Holidays had been no big deal in the Wilde family since his parents died. Actually, this was the first year all of his brothers were in the same country for the holiday. Someone had always been overseas and whoever else was available might get together in a bar for a beer or two, but that was the extent of it. He couldn’t remember having a real family dinner since he was nine…but he suddenly wanted one. With Libby.
He leaned in and gave her a light kiss. “This will be over soon enough. Once my brothers find K-Bar, he’s going back to prison for breaking his parole and you’ll be safe to go home and see your folks.”
But until then, he had some plans to make.
…
Libby woke later than usual the next morning and lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling fan for a long time, debating whether she should get up. She turned her head on the pillow and looked at the alarm clock. Nearly noon. Really, what was the point? She could hear rain drumming against the roof, so it wasn’t as if she could go outside and soak in some sun.
Boy, she missed the sun.
But she missed her family even more.
“Ugh. Can someone say pity party?” Disgusted with herself, she shoved off the blankets and headed toward the bathroom for a shower. So she was missing her family’s barbeque tonight. At least doing so ensured that she’d be around for next year’s festivities. Better to spend one holiday lonely than spend the rest of her holidays in a grave.
She showered quickly, wrestled her damp hair into a ponytail, and tossed on an oversized T-shirt and cotton shorts. No sense in putting on anything else. She wasn’t going any—
Stepping into the hallway, she stopped in surprise at the delicious scents from the kitchen. Jude stood at the counter, reading the directions on the back of a refrigerated piecrust tin. He was in his favorite basketball shorts, shirtless, his back turned toward her, and that old curiosity about his tattoo pulled her forward. Dammit, why’d she leave her glasses in the bedroom?
Just as she got close enough to make out some of the words on his spine, he turned and grinned. “You’re awake.”
Pretending she hadn’t been trying to read his tattoo again, she casually moved to his side to examine the ingredients he had spread on the counter. “And you’re…baking?”
“Just another of my skills. It’s a long and varied list.”
“Which is why you’re using canned apple filling and a refrigerated crust, I’m sure.”
“Hey now. I’m working with what I have. It wasn’t easy to put this much together on short notice. I now owe Camden’s spook buddy a favor, which, between you and me, freaks me the hell out.”
She laughed and dipped her finger into the pre-made apple filling. Not bad. “Seriously, though, what are you doing?”
His smile faded and he focused on pressing the crust into a pie plate. “You were so upset yesterday. I figured you couldn’t be at your family’s fourth of July, so I’d make one for you here. I even got you sparklers.”
Libby stared at him. It wasn’t until he lifted a flour-coated hand and pressed her jaw closed that she realized her mouth had been hanging open. She scanned the counter again. All of the fixings for a barbeque sat there in a line.
“Jude…” Flustered, she didn’t know what else to say.
“Is it okay?” he asked. “My brothers and I don’t do holidays so I wasn’t entirely sure—I mean, I know it’s not home, but I just thought—”
Libby stood on her toes, cutting off his rambles with a kiss. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
His grin returned and he dabbed flour on her chin. “Wanna help?”
“You bet your ass I do. I have been so incredibly bored this week.”
“Oh, good. I thought I was the only one.”
…
They ate dinner a little before five and it was actually quite good for a last minute, cobbled together meal. The fact that Jude had even thought to do this for her made everything taste that much better.
She shoved away her half-eaten second slice of pie and sat back. Jude smiled across the table at her. “Eyes bigger than your stomach?”
“Waaay bigger.”
He pulled the plate toward him and cut off a piece. “Mind?”
“No.” She scowled as he made short work of the rest of the pie. “I can’t believe you’re still eating. Where do you put it all?”
“Mm. I could tell you…” He pointed his fork at her. “But then I’d have to eat you, too. Actually, that might not be a bad idea. Like dessert. I love the way you squeak when I go down on—”
“Be good, Jude. We’re at the dinner table.” She laughed when he grinned unapologetically and waggled his brows.
“You know, we haven’t done it on a table yet.”
“The pool table counts.”
“No it doesn’t.”
“You’re nuts.”
“Yeah, I am. Thanks for noticing.” Finishing off the final bite of pie, he licked his fork clean, and then began gathering their plates. “Dining table. I’ll have to keep it in mind for another time, but right now I’m so full the only thing I want to do with you is nap.”
“I’m so on board with that idea.” But, wow, moving anywhere seemed like a chore. “Except you’ll have to carry me to the bedroom.”
From the kitchen behind her, he gave a yeah right snort.
“So is that a no?”
Jude didn’t answer. In fact, she didn’t hear anything from him, no shuffling, no water running over their dishes in the sink. She started to turn to see what he was up to now and found him standing beside her, a cell phone shoved toward her face. She blinked when he dropped it into her hand. It appeared to be mid-call, the timer on the screen ticking off seconds as she frowned at it, then up at him.
“What’s this?”
He simply nodded and motioned for her to lift it to her ear.
Confused, she did so and—
At the sound of her mother’s voice on the other end of the line, instant tears blurred her vision. “Mom?”
Oh, God. Her parents. He’d called her parents!
