As if that would work.
All that did was make him want her more. He breathed in the soft scent of her hair, the subtle fragrance that was more likely soap than perfume. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and combed the long silky strands with his fingers, combed them away until he’d bared her velvety, smooth skin.
He brushed his lips against her and felt a tremor run through her as he tasted her warm, slightly salty skin.
She moaned and turned to face him.
Without asking or receiving permission, he took her mouth, pressing his tongue between her lips. He tasted and savored and explored until he could bear no more. He drew away, but she whimpered in protest and drew him back. She pressed him closer. Wordlessly, she begged for more.
And Rich gave her what she needed.
When he thought he might burst from unsatisfied hunger, she pushed him away. Feeling like he’d been doused with a bucket of ice water, Rich waited to see what she would do.
She surprised him.
Jennifer sat up, reached behind her, and began to unbutton the long row of buttons that closed her dress.
Rich reached tentatively to help her, then drew his hand back. “You’re sure?”
“I don’t know where this will lead,” she murmured. “But for now, this is what I want.”
Maybe that should have been enough, but although Rich’s body ached for Jennifer, his heart seemed to want more. Still, he was young and healthy, and it had been a long, long time since he’d been offered such temptation.
He gave her one more chance to back out. “I don’t have any protection,” he whispered though he was already reaching to release the button on his pants.
“It’s all right. I never stopped taking the Pill,” she said.
Why the hell was he trying to talk her out of it? Here he had a willing woman in his bed, and he was trying to discourage her?
Jennifer pulled the dress over her head and tossed it aside. It whispered to the floor, and Rich, though the light was dim, finally saw the perfect body he’d only suspected lay beneath those demure clothes. She unfastened her bra to reveal the full breasts it covered. One glance confirmed his notion that she was as good as the calendar girl who’d taunted him a few nights ago.
No, she was better.
Jennifer was real.
Rich sat up and faced the window. He didn’t know why, but he felt strange having her watch him as he undressed even if it was the middle of the night and the only light came sneaking in from outside the window. He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. As he stripped out of his remaining clothing, he felt her eyes on him, and a jolt of anticipation shuddered through him. They’d barely kissed, and his need was standing straight and tall at attention.
“Rich Larsen, ready for duty,” he quipped as he caught sight of her sitting amid the tangled covers, her legs curled to one side, her naked breasts tempting him.
He reached for her and she for him.
Any doubts he might have had evaporated into the night as their fingers touched. It was as if they were destined to be one. Even if his mind was still uncertain, his body knew what to do. And so did hers.
Rich traced a path along her silky skin from her fingertips, up her arm and to her chin. She trembled, and he could feel her skin roughen with gooseflesh as he moved upward. He caught her chin in his hand, tipped it, and took her mouth with his.
She melted to him, whimpering as he thrust his tongue deeper. He tasted her, explored her and made her his own.
Rich drew back and feasted on her with his eyes, now accustomed to the dim light. Her breasts were full, perfect. He touched them with his fingertips, then cupped them with his hands.
He had to taste, had to know. He tested a puckered nipple with the tip of his tongue and almost went over the edge.
After that, their heated bodies took the lead.
They joined and separated and joined again, performing the ageless dance. Rich felt complete when he connected with her, and he sensed that Jennifer felt the same.
Somewhere in his mind, he sang, I love you, I love you, I love you, over and over again. He wanted to say it out loud, he wanted Jennifer to know, but he held back. Let his feelings remain unspoken for now. He was showing her in every possible way that he belonged to her and she to him.
Why did they need words?
Jennifer arched against him and moaned, soft and low and shuddering, then fell limp against the sheets. This was what it was all about, he realized as he filled her. This was it.
LANGUID, WARM AND SATED, Jennifer lay in the dark and considered what she had done. Shouldn’t she feel guilty? She stretched her deliciously weak muscles and moaned with satisfaction. Never had she felt so loved, so cherished. How wonderful to be held and stroked and loved in a man’s arms. How wonderful it was to feel wanted.
