Kiss and Tell (37 page)

The small house was painted daffodil yellow, with dark green shutters and front door. The lawn was a little long, but the beds were filled with a wild profusion of end-of-season autumn flowers.

It looked homey. Loved. Welcoming.
Damn, I've got it bad
.

Duchess stuck her head out of her open window, then looked back at him sitting there, steering wheel clenched between white-knuckled fists. She made a polite noise of inquiry.

A cigarette would be nice. He didn't smoke.

A drink would be great. He didn't drink.

It's good to want things
, Jake reminded himself.

"Did I mention I was possibly a tad nervous here?" he asked the dog, who'd heard this before. Ad nauseum.

This was really stupid. All he wanted to do was fulfill his promise to Marnie to return her car and her dog. No big deal. And he wanted to make sure she was okay after taking a bullet meant for him. He owed her that much.

Like hell that was all he wanted.

Denial wasn't just a river in Egypt, Jake thought morosely. Denial had always been a form of self-preservation.

It had crept up on him full blown.

He loved the infuriating woman.

It was that simple, and that damn complicated.

Love.
Judas
. What did he know about love? Not a damn thing other than that he was crazy about Marnie Wright and would do anything it took to get her to admit she felt the same way.

The shocker was, he wanted it all. Love. Marriage. Commitment.

Ah, man... She wants to study art in Paris. Hell, she's probably in Paris right now. So would it be fair to bust in there and declare myself when she wants to fly free? Shit.

After the age of sixteen, when he'd left home to join the navy, he hadn't had a moment's indecision in his life. Yet here he was. Wanting her. Starving for her. Trying to be altruistic and do what was best for her.

I want to be what's best for her, damn it!

He wondered desperately what the pink flowers along her walkway were called. He admired the white tubs filled with droopy little blue flowers by the front door. He watched a kid scuffing his new school shoes as he kicked a plastic cup along the gutter.

Duchess sat patiently waiting for him to act. "I'm getting there," he said, a little irritated that she had so little faith in him. He had to get this right. One shot. He didn't want to screw it up. He couldn't barge in there half cocked and make demands.

Even though he wanted to. Bad.

Duchess was the perfect opening.

While Jake was being debriefed in Montana, where T-FLAC's headquarters were, Michael Wright had managed to get a message to him. He hadn't been able to locate the dog. Jake had hired someone in Gray Feather to pick up Marnie's car, then flown back to California, chartered a chopper, and gone to look for her mutt.

As promised.

It had taken the better part of the day to find her, cold and shivering, near the burnt-out ruin of the cabin. Having been on her own for several days, Duchess had been ecstatic to see him. Jake had left the chopper in Gray Feather, picked up the car, and headed out.

Judas. He'd faced down the world's most feared terrorists, in the world's worst places, with zero fear. He'd interrogated drugged up junkies on the docks with less trepidation. He'd been shot, stabbed, beaten, and tortured with less anxiety.

All he had to do was get his ass out of the car, lift the shiny brass knocker on her green front door, and tell her how he felt.

Piece of cake.

Then why the hell was he sweating?

He raked his fingers through his hair, thinking maybe he should have had it cut. When had he last had a haircut? He couldn't remember.

The dog looked at him pityingly.

Jake drummed his finger on the leather-covered steering wheel. "Get the lead out, huh?"

He'd never felt this way before. It felt terrifying...but
right
. And strangely comfortable.

What he'd felt for Soledad was so faint a copy as to be unrecognizable. Because, God help him, being ripped apart by Soledad's betrayal was nothing compared to how he'd feel if Marnie told him to get lost.

The thought terrified him.

Maybe he should have worn a suit. "Do you think a suit would have been better?" Man, he was talking to a dog. Okay, Duchess was smart, but she was still a dog. And he was so damn scared his hands were sweaty and his right eyelid kept twitching.

Hell, there was a first for everything.

He pulled the handle to release the door and got out. He held the door open until Duchess daintily walked across Marnie's leather seats to exit on the driver's side.

