At Home in Stone Creek (Silhouette Special Edition) (11 page)

Ashley frowned. “How did you know that?”

“Your neighbor, Mrs. Pollack, works part-time in my office, remember? She told me he arrived in an ambulance, day before yesterday. Is there a reason you didn't mention this?”

“Yes, Counselor,” Ashley answered, “there is. Because I didn't want you to know.”

“Why not?” Melissa sounded almost hurt.

“Because I knew I'd look like an idiot when he left again.”

“Not to be too lawyerly, or anything, but why invite me to breakfast if you were trying to hide a man over there?”

Ashley laughed, but it was forced, and Melissa probably picked up on that, though mercifully, she didn't comment. “Because I'm overstocked on cherry crepes and I need the freezer space?” she offered.

“You were supposed to say something like, ‘Because you're my twin sister and I love you.'”

“That, too,” Ashley responded.

“I'll be over before work,” Melissa said. “You're really okay?”

No
, Ashley thought.
I'm in love with a stranger,
someone wants to kill him, and my bed-and-breakfast is about to become a stop on a modern underground railroad
.

“I will be,” she said aloud.

“Damn right you will,” Melissa replied, and hung up without a goodbye. Of course, there hadn't been a “hello,” either.

Classic Melissa.

The upstairs shower had been running through most of her conversation with Melissa—Ashley had heard the water rushing through the old house's many pipes. Now all was silent.

Thinking Jack would probably be downstairs soon, wanting breakfast, Ashley fed Mrs. Wiggins and then took a plastic container filled with the results of her
last
cooking binge from the freezer.

A month ago she'd made five dozen crepes, complete with cherry sauce from scratch, when one of her college friends had called to say she'd just found out her husband was having an affair.

Before that, it had been a double-fudge brownie marathon—beginning the night of her mother's funeral. She'd donated the brownies to the residents of the nursing home three blocks over, since, in her own way, she was just as calorie-conscious as Melissa.

Baking therapy was one thing. Scarfing down the results was quite another.

Half an hour passed, and Jack didn't reappear.

Ashley waited.

A full hour had passed, and still no sign of him.

Resigned, she went upstairs. Knocked softly at his bedroom door.

No answer.

Her imagination kicked in. The man had
aliases
, for
heaven's sake. He'd abducted a drug dealer's seven-year-old daughter from a stronghold in some Latin American jungle.

Maybe he'd sneaked out the front door.

Maybe he was lying in there, dead.

“Jack?”

Nothing.

She opened the door, her heart in her throat, and stuck her head inside the room.

He wasn't in the bed.

She raised her voice a little. “Jack?”

She heard the buzzing sound then, identified it as an electric shaver, and was just about to back out of the room and close the door behind her, as quietly as possible, when his bathroom door opened.

His hair was damp from the shower, and he was wearing a towel, loincloth style, and nothing else. He grinned as he shut off the shaver.

“I'm not here for sex,” Ashley said, and then could have kicked herself.

Jack laughed. “Too bad,” he said. “Nothing like a quickie to get the day off to a good start. So to speak.”

A quickie indeed
. Ashley gave him a look, meant to hide the fact that she found the idea more than appealing. “Breakfast will be ready soon,” she said coolly. “And Melissa is joining us, so try to behave yourself.”

He stepped out of the bathroom.

Her gaze immediately dropped to the towel. Shot back to his face.

He was grinning. “But we're alone
now
, aren't we?”

“I'm still not on birth control, remember?” Ashley's voice shook.

“
That
horse is pretty much out of the barn,” Jack drawled. He was walking toward her.

She didn't move.

He took her hand, pulled her to him, pushed the door shut.

Kissed her breathless.

Unsnapped her jeans, slid a hand inside her panties.

All without breaking the kiss.

Ashley moaned into his mouth, wet where he caressed her.

He maneuvered her to the bed, laid her down.

Ashley was already trying to squirm out of her jeans. When it came to Jack McCall—McKenzie—
whoever
—she was downright easy.

Jack finally ended the kiss, proceeded to rid her of her shoes, of the binding denim, and then her practical cotton underpants.

She whimpered in anticipation when he knelt between her legs, parted her thighs, kissed her—
there
.

A shudder of violent need moved through her.

