Between a Book and a Hard Place

by Denise Swanson

  While Jake fought to clear a path for us through the mob, I heard Professor Hinkley say, “Despite the nonbelievers who have refused to cooperate and have hindered my research, I’ve managed several sightings and have communicated with our extraterrestrial friends.”

  Immediately there was a high-pitched buzz from the spectators, several of whom also claimed to have spotted hovering lights. Hinkley paused, clearly waiting for the noise to die down.

  I tapped Jake’s shoulder, pointed at the professor, and asked, “Did that guy try to get your uncle to allow him to set up his ET equipment on the ranch?”

  Jake flicked a glance at the stage, then turned to me and said, “Yeah. But Tony told that nut job if he caught him on our property, we’d set the bull loose. When the guy started arguing, I reminded him that we had a lot of acreage to hide a body.”

  “Gran pretty much told him the same thing.” I snickered. “Except she threatened him with Banshee instead of a bull. Hinkley thought that was hilarious until the Siamese shredded his pants.”

  “Knowing that cat’s temperament, the guy was lucky it wasn’t his leg.” Jake chuckled.

  We were distracted as the mike screeched and Hinkley said, “Khrelan Naze has indicated that he will meet with us in the town square on what we earthlings call Saturday noon. At that time, he will present a gift for mankind.”

  The professor’s announcement whipped his audience into a frenzy, and they all pressed closer to the stage. Seeing our opportunity, Jake took my hand and towed me in the opposite direction.

  Just outside the bar, Jake paused and did a swift recon of the parking lot. Evidently there were no aliens or assassins hiding among the rusted pickups, shiny motorcycles, and dusty family sedans because he led me to his black Ford F250, opened the passenger door, and helped me scramble inside the cab.

  He’d finally stopped teasing me about my inability to hoist myself up into the hulking vehicle. The enormous truck reminded me of its owner—solid and rugged, with just a hint of sexy playfulness. I briefly wondered how difficult it would be to hoist myself up Jake’s hard length, but banished that naughty thought from my mind. Or at least hid it somewhere in my subconscious.

  As I settled on the butter-soft brown saddle leather, I watched Jake climb into the driver’s seat. He seemed to get better-looking every time I saw him. His thick black hair was longer than he’d worn it when he was working as a marshal, making me want to run my fingers through the silky strands. And his full lips tempted me to slide over for the kisses I’d been missing.

  Jake seemed to read my mind, and his sapphire blue eyes darkened. But when I scooted closer to my door, his mouth twitched downward. He was aware that our relationship had taken a hit when he’d brought Meg to the ranch and devoted so much attention to her.

  It had been more than three weeks since Jake and I had managed any time alone, and I wished I had bothered to apply makeup, fix my hair, and put on something other than a polo shirt and jeans. But then again, I’d had no idea he would pop up at the bar.

  When Jake remained silent, I glanced at his chiseled profile, noticing for the first time since his arrival that the bronzed skin pulling taut over the elegant ridge of his cheekbones appeared tighter than usual. Clearly, the caretaker duties he’d assumed for his ex-wife were putting a strain on him.

  Jake continued to stare mutely out of the windshield as if the dark parking lot held the answer to his troubles. When I saw the muscles in his strong throat move as he swallowed, I figured he was trying to figure out how upset I was and what to say to make things better.

  Without any warning, he flipped up the console, reached over, and tugged me closer. I tried to scoot away, but he cradled my cheeks between both his callused palms and rested his forehead against mine, softening my resistance. I couldn’t deny the heat I saw in his expression, but there was more than just raw sexual desire. There was wonder and a look of peace, as well. Almost as if he could finally relax.

  I breathed in the enthralling scent of what I thought of as eau de Jake—a mixture of lime, saddle soap, and sexy man. He smelled so damn good.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much,” Jake murmured. “I promise that will change right now.” His eyes were so dark with a mixture of remorse and desire that I was nearly hypnotized.