Jennifer closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She’d had trouble enough before, surely it would be just as difficult now.
Maybe it was the exhaustion of her endless day, or maybe it was satisfaction from their lovemaking that did it. Whatever the cause, sleep overtook her quickly, and she sank into deep and dreamless slumber.
SOMETHING SOFT and delicate fluttered against his ear, and Rich tried to brush it away. The butterfly lifted off, hovered, then lit again. Again, he tried to shrug if off, but it proved tenacious. This time it seemed to crawl into his ear.
Awareness finally crept into Rich’s sleep-drugged brain. A butterfly hadn’t roused him. Someone was teasing his ear. Jennifer?
He opened one eye, then slammed it shut against the brittle morning light.
Why was it so bright in here? Had he forgotten to turn off the light before he went to bed? And why hadn’t the clock radio wakened him?
“Uncle Witch, you are being such a lazy bones.”
Instantly, his mind cleared.
Rich launched his lids upward though fingers of brilliant morning light stabbed at his gritty eyes. “Caitlyn?” he rasped. He rubbed at his eyes and looked again. Caitlyn stood beside the bed, peering into his bleary eyes.
He started to say something, started to ask her what she was doing staring so solemnly at him, when he remembered that he was not alone in the bed. He also realized that he was wearing nothing but the bedclothes.
What had he done?
“What are you doing up so early?” he asked, his voice gravelly and thick, as he maneuvered himself to an upright position, a difficult task, considering he had to keep himself covered in all the right places. Or the wrong places, he supposed.
“It isn’t early,” Caitlyn announced. “Sesame Street is already over.”
He squinted at the clock. After nine. Why had he slept so late?
He glanced over his shoulder to the mound of covers that was Jennifer. That was why. His groin tightened at the memory of what had gone on in this bed in the wee hours of the morning.
Now what? He was naked. He had a naked woman in his bed, and he had a very inquisitive four-year-old standing in front of him with a censuring look on her face. He let out a long, low breath and scratched his chest. He yawned and stretched while he figured out what to do.
“Sorry, Caitlyn,” he finally muttered. “Why don’t you let me dress, then I’ll be out to fix you some cereal.”
She just stood there.
Hadn’t he just told her to leave so he could dress?
No, he realized, he had not. He guessed kids were too literal-minded to understand any subtleties. He cleared his throat. “Caitlyn, I need you to go out in the living room while I get dressed.”
“I watch Mommy get dressed.”
“I’m not your mommy,” he growled impatiently. Then, seeing Caitlyn’s face pucker as though she were about to cry, he softened his tone. “I need to have some privacy. I’m not used to having little girls watch me dress.”
Caitlyn heaved an aggrieved sigh. “All wight. Carter is getting lonely anyway.” She started to turn, but stopped, and placed her hands on narrow hi
ps. “But hurry up. We’re getting really hungry.”
She minced out, and Rich drew in a deep, calming breath. Well, it was supposed to calm, but having Jennifer buried in the covers next to him made serenity impossible.
He reached over to touch her, but yanked his hand back at the spark that sizzled between them when, in spite of the layers of intervening linen, his hand contacted her hip. “Jennifer. We overslept. Big time.” He paused and drew in another deep breath as he watched her stretch and yawn and smile a pleased-with-herself sort of smile. Was that smile for him?
He cleared his throat and shook thoughts of an encore from his mind. “And Caitlyn has been in here asking for her breakfast.
“I’ll get dressed first, then you can get up once I’m out of the way.” He paused again, reluctant to leave it this way, but he didn’t know what to say or how to say it. “I slept through PT. I’ve gotta go.”
It wasn’t exactly the kind of parting he would have planned, but what could he do? He was damned if he stayed, and damned if he didn’t. And right now, he had Caitlyn’s sensitivities to consider.
Jennifer was an adult. She would understand.
