ANGEL MEETS THE BADMAN Page 6

  Vivienne made a snorting sound but covered it by pretending to clear her throat.

  Flossie shot her a glance but said nothing. Sara felt heat creeping into her cheeks and decided it was time to call it a night. "I should go. The gumbo was delicious, Flossie."

  "Oh well, don't give me the credit. Berty made it. Didn't you, hon?"

  Bertram smiled and nodded, quiet as always.

  "Don't go yet," Flossie said. "Stay for an after-dinner drink. Berty's gonna make mint juleps for us, or you can have whisky, as Jake and Vivienne prefer."

  "I think Sara's had plenty to drink already today," Jake said, still eyeing her. This time, though, there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. And she knew he was remembering her first taste of whisky and the milk chaser.

  "It's dark outside," he said. "I'll walk you back to the bungalow."

  Her stomach flip-flopped. What would happen if he did? She didn't know … yes, she did, and she didn't think she was ready. "I … I think I'd like to go alone, Jake," she said. "Maybe do a little exploring before I turn in."

  He held her gaze for a long moment, and she half expected him to get all defensive again. But he didn't. He finally sighed and nodded. "Okay. I'll walk you out to the path, then."

  "All right."

  He pushed his chair away from the table, then glanced back at Vivienne. "The whisky's all yours tonight, Cuz. I'm gonna have milk." Turning back, he winked at Sara, then took her arm and led her outside.

  They crossed the veranda, went down the steps and stopped on the sidewalk. Overhead the night sky was dense with stars, and the air was still heavy, if slightly cooler now. It smelled of magnolia and roses.

  "The reason I want to walk back alone—"

  "I'm sorry about today—"

  They both spoke at once, then looked at each other and smiled. "Was that an apology, Jake? I can't believe it."

  He lowered his head. "Why be surprised? It seems to me I spend almost as much time apologizing to you as I do insulting you."

  She shook her head. "We just … keep poking each other's sore spots, I think."

  "You think?" he asked.

  "Yeah."

  Jake drew a breath, blew it out. "Why don't you go first? The reason you don't want me walking back with you is…?"

  "That I'm trying to take my time and use my head where you're concerned. And tonight I'm not sure I could do that."

  He looked up again, smiled very slightly. "I'm not sure whether to be thrilled or heartbroken."

  Her face heated, and she bit her lower lip, then spoke again. "Just so we're clear on this … that's the only reason. Your past mistakes have nothing to do with it."

  He nodded. "You were right about that, Sara. I have been wallowing in it. It's just that I've butted heads with so many people who can't seem to get past it. I feel as if I'm branded for life. Like no one's ever going to see beyond the time I did, the mistakes I made."

  "Well, you're wrong about that, Jake. I can see past them. Most people could, if you'd bother showing them what else there is to see."

  "I think maybe you do. But that doesn't mean most people would. You're … not like anyone else, Sara. I don't know where the hell you came from, but you're not the poster girl for humans in general, that's for damn sure."

  She lifted her brows. "Was there a compliment hiding in that twisted-up mess of nonsense?"

  One corner of his mouth quirked upward. "I like you, Sara Brand."

  "I like you, too," she said, but it came out kind of raspy. She cleared her throat.

  "So, uh, about that apology," Jake said. "I'm sorry I spoiled our day together. Not sorry I gave Viv an ultimatum … never that. Someone has to put a stop to what she's doing, and I guess I'm the only one willing to take on the job. But … I shouldn't have involved you."

  "Apology accepted," she said. "I disagree totally on the rest."

  "I'm not done yet." Drawing a deep breath, Jake went on. "I'm sorry about that kiss, too."

  Sara quickly pressed her forefinger to his lips. "No, Jake. Don't you dare apologize for that."

  His eyes probed hers. "No?"

  She shook her head slowly from side to side.

