“I don’t need you to stay here, Jake,” she said once again. She felt like a baby and didn't want him taking care of her.
He leaned over and brushed back her hair, cupping her chin with his warm palm. “I need to stay. I need to make sure you're all right.” He brushed his lips across her forehead. The touch so light, Brianna wondered if she imagined it.
She lay back against the pillows and tried to relax. She was keyed up from both the attack and the thought of Jake staying with her for a day or so. Her mind, however, was growing fuzzy as the pain meds took hold.
She'd enjoyed having one place in life where she didn't have memories of Jake. Now that would all change if he moved in, took over and imprinted himself on every inch of her home.
Sighing in defeat, she closed her eyes. They were linked. Inexorably linked. She couldn’t fight fate. She could only go along for the ride, however long it lasted this time.
Brianna dozed off and on all day, aware of Martha fussing over her a bit. That Jake had returned. Conscious that someone else was moving around her place but too lethargic to do anything she rolled over and drifted back to sleep.
When she awoke in the late afternoon, she was wide-awake and hungry. Gingerly she sat up, shifting to the edge of the bed until her feet reached the floor. Her ankle throbbed. She considered the distance to the bathroom and hesitated.
Jake appeared in the doorway. “Need help?” he asked, lounging casually against the jamb.
She glanced up, struck again by how tough and dangerous he looked leaning there watching her. In the dim light of the room, he was cloaked in shadows.
“I guess I do. My ankle hurts and I don’t think I'm ready to walk on it.”
He straightened and walked toward her. “Which is what the doctor said. No walking on it for a couple of days.” Without any apparent effort, he scooped her up and headed to the bathroom. He deposited her inside and stepped out. “Call when you’re finished,” he said just before the door clicked shut.
He had the wheel chair at the door when she was ready to leave the bathroom. Hopping jarred her head and ankle too much to try that.
Jake had prepared dinner. He mentioned it was ready as he pushed her into the living room and through to the small dining alcove. She'd taken time while in the bathroom to brush her hair and wash what she could of her face with her one good hand.
Soft music played from her stereo, the curtains had been drawn against the growing twilight and the lamps gave a warm glow to the room. She wished again she had a fireplace. The evenings they’d spent before his at the cabin had been wonderful.
Most of the time she spent with Jake was wonderful.
“Dinner.”
Her small dining table was big enough for two. Which suited her. She rarely had anyone over for a meal. She'd rather meet friends at a restaurant where there was room for all.
“This is delicious,” Brianna said a few moments later when she tasted his chicken casserole.
“Thanks. It’s easy.”
“Somehow I didn’t picture you cooking,” she murmured. Plenty of men cooked. Her brothers were excellent cooks, though neither particularly liked to. But she hadn't pictured Jake cooking.
“I have to eat. Do you think I eat out every meal?” he replied, sitting opposite her with his own plate.
She shrugged. “Or ate donuts,” she teased.
They’d eaten out a lot when dating. She'd cooked for him at her apartment a couple of times. And, of course, she’d cooked the meals at the cabin.
“Where did you learn to cook?” she asked.
“At home. When I was a kid, my uncle didn’t get home until late, so I usually started dinner. Cooked the entire meal most nights.”
“You lived with your uncle, I remember,” She’d known he was an only child. When she had asked him about his parents once long ago, he’d merely mentioned they were dead. Then quickly changed the subject.
“From the time I was six until I went to college.”
“Just the two of you?” she asked.
“Yes. He never married.”
She looked at him, wondering about a lot of things. He never talked about his past. It hadn’t seemed that important two years ago. They'd been caught up in the present and they’d only dated a few months.
Only long enough for her to fall in love.
What had his childhood been like? He hadn't told her about it. She'd sure talked enough about growing up on the ranch.
“Tell me about your uncle,” she said, determined to change that.
He looked at her and shrugged. “What’s to tell? He was a cop. We shared an apartment. I learned to cook.”
“Do you see much of him now?”
He shook his head. “He died when I was in college.”
“Longevity does not seem to run in your family,” she commented.
