A froth of Egyptian cotton and Irish linen erupted. The white blouse with its delicate tucks and cobweb lightness spilled into her hands. A courting blouse if she'd ever seen one, Sarah thought, bursting into sobs. When had Jake bought the blouse? What moment had he been waiting for? She rocked back and forth, tears splattering the pristine white as she curled up on a pillow next to Nicholas, Jake's pillow.
A week went by. Sarah and Nicholas clung to each other in silent comfort, not talking about Jake. Sarah called Buck and asked him to do the necessary legal work so that she could enroll Nicholas in school, come September. Being Buck, he had to know the whole story, and afterwards said only, "Hang in there, Sairy, you'll be okay."
Sarah knew she'd be okay. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that she missed Jake. She missed the small incursions into her space. She'd come to depend on the perking of her blood when he touched her. She missed his touch with every fiber of her being. If she'd known where to find him, she'd have dragged him back by his devil-black hair.
There weren't any closets to clean, no rooms to paint. Sarah kept thinking she saw Jake just out of the corner of her eye and she'd turn quickly, but of course he wasn't there.
m
She and Nicholas stayed outdoors until dark drove them inside- Outside, Jake's presence didn't haunt them.
Accepting that she couldn't keep up a guide schedule once Nicholas started school, Sarah applied for a job with the newspaper. When Bernice Christianson called to tell her she could start in August, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. At least that problem had solved itself. She'd never used any of the money she'd received from Ted's insurance, and now she transferred it to a trust fund for Nicholas.
Life went on. Nicholas seldom left her side, carting F. Roggie everywhere. Sarah grew used to the frog sitting in Jake's place on the table at breakfast, lunch and dinner, a squat, green, poor substitute for a prince.
Chapter Eleven
At the Buckhead Marina Tavern, Jake held up a finger to the bartender. "Hit me," he said, lining up the bottles in front of him and blearily counting them off, each one a symbol of the mistakes he'd made with Sarah.
Jolly shook his head but sent another beer sliding down the cypress-wood counter. The door opened. Sarah's cousin ambled in and lowered himself onto a bar stool, one leg hooked onto the rung.
Had Sarah sent him? Jake narrowed his eyes and peered at Buck through the cigarette smoke before tilting the brown bottle to his lips and downing half of it. Probably not.
"Evening, Donnelly." Buck gestured to Jolly to bring him a beer.
"Again, Jolly." Jake waggled his hand.
"Lot of bottles there," Buck commented, tipping his cowboy hat back.
"Yeah." Jake glowered. "What of it?" He half stood, spoiling for a good fight and no one better than Buck to let
loose on. Maybe a good fight would ease the pain in his heart. "Come on outside."
"Whoa, big guy." Buck leaned back. He measured Jake up and down. "Even two days into a pie-eyed drunk, you're out of my league."
"Five days, and it's still early in the evening," Jake muttered, tilting the bottle to the light and studying the shining color, color that shone like Sarah's hair in sunshine.
"Like it around here, do you? I hear you've been checking with some agricultural-engineering big shots from the university. Got some fancy plans for working on the lake?"
"Nope." Jake didn't want to be reminded of dreams.
"Can't leave, stud?"
"Can't stay." Jake took a long swallow, hoping for forget fulness.
"So how long you planning to camp out in your truck back in the Glades?" Buck's drawl stretched out into the space between them. "Some of my buddies spotted you a couple of days ago, said you hit the Buckhead every night."
"What's it to you?" Jake growled.
"Nothing to me." Buck swirled the beer in his bottle. "Maybe a lot to somebody I'm right fond of."
Sarah. Jake concentrated on Buck. "Cut the good-old-boy bit, Reilly. Get to the point."
"Right." Buck leaned his elbows on the bar and rolled his bottle between his palms. "You win the prize for plain dumb, Donnelly. Sarah's up at the house crying her eyes out, you're here drinking yourself into a stupor."
"She tell you what I did?" Jake eyed his empty bottle.
"Sure."
"I hurt her. I kept hurting her. No matter what I did, I made everything worse." Jake started to raise his hand once more.
"True." Pushing Jake's arm down, Buck shook his head at Jolly. "But you don't look very happy, and Sarah sure
isn't. Nicholas, of course," Buck added sarcastically, "is as happy as a pig in a mud wallow. But he misses you, too."
