A Night of Southern Comfort (4 page)

“Stay away from me, Jackson. I’m not worth the trouble.”

…

Jack stalked back into the governor’s office, torn between ditching this three-ring circus and his desire to get to the truth. Seeing Gwyneth—no, Michaela—was a shock. He’d thought about her often and then chastised himself for his foolishness. He’d known from the beginning that she was out of his league, and the assumption was now confirmed. She was political royalty in this area of the country and he was the son of a small town sheriff.

That didn’t seem to matter to his body. One look at her and he’d remembered every detail of their night together and prayed no one noticed the sudden tightness in his jeans.

Shaking off that thought, he turned to the problem at hand. Michaela was certain her father was behind the photographs, but what if she was wrong? The governor was capable of setting his daughter up—he definitely wasn’t on the short list for father of the year—but to what end?

He headed toward Director Burris and the governor, but his progress was blocked by Detective David Landon—Lucky, his partner and cousin—pressing a hand to his chest.

“Where are you going?”

Annoyed, he tried to dart around Lucky. “I want answers.”

“Yes. No. To get to the other side.”

“You’re a jackass.”

“It’s one of my many charms.” Lucky’s tone was cocky but his expression showed worry. “How’s Dr. Roarke?”

“How the hell do you think she is?” Jack turned and gripped the back of a chair instead of punching the wall. “She’s angry, embarrassed, and afraid.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Yeah, but she’s more afraid of her father than a possible stalker. That’s so twisted.” He hung his head while he struggled to gather his thoughts. Governor Eastland was a bastard and suspect number one on his list.

Lucky placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice low. “So, about the pictures…”

“What about them? Typical sicko-type stuff.”

Raised voices caused them to turn. Director Burris and the governor stood rigid with fury and frustration. The third man, Mitchell, licked his lips in delight over the whole scene and Jack mentally moved him to the number two slot on his list of “pervs most likely.”

“We need to find the guy in the photos.” Lucky’s voice drew his attention once again. “He might be the one behind the pictures, you know.”

Jack stared at Lucky. He had some explaining to do. “
I’m
the guy.”

Jack almost laughed at the rare sight of Lucky Landon speechless. He shifted uncomfortably—should he tell Burris?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucky asked.

“She told me not to.”

“When?”

“Earlier. When they brought out the pictures.” He saw Lucky’s confused expression and tried to put into words what had passed between them. “She told me…it was written all over her face… Shit, it’s hard to explain.” He rubbed his jaw as the uncomfortable silence stretched out.

Lucky barely concealed his amusement. “Okay. So, now we’re reading her thoughts? What’s going on with this woman?”

When you figure it out, let me know
.

“Cantrell. Landon. Get over here!”

The barking voice of his former boss compelled Jack to cross the room. Burris’s face was red, arms crossed over his chest—whatever he had to say to them, he didn’t like it.

“Cantrell. Governor Eastland still wants you to take the protection detail on Dr. Roarke.” He cleared his throat and rocked back on his heels. “I want you to know that refusing this assignment will not affect the possibility of you getting your job back at the Bureau.”

His old boss was a terrible liar.

“Enough of this bullshit!” Eastland slammed his fist down on the table.

Jack stifled a perverse urge to laugh in his face. Maybe Eastland
was
suited for Congress; he was a pro at showboating.

“Cantrell, this has taken too much of my time so I’m going to get to the point. You were booted out of the FBI and I don’t care.”

His amusement died in his throat as he heard the sound of his career once again going down the toilet.

“I wasn’t boo—” Jack said.

“You botched the mission and got your partner killed. They let you resign but it was only to save them the paperwork for firing your ass.”

Anger loosened Jack’s tongue. “You have no idea what happened.”

“And I don’t give a damn. Burris tells me you’re the best and that’s who I want. I don’t care how you get the job done. I want you to find the asshole and I want him stopped before he damages my campaign.”