“Slow and easy,” he murmured, between nibbles and flicks of his tongue.

Slow and easy?
She was on fire.

She shook her head from side to side. “Hard,” she pleaded. “Hard and fast, Jack.
Please
…”

He went down on her in earnest then, and after a few glorious minutes, she shattered completely, peaking and then peaking again.

Jack soothed her as she descended, stroking her thighs and murmuring to her until she sank into satisfaction.

She'd expected him to mount her, but he didn't.

Instead, he dressed her again, nipping her once through the moist crotch of her panties before tucking her legs into her jeans, sliding them up her legs, tugging them past her bottom. He even slipped her feet into her shoes and tied the laces.

“What about—the quickie?” she asked, burning again because he'd teased her with that little scrape of his teeth. Because as spectacular as her orgasm had been, it had left her wanting—
needing
—more.

“I guess that will have to wait,” Jack said, sitting down beside her on the bed and easing her upright next to him. “Didn't you say your sister would be here for breakfast at any moment?”

She looked down at the towel—either it had miraculously stayed in place or he'd wrapped it around his waist again when she wasn't looking—and saw the sizable bulge of his erection. “You've got a hard-on,” she said matter-of-factly.

Jack chuckled. “Ya think?”

Melissa's voice sounded from downstairs. “Ash? I'm here!”

Ashley bolted to her feet, blushing. “Coming!” she called back.

“You can say that again,” Jack teased.

Smoothing her hair with both hands, tugging at her T-shirt, Ashley hurried out of the room.

“I'll be right down!” she shouted, from the top of the stairs.

Melissa's reply was inaudible.

Ashley dashed into her bathroom and splashed her face with cold water, then checked herself out in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.

She looked, she decided ruefully, like a woman who'd just had a screaming climax—and needed more.

Quickly, she applied powder to her face, but the telltale glow was still there.

Damn.

There was nothing to do but go downstairs, where her all-too-perceptive twin was waiting for cherry
crepes. If she didn't appear soon, Melissa would come looking for her.

“You were having sex,” Melissa said two minutes later, when Ashley forced herself to step into the kitchen.

“No, I wasn't,” Ashley replied, with an indignant little sniff.

“Liar.”

Ashley crossed the room, turned the oven on to preheat, and got very busy taking the frozen crepes out of their plastic container, transferring them to a baking dish. All the while, she was careful not to let Melissa catch her eye.

“Olivia and the twins are coming home today,” Melissa said lightly, but something in her voice warned that she wasn't going to let the sex issue drop.

“I thought the babies had to stay until they were bigger,” Ashley replied, still avoiding Melissa's gaze.

“Tanner hired special nurses and had two state-of-the-art incubators brought from Flagstaff,” Melissa explained.

Once the crepes were in the oven, Ashley had no choice but to turn around and look at Melissa.

“You
were
having sex,” Melissa repeated.

Ashley flung her hands out from her sides. “
Okay. Yes
, I was having sex!” She sighed. “Sort of.”

“What do you mean,
sort of?
How do you ‘sort of' have sex?”

“Never mind,” Ashley snapped. “Isn't it enough that I admitted it? Do you want details?”

“Yes, actually,” Melissa answered mischievously, “but I'm obviously not going to get them.”

Jack pushed open the inside door and stepped into the kitchen.

“Yet,”
Melissa added, in a whisper.

Ashley rolled her eyes.

“Hello, Jack,” Melissa said.

“Melissa,” Jack replied.

Like Brad and Olivia, Melissa wasn't in the Jack McCall fan club. They'd all turned in their membership cards the last time he ditched Ashley.

“Just passing through?” Melissa asked sweetly.

“Like the wind,” Jack answered. “Your brother already threatened me, so maybe we can skip that part.”

Ashley raised her eyebrows. Brad had
threatened
Jack?

“As long as somebody got the point across,” Melissa chimed.

“Oh, believe me, I get it.”

“Will you both stop bickering, please?” Ashley asked.

Melissa sneezed. Looked around. “Is there a
cat
in this house?”

Jack grinned. “I could find the little mutant, if you'd like to pet it.”

Melissa sneezed again. “I'm—
allergic!
Ashley, you
know
I'm all—all—
atchoo!
”

Ashley had completely forgotten about Mrs. Wiggins, and about her sister's famous allergies. Olivia insisted it was all in Melissa's head, since she'd been tested and the results had been negative.

