Читать книгу Craving Her Soldier's Touch - Wendy S. Marcus - Страница 8

“YOU’RE here! Three days early.” Jaci’s conflicting emotions over seeing Ian vanished, replaced by jubilation at the return of her sister. She tossed her bag on the kitchen counter, yanked off her raincoat, and toed off her boots.

“I tried to call your home phone when we arrived. Luckily Brandon was at the concierge desk,” Jena said. “I didn’t think you’d mind us coming right up.”

“Of course not. How are you? How was your trip? Is everything okay?” She stripped off her wet clothes right there in the entryway, could not wait to hug her sister and meet her tiny, crying nieces.

“Why are you all wet?” Jena asked.

“Pick up for the crisis center.” No sense worrying her sister with the details. In nothing but a tee and panties, Jaci charged across the hardwood floor of her living room in bare feet. “You look fabulous.” A little white lie. She pulled her twin into her arms and squeezed her tight. “I missed you so much. Promise me you’re home to stay.” Her eyes filled with tears.

Jena hugged her back with equal vigor. “If you promise me that no matter what happens you won’t hate me.”

Hate her? “Are you kidding me?” Jaci tightened her hold. “I could never, ever hate you. I love you.” She stepped back. “Look at these adorable babies.” She rubbed her cold hands together. “I need to wash my hands and warm up before I touch them. Brrrrr it’s chilly in here.”

“Only if you’re wet and naked.”

“So I’m not complaining or anything.” Jaci hurried down the hallway to her bathroom. “But what’s with the surprise arrival?”

“I was worried about the weather. They’re predicting heavy flooding all along the east coast from the storm, and I didn’t want to miss the charity ball,” Jena called after her.

“So you can protect me from Jerry Three?” Since she’d stopped responding to all communication from the current head of the family—despite his threats—after that horrible night he’d received the e-mail from Iraq and summoned her to the estate. Where he’d proceeded to unload every negative, hateful thought he’d harbored against her. It’d taken over an hour, during which he’d blocked her exit from his office. And he’d ended his tirade with a smack to the side of the head she hadn’t seen coming.

Her own fault for underestimating his anger and overestimating how much he’d changed since she’d moved out.

“That’s Jerald Xavier Piermont the third.” Jena did an impressive impression of their pompous half-brother, a man who’d turned out exactly like the heavy-handed, business-focused, wealth-obsessed father they shared. “You disobedient, classless twit.”

“You’ve been practicing.” Jaci smiled, slid into her soft fleece robe and tied the sash. It was good to have her sister home. Where she belonged regardless of the secrets she kept. Like where she’d been for the past ten months, why she’d disappeared without a word of warning, and whose genetic contribution was partly responsible for her precious babies.

“He had the nerve to show up here two weeks ago,” Jaci said. Uninvited. Unwelcome. To demand she stop her childish silent treatment and agree to a date with ‘the most eligible bachelor in the tri-state area’ who Jerry had convinced to meet her. And if she could pretend to be nice for a few short weeks, marriage would unite two powerful families and solidify a highly profitable business merger.

Jaci was not a bargaining chip.

“You know he isn’t as bad as you make him out to be,” Jena said.

Maybe not, if you were sweet and accommodating and easily influenced like Jena. Jaci washed her hands in hot water. But if you, heaven forbid, dared to question him or disagree with him or ignore one of his many ridiculous, oppressive rules, he could be—and was—brutal.

Jaci returned to the second bedroom which she’d outfitted as a nursery in preparation for the twins’ arrival. “So if he’s not so bad,” Jaci said quietly. “Why didn’t you stick around and have the babies locally?”

Without looking up, Jena snapped the sleeper of the baby on the changing table and shrugged.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Jaci asked.

Still looking at the baby, Jena shook her head. “I figured it’d be best to tell him in front of witnesses.” She looked up and smiled. “With my older, wiser, fearless sister by my side.”

“Two is always better than one,” Jaci repeated their mantra for dealing with Jerry’s nonsense.

“In this case one to do chest compressions while the other runs for the defibrillator after I inform Jerald he’s an uncle to two illegitimate little Piermonts,” Jena said.

“I call the defibrillator.” Jaci held up her hand. And if she should happen to trip and sprain her ankle on the way to get it … oh well.

Jena handed Jaci the baby from the changing table and lifted the other twin from the double stroller.

Jaci cuddled her niece close, rubbed her cheek over fine silky hair, and inhaled the scent of baby shampoo and powder and sweet, loving innocence. “Which of my adorable, unhappy nieces is this?” She rubbed her tiny back in an attempt to calm her.

“For the time being, I dress Abbie in pink and Annie in yellow, until I can tell them apart.”

“Promise me you won’t let anyone label them.” The quiet/sweet/shy one. The mouthy/wild/disrespectful one. Childhood labels were near impossible to outgrow no matter how much a person tried to change or improve.

