Flash Point

by Metsy Hingle

  “No, you like everything neat and tidy, don’t you?” he countered, a hint of that temper surfacing again.

  “Yes,” she admitted, and walked over to the table where she’d left her juice glass. She picked it up and carried it to the counter by the bar.

  Jack followed. “You know what I think?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” she said, unwilling to allow him to intimidate her.

  “I think the reason that you’ve always got your face stuck behind that camera is because you don’t want people to notice you. In fact, I think that’s what you were counting on happening with me. Only it didn’t work because I did notice you. I noticed you ten years ago when you were still a kid, and I noticed you again the minute I came through that door more than a week ago,” he said, jabbing a finger toward the entryway. He moved closer, boxed her in at the counter by placing his arms on either side of her. “I also think that I scared the hell out of you Saturday night when I told you I had feelings for you.”

  “You’re wrong,” she told him, even though her heart pounded in her chest. He was close, so close she could smell him—the scent of woods and pine and outdoors.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes,” she insisted, barely recognizing the breathy sound of her own voice.

  Jack lowered his head a fraction until his mouth was poised just inches above her own. “Liar,” he whispered, his breath warm and moist against her lips.

  The blood simmered in her veins as she anticipated the feel of his mouth. Only he didn’t kiss her. He waited. Watched and waited. He wasn’t going to seduce her or make the first move, she realized. Jack wanted her, but he wanted the decision to be hers. “Jack.” She said his name like a prayer, felt a trembling in her knees.

  “Don’t be afraid, Kelly.”

  She wasn’t afraid. She was terrified. But what terrified her most was that he might walk out and she would never have known even once what it would be like to be with him.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he promised.

  Oh, but he would hurt her. Kelly was sure that he would. Yet she was so tired of being alone, of trying to play it safe. Just this once, she promised herself. Just this once she would take for herself, give him what little she had in her to give. So it was she who closed the distance between them. It was she who lifted her mouth and kissed him.

  Jack groaned. Or maybe it was her. She could never be sure. All she knew was that his mouth was hot and wet and thrilling. She could drown in his kisses, she thought, and hadn’t realized she’d said the words aloud until Jack chuckled.

  “No drowning allowed. Not when there is so much I want to do to you, with you.” He reached for the belt of her robe, untied it. Kelly’s breath hitched as he parted the folds of her robe, found her naked beneath. His eyes darkened to steel. She quivered as his hands skimmed her bare shoulders, down her arms, then sent the robe into a heap at her feet. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You.” She managed to get out the word from a throat that had gone desert dry. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

  “That’s good,” he told her as he scooped her up into his arms and headed for the bedroom. “Because I want my hands on you.” He placed her on the bed and, never taking his eyes off of hers, pulled off his jacket, tossed it to the floor. His shirt and tie followed. “And I want your hands on me.”

  And she wanted her hands on him, too, she admitted as he kicked off his shoes and joined her on the bed. He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, the tip of her chin, her lips. When he nipped her lower lip, she opened to him and he took the kiss deeper. The blood hummed in her veins as his fingers skimmed the side of her ribs. She tore her mouth free, nearly cried out when he closed his palms over her breasts. His hands were rough and callused against her softer skin. And Kelly thought she might die from the pleasure.

  Her head was still swimming and her body pulsing beneath his touch when he began to kiss his way down her neck, along the slope of her shoulder. Changing direction, he made his way to the base of her throat and moved lower. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect,” Jack murmured, and laved first one nipple, then the other with his tongue. When he closed his mouth over the tip of her breast, Kelly arched her back and forgot to breathe.

  “Jack,” she panted.

  Lost in the sensation of his mouth on her body, Kelly reached for him. She smoothed her palms over his shoulders, thrilled at the ripple of muscles and corded sinew beneath her fingertips. He wanted her with a fierceness that should have frightened her, but excited her instead. With her defenses down, there was no blocking out what he was feeling.

  He wanted her.

  Jack’s desire for her flooded Kelly’s senses, fed the need building inside her. But it was the tenderness, along with his violent need, that disarmed her completely. She closed her eyes, gave in to the pleasure of having his hands and mouth on her body. It had been years since a man had touched her like this, wanted her like this.

  Not since Garrett had she dared to allow herself to be with a man. But not even for Garrett, a man whom she had believed herself in love with, had she ever felt an ache like this, a passion so powerful.

  And what happens when he’s repulsed by you as Garrett was?

  Suddenly that disastrous last meeting with Garrett when she’d confronted him with his lies came flooding back.

  Frigid. Freak.

  Garrett’s words punched through her desire-riddled senses. She couldn’t bare to see that revulsion in Jack’s eyes. To have him see her that way, to have him shrink from her touch.

  As though he could read her thoughts, Jack caught her chin. “Open your eyes and look at me, Kelly.” When she did as he commanded, there was no mistaking the seriousness in those blue eyes. “There’s no room in this bed for ghosts. I want you more than I want my next breath. But I won’t share you. So if you don’t feel the same way, tell me now.”

