Jack’s father gave her a quick nod and yelled out, “It’s time to eat, then we dance!”
Jack bent down and whispered in her ear. “Looks like you’re an honorary Cajun. No one’s ever bested my father at gumbo.”
Exhausted from dancing, her stomach full of food and beer, Chloe settled down for the traditional opening of the gifts. She proudly presented Jack’s father with her gaily wrapped package and encouraged him to open it. When he did, he slapped his knee, laughing so hard his face turned red. He held up her homemade roux for everyone to see.
IT WAS CLOSE to one o’clock when they got back to Chloe’s town house. Once inside, Chloe went into her bedroom and came back with a small, wrapped package.
“Merry Christmas, Jack.”
He pulled the wrappings off. Inside was a small rectangular yellow and golden brown striped stone on a black cord—a tiger’s eye.
“It’s a very powerful protective stone. It also balances emotions and aids in clear insight. I figured as a police officer and hostage negotiator, it was a perfect choice.”
His heart leaped in his chest. This woman who he’d only met days ago had become so important to him. The fact that she accepted what he did without protest, without trying to change him was a precious gift. It made the protective instincts rise like a living thing inside him. Everything he could do to protect her innocence and genuine spirit he would do.
“Thank you.”
“Tell me…why did you became a police officer?”
She took the cord out of the box, her hands warm and tingly on the back of his neck as she set the clasp. She arranged the stone against his skin and he grabbed her hand in his, pressed it against the hollow of his throat.
“When I was six, a man broke into our house to rob it. My father was hurt and my mother was killed.”
He heard her take a ragged breath, saw how the information made her eyes tear up. His soft-hearted Chloe.
“Oh, Jack…” Drawing a tremulous breath, she slid her arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her face wet against his neck, her voice breaking.
Tucking her head tighter against him, he savored the silky disorder of her hair. “It was a long time ago, but I wanted to do something to keep people safe. I know I can’t protect the world, but at least I can do my part.”
“You don’t have to tell me any more, Jack. I can feel it. It burns in you like a pure flame, so much an integral part of you.”
He felt her catch an uneven breath, and he tightened his hold, experiencing a sudden thickness in his chest. How had he gotten so lucky to find a woman who thoroughly understood him?
She pulled her face away from his neck, her eyes shining with tears. “Now where’s my gift, Castille?”
He laughed, hugging her against him. “On your balcony.”
“Oh yeah?”
He clasped her hand and led her up the stairs to the top floor of her town house, through the fragrance of her bedroom.
He pushed the doors open to reveal the earthy smell of her plants, the wooden bench settled among the greenery, a scarlet throw a splash of red against the warm wood, a mini oasis inside a bustling city. His gift stood in the center of the balcony with a good view of the court and all the way to the Mississippi. An easel with a white canvas positioned on top with brand-new paints set on a small mosaic table, and a small wooden stool.
She turned toward him, a fairy princess bathed in white moonlight, her hair pulsing with fire, her green eyes alight with passion and pleasure.
Maybe it was the magic of Christmas, maybe it was his wayward heart, but he was in free-fall, knowing without a doubt that this woman was his. He didn’t know where the feeling came from, but he knew that she belonged with him, his match.
He loved her.
The knowledge swirled inside him with a powerful, blinding force that made him reach out to her, remove everything they wore with an efficiency that left him breathless. Her breasts were like alabaster, tipped with cotton candy-pink, beckoning him to taste, her eyes a luminous lush green filled with healing refuge, and caring.
He sank into her eyes like pools, immersed himself until he felt as if he was drowning.
SHE WAS DROWNING in the deep dark wells of his eyes, opaque in the moonlight as if light were absorbed instead of reflected, broadcasting his wicked intent. He was tall and leanly muscled, his black hair stark against his tan skin. The magic of the night swelled around them, the energy their bodies created crackling and spitting tangible power. Sexual power, the power of love.
She loved him.
A warm wind cascaded over them, exerting gentle pressure on her body, propelling her into his arms. She pressed him back to the bench, arranged the throw around him and made him sit.
“Chloe,” he said, his voice hushed and fierce.
“In time, Jack, in time.”
She wanted to paint him with all that energy and power radiating into the night. In the most magical night of the year where love pulsated in the heavens and people everywhere celebrated wondrous events.
She let herself go like she hadn’t in a long time, realizing that work had consumed her, dimmed her by slow degrees until she was a shadow of her former vital self, but with Jack’s gift, she was beginning to think maybe she was spreading herself too thin.
As she looked at him, the colors formed in her mind and she put them down on the canvas, painting in almost a trancelike state.
His need seemed to pulse in the night, his heartbeat loud, the desire fiery and thick with passion. Clean, blue shot through with silver, showing protection and honesty. The darkness that was inside him, a dark sickly green that made her want to walk over there and soothe him, but the painting consumed her until she was spent.
