Coming Home

by Shirlee Busbee

  Her thoughts moody, she stepped out of the shower and after drying and wrapping her wet hair in a towel spread perfumed lotion over her body. A spritz or two of the same scent in cologne, Red, and she was ready for clothes. Slipping into a loose-fitting burgundy velour pantsuit, she tackled her hair, quickly fashioning a French braid out of the wet strands. She looked at herself in the mirror, frowning at her fresh scrubbed face. Makeup? No. Jeb might be coming back, but it wasn't going to be that sort of evening. She was shocked to feel a pang of disappointment. Dammit! What in the hell was wrong with her?

  Grumbling, she wandered out of the bedroom and eventually, after checking on the fire and flicking on a few lamps, made her way into the kitchen. Glancing at the clock in the shape of a rooster that hung over one of the kitchen doorways, she frowned. It was approaching 2:00 P.M. and the rumblings in her stomach let her know that it had been several hours since she'd eaten at Sloan and Shelly's. She poked around in the refrigerator, but didn't see anything that took her fancy. Sighing, she shut the door and checked her cabinets. The cupboards were full, but nothing appealed to her. Probably, she thought with a grimace, because I know that Jeb is coming back and that the conversation isn't going to be fun. Anything but.

  She poured herself a glass of nonfat milk and sipping it strolled back to the great room. Standing at the French doors, she stared down at the valley below her. It was weird. All around her, the landscape was white and dusted with snow, a winter wonderland, and yet a scant five hundred feet below her, the snowline stopped. At that point a steady progression of green-needled firs, pines, and shiny-leafed madrones intermixed with the stark, naked limbs of the oaks led to the valley floor. Untouched by snow, the various rooftops of the houses in town in colors of blue, green, and beige looked almost like a patchwork quilt and the fallow fields lay brown and rust-colored in the winter sunlight.

  Roxanne sighed again. She supposed she was suffering from the usual letdown after a party. The house seemed quiet, lonely almost after all the laughter and conversation at Sloan and Shelly's place.

  She prowled around the great room, double-checking her belongings, wondering who had broken in and why. Nothing seemed to be missing, but she frowned as she straightened a couple of pictures. Now why would someone move her pictures? Surely they hadn't been looking for a safe behind one of them? She shook her head. Odd. She followed the muddy footprints back and forth, studying them, trying to make sense of them. Jeb was right, whoever had broken in—her mouth twisted, OK, whoever had managed to get a hold of a copy of her key and opened the front door—didn't appear to have left the great room. Unless they'd taken off their boots? But that didn't make sense either. Why leave muddy footprints in the great room and nowhere else? Unless, she thought with a chill, they didn't want her to know that they'd been through the entire house?

  Creeped-out and restless, she wandered around, wishing that Jeb would get back—and angry because she felt that way. All right. Maybe she wasn't the brave, independent woman she thought she was—as long as no one else knew that, it was OK. And right now fighting with Jeb seemed a much pleasanter way to spend the afternoon—besides, she admitted, smiling, she was looking forward to seeing Dawg and Boss again. To kill time, she cleaned up the muddy tracks and checked out the phone book, looking up the names of locksmiths. There wasn't a large selection and she'd bet that precious few of them would be eager to travel to Oak Valley to change one measly lock. She stopped, frowning. But suppose it wasn't just the front door key? Suppose they had copies of all of her house keys? That tears it, she thought grimly. There is no way I'm going to sleep easy wondering if someone is going to slip in my back door—or any other door. Tomorrow morning, I'm buying all new locks and getting them installed. The hell with waiting for a locksmith.

  Before she actually began to pace, she heard the sound of a vehicle climbing up the road and a few minutes later the slamming of a door and Jeb's voice.

  “Goddammit,” he yelled. “Boss! Dawg! Get back here. Right now?”

