by Sara Orwig
She pushed aside the covers and scurried across the room to open the door. Jake would probably think she was hot and had opened it. No light came from the living room, the only illumination the small night-light that she usually kept in the bathroom.
She could see Sissy’s and Tara’s heads and knew they were sleeping peacefully. Reassured, Rebecca went back to bed, wiping her brow and picking up a piece of paper from the table to fan herself. Jake must have turned off the air conditioners. What did he think he needed to listen for if he expected the surveillance men and McCauley to catch Meskell before he ever reached the house?
As she closed her eyes, she prayed for their safety and for the police to catch Meskell quickly.
* * *
The next morning was Monday, and it was strange to change their routine completely, to know that she wouldn’t go into town to work. Rebecca headed for the shower and emerged just as Jake was walking down the hall with his hand in Sissy’s.
He was bare chested, locks of hair damp against his forehead. The air conditioners were turned on now, and she could feel the coolness in the hall after the steamy bath. He turned to smile at her.
“Good morning,” he said in a deep voice, his gaze running over her, and she became aware of her blue T-shirt and cutoffs, suddenly feeling barer than she really was. And she was just as acutely conscious of his bare chest, having to fight the temptation to scrutinize him in return.
“Morning. Did you wake Mr. Delancy again?” she asked Sissy, who merely rolled her eyes and grinned, completely unabashed.
“It was time. She makes a good alarm clock. A much cuter one than I have,” he said, but his voice deepened, and Rebecca’s pulse quickened, because she suspected his thoughts were far from Sissy.
“I'll be right there to get breakfast,” she said.
“No rush. I'm accustomed to doing that for myself, remember? And before that, I did it for my brothers.”
“Oh, yes. Mr. Responsible Bossy Dad,” she teased, and instantly wanted to bite back the words.
His brow arched, and Sissy tugged on his hand. “C'mon,” she urged impatiently, and turned to run to the kitchen.
“I'm coming, Sissy,” he said without taking his eyes from Rebecca. He moved closer and his voice lowered. “You're flirting, Rebecca.”
“I didn’t intend to,” she said in a sudden panic. “I don’t know what comes over me when I'm around you! If you'll move out of the way, I can—”
“No. I know what comes over you,” he said softly, moving still closer. “You're all woman, Rebecca. Warm and full of life. You've capped it all up too long, and it’s a volatile mixture.”
“Don’t you remember yesterday morning? We vowed we weren’t going to do this.”
“I didn’t start it,” he said lightly. Suddenly his eyes narrowed and he stepped aside, unblocking the doorway to her bedroom. “By damn, I can’t resist you. You're right. We vowed we weren’t going to do this.”
He strode down the hall and she dashed into her bedroom and closed the door, crossing to hang the blue chambray shirt on the closet hook. Her hands trembled.
I can’t resist you. The words echoed in her mind. And when she let down her defenses, forgot he was a cop, the flirting came naturally. She had never flirted with any other man except Dan. Never.
How long would it take to forget Jake when he left? He hadn’t been here long enough to make a dent in their lives. And yet... Sissy was crazy about him. It was more difficult to tell with Tara, yet she followed him around the house, and yesterday she had followed him around the yard and barn.
She should be able to fall back into her old routine without a ripple. Yet the thought of the house being so quiet again didn’t hold the appeal it once had.
She turned and glared at the door. Jake had come into their lives with all the force of a whirlwind. He was dynamic, macho, appealing!
She placed her hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath, feeling as if she were going forth to do battle.
Tempting smells came from the kitchen, and she entered to find coffee brewing. The orange juice had been poured, and Sissy was eating a bowl of cereal with slices of banana cut up in it. Slices of tart green kiwi and ripe, juicy cantaloupe were in a bowl on the table, and a bowl of cereal, minus the banana and milk, waited at Tara’s place.
“My, you're efficient.”
“I thought I better make myself useful. Maybe I'll be more appreciated,” he said in such a humble voice that she laughed.
“Now sit down and I'll serve your breakfast.”
“I can’t imagine. I'll get my own,” she said.
“Okay, but I offered.”
She fixed a piece of toast, saw he had a bowl of cereal with banana, as well as a bowl with a slice of cantaloupe and some kiwi. He poured coffee and sat down.
By the time they had eaten, both girls were through and had gone to change to go to the barn with Rebecca and Jake.
Rebecca pulled her tablet in front of her and bent over it.
“Now what are you listing?”
“The customers I need to call today. I have customers to contact, suppliers to talk to. I need to let everyone know where they can find me.”
“The phone in the barn is in working order.”
“Good. How much longer do you think this will go on?”
Hazel eyes met hers, and she knew she would get an honest answer. “Anytime now. Meskell’s nerves will be stretched thin before long. If he doesn’t come soon, then something is wrong. He’s on to the surveillance, or something happened to him.”
Jake’s cellular phone rang, and he crossed the room to pick it up from the counter.
Rebecca could barely hear him while he talked, and she went back to thinking about her work and her customers, planning out the day.
