Their children would grow up with a man around. Ian. Not their fathers, but the next best thing. Their children would grow up knowing their fathers loved them and fought to make the future safer. For them. Their children would be allowed to remain children because Ian would do his best to fill the role of man-around-the-house.
For four households.
His life was no longer his own and the stress of the responsibility he’d taken on and the promises he’d made weighed heavily on his already overburdened psyche.
He’d reached his limit, could not deal with one more woman, one more responsibility in his life. And yet, seeing Jaci again, feeling her, remembering carefree times, Ian couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her, of returning to his condo. Alone. To the nightmares that awaited him whenever he closed his eyes. To the anxiety and tension and overall feeling of instability that plagued him since his return.
She stopped at her door.
His heart pounded. His chest grew tight. Sweat pooled in his armpits.
“Please,” he said. God help him he was begging her to let him stay in her presence, to keep him from retreating into the dark, torturous depths of his mind.
She took out her key. “You are not coming in.”
Desperation gripped him. Panic.
She unlocked the door and opened it.
A baby cried out from inside, clearing his head instantly.
Ian stood in shock unable to move.
Jaci had a baby? No way she’d been pregnant before they’d slept together. He’d monopolized every moment of her spare time for the four months beforehand. Could she have fallen into another man’s arms so soon after his deployment? Maybe. But not likely. Jaci teased and flirted. A lot. But she was very selective about who shared her bed, at least according to Justin who’d known her since high school.
It was one of the reasons their night together meant so much.
Which had to mean the baby was his.
Taking advantage of his stupor, she escaped inside, closing the door behind her.
Ian leaned up against the wall, his mouth suddenly dry, swallowing difficult. He was a man teetering on the edge of sanity, a man with no viable means to support himself, or replenish the savings he’d already spent to fulfill his commitment to his fallen brothers.
And now he was a father, responsible for a tiny, defenseless baby, in addition to everything else.
A baby no one had bothered to tell him about.
Justin was a dead man.
CHAPTER TWO
“YOU’RE here! Three days early.” Jaci’s conflicting emotions over seeing Ian vanished, replaced by jubilation at the return of her sister. She tossed her bag on the kitchen counter, yanked off her raincoat, and toed off her boots.
“I tried to call your home phone when we arrived. Luckily Brandon was at the concierge desk,” Jena said. “I didn’t think you’d mind us coming right up.”
“Of course not. How are you? How was your trip? Is everything okay?” She stripped off her wet clothes right there in the entryway, could not wait to hug her sister and meet her tiny, crying nieces.
“Why are you all wet?” Jena asked.
“Pick up for the crisis center.” No sense worrying her sister with the details. In nothing but a tee and panties, Jaci charged across the hardwood floor of her living room in bare feet. “You look fabulous.” A little white lie. She pulled her twin into her arms and squeezed her tight. “I missed you so much. Promise me you’re home to stay.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Jena hugged her back with equal vigor. “If you promise me that no matter what happens you won’t hate me.”
Hate her? “Are you kidding me?” Jaci tightened her hold. “I could never, ever hate you. I love you.” She stepped back. “Look at these adorable babies.” She rubbed her cold hands together. “I need to wash my hands and warm up before I touch them. Brrrrr it’s chilly in here.”
“Only if you’re wet and naked.”
“So I’m not complaining or anything.” Jaci hurried down the hallway to her bathroom. “But what’s with the surprise arrival?”
“I was worried about the weather. They’re predicting heavy flooding all along the east coast from the storm, and I didn’t want to miss the charity ball,” Jena called after her.
“So you can protect me from Jerry Three?” Since she’d stopped responding to all communication from the current head of the family—despite his threats—after that horrible night he’d received the e-mail from Iraq and summoned her to the estate. Where he’d proceeded to unload every negative, hateful thought he’d harbored against her. It’d taken over an hour, during which he’d blocked her exit from his office. And he’d ended his tirade with a smack to the side of the head she hadn’t seen coming.
