LEAP OF FAITH (7 page)

Easing his arm from beneath her head, Jack crept out of bed. Then he yanked his jeans on, slipped out the sliding glass door, and sprinted up the path to his cabin.

                                                              ***

Abby woke with the remnants of a deliciously erotic dream still clinging to her sleep drugged mind. It took a while for her head to clear, and with it came the realization that it wasn’t a dream at all but a memory of last night. She opened her eyes groggily, a drunken smile instantly forming on her lips. 
Jack
. Rolling slowly onto her back, Abby was sinfully conscious of the fact that the soreness in her muscles had more to do with Jack’s fierce love making than her failed effort at chopping wood. 

The smile faded when she didn’t find him sleeping beside her as she’d expected. An empty ache settled in her chest. She couldn’t really blame him for bolting and running after she’d practically begged him to make love to her. And she should have felt ashamed at how easily she’d let him into her bed, but Abby didn’t feel a stitch of guilt. Instead, that soft, dreamy smile worked its way back onto her face.

God, he had a beautiful body. She’d grown up with a house full of alpha males, not one of her brothers measuring less than six foot three, so she felt a certain amount of comfort with Jack’s size rather than the trepidation most women would feel. She wasn’t afraid of his strength or the power behind his love making and the fierce, demanding kisses. He’d made her feel more alive than she’d felt in a long time, even with the undercurrent of pain from her strained muscles.

Abby pulled the pillow Jack had slept on to her face and inhaled deeply. She loved the way he smelled; a mixture of soap and a musky, masculine scent. She sensed more than heard him enter her room and felt a giddy headiness at the sound of his zipper being lowered and his jeans dropping to the floor. She waited until he’d lowered himself back into bed and turned on his side to face her before opening her eyes. Abby blinked and then rose on one elbow, wincing slightly at the sharp pain that shot through her shoulder blades. 

“You shaved it off,” she said in shocked surprise. 

Leaning over, she rubbed her cheek against his, moaning softly when he turned his head to capture her lips. Jack entwined his fingers in the hair at the back of her head and pulled her down for a harder, firmer kiss. When his hand slid down to her back she lifted her head and studied his face. His jaw was strong, his lips full and sensual.

“I like it,” she said softly. “You’re an incredibly handsome man, Jack Burton.” She shivered when his hand came to rest on the small of her back, and though she wanted nothing more than to give into the desire building inside of her, Abby was too curious about something to let it go. “Why did you come back last night?”

“I saw you fall.” He nodded to the huge picture windows in her room. “From my balcony, I can see into your room if the curtains aren’t drawn.”

Abby arched an elegant brow. “And what were you hoping to see when you were looking into my windows, Jack?”

His grin was sheepish. “I think it’s pretty obvious what I was hoping to see.”

“You thought I was playing mind games with you.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that now?”

Jack brushed a soft kiss to her lips. “No. How long has it been, Abby?”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. It was the reason he believed she hadn’t been toying with him. “Six years.”

Jack didn’t miss the pained look in her eyes or the fact that she turned them from him now. “What happened, Abby? Who hurt you so bad that you kept yourself locked away for so long?”

She smiled thinly. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” He didn’t answer but his arm tightened protectively around her. “Okay, here it is. I didn’t date much in high school, mostly because I was involved in a lot of extracurricular activities like the journalism club, school newspaper, and a few others. In my senior year, I started going steady with a boy named Shane Malcolm. After graduation, he asked me to marry him and we agreed to wait until we were married to…consummate our relationship.”

“Did you wait?”

“Well, one of us did,” she said bitterly. “We went to different universities so when we were together it got pretty heated, but I’d made up my mind to wait.”

Jack chuckled. “Yes, I’ve seen how you get when you make up your mind to do something.”

Abby held up a blistered palm. “Sometimes I’m not very smart about it, as you can tell.  Anyway, we were engaged for a year and a half before we set a date six months out and started planning the wedding. We bought a house together and were slowly furnishing it so it would be ready by the time we got married. I guess I should have suspected Shane was getting it somewhere else because he wasn’t pressing me to have sex as much as he usually did. Our wedding day rolled around and everything went off without a hitch. We were going to spend our wedding night in the new house and then take off to the Caribbean for our honeymoon.” She stopped for a minute to compose herself.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too painful,” Jack said, but Abby just laughed.

