Anytime Darlin' (16 page)

“Look, I’ll go get Mary. She might have some answers for you. I’m sorry I’m not more help.” Ken had headed toward the hallway, his daughter in his arms. “As long as this little munchkin’s asleep, I’m gonna catch a few winks.”

“Ken,” Jake had called, “hold up.” He joined him near the doorway. “Congratulations. She’s beautiful.” Jake drew his calloused palm across the baby’s fuzzy head. Leaning his lanky body down, he’d kissed her gently. “God, I love that baby scent.”

“Yeah, me too,” replied Ken, adoration on his face as he’d gazed at his sleeping child. “When she was born, wow. I can’t explain the feeling. It was simply overwhelming. Guess you’ll have to find out for yourself someday.”

“Guess I will,” agreed Jake. “Do me a favor. Give my love to Mary, and tell her I’ll come by later this week. If you two need anything, anything at all, you know how to find me. Take care of this little angel.”

Ken had put his free hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You know me. I’ve never been the most tactful person. I’m sorry if I was blunt, but I think you need to let her go. She’s not ready for you, Jake. Even if you don’t know it, she does. You can’t fix her heart, my friend. Devlin has to figure out a way to do that herself.”

* * * *

Jake checked his watch. Her plane was due in thirty minutes. He thought about grabbing a cup of coffee, but he wasn’t sure his stomach could handle it. He felt like a teenager out on his first date. Jake wondered what she’d think of him now. Had he changed much? Would Devlin like the changes? Would she even care? Had she found someone else, someone she was serious about? He was pretty sure she hadn’t, but he’d never had the courage to come right out and ask. Jake grinned. To think that a woman had him sweating like this. No woman had ever gotten the better of Jake McKenna, at least not until a mere slip of a girl named Devlin Barre came along.

Janice had tried to get the better of him one more time. She failed in spectacular fashion. He’d gone to his apartment after leaving Mary and Ken’s, tossed his duffel bag on the bed, and headed to the nearest bar. Jake wasn’t generally a drinking man, but Devlin’s abrupt departure seemed to require something in the way of a mind altering substance. He had been pretty far gone by the time Mike found him four hours later, sprawled over the pool table with a bloody lip. Mike’s face hovering above the eight ball was the last thing he had remembered until the next morning when he woke up in his own bed, his head pounding, clothes tossed carelessly on the floor, horrified to find an equally naked Janice at his side, pretending to be asleep.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he’d yelled, holding his head in both hands. “Get up, and get the hell out of my bed!”

He’d shaken her arm, and she’d opened her eyes slowly, trying to look innocent.

“What are you yelling about, Jake? Last night was amazing, darling. Just like old times.”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but it won’t work. Get your clothes on, and get the hell out of here!”

“But Jake, don’t you remember what we did last night? You really don’t remember?”

“I may be hungover, but I’m not stupid. Whatever you’re trying to imply, forget it. I did not screw you last night. I would know.”

“Would you, Jake? Would you really?”

“Yeah. Hell yeah. We didn’t fuck. I can’t smell it. I smell nothing but Scotch. Get out of my bed, now. Before I call the cops and have you arrested for breaking and entering.”

“You would, wouldn’t you! Just like you did to my mom! Mr. Nice Guy, Jake McKenna, sends his girlfriend’s mother to prison!”

“You’re not my girlfriend, and I didn’t send your mother to prison. She sent herself. She aided and abetted a murderer. Now get out, Janice. If you think you’re going to punish me somehow, it’s not gonna work. Get out of my house, and stay the hell away from me!”

Jake had woven his way wearily to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Her voice had come through the door. “How do you know we did it in the bed?”

Jake had puked his guts out for what seemed like twenty minutes. When he finally opened the door, Janice was nowhere to be seen. He’d pushed his hair out of his eyes and dialed Mike’s number.

“Why the fuck was Janice in my bed this morning?” he asked the second Mike picked up.

“What the hell you talking about?”

“Janice. Naked. In my bed. This morning.”

“How the hell should I know?” Mike had sounded confused. “I got a call from Ed that you were at Sam’s, threatening to break some asshole’s nose with a pool cue. When I got there, you were passed out. Ed and I carried you to my car. We brought you home, let you in, you said you’d be okay, and you shut the door behind you. What do you mean Janice was naked in your bed?”

