On The Edge (7 page)

She looked up at him. “Did I hurt you?”

He rubbed her cheek gently. Her eyes were focused again and they looked clearer. Something was not right.
“Nope.
I was just worried about you.”

“I'm fine. I hate being such a bother.” She nestled into his chest.

“So, all you've had today is crackers… and tea?”

She slowly looked up again. “What are you saying?”

“I don't know, babe. Crackers are pretty tame. I'm wondering about that tea.”

“Don't be ridiculous! My mother made it, for goodness sake.”

“Okay, okay.” He rubbed a hand over her head, trying to keep her calm. “My mind's always buzzing with possibilities.”

“Hmph,” she snorted. “Maybe you should focus on dinner. I'm starved.”

“Me, too.”
He'd forgotten his hunger in the hubbub. Unsure if he really wanted to take her out in public after that outburst, he suggested, “What if we just finish that pizza?”

“That's fine. I don't feel like going out anyway.”

He dragged her petite form onto his lap. Cradling her face, he asked, “Are you sure you're okay? For a minute there…”
You looked whacked out, and it scared the hell out of me.
He shook his head. “Let's just say, I was concerned.”

“I'm fine. I'm so sorry, Jake. It must be the stress of…” she looked around the room, “all this.”

“That must be it.” He couldn't resist pressing his lips to hers. They shared a warm, lingering kiss.

She slipped her arms around his neck, returning the embrace with ardor.

Jake caressed her back and shoulders, thinking how easy it would be to roll her over on the sofa and lose
himself
in passion. If he could just shut off the thinking part of his brain, they'd be halfway to completion before he even opened his eyes.

But something wasn't right, and he couldn't ignore it. In a short amount of time, Joss had come to mean a lot to him—more than a quick roll in the hay. The
“L”
word floated in the back of his mind. He couldn't speak it aloud, yet, but he thought he might
love
her.

He definitely had the urge to protect her, to solve all her problems. That other urge had him wanting to hold her in his arms twenty-four hours a day.
Could it be love?
He thought it could, secretly hoped it was. There was something mysterious and very appealing about Jocelyn Wheeler. He wouldn't mind spending fifty or sixty years figuring out what it was.

But first, he had to deal with their immediate problems. He intended to have one of her special tea bags examined at the police lab. It seemed the obvious place to start. She'd been lucid and fine at his house. Once she got back here and drank that tea, the strange behavior started again.

He wouldn't mention it to her just yet. He didn't think she'd noticed the abnormal behavior before today. Today's performance was hard to miss.

If it wasn't the tea—well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. If she was schizophrenic or bipolar, those conditions could be helped with medication. If she was simply a nut, he'd have some decisions to make. That was for later, too
.
Nothing to worry about yet.
At the moment, all he had to worry about was prying his body away from her enticing grasp so they could warm up some pizza.

* * * *

He was torn.
Stay in the house searching for the source of the noise, or take Joss back to my place?
He wasn't sure she was strong enough to handle another round of ear-splitting clamor. Her mood was better, but she seemed fragile, and he hated to take the chance of upsetting her. On the other hand, he worried about leaving her alone.

It was an agonizing decision, one he wouldn't have had to make if he hadn't gotten personally involved. Unfortunately, he had a history of not being able to keep business and pleasure separate. He met the first woman he ever truly loved after her husband beat her up, almost killed her. She'd called the police; he and his partner had taken Lucy, and her two small children, to an emergency shelter, then hauled the husband to jail.

Two tumultuous years followed. Frank Walker served six months in prison, but never loosened his grip on Lucy. Jake tried to help her start a new life, settling her and the precious little children he'd grown to love into a nice rental house. He spent all his time and most of his discretionary income on the family, but he was happy to do it. For a while, they were happy, too.

When Frank got out on parole he returned, ostensibly, to see the kids. Suddenly, he was the best father, the most remorseful husband, on the face of the earth. Jake saw the man working Lucy, reminding her of the good times, piling on layers of guilt for breaking up their family.

Jake suggested it was Frank who'd caused the break up by beating her every night, and was shocked when Lucy defended the jerk.
He only hit her when he was drunk
, she insisted, and he'd gotten sober in prison. He'd changed, she was sure of it.

 
There wasn't a cop alive who hadn't seen it before. Jake knew Frank hadn't changed. Something would eventually provoke him, he'd take a drink, and the beatings would resume. Lucy would put up with it until he seriously hurt one of the children, or he killed her. Jake couldn't make her see it. She was plagued with insecurities, blind to the deception before her eyes.

 
After many long nights of arguments, in a heart-wrenching decision, Jake let her go. Saying goodbye to the children was hardest of all. They had finally gotten over being scared all the time. Their blue eyes no longer looked frightened, but happy when he was around. He hated leaving them.

Frank found a job in another state, made arrangements with his parole officer, and moved the family away. It took a solid year for Jake's heart to heal after they left. He often thought about tracking them down, making sure they were all right. Finally, he forced himself to forget them. They weren't his family—or his problem—anymore.

He looked at Joss, curled up in the chair across from him.
Was he opening himself up for more heartache?
Her life was complicated. She came with a truckload of baggage, for sure. Perhaps he needed to lighten his load.

There was a cute little temp-secretary at the department, with long blond hair, a nicely filled out sweater, and legs that went on forever. Maybe he needed someone like that for a change. No history or drama, just some good, simple fun.

