Craving Her Soldier's Touch

by Wendy S. Marcus

  Jena made a seamless transition into the role of Jaci. “Mr. Parks. How terrible.” She brought her palm to her cheek. “I’m sure you’ve checked the ladies room. What can I do to help?”

  He stepped closer to her. “You can tell me the topic of your earlier conversation.” He stared down, his eyes studying her for any hint of reaction. “That would be helpful.”

  “It’s a private matter, I’d rather not—”

  “Damn it, Jaci,” he snapped. “This is important.” He leaned in close and threatened, “If I find out you had anything to do with this...”

  Ian stepped between them.

  “Of course I had nothing to do with Millicent’s disappearance. My goodness.” Jena clutched her chest in a convincing mix of insulted outrage. “The thought! If you must know, we spoke about Jena,” Jena said. “Mom and Aunt Mill were so close.”

  “You know I don’t like when you and your sister call her that.” His narrowed eyes belied his calm tone, the irises almost glowing with fury.

  “She wasn’t really our aunt,” Jena explained to Ian, and when she looked up at him he saw that she knew Mr. Parks didn’t like it. She was playing with him. Very daring. Very Jaci. “Anyway,” she turned her attention back to Mr. Parks. “Jena’s asked us to keep it quiet, since she has yet to reveal who the father is, but she’s the mother of a set of adorable twins. I think I have a picture.” She fumbled with her slim purse.

  The tip of Mr. Parks’s ears turned bright red. “I’m in a bit of a hurry, Jaci. Must you always chatter on? Millicent could be hurt or in the hands of nefarious kidnappers.”

  Not likely.

  “Right. Sorry. I knew Aunt...I mean Millicent would want to know. So I swore her to secrecy, and I told her. Just like that. I couldn’t stop myself. Jena will be furious if she finds out so I hope you won’t say anything.”

  A white ring formed where Mr. Parks’s lips should be.

  “After that, we got to talking about mom, and how she’d have loved being a grandmother, and how much we both missed her.” She wiped at the corner of her eye with her finger.

  Damn she was good.

  “Where is your sister?” he asked.

  “Jena left with a headache about half an hour ago.”

  “She always was the weaker of the two of you.”

  Jena didn’t react to the barb. “If you must know,” she leaned in, “I think it was more new mother anxiety at being separated from her babies.”

  “Do you think Millicent could have gone to see her?” Mr. Parks asked. He seemed to relax a bit. “That sounds like something she’d do. I bet she couldn’t wait until morning.”

  An apparent pro at subterfuge, Jena said, “Let me call the condo and check.” She reached into the bodice of her, well, Jaci’s dress, and took out her phone.

  He would have gone into battle with this woman in a heartbeat. She and Jaci were made of sturdy stuff.

  After speaking on the phone, Jena said, “That was the babysitter. Seems Jena really did have a headache and went right to bed. She’s concerned over how pale Jena looked so she’s sticking around until I get home. She will be sure to call me if Millicent shows up. If you’ll give me your cell number I’ll relay the message as soon as I receive it.” Jena programed Mr. Parks’s number into her phone.

  “Let me give you mine, too.” Ian took the opportunity to give her his number, just in case.

  “She’d have needed a ride. My soon-to-be ex chauffeur isn’t answering his phone. He will never get work in this county again.” Apparently finished with them, Mr. Parks stormed away.

  Jena sagged against the wall and clutched her belly. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered.

  “You were perfect. You almost had me convinced,” Ian said quietly.

  “Do you think Jaci had anything to do with Millicent’s disappearance?” she whispered.

  He thought it a highly unlikely coincidence the two of them went missing at the same time. “I don’t know.”

  “He’s mean,” Jena said, rubbing her hands together as if to warm them, her face showing the first signs of concern. “Even Jerald gets nervous around him. He is not a man you want to cross.”

  Yeah, Ian had picked up on that vibe, as well.

