Falling for Her (28 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

S
everal doctors had appeared and kicked him out of the room for a while, and he’d lost track of how many hours had passed since they’d allowed him back in. Enough time to debrief the boss, give a statement to the FBI, and more time to think than a man on the brink of losing it should be granted.

She was so pale and still. If only she’d move, even if just a finger. He picked up her hand, cold to the touch, and rubbed both his palms over her skin in an attempt to warm her.

What if she just slept on forever like Sleeping Beauty? Never knowing he was with her, never hearing him tell her he loved her? He leaned his mouth to her ear. “Sugar, sweetheart, wake up.”

Still nothing.

“I love you, Sugar Darling. I don’t care if you’re the worst driver in the world, or if you butcher your metaphors, I still love you.” He kissed her icy lips. “Wake up, damn it.” When there was no response, he buried his face against her neck and inhaled her scent deep into his lungs.

“Don’t . . . don’t curse.”

At first, he didn’t know who’d spoken. The voice was too raspy to recognize as Sugar’s. He jerked his gaze to her face, and blue eyes stared unblinkingly back at him.

“Sugar! Christ, you scared the life out of me.”

Her beautiful lips curved upward. “Hi.”

Profound relief—the likes of which he’d never felt before—morphed into laughter. When she stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, he shrugged. “If angels ever sang in heaven, they should be singing this minute.” So he was spouting nonsense now?

Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Why?”

“Why are angels singing? Because, sweetheart, I love you. Don’t you think that’s something they should sing about?”

“You do?”

“Do I think angels should sing?” An irritated look sparkled in her eyes, and he wanted to sink to his knees and thank God for it. She was alive—awake and ready to take him on—and he fought against, then failed to stop the tears rolling down his face.

“Yeah, I do. Love you, that is. God, Sugar, you scared me. That’s twice now, and I’m begging you, please, never again.”

She frowned as she surveyed the room, her gaze stopping on the monitor. “Why am I in the hospital?”

“You don’t remember?”

Ecstatic to be out of the hospital and home with Jamie, Sugar curled up next to him. The only thing marring her happiness was the blank space in her mind. Whenever she asked about that night, Jamie would change the subject.

“When you’re ready, I’ll tell you,” was all he’d say.

The only reason she’d not insisted on hearing the details was because she couldn’t honestly say, even to herself, that she was ready. Something at the back of her mind nagged at her, and deep in her soul, she knew whatever it was, it would hurt. Unable to put her finger on what was troubling her, she kept her thoughts to herself.

Junior jumped onto Jamie’s lap and sat, staring at the man with unblinking green eyes. “Meep.”

Sugar stifled a giggle. Her cat had learned he was an easy mark. “He’s going to end up fat,” she said when Jamie pulled a few treats out of his shirt pocket.

“Fat and happy,” Jamie replied, unrepentant. “Watch this.” He held one of the treats high, just out of reach of Junior’s nose. “You want it, say meow.”

“Eooul.”

“Not quite there, my boy, but close enough for now.” Jamie held out his hand with the treat resting on his palm, and her damn cat took it with a daintiness he’d never shown her when giving him something.

“Son of a bitch,” she grumbled. “He bites my fingers if I do that.”

The man she loved—heart, body, and soul—laid his head back on the couch and laughed so hard that all she could do was stare at him in wonder. That was the Jamie she’d seen pictures of in the newsprints she’d pored over. The always-happy boy—the one with a grin on his face who seemed ready to take on the world—had finally come home.

He was whole again, and before she could say the same, she’d have to face whatever it was he was keeping from her. It would be so easy to let it go and pretend there was nothing left to hurt her, but she was Sugar and Sugar was brave. She’d had to be to survive the attentions of Rodney. It was time to learn the truth.

Once his laughter faded, she took Jamie’s hand. “I’m ready to know everything.”

His eyes searched hers, and as if understanding it was time, he nodded. “Get dressed. Let’s take my boat out.”

“Are you warm enough?” Jamie glanced at Sugar, bundled up against the early-November chill. The gulf was calm, allowing the Sea Ray to cut smoothly through the water.

She grinned, lifting her face to the afternoon sun. “I’m as snug as a slug in a rug.”

“Bug. It’s a bug in a rug.” Her eyes, the first thing about her he’d noticed, danced with mischief, and it finally dawned on him that she’d always intentionally misquoted her little sayings.

“What?” she asked when he laughed.

“Just thinking I should’ve caught on to you sooner. My bad.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against him, where she belonged.

A week had passed since she’d been released from the hospital and he’d brought her back home to Pensacola. Seven days of avoiding her questions, insisting she needed to heal before she dealt with anything but getting better. Her headaches had ceased three days ago, along with the frequent naps.

Although knowing she was right and it was time to tell her, he was concerned with how she’d take the news. Wanting a peaceful place where they wouldn’t be interrupted, he was taking her back to the spot he’d tried to teach her to swim.

