by Mel Teshco
Tara winced. ‘Neither am I. Which is why we should get back to that creepy old house as soon as humanly possible and find your dimension.’
He fired the ignition. ‘I intend to do just that, after I check out my house to see what I can find out there.’
‘But the police—’
‘I’ll park the Hummer in an undercover car park. Somewhere close by.’
He reversed out from the driveway and headed in the direction of his Double Bay mansion.
Tara gave a slow nod. ‘Okay. I’m thinking that some time has passed—at least a few months going by the size of Marnie’s baby—since your supposed crime. The police mightn’t be on such high alert anymore.’
His heart did a series of jack-hammers at the thought of being caught and going to prison for a crime he didn’t commit—at least not in his dimension. Not that he didn’t imagine for one second he wasn’t capable of murder. He’d obviously proven he was. But right then, all he cared about was doing what he could to keep Lolita safe and Tara by his side.
A little over an hour later, he swung into a busy shopping centre that was a handful of blocks from his home.
Tara opened the glove compartment and counted out some notes. ‘We need to get you some more clothes,’ she explained.
He nodded, aware it would be beyond stupid to use the credit card now, especially so close to what he assumed was his home. He was a wanted man and he guessed the case was a long way from being cold. The police wouldn’t have given up on him yet, not by a long shot.
He waited in the SUV as Tara shopped, his throat drying every time a wheel squealed or a horn beeped. He shrunk down a bit in the driver’s seat, trying to look inconspicuous, which was possibly the highest order of foolish, being that he was seated in a bright yellow bright yellow Hummer.
Tara returned twenty minutes later. His breath whooshed out on seeing her, his heart rate slowing. If she noted his tense state, she didn’t comment. Instead, she dumped three bags of clothes onto the passenger seat before riffling through them and handing him a long-sleeved shirt with a hood.
‘Oh, and don’t forget these.’ She plucked sunglasses from beneath the pile of shirts, pants and underwear.
Jessie managed a smile, impressed by her foresight. ‘You’ve really thought this through.’
‘I guess I have. Or maybe I’ve just read too many spy novels.’
They caught a taxi from the shopping centre, and with caution being the smarter option, Jessie gave the driver the house number that was a few doors down from his own home.
Tara paid the fare with some of the cash leftover from shopping. Then Jessie caught her hand in his while they waited for their ride to disappear around a corner.
It was peculiar how safe he felt with Tara, despite the apparent risks. Her being with him made everything seem right somehow, as though she balanced him, centred him. The yin to his yang.
Traversing the wide footpath before stepping onto his driveway, he realised how much he’d taken his home, his way of life, for granted. The exquisite views. The salty scent of fresh ocean air. The mansion with its topnotch furnishings. He’d had it good. He’d just been too busy and preoccupied to notice.
He stopped at the front door, Tara by his side as if his guardian angel. ‘Let’s do this,’ he said, taking a deep breath before pressing sharply on the doorbell.
The distinctive clack of high heels reverberated towards them before the door swung open. Floral perfume assailed his nostrils as he stared, incredulous. ‘Mercedes.’
The other woman’s hazel eyes widened. She pressed a hand to her mouth, apparently just as incredulous. Then, letting loose with a high-pitched squeal, she flung herself into his arms, her long blue-black hair flying around them as if a cloud. ‘You’ve come back, finally!’
In another dimension this scenario would have been a dream come true. He untangled her arms from his body and stepped away before casting Tara a wry, apologetic look. Catching up Tara’s hand in his once again, he cleared his throat and made the necessary introductions. ‘Mercedes, I’d like you to meet—’ My lover? My woman? My girlfriend? ‘—Tara.’
The woman of his dreams. If only she felt the same way.
He smiled at the beautiful blonde at his side. ‘Tara, this is my … good friend, Mercedes.’
He couldn’t help but notice the way Mercedes’ eyes narrowed sharply, before she said in dismissive welcome, ‘Nice to meet you.’ Then she turned all her focus back to him. ‘Why didn’t you key in your code? Since when do you have to ring the buzzer at your own door?’
