This Love Will Go On (13 page)

“She's changed her mind,” Jade said, and before John could reply, Jade pivoted on a booted heel and took her out of the tent with him, leaving John standing there, muttering a barnyard word under his breath.

Jade tugged her into the shade of a tree.  “Breathe,” he ordered.

She thought about it for a moment, made a real effort to do it, and discovered she couldn't. The thought tickled her.

“I can't.” Her voice was a squeak, her chuckle high pitched like a child's. It was all incredibly funny and she had to laugh. Helplessly, she gave in to the urge.

“Damn it, you're high.  Take a deep breath.  Get it cleared out of your lungs.”

“Can't,” she said, shaking her head, laughing helplessly. “Can't breathe. Can't do anything.” She collapsed back against the trunk of the tree, still laughing.

Jade eyed her with a worried look that was totally unlike him.  Still chuckling, she fought to try to identify that look.  He frowned, his brows furrowing in sheer exasperation.  No, not exasperation.  Frustration. That's what it was.  Jade Kincaid was faced with a situation he couldn't control and he didn't like it, not one bit.  The thought sent her into another paroxysm of high-pitched laughter.

“Raine, get hold of yourself.”  He grabbed her arm, said “damn it to hell,” and began to walk with her away from the crowd and toward the print shop.

“Jade, don't,” she managed to gasp out between spasms of laughter.  “Let go of me.”

“A walk will do you good,” he muttered, and continued to drag her along at a fast pace that was almost too much even for her long legs.

“Jade, stop.”  Another gasp of laughter. All her restless nights and lonely days spilled out in this stream of laughter. The helium destroyed the facade she had hid behind for months and all her pent-up emotions came tumbling out. “Jade, you're so funny. Please don't frown like that.  It makes me laugh.”

“I'm glad you find me so amusing.”  His annoyed tone of voice struck her as hilarious and she was off again.

In seconds they were at the print shop.  She had left the door unlocked, and Jade whisked her inside.  He shepherded her around the desk and pushed her into her swivel chair. 

“Stay there.  I’ll get you a glass of water.”

The idea tickled her.  “That won’t help, Jade.”

He stopped suddenly, his broad shoulders in the middle of the doorway that led to the back room.  With slow deliberation, he turned around.  “Then maybe I’ll have to try something else.” 

He took a step toward her.  She put out her hands and between fits of laughter said, “No, Jade, don’t.  It’s broad daylight and everyone saw us leave.  They’ll know we’re together.”

“Ask me if I care.”  He took another step forward and his eyes gleamed green in the sun that streamed through the big front window. 

She shook her head, but even the threat of his closeness couldn’t stop her laughter.  She put her hands up and what should have been a barrier to keep him at bay was just what he needed to pull her out of the chair and into his arms.  “Jade,” she breathed softly into his mouth.

“Raine,” he answered in a throaty male husk that mocked and imitated her in an amused way. A glint of humor flashed in the dark eyes and then his lips settled over hers, their warmth so familiar and wonderful that her laughter died away, and in its stead, passion rose, swift, sweet passion, curling upward from within to make her want more than just the touch of his mouth on hers.

When he ended the kiss, she was even giddier from the effects of the helium and his mouth.  “Your cure isn't working.  I’m more lightheaded than ever.”

“Then you'd better lie down.”   His mouth curved upward and, in the next second, he had swept her off her feet.

She clutched his shoulders. Being in Jade's arms was sheer heaven.  “I’m not that lightheaded,” but even as she protested, she snuggled her head against his chest.

He carried her through the doorway to the back and laid her gently on the cot. In the daylight, she could see every play of expression across his face. He looked supremely male, supremely satisfied with himself.

The realization of where she was and what had happened the last time she was here with Jade, washed over her like a cold ocean wave.

“Jade, we’ve played this scene before.  It will always have the same ending.”

