His Touch

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  Her breath faltered. “I’m…fine.”

  “Me too,” he mouthed over Elliot’s bent head, his gaze continuing to stroke her.

  And he was. In fact, he didn’t know when he’d felt so good, so content. Not in years, that was for sure. And for the first time in years, he felt unburdened, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off him.

  Hell, he was living his fantasies. He was with the two people he cared about most in the world. Two people? Where had that come from? Seemingly out of nowhere, blindsiding him.

  He didn’t love Jessica. He only wanted to make love to her. And when the chips were down, she was just a job, like the First Lady and so many others he’d protected.

  Sweat poured off Brant. Crazy thoughts like that could get a man in big trouble, especially when his libido was on fire. He had to admit, though, he’d never had such good sex.

  Regardless of the fact that she’d been married, Jessica had been an inexperienced lover, which had delighted him, especially since she was a quick learner and avid participant. Thinking about their time in bed sent the blood thundering through him, settling in his groin, making him ache with need.

  Since they had returned from Europe, it had taken every ounce of willpower he could muster not to sneak into her bed, and to hell with the consequences. But he hadn’t. He’d kept his head and his dick where they belonged and done his job.

  He didn’t like it, though, especially on such a perfect day, when she looked incredibly young and adorable, dressed in shorts, a skimpy top and sandals. Her hair, kissed by the sun and swept by the wind, was more tousled than usual, accentuating her bed-head persona. The gentle breeze was also doing a number on her body, molding her shirt to her breasts, giving his gaze free access to the jutting nipples her bra failed to disguise.

  The very idea that she was the mayor of one of this country’s most prestigious cities was mind-boggling.

  He had never seen her so relaxed, so carefree, so breathtakingly lovely. And the fact that she had recognized his bold and warm look and actually returned it had his insides twisted in knots.

  “Hey, Dad, I studied a map of the lake.”

  “And?” Brant said absently, still tying to get his mind off Jessica, whom he could never have, and back on track.

  “I know all the best places to fish.”

  He turned and grinned at his son, feeling pride sweep through him. At this moment, his son’s animated face, his son’s acceptance, were all that was important to him. The only things in his life that mattered. So savor this time, he told himself. Don’t waste a precious second.

  “Then haul your butt over here, son, and take the wheel.”

  Elliot made a mad dash to the bow. “I’ll show you how it’s supposed to be done.”

  “Cocky little shit, aren’t you?” As he spoke, Brant sought Jessica’s eyes, and they burst out laughing.

  Thirty-three

  Jessica stared at the pile on her desk and wanted to turn around, get back in the car, change clothes and return to Lake Ray Roberts. That out-of-the-blue thought took her by surprise.

  When Porter had been alive, she had rarely accompanied him on an outing. The times she had, she couldn’t recall particularly enjoying it. But then, she didn’t think he especially liked to take her, either, preferring the company of some of his male friends.

  Yesterday, however, had been different. She had loved every minute they’d spent on the water, inhaling the fresh breeze, feeling it ruffle her hair and caress her skin. She had felt free, free from hateful phone calls, e-mails and prying eyes. In fact, on that Sunday, it had seemed her life was normal, like any other woman who was benefitting from a day spent in the company of loved ones.

  Loved ones?

  Had she lost her mind? She wasn’t in love with Brant. And she barely knew Elliot, though she had to concede that when he didn’t have that sullen twist to his mouth, he was an okay kid. Quite charming, in fact. Like father, like son, except that on average Brant was charming even less often than Elliot was.

  Yesterday, however, throughout the entire adventure, she’d seen a different side of that complicated, private man who had been part of her life for nearly a month. He had seemed to revel in every second of the day, laughing spontaneously at whenever she or Elliot would say something amusing. But he’d really come to life when she tried to catch a fish.

  “Hey, hold tighter!” Brant had exclaimed at one point, dashing to her side. She’d apparently hooked a big one and was wrestling like crazy with it.

