Whirlwind (20 page)

Nine

“How long will you be staying here at the
Mission
?” Ann asked in a sweet, sing-song voice. She held out a huge bouquet of white roses for me.

“Not long,” Jason said, his eyes bright. He was dressed in a charcoal gray morning suit, low-cut silver vest, white shirt, and wide, striped tie. As he crooked his left arm, I saw a gold band gleaming on his third finger. “Are you ready?” he asked.

I shifted the heavy bunch of flowers and straightened the skirt of my long satin gown before taking his arm.

“Definitely,” I replied. Behind his adoring face, I recognized the white adobe walls and brown, high-beamed ceiling of the sanctuary at Mission Santa Lucia.

This is odd. I’m not Catholic.

“Good luck, Mel,” Mitch called behind us.

Jason squeezed my hand with a flex of his bicep and smiled at me again, his teeth flashing in the light filtering through one of the few tiny windows. My shoes echoed through the church as we passed pew after empty pew. Ahead of us towered the huge wooden doors that led outside—that led to our future. When we reached the end of the seats, Jason stopped.

He lifted my hand to his lips, kissed it lightly, and said, “Congratulations.” The doors swung open silently, and he encouraged me toward them. When his hand slipped out of mine, panic swept through me. Jason stepped to the side and stood next to Tricia. He kissed her on the lips before waving to me.

“Good luck, Melissa,” they both said.

A silhouetted figure stood in the doorway, his arms stretched wide. The bells of the church tolled, and the man took a step toward me.

I recognized him and started to scream.

“You’re all mine, now,” Ron said.

I woke with a start, but the bells in my head remained.
Ding dong, ding dong
. Confused, I opened my eyes. Seeing only white, I squeezed them shut again. It was a dream, it was a dream, I chanted silently. With careful fingers, I stroked the fabric around me, finding not satin, but cotton. Sheets…I was in bed.

It
wasn’t
real
.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Jason whispered. He held me close to his chest, spoon-style, his breath tickling my ear as he spoke.
This
was the dream I didn’t want to end. The nightmare faded, leaving only an aftertaste of anxiety. When I ran my hands over Jason’s ring-less fingers, my fear dissipated completely.

I tried again to see, blinking to adjust to the bright morning light. Rubbing my eyes, I rolled onto my back. “Good morning, handsome,” I said, my voice sounding like rocks in a cement mixer.

“How are you? Feeling better?” His voice was clear and smooth; he’d been awake for a while, I guessed.

My vision cleared, and I was rewarded with the sight of his vibrant blue eyes and inviting lips. His hair stuck out in every direction, and I couldn’t resist mussing it a little more. I could wake up like this every morning. The voice in my head whispered,
if only
, but I ignored it. “Yeah, I feel great.”

The sun shone in his smile as he brushed a wayward lock of my hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. Remnants of our last conversation darted through my mind, but then the chime—the doorbell—rang again, and Jason swore.

He planted a soft peck on my forehead before climbing out of bed. “This’d better not be one of Mitch’s pranks,” he muttered.

After dragging a hand through his hair, he stretched his arms toward the ceiling, giving me full view of every sculpted muscle from his chin to the top of his very low-slung pajamas.

Realizing I was gawking, I quickly stretched too, thankful again for the T-shirt I’d borrowed last night. I tried not to think about what
my
hair looked like. “What time is it?” I asked and pushed the sheets down.

“Almost ten.” He paused at the door and looked at my chest with greedy eyes. “That color suits you. Maybe you should consider transferring.”

“What?”
Transferring?
I looked down. In the dark I hadn’t realized I’d put on his navy blue Michigan T-shirt. The huge, gold M GO BLUE was plastered directly across my breasts. I rolled my eyes and received a sexy half-smile in return. The doorbell rang again, accompanied by a loud knocking this time.

“Coming,” Jason yelled at the front door, then winked at me. “Stay here. I have plans for that shirt.” He slipped out, grumbling about paying his brother back.

I snuck to the bedroom door and opened it a crack, just like I had last night.

Jason hiked his pajamas up after looking through the peephole. I could just make out surprise on his face as he undid the locks.

“Yes?” he said. I couldn’t understand the low voice coming from the hall, but the tone sounded inquisitive. “Yes, she’s here. Why? Did my brother put you up to this?” The speaker continued and Jason stiffened.

“Of course, please come in,” he said.

Jason held the door open, and a man in a coat and tie entered, followed by a uniformed police officer. Jason waved them to the couches. “I’ll get her, but it’ll be a minute.”

“Can she at least confirm she’s here?” the man in the suit asked.

“Um,” Jason stalled, probably trying to find a polite way to explain I wasn’t completely dressed.

I pulled my hair back, hoping to look slightly less bedraggled, and stuck my head out the door. The rest of my scantily clad body stayed safely hidden. “Are you looking for me? I just need a minute to change. Okay?”

The man in the suit took a deep breath and nodded to his companion. “Yes, that’s fine. Thank you, Ms. Williams. Please, take your time.”

Jason said something else to the men, but I shut the door and grabbed my jeans off the floor. He came in as I was pulling a green
Mission Daily
T-shirt out of my bag.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Our visitors are from the sheriff’s office. They only asked about you.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin, his eyes locked on me in a pensive stare.

