IN BED WITH BOONE

by Linda Winstead Jones

  "Yeah. If we don't climb down soon, we'll be stuck here all night."

  Jayne's heart thumped. She didn't think she could bear to spend the night with Boone in these close quarters. So close, so tight, he seemed bigger than ever, more menacing. Not menacing in the sense she'd felt when she'd thought he was a criminal intent on killing her, but menacing just the same.

  He took her hand and they left the cave, but they didn't go down the way they'd come up. A very narrow ledge sloped slightly down and then up again. Holding her hand, as if that might actually do any good if she fell, Boone very carefully made his way across the ledge. Jayne watched her every step. There was no room for error.

  The sun had set, and they had very little light to make their way by. Soon they'd have nothing but moonlight. The ledge curved around the rock, and on the other side it ended abruptly.

  Boone didn't seem disturbed by the fact. He very easily released her hand and then jumped to a ledge four or five feet below. Jayne's heart almost stopped as she watched him.

  "Great," she said. "Now you're down there and I'm up here!"

  Boone smiled at her and offered his arms. "Jump."

  "I can't!"

  "You can."

  Moving with great care, she took off her shoes and tossed them down. Boone caught one and then the other, then set them down. Jayne tried to lower herself to sit on the ledge, but there was simply not enough ledge.

  "Jump, sugar," Boone said confidently.

  Jayne took a deep breath and did just that. She jumped. She wanted to close her eyes, but didn't. As promised, Boone caught her, his arms solid and strong, his strength never wavering. She looked up into his eyes and he smiled, and then he released her and retrieved her shoes.

  The rest of the journey down was easier. There was another ledge, which was a bit wider than the one higher up, and then there was a series of rocks to which they hopped down and across.

  When Jayne's feet landed on solid gritty dirt, she was tempted to get down on her knees and kiss the ground.

  Boone took her hand once again and they resumed their trek. She liked the feel of her hand in his, the easy connection, the sharing of strength. She'd been escorted lots of places in her adult life, usually by up-and-coming politicians and eager lawyers, but there hadn't been much hand-holding going on. It was nice. Very nice.

  "How long before we get to this little town?" she asked.

  "A few hours."

  Hours. Jayne took a deep breath and told herself, silently, that she could do this. The past couple of days had been tough, but the ordeal was almost over. As she walked she thought of all the things she'd do when she got back to her hotel. A hot bath, a decent meal, a good bottle of wine. All this would come after she'd called home of course.

  There were so many things she'd taken for granted. Safety. Freedom. The promise of another day, always. She didn't think she could ever take those things for granted again.

  "What are you going to do now?" she asked.

  Boone continued to walk, always a step or two ahead of her. "Once we get to Rockvale we'll get something to eat, then—"

  "No," she said. "About the case you were working on."

  He was silent for a few steps. "I don't know. I haven't decided."

  "Can I … help?"

  The offer made him glance back. "No, I don't think so. But thanks for offering."

  "Goodness, I don't even know what kind of case it is! But I would be willing to help if I could."

  Boone didn't take the hint and tell her what he was working on. Jayne made a childish face at his back. Stubborn man!

  "What are you going to do when you get back to civilization?" he asked.

  "Take a bath," she muttered.

  He laughed lightly. "And after that?"

  With the setting of the sun, the temperature of the air had dropped. Her jacket blocked most of the chill, but not all. She shivered as she contemplated the question.

  "First thing, even before the bath, I need to call my folks and let them know I'm okay."

  "Naturally. And I guess after that you'll pay a visit to your friend Jim, the guy Darryl shot."

  She didn't care if she ever saw Jim again. "Can't I just send him flowers and be done with it? Oh, that sounds terrible, I shouldn't have said that, but … I do want him to be okay. I just don't want him to think we're going to be friends from now on because of this." She sighed. "That does sound terribly rude, doesn't it?"

  "Not the best blind date you ever had, I'm guessing," Boone teased.

