“I’ll be up in a few minutes,” she promised, and joined Jack in the hall.
Downstairs, she said, “I’m going to clean up the glass. I don’t want Steph and Lauren to see it again.”
He frowned but nodded. “We should take pictures for the insurance company. Do you have a Polaroid?”
Ray’s parents had sent Stephanie one for Christmas. Beth took pictures from half a dozen angles and left them to develop on the hall table while she fetched two pairs of gardening gloves and a cardboard box to hold the shards of glass.
Jack picked up the big pieces while she gingerly swept the rest into a dustpan. Her gleaming hardwood floor had gouges and scratches; the fabric of the couch was torn seriously enough to need re-upholstering.
Beth reached out and fingered a tear in the tough material. “Thank God we weren’t sitting here.”
Jack lifted a couch cushion and shook it. Glass tinkled out. “Do you think your ex-husband did this?” His voice was hard.
Beth clutched the dustpan as if it were a shield and said helplessly, “You know, I have absolutely no idea. I don’t want to think he could or would, but…he’s become a stranger. And perhaps he didn’t realize what could happen. The police officers thought the bomb went off outside the window, which is why the glass exploded inward with such force. It was probably just supposed to make a big bang in the middle of the floor, not do so much damage.”
“If any of you had been right in front of the window, you could have been badly hurt.” Jack’s eyes were dark, his tone inflexible. “Aside from the glass, you could have lost hearing permanently.”
“I know.” She had to squeeze her lips together and close her eyes against the burning. “For a prank…”
“This was one hell of a prank.” Jack shook out the remaining cushions with suppressed violence. “Let me finish here.”
“No. I’m okay.” Beth went back to her sweeping in silence.
When they were done, Jack insisted on carting the glass out to the garbage can beside the garage.
While she waited at the back door for him, Beth was hit by a wave of dizzying exhaustion. She swayed and had to clutch the door frame. When he came toward her, his gaze sharpened and he let the screen door slam behind him.
“You are hurt.”
“No.” She managed a shaky smile. “Just tired. Listen, you don’t have to stay. Really.”
“If you kick me out, I’m sleeping on your doorstep.”
“Then…we do have a spare bedroom. I’ll make up the bed….”
His big hands gripped her elbows. “No. Tell me where I can find a blanket and I’ll sleep on the couch. It should be fine if I turn the cushions over. I’d rather be down here just in case our friend comes back.” His grip tightened and he swore when a shiver passed through her. “He won’t come. Paranoia is an occupational hazard for cops. Just…indulge me.”
“I think…” She felt herself leaning toward him, the weakness in her knees not altogether from weariness. “I think you’re the one indulging me.” Beth tried to smile again. “I wish I wasn’t constantly needing your help and having to say this, but—thank you, Jack.”
His voice roughened. “I wasn’t here when you needed me tonight.”
“Sure you were. You helped me clean up, didn’t you? Or maybe I should say, you’re here to pick up the pieces, in more ways than one. You can hardly sit at home waiting for my panicky phone calls.”
So why did she want to think of him doing just that? Why did she feel completely safe only when he was around?
Tonight, she was free to feel her acute exhaustion only because Jack would be sleeping on her couch. If he weren’t here, she wouldn’t have dared be tired. She would have slept lightly, or not at all, a fierce mother protecting her babies.
As a modern woman, she should dislike knowing she needed a man to make her feel secure. The disconcerting part was, she felt a primal satisfaction in his determination to keep her safe, in his tenderness and in the anger that lurked in his dark eyes.
“I could tell you were uneasy.” Jack’s hands slid up her arms; his fingers flexed. “We knew your ex had found out you were seeing me. I should have expected something.”
“I didn’t expect this. Nothing like this.”
Don’t let it have been you, Ray. Remember that you love your children, even if you hate me.
“I’d like to have a little talk with him tomorrow.” Anger knotted Jack’s jaw muscles. “I want to hear with my own two ears what he has to say.” He grimaced at her expression. “You don’t have to say it. I know the Elk Springs P.D. will follow up. If I went, it might provoke him further. I’m telling you what I’d like, not what I’m going to do.”
