Deadly Game (46 page)

He nodded. He’d have to find a way to curb his jealousy fast. She wasn’t a woman to put up with it. There was no way to miss the clenched fist. “Most women would have trouble with the solitude up here. In the winter, the road is impassable without snowmobiles. There aren’t any phones. We have a radio of course, but not too many women want to be so isolated.”

Her gaze flicked to his face. “Do I seem to you the kind of woman who has to be entertained all the time? I’m used to isolation.”

“Mari, I’ve never done this before. Never. I’ve never once brought a woman to this house or wanted a relationship with one. I may be making every mistake in the book here, but I’m trying to be honest, not judge you.”

“Never?”

“Never what?”

“You’ve never brought a woman here before?”

“This is my sanctuary, sweetheart. My home. I come here when the world closes in on me and I need to regroup. It’s calm and peaceful and feels like home. You belong here; no one else ever has.”

“I don’t really know what a home feels like.” She gestured toward the forest. “I look at that and I feel like it’s calling to me. I want to run free, Ken. Just run through the trees.” Her eyes met his. “Could I do that?”

He tried to still his pounding heart. He knew better than to try to hold a wild bird, but he wanted to grab her with both hands. “Of course. Tomorrow we’ll get you a pair of running shoes. You can go out anytime you like. I prefer mornings, but it’s beautiful all the time.”

She didn’t reply, just stood staring at the beckoning trees.

Ken held out his hand to her. She might not be fully committed to a relationship with him, but he was with her. She looked right and felt right in his sanctuary. More than anything else, for all his uneasiness over what to say and do, he felt happy, really happy, just with her being on his property. All he had to do was find a way to make her feel the same way.

Mari put her hand in his and reluctantly followed him to the solid door, trying not to show fear. “How do you keep this house warm when it’s snowing?”

“We use wood heat. We have very efficient fireplaces in the bedrooms, great room, and kitchen. We can close off each wing of the house so it’s private and separate, or open them and have one large home.”

“And Briony lives here year round?” She latched on to that. She wanted to see Briony—just once. One time. She had lived with memories and fantasies about her twin for so long, she wanted to see her.

“We wouldn’t leave her here alone if we were gone on a mission. Jack would never allow that.” The words slipped out before he could censor them.

Mari glanced at him sharply as she stepped across the threshold. “
Allow?
”

“When it comes to Briony, we’re very safety conscious. I imagine you will be as well. She’s carrying twins, and Whitney has made several tries to take her. His last try cost us part of the house and one outer building, but the son of a bitch didn’t get her.”

Mari looked around her. She could see a woman’s touch in the home, and her heart did a funny little somersault. Her sister. Briony was really alive and well and living right here, in this house. Her sister whom she hadn’t seen in years, but had thought of every single day.

There were thick quilts lying across the backs of well-made furniture, the kind of quilts Mari knew were made with love, by hand. Stained glass was cut above each of the windows, the work intricate and beautiful, colors swirling together to form fantasy pictures undoubtedly chosen, or made, by her sister.

Mari walked through the empty rooms, hearing the echo of laughter, feeling the bond of love woven into the very walls. By the time she reached Ken’s bedroom, tears burned in her eyes and clogged her throat. She couldn’t do this. Why had she thought she could? She wasn’t in the least bit feminine. She couldn’t decorate a house, or be any kind of a wife or partner. She didn’t know about anything but fighting a battle. She should have gone with her sisters—the ones she knew, the ones different in the way she was different. They’d never lived in a home and didn’t know the first thing about living in a relationship.

Briony lived here, and Briony knew exactly how to be a wife and mother. She obviously cared for both men, not just Jack. Mari would never be able to live up to her sister. And she was happy for Briony—she really was. She was just sad for herself and feeling like a complete fool to have thought she could be someone she wasn’t.

Ken’s heart nearly stopped when he walked into his bedroom. Mari stood in the middle of it, weeping. “What is it, honey? What’s wrong?”

She held out her arms as wide as she could. “Look at this place. I don’t know what to do with all of this room. My clothes fit in a locker at the end of my cot. I don’t know how to cook, or take care of a house, or even be in a relationship. What was I thinking?”

