Kiss and Tell (24 page)

Bandage.
Don't forget to breathe.

How could he tell a story like that and not show any emotion? How could he keep his expression so impassive when he'd lived his childhood like a little ghost to the people who should have cared for him the most?

What would Jake Dolan have been like if he'd had someone like Grammy to shower him with love and make him feel special?

She finished bandaging the wound, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. "Okay. I think I have it. How does it feel?"

Jake moved his arm. "Perfect. Thanks."

Marnie dipped a rag into the warm water, wrung it out, and started to wash the smeared blood off his arm and chest.

She swallowed roughly. God, would this cleanup never end?

Dip. Twist.

Wipe at the bloody smear near his navel...

Dip. Twist. Wipe.

What if she'd made the wound worse? What if she hadn't cleaned it well enough? What if—

She'd done it.

It was the best she could do.

Giddy, she dropped the rag she'd been using into the red water in the bowl and dried her hands on her jeans.

Jake closed his eyes for a second.

She stood. She wanted to be outside. She wanted to run fast and far. She wanted to feel the wind on her face. She wanted to find a warm, dark place to hide so she could sob her heart out once and for all. For Jake, for Grammy, and for herself. A lava of grief bubbled too close to the surface, and nausea made her skin clammy.

"All done."
And I didn't even throw up.

He looked up, and gave her a half smile. "Very efficient."

She picked up the bloody cloths, the bowl, and first-aid box and stepped over his leg. "I'd have asked Duchess, but she's not as dexterous as I am."

Duchess, who'd watched Marnie's every move with worried eyes, gave Jake a gentle nudge on the knee. He rubbed the dog between her ears, his gaze on his nurse. "How're you holding up, Florence?"

"Just peachy!"

And then everything went black.

*

Jake paused, listening to the rhetoric on the other end of the phone. "Look, Leon, if you're too chicken-shit to do it yourself, find me someone who— I don't care. I'll pay you a hundred grand.
Cash
."

That got the guy's attention
, he thought with satisfaction. Jake's heart pounded in his chest as he closed the deal, made the necessary arrangements, and gave the pilot the number to call back when he had a confirmed pickup time.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock
. A time bomb waiting to go off.

He clicked off the phone and set it on the trunk. Beneath the fingers of his right hand, Marnie's pulse leapt. He gave her a penetrating look as she opened her eyes.

"How do you feel?"

"Stupid, thank you." Her eyes appeared extraordinarily blue in her pale face. She gave him an apologetic smile. "Told you I can't stand the sight of blood."

He couldn't help himself. He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across soft, smooth, delicate skin. He wanted to wrap her in cotton batting and put her away on a high shelf.

"You scared the crap outta me. I thought – hell—"

He'd thought she'd had a heart attack.

It was so sudden, so unexpected. Yeah, she'd looked pale, but that was to be expected. It was pretty unlikely she'd ever seen a gunshot wound before, let alone treated it. But she'd been chirpy, chatty, philosophical, her normal self. When she'd keeled over, he'd about had a heart attack himself.

Jake figured he'd never moved that fast in his life. Still, she'd hit the floor with a thud. Water had gone everywhere, the dog had gone ballistic, he'd used every creative swear word he knew, and she'd been out like a light.

To hell with the fact that he'd ripped open his wound. She was unconscious, dammit.

Her eyes flickered from his face to the seeping bandage on his shoulder and back to his face. She sighed and struggled to sit up. "Now look what you've done. It's bleeding again."

"It's fine," Jake said quickly. "Don't look at it."

Duchess, who'd been walking circles around the couch since Jake had picked up her mistress, leaned her head over the back of the couch.

Marnie pushed upright and rested her back on the arm of the couch. She fondled the dog's ear and looked at Jake.

"Sorry about that. Just for the record, don't bleed, throw up, or cry," she said wryly. "I'll either pass out or join you. I have this empathy thing going. Otherwise, I'm sure I'd be a terrific nurse."

"I'll keep that in mind." His fingers itched to push her hair off her face. To feel her soft, smooth skin. To check and recheck her pulse.

