The Blue Dolphin

by Robena Grant

  “Thanks,” Debbie said, and stifled a yawn. She walked into the dolphin room, and then came back with a thin looking blanket, which she put on the receptionist’s countertop. “I’ll call Janelle. She’ll be about ready to leave Cliffs.”

  “Tell her to go to Rachel’s house, if that’s okay with your friend. I don’t mean to frighten you, but the dude might go to your home.”

  “Oh,” Debbie said, and her eyes widened. “Do you think—?”

  “Look, I’m not sure what to think, or what they might have been looking for, but it’s better to be careful. Close the door to the room and speak softly. If they come back, I want the element of surprise.”

  “Of course. Sure. And Rachel won’t mind if Janelle stays overnight.” Debbie hurried back into the room and closed the door.

  Jack knew he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. He’d already cleaned up the broken glass, and hammered a sheet of plywood that he’d gotten from the Almagro PD across the small broken window in the spa, but it left a one inch gap and the wind whistled through it. Not that he minded that. He could hear what was going on outside. That was an advantage.

  He wrapped himself in the blanket and huddled into the straight-backed chair behind the countertop and adjusted his eyes to the darkness. He could hear Debbie talking, listened to a muffled laugh or two and that warmed him, and then everything got quiet, and colder. He tucked the blanket around his shoulders again and thought of the last field assignment with Juan. How the older man had said he was done.

  He’d said he’d given up everything for the department: wife, family, sanity, and it was time to retire and put what little energy he had left into building a business. He’d been doing well, until Jack’s cold-hearted boss insisted on pulling him back in.

  And Jack let him.

  Chapter Nine

  Jack woke up around two in the morning, and the thought of Debbie, stretched out on that bed in the room down the hall, made him crazy. The wind howled and he shivered. He’d tried stretching out on the cold tile floor, but that had lasted for two minutes. He glared around the room, certain that icicles were forming on the hairs in his nose, and pulled the blanket even tighter to his chest. The spa could use some insulation; it was so damn cold penguins could live in here.

  His eyes were irritated from the cold and one tear duct kept weeping. It reminded him of the time Juan had pretended to kill him, and then he’d left him on a mountain top in Colombia overnight in order to satisfy the guerillas of his loyalty to his Latino heritage. This should be a piece of cake compared to that experience, except he was ten years older now. He missed his old buddy, and swore again that he’d do everything possible to find his murderer.

  His back ached, and he needed water. In the dark, he limped to the bathroom, cursing the cramp in his back muscles. Damn it, he was getting too old for this stuff. But then he remembered Juan again. He was alive. Juan was dead. He relieved himself, splashed some water on his face, and took a long drink from his cupped hand. A quiet crunch sound in the hall made him jump to attention. He eased the bathroom door open, and cocked the gun.

  “It’s me,” Debbie said, and laughed. She raised both hands. “Don’t shoot.”

  She did a little hip sway, a sort of shimmy. Damn it if she didn’t expose some skin with those raised hands. And if his mouth had been dry before, it was parchment now, even though he’d slurped up a handful of water. She’d changed into surgeon’s scrub pants. They were pale green cotton. She’d removed her bra, leaving only the matching top that had been cut off and not re-hemmed, a couple of long threads trailing down over the naked skin of her waist.

  “Put your hands down,” he said gruffly, as he slipped the gun into his waistband. He couldn’t take much more of this punishment. He could still taste her lips from their earlier entanglement, and the exposed skin and lack of a bra were too much for his poor old “guy” brain.

  “I can’t sleep,” she said, then yawned. “It’s too cold. Thought I’d turn on the heat.”

  “Heat?” They had heat in here? Why hadn’t he thought of that?

  “I’m going to be a basket case at work tomorrow.”

  “Mmmm,” he said, taking another quick glance at her outfit. “Me too.”

  “We could share…”

  “What?”

  “The bed. No funny business, though,” she said, and waggled a finger at him.

