A Night of Southern Comfort (12 page)

You didn’t come between this woman and her pie.

“Are you going to answer my question?” she said.

And apparently, you didn’t ignore her and expect her to drop the topic.

A knock on the glass of the front door gave him an out. Crystal peered in at them, a smile on her face as she waved.

What the hell is she doing here?”

“Do you want me to go?” Michaela asked.

“Nope. I got it. You’re in danger, remember?”

“And you think
Crystal
is my stalker?”

“Sit.” He pointed at the stool, rounded the corner, and headed toward the door to unlock it. What could she want at this hour? “Hey, Crystal. You need something?”

In typical Crystal fashion, she pressed a red-clawed hand against his chest and pushed her way inside. He knew better than to fight her—she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Hey Jack. I saw the lights on and wondered who was in here.” She bobbed her head between the two of them like at a tennis match until it finally settled on Kayla. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Michaela.”

“I was working late and Jackson suggested his mother’s pie,” Kayla answered. “I couldn’t resist.”

Crystal slid onto a stool, her smile bright as she cozied up to Kayla. A little too bright. Jack watched her, suddenly a little nervous.

“Working late, huh? And Jack just happened to stop by?”

“Um…no.” Kayla shifted in her seat and fiddled with her silverware. “Jackson was helping me with…something.”

Crystal pounced, leaning forward to place a hand on Kayla’s arm. “So, he
did
spend all day at your office?”

“He was updating my security system,” Kayla said.

“And did you also stay at her place last night?” Crystal turned to look at Jack.

Jack stared at her. This woman had no sense of what was private or inappropriate. That was part of the reason he’d avoided ever having date number two with her. Well, that and the way she’d pawed at him all night. He’d gone home sore from her mauling.

He measured his words carefully, since they would be relayed to every other gossip in town. “She was attacked yesterday. It was a security precaution.”

“So you
aren’t
sleeping together?”

Kayla gasped. He ground his teeth and gripped the edge of the countertop in a supreme effort not to launch her ass out the front door and onto the sidewalk.

“Oh.” Crystal pouted. “I’ve offended you.” She turned her attention back to Kayla, whose mouth still hung open in shock. “
Everyone
is wondering and so am I. Just what kind of girl is the right type for the mysterious Jackson Cantrell? The man who left Elliott the day after high school graduation and only came back a handful of times.”

“I was in the military, Crystal. I couldn’t just up and leave whenever I wanted.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He’d been granted leave. He just didn’t take it and when he did, he didn’t use it to come home. The last six months was the longest period he’d spent in close proximity to his family in years, and much of that had been spent undercover. His family knew better than to ask what he was doing—he’d only have to lie—and that just increased the gulf between them.

Oblivious, Crystal barreled on. “And, I know every soldier gets some leave to come home and see his mama.” She leaned conspiratorially toward Kayla. “Jack never did fit in around here, even though his family practically founded the place. Always so quiet and secretive… people wondered where he came from.”

Jack winced. He didn’t need anyone to remind him he’d missed out on the gene that allowed everyone else in his family to be free and easy with people they didn’t know. Too bad. In this town, keeping to yourself was a federal crime and he was a repeat offender.

And, yeah, she was a little too close to the truth with some of her bullshit. This subject was a touchy one for him and his family. They loved him, were proud of his service in the Marines and the FBI, but the fact that he’d seldom come back home hurt them. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Except feel guilty.

“Well, you don’t have to answer me, but we’re all wondering what’s going on between you two.” Crystal slid off the stool, briefly touching the shoulder of a deeply blushing Kayla, then headed toward the door. “The only woman you’ve dated since you got back into town has been me and we know that didn’t get past one date.”

He followed her out, stiff with anger. He opened the door, placed his hand at the small of Crystal’s back, and pushed her out of the door. Nothing too hard, nothing hurtful, just enough to make sure she understood that he wanted her gone. She flashed an amused glance at him before calling out a cheery good-bye to Kayla.

Crystal had titanium balls. He’d give her that much.

“I’m really sorry about that whole—” Words seemed to be inadequate to describe their trip into Crystal crazytown. When he turned, Kayla had wandered over to the jukebox. Her stare was riveted to the songs listed on the flip tabs.

He had no idea what to say. “It was one date. Nothing more.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said.

“Maybe not, but I want you to know anyway.”