  Roxanne popped her head out the front door and grinned. Boss and Dawg, in typical dog fashion, were paying no attention to their owner; heads down, wagging tails up, they were busy sniffing and checking all the new and exciting smells. She glanced at Jeb as he paused and stood in the middle of the pathway. Except for a red shirt, he was all in black—jeans, leather jacket, and boots, his black cowboy hat pulled low over his face—and he held a brown paper grocery bag in one ann. There was an expression of resigned affection on his face as he watched the antics of the dogs. He was such a strong man, some would say a tough man, and yet it was obvious that he could be a gentle and caring man. How many men, she thought, suppressing a giggle, would open their hearts and homes to a pair of butt-ugly dogs like Boss and Dawg? No doubt about it, Jeb Delaney had unexplored depths to him. Her heart leaped as two things struck her: one, she wanted to be the woman who explored those depths, and two, how absolutely right he looked standing out there on her walkway. Almost as if he belonged, as if he were coming home … to her. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, trying to ignore the rush of tenderness, the storm of fierce emotion that flooded through her. Jeb Delaney touched something deep inside of her, a part of herself she had always kept inviolate and she was frightened by the new feelings rushing through her body. Oh, lust was there, no denying it, but something else … some deeper, more powerful emotion struggled to break free. It was exciting and unnerving, scary and delightful at the same time, and she knew that she'd never, ever felt this way before. …

  Roxanne jumped as if shot. Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. She thought, not Jeb Delaney. Please, oh, please don't let me be falling in love with him.

  Sensing her presence, Jeb glanced at the door.

  “Hi,” he said, a grin breaking across his dark features. “I'll be in in just a minute—the dogs decided they needed to explore. Is it OK to lock them in your mudroom as soon as they've taken care of business?”

  “You don't have to lock them up—they can come into the house with us—and I'm sure they'd be much happier there than in the mudroom,” Roxanne said, opening the door wider and standing on the porch.

  At the sound of Roxanne's voice, Dawg's head jerked up and she gave a joyful bay. Leaving off the interesting exploration, Dawg came flying through the snow toward her. Jeb yelled, but as she had earlier, Dawg just ignored him and leaped up on Roxanne, nearly knocking her over with an enthusiastic welcome. Tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, paws resting on Roxanne's velour-covered thighs, she grinned up at her, clearly pleased with herself.

  Roxanne laughed and ruffled her ears. “You're a very bad dog and I'm sure that I should scold you, but I'm very happy to see you, too.” For her efforts, she got a sloppy kiss on the wrist and an adoring look. Having greeted Roxanne, Dawg jumped down and trotted confidently into the house. Roxanne sent a laughing glance over at Jeb. “Guess that settles it, don't you think?”

  “You don't mind?”

  She shook her head. “No. I intend to get a dog eventually—Dawg and Boss can give me a taste of what it'll be like.”

  “If you're sure …”

  Dawg settled the matter. As if she owned the place, she came back to stand by Roxanne and barked at Boss. The black and tan mixed breed heeded Dawg's call and coolly jogged over to where Roxanne stood. He gave her a polite sniff and then ignored her, following Dawg back into the house.

  Her eyes dancing, her cheeks rosy, Roxanne said, “I think you've been outvoted here. Might as well give in gracefully.”

  Jeb shook his head, smiling back at her. “I really should enroll them in obedience training, but I never seem to find the time—and they don't bother me so I never think about how they might affect someone else.”

  Dawg came back just then and gave an imperious bark, clearly indicating that they should stop wasting time and get inside. Laughing, Jeb and Roxanne followed the dog into the warmth of the house.

  The scent of fried chicken filled the air and Roxanne looked apprais
ingly at the bag Jeb still carried. She sniffed the air. “Is that what I think, hope, it is?” “Yeah, I was getting kinda hungry as I went through town, so I swung by McGuire's and grabbed some of their Chesterfried chicken. They were the only eating place open, or I'd have brought hamburgers.”

  Taking the bag from his arm, Roxanne said, “Fried chicken is just fine.” She peeked inside the bag. “Ooh and Jojos, those fried potato things, too.

