A Night of Southern Comfort (14 page)

Not yet. He’d draw out the anticipation a little longer.

Two steps from the doorway had him inside her bathroom. He stripped off his clothes and stepped into a hot shower. The water sluiced down his body, rinsing away the fatigue and ugliness of the day. As his muscles relaxed, the tight curl of arousal in his belly sharpened. Jackson reached down and stroked his hardening length with a soap-slicked hand, a groan escaping from his lips and echoing against the tile. His thoughts drifted to Kayla, her warmth, her raw, unashamed response in bed. She might look like the Ice Queen, but he’d burned under her liquid fire.

Turning off the water, Jack stepped out of the shower, the chill of the air-conditioned room raising goose bumps on his flesh. Toweling off, he walked back into the bedroom, stopping at the bed to enjoy the silky length of her naked back exposed by the disheveled sheet.

“I told you to wake me when you came home.” Her voice was soft and sleepy as it drifted up from the rumpled bed.

Joy—an unfamiliar emotion—welled up in his chest as he grew harder, his erection straining upward toward his belly. Being with Kayla, laughing with her, was like taking the little blue pill.

He tossed the towel onto the floor, then lifted the covers on the bed and slid toward Kayla. Spooning up behind her, he slipped one arm underneath her and pulled her close. He lifted the hair from her neck and pressed moist, fervent kisses along her nape, the silky baby tendrils tickling his nose as he inhaled her fresh vanilla scent.

Kayla squirmed beneath him, pushing her tight, luscious ass against his cock. Water dripped from his hair onto her and he chased the rivulets with his tongue, tasting the warmth of her skin.

“You’re getting me wet.” Her voice broke somewhere between a giggle and a moan.

“That’s how I like you.” Jack wedged his leg in between hers, opening her up to his hand. He traced a path down her belly to the slick wetness in the folds of her sex and circled her clit. Her sighs made him ache with want. “Baby, you make me crazy. I love how you get so hot for me.”

Kayla rocked back against him, the rhythm capturing his cock between her thighs as he rubbed his fingers against her folds. Her head lolled back onto his shoulder, exposing the column of her throat to his mouth. He traveled lower, arching over her to suck a nipple into his mouth. She tasted ripe and sweet, and he caressed the swelling tip with his tongue and teeth. Her arousal between her thighs coated his erection, making his vision swim with unadulterated pleasure.

“Jackson, please. I need you.”

She needed him? He couldn’t imagine taking his next breath without being inside her. The ache in his cock rendered him incapable of even his usual dirty talk.

Mirroring her words, she took his cock in her small hand and placed the head inside her, rocking her body to pull him deeper.

He collected enough brain cells in one spot to form one thought. “Wait. We need to—We can’t.”

“I’m safe. On the pill.” She reached back and drew him into a heated kiss, tongues tangling, moans trapped between swollen lips. “Please, Jackson.”

“Are you sure?” Not a good time to have this discussion, with the head of his penis already surrounded by her wet heat. But he was clean, he trusted her, and he wanted this.

Her answer was her body enveloping him with liquid fire as she ground down on his shaft. They both gasped, his breath stalling in his chest. She lifted, her folds dragging against his cock forcing a growl out of his chest.

On autopilot, he pressed into her over and over again. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Her silky hair caressed his cheek as her body flexed against his, urging him to take her with him when he found paradise. Determined to feel her come apart all over him, he sought out her clit, his fingers quickly becoming slick with her arousal.

“You’re so wet.” Desire loosened his tongue. “I can feel me slide in and out of you and it’s so hot. I need you to come, I want to feel it. Please, baby.”

Kayla whimpered, the hard rhythm of her pants signaling her imminent release. She ground against him, taking her pleasure and giving it back to him tenfold. She arched one last time and the muscles of her sex clenched around him, dragging his orgasm from him in almost painful waves.

They lay tangled in the darkness, breaths heavy and loud in the pre-dawn silence. He gasped, pulling air into his lungs to speak before he drowned in what he had to say.