Her back went rigid at his words. He could sense her icy walls going up from across the room. He didn’t like it, the way she disconnected from him when he was learning more about her, even though he cringed at letting her have the same access to him. He closed the distance between them, skirting around tables, stopping when he felt her heat and smelled the sweet scent of vanilla. She turned when he touched her shoulder.

Expecting the Ice Queen, his breath caught at what he saw. Desire. Affection. Hope. No one had ever looked at him like that before and he suddenly wanted to be
that
guy—the one who could live up to all those expectations. Luckily, he wouldn’t be around long enough for Kayla to figure out he could never be her hero.

Kayla examined his face, her brow creasing. He belatedly realized the door was now open to lots of questions he didn’t want to answer. Steeling himself for one straight from Oprah’s repertoire, she surprised him with the one she asked.

“Dance with me?”

The horror must have shown on his face because she laughed—an evil little giggle that told him he was in big trouble.

“Aaah…I found something you hate more than talking about yourself.”

“I can’t dance.”

“I’m not asking you to impersonate Patrick Swayze.”

Her smile was both sweet and a little wicked. There was nothing he could do but give in and suffer the consequences. Smiling in spite of himself, Jack kneeled, reached around the back of the jukebox, and fiddled with the wires until the box lit up like a carnival. He’d learned years ago how to rig the machine to play without paying—another perk of being the owner’s son.

“Okay. Pick a song.” He held up a finger in warning, but a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, ruining any chance of getting his way. “One song.”

“We’ll see about that.” She flipped through the selection until her face lit up and she eagerly pushed the buttons.

He waited, like a prisoner in the courtroom, and sagged with relief when a slow Righteous Brothers tune drifted out into the air. If she’d picked a fast song, he’d have shot himself.

“So, can you handle this or do you need a wingman?”

“No, I think I can handle this.” Jack wrapped his arms around her, swaying her slightly into a shallow dip. He chuckled at her wide-eyed expression and brushed his lips against her ear. “I think I’ve mastered the art of holding you close and finding a rhythm.”

She trembled against him, a thoroughly ego-boosting reaction, and he gained a little more confidence about how this would go. Kayla encircled his neck as they continued their easy movements. Every inch of her luscious body pressed against his and his cock responded in earnest. He wasn’t embarrassed; by now Kayla knew what she did to him. Her corresponding shiver and gentle rub against him confirmed her desire. It was what it was, and they didn’t waste energy fighting it.

“I bet you have lots of memories like this.” Her voice was dreamy, muffled against his neck.

“No. I wasn’t the ladies man—that was Lucky.” When she scoffed, he insisted. “I had girlfriends but I wasn’t the one to put myself out there in front of a crowd like that. I was content to let Lucky and Teague fill that role.”

“You still prefer the shadows, the edges.”

“It suits me.” Jack hesitated. She’d laid herself bare, allowed him to see her in the worst of her pain and need without embarrassment. He’d tell her what she wanted to know. Kayla deserved that much.

“Crystal’s full of shit about most things, but she got one thing right. I was never like the rest of my family. They loved attention and none of them ever met a stranger.” Kayla looked up, her face resting against his shoulder. The effort to speak made his voice sound like gravel. “I was the quiet Cantrell and everyone felt compelled to comment on it. I’m not easy with people and the constant focus on it made me feel like the outsider.”

“It wasn’t easy for you.”

“No, but a lot of people had it worse. My family just wanted me to be happy.”

“And that meant…what?”

“Stepping up as sheriff when my dad retired.”

“But you went into law enforcement as a career. Why not here?”

“I didn’t want to deal with the continued comparison to my family. My dad was a great sheriff. I didn’t think I’d ever live up to that.”

“It’s funny”—Kayla toyed with the hair at his nape; the caress and the soft timbre of her voice made him melt—“you’re easy with me.”

“Yeah. How about that?” He looked at her beautiful face. Why
was
it so different with her? Every conclusion ended in a truth he was uncomfortable pursuing. “When I went to college at Virginia Tech, it was easier to blend into the crowd, just have a few selective friends and ease out of the small-town spotlight. But when I went into the Marines it all fell into place for me.”

“In what way?”

“I went into Recon and suddenly I was in a job where being quiet, blending into the shadows, was an asset, a necessity. After spending hours in a deer stand in the woods, lying in the desert sand waiting for my kill target was a piece of cake.”