  “Better hurry, Dad,” Elliot said with unabashed laughter. “Or Jessica’s going to go overboard and be bait for the fish.”

  “Funny, kiddo,” Jessica quipped. Then she followed Brant’s advice and got a firmer hold on her rod. “Don’t worry, this sucker’s not going to get the best of me.”

  About that time, the rod flew out of her hand. She just stood there, stunned, her mouth gaping. Then was when Brant tossed back his head and laughed, along with Elliot.

  Jessica stiffened, pretending to be affronted. “Just wait. Next time I’ll get the better of that sucker, and the joke will be on you two.”

  Brant’s warm eyes roamed over her, sending her pulse into a tizzy. “Maybe it’s time to take a break. How ’bout we pull over and have our picnic? I’m famished.”

  Jessica was, too, only not for food. She wanted to feast on him. And if the sudden glint in Brant’s eyes was anything to judge by, he was thinking the very same thing.

  For a long moment their eyes held, and the world around them ceased to exist.

  “Hey, Dad, look!” Elliot cried.

  The spell shattered, they whipped around and watched as Elliot struggled with a big bass. Brant jumped to help him. “Way to go, son.”

  The remainder of the day was filled with the same relaxed fun and enthusiasm. For Brant’s sake, Jessica couldn’t have been more pleased. She now had hope father and son would eventually heal the breach completely.

  If so, she would take joy in knowing she’d played a small part in bringing that about. For now, though, having heard Brant’s laughter and watched the harsh lines ease in his face was enough. She would remember that day always.

  That last thought making her sad, Jessica grabbed her pen and forced herself to add to her upcoming council meeting notes. That was when a knock on her door interrupted her. It was Brant. Another surprise. He rarely disturbed her.

  “Come in,” she said, trying not to stare at him.

  “I know you’re busy,” he said in a rough voice.

  “I should be, but my mind keeps wandering,” she admitted in a faltering voice. All he had to do was get anywhere near her and…

  Cutting that thought off, she watched him walk to the window, look out, then turn and prop himself against the wall. He was obviously still feeling caged, more restless than usual.

  Back to his normal self.

  Not a bad thing, she assured herself. The euphoria of yesterday couldn’t last, at least not between them. Brant at his best was highly lethal.

  Her first clue that his mood had swung had been the way he walked into the kitchen this morning. He hadn’t spoken, except to mutter good morning. She’d pretended to focus on breakfast, taking her cue from him.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked now, forcing her thoughts back to the moment at hand.

  “I just wanted to thank you again for yesterday,” he said, not looking at her. “You were a real trooper.”

  “You’ve already thanked me. More than once, actually.” Her tone was soft. “But hey, I had a great time myself.”

  “I did, too,” he said deliberately and thickly.

  The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, forcing her to struggle for a decent breath. “It was good for me.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. You should indulge yourself more often.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said lightly, struggling for composure.

  He looked at her with shuttered eyes, then changed the subject. �
��Do you think I made progress? With Elliot, I mean.”

  “Don’t you?”

  A white line defined his lips. “Yes and no.”

  She almost smiled, only it wasn’t a smiling matter. “Elliot seemed to have a ball.”

  “Oh, he did. But it was the boat, the lake and the fish that excited him, not me.”

  “I don’t know so much about that,” Jessica said hesitantly, not wanting to discourage him, but not wanting to give him false hope, either. Right now, she went for the hope, realizing how torn he was. “I saw Elliot looking at you with real admiration.”

  Brant shook his head. “I’d like to believe that, but I’m realistic enough to know that one outing isn’t going to make up for a lifetime of neglect from me.”

  “You’re right, it isn’t. But it’s a start. And you have to know that, hold on to that. Elliot was neither disagreeable or disrespectful.”

  “I know, which is part of the problem. The thought of calling him and hearing that old sullen anger again…” Brant’s voice dissolved, and he gestured impatiently with his hands.

