Just One Kiss (5 page)

Nathaniel got to his feet next to Jack, leaning into the sofa cushion at the back and against Jack's side. “Daddy,” he said. Without warning, he grabbed the end of Jack's nose. His tiny fingernails felt like crab pincers and Jack yelped in protest.

“Let go,” he exclaimed.

“Daddy!” Nathaniel's fingers didn't release their hold.

Marissa swung around to see what was going on and gasped. She jumped up and hurried to the sofa. “Nathaniel, let go!” she demanded.

Nathaniel offered her an angelic smile. “Daddy,” he repeated.

“No, he's not your daddy,” Marissa replied. She leaned across Jack to grab her son's wrist.

Tingles of electricity soared through Jack as her breasts made intimate contact with his chest. He could almost make himself believe that being nose-less was worth this single moment of pleasure.

All too quickly, she managed to disengage Nathaniel from his nose and with a stern expression set the boy on the floor. “Not nice,” she said to him, then turned back to Jack.

“Are you all right?” Once again she leaned over him to inspect the damage. She was so close to him he could see the gold flecks that accentuated the green tint of her eyes. Her mouth was slightly parted
as if awaiting a lover's kiss, and he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face.

Her fingers were soft as they touched either side of his nose, and suddenly she was too damned close, too damned attractive.

“I'm fine,” he said, waving her away irritably. Her cheeks flushed pink as she stepped away. “Unless you think I need a rabies shot,” he added.

“I don't think that will be necessary,” she said, unable to hide the amusement that sparkled in her eyes and lifted the corners of her mouth.

“You'd better find that Mr. Right of yours pretty quickly. That boy has a daddy fixation.”

“Daddy,” Nathaniel said, and pointed to Jack.

“He must have picked this up at day care,” she said, a tiny wrinkle of concern appearing in her forehead. “I didn't even know he knew what a daddy was.”

Before he could say anything further on the subject, there was a knock on the door. “That should be the pizza,” he said. He grabbed his wallet from the coffee table and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Do you mind?” He held out the money and gestured toward the door.

“Of course not.” She took the bill and went to the door. She returned with the pizza and paused in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. “Where do you want to eat? In here or in the kitchen?”

“Why don't we eat on my deck,” he suggested.
He could still feel the heat from her breasts against his chest, smell her fragrance in the air. The interior of the house suddenly felt too warm, too close, too small. He needed to be outside, in the fresh air.

“A deck?” She looked worriedly toward Nathaniel. “You wouldn't be luring us out onto a deck for any particular reason, would you?”

He laughed. “I promise you, I won't toss the kid overboard. Besides, the deck is completely closed in, so he can't even accidentally fall.”

“Okay. Sounds good,” she agreed.

“Why don't you bring Nate and then come back for the pizza,” he suggested. He started down the hallway. “Come on, the deck is off one of the bedrooms.”

“How many bedrooms do you have?” she asked as she followed him with Nate in her arms.

“Three,” he replied. He went past one closed door, then another, then turned into his own bedroom. It was a large room with sliding glass doors that led out to an oversize deck overlooking the beach.

He often sat out there in the evenings, watching darkness steal away the blue sky, fighting sleep that all too often was filled with tormenting dreams.

Although his bed was not made, the room was relatively clean. Sleep was the only activity that took place here. He opened the sliding glass door and gestured her outside.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” she exclaimed, her eyes
lighting with pleasure as she took in the ocean scene before her. Jack felt a momentary pride. “You have such a beautiful home, and this view is magnificent.”

“Don't get scenery like this in Kansas City, do you?”

She smiled and put Nathaniel down. “Unfortunately not. Why don't you get comfortable and I'll go get the pizza and something to drink.”

“Beer for me,” he replied. “And if you don't want a beer there should be some soda in the fridge.” He eased down into one of the chairs.

It had definitely been a good idea to come outside to eat. He wouldn't be able to smell Marissa's perfume out here. The light breeze was rife with the scents of salt water and seaweed. Hopefully the fresh air and warm sunshine would banish any lingering rush of desire he'd experienced for Marissa.