  He took the cue, sliding his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing her again. But it was tender this time. It was soft, deep—hot, yes, but not as demanding, not as angry. Almost as if he were kissing her with every part of him this time, with all five senses savoring every nuance of the act. His lips nuzzled and nibbled and tasted, and he took his time about it. When he lifted his head, there was fire in his eyes. "You're … real sure about not wanting me to walk you back, I suppose?"

  "Oh, I want you to. I just…"

  "I know. You're not ready."

  "I don't know what's between us yet, Jake. I told you already, I don't do physical attractions or one-night stands or vacation flings. If this is any of those things it'll pass soon enough, and I'll know that's all it was. But if it's more … then … then we have time. Because it's not going to be over when my week here runs out." She licked her lips nervously. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

  He stood there staring down at her, looking surprised and more than a little bit shaken. "You're crazy. I'd be crazy to think this could lead to anything even remotely close to what you— You're crazy."

  She shrugged. "Well … we'll see." Then she turned to go.

  Jake caught her arm, turning her back around. "Wait. I want to show you something. Come here." He closed his hand around hers and drew her around the corner of the house, then pointed upward. "That second window from the back is mine. I have a clear view of the bungalow from there. If you … if you change your mind … put a light in the kitchen window. Turn off all the others and just put that one on. I'll see it."

  Sara closed her eyes, already knowing she would be battling the urge to do just that all night long. "You're not making this very easy, Jake."

  "I wasn't trying to."

  Looking up at the windows again, she said, "I can see this side of the house from the bungalow, too. Especially after dark, if the lights are on in the house. I saw Vivienne come home last night, late. She turned her light on and was moving around her bedroom. That one there." She pointed.

  "Yeah. That's her room. Hers and Trent's. Though it's seldom they're in there at the same time lately. Tonight he's going out of town yet again."

  "I heard him mention it at dinner. Why doesn't he take her with him?"

  "Probably assumes she'd say no."

  With a deep sigh Sara lowered her head.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. I just … well, I wonder if Vivienne's as much to blame in all of this as you think she is. Maybe if Trent were all over her the way that guy at the bar was, then…"

  "Oh, come on, Sara. Nobody acts like that once they've been married six months."

  "You haven't seen my brother and sister-in-law, or any of my cousins with their wives," she countered. "They all act like that."

  "With each other?'"

  She scowled at him.

  "No one's capable of that kind of closeness over the long haul," Jake said.

  Sara shook her head. "Everyone is capable of it … helpless against it, even, when they find their soul mate."

  Jake sighed, and his smile was a little bit sad. He came closer and ran a hand over her hair. "I don't know what you think I am, Sara, but I wish to hell I could be it for you. I really do."

  "But…?"

  "But I can't. I'm not a nice guy. I'm a criminal with a record. I'm the black sheep of my family—what's left of it, anyway. And they only put up with me because my mother managed to lay a big guilt trip on Uncle Bert from her deathbed."

  She stepped back, gaping. Then she snapped her jaw shut. "You really think that? My God, Jake, you're blind if you believe that. Flossie practically glows when she talks about you, and there's real caring in Bertram's eyes when he looks at you. I don't know how things were when you first came here, Jake, but those two love you now."

&nbs
p; He rolled his eyes.

  "They do!" she insisted.

  He looked at her. "Maybe … they like me a little bit. I've been here a year now. I suppose they could be getting attached."

  "You're like a son to them, Jake. Take my word on that."

  He shook his head, looking away.

  Licking her lips, she sighed. "I should go."

  "Yeah, and I should let you." Then he lifted his head, met her eyes and said, "In a minute." He kissed her again, then. He held her tight to him and kissed her mouth, backing her up against the side of the house. Honeysuckle vines embraced her there, and she twisted her arms around Jake's neck, let him crush her body to his, met his tongue when it came sliding between her lips. Even opened her mouth wider to receive it. His hands slid down to cup her buttocks and pulled her hips forward, so that the hard bulge between his legs could press into her. And she rubbed against that hardness as he set her on fire inside.

