The Lawman
Page 17
He grimaced, but finished when she couldn’t go on. “She hit you, too?”
She nodded against his chest. “Her own kids, too.” She cleared her throat. “I thought that was just the way it was. I thought everyone was raised that way, until I went to school and began to make friends.”
He tightened his hold on her. “Oh, kitten, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I thought I had it rough. My parents adored me, gave me everything I wanted. I can’t imagine what you went through. Why didn’t you fight back, when you found out it wasn’t normal?”
He felt her shiver. “The one time I tried, I wound up in the hospital.”
“Damn.” He stroked her soft hair. “I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better. I wish there was something I could do.”
“There isn’t anything to say.” Her voice was bleak. “There’s nothing you can do. It happened, and it can’t be changed.”
He wondered if telling her that he loved her would change anything. Or would it just scare her even more?
“I thought I’d gotten past it all, forgotten him, but this situation has brought it all back.”
“Why?”
She moved in his arms, leaning back so she could see him. “His favorite thing to say to me was ‘You can’t do anything right.’ I guess I’m—” Her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat.
Control. Always in control. It took on new meaning in Tabitha’s case. He wished she would just burst into tears, cry all over him.
“I’m afraid he’s right,” she continued in a whisper.
“He’s not.” Jake’s hand was trembling with rage, but he stroked her cheek with gentle tenderness. “He was wrong about everything. You are beautiful and smart and capable of anything. You’ve done everything right.”
“Then why don’t we have Cait and Dr. Walters back?”
“These things take time. Don’t worry. We’ll get the hostages back, safe and sound.” He was more determined than ever. He’d hunt Hines down himself if he had to.
Her smile was shaky and sad, but at least it was a smile. “Because you’ll rescue them.”
“I’m thinking you’ll be the hero here.” His voice was husky. “I’ll just lead the cavalry.”
She searched his face. “Jake, I…”
“Yes, kitten?”
She sighed and closed her eyes. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
“Let’s go home, then.” Funny, how that word meant something now. Before, the place he’d lived was just an apartment. He hadn’t had a home since his parents died. But now wherever Tabitha lived was home.
Her eyes popped open. “Can we? It’s just a little after five.”
He nodded. “Hines has called once today. He won’t call again until tomorrow. Maybe not until the day after.”
When she didn’t move, he leaned down and kissed her.
She sighed and dragged her fingers through his hair.
“Are you going to stay with me tonight?” she asked when he drew away.
He searched her eyes. If he stayed, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. He knew it, and from the look on her face, she knew it, too. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I do.”
Jake kissed her again, with much more passion this time. She responded in kind, giving back as much heat as he gave her.
Somewhere from the back of his mind came a faraway voice, reminding him that this was not a woman with whom he could have a casual fling, then just as casually leave.
Jake pulled back and peered down into her lovely, flushed face. She looked so sexy, so soft, so vulnerable.
But was she enough to satisfy him for the rest of life? Was she enough to make him give up his ambitions of rescuing the world, as she’d put it?
And what might be more to the point—was he enough for her?
Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him with a sexy sigh.
His heart performed a somersault in his chest. Never in all his thirty-six years had he felt this way. All he wanted to do was show her how much he loved her. He wanted to show her the joys of intimacy. He wanted to make her giggle every day. He wanted to rescue her.
Jake smiled. She was right. He had a rescue complex. He wanted to rescue her from her terrible childhood, erase the memories of pain, of rejection and replace them with memories of love, memories of him.
“What is it?” she asked.
He hesitated, then said, “I want to make love to you.”
She shivered but didn’t look away. “I know.”
“I want you to touch me everywhere.”
Her breath caught. “Can I?”
He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers. “You witch. I thought you were afraid to touch a man.”
“But you want me to. You just said so.” She moved her hands on his chest.
He shivered when they rubbed across the sensitive nubs.
“See?” She went back over them with her fingernails.
He moaned.
She giggled. “You like it.”
He stared into her hot blue eyes. “Very, very much.”
When she turned her hands around to do it again, he stood and pulled her to her feet. “Get your things. We’re going home.”
Thirteen
The scene at Tabitha’s house was much less chaotic than the day before. There were a few of the more aggressive reporters hanging around, but they stayed off her lawn, no doubt thanks to the officers who took up position around the perimeter of her property. The reporters shouted questions at Tabitha and Jake as they walked into the house, but only halfheartedly. They’d apparently learned that neither she nor Jake were going to give them an interview.
The next time she looked out the window, most of them were gone.
Tabitha expected Jake to lead her to the bedroom as soon as they entered. He didn’t, however. He surprised her by picking up the cat, who had come running to greet them.
“Looks as if Billy’s taken to you,” she said as she scratched the cat’s head. “And I thought you didn’t like cats.”
Jake stroked the purring cat’s back and grinned. “Since I’ve discovered a certain affinity for kittens, I figure cats can’t be all that bad.”
She felt blood sting her cheeks at his words and arched her eyebrow to cover it. “Cats and kittens both have claws.”
His green eyes glowed. “I know.”
