Peggy Jo broke eye contact. "Go. Go. Get your shower."
"Yeah, sure." Reluctantly he left her, all the while wishing he had the guts to tell her how he really felt about her.
* * *
When she emerged from her shower, she found the mirrored wall foggy with steam. Although the room was relatively warm, her body chilled instantly after having just left the heated, watery cocoon behind the shower curtain. She dried off hurriedly, then slipped into her yellow robe. After digging out a large-toothed comb from a drawer in her vanity table, she set to work untangling her long, wet hair. She took her damp towel and rubbed a clear circle on the mirror, then sat down at the vanity table and finished combing her hair before she plugged in the blow dryer.
When her hair was almost dry, she turned off the dryer and laid it aside. She was bone tired. Despite the therapeutic effects of the hot water, her body still ached from her tumble onto the pavement, and her raw hands and knees burned. She needed to put some salve on her injuries, something to help them heal faster. When she got up and rummaged through the contents of the medicine cabinet, she heard a knock on the bathroom door. Her heart leaped into her throat.
"Hot cocoa's ready," Jack called through the closed door.
"Come on in," she told him. "I'm decent."
"How about coming out or opening the door for me. I've got my hands full."
She grabbed the tube of antibiotic ointment, then turned the doorknob and opened the door. Jack stood there in her bedroom, a mug of steaming cocoa in each hand and a wide, cheerful grin on his face. She loved his optimistic, be-happy attitude toward life. He was definitely the type who, if life handed him a bunch of lemons, would find a way to turn them into lemonade. No matter how bad the situation, she could count on Jack to put a positive spin on it. Mercy me, how she needed a man like that in her life.
He was such a welcome sight. His glistening hair appeared almost black in its damp state, not quite dry after his recent shower. And apparently he hadn't taken the time to shave because a heavy five-o'clock shadow darkened his face. A fabulously masculine face that she was beginning to love. When had it happened? she wondered. When had she started falling for Jack Parker? That very first day at the studio when he'd been so damn rude to her? Or that first night when she had watched how kind and loving he'd been with Wendy, how considerate he'd been with Hetty? Or had it been almost a week ago when they had made love? Had sex, she reminded herself. No. Made love. At least for her it had been more than sex. But had it been more for Jack?
While musing about the unthinkable—Jack as a permanent fixture in her life—she let her gaze travel from his face to his body. His big, beautiful, partially nude body. He wore his navy-blue pajama bottoms, but instead of his usual white T-shirt, he'd put on the matching pajama shirt, but left it unbuttoned, revealing his broad, hairy chest, his lean washboard stomach and his round, shallow belly button.
Jack eyed the tube of ointment in her hand. "You should have let them check out your hands and knees at the hospital."
"I'm okay. Really. It's nothing. Besides, I was too concerned about Wendy and Hetty to bother with my minor cuts and scrapes."
"Sit down." He nodded toward the vanity stool. "Let me take a look."
"Honestly, I'm fine. I can rub some of this stuff—" she held up the tube "—on my hands and knees and they'll be all right."
"Woman, sit down and stop arguing with me." He walked her backward toward the stool, then reached around her to set both mugs of cocoa on the vanity table. "Sit."
She sat, but glared at him, feigning anger. If any other man on earth had dared to order her around this way, she would have taken a couple of inches off his hide. So, why accept such treatment from Jack? Because she knew that he was trying to take care of her, and right now she needed someone to do just that.
"Stop staring daggers at me." He took the tube of ointment from her, then reached out, grasped her right hand and opened her palm to inspect her wounds. He clicked his tongue. "These look pretty rough." He opened the tube, squirted cream into her palm and tenderly massaged it into her red, raw skin. When he finished with the right hand, he doctored the left, then finished up by placing a kiss on the inside of each wrist.
Dear Lord, the man was most definitely lethal. He had a way about him. A gentle, loving kindness that impressed her as much—no, even more than—his sexy smile and to-die-for body. She had believed herself immune to any man's charm, had thought she could never trust again, never risk getting hurt again. But in less than two weeks, Jack had changed all that. She found herself trusting him and easily succumbing to his Texas charm. Suddenly, opening herself up to love and joy seemed the most natural thing in the world. Even if he leaves you? an inner voice demanded. And he will leave you. No matter how kind and loving he is to you, by his own admission he's not the marrying kind.
