by Lara Sweety
Attempting to set herself on solid ground, she slashed at Jake, “Jake LeGrande, it has been twenty-five years, and in case you haven’t noticed, my give-a-damn’s busted!”
“Uuhh!!!” That was the last expression they heard clearly.
Jake’s eyes followed her to see if he needed to duck. He watched her snap around, stomping off to the beach, kicking sand and cussing a blue streak, her dinner dress blowing in the breeze. “Adam, son, I don’t know if she was ready for all that,” Jake blew out a breath.
“I wasn’t ready for it either, but I’m glad. I’ve known for years, or at least I figured I knew the story. I’m glad I know the truth. I’m glad Jess knows, too. We’ve been like brothers our whole lives, anyway.”
Adam turned to Jen, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to hear all that.”
Jake shot an apologetic glance to the younger couple, shrugged, and trotted off to try to catch up with the still ranting Laurel.
Jen saw Adam choke back emotion that threatened to spill over. She covered his hand with hers not knowing if it was comfort she wanted to relay, or to distract him for her own purposes. Getting to know her handsome guard over the last couple of days had Jen’s mind—and body—in high gear. She had her own mix of emotion bubbling deep inside. Their eyes met, trying to read each other. He stood, turned, pulled his fist to his belt buckle, and offered her the crook of his arm. She glanced below, flushed with heat, and then did her best to recover.
“Take a walk?” It was more of a command than question. She nodded, quickly popped up from her chair and they strolled toward the water.
Well away from the main house and center of the compound, Adam realized the only light they had was the stars and the reflection of the sea.
“It’s beautiful.” He reached for her hand this time and found it slipped easily into his. “I can navigate by the stars.”
“So are all of the guys I met SEALs?” He brought his eyes from the sky to her. He worried about why she was trying to change the direction of the conversation.
“Most. One guy is CID,” he replied.
“Hmm.”
Jen tried desperately to focus on the puzzle of why she was there, but her focus was clouded by the gorgeous man next to her. Taller than her—check. Smart—check. Gentleman—sort of. Future—I think. Sexy—yes. Sexy as all hell. His golden blonde hair military short, broad brow, chiseled nose, small cleft in his chin, a strong neck she wanted to bury her face into and those shoulders, oh, broad, strong, defined. As she took inventory, her eyes wondered again and she thought about what else might be big about him. Take a breath, she told herself.
He stopped her at the water’s edge and motioned for her to slip off her sandals. He slipped an arm around her waist as they righted and walked in just far enough to let the waves lap their feet. She let him pull her closer, and she found herself praying that he’d try more than an arm around her waist.
To hell with it. Jen turned to face him, looked into his eyes, drew him in, and kissed him, hard. She felt him hesitate.
Adam was fighting to maintain control. She just had to go and break him, didn’t she? He snaked his other arm around her, pulling her tight against him. Gently, he sucked in her lower lip to savor it, toying with her advance, inviting more. She returned a nip and a deep searching kiss. She slid a hand down and around him to grab his hard butt in her hand and pull them together even tighter.
The gentleman in him stepped aside, and he showed her the fire that she had set within. Normally a man in complete control, he saw no stop signs. Adam slid his right hand down to grab her round rear, squeezing, kneading, feeling. Gathering her thin dress up until his fingers touched skin, he shuddered when he felt her bare, rounded cheek. He reached farther, grazing the thin strip of lace barely separating her soft buttocks. They groaned into each other, lips meeting in a searing kiss.
Jen knew she hadn’t felt like this before. She wanted him. She’d wanted him the minute he’d cuffed her the first time—gently. Her wet panties were evidence of what she was thinking.
He smothered her in kisses, tasting her jaw and the lovely neck he’d seen arched in the throes of her own ecstasy the night before. Adam pulled his hand to the front of her hip. She was nearly panting as he slipped his fingers halfway down the inside of her thigh, so near her heated core. He slid his fingers slowly back up to her center, stopping as he rested over her heat. He gently tapped her slippery wet panties over her hardened clit. Her knees buckled.