He leaned over her and took her mouth quickly, stopping her words, thrusting his tongue into the honeyed hollow that waited unguarded for him.  The sweet, hot probing made her moan deep in her throat.  Her hands reached out to push him away and, instead, touched his shirt and greedily sought the hard flesh underneath.  Her own brief outfit of denim shorts and a T-shirt offered little protection from his seeking hands.

Her murmurs of protest faded into soft little moans of pleasure as his hands traced the shape of her breasts over the thin cotton.

“It's always the same when I touch you, isn't it, honey?  No matter how much time goes by, no matter how long it's been since we've seen each other, it's always the same.”  He buried his mouth in the soft hollow of her throat.  “Raine, I need you.  I..”

The bell on the print shop door tinkled.  “Raine?”

Jade swore under his breath with a vehemence that made her smile.  “This certainly has a monotonous regularity about it.”

He eased himself away and she sat up…but not in time to get off the bed before Doug Martin walked in.  He saw them and halted.

“I've been looking for you,” Doug said in a hoarse voice.  “I thought something was the matter.  Someone said you'd gotten a dose of helium.”

“I did,” she said quickly, too quickly.  “I…”  She got to her feet, faced him and tried to recover her poise.  “Jade thought I needed…” she stumbled to a stop.  Silence was better than a manufactured explanation that wouldn't have made any sense anyway.

“Yeah, I see what he thought you needed,” Doug said, and it was the first time she’d ever heard his voice tremble with anger.  To Jade, he said, “She's going back to the picnic with me.”

“Is she?” Jade's drawl was dark and dangerous.

“She's my date.”

“But a moment ago she was kissing me, and very willingly, too.”

How arrogantly sure Jade was of her. She couldn't let him think he had absolute power over her. This was unfair to Doug.  She had asked him to be her guest. She had an obligation to him, not to Jade. “Stop it. Stop fighting over me like two dogs over a bone.” She turned to Doug.  “I’m ready to go back to the picnic now.”

Doug's eyes flickered over her, lingering on her mouth.  “Maybe we ought to take a rain check. Because this parade has definitely been rained on.”  He turned away.

“Doug, don't go, please.”  He hesitated and then turned back, a guarded look on his face. Knowing she had hurt him, raw-edged from the height and swoop of her emotions in the short space of the morning, she said, “Please wait.”

Beside her, she felt Jade's body tighten with tension. Doug looked as if he was unsure whether to go or stay. “I asked you to be my guest.  I’m going with you,” she said to Doug firmly and stepped to his side to follow him out into the street.

All the way to the park, with Doug making wary, light conversation, Raine kept her mind blank, refusing to remember the wanton way she had responded to Jade's kiss and the shuttered look in Jade's eyes when he had watched her go. When she and Doug reentered the park, there were a few curious glances directed her way, especially from people who had seen her leave with Jade earlier. She linked her arm ln Doug's, put on a plastic smile and moved through the crowd. But she couldn't put Jade out of her mind for long. Tate stood beside Julia, a helium balloon attached to his wrist

He saw her and broke free from Julia's hold to race toward Raine.  “Look, Aunt Raine. Grandma Julia got me a balloon.”

Raine knelt to look Tate in the eye.  “And a lovely blue one it is, too.  That’s your favorite color, isn’t it?”

“Uh, huh.  Aunt Julia said you were with Daddy.” The boy peered quizzically up into Doug's face.  “Where is he?”

Tate stared over her shoulder and his worried look dissolved into relieved happiness. “There he is. There's my daddy.” Tate raced away over the grass toward Jade.

Raine straightened, standing squarely before Julia.  Her aunt’s eyes were curious, but she only said, “Everything all right?”

“Of course.” Conscious of Doug beside her, she said, “I suppose I'd better find out what I should be doing.”

“Yes, come on,” Doug said, and smiled. “I'd like to see you working for a change.”

“I'm always working,” she protested lightly, smiling up at him, and coming face to face with Jade.  For a moment, his eyes bore into hers, and there was an emotion in the green depths that she had never seen there before. It wasn't desire. It was something entirely different. She'd seen him look at Tate that way, and she'd decided it was male pride in having a son. But why he should look like that at her, she didn't know.