  The pain and fear were eating him up, and there wasn’t one thing she could do about it. It wasn’t her concern, and besides, she was at a loss as to how to console him. But she had to try. She couldn’t stand to see him hurting so badly.

  “He invited you to come watch him play ball,” she reminded him.

  “I have you to thank for that, too.” A smile suddenly toyed with his lips. “The truth of the matter is, he invited you.”

  “Well, he knows I can’t come without you, so there.”

  His eyebrows arched. “That’s really reaching.”

  She shrugged. “It’s another start. That’s the way you should look at it.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’m going to take the invitation and run.” He paused again, his eyes drilling her. “If you want to go.”

  “Of course I’m going.” She was offended and let it show. “I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.”

  “With your busy schedule, you never know.”

  “Well, this is one time I know,” she declared, snapping outright.

  A twinkle suddenly appeared in Brant’s eyes. “Didn’t mean to get you stirred.”

  You keep me stirred. And you know it.

  “Yes, you did,” she countered hotly.

  He looked at her for another long moment, then said abruptly, “I’m here if you need me,” and strode out of the room.

  Brant paced the wood floor in his room. “To hell with it,” he finally muttered, then picked up his cell phone and flipped the lid, only to slam it shut. He wanted to call Elliot, but like he’d told Jessica that morning, he was leery.

  Nothing particular was on his mind except that he just wanted to talk to his son, to rehash the fishing trip that had thrilled him far beyond his expectations. Most of his thanks really was due to Jessica. She had indeed been a real trooper, especially when it came to the fishing, having admitted she’d never baited a hook in her life.

  “And there’s another verse to that,” she’d added, “I’m not going to.”

  “Then how you gonna fish?”

  Elliot’s teasing question seemed to have caught her off guard for a second. “Well, uh,” she sputtered, “I guess I just won’t.”

  Brant smiled. “If you’ll ask nicely, maybe I’ll help you out.”

  She cut him a look, though he saw the twinkle in her eyes. It was in that moment he gripped the rod for all it was worth, squelching the urge to toss it, grab her and kiss her until they were both crazy with lust.

  His son’s laughter brought him back to reality. Forget her. She’s poison. Elliot was what he was all about, what his future was all about, not some designer-clad career woman.

  Still, she was awfully fetching in her casual attire on this gorgeous, sunny day.

  “Ah, come on, Dad, give her a break.”

  Dad.

  Brant didn’t think he would ever tire of hearing that word. It had been so long. He had to make this day count for him and Elliot. It had to be a turning point, but he was scared shitless that he would blow it.

  Thanks to Jessica, he hadn’t. But now he was back in the real world and he had to go forward, desperate to keep that fragile line of communication open between him and his son.

  Jessica had unselfishly done her part. Now the rest was up to him.

  He finally punched out Elliot’s number. Marsha answered.

  “Is Elliot around?”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Will you tell him I called?”

  She paused, which sent his blood pressure soaring.

  “I just wish to God you’d leave him alone.”

  “Marsha, please, don’t start. We have got to make peace between us, if for no other reason than Elliot. I don’t want to battle with you over him. It’s not necessary.”

  “Goodbye, Brant,” she said coldly.

  “Dammit, Marsha!”

  He smelled her scent before he saw her. Swinging around, Brant stared into Jessica’s troubled face. “I’m sorry to bother you—”

  “It’s my job to be bothered,” he responded, trying to get his temper under control. “Is something wrong?” Of course, it was. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come to his room.

  Her face seemed to grow paler. “I just got a call. Roy’s in the hospital.”

  “What happened?”

  “He’s…he’s been severely beaten.”

  They made it to the hospital in record time.

  When they reached the cubicle where her stepson was being treated, Brant gently touched her arm. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  Jessica swallowed the lump in her throat. “No, I’m not sure at all.”

