by JoAnn Ross
“He nearly killed my stepdaddy once,” she said on a stream of blue smoke.
“Oh?” That single word was all Dani could manage.
“With a bat right against the back of his head. He was coming home from baseball practice, and I think he might have killed him if my mama hadn't come by about then and started clawing at him like a wildcat.” She shook her head. “Christ, that was not one of my better days.”
“Why did Jack hit him?”
“Because he caught him raping me in the woodshed outside our house.”
Dani gasped even as she wondered how any woman could state such a dreadful thing in such a matter-of-fact way.
“Oh, it wasn't the first time. And I sure wasn't a virgin, because Jack and I had been screwing around for months. Lord, we were horny kids,” she said on a soft laugh.
Dani didn't want to think about that. “Still, your stepfather had no right to do such an evil thing. Was he arrested?”
“No, because I didn't want to press charges. My reputation wasn't exactly polished sterling even then, so I figured no one would believe me. Jack wanted to put the bastard in jail, but he reluctantly agreed to go along with me, since he didn't have a helluva lot of faith in Jimbo Lott to arrest his second cousin, which my stepdaddy happened to be.
“So Jack cleaned me up and told me everything was going to be okay, threw some of the old man's stuff in a duffel bag, dragged him half conscious to the car, drove him to the Mississippi state line, and tossed him out alongside the road with the warning that if he ever came back to Blue Bayou again, he was a dead man.”
She drew in on the cigarette. “I don't know if you've ever witnessed it, but Jack's temper is a scary thing. The madder he gets, the icier he becomes. Then he blows sky high. He's the proverbial fire-and-ice guy. Well, that day he was pretty much both, and I, for one, certainly bought the idea that he was capable of cold-blooded murder. I guess my stepdaddy figured he'd best stay out of Dodge, too, because he never came back.”
“You must have been relieved,” Dani murmured, wondering why Desiree was telling her such a personal story. “And grateful.”
“Hell yes, I was grateful. 'Course my mama was pissed off. She didn't tell anyone he was gone, so she could keep collecting his Social Security disability check. He'd gotten himself a bad back, working construction, but that never stopped him from beating the shit out of her. She managed to pull the wool over the bureaucrats' eyes for about six months before they caught on that it wasn't him endorsing the checks and put her in jail for fraud.”
Dani wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the inner chill. She'd spent her own teen years feeling sorry for herself, unhappy that she couldn't connect with her distant father, that he couldn't seem to love her. But to discover that only a few miles away, this woman had been living in hell, definitely put things in perspective.
“I'm sorry. I can't imagine how awful all that must have been for you.”
“Well, of course you can't. Since you were living like a princess up at Beau Soleil. Though,” she said, on afterthought, “I'll have to give you credit for not bein' one of those rich bitches who loved to gossip about me and would snicker whenever I'd walk past them in the school hallway. And you always treated me like a lady at your parties. 'Course you wouldn't have ever invited me in the first place if it hadn't been for Jimmy Ray tossing so much money in your husband's coffers, but at least you didn't snub me.”
She drew in a deep, seemingly resigned breath. Blew it out on another cloud of thick blue smoke. “Since my mama died a few years ago, no one knows this story about my stepdaddy but Jack and me. And I'm only telling you so you'll understand how things are between the two of us.
“There was a time, when we were kids, that for reasons of our own, we both felt like outsiders. Which built us a bond that's held all through the years. I'll always be grateful to Jack for what he did that day and I'll always be there for him. But I'd never do anything to cause him unhappiness, which is what I'd be doing if I even tried to get between the two of you.
“My life was a little rocky for a while, but that all changed after I married my Jimmy Ray, and I don't care what his hateful, vindictive children who never paid any mind to him when he was alive believe, I loved that man dearly and took good care of him while he was dying of lung cancer. Just like he took real good care of me.” Her eyes grew moist as she twisted the diamond ring. “Jimmy Ray and Jack were the only two men who ever did care about me, and I'll love them both till the day I die.
