Jaimee locked her bedroom door behind her, stripped off her jacket and tossed it on her bed as she headed for the bathroom. Holding back the tears made her head hurt. Right now, she just wanted to take a hot shower, then fall into bed and find oblivion. Actually she wanted to soak for hours in her very roomy garden tub until her skin was all pruney and her bones dissolved like Jello. But that would take too long and she didn’t want to give herself that much time to think. The goal was unconsciousness as soon as humanly possible.
She didn’t want to think or feel anymore. Routine helped. Clothes went into the hamper, towels selected from the closet and set on the counter. Somehow, she managed to brush her hair, her teeth and wash her face all without really looking too closely at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t sure what she’d see in her eyes but whatever it was she didn’t know if she could handle it. One more thing, just one more blow would completely obliterate what was left of her at this point.
The water temperature was set to just below boiling. Jaimee stepped into the shower and closed her eyes. Lucas. His face was all she saw as she stood there letting the driving spray pour over her. In her mind she could see his eyes dark, intense with desire. Fool that she was she had begun thinking that maybe he cared for her, possibly even loved her. He’d listened to her talk about her students, her beliefs, all the things she dreamed of doing, hoped to achieve. He’d listened like he cared, like they all mattered. Many times he told her how much he wanted her and that she belonged to him. Dammit, he made her feel cherished. Lies, all of it was just an act. He was just doing his job. Why did she let herself believe she could be loved like that?
Maybe it was the heat of the unrelenting water melting away the numbness. Maybe she just couldn’t ignore the pain any longer. The force of it was just too strong. It was torrential and rushed in so fast and hard that she couldn’t stop it. With something between a hiccup and a gasp the tears started. She let herself slide down the shower wall to the tile floor and gave in to the wracking sobs choking her. The burning pain in her shattered heart was so intense she had to struggle to catch her breath.
God only knew how long she sat there, holding her knees, crying, shaking, but she finally pulled herself up and weakly went through the motions of washing her body then her hair. Her skin was red from the heat of the water but she was still chilled to the bone as she dried off and pulled on her terry cloth robe. Without bothering to brush out her hair or put on underwear or pajamas, Jaimee crawled into bed. Sleep came quickly. But peace did not. The tormenting dreams wouldn’t allow it.
The afternoon brought with it driving rain, lightning and thunder so loud it rattled the windows. Jaimee woke with a start, breathing heavy, her heart in her throat. She sat up and scooted to the edge of her bed, waiting for her heart to regain a more normal rhythm. The door to her bedroom swung open with a whoosh and Lucas rushed in. Still in a sleepy fog she squealed in shock and jumped up.
He stood there, bare-chested, jeans riding low on his hips, his hair flowing over his shoulders. His smoldering gaze was exacting and dark as it traveled over her body, staring at her like a newly discovered oddity. “You screamed.” His voice, when it was all low and husky like that, made her shiver.
“I did?” she breathed, fighting to control the need suddenly whipping through her body. It was as if it had a mind all its own and Lucas could summon the most potent reactions. Those intense eyes focusing on her lower body didn’t help.
“You did.”
Pushing the wild hair from her face, she frowned. It wasn’t lust in his eyes, she reminded herself. He never wanted her. It was all just part of his job. “Bad dream I guess.” Her voice dropped an octave and took on a hard, cold tone.
His eyes narrowed. “So you’re okay.”
Her frown deepened, bordering on a scowl. “Peachy.” If he’d stop looking at her like that… “What?” She didn’t care that she snapped either. “What do you want?”
He was torturing her now, probably enjoying it. Just watching to see if she would shatter and fall apart because Lucas, god of sex, didn’t want her, didn’t love her. But she would not fall apart. Not on his watch. Not while the rage was keeping her intact.
Lightning flashed again and fire flared in those familiar eyes as they slowly lifted to meet hers. A searing gaze filled with the promise of unrestrained pleasure. A promise made to be broken. Resounding thunder made her shudder involuntarily. Just like all the other unspoken promises that mounted up in her heart over the past weeks. It was just another lie.
