A Drive-By Wedding Page 13

  He looked at Allyn and his body reacted, his emotions sputtered alive. He knew without doubt that he was missing something obvious about this whole thing, something he should see.

  Something he had to see—besides Allyn.

  Judas, what had he done? What could he do?

  He could walk away from Allyn’s bed, that was one thing. Because every instinct he possessed warned him that if he didn’t leave Allyn the hell alone, he’d be too distracted by loving and wanting to love her again and again to protect anyone, especially her and Sasha. And that kind of derangement was something he could absolutely not allow. Because more than anything on this earth he wanted his make-believe family to survive.

  He didn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if they didn’t.

  The unexpected image of a box of gelatin labeled Instant Family floated through his mind with the directions, “Add water and stir.” In spite of himself, he grinned. He doubted Allyn could have been reconstituted from a package of anything that only required the addition of water; someone had gone well overboard on the spice with her—which was just fine with a guy who’d grown up thinking of jabañeros as a mild pepper.

  He looked at her sleeping figure—her loosened and unruly hair, her naked hip and flank, the ripe curve of her breast—with longing. So much there to save a man, so much heart to redeem him. What could a man do when a woman who affected him the way Allyn did told him she’d never done that before but wanted to with him?

  He could either move in and let her get some practice, or he could do the gentlemanly thing, knowing that there had to be someone better and more deserving of her out there than him, and back off.

  Even if backing off to make sure she saved herself for someone who actually deserved her nearly killed him.

  At the riding stables on the other side of the camp, Gabriel and Alice Book walked around the ring on either side of a wide-eyed Sasha, holding him atop a small, gray pony.

  “He’s wrong, Alice, I know it.”

  “Who, Jeth?”

  He nodded.

  “Not to Allyn.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “But I do think she’s lying to us about something—or anyway, not quite telling us the truth.”

  “I don’t like him,” Gabriel said flatly. “If she wasn’t married to him, I’d tell him to get the hell away from her.”

  Alice touched her husband’s hand lightly, motioned her head at Sasha. “Little pitchers,” she suggested. Then, “Allyn is a big girl, dear. Not much we can do about her choices anymore—if there was ever anything I could do about them.”

  “Well, I don’t get it. Why’d she get married so fast? Why didn’t she at least call and tell us? What happened with school and career and all the stuff she’s been working for from the day I met her? This is not like her. She doesn’t make decisions this fast. Why did she suddenly show up here after I called out the law? Do we know what this guy does for a living? Did she—”

  “Gabriel.” Alice shushed him with a finger to his lips. “For one thing, it’s exactly like her to make decisions this fast. How many times did we hear from someone or other that if it hadn’t been for her quick thinking a classmate would have drowned on a botched dive, a research ship might have sunk in a squall, a beached whale or dolphin wouldn’t have made it. She has a gift, love. She uses it. You taught her to use it.”

  She smiled softly at her husband, a promise, a thank-you. “And that’s not to mention that she comes by the ability to fall in love at the drop of a hat honestly, too. I hadn’t known you a week before I knew I loved you. And she does love him, Gabriel, make no mistake. She might not be sure how much she loves him yet, but I can see it in her face. It’s the forever kind. Lock, stock and bring on the kids. Including this little bit of baggage—” she ruffled Sasha’s hair lovingly “—that I’m not sure even belongs to him. But he’d lay down his life for Sasha, I’m sure of that, Gabriel, and for Allyn, too. Maybe especially for Allyn.”

  “Oh, good,” said Gabriel darkly. “We need another guy in this family who’d lay down his life for his wife—not to mention another woman who’d bust him upside the head rather than let him do it. That’s a hell—heck of a reference, suggesting, as it does, that there might actually be some reason for Jeth to need to think about dying to protect Allyn or Sasha. And just because you think he’s willing to die for them doesn’t make him a right guy.”

  “Yes, dear,” Alice murmured, not quite laughing at her fuming husband.

  “Stand-up, maybe,” Gabriel muttered, glaring at her. “But not right.”