“Jack might not have told you, since, like I said, he's not all that forthcoming, but he's been through some rough times himself these past years, and they've taken their toll on him. But he's still the most standup guy I've ever met. And the most honest, which is kind of ironic when you consider he spent years working undercover.”
She stubbed out the cigarette in her empty champagne glass. “He's never been one to judge anyone, which is lucky since I sure as hell haven't been a saint, but I think all those years of living a lie is probably the reason that he flat out can't abide anyone lying to him.”
She stood up with a lithe, catlike grace, making Dani think yet again how much Desiree and Jack had in common. Both of them radiated sex. “Of course you don't have to worry about that, sugar. It's not that you could be keeping anything from him. Since your life these past years has pretty much been an open book, played out in all the newspapers.”
Dani didn't, couldn't, respond.
“Would you think me out of line if I offered one little word of advice?”
“I suppose not.”
“I'm not going to share details, because it's Jack's story to tell, but he was burned pretty badly by a woman down in Colombia. If there's anything you're keeping from him, anything at all, perhaps about that summer, you'd best tell him yourself. And soon. Before someone else does.”
The ice in Dani's blood spread outward to encase her heart. “Is that a threat?”
“Of course not.” Desiree's eyes flashed with irritation. “It's merely a warning. I told you I'd never do anything to cause Jack pain. But unfortunately, not everyone loves the guy as much as I do, and secrets have a real funny way of not stayin' buried.”
With that she began to walk away, hips swaying in a smooth seductive way Dani couldn't have managed if she practiced for a hundred years. She was halfway to the church hall when she turned. “Did I mention that I'd worked for a while in New Orleans?”
“I believe I've heard something about that.”
Desiree waved her cautious response away with a flick of her wrist. “It's not what you're thinking. I worked retail for a time, selling cosmetics in a drugstore in the Quarter. It was just an itty bitty little place on Conti Street, hardly big enough to turn around in and certainly nothin' fancy.” Her gaze zeroed in like a laser on Dani's. “But you'd be surprised by how, every so often, I'd see someone from home come in there to buy something. I didn't work there long. Just a couple months in the fall. Not long after Jack took off to California.”
Her words tolled like one of the buoys out in the Gulf that warned ships against going aground. It was obvious she knew something about Dani's pregnancy. Dani might have put it down as a lucky guess if she hadn't mentioned that pharmacy where she'd bought the home pregnancy test. Of course, Desiree had no way of knowing which way the test had turned out. But still, if she knew Dani's secret, someone else might, too. It was just getting too risky. Especially now that she and Jack were actually beginning to be seen together, almost like a couple.
No, she corrected, exactly like a couple.
She'd tell him, Dani promised herself. Tonight. Then all she could do was pray he'd understand that at the time she hadn't believed she'd had any other choice but to give her child—their child—up for adoption.
Which had never happened. Because even though she'd changed her mind and had decided not to let her father force her into signing those final papers, her infant girl had tragically died before she'd lived a day. And
Dani, who'd yet to turn eighteen years old, had left the Atlanta maternity home for unwed mothers, forced to spend the rest of her life grieving for the daughter who'd been her only source of comfort during those long and lonely months of her pregnancy.
“Orèlia told me a little about Alcèe,” Dani said as they swayed together to a slow, seductive ballad. She couldn't translate all the French, but it sounded sad. Probably a love song, she thought, remembering what Jack had said about all love affairs being tragic. “About his drinking problem. And his leaving the priesthood.”
She glanced over at the tall lean man who was dancing with his bride, his expression that of a man who'd stumbled across his own platinum mine. “It's so nice things worked out for him.”
“Anyone deserves happiness, it's Alcèe,” Jack said. “Though there was a moment, just before Jaycee began walking down the aisle, that I was afraid he might pass out on me.”
“Nervous grooms are one of those stereotypes that seem to be true.”