After he dropped anchor, he went below and poured her a glass of wine. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked once they were settled on the rear bench seat, Sugar sitting between his legs and leaning back against his chest. She took a sip of her wine, then reached for his hand and pulled it around her waist as if she needed his touch. Jamie spread his fingers over her side, wishing it were a warmer day so she didn’t need the sweatshirt and fleece-lined jacket. He wanted to feel her skin to skin.

She lifted her face and peered up at him. “I remember ringing Rodney’s doorbell, then nothing.”

That was good and not good. The beating Vanders had given her wouldn’t plague her dreams. He was sorry though that she didn’t remember her father had finally done the right thing by her. Although Jamie considered her father a coward for not facing his punishment like a man, he would never tell her that. Minimizing her treatment at the hands of Vanders, he told her of the events leading up to her father standing up for her. He dreaded telling her the end result.

When he finished, she was so still and quiet, he leaned forward and peered down at her, wondering if she’d fallen asleep. For the first few days after her head injury, she’d be awake one minute, then dead to the world the next with no warning. Her eyes were open though, her gaze fixed on the horizon. He took the empty wineglass from her, setting it on the floor of the boat.

“Are they in jail then?” she finally asked.

Jamie kissed the top of her head, wrapped both arms around her, and held her tight. “No, baby. They’re both dead. In the end, your father came through for you. He saved you, sweetheart, and that’s what matters.”

He held her while she cried.

When her tears dried, she turned and plastered herself over him as if needing the shelter of his body. Her mouth found his, a hunger seeming to rage through her. He’d never been kissed so desperately before. Jamie understood. The day he’d killed his parents, he’d felt the same but there had been no one there to hold him, no one to share his grief. He was there for her though, always would be.

“Hold on,” he said, and stood with her in his arms, carrying her below to the cabin. A profound sense of peace he hadn’t felt in far too many years settled over him as she nestled her face against his neck. After easing her down to the bunk, he closed the door to keep the chill out, then reached up to the control panel and flipped on the heat.

Light coming in from the overhead hatch shone down on her, making her seem radiant, as if she glowed just for him. He set a knee on the bed beside her and placed his hands on either side of her head, capturing her gaze.

“I don’t care what your name is. Sugar Darling, Hannah Conley, Janie Turner, doesn’t matter. Whoever you choose to be, know this. I love you. You’re not what I thought I wanted, but I was wrong. You’re everything I need, all I’ll ever want, and the only woman I will ever love.” Blue eyes darkened to violet, his new favorite color.

“Show me, Jamie. Show me how much you love me.”

“That I can do, sweetheart.” Although he wanted to free the man he’d buried so deeply and rip off her clothes so he could make wild, dirty love to her, he knew how much she was hurting. She needed soft and tender, needed him to check his urges and just be there for her.

It was all right. He was no longer afraid of that man, but he could wait just a little longer to return. There was no doubt in his mind Sugar could take on that part of him without a blink of those beautiful eyes.

Heart surging with joy, Jamie unzipped her jacket and pulled her up so he could slip it off. Slowly peeling away each layer of her clothing—torture at its best—he finally had her naked. His eyes raked her body, and if asked what was his favorite part of her, he’d be at a loss to answer. No, he did know. All of her. Every lovely, exquisite inch of her.

He flattened his palm over her stomach and spread his fingers where someday his child would begin its life. What he’d long dreamed of was finally coming true. If the woman who would be his wife was as different from his mother as humanly possible, it no longer mattered. Somehow he knew his parents would have loved her.

“If you’re just going to spend the night looking at me, then take off your clothes so I have something to stare at.”

A wide grin split his face at the irritation glittering in her eyes, something not too many days ago he’d feared never seeing again. “Yes ma’am.”

With her gaze following him in obvious interest, he decided to give her a show, and with teasing slowness, he stripped off jacket, shirt, shoes, and socks. Down to his jeans, he stepped next to the bunk and raised a brow.

His woman, being the smart lady she was, gave him a sultry smile and sat up, wiggling into place in front of him. Staying with his game of going slow, she inched the tip of one finger down the arrow of hair pointing to his groin. She paused, a hair’s breadth from the button on his jeans. His cock jerked, demanding freedom from its confines.

“Not yet, big boy,” she said, her gaze locked on the movement in his pants. She stroked his stomach, her fingers dancing over his skin. The sweet, familiar scent of her made his mouth water, and his breathing increased its pace. Desire sent a burning need through his blood when she tongued his navel.

“I warned you once about playing with fire, sweetheart.”

Sugar lifted her face, grinning up at him. God, she loved the man. “Your growling doesn’t scare me. You’re my very own saint, and you love me. You said so yourself.”

“So I did. Now take off my blasted pants.”

She’d watched in awe the day he had—without any visible effort—planted a jack-assed jerk who’d dared to bother her facedown on the airport floor. He’d shown up at the Booby Palace and lifted Kyle off her as if the man weighed no more than a sack of potatoes, then dared him to bother her again. When she’d tried to run, he came for her and brought her back home, promising to protect her.