Chardy Walker Lieb

by The Saint

  So much at stake, he reminded himself. O’Shea's trust. Templeton's take down. And Courtney. With each risk accounted for and every emotion in perspective, Jake left the wet towel along with his dampened spirit right where they belonged–in the toilet.

  Courtney stomach growled. Still nervous, she sidestepped Jake as he came from the bathroom. "Shouldn't our food be here by now?"

  A loud knock on the door saved Jake from fumbling for an answer. He checked the peephole about the same time a voice called out, "Room service."

  Jake shut his mouth long enough to open the door. I'll be damned, he thought, stepping aside while a uniformed waiter wheeled a white tableclothed cart into the room. After tipping the man and seeing him out, Jake struggled, tongue-in-cheek, to keep from busting a gut. Instead, he did the next best thing. He lied.

  Taking every bit of credit for O’Shea's quick thinking, Jake said, "I hope you're hungry."

  Leave it to the lieutenant to come through like the cavalry, Jake thought, unable to hide his obvious respect for the older man. O’Shea had instinctively read the situation over the phone and called the hotel's room service to bail out Ciora. Jake had to hand it to the boss on this one–he was one sharp sonofa–

  "Tell me I'm not going to find rabbit food under here," Courtney teased before lifting one of the polished silver lids. The fabulous aroma had her mouth watering, and the steak she uncovered curved her already receptive lips into a smile.

  Figures, Jake thought, with a nod. O’Shea's not only smart as hell, but he's about as subtle as a sledgehammer. Eyeing the meal, Jake figured the red meat must be pay back time for the last time he'd ordered lunch for him and O’Shea. Jake had never seen a guy spit tofu, or anything else, quite that far in his entire life. Grade school included.

  All recriminations were off the moment Jake spotted the look on Courtney's face when she noticed the two white candles and the long-stemmed red rose. Evidently Jake wasn't the only one Brian could read.

  You dog, O’Shea.

  Jake shoved the cart next to the small table in the corner, then pulled out one of the chairs and offered it to Courtney. After she was seated, he transferred their meal from the cart, lit the candles and dimmed the light.

  Sitting across from Courtney, the past six years vanished into thin air. And yet they didn't. This was not the sweet, young college girl he'd been so hot to date. Never mind that he'd had nothing but hard luck his whole life. He'd had no job. No plans. No direction.

  But he had wanted her.

  Courtney had not only blossomed into a beautiful woman, all softness and curves, but she had the brains and spunk to back up every bit of it.

  If he hadn't believed it before today, he believed it now–tomorrow was promised to no one. So, for this evening, the pleasure of sharing dinner with Courtney was about all he could ask out of life.

  The shadows cast by the flickering candlelight played off the planes and angles of Jake's face. How could she know such a handsome face so well? And not at all. Even after all these years, his strong jaw still matched his will, and his penetrating eyes mirrored his…integrity? Is that what she saw? Or simply what she wanted to see?

  Either way, tonight was all she had. Whether or not Jake Ciora was the man she had always hoped him to be or Jake Deluka was the guy she feared him to be–both seemed immaterial. That wake up call she received in the insidious form of a death threat had made one thing very clear. Sometimes you just have to live for the moment. And right now that is exactly what she intended to do.

  Jake watched Courtney fuss with the table settings and uncover all the dishes. Even at the dinner table, her efficiency was as evident as it had been in her work. Capable. Competent. Concise.

  During the course of the meal, Courtney painstakingly traded every spear of broccoli and part of her salad for the uneaten half of Jake's steak.

  Preferring his dinner roll plain, Jake gave Courtney his butter.

  She smothered her baked potato with Jake's extra butter, a mound of sour cream and bacon bits.

  Jake's usual dash of salt and freshly ground pepper topped his.

  She ate both pieces of the chocolate cheesecake.

  He ate the fresh pears.

  Both drank one glass of red wine with dinner.

  Jake's coffee was decaf; Courtney's was fully charged with cream and two sugars.

  Jake tossed down his napkin and shoved his plate aside. "Answer one question."

