[Magic Sisters 05] - Safe Harbor

by Christine Feehan

  "Marry me, Hannah."

  She blinked up at him, shock driving the color from her face. "Jonas…"

  "No, Hannah, don't think. Just say it. Say you want to be my wife. You want my children. You want me to come home to you every night. Say it so I don't have to keep thinking if I say or do the wrong thing, I'm going to lose you." He shoved his hand through his hair, leaving it rumpled and in complete disarray. "Hell. I'm walking on eggshells with you."

  "You are? I hadn't noticed."

  "Do you want those things? Do you want to go to bed with me at night? Wake up with me in the morning? Drive me crazy looking all sexy and drowsy over your tea? Spend your life with me, Hannah. Grow old with me. We can sit on the porch in our rockers and I swear, baby, at the end of it all, you'll know no one could have loved you more or better. I can give that to you. I swear I can, baby. Love me back, Hannah."

  Jonas had never looked so vulnerable or so heart-breaking. He made her want to melt into his arms, get lost in his eyes, press close to the shelter of his body. She took a deep breath and let it out. "I love you with every single cell in my body, Jonas. With my heart and my soul. I want all those things with you, I do, but not right now. It can't be right now. I'm barely hanging on to my sanity and I have to know I'm going to be able to come to you whole."

  She reached up with both hands to frame his face. "I need you to understand this and have patience with me. There will never be another man for me. It's always been you, but I have to figure out why I worked at a job I hated for years. I have to find out why I can't see what everyone else sees in me. I don't feel beautiful. When I look in the mirror, I never saw beautiful. For this to happen to someone like me, it's devastating, Jonas. I don't want you to think it's vanity, it isn't. I can't see me and I need to be able to do that. I need to find out what I'm like and what I want. I have to be comfortable in my own skin before I can be in a relationship the way you want."

  His breath stilled in his lungs. He couldn't look at her, not when she was handing him back his heart. His jaw tightened and he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

  "Don't." Hannah pressed her fingertips over his mouth. "You don't understand what I'm saying; Yes, I want to marry you. Absolutely. But just… not now."

  Jonas backed up a couple of steps to keep from dragging her to him. Hannah was so elusive, like water slipping through his fingers. He had wanted her for so long, had her for a night, and now she was gone again. "I want to understand, Hannah, but it seems to me you're making this complicated when it's really simple. I love you. I want you. If you feel the same way, we should be together."

  "I couldn't make love to you. I know I couldn't. I'd want to, Jonas, but…"

  "You aren't always going to be in pain, Hannah, and that's not what's important."

  She sighed, wanting desperately to say the right thing even at the expense of her pride. "You knew I had trouble with my body image before this ever happened." Embarrassed, she looked out over the ocean, watching the rise of the waves. As always, the motion and sound and beauty of it soothed her and gave her courage. "I can't even look in a mirror, Jonas, let alone think about you looking at me."

  "I did look at you, Hannah, before and after. You're the most beautiful, sexy woman I've ever seen. Yeah, the wounds are fresh, but they're already healing and they'll fade. They don't take away from who and what you are. Not to me, never to me."

  "But they do to me. I need to feel beautiful and sexy, not ugly and disgusting."

  Jonas scowled at her. "Hannah, my God, you don't really feel that way about yourself? The wounds are going to fade. The plastic surgeon was one of the best in the country and your sisters…"

  She stepped closer to him. Waves of distress poured off him, not distress for himself—but for her. Not pity, she realized with relief, but genuine concern for her. "I know my face and body will eventually recover, but right now, I don't want you looking at me."

  "You don't have to be perfect for me, Hannah." His voice was low and furious. "That fucker Simpson did this to you. He made you think you had flaws and that you weren't good enough. I heard him yelling at you to lose weight and that your breasts were too big. Screw him. And screw that damned job. You're beautiful. Hell, baby, you stop traffic. You always have."

  "Whatever the problem, Jonas, it's something I have to deal with."