“I'm sorry, I—”

Another sneeze.

“Bless you,” Jack said generously.

Melissa grabbed up her coat and purse and ran for the back door. Slammed it behind her.

“Well,” Jack commented, “that went well.”

“Shut up,” Ashley said.

Jack let out a magnanimous sigh and spread his hands.

Ashley went to the cupboard, got out two plates, set them on the table with rather more force than necessary. “You,” she said, “are complicating my life.”

“Are you talking to me or the cat?” Jack asked, all innocence.

“You,” Ashley replied tersely. “I'm not getting rid of the cat.”

“But you
are
getting rid of me? After that orgasm?”

“Shut up.”

Jack chuckled, pressed his lips together, and pretended to zip them closed.

Ashley served the crepes. They both ate.

All without a single word passing between them.

After breakfast, Jack retreated to the study, and Ashley cleaned up the kitchen. Melissa called just as she was closing the dishwasher door.

“It wasn't the cat,” Melissa said, first thing.

“Duh,” Ashley responded.

“I mean, I thought it was, but I'm probably catching cold or something—”

“Either that, or you're allergic to Jack.”

“He's bad news, Ash,” Melissa said.

“I guess I could take up with Dan,” Ashley said mildly. “I hear he's looking for a domestic type.”

“Don't you dare!”

Ashley smiled, even though tears suddenly scalded her eyes. She was destined to love one man—Jack McCall—for the rest of her life, maybe for the rest of eternity.

And Melissa was right.

He was the worst possible news.

“I'
m going out to Tanner and Olivia's after work today,” Melissa said. “Gotta see my nephews in their natural habitat. Want to ride along?”

By the time Melissa left her office, even if she knocked off at five o'clock—a rare thing for her—it would be dark out. Ardith and Rachel would surely arrive that night, and Ashley wanted to be on hand to welcome the pair and help them settle in.

She'd already decided to put the secret guests in the room directly across from Jack's; it had twin beds and a private bathroom. Jack would surely want to be in close proximity to them in case of trouble, and the feeling was undoubtedly mutual.

“I didn't sleep very well last night,” she confessed. “By the time you leave work, I'll probably be snoring.”

“Whatever you say,” Melissa said gently. “Be care
ful, Ash. When the sex is good, it's easy to get carried away.”

“Sounds like you're speaking from experience,” Ashley replied. “Have you seen Dan lately?”

Melissa sighed. “We're not speaking,” she said, with a sadness she usually kept hidden. “The last time we did, he told me we should both start seeing other people.” A sniffle. “I heard he's going out with some waitress from the Roadhouse, over in Indian Rock.”

“Is that why you're considering leaving Stone Creek? Because Dan is dating someone else?”

Melissa began to cry. There was no sob, no sniffle, no sound at all, but Ashley knew her sister was in tears. That was the twin bond, at least as they experienced it.

“Why do I have to choose?” Melissa asked plaintively. “Why can't I have Dan
and
my career? Ash, I worked so hard to get through law school—even with Brad footing the bills, it was
really
tough.”

Ashley hadn't been over this ground with Melissa, not in any depth, anyway, because they'd been semi-estranged since the day of their mother's funeral. “Is that what Dan wants, Melissa? For you to give up your law practice?”

“He has two young sons, Ash. The ranch is
miles
from anywhere. In the winter, they get snowed in—Dan homeschools Michael and Ray from the first blizzard, sometimes until Easter, because the ranch road is usually impassible. Unless I wanted to travel by dogsled, I couldn't possibly commute. I'd go bonkers.” Melissa pulled in a long, quivery breath. “I might even pull a ‘Mom,' Ashley. If I got desperate enough. Get on a bus one fine afternoon and never come back.”

“I can't see you doing that, Melissa.”

“Well,
I
can. I love Dan. I love the boys—way too much to do to them what Delia did to us.”

“Mel—”

“Here's how much I love them. I'd rather Dan married that waitress than someone who was always looking for an escape route—like me.”

“Have you and Dan talked about this, Melissa?
Really
talked about it?”