  The twinkle in his eyes intrigued her. "Shoot."

  He pointed to her empty plate. "Why don’t you weigh more?"

  Courtney pushed away from the table and laughed. "Metabolism, I guess." She shrugged. "Hey, don't roll your eyes. Besides, I don't eat like this every day."

  Unpretentious and honest. How long had it been since Jake had met a woman like that? Six years? Regardless, she certainly was a breath of fresh air.

  "By the way, the flower and the candles were a nice touch," Courtney admitted.

  Okay, O’Shea, I owe you a six-pack.

  "Under the circumstances, I figured you could use a little cheering up." No doubt about it–he was going to hell for taking the credit for this.

  Courtney sighed. "Well, I’ve had better days."

  "I'm sure you have." Jake wondered what her life had been like since he had seen her last. She'd graduated from college. Started her own business. Fallen in love? With Barry? How, he wondered, had her days and nights been with old Barry? Not too good–back then–if they ended up divorced. Not too good–now–since she hadn't broken her neck to call him. Jake's smile faded when he thought about Courtney having had a child with Montgomery, or any other man.

  "How's your daughter?" He hadn’t been able to see her features that well at the park, so Jake studied Courtney's familiar face and wondered if her child had inherited her mom's great looks. Big blue eyes. Long, shiny hair. Sweet smile.

  Courtney stood. Discussing Janey was out of the question. Especially with Jake. "She's fine." She started stacking the plates until his hand snaked across the table and snagged her wrist. Willing herself to meet his dark gaze, she waited for him to release his grip, then pointedly changed the subject. "How about you?" Courtney held his gaze. "Does this death threat type of thing happen often in your line of work?"

  He watched her nearly choke on the words and wished she had. He really didn't want to go there any more than she apparently didn't want to talk about her daughter. "No, it doesn't."

  "Really?" She cocked her head. "I'm surprised."

  Jake sensed she was fishing for something. But what? "Why would that surprise you?"

  "I don't know," she hedged. "Maybe just because you handled everything so well. You were so thorough. Knew just what to do. I just figured you must have done it quite a bit, that's all."

  Okay, now he understood where she was going. "Nope." He could almost see the wheels turning as she disregarded his answer.

  Courtney recognized a load of crap when she heard one. If Jake didn't want to open up, that suited her just fine. She shoved her disappointment aside, figuring the less she knew, the better. She checked her watch. "I can't believe it's after eleven already."

  "I guess we should call it a night." Jake handed Courtney the bud vase, then pushed the cart into the hall. He closed the door and locked the dead bolt.

  She sniffed the tender bloom and nodded. "Tomorrow will very likely be a long day."

  He didn't want to discuss Templeton with her, so he made eye contact and deliberately untucked his shirt, slowly pulling it from his pants. "Why's that?"

  "I'm obviously going to try and wrap up my work as soon as possible." Courtney set the rose on the dresser and caught his reflection in the mirror. Saw his strong, agile fingers scale his shirtfront like they were playing an arpeggio.

  "In light of what happened today." It wasn't a question.

  "Uh huh." She cleared her throat, hoping at least words would come out next time she opened her mouth. Gaze glued to the glass, she watched him unbuckle h
is belt. What was he thinking? Oh, my. What was he thinking? "You mind doing that in the bathroom?"

  Jake shrugged. "Whatever."

  When he didn't make an attempt to move, she hurried past him and snagged her pajamas from the closet. "Me first," she announced.

  Jake grinned. That sure as hell put an end to her questions.

  Less than ten minutes later, Courtney came out.

  Jake frowned. How in God's name could those look so sexy? Impossible.

  They had long legs.

  So did she.

  And long arms.

  So did she.

  And covered every inch between her ankles and her neck.

  So had he.

  This time Jake cleared his throat and stalked past, heading straight for the shower. Cold water. And lots of it. That should do the trick.

  Courtney walked to the window and parted the blinds. For all intents and purposes she could be anywhere in Chicago. So why didn't she feel uneasy? Why did being here with Jake only make her feel safe?

