“I brought it up, so it doesn’t count. How’d you meet her?”
“College.”
“She was a brain too?”
Jackson stroked Lauren’s back. “She was no dummy. Very bright in her own way, but she wasn’t a student at Yale if that’s what you mean.”
“Hmm.”
“She was a rookie security guard in the building where I worked a lot of nights in the lab. She’d come around, and we’d talk.” He grinned even as a pang of loss and nostalgia sliced through him. “After a few weeks of talking and eyeing each other over the Bunsen burner, we ended up in a closet making out.”
Lauren gave a throaty laugh. “Sex in the janitor’s closet? And they say geeks are boring.”
“Geek?” He angled his head to meet her smirking expression. “I was on the football team, thank you.” He paused and lifted the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t become a geek until after graduation. As a grad student, I was definitely a geek, but by then Janine and I were married.”
“Mmm.”
“So you married young?”
“Yeah. We did.”
“Any regrets?”
He stared up at the ceiling. Despite the arguments, the tough times every marriage suffers, Janine had been his first love. His partner. “None.”
“You miss her.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Of course I do.”
They fell silent for a moment before Lauren whispered, “I’m sorry for what I said. Earlier today. I’m sure you’ve grieved for her in your own way, and I had no right to—”
“It’s okay.”
“No, I shouldn’t have said anything. I—”
“It’s okay!” He faced her again. “You’re probably even right. Maybe I haven’t really grieved for her yet. I know I think about what I’ve lost every day. I see her whenever I look at Emily. She’s got her mom’s hair and eyes and smile.”
Lauren’s gaze softened. “If her death haunts you so much, why don’t you let yourself… I don’t know…cry or hit something or get good and drunk or whatever guys do to deal with grief? Get it out of your system.”
He shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
He inhaled deeply, shoving his pain down before he answered.
“Because…if I ever let myself fall apart, I’m not sure I could get myself back together again. And Emily needs her dad to keep it together.”
“But, Jackson—”
“No buts, Lauren.” He shifted to his side and stroked her cheek. “Can we talk about something else?”
“I—” She snapped her mouth shut and lowered her gaze for a moment. When she looked up at him again, she smiled. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“Well…” He pursed his lips as if in deep thought. “Why don’t you tell me why your butt says ‘pea’.”
She chortled and buried her face in his chest. “God, how embarrassing.”
He tugged her hip forward so he could take another gander at the small blue letters decorating her lower back just above her tush. “I thought I was imagining things when I saw it at first, but…”
“Stop!” She giggled and covered the evidence with her hand.
Chuckling, he playfully pried her hand away and shook his head. “Nope, you definitely have a tattoo that says ‘pea’. You dated a guy named Pea once? Or perhaps you have a vegetable fetish?”
She laughed harder and batted at his chest. “More like an aversion to pain.”
“Huh?”
“Boomer and I went with some other jumpers to a tattoo parlor the day we finished rookie training. A kind of stupid, bonding, celebration thing. Mine was supposed to say ‘peace’ with the peace symbol around it. You know the circle thing with the upside down Y?”
“Yeah. Very sixties.”
“I thought it was kinda cool. But the tattooing, the whole needle-injecting-ink-into-my-skin bit hurt like hell. I lasted long enough for the guy to write p-e-a, and I bolted.”
Jackson felt a little hitch in his chest when she flashed him a sheepish grin. He tugged her closer and laughed. “You could get it removed.”
She scowled. “Hell, no! That’d hurt too. Remember…my aversion to pain? It can stay. I’m okay with my butt saying ‘pea’ for the rest of my life.”
He smirked. “I think it’s kinda cute.”
“Cute? Great, I was going for cool or sexy and got cute.” She made a gag face.
“Maybe I should call you sweet pea.”
“Maybe I should bop you,” she replied, giving him a playful jab in the arm.
“Sweet pea.” He rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “I like it.”
“Ack! I hate it! Don’t you dare call me that. Especially around Boomer, ’cause he’ll know what you’re talking about, figure out how you know, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”
He sobered a little, wondering if she realized what she’d said—her assumption that they’d be together again around Boomer.
This woman was like a diamond with a million facets. Every new angle adding to her brilliance and beauty.
The truth hit him with the force of a prizefighter’s punch. The something he’d missed, the more he’d wanted when they had sex earlier—he hadn’t wanted sex. He’d wanted to make love.
“Oh God,” he breathed.
“What?” Her brow furrowed.
Jackson’s mouth was suddenly dry, his heart thumping like a panicked rabbit. “Uh…nothing. I—”
She raised her eyebrows, waiting.
He framed her face with his hands and pressed a kiss to her warm lips. It felt right, so perfect. “You’re beautiful, Lauren. All the way to your soul.”
She pulled back, stared at him as if stunned by the compliment. Then smiled. “Thanks.” She nipped his lips and added, “But you still can’t call me sweet pea.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lauren couldn’t be sure how long she and Jackson lay in each other’s arms, whispering, kissing, sharing confidences in the dark. As much as she enjoyed the quiet time, the cuddling, she couldn’t quite shake the looming knowledge that tomorrow they would face all the horrors they’d shoved aside tonight by silent agreement. She glanced at the digital clock on the bedside stand. After midnight.