“Oh, it’s not that it’s painful. I just get so pissed off when I talk about it, my voice shakes. Anyway, that night we went back to the house and I thought it was so romantic because he couldn’t wait to get me to bed. But he didn’t even try to make it special,” she said, still totally disgusted with her first experience. “It didn’t last five minutes and then two minutes after that, Shane was asleep. He…he wasn’t gentle and I was hurt both physically and emotionally so I got up and walked through the house, wondering what in the hell I’d gotten myself into.”

“You thought it was a mistake?”

“No, I
knew
it was a mistake. I ended up in one of the guest bedrooms and sat down on the edge of the bed. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lonely in my life. When I got up, something sharp jabbed me in the foot. It was an earring I’d given my best friend the year before for her birthday.”

“Let me guess, she’d never slept in the guest bedroom before?”

"Slept, no. But apparently she and my husband had been testing out the bed springs. Since we’d just bought the house, I knew it had to have happened within a few months of our wedding. I sat there for a long time, alternating between crying jags and thinking up all the ways I could kill him in his sleep and get away with it. Finally, I decided that since my bags were already packed I was good to go, so I left.”

“Didn’t you wake him up and tell him why you were leaving?”

“No,” Abby said with a giggle. “But I made sure he wouldn’t come around again. I went home and told my parents what happened. It was only a matter of time before Shane showed up, which he did the following morning. Dad answered the door, dropped the earring in Shane’s hand and told him which body parts would be missing if he ever bothered me again. Shane was more than willing to sign the annulment papers.”

“I’ve met your Dad, he’s a big guy. Tough too, I assume?

“Daddy wouldn’t lift a finger to any of us, but hurt anyone he loves and he’ll crush you like a bug. He’s about the same size you are, but he’s also very powerful with a lot of influential friends. People don’t often come up against my Dad voluntarily and if they do, they regret it.”

“So your wedding night was the first and last time you made love to a man?”

Abby lifted her eyes to his and slowly shook her head. “No,” she said softly, “that was just sex. Last night was the first time I’ve ever made love to a man.”

The impact her words had on his heart was almost overwhelming. Jack drew her closer, kissing her for so long she was drawing air in short, ragged gasps when he finally lifted his head. He’d never really thought about it before, the difference between having sex and making love, and it was the first time he realized there really
was
a difference. Sex involved all the body parts except the one that mattered. 

He looked at the beautiful woman in his arms and knew Abby would never take less than his heart when they made love. As Jack settled himself between the silkiness of her thighs, the man who didn’t believe in love suddenly felt his heart surging with it.

Jack helped Abby out of bed and ushered her into the bathroom. She wasn’t sure whether the wobbly legs were due to the fact she hadn’t eaten much the night before or simply the effect of Jack’s amorous love-making. But as he held her hands to inspect the partially healed blisters, she felt a rush of heat migrate through her entire body and concluded it was most definitely Jack.

“You need to leave the bandages off so the blisters can dry up,” Jack told her. “Your fingers will be stiff for a few more days but they should be fine after that.” 

They showered together; an erotic experience that involved a soapy wash cloth and a pair of warm hands that seemed intent on cleansing every inch of her body with an eager thoroughness that left her tingling all over. Having her hair washed and then being toweled off afterwards was another experience Abby enjoyed, although she declined his offer to help her get dressed. They proceeded to the kitchen, where she was ordered to sit while he made breakfast; a grand feast of French toast, scrambled eggs, and sausage links. It was difficult to hold the fork, but she managed to consume enough of the generous portions he’d dished up to earn a satisfied smile from Jack as she pushed her plate away.

“So tell me about the novel you’re working on, Abby. What’s it about?”

“I don’t know yet,” she shrugged. “I never know until I sit down to write.”

His brow quirked. “Really? Don’t you do any research before you get started?”

“That may be the reason my sales aren’t as high as they could be,” she replied honestly. “I’m not very good at doing research and get so wrapped up in the story that when I reach a spot where I should stop and do some research work, I’m anxious to move on to the next scene and sort of…gloss over it.”

“So you cheat your readers.”

Abby was a little shocked by what he’d said. “I guess I never thought of it that way before, but you’re right, I do cheat my readers because it leaves unanswered questions and minor….”

“Plot holes,” Jack finished for her. “Maybe I can help you with that. I do a lot of research for my projects and know the best search engines and some really great websites.”

“You’d really do that for me, Jack?”

 “I’d do just about anything to spend more time with you, honey,” he said huskily.

