by Robyn Grady
“Becca, can you come here?”
She pushed to her feet and followed the light. Jack stood next to the set of drawers. He held the lantern high so most of the room was lit. Looking at the partly made bed, he grinned as he said, “Look who the cat dragged in.”
Near the headboard, Becca saw two glowing eyes pop up. She blinked. And then she covered her mouth to smother the yelp—of delight, not fright.
Jack chuckled. “Seems Chichi decided to beat us home.”
She rushed over, folded the cool little dog in her lap and smothered him in kisses. Wagging his tail, he lapped it all up.
“I know what this means,” Jack said, moving closer.
Becca was still cuddling Chichi close. “What’s that?”
“There won’t be just the two of us sharing that bed tonight.”
As low as she had felt a moment ago, now she felt as if she could fly. She didn’t want to think about any regrets she might have in the morning. As Chichi jumped off the bed and leapt onto the camper cot, she only wanted to celebrate.
Ten
Becca reached up and pulled him down. As her mouth latched onto his, they fell back onto the bed.
Sometime later, when she let him come up for air, Jack arched a brow.
“Does this mean we have to get naked?”
They were lying facing each other. Now she sat up, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Then she dropped warm, hungry kisses all over his chest while her fingers kneaded his sides.
Her mouth slid lower and lower. The tip of her tongue was circling his navel when she unzipped his fly. Jack pushed up on his elbows. If she was about to do what he thought she would do, he was all for it. He helped her pull off his pants and boxer briefs. Then she snatched the dress off over her head. The bra landed on the coat stand in the corner. He wasn’t sure where the panties went.
He was sitting at the foot of the bed while she stood before him. Ready to go, he fell back and then shot up again.
“Condoms,” he said, ready to spring over to his bag for supplies.
But Becca was slotting herself between his parted thighs. Her breasts were at eye level. What was a man to do?
He dropped slow, moist kisses around one nipple while plucking and lightly pinching the other. Her fingers drove through his hair, over the back of his scalp then across to each shoulder as she arched into him and made noises in her throat that only excited him more.
His other hand fanned down the curve of her ribs, waist, hip. When his fingers slid between her legs and found her wet, he remembered why he’d sat up in the first place.
While he sucked and plucked and gently rubbed, he spoke around that nipple. “Rubbers...”
She pulled his head away, snatched a penetrating kiss that blew his mind and then lowered onto her knees on the floor. A second before her lips met the tip of his erection, he heard her murmur, “Not yet.”
As her head lowered more, a series of bone-melting sensations rippled over his skin. At first she simply held him in her mouth. Then her tongue got into the act, swirling around the ridge, rolling one way then the other, tickling the tip. When she began to hum, the vibration at the base of her throat drifted along her tongue and teeth.
He clutched the sheet and clenched his jaw.
He wasn’t normally this excited this soon. It had to be all the buildup—in the lake, coming home—and because she knew just what to do and how to do it, as if they had been together like this before. Of course, before this week, she would have jumped off a cliff rather than...well, do what she was doing now.
He shifted enough to scoop her around the waist and lift her up and onto the bed. As she lay there looking at him with hungry eyes, he cautioned her with a finger.
“Stay right there. Don’t move.”
With a cheeky grin, she crossed her heart.
He found his bag, ripped the condom box open and, crossing back, rolled the rubber on. Becca’s arms were tucked under the pillow behind her head. Her hair had dried. In the lantern light, the mussed waves glistened around her face. Then she drew up one knee, angled her hips in a provocative pose, and he crawled up the mattress until he was kissing her again. He couldn’t bring her close enough as they rolled together on the sheets.
His breathing was heavy by the time he urged her over onto her back and positioned himself between her thighs. As he entered her slowly, he watched her eyes widen, her back arch and lips part. Then she smiled. He wanted to say how beautiful she was, not just her face or her body, but the way she made him feel—truly alive for the first time in years.
When her legs wrapped around his thighs and her pelvis slanted up, he closed his eyes and gave himself over to sensation.
He’d wanted this, their first time together, to last all night. She fit him so well—everywhere. The physical friction building between them was the sweetest he’d ever known. And as heat began to blaze and then to rage, Jack found himself picturing them here together like this for more than two nights.
For longer than either one could ever allow.
* * *
Becca’s entire body was left buzzing—floating. All the rumors were true. Jack Reed was not only smoking hot in bed, in her opinion, he was legendary.
They were lying on their backs side by side, both gazing blindly at the ceiling. Basking in the afterglow, they were still panting and smiling. Becca’s skin was cooling. The payoff had been so unbelievably good, she only wanted to do it again.
“I wonder if that dog planned this,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“If Chichi hadn’t wandered off,” he explained, “we wouldn’t be here doing this.”
“If we hadn’t lost him in the first place,” she pointed out, “we would have done this beside the lake.”
“And right now mosquitoes would be feasting on our backsides.” He kissed her nose. “Our little friend did us a favor.”