  “Okay. That’s fine with me. I’m beat anyway.”

  “Well…that’s good then. In fact I have some more of these scrub suits.” She yanked at the cotton top for emphasis. “Longer than this one, of course, you can change into one if you want.”

  She gave him a long questioning look and her facial features relaxed, her mouth going slack and soft, and looking way too inviting. And he had the instant recognition that he wasn’t all that beat.

  “I keep the scrub suits here for painting, cleaning, that sort of thing…I um…borrowed them from a surgeon. I dated him a few years ago.”

  “Good.” He nodded, alert to her tension. She always spoke in a rush when she was nervous. He relaxed, and eyed the hospital stamp on the pants, just below the drawstring. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her dating some super-intelligent, maybe wealthy doctor, and squinted. “They look comfortable.”

  “They are. And I think if I snuggled up to you, I might be able to sleep. And, you need to stretch out, and it’ll save on heating bills, and—”

  “Sure.” Hell, he didn’t need an engraved invitation. He took her by the wrist and hustled her into the room. And even if it bothered him on one level that she’d dated a doctor, he wasn’t above wearing pants more comfortable than jeans to sleep in.

  “So where are the scrubs?”

  “You’ll find what you need in that closet,” she said, and indicated a door on the far side of the room. “I have to use the bathroom, so you go ahead and change.”

  “I’ll stand guard in the hall.”

  “You,” she said, and poked a finger at his chest, “will not stand guard, but will change your clothes and get two sodas from the little fridge behind the receptionist’s counter, then bring them, and that extra blanket, to the bed.”

  With that she shuffled down the hall in her socks. He did exactly as she’d said and stripped off everything. He left his jeans folded, with his underwear on top of those, T-shirt folded to cover the silk boxers, jacket on top of the neat pile, and then placed his boots beside the little bench. He deliberated for one moment.

  Maybe he should leave the boxers on the top as a joke. She’d guessed right earlier. Nah. That could be seen as suggestive. And he’d already promised Debbie that he’d behave himself.

  He stretched out on the inner side of the bed, cozy and warm, expectant of interesting things to come, and waited for her return. When she came into the room, he slung his legs over the side, and sat, reminding himself to be a gentleman. The pale green scrubs were a little short on him, but other than that they were comfy and the top covered his abs. He smiled at his big feet and his hairy legs sticking out from beneath the short pants legs. At least he was a lot taller than the doctor. That cheered him.

  “What are you grinning at?” Debbie asked.

  He shrugged. “It looks like we’re ready to scrub and glove for some kind of procedure.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” She eyed him carefully.

  He was about to suggest they play doctor, but quickly squelched the thought. He stood, held up the covers. “You take the wall side. I’ll stay on the outer edge.”

  She nodded and climbed in. He put the gun on the side table, in easy reach.

  One soda and ten minutes later, Debbie curled into him breathing softly onto his neck. It felt so damn right, sleeping in this bed side by side, her spooning him with her leg tossed across one of his. Not that he was getting any more sleep than he had in the chair. He stared up at the ceiling, then at the open doorway, then the ceiling again, reminding himself he’d been trusted to behave. No way would he jeopardize that.r />
  ****

  When Debbie woke several hours later, she didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed at her position. She’d molded herself to Jack’s side, one leg tossed over his, and it felt wonderful. He hadn’t moved and she wondered if he’d been afraid he’d wake her. His mouth was open slightly, his breathing deep. At least he’d slept.

  She blew a tiny puff of air across his neck, noticing the beginnings of dark stubble on his neck and jaw. He lazily lifted a hand and slapped at his face. She raised her head, blew air over his lips. The same hand came back up and rubbed at his mouth. His eyes were shut tight. She grinned and about to stick her tongue in his ear, she found herself flipped onto her back, her arms pinned by his big hands.

  “Never mess with me,” he said, in a deep growl.

  “Why? Would my life be in danger?” she asked, and laughed as she squirmed beneath him.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe. I have a gun.”

