Slipping her arm through his, she dragged him up to the deejay.
He glared at her while she scanned the list of songs. Dylan, Sinatra, Manilow—he’d hate that one—Morrison, Stewart…
Bingo.
She made her selection and handed it to him, then hurried off to find a seat before he could grab her by the throat. To Clair’s pleasure and Jacob’s disgust, it seemed that every person in the place had gathered around to watch.
The music started. Jacob gulped down a swallow of beer Mad Dog offered him from his front row seat, then handed it back and stepped to the microphone.
When he yanked down a lock of dark hair from the center of his forehead, narrowed his eyes and swiveled his hips, the women went wild.
“Love me tender…”
Five
Clair woke the next morning to the sound of “Jailhouse Rock” playing in her head. After “Love Me Tender,” the crowd had insisted on another Elvis tune. Jacob had done his best to refuse, but he’d been outnumbered. If he hadn’t sang another song, the women might not have let him out alive.
Every woman in the place had melted when he’d sang the first song, then screamed when he’d sang the next. By the end of “Jailhouse Rock,” he’d had everyone in the entire restaurant and bar up on their feet, singing and dancing along.
Jacob Carver was quite a package. Not only of surprises, but of contradictions, as well.
He’d made it clear to her that he wasn’t her baby-sitter, yet he’d stood guard over her last night from the moment he’d found her in the bar with David—or Mad Dog, as Jacob called him. She’d seen him narrowing that dark gaze of his at any male who looked at her in a way he didn’t like. Clair wasn’t certain if she was annoyed or relieved that the men had kept their distance. Probably a little of both. Fund-raisers and ladies’ luncheons had not exactly prepared her for the wild and raucous beer-drinking singles crowd.
Still, she couldn’t remember when she’d ever laughed so hard, or when she’d had so much fun. Just thinking about it now made her smile. She’d been relaxed. No social niceties to worry about, no restraints.
Her smile faded. And still she hadn’t felt as if she’d fit in. Not there.
Not anywhere.
All the ballet, the dance, the Ivy League schools. The charity balls and formal dinners, the afternoon teas. She’d never felt as if she completely belonged. She’d never felt as if she were a part of the whole.
It certainly wasn’t for lack of love. Her parents loved her deeply, and she loved them, too.
But something had always been missing. Something she couldn’t put a finger on. Something as elusive as a scent carried on a breeze, or a dream she couldn’t remember.
She’d taken child development in college. She understood that all memories from childhood, even the actual process of being born, were retained and stored in the brain. Feelings, textures, smells, images. Everything was there. Nothing truly forgotten.
With a sigh, she stared at the acoustic ceiling over her head. She’d spent the first two years of her life with a different family. Mother, father, two brothers. A different house, yard, environment. She wanted to remember something. Even one little thing.
She squeezed her eyes shut, took a slow, deep breath and let her mind drift.
Pink clouds floated by…smiling blue eyes, eyes so like her own. Clair felt the warmth of the woman’s arms around her. They were outside…so many people, laughing and talking. Two little boys ran in circles around her…
The image melted away, too, and though she tried, Clair could not pull it back up.
Was that her family? Had she simply invoked the images because she wanted so badly to remember even one little thing from her past? Or had they been real?
Her heart beat faster at the thought. Her hands shook as she dragged on a short cotton robe, then flew out of bed.
When Jacob heard Clair knocking at the connecting door, he groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. The woman woke up too damn early.
“Go away,” he shouted.
He heard the sound of the door opening and burrowed deeper into his bed. “So help me, woman—”
“Jacob, I’m sorry.” Her voice bounced with excitement. “I just have to tell someone.”
“Go tell the janitor,” he growled. “He was banging on the air conditioner outside my door a minute ago. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to hear about how you hustled me last night.”
She dropped down on her knees beside the bed. “I let you win the second game, didn’t I?”
“Let me win?” He popped his head out from under the pillow. “The hell you say. I beat your butt fair and square.”
“Okay,” she said affably, which only aggravated him all the more. “But that’s not what I want to talk about. I remembered something.”
“You woke me up to tell me you remembered something?” He fisted his hands in his pillow, rather than her pretty little neck, then did his best to think about how easy it would be to drag her into his bed with him and relieve the ever-growing tension in his body. “You know, for a woman who’s supposed to be so well-mannered, that’s damn rude.”
“It’s about my family.” Though still heavy from sleep, her eyes sparkled in the early morning light. “My birth family.”
“Your birth family?” He furrowed his brow, rose up on one elbow. “You remembered something from when you were two years old?”
“Just a fragment,” she said breathlessly. “A fleeting image.”
He sat, dragged a hand through his hair. “Clair, considering everything, it would be easy for your imagination to—”
“It wasn’t my imagination,” she insisted. “I know it sounds strange, but we were outside with lots of other people, there were pink clouds, a woman with eyes like mine, two little boys. It was real, Jacob. I know it was.”
Pink clouds?
Interesting.
Though Jacob knew quite a bit about little Elizabeth Blackhawk and her family, he’d been asked not to tell Clair any more than necessary. Her brothers had decided they wanted to give her details and share their memories with her.