  “He’s not going to be a pretty sight.”

  “I know,” she said in a shaky voice. “But this is something I have to do.”

  And it was, though she was loathe to walk into that room. The officer who had found Roy’s bruised and battered body in a dark alley had called the chief of detectives, who had in turn called her. Detective Reeves had told her Roy’s attack might have been drug-related. Beyond that, little else was known, since Roy was unconscious.

  “Want me to go in first?”

  Brant’s voice broke into her thoughts. Jessica shook her head. “No, I need to be with him.”

  “Want me to stay out here, then?”

  Her eyes widened. “No. Please come with me. If you don’t mind.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Brant’s tone was gentle, which made it much easier to open the door. Then she gasped and covered her mouth.

  Her stepson was almost unrecognizable. His eyes were swollen shut, and his face was cut and bruised. She shuddered to think what the rest of his body looked like. Was he going to die?

  The short, squatty E.R. doctor stepped forward and extended his hand to Jessica, then Brant. “Clyde Temple,” he said in a deep voice. “I’m sorry about this, Mayor.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. Me too. Is he going to be all right?”

  “Only time will tell. We’re getting ready to transfer him to ICU.”

  Jessica swallowed hard again, thankful for Brant’s presence, though he kept his distance. “Thank you for all you’ve done.” Tears threatened, but she held them at bay. If Porter had been alive, such a vile act would never have happened. Suddenly she felt like a miserable failure.

  As though he read her thoughts, Brant stepped closer. “This is not your fault. He’s a grown man who’s responsible for his choices and the consequences of those choices.”

  “You’re right,” she whispered. “But it breaks my heart to see him like this, to know he’s wasting his life.”

  “If he survives, maybe he’ll clean up his act.”

  Jessica prayed that would be the case, though she didn’t verbalize that. Instead, she looked at Brant and asked, “Would you check at the nurses’ station for Roy’s personal items? I didn’t think to ask the detective
about them.”

  “No problem.”

  Moments later, Brant returned with keys and a billfold, handing them to her.

  “I’d like to stop by his apartment and pick up a few things for him and bring them back here,” she said.

  “Suits me. I’d like to take a look around and see if there’s any clue as to who might have done this to him.”

  Shortly thereafter Brant parked the SUV in Roy’s driveway. Once inside, Jessica was appalled at how messy the place was, though she knew it hadn’t been ransacked.

  With grim expressions, they assessed the situation; then Jessica headed for Roy’s bedroom. “I’ll grab a few things,” she said, feeling worse by the second. How had Roy stooped so low?

  “You know he has to get treatment,” Brant said flatly.

  “That goes without saying.” Jessica turned then, and went about her business.

  It wasn’t long until Brant appeared in the bedroom door, his eyes as cold as steel. A shiver darted through her. “What now?”

  “At least one question has been answered.”

  She frowned her confusion.

  “Roy-boy’s the one who tampered with your credit card.”

  Aghast, Jessica opened her mouth, then shut it.

  “Yep, he sure as hell did. Found the evidence on his computer.”

  “How could he?” Mixed emotions charged through Jessica. She was sad, but she was also mad.

  “There’s more.”

  Her hand went to her chest. “More?” she mimicked.

  “Yeah, your stepson’s been a busy boy. I found a credit card, in your name, on his desk and another one in his billfold.”

  “Oh, no!” Jessica exclaimed, horrified.

  “There’s still more. He’s making plans to tamper with your bank account. Or maybe he already has. Are you missing any money?”

  Thirty-four

  “I hope you have something.”

  Only Thurmon’s lips smiled. “I do, but it’s not exactly what you want to hear.”

  Since Roy had gotten the stuffing beaten out of him, Brant hadn’t had the opportunity to meet personally with Thurmon, though he had kept him updated by phone. Thurmon had reciprocated. Still, they had wanted to meet. This morning, here in Jessica’s private coffee room, had been the appointed time and place.