“Do you even care about your daughter?” Jack stared down the older man and was shocked by what he saw: nothing. Not a spark of fatherly concern or affection. He suppressed the urge to grab Governor Eastland by the lapels of his custom-made suit and shake him until he vomited on his designer shoes. This was seriously fucked up. He’d stared down cold-blooded killers who’d possessed more humanity than the man who stood before him.

“No. I won’t do the job.” Jack’s voice was firm.

“I’m not asking you.” Eastland rose, walked over and stood as close as possible without giving Jack an excuse to clock him. “If you don’t do this, you’ll never get back to the FBI. In fact, you’ll be lucky to keep the job you have.” His lip hitched up in a perverse smile. “I hope you like working security at Walmart.”

“You’ve gone too far, Governor,” Burris said.

“No. It would be too far if I couldn’t back it up.” Eastland adjusted his cufflinks. “If you succeed, I’ll make sure you get your job back.”

Damn. This jerk was dangling everything he wanted right under his nose. It had been a year since he’d left the Bureau under the threat of termination—a long year of working shitty, low-dollar, undercover vice cases with the Roanoke PD. Jack had tried everything to get his old job back, and here it was offered up like a prize. He had no doubt that Eastland might screw him over no matter the outcome, but he’d ruin him if he refused.

“Dr. Roarke doesn’t want the protection.”

The governor chuckled. “My daughter doesn’t know what she wants. I shouldn’t have agreed to this little experiment of hers. The first thing she did was pick up some loser in a bar and allowed some
other
loser to take photographs of her acting like a whore. I fully expect to get a request for money to buy those pictures to keep them out of the tabloids. It’s only a matter of time.”

“She’s a grown woman. She’s not going to let me follow her around and butt into her life,” Jack protested.

“That’s why you can’t tell her. Go undercover, watch her from a distance, seduce her. I don’t give a shit how you do it, I just want it done.”

“Seduce her? She isn’t a hooker.” Jack choked the words out past the fury boiling in his gut.

“Like I said, you just get it done. By some good fortune, she’s moved to your hometown to open her practice. Your turning up in her life won’t look so suspicious.” He turned on his greasy politician’s smile. “Are we in agreement?”

Rock? Hard place? Meet Jack.

He ran through his options. Michaela needed someone to figure out who this pervert was and he was the best person to do that job. He could keep her safe better than anyone. It wasn’t bragging. The Marines and the Bureau had honed his skills to a fine point. Until his fuckup, he was the guy they sent when they wanted someone found, dead, or safe.

And Michaela wasn’t just anyone. She wasn’t one of the faceless people he’d helped over the years in the name of Uncle Sam. This was the woman with the courage to go after what she wanted. She’d sucked him into her orbit and had remained rooted in his mind ever since. She just wanted a life of her own. Now that he understood why, he couldn’t refuse to help her.

On the other hand, he railed at the thought of working for this man. He’d get a whole load of fleas from lying down with this dog.

But his motives weren’t pure. He wanted what the governor offered and he’d be a fool to waste the chance. It might be the only one he got. Yep, being so close to his goal was as strong a factor as his worry for Michaela. The truth of the matter was that if he took the job, he could keep her safe
and
get his own life back on track.
Everybody wins
.

“I’ll take the job,” he answered. “But I do it my way.”

“Fine. Just take care of it,” Eastland said, then vanished into his office.

Furious at how he got played, Jack scooped up the folder with the evidence and stalked out of the house. He needed a shower. A long, hot, antibacterial shower.

It’s just another job. Research, surveillance, connecting with the mind of the local perv, and a shiny brass ring at the end.

Lucky walked alongside him and kept his mouth shut for the short journey from the house to his truck, but the sound of the engine turning over loosened his tongue.

“We’ll get the job done and you’ll get back to DC. Easy in. Easy out.”

“Yeah. It’s just a job.” Jack backed out and drove down the driveway, breathing a little easier once he passed through the gates. He drove in silence, the monotony of the miles engaging the investigative part of his brain. “I want complete workups on Dr. Roarke, the governor, and everyone on both of their staffs. This guy is probably someone they know.”

“I’ll start as soon as we get back.” Lucky shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping on his leg. “So, she’s Dr. Roarke now?”

