JACK'S CHRISTMAS MISSION

by Beverly Barton

  "Oh, Mommy, we mustn't forget what we bought today for the tree." She glanced down at Fur Ball. "I want to get him a present before Christmas. Maybe a little play mouse. And a stocking to hang over the fireplace beside mine."

  "We'll go shopping soon," Peggy Jo said, but wondered what Jack would say about another outing, this time to one of the local malls.

  As Hetty continued busying herself in the kitchen, she asked, "What did you buy for the tree—this year's new ornaments?"

  "Yes," Wendy replied. "We bought one for all of us. Jack, too."

  "Oh, Jack, too, huh?" Hetty gave Peggy Jo a don't - tell - me – that - means - nothing look.

  "You're going to love yours," Wendy said. "It's a teapot. And mine is a silver bell. Well, it looks like a silver bell, but it's made out of wood. And you'll never guess what I picked out for Mommy and Jack. I got Jack a wooden horse and Mommy a tiny TV set."

  "You can show them to Hetty later," Peggy Jo said. "Turn off the TV and go see if Jack has brought the tree down from the attic. Tell him I'll be there in a minute. I need to talk to Hetty about something."

  "Okay." Wendy lifted Fur Ball from his pillow as she got up, then she left the room and disappeared down the hall.

  Peggy Jo marched into the kitchen. "Do not read anything into the fact that I let Wendy buy Jack a Christmas tree ornament. It doesn't mean anything."

  "Did I say that it did?" Hetty measured out coffee beans and put them into the electric grinder, then turned on the machine.

  The minute Hetty completed the job and the noise stopped, Peggy Jo said, "If I'd told her we couldn't buy an ornament for Jack, she wouldn't have understood."

  "Probably not."

  "Will you please stop this silliness right now!"

  Hetty ceased preparing the coffee immediately and looked Peggy Jo square in the eye. "I'm not doing anything. And I didn't say anything. But I know what's wrong with you and why you're assuming I've come to the wrong conclusion."

  "Don't say it."

  "Don't say what?"

  "Oh, all right. I like Jack Parker. He does seem to be a really nice guy. Nothing like my father or Buck." Peggy Jo glowered at Hetty. "There, I said it. Are you satisfied?"

  Hetty just smiled and returned to preparing the evening meal. Peggy Jo huffed, shook her head and stomped out into the hall. Why had she bothered trying to explain the way she felt about Jack, when her feelings confused her so? Yes, she liked the man. And yes, she was terribly attracted to him. And yes, she was glad to have him around to protect her. But she didn't want to like him, didn't want to be attracted to him and hated the very thought that Jack Parker was prepared to kill to protect her—that he was even prepared to die to protect her. Dear God, what kind of person did that make her, having these fluttery, feminine needs, these primitive reactions to this particular man?

  Those feelings make you human, Peggy Jo, an inner voice told her. After all these years, after reinventing herself and teaching other women to do the same—to stand alone, to not rely on a man—she suddenly found herself very much in need of Jack Parker. And not just on a professional level.

  When Peggy Jo reached the living room, she found Wendy assisting Jack in setting up the tree. Fur Ball lay undisturbed on a cushion, which rested in the center of the sofa.

  Before adopting Wendy, she hadn't bothered with putting up a tree or celebrating the season. After escaping from Buck's clutches, she'd been too busy surviving, too busy working twelve hours a day, seven days a week, to even think about holidays. But having a child had changed all that. She had purchased the seven-foot spruce tree for Wendy's first Christmas and had begun holiday traditions for herself and her child.

  "Mommy," Wendy called to her. "Come see. Come see. We got it put up."

  For her child's sake, Peggy Jo breezed into the living room as if she didn't have a care in the world. She paused just inside the doorway and inspected the bare tree. "Y'all did a great job."

  "Jack got it straight the first time," Wendy said. "See."

  "Yes, I see."

  "Jack knows how to do everything, just like a real daddy." Wendy smiled at Jack as if he'd been the one who had set the moon and stars in the sky.

  "Wendy, whoever gave you the idea that daddies can do everything?" Peggy Jo asked.