  “I do feel the same way. And there’s no one else. It’s just that I’m not very good at this. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  Jack caught her hand, brought her fingers to his lips. “The only way you could disappoint me is if you let fear make you push me away. Do you want me to stop?”

  “No,” she whispered, and it was the truth.

  “Then tell me what you want.”

  “You. I want you,” she said, and reached for his belt.

  Heat flashed in his eyes. Quickly he helped her finish disposing of his slacks and briefs. And when he joined her on the bed again, he linked his fingers with hers. He kissed her. Slowly. Gently. Stringing one kiss into another and another still. Each kiss just a little deeper, just a little bit hungrier.

  He nipped at her jaw, her breasts, drew a line with his tongue to her belly, setting off a thousand explosions of heat with his mouth. He made her want. He made her ache. Need became a painful beast gnawing at her belly. She reached for him, wanting him to fill her and put an end to this terrible craving.

  “No, not yet,” he growled. “I want you to take. And when you’ve taken everything and think you couldn’t possibly take more, then you’ll take again—with me.”

  She reached for him, but he was already moving down her body, and before she could protest, his fingers were parting her. At the touch of his mouth, she lifted her hips and cried out, “Jack!”

  She struggled to resist, to hold back a piece of herself, a piece of her soul, fearful of ever allowing anyone to touch her that way again. But with each flick of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth, she felt herself losing the battle. Suddenly the first orgasm took her, spinning her world out of control. Stars exploded around her, in her, as he took her up again. And again. And again.

  “Take it, Kelly,” he urged her.

  She took. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Tears of amazement. Of pleasure. Of embarrassment at her greed. And with the tremors still shuddering through her, she reached for him. “Jack, please.”

  His eyes went nearly black. And this time when he took her mo
uth, he ravaged it. She could taste herself, taste him. His scent filled her head, overpowered her senses. She gripped the covers in her fists and arched her hips, pleaded with him with her body.

  When he tore his mouth free and moved between her thighs, his voice was whiskey-rough as he said, “Look at me, Kelly.”

  Kelly looked at him. She read the questions in his eyes, felt them swimming in the savage need that had him in its grip. No room for ghosts, he’d told her. He wanted no one in the bed with them. Only her and him.

  “Only you, Jack. Only you,” she said, letting him know it was only him she was thinking of, that no one had ever made her feel the things he’d made her feel.

  “Only me,” he repeated, and entered her in one swift thrust.

  Kelly gasped as he filled her. He linked their hands once more. His eyes, so blue, so brilliant, remained locked with hers. And then all she could do was feel. The weight of him. The heat of him. The strength and tenderness of him. She moved with him, marveled at this dance they’d engaged in together.

  And as the tempo quickened, as she felt the pressure begin to build inside her once more, the last small vestige of resistance begin to slip. Only instead of fighting that loss of control and protecting herself, this time Kelly let it go. She opened herself to Jack completely. She matched him stroke for stroke, moved in rhythm as one until she felt the world tremble beneath them before bursting into a thousand pieces.

  And as Kelly felt herself being consumed by the brilliant flashes, she heard Jack shout her name before following her into the sea of exploding lights.

  Thirteen

  Jack lay in the bed with Kelly still in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, her legs tangled with his. A fantasy come true, he thought with a smile. He pressed a kiss to her head. “I’ve imagined you here like this at least a dozen times,” he confessed.

  “I know,” she murmured sleepily.

  “Guess I wasn’t too subtle, huh?”

  “Not really,” she said, and yawned.

  She looked so beautiful, he thought as he gazed at her. In the dim light of the room, her pale hair shimmered like gold silk across his shoulder and down her arm. Even her skin seemed to have a glow, and those legs that he’d fantasized about were even longer than he’d dreamed. A smile curved his lips as he imagined several ways he’d like to see those long, lean legs wrapped around him when they made love again.

  “I don’t think that’s anatomically possible.”

  He chuckled at her remark. “Go to sleep,” he told her, gently planting another kiss to her temple. She needed to rest, he reasoned, and Jack contented himself just to hold her. But now that his body was sated by their lovemaking, he became aware of other needs—namely his stomach. He’d skipped dinner and had only munched on cocktail party food earlier in the evening, and as a result, he was now starving. A glance at the bedside clock revealed it was well past midnight. Was there anything in the minibar worth raiding? he wondered.

  “Just some stale crackers and cheese,” she mumbled.

  “What?”

  Kelly went stiff beside him. She scrambled to sit up. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked, confused.

  “I didn’t mean to do that. I swear I didn’t,” she told him, fumbling to hold the sheet up around her. Her eyes were wide with horror and looked huge in her pale face.

  Jack sat up, and when she tried to put more distance between them, he caught her by the arms, held her in place. “Damn it, Kelly. You’re not making any sense. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I looked inside you. I picked up on your thoughts,” she said, shame coloring her voice. “I never meant to. I swear I didn’t, but I was feeling relaxed and was half asleep and…and it just happened.”

  “Okay,” he said, easing his grip on her but not allowing her to pull away from him. “So if the minibar’s no good, how do you feel about me ordering room service?” He thought about the town gossips, knew they’d have a field day if they got wind of him being there with Kelly. He didn’t care for himself, but she was another matter. “If it would embarrass you to have the hotel staff discover me here, I could go out and pick up something for us and take the service elevator back up.”