Eyes wide, she stared at him in shock. The nerve of the man, standing there grinning like a maniac, all proud of himself for breaking his own rules. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and hug him. The nerve.
And also the heart.
God, he had so much heart it was a wonder it all fit inside his chest.
Libby turned her focus to her mother’s excited chattering. After a few minutes, her father came on the line, less excited but definitely happy to talk to her. Although, as usual, he tried to hide it under a gruff facade. In deference to her safety, it was a short conversation and saying goodbye to them was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but when she hung up the phone, all of the sadness that had been weighing her down this past week had vanished.
Phone still in hand, she turned in her chair and watched Jude as he scrubbed at a stubborn pan in the sink. His jeans hung low on his hips and he’d taken off the shirt he’d donned before dinner, probably to keep it from getting wet. His muscles flexed with the work, making his tattoo dance along his spine.
Slowly, Libby stood and crossed the kitchen to his side. She touched his arm. “Can please I see it? Your tattoo?”
Exhaling hard, he looked over at her, held her gaze for a long moment.
“Are you ashamed of it?” She couldn’t think of another reason why he’d be so sensitive about it.
“No. Never.” For some reason, his gaze dropped to the cell phone still in her hand and he stared at it like it was going to give him answers to all of life’s hardest questions. Finally, he shrugged, dried off his hands on a towel, and gave her his back. Her fingers itched to touch him, but she feared he’d shy away and she’d never find out what his tattoo said. She kept her hands to herself and read the words he’d thought important enough to ink permanently into his skin.
Meredith, my love…
She jerked backwards in shock. A love letter. He had tattooed a love letter to his sp
ine. Her throat worked, but for a long moment, she couldn’t produce any sound around the surge of pain that froze her vocal chords.
“Who’s Meredith?” she finally choked.
“My mother.”
All the air left her lungs in a burst that was too close to a relieved sob for comfort. “Your mother.” She reached out with trembling fingers and traced the outline of the ballet slippers hanging from one side of the broken angel wings. It was so obvious, she wondered why she hadn’t she made the connection sooner. His mother was a dancer. And the dog tags on the other half of the wings? His father had been career Army.
A memorial to the parents he’d loved and lost far too soon.
“The words—” He stopped, cleared his throat. “My father wrote them. His wedding vow to her.”
“Jude,” she breathed and circled around to face him, but he was staring at the floor. She always accused him of being childish, all that time never forgetting that he was very much a man. But in this moment, he looked so much like the vulnerable child he must have once been, and she wanted nothing more than to hold him close. Comfort him. She touched his cheek and miserable blue eyes lifted, met hers, clung.
“Do you want to tell me about them?”
He shook his head.
How absurd to feel disappointed. He was obviously wrestling with a personal demon that she had no right to help him slay. His problem. His life. It shouldn’t matter to her. She’d spent eight years convincing herself it didn’t matter—that he didn’t matter. And look how that turned out. It took only three weeks with him to negate those eight years.
Despite it all, she still loved him. Had never stopped, probably never would—and she could never tell him. The only thing permanent in Jude Wilde’s life were those tattoos. Hanging on to him would be like trying to hang on to a hummingbird as it darted from flower to flower. Unfair to them both.
On impulse, she set the cell phone on the counter and wound her arms around his waist, laid her cheek against his chest, and held him. Maybe it could only be for the space of a heartbeat, but she held on and let herself enjoy it. He returned her embrace hard and his whole being seemed to shudder. Whether from relief or something else, she didn’t dare guess.
“I sneaked out that night,” he murmured into her hair. “The night my parents died.”
She squeezed him tighter, but kept her mouth shut. It surprised her that he’d confided even that much and she didn’t want to seem like she was pressuring him.
“I wanted nothing more than see Jurassic Park,” he continued after a seemingly endless moment of silence. “I begged them all summer to take me to the theater, but they wouldn’t. Mom said it wasn’t a movie for a ten year old. Hell, she wouldn’t even let Reece watch it and he was thirteen. It seemed so important to me at the time. So important.
“One of my friends got it on video for his birthday and a group of us planned to sneak over to his house later that night to watch it. I’d seen Greer sneak out enough times to know exactly how it was done, so off I went in my dinosaur PJs, ready to get the shit scared out of me by T-Rex. I never considered what my parents would think when they came to tuck me in and saw my bed empty, my window open, my shoes and coat still in my closet.”
“They thought someone had taken you,” she concluded.
“Yeah. They left Greer at home with Reece and the twins and went to the police. They filed a report then launched their own search, driving up and down the streets, calling my name, looking for any signs of me. By that point, I was already back in my room, sound asleep. Reece found me, tried to get a hold of them to tell them I was all right…but this was ‘93. Not everyone had cell phones back then.”
He stopped. Libby rubbed her cheek against his chest. “What happened to them?”
Jude blew out a long, slow breath. “They stopped at a gas station to fill up before continuing their search and walked right into an armed robbery. The gunman shot Dad in the head as he went inside to pay for the gas. Yanked Mom out of the car and shot her four times. Left her to bleed out in the parking lot and stole the car. She made it to the hospital before—before she died.”