“She’s the target. It’s a job.” Jack had to put distance between himself and Michaela. Things got messy and dangerous if you got too close to the people involved. He knew that firsthand.

“So, you’re not going to resume ‘playing doctor’ with the hot doc?” Lucky asked.

“That was one night. Nothing more.” He glanced over. Lucky fidgeted, a frown on his face. Jack exited onto the highway to head back to Elliott. “And you know my rule. I don’t sleep with a target.”

Chapter Three

“Dr. Mike, Crystal is here to drop off your keys.”

The voice of her office manager lured Michaela to the front desk of her new office. The old Victorian mansion on the quaint Main Street of Elliott, Virginia, was perfect for the pediatric practice of a small-town doctor. The front parlor, sitting room, and dining room were now one big, open space where the late afternoon light spilled through large windows onto a roomful of waiting patients.

This was too good to lose.

She’d dreamed about this for years, this freedom. The anonymity was the best part. As long as no one found out, she wasn’t her father’s daughter in Elliott. Here, she was just Michaela—Dr. Mike. And someday? Someday, she might have some of the other things she’d only dreamed about, like a husband and a family. If she got to stay and make it happen.

One month. That’s all it had taken for the governor to make her plan an exit strategy.

Refusing to give in to her pity party, Michaela patted the shoulder of Vergie, her receptionist and office manager, and handed over the file with her notes for the transcriptionist. While she’d gutted the building and tossed out most of Dr. Scearce’s equipment, she’d kept Vergie. The sixty-something woman might perm her hair to within an inch of its life but she knew how to run the business end of a practice. She also knew everyone in town, including the woman standing at the front counter right now.

Crystal Robertson, real estate agent, businesswoman, and Michaela’s current landlord, was perfectly made up from the top of her bottle-blond head down to her expensive, designer shoes. Smiling, she dangled a set of keys from red-tipped fingernails. She looked like a barracuda in Manolo Blahniks but she’d turned out to be a good friend to Michaela. Crystal knew who her father was—the world of the rich in Virginia was a small one—but she’d made it clear that she’d never tell anyone. The old Michaela was suspicious of the unearned loyalty but the new one had given her the benefit of the doubt. So far, she hadn’t been proven wrong.

“Michaela, I brought the extra set of keys by for you.” Crystal’s glossed lips spread out into a wide grin. “I gave a set to Terrell as well since he’ll be your handyman. Thanks again for giving my brother the work. I promise he’ll do a good job.”

“I’m sure he will.” Michaela took the keys and slipped them into the pocket of her white coat. “Thanks again for referring me to Teague Elliott. We wrapped up the legal paperwork this morning.” She gestured around the sunny room. “This is all mine.”

“You and the mortgage company.”

Theresa, Michaela’s old college roommate and physician’s assistant, plopped a file onto the front desk, grabbed a piece of candy out of a jar, and leaned her hip against the edge of the counter.

“Yep. After you slave away for fifteen years, this will all be yours.” Theresa grinned as she looked at Vergie. “Did you ask her about her hot date?”

“Nope.” The older woman drawled out her answer without looking up from her work. “I figure I’ll leave the personal questions up to you.”

Crystal jumped in. “Hot date? Yes, please.”

“It’s not a date,” Michaela protested.

“So you’re
not
going to dinner with Teague?” Theresa asked.

“I am, but—”

“Well, I’m
sure
he thinks it’s a date,” Crystal stated with conviction.

Vergie chimed in. “If a beautiful girl is out with Teague Elliott then she oughta know he’s trying to get in her pants.”

“Vergie!” Shocked at the older woman’s comment, Michaela felt the blush creep onto her cheeks. She looked around her waiting room to see if anyone had overheard, then whispered, “How would you know that?”

“My sister works for Teague and she heard him ask you out.” She shrugged unapologetically. “You know nothing stays a secret long in this town.”

“For the record,” Michaela said, “it’s
not
a date. It’s a thank-you dinner for my business. There’ll be no…” She searched for the right words. “…umm…getting in my pants.”