Her own fault for underestimating his anger and overestimating how much he’d changed since she’d moved out.
“That’s Jerald Xavier Piermont the third.” Jena did an impressive impression of their pompous half-brother, a man who’d turned out exactly like the heavy-handed, business-focused, wealth-obsessed father they shared. “You disobedient, classless twit.”
“You’ve been practicing.” Jaci smiled, slid into her soft fleece robe and tied the sash. It was good to have her sister home. Where she belonged regardless of the secrets she kept. Like where she’d been for the past ten months, why she’d disappeared without a word of warning, and whose genetic contribution was partly responsible for her precious babies.
“He had the nerve to show up here two weeks ago,” Jaci said. Uninvited. Unwelcome. To demand she stop her childish silent treatment and agree to a date with ‘the most eligible bachelor in the tri-state area’ who Jerry had convinced to meet her. And if she could pretend to be nice for a few short weeks, marriage would unite two powerful families and solidify a highly profitable business merger.
Jaci was not a bargaining chip.
“You know he isn’t as bad as you make him out to be,” Jena said.
Maybe not, if you were sweet and accommodating and easily influenced like Jena. Jaci washed her hands in hot water. But if you, heaven forbid, dared to question him or disagree with him or ignore one of his many ridiculous, oppressive rules, he could be—and was—brutal.
Jaci returned to the second bedroom which she’d outfitted as a nursery in preparation for the twins’ arrival. “So if he’s not so bad,” Jaci said quietly. “Why didn’t you stick around and have the babies locally?”
Without looking up, Jena snapped the sleeper of the baby on the changing table and shrugged.
“He doesn’t know, does he?” Jaci asked.
Still looking at the baby, Jena shook her head. “I figured it’d be best to tell him in front of witnesses.” She looked up and smiled. “With my older, wiser, fearless sister by my side.”
“Two is always better than one,” Jaci repeated their mantra for dealing with Jerry’s nonsense.
“In this case one to do chest compressions while the other runs for the defibrillator after I inform Jerald he’s an uncle to two illegitimate little Piermonts,” Jena said.
“I call the defibrillator.” Jaci held up her hand. And if she should happen to trip and sprain her ankle on the way to get it...oh well.
Jena handed Jaci the baby from the changing table and lifted the other twin from the double stroller.
Jaci cuddled her niece close, rubbed her cheek over fine silky hair, and inhaled the scent of baby shampoo and powder and sweet, loving innocence. “Which of my adorable, unhappy nieces is this?” She rubbed her tiny back in an attempt to calm her.
“For the time being, I dress Abbie in pink and Annie in yellow, until I can tell them apart.”
“Promise me you won’t let anyone label them.” The quiet/sweet/shy one. The mouthy/wild/disrespectful one. Childhood labels were near impossible to outgrow no matter how much a person tried to change or improve.
Jena—who’d often complained of feeling stifled under the expectation of her labels—shook her head. �
�Promise.”
After Jena changed Annie, Jaci followed her into the kitchen, noting she’d lost all her pregnancy weight and then some. In the bright light she looked drained. Exhausted. Well Jaci would fix that with good food, lots of loving care, and a much needed second pair of hands. “Mom would have liked you naming one of your twins Annie.” After her.
Jena smiled sadly. “I know.”
Jaci settled into a kitchen chair. “I can hold Annie, too, while you make the bottles.” She held out her left hand. “After all, I can’t be the favorite aunt if I come off looking like I’m playing favorites.”
“They’re all of four weeks old, Jaci.” Jena put her free hand on her hip and gave Jaci the give-me-a-break look. “And you’re their only aunt.”
Was she? Without knowing the father’s identity, how could she be sure? Jaci reached for a yellow-socked foot. “Come on. You’ve been hogging them for weeks. Now it’s my turn.”
