“Maybe you don’t want her to succeed.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard. You admitted that the two of you are in competition with each other. Maybe you’re afraid that if she cleans up her act and makes something of her life, she’ll come out ahead.”
“I don’t believe I’m hearing this,” Savannah murmured.
“Is it the truth?”
“No, it is not the truth. The competition doesn’t go that far. It’s never reached the point of having a winner or a loser.”
“Susan thinks she’s the loser.”
“Well, there are times when I think I’m the loser, so we’re even.” Bowing her head, she put two fingers to the ache between her eyes. “I don’t want this. Not today. It’s been a long week.” She shifted her fingers to her lips, then slowly looked up. “I do love Susan, Sam, but I’m not her keeper. Say the word and I’ll do what I can to help, but I won’t run her life for her. I’m too busy running my own.”
Sam didn’t want to argue any more than she did. “The weekend’s here,” he said quietly. “You’ll get a rest.”
With a smile and a skyward glance, she said, “Lord, I hope so.”
* * *
By ten o’clock, Savannah was sound asleep in Jared’s bed. After her talk with Sam, she had met with several of the other lawyers in the division about incidental cases, cleaned things up in her office, gone to aerobics class for the first time that week, then stopped home for an overnight bag.
Jared had taken one look at her face and put her to bed. Curled against him, she had fallen asleep almost instantly. When she woke up, it was to the sound of his voice sifting like warm sand from the speaker on the wall.
“It’s two o’clock, and you’re taking in a little country in the city at 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence. That was the Bellamy Brothers with ‘Santa Fe,’ and this is Crowell and Cash. I’m Jared Snow, and I’ll be kickin’ around with the coolest of cool country sounds until six. In the heart of the night, stay with me.…”
Savannah yawned, then grinned and stretched. She liked waking up to Jared’s voice. Better still, she liked waking up to his body, but that was a special treat, reserved for special times.
Feeling incredibly revived for the middle of the night, she pushed the blanket back and slipped from the bed. Pausing only to freshen up in the bathroom, she was soon on her way downstairs. A week before, she would have been appalled to think of running around WCIC Providence in Jared’s flannel shirt. But she had become familiar enough with the house in the heart of the night to know that Jared would be alone in the sound room.
The headphones were around his neck, and his eyes were downcast, directed at a stack of papers when she entered the office. He didn’t see her, so for a minute she simply stood and looked at him through the glass wall.
He was a beautiful man, she thought, though his beauty had come to be tied up in her mind with thoughtfulness, gentleness and intelligence. She didn’t know much about the details of his past. They had spent so little time together that the depth of her feelings shocked her. But she couldn’t ignore them. When she thought of him, her heart swelled. So did the nerve endings deep in her belly. And when she looked at him as she was doing now, she felt excitement mixed with the same inner peace she had associated with him from the start.
Glancing up then, he caught sight of her and broke into a brilliant smile. It was all the invitation she needed. Crossing the office, she entered the sound room and closed the door firmly behind her. Then she went to where he sat and slid an arm around his neck.
Hugging her to his side, he turned his face up for a kiss. She gave him one, and at his silent coaxing, a second. He would have liked to go on like that for a while, except that he knew he’d want more pretty quickly. So he left it at two kisses and asked, “How’d you sleep?”
“Just fine.”
“I thought you’d be out of it for the night. You were exhausted.”
“The week finally got to me, I guess.”
“You could have slept longer.”
She shook her head. “I woke up to your voice and an empty bed. It was lonely up there. I thought maybe you were lonely down here.”
He slid a hand over her back. “I was.”
Threading her fingers into his hair, she asked, “How are you fixed for coffee?”
“I made a fresh pot a little while ago. Want some?”
“Mmm, yes.” Leaving him, she went back through the office to the kitchen, helped herself to a cup, then returned.
Jared was in the process of fading one song into another. Hesitant to disturb him, she waited at the door until the new song was underway. Then he motioned her to him and drew her onto his lap.
For a minute he just looked her over. He loved the way his shirt ended at midthigh to expose plenty of skin. He loved the way her pony tail bounced when she moved. He loved the traces of sleep in her eyes and the soft pink color on her cheeks. “You look great.” Unable to resist, he slid his hand down her leg. “Warm enough?”
“Uh-huh.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Jared?”
“Mmm?”
“Why country?” When he tossed a questioning glance back toward the cart rack, she said, “You could have bought any station you wanted. Why this one?”
“It wasn’t country when I bought it. It was jazz. And not doing well. My other stations are country. Rhode Island needed a good country station, so here we are.”
“When you bought the other stations, were they country?”
“No. One was oldies, the other two, top forty.”
“Why did you change them?”
“For the same reason I changed this one. They weren’t doing well as they were, and where they were, there was need for a good country sound. Besides, I like country.”
That was what she wanted to know. “How come?”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s good music. Smooth. Relaxing. Fun sometimes, serious other times. The quality of the artists’ voices isn’t drowned out by lots of other garbage. You don’t have to fight to hear the words.”
“Do you listen to the words?”
He nodded.