He shrugged, adopting an offhand tone. ‘I wasn’t sure if I had the house to myself or not.’
Mercedes giggled, the sound all coy artifice that somehow grated on his nerves. ‘I didn’t think you’d want to come back to an empty home. I know how much you hate being alone.’
It was a message that had all the subtlety of sharpened fingernails sinking deep and drawing blood. But Tara was too genuinely nice to retaliate. Even so, she visibly stiffened beside him, making him want to pull her into his arms and tell her she had nothing to fear. She was the only woman he wanted.
But it wasn’t what Tara wanted to hear quite yet and he wasn’t about to push the boundaries any more than he already had. Instead he cocked a brow at the dark-haired woman and murmured, ‘As you can see, I’m not alone.’
Mercedes’ false smile dimmed only a little. ‘I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to refresh your memory on how good we were together—’
‘In another life, maybe.’ He gave Tara’s hand a squeeze, his stare meeting hers and his voice going all husky. ‘In this one I’ve found my perfect match.’ He cleared his throat, breaking the intimate moment and dragging his attention from Tara and back to Mercedes. ‘Besides, we’re not staying. I just wanted to … check up on things.’
Mercedes’ lips tightened, a fierce gleam in her stare. ‘So I’m nothing more than a house-sitter now?’
He looked at her, really looked. She wasn’t broken-hearted, not even faintly. She was a woman scorned. A woman who’d been spoilt rotten all her life and who’d always gotten everything she’d wanted on a silver platter. She didn’t take rejection lightly.
His lips compressed. What had he ever really seen in her? Oh, she was beautiful enough on the outside, but on the inside all prettiness faded. She was vain and shallow. And he had no doubt his money meant more to her than his wellbeing. ‘You live here rent free with use of all the amenities … I wouldn’t be complaining if I were you.’
Mercedes’ friendly and welcoming façade dropped, her spine stiffening and her voice brittle as ice. ‘You know, there’s a big fat reward out for your arrest.’ She crossed her arms over her narrow chest. ‘The authorities just might be interested to know who I’ve seen.’
Jessie shook his head. How hadn’t he seen past her avaricious soul? Or perhaps he always had deep down, which is why he’d so often lost himself instead in his work. ‘Oh, I don’t think you’ll be telling anyone.’
Mercedes’ glared. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure—’
‘Because maybe you’ll be a suspect,’ he interjected. ‘Maybe you’ll be implicated.’
Mercedes’ breath hissed. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’
Jessie leaned forward, his eyes narrowed and his tone all too serious. ‘I’m a killer, remember? And a man with nothing to lose. There’s lots of things I’d dare.’
Anything to keep Tara out of the mess he’d dragged her in. And everything needed to save his sister in his own dimension from the monster who might otherwise mow her down and leave her to die.
Mercedes’ mouth fell open, even as a spark of something too close to admiration lit in the back of her eyes. Then she flicked a long strand of inky black hair behind her ear and said in a shrill voice, ‘Your loss.’ Before thrusting the door shut in his face.
Jessie turned to Tara and took both her hands in his, more aware than ever how special this woman was to him.
She looked up, her fac
e composed, trusting. ‘What now?’ she asked.
He let out a long breath at seeing the dark smudges under her eyes, the fatigue etching fine lines in her brow. ‘We find the nearest, most inconspicuous motel,’ he said, ‘and try and get some rest.’
At least for a little while.
She nodded, clearly relieved. Still, uncertainty flashed in her eyes. ‘Are you sure?’
‘We have to sleep sometime,’ he said gruffly, ‘and we won’t be saving my sister by nodding off at the wheel and ploughing into oncoming traffic.’
She nodded. ‘You’re probably right. And we’ll be more alert and better able to think straight by tomorrow.’
Less than twenty minutes later, they paid for a room that was little bigger than a shoebox. Tara didn’t seem to mind and Jessie certainly didn’t.
The shower they shared released a steady, hot stream of water. A good-sized bed took up most of the room and a small plasma television on the wall flickered into life without complaint.
