The Wicked and the Wondrous (30 page)

“You don’t have an ounce of self-preservation in you,” he snapped at her, his blue eyes hot with an emotion she dared not name.

Jessica stared up at his beloved face. “And you have too much of it,” she told him softly, her mouth curving into a teasing smile.

He swore again. She looked bemused, her eyes cloudy, sensual, her mouth sexy, provocative. Kissable. Dillon shook his head, determined to break free of her spell. She was so beautiful to him. So innocent of the vicious things people were capable of doing to one another. “Never, Jess. I’m not doing this with you. If you have some crazy idea of saving the pitiful musician, you can think again.” He sounded fierce, angry even.

Jessica lifted her chin. “Do I look the type of woman who would feel pity for a man who has so much? You don’t need pity, Dillon, you never have. I didn’t run away from life, you did. You had a choice. No matter what my mother said to you about staying away from me and the children, you still had a choice to come back to us.” She couldn’t quite keep the hurt out of her voice.

His expression hardened perceptibly. “It was my choices that brought us all to this point, Jess. My wants. My needs. That isn’t going to happen again. Have you forgotten what they did to you? Because if you haven’t, I can tell you in vivid detail. I remember everything. It’s etched into my memories, burned into my soul. When I close my eyes at night I see you lying there helpless and frightened. Damn it, we aren’t doing this!” Abruptly he turned his back on her, turned away from the turbulent sea and stalked back toward the house.

Jessica stared after him, her heart pounding in rhythm with the foaming waves, the memories crowding so close that for a moment madness swirled up to consume her. The fog slid between them, thick and dangerous, obscuring her vision of Dillon. She swayed, heard chanting carried on the ocean breeze. Beside her, the German shepherd snarled, his growl rumbling low and ominous as he stared at the moving vapor.

“Jess!” Dillon’s impatient tone cut through the strange illusion, dispelling it instantly. “Hurry up, I’m not leaving you out here alone.”

Jessica found herself smiling. He sounded gruff, but she heard the inadvertent tenderness he tried so hard to keep from her, to keep from himself. She went to him without a word, the dog racing with her. There was time. It wasn’t Christmas yet and miracles always happened on Christmas.

“C
OME ON,
J
ESSIE,”
Trevor wheedled, stuffing a third pancake in his mouth. “We’ve been here a week. Nothing’s happened to us. There’s no weird stuff happening and we haven’t even had a chance to explore the island.”

Jessica shook her head adamantly. “If you two want to explore, I’ll go with you. It’s dangerous.”

“What’s dangerous?” Trevor glared at her as he picked up a huge glass of orange juice. “If Tara and I are in any danger, it’s of being sucked into one of those video games we’re playing so much. Come on, you and the others have been locked in the studio and we’re always alone. We can only watch so many movies and play so many games. We’re living like zombies, sleeping all day and staying up all night.”

“No.” Jessica didn’t dare look at the band members. She knew they thought she was overly protective when it came to the twins.

Brenda snickered. “It’s none of my business but if you ask me, they’re old enough to go outside all by themselves.”

“I have to agree with her,” Brian seconded, “and that’s plain scary. Trevor’s a responsible kid, he’s not going to do anything silly.”

Tara glared at Brian. “I am
very
responsible. I said we’d
look
for a Christmas tree. Trevor wants to find one and chop it down.”

Jessica paled visibly.
“Trevor!
Chopping involves an axe. You certainly aren’t going to go chopping down trees.” The thought was truly frightening.

“They aren’t babies.” Brenda sounded bored with the entire conversation. “Why shouldn’t they go outside to play? All that fresh air is supposed to be good for kiddies, isn’t it?”

Jessica glared at the twins’ aunt as she sipped her morning coffee. “Stop calling them kiddies, Brenda,” she snapped irritably. “They have names and like it or not you are related to them.”

Brenda slowly lowered her coffee mug and peered intently at Jessica. “Do us all a favor, hon, just have sex with him. Get it over with and out of your system so we can all live in peace around here. Dillon’s walking around like a bear with a sore tooth and you’re so edgy you exhaust me.”

Trevor spewed orange juice across the counter, nearly choking. Tara gasped audibly, spinning around to glare accusingly at Jessica.

“Oh dear,” Brenda sighed dramatically. “Another huge gaffe. I suppose I shouldn’t have said ‘sex’ in front of them. One must learn to censor oneself around kid…” she paused, rolled her eyes, and continued.
“Children.”

“Don’t worry, Brenda,” Trevor said good-naturedly, “we
kiddies
learn all about sex at an early age nowadays. I think we were a little more shocked at your mentioning Jessica and our dad doing the a…” he glanced at his sister.

“Dastardly deed,” Tara supplied without missing a beat.

