BENEATH THE SILK

by Wendy Rosnau

  "Don't waste your energy being embarrassed, Sis. It's just you and me here. And I never kiss and tell."

  His comment brought her head up. "I don't even know you, and here you are, in my bedroom. Going through my closet. And—"

  "Don't forget this morning I was in your kitchen and your shower."

  His teasing made her cheeks turn pink. "I'm sorry about … you know, bursting into the bathroom. I really thought Mac was going to break my expensive lamp."

  Jackson winced inwardly, keying on the word expensive. He had figured it was something special. He pushed the lamp from his mind and concentrated on putting Sunni's mind to rest about the bathroom ordeal. He reached up and brushed his thumb over her still-swollen lower lip. "Like now, Sis, this morning was just you and me. No one's going to hear any of it from me."

  "But I barely know you, and—"

  "You know me," he said softly. "I'm the guy you called tonight when you needed someone you could count on. I'm the guy who raced to the hospital. The guy who tipped the cab driver fifty bucks to get me there in ten minutes."

  She let go of his arms, forced her legs to hold her up. "Fifty dollars?"

  Jackson nodded. "Looks like I'm going to have to tighten up my leash on you from now on, or go broke tipping cabbies."

  "And what does that mean, exactly?"

  He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. He shouldn't be touching her so much, but he couldn't stop. "I want you close from now on," he told her. "What happened tonight can't happen again." Or he was going to start growing ulcers like Clide.

  "Close? What does that mean?"

  "Tonight was no accident. We both know that. I want you to agree to whatever I think is necessary from here on out."

  "Without knowing what it is first?" She shook her head. "I don't think I can do that."

  "I need to know your every move until I learn more about this case."

  "You think I'm next, don't you?"

  The worry in her eyes slipped into her voice. Jackson wrapped his arms around her, trying to be as brotherly as possible. He felt her shudder, and he drew her closer. As he offered her more of his body, she curled her arms around his waist and exhaled shakily. They stood that way for several minutes before he gently set her away from him. "I don't know you're a target, Sis. But I don't know that you're not, either. Now, you change and get into bed. I'll go call Mary, then check on Mac and make sure that he's behaving himself. If you need me, yell. I'll leave the door open."

  * * *

  It was the headache that woke her, but it was her tingling lips that forced Sunni into action. Ignoring her sore, protesting muscles, she sat up and turned on her bedside lamp. Seconds later, she had her second drawer open and she was assessing her snacks.

  It was no surprise that she was fighting bouts of hypoglycemia. Routine-wise, her body had been on a roller coaster ride for days.

  She withdrew her glucose sensor and record book from the drawer, then tested her blood. In a matter of minutes she had her answer and a small box of raisins in her hand. Resting her head and back against a pillow, she patiently munched on the sweet fruit.

  A short time later, feeling better, she glanced at the luminous face on the crystal clock next to the light. It read 2:00 a.m. She'd slept close to four hours—fitfully, but she had slept.

  The apartment was quiet, which was normal, but she couldn't help wondering if Jackson and Mac were still there. Determined to find out, she eased herself out of bed—stifling a moan as she straightened in small doses. Pressing her hand to her lower back, and in a movement that resembled Edna's famous slipper-shuffle, she retrieved her blue robe draped across the bed, then gritted her teeth as she forced her arms up to slip it on over her white chemise and matching panties.

  She left the bedroom taking baby steps, tying the belt around her waist. Light drew her eye to the kitchen, and to Sunni's surprise and relief, Jackson was seated at the table with a laptop computer in front of him. A pile of papers was stacked on one side of the computer and a man-size coffee mug—resembling nothing in her kitchen cupboards—was on the other side.

  "Do you know what time it is?"

  He looked up from the computer. "Time for you to be fast asleep, Sis. Why aren't you?"

  "It's my back. It's killing me. I can't get comfortable."

  He shoved the chair back and stood. That's when Sunni noticed his shirt was unbuttoned. The tails were out of his jeans, and it allowed her a grand view of his sun-bronzed hairy chest and flat, slab-of-steel belly. He wore a silver chain around his neck with a stylized cross of some kind hanging from it. His feet were bare, and his jeans were unbuttoned.