He grabbed his discarded clothes and dressed quickly. He had to get out of here before Caitlyn came back. Tonight would be soon enough to square it with Jennifer. Caitlyn wouldn’t understand. Rich hurried out, pausing only long enough to close the door softly behind him.
Jennifer lay in the empty bed for a long time, wondering what to do. This wasn’t how she’d imagined waking up after a wonderful lovemaking experience like the night before.
She lay in the man-scented sheets and breathed in the musty scent of their lovemaking. She ached deep inside, and she knew she wanted it to have never ended. Tendrils of love and longing wound their way through her from her tender center all the way to her heart. She was in love with Rich Larsen.
If only she knew he was in love with her.
She lay still in the bed and listened while Rich shaved. She heard the buzz of the electric shaver and tried to think of him bristling with stubble, not the two of them, naked together, making love. She shook the erotic thought away. She was going to have a hard enough time facing the children and they had no idea what had transpired in this room, in this bed, without reliving it again in her mind.
It was a good thing Rich had to hurry out to the base. She wasn’t ready to face him.
Not until she’d figured it all out. Not till she’d worked it all through.
The bed was warm and cozy, and she’d gotten less sleep than she really needed. Jennifer breathed a deep, long breath and her body became weak. Whatever her best intentions were, her boneless limbs seemed to have other things on their minds.
She drifted back to sleep.
Pounding on the door woke her.
Not pounding really, just a gentle tapping, but it was enough.
“Jennifer? Are you up? I’m leaving.”
She rolled to one side and pushed herself to a sitting position. Clutching the mussed sheets to her in case he came in, she cleared her throat. “I’m up,” she lied. “You go on. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Okay,” he said.
Jennifer listened as he walked away. She listened until she heard the sound of the door opening and she heard Rich pull it firmly closed.
Why did she feel so empty?
Only a few hours ago, she had lain, warm and naked, in the arms of the man she loved. Now, she was alone.
How many times did men have to leave her before she figured it out?
Then it came to her. She was useful in bed. Nothing else.
There had been no promises.
But then, she’d asked for none. What could he possibly be thinking about her now?
She’d come to take care of his sister’s children, and she’d ended up in his bed.
What kind of a woman did that make her?
Jennifer slowly pushed the bedding aside. She slipped into her discarded undergarments and picked up the dress from the floor. After being slept in, and then tossed to the floor, the wrinkles in it were there to stay.
Her mind raced as she tried to smooth the rumpled dress. What would she tell Caitlyn?
Thankfully Carter was too young to know what was going on, but how would she explain to Caitlyn why she had spent the night at her uncle’s house? In her uncle’s bed. In her uncle’s arms.
She sank back onto the soft mattress and tried to button up her dress. No matter what she did, no matter how she tried to explain it to Caitlyn, she still couldn’t explain it to herself.
Last night it had seemed so right.
Last night she had figured it all out.
Now, in the light of day, she wasn’t so sure.
Even if Caitlyn didn’t care what had gone on in this room, in this bed, she did. She had asked for no promises and received none.
Now, she wished she had.
If only he’d voiced what she’d thought—no, hoped—he felt. If only she’d heard those three little words of love from him.
She covered her face with her hands.
What had she done?
Chapter Thirteen
What had he done? Rich asked himself a thousand times as he drove to work. Why hadn’t he left well enough alone?
It was bad enough to lie awake and wonder what Jennifer was like. It was another to now know and not have her.
Why can’t you have her? a voice from somewhere deep inside him asked?
Because of Rick Larsen, another replied.
Rich drew in a deep, ragged sigh as he waited to be waved in at the gate to the base. Why did what his father had done to him and his family still torment Rich after so many years? The man had been dead for more than a decade.
The gate guard waved him in, and Rich urged his truck forward. Why couldn’t things just be simple?
He knew that he wouldn’t get a hassle from the captain about missing PT, but he was certain to get a ration of razzing from the team. He shrugged. He was a special operations combat controller, he could handle whatever they dished out.