  "Martha Jane said so." Wendy eased closer to Jack's side. "She said it was too bad I didn't have a daddy of my own, 'cause real daddies can do everything that mommies can't do."

  Peggy Jo felt like screaming. "Well, I've never heard such—"

  Jack cleared his throat several times.

  "Martha Jane is mistaken," Peggy Jo said, realizing she'd been on the verge of blasting six-year-old Martha Jane's opinion to smithereens.

  Wendy reached out and clasped Jack's hand. "But Martha Jane should know, shouldn't she? She's got a real daddy."

  "What your mother is trying to say is that no one can do everything," Jack said as he squeezed Wendy's hand. "But there are some things that men can do better than women, just like there are things women can do better than men. But for the most part, mommies and daddies work together, and working together is the best way to be good parents."

  "Is that what you meant, Mommy?"

  Peggy Jo could not—would not—disillusion her daughter any more than she'd already disillusioned her about life and love and men in general. Had she made a mistake by teaching Wendy not to believe in magic and fairy tales and daddies who could do everything? Just because she didn't believe in happily-ever-after, didn't mean such a thing was impossible for Wendy. She'd never questioned her judgment in this matter. Not until lately. Not until Jack Parker came into their lives and started putting all sorts of nonsense into her head. The damn man made her want to believe, to trust, to dream.

  "Yes, that's what I meant."

  The phone rang. Peggy Jo gasped but instinctively picked up the receiver from the telephone on the table just inside the living room door.

  "Hello?"

  "Did you get my pictures?" The voice was muffled, as it had been in previous calls.

  "Yes."

  Jack picked Wendy up and set her on the sofa beside Fur Ball. He put his index finger to his lips, cautioning her to be quiet. Peggy Jo looked right at Jack, who mouthed the question, "Is it him?" She nodded. He took out his cellular phone and hurriedly punched in a number.

  "I know where you are every minute of the day and I know what you're doing. You're messing around with that cowboy, and I don't like it. You ruined my life and I'm not about to let you be happy."

  Jack motioned to her to continue talking, and that's when she realized that Jack had the police on his cell phone. Was he hoping they could trace the phone call? All the previous calls had shown up on her Caller ID as either pay telephone or unknown, as this one had. Would it be possible for the police to locate the caller?

  "What did I do to ruin your life?" Peggy Jo asked.

  "The same thing you've done to all the husbands who expect their wives to do what they're told to do," the man said.

  "Then your wife watches my television show?"

  "My woman used to watch it, but I put a stop to that!"

  "Did you ever watch my show?"

  "Yeah, I've watched it, and I've read your books, too! You're a real piece of work, a first-class bitch, but not for much longer."

  The dial tone rang in Peggy Jo's ears. She replaced the receiver and looked at Jack. He said something softly into his cell phone, then hit the off button, looked at her and shook his head.

  "Not long enough," Jack said. "The guy knows just how long he can talk. We're not going to catch him this way." He came over, bent down and pulled the plug that connected the phone line to the wall jack.

  "Why did you do that?" Peggy Jo asked.

  "I'm unplugging all the phones in the house tonight," he told her. "There's no point in changing your number again, since you've already done it twice. From now on we'll use only my cell phone. That should put a stop to his calls. And come Monday, we'll g
et your cell phone number changed, and you can let everyone know that they can leave a message with your answering service and you'll get back to them."

  "Are we playing a game with our telephones?" Wendy asked.

  "Yes, ma'am, Miss Wendy Sue, that's just what we're doing," Jack said.

  * * *

  Jack helped Hetty clean up in the kitchen while Peggy Jo took Wendy upstairs for a bath. He'd promised Wendy to come up soon and read Peter Pan to her again. She'd been so excited when he'd read to her earlier today about the little girl with her name who had traveled to never-never land and had all sorts of wild adventures.

  "Tonight you can read to me and Fur Ball," she'd said. "He was asleep in the chair in the corner when you read it to me the first time."

  Wendy Riley had somehow managed to wrap him around her little finger in only a couple of days, and he wasn't sure how it had happened or why. He hadn't spent much time around small children. He'd grown up an only child, born so that his father could have an heir and his mother could secure her right to her husband's money in case of a divorce. Of course, Libbie had found herself several men even richer than Jack's father had been. Ironic thing was that all her millions had never made Libbie happy, and in the end she'd had no one who cared about her. Not even her own son.