“So do I,” she admitted softly. She was a hopeless romantic when it came to music. “The lyrics can be very poignant.” She was thinking that they dealt first and foremost with love, but rather than say it, she took another sip of her coffee. “Susan listens. So does Megan.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Megan? She sounds better on the phone. I’m going over to see her tomorrow.” Her voice thinned. “She has to start helping us with this investigation. We have so little else.”
“Nothing from the FBI?”
“Nothing. I’ve never seen a crime so clean. It’s incredible. There hasn’t been one slip up to give us clues. I can understand that Megan doesn’t want to think about the men who hurt her, but if she doesn’t think about them, they’ll never be caught.”
“Do you think she’s repressing things without knowing it?”
“I thought that at first. I’m not sure I do anymore. She doesn’t seem confused when I ask, just negative. She has to get past that. There must be something she can tell us about those men. Or where she was held. Or what they gave her to eat. If she had McDonald’s food every day, we’d know she was held near a McDonald’s. Mostly what we need, though, are physical descriptions. If she’d agree to work with a police artist, we might come up with a picture to circulate.”
“Won’t the men be long gone by now?”
“Probably. But we can track them down. God, I hope Megan gives us something soon.”
As she talked, Jared had felt the slow rise of tension in her body. It was always this way with Savannah and work. She was good at what she did, but she paid a price. It was up to him to counter that price.
Leaving an arm around her, he put on the headset and faded out the last song as he spoke soft and low into the mike. “This is cool country, 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence, and that was Highway 10
1. It’s two twenty-five on the CIC clock, with the temperature holding at a brisk forty-four degrees. Lock your door and settle in. I’ve got a string of six on the way, kickin’ off with the Trio—Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris. This is Jared Snow in the heart of the night, I’ll be back.…” The music rose as he turned off the mike. Seconds later, he dropped the headphones to the console and looped both arms around Savannah’s waist.
“When will the trial be done?” he asked.
“Late next week, I’d guess.”
“What will you do then?”
She breathed out a dry laugh. “Catch up on all the work I haven’t done since I’ve been on trial.”
He gave her a skeptical look. When she nodded in confirmation of what she’d just said, he asked, “Won’t you take a few days off?”
“I don’t have the time.”
“Make the time.” He paused. “DeBarr isn’t that much of a slavedriver, is he?”
“No. It’s me. I like to be up on things.”
“You’ll crack at the rate you’re pushing yourself.”
She shook her head. “It hasn’t been so bad this time. You’ve helped.”
He couldn’t have asked for a better answer. Still, it wasn’t enough. “Let me help more. I’ll plan something for next weekend. You’ll at least take the weekend off, won’t you?”
“Mmm, but I may not be free. I mentioned to Susan that we should get Megan away. My family has a place on Marco Island. The three of us used to go there for vacations right up through the time we graduated from college. Susan and I thought that if we could get Megan there, it would be a good escape for her. She needs something. If my trial ends next week, we may do it next weekend.”
Jared felt disappointed in an old, familiar way, and on the tails of disappointment came annoyance. Then he stopped, thought about Savannah, thought about the situation. And he realized that he wasn’t being thrown over for a bunch of shallow politicians but for something deeper and more personal, and in that sense, important. He agreed with Savannah that if the trip helped Megan, it would be worth the time.
With the flick of his fingers, he freed her hair from its pony tail and wove a hand through the long tresses. “So when will I have you for the weekend?” he asked.
She felt a flow of warmth inside. “The one after that?”
“I’ll be putting the boat in the water then.”
“Can I help?”
He gave a slow nod.
“Tell me about it—the boat. How many sails does it have?”
“Three. And an engine. And a modern galley. And a big bed.”
“How big?”
“Big enough.”
They were grinning at one another. Savannah wasn’t aware that the Trio’s song had given way to a different sound until Jared cocked his head. She listened. The song was “Slow Dancing.”
“Want to?” he asked softly.
With a nod, she set down her coffee cup and slid from his lap, then went easily into his arms as he stood. She had never thought of dancing with Jared, but it was like nothing she had ever experienced. He held one of her hands down by his thigh and slanted his other arm across her back to mold her close. The beat of the music was a quiet pulse. He went with it, but slowly, slowly and with just enough movement to heighten the flex of his body against hers.
Savannah felt surrounded—by his arms, his legs, his heat. His scent was male, warm and heady. Moving her face against his neck, she felt the pulse of his life’s blood. It was in sync with the slow, steady sway of his body, which was in sync with the beat of the music—all of which was in sync with her needs and wants. Her world, at that moment, was in perfect harmony.
Feeling utterly content, she tiptoed up and slid her arm more tightly around his neck. It was a beautiful moment, one she wished she could freeze and call back at will. She felt no loneliness, no fear, simply love.
Bidden by an unconscious directive, she dropped her head back and looked up at him. His eyes met hers, the one with a slight cast, both with smoky gray flecks. Lowering his head, he kissed her once, twice, three times.
Their bodies barely moved by the time the third kiss was done, and neither of them noticed when “Slow Dancing” segued to “Sure Feels Good.” That was taken for granted.
Teasing her open mouth with the tip of his tongue, Jared worked the buttons of her shirt open one by one.
