Sooner or Later

by Debbie Macomber

  “I don’t?”

  “Trust me, sweetheart, you’re nothing like your mother.”

  In essence he was telling her what a cold fish she was, which was as great an insult as the other. Letty bristled but refused to argue with him. She couldn’t very well confess how weak he made her feel. To do so would be handing him a weapon he was sure to use against her. So she held her head high, battled down the emotion, and said nothing.

  “So that was what worried you?” He didn’t seem to require a response. His eyes glowed in the dark night, his anger replaced with silent amusement.

  “I regret having tricked you.” She felt she owed him that much. “Telling you about my mother doesn’t condone what I did, but I hope it explains why.”

  “Does it?”

  “I…we have a long way to travel together, and I think it’s important to air this once and for all. You’re right, I lied and I cheated you. You have every reason for being angry. If it’s any consolation, I deeply regret it. You’ve been more than fair with me. I can only imagine what would have happened to me alone. I am sorry, Murphy.”

  “Enough to give yourself to me the way we agreed?”

  She glared at him. “Does everything boil down to sex with you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Don’t you think you’re being just a little ridiculous about all this?”

  “Hardly. I named my price, you agreed. What else is there to discuss?”

  The man was unreasonable. “It was a contemptible thing to ask of me. You’re little more than a stranger.”

  “You were willing to trust me with your life.”

  “I needed your help. I still do. How was I to know what kind of person you are?”

  “Rationalize it all you want, sweetheart, but the bottom line is that you cheated me. You sold yourself to me for a price. The terms were set, and you agreed. All I’m asking is for what’s due me.” His anger was woven into each syllable.

  “I agreed in order to save my brother’s life.”

  “Sugarcoat this any way you want, but that doesn’t change the facts.”

  “But I didn’t cheat you, not entirely—”

  “True,” he interrupted, “you defrauded your way out of it. Tell me, does that make everything better?”

  Letty bristled at the harshness in his voice. “All right, so you want your pound of flesh, and you’ll have it.” It did no good to reason this out. Not with Murphy and his one-track mind. She’d hoped that explaining her past, laying the pain of her fears at his feet, would dent his hard-ass attitude. She should have known better, should have left matters well enough alone.

  “You’re going to agree?”

  “Yes,” she all but shouted.

  “When?”

  “Right now.” She stood, and the boat wobbled precariously from side to side. Ignoring the danger she’d be putting them in if she capsized the small vessel, she jerked the elastic-necked blouse over her head and tossed it aside.

  “Letty, sit down.” He hissed the words between clenched teeth.

  “Not until the agreement is met. You’ve been terribly wronged. If you want me so damn much, take me.” She started to remove the skirt, lifting it over her head the way she had the blouse. Somehow, when the material covered her face, she lost her footing. Her arms shot out in a desperate effort to maintain her balance, waving madly about. She could feel the boat rocking dangerously from side to side.

  Murphy swore loudly and shouted, “Damn it, sit down!”

  Before she had time to think, before she could save herself, Letty tumbled backward into the dark, cold water. As she hit the surface, the loose skirt fell over her face.

  The last thing she heard before she went under was Murphy’s fury.

  Immediately her mouth filled with water and she started choking. Fear paralyzed her, and the current carried her, somersaulting her one way and then another, twisting the material of her skirt around her face.

  When she surfaced, she screamed, terrified she would drown. Terrified she’d be lost before she saved Luke. She’d read that a drowning person’s life flashed before his eyes. She felt nothing, only a crippling, horrible fear. Not even this last final rundown of her life was to be granted her. The pain in her lungs from lack of oxygen burned like nothing she’d ever known.

  Seemingly out of nowhere, she felt herself being lifted out of the water. One moment she was convinced she would die, and in the next her head was above the water and she was breathing again.

  She coughed and spat, then choked some more. Murphy’s hand manacled her wrist. Somehow he managed to control the boat and at the same time hold on to her.

  “Give me your other arm!” he shouted.

  It demanded every ounce of strength she possessed to comply. His grip on the second wrist was as tight and firm as on the first.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” he challenged, “you’ve got to help me.”

  She heard the extreme effort it cost him to hang on to her.

  The river swirled around her as if to say it had been cheated and wanted her back. The waters pulled at her from one end and Murphy from the other. She felt as if she were on a rack, being stretched apart by two opposing forces.

  Once he was able to lift her shoulders above the waterline, Murphy worked on getting her back inside the motorboat. The task was incredibly difficult. The boat was in danger of flipping a number of times. Letty was able to prop one foot onto the side, but when she attempted to lift her full weight inside the vessel, she discovered she was too weak. Finally Murphy was able to fit his arms beneath hers, and with the two of them working together, he hauled her out of the murky water and back into the boat.

  She fell like a dead fish into the middle of the craft, which continued to teeter precariously.

  Exhausted, Murphy fell back against the helm, his breathing ragged and deep. His chest heaved with exertion.

  It didn’t take long for reaction to set in and for Letty to start weeping. She hated tears and the weakness she experienced when she succumbed to the emotion, but she couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t the first time she’d broken into sobs in front of Murphy, and each time it was more embarrassing, more difficult.