“So you found where you belong?”

“I don’t know about belonging.” He hesitated, the answer not as clear as he once thought it was. “I fit in there. I didn’t stick out.”

“And the FBI?”

“It was easy going undercover. Becoming someone else was easier than being me.” The admission slipped out, but it was the truth.

“Sounds to me like
you’re
the one hiding in plain sight.” Kayla gasped, her expression horrified. She struggled to get out of his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…that was bitchy.”

Jack tightened his hold, kissing away the worry lines on her forehead.

“No. You’re right.”

“But—”

“You’re right.” Jack held her tight, moving slowly to music that had ended minutes before. They swayed together in the silence, their own rhythm taking over and guiding them through the steps. Her hair drifted silkily against the skin of his cheek and he inhaled her fresh scent, letting it keep him anchored in this time and place.

“Are you the real Jackson?” Her voice was quiet but laced with doubt. “Or are you just being what the job requires? Who you think I require?”

“No.” He pulled her back from his chest, peering down. Later, when she hated him for lying to her about the arrangement with her father, she would have this one truth. “This is the real Jack. Always with you—even that first night.”

She stared at him. He’d faced down all kinds of dangerous assholes and never before had to work so hard to maintain eye contact. Finally, Kayla nodded and her lips twitched up at the corner in amusement.

“So, ‘Real Jackson’”—she reached up and traced the edge of his T-shirt, sending a shiver up his spine—“you want to take me home?”

Jack brushed a kiss across her lips, dipping in to taste the sweetness of her mouth. He smiled as she slowly opened her eyes, desire giving them a hazy, unfocused expression.

“I would love to take you home.”

Chapter Ten

They were on borrowed time.

Michaela didn’t need Jackson to tell her that her stalker would strike again any minute. And when he did, Jackson would catch him and head back to DC and out of her life. But tonight he was hers.

Upon leaving the diner, Jackson slipped back into cop mode. He’d been quiet and focused on their surroundings until the moment he’d fastened the last lock on her door and turned on the alarm system. Michaela had reached for him then, leading him back to her bedroom, where they undressed, neither touching until they came together in a tender embrace of limbs, skin, and mouths on her bed.

By unspoken agreement, they took it slow, savoring each other in the silent semidarkness of her room. Propped up against pillows, she watched as Jackson pressed kisses along the skin of her feet and calves. He was splayed out at her feet, his muscles shadowed in the light of the side-table lamp, his half-hard erection lying against his stomach. He was beautiful, mouthwatering. She shivered as his tongue traced the line of her calf muscle up to the back of her knee.

“What happened here?” Jackson’s mouth lingered over the silvery scar on her knee.

“I fell off a horse when I was seven.”

“You ride?”

“Not anymore.” She bit her lip as his teeth grazed her inner thigh. “I ride other things now.”

His head snapped up, a growl rumbling in his chest. “Is that so?”

“Do you need me to prove it?”

“I think I do, yeah.” He skimmed his lips up her thigh, stopping to press wet kisses to her sex. A hint of tongue, a little tease that made her gasp and lift her hips in invitation.

“Damn, you taste good. Open up for me, Kayla. Let me eat you up.”

Oh, that mouth of his. Michaela wasn’t sure what was a bigger turn-on—the way he used his tongue or the words that spilled out of his mouth. She arched into his caress, shifting open to allow him access to the place where she ached for him, needed him.

“Make me come, Jackson,” she gasped out between panting breaths.

“I will.” He swept his tongue along her folds, sending tingles up her spine before moving upward, trailing his hot mouth along the skin of her hip, stomach, up to her breast where he hovered. His moist breath ghosted across her skin, causing her nipple to pucker and reach for his touch. He was so close but so far away and she squirmed with the hot tension that swirled in her belly.

Jackson’s dark lashes lifted to reveal the deep onyx of his amazing eyes. Eyes that held desire but so much more in their depths—kindness, affection, humor. Seeing him this way, she didn’t know how he ever drifted into the shadows on the job. Didn’t everyone see what she saw? Captivating. She couldn’t soak him in fast enough.

“What?” His voice was gruff but a smile tugged at the side of his sexy mouth.

I’m in love with you
.