Jake had taken a deep breath. “I gotta puke some more.”

Jake had slumped in the shower, both hands propped against the wall for support, letting the water run over his aching head and shoulders. He’d brushed his teeth three times, but he could still taste everything he’d puked up. He’d searched his memory until the water turned to ice, but for the life of him, Jake could not remember doing anything besides sleeping. He’d vaguely remembered Mike’s partner, Ed, at the bar. He’d thought he remembered Mike saying something as he’d pulled his shoes off at the door but that was it, everything else was a blank. He’d never been that drunk. Jake was pretty sure that, even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to get it up to save his life. Jesus, for all he knew, she was pregnant again and wanted to pass the kid off as his. Just to get back at him.

Jake had dried off and brushed his teeth again, then searched his medicine cabinet for a bottle of aspirin. He’d popped three in his mouth. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he had headed out to get a glass of water when he smelled coffee. He’d hoped to God it wasn’t Janice again, because this time, he really would call the cops, after he dumped her outside on her lying little ass. It was Mike, sitting at the table, spooning sugar into a cup of coffee.

“I knew we shoulda locked your door.” Mike shook his head. “That’s how Janice got in, you know. Damn it. Walked right in. How do you know you didn’t screw her?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent certain I didn’t screw her.” Jake had grabbed a cup for himself.

“Yeah, well, it’s not the ninety-nine percent you have to worry about. It’s the one percent. I can’t believe she did that.”

“Believe it.” Jake had set his coffee down on the table and reached for a chair. “The only thing I can figure is she knew I was passed out drunk. That’s the only thing that makes any sense. If I’d been awake and sober, I’d never have let her within fifty feet of me. Janice is no dummy. And she is one pissed-off woman.”

“How pissed off?”

“Out for some sort of twisted revenge, I guess.”

“Revenge against whom?”

Jake had rolled his eyes. “Who do you think? Me.”

“Maybe. I’m thinking more, uh, something along the lines of Devlin.”

“Shit. Hell no!” Jake had shoved his coffee cup away. “I can’t see her blaming Devlin for the mess she’s in. Me, yes, not Devlin.”

“You don’t think she’s pissed off enough to maybe go talk to her mother and find out where William Franz might be hiding? And maybe send him a little note?”

“That’s the cop talking. I thought you said Rebecca Matheson didn’t know where he was.”

Mike had looked thoughtful. “That’s what she claimed, but you never know. And you can’t be too careful. Maybe we should keep a close eye on Devlin, or maybe it would be better if she got out of Denver altogether.”

“Too late. She’s already gone. She left last week while I was at the ranch.”

“You’re kidding! When did you find this out?”

Mike had leaned back in his chair. “So that explains the drunk last night. Where’d she go?”

“She coming back?”

Mike had whistled through his teeth. “Shit. You gonna go get her?”

* * * *

Waiting by the gate, Jake recalled every word of that conversation. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should have gone after her. What would he have done if he’d found her? Demand that she return to Denver to live with Mary? Force her to accompany him to Montana? Other people had controlled her life for too long. Mary and Ken had been right. He had needed to let her go. Let her figure out for herself what she wanted to do, who she wanted to be, and where she wanted to be. But now, four and a half years later, he had to know if there was a chance for them. He had to know one way or the other.

Staring out the plate glass window, Jake wondered if he should tell Devlin about Janice, about how Mike was right and she got herself pregnant, then tried to play the old “
Who’s your daddy?
” game.

It hadn’t worked. Jake’s blood type was O negative. Janice was A positive. He’d come back from Montana for the birth and demanded a blood test, insisting upon reading the results himself. Her baby boy was B positive. There was no doubt. It wasn’t his child.

He had felt bad for the kid, he even offering to help Janice out if she needed it for old time’s sake. She’d told him to go fuck himself. That was the last he saw of her. He figured the little boy would be three and a half now. It was one of those unpleasant episodes he preferred not to think about. As far as telling Devlin, he thought he’d see what developed first. Besides, it wasn’t relevant. As it was, Jake figured he and Devlin would have to spend some time clearing the air, and he didn’t think Janice would be a helpful topic of discussion, especially considering what her mother had done to help William Franz.

