At Home in Stone Creek (Silhouette Special Edition) (9 page)

At last, Tanner broke down and grinned. “She's not pregnant anymore. Olivia and I are now the proud parents of twin boys.”

“As of when?” Jack asked, delighted and just a shade envious. He'd never thought much about kids until he'd gotten to know Sophie, after Tanner's first wife, Katherine, was killed, and then Rachel, the bravest seven-year-old in Creation.

“As of this morning,” Tanner answered.

“Wow,” Jack said, with a shake of his head. “It would
really
have sucked if I'd shot you.”

“Yeah,” Tanner agreed, going grim again.

“All the more reason for me to hit the road.”

“And go where?”

“Dammit, I don't know. Just away. I shouldn't have come here in the first place—I was out of my mind with fever—”

“You were out of your mind, all right,” Tanner argued. “But I think it has more to do with Ashley than the toxin. There's a pattern here, old buddy. You always leave—and you always come back. That ought to tell you something.”

“It tells me that I'm a jerk.”

“You won't get any argument there,” Tanner said, without hesitation.

“I can't keep doing this. Every time I've left that woman, I've meant to stay gone. But Ashley haunts
me, Tanner. She's in the air I breathe and the water I drink—”

“It's called
love
, you idiot,” Tanner informed him.

“Love,” Jack scoffed. “This isn't the Lifetime channel, old buddy. And it's not as if I'm doing Ashley some big, fat favor by loving her. My kind of romance could get her
killed
.”

Tanner's mouth crooked up at one corner. “You watch the
Lifetime channel?
”

“Shut up,” Jack bit out.

Tanner laughed. “You are so screwed,” he said.

“Maybe,” Jack snapped. “But you're not being much help here, in case you haven't noticed.”

“It's time to stop running,” Tanner said decisively. “Take a stand.”

“Suppose Lombard shows up? He'd like nothing better than to take out everybody I care about.”

Tanner's expression turned serious again, and both his eyebrows went up. “What about your dad, the dentist, and your mom, the librarian, and your three brothers, who probably have the misfortune to look just like you?”

Something tightened inside Jack, a wrenching grab, cold as steel. “Why do you think I haven't seen them since I got out of high school?” he shot back. “Nobody knows I
have
a family, and I want it to stay that way.”

Tanner leaned forward a little. “Which means your name isn't Jack McCall,” he said. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Dammit, you
know
who I am. We've been through a lot together.”

“Do I? Jack is probably your real first name, but I'll bet it doesn't say
McCall
on your birth certificate.”

“My birth certificate conveniently disappeared into cyberspace a long time ago,” Jack said. “And if you
think I'm going to tell you my last name, so you can tap into a search engine and get the goods on me, you're a bigger sucker than I ever guessed.”

Tanner frowned. He loved puzzles, and he was exceptionally good at figuring them out. “Wait a second. You and Ashley dated in college, and she knew you as Jack McCall. Did you change your name in high school?”

“Let this go, Tanner,” Jack answered tightly. He had to give his friend something, or he'd never get off his back—that much was clear. And while they were sitting there planning his segment on
Biography
, Chad Lombard was looking for him. By that scumbag's watch, it was payback time. “I was one of those difficult types in high school—my folks, with some help from a judge, sent me to one of those military schools where they try to scare kids into behaving like human beings. One of the teachers was a former SEAL. Long story short, the Navy tapped me for their version of Special Forces and put me through college. I never went home, after that, and the name change was their idea, not mine.”

Tanner let out a long, low whistle. “Hot damn,” he muttered. “Your folks must be frantic, wondering what happened to you.”

“They think I'm dead,” Jack said, stunned at how much he was giving up. That toxin must be digesting his brain. “There's a grave and a headstone; they put flowers on it once in a while. As far as they're concerned, I was blown to unidentifiable smithereens in Iraq.”

Tanner glared at him. “How could you put them through that?”

“Ask the Navy,” Jack said.

Outside, snow crunched under tires as Ashley pulled into the driveway.

“End of conversation,” Jack told Tanner.

“That's what
you
think,” Tanner replied, pushing back his chair to stand.

“I'll be out of here as soon as I can arrange it,” Jack warned quietly.

Tanner skewered him with a look that might have meant “Good riddance,' though Jack couldn't be sure.

The back door opened, and Ashley blew in on a freezing wind. Hurrying to Tanner, she threw her arms around his waist and beamed up at him.

“The babies are
beautiful!
” she cried, her eyes glistening with happy tears. “Congratulations, Tanner.”

Tanner hugged her, kissed the top of her head. “Thanks,” he said gruffly. Then, with one more scathing glance at Jack, he put on his coat and left, though not before his gaze strayed to the Glock on top of the refrigerator.

Fortunately, Ashley was too busy taking off her own coat to notice.

Jack made a mental note to retrieve the weapon before she saw it.

“You're up,” she told him cheerfully. “Feeling better?”

He'd never left her willingly, but this time, the prospect nearly doubled him over. He sat up a little straighter. “I love you, Ashley,” he said.

She'd been in the process of brewing coffee; at his words, she stopped, stiffened, stared at him. “What did you say?”

“I love you. Always have, always will.”

She sagged against the counter, all the joy gone from her eyes. “You have a strange way of showing it, Jack McCall,” she said, after a very long time.

