IN BED WITH BOONE

by Linda Winstead Jones

  Draped around him as they moved slowly toward the king-size bed, she kissed Boone with everything she had. His hands were big and firm and steady as he held her close, his heartbeat against hers.

  She couldn't get close enough; they couldn't kiss deeply enough. Ribbons of promise wafted through her, a tingle here and a tremor there. As he lowered her gently to the bed and hovered above her, she just wanted him to love her.

  She had never before been so completely overwhelmed by sensation. The scent of Boone, the press of his body against hers, the taste of his mouth and the sight of him hovering above her. And the sound of their shared breaths and Boone's whispering her name against her mouth.

  "Jayne."

  She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and down, her hands skimming over his muscular arms. Her body pulsed and reached for his in so many ways. Her mouth, her hips, her fingers.

  While she ran her hands beneath his T-shirt, soaking up his heat and his need, Boone untied the belt of her robe and whipped it away. The robe fell open, and he lifted the hem of her nightgown, snagged the edge of her panties with one finger and whisked them down.

  He touched her intimately, and she responded more intensely than she had imagined she could. Her body throbbed and shimmied from head to toe, and so did Boone's. She felt it, his need for her, the way he spiraled out of control just as she did.

  "Now," she whispered, unfastening his jeans and lowering the zipper. Shoving the jeans and boxers down to free him.

  He guided himself to her and then plunged deep and hard, filling her completely.

  Jayne gasped, lifted her hips and rocked against him. And shattered with such force that she cried out loud. Boone climaxed, too, as her inner muscles clenched and quivered. He pushed deep again, shuddered and then brought his mouth to hers for a long slow kiss that tasted of contentment.

  He laughed lightly, the sound not much more than a breath of air. "Not exactly what I had planned."

  Jayne looped her arms around his neck. "What did you have planned?"

  "Seduction, if you didn't toss me out on my ear before I had a chance. Something slow and irresistible."

  "Well, you were irresistible," she said.

  "And there's always later for slow."

  "Mm-hmm."

  Jayne held him, with her arms and her legs, amazed by the power of the way they'd come together, so quickly and completely. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back and I'd never get the chance to tell you—"

  "Jayne," he said, a warning in his voice.

  "—that I'm sorry," she finished. Had he been afraid she'd declare her love again? He'd certainly tried to silence her. Why was he so afraid? "I heard you talking to Marsh and I … for a little while I believed that you were—"

  "It doesn't matter now," he interrupted.

  "It does," Jayne whispered. "I didn't trust my heart. I didn't trust you. I'm so sorry."

  He kissed her quickly. "It's okay, sugar."

  "How can you say that?"

  He pushed her nightgown higher, brushed his hand over her breasts, one and then the other. "Tonight we have better things to do than lie here and talk about everything we've done wrong. I want to get these clothes off. I want to make you scream again."

  "Did I scream?"

  "You did. For a second I thought maybe there was a snake in the bed."

  "Very funny," she whispered. "But, Boone—"

  He silenced her with a kiss, and Jayne soon forgot all the confessions she'd been determined to make.

  * * *

  Boone reclined in the tub, eyes closed. A contented Jayne faced him, sitting between his spread legs and lazily washing him with a soapy washcloth. Warm water lapped around them both as she ran the washcloth up and down his thighs.

  What was he going to do now? He couldn't follow Jayne around like a besotted puppy, and he could hardly ask her to come to Alabama with him. They still didn't have anything in common. Okay, they had one thing in common and it was pretty damn good, but sex alone did not a relationship make. It might be nice to try, though…

  "Oh!" Jayne said, jumping slightly and splashing the water. "Corbin Marsh. Did you catch him? Was he shot? Is he in jail?"

  Boone opened his eyes and pinned them on Jayne's beautiful face. "He got away."

  Her eyes went wide. "He did?"

  "Trap door in the closet that led to a tunnel. He was gone before we even knew it was there." His jaw clenched. "Marsh was Gurza."

  The bewilderment on her face was genuine. Someone like Jayne would have a hard time understanding that level of deception. "How is that possible?"