Before she realized what he was doing, Jack knelt down, parted her robe to reveal her thighs and placed one hand beneath her right knee. Her mouth opened on a silent gasp. The intimacy of the moment couldn't possibly escape his notice when it was so blatantly obvious to her. He soothed the cream into the raw flesh on one knee and then the other, his touch featherlight. She couldn't bring herself to look directly at him, afraid of what he might see in her eyes, what hidden longing she would reveal to him. When he finished doctoring her, he laid the tube on the vanity, then slid his hand between her legs to part her thighs. She held her breath. He lowered his head. She whimpered before his mouth ever touched the sensitive skin along her inner thigh. The moment his lips skimmed over her flesh, she keened softly, deep in her throat and grabbed his shoulder. With his head still bowed and his tongue forging a moist trail up her thigh, Jack reached up to undo the tie belt that held her robe in place. If she were going to stop him, she had to do it now. In a few minutes she wouldn't be able to stop either him or herself.
The minute her robe parted he covered one breast with his hand. As his mouth moved closer and closer to his objective, he rubbed his thumb across her nipple until it puckered and tightened. Quickly, he moved to the other breast and begin a see-saw motion, dividing his time between the two pebble-hard peaks. Using his other hand he cupped her hip and pushed her forward, to the very edge of the vanity stool, so that his mouth could press hotly against her feminine mound.
When his tongue caressed her intimately, she cried out, stunned by the intensity of the sensation that jetted through her. She ached and throbbed with need. A need that grew with each flick, each hard, heated motion of his tongue and lips. While he made love to her with brash, mindless abandon, she forked her fingers through his hair and gripped the back of his head, holding him as he lavished all his attention on the act of giving her pleasure.
Suddenly every nerve coiled tightly, every muscle tensed, preparing for the maelstrom of fulfillment her body anticipated. And with one final, precise stab of Jack's tongue, Peggy Jo fell apart, shattering, quivering uncontrollably, as spasms of release claimed her. While she was still in the throes of passion, Jack hurriedly took off his pajama bottoms, removed a condom from the pocket of his undone shirt and prepared himself to take her. The moment he lifted her off the stool and set her on the vanity table, she grabbed the edge of the table and hoisted herself up just enough to accommodate him. He thrust into her, his sex hard and heavy, filling her completely, stretching her to the limit.
They mated in a raw, unbridled frenzy, their mouths devouring, their hands roaming, their bodies pumping wildly. Jack tensed, then he grabbed her hips and shoved her back and forth in a rapid, repetitive motion that soon brought him to the brink and set her afire all over again. The moment he peaked, his big body trembled with the force of his climax, and Peggy Jo frantically sought another. When the aftershocks rippled through him, her second release hit her, even more intense than the first. She cried out his name as her body shook with pleasure.
In the distance, somewhere far away from the hazy, sated weightlessness that cushioned her, surrounded her, consumed her,
Peggy Jo heard a ringing telephone. Jack nuzzled her throat and kissed the rise of each breast, then lifted her and set her down on the vanity stool.
"That's my phone," he said. "I left it on your nightstand."
"Wendy!" Peggy Jo tried to stand on wobbly legs.
Jack eased her back down on the stool. "I'll get it."
She nodded, then waited for him to retrieve his cell phone. He returned in a flash and handed the phone to her. She put the phone to her ear.
"Mommy, we're here all safe and sound. Betsy's going to let Molly and Shane stay home from school today to play with me. And Fur Ball likes Molly's cats, Snowball and Fluffy, and he even likes Shane's dog, Boots."
"Oh, sweetpea, that's wonderful."
"I gotta go now. Betsy's fixing pancakes for breakfast. Bye, Mommy. I love you."
"I love you, too."