  He opened his mouth to argue with her some more, to persuade her that he was right and she should just be with him. Abruptly he closed it, swallowing the demand. He loved her and he needed to understand her. He wasn't the best at expressing himself, but he had to think of a way to say the right words for her.

  He was silent a moment, staring down at her face, the skin that was so flawless it begged to be felt, even with the wounds stretched across her cheek and chin. So what exactly did he want from her? He'd always wanted her to stand up for herself, to choose what she wanted to do, whom she wanted to be with—but what had he really been saying? He wanted her choice to be him, to stay home and have his children and be his best friend and lover.

  Jonas sighed. He was proud of her for being courageous enough to look at herself and want to find her own strength. And he loved her with everything in him, so that meant, if Hannah wanted and needed time, he'd give it to her. Besides, her admission left a lot of interesting loopholes for him to explore.

  He ran his finger from her eyebrow to the corner of her mouth. "So what you're saying is, you love me, there's no other man, but you don't think you could make love to me right now because you feel ugly. Am I getting this?"

  "It's certainly part of the problem." Her stomach began to settle. He wasn't angry with her, or hurt anymore, he was struggling to understand and that's all she could ask. "It's hard to feel desire when you don't feel desirable, Jonas."

  The pad of his finger slid over her mouth, rubbing back and forth along her full lower lip before sliding over the curve of her chin to shape her neck. His fingers curled, the palm resting lightly against her throat. "So you don't really want me physically right now, but you think that might come later, when you're feeling better about yourself?"

  His touch was electric, sending small currents leaping through her veins. She didn't feel desirable, but Jonas, up close and touching her so possessively, could still produce desire. How insane was that? She'd just been thinking how impossible it would be to take off her clothes and let him see the wounds again, but now, with his palm against her and the pads of his fingers caressing her skin seductively, her body was stirring to life.

  "I couldn't give you anything but chaos and emotion with me falling apart every few minutes, and you deserve better than that, Jonas." She ignored the wild yearning his voice, his hands and the look on his face produced.

  He tucked a spiral curl behind her ear, his hand sliding to the nape of her neck to hold her in place. "If you fall apart, I can be there for you."

  "That's not how I want us to be. I don't want you to have to pick up the pieces." Now she knew exactly what she did want to say. "I want to find out what I want."

  Jonas's gaze went dark and hot, dropping to her lips. Her stomach flipped. Searing heat spread through her lower body. "I don't mind helping you figure out what you want, Hannah. You can… talk… to me all you want."

  The blatant suggestion in his voice curled her toes in the sand. His palm cradled the nape of her neck, gentle and warm, yet effectively holding her in front of him. All of a sudden he was close. She knew he moved, shifted. She hadn't seen it, but suddenly he was there, his body a mere inch from hers. She could feel the heat from his body, the powerful muscles in his thighs and chest, yet they weren't touching other than his hand curled around the back of her neck. The whisper of his breath slid over her, into her. She felt them breathe together.

  "Jonas." She tried to put warning—censure—into her voice, but it was impossible, not when his eyes were so dark with hunger.

  He didn't bother to disguise it or wrap it up into something pretty for her. He let her see the stark ne
ed in him, the heavy bulge in the front of his jeans, the race of his pulse and the cocky, sexy smile as his hot gaze drifted over her face. She touched her tongue to her lower lip and instantly his attention was riveted there.

  "You aren't going to seduce me." She held up her hand in warning, torn between wanting to run, wanting to laugh and wanting to throw herself into his arms.

  "I'm not? You're certain about that?" His thumb slid over her pounding pulse.

  "You're distracting me, Jonas. I can't keep the fog hanging low if I'm distracted and I wanted to walk on the beach." There was desperation in her voice; she couldn't help it, she felt desperate. If he kissed her, she wasn't going to be strong. She would cave. She could already taste him in her mouth, wild and crazy and masculine. Jonas could make her come apart in his arms whether or not she felt beautiful and that wasn't the point. She wanted to come to him whole, not broken. She was so broken, and yet, she'd been given a second chance to do things right. More than anything, she wanted her relationship with Jonas to be right.