  Even feeling as lousy as she did, she couldn't help but admire his rugged body, or the fact that each and every time she saw him, she had this incredible urge to reach out and touch him.

  "Probably a pulled muscle. Got an ice pack?"

  "Hmm… Oh, in the freezer."

  He sauntered to the fridge and opened the freezing compartment, and was back in a few seconds with the cold pack and a towel he'd fetched from a drawer.

  "Do you know where everything in my kitchen is?" she asked.

  "All except the popcorn popper and the blender."

  "I don't use either of those items."

  "No popper?"

  "I use microwave popcorn. And I gave my blender to Edna. I never used it."

  Sunni dismissed the cold pack when he held it out to her, and shuffled past him to the table. "This is the case information you've collected so far?"

  "That's it. I hope you don't mind that I turned your kitchen into an office for tonight. I went back to my apartment and picked up a few things. I didn't leave you alone. Mac stood guard."

  "Where is Mac now?"

  "Asleep on the terrace. He likes it out there."

  Sunni eyed the impressive stack of papers. To have this much information on a case in such a short time took a huge amount of work. "You haven't slept much since you got here, have you?"

  "Why do you say that?"

  "I'm a cop's kid, remember? It takes hours of leg-work to come up with all this."

  "I've never needed much sleep. Five hours and I'm good."

  Sunni turned to look at him. He was good all right. Good-looking, a good cook… And from what she'd seen of him below the waist that morning, she now knew that Jackson Ward had potential in another area as well.

  "Sis?"

  "Hmm…?"

  "Come on. I'll put you back in bed with this ice pack."

  Sunni blinked out of her naughty muse. "I can't lie flat. It hurts too bad." She pressed her fingers into her backbone at waist level and grimaced. "Maybe I could sleep in a chair."

  "You can't sleep in a chair. Here, let me take a look. Maybe a vertebra was injured in the accident."

  "No. The doctor took an X ray. He said it was just bruised." She turned to read the laptop screen. "Vito Tandi's worth sixty million?"

  "That's what he admits to." His answer was right next to her ear. A second later one hand settled on her hip, while the other reached around her and laid the cold pack on the table next to the stack of papers. "What do you think is going on … with your back?"

  He may as well have asked what do you think is going on with us? Because they both knew something had changed between them since she'd called him on his cell phone and he'd raced to the hospital. "I don't know" was her staid answer. "It just hurts."

  "Let's see what I can see."

  Sunni's hands instinctively gripped the edges of her robe. "No!"

  He covered her hands, pulled them away from her body and laid them palm-side down on the table, "Relax, Sis," he whispered, then gently moved his fingers up her spine, pressing gently on each vertebra as his hand climbed slowly upward. "No pain in your neck?"

  "No."

  His fingers started back down, again checking out each vertebra. Sunni could hear him breathing, feel his heat. Her own heart was pounding faster than normal.

  "Breathe, Sis, you're not breathi
ng. In and out, in and out. Come on."

  Feeling foolish, she exhaled and started to breathe. When his fingers moved past her waistline, she let out a scream. "Ouch!"

  "There?" His fingers stopped just above her tailbone and gently tested the tender spot.

  "That's it. Ooh … careful."

  He dropped his hands. "I want to see. Get rid of the robe."

  "My robe?"

  His arms came around her quickly and untied the slippery silk belt before she could get her hands off the table. A second after that, the robe was peeled off her shoulders and went sailing past her to the chair on the far side of the table. It caught on the back of the chair, then slid out of sight into the seat.

  "Jackson, wait. I don't have—"

  "Sssh. It's just me, remember?"

  His hands reached for the edge of her white chemise. Then without warning, he squatted down, bringing his face mere inches from Sunni's backside—her exposed backside. That's right, she wore the latest fashion in underwear. The white silk thong was worth forty dollars and fit her like a glove. Something he would have known if he had given her time to explain.

  Sunni squeezed her eyes shut and waited. A full minute passed and still he didn't say anything. Finally she said, "Well … what do you see? I mean… You're down there to look at my sore back, remember?"

