Old habits died hard, she realized. She’d changed her clothing, her hair, her makeup, even the way she walked, just so Jacob would see her as a desirable woman. A woman he would want to make love to. But as embarrassing as it was to realize she’d made a complete fool of herself, the lesson she’d learned was invaluable. From now on, she would let her heart and her gut tell her who the real Clair Beauchamp was. She would not change to please someone else, most especially a pigheaded, dim-witted private investigator from New Jersey.
While Bridgette’s fiancé Pete began telling a joke about two men who had slept in a country barn for the night, Clair sipped on the drink Bridgette had insisted on buying her, something called Ride ’Em Cowboy. She’d never heard of the concoction of coffee liqueurs and vodka; she rarely drank alcohol and her parents and Oliver only drank wine or martinis.
Maybe she should let herself get a little tipsy, she thought. If only for tonight, it might get her mind off Jacob. She watched a band setting up on the other side of the lounge. Why shouldn’t she dance and have some fun?
No. With a sigh, she set the drink down. She’d only regret it later if she had too much to drink, then made an idiot out of herself. She refused to have any regrets. Tonight, tomorrow or the day after. Whatever she did, she’d go into with her eyes wide open. Whatever mistakes she made, that was fine. They’d be her mistakes.
“…so the guy says,” Pete continued, “‘I don’t mind at all. She died and left me a million dollars.’”
Between a mixture of groans and laughs, the cocktail waitress took new drink orders while the band announced over the microphone they’d be playing in a few moments. Steve, Pete’s brother, offered to buy another drink for Clair, but she politely declined the good-looking Liberty fireman’s offer. There was no point in encouraging him, not when she knew she was leaving this bar alone.
Going back to her room alone.
Still, in spite of that fact, she was ready to go back to the motel. The room would be quiet and lonely, but she’d at least have the comfort of knowing Jacob was next door.
How pathetic was she? she thought, reaching for her purse. Her only consolation, and it wasn’t much, was that she knew she wasn’t the first woman, and most certainly wouldn’t be the last, to make a fool of herself over a man.
“Lord, have mercy.” Her eyes wide, Julie, Bridgette’s sister, looked over Clair’s shoulder. “I think I’m in love.”
“Stand in line, girlfriend,” Julie’s friend, Christie, gasped and stared, as well.
Clair turned and saw Jacob standing at the entrance to the lounge. His dark, narrowed gaze slowly scanned the room.
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he looking for her? Or was he just here, looking for a woman in general?
Either way, she didn’t want to know. She certainly didn’t need anymore rejection from Jacob, and the last thing she wanted was to see him pick up another woman.
She turned her back to him and scooted down in her seat, hoping he wouldn’t spot her in the dimly lit corner. “He’s coming this way.” Julie sucked in a breath and leaned close to Julie and Clair. “Remember, I saw him first.”
Dammit. Clair clutched her purse and clenched her teeth. If he thought he could lecture her in front of Bridgette and her friends, he had another think coming. She refused to let him bully her or—
“Clair!” He moved beside her, put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her out of her chair. “Thank God I found you!”
While everyone looked on, Jacob dragged her close and smothered her in a hug.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been so worried.” He laid his big hand on the back of her head and pushed her face flat against his chest. “Little Jake has been asking where his mommy is and the baby won’t stop crying.”
Little Jake? The baby? What in the world was he talking about?
She tried to pull away, but with her arms captured at her sides, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe, for that matter.
“Who the hell are you?” Steve asked, starting to stand.
“Her husband.” Jacob squeezed her tighter when she squeaked at his answer. Steve quickly sat back down.
“She never mentioned a husband.” Bridgette eyed Jacob suspiciously. “Just that she was driving to Texas with some guy.”
“We’re on our way to see a specialist there for Clair’s myopsia infarction,” Jacob said over the music from a three-man band that had just started to play a jazzy instrumental. “When she takes her medication she can control it, but when she misses—” he shook his head sadly “—well, she forgets things.”
What! Clair pushed harder to break away from Jacob’s grip, but she might as well have been pushing against a brick wall.
“She forgets she has a husband and children?” Julie asked with disbelief.
Clair managed to yank her head back an inch. “Jacob, for God’s sake, will you—”
He smashed her against his chest again. “Our car broke down and I had to go to the garage. I took the kids with me, and when we didn’t come right back, she obviously got confused. Clair, sweetheart—” he thrust her out at arm’s length “—I’ve been sick with worry.”
She sucked in a lungful of air, ready to lambaste him, when he pulled her close again and dropped his mouth over hers. Shocked, all she could do was hold on.
It didn’t seem to matter that he was simply trying to shut her up. Or even that there were several pairs of eyes watching them. All that mattered was the hot press of his lips on hers, the moist brush of his tongue.
Her pulse raced, excitement shimmered over her skin. Her fingers curled into his arms….
Dammit!
Smoothly she twisted her foot and stepped on his insole with her high heel. She felt, more than heard, the growl in his throat. He yanked away from her, his brow furrowed in pain.
“Jacob. Oh, sweetheart, I remember now.” She touched his cheek tenderly. “I got sick right after you lost your job at the fertilizer plant.”