  She expected him to rant and rave at her for being so incredibly stupid. She’d risked both their lives because she was hurt and angry and outraged.

  She’d stripped her soul bare for him and been subjected to his sarcasm. For all the good telling him about her mother had done, she might as well not have spoken. Sitting, she draped her arms around her bent legs and hid her face in her knees. Silent sobs shook her shoulders.

  The last thing Letty expected was for Murphy to take her in his arms. He sat in the bottom of the boat next to her and wrapped his arms around her nakedness.

  Sobbing, she clung to him, accepting his warmth, his solace, his nearness. He repeatedly ran his hand over her wet head, saying nothing. The thunderous sound of his heart pounded into her ear. He’d been as frightened as she, perhaps more so.

  She felt him press his cheek against the top of her head and then forcefully release his breath.

  “Go ahead,” she whispered when she was able to control her emotions.

  “Go ahead and what?”

  “Yell at me. I deserve it.”

  “I think the river said it far more eloquently than I could.” Somehow in the craziness that followed her near drowning, Murphy had managed to cut the engine and steer them to the bank.

  Wordlessly they clung to each other. After a long time, Murphy spoke. “You don’t need to worry that you’re like your mother,” he said. “Any man would treasure a woman as loyal and faithful as you. It’s not every sister who would risk what you have to find her brother.”

  She lifted her face to look up at him. He swept a wet strand of hair away from her brow. “My own mother wasn’t any paragon of virtue,” he admitted hoarsely. “She made her mistakes and paid dearly for them. I imagine your mother did as well. We’re each our own person, we live
our own lives, make our own mistakes, learn from them, and move forward.”

  “Does this mean you’re absolving me from our agreement?” she asked hopefully.

  His laugh was filled with wry amusement. “Hardly. I look forward to collecting what’s due me, but all in good time. All in good time.”

  25

  Jack had decided to ride it out a while, let Marcie cool her heels waiting to hear from him. His patience lasted all of one day. To his surprise he found himself wasting a good deal of time thinking about the beauty shop owner.

  Although he wasn’t thrilled with the way she’d broken off their lovemaking, he realized it had cost her plenty. When he was able to overlook his own disappointment, he felt a certain admiration for her.

  Jack had experienced his share of women over the years. He loved them, was generous with them because he could afford to be, and then he left them. Not without certain regrets. Generally, when he went off on a mission, he did so on good terms with the woman of the moment. That way when the time came for his return, the lady friends in his life would welcome him back with open arms. Marcie had done exactly that a number of times.

  He’d been attracted to her for the simple reason that her sexual appetite was as vigorous as his own. She was one of the few women he could spend two or three days at a time in bed with.

  This was the way he’d played the game for a good many years. Women floated in and out of his life, often two or three at a time. He loved them all.

  Lately, however, Jack had been giving serious consideration to a monogamous relationship.

  It wasn’t anything he’d voiced aloud. Certainly not to Murphy, who would have laughed himself silly. He appeared to have reached this decision in the last couple of weeks. It might be that Cain and Mallory had influenced him. When the two former mercenaries had married, it’d shocked the hell out of everyone at Deliverance Company.

  This was slightly different. Jack wasn’t considering marriage. No need to go overboard on this one-man, one-woman idea. It was important for him to keep his options open. But that didn’t mean he’d be cheap about the arrangement. He planned to lavishly set up the woman of his choice and gift her with an abundance of his attention.

  In return he’d ask for certain considerations. First and foremost was complete and absolute faithfulness. Until Marcie had broken off their lovemaking, he wasn’t sure a woman was capable of such steadfast devotion. Marcie had proved otherwise. By her own words, she’d admitted that she wasn’t head over heels in love with her plumber friend, yet she’d refused to betray his trust.

  Jack was impressed.

  He wasn’t sure what had changed Marcie, but whatever it was, he found himself liking the woman she’d become. True, he wanted her in his bed and had almost from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. But now he wanted her in his life.

  He waited until he knew she’d be home from work and then reached for the phone and dialed her number. She answered on the second ring, almost as if she’d been waiting for his call.

  “It’s Johnny.” Sooner or later he was going to have to tell her his name, but for now he’d let that slide.

  “Johnny.” Her voice had that breathless, excited quality about it. She made it sound as if the highlight of her day had been hearing from him. As if he were the most special, the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her. A man could grow accustomed to this land of welcoming.

  “I felt we needed to talk,” he said.

  He sensed her hesitation. “Talk? About what?”

  “Anything. Everything. I don’t want to lose you, Marcie.”

  “Johnny, don’t, please.”

  He could see her clenching the phone, her eyes closed, her conscience fighting him as she battled down her desire for him.

  “Did you tell Clifford about our date?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you promise him you wouldn’t see me again?”

  She paused, as if she didn’t really want to answer him. “No. I should have, but I didn’t.”