“After half scaring me death.”
“He didn’t know.”
She laughed. “Jack Reed, crusader for misunderstood mutts.”
“Make that misunderstood ugly mutts.”
“Not kind, and yet I can see it on a T-shirt. On the letterhead of a charity. Maybe you should get one of your own.”
“A dog?”
“And a charity.”
He shifted up on an elbow and cupped his jaw in his palm. “Maybe I should.”
His smile was so close, and with his heavy hand resting on the dip of her waist... Becca felt so lucky. And somehow also sad. If she didn’t know Jack’s background, if he wasn’t so forthright in embracing his less-flattering side, she might be fooled into believing they were made for each other.
In reality, of course, two people couldn’t be less suited to each other. This physical chemistry might be explosive, but what a person believed in was a thousand times more important than how skilled and connected they were in the bedroom. She stood for sacrifice and the betterment of society. Jack stood for self-gain, for power at the expense of anything and anyone who stood in his way.
“Does the lake have fish?” he asked, toying with a wave of her hair.
“My dad used to fish here all the time.”
“Any poles around?”
“In the shed.” She drew a wiggling line down the middle of his steamy chest. “You like fishing?”
“My father took me fly-fishing a couple of times.”
“Fond memories?”
“Sure. We didn’t get to spend that much time together.”
“Why’s that?”
“He ran his own company. That means putting in the extra hours when employees get to go home to their families.”
“If it was his company, he could have made a choice to go home rather than stay.”
&
nbsp; “Not that simple. Before I came along, my father was bankrupt. They lost their house and more than a few fair-weather friends. At the same time my mother landed in the hospital with pneumonia. She almost died. On one of those fishing trips, Dad told me that when he thought she might not pull through, he’d made a vow. If only she lived, if they could spend a long and happy life together, he would take care of her the way she deserved.”
“He blamed himself for her illness?”
“He felt responsible for his family. She recovered and their luck seemed to change. He started up another company, finance lending this time, and it took off. But he always had one eye on the past, the other on the future. He never allowed himself to drop the ball. His priority was making sure we were cared for.”
“Even if he couldn’t share what was most precious of all.”
“His time? I knew he loved us both. But there were sacrifices. You can’t have everything.”
“Do you see much of them now?”
“They passed away ten years ago within months of each other.”
“That must have been hard.”
“We’ve all got to go sometime. Better to go in your seventies than...” His jaw tensed and he looked away.
Was he remembering the woman he had loved in college? Did he wonder what they might have shared and conquered together if she had lived? Becca wasn’t sure he would have taken his father’s route and dedicated his life to a company in order to ensure security for his family. She would rather believe that he’d have taken his own son fly-fishing often—spent quality time with those he loved.
Jack sat up. “Hey, you want a beer? A glass of wine?”
“Beer,” she said, reaching over the side of the bed to find her dress.
“Stay put. I’ll find the bathroom, clean up and bring back supplies. Can I take the light?”
“Be my guest.”
While he was gone and she was left in the shadows, Becca shimmied under the top sheet and waited. She heard Chichi’s collar rattle from the cot in the corner as he scratched himself. She’d had plans to set Jack to work while they were here. Chopping wood, fixing loose shingles, sanding back walls, cooking simple meals. Nothing so out of the ordinary for normal folk. Her goal had been to highlight the difference between the big-time “haves” and people who had to struggle. There were plenty of them out there.
There wasn’t much work going on at the moment.
Soon, he was back carrying the ice chest in one hand, flashlight in the other. Becca took the light and he jumped in under the sheet and then set the chest down between them. As he cracked open one beer and handed it over, she picked up the thread of their conversation.
“Sounds as if you had good parents.”
“I was lucky,” he admitted, cracking open one for himself. They saluted each other and pulled down a mouthful. Becca didn’t drink beer often, but in this setting, on this night, it felt right.
“I’ve never found out who my birth mother was,” she said, resting the beer on her lap. “I didn’t want to complicate anyone’s life by dropping back in.”
“Isn’t it usually the other way around? A biological parent not wanting to make waves in the adult child’s life?”
“I figure it might not be easy, but there are ways to track down a baby who’s been gobbled up in the system. If she didn’t want to know, it’s better left alone.”
“You never wanted to know the reasons?”
“Not anymore. Can’t change yesterdays. And I didn’t have such a hard time, even those first eleven years.”
“Were you with lots of families?”
“Two others. I was provided for. Nobody abused me. But...” She brought the beer to her lips, swallowed another mouthful and confessed what she hadn’t told anyone before. “I knew something was missing. Something key. Sometimes I felt...invisible.” Sometimes she felt that way still. But not with Jack. Even right from the start. “It’s hard to describe.”
“Did you feel that way a lot?”
“Whenever I did, I read. Sometimes the same book over and over.”
“What was your favorite?”
“When I was very young, Cinderella.”
