by Ann Yost
When his breathing calmed she felt a stab of regret. A minute later he’d recovered enough to speak.
“You’re a virgin.”
It was, naturally, an accusation.
“Not anymore.”
His weight cut off her breathing as he pushed himself away from her.
“I don’t want a smart-ass answer.”
“I didn’t hear a question.”
She was horrifyingly close to tears.
“Why me? My life’s complicated enough, Lucy. You, of all people, know that.”
“I didn’t do this to complicate your life. Jeez, Jake. I didn’t do it at all. Do you think I planned to get stuck in a white-out?”
“No.” He glared at her. “I don’t think you ever plan anything. I think you just go on your merry way wreaking havoc and leaving chaos in your wake.”
She struggled to sit up.
“Just the words a girl wants to hear after her first time.”
He scowled and thrust his fingers through his hair.
“Sorry. Sorry.”
Lucy knew he meant it. He was sorry. Sorry he’d slept with her. Probably sorry he’d ever met her.
“No harm done,” she said, brightly. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”
She pulled the blanket up and wrapped herself in it even though it meant there were no covers for him.
And it was on purpose.
Shoot-a-mile.
He didn’t deserve a blanket.
****
Goddammit all to hell.
Lucy was a virgin. Had been a virgin. He should have known.
He paced around the small cabin. Maybe he had known on some level. Maybe that’s what had kept him away from her.
The chemistry had been there from the first time they’d met when he stopped her for speeding out on Route 2. He’d done his best to ignore it but she just kept turning up like a shiny, bad-for-him penny, and tonight was the last straw.
Worse even than the careless sex was the insidious tenderness he felt when he looked into her wide eyes. He knew she wasn’t good wife material for him and he wasn’t the right man for her but he’d wanted to be the guy to show her what it was all about. Well, he had. The question was, what the hell was he supposed to do now? Marry her?
The idea had some appeal but it was a tremendous gamble. And he had the twins who would be devastated when Lucy decided she’d had enough of playing house.
Goddammit all to hell.
Chapter Six
Weak shafts of light filtered through the heavily smudged windows which meant it was morning. Lucy woke up much faster than usual due, no doubt, to the highly unusual circumstance of being cocooned in a strong masculine embrace.
She heard his deep, even breathing and knew he was still asleep. She wished she could shift enough to see his face but, maybe it was better not. She didn’t need to be haunted by a vision of those long lashes against his cheeks.
Jake might be angry at her but he had decided not to let her freeze to death.
She supposed she should be grateful.
Lucy knew Jake well enough by now to realize he would beat himself up over the events of last night. He would consider what they’d done as a mistake, a failing on his part to resist indulging in a one-night stand. And that’s how he’d see it. He had made it abundantly clear that he was in the market for a mature wife because of what had happened with the twins’ mother. Lucy felt a shaft of pure hatred against Ariel Langley which she realized was unworthy of her because the poor woman had died in a skydiving accident. But she hadn’t died until she’d broken Jake’s heart and left him with an unshakable prejudice against younger women.
To be fair, there was an element of flakiness that Lucy had in common with Jake’s first wife. Unlike Ariel, who had, apparently indulged herself in every whim, Lucy intended to conquer her own impulsiveness and to reverse her image but she was fully aware that she hadn’t done it yet. What would a man call a woman who got herself lost in a flash snowstorm and risked both their lives? A flake. Maybe even a fool.
On top of that, she’d disregarded Jake’s expressed needs. She knew he was attracted to her but only in a physical way. She knew he would lose self-respect if he made love to Lucy but she’d lured him into it, anyway. And, what’s more, she’d do it again if she could.
Good grief! What it came down to was that she was no better than Ariel. Or Adam’s Eve, for that matter.
