IN BED WITH BOONE

by Linda Winstead Jones

  "I called Pamela last night and told her where I'd be," Jayne explained.

  "Oh, yes," her father said softly, "Pamela. I should have called her, but I did assume that if you were going to check out of the hotel, you'd let me or your mother know where you were going." His voice grew tighter with every word.

  "Sorry," she said. "With everything that's happened, I'm not thinking clearly. I didn't mean to worry you." It had been late last night when Marsh had called, and she'd left the hotel so early.

  There was a moment of awkward silence. "Jayne," her father finally said, his voice deepening, "are you at that house with Marsh … unchaperoned?"

  She couldn't help but smile. "Hardly. His nephew lives here, and so far I've met four live-in servants. I'm sure there are more."

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the library door open. Corbin Marsh stuck his head in and smiled. Jayne looked up as he walked in.

  "Do you think I could say hello to the senator?" he asked as he approached. "We've spoken on the phone a few times, but it's been a while. I'd like to assure him that his little girl is in good hands."

  "Of course," Jayne said. "Daddy, Mr. Marsh would like to say hello."

  The men held a brief cordial conversation, which ended with an invitation for the senator and his wife to vacation at the Arizona house. When that was done, Corbin handed her the phone and left so she could say goodbye in private.

  "Daddy?" Jayne said as the library door swung almost closed. She wondered how much, if anything, she could tell him. If he knew she was putting herself in the middle of something sticky, if not dangerous, he would insist that she leave immediately. When she refused, he'd send in the army to get her out. In the end she just said, "I love you."

  "I love you, too, sweetheart."

  Jayne hung up, took Boone's card from her pocket and dialed. It only rang once before he answered with a harsh, "Sinclair."

  "Boone?" she said softly, her eyes on the library door.

  "Jayne! Where are you? I've been half out of my mind with worry." He muttered a foul word, and she didn't even try to chastise him.

  "Listen to me. The boy is here. Andrew Patterson is here."

  There was a moment of silence before Boone asked, "Sugar, where are you?"

  "I'm at Corbin Marsh's house, where Jim and I were headed that night." She lowered her voice further. "Marsh says Andrew is his nephew."

  "Okay," Boone said, his voice low and calm. "You get out of there. Now."

  "No."

  "Make some excuse," he said. "And get out of that house now."

  "No," she said again.

  "What do you mean, no?" he shouted.

  Jayne kept her eyes riveted on the door, worried that Marsh would return, anxiously waiting for a servant to check on her. That was what Marsh had been doing, she knew, asking to speak to her father. He'd been checking up on her story. That was not the action of an innocent man. "I'm not leaving here without that child," she whispered.

  "Jayne." She could tell that Boone was struggling to reason with her, that he was fighting a growing anger. "Walk out of there while you still can. I'll get the boy. I promise."

  "I'm not running away and leaving Drew behind."

  A despairing sigh drifted to her across the phone lines.

  "Don't argue with me," she said, not giving him a chance to do so. "You wouldn't run."

  "That's different."

  "I don't see how."

  "You're getting in the way again," he said testily. "All you have to do is walk out the front door and I'll have one child to rescue, instead of two!"

  Indignation rose within her. "Are you calling me a child?" Her voice rose slightly. "How dare you? Oh, you make me insane, do you know that? You make me…" A shift of light in the hallway caught her eye. Someone was out there. Marsh again?

  "Jayne?" Boone snapped, obviously alarmed by her sudden silence.

  "You just make me crazy," she said in a softer voice.

  "I'll be there as soon as I can, dammit," he said. "Be careful. Promise me that."

  The door swung open and once again Marsh walked in. How much had he heard? Not everything, but probably enough to know she was no longer talking to her father.

  "I hope you don't mind," she said, moving her mouth away from the phone and smiling at Marsh. "I needed to make one more phone call."

  He nodded politely. "My home is your home. This is the boyfriend you refused to talk about this afternoon?" The question was accompanied by a smile.

  "Jayne," Boone said quietly, "is that him?"

  "Yes," Jayne said, her answer directed to both men.

  "Is he in Arizona?" Marsh asked.