Now tears stung again. On impulse, Beth stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his hard mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered again.
He groaned. “This isn’t the good-night kiss I had in mind.”
“Me, either.” Tiredness and shock seemed to have swept away her inhibitions, because she heard herself saying, “But it is bedtime, and I’d like it if you kissed me.”
He said something in which, through the drumming in her ears, she heard only her name, but that was enough. “Beth,” came out so hoarsely, with such longing, her knees finally gave way and she could only hold on to him as his head bent.
Jack kissed her with intense hunger but heart-stopping gentleness. Even as she melted against his powerful body, she felt his iron restraint and knew this kiss would lead no further. She could revel in these unfamiliar sensations without anxiety.
The urgent touch of his tongue brought cramps to her belly; the way his hands squeezed her upper arms made her yearn for him to cup her breasts. The scrape of his jaw against her cheek, the heavy thud of his heartbeat beneath her palm, were pure male.
A whimper slipped from her throat, shocking her. Sex had been…okay. She’d liked knowing Ray needed her; she liked arousing those feelings in him. Her pleasure had never equaled his, which he hadn’t guessed. She had always made love silently.
It was the tiredness, the stress, muddying her emotions. Beth stiffened. Her swimming thoughts began to clear. Gratitude was a dangerous mix with romance. She didn’t want to lie to Jack even wordlessly, with her kisses. She wasn’t ready for…for more. How foolish it would be to wake up one morning and realize the only reason she was in bed with this man was that she felt safe when he was with her. There had to be more. So much more.
Jack felt her new hesitation almost as soon as she did. He gave her a last tender kiss and stepped back, still holding her as though he thought she might collapse if he let go.
“The…the blankets are upstairs.” She ought to say something else, but what? Her mind’s brief clarity had passed; her head might as well have been stuffed full of batting for all the good it was doing her.
But Jack didn’t seem to expect anything else. “I’ll walk you up. You look as if you’re ready to collapse.”
She nodded dumbly. He steered her to the staircase and she plodded up, one foot in front of another. At the linen closet, she stopped.
“In here, huh?” With those strong, competent hands, he gently propelled her into her bedroom and toward the bed. The lamp cast a golden glow on the girls, who were sound asleep and curled up close with their heads on one pillow.
“Wait. I should brush my teeth…” Beth whispered.
Voice a low rumble, Jack said, “You can do it in the morning.”
“Oh.” She could, couldn’t she? She was the mother. If she didn’t want to brush her teeth, she didn’t have to. “Okay.”
His mouth found hers again for one quick, hard kiss. “Sleep tight,” he murmured.
When he was gone and she heard the quiet snick of the hall closet door opening, Beth stripped. Careful not to wake the girls, she worked her nightgown out from under her pillow. It felt heavenly going on, cool and silky. She turned off the lamp, tumbled into bed and fell asleep nearly instantly to the sound of her daughters’ soft breathing and to the fragrance that was t
hem, more precious to her than her own life.
Why can’t you feel the same, Ray? she begged, in her last conscious thought.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RAY GROPED desperately for a reason to blame Beth for the terror and shock he had seen on Lauren’s face.
Dear God, what had he done? he would wonder one moment as he sat on the recliner that was the only piece of furniture he’d taken after the divorce. Head buried in his hands, he kept seeing her, his sweet, innocent Lauren with her cute freckled nose and penny-bright hair, Daddy’s little girl since her first heart-melting smile at six weeks old.
But, goddamn it, everything was Beth’s fault! he reminded himself in a conscious effort to shore up his defenses. They should be a family. It was Beth who’d kicked him out, not because he’d been a bad father or husband but because she wanted to rule the roost. The kids wanted Daddy home. Beth was the one who wouldn’t listen. What alternative did he have but shock tactics?
He didn’t sleep at all. With sobriety came remorse. He lay in bed and stared at the dark ceiling, seeing the cherry bomb arcing toward the window and then hearing the boom, the glass exploding. What if Lauren was hurt? He didn’t know; he’d tried calling later, prepared to play “Dad just wanting to talk to his kids,” but he’d gotten the answering machine. What if Lauren was in the hospital?