He swept her into his arms, holding her close. Her body trembled against his, and he cupped her head in the palm of his hand, pressing her face against his heart, sheltering her as best he could with his own body.

“Listen to me, honey. Neither of us has ever done this. We’re bound to panic, but it doesn’t matter. You hear me, Mari? It doesn’t matter. This is us. The two of us. What is normal for everyone else doesn’t matter. We’ll build our relationship brick by brick, and it will be so strong no one will ever tear it down. I’ll never walk away from you.
Never
. If there is one thing you can count it, it’s me standing by you. There aren’t mistakes here. We’ll just work it all out at our own pace.”

“But Briony made this place a home, not only for Jack, but for you. I can see that she did. She’s every bit as much your family as Jack is.”

“She lights up Jack’s world, Mari,” he said, trying to follow her train of thought. “Don’t you want me to care for her?”

“Of course I do. You should, but I can’t be like her. I have no idea what to do. I don’t even have clothes, Ken. I’m just here with absolutely nothing.”

He lifted her chin and brushed her soft mouth with his. She sounded so distressed that he felt distressed. “You don’t have to do or have anything. I want you, Mari, not clothes or a servant.”

“Shouldn’t I be putting flowers in a vase? Or pretending to cook dinner?” She looked totally alarmed. “I have no idea how to cook. I’ve never cooked.
Never.
This isn’t going to work, Ken.”

He realized she was totally panic-stricken. She was staring at the bookshelves and the cases of music. Ken kissed her again. “Do you think that matters? And you can’t put flowers in a vase if I haven’t gotten them for you, can you? Tomorrow we can go into town and get you enough clothes to fill the closet and dresser if that’s what you want. And I’ll buy flowers and a vase, and we’ll put the damn things in it together. None of it really matters to me.”

“Maybe not now, this minute, but sometime you’ll want me to know how to run a household.” She felt totally inadequate thinking about all the things she didn’t know how to do—but that her sister did. Her sister was a stranger to her, had lived in a loving family, not a military barracks.
Cami! I need you. Oh, God, what have I done?
Panic was new to her. She hadn’t panicked when she was captured. She hadn’t panicked when she was shot, but standing in a real home surrounded by everything unfamiliar to her . . .

“If you want to run it, you’ll figure it out; if not, well, it’s been just fine for years now.”

She clung to him, her confidence shaken. “I’ve never decided when to go to bed at night. Lights out at eleven, unless I’ve caused trouble, and then it’s nine or ten.”

“You can stay up all night, sweetheart.”

“I’ve never been allowed out of my room after nine.”

“If you feel like driving to California, we’ll hop in the car and go. Or if you just want to go into the kitchen and get a piece of fresh fruit, do it.”

“And sit outside on the front porch?” She clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Ken, but she couldn’t stay. This wasn’t her. It would never be her. She belonged with her sisters—the women who knew what life with Whitney was all about.

“All night, Mari. Briony likes the roof, although Jack gets a little bent now that she’s really showing. But if it’s the roof, I’m up there with you. It’s one of my favorite spots. And there are trees to climb and trails to hike. Have you ever ridden a bike?”

She shook her head, a fresh flood of tears filling her eyes. “Little children ride bikes and I can’t even do that. I’ve never been on a horse either.”

“We’ve got mountain bikes. I’ll teach you.”

“It’s frightening. I keep thinking about the others, my sisters out there right now, wondering how to make a decision like these. Whitney even maintained our diets for us. I detest taking vitamins.” She watched him closely for a reaction.

“I mix mine in the blender with a killer recipe of fruit and juice your sister told me about, but if you don’t want to take vitamins, then don’t. More than half the population of the world doesn’t. You have the right to make your own decisions on everything, honey.” Ken rested his chin on top of her head. “Unless it comes to personal safety; then my instincts are going to take over and I’m going to be calling the shots.”

“Or other men.” She had to find a way to cope. She had to or she was going to run as fast and as far as she could.

He nearly choked. “We’re not even going there. My heart can’t take it. Our relationship is exclusive to the two of us. Marriage. Husband and wife. Partnership. Team. I can deal with all of the above, but not another man.”