  "Penny for your thoughts," Hetty said as she placed the last pot on the drainboard.

  "They're not worth a penny," Jack said. "I was thinking about my mother."

  "Ah, I see." Hetty wiped her hands off on her apron.

  "Just what do you see?"

  "I see why you're still single at the ripe old age of … what? … forty?"

  Jack clutched the dish towel to his heart. "You wound me, Miss Hetty. I'm only thirty-eight."

  "Close enough. My point is that you haven't settled down because your mama did something that made you scared of marriage. And don't tell me I'm wrong."

  Jack laid the kitchen towel on the counter. "You're not wrong."

  "Peggy Jo's daddy was the first man in her life who broke her heart. If Vernon McNair had been the kind of father he should have been, she never would have run off and married Buck Forbes when she was seventeen."

  "Peggy Jo's experiences made her dislike and distrust all men," Jack said. "My mama's actions didn't do that to me. I love the ladies. I realize there are a lot of good ones in the world. And I've known my share of them." He winked playfully at Hetty.

  "Humph! You may love the ladies, but have you ever really trusted one?"

  She had him there. He couldn't truthfully say that he'd ever completely trusted a woman. Certainly not enough to commit his heart and his life.

  "You haven't, have you?" she asked.

  "You know what, Hetty, my darling? You're a wise woman. If I'd had a mother like you… But I didn't."

  "That was my loss as well as yours," Hetty said. "If I were your mother, I'd be asking you why you weren't married and giving me some grandchildren."

  "If you were my mother, I'd probably already be married and have a houseful."

  "It's not too late, you know. I could always adopt you."

  Jack burst into laughter, then hugged Hetty affectionately. She returned his hug.

  "Get out of here and go on about your business," she told him.

  "I'll do just that." After kissing her cheek, he left the kitchen.

  When he arrived upstairs, he paused outside Wendy's bedroom. Holding the newly purchased Peter Pan book in her hands, Peggy Jo sat on the edge of the bed staring at her sleeping child. Fur Ball lay curled on his pillow on the floor beside Wendy's canopy bed. In that moment Jack was forced to admit to himself that he was not only enchanted by the child, but also by the mother. The more he learned about Peggy Jo, the more he longed to know. She was a puzzle he wanted to figure out, a riddle he wanted to solve.

  Just as he started to turn and leave, to head down the hall to his own bedroom, Peggy Jo glanced up and saw him. She smiled. His stomach knotted. The woman had a smile that created wickedly delightful thoughts in a man's head.

  She stood, laid the book on the nightstand, then adjusted the covers around Wendy. Jack knew she was coming to him. And even though his rational mind told him that all she wanted was to say good-night, his male libido had ideas of its own.

  As she came out into the hall, she half closed Wendy's bedroom door. "I started reading to her, waiting for you, and she fell asleep on page three."

  "She's had another full day."

  "Yes, she has. And so have we."

  "Mmm-hmm." He'd never been so at a loss for words with a woman. So what the hell was wrong with him now? Peggy Jo Riley had him practically tongue-tied.

  "Before I started reading to her, Wendy told me that she was glad you were here to look after us."

  Jack stared into Peggy Jo's eyes. Cat-green eyes. Oh, Lordy, how he wanted to kiss this woman. One good taste of her lips earlier in the day just hadn't been enough. He wanted a lot more.

  "I told Wendy that I was glad, too. Glad that you were here."

  "That's some admission, coming from you." Jack's body betrayed him. His sex hardened. And it was all he could do not to grab Peggy Jo and carry her off to bed. Instead he simply stared at her.

  Peggy Jo flushed. "Well, good night, Jack. I'll see you in the morning."

  When she turned to leave, he called to her. "Peggy Jo?"

  She whirled around to face him. "Yes?"