Libby blinked back tears and held him tighter, offering the comfort she could. “Did they catch the guy?”
“No, but it didn’t matter. There was only one person responsible for their deaths.”
“Jude, no—”
“I envy you,” he said, cutting off her protest. He motioned to the cell phone. “What you have with your parents. Hell, even the fact that you still have your parents. I envy you. I always have.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Libby opened her mouth, but after that whooper of a confession, one he hadn’t meant to make, he couldn’t stay to hear whatever pity she was about to lay on him. He strode into the bedroom, needing space from her, but finding the room resonated with her essence. The faint hint of vanilla in the air from her perfume, her nightshirt folded so neatly on the end of the made bed. Even as miserable as he felt, he had to smile. Meticulous even when she’d been feeling blue—she was his opposite in almost every way. In the rare occasions when he got mopey, his apartment usually suffered for it.
Jude sat on the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. Part of him wanted to hate Libby for dragging him though the muck of the past. He never let himself think about that night but, he supposed, he’d never managed to leave it behind him either. It colored everything he’d ever done in his life. And, hell, to this day he couldn’t watch Jurassic Park without bawling like a baby.
Maybe it was time to face it.
The door opened a crack and Libby peeked into the dim room, the light from the hallway creating a halo effect around her golden hair. After a moment of indecision, she came inside, shut the door, and moved to stand in front of him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Fuck. Who knew two little words could pack such a punch? Appalled that his vision had gone blurry, he snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her toward him, burying his face in the soft fabric of her T-shirt over her belly.
“I shouldn’t have asked.” Her fingers sifted through his hair, trailed down the back of his neck and spine. Pleasurable goose bumps swept over his skin.
Her name left his lips on a groan and as he tilted his face up, her lips descended on his. He parted his knees, inviting her to step into him, wanting her closer, needing her closer. Funny how just a moment ago, he’d thought he needed some time alone, but he’d been so ridiculously wrong about that. He didn’t need space. All he needed was her. He had a sinking feeling that she was all he’d ever need. She was definitely all he’d ever wanted, but he’d learned long ago that yearning for something he would never be able to have was pointless. All they had was this fling. This night. Possibly tomorrow night, but that was no guarantee. His brothers could capture K-Bar at any moment and then this would all be over. He had to take what he could get now.
No emotions.
He could do that. He’d done it most of his life.
As their mouths fused together in a slow burn of passion, his hands dipped under her shirt and caressed the skin of her back. She sighed into his mouth, then pulled away long enough to whisk her shirt over her head. Standing, he unbuttoned his jeans, but couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Undressing her held a lot more appeal anyway and he skimmed her shorts down her legs, trailing his lips along all the golden skin he found on the way. Her fingers dug into his scalp and he felt the tug on his hair all the way to the tip of his cock. Man, he loved it when she did that.
No emotions.
In a burst of movement, he cupped her lovely, lace-covered ass, scooped her up until her legs wound around his waist, and switched their positions, laying her gently on the bed. He lowered himself on top of her, loving the way everything soft on her body yielded to everything hard on his. And the way she smiled up at him like she had a secret she was about to divulge. And the way her glasses sat slightly crooked on her nose, knocked askew by him, and how she didn’
t give a shit.
Jude lifted her glasses off and folded them carefully on the nightstand. Turning her head on the pillow, she reached out to help, but he caught her hand and nuzzled the exposed column of her neck.
No emotions.
A hum of pleasure vibrated her throat under his lips and his body reacted as if she had zapped him, every nerve ending firing at the same moment. He reclaimed her mouth and his senses filled to capacity with her taste, her vanilla scent, her soft skin, the sound of her breathing, the beat of her heart…
No emotions?
Yeah, right.
…
Something was different about Jude tonight. He took his time, drawing every kiss, every caress out until every inch of her skin flushed hot and every breath came out as a sigh or a moan. This wasn’t the fast, hard, bed-rocking sex she’d had with him in the past, but something else entirely. Something gentle and pure and genuine.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was making love to her.
With a sigh, she opened herself to him, taking him deep into her body—and, she feared, her heart. But she wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t let herself feel anything but the pleasure of this moment. She shut her eyes, focused only on the sensations of their joining, but he stopped moving and his fingers trailed along her cheek. He cupped a hand around the back of her neck and lifted her toward him, his lips sealing over hers with such possessiveness that her eyes popped open in surprise. He stared right back at her, every wild, passionate, insane emotion she was trying so hard not to feel reflected in his gaze.
Heart in her throat, she tightened her legs around his hips and pushed herself up with her arms. He relented easily, laying back and letting her take control. His hands slid upwards from her waist, released the clasp of her bra, and skimmed the straps off her shoulders. He traced the fullness of each breast as the bra fell away, then smoothed his fingers down her arms until they found her hands. He pressed their palms together, his fingers twice as big and deeply tanned, hers smaller and only a few sun-kissed shades lighter. Smiling slightly, he twined their fingers together. Somehow, that tender joining was even more intimate than the one at their hips and emotion thickened in her throat.
Wilde Nights in Paradise Page 15