  "I remember why I'm down here."

  His heavy voice sounded huskier, and a bit strained. A second later, she felt his fingers slide over her spine and gently probe the sensitive areas above her tailbone. He said, "Slightly swollen. A damn good bruise." He dropped her chemise back into place, then stood and took the cold pack wrapped in the small towel off the table and gently pressed it to the injured area. "It'll be a few days before you feel like racing me to the elevator."

  "Jack…son, I—"

  "Nice drawers."

  "Why did I know you were going to mention my underwear?"

  "Because if I think it, I say it. Nice butt, too. Real nice."

  Sunni sucked in her breath, then let it out slowly as the cold pack began to ease her pain.

  "Here." He took a step closer, his arm coming around the front of her to rest on her stomach. Pressing gently, he eased her back so her shoulders rested on his chest and the cold pack was wedged tightly between them. "Relax into me," he softly said next to her ear. "Yeah, that's it. Right there."

  For the next several minutes neither one spoke. Eyes closed, Sunni tried to remember to keep breathing. Finally, she said, "We can't stand like this all night."

  "I know. I've got an idea. Want to hear it?"

  She really did like his voice.

  "Sis, you sleeping standing up?"

  "No. But I wish I could."

  "Let's go in the bedroom."

  His suggestion sent Sunni's eyes blinking open.

  "The bedroom?"

  "I don't have to see your face to know what you're thinking. Shame on you. You're suppose to be hurtin'. Or are you pulling my leg?"

  Sunni was glad he couldn't see her face, her cheeks felt hot. She could barely walk; of course he wasn't suggesting anything sexual. "Do you enjoy making me uncomfortable?"

  "You're fun to tease. You wear your feelings. It's pretty entertaining at times."

  "And you never wears yours? This cold pack, 'yeah, that's it. Right there,' is all for me, right?"

  He chuckled. "Smart lady."

  "What's your idea?"

  "I think if I show you it'll be better." He eased her away from him and shut down his computer. He turned off the kitchen light next. "Here." He handed her the cold pack, then carefully, without warning, he lifted her and cradled her against him. Again Sunni wrapped her arms around his neck the way she'd done earlier.

  In her room, he eased her down on the edge of the bed. "Sit there a minute," he said, then pulled the comforter back and stacked two pillows against the iron headboard. When he was finished, he climbed onto the bed and lay down. Spreading his long legs wide, he put the third pillow in the notch. "Okay, now it's your turn."

  Sunni stared at the open space. "You want me … there?" She pointed to the open vee.

  "We'll fit the ice to your back when you get into position, and I'll pull the comforter over us to keep you warm."

  Sunni studied the situation a minute longer.

  "If we're lucky, I'll fit you like a glove, Sis, and be the perfect medicine for what ails you. In two days, three at the most, you can kick me out of your bed and have it all to yourself again."

  He wanted her to sleep between his rock-hard thighs for two or three days? He had to be joking.

  He yawned, patted the pillow. "Come on. Try me out and see how I fit."

  This was crazy. Utterly insane. Nonetheless, Sunni slowly got onto all fours and crawled into the open notch between Jackson's legs. Then, before she slid into position, he adjusted the cold pack to her lower back.

  A minute passed before she let herself relax fully against him, two minutes before she allowed herself to rest her head on his bare chest. He covered her with the blanket seconds later.

  "Jackson, can you sleep like this all night?"

  His response was slow in coming. It came after he'd shifted slightly and made a few minor adjustments. "I'm the whatever-it-takes cop, remember? I'll manage. Now, get some sleep, Sis."

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  Jackson shrugged into his jacket, glad he had an appointment to keep. For two days he'd been cooped up with Sunni in her apartment, sharing her space during the daylight hours, and sleeping with her between his legs each night. And he was headed for an early grave if he had to sleep as her backboard one more night, harder than a steel pipe.

  He'd endured naked lovers etched on glass shower doors, mirrors on the ceiling, a canopy bed straight out of a fairy tale. Sunni in silk at breakfast. Sunni in silk on the sofa. Sunni in silk between his legs all night long.