  Jack grasped her face with his hands, leaned over and covered her mouth with his. When her lips parted on a gasping sigh, he deepened the kiss, delving inside, claiming her completely.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  Peggy Jo didn't know what hit her. Jack had taken her by surprise. The small part of her mind that was still capable of rational thought told her she had to put a stop to this madness, that she could not enjoy his moist, devouring mouth on hers. But her body overruled such commonsense thoughts. Her body wanted Jack, needed him, longed for more. Why weren't alarm sirens and red flashing lights going off inside her head the way they always had in the past when a man got too close, became aggressive and all macho with her? Help! her self-protective instincts screamed. But those cries were drowned out by the deafening turbulence taking place in every feminine fiber of her being.

  She was fast losing control, edging closer and closer to surrendering herself to these luscious feelings. She couldn't remember ever feeling this way, ever wanting a man's touch the way she wanted Jack's. His possession was powerful and yet at the same time gentle. And it was that very combination of strength and tenderness that seduced her.

  Her knees weakened. Her stomach fluttered. Her femininity moistened. And she reciprocated passionately, consuming his mouth in the same fashion he was hers. A mutual hunger dominated their actions. The kiss went on and on, until they broke apart in order to take some deep breaths. Jack slid his hands down either side of her neck to grasp her shoulders. They stared into each other's eyes, hot passion pulsating between them.

  "No," she finally managed to say, then repeated the word several times, for her benefit as much as his. "No. No. No."

  "Yes, Peggy Jo." He tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Say yes."

  She shook her head and jerked free. Staggering backward, she almost lost her balance, but reached out and laid her open palm against the wall to steady herself.

  "I can't handle this," she said. "Don't you understand that this wasn't supposed to happen. I haven't been able to feel anything for a man since … since—"

  Heaven help me! She turned and ran away from Jack. Once inside the safety of her room, she closed the door, then leaned against it and breathed deeply, over and over again. She waited, her breath ragged, her heart beating like crazy. Afraid Jack would come after her. Equally afraid that he wouldn't.

  She listened to his footsteps drawing closer and closer. She held her breath, waiting for the knock, but also wondering if he might simply burst through the door. His footsteps moved away, passing h
er door. She sagged with relief, but a part of her was disappointed.

  You fool! You stupid idiot! What did you want? Did you want him to knock down the door and come after you?

  Peggy Jo walked across the room and halted at the foot of her bed. She hurriedly stripped out of her clothes, socks and shoes, down to her underwear. Then, carrying the clothes with her, she went into the bathroom. What she needed was a long, hot soak in the tub, to soothe her nerves and clear her head. She dumped the clothing into the hamper, then removed her bra and panties and tossed them on top of the other items. After turning on the water faucets and pouring in some scented bubble bath, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her lips were rosy and slightly swollen. She most definitely had the look of a woman who had been kissed quite thoroughly. Trying to ignore the evidence Jack had left of their shared passion, she squirted toothpaste on her toothbrush and began her nightly ritual. This was followed by flossing, gargling with mouthwash and then cleansing her face with a moisturizing liquid.

  When she stood on tiptoe to reach the top shelf of the medicine cabinet, where she kept the cucumber face mask gel, she caught a glimpse of her breasts in the mirror. Her nipples were still puckered and pebble hard. An image of Jack flicking his tongue over her breasts flashed through her mind. She gasped as pure sensation flooded her body, pooling at her feminine core.

  Forget the damn cucumber mask! Just get in the tub, relax and put Jack Parker out of your mind.

  But ten minutes later, surrounded by an abundance of floral-scented bubbles, she realized that putting her bodyguard out of her mind was easier said than done. No matter how hard she tried to think of something else, he kept invading her thoughts. His devilish smile featured prominently in the images she couldn't banish, as did his firm, demanding mouth.

  Okay, she told herself, enough of this. You have other things to think about. You need to finish your Christmas shopping. And make plans to take Wendy to Betsy's farm outside of Spring City for a visit. Of course, there were plans to be made for the new show, the nationally syndicated, new-and-improved version of Self-Made Woman. Jill had told her that she needed to seriously consider moving to Atlanta and taping the show there, because Atlanta had become a major U.S. city, a city known around the world these days. She hadn't given the idea much thought, hadn't even mentioned it to Wendy or Hetty. How would they feel about leaving Chattanooga?