“Seem to be,” he agreed.
The music was singing in her head and her heart seemed to be beating in unison with his. Their thighs brushed as she followed his steps. He was a good dancer. Perhaps not as flashy and schooled as Lowell had been, but steady, competent, yet not entirely predictable. A woman would feel secure in his arms. In his life. But he'd still surprise her from time to time, which would, she considered, keep things from getting boring.
Dani compared herself to Desiree, who was doing a pretty good job of singing along with the band and wondered if Jack ever compared the two of them and found her boring. Which she'd be bound to be next to the glamorous widow.
“Is getting married really that stressful for a man?” she asked, genuinely curious. “Is it so hard to give up your freedom?”
“Probably no harder for a man than a woman.” He pressed his hand against her lower spine and drew her closer. “And I doubt if Alcèe felt like he was giving up his freedom. My guess is that he considered today the price a guy has to pay for a piece of his own personal heaven.”
His answer was definitely not what she'd been expecting, proving yet again his unpredictability. Dani never would have guessed he'd view marriage so positively.
“Then why would he be so nervous?”
He slid his leg between hers, spreading heat. “Because he's afraid of failing. Of disappointing her. Of not living up to the man she believes herself to be marrying.”
“Maybe that's part of the bargain,” she mused. “Disappointing your partner but loving each other enough to work it out and move on.” Something that certainly hadn't happened in her own marriage.
“You may be right.” His hand slid up her back; his fingers tangled in her sleek blond hair. “And speaking of moving on, what would you say to cutting out of here early?”
“Before the bride and groom leave?”
“This place is packed, they won't miss us.” He touched his lips to that surprisingly sensitive little hollow behind her ear he'd discovered the first time they'd made love. “Besides, they wouldn't notice us if we were to hang around and throw rice. Not tonight.”
No. It was obvious Mr. and Mrs. Bonaparte only had eyes for each other. Still, Dani had been brought up to observe protocol. And to be perfectly honest, even having decided that she could no longer keep her secret from Jack, she wasn't in any hurry to break the news that she'd cost him the chance to be a father, if only for the few too brief hours their child had lived. There would have been a time she wouldn't have believed he'd even care. She now knew she would have been wrong.
“Why don't you weigh this into your decision-making process,” Jack said when she didn't immediately respond. He lowered his head. The brief public kiss was not nearly as hot and primal as others they'd shared. But still made her head swim and her knees weak.
“How fast did you say that shiny red car of yours could go?” she asked when she could speak again.
He laughed and skimmed the back of his hand down her cheek, her neck, and across her collarbone bared by the dress's neckline. “Believe me, chère, I'm gonna be pushing it to the red line tonight.”
Driving like the hotshot drag racer he'd once been, with one hand creating havoc high on her thigh beneath her hitched-up skirt, the other on the wheel, Jack ran all three red lights through the center of town, which fortunately, was deserted with nearly everyone at the wedding reception. Even with him driving at seemingly the speed of sound the short drive out to Beau Soleil seemed to take forever.
Finally, just when Dani was about to beg him to pull over, he screeched to a stop in front of the house. When her fumbling fingers couldn't unfasten the seatbelt, he reached over and yanked it apart, then pulled her to him, capturing her avid mouth, burying his hands in her hair.
Her scent swam in Jack's head, passion pounded away at him. He wanted to feel her hot and naked beneath him, he needed to feel her perfumed flesh against his skin, wanted her hands to stroke his body as he'd caress hers until all control disintegrated.
Starved for her taste, having spent both the wedding and the reception semi-hard, Jack nipped and sucked on her succulent lips, then stabbed his tongue between them, where it tangled with hers, making her moan even as her own greedy mouth ground against his.
Her hands raced up and down his back while his kneaded her breasts; she tore at the buttons of the starched white shirt he'd worn for the occasion, he yanked down the zipper at the back of the flowered dress that was sexier than anything she'd worn since coming back to town.