“Did they say why they needed to see me?” I turned my back to him and prepared to change shirts.

“No. The one guy seemed awfully worried about you, though. Do you know him?” he asked. Surprising me, Jason spun me around and caught me in a hug.

“No, I don’t think so.” I kissed his cheek and then tried to wiggle out of his arms. “I need to finish changing.”

“May I have my shirt back?” he whispered, an impish gleam in his eye.

“Jason, there are two cops waiting for us in the next room,” I said nervously. Even though the bedroom door was closed, I knew they’d be listening. The sunshine streaming through the thin curtains didn’t help. It added to the feeling of being trapped in a very bright spotlight.

“
They
can’t see you,” he argued and lifted the bottom of my shirt.

I pushed it back down, embarrassed. Jason may have explored every inch of me in the dim firelight last night, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be put on display like a pin-up calendar. “You must have other shirts in your suitcase,” I said through my teeth.

“Yes, but none of them smell like this,” he murmured, nuzzling my neck.

He nipped his way to my lips, and my grip on the fabric loosened. The shirt slipped a little higher.

In one last attempt to prevent him from ogling me, I slung my arms over his shoulders and smashed my chest against his. He continued to tug on the shirt, chuckling when the material rubbing across my breasts elicited a gasp.

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?” I said, clinging to him. He held the shirt at my shoulders, waiting for me to give in. The feeling of his skin pressed against my bare chest was intoxicating.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.” He kissed my ear before whispering, “You know the longer you resist, the harder it gets.” A warm hand slid down my bare back and pulled my hips into his, demonstrating his point.

“
Jason
,” I scolded, but Naughty Melissa was ready to give in.

Hearing a loud hiss from one of the cops’ radios, I glanced at the door. My curiosity proved an effective defense against my lusty, naughty side. Only something newsworthy could’ve brought the police here—and I had a feeling they’d be storming the bedroom if I didn’t show up soon.

“They’re going to wonder what’s taking so long,” Jason warned.

Dirty mind reader!

“Fine,” I grumbled and raised my arms.

He slipped the shirt over my head, grinning like a kid who’d just beaten his favorite video game.

“Happy now?” I snipped, spinning around and throwing on my bra.

“Very.” He slapped my ass on his way to the closet.

I tried to tame my hair while watching him change, but I dropped the brush twice when he stripped off his pajama pants and donned a pair of form-fitting boxer-briefs.

“Now who’s staring?” he teased, slowly buttoning up his jeans.

Before I could answer, my stomach growled.

Jason reached for the phone, leaving the top button undone. “I’m calling room service. What would you like for breakfast?”

“Whatever,” I said, juggling my brush a third time. “I’m pretty easy.” After the words left my lips, I froze.

Jason snorted, but didn’t say anything.

“May I
please
have some coffee?” I asked, then sprinted into the bathroom. The door closed behind me before he could answer.

I had better luck brushing my hair alone and tied it up in a simple ponytail. Jason’s shaving kit was open on the counter. His toothbrush stuck out of the case, tempting me. I couldn’t bring myself to pick it up, reaching instead for the toothpaste next to it. I squeezed a dab onto my finger and ran it around my mouth. I replaced the tube and thought about checking out what else was in his kit.

My mother’s stern voice rang in my mental ears.
Would you want him to look through your toiletries?

With my shoulders set in a guilty slump, I opened the bathroom door.

Jason and I swapped places, and while he cleaned up, I made a pass around the room to collect my clothes. I crammed everything into my bag, thinking about our visitors. Why would they be looking for me? My mother didn’t know I was still in
L.A.
, so she couldn’t have sent them.
Has something happened to my car? Who else knows I’m here and not in Santa Lucia?

Questions raced through my brain like wild horses as I zipped open the side pocket of my bag. Next to my laptop was a pad of paper, which I snagged along with a couple of pens and my media pass from last week’s baseball game. A little credibility might come in handy.

Jason, dressed in the shirt I’d just been wearing, reappeared. “I guess we
shhh
—”

The last word hung on his lips as his mouth fell open. He leaned toward me, staring intently at my face.

“What?” I rubbed my eyes, feeling around for what must be a Volkswagen-sized blob of sleepy goo stuck somewhere. “Did I get it?”

 
“Get it?” Jason blinked furiously. “No, it’s not that. You’re fine.” He gently tilted my face toward the windows. “I could’ve sworn your eyes were blue.”

“Oh, that.” Relieved, I smiled. “My eyes like to mimic my shirt. I suppose they’re technically hazel, but they vary quite a bit.” My grin widened. For once, I’d caught him off guard. “Weird, I know.”

He held a hand in front of my nose, testing my explanation, I guessed. “No, definitely not weird.” His fingers returned to my chin. “More like incredible,” he said, rekindling the fire that made my whole body sizzle.

“We really should go,” I whispered.

He nodded slowly, gave me a soft kiss, then opened the bedroom door.

I almost turned right back around when I saw the two cops eyeing the nearly untouched fondue from last night. Of course they knew what’d happened—the fondue told them nothing my initial disheveled greeting hadn’t already revealed.
Get over it, Melissa. You’re an adult, after all.