Unlucky (31 page)

Jake looked at her, slowly shaking his head. "It's all so unbelievable. Every single bit of it." He glanced back at the circle. "What do you think happened to the chicken? I didn't see her holding it when she left."

Mallory shrugged. "I hadn't even thought about it again. Maybe she had it the bag."

Jake grimaced. "I like fried chicken as much as the next guy, but it will be a while before I indulge in a bucket of KFC."

Jake started to speak a million different times on the drive back to Mallory's house, but there were simply no words that could convey what he felt. Hell, he didn't even know what he felt. He was angry and sad and frustrated and heartbroken, all at the same time. The emotions warred inside him, each canceling the other out and leaving him with nothing to say to the woman sitting next to him.

"I'm sorry" seemed so limited, so futile.

After what seemed like an eternity, they pulled up in front of Mallory's house. He parked his car behind her truck but made no move to exit, instead stared out over the bayou.

"Your parents," he finally started, "where are they now?"

There was only silence for a long time and for a moment, Jake was afraid she wasn't going to answer. Finally, she sighed and said one simple word. "Dead."

Jake looked over at her, a bit surprised by her answer. Mallory's parents couldn't have been very old when they passed, and although her answer meant there wasn't a set of people out there that he needed to throttle with his bare hands, he felt somewhat disappointed that the people who'd done this to Mallory had gotten away with it all.

"My father died in prison," Mallory said, her voice barely a whisper. "He cheated the wrong guy at cards and took a shank in the back. My mother was never the same after that. She wasted away to almost nothing inside of a year's time and finally died in a mental institution in New Orleans."

Mallory turned to face Jake. "She always blamed me, you know. For everything bad that happened to them--their schemes going wrong, my father going to prison. Now I know why."

Jake shook his head. "She was wrong. You didn't bring bad luck on them--they created all that for themselves with the life they chose. You know that."

"Maybe. Or maybe letting me become what I am came back on them like some great karmic debt."

"Maybe," Jake agreed. "Although it still doesn't seem like enough." He took her hand in his and squeezed. "I just can't imagine a parent doing that. It's so far from what I know."

"It ought to be," Mallory said simply, then turned to face him. "Tell me about your parents. I want to know something personal about you, Jake McMillan."

"Randoll."

"Huh?" Mallory looked at him, obviously confused.

"My real name is Jake Randoll. I really am from Atlantic City. My mother is a retired schoolteacher. My father was a cop."

"Was?"

"Yeah. He was killed in the line of duty when I was eight."

"I'm sorry," Mallory said, and squeezed his hand. "That must have been hard for you and your mother."

Jake nodded. "It was awful. My dad, he was the best--the best husband, the best father. And my mother... left alone with me to raise... I don't think she ever really got the chance to grieve."

Mallory reached up to cup Jake's cheek. "He would have been proud of you. Proud of the man his son became. I'm sure your mother is."

Jake looked at her and couldn't help but want her... her hair shimmering in the glow of moonlight, her green eyes sparkling as she looked at him... her touch so gentle against his skin. Never had he thought another woman could possess the fortitude, the intelligence that his mother had shown all those years, raising her son to be a man. But Mallory Devereaux brought new meaning to the word strength. Her entire life was a testament to that.

Placing his arms around her, he drew her in close to him, lowering his head to press his lips against her. She tasted of raspberry and even though he'd seen her swipe the lip gloss across her lips at the poker table, the flavor seemed so sensual, so Mallory. Unable to stop himself, he ran his tongue across her lips, tasting every bit of the sweetness.

She leaned into him and dropped her hand to his chest, running it along the length of his torso. The light pressure of her fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt made him start to stiffen. She didn't stop her journey at his waistband as he'd thought she would. When she grazed her hand over the top of his jeans, she almost finished him off.

Surely the voodoo woman was wrong, he thought as he left her lips to kiss the hollow of her neck and down the front of her chest. Mallory wasn't cursed--she was a witch. It was the only way to explain the way he felt when he was with her--as if every nerve in his body were on fire, as if nothing at all mattered any more except touching every square inch of her and burying himself deep inside her.

He moved one hand underneath her shirt and cupped her bare breast, amazed again at her body that was so full and firm at the same time. He grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt with both hands and relieved her upper body of the garment. Breasts that perfect just cried to be free and he wanted to be the man to accommodate them.

He tossed the shirt in the backseat and descended on her chest with both hand and mouth, causing her to groan. She paid him back by opening his jeans and slipping her hand inside, stroking the hard length of him until he thought he would burst from the pleasure.

"I'm going to try to take things slower this time, but I'm not promising success," he said as he tugged at the closure on her jeans, silently willing the tight garment to let go.