He smiled wryly. “They were all accidents. My folks were killed in an airplane crash. My uncle was a cop, but he didn’t die on duty. He was killed when he fell from a tall ladder, trying to help a friend put up storm windows. Hit his head on the curb and died on the spot.”
“Was he the reason you became a cop?”
“Yeah.”
“So you don’t have any family living?”
He shook his head once, his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to guess what she was leading up to.
“I lost my parents, but I always had Jase and Josh. Now I have Shannon, too. I wished we lived closer. I always wanted a sister when I was growing up.”
“Jase’s wife?” he clarified.
She nodded, smiling and looking over into the living room where she had their photograph on a shelf.
“That’s their wedding picture, on the second shelf. Isn’t she cute? You’d think Jase invented love the way he’s so crazy about her,” she said wistfully.
She envied her older brother the love he’d found. He and his wife didn’t mind everyone in the world knowing how much they adored each other. She wished she had the same kind of love.
“So your grand love affair didn’t pan out,” he said softly.
She blinked, hurt he’d mock her. He didn’t need to rub her nose in the fact he didn’t love her. And he needn’t be cruel about it, either. With dignity, she raised her chin.
“I guess not. I’m not ashamed of feeling the way I do.”
“I’m sorry, Brie.”
She knew he meant it. He wasn’t a cruel man, merely one who didn’t love her.
She nodded, toying with the last bit on her plate. Restlessly, she shoved it aside.
“Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”
“Coffee?” Jake rose and gathered the plates, heading for the kitchen.
“Yes. There’s some brandy over the refrigerator. I want some of that, too.”
A timeless remedy for aches and pains of all kinds.
She struggled to maneuver the wheel chair with one hand, going in a semicircle.
“Here,” he said, coming up behind her and deftly propelling her into the living room next to the sofa. Two swift moves and she was sitting on the sofa with a jar that set her head to pounding.
A minute later, Jake brought their mugs filled with fragrant coffee and the hint of brandy. Handing her one, he sat beside her on the sofa, resting his arm across the back, his fingers touching her hair.
“Not too much liquor, you still have medication in your system,” he said when she sipped the hot beverage.
“Still tastes good,” she said, taking a deep breath of the aroma.
“If I could change things for you, I would,” he said in a low voice, dropping his hand to her shoulder, pulling her closer until she lay snuggled against his side.
“Wishing it won’t make it so,” she replied sadly.
“No, you can’t make people love you no matter how much you might want them to.” He’d learned that himself the hard way.
Brianna took a gulp of hot coffee. It burned all the way down, which jolted her out of the maudlin mood she was fast sinking into.
“So, did anything turn up today while I slept?” she asked, determined to keep the regrets at bay, at least until she was alone in her room.
“Nothing about the perpetrator. No one saw him but you. However, your briefcase turned up in a trash can behind the geology building. Empty.”
“At least that wasn’t lost. It was a gift to me from my brothers when I got my Ph.D. I’ll be glad to have it back.”
“We’ve pretty much eliminated the Air Force angle. Most of the people we’ve talked to didn’t even know you worked for them.”
“Honestly, are you telling everyone I know?” she asked. “I think I'm supposed to be circumspect about the job.”
“We’re questioning people who might have some leads for us.”
“The work at the Air Force is a supposed secret. I didn’t tell people because I didn't want anyone pestering me to reveal anything I shouldn't.”
“Most of the people we’ve interviewed were impressed. They aren’t going to try to pick your brain.”
“So you don't think it's related to that work. But how can it be connected to the college?”
“Beats me, unless you have some top-secret formula for fattening cattle that some ranching syndicate's trying to get.”
She chuckled. “No. I leave that to Josh and Jase. I go home to help out sometimes, but I’m not passionately in love with ranching like those two. Ever been on a cattle ranch?”
“Nope. I like thinking that beef comes in neat little packages in the supermarket, rather than covered in hide and mooing.”
“A realist, I see.”