As tired as she’d been earlier that night, Lauren doubted she’d get any sleep. Not with her mind whirling, her body awake and begging for Jackson’s attention.
She’d seen how deeply he loved his daughter, his wife. Clearly he had a similar passion and concern for his work, for humanity. But he was troubled too. Tortured by the same grief and guilt that demonstrated his tremendous capacity to love.
What would it be like to be on the receiving end of that depth of feeling and loyalty? Her parents had it, but Lauren had always doubted she’d ever find something as rare and true as what her parents shared. Until she met this man. Through Jackson, she’d seen a glimpse of what it might be like to be well and truly loved.
But she had no claim on him. She’d asked for no promises, no commitment and didn’t dare pressure him for anything he wasn’t ready to give. Not when he had so many other people pulling at him, demanding a piece of his time and attention and heart. If anything ever grew out of these past two days together, she wanted it to come from Jackson, wanted him to give it to her freely, with no guilt or pressure or strings attached. But only when he was ready.
After a few minutes, she peeked up at him and found him staring at the ceiling. “I know. I can’t sleep either. Too much on my mind.”
“Emily has asthma. She had started wheezing up at the cabin before I left with Rick. And she doesn’t have her inhaler. What if—”
Lauren covered his mouth with her hand. “You promised. Stay positive.”
Jackson sighed. “This is killing me, Lauren. Not knowing how she is, wondering—”
She kissed him. Hard. If she did nothing else for him, she could help keep his mind off Emily for a little while. Lauren slid her leg over his and push
ed herself on top of him while her lips, her tongue, coaxed a response from his mouth.
Jackson plowed his fingers into her tangled hair and anchored her head as he answered her kiss with gentle suction and a probing tongue.
“Lauren,” he murmured, “I want… Let me do things my way this time.” As if the heart-breaking warmth in his eyes weren’t enough, he added, “Please?”
She gave him a light kiss and nodded. “I’m all yours. Whatever you want.”
He flashed her a sexy smile that zinged straight to her heart. “All right then. You lie back and just enjoy. Okay?”
She arched an eyebrow in amusement, but there was nothing funny about the sizzle of anticipation that raced through her blood. “Okay.”
He rolled with her until he held the dominant position, and made love to her. Slowly. Tenderly. Neither one moved for long moments after the last echoes of the tumultuous climax faded. Bodies joined. Hearts pounding. Their skin slick with sweat.
Jackson massaged her scalp with his fingertips, and she finally relaxed her death-grip on his back.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, unable to find her voice, unsure what had just happened to them, but certain nothing would ever be the same between them.
A knot lodged in her throat when she thought of telling him goodbye in the morning. Leaving Jackson tomorrow would be one hundred times harder than leaping from an airplane had been the first time her rookie class had made an honest-to-God parachute jump.
Lauren swallowed hard and tried to squelch the throb of dread in her chest. She cleared the emotion from her throat. “I like your way. Your way is…nice. Really nice.”
“You know, sweet pea,” Jackson whispered near her ear. “I could easily fall for you.”
Lauren tensed, her pulse thundering so loud in her head she could barely think.
“Jackson, this…this was just about…sex. A release we both wanted, both needed. I’m okay with that.” She heard the quiver in her voice and prayed Jackson hadn’t.
“I know what we said. I know what we intended. I won’t make promises to you I know I can’t keep. You deserve so much more than what I can give you right now.”
“I don’t need pretty words or promises from you, Jackson. So don’t…” Her throat locked, and she bit the inside of her cheek.
“If things were different—”
“But they’re not.”
He pushed away, holding himself over her so that his dark, penetrating gaze could capture hers. “When this is all over, Lauren, maybe—”
She cut him off with a finger on his lips. “Maybe.” He tried to speak, and she shook her head. “No platitudes. Remember?”
He gave her a sad smile. “Of course. Only the truth.” Kissing the tip of her nose he added, “And we both know the truth—this was more than sex.”
It was getting colder.
Whitefeather knew temperatures in the forties weren’t uncommon in the mountains of Idaho, even in the summer. His main concern was Boomer. Even if his fellow smokejumper had stabilized in the past several hours, he was still weak and needed blood. The cold would sap Boomer’s strength even more. The three of them would have to huddle together, share body heat through the night.
Whitefeather eased away from the spot where he’d been holding Emily and crept over to check Boomer’s pulse.
“Nope, not dead yet,” Boomer mumbled and opened his eyes a slit. “Can’t get rid…of me that easy.”
“Good. Hang tough, man. I know you feel like shit, but they’ve got to send a chopper soon. Our pick up was scheduled for tomorrow morning. When we aren’t there, they’ll look for us.”
“Where’s Emily?”
“Asleep.”
“Quite the…chatter bug, huh?”
“Yeah. You can say that again.”
“Quite the chat—” A log on the fire cracked with a loud pop.
Emily screamed and bolted upright. “Cara! Ca-raaaa!”
Whitefeather scrambled back to the disoriented girl, pulling her into his arms and shushing her. “Easy, little one, it was just the fire. You’re okay.”