“So, you really do want me?”
Jen nodded slowly. It wasn’t a ploy to make a run for it. She wanted him to run into her. She was losing control and it felt too good to care. She wanted him to take control. The heat that had built low, moving to the apex of her thighs, was now shooting delicious waves of pleasure deep within her as his deep kisses scorched her. Her nipples, longing to be touched, were now taut under the thin cotton sundress. She leaned against him, giving them away.
Adam groaned as he felt her pebbled peaks brush against his chest. He dropped the hem of her dress to focus on them, gently kissing a path between her breasts. He pulled back to watch her face—her eyes closing as he pinched a firm nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He gently hefted the fullness in his hand, stroking the hardened peak with his thumb, and listening to her soft gasps. Her lips parted in a gentle oh, and the fiery glimmer in her eyes garnered a lazy, lustful grin from him.
She felt him grow even harder through his slacks, as he pressed against her again. Electric shocks blasted her with heat. She hadn’t been handled like this in—forever. She wondered if she might come right there against him, from the sheer heat of their exchange. She had never felt that good in a man’s arms before.
Suddenly, he took a deep breath and pulled them apart, holding her at arm’s length.
“Jen Delaney,” he let out a regretful sigh, “you are an amazing woman. You turn me on, baby, more than any woman I have ever met. But....”
God—why did there have to be a “but”? Jen dropped her head, closed her eyes, and waited for it.
He took a deep breath, threw his head back, closed his eyes for just a moment, and blew out before he continued. “But—I refuse to take advantage of you—of the situation we are in.” She looked up at him with a wistful sigh.
“You’re not,” she said softly and drew him back to her. They shared one more kiss, a long, languid, sweet kiss. This time his hands were around her waist.
He pulled her forehead to his lips as she nestled into his chest. “Not tonight baby, not tonight. You’re not a one shot deal, you deserve more.” If he only knew how that had heated her. More than once? She agreed. She knew once was not going to be enough with Adam MacClain. It was the “not tonight” that bothered her.
They both allowed things to come from a boil down to a simmer, although neither really wanted to. He held her captive in his arms, not wanting to let go for what seemed an eternity before he regained his sanity.
Adam walked Jen quietly back to the house and back to her room, kissing her just inside the door, a long kiss goodnight. This was going to give cause for a very long, cold shower. He groaned as he walked out the door. He couldn’t see her slide down the door, tears running down her face, head in her hands in disappointment. “You blew it Jen,” she buried her head in her hands.
This wasn’t her. Normally she was very calm, cool, collected, and each action was carefully calculated. Why did Adam have this effect on her? Tears over a man she barely knew? She’d studied Stockholm Syndrome, was that it? Pull it together, damn it. Sniffing and rubbing her eyes, she jumped up. The case.
Jen Delaney had always thrown herself into her work, especially when her personal life became too much or she had someone she needed to avoid. It seemed to go hand in hand. She usually had no life because of work and wanted to work because she had no life. Being on call twenty-four hours a day, every day, all year long, had become a way of life.
She needed to get off the island and back to wor
k. At least she could think at work. It was time to solve puzzles, nothing else. She needed her files, note cards, tape, a laptop, printer, intel, boards, and a room to work. Laurel could talk Jake into it.
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Jen was escorted across the hall as she went to check for Laurel later that evening.
She knocked, “Laurel, can I come in?” Jen, still red eyed, told Laurel what she needed and why.
Changing the subject, as she often did, Laurel inquired, “Adam do something wrong Jen?” She sensed that Jen was upset.
“Yes. No. Not exactly. Really, he’s a perfect gentleman. I’d rather not discuss it right now.” Jen was confused by her own response. She was the one who had come on too strong, she figured.
“Well he’s like his father and his dad, so I know he’s not a perfect gentleman; but then we never really want them to be anyway, do we?” It was more of a statement than a question. Laurel gave her a knowing smile and a wink.