  “It’s over there on the side table. I checked first.”

  “How?”

  “I frisked you.”

  “You did not!”

  She smiled up into his face and arched her lower back and felt the heat of his arousal. “Did too, and you aren’t wearing underwear.”

  What had started out as teasing quickly turned to desire, and heat flared through her body. Although he had her pinned, he still somehow seemed to hold himself lightly above her. She knew in that moment he would be a gentle yet powerful lover. She saw her feelings reflected back in his smoldering gaze, and there was no hiding his body’s response, or his interest. The thin cotton of two sets of surgical scrubs, and the fact that he was going commando, were about as much protection as a film of tissue paper.

  His grip on her arms relaxed, and his lips brushed hers in silent invitation. Her mouth opened to his heat, their tongues touching, hands searching, exploring. Then she remembered why they were here, and Janelle’s safety, and the murder, and the bad guys from last night.

  “I’m sorry, Jack,” she said, and squirmed again, but this time to get out of his grasp. “Let me up.”

  “Hey, you started this.”

  “I know. But it’s not going to happen.”

  “Why not? I know you want me as much as I want you,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on her. “We’re both adults, and neither of us is attached. Nothing wrong here.”

  She turned her head away. A flush spread up her neck and a pulse in her neck bounded. “I don’t do casual,” she said. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you.”

  He nodded, waited.

  “Um, anyway, with everything that has happened since yesterday, we have to stay alert. We can’t relax and forget about why we’re here. Even though I feel like…you know…we’ve known each other for a long time, and—”

  “It’s okay,” he said, and kissed her softly on the forehead. “It’s fine.” He rolled off her and lay flat on his back, hands clasped behind his head staring at the ceiling. “If you change your mind, ravish me.”

  Debbie laughed. “Yeah, you wish.”

  “I do,” he said, and closed his eyes.

  She heard the tenderness in his voice and swallowed hard, so did she wish for that? But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She hadn’t been carefree and spontaneous with her affections for over twenty years. This was absolutely the wrong moment to change the values and reputation she’d fought so hard to regain. And anyway, Jack Davis would be the wrong man to experiment with because she knew she wouldn’t stop at one taste. He’d probably be leaving town in a few days…maybe if she was lucky he’d stick around for a week.

  “Have you ever had a one-night stand?” he asked. Then he raised his head and stared at her. “Not that I’m saying that’s what this would be, but you know what I—”

  “I know what you mean,” Debbie said. There was hardly room for the two of them on the bed unless she clung to him. Now it didn’t seem right. She tried to move away again.

  “Stay. You’re safe,” he said.

  “Oh…um…I know.” She did, too. He would never hurt her, or force himself on her. But her own feelings scared the crap out of her. She inched back a little and thought of what Rachel would do, or say, in this situation. Her best gal pal would be urging her to go for it. Throw caution to the wind. She’d ask her what the heck she was saving her vagina for.

  “You didn’t answer my earlier questions,” he said.

  Debbie cleared her throat. “I don’t like to talk about those things very much. You could say I ran a bit wild once. A long time ago.”

  “Before Janelle was born?”

  “Um…yes,” she said, and her voice cracked. She cleared her throat as embarrassment spread through her entire being. She’d had one too many one night stands, before she even knew what the term meant.

  “You were young. We all make mistakes, that’s part of growing up.”

  “I know that.” Debbie pulled in a long shuddery breath. She’d never had this conversation with a stranger before, only with guys who she’d known for ages. Guys she considered safe. Guys she’d decided to attempt a relationship with.

  She gazed into Jack’s eyes. He’d seen a lot of life and she doubted he’d judge her. Besides, she felt close to him, and she’d never gone through what she’d gone through in the last twenty-four hours with anyone else, ever. Somehow with Jack it seemed okay to share her past. She pulled in a quick breath and then blew it out.

  “I lost both of my parents before my thirteenth birthday. My grandmother took me in and raised me.” She tried to sit up, but Jack put a firm hand on her back and kept her wedged between the wall and his side.