Despite her faint, Jake came to a startling realization: This woman had surprising strength beneath her softness.

"First you save me from taking a header off the dam, now you patch me up like a trouper. You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

Marnie gave him an odd look. "I could hardly let you fall, could I?" She glanced at the floor and wrinkled her nose. "I'd better clean up that m—"

"Stay where you are," he ordered. "I'll do it." He wanted to stay beside her. He wanted to rest his fingers on the pulse at her throat to make sure she was really all right.

He rose. "How about some coffee?"

"No, thanks. I'm okay, really. Who were you talking to?" She drew her knees up, circled them with her arms, and watched as he disposed of the bloody cloths.

"A helicopter service out of Sacramento. I've used them a couple of times – personal stuff. They're not affiliated with T-FLAC. As soon as there's a break in the weather someone will fly in and pick you up."

He searched for towels and started mopping up. Her jacket, tossed on the floor when they'd come in, was soaking wet, too. Jake laid it over the sink and went back to cleaning detail.

He'd never had anyone take care of him like that. It left him feeling edgy, unnerved. Needy.

He was a private man who prized his solitude. Not even the Musketeers, who'd known him for years, knew him like this small, feisty bundle of pure female. He'd never considered his aloneness an option. It just was. Yet Marnie compelled him to see inside himself to the person he could be under her healing touch.

He liked who he became when he was with her.

Of course a man
would
think that after he'd been shot. Nothing like a pretty woman oohing and ahhing over a guy to make him receptive.

"Didn't sound like the guy was too enthused about coming up here," she said, and rested her chin on her knees. She didn't look pale anymore. Her cheeks were a healthy pink, her eyes clear. She looked normal. Beautiful. Breakable.

Jake shuddered.

"Did I hear you right? Did you tell him you'd pay him a hundred thousand dollars?"

Jake shrugged, tossing the soiled towels and Marnie's jacket into the small built-in washing machine. "It's a dangerous landing, and the weather's unpredictable here in the mountains." He added soap and turned on the machine. Money was plentiful. His inventions made ridiculous amounts of the stuff. It was almost embarrassing.

He would have paid any amount to get her out of here ASAP.

"But Jake—"

He didn't want to hear what she had to say. "He'll contact me the second this front moves off."

She reached over, picked up his half-filled cup from the coffee table, and drained the cold contents with a shudder. "And you'll come with me, right?"

"Wrong." Jake walked over to change CDs. "Aerosmith or the Beatles?"

"Aerosmith. Why, Jake? You could let those baddies run around up here until hell freezes over."

"And I'd never know who they are or why they were here in the first place."

She got a mutinous expression on her lovely face. "I want you to come back with me."

"It's good to want things," Jake told her shortly, busying himself making a fresh pot of coffee. He'd never noticed how small and cramped the lair was. "In this case, it ain't gonna happen."

She shot him a glare, then got up and started remaking the bed. The bed they'd torn apart with their lovemaking. He didn't want to think about it. He had a permanent erection anyway.
Damn woman
.

She fluffed a pillow. "So you're going to stay here until either you kill all of them or they kill you?" She slammed the pillow down on the bed, the pillow slip half off. "Damn it, Jake. Call someone to help you." Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes flinty.

There was no one to call. "No."

"Then I'll stay."

Ice replaced the blood in his veins. "You'll go when I tell you to go. No more discussion. Subject closed."

For several seconds she simply stared at him. "I'd better redo that bandage for you."

"It's fine the way it is." He felt so raw after that scare he didn't want her hands on him again. Everything about this infuriating woman affected him. It would be a blessing when she was gone.

"Fine." She glared at him for a moment, then her eyes skimmed down over his bare chest to the long-john-style pants he still wore. The fabric didn't hide a thing. "Put some clothes on before you freeze to death," she ordered.

Jake's lips twitched. "Yes, Mother."

She walked over the bed as a shortcut and came right up to him, snatching the mug he was about to fill out of his hand. He was surprised the ceramic didn't shatter on the counter as she slammed it down.