Jen looked back at her quizzically, “And what about you and Jake? The last time I saw, you were kicking sand and cussing up a storm.”
Laurel let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. I’m not sure I can get past the hurt. I certainly won’t deny him a relationship with Adam. We talked, but not about anything important. I’m not sure if I want to do this again.”
“Your life is not over, Laurel.”
Laurel sighed, “And yours is definitely not over either, Jen Delaney. You and I have work to do.”
“Well, we can’t start until tomorrow. I’d really like to hear more about the farm and Derrick in the meantime; if you don’t mind.” Jen needed to get her mind off Adam.
“Mix drinks and I can talk all night!” The two women laughed and Jen went to the bar while Laurel made herself comfortable on one of the sofas. “Where were we?”
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Chapter 16
When seven-thirty came and went, so did breakfast. Derrick finally descended the stairs after nine o’clock. The kitchen was clean, and there was no sign of Laurel. Derrick grabbed a banana off the counter, moved out onto the deck, scratched his head, and worked the sleep from his eyes.
He found her unloading feed, carrying the fifty-pound bags over her shoulder into the stable aisle. Horses nickered to her for a treat. Walking her way, he stubbed his flip-flop-bared big toe on a rock and decided to head back to the house for his boots.
Finally arriving at the barn, he heard her snicker. “Jeans, okay. Shirt, maybe,” she commented on his baggy Levis and sleeveless tee. “Tie your boots and untuck your pants from them. Okay, boys-in-da-hood? Good grief, no real man runs around like that,” she said in disgust.
Tired and still hungry, Derrick wasn’t up to an argument. He sneered at her comments, but complied with Laurel’s demands. Bag after bag spilled into the grain bin after he finished his banana and decided to help.
“Breakfast?” He queried.
“We have to get hay in from the hay barn. I’ll show you how to stack.” Ignoring him, she jumped into the farm truck and waited for him to do the same. She thought he’d eventually get the picture. He slowly got in and they headed down the hill to the hay barn.
Without the gloves he had refused, his hands were blistered and throbbing when they were done. Derrick was covered in dust, his back hurt, his arms hurt and sweat was stinging his eyes. It was after one when they finally finished that afternoon.
“Strip in the laundry room. I won’t have all that hay and dust spread around my house,” Laurel ordered.
“Bossy bitch, aren’t you?” Derrick slipped under his breath.
Laurel heard him plain and clear.
She turned to him, “Damn right I am. The boss!” She gestured quotation marks in the air with her fingers.
He grunted in disgust. “This is crazy!” Derrick wanted to be done with the whole charade. He turned over his shoulder, “What do I have to do to make you happy so I can get the hell out of here without my father giving me shit?”
“You’re a grown man, Derrick. You can walk away any time you want to.”
“It’s not that fucking simple and you know it.”
“This isn’t about me, Derrick. You need to be the man you were meant to be, instead of acting like a spoiled boy. That will solve your problem.” She studied his face before continuing. His nasty scowl served to piss her off.
“You just need to believe in yourself the way he believes in you. So far, however, I agree with you. This is crazy. It might possibly be the stupidest thing I have ever agreed to in my whole life—,” she broke off as she sneezed. She looked back at him. Her words had stung. She saw the hurt in his eyes behind the nasty smirk. “I need a shower. Then we’ll grab some lunch.” She walked off—mad at him and mad at herself.
The hot shower felt good. Laurel sneezed and snorted out hay dust, laughing at herself. It felt odd to use the master bathroom again. With the kids gone, she had the luxury of using whatever bedroom she wanted. She’d been avoiding hers, living out of Shannon’s room and the upstairs bath. It gave her an eerie feeling that Jahn was somehow with her or maybe he would just walk in the door, catching her naked, tickling her until she was in his arms once again.
She leaned on the shower wall. That’s not going to happen, Laurel, she told herself. She realized the water had grown cool and she questioned how long she’d been standing there, lost in the past. The thick terry hotel robe he’d given her would have to do since all of her clothes were upstairs. She headed upstairs to dress.