  Shock and Del were still astounded by this one, and it was going to make a great story, for the media and for those long nights when the guys were gathered around the bar. "According to Darryl, Marsh pulled Gurza out when he needed to scare someone. He had a black wig, brown contact lenses, some makeup and at least one set of clothes that might be considered common. He always set up meetings in dark places, where his face was never completely clear. Killed a guy once, slit his throat in front of a bunch of midlevel dealers just to make sure they stayed honest." He shook his head.

  "How did Drew's mother meet him?"

  Darryl had shared this, too, finally deciding to tell all and make whatever kind of deal he could. Shock had been very persuasive. "She showed up at a buy with a boyfriend, a dealer. Drew was in the back seat of this guy's car." Boone shook his head again, angry that anyone would involve a child in that world. "Marsh was apparently taken with Erin, and I think he was also appalled that the child was there. He took them home with him, leaving Darryl to finish up with the deal and dispose of Erin's boyfriend. Of course, it didn't take long for Erin to figure out that Gurza and Marsh were one and the same. That scared her. Marsh found out she was planning to run, so he shot her up with heroin and had Harvey dump her body in Flagstaff."

  "A deal," Jayne whispered. "Does that mean Darryl will be getting out of jail soon?"

  She'd always been afraid of Darryl. "Not for a very, very long time."

  Jayne carefully crawled over his body, coming to rest her head on his wet chest. "Where is he now, do you think?" She shuddered.

  "Far, far away," he said, hoping it was true. "Too many people in this part of the country know him. His face has been all over the news. He's running." Jayne sighed, and Boone rested his hand on her hair, flicking his fingers through the red-gold curls. "I never did thank you for saving my hide."

  Jayne lifted her head. "Did I?"

  "I didn't hear Harvey coming up with that gun."

  Jayne licked her lips. "Well, if I did save your hide, it's only fair. You saved mine more than once." Her eyes, green with a touch of blue, sparkled. "You know, in some cultures, that would mean we … own each other. For the rest of our lives we are obligated to care for and watch over each other."

  The rest of our lives. The concept scared him the way snakes scared Jayne. "Maybe we could start slow. How about just for tonight we care for and watch over, and we'll see how it goes."

  Jayne smiled. "Deal." She pressed her mouth to his neck, flicked her tongue, moaned when he ran his hand down her wet back.

  Boone got up, taking Jayne with him, and they both stepped out of the tub. They stood holding each other, the wet length of his body molded to hers. He was hard, ready again, but this time he was not going to give Jayne a quick, half-clothed tumble.

  He grabbed a towel and began to dry her, gently, slowly, starting with her shapely back and working his way over her backside, down her thighs. He stopped only long enough to kiss her birthmark. She quivered in response.

  That done, he turned her around and dried her front. Neck first, then shoulders, arms, hands. When they were dry, he lifted one arm and brushed his mouth over the sensitive skin at her inner elbow. Her breasts were next, and he was especially gentle here. He brushed the towel over her hard nipples, then followed with a lingering kiss to each one. Jayne closed her eyes, touched his hair and sighed. "Is this seduction?"

&
nbsp; "Yes, ma'am," Boone said as he ran the towel from breasts to belly button.

  "I like it," she whispered.

  He dried Jayne's fine legs, starting with her ankles and working his way up to her thighs, gently urging her to part those thighs for him. He dropped the towel and pressed his mouth to her most intimate place, briefly, arousing her and then moving away. Going back to touch her again.

  Jayne shuddered, took a deep breath and opened her eyes as Boone stood up. "My turn?"

  She dried him much as he had her, her hands trembling, her fingers searching and her mouth stopping here and there to tease and arouse. She was tender and curious, and her smile … the sexy smile she gave him was enough to turn any man's insides to melted butter.

  Hands so small and gentle had an unbelievably intoxicating effect on him. Just the sight of her pale fingers on his body was so arousing it made him want to take her here and now.

