Hot Pursuit (41 page)

“Am I what she said?”

“Woman of my heart.” Jack's fingers tightened on Taylor's hand. “Always. There's no going back, not for me.”

Suddenly the bag felt very heavy in Taylor's hand. She had to make him see all the problems looming before them.

She took a deep breath. “I've never made it to six months before, Jack.”

“Never?”

She shook her head. “My record at relationships isn't exactly promising. Actually, it's hopeless.”

He seemed pleased by the news. “So we'll start with a clean slate. If something works, we keep it. If not, it gets tossed.”

“It's not that easy. People always have emotional baggage. Heaven knows, I have a closet full.” Taylor opened the small bag, stunned at the beautifully made set of seven bright dolls. Each had a distinctive face sewn with tiny stitches, along with matching hair and clothes. In the darkness, they looked amazingly lifelike.

“One sadness every night,” Jack said. “That's what the old lady said.”

Taylor slid the exquisite little dolls back into the bag. “They're lovely, Jack. But—”

“We start with a clean slate, Taylor. Try it and see what happens.”

He watched her as he bent his head, kissing her hard until she went boneless against him. As his hands closed on her hair, he took a deep breath.

Being here felt like a dream after the last eight days in hell. The mission had been harder than expected, and one of his team had been badly wounded. In spite of that, the operation had been a success, bringing definitive proof that Harris Rains' discoveries had not left the U.S. Jack was still hurting where he'd been kicked by a goon who had appeared out of nowhere while the team was hunkered down, waiting for extraction. The man and his friends had been high on peyote and gut-busting local tequila, and they'd been hard to subdue without attracting unwanted attention.

Jack didn't want Taylor to see the bruise that covered most of his side, so he figured he'd work fast and keep her distracted. “About that offer you made . . .”

Taylor's voice was thready with passion. “I have some wine around here, if you want.”

When she touched his right side, he managed to bite back a hiss of pain. “Forget the wine.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her open palm. “All I want is you naked, beneath me in that big bed, surrounded by blue pillows.”

Her dress slid free and fluttered to the floor, a wave of silk and crystal beads that shimmered in the moonlight. “How's that?”

“Words fail me.”

“You're sure you're up to this?” Taylor asked softly.

He gave her a slow, cocky grin. “Ask me that question in ten minutes.”

Taylor pulled open the top button on his shirt. “Something tells me I won't have to.”

Jack swung her up into his arms. When he sank down on top of her, she touched his face gently. “As far as I can tell, everything seems to be in working order.”

“Maybe you need firsthand evidence of that.”

“Good idea.” She slid her body slowly over his.

“God, you take my breath away.” He skimmed her skin inch by inch, stopping at the shadow above her thighs. “Every night I saw you in my mind, just like this.”

“Then why am I the only one naked here?”

“Because I'm trying to take my time about this.”

She drew him down toward her. “You can take your time later.” Taylor found his zipper and eased him free, teasing him between her warm fingers.

Jack frowned. “I swore tonight would be controlled, gentle, full of finesse. I wanted that for you. For
us
.”

“When I want gentle, I'll tell you.” Taylor levered her body against his, her eyes dark with challenge.

“Hell.” Jack buried his fingers in her hair and sank deep, feeling her body shiver beneath his. His control was fraying, and he couldn't get deep enough, close enough. He needed her panting, just as desperate as he was.

A moment later he got his wish. Taylor's nails dug into his back, tiny bursts of pain in perfect counterpoint to the mind-shredding slide of her body rising against his.

Need snarled, driving him right to the edge, and Jack barely winced as her arm struck his bruised ribs.

He didn't feel the pain. There was only Taylor and the magic their bodies wove in the darkness.

Their fingers slid together, clenched hard. When she gasped his name and rocked against him, Jack felt his heart slam against his chest.

Then there was only the smell of her perfume, the heat of her skin, and finally the reckless urgency as he lost himself deep inside her.

 

Taylor didn't move.

