Broken Build (39 page)

Silence. Where was she? Had she run out of his cabin? Or draped herself with her sweater and jeans?

“Jen? Can I come out?”

The door opened. Dave about swooned. Her hair fluffed over the bare shoulders of the dress, and her barely covered breasts were larger than he had imagined. He dared not touch her, nor kiss her. He would be done, unable to restrain himself. His body tensed and leaned forward. She clasped him around the waist and pressed into him.

“Jen, what are you doing?” His cock strained against her, harder than an iron pipe, struggling to escape the confines of his jeans.

“I trust you.” She took his hand and backed toward the bed.

She wasn’t that kind of woman. He couldn’t. Sweat popped over his face and shoulders. “The pizza and wings. They’re getting cold.”

He broke her tackle and rushed for the door to the living room.
Oh, God. Strengthen me. Let me not sin like King David and repent of it later. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.

He splashed cold water over his face and patted himself with a paper towel. Jen walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but the dress.

“Was just testing you.” She waved her hand and smirked, one eyebrow arched.

Dave’s head spun. Had everyone gone cuckoo? The kidnappers, his father, Jen’s sister, the thugs, the police, and now Jen? He opened the pizza box. “I bet you’re starving.”

She licked her lips and winked exaggeratedly. “You bet.”

Okay… Dave calmed his breathing and offered her a seat. “I hope you like your wings nuclear.”

“Oh, yeah. I love heat and spice.” She wiggled her shoulders and tried to tuck a napkin in front of her cleavage. “Oops! Should I put on something decent? I thought you wanted me to wear the dress.”

He just about choked. Was his Jen teasing him? Or had she already looked in the box? He cleared his throat. “Are you warm enough or shall we sit in front of the fire?”

“Fire sounds great.” She opened the cabinets and reached to the top shelf to fetch plates, giving Dave an earthshattering view of her fantastic shapely legs.

He downed a large gulp of soda to hide his drool. Now, where did she put the box? He mumbled about the bathroom and went back to the bedroom. It lay on the dresser, unopened. He pushed it in his pocket while wiggling to straighten his pants. He’d do this right and leave her pure until their wedding bed.

Breathing another prayer, he returned to the living room. Jen leaned against the sofa slurping hot wings and licking her fingers. Dave swallowed hard and sidestepped to the rocking chair opposite the couch, taking a slice of pizza and balancing a soda on his knee.

He forced himself to eat, to chew, to swallow the tasteless pizza, and pour the flat soda down his throat. Oh, how he wanted a wing, but to do that, he’d have to reach over the coffee table, suck on it, and lick the trail of sauce off each delectable tip, all without jumping her.

She pulled out another wing, dipped it in ranch dressing, white and creamy. Her mouth rounded into a perfect circle to receive the hot wing. Sweltering with fever, Dave loosened his shirt and pounced across the fur rug. He ripped the wing out of her mouth and replaced it with his tongue, stinging it with the fiery spice in her mouth.

She responded roughly, devouring him, her nails scratching his neck and shoulders like a wildcat. He hardly dared to move his hands from her face, knowing she wore nothing under that skin-tight dress—that everything would spill should he rip the single button at the back of her neck.

He wrapped her hair around his fingers and pulled her down to the furry rug. The fire crackled and snapped, and the scent of fresh pine, lavender, and spicy female intoxicated him beyond reason. His lips still busy with her luscious mouth, he turned on his side to avoid humping her when the ring box rudely poked his thigh.

He exhaled and disengaged for air, flopping onto his back to steady his breathing. Jen’s hurried breath puffed warm air into his ear, and she untangled her hair from his fingers. He eased the velvet box out of his tight pocket and flipped it open before she could back away. “I should be on my knees instead of my back for this.”

* * *

Jen’s skin electrified and she jumped as if licked by a flame. A huge champagne colored diamond solitaire sparkled in the flickering light of the fire. It glinted with an amber tint. The excitement of a thousand butterflies fluttered in her heart. Jen gasped and squealed with her next breath. Time slowed.
Please don’t let me wake up and find this a dream.

Dave’s eyes, like liquid silver, moistened. He sat and took her left hand. “Jennifer Cruz, I lied when I accused you of stealing my heart.” His voice was shaky with a low rasp. “For, it had always been yours to take. You are the most extraordinary woman God has ever made. And I love you more than I can express.”