  Jack smiled knowingly. She hadn’t promised Clifford something she wasn’t sure she could deliver. Another admirable trait. Honesty. “I need to see you.” He dipped his voice to a throaty, seductive level and emphasized the word “need.” It wasn’t any stretch of the truth. Just hearing her voice had made him hard. He hadn’t been this randy in months, and he wasn’t willing to settle for second best. He wanted Marcie. The burning inside him grew hotter until it became an exotic torture to merely talk to her.

  “All right,” she whispered after he remained silent, “but someplace public.”

  “Fine. You name where.” The restaurant hadn’t hampered him any. Their naked hunger wasn’t going to cool simply because they happened to be around other people. If anything, that could well enhance it.

  “When?” She asked this with the same breathless quality as before.

  “Now.”

  She hesitated.

  “I need you, baby,” he whispered into the receiver.

  “Oh, Johnny, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

  “I do. Nothings going to happen, I promise. Just let me see you.”

  Again she paused, then sighed and said, “Have you ever played putt-putt golf?”

  Now he was the one who hesitated. He frowned and scratched the side of his head. “You want to play miniature golf?”

  “Yes.”

  He heard the hint of defiance in her voice and grinned. He knew a challenge when he heard one. She seemed to think if they were involved in something silly, they’d be able to keep their minds off what they both wanted most: each other.

  “Sure. Name the time and place and I’ll be there.”

  He was waiting for her when she arrived in that rattletrap of a car she drove. Replacing her vehicle would be one of the first things he’d do for her. She’d look good in something deep blue, he decided. Ah, what the hell, he’d buy her a little red sports car.

  Marcie’s gaze nervously skirted his as she approached him.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said, and leaned forward to brush his lips across her cheek. She was wearing a sleeveless, full-length summer dress with a scooped neckline, and she smelled of roses and sunshine. It was all he could do to keep from closing his eyes and inhaling the warm, fresh scent of her.

  “I should warn you, I’m good at this,” she announced while he paid for their tickets.

  “Do you want to place a small wager on the outcome of the match?” he suggested.

  She eyed him speculatively, as though she weren’t sure she’d like his terms. “Like what?”

  “An ice-cream cone.”

  A smile lit up her face. “You’re on.”

  What Jack didn’t tell her was that he hoped she’d allow him to lick the ice cream, and when his tongue was good and cold he’d suck her breasts. It was a game they’d played in the past, one she’d apparently forgotten.

  The first hole was a windmill contraption. The object was to putt in time so that the golf ball would miss the windmill blade as it circled past the hole.

  Marcie went first and bent forward, holding the golf club. It may have been his imagination, but it seemed that she purposely projected her derriere toward him. Then she wiggled it in such a manner to entice him beyond endurance.

  “Marcie…” He squeezed his eyes closed and groaned aloud.

  “What?” she asked, twisting around to confront him.

  “Do you have to hold the golf club like that?”

  “Like what?” She batted her eyes at him in a gesture of innocence.

  “Never mind,” he returned brusquely. “It doesn’t matter.”

  It didn’t take Jack long to realize she’d been telling the truth. She beat him handily and enjoyed every minute of it. The surprising thing was, so did Jack.

  “I suppose you’re going to make me buy you that ice-cream cone?” He made it sound as though this were insult on top of injury.

  “You’re darn tootin�
� I am.”

  They walked next door to the small parlor, where he ordered triple-decker cones for them both. They sat across from each other at a picnic table in the shade. Jack reached for her hand, turned it upward, and drew lazy circles in her palm with his index finger.

  “You said you wanted to talk,” Marcie reminded him, tugging her hand free.

  “Yeah.” Now that the time had come, he wasn’t sure where to start. “We’ve been good friends the last couple of years.”

  “Have we?” she challenged softly.

  Her question caught him by surprise.

  “We’ve been lovers and little else, Johnny. There’s more to a relationship than a two-or three-day love fest every few months.”

  “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point. But I want all that to change.”

  She stopped licking her cone and regarded him with large, round eyes. “How do you mean?”

  His gaze held hers. “I like you, Marcie. A lot. You’re one hell of a woman. I’m ashamed to admit that I took you for granted until recently.”

  “You mean until Clifford entered the picture.”

  He didn’t have much ground to stand on with that argument. “You’ve got a point, but this time is different.”

  “You’re right it’s different. I’m not falling into bed with you the minute you snap your fingers. I’m crazy about you, Johnny, I have been for a long time, but it hasn’t gotten me anywhere.”

  “Jack Keller,” he said softly. The time had come to lay his cards on the table, expose his hand, and deal honestly and fairly with her.

  “Jack Keller?” she repeated.

  “My name isn’t Johnny, it’s Jack. I felt it was time you knew that.”

  She didn’t say anything for the longest moment, and then, to his shock, he noted that her eyes brimmed with tears. “Marcie?” He reached into his hip pocket and produced a clean handkerchief. “What’s wrong?”

  She stood, walked over to the trash receptacle, and tossed her ice-cream cone inside, then folded her arms around her middle.

  He’d expected a number of reactions to the truth, but tears wasn’t one of them. He followed her, threw away his own cone, and then gently placed his hands against the curve of her shoulders. “You can still call me Johnny if you like,” he suggested softly.