Nathaniel stood and toddled over to Jack. “Nose,” he said, and touched the end of his own nose.

“Yeah, kid, you tried to break mine.”

“Ear.” Nathaniel grabbed his ear.

“What are you doing? Trying to show me how smart you are?” Before Jack could block it, an image unfolded in his mind…the vision of another little boy, a boy with dark hair and brown eyes.

Bobby. His son. Bobby had enjoyed playing the same game Nathaniel was playing. He'd point to his ears, his eyes, his nose, then to his tummy.
“Tummy,” he'd say, and pull up his shirt to expose the rounded potbelly. That was Jack's cue to tickle Bobby and he'd tickle that sweet little belly until Bobby was giggling with delight.

Emotion rose inside Jack, filling his throat. He stared out at the ocean, the view shimmering with the burden of thick, choking sentiment.

He tensed as Nathaniel moved closer to him, leaning his sturdy body against Jack's leg. The little boy laid his head against Jack's side and a chubby hand patted Jack's cast.

Jack nearly came undone. He wanted to shove Nate away to escape the emotions that exploded inside him. He wanted to grab him up and hug him, revel in the sweet scent of babyhood that still clung to him, lose himself in the emotions that exploded inside him.

He moved a hand across the top of Nate's head, feeling the silky-soft baby hair. He closed his eyes, fighting the waves of pain that assaulted him.

Bobby…Bobby, where are you? The question called from deep within his soul.

“Here we are.”

Marissa's voice pulled Jack back from the abyss of his grief. His eyes snapped open and he dropped the hand that had been caressing Nate's head.

“Just in time,” he said, his voice gravelly and deeper than usual.

She carried the pizza box topped with two bottles of beer, two glasses and a tippy cup filled with what
appeared to be grape juice. “Is he hurting your leg?” she asked as she set the tray on the table.

“Not yet, but I don't take anything for granted where he's concerned.” He breathed a sigh of relief as she scooped up Nate in her arms, then deposited him on his bottom on the floor of the deck. She opened the box of pizza, tore off the crust from a piece and handed it to him.

With Nate happily occupied, she sat down at the table next to Jack and opened his beer for him. “Bottle or glass?” she asked.

He eyed her dryly. “Do you really think I'm a glass kind of guy?” She handed him the bottle.

For the next few minutes they didn't speak, but rather concerned themselves with devouring the pizza. The only sounds were the distant rhythmic splash of waves meeting shore and an occasional cry from a bird overhead.

Jack felt himself relaxing inch by inch, gaining distance from the emotional past he'd momentarily fallen into.

The pizza was warm, the beer cold and at the moment nothing on his body ached or hurt.

“Have you lived here long?” Marissa asked as she finished her second piece of pizza, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

“My parents bought the place when I was nine, and we spent every summer here. It always felt like home more than any other place we lived. I moved here permanently almost eight years ago.”

“Have you always been a private investigator?” she asked.

“No. I was a cop for five years, then five years ago I quit the force and hung out my shingle as a private eye.”

She eyed him curiously. “What made you decide to do that?”

He frowned and stared out at the rolling waves in the distance. “I just felt like it.” His tone was more harsh than he'd intended. But he didn't apologize. There were some things that, as far as he was concerned, were off-limits. And his past was one of them.

“I guess I'd better get back to those reports,” she said as she stood. “I apologize for intruding on your privacy.”

Jack frowned. Her apology made him feel small and fractious. “No, I apologize. I'm just not accustomed to sharing small talk with a woman. Sharing little pieces often leads to familiarity, and familiarity often leads to complications that don't interest me.”

Marissa stared at him for a long moment, then threw back her head and laughed. “I don't believe it,” she exclaimed. “You're actually afraid that somehow I'll fall for you.” She laughed again, an incredulous edge to her laughter.

“I don't see what's so damned funny,” Jack answered indignantly.

