Asking For Trouble (43 page)

Home, she loved being able to say that about
the house she'd bought two weeks ago. Jess had been right, moving
in and setting up housekeeping had been a breeze, because she'd
bought it furnished. She and the kids had spent last weekend
decorating their rooms the way they wanted to. Lucy had chosen a
Parisian theme with pink, black and white, and Robbie picked
Spiderman with primary red and blue accents.

Chase was coming over for supper. She'd
called him earlier today and asked him to come over. Yeah, she
wanted to see her friend, but she also wanted to hit him up for a
contribution to the foundation. Katie Tucker had given her a huge
donation, but that was sitting in the bank drawing interest, and
there would never be enough money, so she needed to keep the
donations rolling to make sure the foundation was funded for a long
time.

She and Jess had called the band members and
they all agreed to meet in Dallas for a fundraiser concert. Glory
Shine and several other artists had agreed to perform too. Their
agent and manager were working out the details and setting up the
venue and advertising.

Jazzie had found a small office that was
affordable in Dallas, and she went there three days a week. The
other days, she had a part-time assistant, who manned the phones
and made calls for her. As she expected, the drive didn't bother
her at all. She'd bought a small car, her first new car ever, and
loved it. Who'd have thought she'd own a convertible? It was a four
door model, so she could carry the kids around, but it was still
sporty...and red. She felt sexy and dangerous when she drove it.
Now, she knew why Carlos loved his Ferrari.

She'd talked to Susan the other day and
found out that Frankie and Carlos had indeed taken the vacation she
suggested, although she had forbidden them to tell anyone where
they were going. The trial was going to start in a couple of weeks
and she wanted to make sure they stayed safe.

Jazzie hadn't been able to stop herself from
asking if Susan had heard from Beau, and she said she hadn't.
Jazzie had been so busy with the kids, she hadn't had time to think
about him...except at night...when she cried out a little more of
her grief each night. Her heart was heavy and sore, and she
wondered just how long it was going to take her to get over him, if
she ever managed it completely.

With a sigh, Jazzie unlocked the door and
punched the keypad to disable the alarm, then walked in and went to
the kitchen. She'd better get a move on, or they'd be eating peanut
butter and jelly for dinner, she thought glancing at the clock on
the wall.

"Thanks, Robbie...why don't you go out in
the yard and play, while I cook?" Jazzie suggested, then the phone
on the wall pealed and she ran over to answer it.

"Hello?" she said brightly.

"Ms. Ramos?" the caller asked.

"Yes, this is Jazzie Ramos..." she replied
not recognizing the voice.

"This is Billy Sims mother, and I was
wondering if Robbie could come to our house for a sleepover...I'm
sorry for the short notice, but it's kind of an impromptu thing,
we're going to have a campout in the backyard for the kids."

"Oh! I bet Robbie would love that, just a
second," she said and covered the phone. Robbie was standing by the
backdoor about to go outside.

"Robbie, Billy Sims wants to know if you
want to come over tonight for a campout, what do you think?"

His squeal was so high-pitched, Jazzie
flinched, because she couldn't cover her ears with the phone in her
hands. "I guess that's a yes?" she asked with a chuckle.

"Yes!" he said and danced around the kitchen
with his arms out like an airplane.

Jazzie uncovered the phone and said, "Yeah,
he's pretty excited. Thanks for inviting him."

"Thank you for letting him come...I'll come
pick him up. You're over on Pickett Road, right?"

"Yeah, look for the mailbox that looks like
a fiddle," Jazzie told her with a laugh.

"I'm sure I won't miss that!" the woman said
and hung up.

It looked like it was just going to be her
and Chase tonight. "Go upstairs and pack a change of clothes in
your backpack, Mrs. Sims is on her way to pick you up," she told
him and he nodded then took off running.

"Don't run in the house!" she yelled after
him, and he slowed down for a few steps, but she saw him pick up
his speed again once he hit the stairs.