Absently, she lifted a hand to rub at the ache in her chest. Yet another gasp escaped her dry lips, her rope had fallen open. There she stood, for all intents and purposes, completely naked even down to her recent wax job. Clenching her teeth, she pulled the robe closed tight around her. “You—”
“Get dressed. There’s food downstairs.” He interrupted her intended accusation, turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
A part of her wanted to go back to bed and hide under the covers, however, mortification and anger did not mix well nor was it conducive to sleep. Besides, there were too many things that required attention, too many questions that needed answers. And no way in hell was Lucas going to get away with bullying her in her own home.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked before. For a few moments there, she could have sworn desire burned in his eyes. Probably, she was just seeing what she wanted to see. Maybe all along that look in his eyes was more close to disgust. It infuriated her and God, how it hurt, but she would be okay. Eventually.
What shamed her more was the fact that Brent was alive and the only emotion she could summon about that was rage. Odd how she wasn’t even that surprised to find out what a weasel he was. Love was never really there for either of them. She tried and failed. Not only Brent, but she’d failed herself as well by trying to be right for him. It just wasn’t in her to be sad or to spend the time being mad about her “late” husband anymore. All that was left to do now was to sever all ties, stand up straight and move on. Again. Dammit.
She grumbled to herself as she hooked her bra. If Lucas would just go the hell away and leave her alone then she wouldn’t have to worry about her clothes or lack thereof. But then that wasn’t exactly true now, was it? Someone else was probably watching, most definitely listening. If the foggy threat of a headache wasn’t throbbing in her skull, she’d scream.
On top of all this, people wanted to kill her, or at least kidnap her and torture her until she handed over the day planner. She’d throw Agent Lucas Grayson out of her house and Monday she’d hand over the stupid day planner. Still, probably wouldn’t get her out of hot water with The Collective. Either way the Feds were gonna have to put someone else on her case. She wanted Lucas gone.
She dressed in a pretty, baby blue tank top and a new pair of snug-fitting mid-rise jeans. Then she made sure the whole curvy sexy look was covered by enshrouding herself in a shapeless, oversized, black sweater. “Good God, Jaimee,” she mumbled to the morose, puffy, red-eyed mess staring blankly back at her from the bathroom mirror as she pushed the sleeves up. “You gotta snap the hell out of this.” She couldn’t let him see her all pitiful and broody. Besides, as soon as this mess was all over, the divorce was underway and Brent was in jail, she’d be just fine. In time her heart would be whole again. In the meantime she’d be damned if she’d let this make her fearful and weak.
Although she brushed her unruly hair into some semblance of submission she didn’t have the inclination or the patience to coax it into any sort of style. Instead she smoothed it back and secured it into a ponytail. It was a poofy ponytail, but a ponytail nonetheless. Concealer did little to hide the puffiness but it did lighten the dark circles under her eyes. Some powder, light blush, just a brush of mascara and some lip balm and she didn’t look as wretched. For another moment or two she stared at herself in the mirror, ignoring the doubt in her eyes, and willed herself strength.
The spicy scent of whatever Luca
s was cooking met her as she descended the stairs and her stomach growled. Funny how the mind and body didn’t agree on what they wanted most of the time.
Lucas briefly glanced up from the pot he was stirring on the stove as she walked into the kitchen. He had put on his T-shirt and tied his hair back. His movements were sharp, jerky and stiff. Probably wanted to get as far away from her as he could. Well she sure as hell wasn’t holding him here.
She stood there stiffly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you still here? You don’t have to be. I told you already, your job here is done, you can go now.”
“Sit down, you need to eat.” He kept his voice level but she could see the hostile tension in his eyes, the way his lips pressed into a line.
Jaimee didn’t budge. “If you’re waiting around because you’re hoping I’ll break down, bawl and beg you to stay, you’re in for disappointment.”