"That makes two of us," she teased.

The tiny strip of pink lace posing as underwear hardly presented a logistics problem. They were so damned sexy, he left them on, then threaded one finger around them and ran it down the tiny strip of fabric.

"It's not Sunday," he said, and he pulled the fabric back gently and pressed his finger into her hot, moist center.

Mallory moaned as he stroked her. "Who the hell cares?"

Jake smiled down at her. "You said you only wore underwear on Sunday." He slipped one finger inside of her, still stroking her sensitive nub with his thumb.

Her grip on him tightened and she sucked in a breath. "I promise to wear them every day if this is the treatment I get," she whispered, increasing the pressure and speed of her strokes with every word until he thought he would explode.

He put his hand over hers. "You've got to stop or I won't have anything left," he said as he continued to stroke her.

"But you're not stopping," she tried to protest, but it wasn't much of a fight.

"Yes, but I'm making the rules," he whispered, and leaned over to take her nipple in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the engorged flesh in complete synchronicity with the stroke of his finger below. It was only a matter of seconds before her breathing quickened, and he felt her body contract around his finger.

She cried out when the orgasm washed over her and dug her fingers into his shoulders. He waited a moment for the trembling in her body to stop before removing his finger and raising his head to look at her.

She gave him the lazy smile of a completely satisfied woman, then pushed him back onto his side of the car and straddled him. "My turn," she said, and lowered herself onto him in a single fluid stroke.

He almost lost it the moment he entered her and had to struggle to regain control. He'd just managed to stave off the worst of the embarrassment when she started her motion, rolling her hips back and forth in a slow, rhythmic dance, and he had to concentrate again on holding himself back.

She dropped her hands to his chest and ran them across his nipples. He was momentarily surprised at the pleasure that shot through him with her touch, and he sucked in a breath as she lowered her head and circled the nipple with her tongue.

"Touch my breasts," she instructed as she increased her hip motion. "Both hands."

He couldn't comply fast enough. Both hands shot up eagerly to encase her breasts and she threw back her head and moaned. Even though he didn't think it possible, her reaction made him even hotter, and he lowered his head to take an engorged nipple into his mouth, suckling on it gently. She responded by tightening her body around him like a glove, increasing the friction and speed until he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Come with me," he whispered, and took her breast into his mouth once more.

"Yes," she replied, and he felt her body begin to spasm, as she took him deeper inside of her.

The orgasm burst through him like lightning, hitting so hard it actually made him dizzy. He could feel Mallory's body around him, growing tight then loose and her legs shook with the strength of their finish. Finally, she became still and leaned against him, her breasts pressed against his bare chest, her heart racing right alongside his own.

He felt the car rumble and the sounds of roaring in his ears and for a second, he thought it was a backlash of previously released energy, but at the sound of the second rumble, he opened his eyes and looked out the windshield just as a flash of lightning lit up the bayou as clear as daylight. "It's a storm," he said.

Mallory rose limply from his chest, a satisfied smile on her face. She glanced out the passenger window. "Looks like a doozy. We'd better get inside before the bottom drops out."

She rolled off him and bounced onto the seat, reaching for her pants on the floorboard. He knew he should be dressing, but instead, he watched her slide into the tight denim, feeling his erection stir all over again. She grabbed her T-shirt from the backseat and pulled it on, her taut nipples protruding easily through the thin fabric.

She looked over at him and shook her head. "Stop grinning like an idiot and get a move on. All of me looks the same inside, I assure you." She reached for the door just as a huge burst of thunder rocked the car, causing them both to jump. Before they could make a move, a single bolt of lightning burst from the sky and struck directly through the hood of the car, spraying sparks of fire in every direction.

"Holy shit!" Mallory pushed the door open, jumped out into her yard and ran several feet from the car without even turning to look. Jake followed close on her heels, hoping like hell the sparks didn't singe his bare ass as he escaped.

When they turned back to look, the entire engine lit up in flames that quickly spread to rear of the car. Jake stared and shook his head. "My insurance rates are going to hit the roof over this one."

Mallory took one look at the burning car and started to giggle. As the first sound left her mouth, the rain began to pour on them as if unleashed in one big tidal wave. She laughed harder, leaning over at the waist, as the rain soaked every square inch of her.

"Damn it, this is not funny," Jake said, trying to pull her back to the seriousness of the situation. "The car is on fire, there's a flood coming from the sky, and you're laughing."

She raised her head slightly to look at him and he couldn't be sure whether she was laughing so hard she was crying or whether it was merely the rain streaming down her face. Pointing at the car, she finally managed to speak, "I'm not laughing about the car. I'm laughing about your clothes. They're still inside."