The Reunion Mission (34 page)

Chapter 17

W
hen Jonah rapped on her door that evening, Annie’s heart gave an answering knock. She smoothed her hands down the slim skirt she’d changed into after work, denying to herself that she’d dressed to impress Jonah. But in truth, she felt frumpy in her waitress uniform. If she wanted to convince him to take a chance on a relationship with her, she needed every scrap of confidence and all the positive vibes she could scrounge.

“Hi,” she said, standing back to let him in. Her voice sounded breathy and seductive even to her own ears. But just the sight of him, his hair damp from a recent shower, the evening sun casting shadows across his face that highlighted the masculine cut of his jaw and cheekbones, sucked all the oxygen from her lungs.

The lopsided grin he gave her coiled around her heart and filled her with a longing so powerful she ached.

“Trust your heart,”
Ginny had said.

Right now her heart was telling her to grab hold of Jonah with both hands and never let go. This man, with his dark gaze that could see through to her soul and a tender touch that never failed to turn her bones to mush, had snuck past her defenses and stolen her heart.

His gaze slid over her, drinking in the narrow blue jean skirt that emphasized her hips and the white cotton T-shirt that made the most of her unimpressive cleavage. His pupils rounded as his perusal lingered at her lips before drifting to her scarred cheek.

On an impulse, she had pinned her hair back from her face with a cloisonne clip, leaving the harsh jagged marks exposed. Her scars were a part of who she was now, and tonight she wanted no secrets or barriers between her and Jonah.

She held her breath, anxiously waiting for his reaction to the prominence of her scars, until his mouth curled in a warm grin. “Hi yourself. You look...beautiful.”

Her pulse pattered, and her cheeks heated with pleasure. The way he looked at her, like a cat ready to pounce, made her feel pretty for the first time in years.

She cleared the nervous tightening from her throat. “Have you eaten?”

“I—”

“Jonah!” Haley squealed as she bounded in from the living room wearing her plastic tiara. Ben toddled in behind his sister, and a drooly grin lit his face when he saw their guest. Her daughter hugged Jonah’s legs, and he stooped to lift her into a bear hug.

“Hi, princess. How are things at the castle?” he said, tweaking her nose, then tousling Ben’s curls. “Hey, slick. How’s the block business?”

Haley giggled, and Annie’s heart somersaulted. Jonah had a natural rapport with her kids and showed none of the stiff reluctance she’d seen when other men got around children. His ease with her kids went a long way toward assuring her she’d made the right decision, allowing him into their lives.

For dinner, they shared a delivered pizza, Jonah’s treat and an indulgence the kids reveled in. With their stomachs full of pepperoni pizza, Haley and Ben were in a better mood when time came for their baths and bedtime. Jonah read
Skippyjon Jones
to Haley again, then disappeared to the living room to watch a basketball game while Annie settled Ben into his crib for the night.

Once both children were soundly sleeping, Annie sat next to Jonah on the couch and tucked her feet under her. “Who’s playing?”

“UNC and Kansas.” He sent her a side glance, then turned back to the television. “This is the final round of the NCAA championship.”

“Mmm.” An uneasy prickle nipped her spine. Walt had been especially grouchy and sensitive to interruption when he’d been watching sports. She’d quickly learned to make herself scarce on nights when her ex watched a game.

Disappointment knotted her stomach. She’d hoped to have time tonight to talk openly with Jonah about her feelings. The game on TV didn’t bode well for a discussion or any intimacies.

When a commercial came on, Jonah turned to face her and swiped a hand down his face. “So...kids asleep?”

She nodded. “Will this be on much longer? I’d hoped we could talk.”

His eyes softened, and he stroked her chin. “I’d like that, too.” He hitched his head toward the TV screen. “This is the tournament I bet on with Farrout. I need to see how it shakes out, but I want to talk once it’s over. There’s only about ten minutes left in the game.”

His explanation both lifted her spirits and twisted new strands of dread inside her. Even if she settled things with Jonah, nothing was settled with the gambling and money-laundering operation.

Working to tamp the apprehension the problems at the diner knotted inside her, she covered his hand with hers and nodded. “I can wait ten minutes.”