The muscle in his jaw pulsed as he wiped a small splatter from the stove with a little more aggression than was necessary. “You’ve been crying most of the night, Jaimee.” He flung the towel onto the counter and lifted his eyes, just his eyes, to hers. “Do I look pleased?”
No, he looked pissed off. The fierceness of his gaze caused the exact opposite reaction than it should have. Heat flared through her, settling low in her stomach, pulsing outward. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together to quell the arousal building there, dampening her panties. She didn’t, she forced herself to stay still inhaling slowly, deeply in an effort to calm the riot between pain and lust brewing inside her. It took amazing effort to make sure her expression didn’t falter. And thank God she wore the bulky sweater over her tank top or she would have had to keep her arms over her stiffening nipples for who knew how long.
The last thing she wanted was one more humiliating blow that would result from Lucas seeing just how much she still wanted him. Fury shook her hard, making her body tremble with the force of it. That she couldn’t hide. The millions of little shards piercing her heart were another story.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He moved around her kitchen like it was his own. Taking a bowl down from the cabinet he began filling it with chili. “There are powerful people looking to hurt you. I’m making sure that doesn’t happen.”
Watching him add cheese and sour cream to the top of her bowl made her stomach growl again. “And there’s no one else in the whole Federal Bureau of Investigation and beyond that could do that?” she asked in her well-honed teacherly tone.
“No, there isn’t.” He shoved a spoon into the bowl.
She took the bowl he offered and walked toward the dining room, snatching the chips from the counter as she went. “Hmm, sucks to be you, I guess.” Sarcasm made her feel a little better. Oddly enough it relieved a little of the tightness gathering between her shoulders.
Chapter Thirty
Watching the storm of emotions ripping Jaimee apart from the inside was twisting him in knots and making him edgy. He’d listened to her sob in the shower and the way she cried softly, off and on, all the while she was supposed to be asleep. It had just about brought Lucas to his knees. From the moment he looked into her eyes and saw clearly the pure beauty of her soul, leaving her alone was never an option. She was his and he broke her heart. All the foreknowing couldn’t have and didn’t prepare him for the deluge of pain and anger that poured from her once she learned the truth. It was best just to keep cool, take whatever blows she needed to land and wait. Right now, however, he wanted to put his fist through a wall.
She was so damn stubborn and it annoyed the hell out of him when she turned that schoolmarm, prissy-proper attitude on him. It sucked to admit, but she had a point. Being around each other was making both of them crazy. The snarky comments coming from that lush mouth of hers were pushing him too far. All he wanted to do was back her against the wall and make her forget. That would be a bad idea, really bad. He kept telling himself that but his rock-hard dick wasn’t listening. He couldn’t let his guard down while protecting her, he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. Not even for a second. Not now. Add to it that he wasn’t exactly out of the line of fire.
A year ago a contract on his life wouldn’t have fazed him or slowed him down. Dying wasn’t an acceptable risk now. That was an unexpected and jarring revelation. There was too much life he wanted to experience. Too much Jaimee he had yet to discover.
He flipped open his phone and dialed The Pope. It didn’t take long to set things up. This way he could take a step back and still keep an eye on her. At least maybe Jaimee could relax a little.
Jaimee was sitting at the table with her back to him, still picking at her food when he came into the dining room.
“Why aren’t you eating? Do you want something else?” The question came out a little harsher than he’d intended.
She sighed and sat back. “No. It’s fine. I’m just not feeling well again.”
“What do you mean again?” He walked around the table to get a better look at her. He reached out to touch her forehead when she batted his hand away.
“Stop it,” she grumbled but didn’t look up at him. She just sat there, scowling down at her chili. “I’m okay, I might just be coming down with a virus or something. Just leave me alone.”
She didn’t look pale, if anything she was flushed and she didn’t seem to have a temperature. However, that fact didn’t give him any comfort. Last night had been hellish.