“I can't stay, Ash,” he said hoarsely, wishing he could take her into his arms, make love to her just once
more. But he'd done enough damage as it was. “And this time, I won't be back. I promise.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It would if you knew what it might mean if I stayed.”

“What would it mean, Jack? If you stayed, that is.”

“I told you about Lombard. He's the vindictive type, and if he ever finds out about you—”

“Suppose he does,” Ashley reasoned calmly, “and you're not here to protect me. What then?”

Jack closed his eyes. “Don't say that.”

“Stone Creek isn't a bad place to raise a family,” she forged on, with a dignity that broke Jack's heart into two bleeding chunks. “We could be happy here, Jack. Together.”

He got to his feet. “Are you saying you love me?”

“Always have,” she answered, “always will.”

“It wouldn't work,” Jack said, wishing he hadn't been such a hooligan back in his teens. None of this would be happening if he hadn't ended up in military school and shown a distinct talent for covert action. He'd probably be a dentist in the Midwest, with a wife and kids and a dog, and his parents and his brothers would be dropping by for Sunday afternoon barbecues instead of visiting an empty grave.

“Wouldn't it?” Ashley challenged. “Make love to me, Jack. And then tell me it wouldn't work.”

The temptation burned in his veins and hardened his groin until it hurt. “Ashley, don't.”

She began to unbutton her blue silk blouse.

“Ashley.”

“What's the matter, Jack? Are you chicken?”

“Ashley,
stop
it.” It wasn't a command, it was a plea.

“I'm not who you think I am. My name isn't Jack McCall, and I—”

Her blouse was open. Her lush breasts pushed against the lacy pink fabric of her bra. He could see the dark outline of her nipples.

“I don't care what your name is,” she said. “I love you. You love me. Whoever you are, take me to bed, unless you want to have me on the kitchen floor.”

He couldn't resist her any more than he'd been able to resist coming back every time he left. She was an addiction.

He held out his hand, and she came to him.

Somehow, they managed to get up the stairs, along the hallway, into her bedroom.

He didn't remember undressing her, or undressing himself.

It was as though their clothes had burned away in the heat.

Even a few minutes before, Jack wouldn't have believed he had the strength for sex, but the drive was deep, elemental, as much a part of him as Ashley herself.

There was no foreplay—their need for each other was too great.

The two of them fell sideways onto her bed, kissing as frantically as half-drowned swimmers trying to breathe, their arms and legs entwined.

He took her in one hard stroke, and found her ready for him.

She came instantly, shouting his name, clawing at his back with her fingernails. He drove in deep again, and she began the climb toward another pinnacle, writhing beneath him, flinging her hips up to meet his.

“Jack,” she sobbed,
“Jack!”

He fought to keep control, wondered feverishly if he'd die from the exertion. Oh, but what a way to go.

“Jack—”

“For God's sake, Ashley, lie still—”

Of course she didn't. She went wild beneath him.

Jack gave a ragged shout and spilled himself into her. He felt her clenching around him as she erupted in an orgasm of her own, with a long, continuous cry of exultant surrender.

Afterward, they lay still for a long time, spent, gasping for breath.

Jack felt himself hardening within her, thickening.

“Say it, Jack,” she said, burying her in his hands. “Say you're going to leave me. I dare you.”

He couldn't; he searched for the words, but they were nowhere to be found.

So he kissed her instead.

 

Ashley awakened alone, at dusk, naked and soft-boned in her bed.

The aftershocks of Jack's lovemaking still thrummed in her depths, even as panic surged within her. Damn, he'd done it again—he'd driven her out of her mind with pleasure and then left her.

She scrambled out of bed, pulled on her ratty chenille robe, and hurried downstairs.

“Jack?” She felt like a fool, calling his name when she knew he was already gone, but the cry was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“In here,” he called back.

Ashley's heart fluttered, and so did the pit of her stomach.

She followed the echo of his voice as far as the study doorway, found him sitting at her computer. The monitor threw blue shadows over the planes of his face.

“Hope you don't mind,” he said. “My laptop came
down with a case of jungle rot, so I trashed it somewhere in the mountains of Venezuela, and I haven't had a chance to get another one.”

Ashley groped her way into the room, like someone who'd forgotten how to walk, and landed in the first available chair, a wingback she'd reupholstered herself, in pink, green and white chintz. “Make yourself at home,” she said, and then blushed because the words could be taken so many ways.

His fingers flew over the keyboard, with no pause when he looked her way. “Thanks,” he said.

“You've made a remarkable recovery, it seems to me,” Ashley observed.

“The restorative powers of good sex,” Jack said, “are legendary.”

He
was legendary. It had been hours since they'd made love, but Ashley still felt a deliciously orgasmic twinge every few moments.

“Answering e-mail?” she asked, to keep the conversation going.

Jack shook his head. “I don't get e-mail,” he said. “After I booted this thing up and ran all the setups, I did a search. Noticed you didn't have a Web site. You can't run a business without some kind of presence on the Internet these days, Ashley—not unless you want to go broke.”

“You're building a
Web site?
”

“I'm setting up a few prototypes. You can have a look later, see if you like any of them.”

“You're a man of many talents, Jack McCall.”