Jack Murray, Sheriff

by Janice Kay Johnson

  The thought stuck with him. When he called the girls that evening, he asked Stephanie, “Would you like it if I was around more? Consolidated is hiring drivers. I’d be home every night.”

  “You mean…you’d want to see us every day?” She sounded doubtful—no, hell, admit it—appalled.

  “No. You live with your mom. I was just thinking…well, that I could come to things at school. Or see you sometimes during the week instead of just over a weekend.”

  “Like, we could just have dinner with you instead of spending two days?”

  “Sure. Maybe I could get you to those tae kwon do lessons you’ve been wanting to take.”

  “That’d be cool!”

  This, the first spark of enthusiasm he had heard from her in a long time, decided him. He put off his next run and went by the Consolidated distribution center the following day. The pay wouldn’t equal what he made now, but he guessed he’d be okay with it. He’d be making runs to Grants Pass and Ashland and over into Idaho. Nothing longer than a ten-hour day. Ray calculated that with what he could get selling his rig, he could buy himself a house.

  Or maybe, if he could show Beth that he was making a sincere effort to change his life, he could win her back. It didn’t have to be too late.

  Galvanized by hope, Ray picked up the phone. He’d be spending Thanksgiving alone, but he had already made plans to take both girls to lunch and a movie on Saturday. Tonight they debated about which one, Lauren on the phone with him, Stephanie in the background. When they’d agreed on a movie, he said casually, “Can I talk to your mom for a minute?”

  “Mo-om!” Lauren yelled. “Dad wants to talk to you!”

  He winced away from the phone.

  After a moment, Beth came on. “Hello?” she said cautiously.

  “Jeez, I could have bellowed for you myself.”

  After a brief pause, she gave a reluctant chuckle. “I should suggest she cover the mouthpiece before she blasts.”

  Pleased at the way he’d lightened her up already, Ray said, “The girls said they could go to lunch and a movie Saturday.”

  “Yes, that’s fine, Ray. What movie are you going to see?”

  “We compromised on Steve Martin’s new comedy. They never want to see the same thing anymore.”

  “Stephanie is getting to be a teenager. Lauren resents it.”

  “Well, I do, too,” Ray said easily. “Makes me feel old.”

  He’d earned another small laugh. “I know what you mean,” Beth agreed.

  “You haven’t seen this movie, have you?” he asked, as though the thought had just occurred to him.

  “Nope. Steve Martin is usually funny, though.”

  “You want to come?” he asked. “We could make it a family day.”

  Her voice cooled, became formal. “Thank you, Ray, but this is your time with the girls.”

  He gripped the phone harder. “You know,” he said, “it might be good for Steph and Lauren to see that we can be friends. I wouldn’t read anything else into it.”

  “But they might. They need to get used to the fact that we’re not married. Lauren especially still has illusions. No, thank you, Ray,” Beth said with complete finality, “but I’ve made other plans for Saturday.”

  Illusions. Which meant that what he’d been having were delusions.

  “Yeah, okay,” he managed to get out. “No problem.”

  A moment later he hung up the phone and slammed his fist into the wall.

  He had all evening with a pack of ice and no beer to realize that Beth was gone for good. Saturday, while he had their daughters, she was going to be with Sheriff Jack Murray.

  There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it except live with his mistakes and be glad that this time he’d only hurt himself, not someone he loved.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “THANK YOU,” Beth said nervously, accepting the drink Jack handed her.

  She sat at the tiled breakfast bar in his kitchen watching him stir-fry. When he had suggested lunch at his house, she’d known what he was really asking. What she feared was that her eyes had given away that knowledge when Ray picked up the girls. Ray had given her one searching look before turning away with despair on his face.

  Beth didn’t feel guilt so much as sadness. And, she had to confess, some fear. Ray seemed to be genuinely trying to get a grip on his own problems and mend fences with the girls, but she didn’t trust him. Was he still convinced that, if he was a good boy, she’d take him back? What would happen when he found out she wouldn’t?