“Cara! Where’s Cara? He shot her! Montego shot her! There was blood. So much blood…everywhere.” She coughed and struggled for a breath.
“You’re safe, Emily. You’re okay.” Whitefeather chafed her cold, trembling limbs and glanced back at Boomer.
“My God,” Boomer rasped. “What did she see? What’s…that kid been through?”
Whitefeather wondered the same thing.
*
August 29
The phone’s jarring ring yanked Jackson out of his sleep. He took a few seconds to recall his surroundings, the naked woman whose leg draped his and what lay in store that morning. A spike of adrenaline erased the last vestige of sleep from his brain.
Stretching across Lauren, he noted several things in the span of a few seconds. The clock read 4:08. The feel of Lauren’s bare body against his as he reached for the phone fired a massive morning erection. And the few hours sleep he’d managed weren’t nearly enough to refresh him.
He snapped on the bedside lamp and lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
“Dr. McKay? This is Sheriff Billows. Sorry to wake you so early, but I’ve got an alphabet soup of federal agencies in town waiting for a chance to talk with you and finalize their strategic planning.”
The cavalry had arrived.
Jackson swiped a hand over his face. His heart beat a hard tattoo against his ribs.
“Special Agent Mark Tarver of the FBI will be around to pick you up at your motel in twenty minutes and get this ball rolling.” The sheriff paused. “Dr. McKay? Are you there?”
“Yeah. Twenty minutes. I’ll be ready. Thanks.” Jackson replaced the receiver and sighed.
“Jackson?” Lauren dragged a cool hand down his cheek.
He shifted back to his side of the bed, pulling her with him as he hunkered down in the covers. He had twenty minutes, and he intended to use as many as possible holding Lauren, soaking up the peace and strength she exuded.
Lying on her side, facing him, Lauren wrapped an arm around him to massage his back. “Was that the sheriff?”
“Yeah. There’s an FBI agent waiting to talk to me. He’ll be here soon. Billows said he has a whole array of agencies here.” He threaded his fingers through her rumpled hair, and with his other hand on her bottom, he tugged her nearer.
She swung her leg over his, bringing their bodies in full contact, head to foot.
In the stillness and quiet of the early morning, he studied her face, the parade of freckles on her nose, the fan of auburn eyelashes on her cheeks, the delicate pink of her lips.
Pushing his erection inside her felt as natural as breathing. Her warm body welcomed him. He was at home here. For a few precious moments, he could shut out the world beyond their motel room door.
She opened her eyes and angled her head to meet his gaze. Neither of them moved. They held each other, joined—body and spirit.
“We don’t have any condoms left, Jackson,” she whispered, her voice full of regret.
He hugged her closer, kissed her forehead, buried himself deeper into her body. “I know.”
She closed her eyes with a weary sigh. “But Jackson—”
“Look at me, Lauren. Don’t close your eyes.”
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she locked her gaze on his. “You said you had to leave.”
“I do. Just…let me hold you a few more minutes. I need…I need this. I need you. Before—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.
She skimmed her hand up his back to tunnel fingers into his hair, cradle the nape of his neck. Her eyes brightened with tears that hovered on her lashes, sparkling like diamonds. She clung to him, staring into his eyes with the same deep, searching intensity that he gave her.
“I could fall for you too, Jackson,” she murmured at last.
A bittersweet swirl of emotion twisted inside his chest.
He knew a legion of the nation’s finest law enforcement waited for him beyond their door, but for now, two people were all that existed, and this moment meant everything to him.
A tear slid down her cheek.
“Lauren,” he sighed.
He caught the salty moisture with a kiss. By sheer force of will he held himself together, channeling his roiling feelings into his kiss, the slide of his body in hers, the climax that gathered in him like a storm.
She trembled in his arms then gasped as her body convulsed around his erection. He clenched his teeth, waiting, holding himself in check as long as he could. Then with one last stroke, he pulled out and spilled his seed in hot spurts between their bellies.
She gave a sad, breathy laugh that was a warm caress against his ear. “Mr. Responsible to the end. Don’t you get tired of carrying the world on your shoulders, Jackson?”
He didn’t know how to answer her. Wasn’t sure he could without his voice betraying him.
An engine rumbled just outside like thunder announcing the coming rain. Lauren stiffened.
“I have to go,” he said without releasing her.
God, how did he let her go? He’d let himself become far too invested in Lauren Michaels for his own good. Hadn’t losing Janine been torture enough without battering his heart with memories of what might have been with Lauren? And didn’t the idea of loving another woman whose job demanded she put her life on the line scare the bejeezus out of him?
Hell yes.
It was better they parted as friends. Friends who’d share memories of one night of magic that could never be more.
In the end, it was Lauren who moved first. She untangled her limbs from his and rolled away, pulling the sheet to her chin. Her shoulders shook, and he kissed the tip of one before he climbed from the bed.
After a cold, two-minute shower, he pulled his dirty clothes from the back of the motel chair and stepped into them. When someone pounded on the door, he glanced at the clock. It had only been nineteen minutes.
Lauren sat up, holding the sheet over her breasts. “Will you call me?”
Under Fire Page 20
