by Sara Orwig
Even though she desperately longed to stay, and she was curious to see what happened to Dorian, she knew it was time to go home unless she wanted a deluxe broken heart.
She was going to get out of the agreement to rent the apartment because now there was no reason to stay in Royal. She didn’t want to harass Dorian further. It was time to stop seeing Jason, and she didn’t want to risk her heart more than she already had.
She tossed and turned restlessly, knowing another reason to leave with the dawn—she couldn’t say no to him much longer. More and more, she wanted to know him intimately, wanted his lovemaking. She didn’t know what time she dozed into a light and fitful sleep.
An ear-shattering blast shook the house and her bed, tossing her to the floor.
Instantly awake and terrified, Merry jumped up and dashed across the room, yanking open the door. When she stepped into the hall, orange flames filled the east end of the house as an inferno roared and crackled.
“Jason!” she screamed.
Seven
The entire east part of Jason’s house was in flames. She could feel the heat.
“Merry!”
Wearing only briefs, Jason grabbed her and pulled her to his room with him. He yanked on jeans and jammed his feet into his boots. Merry saw his T-shirt on the floor and grabbed it, realizing how she was dressed. Swiftly she tugged the T-shirt on over her nightie.
“C’mon, Merry!” he shouted, taking her hand again.
Bolting for the patio door, he paused at his desk to open a drawer and get a cellular phone and his pistol.
As he punched 911 and relayed a call for help, he thrust Merry to one side of the door. They both were flattened against the wall. The moment he broke the connection on his phone, he held her behind him with one arm and kicked open the door with his foot. He held his pistol at the ready.
When she realized he expected someone to shoot at them, her fright changed to an icy chill. Beyond the door was the dark night while behind them, she could hear the roar and crackle of flames and smell the acrid smoke. “Let me go first. You come right behind me,” he said.
With the gun leveled, he ran through the doorway, and she followed.
The night was transformed. Men ran from the bunkhouse, dogs barked, and lights went on all over the grounds.
Jason sprinted ahead, and she followed him while he shouted directions to the first man to reach him. She glanced over her shoulder to see flames roaring and a huge column of black smoke billowing and mushrooming over the house.
At the sight of the conflagration, she felt weak and sick inside.
“Merry!” Jason snapped, catching her wrist and pulling her with him to run to his pickup. He opened the door and shoved her inside. “Stay in here and stay down so you’re not a target.”
“A target?” Startled, she looked at the men passing them on their way to the fire. How could she be a target now with so many people all around her? “There are men who work for you everywhere.”
“A sniper could still get you.”
Her shocked mind began to function. She realized then the possibility that the explosion had not been an accident and someone had been trying to kill her. Shivering, she looked at the brilliant flames. Anguish was stronger than fear as she remembered Jason’s family heirlooms and antiques.
“Jason, your house!”
“It’s just things, Merry,” he said roughly. “We’re alive. That’s what’s important, and let’s keep it that way. Stay out of sight unless you want the press all over you.”
“Jason, I thought it was a gas line.”
“It was a bomb,” he said bluntly.
“A bomb? Why?” The moment the words were out of her mouth she thought of Dorian, of breaking into his computer. Was this because of last night?
She looked at the men who worked for Jason who were already fighting the fire. The first shocks receded further when she thought about the danger she might still be in, the police who would want statements and the press who were sure to arrive.
Jason was society and old money. The fire could be seen for miles and when word got out that it was from a bomb, the news would be nationwide. Her mother would want every tidbit and she would be livid to know that Merry hadn’t called her the first moment.
Jason slammed the truck door, and Merry saw that he had pushed the lock.
She tried to stay low in the pickup so she would not be a target, yet she sat up enough to watch what was happening. All of the east wing and the center of the house were gone. If someone had been trying to kill her, he had bombed the wrong end of the house. If the bomb had gone off about three hours earlier, neither she nor Jason would have survived.
In spite of the stuffiness of the interior of the pickup and the balmy May night, she shivered. She heard the wail of sirens and she rolled down the window to get fresh air. The smell of smoke took her breath, and, with the window lowered, the roar of the fire was louder. Sparks shot high as wood crackled and popped.
“He’s lost almost everything,” she said softly. If it had been a bomb, it had been intended for her. She was the one to blame for Jason losing his family belongings and his house. She had stirred up Dorian who was a dangerous man, pushed him to this destruction and now Jason had lost so terribly much that could never be replaced.
She shook and wrapped her arms around her middle, unaware of tears streaming down her cheeks. Vehicles with flashing lights poured into the yard and men were everywhere. A news helicopter circled overhead while the media trucks rolled in.
Pumper trucks sent streams of water pouring onto the house. When pickups appeared and men jumped out, she realized Jason’s friends and neighbors had come to help.
She could see Jason with the firefighters now. She wanted to go help, but she wasn’t dressed for it and she wouldn’t be that much more help now because there appeared to be at least fifty men fighting the blaze.