Jake came back to the table. “Some guy reported his car stolen last night about midnight. It was found abandoned this morning across town, but one of the prints they lifted matches Meskell’s. He’s mobile. The car had a lot more miles on it than the guy remembered.”
She felt cold in spite of the warm morning. Jake’s serious tone brought back too much of the threat. “Do you think he drove out this way?”
“No one knows. Your guess is as good as anyone’s. The only thing we know is that he didn’t try to come after you last night. They're checking any robberies in the area and nearby towns to see if any fit his M.O. He could be taking some time to get his hands on more cash.”
“Why do you say more?”
“Because he’d stolen some before the night we caught him, and no one has ever found it.”
“Was it very much?” she asked, wondering if Lenny Meskell had enough funds to enable him to get around easily.
“We figure he might have anywhere up to thirty thousand stashed from a robbery he pulled.”
She closed her eyes. “He’s smarter than I thought and if he has money he can do a lot of things.”
“He’s not that damned smart,” Jake said roughly. “We caught him before and we'll catch him again.”
“He must have had some foresight to have stashed stolen money.”
“Not much. He planned to come right back and get it. We ruined his plans.” Jake’s radio beeped and he picked it up.
Rebecca tried to get her mind back on her work, but she kept thinking of Meskell driving somewhere near her house. Jake finally put away the radio.
“That was Woodson. He’s come on duty and he and McCauley checked out the woods around the house and the barn. Woodson is at the barn now, but he’s going in to the trees behind the house. Tell me when you're ready to go to the barn.”
“I'll see about the girls.”
She stood and left the room and Jake forgot about Meskell as he watched Rebecca walk away.
* * *
Two big fans were installed in the barn, circulating air that was still cool from the night. The lights were bright, and she began to get her things organized while the girls trailed around behind Jake as he l
ooked the barn over.
She spent the first hour calling customers. By that time Sissy and Tara were playing in the loft with the dolls they had brought from the house. Jake sat on a bale of hay near the doors that opened toward the woods to the north.
She gathered her tools and placed the glass she needed on the table. In minutes she was concentrating on the glass.
At midmorning, Jake sauntered over to her. “What are you working on?”
“This is for a front door panel,” she said, pointing to a fleur-de-lis pattern. “I lay out the cartoon—that’s the pattern—and cut the pieces of glass.” She pointed to the work in front of her.
“Now this is being leaded up,” she said, pushing a piece of glass into the corner of a framework fastened to the table. “I work toward this corner to start.”
He picked up a long, pliable piece of lead, holding it in his tanned, blunt fingers, and she glanced at him. “That’s the way I buy the lead. Then, before I work with it, I stretch it.”
While he replaced it on the table, she bent over her work. In seconds, she looked up to find him still watching her.
“It’s interesting.”
She bent over the glass again, but she was still aware of him, standing so close, watching her as she fitted small strips of lead between pieces of glass.
Jake moved away to glance at the woods again and then sat down on an overturned barrel, shifting to look at Rebecca. Her hair fell forward in a curtain of silky gold as she leaned over the table and concentrated on the design.
Jake’s gaze ran over her round bottom, her long legs, and he wondered how easily he would forget the time spent with her and her girls. This morning Sissy had wakened him with a feather again, tickling his chin and giggling, her eyes sparkling with irresistible mischief.
Jake’s radio beeped and he yanked it up. “Jake, this is Werner. A postal truck just turned into her drive,” said the deep voice over the static. “I'm at the stakeout, watching the front road.”
“I'll watch.” He replaced his radio and moved toward the front. “What time does the mail usually come?”
“Midmorning,” Rebecca said, glancing at the drive. The clatter of an engine could be heard.
Jake went forward, his hand sliding to his hip, not far from the pistol tucked into the back of his jeans. He stood just inside the barn and watched as the small mail truck stopped beside the box. The postman placed letters and papers inside and then swung the truck around, driving away with a plume of dust behind him.
“I suppose you'll go get the mail,” Rebecca said dryly, and he looked down to see that she had come to stand beside him.
“Don’t stand in the doorway when the mail comes.”
“Yes, sir!” she snapped, her eyes getting the little pinpoints of fire that amused him. “I suppose you think the mailman might want to eliminate me, too.”
“It would not be beyond Lenny to waylay your postman, either knock him unconscious or kill him, and dress in his postal uniform. That would get him past everyone. We don’t need you running out to meet him.”
“Oh!” Her mouth formed a round circle, and he fought the temptation to lean down and place his lips over hers. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You don’t have a criminal mind.”
“You do?”
“I'm accustomed to working with them and thinking like they do,” he answered. “I'll get the mail.”
He jogged out to the box, glad for the chance to get some exercise. The metal box was crammed with mail, and he scooped it out, jogging back to the barn to place it on the table beside her. “If you get a crank letter from him, let me see it. We'll want it for fingerprints, that sort of thing.”
Frowning, she nodded, and he sighed because she hadn’t thought of a letter from Meskell, either. But it turned out all her correspondence was legitimate.
At noon they took a break for lunch and dashed back to the house, which was cool from the air-conditioning.
Jake helped Rebecca fix sandwiches and fruit, and the moment they were through, the girls carried their dishes to the sink and ran off to watch television.