  "Not even close. My friend Pamela lives in Flagstaff. I don't get to see her often, but we talk on the phone and e-mail a lot. We went to school together and were in the same sorority."

  Boone shook his head. "Sorority. I should have figured."

  She reached out and slapped him lightly on the arm. "There's nothing wrong with being in a sorority."

  "Of course not." He sounded unconvinced.

  "Anyway, Pamela fixes me up with Jim, since we're both single and she can't stand the thought of anyone not being as happily married as she is. It's her new quest in life to see me married and pregnant."

  Boone glanced at her, raked his eyes up and down as his smile died. Jayne was quite sure that no one had ever looked at her this way before. Oh, she wanted to know what Boone was thinking, but he didn't have the kind of expressive face that gave his thoughts away. He was solid, stoic. Real. More real than any man she'd ever known.

  "You're cold," he said, coming to a halt and shrugging off his leather jacket.

  "No," she protested. "You can't … you can't walk all the way to town in a short-sleeved shirt! You'll catch your death of cold out here."

  "I'm cold-blooded, like those snakes you hate so much." He held out the jacket and would not be dissuaded. Finally Jayne offered her arms and he helped her slip the jacket on.

  Cold-blooded? Not likely. The jacket was warm. Boone was warm. He was no snake.

  He turned around and dropped to his haunches. "Hop on."

  "Boone—"

  "We'll get there quicker this way, and jogging will keep me warm."

  "All right." Jayne climbed onto his back and held on tight. No, Boone Sinclair was definitely not cold-blooded.

  * * *

  The lights of Rockvale, though few, were a welcome sight. Since it wasn't the closest town to the shack where he'd been staying, he hadn't been here and shouldn't be recognized. Just in case someone out there was looking for a man and a woman together, he made Jayne wait out of sight while he secured a room in the town's only motel, a seedy place if ever he'd seen one.

  He paid cash and gave the man at the desk a false name. Smith.

  As soon as they walked into the motel room, Jayne kicked off her shoes and took off his jacket. "I wonder if they have room service here."

  He smiled at her back. "I don't think so."

  Jayne headed directly for the phone, reaching out for the receiver.

  Boone moved quickly and was there before she could lift it. "Wait." He laid his hand over hers.

  Jayne looked up at him. "You know I have to call my family."

  "We don't know what kind of equipment or personnel Darryl is using to find us."

  "One phone call—"

  "If he traces us here before I have reinforcements in place, we're done. We're dead, sugar."

  She went pale. "Surely he wouldn't have the facilities to trace a phone call."

  "Darryl, no. The man I came here looking for, yes. If Darryl has enlisted his help, it's possible there's a tap on your dad's phone. There might be a tap on the telephones of everyone you know and might call."

  "Surely not so soon…"

  "We can't take that chance."

  Jayne sat on the side of the single bed in the room. She looked deflated.

  "I'm going to get us something to eat," he said. "And while I'm out, I'll use a pay phone to call a friend of mine who's with the DEA." He'd been thinking as they finished their journey, trying to get his mind off the woman
he carried on his back. He had a plan, and with any luck Del and his partner would be in Flagstaff by morning. "I'll get a message to your family that you're all right and will call them tomorrow."

  With a deep breath, Jayne relaxed. "That will do, I suppose."

  "So," Boone said as he looked around the crummy room where they'd spend the night. It wasn't nice even by his standards, but everything they'd need was here. A television, a clock radio, a bathroom and a bed. Again, one bed. "I don't know what I'll find for supper, but I'll come back with something to eat. And beer." Man, he needed a beer.

  Jayne wrinkled her nose. "I don't like beer. But oh, I'd love a nice Merlot. And chocolate-chip cookies, the soft kind."

  "Cookies and wine?"

  She gave him a small enchanting smile. "I won't have them at the same time."

  "Right." He grabbed his jacket from the foot of the bed and pulled it on. "Lock the door behind me."

  She followed him to the door. "I know the drill by now," she said. "I won't let anyone in but you."