“Uh huh.” Theresa reached under the counter and pulled out the box of condoms for their “safe sex” talks with the teenage patients. She pushed one into the pocket of Michaela’s skirt. “You’re probably gonna need this. There hasn’t been a woman within a twenty-mile radius who could keep her panties on when Teague or one of The Boys wanted them off.”

Michaela laughed and swatted Theresa’s hand away. “Who are The Boys?”

Crystal leaned over the front counter, the glee of gossip pinkening her cheeks. “Oh honey, that’s what we called Teague, Lucky Landon, Beck Sutherland, and Jack Cantrell in high school. They were the best-looking things that ever came out of this town.”

Michaela perked up at the familiar name—Jack Cantrell.
He couldn’t be the same guy, could he?

“When they decided to skip the prom, every girl in town cried herself to sleep.” Theresa sighed. “I had the biggest crush on Beck.”

“Not me.” Crystal pushed Theresa’s shoulder lightly. “Give me Jackson Cantrell any day. He was always so quiet and sexy.”

“He’s in exam room three.”

Theresa snickered. “Who is?”

Vergie continued her paperwork. “Jackson Cantrell. He brought his niece in as a favor to his sister.”

“Are you kidding me?” Theresa grabbed the next chart out of the slot, perused the file, and whistled. “Mike, you may use that condom earlier than you thought. Jack is hot.”

Michaela grabbed the chart and pretended to review it while trying to slow down the frantic patter of her heart. If this was the same guy, then her one-night stand was from this town. A complication she didn’t need. Taking a deep breath, she pasted a smile on her face and attempted to join the banter. “Don’t be ridiculous. I think I can keep my panties on long enough to examine Maddie’s arm.”

“Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you,” Theresa said.

“Let me know if you need help,” Crystal said.

She ignored the catcalls trailing behind her and headed toward the exam room. Stopping at the door to the correct room, she took a steadying breath just before she knocked and opened the door.

She smiled when she saw the freckled face of one of her favorite patients. “So, Maddie, how’s your arm doing without that awful cast on it?”

The five-year-old dutifully held out her arm. “It’s better, Dr. Mike. Can I have a sucker?”

“You have to let her examine your arm
before
you get your sugar buzz, Madison.”

Michaela instantly recognized that sexy Southern drawl. It had been playing in a constant loop in her head when she conjured up fantasies that should have made her blush. With a stuttering breath and a feeble attempt to wipe all traces of naughty thoughts from her expression, she turned to face him.

In worn jeans that cupped his muscular thighs, a white T-shirt, and a battered leather jacket, Jackson was the man every good Southern daddy prayed never caught the eye of their daughter. His hair was disheveled and his face had about three days’ worth of beard on it. He looked sexy, dangerous. Better than in her dreams.

That night at the Jefferson Hotel had been so amazing, so mind-blowing that she’d placed it in the same category as fitting in a size six again—not bloody likely. But now her sexual-size-six was standing here making her wish they could check in for another night of between-the-sheets celebrating. Or up-against-the-wall. Or in-the-shower.

Maddie’s voice rang out into the silence as she played hostess. “That’s my Unca Jack.” She pointed at Michaela. “That’s Dr. Mike.”

Jackson pushed off the wall and walked until he stood right in front of her. His expression was part amused, part concerned, but it sure as hell wasn’t any part confused.

“Hello, Detective.”

“Call me Jack.”

“Did the governor send you here, Jack?”

“No. But, he
did
tell me this was your practice.”

His lips twitched with the effort to hold back a smile, and her irritation flared into a serious bit of anger. “What the
hell
are you doing here?” she said.

Jack’s amusement wavered but he held his ground. She didn’t fare so well. Rattled, the blood rushed to her face, flushing it with heat. Her palms turned sweaty.

“That’s a bad word, Dr. Mike.” Maddie held out her little chubby hand. “Gimme a quarter.”

Confused, Michaela watched Jackson rummage around in his jacket, never breaking eye contact as he pulled out his wallet and placed a five-dollar bill in Maddie’s outstretched palm.