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  Beth blinked and focused on the big, dark man with a white chef’s apron over his T-shirt and jeans.

  “Oh…Ray.”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed for a second.

  “I didn’t tell him I was coming here today, but the girls probably did. It just…scares me still.”

  “You said he’s doing well.”

  “Yes. Yes, he is. Even Stephanie is softening toward him. But…what if he’s pretending?”

  Jack frowned at her over the wok. Steam rising from it formed a veil between them. “Do you have some reason to believe he is?”

  “No.” She smiled wryly. “Paranoia.”

  “That, you have reason to suffer from.”

  “Thank you.” Beth gave herself a shake. “Let’s talk about something besides my ex-husband. The topic isn’t recommended for a date.”

  “But I’ll bet it’s a common one.”

  “Probably. In fact, there’s a…well, another businessman here in Elk Springs who has suggested dinner a couple of times. But every time we talk, he goes on and on about his ex. I have to admit, it’s a little bit of a turnoff.”

  Jack gave a grunt of amusement. “I’ll bet she’s not throwing cherry bombs through his front window.”

  “No, she’s whining because the child support isn’t adequate, according to him. Of course, he’s complaining to the wrong person.” She had to smile. “Considering I’m on the other side of the scenario.”

  “Does Ray pay his?”

  “If I beg. But maybe that will change. He actually handed me a check last week without comment.” She sighed. “Enough Ray.”

  They talked about small things over lunch, the first time they’d been alone all week. Jack had come to her house Thursday, for Thanksgiving. Will was with his mom and family, and was spending Friday with his dad. So Jack had shared turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pies with Beth and the girls, sneaking one kiss outside on the cold porch before he went home.

  Now conversation ranged through movies, books, local politics, childhoods, friends. Those revealing bits and pieces that individually counted not at all—who married a man because he loved Lord of the Rings, thus revealing a romantic streak?—but that in tandem mattered more than she’d realized when she was eighteen and getting married the first time. It hadn’t occurred to her then, for example, that on Saturday nights she would see nothing but movies with gigantic explosions if she married Ray. Or that, if he wouldn’t take her to “chick flicks” then, he probably never would.

  Beth found herself babbling so that she didn’t have time to think about what she was probably—surely—going to do here today. Ray was the only man she’d ever even seriously made out with. She had never dreamed that she would, in cold blood, decide to have sex with another man. But she had.

  Or perhaps she hadn’t made the decision in cold blood, because she couldn’t think about Jack without her blood heating.

  Now, as they ate and talked, she kept looking at his hands, big, tanned fingers square-tipped, and imagined them on her bare skin. Or her glance would sneak up to his strong neck and she would become fascinated with his throat or the way his jaw muscles knotted when he thought. Or his mouth…

  “Keep looking at me like that,” he said, “and this will be a very short lunch.”

  Blushing fiercely, Beth said, “Like what?”

  His eyes had darkened, his voice roughened. “You’re not going t
o lie to me and say you were meditating on whether you prefer toast or cereal for breakfast, now are you?”

  Was that what they’d been talking about?

  His mouth quirked. “Yep. You asked what I usually eat.”

  “Oh.”

  “Cereal. Bran with raisins.”

  “Oh,” she said again, inanely. “I like toast. English muffins or cinnamon bread.”

  “But that’s not what you were thinking about.”

  “No,” she admitted, cheeks still warm. “It’s not. I, um, like to look at you.”

  He made a sound in his throat. “I’m about to lunge across this table.”

  The chicken stir-fry with cashews was good, she thought. Beth peeked down to see that she’d eaten about half. She stole a look back up at Jack.

  “Why don’t you?” she asked, daringly.

  He shoved back his chair, circled the table and snatched her out of hers. “Being festooned with food doesn’t strike the right mood,” he murmured.

  “No,” she agreed, her voice a thread because she was breathless. “I like you…this way.”