Peggy Jo handed the phone to Jack. When he walked back into the bedroom, she could hear him talking to someone. One of the Dundee agents, no doubt. Just hearing Wendy's voice eased a heavy weight of worry from her heart. She could rest now, knowing that her child was safe.
Hurriedly she cleaned herself, belted her robe and followed Jack. He sat on the edge of her bed, immersed in conversation and totally oblivious to his nude state. She pulled back the covers, removed her robe and slipped into bed, loving the feel of the cotton flannel sheets beneath her.
"Yeah, Matt, thanks," Jack said. "Tell Dom I'll be in touch."
He closed the small cell phone, tossed it onto the nightstand, then crawled into bed beside Peggy Jo. When she snuggled against him, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her temple. Neither said a word. They lay together in the quiet, cool semidark room and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Chapter 16
« ^ »
The days that followed were bittersweet for Peggy Jo—for so many reasons. She missed Wendy terribly, but even though they weren't together, both handled their separation as best they could. Having Hetty with her and being part of Betsy's loving family helped Wendy adjust. And having Jack at her side helped Peggy Jo. She tried to meet each new day with her usual spunk and enthusiasm, knowing that Wendy was not only having fun being with Betsy's children, but that she was safe under Domingo Shea's constant surveillance. Peggy Jo spoke to Wendy and Hetty daily, sometimes twice a day, and she continued her heavy workload at the station. And every night she lay in Jack's arms and tried to convince herself that what they shared would be enough to keep him in her life forever. The word love was never mentioned, although she'd come close to shouting her feelings from the rooftops more than once. Every time Jack made love to her, she wanted to tell him the depth of her feelings and longed for him to tell her that he felt the same. But she was afraid she was deluding herself, that for Jack their affair was a temporary liaison. He had made her no promises beyond the passion of the moment.
For over a week after Wendy and Hetty left, Peggy Jo's life settled into a peaceful routine during the day and a marathon of nightly lovemaking. It was as if her stalker had disappeared off the face of the earth. For a while she hoped that the stepped-up police investigation and the FBI's involvement in her case had scared off her tormenter. As day after day passed without incident, she began to relax, began to feel safe once again. But as suddenly as they had stopped, the cruel, filthy letters began again. Two, sometimes three every day. And the threats were more specific and described in graphic detail the madman's intent.
She held the latest missive in her hand, scanning once again the evil words a truly demented mind had conceived.
You think you're safe. You're not. I'm waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment. I'll come after you when you least expect it. I'll know when the time is right, when you're the most vulnerable. And when that time comes, no one can save you. Not the police. Not the FBI. And not your damn cowboy lover.
"I wish you would stop reading that thing over and over again," Jack said. "By letting it torment you, you're giving him just what he wants."
"If only we knew for sure who he was." Peggy Jo stuffed the letter back inside the envelope and tossed it onto the desktop. "Buck is the only real suspect the police have, and despite some circumstantial evidence against him, they can't be sure it's him."
"My gut instincts tell me that Buck is our man," Jack told her. "If we could just get some substantial proof against him, the police could arrest him."
"I'm willing to go along with Sawyer's idea of setting a trap for him. If you'd agree to—"
Jack grabbed her so quickly that she gasped in surprise. "I will not agree to let the FBI use you as bait. If we bide our time, this guy's going to make a mistake without our having to put you in more danger than you're already in."
"I can't go on like this much longer." She laid her hand on his shoulder. "Separated from my daughter. Living in fear. Wondering when he's going to strike next and what he's going to do."
Jack tightened his hold on her shoulders. "I won't let you do something foolish."
"Jack, you should know me well enough to realize that if I decide to cooperate with the FBI, you can't stop me."
He released her so quickly that she swayed from the force of his withdrawal. And when he slammed his closed fist down on top of her desk, she jumped.
"Don't do it." He spoke through clenched teeth.
"If after Christmas, nothing has changed, I'm going to tell Sawyer that he'll have my full cooperation."
"No, damn it, no!"
"Yes. I want my life back. And if using myself as bait to trap this lunatic is our best chance of capturing him, then that's what I'll do."