His look made her remember his pleasure when she had scraped her nails across his chest at the hospital. “I’d better see if he still has food in his bowl.”
He took her hand with his free one. “Are you afraid?”
She looked into his now serious face. “A little. Are you sure you—”
“Absolutely.” He let the cat down, then straightened and caught her jaw with one hand. “Are you?”
“I want to, but I have to tell you…”
“Tell me what?”
“I’m probably not going to be very good at it.”
He laughed out loud.
Hurt more than angry, she spun around, but he caught her before she’d taken two steps.
He took her face between his hands. “Kitten, if you were any better, I’d have been a very embarrassed man this afternoon.”
A tiny thrill passed through her, knowing she had that much power over him. “Really?”
He chuckled. “Yes.” Then he kissed her soundly. “Damn, you are a witch. I’m trying to be good and wait at least until dark.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to make sure everything’s quiet. Because I don’t want my men walking in on us, thinking we’re eating supper or something equally innocuous. Because once I start, I want the whole night. Because you’re so— Oh, hell.” He backed her into the dining room wall and, grabbing her bottom, lifted her against it and captured her mouth with a frenzy that took her breath away.
Surprised, off balance, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips.
With a lo
w growl, he shoved her skirt, which had ridden up to her hips, all the way to her waist and ground his hardness into her.
Tabitha gasped. She was ready for him. She could feel her wetness.
“Damn,” he breathed against her ear. “You’re wearing a thong ag—”
The doorbell rang, making their heads jerk toward it.
“Damn,” Jake spat. “I knew it.”
Tabitha breathed hard as Jake eased her legs down.
“All this stopping and starting is killing me.” He kissed her one more time. “You okay?”
She nodded.
The doorbell rang again.
He adjusted his pants, then cussed all the way to the door. He flung it open. “You’d better have a damn good— Oh. Hi.” He glanced back at Tabitha. “It’s Marie.”
“Marie?” Tabitha stepped to the door to find her secretary standing on the porch. “Well, come on in.”
Marie smiled expansively as she looked Tabitha up and down. “Oh, no, honey. I don’t want to disturb you. Harry’s waiting for me in the truck.” She nodded at the vintage Ford sitting in Tabitha’s driveway, then picked up a bucket at her feet. “Harry just thought you might like a nice mess of fish tonight, is all. We kept up with things on the radio, so we know you had a hard day, what with that evil man calling and all. Anyhoo, Harry caught his limit today. Nice fat bass.”
Jake took the bucket from Marie. “Well, isn’t that nice. We were just…discussing what we were going to fix for supper.”
Marie’s eyes sparkled, and she winked at Tabitha. “I can see that.”
Tabitha barely restrained herself from touching her hair to see if it was standing on end. “Thanks, Marie.”
“My pleasure.” She turned to leave. “Before you can argue, I’m telling you now that I’ll be in tomorrow. See y’all in the morning,” she called over her shoulder.
“What was that all about?” Jake asked as he waved to Harry in the truck.
Harry waved back.
“I don’t know.” Tabitha turned to the mirror in the entry. Her hair was a little mussed, but not so bad that anyone could tell what they’d been doing. “Sometimes I think she’s psychic.”
She peered in the bucket. “You’re going to clean them, right?”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jake dug a sharp knife from the proper drawer—he already knew her kitchen, Tabitha noticed—picked up that morning’s newspaper and took the bucket outside.
While he did that, Tabitha fed the cat rubbing against her legs, then cleaned his litter box. When she took the refuse outside to the trash can, she had to fight Billy away from the back door. He’d evidently smelled what Jake had carried through.
She found Jake squatting over newspapers covered with fish heads and guts. A police sergeant, by his stripes, stood over Jake.
“I see you have supervision,” Tabitha said with a smile. “Hello, Sergeant.”
The sergeant tipped his hat. “Evening, ma’am.”
“Come to help?” Jake asked.
She shivered as she dumped her load in the can. “That’s okay.”
“Not a fisherwoman, I take it?”
“Not in this lifetime.” She hurried back inside, again keeping Billy back. “You’ll get some, don’t worry. But it will be cooked.”
“Meow.”
“You can complain all you want to, but I’ve smelled the breath of cats who’ve eaten raw fish.”
Billy rubbed against her ankles.
“That’s not going to help, either.” She started for the refrigerator, to fix some vegetables, then stopped. “If we’re going to fry fish, I need to change.”
Switching direction, she peeked out the kitchen window. Jake was still talking to the sergeant, probably giving him instructions for the night. He only had a couple of fish cleaned, so she probably had time to change without him walking in on her.
Why was she worried about that? He was going to see every inch of her body in just a little while.
She giggled, then rolled her eyes. “Jeez. This needs to stop. I’m not a teenager.”
Tabitha headed toward the bedroom, the cat at her heels. “A pair of jeans and a T-shirt won’t do,” she said to Billy. “I need something a little sexier, don’t you think?”
“Meow.”
Tabitha smiled and rubbed Billy’s head when he jumped on her bed. “You’re fun to talk to, you know it? Maybe I need to get a cat.”
