“I gotta shower first and get all my makeup off before it makes me break out.”
Kelley almost commented on the stupidity of putting it all on to begin with but decided against it. She had a feeling that tonight Madison had wanted to hide. She didn’t usually go for the garish and outlandish—but when she did, she went all out.
Madison rolled off the bed and snatched her robe off the floor. Kelley headed for the door.
“Kell?”
Kelley stopped and turned back to Madison. “Yeah?”
“Are you a virgin?”
“Madison, you don’t ask another woman that question.”
“I just don’t remember you dating anyone seriously.”
“I’ve dated off and on. There was just never anyone I wanted to introduce to the family.”
Madison ambled toward her, a worried frown on her face. “You’re not interested in the sheriff, are you?”
“Absolutely not.”
Nine years ago, Jack Morgan had carried her to heaven, then deserted her in hell. He was the last person on earth she wanted to get involved with.
Chapter 4
Kelley looked like hell. She felt like it, too, with a headache threatening to erupt at any minute. Through eyelids swollen from lack of sleep, she squinted at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her skin was far too pale. Her light application of makeup didn’t help, but she certainly had no desire to imitate Madison’s guise from last night.
And talk about a bad hair day. Even though she’d shampooed and dried her hair, it possessed no sheen, no shine. It simply hung—limp and dull—to her shoulders. She was halfway tempted to pull it back, but she had this incredible urge to feel feminine, to look feminine. It was in direct response to Jack’s ability to look so damned masculine.
Her obsession with her appearance was ridiculous, considering the fact that the only thing he was going to do was drop off Madison’s car. No more than that. Any minute now, he’d pull into the apartment complex, park the car in a designated slot, give her the keys, and leave. She’d be in his presence for five seconds, tops.
So why did she care how she looked?
Because he still had the ability to make her heart pound a little faster, considerably harder. But he was trouble with a capital T. Trouble she didn’t need right now. She needed to devote her attention to Madison, to ensuring that she was available for Madison.
Therefore, any involvement with a man was definitely out of the question. Men took time, required attention. Jack Morgan required a lot of attention. At least, he had when he was nineteen. And those muscles hinted at beneath the shirt he was wearing last night led her to believe his testosterone level had increased, not diminished, over the years.
Why was she even experiencing any angst over him? Other than that first feral, ravenous look, he hadn’t given any indication he’d retained the remotest bit of interest in her. He hadn’t pried into her past, asked about her dating status. Although he’d admitted Stephanie had left him, he could have remarried or had another lady waiting in the wings to become Morgan.
He’d had numerous girls hanging off him when he was the local bad boy. Now he was the chief of police. Respected. Admired, no doubt. He probably had women draping themselves over that incredibly well-toned body of his.
The doorbell chime nearly made her jump out of her skin. She ran her hands over her hair one more time, over her clothes—which she’d changed three times, finally deciding on jeans and a red off-the-shoulder T—and headed for the door. She swung it open and had the breath knocked out of her for the second time in less than twelve hours.
Jack had obviously showered, shaved, and spruced up—much as he had the last time he’d come to her door. They’d both known it would be the final time. And it had hurt. It had hurt so much she’d thought it would destroy her.
Inwardly, she shook herself back to the present. As he had last night, he still wore jeans, but now a blue cambric shirt stretched across his amazing shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, which even in repose appeared muscular. He didn’t look like a man who had been awake for more than half the night. While she looked like something the cat had discovered behind a Dumpster and decided to leave there.
“Morning,” he said with a deep rumble that sent shivers vibrating through her.
She held out her hand for the keys. Take them. Close the door. Shut out the memories: the good, the bad, and the ugly ones. She could do that. “I appreciate you bringing the car by.”
“Not a problem. But I was hoping you could give me a ride to work. Mike dropped me off at the Sit ’n’ Bull to pick up the car last night, so my truck is still at the station.”
She hadn’t considered the logistics surrounding his offer to bring Madison’s car home, hadn’t considered that he might still be in the habit of manipulating situations so he could make excuses to be with her. He’d been very good at it when he was nineteen. She didn’t want to contemplate how much more skilled he might be now.
Still, to refuse his request after his kind offer was unthinkable. “Sure. Let me just turn off the coffeemaker—”
“You wouldn’t happen to have any left, would you?” he asked.
“Coffee?”
“That’s what a coffeemaker usually makes.”
“Actually, I have a full pot. I haven’t sat down for breakfast yet.” Her stomach had been a tangle of knots while she’d waited for his arrival. Her lack of morning caffeine was no doubt contributing to her headache.
“I’m dying for a cup,” he said.
Against her better judgment, she found herself nodding and saying, “Come on in.”
He made his way past her. Suddenly, the apartment seemed smaller, as though he had the power to make everything around him shrink into insignificance. She shut the door and rushed for the kitchen, pointing toward the small dining area beside the front window. “Why don’t you sit at the table there? I’ll bring you a cup of coffee.”
