by Ann Yost
He put his head down and drove into her. Once, twice and then the tension burst. He cried out and buried his face in her neck as he deliberately filled her with his essence.
Another child would be just fine with him.
Chapter Twelve
Jake’s big body, relaxed as a sleeping lion, crushed Lucy into the cushions of the cheap sofa but she didn’t care. Breathing was overrated. It didn’t even compare with the joy of holding his hard, heavy body against her, of knowing that she’d given him what he needed, of knowing that what he needed was her.
She felt so close to Jake—closer than she’d ever felt to anyone in her life. And she felt loved. They belonged together and, finally, he’d acknowledged it, in a manner of speaking. She grinned against his muscular shoulder. Everything would turn out now. She was glad to exchange her vague dream of journalistic fame for a family of her own and work on a weekly newspaper, and, anyway, once she was running Jake’s household and helping to raise Jake’s children, people would see that she was no longer scatterbrained.
A warm glow spread through her squashed chest. If life was a series of moments, this was one of the best.
****
He couldn’t move.
Nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing had ever felt this right. He felt a strong urge to just stay here forever, to drift into sleep on top of Lucy but that was impossible. He could feel her struggling to inhale. And, anyway, they needed to talk. He had to make sure, one more time, that she was okay with the life he could offer, that she wouldn’t have second thoughts when the going got rough. And he needed to do it before proximity to her delectable body tempted him into another bout of passion. God, she felt good. With a pang of regret he started to heave himself off of her but he froze when he felt her hand close around him and heard her voice in his ear.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Desire surged through his veins, surprising him. Apparently he wasn’t tapped out.
“Mock me at your peril, witch.” he muttered.
Her fingers started a sensuous massage.
“I’m not mocking, I’m admiring.” Her voice was low and sexy. Heat streaked through him and he was hard and needy, as if it had been a year since the last time he’d had sex, instead of ten minutes.
“I can’t believe what you do to me,” he growled.
“I know what I want you to do to me,” she whispered. He made a rough sound and slid back into her.
“That’s so good,” she breathed, as he established a long, slow rhythm. “Don’t stop.”
It was an effort to talk. “Believe me, honey, I couldn’t stop if a meteor crashed through the window.”
Her giggle turned into a gasp and she tightened her thighs around his hips. Jake buried his face in her neck and slowly but surely drove them both to ecstasy.
Later, when they were lying in a tangle of arms and legs and panting and blowing like a couple of beached jellyfish, Jake realized he wanted Lucy to say she loved him again. He knew it was true but, for some reason, he wanted to hear the words. He felt her suck in a breath and he smiled to himself as he waited for her to speak.
“Jake,” she said, “do you think that maybe Shirley Packer or Claude Moore killed Nate? I mean, they both went on safari with him. Maybe they learned how to shoot, too, but decided not to tell us.”
His disappointment surprised him given that he’d never been a big afterglow kind of a guy.
“They both have alibis.”
He knew he sounded abrupt.
“Alibis can be set up, can’t they?”
“Sometimes.”
She shifted then canted up on one elbow.
“Who do you think killed Packer?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“But you must have a theory.”
“I’m not ready to share it.”
She peered into his face, her blue eyes thoughtful. “You’re being an awful grump. A person would think you hadn’t been laid recently.”
“I hope you’re not going to talk like that in front of the kids.”
He sounded like a prim, pompous ass. What was wrong with him?
She sat up and swung her feet to the floor.
“If I slip up you can ground me. That’s usually effective with adolescents.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She glanced back at him, her expression closed.
Shit. Another mistake.
****
The morning of the engagement party dawned with a cloudless sky. It was one of those May mornings in Maine, the kind poets like to write about. At least, poets from New England. Crocuses peeked out of the ground in most every yard and even along the highway. In some cases, daffodils had appeared already.