  When he was dry, she knelt before him and took him in her mouth, touching and tasting with a sense of wonder at her newly discovered passion, a shyness mined with boldness that was absolutely intoxicating. She learned the size and shape of him with her hands and her mouth, and when she tilted her head back and looked up at him with hunger in her eyes, he growled, "Enough," and pulled her to her feet and then off them.

  He carried her out of the bathroom, into the more gently lit bedroom of her suite. The sheets on the big bed were already twisted. The woman in his arms trembled with anticipation. And he wanted her in a way he had never wanted any other woman.

  He laid Jayne on the bed and sat beside her, running his hands over her thighs, leaning down to take a pebbled nipple deep into his mouth. Jayne closed her eyes and parted her thighs, wanting him as fiercely and completely as he wanted her.

  Taking his hands and his mouth from Jayne was not what he had in mind, but he had to leave her long enough to fetch a condom from the back pocket of his jeans. He'd forgotten once; he couldn't let that happen again.

  When he joined her in the bed, he hovered over her and kissed her deeply while he filled her, taking his time, relishing every second that passed, every heartbeat, every tremble. Every time he pushed in, she surged against him, her legs wrapped around his hips, her arms around his neck.

  Time stopped, until there was nothing but these two bodies and the way they came together, joined and searching. They fit, physically and in another way he could not quite explain, in a way that would have scared him if he hadn't been so lost in sensation. If he hadn't been so enraptured by the heat and caress of her body.

  He didn't want this night to end. Every time he sheathed himself inside this woman, she seemed to reach a new level of passion. This was pleasure, pure and simple, but it was more than that. It was an extraordinary moment in his ordinary life. One night so beautiful it made up for a thousand ugly nights that had come before.

  Jayne whispered his name, rose into him and shattered beneath and around him. Her cry reached from down deep, captured him, and he came hard and fast.

  Depleted, his body drifted down to cover hers, and he cradled her, protected her.

  "I can't breathe," she whispered.

  "Neither can I." Boone rested his forehead against hers.

  "I'm going to die here," Jayne said softly, her hands stroking his hair. "Breathless and boneless and happy."

  It hit Boone, in an unwelcome flash, that Jayne had been right. They did own each other, and it had nothing to do with him saving her life or her saving his. It just was, in a way that defied explanation, in a way that scared him so much he was tempted to get up, get dressed and leave without saying a word.

  He wasn't usually such a coward.

  * * *

  After a short deep nap, Jayne awoke and found Boone lying beside her, wide awake and staring up at the ceiling. She rolled into him. "You should be sleeping."

  "I know."

  "What's wrong?" In her mind, nothing was wrong or ever would be again. This was right. She belonged with Boone and he with her, and that was all that mattered.

  "I've just been … thinking."

  She nestled her head against his chest. "Think tomorrow," she whispered. "Sleep tonight."

  He rested his hand in her hair, possessive and loving. "I wish I could."

  She held him, one bare body against another. "We'll talk it out, and then you can sleep."

  "No…"

  "It always helps to have someone to talk to when your mind is spinning this way and that." Her fingers caressed his back.

  Boone sighed, but he didn't tense or move away. "You asked me once why I specialize in looking for lost children."

  Jayne wanted to prop herself up and see Boone's face, but she didn't. She simply burrowed her body more closely into his. "You didn't answer."

  "I've never told anyone," he said softly. "Not my brothers, not my sister … no one."

  She wanted him to tell her, to confide in her. To trust her. But she wasn't sure she deserved his trust, not yet. "You can tell me if you want."

  For a few minutes he said nothing, and Jayne thought the conversation was over. She would not pressure him, nag or push him to share anything he wasn't ready to share. Maybe one day…

  "I used to be a cop," he said. "Back in those days I was green, like every other rookie, and more ambitious than most. I had great plans. A stellar career, a detective, eventually homicide. I even had a regulation haircut, a patrol car and a uniform."

  She could see him, Boone the policeman out to save the world.