  Sliding his lips over her jaw, he moved lower, to her neck, sucking and nipping at the tender skin there as he rocked against her in a desperate mimicry of lovemaking. His hands squeezed her buttocks, his teeth scraped her skin. Heat rose to enfold them like a sodden blanket. And she wanted in a way she'd never wanted before.

  Lifting his head, he kissed her mouth again and whispered, "I'm not a good guy, Sara Brand. I can give you what you need … just not what you think you want. No tender emotions or hearts and flowers. But I can give you screaming fits of pleasure that you'll never forget. I can give you that."

  Opening her eyes, breathless with need and a burning hunger, Sara looked deeply into his. "I'm holding out for the man who can give me both," she whispered. Then she pushed at his chest, and when he released her, she hurried away.

  Running helped burn off the biting edges of the raw desire Jake Nash had awakened in her tonight. Helped … but didn't totally erase it. Still, by the time she reached the bungalow she was a bit more in control of herself.

  Or she thought she was.

  Why, then, did she keep eyeing the oil lamp by the kitchen window? Why did she go so far as to reach for the matches sitting beside it, even picking them up … then putting them down again only by an incredible act of will? Why did she pace the floors and then the porches and then the lawn outside, rather than go to sleep that night? Why had she let Jake Nash get under her skin?

  Jake went back into the house feeling more torn and hot and frustrated than he'd ever felt in his life.

  "So what's up with you two?" Trent asked him.

  Jake gave his head a shake. "Nothing."

  "Nothing, huh? Didn't look like nothing to me."

  "Well, it's nothing. Trust me, pal."

  Trent nodded and started for the door. Jake noticed then that he had a suitcase in his hand. "So you're heading out?"

  "Yeah. It's a cotton-growers' seminar. I think this ground has lain fallow long enough. Sugar Keep ought to be paying for itself instead of syphoning off Bert and Flossie's fortune." He nodded, affirming his own words. "Just want to make sure we choose the right crop."

  "I think you're right."

  "Well, that means a lot to me, Jake." Trent clapped Jake on the shoulder and turned toward the door.

  "Trent … why don't you go on upstairs and ask Viv to go with you?"

  Turning slowly, Trent frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

  "I just… Just do it. Just go up there and tell her you want her with you. You guys are letting it fall apart. Maybe … maybe some time alone together, on a trip like this, would—"

  Trent looked at the floor, his expression so sad that Jake almost ached for him. "It's too late for that, my friend. It's just … it's too late."

  "You telling me you don't love her anymore?"

  "Come on, Jake, I don't want to talk about this with you."

  "Do you love her or don't you? Because if you don't, you two would be better off calling it quits than going on like you've been doing. You're just torturing each other, for crying out loud."

  "You can forget it, Jake. It's not gonna happen."

  His tone made Jake look up slowly. "What do you mean?"

  Trent blinked, seemed to shake himself, plastered a smile back on his face. "Never mind, my friend. I just … I overreact where Viv's concerned. I mean, I love her, of course I love her. I want to fix things. But … well, maybe when I get back."

  Sighing, Jake lowered his head. "I guess you have to do it the way you think is best."

  "Yeah. I guess I do. But … well, thanks for caring, bud."

  Jake just nodded. "Yeah. Good trip, okay?"

  "See you when I get back." Trent stepped outside, and Jake closed the door.

  Jake went on up to his room, but despite a cool shower and an excellent action video, he was unable to put thoughts of Sara Brand out of his mind. He paced his floor that night and asked himself what the hell he thought he was doing, making out with her outside in the dark, like a teenager with his first crush. Had he lost his mind? Hadn't he learned anything? He was not good enough for a woman like Sara Brand. He wasn't even close. His world and hers did not mix. Oh, they could touch briefly, they could rub up against each other like a gator against a willow tree, but nothing more. A gator lived in the sludge and slime of the bayou. A willow needed fresh air and clean water and rich dark soil to thrive. Put her in the swamp and she would die. Take the gator out … ditto.