“I want to try. I want you to come to me in DC.”

She stiffened in his arms. A soft “oh” escaped from her lips.

“I’ll get a place. Somewhere in Old Town, near the river.”

Moments ticked by, each second making him wonder if she’d changed her mind. Maybe she’d figured out how stupid it was to tie herself to a guy who was an emotional dead end. If she were smart, she’d tell him to forget it.

But she didn’t. Kayla snuggled against him, drew his arms around her, and murmured, “That sounds nice.” Then she drifted off to sleep.

Jack lay there, listening to her even breaths as the sun rose outside the window. Lucky was right—he needed someone waiting for him outside of the job. Now he knew who she was.

Chapter Twelve

If she were any happier, she’d have a bevy of animated forest creatures following her around the office.

Michaela reviewed a file and laughed at the image of deer in the waiting room, birds on her shoulders, and her office staff breaking into song. She could blame it on the lack of sleep, but it would be a lie. She was giggle-by-the-lockers-when-the-boy-who-asked-you-to-prom-passes-by euphoric and that wiped out all fatigue from the events of the past twenty-four hours.

When she’d awakened, Jackson was sleeping soundly in her bed. His tousled, dark hair lay in stark contrast to the white of the pillowcase, his stubbled jaw softened by sleep. Sheets tangling around his body had gifted her with a mouthwatering view of his bare ass. He was delicious and it had taken every ounce of her strength to leave him there with a soft kiss against his hair and a note by the coffeemaker.

He’d sent her a text a couple of hours later, letting her know that he was going back to the station and asking her to meet him for lunch at the Comfort. She smiled, her cheeks aching with happiness.

Jackson had made no promises. She hadn’t asked for them. But he’d spoken words that left the door open for the possibility of a future. She’d accepted it for what it was—a chance for happily-ever-after.

Her daydreams were interrupted by an unholy racket in her hallway. The raised voice of her office manager, Vergie, sounded loud and clear. “Sir, you can’t go back there! I’m going to call the police—”

Vergie’s usually sweet Southern twang was turning ugly. Michaela jumped up. When she cleared the doorway, she stopped dead in her tracks, her feet frozen in place.

“Don’t you give me that look!” Vergie’s large bosom heaved with the indignation usually reserved for arguments over parking spaces at the Piggly Wiggly. She pointed her finger at the face of the intruder. “You might have been the governor but you can’t just barge in wherever you please. Just exactly who do you think you are?”

“He’s my father.” Michaela didn’t bother to temper the derision coating the last word like honey. The aftertaste it left in her mouth wasn’t so sweet.

Several faces, patients, staff, and finally the governor, swiveled to look at her. Their expressions ranged from shocked to nosy to mesmerized.

Her father looked like he smelled something really nasty.

So did she. She smelled a rat. Nothing good ever happened in her life when he was around.

She motioned him into her office. The dread he always brought with him seeped into her bones and drove away the post-Jackson warmth.

Michaela broke the tense silence. “You didn’t come all this way for a social call, so why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

“There’s no need to be rude, Michaela.” The governor toyed with the gold cufflink on his right wrist. He didn’t need to adjust it. His cold blue stare told her that he was furious. She couldn’t
wait
to hear what she done to disappoint him this time.

“Your office is…adequate for your limited ambition.”

“I don’t remember asking your opinion of my place of business.” Realizing she was rising to the bait, she reined in her temper before continuing. “I have a full day of patients waiting, so if you could get on with it, I’d appreciate it.”

“Fine. I was hoping you could pass on this letter to Detective Cantrell.”

Michaela stared at the long, white envelope he withdrew from his jacket pocket. He held it out to her.

She lifted her hand in automatic response, but held back at the last moment.

Too late. The governor’s mouth twitched at her obvious effort.

“I don’t understand.” She kept her voice even.