  We'll probably die of an overdose of cholesterol, but hey! I'm hungry.”

  I am too, Jeb thought ruefully as he watched the movement of her buttocks beneath the velour material as she walked toward the kitchen. I am so hungry, Princess, that it's all I can do to keep my hands off of you. And don't you just look tasty—all scrubbed and smelling like heaven—I could gobble you up in one bite. He glanced down at the front of his jeans. Yep. Someone else had the same idea. He jiggled a bit to make his swollen penis less noticeable and then walked after her.

  Followed by the dogs and Jeb, Roxanne walked to the kitchen. Soon enough, the humans were eating at the painted dark green wooden table in one corner of the cheerful kitchen and the dogs were scarfing up skin and bits of chicken from the floor. Roxanne had fixed a green salad to go with their meal, telling herself at least that much of the meal wouldn't give them heart attacks. She'd opened bottles of Carta Blanca to drink with the meal and had put up some coffee for afterward.

  The conversation had been general as they'd eaten, both of them careful not to stray into heavy topics. They talked about the party, Shelly's surprise announcement about Nick, and the break-in. Jeb agreed with Roxanne's plan to replace all the locks on the doors that opened to the outside.

  Pushing back from the table, he said, “The glass doors won't be a problem, since they all lock from the inside, it's just the main doors you have to worry about.” He moved aside his empty bottle of Carta Blanca. “I'm off tomorrow—we could drive to Ukiah and buy the locks and I can install them. You won't need a locksmith since you're going to replace the complete units.”

  Roxanne hesitated. She didn't know where this thing with Jeb was going and while one part of her liked the idea of the two of them driving to Ukiah and shopping together, she wasn't certain that it was a smart thing to do. She found him too attractive—and sexy, far too sexy, she thought as she squirmed in her seat, desire shimmering low in her belly. She fiddled with her glass of beer, trying to think of a polite way to refuse his company. A rueful smile curved her lips. Since when had she started being polite to Jeb Delaney? That she was even trying to be polite showed how far they had come in a short while.

  Her thoughts scattered when Jeb reached across the table and ran a finger across her hand. She looked at him, her heart pounding at the serious expression on his dark face.

  “I'm not asking you for a lifelong commitment,” he said carefully. “All I'm suggesting is that we drive to Ukiah together.”

  Her eyes were huge and golden as she stared back at him. She nodded slowly. “I know,” she said, “it's just that it's so weird—you and me doing anything together except fighting.”

  He smiled crookedly. “Fighting isn't the only thing we've done together … remember.”

  The problem was that she did—too well, and if she weren't careful they'd do it again. She'd been fighting the sexual awareness that hummed between them ever since she'd seen him out front standing there as if he owned the place, as if he belonged. Being alone with him in the cozy setting of the kitchen wasn't such a good idea, she decided. She needed space—breathing room. This was too intimate and if she sat here a moment longer, she was likely to fall on him like a ravening beast … and they'd end up coupling like minks in the kitchen again. She jumped up from the table and began to clear away the signs of their meal. Jeb said nothing, just watched her dash around the kitchen. Even when she cleaned up the tile floor after the dogs, he didn't say anything, but when she strayed near him, his arm shot out and he scooped her onto his lap.

  “I'm not going to bite you,” he muttered, his lips near her ear, “although it is tempting. Roxy, honey, we've got to talk about what's happening between us.” He gave her a little shake. “Something is and you damn well know it.”

  Her heart banging painfully in her chest, she slowly turned her head in his direction. Her gaze searched his face, noticing the fine lines at the corner of his eyes, the bold nose, and the strong jaw. That face, powerful and unforgettable, haunted her—as did that equally powerful and beautiful body.

  “OK,” she said shakily, “I'll admit that lately there's … something between us.”

  He smiled, such a tender smile, that Roxanne was stunned to feel tears fill her eyes. “See,” he said, “that wasn't so bad, was it?”