Jena—who’d often complained of feeling stifled under the expectation of her labels—shook her head. “Promise.”

After Jena changed Annie, Jaci followed her into the kitchen, noting she’d lost all her pregnancy weight and then some. In the bright light she looked drained. Exhausted. Well Jaci would fix that with good food, lots of loving care, and a much needed second pair of hands. “Mom would have liked you naming one of your twins Annie.” After her.

Jena smiled sadly. “I know.”

Jaci settled into a kitchen chair. “I can hold Annie, too, while you make the bottles.” She held out her left hand. “After all, I can’t be the favorite aunt if I come off looking like I’m playing favorites.”

“They’re all of four weeks old, Jaci.” Jena put her free hand on her hip and gave Jaci the give-me-a-break look. “And you’re their only aunt.”

Was she? Without knowing the father’s identity, how could she be sure? Jaci reached for a yellow-socked foot. “Come on. You’ve been hogging them for weeks. Now it’s my turn.”

Jena placed Annie in Jaci’s available arm and she gave her second little niece some loving. “I was trying to clear my schedule before you got here, so I’m on call this week and have to head out for work early tomorrow morning. And I’ve got a full schedule after that. Will you be okay alone?”

“We’ll be fine,” Jena said with a tired smile.

“You know I may have mentioned you were coming home with the twins to Mrs. Calvin up on seven.”

Jena shot her an aggravated look. “I specifically asked you not to tell anyone.”

“How was I supposed to find a quality babysitter, who we are not friends with and doesn’t know Jerry, to babysit on Saturday night without telling them about the twins? She seems nice and always smiles at me when I see her. And she looks so sad sitting in the lobby after her grandchildren leave every Sunday. I wanted to cheer her up. Hey.” Jaci snapped her fingers. “I bet she’d love to come down and give you a hand if you need it tomorrow. It’d be a good opportunity for you to get to know her and show her how you like things done. I’ll leave her number on the refrigerator before I head out in the morning.”

After lifting Annie and handing Jaci Abbie’s bottle Jena smiled. “It’s good to be home.”

With each baby now voraciously sucking on her bottle, the room got suddenly quiet. “How long do you plan to stay?” Jaci couldn’t stop herself from asking. The stress of the next three months, of Jerry intensifying his crusade to marry them off to two of his business associates by their birthday, would be so much easier to handle with Jena by her side.

“Twenty-five years old,” Jena said, as usual, knowing the real question behind her question.

“It’d always seemed so far away.” Jaci stood, had to move. “Damn, daddy. It wasn’t enough to control our every move while he was alive. He has to do it from his grave.” Which he wouldn’t be in if not for Jaci. So many times she’d wished him dead. Death by car accident, bullet wound to the chest from random mugging, asphyxiation from some outrageously expensive food delicacy lodged in his airway. He probably died the way he did on purpose. So she’d be blamed. So she’d have to live with the guilt.

Abbie stirred in her arms. “Ssshhh.” She rocked the tiny bundle. “No one will ever hurt you, sweetie,” she whispered. “You or your sister. Not as long as Auntie Jaci is around.”

Ian couldn’t breathe. Something heavy lay across his chest. He tried to move. Couldn’t. His left leg caught in a vice. On fire.

Something dripped on his chin. He wiped it away. Tried to focus through the darkness.

Heat.

Another drop hit his mouth. He tasted blood. What the …?

Gunfire. In the distance.

Ice reached for his M16. Found a body part instead.

What the hell happened?

More gunfire.

He struggled to get free.

The vacant, lifeless eyes of his buddy, The Kid, stared at him from a blood drenched face. The picture of the man’s wife and one-year-old daughter flashed.

The smell of fire. Burnt flesh. Death.

A baby cried. His baby. He could not die.

A hand touched his shoulder.

They would not take him prisoner. Ian tore his leg from its restraint, pushed at the mass crushing his chest, and twisted free. He tackled his attacker, the enemy, responsible for the death of his team. He raised his fist, inhaled, and smelled … her. Jaci. Felt her warm, willing body beneath him.

Ian junior perked up with interest.

Oh how he’d missed her, dreamed of her, aroused and undulating beneath him. He rocked his hips, needed her, to escape. To forget.

“Ian. Stop.” Not the words he wanted to hear right now. Usually she was so happy to see him. So welcoming. “Wake up. Get off me.” Instead of pulling him close, she pushed at his chest, sounding … angry.

He opened his eyes to the shadowed greys of an overcast early morning—the wind and rain from last night still raging outside. He lay on his side between Justin’s sofa and coffee table, on the floor, partially sprawled over a fully clothed Jaci.

A skilled tactician, Ian quickly scrolled through his options.