Retrieving her hairbrush from the upstairs bathroom, she noticed Derrick’s door was open. Human nature willed her to look. Nothing could prepare her for what she saw. Her presence undetected, she couldn’t help but stop and stare.
Derrick was standing hands on his hips looking out the window deep in thought. His back was to her with nothing covering his massive frame—naked. Good Lord. They don’t make ‘em like that all the time. His broad shoulders and firm rounded ass were incredible. Chest—massive, his legs strong with chiseled calves.
She knew what the farm would do for that body and it heated her, making her twinge with desire. Laurel chastised herself. Are you really gawking at a boy? Not a boy, a man, albeit a young man, he was almost twenty. If he was old enough to carry a gun and die for his country, he was a man. She tiptoed on and dismissed her arousal as normal human response. After all, she was a woman and he was one incredibly attractive man. She shook her head trying to rid herself of her thoughts.
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It had taken a few days for Derrick to fall into a routine. Do the time, Derrick thought; then he’d be back in his father’s good graces and things would get back to normal. He considered that of all the places his father could have shipped him off to, this was probably the least of them.
Working with Laurel could be a comedy sometimes. She would cuss up a storm if you made her mad. It had made him laugh on more than one occasion. She had a good sense of humor for the most part, though.
Curves too. Real damn sexy for a hard-working woman in her thirties. He shifted uncomfortably at the thought. It was a good uncomfortable, he decided. Watching her had his mind wondering on more than one occasion. Smart and business savvy—the package was kind of hot, he mused. She’d let him dive into the workings of the farm and let him take responsibility for key operations from day one, as if she wanted to trust him.
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That Saturday evening it was obvious he wasn’t getting any sleep. After a shower and some time reading, Derrick realized Laurel wasn’t in the house. Modesty wasn’t his strong suit and it didn’t bother him to take off to the barn half-dressed.
“Shit!” Laurel half screeched as she spun around, not missing that he was in thin underwear and that was all. “Derrick, don’t sneak up on people.”
“Sorry.”
“What the hell are you doing running around in boxers and flip-flops?!”
“What the he
ll are you doing down here alone?” He huffed. Derrick didn’t feel comfortable with her not in the house that late.
“What the hell do you care?” She was agitated.
They stared at each other.
“Oh good grief, this is ridiculous.” Laurel realized she was staring at the very, very hot, so hot, body of the man standing in front of her. She tried to shake it off. Too long, it’s been too long.
She turned back to the stall. “The bay mare is overdue,” Laurel said with concern as she refocused.
“Huh?”
Laurel made the half circle, big belly motion for pregnancy and said it again, “Overdue, way overdue.”
“Okay.”
Derrick headed back into the darkness, thinking he’d go to bed. To hell with her. While his curiosity about the mare was roused, he was tired from a long day. That evening he had been reading up on horses and foaling and forages, borrowing from Laurel's personal library to bring himself up to speed. He knew the farm was home to half a dozen really good Quarter Horse mares that, with carefully managed artificial insemination practices, had been consistent producers for Siddy Creek Farm.
Laurel kept the mares producing high dollar foals that helped keep the bottom line where it should be. Resulting stock had paid for college tuition, a new truck, and a lot of things her sons and daughter had needed. The sale of those babies had even helped a friend in need when Darra’s divorce had left her destitute.
The mares were a handpicked lot. A couple of pleasure bred mares, and four stout reining and cutting mares. Each was a money-earning producer. Over the years, Laurel had picked out four big, sweet-natured geldings to keep for working cattle, checking fences and the occasional trail ride or horse show. Ten head, plus babies was enough.
The overdue mare had been hard to settle this time around. She was getting older, and treated for a uterine infection before she was finally ultra-sounded in foal. Laurel was afraid she might not carry to term or the foal might not be healthy. The mare had only missed one year. Laurel wondered if this would be her last. Her foals took a lot from her; they were all big babies.
