by Debra Webb
The memory infuriated her all over again. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Scott Rayburn loved spreading rumors. Rumors,” she reiterated. “That’s what his accusations were about. I know my uncle Harry. He would never do anything like that.” She blocked the memory of the perfume she’d smelled on his shirt. That didn’t prove anything.
Jonathan guided her to the sofa. “Think about your uncle’s reaction last night and this morning.”
Now Jonathan was making her angry. “Last night he was exhausted and worried about William. This morning he was in a state of shock. We all were.”
“Last night when Presley announced what she’d done,” Jonathan recapped, “Harry said nothing about her leaving Polly alone. His anger was directed at the idea that she’d cheated on her husband.”
“Jonathan.” Melissa didn’t know how to make him understand this. “All of us have already gone through a range of emotions that would put lesser folks down. Harry has been strong through all of it. But even the strongest breaks at some point. The idea that Presley was unfaithful was far less painful to latch on to.” She’d witnessed it often enough as a nurse. She supposed Jonathan couldn’t understand that because he was one of those rare people who had no breaking point. If she’d doubted that fact, what he’d shared with her last night about his military history confirmed her conclusion.
“Maybe so,” Jonathan allowed. “I’m not so sure.”
“Scott always liked being the center of attention,” she said again.
“You trust your uncle that much?”
“I trust him with my life.”
Jonathan’s gaze held hers. “There was a time when you trusted me that much.”
She had to look away. If he saw the feelings that still simmered inside her… She couldn’t let that happen. Last night she’d drifted far too close to breaking down. She couldn’t risk doing it again. Unlike him, she did have a breaking point.
“I need you to trust me now,” he murmured. “I’m not trying to hurt you or Harry. I’m only trying to find the truth.”
His soft words kicked her defenses right out from under her. “I do trust you, Jonathan.” She met his searching gaze, pushed aside all the frustration. “I wouldn’t have called you otherwise.”
He didn’t respond, just stared at her eyes, and her lips.
She wished he would say something, anything, to break the tension building between them. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers.
Melissa warned herself not to cross that line—the very one he had drawn himself. But she just couldn’t help it. She was so tired. So afraid. So desperate to feel his touch. No man had ever owned her heart, but him. No man had ever made her want to grow old with him, but him. No matter that he’d left her once already, broken her heart into a million pieces, she wanted his touch. Wanted his lips against hers—just like this—as long as it would last.
So much for standing firm. She was a lost cause when it came to this man.
He kissed her slowly, softly. Just a meshing of lips. A dance of wills to see who would give in first and open in invitation.
Melissa couldn’t help herself. She parted her lips, invited him inside. His tongue slid over her lips, touched her own. Her hands glided up his chest and into his hair. She loved the feel of his thick hair. Soft and silky. Such a contrast to his hard, lean body.
He drew her to her feet, without breaking the contact of their mouths. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the hall.
“The last door on the right,” she murmured between kisses. She didn’t know why she bothered; after all, he’d spent last night here. She wasn’t thinking, only feeling.
This was going to a place it shouldn’t, one that would bring immense pain. But, right now, she wanted to go to that forbidden place. As much as it would hurt when he left her again, this moment—his touch—would be worth the pain of losing him a second time.
Their lives were worlds apart, their desires for the future in completely different universes. But when they made love, that all vanished. There was only her and him, coming together in such a beautiful way that she couldn’t possibly resist.
Taking his time, he unbuttoned her blouse, slid it over her shoulders and down her arms. She shivered when he reached for the waistband of her jeans, which landed on the floor next to her blouse in no time. He urged her hands to do the same to him.
Button after button, she opened his shirt. When her palms slid over his smooth, warm skin, she shivered in anticipation. Her fingers fumbled with the closure of his jeans. He tried to help, but she pushed his hands away. She could do this.
She pushed his jeans and boxers down his thighs. He fumbled with shoes, finally got them off, then tugged the jeans and boxers free of his muscled legs.
As unladylike as it was, she couldn’t help staring at his body. She’d loved all that muscled terrain. Every single scar was dear to her. His time in the military had taken a physical and mental toll on him. But he’d survived. No man she’d ever met was as strong as Jonathan. Not nearly.
He lifted her into his arms and settled her on the bed. She gasped when he dragged her panties down her legs and off. He cuddled in close to her, allowing her to feel the desperation in his body. He wanted this just as much as she did.
As a nurse, she understood firsthand the importance of protection. But this was Jonathan. She didn’t want anything between them. He was far too responsible to risk himself or anyone else to unprotected sex if there was any danger.
She trusted him. She’d never trusted anyone the way she trusted him. With her body, her heart…her soul.
He kissed his way down her body, pleasuring her breasts with his lips and teeth. She gasped again and again. It had been so long. Three years. She hadn’t been with anyone else since they first met. He’d ruined her for anyone else.
His fingers traced her hips, slid between her thighs until they found that hot, damp place that throbbed with need for him and him alone.