He winced. “It could go into overtime.”

His boyishly apologetic expression was so far from the irritated glower Walt used to give her, she had to smile. “Okay, but no shouting at the TV. You’ll wake the kids.” Pulling her lips in a flirtatious grin, she snuggled closer to him and threaded her fingers through his hair. “And I’d really like them to stay asleep.”

The lift of his eyebrow and darkening of his gaze spoke of his intrigue with her intimation. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Jonah slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “Help me pull for my team. I’ve got ten grand riding on this game.”

Annie jerked away from him. “Ten grand? Where did you get that kind of money?” Immediately, she shook her head and held up a hand. “I’m sorry. That’s not my business. It’s just...that much money is—”

Jonah laced his fingers with hers and kissed her palm. The soft brush of his lips on her sensitive skin sent a delicious thrill spiraling through her.

“You have a right to know. The money is from an insurance settlement. My dad was killed in a car accident a couple years ago.”

She caught her breath, sympathy plucking at her. She knew the mixed feelings he had toward his father and the confused emotions he’d have experienced because of the loss.

“A guy ran a red light and T-boned him,” he continued. “The other guy’s insurance company offered a healthy settlement if my sister and I signed papers saying we wouldn’t sue. Dad also had a good bit of life insurance listing my sister and me as beneficiaries.” He gave a cursory glance to the television, where the game had resumed. “I hadn’t wanted anything to do with my dad when he was alive, and I sure as hell didn’t want to profit from his death. I took the money and put it in the bank. Left it there. Didn’t want anything to do with it, until—”

When he paused, ducking his head, Annie slid a hand along his cheek, then lifted his chin to meet his gaze. “Until?”

“When Michael died and I decided to investigate who was behind the gambling operation, I resigned from my position on the police force in Little Rock and moved down here. I’ve been living off the money from my dad’s death for the past year. Michael was more of a father figure to me than my dad ever was. It seems like poetic justice somehow that the money I inherited be used to catch the people behind Michael’s death.”

“Poetic justice, indeed.”

After a drawn-out moment where the world seemed to still around them, his gaze dipped to her mouth.

Her lips gravitated to his, and a low moan rumbled from his chest. The vibration reverberated through Annie, licking her veins and encouraging her to be bolder, to take what she craved without fear or regret. She sealed her mouth over his and teased the seam of his lips with her tongue.

Jonah’s arm tightened around her, and he tugged her onto his lap. His fingers burrowed into her hair, and he met her questing tongue with his own. Every velvet stroke spun her senses reeling faster. She clung to Jonah for support and could feel the rapid-fire beat of his heart against her chest. A bulge at his fly ground intimately against her hip. Knowing that she’d roused his body to that state emboldened her, filled her with a sense of power she hadn’t know in years. In Jonah’s arms, she felt feminine. Respected. Cherished.

Her restless hands skimmed over his wide shoulders, along the muscle and sinew of his arms, then settled on his hard chest. Her fingers curled into his shirt, and she raised her eyes to his, breathless from his kiss. The heat and hunger blazing in his gaze sent shock waves rippling through her, firing every nerve. Her whole body quaked with need and strained closer to him. “Jonah, I want...”

Her breath hung in her lungs. She should stop now, retreat. Protect herself from inevitable pain. She might not fear physical abuse from Jonah, but the risk to her heart was too great. If she gave her body to Jonah, she’d lose a piece of her soul to him, too.

Trepidation dried her throat, and she nervously wet her lips. His gaze tracked the quick swipe of her tongue. His grip tightened, and smoky desire darkened his eyes.

“What do you want, Annie?” His husky growl stroked her like a physical caress. “Name it, honey. Anything.”

His warm hands framed her face, and he brushed butterfly kisses to her nose, her cheeks, her closed eyes. His tenderness touched a raw, aching place deep inside her, soothing, calming. His warmth thawed the chill of fear that had frozen her, paralyzed her for too long.

“Trust your heart.”

Even if it cost her a piece of her soul, she wanted the respite his arms offered from the turmoil of her life. She ached for the sweet joy and heady bliss of his kiss.

After years of running, bone-deep pain and endless nights of loneliness, she desperately wanted a few stolen moments of happiness, of escape, of...
Jonah.