The beautiful weather, though, was not enough to distract Jake. He hadn’t made things right with Lucy. He told himself there hadn’t been time but it was more than that. Her failure to mention love the day before had made him question whether she was ready for this step and, as always, he was wondering whether he was ready for it, too. She was just so young and impulsive. He frowned at the beauty of the new leaves on the trees that lined the interstate. She didn’t understand his concerns about Maxine and Frank at all. They had taken up what seemed like permanent residence at the local B&B, the Garden of Eden and it seemed like they were always at the house working with the children and Lucy on costumes for the play or baking cookies or whatever.
He’d agreed to let them have a role—a limited role—in the twins’ lives but Lucy was acting like they were the world’s most outstanding grandparents and Jake had seen, firsthand, that the children were smitten. He didn’t like it. Not at all. Lucy was one of those women who took a mile when given an inch. Jake’s stomach churned. She’d just have to understand that he had a right to establish boundaries for his own children. He winced. Their children. He had to adjust to the new reality of sharing Sam and Lillie with Lucy. He did not have to share them with the Slocums.
This morning, though, he figured he’d better do some work and that started with re-checking alibis.
His first unannounced stop was the Packer mansion where he found the enticing widow entertaining her gynecologist, a young man who looked less like a practicing physician and more like People magazine’s sexiest man in America. The faithful attorney was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s your watchdog?”
“I sent him out to get me some Maine wild blueberry ice cream. It’s made down in Lyndon, Vermont.”
Jake chuckled. The world might see Paula Packer as a brainless twit but he knew differently. The woman was no fool. She knew how to take care of herself and she knew how to get exactly what she wanted. Jake could respect that.
“I’d like to talk to your servants again.”
The maid and cook stuck to their original statements. Mrs. Packer had gone to bed early the night of the murder. No one had entered or left the house between seven p.m. and eleven when the servants had retired.
It seemed that Paula was safe.
Shirley Packer wasn’t home but Jake was able to re-interview the across-the-street neighbor who had identified her car. The elderly man repeated his testimony word for word. At ten-thirty sharp—he’d just finished watching the local news—he’d gone out to move his trashcans and he’d seen her drive down the street and turn into her driveway. Since the house blocked the detached garage, he hadn’t watched her pull into it, but he’d heard the door open and close. No, he hadn’t actually seen her face, the windshield was tinted and it was dark out, but he knew Mrs. Packer lived alone. Who else would be driving her car?
Claude Moore wasn’t home, either. It was Jake’s second visit to the sprawling example of modern architecture. The entire, large structure was built on one level. Solar panels covered the roof and floor-to-ceiling windows lined one side of the living room. The house was open and airy and, of course, tastefully decorated with original artwork.
Margaret Monaghan had worked for Moore for a dozen years since
he’d moved into the house. She was an all-around housekeeper but had been hired for her cooking skills. She’d already told Jake that Moore was a man of no vices and regular habits. She always knew when he’d come in for the night because she could hear the buzz of the alarm system when he set it. The night in question she’d heard it at ten forty-five, which was pretty much standard. She repeated that Mr. Moore was a man of regular habits.
Jake sighed, inwardly. He hadn’t been able to budge the needle on the alibis. The housekeeper walked him to the front door.
“Did you know Mr. Packer,” he asked, suddenly.
“Not really. He was only here once or twice. Mr. Moore’s a real, old-fashioned bachelor. His home is his castle.”
“It’s a beautiful home,” Jake said, absently. “A lot of room for one person.”
She shrugged. “It suits him. He has the lower level set up as an office.”
“The lower level? You mean the cellar?”
“It’s not really a cellar,” she corrected him. “More of a walkout basement. The house is built on an incline.”
A walkout basement? Why hadn’t he considered that possibility? Jake felt like a dunce. He also felt a surge of excitement.
“If Moore came in the basement door would you hear it?”
“Well, no. I wouldn’t hear him come in either of the doors, you see, but he always sets the security system. That’s what I hear.”
That left the alibi intact. Moore had to be here at ten forty-five to set the alarm. Jake made one last try for information.