Even if he knew nothing about cattle and horses, she’d bet he’d fit right in. There was something about men like him and her brothers and the ranch hands on Rafter C that spoke of confidence and assurance. They knew who they were, what they were capable of. Even the arrogance was similar. She smiled, wondering how he'd like meeting one or both of her brothers.
Taking a sip of her coffee, she savored the warmth. It had cooled enough to be consumed without burning. The dollop of brandy slid down smoothly. Soon the ache in her ankle and wrist would fade. Maybe even the ache in her heart.
“I see what you mean about no fireplace. Wish we were back at the cabin,” Jake murmured, shifting a bit lower on the sofa, resting his legs beside hers on the coffee table. He settled Brianna into a more comfortable position, so she was leaning half on him, half against the sofa.
“Are you going to buy the things I suggested?” she asked, curious.
“Sure, if you go with me. Your list still doesn't tell me exactly what to buy.”
“I was very clear.” He was on his own for shopping. The time for playing house had ended.
“Then what did you mean by pictures?” he asked.
“Pictures, you know, images captured and framed to be put on a wall.”
He glanced around her room, noting the soft Monet reproductions, the photographs that were displayed on shelves. Then he looked down at her.
“You choose,” he said softly. “Something that will remind me of this place. It’s nice, relaxing, pretty. Like you.” Lowering his head, he kissed her. He tasted of coffee and brandy and male heat.
Brianna moved against his, savoring every second.
He took the cup from her numb fingers and placed it beside his on the table. Turning her, he dragged her across his chest, kissing her again and again, his hands threading through her silky hair, rubbing the length of her spine.
Her breath caught, her heart pounded. She snuggled closer, wanting to become a part of him, wanting nothing to separate them ever. Her hands clutched his broad shoulders, the sting in her wrist unnoticed because of the overwhelming sensations that shimmered through her.
He kissed her over and over, as if she were life-giving water and he a dying man in the desert. His hands caressed and petted. She was burning up with longings and burgeoning desire. Her senses were intoxicated and all reality was suspended as she floated on a cloud of sheer emotion.
She wanted more. She would have willingly given anything he asked. But all he wanted were kisses. Mind-drugging kisses. Kisses that brought a greater high than anything else she’d ever known.
Dang it, why couldn’t he love her? She was so crazy about him she thought she'd go crazy, and he was sorry he couldn’t love her.
But he could kiss her enough that she knew nothing else would ever satisfy her again. Kiss her enough that she knew she’d long for similar embraces all her life. Nothing would ever measure up.
And it wasn’t fair. If he didn’t want her, he should not be spoiling her for every other man in the world. She would never be satisfied with anyone else. She wanted Jake Morgan.
The phone rang, waking Brianna. She took a moment to realize she was still in bed. Her headache was gone. Her ankle throbbed. Her wrist ached. She stretched out to reach the phone. “Hello?”
“How are you feeling this morning?” Jake’s familiar voice came through loud and clear.
She blinked and slowly sat up, bunching the pillow against the headboard. The sun was shining brightly.
“What time is it?” she asked, still feeling groggy.
“It’s after ten. I thought you'd be up by now. Did I wake you?”
“Yes, but it’s okay. It’s too late to sleep. Where are you?” She refused to think about last night. Her fingers pressed against her lips. They were slightly swollen. Despite her best intentions, she remembered every single kiss.
“Your neighbors are staying with you until I get home. I’m at the station. I’m going by the college in a little while to get a list of all your students from the last two years. Then you and I are going over them one by one to see who might have any kind of grudge—real or imagined—to plague you like this.”
“That's going to be a lot of students, I teach several classes.”
“If there's something there, you're bound to recognize it. See you later.”
Martha must have heard her on the phone because just then there was a soft knock on her door.
The neighbor kindly helped Brianna bathe and dress. Her husband was in the living room, standing guard if needed.
Brianna was touched at her neighbors' willingness to step in. She really thought the break ins had stopped. The robber had checked out everything she owned.
Maybe tomorrow she could return to work. There was an elevator to the third floor where her office was. And easy access to classrooms thanks to handicapped rulings. She could manage the ramp into the building where she taught. Worst case, she’d hire a student to push her.