Billy lay down and started purring immediately.
Tabitha stroked down his back, all the way to his tail. “Yes, I definitely need a cat. Jake won’t be around forever, after all.”
Now why had she mentioned that? She hadn’t thought about what she was doing in relation to Jake’s plans.
She sat down on the bed next to Billy, absently stroking him.
Was she doing the right thing, making love with him?
Every instinct in her body said she was.
“I’m in love with him,” she told the cat, who blinked with indifference. “How about that kick in the pants? I’m in love with Assistant Police Chief Jake White—a cop. And not just any cop. A supercop. A cop who’s going to leave Mission Creek when his contract is up, whenever that is. A cop who needs to be rescued from his own rescue complex, but won’t even admit he has one.”
Even with all that against him, Tabitha felt closer to Jake than anyone, ever, in her life.
She knew that people in crisis situations often fell in love. Or thought they did. Those relationships rarely lasted, because they were based on shared trauma, not real emotions.
“Is that all this is, Billy? Do I think I love him because he’s helping me through this? I just met him yesterday. Two days. How could I possibly be in love with him?”
But it seemed more like two months, with all they’d been through. After the long, exhausting hours they’d spent together, she knew this man. She knew his goals. She knew his sexual appetites. She knew what drove his need to rescue every victim in his case file.
“That’s what intimacy is, isn’t it?” she asked Billy. “Knowing someone. Knowing everything about them.”
How long could it last, though? Even if their relationship lasted, Jake was leaving. And he hadn’t said anything about taking her with him. He hadn’t said anything about loving her.
But he had said he cared.
“You know what, Billy?” Tabitha stood. “I don’t care how long it’s going to last. No one can know that, right? Even if he doesn’t love me, I want this. I want him for as long as I can get him. I’ve never felt this way and, by George, I’m going to milk every moment.”
She turned into the closet. “Now, what am I going to wear?”
“I don’t think we’ll be—” Jake stopped as he walked through the door.
“Close the door!” Tabitha ran and shut the door behind Jake just before Billy got there.
She needn’t have worried. Billy stopped at Jake’s feet, meowing and rubbing himself against Jake’s legs.
“Is this the same cat who wouldn’t give us the time of day last night?” Jake asked.
“You have fish.”
“Ah, that explains it.” He set the plate piled high with filets on the counter, then washed his hands. He glanced around the kitchen. “I see you’ve already got things started.”
She nodded. “I hope you don’t mind corn again. I creamed it.”
“I love corn.”
“That’s good. We’re having slaw, too.” She couldn’t believe they were talking about vegetables when all she wanted to do was continue what they’d begun in the dining room. They were alone now. Wasn’t he going to say anything? Do anything? She sure didn’t know how to start it. Maybe she should have worn something sexier.
Since she didn’t want to be too obvious, she’d opted for her tightest pair of jeans and a white cotton muscle shirt that fit her like a second skin. What made the outfit sexy—or so she’d thought—was that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Sounds good,”
he said. He turned to a large iron skillet on the stove top. “I’ll just get started breading the fish.”
A thump made them turn in time to see Billy scampering along the countertop toward the fish.
Jake swooped them out of his way just in time.
Tabitha scooped up the cat. Flipping him over in her arms, she rubbed his belly to make up for his being denied the fish. “You’ll get some later, silly Billy. I promise. But for now you’re going in your crate. That was attempted robbery. You have to be locked up.” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “There’s a by-the-book cop here, you know. He’ll insist.”
“Very funny.”
She touched her nose to Billy’s. “Cops have no sense of humor.”
After she put Billy in his carrier, she helped Jake with the cornmeal breading.
Jake insisted on the task of frying them.
Since he wore nice dress slacks, Tabitha pulled out an apron and tied it around his waist. “If you’re going to act like a stubborn cook, you’re going to dress like a stubborn cook.”
He held up a corner of the lacy apron and batted his eyes. “How do I look?”
“Very…” Sexy. Hot. Strong. Touchable. All of the words applied, but she said none of them because he hadn’t mentioned sex since he’d cleaned the fish. Far from making him seem feminine, the contrast between his dark masculinity and the frilly apron showed how confident he was in his maleness. “…pretty.” She cleared her throat. “I need to make the slaw.”
Once that was done, all Tabitha had to do was occasionally stir the corn to keep it from sticking.
“What about hush puppies?” Jake asked halfway through the frying.
“I don’t know how to make them,” she said.
“Have an onion?”
She nodded.
He gave her directions and set her to work.
“Where did you learn so much about fish frying?”
“I helped with the Houston PD’s annual fish fry. We raised money for crime victims.”
“And how much actually got to crime victims?”
He stared at her, his stillness as forceful as his usual state of constant movement. “Didn’t your father have any redeeming qualities?”
She turned away. “He had a beautiful tenor voice and sang in the choir at church. But, then, he also sang Christmas carols with some of his cop buddies to raise money for a policeman’s fund. But they were the only policemen who benefited. They used the money to pay their tabs at the bar they went to all the time.”