My fault, he told himself dully.
Hollow-eyed, heartsick, Ray got up in the gray light of dawn and knew he had to go see Beth. Confess, even.
She was always up early to get the kids ready for school and herself for work. The two hours he had to wait crept like soldiers on their bellies penetrating enemy lines. The painful slowness came from the near-unbearable tension.
At eight o’clock, Ray drove over there. Lights were on, so at least his whole family wasn’t in the hospital. For the first time, parked out on the street, he wondered whether she would have called him if Lauren was hurt bad. Or did his rights as a father not extend to being at her side if she were injured or sick? Ray wondered bitterly.
Sitting in his pickup, he rehearsed what he’d say. He tried it out loud. “I did a dumb thing last night. I never meant anyone to be hurt. It’s just that I love you and the girls, and not being here with you makes me crazy.”
Beth would be mad, he figured, but she’d get over it. What woman didn’t like the idea of being so desirable she could drive a man to desperate acts? That was exactly what she’d done: cracked the whip until he jumped. She just maybe didn’t expect him to jump so far, that was all.
“Yeah, okay.” He slid his hands up and down on the steering wheel, palms sweating.
Were the girls up yet? He pictured Beth at the kitchen table in the fuzzy quilted flannel robe he’d given her for Christmas a couple of years ago. It was the exact blue of her eyes. She’d looked so pretty in that robe, especially in the morning when her hair was slipping out of the braid she usually confined it in at night. Her mouth would be soft, her eyelids heavy. She was more feminine then than later in the day, when she had starched herself and firmed her mouth until she’d become Ms. Businesswoman. The early-morning Beth was the woman he’d married, the woman he thought she still was inside.
Ray muttered a profanity. “What are you waiting for?” he asked himself.
Maybe he didn’t have to say, “I did something dumb.” Maybe he could tell her a neighbor had called and said he should know something bad had happened at his house last night. “Why didn’t you call me?” he could demand. “Didn’t you think I’d be worried about my own daughters?” He could just see what she would say.
The sight of her front door opening had him stiffening. Was she coming out for the newspaper? Or had she seen his pickup?
But it wasn’t his wife who stepped out on the porch. Shock spread in Ray’s breast like a paper towel blotting an ink stain. Sheriff Jack Murray was slipping out of Beth’s house, his clothes and hair rumpled like those of a man who hadn’t come prepared to spend the night but who undeniably had.
Thick and black, the shock became rage.
That slut. Her own daughters down the hall, and she was taking a man into her bed. Not just any man, but the cop who had tried to throw his weight around with Ray.
It looked like she wanted a man in her life again. But she hadn’t chosen the one she’d promised to cherish and obey till death do them part. Hell, no! Now she wanted that bastard of a cop who thought Ray Sommers would tug on his forelock and say, “Yes, suh,” every time he suggested how Ray could handle his own family.
Snarling, Ray watched the county sheriff take a quick look around as though to be sure no neighbors saw him sneaking out of the divorcée’s house. His gaze didn’t even pause at the pickup truck in front of the neighbor’s house two doors down.
Then he walked away. Did she know how stupid it was to sleep with a man who sneaked in and out of her house? Ray thought viciously. The son of a bitch would dump her, once he got what he wanted.
Yeah, well, she’d get what she deserved, too.
To think he’d meant to apologize. Ray turned the key, the engine roared to life, and he squealed the tires pulling away from the curb.
Nothing he’d done or said had mattered to her at all. If Lauren had been hurt last night, it was Beth’s fault.
She wanted war, and that’s what she’d get.
“NO, THE SHERIFF has gone home,” Beth told Stephanie. “But he did spend the night, just like he promised he would.” She flipped a pancake. “Please get the syrup out of the fridge and yell for Lauren. Breakfast is ready.”
“How come he didn’t stay for breakfast?” Lauren asked a few minutes later, as they all sat at the kitchen table.