  The problem was that it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was wonderful, especially being in his arms, feeling those hard, warm thighs beneath her bottom. They were only inches apart and she was conscious of the sexual pull. Her eyes dropped to his lips and she actually bent toward him, before she caught herself. She leaped off his lap and onto her feet, putting distance between them. “No, but it doesn't settle anything,” she murmured.

  Jeb sighed. “Princess, there's nothing to settle, except for the fact that strange as it may be, you and I are attracted to each other. We've both been trying to pretend otherwise, but it's an inescapable fact and I'm tired of this game we're playing.”

  She shot him a resentful look. “I don't play games.”

  “OK, you don't play games, but admit it—if I hadn't forced the issue, you'd have driven away from me as fast as that excuse for a vehicle would go and never looked back. And the next time we met, you'd act as if nothing had happened …” His voice lowered. “You'd be the same old snooty Roxanne and pretend I hadn't had you on that countertop back in September.”

  “That's crude,” she said in a very snooty voice, her nose in the air, her back ramrod straight as she poured them mugs of coffee from the coffeemaker.

  “Yeah,” he said with a slow grin as he took the mug from her, “but it's true. And you know it.”

  She wanted to fight with him, and she fought to resist that grin of his, but she couldn't. She giggled. A very un-Roxanne giggle.

  His grin widened.

  She shook her head at him, and said, “Oh, come on, let's go into the other room where it's warmer.” And bigger, she thought to herself.

  Accompanied by the dogs, they walked into the great room. The dogs immediately walked over to the wood stove and flopped down in front of it, sighing contentedly. There wasn't a great deal of furniture to choose from so Jeb and Roxanne sat down on the couch, sinking comfortably into the soft cushions. They sipped their coffee in silence for a moment, Roxanne curled up like a cat at the far end of the long couch, her bare feet tucked up under her; Jeb was at the other end, his lean muscled legs sprawled out in front of him.

  “Do we really have to talk about this?” she finally asked.

  He considered her, thinking that he'd like nothing more than to find out what she was wearing under that velour material. “Probably not,” he admitted slowly. “As long as you don't backtrack and start trying to pretend that when we made lov?”—she made a sound of protest and he sent her a hard look?”that it was just sex. Get it through that beautiful head of yours—it wasn't sex, we made love, wild and incredible love, at that.”

  Roxanne wanted to argue. She really did. Admitting what had happened between them hadn't been just some inexplicable mindless drive for sex made what they had shared all the more important, made what she was feeling for him all the more real. She bit her lip. Took a sip of her coffee. Looked at the dogs lying in front of the wood stove and all the while Jeb waited patiently at the other end of the couch. He was such a stubborn prick, she thought. She took another sip of coffee, stalling, but knowing she was running out of time.

  “I've already admitted that there's something between us,” she finally replied, not looking at him as she put her mug on the end table. “What more do you want?” “Loaded q
uestion, Princess.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He put down his mug on the floor and to her absolute terror scooted to her end of the couch. Too close, she thought hysterically. He's too close. Don't touch me. Oh, please don't touch me.

  But he did and it was like flame to gasoline. The instant his hands reached out for her, Roxanne could have sworn that she heard an explosive whoosh and that was her last coherent thought for a long time.

  Jeb hadn't meant to start anything, at least not then, but the moment his hands closed around her shoulders, his brain turned to mush. He no longer wanted to talk; he didn't want to reason with her, didn't want to explore what was happening between them. All he wanted was her naked and beneath him.

  Their mouths met, melding together, the slip and slide of lips and tongues stoking a fire that was already burning out of control. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her body arching up next to his; his hand captured her chin, holding her mouth just where he wanted as he tasted and explored.

  The delving of his tongue deep into her mouth sent fire ripping through her body and Roxanne shivered with anticipation of even more explicit caresses to come. When Jeb broke the kiss and lifted his head, she moaned in frustration, following his lips with her own.