  “Anything you say, dear,” Alice agreed, eyes gleaming.

  Predicting that his wife would sing quite another tune later when they were alone, Gabriel lifted Sasha out of the saddle and stalked out of the pony enclosure, telling the little boy that his new grandma was bonkers and that if Sasha knew anything about anything he’d listen to Grandpa first, foremost and always, because this grandpa would never steer him wrong.

  Grinning, Alice followed man and child at a discreet distance, greatly looking forward to Gabriel’s predictions about “later when they were alone.”

  Chapter 10

  As though some demon of chance had placed them there for this very bit of irony to take place, Allyn spotted the crushed box of condoms on the table beside the bed the moment she opened her eyes.

  Guilt set in immediately—guilt, that is, complicated by regret, chagrin and the gut-sinking realization that, once again, she would be the one to call a halt to a moment that had not quite arrived.

  A moment, that, because she’d had too much time to think about it, she couldn’t think of any responsible reason to allow.

  Eyes on that accusing container resting too near her pillow, she slid upright in the bed and pushed her hair out of her face, rearranged and pulled up the cotton knit camisole that had stretched down to fully expose one breast at the neckline.

  “Don’t cover up on my account.”

  From the depths of the shadows near the windows, Jeth’s voice was thick and gravelly, raw with hunger and restraint.

  Heat climbed from her belly upward through her chest, her neck, her face at the sound; Allyn shrank into the pillows and yanked up the sheet, fisted it in front of her. “Geez, Jeth, you startled me. I didn’t know you were there.”

  His chuckle was harsh and uncomfortable. “I’m here.” He indicated the nearby table. “Your aunts stopped by. They brought more strawberries and champagne, and enough romantic dinner to feed an army. Which one was it—Helen, the Colonel?—said honeymooning was hungry work. She wanted to make sure we kept our strength up in order to enjoy it to the fullest without having to interrupt what we were doing. I personally think they were just doing recon so they could give some sort of report to your mother and Gabriel. He doesn’t like me much, in case you didn’t know.”

  Allyn moistened her mouth, let the taste of indignation relieve some of her embarrassment. “Of course he likes you,” she assured him firmly. “You’re with me. He has to like you. Whatever gave you the idea he doesn’t?”

  “He did.” Jeth shrugged, rose to stalk the room. “In so many words. And if he hadn’t, one of your aunts took me aside when I stopped to see Sasha while I was out jogging. She said, and I quote, ‘He doesn’t like you, but don’t pay any attention to him, he’ll come around eventually, it’s not like he was exactly the whole-truth-and-nothing-but kind of guy when he met Alice, after all,’ unquote.” He looked at her hard. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure,” Allyn said—not quite truthfully. She didn’t know for certain, but she could guess. And her guess would be that her mother’s family’s tendency toward Irish feyness coupled with an uncanny ability to read between the lines had led them all straight down the garden path to a point just shy of the facts. “They say things like that a lot. It’s—really, it’s best not to pay any attention to them.” Her turn to twist her lips and shrug. “They always say what they mean, they just hardly ever explain what th
at is.”

  “Ah, well,” Jeth said dryly. “I guess that clears that up, then, doesn’t it? It also shows me where you come by the tendency to speak your mind as though I could possibly have any idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You do not have to be sarcastic about my family,” Allyn snapped, preferring to take offense rather than return to remembering she was bottom-half naked and in bed with a box of condoms and the man who lit her up from the inside out close at hand. “They’ve been perfectly nice to you. I mean, they have their doubts about you, but they relieved you of your son anyway and sent you to shack up with me, so what more could you ask?”

  Jeth eyed her, lips twitching. “To shack up with you? In a real shack like this one?” He shook his head, only slightly skeptical. “Yeah, well, I suppose there’s something sort of poetically cockeyed enough about it that would appeal to what I’ve seen of your family.”

  “You…oh!” Allyn tilted her nose and turned her back on him, giving him huffy. “You…man.”

