by Cox, Suzanne
Emalea studied Jackson while trying to look as though she was watching the road for more riders. The guy didn’t care what a woman beating him in a motorcycle race would do to his reputation? That alone didn’t make him a good guy. He had his bad side covered for now, ready to be released when needed. Hadn’t he told her that? Then she’d seen it firsthand that evening at the river. Men with things to hide could be like quicksand, dragging another person under before she realized what was happening. Even someone trained to recognize such behavior could be fooled, especially when other parts of her easily fell prey to such a man’s attractions. She could feel him tugging at her, but Emalea refused to be sucked in.
Approaching engines averted any further conversation. She unclenched her fist, relieved as Lana and Lance Sanders rolled in next to them. Lana, sitting behind Lance, glanced at Jackson, immediately crinkling her nose at Emalea and mouthing, “What is he doing here?” She wasn’t sure she could explain that one, even to Lana, who’d been her best friend since grade school.
Obviously, Pete had not heard the entire story, because he introduced Jackson to Lance and Lana. Not surprising that no one seemed to remember who all had been present to witness the show. Only the prime-time players, she and Jackson, had been good fodder for gossip.
Lance laughed and held out his hand anyway. “Yeah, we’ve met. I guess you’d say informally.”
“I told him he should come and ride, since he had his bike back.” Pete snickered and Emalea caught the glance Jackson sent her way.
So he hadn’t mentioned to Pete that she, too, had invited him. That admission would have needed to be accompanied by an explanation of why and how he happened to be at her house the other night. She felt grudging gratitude for his keeping quiet. Most men would have been more than happy to let half the deputies know he’d seen her in way less clothing than she’d like. Jackson Cooper was beginning to be a mass of contradictions.
“Doesn’t anyone want to know what I planned for our ride?” Emalea stopped her muddled thoughts at Lana’s question.
“I’m almost scared to ask,” Pete said, then turned to Jackson. “The last time Lana planned our ride, we got stuck in Lafayette, watching an opera in the park.”
They took turns planning the day’s ride throughout the year. With the variety of personalities in the group, Emalea had managed to see everything from musicals to mud wrestling. She grinned at Lana expectantly.
“It was a musical put on by the college and you have to admit the food was good.”
“She’s right,” Pete agreed. “All you can eat crawfish, potatoes and corn is hard to beat. What will it be this time, Lana, a tour of the art museum?”
“I’m saving that for later. Today I want to go to New Orleans. We can eat an early lunch at Mother’s downtown and go to the Aquarium of the Americas afterward.”
Emalea nodded. “That’s a pretty good plan.”
“Yeah, this could easily make up for the music thing.”
As the men strode to their bikes, Lana leaned toward Emalea. “Can you believe that guy is going on our ride? Will it be a problem for you?”
Emalea drained the last drop from her cup, feigning much more indifference than she felt. “He’s not mad about the bike incident. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal. Huh, very interesting.”
The engine of Emalea’s motorcycle roared to life with the tap of her finger. She could see Lana’s mouth moving but twisted her hand on the gas, letting the roar drown out anything her friend might have been saying. Lana waved, completely undeterred. Emalea knew the girl would have her say, sooner or later.
Two and a half hours later, they rolled down the one-way street that ran next to Mother’s. They had managed to stretch the one-and-a-half-hour trip to New Orleans into a much longer ride by following twisting back roads along the river whenever possible. By this point, Emalea had become quite adept at avoiding Jackson. At every stop, she raced to the bathroom or tried to appear engrossed in conversation with the nearest warm body. But he hadn’t exactly been trying to get next to her.
When she settled in a chair at the restaurant, she had to convince herself she wasn’t pleased to see Jackson’s huge biceps bumping hers. Ignoring him, she ordered a shrimp-and-oyster po’boy and diet soda, then took an inordinate amount of time arranging her fork and napkin. In the end, her efforts got her in trouble. After moving the fork repeatedly, she knocked it on the floor next to Jackson’s foot.
She sighed and, without a thought, went after it, but she had underestimated the distance, and her head bumped his knee. Above the table, a riot of laughter echoed and she paused. Part of her wanted to twist her head to see Jackson, but that would only make things worse as she realized the laughter was definitely directed at the ridiculous position she had assumed. The fact that she hadn’t surfaced from beneath the table very quickly only made matters worse.
“Emalea, what in the world are you doing down there?”
She straightened to find every eye at the table on her and Pete more than happy to inflame the situation, one of his specialties.
“I dropped my fork.” She held up the item as evidence.
Pete snorted. “Why didn’t you leave it there? I don’t believe for a minute you’re going to use it after it’s been on the floor. Either way, your fork retrieving sure put a smile on Jackson’s face.”
That brought Emalea’s head around with a snap. Sure enough Jackson sported a huge grin, while trying to appear completely innocent. She vacillated between rage and delight. He had no right making her the brunt of a joke, even if she had pretty much put her head in his lap. On the other hand, his infectious grin tugged at a part of her she didn’t ever want to let loose.