“Jack…” 

Choked with emotion, her voice trailed off. The way he was looking at her told Abby he intended to teach her a lot of things, and not all of them related to research. At least not as it pertained to her novel. She watched him get up from the table and clear the plates. Then he held out his hand and she took it, already feeling the aching need for him beginning to settle between her thighs. But Jack would take care of her. He seemed very adept at knowing exactly what she needed.

***

“Listen to the last two sentences,” Jack said, reading back what she’d just dictated to him. 

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at. He’s a cop; he pulls his weapon and fires, what’s wrong with that?”

“Because he was off duty, sweetheart, and you never mentioned he was carrying the gun. Plus, a cop would have checked his weapon before holstering it. You should really visit a police station, see if you can ride along for a day and gain some insight. Don’t simply have your character inspect his weapon; have him talk to it, run his hands over it with reverence for its deadly power.”

“I may just steal that line from you,” she teased. “You make it sound so intense, sexy even.”  

“You have a wonderful writing style, Abby, and your characters have depth with a great sense of humor, but you have a tendency to skip over the little details you either don’t know anything about or get too impatient to research.”

She nodded thoughtfully and cuddled closer to him. They’d been sitting on the sofa for over three hours while she dictated and Jack typed it into her laptop. 

“Show me a few of those websites you were talking about.” 

They put in another hour before Abby’s grumbling stomach told her it was time to stop for lunch. “Don’t you ever get tired of research, Jack? I mean, don’t you want to write a novel of your own?” 

“I enjoy research.” It was fortunate Jack’s back was to her as he pulled plates from the cupboard, otherwise she would have seen the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You know, honey, if you kept a careful log of what research you’ve done, you would avoid having to duplicate the work when you move on to another novel.” He set the plates down and started making the sandwiches while Abby stirred the soup.

She glanced over at him, her heart fluttering when he gave her a soft smile. “This could really be big for me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”

“Have you had anything published before?”

Abby turned around and stared at him for a moment. “I’m sorry, Jack. I thought you knew. I guess I assumed my dad told you.” 

“Told me what?”

Turning the burner on low, she said, “Follow me.”  

She went to the bookshelf in the living room and pointed to a display of books, all written by the same author. Not quite sure what he was looking for, Jack plucked one of the books from the shelf and turned it over. He glanced at the picture, an incredulous look on his face. 

“
You’re
Abigail Sweeney? But…you’re famous!”

“Hardly that,” she said modestly. “Sweeney was my mother’s maiden name. I didn’t want my success
or
failure to ride on the Travis name. All of my books have done well, but none of them have ever made it past number five on the top seller list. I want more, Jack. I want to be number one and I think with your help I just might make it.”

He put the book back and gathered her in his arms. “You
are
going to make it to number one. I’ll make sure of it.”

Abby’s heart leapt in her chest. With Jack beside her, the words had come easily, the story line flowed, and she believed in what he was telling her. She smiled up at him. 

“You know, I think my love scenes might get a little jazzing up because of you, too.”

“Really? And why is that?”

She stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Because now I can write from experience. Of course, I may have to do extensive research on the subject.”

Jack lowered his head, his lips lightly brushing hers. “Well, you know me; I’m always willing to jump right into a research project.” 

As he tasted the sweetness of her mouth, he was beginning to think being with Abby just might jazz up his own love scenes as well.

***

Jack finished typing the last sentence Abby had rattled off and waited for her to continue. Sometimes she sat beside him and stared off into space, lost in her own world as she composed, but he discovered that when dictating love scenes she closed her eyes. He frequently watched her face as he typed and was fascinated by the maelstrom of emotions she went through, as if she was really living it. When the lovers fought or the heroine’s feelings were hurt, Abby got choked up and her voice became strained. It was touching, and Jack began to realize he was getting far more out of it than simply helping type her manuscript.

Abby opened her eyes. “That’s it, Jack. That’s all I have in me for today.”

He set her laptop on the coffee table and leaned back. “Can I ask you something, Abby? How do you do the love scenes so well when I know you haven’t experienced it yourself?”

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? Women don’t want to read about making love like it really is; they want to read about making love the way it
could
be if only they were the heroine.” Abby gave a short laugh at his puzzled expression. 

“When a woman reads a romance book, she wants to
feel
something. She wants to relive the magic of her first kiss. She wants to laugh and cry and hurt along with the heroine. She wants to see the piercing blue eyes of her lover, feel his breath against her cheek. She wants her heart to race and she wants to squirm while she reads, to really experience the sensation of her lover’s light touch and the flutter of butterflies in her stomach.”