The back of her throat ached with unshed tears. Lucy told herself she loved Jake Langley but if that were true, she’d respect his boundaries. She felt the stirring of a promising arousal against her thigh and, acting on her recent, noble thought, she rolled away from him and got to her feet, snatched up her clothing, minus the panties that were a dead loss and the bra she couldn’t find. She stepped into the dysfunctional bathroom and, when she emerged, she was wearing her slightly damp jeans, the red turtleneck and sweater. Jake had risen and dressed, too, and he was speaking into his cell phone. An instant later, he snapped it shut.
“That was Homer. The storm’s over and the sun’s out. The snow’ll be gone in a couple of days. Meanwhile he’s sending a tow truck to dig out your Jeep.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll wait till he gets here then follow you back to Eden.”
“Again, thanks.”
His eyes were very green in the daylight and they were completely unreadable. He pulled something out of his pocket and let it hang from his fingers.
“Looking for this?”
She snatched the bra and felt her face flood with color.
“Where was it?”
“Underneath me.”
The words were uttered in a deep, husky voice and Lucy’s blood heated.
“About last night,” he started to say.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her own voice sounded breathless.
“You mean now?”
“I’d like to put it behind me.”
He frowned. “Lucy, we can’t just ignore what happened. I had your virginity. We’ve got to get married.”
She gaped at him. She’d been prepared for hostility, regret and remorse. She hadn’t expected him to make himself into a human sacrifice.
“No thanks,” she said.
Something flashed in his green eyes.
“I’m not asking,” he said. “I’m a father and the sheriff. I’m long past the time for one-night stands. I took advantage of your youth and the situation. Marriage is the only solution.”
Her heart squeezed with sorrow but she scowled at him.
“I’m not marrying you to protect your reputation.”
“What about your reputation?”
“Good grief, Jake. What century are you living in?”
“The one where a single man respects another man’s daughter. The one where a guy accepts the consequences of his actions.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. You’ll just have to find some other way to reconcile your conscience. I have no intention of being someone’s consequences and, anyway, I’m fine with what happened.”
He shoved his fingers through his short hair in a movement that clearly indicated exasperation.
“You’re not just a consequence. If it makes you feel any better, I knew we’d be getting married as soon as I got Molly’s call.”
She glared at him as hurt turned to anger.
“I am an adult, Jake. Nobody can marry me without my consent and I’m not ready to give it. I’ve got a career to pursue. I’m not getting myself tied down to a readymade family in a small town in Maine.”
He came close to her, so close he loomed over her and there was a bleak expression in his emerald eyes.
“We’ll let the matter go for now,” he said, in a quiet voice that, nevertheless, sent a shiver down Lucy’s spine. “But just remember that condoms in your purse don’t add up to much protection. If I made you pregnant last night, you will have to marry me.”
She swallowed, convulsively. “It was
just the one time.”
“Lucy,” he said, grimly, “how many times do you think it takes?”
He didn’t refer to the matter again. In fact, he barely spoke with her during the next several hours as he and Homer worked to get the Jeep out of the ditch.
Lucy’s heart felt like a boulder when she finally arrived at her apartment then stopped in at the house to report a carefully edited version of what had happened. Later, after a long, hot shower, she stared at herself in the mirror. Everything was the same, the blue eyes, the short, pert nose, the pointed chin and the dark, curly hair. She still had smallish, high breasts, an indentation at the waist and long legs. She was the same. Nothing had changed. Except everything had changed. She’d crossed a threshold, passed a milestone, taken a leap into adulthood.
Lucy closed her eyes and recalled the feel of his hot breath against her collarbone, the touch of his callused fingers on her skin, the excitement of feeling his hard body against her soft one. She’d expected Jake to feel some guilt and regret. She hadn’t expected the grudging proposal.
She suddenly remembered the cautionary adage, be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.
She’d wanted to make love with Jake Langley. She’d gotten what she wished for. And she’d broken her heart.