"I hurt her."
"Yeah, yeah, you said that. But Sarah doesn't hold grudges and I never figured you for a quitter." Buck looked at him in disgust.
Jake dredged up a smile. "Nice work, fella. You're hitting all the buttons. Trouble is, I've got a couple of years on you and I know the routine."
"Figured you did," Buck laughed. "It's the biggest damn mess I ever heard, I'll give you that. I can't imagine what strings you pulled to get papers on Nicholas. Some fancy footwork sneaking him out of there, I reckon."
"Yeah." Jake remembered how close it had been at the end, getting the oil exec out first, because Ted wasn't ready to let Nicholas go, and then going back in on a lightning strike for Nicholas and trying to time everything so he could get to the kid before Ted died and left him unprotected. "Yeah."
"And you're backing off from an itty-bitty thing like Sarah?" Buck snorted. "Not what I'd expect of a mover and shaker like you."
Jake menaced him with a surly glance.
"Stuff it, Donnelly. Of course I researched you. I know your history. You're the guy they call in to solve the deadend problems. And you always do, so I was told. You hadn't been in Sarah's house twenty-four hours before I had you scoped out. You don't think I'd have let you stay there otherwise, do you?" Buck's sly grin mocked him.
Jake looked right back with a tight smile. "Think you could have shaken me loose from there before I was good and ready?" He flexed his hands.
Buck laughed. "Guess not, but that kind of threat usually works. No, I'm not crazy enough to get in the way of you and something you've set your sights on. You can ease off, Donnelly. I'm not here to punch you out. Even if I
could," Buck said, looking at Jake's bulk and width. "Not that I wouldn't like to punch out your lights, you understand, but Sarah would skin me alive if I did."
"She know you're here?" Jake tried to suppress the hope that rose in him.
"No. Not going to tell her, either."
"Fine by me." Jake flipped his wallet open and laid money on the bar. "Now leave me alone. I've got some real drinking to do."
Buck pocketed the money. "Nope, buddy, you're through. You're not the solitary-drunk type. What you are is an old-time romantic. Well, Donnelly, life's real and full of pain a lot of times. Sarah loves you. You love her. You guys can work it out from there. That's what life is all about, tough guy, not making noble gestures and disappearing into the sunset."
"I can see you in a courtroom, Reilly. I'll bet you don't lose many cases." Jake remarked, lightness bubbling through him.
"One. A long time ago." Buck's modest grin was regretful. "Now, what you're going to do is shave, shower and sober up."
Jake held out a steady hand. "Sober as a judge."
"Okay, just don't sit in on any of my cases," Buck said, his heels thumping the floor as he stood. "You sober enough to drive?"
"Nope." Jake laughed, springtime warmth tickling his blood.
"Damn. Come on, Donnelly, we've got work to do, and since I've kinda been thinking of you as family, anyway, let me tell you about this job I heard about that could use your talents. Well, not quite all of them..."
Sarah curled up on the sofa. Roaming the empty rooms of her home, she usually wound up here. Moonlight silvered
the oak leaves and sand. Through
her open door the breeze waltzed in.
Off in the distance, she heard a truck. Her heart rat-a-tat-tatted like a frenzied snare drummer. She turned the yellow porch light on and watched a shiny pickup crawl slowly up the driveway.
Jake saw the open door and the yellow porch light. Anxiety tightened his grip on the wheel. Maybe Buck had been wrong. Could Sarah forgive him? Could they have a future? Not if he sat here forever just watching that empty doorway, that's for sure. He turned off the engine and took a deep breath.
Watching, Sarah's shoulders drooped. Not Jake's old truck.
The cab door banged behind the large, solid man who stepped down. Moonlight shadowed him, lay on his dark hair. He reached into a tool case he carried and walked to the crooked swing, his powerful thighs moving smoothly and familiarly under low-riding jeans.
"Jake?" Sarah whispered.
Pounding on the wooden slat, the man loosened it. More pounding.
"Jake!" Sarah screamed. Barefoot, nightgowned and moonmad, she tore out of the house. "Jake!"
Jake turned, dropping the hammer as Sarah, a warm, sweet-smelling Sarah who clouded his senses, catapulted into his waiting arms. Her legs locked around his waist and Jake trembled with the force of his wanting and love and Sarah.