Without a word she walked over to the bench and climbed onto his lap, her mouth connecting hot and wet with his. She pressed her aching breasts to his mouth and cried out when he bucked up against her, embedding himself to the hilt. She inhaled sharply at the abrupt invasion, and he groaned, long and low. He rocked her pelvis against his, his body tense and quivering. She grabbed on to his shoulders, easily picked up the rhythm he set, and rode him with utter abandon.
He circled his tongue around one rigid nipple, blew a hot stream of breath across the peak, then did the same to the other. He lapped at her slowly, licked the taut tips teasingly, and nibbled until the madness was too much to bear. Grabbing a handful of hair from the back of his head, she pressed his parted lips to one aching, tingling crest in silent demand, and he obeyed, taking as much of her breast as he could inside the wet warmth of his mouth.
He sucked, and she felt the tugging, pulling sensation all the way down to her sex. She couldn’t stop the whimper of need that started deep inside where Jack filled her, full and throbbing. She moved on him, harder, faster, and came undone as an exquisite torrent sent her careening into an intense orgasm.
He released a harsh groan of surrender then and gripped her hips, rocking her in time to each frantic upward surge of his thick shaft within her. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as his own body shuddered in and around hers in long, deep, powerful spasms.
When it was over, they melted into each other, their arms and legs entwined. Both of them too wiped out to move. Chest to chest, the wild beating of their hearts was all Chloe could feel, and in that seemingly endless stretch of time, that profound connection between them was all that mattered to her.
6
JACK’S CELL PHONE rang and Chloe moved off him, wrapping the scarlet throw around her shoulders. Following him into her bedroom, he picked up his jeans and extracted the cell phone.
“Castille,” Jack said into the receiver. After a few moments, he nodded. “I’ll be right there.” He turned to her as he started to dress. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I can.”
He kissed her soundly on the mouth and then was gone. Chloe walked back to the canvas, the colors bright in the moonlight. She saw Jack racing acr
oss the court to his car and heard the engine turn over—disturbing the still quiet of the night. The moonlight dimmed and when she looked up a cloud had obscured the silvery light.
Something dangerous whispered on the air and Chloe shivered.
HER EYES popped open and she knew. She knew something terrible had happened. She looked at the bedside clock, seeing that she’d only been asleep for two hours. Throwing the blankets away from her body, she immediately felt the cool air. The moon was totally obscured now and the temperature had dropped significantly. She dressed quickly in the darkness. She had to get to the hospital. That’s all that pounded in her brain. She had to get there.
Utter chaos reigned as Chloe burst through the emergency room doors. Her eyes scrutinized the many faces. She passed two police officers arguing with a man in handcuffs. Firefighters were everywhere. Chloe searched for Jack and finally found him sitting on a gurney in the main hallway. His eyes were closed and his head rested against the wall. She saw that his shirtsleeve was bloody and her heart climbed into her throat.
“Jack!” she called as she came up to him.
His eyes opened and he looked at her as if for a moment he couldn’t place her.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I just knew. I think I knew when it happened. I needed to make sure you were okay. What happened?”
“Some guy washed out of the firefighter trainee program and decided if he took firefighters hostage they would have to reconsider. Started a fire in a building and when they showed up, he grabbed them.”
“The guy who’s in handcuffs?”
“Right. I went in to talk him down. One of the firefighters panicked and I pushed him out of the way. Bullet caught me in the arm.”
“So why is he at the hospital?”
“I wrestled him to the ground and got the gun away from him. He got a little bruised and battered in the struggle. Cut his eye and they thought he had a broken arm. He’s waiting to be X-rayed.” He sat up and then winced, grabbing at his arm. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t move. I’ll get someone to give you something for the pain.”
His grip was firm as he latched onto her wrist. “No. Chloe, go home.”
“I’m not going home when you need me.”
His eyes desperate, he said, “I don’t need you. The doctor is busy with other more serious cases, burns and smoke inhalation.”
“I’m not leaving, Jack.”
He tightened his grip. “This is not the kind of environment for you, Chloe. Now listen to me. Go home.”
The man in handcuffs passed them, keeping up a nasty stream of profanity. Jack closed his eyes as if he could shut out the scene and make it stop by not looking. But reality was just as ugly as the man’s words, as ugly as the kernel of doubt building in Chloe. “I’m going to get someone….”
“No, dammit, Chloe. Leave, now. You can’t do anything for me but get in the way.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes at his harsh tone. His dark eyes were glassy and unfocused. He sat here all alone with no one to tend to him and he wanted her to leave. How could she when her feelings went far beyond care? She was in love with Jack, in too deep. “Why won’t you let me care, Jack?”
“I appreciate that you care, but I can’t have you here. Go back to Court du Chaud. You don’t need to see this.”
“That’s what you’re afraid of? I’ll be exposed to this. I’m stronger than I look and I’m not the kind of person to turn away from someone in need.”
“That’s right, Chloe. You are the court’s little helper. When do you take time for yourself? When do you say enough is enough?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You give to everyone. When are you going to see that it does nothing but string you out?”