Jack turned his back on her. When she crossed the room and touched him, he jerked away from her.
"Please, let's not argue about this again," she said. "I want these next few days at Betsy's farm to be wonderful for all of us. You and me and Wendy and Hetty. All together for Christmas."
"That's what I want, too." He reached out and pulled her around to his side, his body still rigid with anger but his voice softened. "We'll shelve this discussion until we come back to Chattanooga. But don't think you've won this argument."
"And don't you think you can change my mind."
* * *
Betsy and Darrel Mitchell lived on a two-hundred-acre farm outside the small town of Spring City, Tennessee. The house had been built by Darrel's great-grandfather in the late-nineteenth century and each successive generation had added on and remodeled, thus creating the huge, rambling two-story structure with wide porches and a homey inviting facade. Darrel grew some corn and soybeans, but he made his living raising beef cattle. Betsy supplemented the family income with her job as a grade-school teacher. They lived a simple, contented life together with their eleven-year-old son, Shane, and their seven-year-old daughter, Molly. And anyone seeing Betsy and Darrel together would instantly realize how deeply in love they were. Peggy Jo had long ago given up any hope of ever having what her cousin had, but since Jack had come into her life, she had allowed those long-ago, silly teenage dreams to resurface.
You keep thinking stupid things like that and you'll wind up getting your heart broken, an inner voice warned. But the truth of the matter was that it was already too late to save herself from heartbreak. She was head over heels in love with Jack. Although logic and common sense cautioned her not to expect a future with him, her heart dared to dream impossible dreams.
"I've figured it out," Betsy said, her hazel eyes sparkling. "Sleeping arrangements won't be a problem. Mr. Parker—Jack—you can use the day bed in my sewing room. That's where Mr. Shea slept. And Peggy Jo, you can share a room with Hetty."
"I don't mind moving into the sewing room," Hetty said.
"There's no need for that," Betsy said. "Besides, it wouldn't work. That would leave Jack no place to sleep, unless he— Oh, I see."
Peggy Jo blushed when her cousin's gaze connected with hers. Betsy had realized the reason for Hetty's suggestion. Why hadn't Hetty just kept her mouth shut? Better yet, how did H
etty know that she'd been sleeping with Jack for the past couple of weeks?
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that … well, I certainly don't disapprove … but…" Stammering uncontrollably, Betsy's embarrassment stained her round cheeks with a rosy hue. "I'm afraid Darrel and I are rather old-fashioned about this type of situation. If it weren't for the children asking questions and—"
"I understand." Peggy Jo glared at Hetty. "Hetty shouldn't have said anything. The sleeping arrangements you've made will be just fine. Besides, Jack and I will be here only three nights."
"Are you leaving the day after Christmas?" Betsy asked. "I do wish y'all would stay on until New Year's day."
"I'm afraid we can't." Peggy Jo didn't even glance Jack's way. The last thing she wanted was to revive their argument over whether or not she would allow the FBI to use her as bait in a trap for her stalker. If Hetty even suspected her intentions, she would side with Jack, and then she'd have the two of them to contend with for the next few days.
"I'll go get the luggage, and you can point out which rooms to put the bags in," Jack said. "If you ladies will excuse me."
The minute Jack was out of earshot, Hetty pinned Peggy Jo with her inquisitive gaze. "What's going on? And don't try to tell me nothing. I recognize that look on your face. You're in love."
"Oh, Peggy Jo, this is wonderful," Betsy said. "I wondered the minute I saw you two together. You're positively glowing and he … well, he can't keep his eyes off you."
"It's his job to keep his eyes on me. He's my bodyguard." Peggy Jo glanced out the window. "I thought Wendy would be here to meet me the minute we arrived."
"I'm sure the children will come back to the house any minute now." Betsy laid her hand on Peggy Jo's shoulder. "But a new litter of puppies being born is an event around here. Wendy was so excited about going to the barn to witness the birth. Of course, Shane and Molly have been through this before, but they get excited every time. This is the fourth litter Boots has had. And every puppy has already been claimed."
JACK'S CHRISTMAS MISSION Page 19
