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BOOK 7
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Being Yours BOOK 7
She stared at the empty spot where the car had been parked as her mind absorbed the fact. Instead of welcoming the respite, she experienced an absurd form of resentment that he’d left without telling her. Back inside, she shut the door, her thoughts narrowing on the man who was quickly becoming an obsession. He’d been so adamant about following her everywhere, why would he leave without talking to her first? Was he up to something, or had he simply gone for a cup of sludge coffee and a restroom break, which he must definitely need after nearly ten hours of surveillance work?Returning to the kitchen, she switched on the gas under the kettle filled with water. She reached for a cup but hesitated when she spotted a piece of her stationery on the counter. Her heart missed a beat as she picked it up.So he had been inside. She glanced around, expecting him to appear. She remembered unlocking the front door. Then how . . . ? The back door. Had she locked it after he’d left? She couldn’t re
Being Yours BOOK 7
The telephone screeched with the ear-piercing shrill of an angry child. Rachel flinched and resisted the urge to run from the room as memories of another police station on another long-ago night assailed her. Hallways crammed with people, shouted curses, some drunken, others hateful, the sharp tang of ammonia and the underlying stench of unwashed bodies had added to the mayhem when Penny had been arrested for stealing. But ‘stealing’ was too casual a word for what her sister had been involved in. She’d been drawn into a world of organized crime, and Rachel had been too busy to notice. Once she had, it had almost been too late to save her.Today, the pale gray hallways were busy, but not overly crowded. A steady hum of conversation layered the room, adding definition to the people milling about. A musty odor coated the building, a collective residue from people who’d previously walked through the doors to report a crime or to search for lost loved ones.Was she too late now? Or was she
Being Yours BOOK 7
Rachel stood alone in the middle of Jackson’s immense living room, absorbing facts about him that he would never have revealed on his own. White mini-blinds on the patio door blended with the off-white walls. He hadn’t bothered with pictures or drapes to relieve the bleached color. The couch, set at a haphazard angle in the middle of the room, was a burlap, Rent-to-Own special that no one in their right mind would ever buy. Or at least, no one with any taste. A veneered walnut-brown end table supported a pastel lamp that she guessed dated from the 60s. He didn’t own a coffee table. The room seemed a contradiction to the man she thought she was coming to know.She made a slow turn, noticing the lack of personal mementos, framed photographs, anything that would allude to a hobby or special interest. No books or magazines. A pile of folders and newspapers tossed on the floor was the only evidence that the place was inhabited at all. She couldn’t imagine anyone living here. It was as if J
Being Yours BOOK 7
Jackson watched the color drain from Rachel’s face. The firm set of her lips relaxed as her mouth dropped open. Her expressive gray eyes grew round and wide. A series of emotions passed through them - surprise, confusion and finally disbelief.‘You think falling in love was a mistake?’ she asked in a carefully controlled voice.‘I didn’t think so at the time, but in retrospect, yes.’She nodded, her entire body tensing. ‘And loving this woman caused you problems?’‘I won’t go into the gritty details,’ he said, not because he thought she wouldn’t want to hear about Sandra, but because admitting how big a fool he’d been still had the power to strike a raw chord in his ego. ‘She had been my business partner as well as my fiancee, and I trusted her enough to give her fifty per cent of my company. Because of my bad judgement, I lost everything. Almost had to file for bankruptcy,’ he added with a rueful laugh.‘So you decided never to trust anyone again.’ She said it as a statement of fact
Being Yours BOOK 7
With his fingers spread, he skimmed his palm up her side until he grazed the full curve of her breast. She didn’t trust him completely. He understood that, and would do whatever it took to change her mind. Because she was the last person he’d ever want to hurt.In a voice that demanded an answer, he asked, ‘Do you want me?’Her expression softened, and she closed her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. Then she met his gaze, and her eyes were bright with appeal. ‘But I don’t want to be hurt.’A pent-up breath shuddered out of him. ‘That makes two of us. But if you want me to stop and take you to your car, you need to tell me. Now.’ He thought he should earn extra points in heaven for asking.Her fingers slid into his hair and gripped his head. Her eyes glazed, shining as if a light burned inside her. She drew him closer, holding his gaze until his lips touched hers with a sweetness that bordered on devastating. He kissed her again, then again, the urgency building as she told him without word
Being Yours BOOK 7
Thunder rumbled the walls of his bedroom, pulling Jackson from his light doze. He was on his back with Rachel curved into his side, her head tucked against his shoulder. Her steady breathing warmed his neck as she slept. Moments before her eyes had slipped shut with exhaustion, she’d burrowed her fingers into his chest hair, then nestled against him, fitting her body to his as if it were the most natural thing for her to do. Since she’d never had sex before, he knew there was nothing natural about the act. But then they hadn’t had sex ; it had been something . . . else. Something that defied description.He had no idea how long they’d slept, but he thought it hadn’t been more than an hour. He didn’t want to risk waking Rachel by twisting around to look at the clock on the nightstand to find out. Gray shadows sealed the room. He couldn’t tell if the lack of light was due to the approaching dusk or the storm clouds that had gathered over the city during the day. Hearing the soft tapping
Being Yours BOOK 7
Jackson stood in the doorway to Penny’s apartment, frowning as he surveyed the destruction. His first impulse was to locate the maintenance office and request a shovel, but he refrained and instead took mental notes. The place looked ransacked, or perhaps a bomb had gone off, leaving the walls and ceiling intact but destroying everything else. Or maybe someone had left in a big hurry.Half of the cushions of the yellow and orange striped couch were on the floor; the others were buried beneath layers of clothing, towels and plates stuck with stale, half-eaten food that he estimated were at least a week old. In the dim light, he couldn’t see enough of the carpet to determine what color it was supposed to be, but he guessed a murky brown.The suffocating smell of debris and musty air infused the room. Wads of paper, Styrofoam cups and cereal boxes littered the small kitchen table to his left. Three of the red vinyl chairs were askew; the fourth was turned over. Was it on its side because
Being Yours BOOK 7
The abrupt ringing of the phone stopped Jackson in mid-step. Rachel tensed in his arms as her head came up off his shoulder with a jerk. Without a word, he set her on her feet and grabbed his jeans from the floor as she ran for the kitchen. He heard her soft voice answer, then silence. He zipped up his pants without buttoning them and joined her.She held the receiver to her chest with both hands, then reluctantly held it out to him. ‘It’s for you.’ He took the phone. Without bothering to ask who it was, he asked, ‘What did you find?’‘It took a while,’ Derrick said, ‘but we traced them to a charter that took them to Mexico, Puerto Vallarta to be exact.’‘They?’‘Yeah. Penny and her boyfriend, Mark.’‘Have you found where they’re staying?’‘Not yet.’ Derrick sighed. ‘They’re not using credit cards, so we haven’t been able to trace them.’ Jackson met Rachel’s anxious gaze. ‘What about a return flight?’‘Nothing. Puerto Vallarta is a hot tourist spot, but there’s nothing but mountains a
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