“Too much, Unca Jack.”

He waved her off. “Keep it. I think we’re gonna need it.” He turned his full attention back to Michaela. “Her mom makes me pay her a quarter when I cuss in front of Maddie.” He cocked his head to the side and examined her face. “From the look of you, I think five dollars may not be enough.”

Michaela bristled. She didn’t like when she was out of her element. Struggling to get her reactions under control, she turned to the one thing she could manage in her sleep—her job. Rolling her shoulders to ease the tension, she gently grasped Maddie’s arm and began her examination.
Had he followed her here? Had he told anyone who she was? Was he working for the governor?

The weight of her unanswered questions broke her. “Want to explain what you’re doing here?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Michaela saw him shift backward to lean against the wall. She exhaled. The extra space between them helped. She concentrated on the medical examination, but noted how he stared at her face. In spite of her unease, every cell in her body screamed in recognition of his scent, the warmth of his body, and that deep, seductive voice.

He cleared his throat. “I live here. Well, I don’t live here exactly…”

She glared at him. “Don’t you
know
where you live?”

His shoulders went rigid under his jacket and a muscle ticked in his jaw—the only indicators she’d hit a nerve.

“It’s complicated.”

She sniffed and finished her examination. “Of course it is.”

“Look Gwyneth…Michaela…”

“It’s Dr. Roarke.”

“Listen, Kayla.” He pushed off the wall and stood beside her, hovering while she entered notes in her file. She ignored the fact that he’d just given her a nickname that sounded way too damn sexy for words.

His voice was gentler when he spoke. “I’m sorry. We both got quite a shock the other day and the situation went to hell pretty fast. Why don’t we start over?”

Michaela caught a whiff of his scent and tensed her fingers on the pen as she recorded the examination results. She fought the tightening in her belly that correlated to her memory of the night she’d been surrounded by him. Tangled in the sheets. Skin on skin.

Oh, no. She wasn’t ready to make nice yet. He could be part of her father’s plan.

She reached into her pocket and handed a sucker to her patient. “Maddie. You’re good as new.” She tugged on the girl’s brown ponytail and returned the girl’s hundred-watt smile. “No more jumping off the jungle gym. Gravity isn’t your friend.”

When she turned, his large, hard body loomed in her space but she stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated in her office. “Tell your sister everything’s fine. No follow-up required. I’ll see her when the baby is born.”

He raised an eyebrow and widened his stance. His posture said he wasn’t going anywhere.

Okay. If he wanted to do this here, then they would. She walked to the door, opened it, and asked Theresa to take Maddie out into the waiting room for a few moments.

Once they were alone, she turned to face him. “I told you this was a new start. I bought the practice and moved here. I had no idea you’d be here or about the photos, or—” She didn’t know what else to say.

Jackson’s expression was unreadable.

“I have to go.” Michaela clutched the doorknob. “Look, it was nice to see you again. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Jackson leaned on the door, pressing it closed.

She gritted her teeth and pulled. “Move your hand.”

“Not until you agree to meet me and talk. Kayla, I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

He continued to stare, his expression screaming how much he didn’t believe her.

“Really. No more threats. No photos.”

She wouldn’t tell him about the hang-ups. Or the sensation that someone had been in her apartment. Nothing was missing. No obvious signs of a break-in. But something was
off
and she was afraid of how far her father would go to make her give up and go back to her old life.

He’d already tried to hurt her business. Colleagues associated with her father refused to make or take her referrals. The governor knew how much her practice meant to her. This was another way to pressure her from all sides, find her weak spot, make her cave and go crawling back to him. It was small and petty but a constant reminder of what kind of man he was.

She refused to involve anyone else, but Jackson was here and would help her if only she said the word. Michaela studied his face—all hard angles and sexy confidence. In some crazy way, he was inextricably bound up in this battle for her future. That night he’d been the poster child for every wild, decadent, fulfilling, selfish, and wonderful thing she desired, and now he was willing the play the “white knight” and guarantee her happily ever after. Maybe one that included him.