“A classic. Like the Bambino.”
She smiled. “I fell in love with the idea of a fairy godmother. When all the lights went out at night, I’d sit up in bed and gaze out the window for what seemed like hours. I thought if only I wished hard enough, all my dreams would come true.”
“What dreams?”
“I was an overweight, painfully shy girl. I wouldn’t say boo to save myself. But in my dreams I was a princess, like Cinders. I simply needed my godmother to wave her wand and work her magic.”
He was grinning. “Well, of course.”
“If ever I saw a mouse,” she went on, “I would close my eyes and wish for it to change into a beautiful white steed. I’d daydream that my dress was a gorgeous billowing gown made of white satin. Naturally a prince would happen along, fall on one knee and beg me to marry him.”
Jack’s eyes were smiling. “Naturally.”
“The ring he’d ask me to wear was either a big diamond circled by priceless rubies, or a pearl surrounded by a sparkling sea of sapphires. Something right out of yesteryear.”
“And then?”
Becca put her beer down. “Then I grew up, got a degree, joined the Peace Corps.”
His expression changed. “Tell me about that.”
“I served as a volunteer in the Dominican Republic for two years.”
“That would be right after college?”
“Uh-huh. I helped to teach the youth how to make good choices. We talked to women about reproduction health and nutrition. There’s so much poverty and unemployment. It’s hard to imagine my life back there now. Those two years shaped me more than anything before or since. I know the true value of a safe, soft place to land.”
“I had dreams of saving the world, too, once.”
“No. Really?”
“I’d finished my engineering business degree. I was going to fly to Africa to help build housing.”
Was he serious? “Jack, have you ever told anyone else that?”
“What? And destroy my image?”
She grinned. “So, you were going by yourself?”
“With my girlfriend. My fiancée. We were going to leave everything behind. Start fresh.”
Lying on her side, Becca laid her cheek on her outstretched arm and searched his eyes.
“What was she like?”
He seemed to think back. “Krystal was soft. Delicate. She was studying criminal law. Her father was a defense attorney, and then became a judge later in his career. I never thought she was cut out for it. She didn’t fit with the idea of courtroom drama and getting murderers off on a technicality. She was gentle. Easily hurt. Entirely giving.”
Becca’s heart was beating faster.
“You wanted to protect her.”
Like Jack’s father had wanted to protect his mom.
“I imagined us married with a couple of boys,” he said. “I’d come home from work every day and she’d have a delicious dinner waiting. Later, while she took some downtime, I’d play with the kids.”
Becca smiled softly. “I can imagine you doing that.” She really could. “Can I ask...how did she die?”
His jaw tightened. “Her father was one mean son of a gun. Krystal was never good enough for the judge. She was an only child, so it was up to her to follow in her dad’s giant footsteps. Carry on the legacy. She began to flunk classes. She wasn’t looking after herself. When she came down with mono, it laid her up for weeks. Then we spent Thanksgiving at her parents’. Big mistake. Her father went from cool, to frosty, to flat-out belligerent. At the table, he started attacking her, telling her that she h
ad to try harder. If that was her best, it wasn’t near good enough.”
Becca felt ill. “Poor girl.”
“I gave him a piece of my mind. Then I was in everyone’s bad books.”
It was true. A person could say what they like about their own family, but God help anyone else who tried to bring them down.
“Krystal was depressed for weeks after that. Then, a few days before Christmas, the dark cloud seemed to lift. She was smiling again. She said that she’d come to accept that she couldn’t get away from disappointing her father, but that was okay.”
Becca knew what was coming.
A muscle in his jaw flexed before Jack ended, “She didn’t see that Christmas morning. I found her in the bathroom.”
“Oh, Jack...”
“Her father blamed me. Hell, I blamed me.”
Was this the reason he’d looked so distant when they’d visited that school—the day she’d lectured him about vulnerable young adults? He had already learned that lesson on his own.
“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” she said, holding his hand. “She needed professional help.”
“Instead her boyfriend added to the pressure.” He exhaled. “So, you see, sometimes it’s not so good to be handed your future, whether you think you want it or not. Big shoes are hard to fill.”
Was that his way of justifying his position with Angelica? If they should succeed in overthrowing Evan McCain, was that perspective meant to stave off guilt over persuading Angelica to later sell off the pieces?
He studied her face for a long moment before casting a look at the ice chest. Shifting his hand from under hers, he flipped open the lid again and put a casual note in his voice.
“So, what else have we got? Eggs, bacon, tomatoes? You have gas in the kitchen?”
“Yeah. I do.”
Becca was still processing everything he’d divulged. How many more layers were there to this man? What other wounds was he covering up? Her first eleven years of her life hadn’t been a picnic, but she hadn’t had anyone close to her die. Jack had lost the woman he had loved as well as both his parents. Some people grieved by putting up a wall. Shutting off certain parts of themselves. Was that Jack?