“But what’s the difference if you say the heroine
put
her arms around the hero’s neck or she
laced
them around his neck? The point is, her arms are there. And who the hell cares if his lips brushed hers or you just say their lips met?”   

Abby sighed. “I guess I should feel flattered that you at least paid attention to the way I structured the sentences, but you really have no understanding of it. Stand up, Jack.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

“Just do it.” She rose from the sofa and stood in front of him. “Now, I don’t want you to do anything. I want you to remain perfectly still and don’t touch me, okay?” When he nodded, Abby proceeded with her demonstration. Without ceremony, she flopped her arms around his neck and just stood there. 

“This is what a woman does when she
puts her arms around his
neck
.” She stood on her toes and kissed him quickly, full on the lips, keeping it short and unemotional. “And that’s what happens when their lips meet.”

Jack shrugged as she dropped her arms to her sides. “Six of one, half a dozen of another; it’s all the same thing.”

“You think so?” Abby said with a hint of a smile.

Leaning towards him ever so slightly, she let her palms rest on his chest for several seconds before slowly moving them upward.

“
She snaked her hands over the hard muscles of his chest to his broad shoulders
,” she spoke softly, drawing in a slow, deep breath. “
Inhaling the pure masculine scent of his skin was like drinking the finest of wines on an empty stomach; it was intoxicating and sent a sliver of fire coursing through her veins
. Abby entwined her arms around his neck in a slow, sensual movement. “
Her arms laced around his neck and she found herself leaning into him
.” 

Abby pressed herself closer to Jack and was rewarded when she heard the sharp intake of breath. Oh, yes, he was learning very quickly, but she wasn’t finished with him yet. Tilting her head back, Abby continued the assault on his senses. 

“
She lifted her eyes to his, her heart hammering so hard she thought he must surely hear and know what she was feeling
.” The color slowly drained from Jack’s face as Abby’s hips swayed seductively from side to side. “
How can you not know,” she whispered against his lips. “How can you not know that I’m falling in love with you?
” 

That’s when the last of Jack’s control snapped.

He caught her up in his arms, his mouth hungry, demanding, greedy, the fire and passion of it cutting a scorching path through her entire body. There was no ceremony involved when Jack pushed her back onto the cushions of the sofa and fell over her. She’d unleashed a primal beast whose focus and sole purpose was to mate as quickly as possible to satiate the lust and sexual need that drove him. 

His callused hands roughly pushed the skirt of her sundress over her hips and then reached for her panties, snapping the thin band in his haste to remove them. Jack was breathing in ragged gasps, his face flushed and feverish as he unzipped his jeans and shoved them down. In one fluid motion, he kneed her thighs apart and entered her with a heavy thrust of his hips. 

He made love to her with an intense fury that had Abby in the clutches of a thunderous climax within seconds. Jack didn’t last much longer. She felt the tension in his muscles, heard the low, rumbling growl, followed by a rush of heat as he buried himself deep inside her one last time. Jack collapsed on top of her, his body trembling for quite some time afterward. 

Abby sifted her fingers through his hair, a dreamy, satisfied smile on her face. “And that,” she told Jack, “is the difference between
putting
her arms around his neck and
lacing
them.”

***

“Your hands have healed nicely,” Jack told her two nights later. “You should be able to do your own typing tomorrow.” 

They’d spent most of the day working on her manuscript, learning and teaching each other as they went. Jack had carried the grill down from his cabin and they’d eaten steak with a tossed salad for dinner and then settled on one of the lounge chairs just before sunset. 

“I know,” Abby said in a subdued tone. She was curled up on his lap enjoying the night sounds of the forest and the serenity that being in his arms always brought her. “I’m going to miss it, though.”

He stroked her hair absently. “I will too, sweetheart, but I’ve got to get back to my own work.”

“I hope I haven’t set you back too much.”

“I’ve got time. What about you, honey? Have I taught you enough so you can do the research on your own?”

“If not, I know where to find you.” 

Abby closed her eyes. The novel was coming to her easier than anything she’d ever written before and she knew it was because of Jack’s presence. He kept her in a high state of sexual awareness just by being near and she felt a mental sharpness that had never been there before. With Jack by her side, Abby had been confident her novel was strong and powerful and would undoubtedly be her finest work. If he went back to his cabin and left her alone, would she be able to maintain the pace and level of confidence or would she hit a brick wall? It worried Abby, but she couldn’t be selfish by keeping him from his own work any longer.