The warning note in his tone tipped her off. Her big, bad FBI guy was actually intimidated by the thought of meeting her high school history teacher father.
“Not terribly big. Six-two, two-sixty or two-seventy,” she said, careful to keep her tone light and breezy.
“Huh.” He nodded slowly, digesting the information. “And he’s a teacher, right?”
She bobbed her head. “Yep. Well, by day… At night he’s a bouncer at a biker bar.”
Those mocha eyes narrowed and his lips thinned into a scowl. “You’re totally bullshitting me, aren’t you?”
Ellie kissed the frown from his face, trailing her fingers along his stubbly jaw. “My dad is five-eight and weighs maybe a hundred and seventy-five pounds, depending on how much my mom has been baking,” she whispered. “He likes sweater vests, reads books that can double as doorstops, and is addicted to The History Channel, PBS, and the Chicago Cubs—not necessarily in that order.”
Jack brushed another soft kiss across her lips, his warm, moist breath teasing her hypersensitive skin. “Why do you have to be so cruel to the man who loves you?”
“I can’t help it.”
“Try,” he urged.
The tiny muscle in his jaw jumped and she chased it with a kiss. “Take me home. Spank me,” she whispered. “I’ve been a bad girl.”
He ran his hand over her hair, toying with the too-short curls. “You have,” he murmured. “Okay. I’ll take you home, but instead of a spanking, how about some gelato?”
“Trying to sweeten me up, Rudolph?”
He rolled to his feet and offered his hand. “Any chance of that happening?”
Ellie let him pull her up then took advantage of the forward momentum by falling into his embrace. “Not much,” she admitted, nuzzling the damp, curling hair on his chest.
Jack wrapped his arms around her, dropped a soft kiss to the top of her head, and drew a deep breath of sultry summer air. “Man, I love this city.”
She snickered and disentangled herself, reaching for her shirt. “Easy to love Chicago in the summer,” she commented. “Let’s see how much you love it come February, Florida boy.”
****
Dire predictions of interminable Chicago winters did nothing to cool his fevered nerves. By the time he parked in the Nichols’ drive, Jack was as jumpy as a pat of butter in a hot skillet. He ignored Ellie’s smirk and reached for the cellophane-wrapped bouquet on the back seat.
“Kiss up,” she murmured.
“No kissing. Your big, burly biker-bouncer dad might be watching,” he grumbled as he bailed out of the car.
The scent of red-hot barbeque briquettes hung heavy in the air. A haze of smoke blurred the edges of the neatly kept brick bungalow-style homes. Jack circled to the passenger door and offered his hand. The moment her fingertips grazed his palm, his stomach stopped jitterbugging. His fingers closed around hers, and all was right with his world. Heedless of possible parental disapproval, he kissed her softly. “I love you, Elfie.”
“I love you too, Rudolph,” she said, smoothing the front of his shirt. “Now, see if you can guide us through the lighter-fluid fog to the front door.”
“You can count on me.”
With her hand held securely in his, he skirted the postage-stamp lawn and followed the brick walk to the tiny front porch. He planted his foot on the first step and steeled his spine for the inevitable inquisition. He’d been mentally preparing himself since Ellie first mentioned dinner with her family, rehearsing their probable questions and his best possible answers over and over in his head. They would be worth it, all worth it, if he could get her father alone long enough to ask for his blessing.
He had a plan—a plan he set in motion over three months ago when he put in for the job in Chicago. The fact that his new position was a promotion was just a bonus. The possibility of crawling out from under the desk he’d hidden behind since he’d been shot proved more tempting than he’d ever admit. And this place—this crazy, frenetic city—was Ellie’s home. It was also where the hotel chain she worked for was headquartered. Eventually, she’d have to work her way back here, and he’d be waiting for her, ready to take the leap.
The storm door flew open, jerking him from his thoughts. Ellie’s fingers slipped from his grasp as he stared into the beaming face of a tiny round woman in the doorway.
“There you are!” she cried, enveloping Ellie in a tight hug.
