Blood Ties in Chef Voleur Page 11

  “And he made me tell him where the letter was,” she finished. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Shh. What are you talking about? You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Jack murmured to her. “What about the letter?”

  “He made me tell him. I had to. The only place I could think of was your briefcase. I told him....” She took a sobbing breath. “I think he took it.”

  “Listen to me a minute. This is very important. Did he mention the letter first or did you?”

  She shook her head and air stirred by her hair cooled his skin beneath the tear-dampened material of his shirt. “No. I never said a word. He asked me where it was.”

  “That means—”

  She pulled away and looked at him, her face blotched and red, her eyes swollen. “It means he was someone who was at my parents’ house—” she winced and screwed up her face in revulsion “—someone I know.” She shuddered.

  He pulled her back into his arms. “Cara? I need to ask you—are you all right? He didn’t—hurt you? I mean—he didn’t—?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I thought he was going to suffocate me or kill me, but no. Nothing else.” She pushed away from his embrace and wiped her face with her hands, then pressed her fingertips to her lips and shook her head. “I’ve never—nobody’s ever—done anything like that to me.” She took a shaky breath. “He could have shot me, Jack. He could have—”

  “Shot!” he cried. Shock arrowed through him. “He had a gun?” The round red bruise on her neck appeared to be the imprint of the barrel of a handgun.

  He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I know, hon. I know. And I know how scared you were. Thank God you’re okay,” he whispered. “Or I’d have to kill him.”

  Cara Lynn continued to shiver. Jack pulled her closer. They sat there like that for a long time. Jack was content just to hold her. She’d been through a horrible experience, and of course it was his fault. He’d like to think that if he’d been here, maybe they’d have that guy in custody right now.

  He had no idea how long they sat there, holding each other, when Cara turned her head and kissed his neck. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I think I’m better now.”

  “You don’t look like you’re better. You’re still trembling. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

  Her only answer was to burrow closer into his arms.

  “Or I can sit here all night and hold you,” he whispered in her ear. “Want to stay like this for a while longer?”

  She nodded, then shook her head. “I want a shower.”

  He stood up. “Come on. I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

  “I’m not an invalid,” she protested, although she had to admit to herself that Jack’s attention and concern for her was going a long way toward draining away the horror of what she’d been through. So she let him put his hand around her waist and help her to the bathroom as if she were breakable. He started the shower and adjusted the water’s temperature. Then he began unbuttoning her shirt.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Just helping you get undressed.”

  “I can do that by myself,” she said, laying her hands on top of his.

  Jack looked at her, his dark eyes smoldering as he finished the blouse and let it drop to the bathroom floor. “I know,” he said.

  “So, what are you—really doing?” Her breath hitched when he reached for the fastener on her skirt.

  He held her gaze. His brow furrowed and his dark eyes looked sad. “I guess I’m trying to think of a way to wipe that horrible memory out of your head, and replace it with something more pleasant. But that of course, depends on your thinking my suggestion is pleasant—” his voice gave out when she reached for the zipper on his pants. “Wait—what are you doing?”

  “Just helping you get undressed,” she said with a small smile.

  “So, you’re feeling better?”

  Cara Lynn didn’t answer. She pushed his pants down, then stripped off her bra and panties and climbed into the shower, pulling Jack in with her. She sighed as the warm water hit her face and neck and cascaded down her body.

  “Cara, are you sure?” he said.

  She looked at his naked body through the steaming spray. “Oh, I’m sure,” she said. “Now close the door. You’re letting all the hot water out.”

  She manipulated the shower fixtures until a wide, hard spray beat down on both of them. She lifted her face to the hot water. Her body began to relax in the wet heat. The disgust and fear that had roiled up inside her when the man had touched her sluiced away down the drain.

  Jack’s hands slid across her shoulders and down her arms, dissolving the chill that had clung to her since the man had said he would kill her. Jack pulled her back against him and continued to caress her.

  “Cara,” he breathed. “Your skin feels like rose petals. Thick and soft and sweet and delicate. I love touching you. I love the feel of your skin against my hands, against my body.”

  Cara Lynn sighed. There was something to be said for pure physical attraction. She knew that he didn’t love her like she loved him. But she did believe what he’d just told her. She believed that he loved touching her and making love with her. Although his touch was purely physical, as she struggled to forget her attacker’s hand on the back of her head, his knee in her back and the gun barrel against her throat, she knew physical could be enough.

  This painful sham of a marriage was teaching her a lot about herself. She’d never even considered that she’d find herself in a loveless marriage. Worse, she’d never dreamed she would choose to stay with someone who was using her. Her grandmother’s fractured words from the letter came back to her. I shall wait until you marry to give you the last journal. Not until you have a love of your own, can you know the joy and heartbreak of love and then perhaps, you can understand why I did.

  Had her grandmother somehow known that years after she’d died, Cara Lynn would marry a man who would betray her?