Jena placed Annie in Jaci’s available arm and she gave her second little niece some loving. “I was trying to clear my schedule before you got here, so I’m on call this week and have to head out for work early tomorrow morning. And I’ve got a full schedule after that. Will you be okay alone?”
“We’ll be fine,” Jena said with a tired smile.
“You know I may have mentioned you were coming home with the twins to Mrs. Calvin up on seven.”
Jena shot her an aggravated look. “I specifically asked you not to tell anyone.”
“How was I supposed to find a quality babysitter, who we are not friends with and doesn’t know Jerry, to babysit on Saturday night without telling them about the twins? She seems nice and always smiles at me when I see her. And she looks so sad sitting in the lobby after her grandchildren leave every Sunday. I wanted to cheer her up. Hey.” Jaci snapped her fingers. “I bet she’d love to come down and give you a hand if you need it tomorrow. It’d be a good opportunity for you to get to know her and show her how you like things done. I’ll leave her number on the refrigerator before I head out in the morning.”
After lifting Annie and handing Jaci Abbie’s bottle Jena smiled. “It’s good to be home.”
With each baby now voraciously sucking on her bottle, the room got suddenly quiet. “How long do you plan to stay?” Jaci couldn’t stop herself from asking. The stress of the next three months, of Jerry intensifying his crusade to marry them off to two of his business associates by their birthday, would be so much easier to handle with Jena by her side.
“Twenty-five years old,” Jena said, as usual, knowing the real question behind her question.
“It’d always seemed so far away.” Jaci stood, had to move. “Damn, daddy. It wasn’t enough to control our every move while he was alive. He has to do it from his grave.” Which he wouldn’t be in if not for Jaci. So many times she’d wished him dead. Death by car accident, bullet wound to the chest from random mugging, asphyxiation from some outrageously expensive food delicacy lodged in his airway. He probably died the way he did on purpose. So she’d be blamed. So she’d have to live with the guilt.
Abbie stirred in her arms. “Ssshhh.” She rocked the tiny bundle. “No one will ever hurt you, sweetie,” she whispered. “You or your sister. Not as long as Auntie Jaci is around.”
* * *
Ian couldn’t breathe. Something heavy lay across his chest. He tried to move. Couldn’t. His left leg caught in a vice. On fire.
Something dripped on his chin. He wiped it away. Tried to focus through the darkness.
Heat.
Another drop hit his mouth. He tasted blood. What the...?
Gunfire. In the distance.
Ice reached for his M16. Found a body part instead.
What the hell happened?
More gunfire.
He struggled to get free.
The vacant, lifeless eyes of his buddy, The Kid, stared at him from a blood drenched face. The picture of the man’s wife and one-year-old daughter flashed.
The smell of fire. Burnt flesh. Death.
A baby cried. His baby. He could not die.
A hand touched his shoulder.
They would not take him prisoner. Ian tore his leg from its restraint, pushed at the mass crushing his chest, and twisted free. He tackled his attacker, the enemy, responsible for the death of his team. He raised his fist, inhaled, and smelled...her. Jaci. Felt her warm, willing body beneath him.
Ian junior perked up with interest.
Oh how he’d missed her, dreamed of her, aroused and undulating beneath him. He rocked his hips, needed her, to escape. To forget.
“Ian. Stop.” Not the words he wanted to hear right now. Usually she was so happy to see him. So welcoming. “Wake up. Get off me.” Instead of pulling him close, she pushed at his chest, sounding...angry.
He opened his eyes to the shadowed greys of an overcast early morning—the wind and rain from last night still raging outside. He lay on his side between Justin’s sofa and coffee table, on the floor, partially sprawled over a fully clothed Jaci.
A skilled tactician, Ian quickly scrolled through his options.
