All Through the Night (Liar's Web) (12 page)

She couldn't avoid seeing him any longer. It was time to do the
morning afte
r
 
walk down to the kitchen. When she'd left him last night it was an uncomfortable moment with neither one of them knowing what to say or do. He'd been dumbfounded. It had been written all over his face—the discomfort, the indecision, the awkwardness.

Once she made her way downstairs, she took a moment to watch him without his knowing as he puttered around the kitchen. Again, he was dressed casually in a pair of jeans that tightly clung to his muscled thighs. He wore a snug black T-shirt and a pair of black silver-tipped cowboy boots. She couldn't help but think he looked ten times better without his clothes on. Heat burned her cheeks as another flood of memories washed over her.

His tight, muscled ass. His tongue gliding across her nipples. The weight of his body as he lay on top of her after he orgasmed. The scorching memories compelled her to make a sound in her throat, a low moan, causing Jake to whip his head around.

This morning he met her eyes without flinching. “Hungry?” he asked with a wry smile.

Darcel smiled back at him and rubbed her stomach. “My stomach is growling like a grizzly.”

“
Good. I'm making omelets. I've got cheese—American, Cheddar, and Jack. Onions, peppers, ham, mustard, the works.”

“
Cheddar cheese and ham, please.” She was practically drooling at the prospect of eating a freshly cooked omelet. She couldn't think of the last time she'd had one for breakfast. Due to her hectic schedule as a realtor, it was rare for her to have a sit-down breakfast. More times than not, she ended up grabbing a piece of fruit, a granola bar, and a cup of coffee.
Hardly a breakfast of champions
,
 
she thought derisively.

When he handed her a plateful of steaming hot omelet, she thought she'd died and gone to heaven. “Where'd you learn to cook like this?” she asked between heaping forkfuls of omelet. “You can really throw down in the kitchen.”

“
When I was a kid, my Mom taught me how to make omelets,” he said. “It became our special thing we would do for each other. I'd cook her omelets on her birthday, Mother's Day, Easter.”

“
You said she passed away?”

“
Yes. She's no longer with us,” he said in an abrupt voice.

Darcel could tell he was holding his emotions in check. A slight tremor in his jaw betrayed him. He placed the carton of orange juice firmly on the counter with a bang. He began clenching and unclenching his fists as he struggled to gain control over himself. He was a warrior. A man who was used to being strong and untouchable. To the world he presented the image of the indestructible lawman, but she could plainly see he had chinks in his armor.

“
I'm sorry for your loss,” she spoke softly into the silence. He looked at her and nodded, his eyes hooded and haunted. She wanted to press more, to ask him how and why his mother had passed away. But she couldn't—she wouldn't add to his pain.

“
About last night,” Jake looked at her intensely, his raisin-colored eyes dark and inscrutable, “I shouldn't have let that happen. I'm duty bound to protect you, Darcel. I had no business crossing the line between business and—”

She raised an eyebrow then asked, “Pleasure?”

She watched as he swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “Yes, er…pleasure. It's my duty to protect you, not to get into your pants,” he stated bluntly. “I've never compromised myself with a witness before, and it's not something that can ever happen again.”

Compromised
?
 
He made it sound like a disease he'd been infected with instead of an explosive sexual interlude.

He shrugged. “I was out drinking last night.”

“
You weren't drunk.”

“
Not drunk. Buzzed. Either way, my judgment was impaired.”

The word impaired had her seeing red. He was in serious denial if he was using the drunk and helpless excuse. She so didn't like the way this conversation was going.

“
If you want to regret last night, regret it. But don't stand here and make excuses. It's cowardly,” she said in a brisk tone as she snatched her empty plate from the table. “Just admit you enjoyed having sex last night with a woman whom you hate.”

He reached out and grabbed her arm as she walked past, quickly releasing her as he remembered the last time he'd too tightly grabbed hold of her. It had been over a year ago when she'd helped Case and him with information regarding Sam Jarvis and the criminal actions that had been plaguing the Diamond Lil Ranch. At the time he'd still been heated at her over the malicious gossip she'd helped spread across town about him and Aurelia. He'd reached out and grabbed her by her arm, holding on until Case had brought him to his senses. The recollection shamed him.

“
I never hated you.”

Her mouth felt dry. She was practically shaking with outrage. “Are you kidding me? That night at Tumbleweeds you called me nasty and malicious. You said I was obnoxious and pathetic! It sounded a lot like hate.”

“
I disliked you,” he admitted grudgingly. “With good reason I might add. I had no right to go off on you like that. I had no right to put my hands on you. For that I am deeply sorry. It makes me crazy to think I was so out of control. I was mad and frustrated because of that rumor going around, and I took it out on you.”

“
I did not start that rumor!” she retorted. She felt her cheeks get hot as she admitted, “Yeah, sure, I passed it on a few times. I mean, who wouldn't? The hot Native American sheriff sleeping with a woman in her eighties. It was hot, steamy gossip.”

“
She was never my woman,” he said through clenched teeth. “For God's sake, she's old enough to be my grandma.”

“
So what was she…your bingo partner?”

“
She raised me, Darcel. When I was thirteen years old my mother was killed in a drunk driving accident. The drunk driver was my father. He'd been in and out of our lives since the day I was born. He came back to the Rez just in time to reel my mother back in before going on a drunken binge and taking her life.” He shuddered and closed his eyes, taking a moment to collect himself before he continued, “I wanted justice. For my mother. For me. Nobody wanted to make him pay. Because it happened on the Reservation, he wasn't subject to the judicial system.

“
They call it tribal sovereignty. He just got a pass. So I left. I set out on my own, because I knew if I stayed there I would kill him with my bare hands. Aurelia…the woman you call Mrs. Jenkins…she was married at one point to my grandfather. When she found out I was living on the streets, she offered me a place to stay here in town. She fed me, clothed me, and cared for me till the day I turned eighteen.