Joss stretched and straightened her leg, nudging him with her toe. “What are you so quiet for? You seem all introspective, or something.”

He glanced at her messy hair and tired eyes. In the time he'd known her, she hadn't shown much concern about her appearance. Most women ran off to check themselves in the mirror every so often, but she didn't seem to care. He liked that about her.

There were other things he liked, some obvious, some he couldn't quite put his finger on. She was different. Something about her tugged at him like no one ever had before.
I don't want simple.
I want Joss
.

Running a finger over her toes, he said, “I think we should go back to my place. You need to rest.”

She scooted down in her chair so he had better access to her foot. “That feels good.
More,
please.”

“Want me to rub your feet?” He drew his finger behind the toes, causing them to curl.

“To begin with.
Then maybe you could rub a few other places.”

He traced an imaginary line down the arch of her foot. “That might be arranged.
If you're up to it.”

Joss wiggled her toes.
“How about you?
Are
you
up to it?”

He grinned, pressing small kisses to the tip of each toe. “I'll definitely be up to it. But we need to leave. I'm not doing anything here.”

“I thought you planned to stay here tonight. Didn't you say—?”

“I know what I said,” he cut her off, suddenly very interested in her wiggling toes and the effect they were having on him. He nuzzled each little digit, smoothing a finger over the neatly painted pink nails. Her smallest toe was so tiny he couldn't resist, and sucked it into his mouth.

Her foot quivered, and Joss groaned. The sensuous action obviously had the same effect on her as it did on him.

He suckled the toe for a moment,
then
released it. “I know what I told you, but I changed my mind. We'll go back to my place tonight. I don't want to leave you alone.”

“I don't want to be alone.” She gazed into his eyes. “I want to be with you, Jake. I don't care where we are. When you wrap me in your arms, you take me to a whole new place. A place I've only been to with you.”

He kissed her curved instep, watched her foot flex to his ministrations. “Feels a little like burying your head in the sand, doesn't it? We can't ignore real life forever.”

“Is this place for real?” She glanced around. “I didn't know my father, and so far, I haven't discovered anything here that has me mourning his loss. This house is totally strange.”

“I'd tend to agree. However, I think you need to uncover everything you can before you form opinions.” He nipped at the soft pad of flesh before her heel, and she jumped.
“But not tonight.
Tonight, we can bury our heads in the sand—or somewhere equally warm and inviting—for a while longer.”

Joss groaned and flopped back into her chair. “Don't make me move. I'm comfortable right here. Besides, if you keep doing that thing with my foot, I won't be able to walk. My knees are already wobbly.”

He lowered her foot and stood up. Offering a hand to help her to her feet, he said, “Let's go. We can be at my place in a few minutes.”

“Not soon enough,” she grumbled, but allowed him to pull her up. He guided her by the waist, stopping only for her shoes and purse before he ushered her out the door.

* * * *

Jake held the fluffy bath towel out, wrapping it around Joss as she climbed from the tub. His house was modern, but he was a sucker for the big, old claw-footed tub, roomy enough for two. When he discovered it at an estate sale, he'd snapped it up and installed it himself.

Not that he'd had much opportunity to put it to good use. His last few relationships were brief and to the point. Sex, shared meals, some socializing. He hadn't spent a lot of time lounging in the tub with any of his recent love interests.

Joss, now she was someone he could lounge with. He envisioned long soaks with her after work, sipping wine, unwinding,
talking
about their days. It sounded just about perfect.

They'd both enjoyed the thirty minute bath they'd shared, followed by the most intense round of sex he'd ever experienced in peach-scented bubbles.

He ran one finger over a tiny cut on her lower lip. “You bit your lip. I thought I tasted blood.” He kissed the small wound.

She smiled lazily, wrapping her hands around his neck. “I can't be held responsible for anything that happens when you make love to me. Sometimes I feel like it's not even me. I'm outside my body, looking down at one lucky, lucky woman.”

“Oh, it's you, all right.” He clutched her to him. “What you said, about me taking you to another place? I feel that, too, Joss. Something incredible—indescribable—happens when we're together. I can't explain it, but I know I love it.” It might have been the intensity of their coupling, or one of another thousand feelings that raced through him, but he found himself murmuring, “I love
you
.”

Joss smiled, reached for his face and lowered it to hers. “I love you, too, Jake. And I'd love to stay here and talk about it all night, but I just realized I'm starving!”

He chuckled.
“Such a romantic.
Come on.” They each threw on one of his robes and wandered to the kitchen, raiding the refrigerator for sustenance. Over cold chicken and greasy fried wontons, they talked nonstop. “First girlfriend?” she asked, nibbling a wing.

“Donna Martin, third grade. She had braces. I thought they were so cool.”

“Oh my God!”
Joss laughed. “First
serious
girlfriend, you know.
Time and place.”

“Oh, the first time I
did it
? Lord. That would have been after the
Jackson
Heights
football game. We won, and I was pumped.”

“You played? What position?”

“Are we still talking sex here?”

She swatted his arm, and they chuckled. “Okay,” he continued. “I played quarterback for two years.”

“Did you play in college?”

“Nah, I knew what I wanted to do. College football required a commitment I wasn't prepared to invest. It was fun in high school, though.”