  The ordeal had likely caused him permanent damage—a man's anatomy wasn't meant to be primed like Old Faithful, twenty-four hours a day without some kind of pressure release. And there would be no release as long as he stayed in her apartment. What he needed was a breath of cold reality back in his lungs, along with some good old-fashioned Chicago smog.

  In the kitchen Jackson poured his man-size mug full of coffee. As he turned to leave, he locked eyes with Sunni on the other side of the counter—today's silk torture was the color of fresh peaches, and as usual, she looked good enough to eat.

  "Where are you going?"

  "I've got an appointment this morning."

  "You never mentioned an appointment last night. With who?"

  Jackson pointed to the piece of paper on the counter. "I explained it in the note."

  She glanced at the paper, then eyed his coffee mug. "Do all cops drink as much coffee as you do?"

  If they were trying to cut back on their smoking they did. He'd decided this was as good a time as any to chuck the habit. Only with the situation being what it was lately, he really didn't need another added frustration.

  "I called the hospital and checked on the cab driver this morning. He's out of intensive care. I'm going over there to talk to him."

  She stepped around the counter and walked past him, depositing that feminine scent of hers on the end of his nose. She was moving better than she had for the past two days. Good, maybe tonight he'd be able to get some real sleep.

  She glanced at the stove. "Didn't you make breakfast?"

  "Yeah. I already ate."

  "But I haven't."

  The look of disappointment she offered him made him feel guilty. "Maid service is going to start costing you pretty soon, Sis."

  "Maid service?" She lifted an irritated brow. "I can cook."

  "You haven't for two days." He eyed the twins, felt old faithful on the rise.

  "That's because I haven't been able to buy space in my kitchen."

  "Well today you're in luck. I'm going to be gone all day." Jackson headed out of the kitch
en with his mug of coffee. "About Mac… I want you to forgive him for breaking your lamp, and let him come back inside."

  "There's no way."

  Mac had lost ground with Sunni when she'd noticed her expensive lamp wasn't behind the sofa two days ago. And when Jackson'd showed her what was left of it—the pieces he'd boxed up that were out on the terrace—she had kicked Mac out to join the box of broken glass. Mac had been sleeping, and eating, and pouting out on the terrace ever since. And Sunni had been doing pretty much the same inside.

  Jackson faced her. "I want him inside today."

  "No."

  "If he's going to be any use to you, he needs to be inside. I can't leave you if you don't agree." When she said nothing, he softened his voice, "Come on, Sis, lighten up. I'll buy you another lamp."

  "You won't buy me another Calafar. It was a one-of-a-kind."

  Her hands went to her trim waist, parting the silk robe. The twins sprang forward and damn near waved, giving Jackson a generous amount of cleavage to drool over. He'd been doing so damn much drooling lately that he was in danger of dehydrating.

  "I've got to go," he said, disgustedly. "I made egg soufflé last night while you were in the shower. It's in the fridge. All you have to do is heat it up in the microwave."

  "You made breakfast last night?"

  The surprise in her voice and her appreciative smile sent another surge of heat into Jackson's groin. He liked making her happy, and that was a dangerous thing. He swore softly, then headed for the door. "Make up with Mac, and keep him with you. He'll do you more good than that .22 you got in your jewelry box."

  "You know what's in my jewelry box?"

  She had followed him to the door, her cream-complexion suddenly pale. "Why the surprised look? What are you hiding, Sis? You suddenly look like white paint in a blackout."

  "I'm not hiding anything."

  "Maybe I should go through your drawers and see for myself."

  "I'm not hiding anything," she said more insistently.

  "No whips or chains? Maybe a black leather thong?"

  His teasing fell flat. "I sell silk, not a trip to the dungeon."

  Her pretty mouth settled into a full pout. Jackson had the urge to lower his head and taste her. Instead he glanced at his watch. "Get Mac in here as soon as I leave. Don't go anywhere. And call me on my cell if you need something. Soufflé takes two minutes in the microwave. Fresh orange juice is in the fridge."