She stepped close to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Trust me, Jack. You have nothing to
worry about. You are nothing like the man I intend to fall in love with. At this point, I'm not even sure I like you very much.” Still laughing, she picked up Nathaniel and left the deck.

Jack stared after her, wondering why it irritated him that a woman he hadn't even known two days ago was so certain she could never, ever fall for him.

M
arissa did her best to concentrate on typing the reports, but her gaze kept shifting from the reports to Jack, who sat on the sofa staring into space.

Evening had fallen, and when he'd come in from the deck he'd turned on the interior lights to ward off the approaching darkness. Despite the illumination, the shadows of evening seemed to have taken up residence on Jack's features.

She wondered if he were in pain, and for the hundredth time guilt soared through her. She couldn't believe how fast her son had managed to take out a grown man.

The guilty party had cooperated by falling sound asleep in the middle of the living-room floor. As Nathaniel slept, he snored faintly, the sound indicating his sleep was peaceful and deep.

It was hard for Marissa to believe how easily her son had taken to Jack. Nathaniel didn't seem to be a bit bothered by Jack's gruff voice or deep scowls.

Marissa frowned and focused once again on the last report she was trying to finish. She read Jack's notes, then looked at him. “You really followed this woman, Beth Daniels, everywhere for four days?”

Jack returned her gaze. “Everywhere. I sat outside the beauty shop while she got her hair done, followed her to the cleaners. I watched her eat lunch with her best friend from high school and sat behind her in the movie theater where she ate half a container of popcorn and a whole box of Milk Duds.”

“And she never suspected she was being followed?”

Jack grinned, the gesture making pinpoints of light dance in his eyes. “I told you I was good.”

“I would know if somebody was following me,” Marissa exclaimed.

He leaned forward. “Not if it were me,” Jack argued, a wicked gleam in his blue eyes. “I told you, I'm good.” He leaned back once again. “In that particular case, Beth Daniels's husband hired me to find out if she was cheating on him.”

Marissa picked up the photos that were to accompany the report. One showed an attractive blond woman standing at a motel-room door. The next showed the door being opened by a tall, dark-haired man, and the third caught the woman slipping through the door. “I guess she was.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “The third night of surveillance while her husband was at a business dinner, Mrs. Daniels apparently had an intimate little dinner of her own.”

Marissa set the photographs down, her frown deepening. “Why didn't Mr. Daniels just ask his wife what was going on in her life?”

Jack stared at Marissa in obvious disbelief. “Because women lie.”

There was a vehemence in his voice that stunned Marissa. “Not all women lie,” she protested. “This just seems rather…”

“Sleazy?” Jack's eyebrows rose and a mocking smile curved his lips. “I'm a sleazy kind of guy who does a sleazy kind of job.”

Marissa flushed. “That wasn't what I was going to say. I was going to say that this all seems rather sad, that it takes a third party to find out the truth between two people who are married and supposed to love each other.”

The mocking smile remained on Jack's lips. “In my line of work and in my vast experience, I've realized that love is just a fantasy people pretend to feel to fill unhealthy emotional needs.”

“Surely you don't really believe that,” she protested. There was something in the depths of his blue eyes that had nothing to do with mockery, but rather spoke of betrayal and pain. He broke eye contact and looked away, as if afraid of what she might see there.

“I do believe that,” he replied. He looked at her once again, and whatever vulnerability she'd thought she'd seen in his eyes was gone. “Love is a fantasy, a concept created by poets and expanded on by the entertainment industry. The only marriages that last are built on mutual financial interests and common goals and interests.”

Marissa stared at him in disbelief and sighed, his cynicism evoking a strange sadness inside her. What would it be like to live without the hope of finding true love? It certainly had to be a cold, barren place in which to exist.

“You are some piece of work, Jack Coffey. If I was to hazard a guess, I'd say somebody hurt you really badly.”

He laughed. “And if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say you were seriously stunted in the reality department. You of all people should know love isn't real. You bought into the concept of true love forever more and look where it's gotten you. You're now a single parent because you believed in the foolishness of love.”