Disturbed, she reverted to formal politeness.  “Excuse me,” she said coolly to Jade, taking Doug's arm and walking away toward the tent.

John, who by now was looking considerably more harried than he had an hour ago, directed her to work with Harry, stuffing hamburgers and hot dogs into buns.  She went to stand behind the grill, and was put to work at once. Doug stood close by, cheering her on with silly witticisms. She saw Jade turn his head and look at her for a moment.  Then he swung away to walk with Tate to where the games were set up. 

Throughout the day, she seemed to be functioning on two levels.  One part of her laughed and talked to Doug while she worked.  The other part of her was vividly aware of Jade, of his tall body as he stood above the rest of the crowd, of his patience as he played the ring toss with Tate.

In the afternoon, after everyone had eaten and the adults sat around on blankets or in chairs, lazily enjoying the shade or the sun, there was an ongoing schedule of games, foot races, bag races, and tag with variations.  Raine sat at a wooden picnic table and munched on a cold hamburger.  It was the first chance she had to eat and relax.  But somehow, a family group had developed around Julia's table that included Tate, Marc, Sandy, Doug…and Jade. Raine was totally unable to control the tension that kept her back ramrod straight as she sat on the picnic bench in the empty spot left beside Jade.

The conversation flowed along lazily. If Doug felt self-conscious, he didn't show it. She wished she had the same ability to sublimate her emotions. She felt Jade's presence as if he were touching her physically, although he wasn't. He sat just close enough to look natural, and just far enough away to avoid brushing against her, the rolled-back sleeves of his light gray shirt exposing his tanned arms resting on the table.

“Business picked up any?” Doug asked Julia casually.

The older woman shook her head.  “Not so you would notice it.”

Jade was instantly alert. He gazed at Julia, who sat across from him, her hands folded on top of the table.  “Has the school closing hurt you?”

“Indirectly. Matt's talking about selling out and going to a larger town. We really can't afford to lose his ad revenue,” Julia said quietly, in what Raine knew to be the understatement of the year.

“I hadn’t heard that.”  Jade sounded thoughtful.

Julia's mouth curved.  “It's not the kind of thing we advertise…no pun intended.”  Her smile covered her worries.

On the other side of Jade, Tate wriggled restlessly on the bench.  “Daddy, can I be in the bag race?  Please?”

Jade tilted his head to look down at his son.  “Aren't you a little young?”

Tate favored his father with an imitation of Jade's faintly sardonic look. “Five-year-olds can be in it and I'm seven.”

“Are you that old?”  Jade smiled.  “You’re getting ancient.”

“Can I?”  Tate begged. “I've been practicing.”

“Have you?"’

“'Sure.  Samantha Black showed me how.” Tate propelled himself off the bench, clenched his hands at his sides as if he were holding the edges of a bag, and hopped around on the grass like a jackrabbit, his pale hair flying.

“I can see you've developed your own style,” Jade drawled.  “Well, go on, then.”

Tate let out a whoop and ran for the tent where the bags were being dispensed.

“He is too young,” Raine said, when she could hold it in no longer.  “He could fall and get hurt.”

“That's a chance he has to take,” Jade answered smoothly.

Raine cried, “He could break a bone…”

“For heaven's sake.” Sandy peered at them from the other end of the table.  “You two had better compromise on how you're going to raise that child or you'll give him a complex.”

“I won't have my son be a coward.”

“No,” Raine grated.  “He must not show any human emotion like fear, or pain, or vulnerability.  He must grow up to be the spitting image of you.”  There was a tense, awkward silence at the table.

Then Jade said in a tone that was far more amiable than she probably deserved, “He'll have a two-hundred thousand-acre ranch to run someday if my plans for expansion are realized. If he doesn't learn the discipline of riding out on days when he doesn't feel like working, how will he survive?"

“He’ll survive…but he won’t be living.”