Jack lay motionless beside her, his breathing slow and even. When she was certain he was asleep, she rose carefully on one elbow, studying his naked body in the moonlight.

A shallow scar ran along his collarbone. A huge bruise mottled his right side. Both were new, courtesy of his last mission.

How could she ever get used to this shadow world he lived in, with its dangers that he could never discuss?

More questions.

She eased to her feet, moonlight spilling cold and clear around her. On the bed Jack muttered, curling his body toward the warm spot she had just left, one hand opening over her pillow.

She closed her eyes, hit by slivers of pain. Love wasn't the problem. Trust wasn't in question, either. Men didn't come more honorable than Jack. But Taylor wasn't sixteen anymore, wasn't young and fresh and malleable. How could a stubborn, independent woman change enough to meet an equally stubborn, independent man halfway?

She stared down at her wounded hero, asleep in the moonlight. He had loved her with grim desperation, as if to wipe away haunting memories. Sensing the depth of his need, she had offered herself completely, holding nothing back. She had never been so focused in the physical, so vulnerable to the emotions racing through her.

No going back.

She picked up one of the dolls from their bag near the open window and whispered just how much she loved him and how frightened she was of failing at the one relationship that mattered. Around her the curtains moved, drifting high, touching her bare shoulders like a cool caress. The tiny face looked back at her, calm and infinitely wise.

She slid her hand over Jack's uniform jacket, ghostly in the light from the window. His collar was folded and one shoulder dangled low on the back of the chair where he'd hung it. Carefully, Taylor gathered the crisp fabric against her skin, inhaling the faint male scent of his body. And in that moment, she knew.

She
knew
with the same clear certainty that she recognized the pace of her breath and the beat of her own heart.

There was no going back. She would be contrary when he needed a good fight, and she would hold him when his memories were too grim to bear alone. She would try not to ask too many questions.

Through the window, a foghorn droned, hidden somewhere out in the mist. She must have heard the sound hundreds of times before but had paid no attention, perpetually caught up with an endless stream of day-to-day worries and decisions rather than what was really important. How could she have missed the small constant things that slid beneath the surface and fed the true mystery of life?

The sound came again, clear in the three
A
.
M
. silence.

Each low drone lingered like a message. Taylor wasn't sure what the message said, but the sound made her feel grounded, anchored in a world she could no longer see clearly.

She smoothed Jack's uniform and hung it up gently, a lump at her throat. Tomorrow she'd call the lawyer and start the search for her birth parents. She was finally ready to face the answers she might uncover. Tomorrow she'd also call Annie and come clean about her adoption, even if they argued all night and crashed another golf cart in the process of making peace between them.

But tonight she would curl up here, touching a man with weary eyes and callused hands, a man who gave her his best again and again without conditions or expectations.

Jack's eyes opened as she sat on the bed. “I missed you.”

“No way. You were lost to the world, my friend.”

“You think?” He gave a slow smile, pulling her across him so that Taylor felt the unmistakable force of his need.

Her breath caught. “Maybe you did miss me after all.”

“Let me show you how much.” His hands were gentle, the fit of his body perfect, and the depths of her emotion left Taylor shuddering as they came to the edge of a place she didn't recognize.

“What are we doing, Jack? Where are we going?”

“Wherever feels right,” he said quietly. “Forget the wondering and the worries. Go by how it feels.” He slid his fingers through her hair, studying her face in the moonlight. “How does it feel now?”

“Perfect.” She shivered as he brought himself deeper in slow, powerful strokes. “Better than perfect.”

“I like those shoes you were wearing when you came in. Maybe you could wear them for me later—without anything else.”

She gave a silken laugh. “I might consider it. With the right inducement.” He moved again, and she closed her eyes. “Do that again, and I'll wear anything you want, Navy.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

Taylor closed her eyes, hearing the foghorn drone somewhere in the mist. She understood its message now, a deep truth that echoed through her life, marking the moment that her questions fell away, irrelevant before the fierce knowledge of what this quiet warrior meant to her.

She blinked as tears stirred. “I don't have a clue what we're doing, but suddenly I don't care. I'm with you, Jack.”