Doorbell or knocker? He rang the bell. He heard it chime inside the house. He tried to guess where she might be, and how long he'd wa—

"Jake," she said. No surprise. She'd probably wondered what the hell he'd been doing just sitting in her parked car staring at her house.

Her fluffy pale blue sweater matched the color of her eyes. "Here's your dog."
Brilliant. Really brilliant, Dolan.

"So I see, thanks," she said with perfect calm. As though he hadn't almost killed himself getting here in a hurry. As though he hadn't walked all over God's creation to find her dog. As though he hadn't—

Get a grip here, pal
, Jake cautioned himself while his heart raced and his eyelid continued to twitch. He wanted to hold her. Feel her warmth. Inhale her unique fragrance. Taste her mouth.

Marnie crouched down to fuss over the dog one-handed. "Hi, puppy girl, I missed you so much." A sling made out of a purple scarf with yellow happy faces on it supported her plaster-of-Paris-encased arm.

Signatures and drawings covered the cast, reminders of the fullness of her life. She had family. Friends.

"Are you going to invite me in or leave me out here freezing my ass off?" It came out more harshly than he'd planned.

She rose. "Yes, come in. You're letting five hundred dollars' worth of heat out."

She looked so beautiful his heart ached. It'd been only a little over a week since he'd seen her. But she'd been groggy or sleeping, and that picture had stayed with him night and day since then.

Now, despite the broken wing, she looked pink-cheeked and breathtakingly alive.
Thank you, God.

He never again wanted to see her blood staining his hands or hear the hideous noise as she gasped for air. He never again wanted to see her wheeled into an operating room or lying in a stark hospital bed, frail and helpless. He couldn't bear thinking about her bum heart.

He never wanted to see her hurt. Either physically or emotionally.

He wanted to love her.

Jake went absolutely tomb cold. What in God's name did he know about love? Answer? Not a damn thing.

Dispirited as he'd never before been in his life, Jake followed her through the house. He belatedly remembered her telling him she was more interested in finding herself than in finding a man.

A convenient memory lapse.

How
he
felt was immaterial.

But he wanted all or nothing.

Bullshit.

If she wanted to live in Paris, he'd live in her garret with her. He just had to persuade Marnie that was what she wanted, too.

The house smelled of tomato and lemon. He had a peripheral view of the rooms as they passed. Bright, primary colors, lots of open spaces, a jungle of plants, but Jake was more interested in watching her sweet little bottom.

"Let's go in the kitchen. I want to stir my sauce."

"Smells good."

"I had a craving for Italian. Coffee?"

"Yeah. Sure. Fine." Craving? Jake took a surreptitious glance at her flat stomach. "Are you pregnant?" As soon as the words were out he did a mental forehead slap.
Judas Priest!
He used to be known for his subtlety.

The mug she thumped down on the oak table before him had a pink flamingo with bulging eyes as the handle. Coffee sloshed over the edge.

"Is that why you're here?" She tossed him a paper towel. It landed between them.
Like a gauntlet? Uh-oh.

Jake obediently wiped up the spill and crumpled the napkin in his fist. He knew a trick question when he heard one. "I told you I'd deliver your car and Duchess."

"It's hard to believe you were such a chicken liver," Marnie said, sounding exasperated. "You let my brothers chase you away."

"They didn't."

"Then why did you leave me in that damned hospital without saying good-bye?" Marnie demanded, cheeks pink, eyes flashing.

"In my profession one doesn't
say
good-bye."

"Your profession stinks."

"I had to report in for debriefing." He remembered her comment when they'd made love the first time and wanted to smile. He'd kill to debrief her right now. Out of those jeans and that fluffy sweater and onto a soft bed...

He took a sip of coffee. Fixed just the way he liked it.

*

Marnie sipped hers. Too hot. It burned her tongue. She was going to win an Emmy for this. Or was it an Oscar?

Wearing jeans and an unfamiliar dark brown leather jacket over a cream fisherman's sweater, Jake looked disreputable and dangerously sexy. His hair was loose around his shoulders, shiny clean, and begging her fingers to explore.