1) Retreat with an apology

2) Engage with an explanation

3) Instigate with an accusation

4) Distract with arousal

Since, by his estimation, lucky number four held the greatest potential for a pleasurable outcome, and it seemed a shame to let his first hard-on in months go to waste, Ian leaned close and nuzzled Jaci’s ear. “About time you got around to welcoming me home properly. Like you promised.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’ve dreamed of holding you.”—At least he had until the explosion had blown every happy thought from his head. No. He would not think about that night or the war or all that had been lost as a result of a roadside bomb. Not when he had Jaci—the real Jaci—within kissing distance. Not when he had the chance to bury himself deep inside of her one last time.

He slid a knee between her legs and shifted on top of her, resting his upper body on his elbows, settling his pelvis in between her thighs. “Of making love to you.” He rocked the length of his erection along the seam of her slacks. “Being inside you is like visiting paradise.” And Ian was in serious need of a vacation.

Jaci let out a shaky breath and softened beneath him.

Excellent.

“I can’t do this, Ian.”

Not so excellent. But Ian never surrendered without a fight. “I know you want me as much as I want you.” He could tell by the change in her breathing, the way she’d bent and opened her knees to accommodate him, and the tiny, almost unnoticeable up-tilt of her hips to give him better access. “You don’t have to do a thing.” He knew what she liked. Resting his weight on one elbow, he freed up his right hand to caress her breast and tease her tight nipple all while continuing his slow, calculated assault on her sex. He let out a deep, heavy, hot breath in her ear. “I can have us undressed and on our way to Pleasure Town in under a minute.”

All he needed was the slightest indication of agreement.

A smile.

A nod.

Anything.

“Except for last night,” she said, sounding perturbed. “We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in over a year. You’ve been home for at least three weeks without any attempt to talk to me. I walked into your condo to find you half wedged into the sofa, groaning as if you’re in pain, and fighting to get free. You attacked me when I tried to wake you. And you think the next few minutes would be best spent having sex?”

He didn’t answer immediately for fear that was a trick question. Because he was a guy who hadn’t been with a woman in twelve months, three weeks, two days, and approximately twelve hours. Who, as a result of his current position had just returned to the rank of fully functioning male—and a great big hallelujah to that—who was a pair of sweatpants, a pair of slacks, and a pair of panties away from sweet, nightmare eradicating, ecstasy. So hell Y-E-S he thought the next few minutes, the next few hours, would be best spent having sex.

Jaci set her hands on his chest and gave a push. “Please, be the gentleman I know you are capable of being, and get off of me.”

Even though the thoughts scrolling through his head and the urges surging through his body were anything but gentlemanly, Ian rolled to the side and Jaci stood.

“We need to talk,” she said, straightening her sweater.

He’d rather gnaw on a handful of habaneros.

“Was our friendship all a ploy to get me into bed? Did we even have a friendship?” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at him. “At the time I’d thought we did. But now I’m not so sure.” She shook her head. “The more I think about it, the more I can’t help wondering if you invested hours of your time, being your most fun and entertaining self, for the sole purpose of charming me out of my panties.”

Jaci’s panties. The visual, pink and sheer, skimpy, with lace, and the tiniest of bows, had him wanting to peel off her clothes, oh so slowly, to get to them. In that instant, he’d have gladly bargained away a decade of his life for a chance to see her naked, to touch her and hold her close for a few undisturbed minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Years.

Focus, Ian.

“Was I an item on a list?” She held up an imaginary pad and read from it. “Things to do before I deploy. Laundry.” She made an air check. “Pack.” Another air check. “Have sex with Jaci.” Triple air check.

Yeah. That’d been an extraordinary night.

Ian’s left leg throbbed so he opted to move up to the couch rather than stand. Elbows on his knees he stared at the ground. “No, you weren’t some item on a list, and our friendship wasn’t a ploy to get you into bed.” It may have started off as one, but quickly transformed into the real thing. Maybe even something more. Not that it mattered now.

“Well you have an odd way of showing it. Friendship requires some degree of effort, Ian. A phone call. A card now and then. An e-mail. Look at me so I know you’re listening.”

She was talking so loud, how could he not listen? He looked up.

“While I can convince myself that my proposal shocked you into running, and I can let you off the hook for being incommunicado while you were in Iraq, you’ve been home for at least three weeks. If someone hadn’t parked in my spot, forcing me into the visitors’ lot, I wouldn’t have seen your SUV. It’s like you snuck back into town and hoped I wouldn’t find out.”

Exactly. His plan had been to strengthen up—mentally and physically—before finding a place of his own in closer proximity to the four separate houses he would soon start visiting weekly. He’d figured one month tops, which, added to the three months he’d been hospitalized, equaled four months his men’s wives had been on their own, with him capable of little more than telephone and financial support.

He needed to get out there, to become more of a presence in their lives. It’s what’d kept him from giving up during endless setbacks and complications, during hours of excruciating treatments and therapies.