As much as she wanted to revel in every sensation he elicited, she wanted him to feel those same wondrous sensations. She touched him everywhere. Kissed the scar on his forehead that had first brought them together. Then his broad, muscled shoulders. That strikingly taut abdomen. His tight buttocks. Lastly she wrapped her fingers around his large sex. She shivered, felt herself moving toward release before he’d even entered her.
It had been too long.
He nestled between her thighs, nudged his way inside, one thick inch at a time. She wrapped her legs around his, dug her fingers into his hot, smooth skin. By the time he’d filled her completely, she was too far gone to slow the spiraling sensations. Climax swirled and quaked through her. Before she’d caught her breath, he found a new way to take her back to that glittering edge of release.
His mouth, his fingers…all of him played her like a concert violinist touching those precious strings. He brought her to climax again and then again before succumbing to his own.
For long, long minutes after that, he lay beside her, holding her in his powerful arms.
He kissed her cheek, her earlobe. “You are so beautiful.”
She blushed. “Not so much.”
He smiled, his lips stretching against her skin, making her smile, too. “You should look in a mirror occasionally. I mean really look. You’re very beautiful.”
“And you’re very handsome.” It was true. More true than she’d wanted to admit these past three years. It had been easier to deny he’d been the man of her dreams than to own out loud the suffering she’d endured with the loss of him.
“We were good together.”
The words vibrated against her ear, making her heart ache. “We were.”
“I don’t want to hurt you again.”
She turned to him, studied those gorgeous eyes. An epiphany had dawned during their lovemaking. “You can’t hurt me that way again, Jonathan. That’s a once in a lifetime sort of pain. It’ll be hard when you go this time
, but it won’t ever hurt like that again.” Never.
The revelation appeared to startle him, but he didn’t draw away. He held her close as if he feared she would take off and he might never see her again.
He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t be what you needed me to be. What you deserved,” he explained. “I still can’t. You deserve better than me. As much as I want you, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”
She laughed softly. “That’s a cop-out, you know that, right?” Men always said that crap when they had commitment issues.
He smiled. “I guess it is.” He nuzzled her neck with his nose. “You were as close as I’ve ever come to that place.” He drew back, toyed with her hair. “As much as I hurt you by leaving, it would have been far worse for me to stay. I couldn’t bear seeing you suffer.”
She searched his face even as she looked for the truth in his words. “Do you still have the nightmares often?”
“Too often,” he confessed.
She had nightmares, too, only they were about coming home from work to find him gone.
“I should be stronger,” she admitted as long as they were confessing. “Giving in to this wasn’t such a smart thing to do in the long run.” Regret, she realized, had barged in, stealing the beauty of what they had just shared.
“You didn’t exactly drag me into your bed,” he reminded her. “I seem to recall carrying you into the room.”
Melissa laughed. For the first time in nearly a week, she just wanted to laugh. It felt good, chased away the agony for a few moments. “What do you do now?” She skimmed her fingers over his bruised abdomen. “Seems like a tough job.”
“It can be.” He left a trail of kisses down her belly. She shivered. “Investigative work. Nothing interesting.” Before she could ask any more questions he had her ready to climax yet again. She sank into the pleasure, drew him to that hot, fiery place right along with her. This time he couldn’t hold out so long—maybe because he’d missed her just as much as she’d missed him.
But he would never say as much.
He was far too secretive. Far too unbreakable.
She lured him to the shower for a few minutes more of mindless pleasure. This escape was only temporary, she knew, but she needed it so badly.
Afterwards, they dried their bodies and kissed some more. Then they ate. She hadn’t been hungry in days. But she was definitely hungry now. She’d barely touched the omelet he’d gone to the trouble of preparing earlier. Anything sounded good at the moment. Cheese and crackers and the chocolate cake a neighbor had brought over. In times of crisis, Southern neighbors always brought over food. It was tradition.
For a little while, Melissa enjoyed a reprieve from the misery that had overtaken all their lives just six days ago.
There was no one else she would rather have enjoyed that time with. But as the heat of their passion receded, the glare of reality filtered in.
He would leave.
She would be hurt again. And this time there’d be no one to blame but herself.
The telephone rang. Melissa went to answer it, but someone banged on the door before she reached the phone. Confusion lining her brow, she moved to the door and checked the window.
Chief Talbot.
That old, ugly fear whipped through her, making her shake as she opened the door. “Chief.” She wanted to ask if there was news, but the words wouldn’t form on her tongue.
The news was bad. His face told the tale before he had an opportunity to say the words.
“Has there been a new development?” Jonathan asked, moving up beside her at the door.
The chief braced a hand against the door frame as if the news he had to pass was too heavy a burden to manage without support.
“It’s Harry,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically faint. “He’s in the hospital.”
A new kind of fear ignited inside Melissa. “Heart attack?” She’d worried about that. She’d known he was having trouble handling the building tension and worry. Dear God, she should have seen this coming and done something.