"Don't dink around with me, bub."

She stuck a finger in the middle of his chest and crowded him against the counter until there was nowhere else for him to go.

"You want to play macho spy king by yourself?" Poke. "Forget it." Poke. Poke. "I'm not–" She glared at him, tears standing bright in her eyes. Her mouth trembled. She bit her lower lip and pulled herself in tight. "I'm not going to let them kill you because you're too damn stubborn to ask for help. You got that?"

She was shaking. Delayed shock, Jake thought. He slid his arms around her.
Damn
. He hadn't meant to touch her right now. They were both raw. Frightened. On edge.

He had no instinct for this kind of simple tenderness. But Jake pressed her against him, striving for something beyond the wild sex they'd shared. Something he'd never had, yet suddenly found essential.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, her temple. He stroked her hair, her back, and the nape of her slender neck. It felt so damn good just holding her like this.

He ignored the clock ticking in his head.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock
.

Her breath whispered warm against his skin as she rested her head against his good shoulder. Pale, soft curls tickled his chin as he wrapped his arms about her slender body. She burrowed into him, her arms around his waist.

"Y-You scared me to death," she sobbed against his chest.

Her tears unnerved him, tearing through him like a well honed knife. He stroked her wet cheek. "Don't cry. I was scared, too." Scared she'd be here unprotected if they managed to kill him.

He kissed her temple.

"You had a right to be. They shot you!" Through her tears indignation burned.

Jake chuckled. "Not scared for me, scared for
you
."

She looked up at him without releasing her hold. "No one shot at me."

"And they won't," Jake vowed, lowering his mouth to the siren song of hers.

Marnie rose onto her toes to kiss him back. His mouth crushed down on hers, and she tasted anger mixed with the fear. She understood it, savored it, because it matched her own. What a frustrating man he was.

She met his almost violent demand. Her teeth raked his lip. His scraped her tongue. She heard a low, fierce growl and realized it had come from her.

The tears dried on her cheeks as he laved her mouth with his tongue, hungry, insatiable. His hands traveled up her back under the flannel shirt she wore. She loved the feel of those callused hands on her skin.

He was addictive, this Jake Dolan, spy king of the universe.

She sighed as he lifted her, swinging her up onto the counter behind him.

"You were too short." He stepped between her knees.

"Not anymore." Eye to eye, she traced his hard mouth with her finger. He nipped the tip. "If I'm very, very gentle with you, can we make love?"

Jake's eyes smiled. "Don't be gentle."

Chapter Twelve

M
arnie's arms lifted to welcome him.

Jake framed her face with his hands and captured her eyes with his. Voice both rueful and amused, he said roughly, "You terrify me, you know that?"

Marnie traced his mouth with a fingertip. "I told you I'd be gentle." She caressed his face, combed her fingers through his hair to draw him closer, then leaned forward and brushed his mouth with a butterfly-light kiss, salty from her tears. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

Yes
, he thought with terrifying insight,
you will.

She kissed him, softly. Jake took her tenderness like a body blow.

The sensation of her soft mouth touching his with such exquisite care wasn't enough. Fierce hunger drove him; he couldn't handle the intimacy of gentleness.

He wanted to touch every part of her at once. He took her mouth the way a victor seized his spoils. His hands were everywhere: in her hair, stroking her breasts through her flannel shirt, caressing the arch of her throat. And all the while he devoured her with a fierce hunger that would not, could not be denied.

He'd never tasted anything as sweet as Marnie's avid mouth responding to his kiss. She sucked in a deep breath as he kneaded her breast, then gently pinched her nipple through the cloth of her shirt. Her breast fit his hand to perfection. Her mouth moved with heat and hunger beneath his, and her knees dug into his hips as she wiggled on the counter, trying to get closer.

For endless minutes kissing was enough as Jake laved her mouth with his tongue, nipped her lips with tender bites, and melted under her explorations. She was curious as a cat as she licked and nibbled back. A sound similar to a kitten's purr vibrated in the back of her throat, her arms tightened about his neck, and she kissed him as if there were no tomorrow.