Harbor Nights (22 page)

She moved to the side of the driveway and kept an eye on Zsa Zsa, who started to bark wildly. She bent down and picked up the dog. The man getting out of the truck was unsteady on his feet, and he didn't appear to be in any condition to be driving.

“Well, ain't you a fancy one.” The man's words were loud and slurred.

She backed up a step, realized she was moving farther away from the house, and quickly stepped to her right. Zsa Zsa continued barking and struggling in her arms. “If you came to see Karl, he's in the house.”

“I don't want James; I want my wife and boy back.” The man swayed on his feet for a moment and then took a faltering step toward her. “He stole them!”

She took another step to her right and almost tripped over the root of a tree. Where in the world was Karl? Couldn't he hear this man? “Karl didn't steal anyone's wife or son.” The man was not only drunk but also delusional.

The man's frown turned into a snarl. “Maybe I'll just take you and make you disappear like he made my Marla.”

She could feel her heart thudding against her breasts. Her palms were sweaty, and Zsa Zsa was trembling like a leaf. Or maybe that was her shaking so badly. “I don't know what you are talking about.” She doubted the man knew what he was talking about.

“DePaul”—Karl's voice was sharp and direct—“you looking for me?”

She closed her eyes and gave thanks that Karl was stepping off the porch and heading their way.

“I'm not looking for you, James.” DePaul took another step closer to her. “I'm looking for my wife and kid. You remember them, don't you?”

“They aren't here.” Karl took a couple of cautious steps toward them.

She couldn't read the expression on Karl's face because there wasn't any. Karl looked so calm and cool, almost as if they were discussing the beautiful weather they were having this fine afternoon. Only his voice was different. This was a Karl she hadn't met before. This was a Karl who was coming to her rescue and who would keep her safe. This was the FBI agent of twenty-five years.

She wanted to throw herself into Karl's arms. Only problem was, DePaul was standing between them.

“I know they aren't here!” screamed DePaul.

“John, you have to calm down.” Karl kept his gaze on DePaul and barely gave her a glance.

“Who says?” DePaul staggered but managed to keep on his own two feet.

“It will be for your own good, John.”

“Who in the hell are you to tell me what's for my own good?” DePaul staggered under the weight of his words. The man appeared to be in a murderous rage. “I'll tell you what's good for me.”

DePaul gave her a look that sent a shiver up her spine and made the fine hair on the back of her neck stand up. “Since you took my wife, I'm taking your woman.” DePaul lunged for her.

She never saw Karl move. One instant, he was a good twenty feet away from them, and the next he was in front of her, swinging.

Before her feet could even follow the command of “Run!” that her brain was screaming, DePaul was flying backward through the air. The sound of Karl's fist connecting with DePaul's jaw cracked through the woods.

She stared down at DePaul lying on his back on the ground. He was either unconscious or dead. She wasn't sure which.

“Joanna, honey.” Karl's voice was soft and sweet as his fingers gently cupped her chin and turned her face away from DePaul. “I need you to go into the house and call the Sheriff's office. Do you think you can do that?”

She nodded. Zsa Zsa's head was buried between her breasts.

“Tell the Sheriff your name and that you're here with me. Larson knows where I live.” Karl's expression wasn't calm now. He was worried about something. “Tell him that John DePaul was drunk and came looking for his wife again.” Karl's fingers stroked the line of her jaw. “Do you think you can remember all that?”

She nodded and walked toward the house in a total daze. Karl James had laid the man out with one punch.

“Joanna?”

She turned and looked back at Karl. She didn't even glance at the man lying on the ground.

“Tell the Sheriff that we might need an ambulance this time.”

She tried not to smile. “We might.” She turned and walked into the house.

Karl watched as the Sheriff backed out of his driveway, finally leaving him alone with Joanna. John DePaul's sorry butt had been hauled away by an ambulance half an hour ago, with John screaming obscenities both at him and the EMTs trying to work on him. And he had been pretty sure he had broken John's jaw with that punch. Life was full of disappointments, however, and his hand hurt like a son of a bitch.

He glanced over at Joanna, who was sitting on his porch swing, calming drinking a glass of lemonade and enjoying the sounds of the afternoon. Birds were chirping, insects were humming, and in the distance, the occasional car went down the road. There wasn't a lot of traffic out in this neck of the woods. Zsa Zsa was sniffing around Karl's pitiful attempt at gardening that surrounded his house.

Joanna had handled the whole incident amazingly well. Too well he feared. After the ambulance had hauled DePaul out of there, the Sheriff had sat at the kitchen table getting both his and Joanna's statements as to what had transpired. Joanna had fluttered around his kitchen making sandwiches and squeezing half a dozen lemons into a pitcher. He wanted her to sit down, but she'd seemed more relaxed while rooting through his pitifully arranged kitchen cabinets in search of matching tableware and linen napkins.

If Joanna had been disappointed by his lack of linens and color-coordinated dishes, she hadn't said. He tended to pick up dishes when he needed them, never really giving any thought to what he already owned. Flea market finds were crammed in with the few pieces of his grandmother's fine china he had and thick earthenware mugs he had purchased from a local artist. He hadn't noticed until today that even his silverware didn't match.