“Sort of,” Melissa admitted wearily. “His stock response was, ‘Mel, we can work this out.' Which means I stay home and cook and clean and sew slipcovers, while he's out on the trail, squiring around a bunch of executive greenhorns trying to find their inner cowboys.”

“How do you
know
that's what it means? Did Dan actually say so, Melissa, or is this just your take on the situation?”

“‘
Just
' my ‘take' on the situation?” Melissa countered, sounding offended. “I'm not some naive Martha Stewart clone like—like—”

“Like me?”

“I didn't say that!”

“You didn't have to, Counselor.”
A Martha Stewart clone?
Was that how other people saw her? Because she enjoyed cooking, decorating, quilting? Because she'd never had the kind of world-conquering ambition Brad and Melissa shared?

“Ashley, I truly didn't mean—”

Ashley had always been the family peacemaker, and that hadn't changed. “I know you didn't mean to hurt my feelings, Melissa,” she said gently.
Oh, but you did
. “And maybe it
is
time I had a little excitement in my life.”

With Jack around, excitement was pretty much a sure thing.

Out-of-the-stratosphere sex and a drug dealer bent on revenge.

Who could ask for more?

There was a smile in Melissa's voice, along with a tremulous note of relief. “Kiss the babies for me, if you see them before I do,” she said.

Ashley hadn't decided whether or not she'd make the drive out to Starcross Ranch that day. It wasn't so far, but the roads were probably slick. Although she had snow tires, her car was a subcompact, and it didn't have four-wheel drive.

“I'll do that,” she answered, and the call was over.

Jack, she soon discovered, was in the study, working on potential Web sites for the bed-and-breakfast. He was remarkably cool, calm and collected, considering the circumstances, but Ashley couldn't help noticing that his nondescript cell phone was within easy reach.

She went upstairs, cast one yearning look toward her bed. Climbing into it wasn't an option—she might have another wakeful night if she went to sleep at that hour of the day.

Using her bedside phone, she placed a call to Olivia.

Her sister answered on the second ring. “Dr. O'Ballivan,” she said, all business. Olivia had taken Tanner's name when they married, but she still used her own professionally.

Olivia was managing marriage, motherhood and a career, at least so far. Why couldn't Melissa do the same thing?

“You sound very businesslike, for someone who just went through childbirth twice in the space of ten minutes,” Ashley said.

Olivia laughed. “That's modern medicine for you. Have twins one day, go home the next. Tanner hired
nurses to look after the babies round the clock until I've rested up, so I'm a lady of leisure these days.”

“How are they?”

“Growing like corn in August,” Olivia replied.

“Good,” Ashley said. “Are you up for a visitor? Please say so if you're not—I promise I'll understand.”

“I'd
love
to have a visitor,” Olivia said. “Tanner's out feeding the range cattle, Sophie's at school, and of course the day nurse is busy doting on the two new men in the house. Ginger isn't in the mood for chitchat, so I'm at loose ends.”

Ashley couldn't help smiling. Ginger, an aging golden retriever, was Olivia's constant companion, and the two of them usually had a lot to say to each other. “I'll be out as soon as I've showered and dressed,” she said. “Do you need anything from town?”

“Nope. Loaded up on groceries over the weekend,” Olivia answered. “The roads have been plowed and sanded, but be careful anyway. There's another snowstorm rolling in tonight.”

Ashley promised to drive carefully and said good-bye.

She tried to be philosophical about the approaching storm, but for her, once Christmas had come and gone, snow lost its charm. Unlike her siblings, she didn't ski.

The shower perked her up a little—she used her special ginseng-and-rice soap, and the scent was heavenly. After drying off with the kind of soft, thick towel one would expect a “Martha Stewart clone” to have on hand, she dressed in a long black woolen skirt, a lavender sweater with raglan sleeves, and high black boots.

She brushed her hair out and skillfully redid her braid.

Frowned at her image in the steamy mirror.

Maybe she ought to change her hair. Get one of those saucy, layered cuts, with a few shimmery highlights thrown in for good measure. Drive to one of the malls in Flagstaff and have a makeover at a department-store cosmetics counter.

Jazz herself up a little.

The trouble was, she'd never aspired to jazziness.

Her natural color, a coppery-blond, suited her just fine, and so did the style. The braid was tidy, feminine, and practical, considering the life she led.