Jazzie kissed Robbie goodbye, and waved at
him from the porch, as Mrs. Sims drove down away their long
driveway. Why tears filled her eyes, she had no idea, but they did.
She was an emotional mess, because the kids were not home...and
because she was alone now.

When they were there to keep her running,
she was okay...now, not so much. She closed the door and slid down
it and let the tears fall. Jazzie knew she needed to pull herself
together, because Chase would be here in less than an hour, and she
didn't want to greet him a blubbering mess, but she needed to let
off some of the emotion that had been choking her all day. Damn,
Beau Bowman for making her love him.

Fifteen minutes later, when she smelled
something burning in the kitchen, she remembered the brownies she'd
put into the oven for dessert, and pushed up to her feet and ran
for the oven. Grabbing an oven mitt from the counter, Jazzie flung
open the oven door and smoke poured out. Without thinking, she
grabbed the pan with her unprotected hand and yelped, then switched
hands and pulled the pan out then threw it on the stove. She ran
over to the sink and ran cold water over the burn on her fingers,
and fresh tears started down her cheeks.

Thank god, her supper was about done. She'd
taken the steaks out, before she'd put in the brownies. They were
warming on the stove, and the twice baked potatoes were in the
lower oven on low. She'd toasted some crusty French bread she'd
picked up at the bakery, and steamed some asparagus to go with the
steaks. A bottle of red wine was open on the counter breathing.

Jazzie shook her hand and dried it on a
dishtowel, then reached up in the cabinet to pull down two plates,
and the other things she needed to set the table. She found a
candlestick and put it in the center of the table, then lit it, and
got the wine and filled both wine glasses. Rushing back to the
kitchen, she loaded the food on platters and covered them, then put
them on the table, right when the doorbell rang. With one last
glance at the pretty table she'd set, she hurried to the front door
and opened it with a bright smile on her face.

That smile fled, when her brain registered
that it wasn't Chase standing on her doorstep. Her brain reminded
her this visitor was unwelcome, but her eyes drank him in like the
sweetest thing she'd seen in weeks. The tight black t-shirt over
his solidly muscled chest, the form-fitting Wranglers, and well
worn black boots made her mouth water, but none of it compensated
for how haggard he looked. Beau looked like he hadn't slept or
eaten in weeks. His complexion was a weird grayish color, his jaw
was tight, and there were lines around his mouth, as if he were in
pain of some sort.

"Expecting someone else?" Beau asked
sharply, glancing over her shoulder to the dining room. Without
invitation, he shoved past her and walked in, then went and stood
at the dining room door. "Who were you expecting, Jazzie," he
demanded in a choked voice.

"Company...what are you doing here, Beau?"
she asked with irritation. "I told you I didn't want to see you
again." The words came out of her mouth, but Jazzie had to admit
she was damned glad to see him, even though she wasn't going to
tell him that.

"Answer me, dammit!" he grated then spun to
face her, and grabbed her shoulders. His fingers dug painfully into
her bare skin, and his heat branded her. Jazzie wished she'd have
worn long sleeves, instead of the strapless dress she had on. His
eyes glittered, while they raked her body, leaving a scorching
trail everywhere they touched.

"Who are you having dinner with Jazzie?"
Beau asked with a note of desperation in his tone.

"Chase," she said softly, and his face
turned so red it was almost purple, and she could have sworn there
were tears in his glistening eyes.

His jaw worked a few times, before he said
through clenched teeth, "Call him and tell him not to come."

Jazzie shook her head and told him, "I
can't...I'm not going to do that, Beau....you need to leave."
Jazzie needed to get him the hell out of her house, before she did
something stupid, like throw herself into his arms and beg him not
to leave her.

A guttural sound, resembling that of a
wounded animal escaped from him, then speaking as if the words were
dragged from the depths of his soul, he grabbed her shoulders and
said, "Goddammit, Jazzie--
I love you
--please don't do this
to me!"

Beau turned her toward the wall of the
foyer, and pushed her up against it, then slammed his mouth over
hers in a kiss filled with desperation and need. The tears she'd
managed to corral earlier seeped from the corners of her eyes and
tracked down her cheeks. Of their own free will, her hands slid up
his chest and she hooked her arms around his neck.