  Jayne nodded.

  "Then you must invite him to join us for the weekend. I hate the idea of such a beautiful woman suffering because she is separated from the one she … loves?" His eyebrows rose slightly in question.

  "Jayne, dammit, talk to me," Boone said softly.

  "That's very sweet of you." Jayne moved her mouth closer to the phone. "Honey, Mr. Marsh has invited you to join us for the weekend."

  "Great," Boone growled. "I'll be right there. Where the hell are you, exactly?"

  * * *

  "Stubborn pigheaded, witchy woman," Boone muttered as he stared out the window. The deserted landscape was dark, lit only by the headlights of Dean's rental car and the off-center headlights of the dilapidated truck Clint drove behind them. "She should be out of there by now."

  "So you've told me several times," Dean said calmly.

  "Speed it up," Boone said. "You're driving like an old woman."

  Dean glanced at the speedometer. "I am not. This is why I didn't let you drive," he added.

  "Let me?" Boone snapped, taking his anxiety out on his older brother.

  "Yeah." Dean shifted in his seat as if he was getting a little uncomfortable. "Don't be too hard on her for staying. You'd do the same thing if you were in her shoes."

  "Entirely different circumstance, and you know it," Boone said sharply. "Jayne is just going to foul things up." She would place herself in danger and take his mind off the job. "Now I have two people to recover, instead of one."

  "She's getting you inside the house," Dean reasoned. "That should be worth something."

  Boone grumbled an indecipherable response.

  Dean laughed. "You must really like her."

  Boone started to deny it, then shrugged and said, "She's all right."

  "All right?"

  "Maybe a little more than all right," Boone conceded.

  "You remember to keep your head on straight in there," Dean said, his voice low and deadly serious. "Don't get distracted."

  "Who, me?"

  Dean had been watching out for all of them for as long as Boone could remember. Not that their parents hadn't loved them. They'd just been so wrapped up in their own lives they'd often let things slide. Like birthdays or dinner or those lectures most kids got from their parents. Boone, Clint and their sister, Shea, had gotten those lectures from Dean, along with the occasional meal of peanut-butter sandwiches. Oh, their father was really big on grand talks about justice and doing what was right, which was probably why Dean and Boone had both ended up in law enforcement. But Dean had been the one to take care of them. In the end, they had learned to take care of one another.

  "How much time are you going to need?" Dean asked.

  "I don't know. I do not want y'all to come in with guns blazing while Jayne and the kid are there. Let me see if I can get them out without anyone getting hurt."

  "If the kid was really kidnapped, it's not going to be that easy."

  Boone stared at the passing rugged terrain. "I know. I'll need a day, maybe two."

  "We'll be close by, and you have three ways to signal us. When the time comes, you should be able to do at least one."

  They reached a crossroads and pulled off onto the shoulder. Clint pulled in behind them. As Boone left Dean's rental car, Clint tossed him the keys to the truck. He didn't get a le
cture from Clint, just a quiet "Good luck."

  * * *

  Jayne heard the vehicle long before it rumbled to a stop at the front door. The noise was impossible to miss. Something sputtered. When the car door opened it squealed.

  She knew it was Boone. Still, when the doorbell rang, she nearly came out of her chair. Corbin noticed and smiled as he rose to his feet. "Anxious to see this boyfriend of yours?"

  She nodded. Corbin hadn't even asked her for a name, which was a good thing. Who would Boone be today? Boone Sinclair, P.I.? Richard Becker, goon? Or someone else entirely?

  She followed Corbin to the foyer and was standing behind him when he opened the door.

  Oh, this was not good. Boone did not look happy, and he had that pistol stuck in his waistband. She found herself hoping he'd remembered to put the safety on. If they made it to Christmas, she was buying him a shoulder holster.

  Boone's eyes traveled past Corbin to find her, and visible relief washed over his face. "Sugar," he said as Corbin opened the door wide and Boone stepped into the house.

  "BooBoo," she said softly.

  He cocked his head and narrowed one eye. Well, what was she supposed to call him when she didn't have any idea who he was today? He looked bigger than ever, meaner, tougher with a day's stubble and that long hair. And she had never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

  Boone walked past Corbin without giving the man more than a cursory greeting, his eyes never leaving her. "Still mad at me?" he asked softly.