“He had to go home and change clothes for work.” She suspected that, even more, he was avoiding the inevitable awkwardness of sharing the breakfast table. He might have hoped to leave before neighbors started backing out of their driveways to go to work, too. There would be gossip, even in this day and age, if people knew he’d spent the night.
“I could stay home with Lauren if you don’t think she should go to school,” Stephanie suggested, her expression noble.
“Thank you for the offer,” Beth said dryly, “but I think Lauren will do fine at school. And you, if I remember right, have a math test today.”
“Yeah, but I could make it up,” Steph said hopefully.
Her traitorous sister, appearing from the kitchen, said, “I want to go to school. It’s boring at home. Besides, everybody will pay attention to me today, once they hear what happened. I’ll be a heroine.” She savored the word as well as the idea.
“You didn’t do anything,” Steph mumbled. “Mom had to slap you ’cause all you did was scream.”
“You screamed, too! You even said!”
Beth sighed. “Enough. Eat. You’re both going to be late if you don’t get moving.”
She had never wished more that she could just stay home. If she worked for someone else, like most people did, she could have called and explained, then gone back upstairs and succumbed to the exhaustion that still weighed her down as if it were humidity in the air.
But, no, Beth thought wryly. She’d been determined to be the boss, which meant she had to reap the bad with the good. Her only help today was a new employee fresh out of high school who was cheerful and willing and who could work the cash register, but who still didn’t know the stock. She certainly couldn’t meet with the office furniture rep coming by at ten.
BETH SUPPOSED she appeared much as usual. Jennifer, the young employee, chattered about her date the night before and her new roommate who had brought a big-screen TV with her that she apparently liked to watch into the wee hours. Jennifer’s voice sounded slightly muffled to Beth, who still heard drumbeats thumping hollowly in her ears.
She decided not to carry the new line of office furniture, which was too high-priced for her clientele. Business was slow, a fact for which she was—just this once—grateful. She pretended to be busy in her small glass-enclosed office. Really
, she brooded.
Had Ray thrown the rock and the fireworks last night? The police officers had promised to call her; why hadn’t they? Ray would know she’d named him. What would he say the next time she saw him?
Beth wished she’d been able to suggest to the girls this morning that they not tell their friends about the incident. In a town this size, soon everyone would know and be gossiping. Just so the girls believed it was a prank, and didn’t know that their mother suspected their father.
For some reason, it was easier to worry about Ray and what he might do next than it was to think about Jack, who had once again come rushing to her side the moment he knew she needed him.
She liked him. More than liked him. He made her feel like a teenager in love for the first time, giddy and anxious at the same time. Last night, if she hadn’t been so tired… Beth blushed, remembering the hard feel of his body, the hand that had rested beneath her breast, brushing the plump underside, the way his tongue stroked hers.
He would want more soon. Not because he’d think she owed him, but because he was a man. Dating was different when you were all grown-up than it had been back in high school, when she and Ray had started going together. How patient would Jack be with her?
How patient did she want him to be?
What if she slept with him and her kids found out, or they heard gossip at school? She had to worry about the example she set. Would they read into her behavior a justification for sleeping with boyfriends when they were sixteen?
Did she really, truly, want to take a man’s hand and draw him up the stairs to her bed? Beth wondered in confusion.
The day after Ray moved his clothes out, Beth had gone to the bedroom in a fury of energy and torn the old spread from the bed and the blinds from the window. That very afternoon she had moved the furniture and begun scraping paper from the wall. What had been an impulse had become grim determination. She wanted no reminders of Ray.
Every subsequent choice, Beth realized now, had involved a near-physical wrench between who she had been and who she would be. When she was Mrs. Ray Sommers, everything always had to be the way he wanted it. Shopping, Beth would wistfully put back the sheets or towels or place mats or dishes or even paper napkins she liked. Ray hated yellow, she would think. Or he wouldn’t like the pattern. They couldn’t have it if he thought it was sissy or flimsy or a dust catcher. Over the years, she had come to make every choice only after an internal check: would Ray like this?
Jack Murray, Sheriff Page 11