He kissed the curve of her jaw, then shifted. “Stay with me, love.”

Her answer was a low sound of pleasure and the fluid rise of her body against him, and suddenly he was all the way where she wanted him to be, the pleasure climbing in shuddering waves, his hands tight, clenched on her hair as he whispered against her face in the darkness.

There in the night, shadows stirred. The old demons reared their heads and howled—but this time, Taylor didn't even hear them.

Author's Note

Thanks so much for joining Taylor on her wild ride! No one is better at finding trouble than this stubborn woman. Of course, that's probably why she has become one of my all-time favorite heroines. (Not to mention that her writing process is so completely bizarre. In case you're wondering, I
do
wear big, orange headphones when I write, and no, I do
not
wear maternity clothes to get in the right mood. As for the rest of Taylor's eccentric writing traits, I plead the Fifth Amendment!)

In case you were intrigued by the monarch butterfly sanctuary in Carmel, you can find more information online at
www.pgmonarchs.org
.
It is hard to imagine that these delicate creatures fly to a small stretch of coastal micro-climate every year in a journey of thousands of miles. To see the trees filled with their glowing golden wings is truly a miraculous sight. For more information about the monarchs and the beautiful Monterey landscape, try the wonderfully informative
Monterey Bay Shoreline Guide
by Jerry Emory (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1999). If you're in the area, be sure to stop by the Monterey Bay Aquarium, which is full of fun activities and ever-changing exhibits. You'll come away with a new appreciation for the richness of this rugged part of the California coast. If you can't visit, you can bring up their live webcam for a peek at the bay scenery and the antics of the otters. As of the time of publication, their bay webcam was running at the following link:
http://www.mbayaq.org/vi/vi_aquarium/vi_monterey_cam.asp
.
The otters are guaranteed to make you smile!

If you're looking for one of the best guides to San Francisco, try
San Francisco
(London: Dorling Kindersley, 2000). The street-by-street tours are great resources, and the maps alone are worth the price of this wonderful book.

In case you missed the story of Taylor's sister Annie and her hunky SEAL husband, look for
My Spy
, which is set at a beautiful spa on the rugged California coast. Wounded when he saved a busload of children, Sam McKade needs time—and a safe place—to heal. Although he doesn't recognize Annie, she
definitely
remembers him!

Does Izzy seem familiar by now? He should! The man has charmed his way into four of my books already, beginning with
The Perfect Gift
and continuing through
Going Overboard, My Spy,
and
Hot Pursuit
. Yes, I do plan a book for him one day soon. Stay tuned to my website (
www.christinaskye.com
) for breaking news on that front.

Meanwhile, I'm laughing out loud at a whole new crew of stiff-necked characters, people who give the word
dysfunctional
new and interesting meaning! My heroine is dealing with a missing ferret, death threats, and a May wedding in stunningly beautiful Carmel, California.

But a wedding is the last place Summer wants to be. For her, weddings are very dangerous things. They always make Summer turn warm and fuzzy and go a little crazy. . . . Now she's thinking about what would happen if she forgot the rule book, kicked back and tried out an over-the-top, no-strings-attached affair.

With probably the most gorgeous man she's ever seen.

For Gabe Morgan, Navy SEAL, one week undercover at a lush seaside estate is a plum vacation with pay. Doing a favor for an old friend makes perfect sense when a senator's family may be at risk. Gabe can juggle snooty guests and the laughably neurotic members of the bride's family without missing a beat, even if the bride and groom
do
seem to argue a lot. The real problem is that weddings bore Gabe stiff. Eloping would be more his style—the faster and simpler the better. Not that marriage is
anywhere
on his radar screen.

But that's before Gabe gets a look at Summer.

As the big day draws closer, the chemistry between Summer and Gabe is off the charts, simply too strong to resist. Keeping their hands off each other may be their hardest assignment yet!

Stop by my website for a sneak preview early in the summer. Meanwhile, happy reading. I guarantee plenty of exciting news!

Christina Skye