An image of The Kid’s baby daughter flashed.

Which reminded him. Jaci wasn’t the only one with a reason to be angry. “So if you didn’t come up for sex,” he pushed off the sofa and stood, fighting a wince when pain shot down his leg. “Why are you here? Finally getting around to congratulating me on the birth of my baby?”

Jaci’s jaw dropped open but no sound came out. No apology or explanation. She stood totally still, staring up at him, with a look of absolute shock on her face. “You—” She cleared her throat. “Who? When?”

Nice try. “Cut the crap, Jaci.”

“You bastard.” In a move that caught him, a decorated staff sergeant in the U.S. Army, completely off guard, she lunged forward and slapped his cheek.

What the …? He grabbed her hand.

“Who is she? A fellow soldier? While I was here wasting my time worrying about you, even after all the crap you pulled, you were sleeping around with another woman?” She sucked in a breath. “Or were you seeing her in the months before you left? While I was at work?”

The woman made no sense.

She fought him. “Let go of me.”

This time he was ready and caught her up in a bear hold with no intention of releasing her until he figured out what the heck was going on. “I heard the baby. Last night. When I walked you to your door.”

“The twins?” she asked.

Lord help him. Twins. He hadn’t thought of that. Two of everything at the same time. Visits to the doctor. Boyfriends. Cars. College educations. The cartilage in his knees turned to pudding. And while he concentrated on remaining upright, on the verge of disgracing himself by collapsing to the floor, Jaci jammed the heel of her rubber boot on the top of his bare foot, escaped his weakened grip and started to chuckle.

“You thought—?” She laughed so hard she couldn’t finish. “You thought—?” She doubled over, stumbled to the couch and plopped down. After about a minute of trying to regain her composure, Jaci inhaled a deep breath, pushed it out and asked. “You thought I had your baby?”

She made it sound like such a ridiculous assumption he decided not to answer.

Then all humor fled, and like she suddenly realized she’d been insulted, she got mad. “You honestly thought I wouldn’t tell you if I’d gotten pregnant? That I wouldn’t include you in the birth of our child or introduce you to your son or daughter at the first opportunity?”

Obviously he hadn’t done a thorough job of thinking things through because Jaci was straightforward and not at all the type of woman to lie about a pregnancy.

“The babies you heard,” she stood, “are my nieces. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention them to anyone because Jena doesn’t want people to know she’s back in town until this weekend.”

“What’s this weekend?”

“The second annual benefit gala for the Women’s Crisis Center.”

“Is that the ritzy shindig Justin’s running security for on Saturday night?” Her brother was an outspoken supporter of the crisis center. Hmmmm … The perfect opportunity for a little man to poor-excuse-for-a-brother chat and to take care of the asses who’d been giving Jaci a hard time.

Jaci nodded. “This year we’re having a silent auction coordinated by Millicent Parks with items worth tens of thousands of dollars.”

“So if you didn’t come up here to welcome me home,” he said, “or tell me about the babies, why are you here?” And while he was asking the questions, “And how did you get in?”

“I knocked. When you didn’t answer I,” she held up a key, “used this.” At Ian’s grimace she added, “I have a key to Justin’s condo and he has a key to mine. For emergencies.”

“So what’s your emergency?” he asked.

“The storm uprooted that massive oak by the parking lot which is now resting on top of nine cars, one of them the vehicle I was supposed to drive back to the crisis center this morning to pick up my car which, as it turns out, is sitting in two feet of water in their parking lot thanks to the Bronx River spilling over its banks at some point in the night. Streets are flooded, trees and power lines are down all over the county and there’s a state of emergency in effect so taxis aren’t running. I came up to ask Justin for a ride to work.”

“Do you hear yourself? There’s a state of emergency. The roads aren’t safe. Yet here you are ready to forgo the warnings so you can traipse around town.”

“For the record, I never traipse. And please spare me the lecture. I have two patients I must see as soon as possible, others depending on me for treatments due today, and some I’d like to check on to see how they made it through the storm.” She turned toward the hallway leading to Justin’s bedroom.

“He’s not here,” Ian said. “Mandatory overtime because of the weather.” Which gave Ian the perfect opportunity to play hero. “Give me a minute to get changed, and I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”

“I don’t need you to—”

“Yes you do, sweetheart.”

Luckily, Jaci’s cellphone rang because she looked to be gearing up for one major league verbal smack down. She checked the number and answered. “Hi, Mrs. Lewis. Yes. Don’t worry. I said I’d be there and I will.” She listened. “If I have to walk a little that’s no problem. Uh huh. See you soon.”

She ended the call and looked up at Ian. “What are you waiting for? I need to get on the road. Meet me in the parking lot.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ian hurried to his room, for the first time in months meeting a new day with a sense of eager anticipation.