“Mrs. Monaghan, you probably know Mr. Moore as well as anyone. Did he seem to be upset when Mr. Packer divorced and remarried and dissolved the partnership?”
“Upset? No. Mr. Moore never loses his temper. He’s always a perfect gentleman.”
Jake nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
“He did get that look in his eye.”
“What look?”
“The one where he’s looking at you and talking to you but his mind is somewhere else. My first husband got that look a lot. He tuned me out. At first I thought he was thinking about something important, you know?”
“Was he?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Turned out it was usually about his supper.”
On the drive home, Jake shoved a Beethoven sonata into the CD player. The classical music relaxed him enough to stop his mind from racing and to let it, instead, sift through the information he’d gathered. The alibis seemed solid but Lucy was right about alibis. Sometimes the perfect alibis were the most brittle and most easily broken. He decided to forget about alibis and concentrate, instead, on motive. By the time he pulled into his driveway, Jake had what he thought was a very promising theory, so promising that he called Homer and asked him to perform surveillance that evening. Follow-up would have to wait until tomorrow. Jake wasn’t going to put any more stress on his somewhat fragile relationship with Lucy by missing the engagement party.
Two hours later he was knotting his tie when his daughter pirouetted into the room.
“Daddy! Daddy! Do you like my dress?”
She was a vision in pink lace and matching Mary Janes. Lucy had pulled her hair up into a ballerina’s knot and decorated the little blonde bump with tiny rosebuds.
“You look like a Princess,” he said.
“Princess Rosebud. That’s what Lucy called me. She said the dress was too ‘xpensive but Grandma buyed it.”
Jake frowned. He didn’t want Maxine Slocum buying his children anything. Didn’t Lucy know that?
“Can I wear this for my bridemaid dress?”
“If Lucy says so.”
Lillie nodded. “Is Lucy the boss of you, Daddy?”
He winked at her. “Yep.”
“Sam’s gonna be the man maid.”
“I’m not the man maid.” Sam sputtered, as he entered the bedroom. “Lucy says I’m the Good Man.”
Jake eyed the boy’s blue blazer, khaki slacks, crisp white shirt and red tie with trucks on it. He was a tiny echo of his father except for the trucks. Despite his irritation about Maxine, Jake’s heart filled with love for the priceless children and for the woman who would complete their family.
“It’s called best man. That’s you, Sam. By the way, you look awesome tonight.”
A moment later Lucy joined them. Jake had already seen her half an hour earlier when he’d slowly, carefully, worked the zipper up the back of her silk, emerald green dress. The garment had built-in support so she hadn’t worn a bra and it fit her like a…well, it fit her like he fit her. Perfectly. He lived in anticipation of the moment, several hours hence, when he’d get to guide that zipper back down her beautiful back.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look?”
She blushed. “Several times. Not that I mind the repetition.”
“It’s true, you know. You are a beautiful woman, Lucy Outlaw.”
She moved closer and brushed her lips across his hard jaw.
“And you’re a beautiful, if stubborn, man.”
He grinned and watched her swish out of the room, her full skirt belling out to reveal her beautifully shaped legs. Tonight her dark curls were contained with rhinestone clips and she sparkled with light and life. Jake felt an ocean swell of possessiveness.
Lucy belonged to him.
****
The Eden County Grange Hall, built near the close of the nineteenth century and added onto at regular intervals, was located just outside of town. Nowadays area farmers grew fruits and vegetables for sale at local markets or they provided pick-your-own services for everything from berries to Christmas trees. Eden no longer had need of a grange. As a result, the hall had become a community gathering spot, rented for weddings and reunions and large parties during which the sober brick building would be transformed like Cinderella at the hands of her fairy godmother.