  “What do we do now?” Jena asked.

  “You go out there and be Jaci. Your performance for the next hour or two is the only thing keeping your sister above suspicion.” And just barely. “And I go back to work so there is no sign of anything amiss.” While he figured out what to do next.

  “I can do it,” Jena said. “When I’m Jaci, I can do anything.”

  She was a lot tougher than she gave herself credit. “When this is over you and I need to have a talk about why you think Justin might have told me you play fast and loose with

  Jaci’s reputation.”

  As poised as she’d been with Mr. Parks, some of Jena’s composure slipped at the mention of Justin, for the third time that night. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”

  “How could there be?” She took sudden interest in a damaged vase in the corner. “I’ve been out of town for months.”

  “Was there?”

  Sad eyes met his. “Once. But he doesn’t want me.”

  And then it hit him. She hadn’t revealed the identity of the father of her babies. It was someone she cared about, and she and Jaci had known Justin since high school. And once was all it took. “Is Justin the father of your twins?”

  She looked away, let out a breath, and gave a slight nod.

  “Does he know?”

  She shook her head, no.

  “Does Jaci know?”

  She shook her head again, still not looking at him.

  “You have to tell him, Jena.” Justin would surely do the right thing and marry her.

  Jena inhaled then exhaled, stood tall and held her head high. The regal socialite. “I can’t talk about this right now. I’ve got to get out there and be Jaci. Tomorrow I’ll return to being boring old Jena and I can resume worrying about how she’ll fix the mess she’s made of her life.”

  * * *

  The real Jaci returned home at three-twenty-six. Three hours and twenty-six minutes later than she’d told Jena to expect her. Three hours and twenty-six minutes during which Ian paced and worried and waited impotently since she’d turned off her cell phone and he’d had no idea what she’d been driving or in what direction she’d been headed. Three hours and twenty-six minutes during which the horrors of the war in Iraq did not intrude on his thoughts once. Because he was too riled up to think about anything other than Jaci and all the possible outcomes of the outrageously stupid stunt he was pretty sure she’d pulled.

  In the darkness of Jaci’s living room, from the clear view of her sofa, Ian sat, unmoving, his arms crossed over his chest, his hands clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms, watching her slip off her shoes by the door. She tossed a bag onto the counter and the black hair from her wig spilled out.

  “You’re late,” Ian snapped immediately losing the battle to stay in control. “Where the hell have you been?”

  She jumped, but recovered quickly. “Gee, Dad, sorry I missed curfew again.” She walked into the kitchen. “After the movie, Timmy and I drove down to the lake and stumbled upon a huge keg party.” She took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. “It was either underage drinking or unprotected sex in the backseat of Timmy’s dad’s car.” She took a sip. “True, the sex would have been a lot quicker, but since you so helpfully pointed out how reckless and irresponsible I always am, I chose the beer figuring it was the less risky of the two. And you know me when I get to talking.”

  “Cut the crap.” He extended and flexed his stiff leg, preparing to stand.

  “Go home, Ian,” she said, placing her glass in the sink. “None of this is your concern.”

  Not his concern? When the thought of Jaci getting caught by Parks, or brought to him by one of the many men he no doubt had searching for h
is wife, filled Ian with a level of fear he’d never experienced, even prior to his most dangerous missions? When the thought of her in danger, or something bad happening to her, or of him losing her made his heart feel like someone had taken a belt sander to it? Pressure started to build in his head. He practically leaped from the couch and pounded toward the kitchen. “Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

  “Keep your voice down,” she whispered. “If you wake the twins, you’re the one who will have to get them back to sleep.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?” he whispered. A whisper didn’t do near enough to purge his anger. His pulse pounded. His face felt flush. If Ian didn’t unload he’d explode.

  “No, Ian. I don’t.” She looked up at him sweetly. “Perhaps if you speak very slowly and use small words while you explain to me what has you so upset, my addled female brain will be able to process it.”