****
Jake had no time to think about the way he’d shredded his honor and his future. The awareness was there, sitting at the back of his mind like an aggravating canker sore while he rescued stranded motorists, filed paperwork, studied his notes and reports on the Packer murder and played a few games of Go Fish with Sam and Lillie. The memories were there, too. Snapshots of the night on the rez flicked by in quick succession, inspiring both guilt and longing. He kept seeing her blue eyes registering first pleasure at the unexpected orgasm then equally unexpected pain at the penetration. He’d been responsible for both and, because of that, he’d become responsible for her. She was his, whether she chose to accept it or not.
This resistance on her part, well, it was only a reprieve. Whether she was pregnant or not, Jake intended to marry Lucy Outlaw.
On the whole, he thought it would work out just fine. As long as it lasted.
He was still catching up on sleep by Monday morning so the children had already gone to school when he arrived in the kitchen. Mrs. Peach, a ringer for Mrs. Santa Clause with her blue-rinsed curls, granny glasses and perpetual house dresses, poured him a cup of coffee.
Jake knew instantly that something was wrong.
“Sheriff, I need to talk to you.”
He suppressed a sigh. “Of course. Is this about your sister?”
The elderly lady nodded, unhappily.
“Esther’s not recovering as well as she should. I hate to do this to you but I’m afraid there isn’t anyone else to take care of her. She needs me.”
There was no choice. “You go on and go. We’ll be fine.”
“Thank you. I’ll call Lucy,” she said.
He opened his mouth to protest but she held up a hand.
“Now, I know she’s a little disorganized but the children adore her and she loves them. With Lucy in the house you won’t even miss me.”
He couldn’t have Lucy here. Not until she agreed to marry him.
“Let me take care of that. You just go take care of your sister.”
“If you’re sure. Oh, I almost forgot, this letter arrived earlier by special delivery.” She handed him a thin, business-sized envelope. Jake’s guts twisted as he noted the return address, a law office in Dallas.
Minutes later, in the privacy of his bedroom he read through the letter expressing the intent to file suit for custody of the twins. Maxine had finally struck.
An hour later Jake stepped into the offices of the only lawyers in town. Kirby & Kirby was located in rooms above Little Joe’s. Despite the distinguished name, Josiah Kirby, round, bald and sixty-ish, was the only remaining member of the firm’s founding family. In fact, he was the only remaining member of the firm. Jake had crossed paths with him several times and found him to be a sensible man.
Kirby’s pudgy lips pushed in and out as he read the letter through his bifocals. When he finished, he pushed himself away from his desk, leaned back in his large chair, removed his glasses and folded his hands over his enormous stomach.
“What’s this all about, sheriff?”
“The bottom line is she thinks the twins are not being raised in a healthy environment. She believes they need a woman’s influence and, as I am single, she wants that woman to be herself.”
“What did you do to make her so angry?”
It was a fair question.
“The Slocums have oil money. Maxine believes her daughter married a cop just to spite her parents.”
“Was it true?”
Jake had given the matter a lot of thought.
“There was truth in it,” he admitted. “I never met Ariel’s parents until after she died. Maxine invited the kids and me to the ranch and she and her husband showed the kids a great time but when it was time to leave, Maxine dug in her heels. She wanted to keep them there, told me it would make my life much easier. I refused. She said I wasn’t being fair to them, that they needed two parents. I told her I was working on that but she wasn’t satisfied. I knew she was contemplating a suit.”
“Is it possible she just wants access to the children?”
Jake shook his head. “I think it’s more than that. Her daughter turned out to be a disappointment. I believe she wants a second chance at a family.”
“Can you find a way to compromise?”
Cold fingers closed around Jake’s heart and fear leapt in his stomach.
“Hell, no. They’re my kids and I don’t trust her any more than I trusted her daughter. She’ll stop at nothing, Kirby. She’s a ruthless, determined woman.”
“What are your domestic arrangements?”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “I work long hours, naturally, but I employ a live-in housekeeper who takes care of the children. Mrs. Peach.”