That he couldn’t handle two small kids and one medium-size woman bothered him more.
Rich parked at the squadron and paused to look into the rearview mirror to make sure he’d pass inspection. He jammed the red beret on his head, making sure the flash in front was positioned right and sighed.
At least some of his problems would be over in the morning. Tomorrow Rebecca would be coming to pick up the kids, and the only other problem he’d have to deal with would be Jennifer Bishop.
Compared to this, Kosovo and Bosnia seemed like a cakewalk.
IN SPITE of her distraction, Jennifer got the children fed and settled at play. Now that Caitlyn was feeling better, her sunny, helpful disposition had returned, and even Carter had recovered from his teething woes. Wouldn’t his mother be surprised to see his sharp, little tooth?
Jennifer sighed and yawned and looked down at the wrinkled dress. Wrinkles were bad enough, but Caitlyn had spilled grape juice all over the front, and if she didn’t get it out now, it would set.
Surely, there would be a robe or something in Rich’s closet that she could wear until the dress was dry. She already knew there was an iron and ironing board in the kitchen. And Rich wouldn’t be home until five o’clock.
Yes, that was a terrific idea.
She could hand wash it in the bathroom sink using dishwashing liquid. Then she could hang it on a hanger and it would drip dry in the tub.
Yes, of course.
She glanced in the closet of the room where she’d slept, then quickly closed the door. She recognized several of the loud, Hawaiian shirts hanging inside. They belonged to Ski Warsinski. She’d seen him in shirts of that type at several squadron functions. How could she forget that Rich had taken Ski’s room while the kids were here?
Glancing in to see that the kids were entertained, she hurried into the other room and flung open the closet door.
Rich’s selection of clothing was scan
t compared to Ski’s and much less gaudy. But there was nothing that resembled a robe.
She looked again.
Rich had plenty of uniform shirts and one or two broadcloth dress shirts. Jennifer reached for one, then her gaze landed on the pleated white shirt he had worn to Rebecca’s wedding.
Had it only been a week since they’d attended that family event?
Jennifer couldn’t help herself. She reached for the shirt and brought it up to her nose. It hadn’t been washed since he’d worn it, and the faint scent of Rich’s aftershave still clung to the fabric. She breathed it in and was overtaken by the image of the man, not in the dress uniform, but naked and aroused in bed.
Quickly, she let go.
That was something she was trying to forget. She had to. It was something that could never happen again.
Instead, she selected a light blue, broadcloth shirt and pulled it off the hanger. She held it to her. The shirt was huge, but then, so was Rich, and the tails would reach nearly to her knees. If she rolled up the sleeves, it would be fine, and it would cover her. Surely, Rich wouldn’t mind if she wore his shirt. And if he did object, she’d take it home and have it laundered.
“HEY, LARSEN. You’re gonna insult me if you don’t hoist at least one to celebrate,” Tank Mullins said. He’d just been promoted to chief master sergeant, the highest enlisted grade. Mullins had brought in a couple of cases of beer and bags of chips and had the bounty spread out on one of the long packing tables in the parachute shop.
Rich would have enjoyed drinking a cool one to toast Tank’s promotion, but he had obligations. “Sorry, Tank. I owe you one. Gotta get home to my kids.” My kids. He liked the sound of it, though it wasn’t technically true.
“Whatsa matter, Larsen, you getting soft on us?” one of the other guys hooted. He’d obviously already knocked back several. Runt Hagarty was one of the few men on the team Rich had never warmed up to, and he circled Rich like a bantam rooster sizing up a rival. “Hoo-ie, I don’t see no apron, but somebody sure got you tied up with them strings.”
“Knock it off, Hagarty. Larsen’s doing his sister a big favor. Takes a real man to take on two kids he didn’t even know before last week.” Captain Thibodeaux stood in the doorway, a sweating can of beer in one hand, his red beret in the other.
Uncle Sarge Page 16