  He bent his head and brushed his lips gently across hers. "I'm going to love you, Hannah. Forever. For always. Sex is part of that so you can expect to handle a little seduction now and again. I have no doubt in my mind that I can make you feel beautiful. And I can make you want me. And I can make you scream my name and forget everything but pleasure. I may not be good at a lot of things, but I can give that to you."

  She cupped his face in her hand, her thumb sliding along his shadowed jaw. "I want that from you. Just give me a little time."

  His eyes searched hers, evidently saw what he needed, and he bent down to brush a butterfly-soft kiss across her lips before releasing her. "Whatever you need, baby, I'm your man." He began walking down the beach, a small, satisfied smile on his face.

  Hannah tucked her fingers into his back pocket and walked beside him, the crushing weight that seemed to be ever present in her chest easing. He was her man, and even though she wasn't stupid and knew he was saying much more than on the surface, Jonas was willing to wait for her to figure her life out and that meant everything.

  Gulls cried out and the water rushed toward shore, slamming into rocks to spray white droplets into the air. Water foamed and sizzled, leaving tiny holes in the sand as the waves retreated. They sauntered in companionable silence until Hannah glanced back at their footprints in the wet sand.

  "You have big feet, Jonas."

  He glanced down at her, straight faced. "I have big everything."

  She rolled her eyes and laughed, unable to help herself. It felt good to laugh. "I walked into that one, didn't I?"

  "Yep. So I've been thinking about this situation."

  "Oh, Lord, that's scary. What situation?"

  "Us. You and me. We're together, right? Solid. But basically we can't have sex unless I catch you off guard."

  He had to quit saying "sex" or even thinking about it. She detested her body. She sure didn't want him looking at it, but every single time his eyes slid over her with that possessive hungry look, each time he spoke in his low, I'm-ravenous-and-going-to-eat-you-for-dinner voice, she melted. If she melted any more, she'd be a puddle at his feet. He would never take her seriously and she absolutely needed time to figure things out.

  "You aren't going to catch me off guard, Jonas, so don't even go there. I might want to…" She trailed off, color rising.

  "Have sex. Make love," he supplied, amusement tingeing his voice.

  She scowled at him, although it was impossible to intimidate Jonas. "Yes. That. But in the end, I'd have to take my clothes off and I'd be self-conscious and it would be awful and you'd be frustrated and mad at me. So it's best just not to go there."

  His grin widened enough to make her breath hitch in her lungs. He didn't have to be so good looking or sexy. And he didn't have to have that look on his face, the one that said he was a predator about to pounce and gobble her up. "I can think of quite a few ways to make love without removing all your clothes. The more I think about it, the more erotic it is, you with a nice long skirt and no panties. Or panties I can rip off. No, let's say you don't have any on and I just happen to slide my hand over your sexy little ass. Just because you look good enough to eat."

  His hand cupped her body through the denim of her jeans, and made a leisurely slide as if searching for panty lines. Color crept into her face and damp heat curled deep inside her.

  "No panty line. I'd say you were wearing a thong. Yeah, baby, that's sexy, but under this nice long mythical skirt, you aren't wearing anything but bare skin." His hand slid to her hips and then up her waist, under her blouse. His fingers skimmed gently, careful not to touch anywhere that could hurt. He cupped her breast, resting the weight in his palm. "And you wouldn't even be wearing this lacy little thing you call a bra. So when I bent my head like this…" His mouth closed over her breast right through her shirt, suckling gently through the material, his teeth tugging at her nipple, sending a flash fire sizzling through her body.

  Her eyes went opaque, glazed, her breath catching in her lungs. Jonas was careful to ignore his own needs, forcing his mind away from the almost painful hardness between his legs. Hannah was all that counted to him. She had to know she was a beautiful, desirable woman and had needs of her own. The knowing would be enough for both of them for now. He pulled back, breathed warm air over the small wet spot, teeth lingering for just a moment on her nipple before releasing her.