Needing to touch her, to taste her, he dragged the dress down her arms, unfastened the bra—which today opened in the front, thank you, God!—and ripped it off her.
She cried out and arched against him as he took a breast into his mouth, sucking ravenously while his hand delved beneath her short skirt. She was so hot he was surprised her panties hadn't gone up in flames. Finding the damp silk a poor substitute for the dewy flesh beneath, he dragged them down her legs. As eager as he, Dani helped him pull them off.
“It's not fair,” she moaned as he skimmed a finger along her slick cleft.
The windows were steaming up and it had begun to rain, the sound of the drops splattering on the metal roof and streaming down the window .
“What's not fair?”
“All you have to do is look at me and I want you. Say my name and I melt. Touch me and any self-restraint I thought I possessed is scorched away.” Her sharp intake of breath and the way she arched against his seductive touch, opening for him as he exerted a gentle pressure, seconded her ragged words.
“What makes you think it's any different for me?” He managed, without ceasing his stroking caress, to free himself, then dragged her hand down to his cock, which thrust upward from the open zipper.
Dani skimmed a fingernail down the length and had him biting back a groan. When she curled her fingers around him and caressed the ridged tip with her thumb, his entire body tensed with anticipation. Then she began to stroke him, and the last ragged thread of Jack's control snapped.
He dragged her onto his lap, pushed those legs that had been driving him crazy all day apart, and surged upward into her with a strength that made her cry out.
And then she was riding him, her thighs pressed against his, leaning back against the steering wheel to achieve the deepest penetration as she ground against him. They rocked together, fevered, devouring, filling the car with breathless words and cries and the raunchy scent of uninhibited sex.
In the instant before release, when his entire body felt like a spring too tightly wound, Jack looked at her—pearly breasts shimmering in the moonlight, her dress up around her waist, the muscles of her slender thighs taut, her eyes gleaming in a way that could have gotten her burned at the stake during the days of witch hunts—and knew he'd never see a more erotic sight than Danielle Dupree at this moment.
Grasping her waist, digging his fingers into her perfumed and powdered flesh, Jack surged upward, deeper still, all the way to the back of her womb,
then came in a violent, shuddering climax of his own.
IIt was the scream that woke her.
Dani and Jack had finally managed to drag themselves out of the car and into the house, where, like the insatiable teenagers they'd once been, they made love in the hedonistic Jacuzzi tub Jack had installed, before stumbling, nearly boneless, into bed. By then it had been too late, and she'd been too drained to initiate the conversation that was so long overdue. Thanks to Matt being at a five-day baseball camp, this was the first time Dani had been able to spend the entire night at Beau Soleil, which allowed her to put it off just a little bit longer.
I'll tell him in the morning, she vowed. When we're both fresh and can think straight.
Having made the promise to herself, Dani drifted off to sleep and dreamed of Jack. Since night in the bayou was far from silent, at first she'd thought the terrifying sound, which resembled a cry a nutria would make when being ripped apart by a hungry alligator, had somehow incorporated itself into her hot, erotic dream.
But it wasn't a nutria. Nor was it a dream. It was all too real. And it was bloodcurdling. She jerked up, nearly falling out of bed, then, breathless, her splayed hand against her bare breasts, viewed Jack, who was drenched in sweat and sitting bolt upright as well.
“Jack?” Dani could tell that he was somewhere else. Somewhere far from her; somewhere deadly and terrifying.
“Jack, wake up.” She combed her fingers through the damp strands of silk jet hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “You're dreaming.”
She cupped his chin in her hand, turning his head toward her. His eyes were open, but he was staring right through her, as if she had no more substance than air.
“It's a only a dream,” she repeated. “A nightmare.” She wrapped her arms around him, appalled that he was trembling. “It's all right.”
She watched as his gaze gradually focused and was more than a little relieved when she realized he was back from that dark and dangerous place he'd ventured without her.