1) Retreat with an apology
2) Engage with an explanation
3) Instigate with an accusation
4) Distract with arousal
Since, by his estimation, lucky number four held the greatest potential for a pleasurable outcome, and it seemed a shame to let his first hard-on in months go to waste, Ian leaned close and nuzzled Jaci’s ear. “About time you got around to welcoming me home properly. Like you promised.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’ve dreamed of holding you.”—At least he had until the explosion had blown every happy thought from his head. No. He would not think about that night or the war or all that had been lost as a result of a roadside bomb. Not when he had Jaci—the real Jaci—within kissing distance. Not when he had the chance to bury himself deep inside of her one last time.
He slid a knee between her legs and shifted on top of her, resting his upper body on his elbows, settling his pelvis in between her thighs. “Of making love to you.” He rocked the length of his erection along the seam of her slacks. “Being inside you is like visiting paradise.” And Ian was in serious need of a vacation.
Jaci let out a shaky breath and softened beneath him.
Excellent.
“I can’t do this, Ian.”
Not so excellent. But Ian never surrendered without a fight. “I know you want me as much as I want you.” He could tell by the change in her breathing, the way she’d bent and opened her knees to accommodate him, and the tiny, almost unnoticeable up-tilt of her hips to give him better access. “You don’t have to do a thing.” He knew what she liked. Resting his weight on one elbow, he freed up his right hand to caress her breast and tease her tight nipple all while continuing his slow, calculated assault on her sex. He let out a deep, heavy, hot breath in her ear. “I can have us undressed and on our way to Pleasure Town in under a minute.”
All he needed was the slightest indication of agreement.
A smile.
A nod.
Anything.
“Except for last night,” she said, sounding perturbed. “We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in over a year. You’ve been home for at least three weeks without any attempt to talk to me. I walked into your condo to find you half wedged into the sofa, groaning as if you’re in pain, and fighting to get free. You attacked me when I tried to wake you. And you think the next few minutes would be best spent having sex?”
He didn’t answer immediately for fear that was a trick question. Because he was a guy who hadn’t been with a woman in twelve months, three weeks, two days, and approximately twelve hours. Who, as a result of his current position had just returned to the rank of fully functioning male—and a great big hallelujah to that—who was a pair of sweatpants, a pair of slacks, and a pair of panties away from sweet, nightmare eradicating, ecstasy. So hell Y-E-S he thought the next few minutes, the next few hours, would be best spent having sex.
Jaci set her hands on his chest and gave a push. “Please, be the gentleman I know you are capable of being, and get off of me.”
Even though the thoughts scrolling through his head and the urges surging through his body were anything but gentlemanly, Ian rolled to the side and Jaci stood.
“We need to talk,” she said, straightening her sweater.
He’d rather gnaw on a handful of habaneros.
“Was our friendship all a ploy to get me into bed? Did we even have a friendship?” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at him. “At the time I’d thought we did. But now I’m not so sure.” She shook her head. “The more I think about it, the more I can’t help wondering if you invested hours of your time, being your most fun and entertaining self, for the sole purpose of charming me out of my panties.”
Jaci’s panties. The visual, pink and sheer, skimpy, with lace, and the tiniest of bows, had him wanting to peel off her clothes, oh so slowly, to get to them. In that instant, he’d have gladly bargained away a decade of his life for a chance to see her naked, to touch her and hold her close for a few undisturbed minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Years.
Focus, Ian.
“Was I an item on a list?” She held up an imaginary pad and read from it. “Things to do before I deploy. Laundry.” She made an air check. “Pack.” Another air check. “Have sex with Jaci.” Triple air check.
Yeah. That’d been an extraordinary night.
Ian’s left leg throbbed so he opted to move up to the couch rather than stand. Elbows on his knees he stared at the ground. “No, you weren’t some item on a list, and our friendship wasn’t a ploy to get you into bed.” It may have started off as one, but quickly transformed into the real thing. Maybe even something more. Not that it mattered now.
“Well you have an odd way of showing it. Friendship requires some degree of effort, Ian. A phone call. A card now and then. An
e-mail. Look at me so I know you’re listening.”
Craving Her Soldier's Touch Page 3