  So why was he getting all soft where Sara was concerned? Why was it that when she talked about her cousins and their wives, about family and about men like him having a second chance—why did he find himself seeing it all in his mind? As if there were an ice cube's chance in New Orleans of it ever happening?

  She was hypnotic. She was … she was special. Too special for a guy like him. And the sooner he got that through his head, the better.

  He wanted her. Maybe he would even have her before she went back home to her pure and unsullied life. But on his terms. Not hers. No commitments. No promises. No future.

  Basically those were the rules of his entire existence.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  If only she'd gone to bed, gone to sleep … stopped staring longingly up at the lighted bedroom windows on the south side of that big old house…

  But the shadows, the silhouettes moving beyond those mist-like curtains, were too enticing to allow her to look away. And Jake knew it, damn him. He had to know it. That was why he stood there for a long, long time, staring toward her bungalow. Searching for her signal. All she had to do was light the little oil lamp that sat on the windowsill. That was all. For hours she'd tried to put that thought from her mind, but it was still there, teasing and taunting. Still there. And the matches and lamp on the windowsill were putting out tractor beams to draw her hands.

  No.

  She stared back at him instead, from the safety of her darkened haven. The bedroom light was on, but only the faintest glow spilled into the kitchen where she stood.

  Jake moved, and Sara's gaze remained riveted. He peeled his shirt off as she stood like a guilty voyeur. Like a sex-starved tramp. She licked her lips, felt her breath come stuttering in and out as if she were ill. Her blood heated, and she reached one trembling hand toward the lamp…

  …removed the globe…

  …picked up the matches…

  Sweat popped out on her forehead, and the shaking that had begun in her hand moved down her arm and spread through her body. She ripped a match free, eyes still glued to that dark body in the distance. She felt possessed. As if Jake Nash really were the devil she'd believed him to be, and he'd taken over her soul.

  Then his head lowered, and he turned away. His form vanished from her hungering eyes, and a second later the light in his window blinked out.

  The breath rushed out of Sara's lungs as her body seemed to go limp. The spell was broken. She looked at the match in her hand, could barely believe how close she'd come to lighting it. Dropping the matches, she backstepped, as if they might burn her
. They very nearly had.

  If she were smart, she would put the matches far away from the lamp. Just in case she was tempted again. At least now he was gone. At least now her temptation wasn't right before her eyes. Of course, all she'd had to do was look away. But she hadn't been able to.

  Even now her gaze was drawn back to that window. She forced herself to look away, marching to the bedroom and snatching a light robe, pulling it on over the flimsy nightgown she'd worn just in case.

  What was wrong with her?

  Barefoot, she stepped out of the bungalow, down the steps, burying her toes in the moist grass. Insects chirped, and all sorts of exotic and frightening sounds came from the bayou behind her. She had no idea what most of them were and decided she didn't really care. They were far less dangerous to her than the pleas of her own body right now.

  She sucked in the fresh night air in greedy gulps, telling herself it would snap her out of the state into which she'd fallen. The breeze picked up for once, moving her hair, drying the sweat on her nape. But it was a bad wind that carried rank, decaying, swampy smells. She shivered all over, her entire body going cold. And when she saw the light go on in the distant window again from the corner of her eye, a sense of foreboding told her not to look.

  Sara looked, anyway.

  Two forms, not one. Shadow people, embracing in the window … not Jake's window. No. The one beside it. Vivienne's room. Sara almost smiled at the thought of Vivienne and Trent perhaps mending their tattered marriage, but her lips froze mid-motion, and her heart seemed to stop beating. Trent was out of town tonight. And … and that was not an embrace she was seeing…

  As the shadows turned, she saw in profile what she had not seen before—the man's hands clasped firmly at the woman's throat. The way her hands clawed at his, the way he shook her, so her head snapped back and forth…

  "My God…" Sara's mind rebelled against what she was seeing, and the past seemed to draw closer, as if it would take over her mind.

  The memory of what she'd seen as a little girl in the kitchen cabinet. And the killer's eyes when he'd finally spotted her there…