  He kissed her on top of her head. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he said softly.

  “I do. I do. I haven’t always been a do-gooder. You’d think I would have been grateful to my grandma, but instead I acted out.” Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked rapidly. “I became a cheerleader for the high school football team, and the year I was fourteen I ran wild, and well, you know the rest.”

  “You got pregnant.”

  “Worse. I didn’t know who the father was. I decided to not involve anyone and have the baby. Grandma stood by me,” she said, and her throat constricted, and tears welled-up. Her face heated with embarrassment. She sniffled.

  “It’s okay,” Jack whispered, and rubbed her shoulders.

  Jack’s understanding overwhelmed her, and she tasted her own tears as they slid down her cheeks and over her lips. She swiped at her face with one hand. It had been a long time since she’d cried about her past. Why now? Why in front of him?

  “Grandma was…she was amazing,” she said, her voice cracking painfully with emotion. She swallowed at the lump in her throat. “I know I must have almost broken her heart.” Debbie sniffled and a large tear dropped onto Jack’s scrub top. She rubbed at it until the moisture merged into the cotton. “I was so disrespectful, so selfish. I never thought of anyone but me, and my own pain. Like somehow Grandma wasn’t hurting over the death of her daughter.”

  “Hey…hey,” Jack said, and tightened his grip around her waist. He smoothed tiny circles on her back. “You didn’t understand. You were a kid. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “That’s no excuse…being a kid,” Debbie said, and tried to sit up again, but Jack held her tight. And that made her angry and she swatted at his chest. “You make it sound like, because I was young, I should get a free pass to be a screw-up.” She rubbed at her nose, and knew her eyes were all red and weepy. She didn’t cry pretty. Did anyone?

  “No, I don’t mean that,” Jack said, and moved back to give her some space.

  He traced a finger over her face, like a visually impaired man trying to create a vision, or a man about to leave who wanted to make a memory. Debbie stiffened at his touch, unsure of his actions and praying he wasn’t about to leave.

  “I’m only saying you don’t need to spend the rest of your life feeling guilty for one mistake.”

&n
bsp; “Well, it was more than one mistake.” She got angrier by the minute. “It was almost the entire freakin’ football team.”

  Jack laughed. “That’s not what I meant, either.” He pulled her closer. “Tell me about your grandmother.”

  Debbie swiped at her eyes again, but she wouldn’t look at him. “She was wonderful and very loving, but I never knew that until after all of my acting out. She helped me through the pregnancy and the gossip. I finished high school, while she babysat Janelle. I’d have never made it without her. Grandma passed away last year.”

  “You miss her a lot.”

  “Every single day, and I made her a promise when Janelle was born that I’d never act out sexually again. To this day I’ve been a bit of a prude.” She caught her lower lip with her teeth, and then shrugged.

  “Making up for those early mistakes, huh? You know it doesn’t really work that way, honey.” He tilted her chin with one finger, and she tried to lower her tear-stained face. “Look at me. You’re an adult. You can decide for yourself what you want without fear of hurting others.”

  She nodded. “I know. But all through the years of raising Janelle I knew every person I dated had to be someone I could trust, and—”

  “And you don’t trust me?”

  “Jack, I don’t know you,” Debbie said, raising her voice for effect. “Are you a detective, are you a Fed? Are you a cowboy? Are you moving here, or doing a job and then leaving? There are too many unknowns.”

  “So everything has to be picture perfect for you?”

  Debbie raised her eyes to meet his gaze. She’d noticed how he’d evaded her questions. “Not perfect, but not so risky.”

  He nodded.

  “If it makes you any happier,” she said, and felt her cheeks flame again. “I think you’re a very interesting man, and you do turn me on. But it’s out of the question for us.”

  “Okay.” He pulled her closer and stroked her back through her T-shirt. Then he eased away and gave her a wicked grin. “Can we still kiss and make-out like teenagers?”