  “Beth.” His jaw was tight, his tone suddenly grim. “You’re sure you want to do this. I can wait.”

  She was terrified and positive all at the same time. “I know you can,” she whispered. “But I feel as if we have been waiting. Even though I know it hasn’t really been that long.”

  “I’ve wanted you since the day we met.”

  “I still don’t understand why.” She’d always despised people who begged for compliments, and now she had become one of them. But she really, truly, wished she understood why Jack Murray had seen anything special in her.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said in that rich, deep voice she found so sexy. “You’re brave and loving. When you smile—” his fingertip traced her lips “—really smile, you light up the world. You make me feel like a teenager in love.”

  “Oh!” Beth tilted her head back. “I feel that way, too. So young, when sometimes I feel so old.”

  “Life does that.” His mouth followed his fingertip; hers trembled beneath his. Breath warm on her, he said huskily, “It does this, too.”

  She swayed and had to wrap her arms around his neck for support. “I’d forgotten,” she said simply.

  “Then let me remind you.”

  His mouth descended again, no longer tender but hungry. She drowned in that kiss and quit thinking or worrying. How could she think? His tongue stroked hers in erotic demand, his hands moved urgently on her hips and waist, pulling her tighter against him so that she felt every powerful inch of his body. Even his heartbeat vibrated with her own until she couldn’t tell whether the rhythm she felt was his or hers.

  He nipped her earlobe and steered her out of the kitchen. Somehow she went, although she was kissing his throat, tasting the salt of his skin, reveling in the groans she awakened.

  At the foot of the stairs, Jack peeled her shirt over her head and lifted her up two steps so that he could nuzzle her cleavage.

  She gasped and grabbed the newel for support. Jack unhooked her bra and, as it fell away, cupped her breasts in hands that were rough-textured and tender at the same time. He was saying things, sweet words as erotic as his touch. Made bold by the delight on his face, Beth reached out and tugged at his T-shirt.

  “Don’t like being the only one who’s naked?” he asked huskily, as he cooperated in her clumsy effort to get it off.

  “Fair’s fair.”

  He was a beautiful man, rangy but powerful, his muscles developed enough to show that he worked at staying in shape. Not an ounce of fat softened a taut belly. Murmuring in pleasure, Beth flattened her hands on his chest, blurred by soft dark hairs. His skin rippled in response and he sucked in a ragged breath.

  “Do you know how many nights I’ve lain in bed imagining your hands on me?”

  “I’ve imagined this, too,” she whispered, closing her eyes as he bent his dark head and kissed her breast. “Oooh. That feels…”

  His tongue circled her nipple. “What?”

  “Wonderful.”

  He swore suddenly and lifted her in his arms.

  Giving a squeak, Beth wrapped her legs around his waist. “What?”

  “We won’t get up these stairs if we don’t go now.”

  Over his shoulder she saw her bra hanging drunkenly from a banister post and both their shirts forming pools of color on the hardwood floor of the entry. She could only hope that Will didn’t have an unexpected urge to surprise his father with a visit. And when she left, she’d have to creep down here just so that she could get dressed.

  “My clothes…”

  Jack’s grin was feral. “I like you without them.”

  His skin was smooth and hot under her hands. Suddenly she didn’t care about her bra or anything beyond the next few minutes. She’d worry about getting dressed later. After.

  She was rewarded by another of those ragged sounds when she pressed small kisses to his throat. He kneaded her rear as he took the stairs and carried her down the hall. When she nibbled on his neck, he came to an abrupt stop and backed her against a door molding. When Beth lifted her face in inquiry, his mouth slammed down on hers. She didn’t have time for breath, didn’t need air, not when she had him.

  Dimly she was aware that he shouldered open the door. She had a crazy, kaleidoscopic glimpse of cream-colored plaster walls and black-and-white photographs displayed starkly above a dark wood dresser. Beth refused to let go when Jack lowered her onto the bed. So he came with her, knee between her thighs.