  She had the nerve to taunt him? After the hellish past few hours she’d put him through? When he was trying to make her understand she’d made an enemy of a dangerous man? When all he wanted to do was to protect her? From herself as much as from anyone who would want to harm her. He ground his teeth together so tightly it made his jaw ache. He inhaled. Exhaled. Ten. Nine. “Parks cornered Jena.”

  “No,” Jaci said calmly. “Parks cornered Jaci. Jena was home with a headache.”

  Did she not get it? “He is not someone you want to tangle with,” Ian cautioned.

  “I have no intention of tangling with him. Other than a nice thank you note for his generous contribution to the center, I don’t plan on having any further contact with him.”

  Like that would deter a man like Parks. “He’ll probably get in touch with you.” In a dark, deserted place. To threaten and interrogate and do unspeakable things to get the answers he sought. Now all Ian had to do was figure out a way to be with her every minute of every day to make sure the man wasn’t given the opportunity to find her alone.

  “Whatever for?” she asked innocently.

  Ian’s eyes felt about ready to shoot from his head. “Maybe because you absconded with his wife,” he whispered as forcefully as he could. An intense, violent rage surged inside of him, demanded an outlet, which turned out to be his fist, propelled with the greatest amount of force he could muster, into the side of the cabinet less than a foot from Jaci’s head. God help him the release was exactly what he’d needed, the sharp, throbbing pain, exactly what he deserved.

  She didn’t flinch or move at all just stood there staring at him and said, “You missed.”

  He didn’t miss. He’d hit what he’d been aiming for. The cabinet.

  “I should have known it was only a matter of time before you’d take a swing at me, too,” she said, no longer whispering.

  Too? Ian felt sick.

  “Daddy, big strong man that he was, liked to grab me and squeeze while I fought to escape. If I did he’d catch me by the hair, yank me to the ground, and kick me.” She pushed Ian’s chest to provoke him.

  He deserved a hell of a lot more than that. What was wrong with him? Not once in his twenty-eight years had he ever reached the point where he lashed out in anger.

  “Come on, Ian. You want to fight?” She pushed him again. “You want to restrain me and dominate me and take all your anger out on me? Sure you do. Because I’m incorrigible and I don’t listen and I never do as I’m told. Because I say exactly what’s on my mind and I do what I want to do and I refuse to give over control of my life to anyone.” She pushed him harder.

  He braced the back of his bad leg against the lower kitchen cabinets and kept his hands at his sides prepared to take whatever she planned to dish out.

  “That’s what men want to do,” she said. “Control me. Control my money. What? Nothing to say, tough guy?” She smacked herself in the side of the head. “Then hit me. Get it all out. Jerry likes open-handed smacks to the side of my head. No visible bruising. It’ll be our little secret.”

  Some unnamed emotion squeezed his heart and constricted his lungs, same as when Jaci had recounted the story of her dislocated shoulder at the hands of her father. To think such a kind-hearted, beautiful, delicate woman had been the victim of violence, just like the women she worked so tirelessly to protect. Because no one had been there to protect her.

  Well that changed today. Ian looked forward to meeting up with Jerry to see how he liked being on the receiving end of an open-handed smack to the head—Ian style.

  “Jaci...” His brain failed him, could not come up with the words necessary to convey just how sorry he was, how ashamed and utterly horrified he was by his behavior.

  “Wow. Is that remorse I hear in your voice?” She eyed him like the pathetic loser he was. “That’s not at all what I expected. Tell me how frustrating I am.” She pushed him. “Tell me I’m nice to look at and fun to screw but no man could ever love a woman like me.” Tears pooled in her beautiful eyes. “Say the words, Ian. You won’t hurt my feelings. I want to hear them.”

  He said nothing, because the hurt in her expression devastated him, because he could easily love a woman like her, and had circumstances been different, had he been free to pursue the future of his choosing, he’d do anything—anything—to earn her love in return. To create a life with her and ignite her passion night after night after night.

