Native Affairs (33 page)

“I’ll buy you another set, all silk,” he said into her ear.

“I don’t care,” she replied, sighing as she felt him, full and ready, against her. He lifted himself off her with one arm and ran his free hand between her legs. Marisa moaned and closed her eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his muscles trembling with the effort of restraining himself.

“I’m sure,” she whispered, gasping as he stroked the sensitive flesh. “Please, I’m sure.”

He settled into position and she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips.

“This... it may hurt,” he gasped.

Marisa pulled him tighter.

When he entered her Marisa stiffened and he stopped immediately.

“All right?” he said hoarsely.

She said something in a low tone, her voice muffled against the side of his neck.

“What?” he whispered.

“More,” she said.

He gave her more.

* * *

When Jack awoke a few hours later, the fire was dying and Marisa was gone. He got up, slipping on his jeans, and added a couple of logs to replenish the blaze. Then he padded barefoot into the kitchen where he found Marisa, seated at the deal table and sipping a cup of tea. She was wearing his plaid bathrobe, which reached to her ankles and came down over her wrists.

With her wavy blonde hair and oversized outfit she looked like Shirley Temple in
Little Miss Marker
.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Never been better.”

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” he asked anxiously.

“Already found it. This,” she indicated the robe, “was hanging on the back of the door.”
 

“And you’re okay?” he repeated.

Marisa smiled. “Jack, I’ve been deflowered, not shot. I assure you, I’m fine.”
 

He bent over her and lifted the trailing hair off her neck, kissing her nape. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

He slipped into a chair across from her, sliding down until he was resting on his spine.

“I was enjoying the sleep of the satisfied. I wasn’t sleeping so well before tonight.”

“Were you tormented by thoughts of me, poor boy?” Marisa asked teasingly.

“I was,” he said seriously, holding her gaze.

The silence lengthened between them as Marisa felt her mouth going dry.

Jack got up and took her hand.

“Want to try the bed this time?” he said.

Marisa rose and followed him to the stairs.

* * *

The telephone rang at seven-thirty the next morning. Jack fumbled for it with his free hand as Marisa raised her head from his shoulder.

“Yeah?” he growled. He listened for a second and then handed the phone to Marisa.

“For you,” he said and fell back on the pillow.

“H’lo,” Marisa said.

“News flash,” Tracy announced. “That creep from the Indian Affairs Bureau is back again, and he wants to see you. Today.”

“Randall Block?”

“The very same.”

“How did you know where to find me?” Marisa asked, her head beginning to clear.

“Wild guess,” Tracy replied dryly. “I got the number from Ben Brady. After a struggle, I might add.”

“All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can make it.”

“Did the big event take place?” Tracy asked eagerly.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Marisa replied.

“Spoilsport,” Tracy observed. “I’ll see you soon. And I mean soon. I can’t handle this guy alone. ‘Bye.”

“Goodbye.” Marisa hung up the receiver and collapsed onto Jack’s chest.

“Don’t tell me. You have to work today.”
 

“Right the first time.”

“You grab a shower and I’ll make the coffee,” he said, sliding out of bed.

“I’ll have to sneak past the doorman. I’ll be wearing the same clothes I wore last night,” Marisa observed, wrapping herself in the sheet.

“Not to mention no underwear,” he replied, grinning.

“That’s right, it’s in shreds,” she groaned.

“The doorman will have a treat.”

“I don’t think so. He’s gay.”

“I’m not.” He pulled the sheet off Marisa and tumbled her onto the bed.

“I have to hurry,” she protested. Feebly.

“I can hurry,” he answered, pressing her back into the mattress.
 

“What about the coffee?”

“We’ll pick it up at the convenience store on the way into town,” he murmured, nibbling her neck.
 

“Oh, all right.” She sighed deeply and surrendered.

Chapter 6

“So what’s up with Randall Blockhead?” Tracy greeted Marisa when she entered the hotel suite that afternoon.

Marisa dropped her briefcase on the bed and shook her head. “He’s very displeased with me,” she said dryly.

“Do tell.”

“I am not winning the case, that’s clear, and what’s worse, I have not reached an ‘accommodation’ with the Seminoles.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means he wants this over, that’s what it means. It’s dragging on forever, much longer than anticipated. Ben Brady is throwing up every obstacle he can concoct which is costing the feds a fortune. All of this I heard from Mr. Block’s lips, as if I didn’t already know it.”
 

“What does he expect from you, a miracle?”

“Evidently. I told him if they had found someone who could do a better job I would be happy to turn over all my materials to that person and go home, humming all the way.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing, of course. The problem with this situation isn’t the lawyer, it’s the case. We haven’t got one, not one good enough to snatch that burial ground from people who’ve had it for hundreds of years. Block knows it. He’s just taking out his frustrations on me. I let him do that for a while and then I came back here.”

“Sounds like a fun time,” Tracy said gloomily.

“But there is good news,” Marisa said, grinning suddenly. Tracy looked at her and brightened.

“How did it go with Jack?” she asked, favoring Marisa with a sly, sidelong glance.

“Marvelously, stupendously, sublimely. And aside from that, it was wonderful.” Marisa sat in a chair and sighed blissfully.