She rose to stir the spaghetti sauce. Duchess, having inspected the house for intruders, wandered over to Jake and put her head on his knee.

"So what did you decide?" Jake asked casually, fondling Duchess's ear as Marnie resumed her seat. "Are you going to Paris?"

"No. I decided not to go."

"Because you're pregnant?"

She'd heard him the first time. It was like trying not to notice an elephant in the middle of the room. "What if I am?"

"
Are
you?"

"No. I – I don't know. It's too soon."
I'm praying that I am.
She wasn't going to beg him to stay. "I don't feel as though I am. Probably not."

"So why aren't you going to Paris, then?"

"I decided to convert my spare room into a studio." She took another sip of coffee, not tasting it. She longed to go around the table, sit on his lap, and pull his mouth to hers. Her lips actually tingled. "There's a local children's book author I've done some stuff with before. We've been talking about collaborating on a series of children's books."

How was it possible that after knowing Jake Dolan less than two weeks, she felt as though colors were brighter when he was in the room? She'd known how desperately she'd missed him, but until she'd seen him sitting in the car outside with Duchess, she'd had no idea how monochromatic her life was without him.

Jake Dolan made her heart glow in Technicolor.

"That's good. Sounds like you've made some choices." He drained his mug, set it down carefully, and shifted his big feet.

Her heart skittered, then thudded in sudden dread. Was he leaving? Just like that?
Here's the dog, your car, bye?

"Yes." She licked dry lips. "I talked to my dad and the Musketeers. They say they understand. They promised they'll try to let me make my own choices about things."

"That's good." He picked up his empty mug and stared into its depth as though it were a crystal ball.

"Yes."

The kitchen clock ticked, and the sauce bubbled and plopped and filled the kitchen with its spicy fragrance.

I can't bear this. I can't bear it,
Marnie thought as the silence dragged on. It hurt to breathe. At least on the mountain he'd been able to talk to her. This was horrible. Awkward. Stilted. Marnie knew he was trying to find a graceful way to say good-bye.

Please, Jake...

She stared at the reflected image of the overhead light fixture in her murky coffee. What was she pleading for? He was a man who didn't even know he
had
a heart.

What had been a life-changing experience for her had obviously been nothing more than a short sexual interlude for him. He couldn't wait to leave. She got up blindly and headed for the stove. She leaned her hip against the counter, picked up the wooden spoon from its rest, but didn't stir the bubbling sauce. Tears blurred her vision.

This was killing her.

From the second she'd opened her eyes in the hospital to find Jake gone, she planned what she'd say when she saw him again.
If
she saw him again. In none of her fantasies had her heart ached or her chest hurt with the pressure of unshed tears. In none of her fantasies had he sat looking at her with cool eyes and a hurry-the-hell-up-and-say-what-you-have-to-say expression.

"Did you sort out everything with your boss?" she asked, not looking at him. The sauce was going to burn on the bottom of the pot, but she didn't have the energy to stir. It was all she could do to hold her tears at bay.

"Yeah. It was Lurch all along. After faking his own death in San Cristóbal he started SPA. He knew terrorism from the inside out, making it easy to stay one step ahead of us. Then he trained his people just as we were trained in T-FLAC, blurring the lines even further."

"I'm sorry, Jake," she whispered in a tight voice. "How awful for you to be betrayed by your best friend like that. What happened to him? Was he... Is he...?"

"He's the one who shot you." A muscle jumped in his cheek. "I shot him and ended it." He shrugged. "To me, he died years ago."

"Well, I guess that's that, then," she said, trying to sound brisk. "I'm really sorry about your cabin, Jake, but you'll rebuild that, won't you? What a hassle that'll be, dragging everything up the mountain."

Please stay. I won't ask anything of you, just that you love me a little
. A bleak future loomed before her. She took half a breath, then scowled.

What was she
thinking?
Damn it! She'd reverted to type. That was the old Marnie, who did what other people thought was best for her.

Well, Jake Dolan was what was best for her, and she was what was best for him. But darn it, he was going to have to come to that realization himself. And he'd better do it fast. Before she had to resort to drastic measures.