A touch of love (22 page)

Jesse glanced up, noted Aubrey's preoccupied frown, and felt certain he was the cause of her distress. After all, he had dumped a whole lot of trouble in her lap, and then thoughdessly made her think he was homesick. "Hey," he called sofdy. "I won't abandon you. I'm not going home until Harlan Caine's behind bars."

Aubrey had no idea what had prompted Jesse's promise, but smiled to acknowledge it. "Don't forget the accomplice. He might be the man who drives the gold Corvette, or he might be someone else entirely. Maybe Caine has a whole string of men with more muscle than character who'll do whatever he asks. Then again, maybe Ms. McClure has talents we've not considered."

Astonished by that possibility, Jesse sat back in his chair and wiped his mouth on his napkin. "That's good. I just considered her most obvious assets, but we ought to suspect everyone in Caine's employ. Damn. If we don't come up

with anything new on Sunday, maybe you ought to pretend a real interest in investing with him. That might be our only way to keep going back/'

Aubrey speared a flavorful crouton. *'Caine's an arrogant s.o.b. and he must believe he's committed the perfect crime. Still, he wouldn't have been so nervous if he didn't fear there might be a way for us to tie him to the murders.''

"The bodies," Jesse reminded her. "You said they weren't completely burned."

Aubrey returned his steady gaze. "It's such a lovely afternoon and the food here is delicious. I can't believe we're talking about partially cremated bodies as though we were playing a game of Clue."

"It is gross, isn't it? Want some dessert?"

"No. I think I'd just like to go home." Jesse arched a brow, and Aubrey found the unspoken invitation ever so much more exciting. She had every intention of glorying in the moment until she arrived home and checked her answering machine for messages. There was only one, but it was a frantic lament from her editor in New York. Aubrey played it twice and looked up to find Jesse standing at her study door.

"Did you hear it all?" When he shook his head, she gave him the gist. "One of the tabloids ran the photo of us that appeared in the Times with some imaginative speculation as to my abilities to find missing persons. My publisher has been deluged with calls from those seeking my assistance to locate loved ones. Quite naturally my editor wants to know what's going on, but it's too late now to reach her in New York."

Aubrey walked toward him. "This is exactly what I was afraid might happen."

Jesse came forward to meet her. "The only thing I'm afraid of is that Harlan Caine might see it. Which tabloid was it? I'll go and get us a copy."

Aubrey gave him the name, and as he drove away, her hopes for a romantic afternoon vanished in a mist of frustrated tears. The Ferrell case had a life of its own, and there seemed to be no way to avoid being sucked into it. She sank down into one of the brown leather chairs in her study, propped her feet on the hassock, and closed her eyes.

Up until now, she had been successful in separating her public and private lives, but no longer distinct strands, they had become hopelessly entangled. When Jesse returned, her only consolation was that the story wasn't on the front page. She read it through hurriedly and then handed it back to him.

"I'm surprised they didn't have your name before they went to press, but at least one of their devoted readers has to be a fan of rodeo, and will recognize you."

"So what? I've already given Harlan Caine my name, and this story doesn't really add anything new. I'm sorry about the calls to your publisher, and the people you'll have to disappoint, but other than a bit of unwanted notoriety, this doesn't change things." He extended his hand. "Come on upstairs. Let's look for the missing pieces of ourselves, and forget about Harlan Caine for a while."

His gesture was made with an enticing grace that promised more than Aubrey had any right to expect from a handsome cowboy who'd soon be on his way home, but she wanted him too badly to care. Tomorrow she would have to be a thoroughly professional motivational speaker, but for now, she could simply be herself, and there was nowhere she would rather be than with him.

"Still want that shower?" Jesse asked when they reached her room.

"Only if you'll join me." Aubrey removed her black jacket with a seductive shimmy and laughed when Jesse tore open the snaps on his shirt with a single tug. He

moved toward her with a dancing slide as he reached for his belt buckle, and it was difficult to recall how quickly she had panicked when he had made the same gesture Monday afternoon. That she had known him less than a week mattered not at all when she trusted him so completely.

4 'Have you ever thought of dancing at Chippendale's?" she asked. "You've definitely got the looks, as well as the grace to flaunt it."

