Though that personal question struck another nerve, she answered it. “No.”
“Then why did he think he could touch you?”
Jessica sucked in her breath again, now furious at Brant. “I have no idea.”
A smirk crossed Brant’s lips, which further inflamed her fury. Before she could make a suitable comeback, however, he went on, “Have you considered pretty boy a suspect?”
“No,” she said again.
“Well, you should,” Brant said flatly.
“That’s absurd.”
“Look, dammit, nothing’s absurd, and everyone is a suspect. I thought we had that understood.”
Thirteen
“Hey, friend, how’s it going?”
“It’s going.”
Veronica hesitated for several heartbeats. “Obviously not well or you wouldn’t sound so down in the dumps.” She paused. “It’s Brant, right?”
“Along with work.”
“I was hoping you two would’ve come to grips with the situation, worked things out by now.” She paused again with a deep sigh. “Apparently I’ve been living in a dream world.”
“What you are, my friend, is indulging in wishful thinking,” Jessica replied. “But if that makes you feel better, then go ahead.”
“Okay, so you and Brant are not a match made in heaven. No matter, you have no option but to keep him around until this idiot is caught. Speaking of the creep, what’s the latest?”
“He seems to be lying low, for whatever reason. However, I can’t back that up with proof. I haven’t checked my personal e-mail in several days. I’m chicken. I’ll admit that, but…” Jessica’s words faded. She was so tired of talking about her personal quandary, she didn’t know what to do.
“Maybe he’s dropped dead.” Veronica chuckled at her own flippant statement.
“I wouldn’t be that lucky.”
“You never know. Anyway, promise you won’t do anything reckless or stupid, like send Brant packing?”
“I won’t—can’t—promise that.”
As if Veronica had picked up on the stubborn note in Jessica’s tone, she didn’t push or waste any more time. “Look, I’m not going to keep you. But I can’t say I like leaving things on such shaky ground. I’d love for us to get together for lunch this week. You have any free time?”
Jessica quickly reviewed her day-planner in her head. “Tomorrow is a day from hell. The following one looks better, if I remember correctly. I can let you know in the morning.”
“Any day this week will suit me, so it’s your decision. Believe it or not, I’m not tied up in court.”
“Then you’re on for sure. And thanks for calling, Ronnie,” Jessica added in a subdued tone. “Thanks even more for caring.”
“Stop thanking me. You’d do the same for me. So go to bed and get some beauty rest.”
“What’s that?”
Veronica’s chuckle preceded the sound of the dial tone, leaving Jessica feeling better than she’d felt when she’d answered the phone, although she’d known it was her friend.
That quick call had come around ten. Now it was twelve, and her eyes were still wide-open. She had to get some sleep. Maybe she would take something that would force her to sleep. Tomorrow was indeed a hard day, meeting after meeting, both in and out of the office. She had told Tony a while back to poll the city’s staff and the councilmembers about the possibility of holding a weekend retreat to discuss how the city’s needs fit into budget considerations for the next fiscal year. To date, the retreat hadn’t been confirmed, but she trusted that it would be and that word of that would come tomorrow, as well.
If only she could keep her thoughts off Curtis’ unsettling visit. She disliked dissension, but of late, it seemed to shadow her. On this issue, however, she refused to take the blame. Curtis was the one who had set the tone, who had drawn a line in the sand, forcing them on opposite sides.
One good thing to come out of the verbal altercation was that she’d seen his true colors. Underneath that charming facade was someone who had no qualms about getting nasty when crossed.
And she had crossed him. And would continue to do so. She had meant it when she told him she would fight him, even if court proved the only method of settling things. Of course, she had no idea what position the council as a whole would take on such a controversial move, but she had to think they would back her.
Time would tell. Meanwhile, she had to focus her mind on other issues. Despite all the seething controversy behind the scenes, personally and professionally, up-front things were definitely happening—productive things, too. While she couldn’t take all the credit, she could take some.
There was talk of another big company coming to Dallas, an issue she had thought was dead. Apparently that wasn’t the case. The idea had seemingly been resurrected, which thrilled her.
Another reason for the retreat. If she were to pull off that coup as well as the pending land annexation, she would be in the catbird seat when it came to reelection, or so she hoped. But nothing was a sure thing in this world; she knew that from experience—from lots of hard knocks. Still, she had no intention of losing her positive outlook or enthusiasm for her work.
So what if I have a bodyguard following my every step?
She could handle that, too, she assured herself staunchly. Suddenly Jessica laughed in the darkness, the sound of her own laughter sounding almost diabolical. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t handling it. She was barely holding body and soul together.
And she suspected Brant wasn’t faring much better. For some reason that no longer made her feel better. She had no idea if he’d contacted his son or how things were on that score. He continued to stick straight to business, a tactic she admired. Yet she couldn’t help being curious about him, about the man who was sharing her home and her life.