  “Let me…get your pants…off,” he said, between deep, hungry kisses.

  “Yours…first.”

  Who was this woman, groping for his belt buckle, bumping the erection beneath it?

  Jack groaned. “Demanding, aren’t you?”

  Her breathy chuckle sounded wanton. “Yes.”

  Their pants were shed nearly simultaneously, Beth wriggling to free her hips from her own even as she tugged at his. Jack kissed her face and throat and breasts as she moaned and tangled her calves around his hair-roughened legs.

  “You feel…so good,” she marveled.

  “Oh, yeah.” The flash of a smile was wickedly sexy. “You’ve got it right. I’m feeling damned good.”

  She punched him lightly. His mouth claimed hers again and her head swam. His every touch was intoxicating, his gentleness in the midst of passion incredibly seductive. Although he loomed above her, his shoulders broad enough to command her world, he never tried to dominate her with strength or size. His mouth teased and tempted, his hands sent shivers of sensation through her skin. Warmth and urgency built until she was arching her hips upward and begging wordlessly for him to enter her. He fumbled in his bedside drawer and ripped open the package.

  Even when he finally parted her thighs and pressed in, she felt his restraint in the tension of his shoulders and arms, saw it in his gritted teeth, heard it in the hoarse rasp of his breath.

  “Ah, sweetheart,” he said in an unrecognizable voice. “That’s it, love. Let me in. Like that.” A long groan as he buried himself and paused, shaking from the strain, seeming to wait for her.

  Need was building in her, a glowing hot coil in her belly that was almost familiar but not quite. She’d never wanted like this, beyond self-consciousness, to the point where she could arch against him, clutch at his back and whisper, “Again. Please. Again.”

  “Yes!” he said exultantly, eyes revealing desire that did to her what his deft hands couldn’t. He moved then, pulling back, then thrusting again, but always with that incredible control, never with blind sexual need. She moved and sighed and even whimpered with pleasure, while Jack groaned and filled her over and over again.

  Her climax was a long, glorious slide into ecstasy, wave after slow wave that had her crying out with wonder. Still he moved, those deliberate slow thrusts drawing out her release until she thought she couldn’t bear it. Only when she was done did she feel him jerk, hear her name said raw
ly, experience the ultimate feminine satisfaction of giving and receiving such intimate joy.

  For a minute Jack collapsed onto her, but the moment she stirred he rolled to one side and drew her with him, his arms a tender haven.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his lips against the tiny hairs curling at her temple.

  “Very.” She sounded smug. And was, Beth realized with a smile that played with becoming a laugh. She had never felt so…contented.

  “I may never move.”

  She loved having her ear against his bare shoulder so that she felt the vibration of his words. “Good,” she told him. “I like you right where you are.”

  His chuckle was even better, a minor earthquake beneath her cheek. “Of course, eventually moving may be appealing.” His hand traveled down the small of her back to the curve of her buttocks.

  She squirmed happily. “I may want you to…eventually.”

  He nuzzled her hair. “But not yet.”

  “No,” Beth agreed. “Not yet.”

  She toyed with the fine-textured hair on his chest, curling it around her finger, tugging gently, drawing whorls in it. “You worked so hard on lunch, and it went to waste.”

  “Nothing about today has been a waste.” He began to knead her lower back.

  Her hand stilled. “Mmm. Oh, that feels good.”

  “And I thought I was having trouble sleeping before this,” he said meditatively. His lips moved against her forehead. “Now I’ll know what I’m missing.”

  “You’re not missing anything today.”

  In a sudden movement he flipped her onto her back and reared above her. New urgency deepened his voice. “I’ll miss you the minute you’re gone.”

  The thrill she felt was primitive, the satisfaction of a drive as deep as breathing: Make him care, be sure he comes back so that he’s there when you need him. The thought startled and disquieted her, making her wonder anew whether she was truly falling in love with this man or only using him, but the perturbation was drowned in a kiss that was edgy with hunger.