  The question hammered at her brain, again and again and again. Yet right now, as Jack’s hands, hot and soothing as the shower’s spray, caressed her skin, she was surprised to find that she didn’t care what was driving him. Maybe all he wanted was proof that his grandfather was innocent. Maybe the only reason he was here with her now was to ensure that she considered him safer than the unknown. She didn’t care. She needed him, so she would accept whatever he chose to give her and she would give him back all she could.

  “Cara?”

  “Hmm?” she said.

  He touched her forehead and her neck, then he touched the curve where her neck and shoulder met. “What’s this?”

  “Ow. I don’t know. It stings a little. What does it look like?”

  She felt him run a fingertip over the sore place.

  “Tiny scratches,” he said.

  “I don’t know,” she answered dismissively as she moved to stand behind him.

  “Hey, where’re you going?” he asked, with a little chuckle as she slipped away from his caressing fingers.

  “I’m right here,” she murmured. She filled her hands with citrus-scented body wash and from behind him, massaged it into his muscular shoulders as the water flowed in rivulets down his honed, planed body. His biceps were as hard and smooth as river-worn rocks. His torso was a sleek, taut landscape. As she lay her cheek against his back and reached around to spread soap over his pecs, his abs and lower, she heard a sexy growling sound from deep in his throat.

  He turned to her, his skin golden and glistening. He smiled at her and pushed wet strands of hair out of her face.

  Cara Lynn stared. It was that smile. That wonderful, secret smile she’d thought she might never see again. If she saw it ten thousand times, she’d still be knocked out by
it. He hadn’t smiled at her like that since they’d gotten married. But right now, it was there on his face and no matter what else he was, she knew he would protect her.

  She kept spreading the suds across his skin, her fingers delighting in the sleek hardness of his body. As she caressed him he put his hands on top of hers and followed her path, breathing hard, gasping when she finally moved her palms down to touch his arousal.

  “Ah, careful hon,” he muttered. Then he lifted her hands and slid his palms across hers, taking the liquid soap from her hands and using it on her body.

  He rubbed her all over, encircling her breasts, rubbing his thumbs across her peaked, throbbing nipples. He slid his hands down her belly, pressing it, shaping it, then, ignoring her gasps and moans, he moved lower. She almost collapsed as he slid his hands between her thighs. “Jack—” she cried, catching onto his slick shoulders for balance. “Please—”

  He stopped. “Enough with the soap,” he murmured, aiming the showerhead lower, so that the strong spray hit her shoulders and his chest. Then he stepped into the path of the spray and turned around to rinse all the soap off his body.

  “Rinse,” he said. “I’ll be outside.” And he was gone in a small whirlwind of cool air.

  Cara Lynn had no idea what he was doing. The first thing that popped into her head was that he’d abandoned her. He had brought her almost to the pinnacle and then he’d left her alone. As she rinsed the soap from her body, she touched where he had touched and the fading sensations made her want to cry.

  When the soap was gone, she stepped out of the shower and into the folds of a large white towel that Jack held up for her. As he wrapped her in the fluffy warmth, his arms lingering around her in a protective embrace, she began to cry.

  Jack stopped rubbing the towel over her body and caught her up in it, holding her close as he stared down into her face. “Cara? Did I hurt you?”

  She wanted to scream yes. Of course you hurt me. I almost died of the pain when I found out who you really were.

  But she didn’t. All she did was collapse in his arms and let him guide her to the bed.

  To her surprise and gratefulness, he’d stripped and remade the bed while she was rinsing off the soap. He lowered her gently down onto the blankets and rose above her. Then he was in her, filling her with his gentle strength and his heat. And it was enough—almost.

  She ran her hands down his body, cool now from the water that had dried on his skin, over his corded muscles, his lean flanks, his hard, long thighs. When he began to move in her, her body, as always, slipped into his rhythm. Her breasts ached with it, her belly quivered, her loins burned. And tears still slid from her eyes.

  Jack lifted his head and gazed down at her, that smile seeming unsteady, his lips quivering. Then he kissed her. As he did, his movements quickened, and Cara Lynn’s entire being spasmed with delicious pleasure. Nothing he had done so far—nothing—made her feel like his kiss did.

  When he kissed her, she felt everything. She felt his desire, so hot and swelling that he seemed ready to explode. She felt her own, climbing, climbing—so close, so very close.

  Incredibly, they reached their separate peaks together, and for an instant Cara Lynn thought they might have exploded, the shock of their shared climax was that great. Then Jack collapsed beside her, his chest heaving, his breaths fast and uneven.

  She lay, reveling in the fading sensations, loving the small spasms she felt from Jack’s body that told her he was basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, just as she was.

  He turned his head toward her and she met his gaze. He smiled at her again—that same smile—and a thrill arrowed through her. Then, to her utter surprise and delight, he lifted his head and kissed her full on the mouth. It wasn’t a hesitant kiss, or a desperate one. It was languid, sweet and yet erotic, and it was long. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were troubled. “Cara?” he said.