Jake had been floored when he arrived in town and saw the dresses Devlin designed for the bridesmaids. They were made of a champagne-colored silk taffeta, not that Jake knew champagne-colored silk taffeta from a hole in the ground. Devlin had not only designed and sewn the dresses, she’d painted a pattern of chrysanthemums on them that somehow appeared to be done in reverse, like the negative of a photograph. The fabric was already pale, and the pattern was so delicate that it added—Jake smiled to himself as he remembered Beth’s words—
“an understated elegance”
to the dresses.

Beth had made him stand on the other side of the living room, as she held up a dress in a patch of sunlight. From that distance, the flowers shimmered. Beth twirled the dress in a slow circle. Jake had noticed that, as the dress moved, the flowers seemed to sway. Normally, the only thought Jake gave to a dress was how quickly he could get a woman out of it, but he’d run his hand over the fabric. It’d felt as light as air, yet the bodice, as Beth called it, held its shape. Devlin had even wrapped the wide belts with the same fabric. Beth had demonstrated how the calf-length skirts billowed out when a woman walked, swishing from side to side.

Jake knew Devlin was smart, but he’d never realized she had such artistic talent. Proud of her, Jake had pictured Devlin in the dress, and then, unable to stop himself, he’d imagined removing it. His cock had swelled in an instant, forcing him to move behind a table to feign interest in wedding gifts. He was so engrossed in his fantasy that he’d almost missed Beth’s next statement. She said Devlin had accepted an internship in textile design in Paris. It was as if she’d just thrown a bucket of cold water over his head.

Watching the jets take off and land, Jake reminded himself that he wasn’t sure Devlin even wanted anything to do with him. Yet he couldn’t help but picture her in the dress again, and he felt himself stir.

Devlin waited for the aisle to clear in front of her, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Nobody in the back of the plane moved. Next time, she decided, she’d pay the extra cost for a first class ticket. She’d traveled so often to Denver recently that it made more sense to have a little space and get right off the plane. Devlin assumed Mary would be meeting the plane. What if Jake came with her? Devlin had no idea how she’d react. This snail’s pace was killing her. The sooner she got off this plane, the sooner she could deal with her uncertainties.

Finally, the row in front of Dev emptied, and she was able to grab her hanging bag and make her way down the aisle. Smiling at the flight attendant, she exited the plane and headed up the ramp. Mary was nearly eight months pregnant. She shouldn’t be too hard to spot, thought Devlin with a grin. And she’d have Katie with her. Devlin always looked forward to spending time with her energetic, happy-go-lucky goddaughter.

Trying to spot Mary over the stream of travelers, she saw him standing alone by the desk. Leaner, harder, more man than he’d been four years before and more striking than any man she’d ever known in her life. He stared right at her with those chocolate brown eyes.

As Jake approached, Devlin watched the muscles of his thighs contract through his faded blue jeans, and her breath caught in her throat. She froze right where she was, her feet rooted to the floor. She couldn’t have moved an inch if her life depended upon it.

Jake stopped right in front of her, his face expressionless. He extended his hand. Devlin thought at first he was reaching for her arm, but instead, he ran his palm along the side of her neck and closed his eyes, as if savoring the feel of her skin. His fingers skirted her jaw and moved beneath her chin. Devlin shut her eyes and groaned aloud, everything forgotten but the touch of his hand. She couldn’t help it. That simple skin-to-skin contact was what she had imagined for four long years. Jake’s touch was electric. She was surprised sparks didn’t shoot from his fingertips and she didn’t burst into flames.

“Dev,” he said in a husky whisper, “look at me.”

Her eyes flew open. His eyes burned hot beneath dark brows.

“Dev,” he repeated, and she almost came at the sound of his voice.

Tugging her chin forward, Jake lowered his mouth to hers. As their lips met, she knew he had her. He could lay her on the floor, strip her naked, and thrust inside her in an airport full of complete strangers, and she wouldn’t utter a single word of protest. His lips were soft and full, his mouth warm and demanding. He nibbled on her, teasing her lips apart. Devlin dropped her hanging bag to the floor and gave him complete access. His tongue danced about like fire. She threaded her hands in his long hair and pulled him closer, sucking his tongue, meeting his thrusts with her own in a slow, sensual mimicry of sex.