“This,” she whispered, her voice catching. “I want this. I...want you.”

A heartbreaking expression molded his face. Moisture clung to his eyelashes, and a shocking vulnerability shaded the bright yearning in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

The tremor of wistful longing in his tone shook Annie to the core.

He could be worried about breaking your heart—or you breaking his.

Her chest clenched, realizing that Jonah’s need and doubts echoed her own. Her pulse tripped over the idea her warrior protector bore scars from his own past. Was it possible Jonah needed her as much as she needed him? Did her kiss offer him the same balm to old hurts as his did to her? Could two broken spirits, two wounded birds find solace and hope with each other?

“It’s about give and take, sharing and supporting each other.”

Ginny was right. More than anything, Annie wanted to give Jonah the hope and happiness, the healing that his patience and gentleness had given her.

Annie dragged in a shaky breath and stroked her fingers down his cheek to cup his jaw. She touched her lips to his, felt his shudder. “Make love to me, Jonah.”

* * *

After checking on her children, Annie joined Jonah in her bedroom, her heart tapping an anxious tattoo. She walked in just as he pulled a small foil packet from his wallet and tossed it on the bedside stand.

Her heart turned over.
Always the protector.

Hearing her enter, he glanced up, and a muscle in his jaw bunched. “Just so you know, you’re safe with me.”

Annie bit her lip, a flutter of anticipation dancing in her belly. “I know.”

His mouth pressed in a hard line, and his gaze narrowed on her. “What I mean is...I don’t sleep around. I don’t take sex light—”

She pressed a finger to his lips to stop him. “I trust you.”

His throat convulsed as he swallowed, and his pupils rounded. He tugged her close and sighed into her mouth. “Annie, sweet Annie...”

She sank into his kiss, ribbons of pleasure unfurling inside her. When he skimmed his lips over her chin and down to the pulse point at her throat, shimmering sparks danced over her skin. His hands worked under her T-shirt and massaged her back, strumming the bumps of her spine and lulling her with tender strokes.

Weeks of tension and anxiety melted by degrees at his touch, and she gave herself over to the magic of his hands.

Bracing her hips securely against his, he leaned her back and ducked his head to nuzzle the valley between her breasts. The arch of her body pushed her hips more intimately against the ridge of his arousal, and with a sway of her body, she rocked against him. A low moan rasped from his throat. The effect she had on him thrilled her, heightened her own pleasure, made her bolder.

Grasping his shoulders, Annie straightened and stepped back. Holding his hot gaze with hers, she whisked her shirt off and let it drop on the floor. Her bra followed, and Jonah released a stuttering breath as he palmed her bared breasts. He molded and shaped her gently before shifting his hands so he could roll her nipples under his thumbs.

Staggering sensation pulsed through Annie’s blood, a hot rush that melted her bones and made her legs buckle. She curled her fingers into his shirt, gasping for a steadying breath. Jonah pivoted with her in his embrace and lowered her carefully to the bed.

He stood beside the bed only long enough to yank his own shirt off and shove his jeans down his legs. He kicked free of the pants, then braced himself on his arms above her.

Annie drank in the sight of his toned muscles and broad chest dusted with black hair. Rather than frighten her, his brawn and powerful potential made her feel safe, protected. She brushed her hand across the taut skin, savoring the warmth and texture, lightly scraping his nipples with her fingernails and smiling when she felt his answering shudder. Her gaze followed the path she blazed with her fingers, until a wide jagged patch of pale skin stopped her cold.

A long scar stretched across his lower abdomen. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Jonah, what...?”

He glanced at her with heavy-lidded, passion-drunk eyes and shrugged. “A punk with a knife resisted arrest.”

She pulled back to appraise him with fresh eyes and renewed concern, and she noticed a small puckered circle on his shoulder. She touched it. “And this?”

He groaned. “Do we really need to catalog all my scars
now?
We could be here a while.”

A poignant ache squeezed her chest, and she tipped her head, her gaze scanning him. “Oh, Jonah.”

How many more scars did he have? More important, how did she help him heal the internal wounds that stitches and bandages couldn’t help?