  "This one kid, a boy named Patrick, was constantly running away from home. I took the call from his folks several times. Other officers took other calls. The parents were always frantic, even though Patrick always came home when he thought they'd suffered enough." He shook his head. "The kid was a real pain in the ass," he added in a whisper.

  "One day I got a call from that address. It had been a bad day, one of those days you think is never going to end. So I went in with an attitude. Hell, the boy was less than two months from his eighteenth birthday. Two months from being able to leave home legally."

  Jayne kissed his chest gently, offering the only comfort she knew how to offer at the moment.

  "His parents were frantic once again. Patrick hadn't come home. His mother was in tears, his father was wringing his hands, and I just snapped. I told them the boy would come home when he got hungry or bored or figured he'd made them suffer long enough. I told them he was a spoiled troublemaker and they should enjoy a few days of peace before the brat came home." Boone's breathing changed, became shallow. "I filed a report, but I didn't do anything. I didn't alert the other officers who were coming on shift to keep an eye out for the kid. I didn't drive around the neighborhood looking for him. I just … wrote him off."

  She knew what was coming by the way Boone tensed beneath her.

  "They found his body two days later. He'd been walking home from the store when he was hit by a car and thrown into an overgrown ditch. A soft drink was found close by, and he had a candy bar in his pocket. Candy! He was just a kid, and someone hit him and ran."

  "You couldn't have known."

  "They tell me he didn't die right away," Boone went on. "He lived in that ditch for hours, hurt and unable to move or make a sound. If I'd searched for him, if I'd done my job—"

  "No." Jayne laid a hand on Boone's face and looked him in the eye. "What happened to that boy is not your fault."

  "No," he whispered. "But if I'd searched for him, I might have found him and he might be alive today."

  "Boone—"

  "And what's even worse, while that kid was dying, I stood there and told his parents that their only child was a pain in the ass and they were better off without him."

  "Honey—"

  "And I have nightmares about Patrick, still. I will probably always have nightmares about him. I keep thinking that if I take enough kids home, if find decent homes for the ones who don't have a safe place to go back to, then maybe the nightmares will stop." He reached out a
nd touched her face. "But I don't think they ever will. So it doesn't matter that I … like you more than I've ever liked any other woman. It doesn't matter that I want things I can't have. This is my life. This is all that matters to me."

  Jayne leaned over Boone and took his face in her hands. He loved her. Maybe he could only admit that he liked her, but he did love her. She kissed him tenderly. "Let me watch over you while you rest," she whispered. "I won't allow nightmares to invade your sleep. I'll watch and keep you safe, and when tomorrow morning comes—"

  "Jayne—"

  She wasn't going to allow him to silence her, not this time. "I will still love you."

  He gathered her against his chest, held her closely. Eventually he slept.

  * * *

  Chapter 18

  « ^ »

  The intrusive shrill ring of the phone woke her. Heavy curtains kept out the morning light, but the bedside clock told Jayne it was much later in the day than she normally slept.

  "Boone?" The bed was empty. His clothes had been picked up off the floor. Even his jacket was gone. When she'd gone to sleep, it had been tossed across that empty chair by the window. The phone shrilled again and she reached out to snag it. "Hello?"

  "Sweetheart, I'm in the lobby."

  Jayne's heart sank as she glanced into the empty bathroom. Where was Boone? "Hi, Daddy."

  "Did I wake you?" he asked, sounding surprised.

  "Yes," she confessed, rolling from the bed. "Sorry. Yesterday was a really long day."

  "I'll be up in two minutes."

  "Wait!" Too late. Her father had disconnected and was on his way up.

  Jayne grabbed her underwear and nightgown from the floor and put them in a dresser drawer with her other dirty clothes. Not having much time to dress before her father arrived, she chose a pale-green sundress that hung near the front of the closet. She had so much to say to her father, but at the moment only one thing was on her mind. Where was Boone? Surely he hadn't left. Surely last night meant more to him than goodbye.

  As she stepped into her sandals, her father's familiar sharp knock sounded on the door. She ruffled her curls with her fingers as she went to let him in. There wasn't time for much else in the way of preparation. What was she going to say to him?