Firestorm (15 page)

Then he remembered how she’d thought he would have rejected her if he’d known before they fucked that she was a Jew. Conservative, country-born and raised, Kate probably believed folks should stick with their own kind. And that could pose a problem if, as he thought was likely, Kate harbored old-fashioned prejudices.

It would take a hell of a lot of tolerance to accept everybody in his eclectic mixture of a family. And Jake would never marry anybody who didn’t.

He’d find out soon. She'd meet Scott and Bear, and when those guileless aqua eyes widened with disbelief, Jake would be able to let her go.

Pushing thoughts about a possible future with Kate to the back of his mind, he picked up the phone and made dinner reservations. Then he started to dress while she napped.

* * * * *

She had to be exhausted. After their afternoon of shopping and bedroom gymnastics, Jake had taken Kate to Antoine’s for dinner. Afterward, she’d laughed like a child at the antics of the street musicians and hustlers in the French Quarter.

Seeing her so happy had made him feel good enough to shelve most of his melancholy memories. When he’d held her and they’d swayed to the jazz beat in a Decatur Street tavern, he had more fun than he had in years.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

89

Now, though, they were back in their hotel suite, and he watched her slide nude between the satin sheets. Amazingly since he’d come twice this afternoon, his balls drew up and his cock rose to attention.

Jake willed them to behave. Tonight he wanted to hold her, give her a taste of the tenderness she craved—the emotional involvement that came so hard to him. He shoved his slacks down, stripped off his underwear, and crawled into bed.

Turning on his side, he positioned her pliant body against him and cradled her head on his arm. He nuzzled her cheek and rested one hand against the softness of her breasts.

“G’night, honey.”

A sense of peace flowed through him with the sweet scent of the woman in his bed.

His half-hard cock rested quietly against her rounded bottom. And he went to sleep.

* * * * *

“Yes. This is Jake Green’s room.”

Kate’s sleepy voice brought Jake to life again. Who the hell could be calling at…what time was it anyway?

He reached over to the bedside table for his watch. “Who the hell is it?”

“Somebody named Scott Carrington. He says he needs to talk to you.”

Jake flipped on a lamp and took the phone. Noticing Kate’s embarrassed expression, he shot her a quick grin and reached under the covers to tweak her nipples.

“Yeah, Scott. Do you know it’s four o’clock in the morning?” Jake paused. “When?”

Again, he waited for Scott’s reply. While he listened, he pulled Kate closer.

“Okay. Just a minute. Kate, we need to leave for Houston earlier than we planned.”

He read confusion in her sleepy aqua eyes. “Why?” she asked.

“My father’s had a mild heart attack.”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. Jake, you go on. I can get myself back home.”

“Uh-uh. Honey, I need you with me,” he said, confident that this was all she needed to hear to be persuaded to stay.

“If you're certain.”

He turned back to the phone, a little taken aback. He really did need Kate at his side, but he damn sure wasn’t happy about it. He listened to Scott, interspersing a few terse comments. After he hung up, he noticed that Kate had gotten up and was packing clothes into her suitcase.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

90

“Sorry to change our plans, honey. We've got to get out to New Orleans International as fast as we can. Scott’s calling the hangar now and having them get the plane fueled and onto the tarmac. It will be ready to go by the time we get there.”

“How bad is your father’s condition?”

Her expression mirrored her concern as she stepped into new silk bikini panties and slid a matching half-slip over her hips.

As concerned as Jake was about the Old Man, he couldn't help wanting to nuzzle her enticing bare breasts above the silky lingerie. And it was damn impossible to ignore his raging hard-on.

“According to Scott, he’s stable right now. He had the heart attack while they were doing preoperative tests. He’s not in any real danger, but his surgeons think they may have to operate before tomorrow. The Old Man’s as stubborn as a mule, though. He’s refused to go under the knife before he’s seen everyone in the family.”

Jake frowned. Kate had just fastened the front hook of a wispy lace bra. Though he’d like to stay naked and haul her back to bed, he pulled on a pair of dark briefs.

