What about Jessica? He tried to ignore the little voice deep inside him, but it wouldn’t stop taunting him. He didn’t want her. Not for keeps, anyway. He just wanted to make love to her whenever he wanted, then walk out with no strings attached.
No big deal.
Only it was a big deal, especially when he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Ever. Even when she was behind closed doors, out of sight, for hours, she filled his thoughts. Worse, she haunted his dreams. She haunted him, period.
After they had come home from that charity shindig, two days ago, he should have made love to her. He should have said to hell with doing what was right and satisfied his own lust. He’d never had a conscience before. Why now?
Holding her graceful, flowing body swaying in his arms while her breasts poked his chest and his crotch rubbed against her had set him on fire.
In that timeless moment, he’d sensed she felt the same way. For several heartbeats, she’d melted against him, giving herself up to the blatant sexual ritual of heated bodies connecting.
“God, you smell good enough to eat,” he’d whispered into her ear, stifling the urge to take a bite of her delicious skin.
“Don’t, Brant, please. Not here,” she countered in a muffled whisper of her own.
“I can’t help it. It’s been too damn long since I’ve held you.”
He felt her heart pounding against him, and for a second longer, she let him hold her tightly. Then she pulled away and walked out of his arms.
Later, on the way home, she had ignored him, though the tension inside the limo had been thick and pulsating. The fire she’d started inside him still burned. He’d almost reached for her several times, but hadn’t. Her standoffish attitude had kept him at bay. And pissed him off, too.
And he was still pissed, more at himself than her.
Muttering an expletive, he strode out of his room and made his way to the kitchen to get a beer, only to pull up short. She was sitting in the living room, her feet curled under her, staring into space.
“Jessica?”
She swung around, her eyes startled.
He cleared his throat, noticing that she had on a flowing robe of some sort. He would bet she was naked underneath. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She licked her lips, which he also tried to ignore. “It’s okay.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. My mind wouldn’t slow down enough to let me sleep, so I just got up.”
“You didn’t get another e-mail or call, did you?”
“No, thank God. For now, the sicko seems to be laying low.”
“Mind if I grab a beer and join you? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
She hesitated, but only for a second. “Actually I want to talk to you, too.”
A feeling of unease shot through him. After that dance floor incident, had she had it? Was she finally sending him packing? “Want anything from the kitchen?” he asked in a raw-edged tone.
“Maybe a glass of milk. Thanks.”
Moments later, he made his way back into the living room. When he handed her the glass, he made sure he didn’t make contact with her hand. That would be his undoing.
“So what’s on your mind?” he asked, following several swigs of beer.
“You first.”
“Why?”
A brief smile softened her lips. “Just because.”
A bit of humor was a good sign, he told himself. “I spoke to Elliot, and he wants us to come to his game Friday night.” He paused, on the pretense of taking another sip of his beer. “Does that conflict with your schedule in any way?”
“If it does, I’ll change it.”
“You will?” He didn’t know why he was surprised by her quick decision, but he was. He was thrilled, too.
“Elliot really wants you to come.”
“And I want to. It’ll be fun. Besides that, it’ll be good for me. I can’t tell you the last time I saw a ball game.”
“Me either, I’m sorry to say.”
“It’ll all work out,” she said in a gentle tone. “You and Elliot, that is.”
“It just has to,” he replied fiercely, then switched the subject. “So what’s on your mind?”
“The all-important council meeting is coming up.”
“How soon?”
“Monday night.”
“You’re right. That’s soon. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Both issues, the land and the chief’s position, are up for a vote.”
“But you’re sticking to your guns on both, right?”
“Absolutely, though I might not win. Curtis doesn’t seem the least bit worried, which worries me.”
“If he’s behind this crap, he’d best get worried.”
“It’s not him. I’m convinced of that. He’s too smart, too political, for that.”
“I told Thurmon the same thing, though I’d love to nail him for something.” Brant sneered. “His attitude, for one thing.”
Another smile teased her mouth, which stirred his loins anew. When she smiled, her entire face shone. And without makeup, she was even lovelier, breathtakingly so.
“You just don’t like him.”
Brant grunted.
“But that’s beside the point. Ultimately the councilmembers have the final say on both deals. At least the city manager’s on my side, so that’s a plus.”
“What about the interim chief? Does he go?”
“Yes. I don’t trust him. He’s close friends with Wells and Stokes, so I know he’d have them back in uniform in a heartbeat.”
“Do you have someone else in mind?”
“Several, another plus. However, the council seems to be split down the middle, and if I cast the deciding vote, that’s not good.”
“It could cost you reelection.”
“That it could.”
“Would that be the end of the world?”
Jessica’s expressive eyes clouded. “Yes, it would. My work is all I have.”
She sounded so forlorn, so desperate, that he wanted to grab her and shake her, tell her that wasn’t true, that it was a mistake to live for her work. Of all the people who could make a life for themselves, she was the one who would succeed. With her intelligence, personality and enthusiasm, she deserved so much more.