A web of fine feathery sparks billowed over Jen, and she felt weightless, light, as if on a cloud. She could gaze into the face of love forever, the depth of his eyes, and the rosy blush over his five o’clock shadow, the strong cleft in his chin, and the too sensual lips that curved in a tantalizing angle. Not sure if her heartbeat could catch her breath, she trembled when he touched her cheek, surprised at the single tear trailing from a corner of his eye.

“Will you have me, Jennifer? Can you take this broken man as yours, to make him whole again, and accept him as he is? And will you allow me to serve you? To love you and cherish you?”

My goodness. He was still talking. Unable to focus, she bit her lips and nodded. “Yes.”

He sat up and clambered to one knee. “Jennifer Cruz, will you marry me?”

“Oh, David, yes.” Her vision blurred, yet he seemed as brilliant as an angel. “David Jewell, yes.”

Still trembling and almost bubbling with laughter, she allowed him to slip the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly, the diamond’s glitter promising her untold joy and future happiness. A future without regrets with the man she had always loved.

She sealed her promise with a kiss, and he pulled her to her feet toward the jukebox. An old Elvis song, ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love,’ came on. Dave tugged her into his arms, and she danced with him, cheek to cheek.

Chapter 38

The fragrance of fresh-brewed coffee and cinnamon rolls wafted to the corners of the four-poster bed. Jen rolled over in the wedding-knot quilt, interlocking dark and light purple rings trimmed with white peonies on a sage background. She rubbed her cheek on the bedding, so warm and cozy and homemade.

She crawled out of bed and cracked open the door to the sound of sizzling bacon and Dave whistling a Foreigner tune ‘A Girl Like You.’ A girl could get spoiled having him around. Yawning, she pulled on a pair of socks and entered the kitchen.

“Ah, Mrs. Jewell, you’re awake.” Dave pecked her on the cheek and poured a mug of dark French roast.

This man was too wonderful, and last night had not been a dream. Her problems would intrude soon enough. But for now, she’d bask in the aroma of a home-cooked breakfast. She picked sugar crumbles from the cinnamon roll. The diamond on her ring finger greeted her with delightful sparkles in the slanted sunlight.

Dave dished up a plate of scrambled eggs sprinkled with coarse ground pepper and chopped scallions. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“I have a confession to make.” Jen poked at the eggs and bit back a smile.

“Sorry.” Dave slid a chair next to her. “Should have told me before you promised to marry me.”

She rubbed his fuzzy jaw. “I like a little scruffiness.”

“Is that the confession or a comment on my grooming habits?”

Jen couldn’t help smiling. “What made you cut off all that hair?”

“Thought you liked clean-cut guys.” He offered her a strip of bacon and pinched her hip. “I like a little meat. You’re too skinny.”

Jocelyn was a stick and petite to the bone, small, like Vera, and cute. She clamped her mouth.
Don’t go there.

“Did you sleep well?” He shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“I would have slept better if you’d kept me warm. But the quilt did the job. Did Jocelyn like this place? I don’t remember her coming up this way.” She tried not to think of Jocelyn sleeping in the four-poster bed.

Dave’s eyes fell to his plate, and he stabbed a slice of bacon, breaking it.

There, she’d stuck her foot in her mouth again. Jocelyn was her friend, but somehow Jen couldn’t picture her at the pool table or sitting on the soda stool in front of the bar.
Jen, stop getting territorial. He only asked you to marry him last night.

“I’m sorry, shouldn’t have brought it up.” She stared at the eggs and congealed bacon grease.

Dave drained his coffee and set the mug on the table with a thump. “You don’t have to get competitive. I thought you understood how I felt about her.”

“I do understand.”
But it’s so damn hard to accept.

Dave took her hand and pulled her close. “I want to show you something.”

He led her to the garage. The temperature dropped several degrees, but the sun shined through the panel windows on the door.

Dave lifted a crinkly dustcover and unveiled a pinball machine. He plugged it in, and the machine spun to life, lighting up and squeaking with electronic tones.