  Jeth paused beside the bed where she either had to look at him or twist away again and swept her a sardonic bow. “I am that.” He bent, retrieved her panties from the floor where she’d left them. “And I’d take you calling me a man as a compliment except I don’t think you meant it as one.” He showed her the teal cotton, hip-cresting, French-cut briefs. “Are these yours?”

  Reddening, Allyn made a grab for them. “Give them to me.”

  Ignoring her, Jeth held them up and looked at them. “Practical but very sexy,” he told her. He tucked them into the pocket of his T-shirt. “Definite souvenir material.”

  Allyn was almost off the bed before she remembered her state of undress. “You bastard.”

  Jeth gave her mock-serious and thoughtful. “Not according to the man my mother’s married to. No, he’s pretty certain I’m legitimate—especially since I didn’t come along until five years after he married Mom.”

  “Fine.” Furious, she wrapped the top sheet around herself like a sari, crawled awkwardly off the bed and headed, with as much dignity as possible, for the armoire. “Just fine. Keep ’em. I’ll get another pair.”

  “From where?” Jeth viewed her innocently, enjoying himself to the hilt. He undoubtedly would pay for teasing her in the long run, but damn, while it lasted it was fun. “The van’s half a mile from here, and I don’t believe we brought much of your luggage in.”

  Caught in mid hobble, Allyn paused. Her hands jerked into fists at her sides, and a small, frustrated, “Ergh” escaped her. Jeth was fairly certain the look she sent him would have scalped him if it was any sharper.

  “Fine,” she said grimly. She spun and waddled around the bed. Used her toes to pick up her discarded shorts and hike them into her hand. “I’ll go commando.” She eyed him ominously when he would have said something smart to that announcement. “Wait,” she advised him with steely gentleness. “You will not get the better of me, Jeth Levoie.”

  Then she turned and headed for the bathroom.

  Jeth grinned. “Should I cringe now or save it for later?” he asked.

  She slanted him a killing glance but shut the door without a word. A moment later she opened it again and came out, wadding up the sheet and looking a little uncomfortable as she strode-sidestepped across the room to dump the linen on the bed. Jeth choked back laughter. She was not, he guessed, used to going without her underwear.

  Out of the blue he wondered what she’d think of wearing thong undies, decided the very idea, especially coming from him, would leave her both scarlet and appalled—not to mention ready to commit mayhem upon his person.

  He splayed his arms wide from his sides. “If you want them, come and get them,” he urged.

  “Fiend,” she muttered, crossed to him, snatched her panties out of his pocket and swung away.

  He playfully snagged her wrist to haul her around; something vulnerable yet unreadable flashed in her eyes, and Jeth would have sworn that the air around her crackled with tension and then she growled, “Don’t.”

  “Touchy,” he suggested gently, but let her go.

  Warily.

  She relaxed only slightly and sighed, offered him a lopsided smile. “Lousy nap and stolen panties,” she mumbled by way of apology, and awkwardly minced-sidestepped to the bathroom and shut the door.

  It was, at best, an uncomfortable evening.

  Something had changed between them. Expectation, desire, their private decisions to back off, all created a situation edgy with doubt and mistake.

  Confinement brought upon them by their own subterfuge generated a tension no amount of effort could break. The atmosphere was pensive with unspoken lies and half-truths, thick with vigilance and wistfulness. The ice in the pickle bucket melted around the unopened bottles of champagne, and the conversation ebbed more often than it flowed.

  Not sure how to tell Jeth that the winds of her whims had changed yet again, Allyn ate her romantic cabin dinner in silence, eyes shifting back and forth between her food and nothing, and nothing and Jeth.

  Sleep hadn’t dulled her appetite for looking at him in the slightest. Time to think left her awash in uncertainty over…

  Everything.