Savannah held tightly to his shoulders and whispered, “You’re working.”
“I know. It’s okay. We won’t do anything.”
But he touched her, cupped her bare breasts in his hands, kneaded them, taunted her nipples with short, dabbing strokes. She felt her flesh swell into his. Her hands clenched tightly at the nape of his neck; she began to breathe less evenly.
“Jared.”
“It’s okay, babe. I’m just touching. Feel good?”
Her head fell back, her eyes closed. “Mmmm.”
Backing up a step, he lowered himself to his chair and drew her between his open legs. Before she had sufficient time to prepare for it, he brought her breast to his mouth. She cried out at the wetness, cried out again when he began to suck. While he pushed up her flesh with his hand, his whole mouth manipulated her nipple. The tugging sensation went straight to her womb, making her lean in closer. She wondered whether he had slipped something into her coffee, when he released that first breast, covered its wet center with his thumb, and promptly turned his attention to its mate.
She sank her hands into his hair. The pleasure he gave her was so intense it hurt, but rather than pulling back, she held him closer. His name was an aching sound when she called him this time.
“I love doing this,” he whispered against her hot flesh.
“But we can’t. Not here. Not now.”
One part of Jared knew she was right. The other part knew that he had three more songs before he was needed again, and he couldn’t think of a finer way to spend that time. “Just a little more.”
She started to protest, but he released the last of the shirt’s buttons and pushed the flannel fabric aside. He ran his hands up and down her sides, coaxing her panties lower with each stroke.
Suddenly Savannah didn’t want him to stop. Heart pounding, she looped her hands loosely over his shoulders and arched her back. He took her hint, capturing her breast again with his mouth at the same time that his hands found a home.
They were magic. Within minutes, they had her begging for release, but she didn’t want the release to be one-sided. Sinking to her knees, she set rushing fingers to work on his belt. Unfastening it, she looked up at him while she unsnapped his jeans, then eased his zipper down.
“This is crazy,” she told him.
He shifted to help her work around his erection. “No.”
“It is. You’re supposed to be working.” The zipper was down. Tugging at his briefs, she dropped her eyes to the hard flesh she’d released. He was beautiful there, too, she thought. Tall and straight, strong, velvety. Her thumbs worshipped him for an instant, then, unable to resist, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.
“Jesus,” he breathed and had her up so fast that she wasn’t quite sure what had happened until she felt herself on his lap being firmly impaled.
She gasped at the fire inside her, then caught her breath and forced herself to slow down. Jared seemed to do the same, with the end result a sweet, simmering rocking against one another, an extension of the dancing they’d done, with their bodies more intimately joined.
The rise was slow and steady, the reward their explosive climaxes. When it was over and they sat, panting, with damp foreheads together, Savannah gave a broken laugh.
“I saw a cartoon in Cosmopolitan once. A bare-breasted female DJ sat at her mike, telling her listening audience that she hoped they enjoyed the album she’d just played as much as she had. In the background a man was pulling on his pants.” She took in another rough breath and said in delight, “You should be ashamed of yourself, Jared Snow.
What would the FCC say if they knew what you’ve just done?”
“No doubt they’d take my license away, and you know what?” he took her face in his hands and turned it to his. “I wouldn’t care.” He kissed her. “That was worth far more than a broadcasting license any day.”
For a minute, Savannah looked at him, slightly overwhelmed by the sensations within her. Then she said in a very soft, heart-bound voice, “There are times like these when I feel so happy I feel guilty.”
That wasn’t quite what Jared wanted to hear. “Why guilty?”
“Because I have so much. I look at Susan. I look at Megan. I have so much.”
“You deserve what you have.”
“Maybe I deserve my career. I’ve worked hard for that. But I don’t deserve you. There are times when I’m not quite sure what to do with you.”
Jared dropped his gaze to the point below their bellies where they were still joined and said in a husky drawl, “Looks to me like you’re doin’ fine.”
A fleeting smile crossed her face before she grew serious again. “I don’t think I expected to ever meet someone like you.”
Jared basked in her adoration. “What am I like?”
Having no idea how to put into words what she was feeling, she simply said, “You’re … here. You’re calm, constant. You’re a stabilizing force.”
He wanted to believe her, but he wasn’t sure he could. “You happen to be one of the most stable women I know.”
She eyed him skeptically. “Most stable women don’t get the shakes when they’re all alone late at night.”
“How do you know? You don’t see them then. For all you know, they do worse. Besides, getting the shakes has nothing to do with personal stability. It has to do with high-powered people and tension that has no other outlet. Some people let it out as it happens. Some hold it in. That’s you. You’re totally together at work. The tension comes out in the shakes at night.”
Very gently, he started to ease her off him. When she tightened her thighs around his, he said, “My songs run out soon. I’d better be ready.” Setting her on her feet, he bent over to retrieve her panties and hand them to her. Standing, he adjusted his pants. Then he drew a second chair close and urged her into it. When they were sitting knee-to-knee with their hands linked, he said, “I don’t want you feeling guilty about us.”
Heart of the Night: A Novel Page 29