“So there are rules,” she persisted, her stomach settling as she deliberately provoked him.

“Well, sure. Even Jack and I have rules with living on the same property. It’s a matter of respect.”

“So no relationship has two men and one woman.”

“Not ours.” He was decisive.

“But there are some,” she persisted. “Because, you know, there might be some advantages . . .”

He held her at arm’s length, looking down at her upturned face. There was laughter in her dark eyes, the distress fading as she teased him. “That isn’t funny.” But it was impossible not to smile when she was smiling.

“You deserved it. You’re an idiot, you know that? Why do you keep thinking I want other men in my life? I don’t even like men. Well,” she corrected, “most men.”

“So you were teasing me just to get a rise out of me.”

“It was easy. You’re too easy.”

“That’s just wrong, Mari,” he said and bent to take possession of her mouth. She tasted of freedom, sweet and fresh like a summer rain. His arms locked her to him, and his mouth moved over hers, tugging at her lower lip, the one that was so full and sexy and drove him wild whenever he looked at her.

“I love looking at you.” He whispered it, but then switched to a much more intimate form of communication, his mind sliding against hers like the melding of one soul into the other.
And touching your skin. You’re so soft, baby, and warm.

She couldn’t respond, because he was taking her breath right into his lungs, bringing her body to life with just his mouth and teeth and tongue. He could create a whirlwind that swept her away from her life and into another one filled with love and passion and family. All with a kiss. Ken, with his scars and hidden demons, with his vulnerability and intense heat, was an exciting blend of gentle and rough. How could she ever think to want another man?

Her arms slipped around his neck, and she pressed her body into his, wanting to share his skin, to relieve the fierce tension that always was beneath the calm surface. He made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world, the only one he ever saw or wanted or needed. She returned his kisses, letting his mouth guide hers.

She’d had many sexual encounters—but none of them good until Ken had come into her life, and she had no idea how to really kiss or love someone. She knew the mechanics better than most, but not how to love a man—and she wanted to love this man with everything in her. It was the only thing she had to give him—before she said good-bye.

“What’s wrong?” Ken’s hands framed her face. “Tell me.”

She couldn’t meet his concerned gaze. He’d just been driving her wild with kisses, and she was thinking that she wanted to make this the best time of his life, and yet—for her it would be the worst, knowing she couldn’t stay.

He bent to kiss her again, this time gently, feather-light, a mere brush of his lips against hers. That little rasp of his scar mixing with the softness of his mouth sent wings fluttering in the pit of her stomach. He hadn’t meant it as a sexual overture, she could tell, but whatever his intentions, he’d sent a surge of heat spreading through her body.

“Mari.” He gave her a little shake. “We have to do this together. I don’t want you hiding from me.”

“That’s impossible when you seem to know what I’m thinking all the time.”

“You need to talk to me.”

Mari pulled out of his arms and crossed to the window. “How am I supposed to tell you I feel completely inadequate at this? Especially when you’re kissing the sense out of me.”

To her shock he burst out laughing as he followed her, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, drawing her back against him. His hands locked over her ribs, the backs of his hands brushing the undersides of her breasts. She was immediately aware of his erection, thick and hard pressed tightly against her buttocks.

“Then we’re both feeling inadequate. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, other than trying my best to seduce you into wanting to stay with me. I don’t know any other way. I want to be good at a relationship, but look how I live.” He nodded toward the window. “I’m a loner. I always have been. Maybe my life was shaped that way out of necessity. I react violently when things go wrong, and it was always better to be in control of my environment. In point of fact, I’m not good at relationships.” He kissed the side of her neck, his mouth lingering there. “But it’s nice to know I can kiss the sense out of you.”

“That’s not true at all, Ken,” she protested. “You’re really good at this.”

“I’m good at sex, Mari—or I used to be—but I’ve never had sex when it really mattered. Not like this. I never knew a man could feel this way about a woman. I can’t imagine ever touching anyone else—or wanting them to touch me. But I’m
not
any better at relationships than you are. We’ll find our way together, even if we’re fumbling around in the dark for a while.”