“I’m jealous,” Tracy announced.

The telephone rang. Tracy answered it on the first ring, listened, and then held it out to Marisa.

“Guess who?” she said.

Marisa leaped up and snatched the phone from Tracy’s grasp. “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

“How’s my girl?” Jack asked.

“Happy.”

“Glad to hear it. Are you finished with your lawyer stuff for the day?”

“Looks like it.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“What are we doing?”

“Oh, we’ll think of something.” The line went dead.

“Well?” Tracy inquired expectantly, as Marisa moved to hang up the phone.

“He’s coming for me in a couple of hours.”

“I guess I won’t be seeing a lot of you in the evenings now,” Tracy observed.

“Well, once we go back into court next week I won’t have much free time. I thought I’d take advantage of the chance to see him while I can.”

“Oh, don’t explain, I understand. It’s just...I don’t know anybody in this burg and I’ve appreciated your company.”

“And I’ve appreciated yours,” Marisa replied warmly.

They regarded each other in silence for a minute.

“Okay,” Tracy said briskly, “before we burst into tears here, I’m going down to the pharmacy for toothpaste. Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks.”

“See you later.” Tracy went out and Marisa walked over to the closet to see what she had to wear for that evening.

* * *

When Marisa left her room to meet Jack she found him waiting outside the elevator on her floor.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, laughing, as he swept her into his arms.

“I got impatient waiting in the lobby, so I thought I’d come up, but then I didn’t want to burst in on you with Tracy there. So I compromised with this.”

“You’re very silly, do you know that?” Marisa murmured into his collar.

“All part of my charm,” he replied, holding her off to examine her intently.

“What?”
 

“I wanted to see if you looked any different,” he said teasingly.

“From this morning?”

“It’s been ten hours.”
 

“Ten hours, twenty-two minutes and thirteen seconds,” Marisa corrected him.

“Ah, you’ve been counting too.” He drew her back into his embrace and said in her ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

It was a quiet drive out to his house. They were both thinking the same thing. Once they arrived they went wordlessly up the stairs and into Jack’s bedroom. He took the receiver off the hook and smothered it with a pillow.

“Come here,” he said. He unbuttoned her blouse and took off her slacks, smiling when he saw the lace teddy underneath them.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“One-piece underwear,” she replied. “Very efficient.”

“Why wear any at all?” he said huskily, separating the garment from her skin.

“Juries might find it a little peculiar,” she replied.

“Not to mention stimulating.”

“And the judges? They’re usually men.”

“I’m sure your win rate would go up.” He bent to mouth her breast and then picked her up and put her in the bed. She lay back against the pillows and held out her arms.

Jack doffed his clothes in seconds, kicking off his jeans so hard that they flew into a corner.

“Take it easy,” Marisa said, giggling.

“Not a chance.” He dove on top of her, flinging the sheet to the foot of the bed.

“Ah, that’s better,” she said, sighing. “You feel so good.”

“And soon I’ll feel even better,” he said in her ear, and proceeded to prove it.

* * *

Marisa snuggled into the solid warmth of Jack’s shoulder and looked around the dimly lit room. Books were piled on makeshift shelves in two corners, stacked randomly and leaning crazily against one another. A portable television sat atop a cabinet which stored a set of free weights and a tape deck with a pile of tapes wedged in next to it. Jack’s toiletries in the bathroom, his clothes in the closet and the computer on the first floor were the only other personal items in the house.

“You must get tired of setting up camp in places like this for a few weeks or a few months at a time,” Marisa said. “Don’t you ever want a more permanent home?”

“I guess that’s Oklahoma, if where my family lives is home.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-five. How old are you?” She could tell by the sound of his voice in the dark that he was smiling.

“Twenty-eight.”

“Now that we have exchanged that important information, is there anything else you want to know? What diseases I’ve had, what I’ve been inoculated against, the number of my caps and crowns?”

“Don’t make fun of me. I was just thinking that all this has happened so fast. I don’t really know that much about you.”

He propped a pillow behind his head and sat up, pulling her with him. “What else do you want to know? What I did on my first date?”

Marisa sighed, recognizing that she was encountering a familiar male attitude: the past is over, why talk about it?
 

“You could start there,” she said.

 
“I went to the movies with Mary Beth Reynolds,” he said. “We saw
Love Story
at the Rialto, ate two tubs of popcorn and a box of Milk Duds candy. Mary Beth cried so hard during the death scene that her contact lenses washed out of her eyes.”
 

“Sounds like a dream date.”
 

“Actually, except for the contacts, it wasn’t bad. Mary Beth and I hit it off and wound up going together for the next couple of years. She was living at a neighboring girls’ school and we saw each other almost every weekend.”
 

“What happened?”

“Oh, her parents broke it up. Cochise was not exactly what they had in mind for their little princess. Six years later she married an orthopedic surgeon and had three kids. I just heard a few months ago that he recently left her for his college age receptionist.”
 

“Sounds like you’ve kept up.”
 

“She saw my picture in the paper when I spoke at a college near where she lives and she wrote me a letter through the NFN.”
 

“Trying to fan the old flame?” Marisa suggested.