Josiah Kirby’s broad face lit up.
“I know Elvira. Went to school with her. No fault to find there.”
Jake sucked in a breath. This next part was harder to tell.
“Mrs. Peach has been taking care of her sister lately and is about to leave again. I’ll need to find a temporary nanny.”
“A temporary nanny, eh? Didn’t you have Lucy Outlaw? Seems to me I heard something about that, come to think of it. Exploding bells or something at Miss Violet’s ballet recital. That sounded like Lucy.”
“She took good care of the children.” Jake didn’t know why he was defending her.
“I’m sure she did. But, listen sheriff. It’s not a good idea for you to have a young, unmarried girl like Lucy staying in your house. Sends the wrong message.”
“It’s not anybody’s business,” Jake growled.
“Neither is the fact that you sheltered together out at the rez the night of the storm, but, like I said, it doesn’t look good.”
“Goddammit.”
“It’s a small town, Sheriff. The Outlaw Veterinary Clinic is gossip central.” Josiah Kirby twiddled the thumbs resting on his paunch. “Seems like your best bet is to find a stepmother for those twins of yours.”
“You telling me I have to get married to get Maxine off my back?” It was outrageous.
“I’m sayin’ you could do yourself a favor. And, Sheriff. You could do a lot worse than Lucy Outlaw. That girl has a big heart.”
Damn. He could have saved himself the effort. Kirby had just advised him to do what he’d already accepted as inevitable. Only now he couldn’t afford to give her the time to come to the same conclusion.
****
Monday and Tuesday always involved long days at a weekly newspaper and Lucy had no time to worry about Cam’s alibi or the night with Jake or anything else as she and Ed pulled together what would be the first edition of the Excelsior that included her byline.
She
felt a thrill of satisfaction at the sight of her name under the banner headline: CASINO DEVELOPER MURDERED NEAR REZ. The story was incomplete, of course, but this was just the beginning.
Wednesday morning she dressed in a wool, charcoal pantsuit, a white shell and black boots. She knotted a jaunty fire-engine red silk scarf around her neck and wore matching lipstick. Her short curls refused to stay in any sort of order but, other than that, she thought she looked quite professional when she dropped by the office to meet Flynn Masters, the freelance photographer sent by the Courier. The two were scheduled to drive to Bangor to speak with the late Nate Packer’s nearest and dearest.
Flynn’s ancient Volkswagen bus was full of athletic equipment, smelly jerseys, food wrappers, and empty Gatorade cans. A native of Whitefish, half an hour away, he was tall, bean-pole thin and wore his brown hair down around his shoulders. In addition to his natural friendliness, he was blissfully unaware of Lucy’s reputation. They immediately it hit it off.
Enroute to the city, Flynn entertained Lucy with tales of his adventures in the Peace Corps and she told him about her goal of becoming a foreign correspondent.
The sixty-minute drive sped by. As they turned into the open gates that opened onto a long, tree-lined driveway that led to the Packer Mansion on the west side of town, Lucy reflected on the pleasure of conversing with a man who didn’t disapprove of her, a man with whom there was no sexual tension.
Flynn parked the bus in a circular driveway behind a sleek sports car. Lucy stared at the vehicle.
“Is that mauve?”
“Wow,” Flynn breathed. “It’s a Bugatti Veyron. You know what those things cost?”
“I’m guessing a lot.”
“Two million. There’re only a handful available.”
The house itself was a massive, red brick, faux Tudor with stately columns. Five-foot tall yew bushes outlined the front porch and the stone walkway leading up to it. The house looked as if it had been lifted out of someone’s romanticized version of the English countryside.
Lucy lifted the brass lion’s head door knocker then dropped it. Before the door was answered her phone beeped with a text message. She flipped it open.
WHERE ARE YOU?
Her heart lurched but she closed the phone without answering. It would be just like Jake to forbid her to interview persons involved in the murder.