Jessie sprawled naked onto the bed alongside Tara, both content just to cuddle and watch whatever program held their interest until sleep claimed them.
He had a feeling it wouldn’t take long.
But as he absently surfed through the channels, thoughts of his sister crept into his mind and anxiety stirred once again in his belly. Sleep suddenly seemed a whole world away.
Was Lolita okay in his dimension? Had his agent or the manager of his new venture contacted her about his no-show? Maybe the media had leaked the news about his not being at the restaurant opening and she was even now in panic mode?
‘Good choice,’ Tara murmured sleepily beside him, snuggling even closer to watch the cooking show he’d inadvertently stopped on.
He frowned at the pretty and voluptuous young chef who cut and chopped her way through various meats and veg before tossing it all in a wok. It was someone he didn’t recognise and a show he’d never seen before, at least not in his dimension.
‘What a great way to earn a living,’ Tara said on a dreamy little sigh.
‘Not always as great as you might think,’ he said offhandedly, his fingertips brushing back and forth along her lower back.
She half-sat and turned to look at him with a quizzical expression. ‘And how would you know?’
He shrugged, and despite his inner turmoil, his gaze was drawn to the gorgeous globes of her breasts and pert nipples, even while he tried to make light of the subject. ‘Call it male intuition.’
She mock-punched him on the shoulder. ‘It would be any cook’s dream job so don’t knock it!’
As a television chef he had every right to do just that. So why the hell didn’t he just come clean and tell her what he did in his real life? Surely his anonymity wasn’t that important anymore? Then again, why tell her at all? His real life no longer existed, was no longer relevant, not until he found his own dimension. All that mattered was who he was now.
‘Is that right?’ he growled good-naturedly, before wrestling her beneath him until she was gasping for breath and giggling hard. God, the friction of her petal-soft skin beneath him was torture of the best kind. But only as her writhing became the reverse of trying to escape did he press his mouth to hers, breathing her in, tasting her.
Until whatever feast was being presented on television faded into oblivion. Tara was the only culinary treat he wanted to savour. Tara was the only woman he wanted to watch.
He moved down her body, drawing the tip of one of her breasts into his mouth before releasing and relishing the other, suckling and tasting until her nipples were hard little points and she was breathing in harsh pants.
He wanted more.
Kissing his way past her rib cage and her pretty little navel, he stilled at the blonde triangle between her thighs. His voice came out hoarse as his already thickening cock surged into full-blown life. ‘Put your legs on my shoulders.’
Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, as though wanton need and shyness warred with one another. Then she was placing her feet as he’d instructed and he was bending his head in turn.
He parted her pink, inner flesh and licked along the opened folds as though she was manna from heaven and he was a man starving. Hell, if he wasn’t starving before, he was now. Her taste was honeyed aphrodisiac and he couldn’t stop at just one sampling.
Soon enough she was clutching hold of his head, urging him on in little whimpers, her hips lifting and retreating, then lifting higher still as he licked and then sucked her plump clit.
She abruptly jerked and cried out, convulsing under his mouth and giving him a taste of paradise. But he was too hard and needy to smile, even a little, with satisfaction. Instead he lifted his head and spread her wide, before pulling her close to his jutting cock. With something between a grunt and a groan, he pushed in deep, taking up an in-out rhythm that as quickly had her mewling with pleasure.
There wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to last long.
He stroked deeper inside her, feeling every millimetre of her wet, silken channel. His balls tightened, aching for release. Not yet. Not before Tara. He adjusted his angle of penetration and drove into her heat.
Tara’s eyes flashed, and as she cried out his name and her inner muscles grasped at his cock, he erupted inside her with a long, drawn-out groan.
Mine.
He’d never been a possessive man. And yet he knew without a doubt Tara was his.
Only when rapture faded did he find the strength to gather her up and kiss her, sharing her musky, beautiful taste and sucking in her little breaths.
Then, tangled in each other’s arms and legs, they lay facing one another without any words spoken, just quiet contemplation as their breathing steadied and their heart rates slowed back to normal.