  “Oh, Jack,” she said, pressing her face into the hollow of his shoulder. “I love you.”

  Every muscle in his body went rigid. Only then did she realize that she’d said those words aloud. She didn’t move as she waited to see what he would do.

  In the weeks they’d known each other, she’d never said it before. She’d waited, wanting him to say it first. But he never had. He’d told her all the things about her that he loved. He’d told her that he loved how she made love with him. He’d told her a lot of things. Specific things.

  But he’d never once said the words I love you to her.

  He lifted himself up onto one elbow and looked down at her as if he’d seen her on the street and stopped, trying to figure out if he knew her. It was a detached, hurtful look. He took a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry.” he said. Then he turned away and left their bed.

  Chapter Nine

  While Cara Lynn was drying her hair and pretending the wetness on her cheeks wasn’t tears, she smelled the most wonderful aroma. When she came into the kitchen, she found Jack making an omelet and perking coffee.

  “Hey,” he said. “You hungry?”

  “I didn’t think so, but that coffee and those eggs smell great. I didn’t know you could cook.”

  He glanced at her sidelong. “I don’t give up my secrets easily.”

  “No,” she responded wryly. “You don’t.”

  Jack didn’t speak for a few moments as he finished cooking the omelet. “I found a couple of English muffins in the freezer. How do you want them? Toasted and buttered?”

  “Mmm. Yes.”

  Once they were seated and eating, Jack looked up at Cara Lynn. “I didn’t ask you if you wanted to call the police,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t have let you take a shower.”

  She shook her head as soon as he said police. “No. I don’t want to call them.”

  “Are you sure, because if you need to—?”

  “I’m absolutely sure,” she snapped, then frowned at him. “If I call them, I’ll have to tell them what he was after.” She shivered and chafed her arms. “Do you think I should?”

  “It’s not about me,” he said. “You’re the one who was attacked. You’re the one who could have been hurt or killed.”

  She nodded as a faint echo of terror shook her. “I know, and trust me, I’m from a family of cops. I know how important it is to call the police! But you know what’s going to happen if I do. My family will be pulled right into the middle of all this, and you and I will have to tell everybody everything. Are you ready to do that? I mean, are you ready to expose yourself that way?”

  Jack set his fork down with a clatter and took a swig of coffee. “You’re awfully anxious all of a sudden to protect my information. I mean, you’ve wanted to let your brothers and your cousins in on this from the beginning. I don’t know why you’re even hesitating.”

  She shrugged as she speared the last bit of omelet. Then she sat back in her chair and sipped her coffee. “I did want to tell them. But for one thing, I don’t know for sure that you’d have made it this far alive if they’d known what you did. And for another, I guess you successfully convinced me that I don’t want them to know I let myself be duped by a Lothario.”

  Jack’s expression tightened. He didn’t wince—not exactly, but she saw right away that he didn’t like being called that.

  “Now you’re the one wanting to call the police. I’m confused. Not that confusion is a brand new state for me.”

  Jack’s face changed again. It seemed to go dark, as if a cloud had passed over the sun. “I don’t like the fact that you were attacked by a dangerous man with a gun, who bruised you and threatened your life.”

  She set her cup down. “Well, neither do I.” She spread her hands. “So now you’re all about protecting me. Well, sorry if I’m just a little skeptical. It’s still about finding proof of your grandfather’s innoc
ence, isn’t it? Are you trying to use some kind of reverse psychology on me? Like you know if you want me to tell the police I’ll dig my heels in and refuse? And then of course you’ll look good because you were trying to get me to call them.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. “That’s a little bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” he asked. “If you don’t want to call them, that’s your decision I guess. But why not?”

  Cara Lynn got up and put her dishes in the sink and turned on the hot water. She picked up the dish brush and washed her plate, cup and fork.

  Jack came up and reached around her to set his dishes down. “Wash mine, too?”

  Without speaking, she quickly washed his and set them in the dish drainer. When she dried her hands and turned around, he didn’t move backward. He stood his ground and stared down at her. “What is it you don’t want the police to know, Cara?”

  She shrugged, but he placed his forefinger under her chin and lifted it so she was looking at him. “What? Was there something else with that letter?”

  She thought she was holding her gaze steady, but he saw something in her eyes. When she started to shake her head, he held it still. “There was. Okay, spill it. We promised to tell each other everything.”

  “We did not! And besides, you’ve already violated that promise, which—which we didn’t make anyway.”

  “Your logic has more twists than a pretzel, hon. What else was in the envelope?”

  She ducked and slid away from him. “Why should I tell you anything else?”

  Jack assessed her. “If you do, and if it’s important enough, I’ll tell you something I haven’t told you yet.”

  “See!” she cried, throwing the dish towel down. “I knew you hadn’t told me everything. What? What is it you’ve kept a secret? Is it something about my grandfather?”

  “Oh, no. Ladies first. You tell me yours and then I’ll tell you mine.”