He was a domestic disaster who didn't even buy paper napkins, while Joanna could give Martha Stewart a run for her money in the kitchen.

One had to wonder if Joanna was keeping busy as a way of ignoring or coping with what had happened. He couldn't believe he had decked DePaul right in front of her like that. Especially since he suspected abuse in her past. His only defense was that he had acted on instinct and adrenaline. DePaul had lunged for Joanna, and the next thing Karl knew, his fist was connecting with an unshaved jaw.

He hoped like hell that he hadn't scared Joanna too badly.

He gave a low whistle for Zsa Zsa and stepped up onto the porch. Joanna gave him a soft, shy smile that melted his heart. There wasn't any fear in her eyes. He joined her on the swing.

“I like your home. It's peaceful here.” Joanna started the swing moving. Zsa Zsa attacked a dead petunia in a pot by the front door.

“Thanks.” He leaned back and tried to relax. He owed Joanna an explanation for DePaul. “John DePaul doesn't like me much.” He gave the swing a little push and tried to figure out the best approach to this conversation. One that wouldn't have Joanna clamming up.

“He claimed you stole his wife and son.” Joanna didn't seem upset by that claim.

“I didn't steal Marla or little John Junior.” He wondered how big a can of worms he was about to open. “Marla needed some help.”

“And you rode to her rescue?” Joanna gave him a big smile. “You make a habit out of doing that?”

“I didn't rescue her. I helped her and her son out of a tough situation, that's all.”

“What situation was that?”

“DePaul thought a marriage certificate entitled him to a few free smackarounds about every weekend or so.” He watched Joanna's face. “Marla thought differently, but she was such a little, bitty thing, and she didn't have a family to turn to for help. Marla didn't stand a chance. After John Junior was born, things turned from bad to ugly.”

“Did he hit the baby?” Joanna's voice broke at the horror of the situation.

“Not directly, but he hit Marla so hard once that she fell into the bassinet. Thankfully, she was able to prevent Junior from getting hurt. That was the night I learned about the situation.”

“So where are Marla and the baby now?”

“The baby is now a toddler, and her divorce should be granted in another month or so.”

“You didn't answer the question.”

He had been hoping she wouldn't notice. He sighed and shook his head. “I'm not allowed to say. Marla doesn't want anyone to know because she's afraid it will get back to DePaul and that then he'll come after her and try to take his son.”

He reached out and held Joanna's hand. “I can't blame her, Joanna. DePaul isn't too stable, and the Protection From Abuse she had taken out on him was like waving a red flag in front of a charging bull. DePaul sees it as a challenge.”

“So why does DePaul keep coming after you?”

“Stupidity.” He chuckled at the thought. “I'm the only one who knows where Marla and his son went. I guess he figures if he keeps asking and I keep knocking him on his butt, that one time I just might feel sorry for him and tell.”

“Don't you dare.” Joanna frowned at him. “You wouldn't, would you?”

“Never. Marla and her son are settling into a new life. It's hard, but they'll make it just fine. They have already made friends. Good friends.”

“How did you know what to do for her?”

“Marla wasn't the first woman I helped; she was more like number six or seven.” He shrugged and tried to play down his role in Marla's new life. He didn't like the gleam of hero-worship he saw in Joanna's eyes. He wasn't a hero. A hero would have prevented Marla from being hit the first time. A hero would have helped Joanna when she had needed it.

“The first time I helped someone, it took a lot of phone calls, favors, and running around to figure it all out. Now I know who to call and how to get the woman, and children if there are any, out of there with a minimal of fuss and red tape.”

“What you are telling me is that in your spare time, you help abused women?” The expression on Joanna's face was one of excitement and awe.

“No, what I'm telling you is that even after retiring from the agency, I'm still fighting for the underdog. Just in a more behind the scenes capacity. DePaul never should have found out I helped Marla, but one of the deputies opened his mouth, so Sheriff Larson goes out of his way to try and keep DePaul in line.”

He wanted Joanna to understand why he had decked DePaul, but he didn't want to make a big deal about him helping out Marla. To him, it wasn't a big deal. He looked on it as community service. Instead of beautifying the community, he gave a woman who needed a helping hand a beautiful new start in a different community.

Personally, he would have preferred to load up all the deadbeat and abusive husbands, haul their asses out into the middle of the Atlantic, and let them play with the fishes without the benefit of a boat. But there were laws against that. If he ever found a way around those laws, he was renting Bob Newman's tuna boat and doing some offshore dumping.

Joanna laid her head against Karl's shoulder, kicked off her sandals, and curled her feet up beneath her. She hadn't doubted for a moment that Karl would charge out of the house to rescue her from John DePaul. She had been a little concerned about his timing in the beginning, but once she'd heard his voice, she'd known everything was going to work out. Now that she knew the reason behind DePaul's visit, she wished she would have let Zsa Zsa down.

It was amazing how fast a person could go from falling in love to being in love. After Karl had left last night, she had lain in her lonely bed and wondered why she was alone. She didn't want to be alone, but the company of just any man would not do. She wanted to be with Karl. Only Karl. At that point, she realized she had been falling in love. She had held that wondrous knowledge close throughout the night and dreamt of a future.