“That's not true,” Marissa exclaimed. “I'm a single parent because I made the mistake of falling in love with the wrong man, not because I believed in love. I won't make the same mistake again.”

“That's right.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm. “Next time you'll know Mr. Right as soon as you meet him.”

“That's right,” she agreed, ignoring his derision.
“And we'll spend the rest of our lives deeply in love and happy.” The conviction of her intense belief rang in her voice.

“Have you always been delusional?”

She laughed, finding the entire debate stimulating in a strange sort of way. “One of us is definitely delusional, but if I were you, I wouldn't be so quick to point a finger at me.”

He grinned at her, a genuine smile that deepened the cleft in his chin and caused a starburst of heat to explode in the pit of her stomach. “I'm not delusional, Marissa. I'm just a nonbeliever when it comes to fairy tales like love.”

Marissa returned his grin. “Then I hope someday the love bug takes a big bite out of you and changes your mind.”

Again she thought she saw a whisper of vulnerability, a shadow of pain in Jack's eyes. But it was there only an instant, then gone, replaced by the hard sheen of cynicism. “Not in this lifetime.” Anything else he intended to say was halted by the ringing of the telephone.

Jack grabbed the receiver of the phone on the nearby end table while Marissa focused once again on the report on the computer screen.

“What?”

She shook her head ruefully at Jack's surly greeting to whomever was on the other end of the line. Jack Coffey was definitely some piece of work.

“When?”

She felt Jack's sudden tension as he sat up straighter against the sofa cushions. She finished the last report, but hesitated hitting the Print icon, sensing that his conversation was important.

“I'll see what I can do. Thanks for the heads-up.” He slammed down the phone, then slapped the cast on his leg. “Damn.”

“What's wrong?” Marissa asked.

“What's wrong?” Jack struggled to his feet. “What's wrong is that a man I've been trying to find for the past year is supposed to show up someplace tomorrow morning and I have a cast on my leg that makes driving a car and conducting a stakeout impossible.”

“I could drive you,” she offered.

He glared at her as if she'd lost what little sense he'd thought she possessed. “You can drive me,” he repeated flatly. “And what do you know about conducting a stakeout.”

She shrugged. “Only what I've seen in movies. You buy a bunch of junk food, sit in a car across from the place you're watching, and wait.”

A reluctant grin curved Jack's lips. “That's about right.” The grin disappeared and a thoughtful crease lined his forehead. “It's not dangerous at all,” he said more to himself than to her. “But it could be a very long, boring day.”

“Imagine the fun of being able to tell everyone back home that I went on a real stakeout on my vacation.”

Marissa wasn't sure why she wanted to do this. Perhaps because she still felt responsible for Jack's injuries. Or maybe it was because something in the darkness of his eyes challenged her to bring him light.

“Okay.” Jack relented. “If this wasn't so important and if I hadn't waited so long to find this guy, I wouldn't dream of taking you up on your offer.”

“But since I offered—” she flashed him a quick smile “—and you have no other alternative, you'll take my offer.”

“Right.” His gaze left hers and shot to Nathaniel. “I don't suppose you'd consider leaving him in your motel room for the duration of the stakeout?”

“Not a chance,” she said, wondering when she'd stopped being offended by his derogatory remarks about her son. Maybe it had been the moment she'd walked out on the deck and had seen Jack caressing Nathaniel's head.

“And the only restraint I'll agree to is his car seat,” she added before he could suggest some other form of bondage for the little guy.

“And he can't get out of his car seat without help?”

Marissa laughed. “No. I promise, Jack. I'll keep you safe from Nathaniel.” She clicked the Print command on the computer screen and stood. “That's the last of your reports.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the help.”

“What time do you want me here in the morning for the stakeout?” she asked.

“Around six.”

She winced. “Then I'd better get right back to the motel and get some sleep.” She stooped to pick up the sleeping child. Nathaniel stirred only long enough to wrap his arms around her neck, then fell back sound asleep.

Jack grabbed the diaper bag and Marissa's purse and with them hanging from the handles of his crutches walked her to the front door. He handed her the items. “You sure you're up for this?”

