All I Want For Christmas

by Joanna Wayne

  He swung her bag to the top of the luggage rack and his smaller one onto the dresser. “Glad we packed these,” he said, hanging up the phone and tossing it to the bed. “Otherwise I’d be without a razor and as hairy as our host by morning.”

  “You could never look like that.”

  “Why, thank you, Doc. I take that as a compliment, though the way you pulled away from me a few minutes ago, I would have thought you found me extremely unattractive. I was feeling downright bad about myself.”

  Not a chance, she decided. Self-confidence oozed from every pore of his masculine body. Better to change the subject. “I’d like to call the house, Jack, and check on Rebecca and Timmy.”

  “Sure. I think you should, but they’re fine.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “I just talked to Betty Hammonds. She’s the officer on duty inside the house tonight.”

  “Good. Lucy will be more comfortable with a woman around.”

  “Yeah. Hammonds is competent and genuinely nice. She and Lucy will hit it off fine. They have my cell phone number and I told Hammonds to call if anything changes.”

  “Then there were no new notes today?”

  “Not a hint of trouble. I also talked to one of the guys who patrolled the area during the early shift. He reported that the afternoon was as smooth as the skin on a…part of the female anatomy.”

  “Only he said it in cop talk, of course.”

  “Right. I translated that one for you.”

  She laughed in spite of herself and realized how good it felt. The day had been far too tense, but just knowing that no more notes had been delivered and no more bodies discovered relieved some of the pressure. It looked as if Gabriel really was her tormentor, and Darby was someone else’s headache.

  “I’d have been translating cop talk all day if I’d known it would put a smile on your face,” Jack said, sitting on the edge of the bed and giving it a trial bounce.

  “No, you wouldn’t. You were far too caught up in your investigation to smile yourself.”

  “True. But we’ve done all we can do for now. And tomorrow we’ll talk to Jessie Bailes. She might be the one to give me a good lead on Darby. I’d like to arrest him, too. That way I could finish all this off and stamp Closed on the case file. In big, black letters.”

  “And start off again on a brand-new case.”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  She stared at him in amazement. “So you ride a roller coaster every day of your life. Up and down, Santa suits to dead bodies, new leads to dead ends. Don’t you ever get dizzy and want to climb off?”

  “Lots of times, but if I did, I’d miss the excitement. What about you, Susan? Don’t you ever want to climb aboard, soar to the top, experience everything life has to offer?” He pulled her to the bed beside him.

  She shuddered and sucked in a deep breath. This was no longer casual conversation, but a gauntlet he’d hurled at her feet. She had only the truth to answer his challenge. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to deal with the fall when I plummeted to the bottom.”

  He pulled her into his arms. Before she could open her mouth, his was pressed against it, hard and demanding. One fierce thrust of her palm against his chest, and the reason she was fighting deserted her.

  She quit resisting and returned his kisses, pressing her body into his, exploring his back with clutching fingers.

  Jack deepened the kiss, as they fell backward onto the bed. His fingers tangled in her hair; his tongue demanded and tangoed with hers. Desire rocketed through her, so intense she gasped for breath.

  Jack pulled away and sat up. “I hope you change your mind about climbing aboard, Susan. If you don’t, you’ll miss out on one hell of a ride.”

  She closed her eyes but jerked them open when a loud knock sounded at the door. Jack opened it, and the man from the front desk stepped inside holding a tray.

  “The little woman fixed you a plate of leftovers. It ain’t the Ritz, but you won’t starve.”

  Jack peeked under the waxed paper covering. “Fried chicken! And don’t tell me that’s homemade coconut pie.”

  The man beamed. “Yep. The little woman is the best cook this side of the Mississippi. Folks come to my son’s café from all over just to get a slice of her pie. That’s real whipped cream, too. Just taste it.”

  Jack stuck a finger into the fluffy topping, slid it between his lips and then smacked appreciatively. “It’s real, all right. You tell your wife she made two starving people very happy tonight.”