But he felt she needed to know about this. That it was important for her to know.
“You were at a county fair with your family the day of the accident.” Her gaze met his. “They sell cotton candy at fairs.”
“Pink clouds,” she whispered, then dropped her forehead down on the edge of the bed. “My brothers,” she said raggedly. “Rand and Seth?”
“What about them?”
“Were their names changed, too?”
“Since they were older when they were adopted, only their last names are different. Instead of Blackhawk, it’s Rand Sloan and Seth Granger.”
“Blackhawk,” she murmured the name, then lifted her head. “It’s so familiar. It feels—” she put a hand to her heart “—so right.”
He watched her blink furiously at the sudden tears in her eyes and look away.
“Hey.” He took her chin in his hand and turned her face back toward him. “What’s this for?”
“I—” Swallowing hard, she whispered, “Jacob, what if they don’t like me?”
“What are you talking about?”
She wiped at a tear that slid from the corner of her eye. “What if I don’t fit in with them? What if after they meet me, I’m not the sister they remember?”
Who the hell cares? he wanted to say, but he realized that she did. Very much. Something shifted in his chest as he stared at her, something completely foreign to him. He didn’t like it one little bit.
He had a sudden, fierce urge to take her to his bed, to make nothing else in her world matter. Sex could do that. Make a person forget everything, if only for a little while. They would both find pleasure there, he knew. Just looking at her, with that tousled hair and those liquid eyes made his blood boil. The thought of her long legs wrapped around him, imagining what it would feel like to bury himself deep inside her, made him instantly hard.
Grating his te
eth, he held back the threatening groan. He’d never taken advantage of a woman’s vulnerability before. And dammit, he sure as hell didn’t plan to start now.
With something between a sigh and a swear word, he reached for her. She stiffened at his touch, but he tugged insistently until she sat on the bed beside him.
“Relax, Clair.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’m not going to jump your bones.”
“I’ve heard that one before.” But she did lay her head on his chest. “Usually a minute or two before, ‘I just want to hold you.’”
Jacob smiled, remembered using that line a time or two in high school. “I am just going to hold you. If I was intending to do more, you’d know.”
“I would?” she said quietly.
“If I was doing it right, you would.”
Chuckling softly, she relaxed against him. “I know I’m being silly, worrying if Rand and Seth will like me, if they will want me to be a part of their lives. It’s just that I’ve always wanted a sister or a brother.”
“Maybe you should worry if you’ll like them,” Jacob told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Maybe.”
The warm breath of her sigh whispered over his chest, and when she slid her hand up his arm, Jacob felt his heart slam against his ribs.
This was a bad idea, he thought.
Her fingers moved back and forth on his shoulder.
A really bad idea.
Her lips lightly brushed his collarbone.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
He knew there were reasons he shouldn’t just give in to what they both wanted. Good reasons. But with her touching him like she was, knowing she wasn’t wearing much under that little robe, and that he wasn’t wearing anything at all, he was having a hell of a time remembering what those reasons were.
And in roughly two seconds, even if he did remember them, he wouldn’t give a damn.
Setting his teeth, he took hold of her arms and held her away. “We should get going.”
Her eyes, heavy-lidded and filled with the same need he felt burning in his veins, lifted to his. “What?”
“It’s late, Clair,” he said tightly. “We need to get on the road.”
“Oh.” She blinked, then her cheeks flushed bright pink. “Of course. I’ll just…go get ready.”
“Good idea.”
She slid off the bed, hesitated, then turned and headed for her room.
“Clair?”
From the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder.
“You didn’t really let me win last night, did you?”
She smiled slowly. “Of course not. Like you said, you beat me fair and square.”
He frowned at the door she closed behind her, then said loudly, “I did beat you, dammit.”
He heard her laugh from the other side of the door. Swearing, he tossed the covers off and stomped to the bathroom, wondering what he’d ever done to deserve the likes of Clair Beauchamp.
An hour later, while Jacob checked them out of the motel, Clair stood in the parking lot with Mindy and said goodbye.
Dressed in a simple black skirt, white cotton blouse and plain black flats, The Night Owl’s head housekeeper looked like a different woman from the sexpot Clair had met at Weber’s Bar and Grill the night before. Clair actually thought Mindy looked more beautiful without the heavy makeup, and younger, too.
“Maybe you can call me after you get to Wolf River,” Mindy said after Clair explained briefly why she and Jacob were driving together to Wolf River. “I can’t wait to know what happens.”
“I’m a little nervous to meet my brothers,” Clair admitted, “but excited, too.”
Mindy grinned. “I’m not talking about your brothers, though I can’t wait to hear about them, too. I’m talking about you and Jacob.”
“Me and Jacob?” Clair felt her stomach do a back flip. “There’s nothing between us.”
“Right.” Mindy gave a snort of laughter. “That’s why he couldn’t take his eyes off you last night, unless it was to warn off every other guy that you were already taken.”
“We weren’t—aren’t—together that way,” Clair insisted. “We have a business relationship.”
“I don’t know if you’re trying to convince me or yourself,” Mindy said with an arched eyebrow, “but I know when a man’s interested, and trust me, he’s definitely interested.”