Jack caught a whiff of floral perfume laced with spiced apples and stepped back, granting them a little space and reminding himself to tone down the PDA quotient. Most parents didn’t appreciate strange men pawing their little girls in front of them.
“Mom, this is Jack Rudolph,” Ellie said, extricating herself from the hug to wave a hand in his direction.
“Welcome, Jack,” her mother said, offering her hand and a warm smile.
“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Nichols.” He presented her with the bouquet of red, white, and blue carnations.
“Oh, call me Gayle. How festive! Thank you,” she cooed, groping for the handle on the storm door. “Come in, come in. We’re all in the kitchen.”
They followed her along a narrow hall toward the back of the house. Ellie nudged him in the ribs, shooting him a sidelong smirk. “Suck up.”
“Polite guest,” he countered.
“Your father has already scorched a batch of burgers. I sent Matt out to help,” Gayle said as she led the way into a cheerful yellow kitchen.
His steps slowed when he neared the threshold. A girl who could have been Ellie’s long-haired, slightly frazzled twin hovered near the back door, doing a strange half-bounce, half-rock while she cradled an infant against her shoulder. An older woman with gunmetal gray hair and Ellie’s sparkling green eyes flashed a toothy smile as he ducked into the room.
“Well, hell-ooo,” the older woman called. He could swear he heard her dentures click when she beamed at him again. The sound was oddly lascivious.
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Jack, my grandmother, Bernadette Harrigan. And this is my sister, Laurie Matteson.” She crossed the room in a flash and peered at the sleeping infant. “And you must be Brendan,” she said in a tiny voice he’d never heard before. “I’m your Auntie Ellie, and I’m going to spoil you rotten.”
Her sister snorted. “Yeah, ’cause no one’s doing that already.” She released the bitty baby into Ellie’s anxious grasp and turned to face him. “Hi, Jack.” She revealed a tired smile. “Welcome to Mayhem.”
He nodded. “Thank you. It’s nice to be here.”
Ellie nodded to the deck beyond the door. “That’s Matt, Laurie’s husband, and my dad, Marcus.”
Jack was still processing the scattered introductions when Ellie’s grandmother patted the speckled Formica tabletop. “Come sit next to me, Mr…Rudolph, was it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He walked closer and offered his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” she purred, dropping a sassy wink.
“Grandma,” Ellie groaned.
“Please,” the old woman said dismissively. “How often do I get to flirt with a man under seventy? And so handsome, too.” Her velvet-soft fingers tightened around his in a vise-like grip. “Where did our Ellie find you?”
“Boys 'R’ Us,” the woman in question answered before he could manage to slip a word in edgewise.
Jack chuckled and lowered himself into a padded vinyl chair, surrendering his hand to the older woman’s control. “I was on clearance. My mother would tell you I’m way past my sell-by date.”
Ellie swayed past the table, the tiny bundle clutched to her chest. Her full, soft lips grazed downy hair that stuck up like a rooster’s comb. A pang of jealousy zinged his gut just as his heart clenched. His hand tightened slightly and her grandmother glanced up, fixing him with a speculative stare.
“You seem fresh enough to me.”
“Unhand him,” Ellie murmured to her grandmother.
“She’s afraid
I might steal you away.”
“Justifiable,” Jack whispered. “I’m susceptible to charming ladies.”
“Incoming,” Laurie called, opening the back door.
A plume of smoke billowed from a battered kettle grill on the deck, trailing into the house on a draft of moist, hot air. “Burgers are done,” Laurie’s husband announced, presenting a platter to his mother-in-law with a flourish.
“On the table,” she said briskly.
Ellie’s father entered the house, brushing absently at a splotch of grease on his polo shirt. Jack shot her grandmother a wan smile and gently extracted his hand. “I’m going to need that,” he whispered as he stood.
“Hi, Daddy,” Ellie said, her voice soft and tender with affection. She cupped her nephew’s head in her palm and leaned in to kiss her father’s cheek.
The stain was forgotten as a smile lit his face. “Hello, Booger,” Marcus answered, pulling her into a hug.
“Daddy,” she hissed.
“What?”
Ellie cleared her throat. “Not in front of company.”