“That was just his wishful thinking. I certainly wouldn’t be making any kind of advances toward a man who can’t even hold his own in a race.” She could almost see the sparks of anger flaring from her own eyes straight to Jackson’s. Fine, she thought, go with the anger. A few people chuckled, but Emalea had no doubt her aggravation was evident to everyone. The others resumed their conversations, but she focused on Jackson.
“You’re a complete jerk.” The words nearly singed her lips.
“It was just a joke.” His eyes clouded with confusion, evidently uncertain why his teasing had her bristling.
“You’re not going to make a fool of me, ever. You’ll be more than sorry for it, I promise.”
His uncertainty slipped away and his expression darkened ominously. “No one’s making you look foolish. Except maybe yourself, right now, by not being able to take a simple joke.”
Her finger stabbed his chest. “I don’t have to take a damn thing from you and you’d be well advised to remember that.”
A viselike grip captured her wrist and her attacking finger was imprisoned along with the rest of her hand. She realized quickly she had gone too far. Jackson had decided to unleash his bad side and she wasn’t prepared. He was strong enough to do whatever he wanted, shove her, hit her, drag her into the street. But she wouldn’t back off. He’d find she wouldn’t lie like a doormat ready to be stomped on. She shoved a stray hair from her face with her other hand, never breaking free of his icy stare.
Jackson leaned toward her until their noses were only inches apart. She waited for the onslaught of his anger.
“Emalea LeBlanc, you should be very careful who you go around poking with that finger of yours.” His voice was barely above a whisper and Emalea waited for the panic to hit her, the fear, but it never came. Instead she inhaled his masculine scent and the shiver that rocked her had nothing to do with being afraid. Her arm seemed to be melting in his grasp and she studied it briefly to be sure it was still in one solid piece.
“You know what might happen if you stab the wrong person with that finger?”
She shook her head, totally hypnotized by his voice, his skin, hell, by everything about him. If he planned to do something horrible to her she was absolutely defenseless. For a moment she wondere
d if this was how her mother had felt, if this was why she could never leave her abusive husband. Emalea was certain, right now at this moment, she couldn’t leave either.
Jackson straightened the offending digit with his free hand. A moment of panic hit Emalea as she imagined he might break her finger. It wouldn’t be the first time a man had done that. Before she could complete the thought, he pressed her finger against his lips and another shock wave washed through her body. He tugged her fingers apart and planted another warm, damp kiss on her palm.
“I will attack back.” He dropped her hand with a wink and leaned back in his chair.
Ice clinked in the glasses at another table but she couldn’t speak, good grief, she could barely breathe.
“Okay, I’m separating you two since you can’t play nice.” Pete all but shoved Jackson out of the chair. “You go sit in my chair. Em needs a guy like me to sit by her. Someone who’s still scared of her.”
Emalea decided to keep quiet. Things just didn’t go as she intended when Jackson Cooper was around. Across the table, Lana gave her a wicked grin. Everyone else seemed to think it had been another grand show between the two of them, but Emalea had never aspired to be an actress.
A SEVEN-FOOT REEF SHARK glided through the water effortlessly. Emalea stood a few feet in front of him and Jackson wondered if she could see his reflection in the glass. People moved around her but she remained motionless, appearing to be mesmerized by the sharks and rays swimming in the huge tank.
He glanced around the room but didn’t see the others. They had scattered throughout the building housing the aquarium. Maybe a bit of guilt had kept him following Emalea, at a safe distance, of course. He wasn’t sure what had set her off, other than the fact that he had embarrassed her. But the situation had been completely laughable when she dove under the table after the fork. It hadn’t taken much from him, just a big smile and a little eyebrow motion, to get the whole table into hysterics. Unfortunately, Emalea hadn’t thought it funny. Still, he hadn’t expected such a personal attack. It was almost as if she wanted to show him he couldn’t take advantage of her.
In front of him, she shifted her feet. Then as if awakening, she strode away from the tank toward the front exit. In his mind’s eye, he saw her standing in the doorway of her house wearing nothing but those flimsy pajamas. If he’d ever been going to take advantage of the woman that would have been the time. The urge to drag her into his arms had nearly knocked him to his knees. Thankfully he’d controlled that emotion. She’d likely have cracked him over the head with her scuba tank. Emalea had something to prove. He wasn’t sure what or why. But for reasons unknown, she seemed intent on proving that something to him.
He moved to follow her only to be stopped by a not-so-gentle tug at his arm. Lana Sanders gave him an impish grin.
“Don’t worry, she’s not going far.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The brunette crossed her arms in front of her chest and shook her head. “Maybe it wasn’t noticeable to anyone else, but I know good and well you’ve been keeping Em in your sights since the minute we got here. What I can’t understand is why. She behaved like a pure butt to you back there.”
Jackson tried to appear serious but this woman had his lips twitching in an instant. “I guess I’m waiting for a good moment to apologize for embarrassing her. I wouldn’t have made the joke if I’d known she would get so mad.”
“And I’m wondering why you care?”
He fingered the hair above his upper lip. Why indeed? “Lana, I wish I knew the answer to that one myself. When she’s not busy trying to show how tough she is, she’s one of the most interesting women I’ve ever met.” He clamped his teeth together. He had no intention of trading secrets with Emalea’s friend. This was beginning to feel like grade school.