  “I’ll do that. Now I’ll get out of here and let you folks eat.”

  Jack thanked him again, and the man finally backed out of the door. Susan pushed the burning candle back to make a spot on the bedside table for the laden tray.

  “How about this for a picnic?” Jack said. “Chicken, potato salad, pickles and pie.”

  “And no ants,” Susan added, suddenly famished. “All we need is a bottle of wine.”

  “Then you are in luck.” Jack unzipped the duffel he’d stashed on top of the dresser and pulled out a bottle of red wine. “Merlot, 1995. A very good year”

  “A wine connoisseur cop I am impressed.”

  “No, I just know what I like. And I’ve never met a year I didn’t like.” He reached back into the duffel and retrieved a wad of tissue that encased a couple of wine goblets.

  “And a Boy Scout, too. Always prepared.”

  “Everything down to the corkscrew. It’s the only way to travel when you’re with a beautiful woman. Actually, I visualized our stopping to toast our good fortune under the moonlight, but candlelight in a seedy motel adds a certain flair.”

  “It’s not so seedy.”

  “It ain’t the Ritz.”

  This tune they both laughed, and Susan felt a layer of fatigue fade away. Jack did make a valid point. No matter how serious the problems, depression and worry didn’t solve them. They only robbed you of the energy you needed to wake up the next morning and go at them again.

  Actually, she’d often counseled patients to ease up on their worries, but she had to admire the way Jack did it—with such style.

  He poured the wine and handed one goblet to Susan. “I propose a toast.”

  She lifted her glass.

  “To roller coasters, long may they soar.”

  He clinked his glass with hers, and the now familiar tingle skittered along her nerve endings, creating erogenous zones of every part of her body. “To roller coasters,” she echoed. And to the good sense to hold on tight and grab all the gusto she could if she ever had the courage to climb aboard.

  Jack took a long sip and then set his glass on the table. “We have on far too many clothes for a picnic in bed,” Jack announced. He started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Are you going to put on your pajamas now?”

  “No.”

  She breathed easier.

  “I don’t own any pajamas.”

  The breathing grew difficult. “But what do you sleep in?”

  “The raw.”

  The image that danced through her head sent a wall of heat roaring through her. She was sure she was blushing shamelessly and that Jack was reveling in her embarrassment.

  “But since it’s a special occasion, I’ll leave my boxers on, unless of course you want me in the raw?”

  “No, boxers will be fine.”

  “Aren’t you going to change, Susan? I mean, that suit and the blouse with the high-buttoned collar look terrific on you, but surely you don’t sleep in that.”

  “We’re not sleeping, we’re eating.”

  “In bed. Besides, the candles will burn out soon, and it would be much easier undressing now than in the pitch dark.”

  “We have a flashlight”

  “Whose batteries are very weak. But suit yourself.” Jack yanked his arms from his shirtsleeves and threw the unwanted clothing to the chair behind him.

  Susan sat mesmerized by the mat of dark, curly hairs that carpeted his chest,
by the broad shoulders and muscular frame as it narrowed to his firm waist. By his hands as they loosed his belt buckle and unzipped his jeans.

  The jeans slid to the floor, and her gaze fell with them, only to climb back up his body slowly. Strong, muscular calves, punctuated with dark, stubby hairs, reminding her how long it had been since she’d been with a nearly naked man.

  The knees weren’t great, but they weren’t bad. But the thighs were to die for, hard and firm. She imagined them wrapping around her. She swallowed and lifted her gaze a little higher.

  To boxer shorts, bright green ones, with crawfish in red hats pulling Santas in sleighs. She snickered and Jack’s eyebrows rose.

  “Are you making fun of my shorts, lady? I’ll have you know they were designed by one of the most fashionable elves at the North Pole.”

  “You do take Christmas to heart, don’t you? Not to mention other parts of your body.” She was smiling now, not only outwardly, but deep inside, in the recesses where happiness seldom reached. The warmth touched the cold edges of the fear and terror she had lived with for the past few days.