The moment she heard that Karl helped women who were total strangers to him out of abusive relationships, she knew she wasn't falling in love. She was in love. There was no falling about it. She loved Karl James, and she wanted to shout it to the world. His reaction to her discovery was going to prove interesting.

“May I ask you a question, Karl?”

“Anything.” Karl's feet were slowly pushing the swing back and forth.

She studied his bare knees. Today, Karl was dressed in Army green shorts with a dozen or so pockets and a gold paisley button-down shirt. His rope ankle bracelet was still around his ankle. She thought he had the sexiest knees. “Why did you leave last night?”

Karl stiffened for a moment, but the swing didn't miss a beat. “You weren't ready, Joanna.” He kissed the top of her head. “I'm not going to push you into anything you aren't ready for.”

She didn't know if she should laugh or cry. Karl thought she wasn't ready for them to have a physical relationship. She was more than ready. “What makes you think I'm not ready?”

Was she giving off some kind of signal she wasn't even aware of? The rules couldn't have changed that much. Surely she would have picked up on that while watching television and reading. She knew females in this generation were more liberated and open-minded when it came to sex. Short of ripping Karl's clothes off in her kitchen last night or begging, she really didn't know what else she could have done.

“Sweetheart,” Karl said, “it's okay.”

“No, it's not. I want to know what I did.” She sat up straight and looked right at him. Last night, she had held her tongue and had ended up enduring a lonely, frustrating night.

“You were hesitant, Joanna.” Karl looked like he would rather be discussing bioterrorism than their relationship. “There, are you happy?”

“No, I would have been happier last night if you had stayed.” She couldn't believe her slight hesitation had caused all of this. “Do you want to know why I hesitated when you were unbuttoning my blouse?” She'd also had her tongue halfway down his throat, and her butt had been on her kitchen counter. Karl had been standing between her thighs, and there hadn't been a doubt in her mind about where the night was heading. “I was embarrassed.”

“About what?”

“I was trying to figure out the proper way for a lady to ask if the gentleman has a condom with him.” There, she'd said it. Her face might be beet red, but she had just stepped into the twenty-first century.

“You wanted to know . . .” Karl groaned and buried his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking, but she couldn't tell if he was crying or laughing.

Neither of those reactions made her feel better. “I take it ladies aren't supposed to ask that question?”

“They do if they are smart.” Karl looked at her. “I had two of them with me last night and an entire box sitting in my nightstand drawer.”

The fire in his gaze made liquid heat pool in her stomach and slowly descend to the junction of her thighs. Karl wanted her as much as she wanted him. She prayed her mother in heaven wasn't listening to this particular conversation. “How many are in the box?”

Karl's laughter startled a few birds and caused Zsa Zsa to stop attacking the dead plant. With a wild cry, he jumped off the swing and swung her up into his arms. “Enough to get us through today at least.”

She let out a small cry as she was crushed against his chest.

Karl immediately loosened his hold. “Sorry.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don't be.” She reached up and kissed him.

Somehow, they made it into the house without falling over Zsa Zsa, who was weaving her way in between Karl's legs every step. Her skirt was tossed on the newel. Karl's sandals were kicked off at the foot of the stairs. His gold shirt lost a button or two beneath her impatient fingers. Karl's fingers had more finesse. Her silk blouse landed on the runner in the upstairs hallway, but at least all the buttons were still on it.

Karl backed her into his bedroom before breaking that first wild kiss. “God, Joanna, you're beautiful.”

She did feel beautiful, but she also felt wanton, hot, and desirable. Her trembling fingers went for the waistband of his shorts. “I'm not hesitating now.”

Karl backed her against the bed, and her black lace bra went sailing to the left, while his shorts hit the floor. The soft cotton of the patchwork quilt was cool beneath her back as he lowered her to the bed. Karl's mouth was hot against her breasts.

Hands roamed and demanded to feel, to touch everywhere. Karl's fingers were impatient as he slid her black panties down her legs. Her fingers shook as she slid his wild print boxers over his buttocks and down his legs. Karl yanked open the drawer of the nightstand and fumbled in a box.

She laughed at the sight of Karl trying to rip open the foil package. It took him three tries.

Karl did a lousy job of frowning. “You think this is funny?”

“No, I just have never seen you so worked up about anything before. You are usually very laid-back and calm.” She ran her big toe up his calf and playfully tugged on a chest hair. “I thought FBI agents were cool under fire.”

“I'm not an agent any longer.” Karl rolled the condom on and backed her into the center of the bed. “And in case you haven't noticed, the only thing that is about to go off isn't a gun.”

She glanced down his chest and over his stomach to where his sheathed arousal was standing at full attention. “Oh, I noticed.” She ran her fingers down his chest. “It's a little hard not to.”

Karl grinned. “Sweet talker.” He leaned down and captured her mouth in a kiss that heated her blood and melted the last of her inhibitions. With her ex-husband, she had always allowed him to set the pace. While Vince hadn't been a selfish lover, he hadn't been one to allow a woman to take control. Today, she wanted control.