Heat swept her body, creeping up her neck and settling in her cheeks. Shit. She was in over her head and didn’t see a way to avoid the train wreck headed straight for her. She loved him and there was no turning back now—even if she wanted to. She didn’t. This was real. This was hers. This wasn’t orchestrated by her father and that was enough to make it worth the heartbreak.

“What happened here?” Looking for a way to change the subject, she touched the scar that bisected the edge of his eyebrow, wincing when her hand shook.

“Beck hit me when I tried to break up a fight with Teague.”

“What about?”

“Not a clue.” Like a cat, he nuzzled into the caress of her fingers. “Probably a girl.”

She worked her way down to his chin, tracing the scar that gave him a rugged, dangerous look. He read the question in her look.

“Afghanistan. Ugly guy with a knife.”

Michaela leaned in, drinking in the earthy scent that was totally unique to him before pressing a soft kiss against the puckered skin. He drew in a sharp breath, hands tightening on her hips.

“Kayla.”

“Sshh.” She skimmed her lips down the beard-roughened skin of his neck, tasting the sexy male tang of his sweat. “It’s my turn.”

Tongue tasting, teeth scraping over sensitive areas, she made her way down his torso. He shifted under her touch, muscles flexing as masculine groans reverberated through his chest, transferring delicious vibrations to her lips. She pushed him onto his back, giving her better access to a full view of his hard, large body. She hungrily took in the wide expanse of him, pausing only when she spied a round scar on his side—newer, shinier, and pinker than the others. Jackson stilled under her scrutiny.

She pressed her lips to the scar before resting her face on his abdomen. He looked down at her, his expression blank.

“My last job for the Bureau.” His deep breathing vibrated under her cheek before he continued. “My partner shot me.”

Michaela’s heart clenched at the pain that shadowed his face and caused his voice to shake with fresh and raw emotion. This is not what she wanted for them. Tonight wasn’t about pain and regret—that would come later. She opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t need to know but he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her lower lip with a tenderness that made her want to cry.

“We broke the rules and paid for it. We were both sleeping with the same woman. She turned out to be the lover of the drug lord we were after, and she played us both. In the end, he was willing to betray everything to be with her, but I couldn’t do it.” Jackson closed his eyes, but continued with his confession. “He was going to kill me and for a moment I almost let him. I was so ashamed at what I’d allowed to happen. But when the smoke cleared, she was dead, I was wounded, and Tom died on the way to the hospital. They allowed me to resign but they weren’t going to let me stay. I had nowhere to go, so I came home.”

“Jackson.” Michaela’s heart ached for him and what he’d lost. Friendship. Pride. Integrity. And she was jealous—stupidly and insanely jealous of the woman who’d been able to capture this man’s heart, even if it was for the wrong reason. The words slipped out before she could stop herself. “Did you love her?”

He huffed out a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh as he scrubbed his hand over his face. “God, I hope not. It’s got to be better than that.”

She guessed the shrug of his shoulders was supposed to convey nonchalance but she felt the whipcord tension in his body, heard the sharp edge to his breathing. No wonder he wanted to get back to DC so bad—he had a few dragons to slay before he could rest.

She grazed her fingertips over the sleek muscles of his abdomen and followed the dark line of silky hair to the nest of curls around the base of his penis. He was aroused, already thick with ropy veins underneath the translucent skin. Michaela took him into her mouth, bathing the satiny crown with tender licks of her tongue and gentle suction.

She couldn’t say the words that sat like candy dots on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t tell him that if he wanted to know what love was really like, then he had to look no further than her. But she could love him with her body and let that be enough.

“Baby, you’re killing me.” Jackson writhed under her caress. “Your mouth is so sweet.”

She hummed around his rapidly swelling cock, relishing in the dark, musky taste. He smelled delicious, all male and warm. Michaela caressed his balls and the smooth skin just behind them as Jackson’s hips snapped in the rhythm of release. She put everything she had into pleasuring him with her mouth, taking cues from the moans and sensual babble spilling from his lips.

“Come here.”

He pulled her around until she straddled his face. Before she fully comprehended what he planned to do, Jackson nudged her onto her knees and devoured her sex with his hot, wet tongue. His mouth ate at her, driving her to a fever pitch and causing her to falter in her task.