  It didn’t dissolve them, but it did remind her that life was too precious to waste. And it made a roller-coaster ride seem so appealing she didn’t dare sit on the sidelines and watch her car leave without her.

  “I’ll tell you what, Detective Jack Carter, I don’t think I could eat with a man dressed in as poor taste as you are right now.”

  “Oh, is that so, Dr. McKnight? Then what do you suggest?”

  She wiggled out of her suit jacket and slipped out of her sensible pumps. Hands on her hips, she sashayed across the room, stopping close enough to bury her face in the dark hairs that cushioned his chest. Pulse racing, she let her fingers stroll the taut muscles of his stomach and then slip beneath the elastic of his wonderful Christmas underwear.

  She tilted her head to face him. “I’ll go for the raw, if you will.” Her voice caught on the emotion that consumed her, her words escaping in a throaty whisper.

  Jack didn’t wait for a second invitation. For all he knew he might be dreaming, but he wasn’t waiting to see if he woke up. He swept the beautiful, untouchable dragon lady up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

  “This is the first thing that has to go,” he whispered, pulling the amber clasp from her hair. He ran his fingers through the silky tresses, watching in awe as her long hair spread like burnished gold across the white sheets.

  She touched her lips to his chest, nibbling and kissing, and he fought the urges that threatened to steal the moment from him, make him climax long before he had tasted every inch of Susan. Before he had driven her wild with desire, the way she had him ever since their first kiss.

  He captured her lips with his while he fumbled with the uncooperative buttons of her blouse. Finally the fabric parted, and he kissed his way down her neck, to the soft rise of her breasts. Soft moans of pleasure tore from her lips, and Jack ached with his need of her.

  She turned on her side, and he reached behind her, unsnapping the lacy scrap of bra and pulling it loose so that her breasts spilled out. Beautiful mounds of ivory flesh, the nipples pink and puckered, as if made for his lips.

  He circled one with his mouth, letting his tongue explore while his fingers moved down her taut stomach to loosen the clasp of her skirt. He wanted her undressed fully, wanted her to know pure abandonment and pleasure, wanted her to soar with him when he finally fit himself inside her.

  “Tell me what feels good,” he whispered. “Any thing you want, just tell me.”

  “You, Jack. You feel good.”

  “I do now. If I’d slept in this room tonight without having you, I’d have gone out of my mind.”

  “Then you would have really needed my services.”

  “No more than I do now, my beautiful, sexy shrink. No more than I do now.”

  Together, they maneuvered themselves out of the rest of their clothing. Jack explored and caressed the exquisite curves and crevices of Susan’s body, finding out what made her shudder in pleasure, what made her raise her hips and press them toward him, what made her legs open for him.

  When he could wait no longer, he lifted himself over her and she guided him inside her. She was ready, so hot and moist, he thought he’d explode at first touch. He held his breath and then released it in a moan of delicious pleasure as he thrust a few more times, just enough to take her rocketing with him to the top.

  Energy and emotion spent, he rolled to his side and pulled her with him. He cradled her in his arms, her fragrant hair spilling over his shoulder and chest, her body still warm, glowing in the light of the candle.

  “Was it what you expected?” he asked, his mouth nuzzled in her hair.

  “Oh, yes. It was wonderful. Can we do it again?”

  He groaned and wondered where his next burst of energy would come from. The dragon lady had vanished. He had created another kind of monster.

  9:30 p.m.

  THE PHONE RANG. Lucy looked from the ringing instrument to the plainclothes policewoman who sat at the kitchen table thumbing through a Christmas catalog. “Should I get it?”

  “Yes, just follow the instructions I gave you earlier if it’s a stranger.”

  “To the letter.” Lucy grabbed the phone. “Hello.”

  “Is this the sexy Lucy Carmichael speaking?”

  Her pulse raced for a second before she recognized the voice. “Oh, John, it’s you.”

