Her mother’s hug was cool silk and Jean Naté, a quick tightening, a quicker release, efficient. Pickett hardly had time to bring her arms
up to return the embrace before her mother held out her hand to Jax.

  “You’re Lieutenant Graham,” she said, not waiting to be introduced. “I’m Mary Cole Sessoms, Pickett’s mother. Pickett’s sisters—except for Lyle, she lives in New York—will be here in a minute. We’re so glad you could join our little impromptu family party.”

  Impromptu party. Pickett nearly choked trying to stifle her snort. Jax would be as thoroughly grilled as the hamburgers by the time her mother and sisters left.

  Not by a flicker of an eyelash would her mother reveal that she was avidly curious about the first man, ever, to stay with Pickett overnight. A steel magnolia if there ever was one, Mary Cole Sessoms had honed her people skills pulling the insurance agency back from bankruptcy after the death of her husband, then going on to make it a million-dollar producer annually.

  Without appearing to question him, by the end of the day Mary Cole would know everything about Jax, from the date of his last tetanus shot to his bank balance.

  Jax smiled at her mother with just the right mix of masculine appreciation and charming deference. The knit of his deep-yellow polo shirt molded to his powerful shoulders and set off his tan. He exuded a confidence so powerful it was clear he saw no need to prove himself. Pickett relaxed a little. He could handle her mother.

  Pickett was sure her mother had arrived a few minutes before the others so she could size up Jax without distractions.

  Jax now called Tyler over and introduced him, prompting him through the greeting ritual. Her mother’s face flickered with surprise then approval at the evidence that he took his fatherly responsibilities seriously.

  When they went into the house, Mary Cole excused herself to freshen up and Pickett moved around the living room, straightening pillows that were already straight and making infinitesimal adjustments to the clock and brass candlesticks on the mantel.