  Being with him like this reminded me of how much I was attracted to him, and erotic images began flickering through my mind. I had promised myself that until I decided between Jake and Noah, I wouldn’t sleep with either of them. But at times like this, I was sorry I’d made that vow.

  Clearing the lust from my brain, I asked, “How are you going to accomplish that? I don’t think they’re cloning humans yet.”

  I knew I sounded snarky, but I’d been hurt by his casual neglect. And with Jake’s lips a fraction of an inch from mine and his gaze searching my face, I needed to remind myself of that pain.

  Jake’s jaw clenched, but he continued to caress my cheeks with his thumbs as he said, “A home health aide is starting tomorrow night. Meg is better during the day, and Uncle Tony’s housekeeper has been keeping an eye on her while I’m working out on the ranch. But for some reason she’s more agitated in the evening, and I couldn’t ask Ulysses to watch her then.”

  I bit my tongue to stop myself from suggesting that Meg might be exaggerating her symptoms when Jake was around. That was a conclusion he’d have to draw on his own. Instead, I concentrated on ignoring the feeling of his body pressed along the side of mine. The sensation made me hotter than a curling iron.

  Gathering my scattered wits, I said, “What made you decide to hire someone? It’s been quite a while since she came to the ranch.”

  “I’ve been working on it all along,” Jake hedged.

  “So, why are you here now . . . ?” The warmth of his palms as he slid them down my shoulders made me gasp. And when he moved his hand to the neckline of my shirt, his fingers trailing over my collarbones, a delicious shudder shot up my spine. I gritted my teeth and focused. Once I could breathe normally, I continued. “Instead of waiting until the aide took over?”

  “Your stepfather’s murder.” Jake must have realized that he couldn’t seduce me into forgetfulness. He sighed, withdrew his hand from under my polo, and said, “Birdie called Tony.”

  “Of course she did.” I slid back to the passenger seat. “So the only reason you think it’s important to free up some of your time is because your uncle asked you to help me.” I didn’t add again, but I could have, since that was how Jake and I had met.

  “Son of a bitch!” Jake roared. “I knew that was what you would think.”

  “Because it’s a logical conclusion.” I crossed my arms. “Why do you think I didn’t call you myself? I don’t want the only reason I see you to be because I need rescuing. I’m not a damsel in distress.” Knowing that I had made my point with surgical precision, I refrained from pushing the scalpel in any deeper.

  “Look,” Jake growled, evidently holding on to his temper by a thread. “Granted, the timing is suspicious, but I swear I’ve been trying to find an aide ever since I brought Meg to Shadow Bend. You know damn well that I want to be with you. You told me you understood about her and weren’t upset that she was here. Say the word, and I’ll ship her back to the psychiatric clinic.”

  “No.” Feeling lower than pond scum, I shook my head. Jake didn’t lie. If he said he’d been trying to hire someone, he had. “Sorry for sounding like a jealous bitch. I guess I missed you more than I realized.” I scooted closer and trailed my fingers across the Levi’s covering his muscular thighs. The denim was faded and as soft as velvet. “I appreciate that you want to help me.”

  “Actually, it sounds more like your dad is the one in hot water this time.” Jake captured my hand and brought it to his lips.

  “I guess.” I kept my gaze on our entwined hands. How much did Jake know? Had Dad told Birdie that he was wit
h Mom at the library, not me? He’d agreed not to, but Gran was good at ferreting out info from him. Had she told Tony? “It sounded like Chief Kincaid thought both my parents might have a motive to kill Jett.”

  “Yep.” Jake slipped an arm around me and cuddled me to his side. “Spouses and exes are always high on any law enforcement department’s suspect list, so your idea to look into your stepfather’s finances is a good one. What made you think of it?”

  After I explained what Boone had told me about the delayed library funding, I said, “As a former investment consultant, the situation made me suspicious.”

  “Right,” Jake agreed. “You would think that Benedict would have had the financing all lined up before he presented it to the city council.”

  “I’m also curious as to exactly what Jett was researching.” I tried to ignore Jake’s lips nibbling along the side of my neck, but my pulse began to pound in my ears and I was having trouble concentrating.