"You fool, you hardheaded nincompoop, you stubborn idiot, why did you leave?" She wept and laughed into his ear.
"Sarah, you do say the sweetest things," he said, his lips moving feverishly over her skin, nipping, tasting. His hands swept over her, restlessly touching, stroking. She was in his arms, at last, after all the lonely nights dreaming about her.
"Oh, you crazy man, I love you, I love you." Sarah ran her fingers through his hair, over his wide shoulders. He'd come back. "Are you really here? And what are you doing with the swing? And a new truck?"
"First things first."
His kiss silenced her and Sarah strained against Jake, needing him desperately. Held by him, she regretted the pride and stubbornness that had let him disappear out of her life.
"Jake, you were right, I was taking out my long-buried anger against Ted, and, yes, against myself, on you, but you left before I understood that." She pulled his shirt out of his jeans and ran her hands up skin that quivered at her touch. Such power she had over this strong male.
"I was wrong, too. I left because you couldn't ever trust me again." He pulled her tightly against him.
"But I did trust you! I knew somehow you wouldn't take Nicholas, that's why I didn't call Buck. I worked it out." Sarah knew she had to convince Jake. "See, I know you love Nicholas 5 and I was terrified that you wouldn't be able to leave without him. But I finally realized that your love for him was all mixed in with your feelings for me, just as mine were for you." Sarah cradled his face in her palms, his skin smooth against her. "You shaved," she said, tears choking her.
He nuzzled his cheek against her. "Had to. If I was coming courting again."
The tears slid down her face. She'd almost thrown all this away. "Oh, Jake, I guess we're a package deal, the three of us. I love you for the way you are with me, I love you because of the way you care for Nicholas—I don't know, it's all so confusing, but I want you with us." She placed his head against her heart. "Come home, Jake."
"I'll never hurt you again, Sarah," Jake said fiercely.
"Of course you will. And I'll hurt you. But we'll work through it. You may be my hero," she brushed her lips over
his, tasting the salt of her tears, "but life's not a fairy tale. Whatever happens, we'll survive it as long as we're together."
His lips took hers in a long kiss of promise that robbed her of breath and dried her tears with the heat of her need for this man, this one man who'd come to her in darkness and freed her. Finally, Sarah stroked his chest. "You never answered my questions."
"Yeah, I forgot," he smiled and held her hand over his hard-pumping heart. "I fixed your swing. I bought a new truck because I'm going to need it on my new job as agricultural consulting engineer and I needed a safe car for my family."
Sarah inhaled.
"You are going to marry me, aren't you, Sarah? Note that I'm asking, not telling." He whirled her in huge circles, his laugh mingling with hers until they toppled into the night damp sand, giddy with laughter, legs and arms tangled together.
Sarah looked at him. He was the man who'd torn down the walls she'd built, hauled her out from behind them and enraged her into life. He was the man who'd given her her son back. He was the man whose touch stirred the deepest feminine side of her in a way no one ever had before.
"Of course I'll marry you, idiot," she scolded, nipping his ear.
"Jake!"
At Nicholas's yell, Jake sat up, holding Sarah close to him. She leaned her head against his chest, loving the sound of his heart beating under her.
"You're home!" Nicholas hurled himself at them and tumbled them all back into the sand. "I knew you'd come back, I knew it! You wouldn't break a promise."
Jake put his free arm around Nicholas and squeezed him "Not if I could help it, I wouldn't."
_
Nicholas looked at Sarah. "You're outside in your nightgown." He looked at the moon and the ground. "It's night and we're all sitting in the sand. I like this." He nodded with satisfaction.
"Me, too, sport," Jake said, swinging Nicholas up onto his shoulders and pulling Sarah closer. "But let's go in, okay?"
Arm in arm, Sarah walked with Jake toward the beckoning yellow porch light. The leveled swing swayed in the breeze and behind them she saw the moon cast their shadows forward, forming a bridge from her, Jake and Nicholas to the old house welcoming them home.
A compelling novel of deadly revenge and passion from bestselling international romance author Penny Jordan
Eleven years had passed but the terror of that night was something Pepper Minesse would never forget. Fueled by revenge against the four men who had brutally shattered her past, she set in motion a deadly plan to destroy their futures.
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