However, he kept his mouth shut, knowing she would laugh in his face, since putting his job first was exactly what he’d done, and what had landed him in the mess he was in.
But he had regrets, deep regrets that had scarred his heart. If he could live those years of his life over again, he wouldn’t make that same mistake. His family would come first. He wanted Jessica to escape that pitfall, but it was really none of his business.
Only you’d like to make it your business, because you’re in love with her.
Trying to disguise the feeling that he’d been suddenly kicked in the gut, Brant leaned his head back and downed the last of his beer. When he righted his head, he couldn’t look at her. This couldn’t be happening to him. Surely what he felt for her was only lust, not love. But he knew better. His gut was telling him better.
Panic crippled him, and for another long moment, words failed him. What was he going to do? A permanent relationship with her was impossible, not going to happen. And yet he had done what he’d feared. He’d put his heart in jeopardy one more time.
Would he ever learn?
“It might not only prove deadly to your reelection,” he finally said in a rushed, brusque voice, “but to you personally, especially if the cops are behind your troubles.”
“You think they’ll become bolder in their attacks?” Her voice was both weary and unsteady.
“Yes, though I don’t want to give you cause for more worry.”
She sighed and stared at him through suddenly vulnerable eyes. “What do we do?”
“We wait,” he said with grim firmness, “then make our move.”
Jessica cast a tentative gla
nce at Brant, whose eyes were on the road ahead. They had been to Elliot’s game and were on the way home. Dusk was settling around them.
What a treat the evening had been, despite the smothering heat and humidity. She’d had a great time, especially because Elliot had had a great game. He’d pitched a no-hitter and gotten two hits himself. Brant had been beside himself with pride and excitement. But then, so had she, jumping up and cheering right along with the rest of the crowd.
Although she had known his ex-wife and her husband were among the crowd of parents and fans, it hadn’t dampened Brant’s spirits or hers. For those stolen hours, she’d felt totally carefree, much like she’d felt on that Sunday outing.
Afterward, she and Brant had stood aside and waited until Elliot spotted them. She had kept her fingers crossed that he wouldn’t slight his dad, that he would acknowledge his presence. She didn’t give a damn about herself.
Elliot hadn’t disappointed her.
“Hey, I’m glad y’all came,” he said, bounding up to them, sweat dripping off him.
Brant grinned, then slapped him on the back. “You made me proud, son, real proud.”
Hearing the choking sound in Brant’s voice got to her, though she didn’t let on. “Me too,” she said, smiling broadly. “Am I allowed to give the hero a hug?”
Elliot looked embarrassed for a second, then shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
Brant looked on in stunned amazement before asking, “Do you have any plans?”
“Mom told me to invite a bunch of friends over. She’s got all kinds of snacks and stuff.” He paused. “You wanna come?”
Jessica didn’t move a muscle, fearing Brant’s response.
“Not this time, son.”
“Okay,” Elliot responded, apparently taking no offense. “Gotta go. Thanks for coming, Jessica. You, too, Dad.”
Now, as she continued to watch Brant, she could still see the pride in his profile, in his posture, in the way his hands were relaxed on the steering wheel, hands that had loved her body.
She sucked in her breath and looked down.
“Thanks for going,” he said huskily.
Feeling his probing gaze on her, she raised her head.
“You were a real trooper, especially for hugging him. I bet you can’t wait to take a shower.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
“Really?”
“Really,” she echoed in a breathy voice.
It was in that second, with his eyes caressing her, that she faced the truth. She had fallen in love with Brant Harding. And his son. In a matter of a few weeks, her feelings for him had gone from lust to love.
And though he had never hinted that he returned that love, she sensed he cared for her, as well. However, nothing had changed to make her think they had a future. As soon as he was done guarding her, he would return to his life and she would remain in hers. Yet she loved him so much. Wanted him so much.
While that thought filled her with deep despair and incredible pain, she was helpless to do anything about it.
“Jessica, please,” Brant said in a thick, grating tone, “don’t look at me like that unless you mean it.”
Silence drummed around them.
“Mean…what?” she stammered, mortified that she might have revealed her heart.
“You know what,” he rasped.
Jessica opened her mouth to respond when it happened, when the vehicle seemed to appear out of nowhere and crash into her side of the SUV.
“Oh, my God, Brant!” she cried, terror filling her.
Thirty-six
“Jessica screamed as the dark vehicle slammed into the passenger side once again.
“Dammit!” Brant lashed out, frantic about Jessica while trying to keep his SUV from turning over, severely injuring them—or worse. Finally one quick swerve sent his truck into the nearest ditch, but it remained upright.
Once they had come to a halt, he turned frantic eyes toward Jessica. “Are you all right?” he asked, his heart racing, his eyes examining her entire body.
“I’m…okay,” she stammered.
Brant unhooked his seat belt and bounded out. By then, the van was past them, though not traveling all that fast. That enabled him to memorize a portion of the license number.