“I bet you’ve met a lot of women.”
Her statement caught him off guard. What was she digging for now? She made him sound like a man who hunted women for sport. Jackson scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I married my high-school sweetheart and stayed happily married until two years ago when my wife and daughter were killed.”
Lana’s hand fluttered to her cheek. “That must have been awful for you.”
Jackson stared past her into the shark tank. “They were my life and to say my life ended would be a huge understatement. I guess that’s why I’m not pursuing your friend, no matter what. I had a good marriage, I don’t imagine I’ll find another.”
She touched his arm. “Being alone isn’t much fun, after a while.”
He shrugged. “There are worse things than being alone, like losing everything that’s really important to you.”
She stepped in front of him, forcing him to meet her gaze. “That should make you all the more certain to treasure whoever and whatever you love.”
Her persistence made him smile. “Are you a psychologist, too?”
“No, but my best friend is one, and I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night.”
Jackson laughed at her rendition of the popular television commercial and nearly dropped the cup of soda he’d been drinking. He straightened as Lance crossed the room toward them.
“Just think on what I said.”
He met her friendly glance with a smile. She made it difficult for anyone to get mad at her. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
She disappeared around the corner with her husband in tow while Jackson strode to the front exit and onto the plaza that extended to the riverbank. He spotted Emalea, leaning against the railing, watching the dark water below. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for what could easily become a nasty encounter, before striding across the brick-and-granite courtyard.
He leaned his arms on top of the rail, discreetly studying her. Where to begin? She reminded him of a spiny sea urchin with pointy quills ready to stab the foot of some unaware wader. Why he wanted to make amends was beyond his own comprehension. He tried to blame it on his need to do the right thing, by everyone, including Emalea. She projected an image of toughness, but he detected something else, a hint of frailty, the need to be protected. Was he the only one sensing that?
“I’m sorry for how I acted in the restaurant. It’s not you personally.”
Jackson was speechless. He hadn’t expected an apology from her. “That’s good to know. I felt like I had missed something. I’ve been trying to apologize to you since we got to the aquarium. I’m sorry if I made you mad but when you went under the table it was just too easy. If I’ve done wrong by you in some other way, I wish you’d let me know.”
She continued to gaze across the water. “There’s nothing to tell. Like I said, it’s not you personally.”
Emalea wanted to end the conversation there. He could tell, but he couldn’t let it go. “If anything, I should be mad at you because of that whole motorcycle thing. I don’t think I have a second personality that materializes while I’m asleep and runs around harassing innocent women to the point they think I’m a monster.”
“Don’t you?” She nearly spit the words, which were accompanied by a disdainful look.
Unsure how to respond, a coal of anger started to burn in his chest, but he refused to give in to the emotion. He’d never been so completely painted as a bad guy by anyone, unless he was undercover and wanted to be. Looking the part of a hard, cruel man wasn’t difficult. Acting like one was something that didn’t come naturally.
“You’ve lost me, I’m afraid. If you really want an answer to that question you’ll have to explain.”
She continued to keep her attention focused on the water. Her distaste replaced by a mask of indifference. “I don’t need an answer.”
He put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her around. “Well, explain anyway. I’d like to know.”
She frowned and he thought she just might tell him to take off. “Look at you. You’ve got to be at least six-four and weigh a good two-fifty.”
“Hey, you’re right on the mone
y.” Jackson grinned. “You should hire on with a carnival. Oh, and that’s all muscle you know, the two-fifty.”
Her lips twitched, helping her to lose much of the seriousness that appeared to overwhelm her. Relief flowed through him. He hadn’t intended this to be a heart-to-heart kind of thing, just the offering of an apology.
Managing to control her smile, she continued. “You’re a tough guy. It’s written all over you and, believe me, I know all there is to know when it comes to tough guys. You think you can push people around and get what you want, especially women. You’re bigger than most, which means you believe everyone is beneath you and they should stay there. If they don’t, you’ll put them in their place. Tell me you don’t see yourself in that description.”
She watched him for a moment, then, as if the sight of him was more than she could stand, she turned her head to follow the movement of a passing tugboat. For several seconds, her nostrils continued to flare, her features taut, as though she were fighting for control. He might not have known her long but he could see that this lady had a problem that went way beyond him. Digging any deeper meant getting to know her, getting her to trust him. It stank of a relationship. He couldn’t go there. No matter how much he wanted to pull her into his arms and take care of her. And he did want to. The little girl who needed to be protected and kept safe stood quivering right in front of him wearing a facade of false bravado. But he couldn’t protect anyone. The task was too much for him, too much for his heart. He had a quick premonition of falling for this woman—definitely an emotional quagmire he wanted to avoid at all cost.
But she was wrong about him. She wanted him to be a round little peg that fit in a round little hole, because she said he should. If they were going to be working together, she’d see just how wrong, but not now.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t know me. You presume to, but you don’t. Those three letters behind your name don’t mean you’re never wrong. This time you are.”