  “You sound disappointed. Who were you expecting, Mel Gibson?”

  “Sure, he calls every night about this time.” But to tell the truth, she was just a little disappointed. Babysitting with a police guard for company was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in a long time. If she’d actually gotten to talk to someone dangerous, now that would really top it off. Of course, she didn’t know where the danger was supposed to come from now that Gabriel Hornsby had been arrested.

  “How did you know I’d be here?” she asked, when John didn’t volunteer the information.

  “You weren’t at home, and I knew you better not be out carousing with some other man.”

  “I would if one had asked me,” she teased, “especially since you never showed up at the caroling Sunday night.”

  “I got tied up. I thought I might come over for a while tonight, though. I’ll bring pizza. Are you going to be at the doctor’s long?”

  “All night.”

  “Really? Is it a special occasion or is the doctor busy with a little hanky-panky?”

  “Neither. She’s out of town with that…” Lucy noticed the woman cop glaring at her, and she broke off in mid-sentence. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone what was going on and here she was about to blab to John.

  “She’s out of town on business and not sure if she’ll be back late tonight or tomorrow.”

  “The kids must be in bed by now. I could come over and keep you company.”

  “You could, but I already have company. A…a friend of Dr. McKnight’s is here.” She sounded so secretive, she excited herself. This was almost like being involved in espionage.

  Stephen was probably dying of envy. Well, not dying. But envious, all the same, that is if angels could be envious “The friend is going to be here with me all night,” she added.

  “Then why does the doctor need a baby-sitter? Can’t her friend handle Rebecca and Timmy when they’re sleeping?”

  “Not the way Lucy Carmichael can.”

  “Oooo, cocky little wench, aren’t you? So does that mean you don’t want my company?”

  Lucy thought for a second. Susan had told her to go about her business as usual. And she occasionally had visitors while she was baby-sitting. Her sister had spent a whole day with them when she’d been in from Dallas, and Susan hadn’t minded at all.

  “You can come over for a few minutes, if you behave yourself.”

  “Like I had any other choice. The one time I tried to kiss you, you threw me out of the house so fast I didn’t have a chance to
get my coat.”

  “And it taught you to mind your manners. You can come over for a while, but don’t be bringing me any pizza. I had a big juicy pork chop, smothered in onions, and I ate every bite.”

  “In that case, I’ll eat my pizza first. I’ll come by for a little while though. It’s too cold to be roaming the Quarter on a night like this, and I’m in no mood to stay home alone.”

  Lucy said goodbye and hung up the phone. She’d enjoy seeing John if he actually made it over, but she’d have to be careful what she said.

  Both Susan and Detective Carter had cautioned her about the necessity of keeping it a secret that a bodyguard had been assigned to the McKnight house. Lucy didn’t understand it herself. It seemed awful odd to have a bodyguard when the man who’d been killing people was already in jail. But, one thing for sure, life was getting interesting.

  This might not be such a bad Christmas after all.

  She turned on the TV and surfed the channels until she landed on a replay of Miracle on 34th Street. The movie was already half over, but that didn’t matter. Lucy knew it practically by heart. It was one of her favorites.

  But before the movie Santa could prove his identity, the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” she said. “I think it’s a friend of mine.” Officer Hammonds followed her to the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wednesday, December 22

  7:50 a.m.

  Susan stretched and reached for Jack only to grab a handful of pillow. Rubbing dregs of sleep from her eyes, she sat up in bed and scanned the motel room, but there was no sign of him.

  Sun streamed through the curtains, a sure sign she’d overslept. No wonder. She’d slept very little last night. Unless she’d been dreaming, they’d made love more than once, wolfing down the chicken, potato salad and every bite of the pie in between.

  The gentle ache in her thighs and the odor of cold chicken bones assured her she hadn’t dreamed all of it. So where was Jack now? Wherever he was, thankfully he hadn’t gone there in the raw. His jeans and shirt were missing. His shoes as well.