The phone rang shrilly and Rebecca crossed the room to answer it. “Bolens',” she answered, and Jake watched all color drain from her face.
Chapter 9
“He’s gone,” she said, sounding dazed. Jake snatched the receiver from her hand and heard the buzz that indicated the line was clear. He punched a single digit, and a man answered.
“Get a trace?”
“We'll let you know.”
Jake replaced the receiver. “What did he say?”
Rebecca’s face was white, and Jake’s fury mushroomed. “He said, 'The first shot takes out the cop. Then you're next.' And then he called me a name.”
“Dammit.” Feeling frustrated and helpless, Jake paced the room. The phone rang, and he reached out to yank up the receiver. “Yes?”
“No trace. Out of area. Sorry.”
Jake slammed down the receiver and looked at her. “They couldn’t trace it.”
“Jake, I don’t want the girls to pick up the phone and talk to him.”
“Do they answer often?”
She bit her lip and seemed lost in thought. “I'm going to tell Sissy that I'm getting business calls here now and I want to answer.”
“And Tara?”
“I'll tell her the truth. I can discuss some things with Tara as if she were another adult.”
“I'll answer the phone if you want me to.”
The fear and anger left her. Her mouth curved in a faint smile. “Suddenly I'm working at home and a male is answering my phone. Do you know what my customers will think? You let me answer, but thanks for the offer.”
She was leaning against the kitchen counter, and he couldn’t resist placing his hands on either side of her. “I can’t imagine. Tell me what your customers will think?”
“The hell I will, Detective,” she answered saucily. Her voice had become breathless. His gaze lowered to her mouth, which was only inches away.
“How can you make me forget all about my job and all the danger I'm in? You're standing too close, Jake,” she said breathlessly, and all the lightness was gone from her voice.
“When you really let yourself go,” he drawled in a husky voice that made Rebecca’s heart thud, “I wish I could be there.”
“No, you don’t,” she answered solemnly. “Just think of all your plans for years and years of bachelorhood.”
“Sometimes I think you don’t really need me. You know how to defend yourself damn well.”
Rebecca knew they were sparring, both flirting, trying to stop, trying to keep their distance, yet as unable to resist temptation as moths near a flame. But most of the moths she had seen flitting around candlelight had gotten burned.
Jake couldn’t resist. He leaned forward, brushing his mouth over hers, feeling everything inside him tighten. He was hard instantly and painfully. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her, to taste her mouth and feel her softness crushed against him.
Instead, he fought to control his urges, merely brushing his mouth over hers again, feeling the incredible softness of her lips, catching the faint whiff of mint on her breath. His pulse pounded like a sledgehammer beating away at his ribs. He clutched the countertop with his fists, hanging on as if he were going to fly off into space, trying to keep from placing his arms around her.
A tremor ran through Rebecca. She should stop him. One word and he would move away, but she couldn’t say anything. His mouth brushed hers, and heat shot through her. She gasped, her heart pounding. She placed her hands on his hips, lightly; it was the merest touch, yet it set her aflame.
She closed her eyes, relishing his mouth brushing hers, unable to hear anything for the roaring in her ears. She struggled to remember why she didn’t want this man to kiss her. And finally she remembered, and she opened her eyes.
Jake felt Rebecca push lightly against his chest. As he leaned away, she looked up at hi
m, her blue eyes seeming to draw him into their crystal depths. “No,” she whispered.
Jake stepped back, taking a deep breath while she moved away from him.
At the door to the hall, she turned to face him, her gaze sweeping over him. He knew she could see how aroused he was; it was small wonder she couldn’t hear his heart pounding. She raised her chin as if she expected a battle. “I'll get the girls. I better get back to work.”
He watched her go down the hall to the living room and then went outside to get his emotions and body under control. When had he ever known a woman he couldn’t resist? Not since high school, and that didn’t count.
He didn’t want to find Rebecca irresistible. How did she constantly slip past all his defenses? She flirted a little, but it was damn little, and it slipped out of her like an unexpected hiccup and was about as wanted on her part.
“Dammit,” he muttered, staring at the sunny yard, wondering where Meskell had been when he made the call.
“We're ready,” Rebecca said behind him. She stood with the girls at the open door.
“Okay, let’s hurry to the barn,” he said, holding the door and then placing his arm across her shoulders. They rushed across the yard and into the brightly lighted interior of the barn, which was beginning to feel hot even with the fans stirring the air.
In minutes she was bent over a table, working diligently, and he was relieved that she had shaken her fright over the phone call.
During the afternoon, he gave the girls cold fruit drinks from a cooler filled with ice and canned drinks. He carried a can of cola to Rebecca.
She paused in her work to shake her hair away from her face. As she accepted the drink, her fingers lightly brushed his and he drew in his breath. Every touch was explosive. The slightest meaningless contact could stir desire. He leaned his hip against the table as he studied her.
“Rebecca, would you like to learn to shoot?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. She dug in a pocket, pulled out a rubber band and bent over to shake her hair into a fall in front of her, leaving her derriere within inches of him.