Startled, her father turned. Jack wanted to bend his knees to shrink down a few inches when the older man’s sharp blue eyes focused directly on his chin. He resisted the urge, keeping his back straight as Marcus tipped his head to meet his gaze.
“That’s Ellie’s friend, Jack,” Mrs. Nichols called to her husband.
They shook hands but vague puzzlement clouded the other man’s eyes. “Jack Rudolph.”
“Marcus Nichols.”
Awkward silence buzzed through the crowded kitchen. Ellie’s mother marshaled her forces. “Laurie, you take this potato salad,” she ordered, thrusting a bowl into her younger daughter’s hands. “Ellie, buns.” Gayle shoved two plastic bags filled with hamburger buns into Ellie’s free hand. “Put that baby in his seat. He can sleep while we eat.” She whirled to the counter, inventorying the bowls, plates, and platters heaped with food. “Marcus, help Mother to the table.”
The others sprang into action, but Jack found his feet rooted to the floor. A moment later a bowl heaped with coleslaw was in his hand and Ellie’s mother propelled him into the dining room. “Come on, we need to eat before those burgers harden into hockey pucks.”
Confusion reigned. Ellie and Laurie fussed with the straps of the baby seat. Matt arranged and rearranged the table as more dishes wound their way into the room. Mr. Nichols made sure his mother-in-law was comfortably settled before heading for the opposite end of the table and claiming his own seat.
Gayle reappeared with a handful of condiment bottles. “You sit right there, Jack,” she said, nodding to the chair on Marcus’ left. “Ellie can sit next to you and protect you from my mother.” She clapped her hands together and surveyed the spread. Ellie and Laurie broke their huddle and headed for their respective seats. “Jack, what can I get you to drink?”
“I’ve got it, Ma,” Ellie said, rushing back into the kitchen.
Laurie’s husband nodded and sank into the chair across from him. “I’m Matt.”
“Jack,” he replied, hoping he didn’t sound as bewildered as he felt.
Something was off. A weird vibe twanged his nerves. He jumped when Ellie plopped a bottle of beer in front of him and claimed her seat. He cut his eyes in her direction and sighed with relief as she distributed bottles to her father, brother-in-law, and grandmother before taking a drink of her own.
“Looks great, Ma,” she said, nodding to the spread.
“Well, let’s get to it,” her grandmother said. “Pass me that potato salad.”
A flurried frenzy of passing and plating ensued. Jack took each dish and added a bit to his plate, wondering if any dish on the table could cut through the faintly bitter tang of uncertainty coating his tongue.
“Ellie says you’re new to the area, Jack?” Mrs. Nichols asked.
He smoothed his sweaty palm over the paper napkin draped across his thigh. “Uh, yes, ma’am. I moved to the city in May.”
“Chicago is a wonderful town,” she said. “Where are you from?”
He blinked then shot a quick glance at Ellie. Her sleek cap of dark curls gleamed in the afternoon light streaming through the windows. She kept her head down, carefully distributing smooth layers of ketchup and mustard to a hamburger bun. Then it occurred to him—they knew nothing about him. That’s what was so strange…. She’d told them absolutely nothing at all.
“I’m originally from the Tampa area,” he began cautiously. “But I just moved from Oklahoma City.”
“That’s right. I think she mentioned that when she called last week.” Ellie’s mother nodded. “I’m glad she invited you along. It can be hard to meet new people in such a big city.”
Unsure how to respond, he simply nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Last week? She hadn’t said anything at all about him until last week? His mind raced, quickly zooming out of his control. They’d made plans to spend this weekend together nearly a month ago. He’d told her he loved her two months ago. Hell, they’d been together—maybe not in the same location, but together—for over six months, and Ellie didn’t think he was important enough to mention to her family?
The whir of the air conditioning did nothing to soothe the awkward silence that hung in the air. “How was your flight in, El?” Laurie asked, breaking the tension.
He looked up to find Laurie’s eyes narrowing slightly as they homed in on her sister. Ellie speared a chunk of potato then muttered, “Fine,” before she popped it into her mouth.