Chief Talbot shook his head. “I’m sorry, Melissa, but he…” A weary sigh escaped his lips “He apparently attempted to kill himself.”
“What?” Not Harry. He would never do that. “That can’t be right,” she argued.
“I’m afraid so. He left a note saying he was sorry.”
Her uncle had tried to commit suicide? He’d left a note? That was impossible. He wouldn’t leave them this way.
“William is at the hospital with him now.” The chief shook his head. “He’s in grave condition, Melissa. The prognosis isn’t good.”
She didn’t remember getting into the car. The next thing she knew she and Jonathan were on the way to the hospital. A neighbor had come to stay with Presley and to field any calls to the house.
Melissa closed her eyes. She couldn’t take any more. The idea of losing Polly was horrendous enough, but not Harry, too.
This couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday, May 30th, 8:01 a.m.
Jonathan stood in the corridor of the Intensive Care Unit. Melissa had been allowed in Harry Shepherd’s cubicle for ten minutes every three hours.
They’d been up all night.
Melissa refused to leave the hospital. William had rejoined the search for his daughter at daybreak this morning. Presley, his wife, was in the care of friends of the Shepherd family.
At this point, no one was considered safe from whatever was going on. Three men had been murdered, assuming Harper’s death hadn’t been an accident, and Harry Shepherd appeared to have attempted suicide.
Since the forensics wasn’t back yet and despite the two word note he’d left, an official conclusion could not be reached. There was a chance someone had wanted his death to look like a suicide.
No matter that Jonathan’s instincts leaned toward the idea that the man had wanted to take his own life, he wasn’t taking any chances. He would not allow Melissa out of his sight. Leaving the hospital without her was out of the question.
The team dragging the river had called off the search at dark last night, but had resumed this morning for a final go over. Polly had not been found. Jonathan felt a massive sense of relief at that news. Melissa’s family had just about reached their limit on bad news.
He closed his eyes and let the memory of last evening’s lovemaking whisper through his mind. Most of his adult life had been spent focused on his career. Women came and went with the job and the location. No one had ever managed to keep a hunk of his heart.
The idea rattled him hard. He didn’t try to push it away. It was the truth and that was the one ideal he’d always clung to. Truth, honor, courage, those words meant a great deal to him. Honestly, three years ago Melissa hadn’t needed a man like him, nor did she now. Emotionally, he was a mess.
The military had done that for him. Not the military, really, but the powers that be. The ones who had made the final decisions, based more on political gain than on the greater good. All the while he’d watched his men die, the powers that be were finagling a new deal—one which negated the operation for which those men had given their lives.
Jonathan had sworn that he would never commit on an emotional level to anyone besides himself after that. He did his job, completed his assignments and went home—wherever home proved to be. There would be no attachments.
Then he’d met Melissa.
Bit by tiny bit, she’d taken a part of him. She’d given of herself completely, unconditionally and unrestrained. And he hadn’t been able to cut it. He’d left her hanging by her heart.
He didn’t deserve her forgiveness and he damned sure hadn’t deserved her trust the way she’d given it last night. Hurting her again was the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe, just maybe, if he helped bring her niece back home safely, he would have earned all that Melissa had given him.
Finding Polly alive might just be impossible. But he had to try. For the
child and for Melissa.
As if his thoughts had summoned her, Melissa appeared in the corridor. She looked tired and desperate for relief. Still she was so beautiful, Jonathan’s chest ached. He’d never known anyone as beautiful, inside and out, as she was.
“How is he?” Only immediate family was allowed to see the patient or to be informed of his progress.
“He’s still in a coma.” Melissa brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek with the back of her hand. “The chances of him surviving without massive brain damage are…” her voice broke “…practically nonexistent.”
Jonathan didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “I wish there was something I could do.”
She held on to him, making him ache all the more for his helplessness. “I don’t understand why he did this.” She drew back and shook her head. “He’s not the sort of man to do such a thing. I know he’s devastated by Polly’s disappearance, but we all are.”
She swiped at her damp cheeks. “I can’t even begin to accurately gauge how William must feel. And Presley.” She shrugged. “Uncle Harry has always been a rock. I don’t understand.”
Jonathan needed to get her out of here for a while. She was exhausted, but there were people he wanted to see, questions he needed to ask. “You need a break.”
She looked back toward her uncle’s room. “I don’t know about leaving.”
“They have your number, right?” He slowly ushered her toward the elevator.
A hesitant nod was her only response.
“They’ll call if there’s any change.” Since there was little chance of Harry waking up, her vigil here wouldn’t help him. But there were things they could be doing to help find Polly.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Your uncle would want us working on finding Polly.” Jonathan didn’t know the man very well but he felt certain that was the case. “I’ve been thinking about a couple of scenarios the chief may have overlooked.”
The elevator doors slid open and they stepped inside, thankfully alone.
“You have?”
She looked at him with such desperation, it clawed at his chest. He nodded, not sure of his own voice just now.