On the other hand, she'd been wearing that same French braid since college. Spiral curls, like Melissa's, might look sexy on her.

Did she
want
to be sexier?

Look how much trouble she'd gotten herself into with the same old hairdo and minimal makeup.

Quickly, she applied lip gloss and a light coat of mascara and headed downstairs. Pausing in the study doorway, she allowed herself the pleasure of watching Jack for a few moments before saying, “I'm going out to Olivia and Tanner's. Want to come along?”

Jack turned in the swivel chair. “Maybe some other time,” he said. “I think I'd better stick around, in case Vince shows up with Ardith and Rachel sooner than expected.”

Ashley didn't know who Vince was, though she had caught the name when she accidentally-on-purpose overheard Jack's phone conversation with Ardith the night before.

“Did he call?” She wanted to ask Jack if he was feeling ill again, but something stopped her. “Vince, I mean?”

Jack nodded. “They're on their way.”

“No trouble?”

His gaze was direct. “Depends on how you define
trouble
,” he replied. “Ardith has a husband and two other children besides Rachel. She's had to leave them behind—at least for the time being.”

Ashley's heart pinched. She knew what it was to await the return of a missing mother. “Aren't the police doing anything?”

“They were willing to send a patrol car by Ardith's place every once in a while. Under civil law, unless Lombard actually attacks or kills her or Rachel, there isn't much the police can do.”

“That's insane!”

“It's the law.”

“The husband and the other children—aren't they in danger, too?” Wouldn't the whole family be better off together, Ashley wondered, even if they had to establish new identifies? At least they'd have each other.

“The more people involved,” Jack told her grimly, “the harder it is to hide. For now, they're safer apart.”

“A man like Lombard—wouldn't he go after the rest of the family, if only to force Ardith out into the open?”

“He might do anything,” Jack admitted. “From what I've seen, though, Lombard is fixated on getting Rachel back and not much else. Ardith is in his way, and he won't hesitate to take her out to get what he wants.”

Ashley hugged herself. Even inside, wearing warm clothes, she felt chilled. “But
why
is he so obsessed? He wasn't around when Rachel was born—he couldn't have bonded with her the way a father normally would.”

“Why does he run drugs?” Jack countered. “Why does he kill people? We're not dealing with a rational person here, Ashley. If I had to hazard a guess at his
motive, I'd say it's pure ego. Lombard is a sociopath, if not worse. He sees Rachel as an object, something that
belongs
to him.” He paused, and she saw pain in his eyes. “Do me a favor?” he asked hoarsely.

“What?”

“Don't come back here tonight. Stay with Tanner and Olivia. Or with Brad and his wife.”

Ashley swallowed. “You think Lombard's coming—here?” She'd known Jack thought exactly that, on some level, but it seemed so incredible that she had to ask.

“Let's just say I'd rather not take a chance.”

“But you
will
be taking a chance, with your own life.”

“That's one hell of a lot better than taking a chance with yours. Once I figure out what to do with Ardith and Rachel, make sure they're someplace Lombard will never find them, I'm going to draw that crazy son-of-a-bitch as far from Stone Creek as I can.”

“This isn't going to end, is it? Not unless—”

“Not unless,” Jack said, rising from the chair, approaching her, “I kill him, or he kills me.”

“My God,” Ashley groaned, putting a hand to her mouth.

Jack gripped her shoulders firmly, but with a gentleness that reminded her of their lovemaking. “I'll never be able to forgive myself if you get caught in the cross fire, Ashley. If you meant it when you said you loved me, then do what I ask. Take the cat, leave this house, and don't come back until I give the all clear.”

“I
did
mean it, but—”

He brushed her chin with the pad of his thumb. “I understand that you come from sturdy pioneer stock and all that, Ashley. I know the O'Ballivans have always held their own against all comers, faced down
any trouble that came their way. But Chad Lombard is no ordinary bad guy. He's the devil's first cousin. You don't want to know the things he's done—you wouldn't be able to get them out of your head.”

Ashley stared into Jack's eyes, so deathly afraid for him that it didn't occur to her to be afraid for herself. “When you went looking for Rachel in South America,” she said, her mouth so dry that she almost couldn't get the words out, “that wasn't your first run-in with Lombard, was it?”