  Every movement of his hands, his fingers, recalled to mind pictures of how else, where else he might use them, the sensations they had roused before thought and slumber had interrupted them. He plucked a peach slice off the tray of fruit between them, sucked the juice out of it, and her nipples puckered in sudden and unwanted reaction, budding tight against her shirtfront. She caught her breath and flicked her tongue nervously between her teeth; she crossed her arms and looked away. She had too much bustline to ever need or want to wear a padded bra, but sudden insight showed her one good reason to laud their existence. If she had one on right now, at least she wouldn’t feel embarrassed over him being able to witness her body’s reaction to his antics.

  Only Jeth knew his antics were unintentional. If Allyn had told him what she experienced, he might have explained.

  He enjoyed peaches from way back, sank his teeth into them with the relish of one who’d grown up with happy memories of summers spent with an aunt who owned an orchard and turned him loose in it. Peaches meant song and dance, pies and preserves—hot, sweet-scented evenings skinny-dipping in the placid lake beside which he’d lost his virginity. He only vaguely remembered the girl anymore, but the taste of peaches filled him with nostalgia for joys past, moments gone….

  Of a time long before his first—and only other—blown undercover had gotten Marcy killed.

  He blinked and looked at Allyn, hating himself for wanting her, despising himself for beginning to need her beyond reasons he could name.

  Reviling his body for its sudden and entirely primitive response to her quickened breathing and the sight of her nipples going taut beneath that damnably seductive camisole she hadn’t changed out of.

  If she hadn’t picked up the strawberry to nibble on, he’d have been fine, but the sight of her luscious, juice-stained lips parting to take the fruit between them undid the last vestige of civilized man in his control. He captured the hand holding the strawberry, overcame her wide-eyed tug of resistance and guided her fingers to his mouth. Eyes locked on hers, his breathing none too steady, he hooked his tongue around what was left of the strawberry and sucked it out of her fingers and into his mouth.

  She made a small sound, part dismay, part wariness, part encouragement, and watched his tongue while he licked the juice off her fingers, the palm of her hand, her wrist.

  Whatever Allyn had decided not to do with Jeth was forgotten, reservations fled. The only thing she knew was the feel of his lips sampling the sensitive inside of her wrist, the lash of his tongue along her pulse, dabbing lightly at the nerve points in the center of her palm.

  The tightening spiral of excitement and urgency threading upward and outward from that single point, spreading slowly throughout her body, becoming lightning, smoke and flame.

  She swallowed and tried to
say his name, “Jeth,” but wasn’t sure the word that left her throat was anything more than guttural sound.

  Whichever, sound or name, he took it as request, incentive, invitation and—gaze still on her face, lips still creating havoc among the nerves along her arm—rose, kicked his chair out of his way and rounded the table to haul her chair out and switch it around so he could kneel in front of her.

  His tongue lingered, moistening the inside of her elbow, teeth nipped the soft skin over the pulse that beat there. The hand not holding her wrist slipped between her knees, coaxed them open. She instinctively squeezed them closed, resisting him for less than half a heartbeat before she parted her legs and let him slide between them.

  He groaned something unintelligible but approving against the spot he worshiped on her arm and slid his hand over her thigh and up her hip to her waist, fitted it into the small of her back to pull her forward to the edge of the chair. Her knees trembled, but she came willingly; her breath was short and raspy, her eyes on his wide and fathomless.

  He dropped her left hand, lifted her right to lavish upon it the same attention he’d given her other arm. His gaze locked with hers, communication without words, seduction at its most intense. He breathed into her palm and she sighed, touched his tongue to its center and she stiffened and whimpered. When he brushed his lips over the pulse at her wrist, she puddled.

  Once again he worked his way up the soft inside of her arm to find the pulse inside her elbow; at the same time he grazed feathery patterns over her thigh with his free hand, then urgently massaged it, kneaded his way under her shorts hem, tugging her against him. When she moistened her lips, let her head loll back and moaned, then flexed and twisted her body to bring herself in closer contact with him, he dropped her hand to his shoulder and dragged his down her back to her hip and brought her tight to his belly, held her there while she sought a rhythm she didn’t yet know.