  "Just a little," she said, and then she rose on tiptoe to meet him for a kiss. The kiss was sweet and tender, until he took her lower lip between his teeth and bit her! It was a gentle nip, true, but she had a feeling it was an admonishment all the same.

  When Boone took his mouth from hers, giving her one last meaningful glare, he smiled at Corbin and offered his hand.

  "Boone Sinclair," he said. "Thanks for inviting me."

  "Corbin Marsh," their host said, shaking Boone's hand and studying him with a trace of amusement in his pale eyes. "Glad to have you, though I must say you are not quite what I expected."

  Boone grinned. "I guess not."

  Corbin pointed at the pistol Boone carried. "I will have to ask you to hand that over. I have a great aversion to guns. Don't allow them in the house." He lifted a hand, and Harvey appeared without making a sound. "Harvey, put Mr. Sinclair's weapon in the safe, please. We're all friends here."

  Jayne wondered what would happen if Boone refused to hand over his pistol. For a long silent moment, they all waited.

  Boone reluctantly handed over the pistol.

  "When the gun is safely locked away, collect Mr. Sinclair's luggage from his vehicle." Corbin nodded to Boone. "I assume you do have luggage."

  "Sure."

  "Put him in the green room." Nodding once, Harvey—gun in hand—made a quiet exit.

  "Do you have a permit for that weapon, Mr. Sinclair?"

  An unsmiling Boone stared pointedly at Corbin. "Uh, yeah."

  Marsh looked amused, and Jayne couldn't blame him. No one who knew her would accept Boone as her boyfriend. And he wasn't. He was her lover, or had been. He was her friend, and if she had her way, he always would be. But they were as different as night and day, and Marsh saw that.

  Jayne wrapped her arm through Boone's. "Corbin insisted that we hold dinner for you. Are you hungry?"

  "Does a bear—"

  "Boone!"

  "Yeah," he said. "I'm starving."

  Corbin led the way to the dining room. "Does the senator know about you, Boone?" he asked, glancing back briefly.

  "Nope," Boone said. "Not yet, anyway."

  "I think I may have to ease Daddy gently into the idea of Boone," Jayne said, squeezing his arm gently.

  Corbin laughed. "I can certainly understand that."

  Boone wrapped his arm around her … and grabbed a bit of flesh on her side to give it a gentle tweak. She squealed, just a little, and Marsh looked back.

  "Stop that," she hissed at Boone.

  He just smiled.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  He couldn't figure out exactly how or why Corbin Marsh was connected to Joaquin Gurza, but somehow it was true. Boone kicked back on the elegant white sofa in Marsh's living room, nursing a beer while Marsh and Jayne each enjoyed a glass of wine. She finally got her damned Merlot.

  Jayne sat next to him, close but not too close, nervous but not so much so that her behavior was in any way odd. And every now and then she did something unexpected, like laying her hand on his knee or glancing at him and biting her lower lip. Jayne Barrington was a great actress. If Marsh wasn't obviously crooked, Boone might have suggested that she audition for a part in one of his movies.

  Every now and then Boone caught Marsh looking at him in a very calculating way. Because the idea of Jayne Barrington and Boone Sinclair together was so ludicrous? Or because he suspected something more than an absurd romance was at play here?

  Boone heard the kid coming long before he saw the little boy walk in, his hand held by a thin young woman. The child appeared freshly bathed and was dressed in colorful pajamas. Boone's breath hitched. It was definitely Andrew Patterson.

  Marsh smiled and waved the little boy into the room. The young woman waited silently in the arched doorway.

  "All ready for bed, I see," Marsh said as Andrew skipped toward him. "Aren't you up a little late tonight?"

  "I was watching a movie," the boy explained.

  "Another one? That makes two today."

  "Miss Lacey said I could," Andrew said, glancing toward the doorway.

  Marsh looked at Jayne briefly and gave her what seemed to be a proud smile. "The child loves movies, as long as there's lots of music and action. I'm afraid even the most scintillating dialogue puts him straight to sleep, but I'm sure that in time he'll come to appreciate the finer details. One day he'll be a fine director."