She escaped through a narrow arched doorway into the kitchen. She needed some distance, some time to reestablish her equilibrium. But apparently, Jack had no plans to grant her a reprieve. Ignoring what she’d considered a polite suggestion that he sit in another room, he ambled in behind her and dropped onto a stool at the tiny island.
“Nice place,” he said.
She snatched two ceramic mugs off the mug tree, aware of his presence dominating the room, his tangy scent wafting toward her. It had changed somewhat over the years. It was somehow deeper, more masculine. She couldn’t explain it. Even in his youth, he’d given off a virile magnetism. Now, he was almost lethal.
“It’s a little small, and the walls are too thin. We’re contemplating trying to find a house to rent,” she babbled inanely, anything to stop herself from focusing on him as she poured the coffee. She inhaled the rich aroma, hoping it would distract her, would block out his scent. It didn’t. Not in the least. She handed him a mug.
His mouth curved up into a devastatingly handsome grin that flashed his perfect teeth. “Black. Just the way I like it. After all these years, you remembered.”
“Hardly,” she lied. “I noticed last night, early this morning—whenever it was—that you didn’t put anything except coffee in your mug.”
He tapped his mug against hers. “To yesterday.”
She skittered around the island and took the stool opposite his. “I’m trying to forget yesterday, thank you very much.”
She took a quick sip, refusing to acknowledge that he might have been referring to yesterdays that were nine years old, instead of the one that had caused them to cross paths last night. “Any idea where I might start looking for a house to rent?”
“Try Lambert. Sweet, silver-haired lady with the negotiation skills of a barracuda. Her office is on Main Street
. You can’t miss it. She’ll cut you a good deal if you can find a house.”
“Thanks.” She took a slower sip of her coffee, unable to shake off the feeling that being around him was wrong. She
still experienced the little adrenaline rush, the fear of being caught. Was that the reason he’d appealed to her long ago? Because, as Madison had pointed out, Kelley had tried so hard to be so terribly good, and Jack tempted her into being terribly wicked?
“Where is the hellion this morning?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Still in bed, but we resolved a few issues after we got home last night. I think moving into a house will make a difference.”
“You’re kidding yourself if you think she’s rebelling because of this apartment.”
“She’s rebelling because she’s sixteen. She’s rebelling because her parents were killed by a drunk driver—” Releasing a gust of air, she combed her fingers through her hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m exhausted right now, and I’m not in the mood to discuss my family situation. How you can look as if you recently had twelve hours of sleep is beyond me. I find it extremely irritating.”
“There’s a massage parlor in town—”
She held up her hand to cut him off, surprised by the jolt of jealousy that speared her. “I don’t want to hear about your decadent lifestyle.”
His blue eyes darkened, his nostrils flared. “I remember a time when you wouldn’t have objected to a little decadence.”
“Jack, the past is the past. We’ve both traveled a lot of years since then. We’re different people now.”
He planted his forearms on the counter and leaned toward her. “I think with a little exploration we’d discover we’re not so different.”
He leaned toward her a little more, and she silently cursed the island for being so narrow, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her withdraw.
“I remember the way you tasted the first time I kissed you,” he said, his voice low and seductive.
“Jack—”
“I remember the way you tasted the last time I kissed you.”
“Jack, I really don’t need this right now.”
“Do you remember how I tasted?”
She dropped her gaze to his luscious, wicked, talented mouth. Oh, yes, she remembered how he tasted.
He leaned a little nearer. “Care to see if we taste the same?”
“We’d taste like coffee,” she said a little too breathlessly.
“I like coffee.”
How did he manage with only a few words, a few heated looks, to draw her in, to make her seriously contemplate pressing her mouth against his? To experience again the seductive nature of his kisses, the sensual stroke of his hands, the firm press of his hardened body—
“What are you afraid of, Kelley? I’m not your student anymore,” he reminded her.
And that was what terrified her. That with all the barriers removed, he could hurt her worse than he had before. She’d barely survived. Her humiliation had been private then. No one had known they’d been involved. To even contemplate trying again—
“Oops! Sorry, I didn’t know we had company.”
Guiltily jerking back, Kelley looked past Jack to where Madison lounged in the doorway, freshly showered, barefoot, wearing black shorts and a black spaghetti-strapped top. Madison had developed an aversion to bright colors, to anything that gave the impression her life might contain an inkling of joy.
“I thought coffee was small payment for him bringing the car by,” Kelley hastily explained.
“Whatever.” Madison ambled into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door.
Jack settled back on the stool and glanced over his shoulder at Madison pouring apple juice into a glass at the counter. “What happened to the orange hair?”
Shrugging, she turned and leaned her narrow hips against the counter. “I washed it out.”
“What about all the piercing?”
“Fake,” she reluctantly admitted, extending her glass toward Kelley. “You think she’d let me get anything besides my ears pierced?”
“There may be hope for you yet, kid.”
“Yeah, right. So you’re not that old. How’d you get to be sheriff?” Madison asked.
“I’m not the sheriff. I’m the police chief.”
“Same difference.”