Brian mopped up the orange juice with a wet cloth, winking at Jessica. “It would be dastardly if you decided to hop in the sack with Dillon. All his wonderful angst and creativity might evaporate in a single night.”

“Shut up,” Jessica snapped, placing her hands on her hips. “This conversation is not appropriate and it never will be. And we aren’t doing anything, dastardly or otherwise, not that it’s any of your business.”

Tara tugged at the pocket of Jessica’s jeans. “You’re blushing, Jessie, is that why you’re irritable all the time?”

“I am certainly
not
irritable.” Jessica was outraged at the suggestion. “I’ve been working my you-know-what off with a madman perfectionist and his group of comedy club wannabes. If I’ve been a teensy little bit
edgy,
that would be the reason.”

“Teensy?” Brenda sniffed disdainfully. “That doesn’t begin to describe you, dear. Robert, rub my shoulders. Having to watch my every word is making me tense.”

Robert obediently massaged his wife’s shoulders while Brian circled around Jessica completely, peering at her with discerning eyes. “Your you-know-what is definitely intact and looking delicious, Jess, no need to worry about that.”

“Thank you very much, you pervert,” Jessica replied, trying not to laugh.

Dillon paused in the doorway to watch her with hungry eyes. To drink in the sight of her. The sound of her laughter and her natural warmth drew him like a magnet.

He had spent the last week avoiding brushing up against her soft skin, avoiding looking at her, but he couldn’t avoid the scent of her or the sound of her voice. He couldn’t avoid the way his blood surged hotly and little jackhammers pounded fiercely in his head when she was in the same room with him. He couldn’t stop the urgent demands of his body. The relentless craving. She haunted his dreams and when he was awake she became an obsession he had no way to combat.

Thoughtfully, Dillon leaned one hip against the door. The intensity of his sexual hunger surprised him. He had always felt that Jessica was a part of him, even in the old days when it was simply companionship he had sought from her. They merged minds. Her voice blended perfectly with his. Her quick wit always brought him out of his brooding introspections and pulled him into passionate battles in every aspect of music. Jessica was well versed in music history and had strong opinions about composers and musicians. His conversations with her inspired him, animated him.

There was so much more. He felt alive again after a long interminable prison sentence. It wasn’t at all comfortable, but along with bringing him to life, Jessica was putting the soul back into his music. He swore to himself, each time the moment he opened his eyes that he wouldn’t give in to the whispers of temptation, but it seemed to him that he had gone from a barren, frozen existence straight into the fires of hell.

He couldn’t help loving his children, being proud of them. He couldn’t help seeing the way Jessica loved them and the way they loved her back. And he couldn’t help the desperate longing to be part of that bond, that intense love. Dillon had no idea how much longer he could keep his hands to himself, how much longer he could resist the lure of a family. Or even if he wanted to resist. Did he have the right to allow them into his world? He had failed once and it had changed the course of so many people’s lives. Death and destruction had followed him. Did he dare reach out again, risk harming the ones he loved? He swept a hand through his thick hair and Jessica immediately turned, her vivid eyes meeting his.

Jessica could feel her heart thundering at the sight of him. A faint blush stole into her face as she wondered if he had overheard the conversation. She could only imagine what he must be thinking. Looking at him nearly took her breath away. There had always been such a casual masculine beauty to Dillon. Now, it seemed more careless, a sensual allure against which she had no resistance. One look from his smoldering eyes sent her body into meltdown. He was looking at her now, his blue eyes burning over her, intense, hungry, beyond her ability to resist.

Jessica tilted her chin at him in challenge. She had no reason to resist the strong pull between them. She wanted him to belong to her, body and soul. She saw no reason to deny it. As if knowing her thoughts, he lowered his gaze which drifted over her body, nearly a physical touch that left her aching and restless and all too aware of his presence.

“Dad?” Tara’s voice instantly stopped all conversation in the room. It was the first time she had addressed Dillon that way. “Trevor and I want to go looking for a Christmas tree.” She glared at Jessica. “We aren’t going to chop one down, only look for one.”

Dillon smiled unexpectedly, looking like a mischievous, charming boy, so much like Trevor. “Is Mama Tiger showing her fangs?”

“Her claws anyway,” Brenda muttered into her coffee mug.

“The weather’s good, so we’ll be perfectly safe,” Trevor added, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Someone has to get this Christmas thing off the ground. We have less than two weeks to go. You’re busy, we don’t have that much time left, so Tara and I can handle the decorations while you work.”