  “Why is that?” Jake continued to kiss his way down my throat.

  “It just seems odd to me that he couldn’t wait until the library was reopened to use the archives.” I gasped. The chemistry zipping between us was taking all the oxygen out of the truck’s cab.

  “Maybe because Benedict never really intended to donate the money.”

  When Jake tugged me into his lap and drew my top over my head, I didn’t even pretend to resist. Murmuring, “Good point,” I returned the favor and took off Jake’s T-shirt.

  He was the kind of man who would look good wearing anything or—even better—nothing at all. It was a testament to my sadly lacking sex life that I was thinking entirely inappropriate thoughts a few hours after my dad had become a suspect in my stepfather’s homicide.

  I was losing my train of thought, but there was something else niggling me about Jett’s murder. Just before Jake’s mouth came down over mine, I squeaked, “The scrap of paper in his hand.”

  “What? Who?” Jake jerked his head up, his blue eyes unfocused.

  “Jett was clutching a scrap of paper in his fist.”

  “I’ll look into that,” Jake rasped. “Tomorrow.” He tightened his embrace and said, “It’s been so long since I had you in my arms.”

  “It has.” His expression made my mouth go dry and chased off any lingering thoughts about my stepfather’s murder investigation.

  “All those nights lying alone in my bed, I thought about running my fingers over your soft skin. It was all I could do not to drive over to your place and throw pebbles at your window until you came outside so that I could hold you and taste you.”

  I tried to inhale, but his mouth was so near, I could barely draw enough breath to ask, “Why didn’t you? All you had to do was text me.”

  He gathered me closer, pressing me against his hard length and making me hotter than the cheese on a pizza. Then, when he moved his hand to my breast, a delicious shock wave radiated southward.

  What was it about Jake that had my body commandeering the control from my brain? How did he sweep away all my doubts, anger, and common sense? We needed to concentrate on finding out who killed my stepfather, but I couldn’t find the strength to stop Jake as he placed his lips on mine.

  The desire in his kiss destroyed the little restraint I had held on to, and I was overcome with a primitive need for him. I slid my hands over his rock-solid pecs, and he groaned his approval before licking into my mouth as he held me against him. His heat warmed me and made me feel safe. I scraped my nails down his back, loving the texture of his firm muscles under my fingertips.

  His hands were fumbling with the button on my jeans, when a chorus of laughter jerked me out of my sensual fog. I thumped Jake on the shoulder, and it took him a long moment before the voices penetrated his sexual haze. He glanced over my shoulder and swore.

  It suddenly dawned on me that not only had we forgotten about the murder, but we’d overlooked the fact that we were in a public parking lot. Whimpering, I looked around for my bra and top.

  With a groan, Jake grabbed them and helped me re-dress, then put on his own T-shirt. An instant later, his cell rang. When he answered it, all I could hear was a woman screeching the word Jake over and over.

  Apparently, Meg was having a meltdown and our alone time had come to an end.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jake glanced at his ex-wife as he drove out of Gossip Central’s parking lot and turned his pickup toward home. She was rocking back and forth in the truck’s passenger seat, making pitiful mewling sounds, her ragged nails digging into the armrest. When he and Devereaux had rushed into the bar, Meg had been standing with her back to the wall, her hands covering her face, shrieking his name.

  While he’d tried to calm her down, Boone and Poppy had explained that one moment Meg had been sitting quietly sipping her Dr Pepper and the next she’d leaped from the chair and begun screaming. They had no idea what had triggered the outburst.

  Once Jake had cajoled Meg into taking her medication and she’d stopped howling, he’d quickly hustled her out of the club, yelling over his shoulder that he’d call Devereaux the next day. Dev had smiled her acceptance and waved good-bye, but the look of abandonment that had flashed across her face had torn at his heart. If the home health aide didn’t work out, Jake knew he would blow his chance for a life with Dev, because she would end up married to Underwood.