  But his future had been determined for him. By the maker or makers of a roadside bomb.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. Ian wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her. Comfort him. But he was scared to move, didn’t trust himself to do the right thing, wasn’t exactly sure what action would best represent the ‘right thing’.

  Probably leaving and letting her get on with her life. A life without him in it. Yet his feet refused to move.

  “Thank you.” Jaci wiped at her eyes more mad than sad. “For running out on me when I asked you to marry me. Twenty-five million dollars isn’t near enough compensation to put up with this crap.” She started to walk away.

  Ian held out his arm to stop her as the pieces of the earlier conversation between Jaci and her brother and sister fell into place. “That’s a term of your trust fund? That’s why you asked me to marry you?” Not because she cared for him or loved him or needed him. Well, she needed him all right. But only so she could inherit twenty-five million dollars. Damn if that didn’t sting.

  She looked up at him. “I know what you’re thinking.” She slid her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and looked down at her feet. “Yes I asked you to marry me to meet a requirement of my trust fund. But I chose you because I liked you and cared about you. I thought you liked me, too. We fit. And after that night. Well. Wow.”

  Yeah. Triple wow.

  “I’d planned to explain everything to you but you went off and accused me of being one of those—” she made air quotations and emphasized the word those “—women.”

  The kind who equate sex with love. “Well you went off first.” After he’d laughed and said, “I’ve driven women to say a lot of things after sex. But that’s my first offer of marriage.”

  “I didn’t propose because of great sex.” She looked away.

  “You said, ‘My God that was amazing. Please say you’ll marry me.’ What kind of proposal is that? What was I supposed to think?”

  She looked about to push him again, but didn’t. “Well I’m sorry if it wasn’t all you’d hoped for,” she snapped. “I’ll be sure to do a better job with the next guy I ask to marry me.”

  Uh oh. Anger started to build. Jaci and another man? Acid churned in his gut. Something foul globbed at the back of his throat. He swallowed. Keep it cool Ice. “When do you have to be married by?”

  “My twenty-fifth birthday.” Like the topic completely zapped her of energy, she pulled out a chair and plopped into it. “In three months.”

  He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. “That sucks.” For so many reasons, one of them being he’d just taken a sw
ing in her general direction. Not a highly effective prelude into offering oneself up as a husband, he would imagine. And why was that the first thing to pop into his head when he couldn’t marry her anyway?

  She let out a small laugh. “Especially for someone as difficult as me.”

  “I meant what I said to your brother,” Ian said, trying to catch her gaze. “Any man would be honored to marry you because you’re sweet and caring, beautiful and smart, hard-working and dedicated.”

  “To clarify,” she looked him in the eye. “You said any man with half a brain. What about the ones with fully functioning brains? They’d be too smart?”

  Ian shook his head. “You could try the patience of a saint.” But he laughed. Because that was Jaci. A whole lot of good and fun with some difficult mixed in to keep things interesting.

  “If we hadn’t gotten into a fight,” she said seriously. “If I’d asked in a different way. What would you have said?”

  She would have to ask him that. He entwined his fingers and set his hands on the table. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  “See,” she joked. “Fully functioning brain and you’d have wanted no part of me.”

  He couldn’t hold back a grin.

  “Fine,” she conceded because she really did seem to always know what he was thinking. “You wanted some parts of me, but not all of me.”

  Tell me I’m nice to look at and fun to screw but no man could ever love a woman like me. “Things were different then,” he explained. “I figured I’d be in the army another ten or twenty years. When I was growing up, my mother despised being married to a man in the military. She hated moving around and being alone with us kids for months at a time then dad coming home and interfering with our routine. I vowed I’d never put a woman through that.” Or have to deal with one using love as manipulation, showering him with it or withholding it to get him to do what she wanted then cutting him from her life with the ease of a saber slicing through a banana mid-air when she didn’t approve of his decisions. Like his mother had.