  Boone watched while Andrew climbed onto Marsh's knee and gave the man a kiss on the cheek. His insides tightened. This was not exactly what he'd expected to find. "G'night, Unca Corbin."

  "Tell Miss Jayne good-night," Marsh instructed softly, and Andrew climbed off his "uncle's" lap and crossed to the sofa.

  "G'night, Miss Jayne," he said softly, his eyes flickering anxiously to Boone. Great. The kid loved the bad guy and was afraid of the mm who had come here to rescue him. This would not be easy.

  "Good night, Drew," Jayne said with a smile. "Can I have a kiss, too?"

  The boy moved nearer, carefully avoiding coming too close to Boone. His size sometimes scared kids, he knew, that and the hair. And maybe the scowl.

  Drew climbed onto Jayne's lap and kissed her on the cheek. She didn't let the kid go right away, but wrapped her arms around his cartoon-pajamaed waist and turned her head to the side, resting her smooth cheek against the boy's. "Drew, this is my very good friend, Boone. You can call him Uncle BooBoo."

  Drew brought a little hand to his mouth and giggled. "I know," Jayne said softly. "It's a funny name, isn't it?"

  Drew nodded, and his eyes landed firmly and without fear on Boone's face.

  Jayne stroked her hand down the child's back, cuddled him a little, and something in Boone went bump. They made quite a picture, Jayne in her yellow sundress and white sweater and with her red-gold curls, Drew with his big brown eyes and bare feet. Someday Jayne would have kids of her own, and she would hold them just this way…

  "Tell our guests good-night, Drew," Marsh instructed. "You've had a long day."

  "Don't I get a kiss, too?" Boone asked with a smile.

  Drew shook his head, but he did grin as he scrambled down off Jayne's lap. "G'night, Unca BooBoo," the boy said as he ran off, giggling.

  Boone directed his gaze at Jayne. "Even a small child knows BooBoo is … ridiculous."

  She leaned slightly toward him. "I think it's cute."

  Boone sighed, resisting the urge to reach out and grab Jayne and kiss h
er the way she needed to be kissed. Hard and deep. He wanted to thank her somehow. At this rate the kid wouldn't be afraid of him for long. Who could be afraid of a man who allowed people to call him BooBoo?

  Jayne set her half-finished glass of wine aside and rose to her feet. "I've had a long day myself," she said. "I really need to get to bed."

  Boone stood, intent on walking Jayne to her room. Marsh stopped him.

  "Please stay a few moments longer, Boone," he said formally. "We barely know one another, and I'd like to get better acquainted with you. Just the two of us."

  Jayne rose on her toes and Boone kissed her briefly. "I'm in the north wing, third door on the left," she whispered.

  Marsh probably overheard, but of course he would think Jayne was giving Boone directions to her room for a different reason from the practical one she no doubt had in mind.

  When Jayne was gone, Marsh's smile faded and Boone reclaimed his seat on the white sofa.

  "So what do you do?" Marsh asked bluntly. "I assume you have a job of some kind."

  If Gurza had the kind of connections Boone suspected he had, lying would only get him in trouble. He'd have to choose his lies carefully. "I'm a private investigator."

  Eyebrows came up. "Here in Arizona?"

  "I work out of Birmingham, Alabama."

  "Is that how you met Jayne? Through your work?"

  Boone cocked his head to one side. "No," he said simply.

  "Might I ask how you did meet?"

  "Just one of those things," Boone said with a shrug.

  Marsh opened his mouth to continue, but Boone beat him to the punch. "What's next? Are you going to ask me if my intentions are honorable? If you are, let me save you some time. None of your damned business."

  Marsh leaned back in his chair, very smug in his loose beige outfit and sandals. He looked like some kind of hippie who had been sucked into a time warp. "I don't buy it," he said.

  Boone's heart skipped a beat. "You don't buy what?"

  "You and her—it doesn't quite work. I know people. Yes, the chemistry is there, but I know character and motivation, and you two as a couple doesn't feel right. What are you really—private security? Do you work for the senator?"