  Confused, she flipped off the light and hopped into the bed farthest from the door. She pulled the covers underneath her chin and stared out the window. Certain sleep would never come, she let her mind wander.

  Courtney's first thoughts were always of Janey. Her heart ached, remembering what life had been like growing up without a father. She vividly remembered swearing her children would never know that pain, but she had passed it on to Janey like a bad gene. Maybe, for Janey's sake, she should have tried harder to make her marriage to Barry work. But it wouldn't have, she thought sadly. For so many different reasons. The main one, she admitted–only this once and only to herself–was probably standing in the shower right now.

  Her melancholy thoughts turned to Uncle Brian. And Templeton. Her plan. Everything she needed to do tomorrow, formulated in her mind. Everything except Jake. How he factored into this little equation was still a mystery to her.

  On one hand, he worked for Templeton. He was obviously in the organization up to his eyeballs. So why wasn't she frightened of him, or at the very least, uncomfortable in his presence? She was terrified of Dirk and definitely uncomfortable around Eddie. Why not Jake? And not just at work or riding in his car. Why wasn't she scared to death to be in this hotel room with him?

  Because she knew him? That didn't wash. Their history together might as well have been a lifetime time ago. Because O’Shea knew she was there? Big deal. Tonight O’Shea was a good forty-five minutes away. If she could make the call.

  Maybe a better question was why did being with Jake still feel so damned right? Because Jake Ciora had gone beyond the line of duty. For her? Because he had intervened with both Dirk and Eddie on her behalf? Because he had refused to leave her tonight? Or should those very reasons make her more cautious, not less suspicious?

  Courtney's head was spinning. She gave up for the night. Now if Jake would just come out, maybe she could actually get some sleep. Good Lord, how long did it take to slip into a pair of pajamas? Not that he had any. Whoa, Nelly! Where on earth had that come from? Never mind. Doesn't matter. Don't want to know.

  The moment the bathroom door opened, Courtney shut her eyes. Even in the dark she didn't want them open. And she'd bet Jake knew that. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she figured he had probably embarrassed her on purpose–just to shut her up.

  Making his way through the pitch-black room, Jake stubbed his toe on the nightstand. "Dammit," he whispered, grabbing his throbbing foot and hopping the rest of the way to the bed on the other.

  Eyes still shut, Courtney stifled a giggle, certain now she could get to sleep. Some things happened, if for no other reason, than to even the score.

  CHAPTER 5

  >Frantic. Perched on the edge of her seat, Courtney fought overwhelming panic as she sat in Templeton's office and waited. Without interruption, she had successfully downloaded the information O’Shea needed. Now, in a race for time, she watched the red percentage bar ascend.

  Seventy-five percent had been copied… Eighty… "Come on," she whispered to the monitor. Sweat prickled at the nape of her neck, trickling between

  her knotted shoulder blades. Footsteps in the hallway. Hurry, she pleaded silently, hands clasped together, prayer-like and white knuckled. Ninety

  percent complete . . .

  Muffled conversation.

  The red bar inched to ninety-three . . . The footsteps stopped outside her door. Courtney held her breath. Ninety-five percent . . . The knob turned. Her heart stopped. Dirk Templeton stormed into the room and pulled the plug on her computer. He pointed a long

  barreled gun squarely between her eyes, cocked it and sneered. Rounding the desk, he backed her into the corner. "Looks like Daddy's little girl is a regular chip off the old block!" he raged.

  "Nooo!" In a blind fury, Courtney swung at the gun. She punched and gouged. Felt her fingernails, as well as one foot, connect and heard him swear. His hands were on her now. She could feel him holding her down. Pinning her. Restraining her.

  "Dammit, Courtney, don't fight me."

  The sobs she heard were her own, but the words…his words had changed. No longer threatening, they sounded soft and gentle.

  "Courtney, look at me."

  She opened her eyes.

  The dark room was not Dirk's office.

  The man she struggled against was not Templeton.

  She flung herself into Jake's arms. "Oh, God." Just as quickly, she jumped back, still disoriented. Kneeling in the middle of a tangle of sheets and blankets, she held him at arm's length and looked around.