“Right,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now we really should get back to the kids, in case they wake up.”
“And then the explosion at the fireworks plant.” Clair glanced at everyone as she leaned in and whispered, “Would you ever guess he has a glass eye?”
“Never,” Julie breathed, staring openmouthed at Jacob. “Which one?”
“The right one,” Christie said, narrowing her gaze at Jacob.
Jacob’s hand tightened on her arm. “We really should go now, sweetheart.”
“Of course.” Clair picked up her purse and did her best not to smile at the sympathetic expressions on everyone’s faces as they all said goodbye.
His face set tight, Jacob dragged her through the crowd, then out the front door. The night air was cool, heavy with the scent of steaks grilling from the restaurant inside, and the muted sound of Santana’s “Smooth” drifted from the lounge.
She tried to break loose from his grip, but he held on tight.
“Let go of me!” she yelled at him when they hit the sidewalk.
“No.” Pulling her along, he started across the street.
“How dare you say no!” With no other option, Clair stumbled behind him. “Are you crazy?”
“Obviously.” When she managed to yank free, he twisted around and grabbed her by the waist, picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Jacob Carver, put me down this instant!”
“No, again,” he said calmly and walked to the motel.
“You’re fired,” she shouted. “Terminated. Discharged. Canned. I don’t ever want to—”
When he dropped her hard on her feet at his motel door, her teeth rattled.
“—see you again,” she finished as he shoved his key in the door. “You’re insane. Deeply disturbed. A lunatic. Unbal—”
“Will you just shut up?” he said, then pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his.
Seven
If she’d had time to think, Clair might have been able to defend hers
elf against the thrilling jolt of pleasure that slammed against her senses when Jacob’s lips swept down on her own. But she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe; she could only feel. Her arms curled around his neck, her hands moved upward and plowed into his hair. He yanked her closer, deepening the kiss as he forced her back against the door. Her entire body came alive, every nerve ending tingling with the impact of his mouth on hers. Heat coursed through her rushing blood.
She strained against him, would have climbed inside him if it were possible.
He dragged his lips from hers and blazed a trail down her neck. With a moan, her head fell to the side, offering more.
“What were you saying?” he murmured, biting the base of her earlobe.
“You’re…deeply…disturbed,” she said between ragged breaths.
“Very deeply.” He nibbled on her throat.
“Insane.” She dug her fingers into his scalp.
“Certifiable.” He slid his hands around her waist, then jerked her closer.
Clair’s eyes opened wide at the intimate press of his arousal against the v of her thighs. “Unbalanced,” she gasped.
“Completely.” He reached behind her, twisted the doorknob and they stumbled into the room.
The nightstand lamp cast shadows across the soft beige carpet and the blue floral bedspread. The tangy scent of lemon wax filled the room, and from the corner, an air conditioner hummed, lifting the ends of the sheer white drapes covering the window.
He kicked the door shut behind him and dragged her close again.
His kiss was hot and hungry, urgent. Need shivered through her. She held onto his shoulders and rose on her tiptoes, wanting more.
He’d kissed her before, but this was different. This was no-holds-barred. This was out of control.
This was pure, unbridled passion.
Her heart sang with the joy she felt. When he pulled his mouth from hers and moved away, left her standing alone, her eyes shot open and she felt a moment of fear that he’d changed his mind. She swayed on weak knees, watched him take two long, quick strides to the drapes and snap them closed.
Then he was back again, his arms around her, his heat seeping into her, his tongue sliding over her parted lips, then rushing inside. She met him eagerly, opened to him, felt her blood pounding through her veins.
As one, they moved toward the bed.
This time when he kissed her, he slowed the pace a bit, lingered on the corner of her mouth, a leisurely exploration. While one hand fisted into her hair at the back of her head, the other slid down her arm, then slipped inside the high slit of her skirt.
She trembled.
“I’ve wanted to do that from the first moment I saw you walk in the restaurant,” he said hoarsely, skimming the outer skin of her thigh with his fingertips.
Why didn’t you? she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Intense arrows of pleasure shot through her. She felt dizzy and hot. And then he cupped her buttocks, pulled her closer to the hard bulge at the front of his jeans, and every thought flew out of her head.
She rose up on her toes, pressing against him, then lowered herself slowly down.
He moaned.
“Clair,” His voice was ragged and hoarse. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” she whispered, wondered how he could even ask.
“Look at me.” He cupped her face in his hands. “No doubts?”
She shook her head, laid her hands on his broad chest, felt the rapid beating of his heart. “No doubts.”
“Good.”
Her knees hit the edge of the bed and they tumbled backward, sank into the mattress. While his mouth tasted the base of her throat, he dipped under her skirt again and slid his callused palm down her thigh. Whimpering, she lifted her hips upward. He tugged her zipper open, then slid the garment away.
She reached to slip her heels off, but he took her hand and held it down on the bed. “Leave them on a minute. I want to look at you.”
Clair felt her cheeks flush, but the look in Jacob’s eyes as his gaze slid from her black lace underwear, slowly down her bare legs, all the way to the tips of her black high heels, excited her beyond anything she could have ever imagined.