“Michaela, let’s not play games.” His hand remained outstretched as he walked two steps closer. “If you think for a minute that I didn’t have someone watching you, then you’ve been deluding yourself. I know all about you and Detective Cantrell playing house and I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“You aren’t?” If he could play it cool, so could she.

“No. You always gravitate toward the ones with lots of brawn and little else.” His lip curled in distaste. “My only consolation is that when you marry one of them and spend your life having his brats, your mother’s money will keep you out of a trailer park. As long as he doesn’t drink it away.”

He was like a broken record—so arrogant and condescending it made her teeth grind together. But he was on her turf and she damn well didn’t have to listen to it.

“You need to leave. If you have something to give to Jackson, you can do it yourself.”

The governor actually smiled, if that’s what she could call his baring of teeth. The hair on the back of her neck bristled. His face was smug, his tone icy, and she braced herself for impact.

“I’d think you’d want to give him his reinstatement papers for the FBI. Since you two are so close.”

Michaela took a step back. She didn’t want to hear this. “Why would you have his papers?”

“Because that’s what I promised him when he took the job.”

“What job?” Strangled tension made her voice quaver.

“The job of watching over you, of course.” His tone was light and easy.

Once again she was reminded of how much she’d missed by not having a normal father.

“He also caught your stalker before he caused any embarrassment for me. Detective Cantrell did much better than I gave him credit for, actually.”

Michaela swayed as the blood drained from her face, leaving her chilled and stiff.

She understood the words. She’d heard them before, not the exact same verbiage but the theme was identical.
No one wants you except for what they can get from your father.
How many times was she going to relive this mistake before she either gave up or finally got it right?

She’d believed Jackson. Pain, sharp and clear, flashed across her temples. She’d been a fool—again.

Gritting her teeth, she snatched the letter and rushed out of the office. The roar of blood in her ears caused her to stumble. Fueled by panic, fear, and anger, she marched past the front desk and her waiting room full of patients, ignoring the concerned questions of Vergie and Theresa.

She needed to hear the truth from Jackson. The governor was a liar. Until she heard it from him, she wouldn’t believe it.

She couldn’t be wrong about Jackson.

…

“Even a blind squirrel gets a nut some of the time,” Lucky said.

Sliding into the booth at the Southern Comfort, Jack chuckled as he scanned the sidewalk outside the big picture window for Kayla. From his vantage point he had a clear line of sight to the front of her office.

He’d missed her.

Missed her when he had awakened in that empty bed with her scent on the sheets, on his skin, and in his blood. Missed her while he and Lucky had examined all of the physical evidence confiscated from Terrell’s car and apartment—photographs, daily logs of her activities, papers, and other items from her garbage. Seeing how close Terrell had gotten to her made Jack itch to have her with him so he knew she was safe.

In his gut, he still didn’t believe that Terrell pulled this off on his own.

“Lucky, I hear you but Terrell is dumber than dirt and I just can’t picture him thinking up something as elaborate as blackmail. He’s a car thief, small-time B&E. Hell, he was even a lousy drug dealer because he smoked all of his inventory.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucky drummed his hands on the table in an anxious tattoo. “But the judge looked at all the evidence and it all pointed to him. Open and shut.”

Terrell’s arraignment had gone off without a hitch. He was looking to spend a long time in jail for the parole violations alone. Judge Meacham was a patient man but he’d seen Terrell drift in and out of his courtroom so often he’d refused the public defender’s request for bail. And still, all Terrell had done was ask for Crystal.

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Terrell’s entire focus had rested on getting his sister to come see him at the jail. So far, Crystal had been a no-show. With each passing hour, Terrell became more and more agitated. Hopefully, when he reached his breaking point he’d finally tell them about the other folks involved in this crime.

Jack checked his watch and glanced out the window. Kayla was late. He’d give her a few minutes, then go to her office—just in case.

“She’ll be here.” Slouching in the booth, Lucky didn’t even bother to hide his smirk.

“I know.”