“Will we be able to get there in time?” she asked, her soft voice full of concern.

“Yeah. It’s Shana and Bear who may not make it if the surgeons decide they can’t wait. They’re in the air now, but they won’t arrive in Houston until late tonight. It takes around thirteen hours of flying time to get there from Kuwait City. I’m glad you’re coming with me. This will be one of the few occasions when all of us get together.

Between company business and my brothers-in-law’s interests, something or other always has somebody away from home.”

Not taking time to be neat, he dumped his spare clothes in a duffel bag before putting on clean jeans and a knit shirt.

His concern for his father gave way to wondering how Kate would react to the people he loved. No use thinking about it. He’d find out a little sooner than he’d planned.

Jake dug impatiently through the tangled linens on the bed. Where the hell had he put his socks?

“Is this okay?” Kate held up a new khaki blazer and skirt against the yellow and aqua print shirt she’d just put on.

Typical woman, worrying about her clothes
. “Sure,” he said without looking.

“Really, Jake. You didn’t even look.”

He gave the outfit a quick glance when he sat on the edge of the bed to put on the socks he’d just found. “I like it.”

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

91

“Does one of your sisters work in Kuwait?” she asked, and Jake realized that his earlier comment must have just registered in her head. “I didn't know your company had offices there.”

“We don't. We’ve got partial interests in some Kuwaiti oil fields, but no permanent facilities over there. Shana’s only involvement in GreenTex is spending the dividend checks she gets every quarter. Her husband’s business is in Kuwait.” Jake stood up, socks in hand, and zipped his bag.

“Oh. I don't think I’d like living in that part of the world.”

“Why?” He waited for her to voice the typical reaction to the Middle East and its people, a reaction that had become especially vehement since the events of September eleventh—distrust mingled with a healthy dose of fear.

She grinned. “As backwoodsy as you think I am, I have watched TV. I wouldn't like having to wear long robes and keep my face covered up all the time. And it must be awful, being isolated in a harem.”

“I’m sure Shana wouldn't like that, either. I can’t imagine her putting up with most of the old Arab traditions. She and Bear live together with their kids when they’re there, same as they do when they’re in Houston. No harem for Bear. No multiple wives, either. Shana would kill him.”

“Doesn’t it bother her, the way women have to dress when they go out?” Kate asked, her expression revealing nothing more than curiosity.

“I’m sure it would if they lived in a country like Saudi Arabia where there are laws about things like that. But Kuwait’s pretty modern by comparison. If you looked around on the streets in Kuwait City, you’d see at least as many Kuwaitis wearing western clothes as those in traditional Arab robes.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

Kate’s nonpolitical, purely feminine reaction pleased Jake, and he couldn't resist pulling her to him and giving her a quick, hard kiss.

“We’d better go,” she said breathlessly, stepping back and smiling up at him.

“Yeah. I’ll call the desk and have them bring the car around.”

* * * * *

Jake kept quiet while he made his way through New Orleans’s early morning traffic. Kate reasoned that he must be more worried than he let on about his father’s condition. Gripping her hands together to stem their nervous motion, she tried to visualize an older version of Jake holding court from his hospital bed.

Staring down at the outfit she had on, she wondered if it was too simple. Or too dressy, she amended when she realized Jake had on even more casual attire.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

92

“We’re here,” he announced, breaking the silence.

She looked around and saw a silver metal building and some crisscrossed runways.

“Surely this isn’t the terminal,” she said of the spartan looking structure where Jake had stopped.

“It’s the GreenTex hangar, honey. We’re going to take the plane that’s out on the tarmac.” He gestured toward a small, sleek jet that had been painted gleaming white and emblazoned with the oil company’s insignia.

When Jake had told her he was going to fly them to Houston in a company plane, Kate had pictured a little two-seater—not a jet she imagined must have cost several million dollars or more. As she tried to recover from the shock of realizing Jake’s family must be not just wealthy but mega-rich, she saw a rotund, smiling man emerge from the sleek plane and limp toward them.

“Marty!” Jake's voice boomed out, carrying over the drone of the jet’s idling engines.