  * * *

  As soon as the door was bolted behind Boone, Jayne ran to the bathroom and started the water running. He probably wouldn't be gone long, so she wouldn't allow herself the long soak she wanted, but as she was unbearably filthy, a quick shower was definitely called for.

  As she peeled off her suit jacket, she glanced at the phone. She did think Boone was being overly cautious in suggesting that her father's phones might be monitored. Surely it wasn't that easy to gain access to a U.S. senator's phone lines! But she had promised Boone that she would wait, and she would. If his friends could get word to her family that she was safe, that would have to do for now.

  She stepped out of her skirt, noting that it would have to be disposed of. Too bad. She'd liked that suit, and she'd only worn it twice! Boone's black T-shirt came over her head next and was tossed aside. The water was surely hot by now.

  The shower was quick, hot and heavenly. She lathered her hair, using the motel's shampoo, and worked up a lather with the motel soap. She had never in her life felt so grimy! If she had her way she'd never hike, jog or climb ever again.

  She stepped out of the shower into a steamy room, and dried her hair with the motel hair dryer. When she was completely dry, feeling truly clean for the first time in days, she walked back into the bedroom and grabbed Boone's T-shirt. She had nothing else to wear, so it would have to do.

  She picked up and folded the coral suit—knowing she had no choice but to wear it again tomorrow—and turned on the television. After surfing through the five channels available and finding nothing interesting, she turned the television off again. When it was time for the news, she'd try again. She might not like what she saw, but she felt she needed to watch, anyway.

  Jayne bounded off the bed. Where was Boone? She was starving. Ravenous. And she couldn't wait to down a nice big glass of Merlot. She busied herself cleaning off the single table in the room, moving aside the tourist guides and thin packets of information about the area. That done, she fetched two glasses from the bathroom and placed them on opposite sides of the table.

  Steak, she thought as she sat in one of the chairs at that wobbly table. She would really, really love a steak.

  When a knock finally sounded on the door, she almost neglected to look through the peephole. She knew that impatient knock already. But she did look, and it was, of course, Boone standing on the other side of the door.

  With a smile on her face, Jayne threw open the door. "I hope you have steak and Merlot in that bag."

  Boone just stood there, staring at her, his head cocked to one side as his eyes raked over her. He didn't come in. "You're naked," he muttered.

  "I am not!" Maybe his T-shirt wasn't exactly proper attire, but she was definitely not naked.

  Boone shook his head and came inside, handing her a heavy bag and bolting the door behind him. "No steak," he said, ignoring his "naked" comment. "The only place open was a convenience store, so dinner is cheese in a can, crackers and Vienna sausages."

  "Sounds wonderful," she said, meaning it. Hunger did that to a woman.

  "And no Merlot." He placed the bag he still carried on the table and drew out a bottle of wine. "Maybe this will do."

  "Strawberry," she said, trying not to sound surprised as she read the label on the cheap wine.

  "And clean clothes," he said, reaching deep into the bag and drawing out two T-shirts.

  "Oh, thank God!" she said gratefully taking the shirt he offered her. It was pale blue, a lovely color. "I'll be right back." She ran into the bathroom, closed the door, whipped off Boone's black T-shirt and pulled on the new, clean, blue T-shirt. Like the other one, this shirt hung almost to her knees. There was a saying emblazoned across the front: "If a man speaks in the forest and there's no woman there to hear him, is he still wrong?"

  When she left the bathroom, she found Boone laying their dinner out on the table. Beer for him, strawberry wine for her. Paper plates for the crackers and Vienna sausages and aerosol cheese.

  She nodded to the dark-green T-shirt he'd flung across the foot of the bed. "What does yours say?"

  He stepped aside and lifted the shirt for her to read:

  "Change is good. You go first."

  "Are you trying to make some kind of statement with your clothing choices?" she teased.

  He shook his head. "It's not like they had a lot to choose from at the convenience store, and I didn't exactly have time to browse."