"Thank you, ma'am, but my knee wouldn't hold up for long under such strenuous exercise." He slid his arms around her and dipped her low. "Besides, I'd rather dance with you, than for a pack of screaming women I don't even know."

The teasing light in his eyes reflected the laughter in hers, and they soon had a colorful montage of clothing strewn about the white rug. Once nude, they danced into the bathroom and continued their play in the shower. Covered with soap bubbles and slippery wet, they soon found the glass enclosure much too confining. Jesse rinsed off, then stepped out to give Aubrey a turn beneath the warm spray. The instant she turned off the water, he wrapped her in a purple towel and hugged her close.

Aubrey had been too busy giving seminars to consider her life empty, but as she reached up to kiss Jesse, she saw with a sudden clarity just how lonely she had been. He had brought danger and troubling questions without answers, but more importandy, a delicious excitement she would always crave. She was lost in him before they reached her bed, and she gave her affection as generously as he. He coaxed forth a pleasure so intense it was nearly painful, but the only cry to escape her lips was a sibilant sigh of pure ecstasy.

Everything changed for Aubrey that sunlit afternoon. Jesse's passion was no less consuming than the first time

they had been together, but now it was flavored with a tenderness that left her not merely wonderfully content, but perfectly fulfilled. She lay snuggled in his arms, instinctively knowing all she would ever need to know of him, and longing for an eternity in one blissful afternoon.

She had never known a man whose needs matched hers so superbly. Certain it was no mere accident of chemistry, she rested her hand lighdy on his chest and savored every delicious nuance. After showering together, only a faint trace of his cologne remained beneath the musky aroma of sex and his own masculine scent. She drank in the mingled fragrances, hoping to make them an enduring part of her memories.

Jesse felt Aubrey moving closer still, pressing against him, into him, blurring whatever thin boundaries might still exist between them and could not even imagine a more exquisite sensation short of orgasm's blinding joy. He closed his eyes and relaxed into her, welcoming her spirit as well as her supple body. He had always drawn away from other women as soon as politely possible after they had satisfied his sexual needs, but with Aubrey he felt none of the nagging impatience for solitude others had always inspired.

They drifted lazily, neither speaking nor needing to, until Jesse brought her fingertips to his lips. "I want to try something new," he confided softly. Keeping her fingers laced in his, he drew her hand down over the flatness of his belly. He was hard again, and she needed no further coaxing to bring him to the edge of another climax.

He leaned over her then and smiled. ''This should be just like dancing, only better. We need to get really close/' He teased her with his fingertips. "And then just barely move. You take the upward stroke, and I'll take the down."

Aubrey wasn't sure what Jesse had in mind, but once he had entered her, he pressed close rather than propping

his weight on his elbows. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and her legs around his thighs. After a few tentative adjustments, they found a pleasurable alignment that allowed for slow, deep penetration rather than fast thrusts. At first Aubrey felt only Jesse's weight, but the sensation gradually dissolved in delicious tremors the crept up her spine and made her cling to him more tightly.

They had found the perfect rhythm, and each stroke brought them closer to the ultimate union, until conscious effort was impossible and their bodies seized control. In a final surge, they crossed the threshold of paradise together in a climax that shook them clear to their souls. Barely conscious, Aubrey had to remind herself to breathe, but at that heavenly moment, she would have joyously welcomed death.

When at long last her mind cleared sufficiendy, she wondered where Jesse had learned such a thrilling technique, and then just as quickly decided she didn't really want to know. She supposed there was a limit to the amount of time they could spend in bed, but she doubted she would live to reach it. Almost from the beginning of her marriage she had felt something was missing, and while she still could not give the exquisite ingredient a name, she had definitely found it with Jesse. When he at last moved aside, she still felt too sated to do more than smile.

Jesse took one look at Aubrey's beatific expression and regarded their latest experiment as a complete success. "That was good, wasn't it?"

"Better than good," Aubrey insisted sleepily. "There's a magic in you that just never ends."

"Well, let's hope not." Jesse drew her back into his arms and held her tight. She felt so good to him, and unlike mere magic, she was real. He couldn't see past that afternoon, but for now, it was more than enough for him.