“Absolutely,” she replied without hesitation.

“Then I guess I'll see you in the morning,” he said.

She nodded. “Bright and early.” She turned to leave.

“Marissa?” She turned back to him, paused at the top of the narrow staircase. “Thanks again for all your help.” He smiled and once again she felt an explosion of fire in her stomach.

“You're welcome,” she replied, then turned and headed down the stairs toward her car. Her knees felt weak as she took the steps slowly. That smile of his, void of cynicism, genuine and full, had the power to muddle her senses and shoot electricity through her veins.

She buckled Nathaniel into his car seat, then slid behind the steering wheel. Looking up at the house,
she could see Jack standing in the doorway, and the heat that had momentarily suffused her intensified.

Even with crutches and the cast on his leg, he looked strong and sexy. The memory of his scent, a wild, slightly spicy fragrance, returned to her and for a moment she wondered what it would be like to be held in his arms, stroked with his hands, kissed with his lips.

“What's wrong with me?” she muttered as she started the engine. When Jack smiled so genuinely, causing his eyes to light like blue stars and the cleft in his chin to deepen provocatively, it did something to Marissa.

She wondered what Jack would be like with a smile on his face all the time. What would he be like with hope filling his heart? The possibility stole her breath away.

As she drove away from the house, she thought of the morning to come. Who knew how long she'd be cooped up in the car with Jack?

She'd promised she'd keep Jack safe from Nathaniel, but who was going to keep her safe from Jack Coffey?

 

Jack sat on his deck, watching the sun peek over the edge of the horizon, sending vibrant pinks and golds across the lingering night sky, the colors reflected on the surface of the water.

Marissa should be pulling up any time, and he had spent the night regretting accepting her offer to
drive him and spend whatever time it took on the stakeout.

If it wasn't for the fact that Jack had been after Samuel Jacobson for the past year and now might possibly be in a position to get the scum arrested, he would never have considered Marissa's offer.

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He'd slept relatively well last night, but had been visited with dreams. Disturbing dreams of Marissa.

In those dreams he'd been kissing her sweet lips and running his hands through her blond halo of silky curls. Her eyes had been the inviting green of deep summer, promising a heady heat and overwhelming pleasure.

And in his dream he'd taken her heat, fallen into the pleasure of her kiss, her caresses. He'd awakened horrified, not so much by the dream itself, but rather by the burst of joy that had accompanied the dream. A joy he hadn't experienced for a long time, a joy he'd believed he would never feel again.

When the last of the dream images had left his mind, he'd scoffed at his own emotions. Marissa, with all her talk of Mr. Right and love forevermore, had apparently seeped into his subconscious mind. But in his conscious mind he knew better than to fall for the fantasy.

“Been there, done that,” he muttered to the new morning. And he'd never be fool enough to fall for the fantasy again.

It had taken him five years to recover when his
life had fallen apart. He wasn't about to allow one sexy blonde with dewy eyes and crazy dreams to disrupt the tentative peace he'd finally managed to find for himself.

What he couldn't figure out was how a woman he'd known less than three days had managed to invade his dreams. It was ridiculous.

He looked at his watch and stood. It was exactly six, and he had a feeling Marissa would be prompt. He walked through his bedroom and to the front door. He gazed out the door just in time to see her rental car pulling up out front.

He hadn't maneuvered the stairs since the day she'd brought him home from the hospital. Going up somehow seemed easier than going down. Falling upstairs held less chance for damage than falling down. He'd left one crutch in his bedroom, figuring by now he needed only one. He gripped the crutch tightly and started down.

He'd reached the third stair when Marissa magically appeared before him. “Let me help you,” she said. Before he could protest, she took the crutch from him and instead placed herself beneath his arm. “Now lean on me,” she demanded.

She fit perfectly beneath his shoulder, her blond curls tickling the side of his neck. The smell of her, a clean, fresh scent with a whisper of floral perfume, enveloped him, and the warmth of her body against his sparked flames in the pit of his stomach.