“So, did you work out your little dilemma?”

Jack shifted in the seat, sneaking another look at the window. Spying Kayla making her way across the street, he answered, hoping his sudden breathlessness didn’t show. “I took your advice. We’ll see how it works out.”

He stood to meet Kayla at the door. He wouldn’t admit it to Lucky, but the idea of having a future with Kayla gave him peace and a sense of belonging that was simultaneously unfamiliar and like coming home. “Thanks, man.”

“Remember to invite me to the wedding.” Lucky stood alongside him and clapped him on the back with a large hand, laughing at his own joke.

Kayla burst through the door, her expression anxious. Muscles tightening at the sight of her discomfort, Jack stepped toward her, only to stop when she finally focused on his face.

In a blink of an eye, her face went blank. Cold.

That wasn’t the look of a woman who was happy to see him. And it damn well wasn’t the expression of a woman in love.

“Kayla—”

“Jackson, I need you to tell me the truth.” She swallowed hard, as if the words were painful to get out of her throat. “Have you been working for my father?”

He froze. That was the one thing he hadn’t expected her to ask. It should have been the first. He’d gotten so wrapped up in thinking about a future, he’d forgotten the one thing that made it impossible.

“Shit,” Lucky said.

Kayla winced, and the slight change in her expression told him she’d deduced the truth from that one word. Her lips trembled with her effort to maintain the facade of control, her voice tight and loud in the sudden hush of the diner. “Tell me, Jackson. I need to hear it from you.”

“Kayla—” He inched forward, stopping when she mirrored his movement backward. Her rigid body language told him to step closer at his own peril. “I can explain.”

“Oh.”

Jackson flinched. The raw pain in her voice punched him in the gut like a fist. He fought down the bile rising in his throat.

“I don’t need your explanation.” She fumbled, reaching inside her white jacket with trembling hands, and pulled out a slightly battered piece of paper. She crushed it against his chest. He rocked back until the edge of the booth pressed against his back.

“The governor told me all about your deal.”

“Kayla, baby. I’m sorry.” He lifted his hands to grasp hers.

“You son of a bitch!” She choked out a sob and her hand connected with his cheek.

Jack had been hit by people much larger than Kayla, but he felt the sting of that slap down to his marrow. He deserved it. He deserved the pain and so much more. He’d take it all if it made her feel better. So he stood there, and let her pummel his chest as she railed against what he’d done to her. To them.

The formerly bustling diner had gone silent, folks stunned by the display. Kayla’s litany of curses ricocheted off the sunny yellow walls and linoleum floors until everyone heard the truth. He was a liar. He was a bastard. She hated him.

Finally, Lucky surged forward and clasped her shoulders as he pulled her off. She stilled at his touch, her bowed face shielded by the curtain of silky hair freed from her chignon. The combination of Lucky’s calming words in her ear and her deep, shuddering breaths seemed to steady her. After several long, silent minutes, she lifted her head. Dull gray eyes peered up from her pale but stoic face.

He offered the most inadequate apology. “Kayla. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why?”

“I—” He swallowed hard. No brilliant explanations came to mind. He was no better than the guys he’d read about in her file. Except he’d truly wanted to keep her safe. That
had
to mean something. “I’m not like the other guys… I wanted to protect you.”

A brittle laugh spilled out of her mouth as she shrugged off Lucky’s hands. With a hand that betrayed only a slight tremor, she smoothed her hair, her dress—each gesture erasing the dishevelment and the emotion from her appearance. Little by little, the Ice Queen took over.

“You’re right, Jackson. You’re nothing like the other guys.” The last piece of her mask fell into place. “They never made me fall in love with them.”

Shamed, Jack stood riveted to his spot, unable to move.

She made her way to the door of the diner. Lucky followed at her side as the crowd returned to their tables, hushed voices undoubtedly discussing how to spread the word up and down Main Street. By nightfall, the whole town would know he’d used her poorly.

And for once, the gossip about him would be true.