  "Didn't they have anything black? That green is dark, but it is technically a color."

  He mumbled something and she had to prod him before he'd answer loudly enough for her to hear.

  "They had one black T-shirt," he admitted, "and it said something about PMS."

  Normally she would be embarrassed, but instead of blushing and ignoring the comment, she laughed. It was rather funny, and besides, nothing about tonight was normal.

  Boone held her chair out for her, and she sat down. He'd already poured her a glass of wine, and she took a sip as he claimed his own chair. Not bad.

  "I talked to my friend in the DEA. He and his partner are on their way. I also made arrangements for someone to call your father."

  "They're going to help you finish your case?"

  Boone nodded.

  "Good," Jayne said. "It's better that you have some help."

  "Why?" He put food on his plate, opened his beer and took a long swallow.

  Jayne didn't look at him, but put a few things on her own plate, as well. "It'll be safer that way, surely. You'll have someone to, you know, watch your back."

  "I like working alone."

  He liked danger, he meant. Playing cowboy. Taking on people like Darryl all by himself. "Well, that's … silly."

  "Silly?" He obviously didn't care for the observation.

  "Why take unnecessary chances?"

  "Why not?"

  "There might be people out there who care whether or not you get your fool head blown off," she snapped. She didn't want him thinking she was talking about herself, so she continued in a calmer voice, "Don't you have any family?"

  "Oh, yeah," he replied. "Two brothers, a sister, a brother-in-law and a nephew on the way. My sister's due next month." He sounded none too happy about the prospect of being an uncle.

  Jayne smiled. "Oh, a baby."

  Boone shook his head. "What is it with chicks and babies?"

  "Don't you like babies?"

  He shook his head. "What's to like? They can't do anything for themselves, they're messy, they smell, and they require constant care."

  "You'll feel different when you have kids of your own."

  The expression on his face that came and went very quickly was grim. "None for me, thanks."

  They both ate in silence after that. Boone finished his beer but didn't open another one. Jayne drank her entire glass of strawberry wine, but didn't pour more. She was tired already. She didn't want to be light-headed, as well.

  Finally Boone excused him
self to take a shower of his own, grabbing his new shirt off the bed and heading for the bathroom, then closing the door forcefully behind him.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  Boone vigorously dried his hair. Bad ideas continued to plague him.

  Jayne was probably a virgin. Of course she was. There had been that comment about some women making love silently, and in the beginning she really hadn't had much of a clue about what kind of noises to make while he shook the bed. Her best scream had come because she'd turned her mind to snakes.

  She even kissed like a virgin, soft and sweet and … and like she was waiting for something to happen. Crap. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with a virgin. Ever.

  "Boone!" Jayne pounded on the door as she called his name.

  Something was wrong. Boone snagged a towel and quickly wrapped it around his waist, grabbed his gun from the back of the toilet and threw open the door, pistol in hand. "What's wrong?"

  Jayne had already jumped into the bed, and she was straightening the covers over her legs. "Jim is on the news. Can you believe this guy?"

  Boone lowered his weapon and turned to the TV, his heart still pounding. Sure enough, Jim was there, playing to the camera.

  "Like I said, I tried to save Jayne from those monsters, but they jumped me. All six of them." He gestured wildly with his hands. "One of them shot me and I went down. After that, everything's a blank for a while."

  An eager reporter asked another question. "And yet you managed to call for help."

  Boone sighed. This was where it would get sticky. Once Darryl heard what happened…

  "I came to long enough to have the presence of mind to dial 911," Jim said solemnly.

  "What?"

  "Shh." Jayne raised a silencing hand.

  "I called 911," Boone whispered.

  "I know."

  "I'm sure those … those criminals," Jim went on, "thought I was dead when they left me there. When I regained consciousness, I was alone on the road. It took all the strength I could muster to take my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and dial, but I knew it was the only chance I had."

  Boone grinned. "Thank you, Jimmy boy."