Hallie had spearheaded the effort to deck the place with thousands of twinkle lights, yards of tulle and piles of white satin bows. She’d bought and arranged bouquets of flowers and had made a banner—Congratulations, Lucy and Jake! Asia had made a tiered cake decked with pink sugar roses and inscribed with their names inside a heart. Many of the guests had brought food: macaroni, seven-bean salad, Jell-O salads, lobster rolls, fried clams, mussels, shrimp, johnnycakes stuffed with crabmeat, blueberry pies and homemade rolls.
It was a feast and enough to feed an army. Lucy swallowed hard and blinked back tears. Hallie was so dear. Everyone had gone to so much trouble for her. And for Jake, of course. Eden County had embraced their new sheriff.
Lucy stood by Jake in the door and greeted the guests as they arrived. Everyone seemed delighted by the engagement. How could she have considered moving away from Eden? This was her home. It was where she belonged. She’d been like the restless teenager in the Wizard of Oz, searching for happiness anywhere and everywhere when it had been in her own backyard all the time.
She knew Jake still had some doubts. She knew, too, they were because of his disastrous experience with his first wife. Lucy was prepared to cut him some slack on that. In time, he’d figure out that she wasn’t too young, that she wasn’t going to flake out on him. But she’d think about that later. At the moment, he was particularly attentive, holding her hand, brushing a shiver-inducing kiss against her knuckles. She knew he was thinking about making love later in the big bed in his room.
She was thinking about it, too.
Lucy felt a moment of tension when Maxine and Frank arrived, probably because of the muscle that twitched in Jake’s jaw. He was perfectly pleasant to them, though. Nothing to worry about there. The relationship was almost normal and Jake seemed to have accepted the twins’ grandparents just fine. Lucy’s heart swelled with love for the three generations of her new family and she felt a stab of pity for Ariel, the woman who was missing it all.
“I think the guests have all arrived,” Jake murmured to her. He slipped two fingers under her chin and brushed a kiss against her lips. The brief touch sent another ro
und of shivers down her spine. “We can probably join the others. In a minute.” He drew her closer and traced the seam of her lips with his tongue.
“Daddy, Daddy.” Sam grabbed his father’s hand and started to pull. “Hallie wants to talk to ya.”
Jake winked at Lucy. “Hold that thought,” he murmured. “I’ll be right back.”
Lucy returned to the coloring table with Sam. Cam was there with his date, Sharon Johnson. They spent a few minutes admiring drawings by the twins and Daisy.
“Hey, Luce.” Her brother, Baz approached. “Where’s the sheriff? It’s time for a toast.”
“Talking to your wife.”
Baz flashed her a brief grin and pointed to the corner where Jake had stooped down to talk with Lillie.
“Old information,” Lucy amended. “I’ll get him.” She started across the room but before she reached him, Jake stood and turned toward her. Lucy’s heart stuttered. There was no mistaking the tension in the wide shoulders or the grim brackets around his sensuous mouth. The emerald eyes were as hard as the stones they resembled.
“What is it,” she asked, when he drew near enough.
He didn’t answer immediately. She saw him swallow and she realized he was struggling with some emotion. She crossed her fingers and prayed it was love.
“Lillie says she and Sam are going to the ranch this summer. She says that you okayed the idea.”
He didn’t raise his voice. Only his glittering eyes revealed his fury. And his flushed cheeks.
Love wasn’t what had him tongue-tied. It was anger and it was aimed at Lucy. Nothing new in that.
“I told the twins it was up to you,” she said. “But Lillie’s right. I was okay with the idea. It seemed like a good one to me.”
“Why? You tired of being a stepmom already? Christ, Lucy.” He was quietly spitting nails. “The whole point of this engagement was so there’d be no chance of Maxine co-opting the kids. Now I find out you stabbed me in the back.”
She held very still and reminded herself she’d known it was a risk. She’d probably pushed the relationship too far too fast but she’d figured a visit to the ranch could take the place of a honeymoon. It would be fun for the kids and it would make their grandparents happy. She’d clearly underestimated the extent of Jake’s enmity toward his ex-in-laws. Her eyes narrowed on him.