“Is that how you get through each day? Turn yourself off from your emotions?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“No, let’s talk about you. Let’s talk about how you shut me out of this part of your life. You shut off your emotions and they’re eating you alive.”
“Drop the subject, Chloe. You don’t want to know about that dark side.”
“Yes, I do. Don’t you get it? I love you. I want to know everything there is to know. It’s all or nothing, Jack.”
“Then it’s nothing,” he said looking away.
She stood there for a minute letting those words sink in. “You can’t mean that? After all we shared. You can’t mean that.”
“I can’t talk about it with you or anybody. Go back to the court where this kind of thing can’t touch you.”
As Chloe ran out of the hospital, Jack felt as if he would collapse into himself. He just couldn’t do it. If he told her, it would come rolling out of him in a wave of ugliness. He would protect her instead and make her understand when he got home. He would make her see that it was best that she not be part of this world.
CHLOE REFUSED to shed a tear all the way home. At her town house, she decided she’d work on something that would distract her thoughts—like her potpourri. When she heard the knock on her door, she found Jack standing there.
“Chloe, I need to talk to you.”
She brushed past him and went out into the court, thinking she’d get in her car and drive, when movement in her café caught her eye. There should have been no one there. She changed directions, walked up the stairs and unlocked the café door.
Pushing it open, she came face-to-face with Vincent. He was standing over her broken lock box, pointing a gun at her with his right hand and holding a wad of cash in his left. Her cash.
“Chloe, you’re going to listen to what I have—”
Jack never finished what he was saying as he took in the situation. She felt him move and when she looked behind her, she saw that he’d pulled his gun.
“Vincent, put the gun down,” Jack ordered.
“No,” Chloe said, her heart pounding. The kid was stealing from her, after all that she had done for him. Chloe came face-to-face with her own fears. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t nurture everyone. She couldn’t make all the hurts go away. He was in her café. The place where she spent most of her time. And now, as she was looking down the barrel of a gun, she realized that she hadn’t lived for herself. Not truly lived. Not for herself. “Vincent, take it. Take it all and leave. If this is what you want, go ahead.”
“Chloe!”
“No, Jack,” she said touching his forearm and making him lower his gun. Turning to Vincent, who grimaced as if he was going to be sick, she said again, “Go. Take it. It’s not worth it. Not worth dying over.”
“I’m sorry,” Vincent said, his voice breaking. “But I thought you were going to throw me out.”
“Why would you think that, Vincent?”
“Him. I heard what he said last night. I heard. I’m sick of going hungry. I appreciate what you did for me Chloe, but I was scared of being on the street again.”
She moved away from Jack. “Vincent. I wasn’t going to throw you out. Jack is a police officer and naturally suspicious of strangers. He was just trying to look out for me. Please, put the gun down and everything will be okay. We won’t speak of this again.”
“Chloe, no,” Jack said from behind her.
She turned to him. “It’s okay.”
She moved closer to reach out her hand. In the moment, the only emotion she could feel reverberating around the room was fear.
She walked up to Vincent. His eyes went from her to Jack and then, miraculously, he put the gun in her hand.
“I’m sorry, Chloe.”
JACK STOOD THERE while Chloe spoke quietly to Vincent. He’d confiscated the gun and found out it wasn’t even real. His arm throbbed in time to his heart, the adrenaline of the past six hours suddenly making him exhausted.
Chloe came over to the table where Jack was sitting. “That was armed robbery, Chloe. It’s a felony.”
“It wasn’t even a real gun, Jack.”
> “It doesn’t matter. We perceived it to be real.”
“What if I don’t press charges?”
“Since robbery is a crime against a person, there’s not much I could do if you don’t.”
“Jack, he was scared. I just want to forget all about the incident.”
He nodded. “I agree with you and part of it was my fault. I’m sorry I scared the kid. It doesn’t seem like Vincent will give you any further problem.”
“Thank you for letting me handle it.”
“You were right. I haven’t given you enough credit.”
“I helped my mother raise four children, Jack. I know what hardship and pain is all about. I might not be catching criminals every day, but that doesn’t mean it can’t encroach on Court du Chaud. We just have to deal with it.”
He was quiet for a moment before he finally asked, “Do you still plan on going to see your family for Christmas?”
“That’s right. It’s Christmas day. They’re expecting me at noon for Christmas dinner.”
“Do you still want me to come with you?”
She looked away. “That depends, Jack.”
“On what?”
“On you.”
He stared at her for a second, knowing how foolish he felt, especially after this incident. “I’m sorry for what I said in the hospital. I realize now I can’t protect you from everything and everyone. It’s hard to admit to myself. That’s what I’ve been harboring. I tried to save a woman and her family once and I failed. Their deaths were a hard thing for me to accept. Still are. I feel I made a mistake somehow and caused it.”
“You can only do what you can do. I realize that now, too. When Vincent had that gun on me, I thought I haven’t done nearly everything I wanted to do. I’ve given up a lot for my café and the people of Court du Chaud, but you’re right. I need help. This business has grown beyond me. I need to take time for myself.”
Red Letter Nights Page 13