He was vaguely aware she’d made a pillow of his arm. Subtle hints of lavender teased his nostrils. Her silken soft cheek brushed over his forearm. He smiled. Then his eyes slid closed and, with the cooking show background noise, sleep at last claimed him.
Chapter Ten
Jessie could hardly believe he’d spent the good part of twelve hours sleeping in a motel back at Sydney. On the road and almost at Mirraway once again, his eyeballs felt dry, his reflexes dulled and heavy.
Beside him, Tara lay curled on the passenger seat. She’d managed to drive a couple of hours earlier in the day, but he’d only taken one look at the dark circles under her eyes, along with her fluctuating speed, to know she needed even more sleep. All the hours on the road had begun to take its toll. Sleep deprivation at its finest.
The sky glowed in a blanket of warm orange, daylight’s last stand against the coming night, when he finally pulled into Tara’s house and business.
Shutting off the engine, Tara abruptly woke with a yawn and blinked. ‘We’re here,’ she mumbled.
He smiled, loving her just-woken, sleep-tousled look. He nodded. ‘Yes, at last.’
Tara automatically retrieved the money package and her clutch purse from the floor when he alighted with the keys in hand and grabbed their backpack that was now stuffed full with his new clothes.
The ‘closed’ sign was on the door when she unlocked it, but otherwise nothing seemed amiss. No one was around. They all but snuck inside the shop and locked the door behind them, Tara stifling a sudden fit of giggles.
He dropped the backpack onto the floor, and then drew her close, her spine against his chest. He planted a kiss on her scalp before his chin moved to rest on her head. ‘I know I’ve said it before,’ he murmured, ‘but I’m so glad I have you here to share all this strangeness with me.’
She twisted in his arms and looked up. ‘And I know I’ve said it before too, but I’m glad you rescued me from out of the rut that was my life.’
He bent his head and touched his lips to hers, enjoying the moment of warmth and bonding, the taste of her sweet femininity. He drew back, saying out loud the realisation that had been hovering at the back of his mind from almost the first day he’d met her. ‘I feel like
I’ve known you my whole life.’
Sleeping with her, wanting her, had been as natural and unstoppable as meeting her under these strange circumstances.
Her lips curled in a smile that shone in her eyes. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’
His heart skipped a beat. His mouth opened, but the words he wanted to say died on his lips. Despite her gratitude, it didn’t mean she wanted to hear his heartfelt declaration. Instead he said, ‘Let’s make something to eat.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, though her smile didn’t seem quite so warm. ‘I’m starving.’
He followed her into the kitchen and helped get out the ingredients for a couple of simple ham and salad sandwiches. ‘I’ll make a couple more sandwiches for the road tomorrow,’ Tara said, the sharp blade of her knife effortlessly slicing through a juicy red tomato. ‘Maybe pack some fruit and dry biscuits into a hamper.’
‘Great idea.’
Their lunch packed and ready to go come morning, they took their sandwiches and a bottle of juice upstairs. Tara placed the money packet on her kitchen counter before she spread out a blanket on the floorboards of the lounge room for an impromptu picnic.
Lighting a candle so that it chased away most of the shadows but ensured their privacy from the outside world, she pressed play on her stereo.
A ZZ Top song filled the air.
Jessie’s sandwich stopped halfway to his mouth. Tara grimaced, ejecting the CD and announcing, ‘I didn’t own this in my dimension. It’s not to my music tastes at all.’
‘No. But … I owned it.’ He put his sandwich down, before raking a hand over his face and becoming absently aware of the bristles. He needed a shave. If only other matters weren’t taking up all his attention. ‘It was the same CD I played in my car after the first time I found the old house.’
She pressed her fingertips to her mouth. ‘So in this dimension we’ve already met?’
‘I think so.’
Unless Tara’s taste in music had drastically changed, it was the only thing that made any sense.
She looked around, as if by will alone she could bring their other selves into being. ‘I wonder where we—they—are now?’ she whispered.