“
I've looked after her ever since. Once a week we get together for dinner and we catch up with each other's lives. We never imagined in a million years people would think—”

“
That you were boinking her?”

He let out a ragged sigh. “Yes, that I was boinking her.”

She turned away from him as a deep feeling of shame rolled through her. Her stomach roiled with nausea as the full implication of what she'd just heard hit her like a ton of bricks. She'd helped spread a false rumor about a goodhearted woman who'd taken a homeless young boy into her home. It was disgusting! She felt sick with shame. She was shaking so badly all over her body, yet she fought the urge to sit down. She wanted to run away, to bury her feelings deep down inside so she wouldn't feel so shattered.

She felt him reaching for her, and she fought him, unwilling to let him see her utter devastation. A haze of tears blinded her, and she couldn't see a thing, for which she was strangely grateful since she didn't want to see the dark expression in his eyes. She felt the hot splash of tears as they landed on her cheek.

“
Please, don't cry,” he said as he wiped away her tears with his thumb. “You're much too beautiful to cry.” His hands were warm and inviting despite the fact they were callused and rough around the edges. They were a man's hands, and she wanted to bury her face in them so badly, to seek a comfort she didn't feel she deserved.

She lowered her head so Jake couldn't catch a glimpse of her breaking down. “I'm so ashamed.”

“
I've gotten over it. I forgive you.”

“
Y-you shouldn't…I'm a blabbermouth.”

“
You may be a blabbermouth, but I don't think you have a malicious bone in your body. Before I met you, I have to admit, I thought you were this horrible person who started a vicious rumor that hurt someone I love. Now I know that's not true.”

He grabbed her by her chin and looked deep into her eyes. “If I hadn't forgiven you, last night wouldn't have happened.”

“
You mean when you were compromised,” she suggested with a hiccup through her tears.

For the first time since she'd known him, Jake threw his head back and let out a belly laugh at something she'd said. “Yes, when I was compromised.”

“
I think we were both compromised,” she agreed somberly.

He wiped away the last vestiges of her tears with his fingers. “Yes, we were. And as much as I enjoyed it, I can't let it happen again. It would jeopardize everything I stand for in this town. From this point forward, it's strictly business.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she heard the words strictly business coming from Jake's lips. Last night he'd been a wild man with her in the kitchen, making love to her with a ferocity she'd only fantasized about. He'd taken her to sexual heights she'd never reached with any other man. And, regardless of his words to the contrary, she couldn't shake the feeling that the fire they'd set last night wouldn't be so easy to extinguish.

“
And by the way,” he said as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “I'm very flattered that you think I'm hot.”

* * * *

He'd fallen. Hard. He'd suspected it when he turned down Grace's offer of no-strings-attached sex. A small, niggling idea of it had sprouted last night when he was alone in the kitchen after they'd had hot, steamy sex. But now it was absolute, for certain, definite, written in stone. He was falling for Darcel Dawkins.

He'd known it in his gut the moment he'd seen her crying. A piercing pain had shot through him with the intensity of a bullet, leaving him in actual physical pain. It had hurt him to see her cry. And although he didn't have a clue as to how to stop her tears, he'd known at that moment he'd give just about anything to soothe her sorrow. He'd sell his soul to make her smile. He'd climb the highest mountains just to hear her laugh.

It was a foreign feeling for him to feel so powerless and out of sorts. It was strange to give a damn about a woman's feelings. He was used to no-strings-attached relationships with women where all he felt was a strong physical attraction and a burning desire to get them between the sheets. Damn! He wasn't into feelings! He wasn't into rescuing damsels in distress and giving them a shoulder to cry on.

It freaked him the hell out that he'd reacted so strongly to a woman's tears. Darcel's tears reminded him of growing up on the Rez and seeing his mother constantly crying about his father. Her sadness brought him back to a place in time he never thought he'd revisit. But it was too late. It was impossible to push the memories back into the dark recesses of his mind. They came rushing back to him with the force of a tsunami. He remembered waiting outside her bedroom door and hearing the heartbreaking sobs coming from under it.

He winced as he remembered all the black eyes and bruises, all the domestic abuse she'd suffered at the hands of a selfish maniac. It was the main reason he'd gone into law enforcement. He'd wanted to put the bad guys away where they couldn't cause any more damage. The thought of a man causing physical harm to a woman made him want to hurt somebody. He'd grown to hate his father as a result of his mother's suffering.

Through the years he'd seen some vicious things go down between them, the least of which were a few tears being shed on her pillow.

He remembered vividly asking his mother about the bruises on her face. It was his ninth birthday, and his father had been raging about his mother buying him a birthday cake instead of a six-pack of beer. It was the first time he ever remembered his mother challenging his father on anything. Usually, his word was law. She'd told him it was their son's birthday and he deserved a special cake on his big day.

His father's rage had been explosive. Without warning, he'd reached out and grabbed his mother by her arm, twisting her so violently that she came out of her shoes and stumbled to the floor. She'd been dragged into the bedroom where Jake had heard sounds of shattered glass, loud crashes, and desperate cries. Although he'd tried to open the door, it was locked from the inside. The noises of his father slapping his mother around had been unbearable torture.

After a final crashing sound, his father emerged from the room, sparing him no more than a passing glance as he stormed out of the dwelling.

Afterward, he'd run into the bedroom where his mother lay curled up in a ball on the floor. He'd recoiled as soon as he saw her beautiful face. Her eye was already swollen shut and purplish, resembling a garish Easter egg. She tried to shield her face from view, but he'd already seen it. In fact, he'd never forget it as long as he lived.