No man had ever made love to her with such raw intensity. It was heaven and hell. Ecstasy and torment. Michaela gave herself over to the passion, to every lick and suckle he used to push her toward ecstasy. In turn, she engulfed his cock with deep suction while pumping his shaft with firm, sure strokes.

Jackson’s body tightened, his thigh muscles taut as he arched into her mouth and came with a shout. She took it all, reveling in her power over his pleasure. His hold tightened on her hips as he latched onto her clit until she ground down on his mouth, coming apart in wave after wave of rapture. Aftershocks shot up her spine as she collapsed on top of him, the hair on his thigh tickling her cheek.

This was heady stuff. She was drunk on their passion. That was the only excuse for the foolish truth that spilled off her tongue.

“I love you, Jackson.”

…

Jack remembered an elderly relative catching Lucky and him with a girlie magazine and warning them that they’d go blind if they “interfered” with themselves. But he didn’t remember ever being told that having a rock-your-world orgasm would affect his hearing.

When she’d engulfed in him in the white-hot heat of her mouth, he’d promptly forgotten his name. He’d rubbed together enough brain cells to tug her over his body, and the combination of her tongue on his cock and her taste in his mouth had short-circuited what was left of his mind.

So, he couldn’t have heard her right. She hadn’t said she loved him. Had she?

The bed shifted as Kayla jumped up and scooted across the floor toward the bathroom. Jack lifted up on one elbow in time to get a glimpse of her very fine naked ass just before she shut the door.

Maybe she just needed to take care of some—

The lock clicked into place and he fell back on the bed with a groan.

Hell. She
had
said it.

Jack stared at the ceiling. What the hell just happened? And what was he going to do about it? They’d been getting closer but he’d put off thinking about it. The sex was great—the best he’d ever had—but he’d been really clear about what this was and what it wasn’t.
Really
clear.

He sat up and glanced toward the bathroom door. Not a sound emerged from there and it made him nervous. Was she crying? Mad? Maybe he was wrong about the whole thing and she really just had to go. Maybe she didn’t mean it.

That last thought did not bring him the relief he expected. So, what the hell did that mean? Yeah, he liked Kayla, but that wasn’t love. She’d gotten carried away in the heat of the moment, no big deal. He’d also gotten a little carried away in the looking-deep-into-her-eyes-soul-mate department but it didn’t mean anything. It was a by-product of great sex and the circumstances. Nothing got the libido going like a stalker. They’d talk about it and move on.

He glanced at the closed door.

As soon as she came out of the bathroom.

Feeling foolish, Jack hopped off the bed, tiptoed over to the door, and pressed his ear against the wood. Nothing. No water running, no crying. Only the sound of his heart beating in his ears. He pressed closer, face mashed against the door, when he heard the unmistakable tumble of the lock. Surprised, he stumbled backward, his heart racing, and fumbled for his pants.

He wasn’t having this conversation bare-ass naked.

Spying them on the floor, he leaned over to grab them, mooning Kayla when she walked into the room. Groaning from the absolute absurdity of the situation, he stepped into the legs of his jeans and turned to face her as he closed them up. His embarrassment fled when he noticed she desperately tried to look anywhere but at him, her hands grasping the lapels of the robe she’d put on in the bathroom.

“Kayla.” He stepped forward, but she held up her arms to stop him in his tracks. His heart raced when he saw the chaos roiling in her gaze. God, he hated to see her like this.

“Jackson, wait.” She took a step back and crossed her arms in a defensive posture. Her telltale flush crept up the creamy skin of her neck, alerting him to just how upset she was over this whole thing. “What I said… I didn’t mean it.”

This was too painful to watch. “I know. You don’t need—”

“It was the heat of the moment. You understand?” She barreled on, disregarding his comment. “This is an emotional time for me and I think I just projected on you because you’ve done so much for me and I have this stalker following me around—”

“You make it sound like Stockholm syndrome.” His voice was bitter but he couldn’t rein it in. She was only saying what he’d been thinking, but hearing it from her didn’t sit well with him at all. In fact, it burned deep in his gut.

“What?” She crinkled her brow in confusion.

“Look, I know you don’t love me.” Suddenly, the distance between them was too much. Jack stepped forward, grabbed her hands and pulled her close. She felt so good against his body and smelled like sex and vanilla. The combination almost made him lose his train of thought. He shook his head slightly. “But, we care about each other and that’s okay as long as we keep it in perspective.”