“This here is a Williams Time Warp. One of the few made with banana flippers.” He pointed to the yellow curved paddles. “Allows you to really sling the ball. It was the first machine I got consecutive high scores on. After the arcade shut down, Dad bought it for me.”

“This is so old, wasn’t it made before you were born?” Jen traced the faded instructions on the top just above the coin box.

“Maybe, but Dad loved the old stuff. That’s why I listen to oldies. Before Vivian was born, Mom, Dad and I used to come here a lot.”

Jen hugged herself against the chilly air. “How do you think your dad is getting along with Christy?”

“Here, stand in front of me and give it a try.” He started a two-player game and pulled the plunger, sending a steel ball up the channel. “He probably loves her. She’s smart, slim and photogenic.”

“I still can’t believe my mother did what she did.” Banana flippers or not, Jen was a klutz, and the ball kept falling into the hole. “Wasn’t your father still married at the time?”

“Easier to have an affair with a married person when you don’t want to commit. Your mother was probably lonely, and my dad’s a charmer. I remember a stint of community projects at an inner city junior high school. Wondered why he was so eager to spend his weekends there.”

“Well, I’m still disappointed.” Jen sucked in her cheeks as if she tasted a tart persimmon. “Why didn’t she tell us, especially when she was dying?”

Dave gripped her tighter between his forearms as he took another shot. The clunking and beeping of the machine, a sharp staccato, matched Jen’s skittery pulse.

 “Sometimes it’s easier to pretend nothing happened,” Dave said. “I don’t think she ever told my father. I spoke to him early this morning. He said he took one look at Christy and knew.”

The game wasn’t going well. Jen dropped her hands from the controls. “It’s no use. I stink at this.”

Dave turned her around and lifted her onto the machine, stepping in between her legs. “You’re cold, aren’t you?”

He pulled her into his arms, and she leaned into his chest. “I don’t like being hit by a surprise like this, and having your dad confirm it drives me crazy.”

“You know who drives me crazy?” Dave’s hot breath swept a rush of tingles down the side of her neck. “You, in that red dress. On this machine facing me. I’ll run my fingers down the ladders, lay you back over the glass, and show you how I play.”

“I… ah…” Jen’s protests were cut off by his hot lips. She clenched onto his shoulders, but a part of her could not let go of the thought of Jocelyn in the exact same spot. She pushed him away. “Not now.”

He touched her beauty mark. “Of course, after we’re married. And if it’s Jocelyn you’re thinking of, I’ll tell you a secret. She’s never been here. My dad gave me this cabin after she died.”

A sudden chill swept Jen’s shoulders and she lowered her face, ashamed. “Shouldn’t we call your dad and see what the plan is for Christy?”

He lifted her chin and squinted with a puckered grin. “What was that confession you were going to make?”

She jumped off the table and then bumped his hip with hers. “I can’t cook worth beans.”

* * *

She can’t cook?

Dave chased Jen into the kitchen. “Too bad, darling. Since you’re no good in the kitchen, you better be great in the bedroom.”

The old black phone rang with the clanging of the metal bell, stopping him from rolling Jen onto the furry rug. Dave picked up the receiver. “Hi, Dad.”

“I just got off the phone with the San José Police.” His father’s gruff voice shouted through the line. “I’m keeping Christy here until the perps are caught. What the hell is her sister doing, endangering her by giving her the memory stick?”

“Hold it. We’re coming over to bring her home.”

“Not until the guys who’re after the memory stick are caught. The San José police agree with her staying away. They’ve issued a search warrant for the scrapyard, which, by the way, was being used for a chop shop. The sister hasn’t done a damn thing with keeping Christy safe. Letting her associate with hoodlums.”

“Wait a minute. Christy has been with her foster parents, good upstanding citizens. Stan Walker is a policeman.”

Jen tapped Dave’s arm. “Let me speak to Christy, please.”

Dave covered the earpiece and waited for his dad to stop shouting. “Can you put Christy on the line? Yes, of course her sister wants to speak to her.”

He passed the handset to Jen and went to the bathroom. His cell phone rang. The tower must have been fixed overnight. He picked up the call. It was the DNA lab.

“We’ve got partial results. Both brushes have a mixture of hair. The black brush has a sample that is 25% related. Someone who would be an aunt, maybe half-sister, but probably not a daughter. The blue brush is inconclusive.”