“I would have picked you up at the airport this morning,” Laurie said, her casual comment barely cloaking the suspicion in her tone.
Ellie shifted uncomfortably and a strange tingle of pleasure trickled through his veins. “Oh. Well…Jack picked me up.”
This morning… A slow-mo replay of their frenzied lovemaking the night before played like grainy undercover footage in his brain. He stared at Ellie in stunned disbelief as she used the tines of her fork to pick bits of celery from the small mountain of potato salad. He knew she sensed his gaze, but her powers of concentration proved admirable.
“You don’t have to stay at the hotel tonight.” The disgruntled note in her mother’s voice did more to capture his attention than what she actually said. “You have a perfectly good room here. I put clean sheets on your bed, just in case.”
“I have stuff I need to do downtown,” she mumbled, shooting an apologetic glance in her mother’s direction but not bothering to send one his way.
“I like the way he says ma’am,” Mrs. Harrigan piped up. “It’s very polite.”
“It’s a southern thing,” Ellie explained, unfazed by her grandmother’s non-sequitur. She grabbed the bottle of ketchup and offered it to him. He took it and squeezed a generous dollop onto the charred lump of beef on his plate, drowning it in slick, tomato-y goodness he knew he’d never taste. “They like their ma’am and sir down there.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” her mother asserted.
“I think it’s nice,” Laurie chimed in, offering him a sympathetic smile.
“What do you do, Jack?”
Mr. Nichols’ abrupt question startled them into momentary silence. The fierce scowl on Ellie’s father’s face was a sharp contrast to his wife’s nervous smiles and his mother-in-law’s sharp-eyed curiosity.
Jack took a deep breath, but before he could answer, Ellie piped up. “He’s an accountant.”
The dismissive tone of her voice hit him like a fist to the gut. Pride prickled his spine. He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come fast enough for this bunch.
“Do you work for one of the firms downtown?” her mother asked.
He cast a sidelong glance at Ellie, who was concentrating on her plate intently, and sat up a little straighter. “No, ma’am.” He drew the words out in a slow, deliberate drawl, and the woman beside him stiffened. “I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
Matt’s head jerked up, surprise widening his
eyes. “Really?”
“You’re a G-man?” Laurie asked, glancing from him to Ellie and back again.
“He’s an accountant for the FBI,” Ellie clarified. “Like Elliot Ness.”
“Well, kind of,” he drawled.
That captured her attention at last. Ellie turned to look at him, confusion etched into the furrow between her brows. “What do you mean, kind of?”
Good. Let her be confused. Let her see how it feels to be the one left in the dark. Tossing off a careless shrug, he said, “Technically, I’m back to being a field agent.”
A shocked flush pinked her cheeks. Her eyes clouded with concern then cleared, sparkling like shards of glass. “What?”
“You work for the FBI?” her father asked, his burger still suspended halfway to his mouth.
“Field agent?” Ellie blinked at him in dismay, but her jaw tightened in anger. “You mean the same job you had when you got shot?”
“Shot?” her mother gasped.
“Twice!” Ellie added. Her eyes blazed with the sheen of furious tears. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“It’s my job, Ellie,” he said, pleased with the cool control in his voice. “Always has been, no matter how you like to spin it.”
“Spin it? Why would you….” She snatched the paper napkin from her lap and crumpled it in her fist. “How could you not tell me?”
He met her gaze head-on, tamping down the hot surge of anger and humiliation. “I guess the same way you could avoid telling your family we’ve been seeing each other for over six months.”
Her mother gasped again. “Six months?”
“I knew it!” her grandmother crowed. She clapped her hands together in triumphant glee. “Little missy never brings her men around anymore.”
“Is it any wonder?” Ellie snapped. She swung back to him, her eyes wide and pleading. “Jack, I—”
He held up one hand to cut her off. “You what, Ellie? Didn’t mean to tell them, or didn’t mean to embarrass me?”
“I—I….”
“You,” he mocked. “Always you.” Jack tossed his napkin onto the table. “I’ve chased you all over the place for months, Ellie. I waited, I wondered, and I…I made a fool out of myself,” he concluded, pushing his chair back from the table.
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