Firefighters, reporters, cameramen, lawmen, friends, neighbors and employees filled Jason’s yard. The bright lights of the media lit up a place that now looked like a war zone.
Time was suspended. One moment she thought she had been watching for hours, the next, it seemed only minutes from the explosion until the flames had disappeared.
To her relief the fire was finally doused and the conflagration never reached the west wing of the house. Men still poured water over the smoldering ruins, but some of the volunteers began to get back into their pickups and go. When the television vans departed, she opened the door and swung her legs outside to get some air. She couldn’t imagine being in danger now.
It seemed an eternity before she saw Jason’s dark silhouette come striding toward her.
“You’re making yourself a target.”
“I’m safe,” she replied. “What exploded?” she said, knowing his answer, yet praying his first assumptions were wrong, and it was a malfunctioning gas line.
“I told you earlier—and the fire chief agrees with me although they’ll make an official investigation—someone detonated a bomb.”
She shook her head in agony. “Jason, I’m sorry about your house. This is my fault for staying here. Whoever did this was after me.”
“Forget it, Merry. I’ve made plenty of enemies before. And I wanted you here. I knew the risks we were running.”
“I didn’t.” While she shivered, he put his arms around her.
“We can stay in the guest cottage. Let’s go up to the house. I want to get a few things and then we can move. Some of the firefighters will hang around to make sure nothing flares up again.”
As they walked toward the house, he draped his arm across her shoulders, and she walked close beside him.
“Merry, when the media interviewed me, I said I thought the explosion was from a gas leak.”
“You told me—”
“I wanted that out in the news. I know Chief Blanton, and he only told them there would be an investigation into the causes of the blaze. It’ll buy us some time before the truth comes
out—if it ever does—that the blaze was caused by a bomb. I don’t want that much attention focused on us yet. If Dorian was behind this, I don’t want him brought into it in any way prematurely.”
As they entered through Jason’s bedroom, he removed his pistol and placed it on his desk. She could see down the hall and out into the night. Men moved around, and now, instead of walls and rooms, there was just open space. The smell of the fire and water was stifling, and she shook again.
“Jason, I did this to you. You could have been killed! Your wonderful house—”
“Merry,” he said quietly, drawing her into his arms and tilting up her chin, “I keep telling you that we’re safe. That’s what’s important. We’re both all right. Things and houses can be replaced.”
“You had all those family heirlooms and antiques. The family belongings can’t be replaced.”
“They don’t matter that much. I told those guys that we’d be out on the porch at the guest house. Let’s go down there. I want you to sit with me.”
“Don’t you want to look at the damage?”
“I’ve seen it with the fire chief. I’ve talked to my insurance agent and an adjustor will be out in the morning—in a few hours, actually. I’ll see the ruins more than I want to.”
“How can you be so casual about it?” she asked, amazed at his calm reaction.
“Because we’re both alive. Let’s get our things and move. The guest house will smell better.”
In a few minutes she had her purse and clothes. She had pulled on shorts and kept on his T-shirt. When she joined him, he had a bundle tucked under his arm. He put his arm around her. As they walked to the door, he stopped to pick up his pistol.
“You want to sit outside to keep watch, don’t you?” she asked. “You think he might come back.”
“I don’t think so, but I want to watch in case he does.”
“We’re talking about Dorian, aren’t we?”
“I think so more than ever. You got into his computer and he knew it,” Jason replied as they crossed the yard to the guest cottage.
“The minute the sun comes up, I’m going back to Dallas and maybe your life can get on an even keel. You should be safe.”
Jason halted, turning her to face him. “I’m not worried about being safe. I can get this place under guard and get an alarm for the grounds around the house. You can’t go back to Dallas now. You could be in all kinds of danger.”
“Stop it, Jason. You’re scaring me. I have to go back because if I stay here I put you at risk.”
“Do you want to put your family at risk?”
“No!”
“Merry, I’ve been trained for this sort of thing. You stay here.” There was a steely command in his voice that made her hold back any argument.
She nodded, and they continued walking in silence to the guest house. Inside, when he switched on lights, she looked at a spacious knotty pine room with Navajo rugs and Western art, bronze statues and forest-green leather furniture.
“You call this a cottage?”
“It’s smaller than the house,” he replied casually. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can stay.” She placed her things in a bright, cheerful bedroom with a brass bed and more Western art on the walls. Then she joined Jason on the porch. He switched off lights in the house and returned, bringing two chilled bottles of pop.
They sat close to the house with their backs only inches from the wall. A shaggy black-and-tan dog wandered up, sniffed Merry’s feet and moved to put his head on Jason’s knee.
“This is Tiger.”
“He doesn’t act like one.”
“If you see him in daylight, you’ll see he has stripes.” The dog curled at Jason’s feet and placed his head on Jason’s boot.
“I guess he does like you.”
“You didn’t give a rip whether I had dogs that liked me or not when you asked that first night. You were planning your escape, weren’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I was. I wanted to know what I might run into outside your house.”