  "So when I bent my head like that, I could just shove the shirt, that lacy little peasant thing you wear that drives me crazy, right out of the way."

  She didn't know her lacy peasant blouse drove him crazy. His mouth and hands did it for her. She stayed quiet wanting more of his fantasy, knowing that she was skimming the line of danger with him, but wanting it to go on a little longer, before she had to go back and face reality. She ached for him and it made her feel alive. She might be hyperaware of the cuts on her face, throat and body, but Jonas managed to make her feel as if her face—her skin—was flawless when he looked at her.

  "I love that look on your face, dreamy and sexy and a little bit mischievous. I have no idea how you can look seductive and innocent at the same time."

  "I wish I could see myself through your eyes." He certainly made her feel beautiful, even if she couldn't see it for herself.

  He tugged at her hand and they began walking again, leaving prints side by side in the wet sand, stepping around kelp and several small jellyfish to round the cove where the tide pools were. The tide was in, so they skirted the rocks and stayed up on the beach, watching the waves crash against the barnacle-encrusted caves and boulders. Birds flapped their wings impatiently, waiting for the sun to break free of the fog before launching into the air for breakfast.

  "When I take you out, Hannah, wear that long flowing skirt that moves with every step you take. It's light blue with swirls of darker blue and goes with your lacy blouse."

  She couldn't help being pleased that he could describe one of her favorite outfits. "I wish you could risk taking me out. I feel like I'm locked up and someone's thrown away the key. And now that I know the danger is still present, I'm going to be sitting in my room forever."

  "You can't let this make you a prisoner. We just have to be a little inventive. We could go to my house tomorrow evening, or maybe the lighthouse. Inez has the keys."

  "How would Inez get the keys to the lighthouse? She runs the grocery store."

  "Inez has the keys to the entire town. How do I know how she got them? We could have a private picnic there, at the lighthouse. No one would know. It's easily defensible. And you don't have to pack your bags and run away."

  She was a little ashamed of that. Of course the house had protected them, she'd heard it for years growing up, but she'd never actually seen it. She'd even had a little doubt, but she wasn't going to admit it out loud. "You want to take me to the lighthouse on a picnic with people trying to kill me?"

  "It's that or sit in your room, and Hannah, another day or two and
you're going to be climbing down the side of the house, trying to escape. We can sneak away. Your sisters can distract everyone and we'll slip out in the dark."

  She was touched that he'd suggested it. She was already going stir-crazy, but with the reporters, and now with the knowledge that whoever wanted her dead was somewhere close, directing assassins, leaving the protection of the house seemed terrifying. She didn't want to go anywhere alone.

  Jonas caught her around the waist and lifted her over a wide channel of cold water streaming across the sand toward the sea. She rested her hands on his shoulders, feeling the muscles bunch. It seemed so effortless for him to swing her over the distance. It was a little like flying, yet she was safely anchored. He set her on her feet and kept walking away from the house.

  "The fog bank isn't going to hold forever, Jonas," she reminded him.

  "No, but you and your sisters can handle a few photographers."

  She squared her shoulders. It was true. Why had she been so afraid? Jonas was so sure of her. He believed in her and it was difficult not to believe in herself when he had such absolute conviction. "So if I was wearing my blue skirt and peasant blouse, and we went to the lighthouse, what exactly would we do?"

  "I'd bring music so we could dance."

  She knew he was a wonderful dancer. It had been one of the things about him that set him apart in school. He had danced with the Drakes, learning every type of dance from ballroom to salsa, and it had made him a hit at every school dance. She loved to dance and Jonas knew it. Even as a child she'd floated around the house, pretending to be everything from a ballerina to a ballroom competition dancer. Jonas had even done the Lindy and jitterbug with her.

  "This picnic is starting to sound tempting."

  "Strawberry Italian soda," he bribed, knowing her weakness. "And French bread." Two of her favorite things.