Thinking of the latter made her yearn to get hers back. And her home. If he hadn’t had to set up residence here, she would find this whole bizarre situation much more tolerable. As it was…
Stop it, Jessica told herself. She had to stop dwelling on him and his presence. If not, the wear and tear on her would start to interfere with her work. She couldn’t allow that.
Suddenly she tensed, her thoughts stopping cold. Had she heard something? She stiffened, even stopped breathing for several moments, and listened. All quiet, except for the air-conditioning unit clicking on.
Finally she released her breath and eased her head back onto the pillow, not even realizing she’d lifted it. Her eyes sought the clock. One. Paranoia. That was what she was experiencing. Forcing herself to relax, she closed her eyes and began counting sheep, silly, but oftentimes effective.
Jessica made it to fifty. That was when she heard the sound again. She sucked in her breath and listened. A door creaking? Was that what she’d heard? At this juncture, it didn’t matter. Whether she’d actually heard something or not was no longer the point.
Something was amiss. She didn’t know what, but she couldn’t lie there another second pretending her paranoia wasn’t making her a basket case.
Brant?
Was it him moving around the house?
If not, then someone else?
Her mouth turned dry, and her pulse rate dropped.
Had he heard the intruder?
If there was one.
Let it be, she told herself. If someone had managed to get inside again, she should trust Brant to take care of him. After all, that was what he’d been hired to do, what he was trained to do. But what if he was a heavy sleeper who didn’t hear night sounds, valid or otherwise? She didn’t know anything about him, much less his sleeping habits, for crying out loud.
One thing she did know, her mind was once again becoming her own worst enemy.
“To hell with this,” she muttered, slinging back the sheet and scrambling out of bed.
Since the night-light was on in the bath, it allowed her to see through the shadows. Her eyes scanned the room. No one lurked in those shadows,
which gave her confidence to reach for her robe, slip it on. Still, she didn’t move, because her legs had all the consistency of melted butter.
Coward.
It was probably nothing except her overactive imagination. Even so, she might as well investigate and get it over with. Otherwise, she would just continue to stew and not get any rest. More important, if someone had gotten inside…
Jessica shut that thought down and made her way to the door, which she very cautiously opened, noticing her palms were so clammy that they threatened to slip off the knob. In addition, her heart was banging like a gong against her ribs.
Once the door was open enough for her to get through, she met nothing but inky-blackness. Pausing, she drew a shuddering breath and held it, casting her eyes to the right, then to the left. She couldn’t see a blessed thing.
Tiny baby steps brought her out into the hallway. Once there, she turned left. At the time she didn’t know why she chose that route. Maybe because it was in the direction of the stairs and Brant.
She had taken only three steps when she bumped into something.
A person.
Warm but solid.
Her scream froze in her throat as strong arms locked around her upper arms.
“Dammit, Jessica!”
Brant.
Thank God. His minty breath and distinctive scent enveloped her like a cocoon.
She went limp, suddenly too weak with relief to stand on her own power. Her instant capitulation seemed to catch him by surprise, for he muttered another expletive, then grasped her tighter and closer.
Seconds passed and neither moved, their hearts beating in sync. Then Jessica’s paralysis broke and she began shaking uncontrollably, teeth and all.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered against her ear, his warm breath sending shivers of a different kind through her body. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“Is someone—”
“No,” he interrupted, his lips remaining close to her ear, heightening her awareness of him. “I’ve checked every square inch of the premises, and all’s clear. No one has broken in, and no one will as long as I’m here.”
Despite his steely tone and take-charge attitude, Jessica couldn’t stop shaking. Her body seemed to have a will of its own.
“Don’t,” he pleaded in a guttural tone. “You’re fine. Trust me.”
Strangely, in this instance, she did. So why couldn’t she take charge of her body, respond to his reassurance, and pull away?
Because I like feeling his warm arms around me, like having his hard body molded against mine.
Those forbidden thoughts evoked a muted cry from deep within.
“Jessica, please, don’t.”
He sounded in as much agony as she was. That was what brought her eyes up. Having adjusted to the darkness, she could finally see his face. That was when she realized it was so near hers, another blast of his warm breath caressing her face.
In that moment, and for the second time, their breathing ceased, and his moist lips closed over hers in a hot, almost desperate kiss. As if anticipating the inevitable, her lips were wet and pliant, giving him license to do what he wanted.
He took full advantage.
His tongue flicked through the seam between her lips, and she moaned, locking her arms around his neck, as much for support as anything else. Heat spread through her body like wildfire, a totally new experience for her.
Porter had never brought on this kind of havoc or this kind of irresponsible response.
Jessica wanted to pull away, to stop this insanity, but she was powerless against the sweet-savage onslaught. A heavy weakness invaded her limbs, rendering her useless, while his teeth nibbled, then sucked, on her top lip before moving to the lower one.
With each bold move, he seemed to devour her, spreading that fire throughout her system, lust making her wet and aching.
As if he sensed this, he cupped her buttocks and pressed his extended flesh against her. Even through their clothes, she felt that impressive bulge as though they were naked.
She clung tighter, drunk on him, on what he was doing to her.