“Look, I’m going to give you some space. I’m going to check in with Butler and see if there’s any news. Do you remember Samson?”
Jaimee frowned and shook her head. All these people involved in her life and she never noticed. It had to be overwhelming for her.
“He was here the night of the break-in. He’s part of the team, one of The Pope’s men. He’ll be present in the house until I get back. Maxine will be here at five.” He glanced at his watch. “About an hour from now. You still okay with that?”
Still not looking up, she nodded and swallowed hard.
“Shit. Jaimee, look at me.”
Tears shimmered in her ice blue eyes as she lifted her chin and met his gaze without flinching. Those tears wouldn’t fall. By sheer defiance she wouldn’t let them. Somehow that pissed him off even more. He clenched his teeth, tensed his body against the need to touch her. Show her everything that was in his heart. He craved her trust again. Losing that one seemingly small element between them clawed at him. He wanted to shake her, or better yet, pull her into his arms, tell her how sorry he was, how much he loved her and wanted her. Not yet. God help him, not yet.
Bracing his hands on the table instead he leaned in close, ignoring her darkening expression, and inhaled her warm clean scent. It made his mouth water, his blood pound its way to his groin. He was edgy, tired of grappling for control.
“Don’t think for one second you can hide from me, Jaimee. You and I have unfinished business. I’m leaving now, but you better damn well believe I will be back. Now get up and lock the damn door behind me.”
With stalwart effort Lucas straightened and walked away, slamming the door on his way out. He stood on the porch watching the rain fall and pelt the ground with fat heavy drops. Satisfaction filled him at the metallic sound of the bolt turning as Jaimee did as he told her. Samson pulled into the drive minutes later and nodded sharply as he jogged across the yard. Up on the porch he shook water from his mane of shoulder-length hair like an oversized cocker spaniel.
“I’ll be at the house. After she’s in bed tonight I’ll come back and you can leave.”
Samson studied Lucas for a moment before he nodded and entered Jaimee’s number into his cell.
“You touch her, I’ll fuck you up.” Lucas knew and trusted The Pope without hesitation. He knew Samson much less but The Pope vouched for him. That was enough. Still the possessiveness was instinctual and strong in spite of the fact that the chances of Samson touching her at all were slim to none. It just made him feel better, making it c
lear.
Samson snorted, his expression derisive as he cut his eyes to the door and spoke into the phone. “Afternoon, ma’am. Eli Samson here. I’m on the porch.”
Lucas waited and watched. Jaimee looked through the peep hole before unlocking and opening the door for Samson. Surprise widened her eyes as she caught sight of Lucas. “Good girl,” he said firmly.
He caught the slight tilt of Samson’s lips before Jaimee snarled at him, her eyes narrowing as she slammed the door in his face.
Maxine arrived at five sharp. She couldn’t blame Max for gawking. It was hard not to look at Samson. He was about six feet tall, dark, lean, muscular. Big fathomless black eyes and glossy black curls fell to his shoulders, and a goatee made him look positively wicked. When Jaimee finally managed to snag her attention away from Samson, she dragged her drooling friend upstairs to her room.
She sat on her bed and crossed her legs Indian-style. Maxine did the same. “Okay, girl. Spill.”
With a sigh Jaimee did just that. She told Maxine all about what she’d learned about Brent. Everything she knew about The Collective and Sheppard & Zachary Inc. And she did a great job holding it together through the whole sordid tale. It was when she told her the truth about Lucas that the tears came. Maxine scooted next to her, put her arm around Jaimee and let her cry. When the worst of the torrent had passed, Jaimee got up and padded into the bathroom to blow her nose and wash her face.
“I just wish I could stay furious and quit crying.”
“No chance of that, sugar. These things take quite some time.”
“On top of that I think I’m coming down with a cold or the flu or something.”
Maxine frowned before she leaned over the side of the bed and picked up her purse from the floor. She withdrew a paper bag and handed it to Jaimee without a word.
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