Jazzie didn't want to, but she responded as
if he were the last drop of water in the desert and she was dying
of thirst. She pressed herself against him, reveling in the
delicious feel of his body against her, a feeling she remembered
well, and one she'd thought about every night they'd been
apart.

Beau was breathing hard when he dragged his
mouth from hers and said in a fierce whisper staring at her lips
like he wanted to devour her. "I've missed you so fucking much," he
growled, then put his lips over hers again hungrily.

Jazzie's brain was so fogged with passion,
and rampant emotions, she didn't even hear the doorbell the first
time it rang, but two sharp rings later, she pulled back from Beau,
breathing hard herself, and put her hand over her ravaged mouth.
She stood there trembling and stared at him, until the buzzer
sounded again, then a fist pounded on the door.

"Tell him to go home, please," Beau begged
in a pained whisper, and this time she was sure his eyes were
filled with moisture. "We need to talk," he told her and sucked in
a shuddering breath, then stepped back from her.

Jazzie walked to the door, and opened it,
then stepped out onto the porch, closing it behind her. Beau wanted
to rip that door off its hinges and tell Chase Rhodes to leave, but
he knew Jazzie would have a problem with that, and he also knew
he'd likely punch the bastard's lights out, and get himself thrown
in jail. If she didn't come back in soon though, without Chase
Rhodes tagging behind her, things could get ugly. Beau's fists were
clenched so tightly at his sides, his nails dug into his palms.

Five more minutes passed and Beau's
imagination went into overdrive conjuring all kinds of mental
images of what they were doing out there on that porch. He was just
gearing up to go out there and end this once an for all, when the
front door opened, and Jazzie finally came back inside, looking sad
and upset. "What took so fucking long? Were you sucking face with
him again?" Beau grated angrily, and watched as she pushed a
combination into a keypad by the door.

Nausea rolled inside of him, because the
thought of her with Chase Rhodes made him sick at his stomach.
Flashes of Jazzie kissing Rhodes at the lake, while they were out
on the boat slammed into his mind, and he heaved, then slapped a
hand over his mouth and ran down the hall. Fumbling around, he
checked several doors, until he found the bathroom, then went
inside and dry heaved several times. There wasn't anything to come
up he knew, because he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday. Beau
took three deep gulping breaths, then managed to compose himself
and stand upright, then he staggered to the sink to splash water on
his face.

Jazzie opened the door of the bathroom and
stepped inside. With her brows pinched, she asked with concern,
"Are you okay?"

Weakly, Beau leaned on the sink and told
her, "No, I'm not, okay..." then sucked in another breath, before
continuing, "I'm sick, Jazzie...I don't know what's wrong with me,
but I haven't been right since I went back to Lubbock. I almost got
suspended today, I fucked up at work, and almost got myself and my
partner killed."

A strangled wail tripped from her lips, and
Jazzie ran over to him and threw her arms around his waist. "Oh,
god, Beau..."

Beau swallowed down the emotion choking him,
and admitted, "I can't live without you, sugar...I've been a
miserable sonofabitch."

"I've been miserable too," she mumbled
against his chest, then looked into his eyes and said, "I love you,
Beau...but that doesn't mean things can work between us."

Beau moaned and closed his arms around her
then rocked her gently. "We'll make it work, baby," he said in a
raspy tone, as joy and relief poured through him. His eyes drifted
to the table with the wine and candles, and jealousy gripped him so
hard it almost brought him to his knees. Rhodes had been coming
over here for a reason tonight, and from the looks of that table
setting, it wasn't just for dinner.

Jazzie had set that table, and cooked him
dinner, so obviously she was on board with whatever he had planned
for desert. Beau braced himself as another wave of nausea hit him,
and closed his eyes. "Tell me you haven't been with Rhodes, sugar,"
he begged unsteadily, then nuzzled his face in her hair, breathing
in her scent.