“Not really, but I doubt you’re interested in a social studies lesson. As for how does a young stud like myself get to be police chief?” He rolled his shoulder into a careless shrug. “A town this small…they take what they can get.”
“Yeah, but you gotta have some qualifications,” Madison insisted.
“While I was in the army, I learned to be very good with a gun.” He turned his steel-blue eyes on Kelley. “I need to get to work.”
Kelley had been so intent on his conversation with Madison that she was startled by the abrupt change of subject. She nodded. “Right, of course you do. Madison, why don’t you put on your shoes? You can go with us.” She didn’t want to be alone with Jack—not if he was in the mood to reminisce about how they’d both tasted, smelled, felt. “Jack said there’s a real estate agent who can help us find a house to rent.”
“Awesome.”
Madison walked out of the room, and Kelley got to her feet. “I’ll get my purse.”
“All right.” He grabbed her mug and his, walked to the sink, rinsed them out, and set them in the drainer. Then he washed out Madison’s juice glass.
“I don’t remember you being such a domestic,” she said from the doorway where she’d stopped to watch.
He reached for a kitchen towel and started to dry his hands. “Yeah, well, you learn to do for yourself when you don’t have a wife.”
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you and Stephanie.”
“We all went into it knowing it wasn’t going to work.”
She’d hoped that maybe Jack would put forth some effort, would try for the child’s sake to be a good father.
“What did she have? A boy or a girl?” Sometimes in the early years, after she’d left Hopeful, Kelley had imagined Jack with his child. A child he’d conceived six weeks before graduation, six weeks before he’d shown up on Kelley’s doorstep, graduation cap in hand.
“A boy,” he finally said.
“Do you ever see him?”
“Every day.”
His answer surprised her. “You have custody of your son?”
“That’s right.” He tossed the towel onto the counter and held her gaze, a challenge in his. “It’s like I told you. She split. I didn’t.”
Chapter 5
As Kelley drove him to the station, with Madison in the backseat, Jack didn’t know what irritated him more. That Kelley continually expected less of him or that in his youth he’d behaved in a way that had led her to believe that less was all he had to give.
He’d been more honest with her than he’d ever been with anyone in his life. But, for him, more honest still hadn’t been totally honest. It was his nature to hide the better part of himself. Life was less painful when he didn’t hang his feelings out there for the whole world to see.
Jack was further irritated by the fact that Kelley had chosen to wear a sexy little red top that left one shoulder bare. He wanted to lean across the front seat and trail his mouth along her warm flesh. Probably the reason she’d brought the little felon along—to keep him in line.
“When did Stephanie split?” she suddenly asked, so quietly that he wondered if she was hoping to be discreet enough that she wouldn’t arouse her sister’s suspicions.
Kelley’s brow was deeply puckered, her mouth grim, the way they always were when she graded a paper, concentrating on identifying errors and weaknesses in answers. Only he had no desire for her to determine what sort of mark to give his life.
“She hung around for about a year after the kid was born, but she wasn’t any great shakes in the motherhood department. Or the wife department, for that matter.”
She jerked her head around.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” he ordered.
She shifted her attention back to the street until she came to a red light. Then she angled that pret
ty little head of hers at him. “She was terribly young, Jack.”
“We were all young.”
“You never see her at all?”
“Nope.”
“What about your son? Does she ever visit him?”
“Nope.”
“Not ever?”
“Why do you find that so hard to believe?”
“I just find it difficult to imagine a mother not wanting to see her child. Family is so important. I find it sad.”
“Trust me. He’d be a lot sadder if he saw her.” Stephanie could have taken lessons in being a mother from his mother. She had been that bad.
“You know, that light’s not going to turn any greener,” Madison piped up from the back.
Kelley jerked and directed her attention back to driving, but not before the car behind her honked. She twitched, glared in the rearview mirror, and continued on down Main Street
.
“What do you tell him about his mother not being around?” she asked softly.
“I told him that I’m too hard to live with.” No way was he going to tell Jason the truth, that his mother hadn’t wanted him.
Jack pointed toward the police station, glad this conversation was going to come to an end quickly. Kelley still had the ability to irritate and fascinate him at the same time. “Just pull up to the curb.”
“I really appreciate your help with finding a Realtor,” Kelley said as she brought the car to a halt.
Her thanks irritated him further. It wasn’t as though he’d solved any great mystery. A phone book would have revealed the same information. “Go up two lights. You’ll see her place on the right. Can’t miss it. Rhinestone Realty.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Madison. She was really cute when she wasn’t made up to look like a misplaced rock musician. She had Kelley’s delicate features, but her hair was a golden brown. With the right attitude, she could be Miss Popularity of Hopeful High. “Could be worse, kid. I’ve been through towns that only had one light on Main Street
. We’ve got six. And one even has a left-turn arrow.”
“Big whoop,” Madison muttered.
Grinning, he looked back at Kelley, and his smile withered. He was old enough that he shouldn’t want her approval. He’d never cared what anyone else thought. Why had her opinion always mattered so damned much? Always.
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