  Jake ground his teeth in frustration. He needed time to persuade Devereaux that he was the man for her. That Dr. Doolittle was her past and he was her present. But what woman in her right mind wanted a future that included a crazy ex-wife? Dev was certainly no Jane Eyre, but he was starting to feel a lot like Mr. Rochester.

  Jake knew he’d been neglecting Devereaux, but there was never enough time. Between tending to Meg in the evenings and his increasing responsibilities on the ranch, he barely had a chance to breathe. He’d almost been happy when Birdie had called and asked for his help in solving Jett Benedict’s murder. The situation had given him an excuse to be with Dev, one that didn’t seem selfish and that his sense of duty couldn’t demand he ignore.

  When he’d bundled Meg into his truck and lit out for Gossip Central, Jake had known Devereaux wouldn’t be entirely happy to see him, especially with his ex-wife in tow. Not to mention that once he told her about Birdie’s telephone call to Tony, Dev would assume he was there out of obligation, not desire.

  Devereaux was such a strange mix of tough businesswoman and vulnerable female that he hadn’t been entirely sure how she’d react to his presence. She never did exactly what he expected her to do, and although he normally hated being caught by surprise, she always managed to charm him.

  It had been a relief that Dev believed him when he told her about the aide he’d been trying to hire. And that she hadn’t demanded he stick Meg back into the nuthouse. He would have done it, but he wouldn’t be able to think about Devereaux in the same way he had before. Abandoning his ex-wife would have eaten at his gut, and the resulting guilt would have eventually ruined things between him and Dev, just as much as keeping Meg at the ranch might.

  Jake clenched his jaw as he pulled the F250 up to his uncle’s front door. If only his ex could have managed to hold on to her sanity for a little while longer. He’d needed just a few more of Devereaux’s kisses to tide him over. It had been so long since they’d been together that his hunger for her had grown into an insatiable craving.

  Jake could still taste her sweetness. Sighing, he got out of the pickup and went around to the passenger side. Meg had fallen asleep, and he certainly didn’t want to wake her and risk another screaming fit, or worse.

  Slipping his arms around his ex, he eased her from her seat and nudged the door closed with his shoulder. Her lashes fluttered, but instead of stirring, she burrowed against his chest and clutched his neck. It felt as if she weighed less than a newborn calf. She refused to eat unless he hand-fed her. She was only a ghost of the str
ong, independent U.S. Marshal she had once been.

  Jake stared at the dark house. It was a few minutes past eleven, and Tony and Ulysses would both be asleep. Most ranch folks went to bed right after the ten o’clock news and got up before dawn. This schedule had been a bit of an adjustment after Jake’s life in law enforcement, especially his undercover work, but now he loved watching the sunrise.

  As he climbed the front steps, he winced. This late in the day, his leg always ached. The docs had told him that although his wounds had healed, he’d have some permanent pain. The injury, a gift from the gun of a fleeing scumbag who sold underage girls to the drug cartels in Mexico, was one of the reasons he’d retired.

  Although he’d been deemed fit for duty, once he was back on the job he’d realized that he’d never be a hundred percent. And he wasn’t willing to risk his team’s safety should his leg give out in a crucial moment. Not when his weakness could endanger all their lives.

  Ignoring the twinge, Jake went inside and headed to the den, which had been turned into Meg’s sickroom. When he placed her on the bed, he had to pry her fingers from his shirt. He slipped off her jeans and shoes but decided she could sleep in her T-shirt and underwear.

  Jake waited until he was sure she wouldn’t wake up, then headed for the refrigerator. He needed a beer or three. He grabbed a bottle and the opener, walked into the living room, and flopped down on the old leather couch. After popping off the cap, he took a swig of the icy brew and lunged for the remote. Stopping midreach, he flopped back on the sofa. He wasn’t in the mood for TV.

  As he drank, his thoughts skittered to Devereaux and Dr. Dweeb, making Jake’s stomach churn. He’d never been good at sharing. Had Underwood been worming his way into Dev’s heart while Jake was AWOL? At the image of her in that asshole’s arms, a wave of fury nearly choked him, and he fought the urge to punch something.