“Hey, boy! You’re ready to go.” Marty slapped Jake on the shoulder and turned to stare at Kate. “You gonna introduce me to this pretty lady?” he asked.

Hurriedly, Jake made the introduction and thanked Marty for getting the plane ready. Then he tossed his car keys to the man and stowed their bags in an open compartment at the side of the jet.

“See you later, buddy,” he said as they prepared to go on board.

“Tell the Old Man I’m pulling for him,” Marty yelled in parting.

Kate read genuine concern in the man’s expression before she turned and climbed the stairs to the plane.

* * * * *

“Want to sit up front with me or relax back here?” Jake asked as Kate looked, wide-eyed, around the elegant salon.

“Up front?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to go up there to fly the plane.”

Another surprise. She should have guessed Jake would want to fly himself around instead of relying on a pilot. “Oh,” she said, unable to come up with an intelligent response.

“Oh, what? Don’t you think I know how to fly?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. But I’ll sit up there with you if you want me to.” She had no desire to spend the flight time in the solitary luxury of the salon.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

93

“Come on then. We’re burning jet fuel, standing here talking.” He led the way to the cockpit and waited until she settled into the copilot’s seat.

“Fasten your seat belt, honey,” he said after he sat down and ran through what she guessed must be a preflight checklist. His big, capable hands were as sure and steady on the controls as they were when he used them to stroke her, arouse her desire.

His voice projecting absolute confidence, he asked the control tower for clearance to take off. Though Kate had never been on a small plane before, and she certainly never had gone to the cockpit to see the action on the few commercial flights she’d taken, she wasn’t afraid. Jake exuded self-confidence and competence with the airplane, just as he did with everything else.

A wave of excitement ran through her body. Jake was actually taking her home to meet his family. Never mind that the only reason for the trip was his father’s illness.

And now they were on their way. He’d taken off so smoothly Kate hadn’t realized at first that they were in the air.

From the cockpit, she found she could enjoy the colors of the morning sky from a new and wondrous perspective. Then the view changed. The clouds were below them like a fluffy blanket of white, and they headed into a void of purest blue.

She watched Jake visually scan a green computer screen before pressing one of the many buttons on the mind-boggling control panel. After studying the screen again, he released his seat belt, stood, and strode toward the plane’s salon.

“Jake!” she exclaimed, wondering if he expected her to perform whatever mysterious functions were needed to keep the plane in the air.

“I’m getting our breakfast. The plane’s on autopilot,” he told her with a grin.

“Oh. You should have told me.” She felt as if she had been given a reprieve from sudden death, but she made herself smile when he sat back down and handed her a cellophane-wrapped tray.

“Sorry. I forgot you aren’t used to flying in small planes.”

Small? This plane had room for a dozen or more passengers and a crew of three.

Again, the differences between Kate’s lifestyle and Jake’s hit her hard.

“I’m probably not used to doing lots of things you take for granted,” she said, peeling away the wrapping from the tray and looking over the assortment of cut fruit, croissants, cheese and meat. The mouthwatering aroma coming from the two steaming mugs of coffee Jake had set in cup holders filled the cockpit.

“This looks good,” she murmured as she picked up a juicy strawberry and popped it in her mouth.

“It is. Want to fix me a sandwich?” he asked, snagging another berry and sinking his teeth into it.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

94

She layered some ham and cheese between two halves of a croissant and handed it to him. “Here you go.”

What on earth was she doing here? And why had Jake asked her to come home with him?

Kate’s stomach started turning cartwheels when she thought about meeting an entire, globetrotting clan of Texas millionaires—or were they billionaires? “Tell me about your family,” she urged Jake, searching for comfort in knowledge.

“I already did, honey, the night we went to Hattiesburg.”

He took a bite from his sandwich, and she wondered if he would repeat that offhand chronology. Surely they were too close now for him to be so reticent. Or were they?

For all their lovemaking, for all the smiles they’d shared, did Jake still think of her as a stranger? Had he asked her to come with him only to share his bed?