He groaned, then moved her hips in a circular motion.
“Brant!”
It was her cry that brought him back to reality, that brutally ended the adhering of their lips and bodies. Cursing more than ever, Brant thrust her away from him. Then, without looking at her, he turned his back and strode down the hall.
Somehow Jessica managed the short walk back to her room. Once inside, she leaned against the closed door for support, drawing long breaths, shaking all over. That was when she realized with a sinking heart that their relationship had taken yet another turn.
Definitely in the wrong direction.
Fourteen
He should be sorry. Moreover, he should have told her he was sorry. Only thing was, he wasn’t. At least not for kissing her, if you could call it that, he reminded himself. What had happened between them had been more than a mere meeting of the lips. For a moment he had practically feasted on her, eaten her up. Her lips had the taste and feel of honey, sweet and adhering.
Good Lord.
On second thought, feeling his erection still pressing against his zipper, he was sorry all right—sorry that he worked for her. The fact that his body ached from unfulfilled need was bad enough. But the most unpardonable of sins was crossing that professional line. Tonight was the first time he’d ever done anything so un professional in all his years as a Secret Service agent.
So why tonight, when his mind should have been focused one hundred percent on the job and not on the person who’d hired him? Brant crossed to the French doors, opened them and walked outside. The muggy air hit him in the face, but at least he could breathe.
With his thoughts running amuck, he’d felt claustrophobic. But then, he’d felt that way ever since he’d come back to civilization.
Brant let go of a harsh breath, thinking he probably wouldn’t have to worry about his job come morning. Most likely Mrs. Jessica Kincaid would fire his ass, and he didn’t blame her. A humorless smile tugged at his lips. Hell, he’d never kissed a woman he didn’t call by her first name.
Stranger things had happened, he was sure, but not to him. Brant’s callused hands circled the railing. He maintained that firm grip until he felt his fingers go numb. Letting go, he merely propped his hip against the hard metal. He ought to go inside and try to get some sleep, but he knew the effort would be fruitless. So why bother?
Besides, he didn’t require much sleep. At the height of his career, he’d learned to do without it and function just fine. It hadn’t taken him long to get back into that mold. Some things, he guessed, never stopped being second nature.
Except his ability to do the job.
He questioned that now, especially in light of the stupid stunt he’d just pulled. Yet no matter how deep he dug into his conscience, he found no sign of repentance. Not good, Harding, he told himself savagely. He’d screwed up. And not to learn from that would be heading down a slippery slope indeed.
Although he didn’t think this goon harassing her would turn out to be a serial killer, not by any stretch of the imagination, he still had to be reckoned with and treated as carefully as if he was one. With all the craziness in society these days, you never knew when someone you least expected would turn out to be de-ranged.
That was why everyone who came in contact with Jessica was suspect. And it was his job to find him or her or them.
Not to maul his own client.
“Hell,” Brant muttered, wishing he smoked.
Thurmon would have his head on a platter. But then, his friend would probably never know. He doubted if Jessica would say anything to Veronica, either. Like him, she was probably having a hard time accepting what had happened between them. Besides, she was such a private person, rigid and cold.
That latter thought brought a bitter laugh to the surface.
Outside, maybe, but inside, she was hot and pliant.
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And her smell. It was her own. She smelled like she’d been dipped in a tub of wild roses and her skin had soaked up the scent, more erotic and breath-catching than the most exotic of perfumes.
The instant she had bumped into him and he’d encircled her with his arms, he’d known he was in trouble. It was as if her entire body had gone on alert, especially her nipples. Right off, he’d felt them poke his chest. After that, his blood had heated and his control eroded.
And when her lips, so ready and willing, met him kiss for kiss, he’d ached to lift that flimsy thing she had on, haul her up around his waist and ram his hard penis high into her warmth.
Just thinking about that made him break out in a cold, needy sweat. Until now he’d managed to put sex and the thought of it on the back burner, and had been relatively content knowing that along with sex came responsibility and commitment.
He wasn’t prepared for either.
Still, he was going to be hard-pressed to keep his hands off Jessica Kincaid. After having tasted of that forbidden fruit, he craved more, bigger and juicier bites.
Another bitter laugh erupted. Like he’d already figured, he expected his walking papers first thing in the morning. If that happened, then it was for the best, since he knew it was going to be damn near impossible to ignore her as a woman.
But if she didn’t send him packing, then he would honor his word, tie a knot in his libido, strap a rein on his hands and do the job he’d been hired to do.
That was the only way he could live with himself. With that reassuring thought in mind, Brant trudged back inside. Fully clothed, he flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Until the wee hours of the morning.
“Hi, Brant,” Veronica said, giving him a brief hug.
“Hey, yourself.” Brant half smiled. “You’re looking great, as always.”
“You’re full of it, but it’s nice to hear.”
Jessica felt his eyes rest on her briefly before he said in his low, remote tone, “You two have a nice lunch. I’ll just do my thing.”
“Will do,” Veronica said, facing Jessica. “Come on, our table’s ready.”
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