When his hand followed the same path as his gaze, her heart skipped, then raced.
Closing her eyes, she laid her head back and let herself savor the rough slide of his fingers over her skin. Fire raced up and down her entire body. One by one, her heels dropped to the floor. Then his hand moved back up, over her calf…her thigh. He hesitated at the lacy edge of her underwear, brushed the tips of his fingers back and forth, moved upward again. Breath held, heart pounding, she felt him unbutton her blouse. When the sheer fabric parted, he flattened his hand over her bare belly. She quivered at his gentle touch.
“You’re so smooth.” His voice was rough. “So soft.”
Sensation after sensation swirled through her. Ribbons of bright colors, a tapestry of textures. The scent of man and woman and passion.
And then his hands closed over her breasts.
On its own, her body bowed slightly upward as she pressed herself more fully into him. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as he kneaded her soft flesh. A fever built between her legs, a pulsing, throbbing pressure that demanded release. She wanted more, was certain she’d die if he didn’t hurry.
When she reached for the buttons on his shirt, he smiled and shook his head. “Not yet.”
Jacob knew he’d lose it completely if he didn’t keep some kind of barrier between them. He wanted to take his time, to make this last, though he wasn’t so certain he could. Not with those soft little sounds of needs she was making, and the way her long, tempting body kept squirming under him.
When her fingers slid down his chest and moved toward the snap of his jeans, he snagged her wrist and lifted it over her head, then captured her other wrist and pulled it over her head, as well. If she touched him, it would be all over.
He wanted more.
With his free hand, he flicked open the front clasp of her black lace bra and bared her breasts.
Then he did nearly lose it.
She was perfect. Her breasts were full and firm, her skin flushed, soft as rose petals. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Fire raced through his blood, pounded in his temple.
He wanted like he’d never wanted before. He lowered his head to take.
When his mouth closed over the pebbled, rosy tip of her breast, she arched upward on a gasp. He pulled her deeper into his mouth, slid his tongue back and forth over her nipple. It grew harder.
So did he.
Ignoring the insistent ache in his groin, he kept his attention on Clair, tasted her sweetness. She moaned deeply, moved restlessly under him. When he moved to her other breast, she whimpered. He suckled her, flicked his thumb over the damp nipple he’d just abandoned, felt the bud tighten even more under the rough texture of his skin.
“Jacob, please.” Clair choked out the words.
“Not yet,” he murmured.
He released her hands, then moved down her belly. He heard her breath catch in her throat, then her fingers drove into his hair. He wasn’t certain if she were trying to tug him back up or hold him still.
He didn’t care.
He slid his hands under her hips, blazed kisses over her belly, explored the curves and valleys with his tongue. Then he moved lower still.
He felt her body tighten, tremble with need and uncertainty. He nipped at the edge of black lace, then slid the thin swatch of fabric down her hips, down her legs. He caressed her with his hands, nibbled on her hipbone. Then lower.
Her body felt like liquid fire. When he dipped into the sweetness of her body with the tip of his tongue, the breath she’d been holding rushed out on a deep, low moan. He stroked her, made love to her with his mouth. Mindless, she lifted her hips, rolled her head from side to side on a deep moan.
“Jacob!” She twisted under him on a sob. “Now. Please now.”
; “Yes.” He moved quickly, knowing he couldn’t last. He practically tore his shirt away, barely got the rest of his clothes off. He kneed her legs apart, took her hips in his hands, then entered her fast and hard.
He heard her cry out, hesitated, but when she wrapped her legs and arms around him and moved against him, he couldn’t think at all. He moved inside the tight, hot, velvet glove of her body. Never had he felt anything so intense, so exquisite. So perfect.
She met him thrust for thrust, dug her fingernails into his back. They strained together, desperately, wildly.
He felt her climax shatter through her in violent waves of heat and pleasure. Her arms came tightly around his neck, held on.
He let himself go, groaned as his own body found release. He thrust deeply, shuddering, then fell over the edge with her.
Amazing.
Sprawled across the bed, across each other, Clair waited for her heart to slow and her breath to even out.
She couldn’t move.
Unbelievably amazing.
Jacob had rolled to his side, but he still had one arm and one leg draped over her. His skin was damp, his breathing as erratic as her own.
“Damn,” he muttered.
She smiled, deciding that the single swear word was a compliment.
“I didn’t get that blouse off you,” he said, his voice thick and hoarse. “I really wanted to get that blouse off you.”
He shifted, pulled her snugly against him, stroked her hair away from her face, then pressed his lips lightly to her temple. A moment passed, long and silent, then Jacob finally spoke. “You could have told me, Clair.”
She laid her hand on his chest, felt the heavy thud of his heart against her palm. “That I was a virgin?’”
“No. That you have a freckle in the shape of a poodle in the middle of your back.”
She yanked away from him. “I most certainly do—”
“For God’s sake, I’m kidding.” He pulled her back into his arms. “Yes. That you were a virgin.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t—that you might not—” Her gaze dropped. “That you wouldn’t want me.”
His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Sweetheart, of all the things to be afraid of, trust me, that’s not one you need to concern yourself with.”
That Blackhawk Bride Page 9