Dillon didn’t look at Jessica. He
couldn’t
look at her. The boy’s face was hopeful and eager and trusting. Tara had called him ‘Dad’. It tugged at his heartstrings as nothing else could have. His gaze shifted to his daughter’s face. She wore an expression identical to her brother’s. Trust was a delicate thing. It was the first time he’d come close to believing in miracles, that there might be second chances given out in life, even when he didn’t deserve it. “You think you can find the perfect tree? Do you know how to choose one?”

Jessica blinked, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to keep from protesting. Dillon’s tone had been casual, but there was nothing casual in the vivid blue of his eyes, or the set of his mouth. His gloved hand rubbed along his denim-clad thigh, betraying his uncharacteristic show of nerves. The gesture disarmed her, stole her heart. She wanted to put her arms around him, hold him close, protectively, to her.

Tara nodded eagerly. She grinned at Trevor. “I have a long list of requirements. I know exactly what we want.”

Don had been sitting quietly in a chair by the window but he turned with a quick frown. “You don’t just arbitrarily chop down trees because you want a momentary pleasure. In case you’re not aware of it, when you chop the tree down, it dies.” The frown deepened into a fierce scowl when Dillon turned to face him. “Hey, it’s just my opinion, but then that doesn’t count for much around here, does it?”

“I’m well aware of your environmentalist concerns, Don,” Dillon said gently. “I share your views, but there’s no harm in topping a tree or taking one that’s growing too close to another and has no chance of survival.”

“We’re supposed to be working here, Dillon, not celebrating some commercialized holiday so the privileged little rich kids can get a bunch of presents from their rich daddy.” There was unexpected venom in Don’s voice.

Tara slid close to Jessica for comfort. Immediately Jessica pulled the girl into her arms, stroking the dark, wavy hair with gentle fingers. Beside her, Trevor shifted, but Jessica caught his wrist in a silent signal and he remained silent. His arms went around both Jessica and Tara, holding them close to him. The silence stretched to apprehension.

Dillon stirred then, straightening from where he had been leaning lazily against the doorframe. Dillon walked over to stand in front of his children. Very gently he caught Tara’s chin in the palm of his gloved hand and lifted her face so that her blue eyes met his. “I’m looking forward to Christmas this year, Tara, it’s been far too long for me without laughter and fun. Thank you for giving the holiday back to me.” He bent his head and kissed her forehead. “I apologize for my friend’s rudeness. He’s obviously forgotten, in his old age, how fun holidays can be.”

He touched his son then, his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I would greatly appreciate it if you and your sister would go out this evening before it gets too dark and find us the best tree you can. If we weren’t in the middle of working this song I’d go with you. You find it and we’ll go together to get it tomorrow evening.” His fingers tightened momentarily as his heart leapt with joy. His son. His daughter. The terrible darkness that had consumed him for so long was slowly receding. His body actually trembled with the intensity of his emotions. He had never dared to dream of the two beloved faces staring up at him with such confidence and faith. “I’m trusting you to take care of your sister, Trevor.”

Trevor swelled visibly. He glanced at Jessica, a tremor running through him, his hands tightening until his fingers dug into Jessica’s arm. She smiled up at him with reassurance. With understanding. She could not allow her fears to take the pleasure from all of them. Especially when she didn’t even know if her fears were grounded in reality. When she looked back at Dillon her feelings were naked on her face.

Dillon’s breath caught in his chest. There was raw love on Jessica’s face, in her eyes. She looked up at him as no other in his life ever had. Complete confidence, unconditional love. There was never a hidden agenda with Jessica. She loved his children completely, fiercely, protectively. And she was beginning to love him the same way. “You and Tara go now before it gets dark. I have some business matters to discuss.”

Trevor nodded his understanding, grinning triumphantly at Don. He led Tara out of the room, urging her to hurry to get her jacket so they wouldn’t lose the light they needed.

Dillon reached down and took Jessica’s hand, raised it to the warmth of his mouth. His blue gaze burned into her green one. Mesmerizing her. Holding her captive with his sensual spell, in front of all the band members, he slowly pressed a kiss into the exact center of her palm, blatantly branding her. Staking his claim.

Jessica could feel hot tears burning behind her eyes, clogging her throat. Dillon. Her Dillon. He was coming back to life. The miracle of Christmas. The story her mother had so often told her at night. There was a special power at Christmas, a shimmering, translucent, positive, force that flowed steadily, that was there for the taking. One had only to believe in it, to reach for it. Jessica reached with both hands, with her heart and soul. Dillon needed her, needed his children. He had only to open his heart again and believe with her.

Dillon tugged on her hand, drew her to him so that her soft curves fit against the hard strength of his body. Then he turned his head above hers toward Don, pinning the man with a gaze of icy cold fury. “Don’t you ever speak that way to my children again. Not ever, Don. If you have a gripe with me, feel free to tear into me, but never try to get to me through my children.” There was a promise of swift and brutal retaliation in his voice.