“Now that I’ve had time to think about it—if Dorian did cause the blast tonight, you may not have been the target. Any computer disks we had could have been what he hoped to destroy.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Think about it. I met with my friends, but nothing was said about anyone stealing anything from Dorian’s computer. He didn’t even mention that anyone got into his computer. I didn’t mention disks. I asked Rob to take a disk to Sheriff Escobar. If Dorian followed me, he would know I didn’t go to the police. Besides, the files by themselves are not that convincing—it’s just that with the suspicious things Dorian has done, the computer files are more evidence that points to Dorian.”
“If all he intended to destroy were the computer files—why do it when we were home?”
“He might have wanted to send a message. He might have wanted to scare you off. Scare both of us off, maybe. If he knew which end of the house we were in, then all he wanted was to destroy my disks and my computer—which he did. But Rob and Keith already have copies.”
“It makes sense, Jason. Unless he knows nothing of the layout of your house.”
“I suspect whoever set the bomb knew the layout as well as we knew the layout of Wescott Oil. As a matter of fact, I had a party several months back and the Texas Cattleman’s Club members were out here. Dorian would know his way around here reasonably well.”
“Maybe I’m not in as much danger then.”
“Maybe, but let’s not take chances. Not for a while.”
As they talked quietly, she noticed Jason kept his pistol on a table beside him and all the time they talked, he was gazing into the dark night.
“Mr. Windover?” A fireman spoke from the dark shadows to the east of the porch, and Jason stood.
“I’m here.” He left her, crossing the porch and striding to the fireman to talk quietly to him.
“Jason,” she heard another man say and join the two of them. From the jeans and boots he wore, she judged the other man worked on the ranch. She could hear their low voices, catch phrases as they talked. Tiger had followed Jason and sat at his feet. Another dog meandered up to sit beside them.
Finally Jason shook hands with the fireman and thanked him again. As the man left, Jason turned to his employee and they talked in even lower voices. When they parted, Jason came back to join her.
“Let’s go inside.”
“What about keeping watch?”
“My men are spread out all around here. No one will get past them tonight. I promise—you’re safe here.”
He draped his arm across her shoulders, but then he paused and turned. “Ben,” he called.
A deep voice came out of the darkness, and she could see the cowboy yards away.
“Call the dogs and keep them with you.”
As a whistle broke the stillness, both dogs trotted away and Jason led her inside.
He closed and locked the door and then switched on a small lamp. As he crossed the room to her, the look in his eyes made her forget the events of the night. Her breath caught and each step closer he came, her pulse jumped another notch.
“Jason,” she whispered while her heart thudded.
“There’s something I want to know, Merry,” he said solemnly. His voice was husky, causing more jumps in her pulse.
A thick fringe of black lashes framed sexy blue-green eyes that blazed with desire. He placed his hands on either side of her face while he gazed down at her. “Tonight, when we talked right after the fire, you sounded like you care what happens to me.”
Her heart thudded at the implications of his question. She could answer it flippantly—tell him that she would care about anyone being hurt. That was the answer if she wanted to walk away. But not one tiny inch of her wanted to walk away from him. The night had changed her, brought everything around her into sharper focus. Made her more aware of the frailty of life and of the gifts of love. She could give him one of those cas
ual answers now, or she could tell him the truth.
“Yes, I care a lot.”
Something flickered in the depths of his eyes and as he inhaled swiftly, his chest expanded. “Ahh, Merry,” he said softly.
He leaned down to kiss her, and her heart thudded. She had been terrified for his safety tonight, crushed over the damage he had suffered—loss and danger that she had brought on him. In spite of all his losses, his concern had been their safety and the safety of the men who worked for him.
This tall cowboy was incredibly special to her, and she was thankful he was safe. She was thankful that they were both alive. Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned into him as he embraced her.
When his lips touched hers, she kissed him passionately in return. Her kisses were hungry, a confirmation of life, a sharp awareness of how precious life was—and how special Jason was to her.
All her reservations fell away. Someone had tried to kill them tonight, yet they had survived. They were alive and caution and reason seemed foolish where her heart and Jason were concerned. Priorities shifted. Life was infinitely precious, and love was a gift to give.
Jason was special, and she wanted to show him, wanted all of him, wanted him as she had never wanted anyone else. They had been on the brink of death tonight, and now she wanted an affirmation of life, a chance to love.
Considerations and terrors of the night vanished.
Her tongue went deep, stroking his as he kissed her passionately, and she slid her hands over him, feeling his body, all hard, lean planes and corded muscles. Excitement exploded in every nerve in her body.
As he trailed kisses along her throat, his hands peeled away her T-shirt. Her nightie went with it. When she unfastened his jeans, he cupped her breasts, looking down at her. His hands were large, dark against her pale skin, his fingers warm, setting her aflame.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely, and her heart thudded.
All the time he balanced on one foot and tugged off a boot, then yanked off the other one, tossing them aside, his gaze never left her. Clothing fell swiftly, but invisible barriers seemed to be tumbling as well.