The telephone rang just as Aubrey began to set the table for dinner. She let the answering machine in the study pick up, but reached for the extension in the kitchen when she heard Trisha's voice. "Hi, Trish." She glanced toward Jesse and rolled her eyes as her assistant began to talk in a frantic rush. "Give me a minute to think," she begged, then slid her palm over the receiver.

"Shelley just called Trish to tell her she isn't feeling well and wouldn't need a ride to the seminar in the morning. Trish says she heard Ricky Vance swearing in the background and doesn't know what to do."

Jesse was seated at the table, where he had been riffling though the tabloid he had bought earlier and entertaining Aubrey with a sample of the more audacious articles. He rose and tossed the tacky publication aside. "Tell her to sit tight. I've been dying to meet Ricky, and this is as good a time as any."

"You're not going anywhere without me," Aubrey replied, and after telling Trish she and Jesse would handle it, she grabbed her purse and followed him out the door.

No fool, Jesse took the time to make certain no one had tampered with his truck, then he and Aubrey drove to Shelley's bungalow. A Harley-Davidson motorcycle was parked by the porch, and Jesse began to laugh the instant he saw it. "I just can't picture sweet little Shelley riding on the back of that thing. Can you?"

"No. Ricky was driving a beat up Dodge the last time I saw him." Aubrey had refrained from asking Jesse what he intended to do. Because she was positive Ricky Vance deserved whatever grief Jesse gave him, she wasn't even tempted to ask him to go easy on the young man . As they started up the walk, Ricky stepped out on the porch with a bottle of Red Weasel ale in his hand. He drained it in a

single gulp, then tossed the empty bottle into the flowerbed.

He was six feet tall, with a thin, angular build, and dark curly hair that brushed his shoulder blades. Dressed in a black T-shirt, Levi's, and boots, he thrust his hips forward in a menacing pose and glared at them. His cheeks were shadowed by several days' growth of beard, and while he may have once been a charming boy, there was nothing appealing about him now.

*'Shelley's not working for you anymore," he called to Aubrey. "I'm taking care of her now."

Aubrey would have walked right up to the door, but Jesse caught her elbow to hold her back. "That's a commendable desire," she replied. "Where are you working?"

Ricky raked the sole of his right boot across the edge of the porch to dislodge a hunk of mud. "We'll get by," he boasted.

"We need to speak with Shelley," Jesse announced calmly.

Ricky eyed Jesse with an insolent glance, then dismissed him with a shrug. "If you have something to say to her, just tell me, and I'll give her the message."

"Let's start with a message for you," Jesse replied. He moved over to the Harley, raised the kickstand, and then gave the heavy motorcycle a shove to knock it over on its side where Ricky would never be able to right it on his own.

"What the hell are you doing!" Ricky screamed, and he came off the porch in a flying leap. He doubled his hands into fists and raised them in a clear challenge.

The commotion outdoors brought Shelley to the screen door. She was holding Annie on her hip. She had obviously been crying, and Annie was clinging to her with a terrified grasp. "Leave him alone, Ricky!" she screamed, and Annie began to cry in a thin, warbling wail.

"Close the door, Shelley/' Jesse directed firmly. He tossed his hat to Aubrey, and knowing Ricky would count that split second of inattention as the perfect opening, he anticipated his blow and blocked it easily.

"I've yet to meet a punk who could fight," Jesse taunted him. "Do you really think bossing Shelley around makes you a man?"

Aubrey dodged around Jesse and hurried up the porch steps. Shelley pushed open the screen door to welcome her inside, but neither young woman wanted to miss the fight. Annie had burrowed her face into Shelley's shoulder, and couldn't see a thing.

"I told him I didn't want anything more to do with him, and he just wouldn't listen," Shelley explained tearfully. "He wanted me to leave Annie with my mother to raise and go away with him. I refused, and he was getting so loud I was afraid one of the neighbors would call the police. Maybe they already have."

Aubrey kept her eye on Jesse while Shelley described Ricky's demands. As usual, he had refused to acknowledge or provide for Annie, and wanted Shelley to follow wherever whim took him. Jesse was merely toying with the young man, and flailing wildly, Ricky couldn't land a single blow while Jesse struck him repeatedly. Ricky already had a bloody nose, and growing dizzy, slipped and went down on one knee.