Then, whipping around, Brant dashed back to Jessica, who was still buckled in, though her head was back against the seat. Under the glare of the truck’s interior light, he noticed that her eyes were closed, and she looked ghostly white.
For a second his heart completely stopped. Was she hurt after all? Was she dead? Suddenly he saw her chest move up and down. Relief stampeded through him.
He unbuckled her seat belt and grabbed her. “It’s over. We’re alone.”
Jessica sank against him, her strangled sobs dampening his chest at the same time she began to shake. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “You’re fine now. I’ve got you.” While he was soothing her, his hands were busy gently roaming her slender frame to make sure she was indeed all right, that the bastard hadn’t caused her any physical damage.
Emotionally—now that was a different matter. Just in the weeks he’d been a part of her life, she’d suffered more than her share of mental and emotional bruises.
This incident, however, should never have happened. He should have seen the other vehicle. He should have been watching for the unexpected. After all, that was his job. His mind had been on Jessica and not on business.
Beating up on himself at this juncture wouldn’t solve the problem. At least, with the partial license number, he had a solid lead. With that, Thurmon could find who owned the van.
Then he would take over. Whoever was liable was going to wish he’d never been born.
“Brant?”
The whispered use of his name regained his attention. He clutched her tighter. “I’m right here, darling.” That last word just slipped out, but he didn’t care. She was his darling and would be for the rest of his life.
The idea that he could have lost her made him realize just how much he loved her. If anything had happened to her, especially on his watch, he never would have forgiven himself.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Physically yes. Mentally no. I’m about to blow a fuse.”
Slowly Jessica lifted her head and stared at him through tearstained eyes. “What happened? That…that tank seemed to come out of nowhere.”
If the circumstances had been different, her use of the word “tank” would have garnered a smile. But these days, smiles were at a premium. What had just happened was deadly business. And he aimed to put a stop to this menace, even if he had to lock Jessica behind bars in order to keep her safe while he hit the streets himself.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Thurmon, but he himself had had it. This was the last straw. Whoever had rammed them, intending to hurt them—or kill them—had pissed him off one time too many and was going to pay. Simple as that.
“You’re right, that tank appeared out of nowhere,” he said roughly. “Still, I should’ve seen it.”
“What are we going to do?”
A jolt of adrenaline shot through Brant. “First off, I’m going to take care of you. Then I’m going to find the bastard.”
“Let’s go home,” she whispered.
Home. Was that ever music to his ears.
Yet he couldn’t quite let himself believe Jessica could love him. He was afraid to let his mind even touch on that mind-boggling gift for fear he was setting himself up for a major fall.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, hearing that raw, anxious note back in his voice. “Maybe I should take you by the emergency room and get you checked over.”
“No,” she stressed. “I’m just shaken and rattled, but otherwise, I’m all right.”
Reluctantly Brant removed his arms. After they were both buckled up, he paused a moment longer, reached for his cell phone and made two calls—one to the detective who was working the last incident, then
Thurmon, offering no explanation to his friend, except to tell him to meet them at Jessica’s.
A short time later Brant found himself anxiously pacing the floor, waiting for her to get back downstairs. He’d made sure she’d gotten in and out of the shower without mishap, waiting in her room until she’d actually walked out of the bathroom, smelling like she’d dipped in a tub of fresh flowers.
It was all he could do not to grab her again, and not because of a sexual urge but rather a nurturing one. He wanted to soothe her troubled mind and heart. But he wanted her to make the first move. At the time she’d seemed in a daze.
Dammit, where the devil was Thurmon? he asked himself, peering at his watch. His friend had had ample time to show up, though he knew the owner of the van and the van itself were long out of sight. Most likely the vehicle had been driven straight to a secure and hidden place.
“Hey,” a husky voice said from behind him.
He swung around and stared at Jessica, who had paused in the door dressed in a loose-fitting pair of white jeans and a lavender T-shirt. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and her face, devoid of makeup, made her appear younger and much more vulnerable.
Gone was the sophisticated, in-charge career woman, Brant thought with a wince. Uncertainty now lurked behind those lovely blue eyes, and when she spoke again, that same uncertainty thickened her voice. “Thanks again for saving my life.”
“Don’t thank me.” Brant’s lips took on a sarcastic, bitter twist. “Under my watch, you’ve almost been killed, not once but twice.”
“But I wasn’t, thanks to you. It’s the bottom line that counts.”
“Thanks,” he muttered in a raw, husky tone, his eyes holding hers.
She lowered her head, then lifted it. “I know we have a lot to talk about personally, but—”
He groaned, then stepped toward her. The chiming of the doorbell froze him midstride. Cursing, he crossed to the front door and jerked it open.
“It’s about time you got your sorry ass here.” Brant knew his face must look like a thunder cloud about to erupt.
Thurmon merely grinned, as if he’d expected that kind of comradely abuse from Brant. “What’s up? From your tone, I figured it must be urgent.”
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