  She gave him a baffled look. “Aren’t you angry?”

  “Why? Because you took a peek inside my brain?”

  “That’s not exactly what happened, but yes. Don’t you mind?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “Because it’s not right to go nosing around into someone else’s thoughts that way.”

  “Says who?”

  She didn’t answer.

  But Jack knew from her expression that she was thinking of him again—the guy whose ghost had intruded earlier before they’d made love. The realization didn’t please him at all and made him more determined to chase all thoughts of any man but him from her thoughts for good. “I’m not him, Kelly.”

  Her eyes shot to his. “Who?”

  “Whoever the jerk is that did such a number on you.”

  “I’ve made you angry. I’m sorry.”

  “Quit apologizing, dammit.” Irritated with himself for losing his cool, he tried to rein in his temper. “You’re right. I am angry with you—but not because you happened to take a look inside me and read what I was thinking. I’m angry with you for confusing me with the asshole who hurt you and made you think what you did was wrong. I’m not him, Kelly.”

  “I know that.”

  “And from now on anytime you want to take a peek inside me, you go right ahead.”

  She stared at him, wide-eyed and wary. She shook her head.

  “Why not? I can think of several advantages to having you know what I’m thinking.”

  She looked at him as though he’d lost his mind.

  “In fact, the more I think about it, the better I like the idea. So why don’t you come over here and take a look inside me right now, then you can let me know how you feel about trying what I’m thinking the two of us could do,” he suggested. Tugging the sheet from her fingers, he pulled her back down onto the bed and leaned over her.

  “Jack,” she began, that same wariness in her voice that was in her eyes.

  Because he wanted to erase all traces of that wariness away he took her mouth. He kissed her—deep, hard, hungrily, wanting to wipe everything and everyone from her thoughts but him. When he lifted his head, he was breathing hard. So was she. Her eyes fluttered open.

  “This is insane,” she whispered. But the fear was gone from her eyes now and her body was slick and hot with need. “You’re insane,” she accused, even as she arched her hips against his hand as he readied her.

  “Only about you,” he said before driving himself into her heat.

  And as he began to move inside her, she clung to him, made those little whimpering sounds that fed his own hunger. When she bit his shoulder, he groaned. She met him, stride for stride. And when he increased the pace, she wrapped her legs around him, took him in even deeper—just as he had fantasized. Then he couldn’t think at all as he took them both over the edge.

  “Want some more milk?” Jack asked her.

  “No thanks,” she said, still unable to believe she was sitting in her hotel room at four o’clock in the morning eating pizza with Jack Callaghan after making love half the night. Kelly’s heart kicked at the sight of him. Barechested, wearing the black slacks he’d arrived in earlier that evening and nothing else, he stood by the counter pouring himself a glass of milk. God, but the man looked liked Brad Pitt with a Tom Cruise smile, she thought. Realizing that she was practically drooling, Kelly dragged her gaze away from him and stared at the pizza on her plate.

  “So what did you think of Mother’s party?”

  “It was nice,” she told him, although she’d felt out of place there. She also couldn’t help measuring herself against Alicia Van Owen. The woman was everything she was not—beautiful, sophisticated, accomplished. She was much more suitable for Jack than she was.
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br />   Jack placed his glass of milk on the coffee table and returned to his seat on the floor adjacent to her. “In other words, you were bored out of your mind.”

  “No,” Kelly assured him. “Really, I wasn’t. Your mother was a very gracious hostess. I liked her.”

  “She liked you, too,” he said as he reached for the last slice of pizza. “But be forewarned, she’s going to hit you up for a donation to one of her charities.”

  “She already did.” At his surprise, she explained, “Apparently you mentioned my photos to her, so I’m donating some pieces for a benefit for St. Ann’s.”

  He winced. “Do you mind?”

  “Not really. I’m glad I can help. After all, it was my home for a long time.”

  He scooped up a dollop of the tomato sauce off the plate with his finger. “Peter said you asked him to recommend a private detective. Does it have anything to do with that DNA test and you being related to Gilbert’s killer?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what exactly it is about, are you?”

  “No, at least not yet. Not until I’m sure.”

  He paused a moment, then said, “All right—for now.”

  “Jack—”

  “You going to eat the rest of that?”

  Caught off guard that he didn’t press her, Kelly looked down at the half-eaten slice of room service pizza on the plate in front of her. “No, I’m stuffed.”

  “In that case,” he began, and snatched the gooey cheese-and-pepperoni slice from her plate.

  He grinned, that devastating grin that made her stomach dip each time he aimed it in her direction. “My mother always said it was a sin to let good food go to waste,” he claimed and proceeded to polish it off.

  “Somehow I doubt that your mother had hotel pizza in mind when she issued that particular rule.”

  “True,” he conceded with a laugh. “She laid down that particular law when I was ten and turned up my nose to the caviar she’d put on my plate at a party.”

  “Picky, weren’t you?” she teased.