  The first rays of morning barely illuminated the rumpled bed across from hers. A hotel room, she remembered. Because of the death threat someone left in her car. Trembling, she turned to Jake–no questions asked.

  He pulled her close. "Shhh," he murmured, stroking her hair. "You had a bad dream, that's all."

  Courtney's heart still pounded so hard in her ears she could hardly make sense of what he had said. A nightmare? That's all it had been? Sobbing, she clung to Jake's solid frame. "A nightmare," she repeated out loud through grateful tears.

  "Yes," Jake assured her, not at all surprised by her reaction. The after-shock from something as frightening as a death threat wasn't at all uncommon. He always felt it was the victim's mind's way of exorcising a traumatic experience. Maybe now, she could make it through the next day or so, and then get the hell out of this mess. Without thinking, he kissed the top of her head.

  Courtney felt the sweet gesture and lifted her chin. Sighing softly, she pressed her lips to his. Comfort, she told herself. That, and her overwhelming need to thank him. For everything. For nothing. Or, maybe just for being there.

  Somehow she had come to count on him. And for whatever reason, he had been there for her. Trouble was, relying on other people was not what she was about. Courtney had never leaned on anyone.

  Life, for her, had been a succession of challenges. She had met each one without question, and more importantly, without help. Until now. For some strange reason, Jake had taken it upon himself to systematically prop her up through this entire ordeal. Why? It didn't make sense. After all, he worked for Templeton. Jake Ciora, or Deluka, or whatever he called himself just didn't add up.

  The man might be an enigma, but right now, still warm with sleep–his soft mouth on hers–Courtney simply did not care. Or maybe, just maybe, she still did.

  Jake stroked her back, the smooth, satin material of her pajamas sliding beneath his hand. Her soft sigh almost went undetected, but when he heard it, something shifted deep inside. Something that hadn't moved in what felt like a lifetime.

  Her sweet-smelling hair, so familiar against his cheek took him back in time. To an uncomplicated place. A dreamy spot that once you left, you could never return to–except, maybe in your memories. He felt her lean back, if only for a moment, to look at him.

  Jake ran his thumb over Courtney's tear-stained cheek. She was vulnerable and frightened. The perf
ect combination, if you were that kind of man. And, on occasion, during the past six years, he had been. Not something he was proud of, simply something he couldn't undo. But that didn't mean he would do it

  again, because he wouldn't.

  When her lips covered his, Jake fought the years of unbridled passion that struggled inside him. He tightened the rein on his desires, offering Courtney, instead, the compassion and tenderness she needed and deserved.

  One kiss. A small token of respect. Or was it a huge symbol that sealed his fate for eternity? Either way, the deed was done. Their lips had met. Their hearts had touched. And their lives would never be the same again.

  Jake was first to pull away. He did so–slowly and carefully–not wanting her to feel rejected.

  "Would you like a glass of water?" He hugged her and waited until he felt her nod before leaving her side.

  Courtney swiped both cheeks, then raked nervous fingers through her hair. She watched Jake reenter the room and flip on the floor lamp before handing her the drink. After a much-needed gulp, she smiled.

  "Wow, no more sleep for me." When he returned her shaky grin she relaxed and added, "Maybe ever."

  "You'll be fine," he assured her.

  All she could do now was hope he was right. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get going early."

  "No problem." Reaching out, he took the glass and set it aside before helping her off the bed.

  The gesture was so simple. He'd offered his hand. Why did such an unpretentious courtesy make her want to cry? Nerves, she reasoned, stubbornly blinking back the tears. This whole episode had been fraught with emotion, and it was far from over. But that certainly didn't mean she had to give in to her sentimentality.

  Head held high, she gathered her new clothes from the closet and headed for the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway and hesitated but didn't turn.

  "By the way, Jake," she began, "nice boxers." And they were. Somehow silk, like denim, suited him to a tee. His low rumble of laughter was the last thing she heard before closing the door behind her. ** Swerving through pre-rush hour traffic, Jake made one stop on their drive to Templeton Enterprises.