Clair glanced toward the motel office where Jacob stood at the counter paying the bill. Yesterday, when she hadn’t considered him being attracted to her, he’d kissed her and told her he didn’t think he could keep his hands off her. Then this morning, when she’d practically thrown herself at him, he’d rejected her.
The man completely confused and frustrated her.
Shaking her head, Clair looked back at Mindy. “I think he sees me as a responsibility, like a package to be delivered. One that has Fragile stamped all over it.”
“Well, then maybe you need to rewrap that package, honey,” Mindy drawled. “Show him you won’t break so easy.”
Clair laughed at the idea, watched Jacob come out of the motel office, slip his sunglasses on, then head toward them.
“Damn,” Mindy muttered as Jacob approached. “That is one fine man.”
Clair couldn’t agree more. His dark, rugged looks and tall muscular build were enough to make a woman’s breath catch, but add that dazzling smile along with his easy, confident stride, and the effect was deadly to any female within fifty yards.
“You ready?” He pulled his keys out of his pocket.
Clair turned to Mindy and gave her a hug while Jacob started his car. The engine roared to life, then rumbled, like a caged beast waiting to be released.
They waved goodbye to Mindy, bought coffee and French toast strips at a fast-food drive-thru, then left the town of Plug Nickel and headed for the Interstate.
“What’s your whim today, Miss Beauchamp?” Jacob sipped on his coffee. “You have a town that calls to you?”
Clair dipped her French toast strip in a tiny plastic vat of maple syrup, took a bite, then dragged her map out of the glove box. While she chewed, she studied the crisscross of cities and towns. The names flew at her: Raccoon, Rainbow, Yazoo, Picayune.
Tapping the map, she looked up at Jacob and smiled. “Liberty, Louisiana.”
“You got coolant coming out of the water pump. Probably a failed seal.” Odell, the gas station mechanic, stared down under the open hood of Jacob’s car. “Lucky thing for you the engine didn’t over-heat.”
Frowning, Jacob stood beside the middle-aged mechanic and bit back the swear word on the tip of his tongue. Lucky would hardly be the word he would have used. After driving all day, stopping at every little town along the way that caught Clair’s attention, they’d been ten minutes out of Liberty when the temperature gauge had started to rise. By the time they’d pulled into town, a cloud of thick steam had begun to seep out from under the hood of the car.
“How long?” Jacob glanced in the direction of the gas station office where Clair had gone in search of a restroom, then looked back at the mechanic.
“Wellll…” Odell stretched the word out. “It’s already two, but I can try to pull the pump this afternoon.”
Try? Jacob ground his teeth. “And you think it might be done when?”
“Hard to say.” Odell scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe tomorrow. Can’t promise, though. Gordon, my helper, went fishing this afternoon. I’m all by myself, and I’ve got a bad back.”
“What if I help you?” Jacob suggested. Clair had spotted several antiques stores she’d wanted to browse through when they’d drove down the main street in the small town. Jacob not only welcomed the opportunity to avoid shopping of any kind, he was nervous about letting anyone work on his car beside himself.
Odell gave Jacob a dubious look. “You know how to reverse directions on a rachet?”
“I restored her myself from the ground up, dropped the drive train in the chassis and added ram
air induction.”
“426 or 440?”
“426 Hemi.”
Odell nodded with approval. “Grab yourself a pair of overalls from the office, son. Just ask Tina.”
The afternoon was hot and muggy; the deep blue sky laced with white clouds. The smell of motor oil and warm asphalt hung heavy in the air, but when Jacob opened the glass office door, an icy blast of air-conditioning and the scent of lemon deodorizer rushed out to meet him.
No sign of Clair, but behind the counter of a small convenience store area, a pretty woman probably in her early thirties sat reading a Hollywood entertainment magazine. Everything about her was red. Her short, spiked hair, her lips, her long nails. Even her low-cut, wraparound top was the color of a fire engine.
“Tina?”
She looked up, then slowly slid her gaze over him. “That’s me, sugar.”
“Odell said I should get a pair of overalls from you.”
One hopeful brow shot up. “You working here now?”
“Just helping out for the afternoon.”
“Too bad.” The clerk laid her elbows on the counter and leaned forward with a provocative smile. “No fair you know my name and I don’t know yours.”
“Jacob.” He would have had to been dead not to notice—and appreciate—the cleavage the redhead seemed determined to show him. “Jacob Carver.”
“Tina Holland.” She stood, gave her spandex-clad hips an extra swing as she moved to a closet at the back of her cubicle, then glanced over her shoulder and sized him with her eyes. “Large or extra-large?”
When her gaze lingered on his crotch, Jacob shifted awkwardly. “Extra-large.”
“Of course you are.” Smiling, Tina pulled out a pair of clean overalls and moved back toward him. “So are you just passing through Liberty, or do we have some time to get to—”
“Hello.”
Jacob turned at the sound of Clair’s voice. She’d just walked around the corner from the ladies’ room. Even though the weather was humid and they’d been driving most of the day, she still looked crisp and cool in her pink tank top and denim skirt. Her timing had been so perfect just now, he wanted to kiss her.
That Blackhawk Bride Page 7
