Firestorm (3 page)

“When?”

“Any time. Look, I’ve got to get back down there. See you,” he told her, loping off as if that incredible kiss meant no more than a handshake.

It probably hadn’t, to him.

As she tidied up her kitchen, killing time so she wouldn’t appear too eager, Kate tried to banish the sweet sensation of strong arms surrounding her and amazingly soft lips caressing hers—but Jake stayed there, his mark indelible on her mind.

* * * * *

She’d felt almost as light as his seven-year-old niece when he’d lifted her in his arms, and she’d turned her face to his in apparent invitation before he gave in and tasted lips as soft as velvet. She smelled of spring flowers and tasted like sugared coffee.

The feel of her hard little nipples boring into his chest had fueled yet another hard-on that wouldn’t go away.

Why the hell hadn’t he hauled her inside her antique southern farmhouse and fucked her ‘til she screamed for mercy?

No. Why hadn’t he taken that sweet morsel of a woman and loved her until they both got their fill?

Damn it, no way could her sweetness be real.

Jake stared out the trailer window, not ready to go outside and face the woman who was so inexplicably driving him mad.

She was working her wiles on Skip, her eyes sparkling with what he supposed was pure feminine greed. If his guess was right, she was already calculating what she’d do with the royalties that would soon be pouring into her bank account.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

16

Assuming they caught the saboteurs before GreenTex went belly-up.

He took in her outfit of denim shorts and T-shirt—clothes Alice would have died before putting on her sleek, conniving body. Then he shrugged off a bit of sympathy that tried to rise in him for the hard times Kate must have endured. He’d learned the hard way that excusing women for their selfish ways got him torn apart inside.

Jake was up and through the door before his brain could persuade his cock that seeing Kate up close again was not a good idea. Making his way around a truck full of mud, he stopped just shy of the platform where Skip was standing with her and looked around.

Good, the armed security guards he’d hired surrounded the well site as they’d been instructed.

“I’d love to,” he heard her say as he took the stairs two at a time.

“Jake. About time you got yourself out of that trailer. From the way you’re acting, I gotta think you see a gusher like this one damn near every day. Sorry, Kate.”

“I had to make some calls.” The Old Man. Scott. Business calls, no matter that they were to his father and brother-in-law. Neither conversation had given him the rush he’d gotten earlier when he told Kate about the well. That had been business, too, but it had seemed damn personal.

“Is Skip showing you how they control the gusher?” he asked, blood speeding to his groin when he looked into her aqua eyes.

She nodded. “It’s fascinating.”

She turned him on.

If Alice hadn’t taught him so well, Jake would believe this tiny sprite really gave a damn about how an oil well worked. “It is, isn’t it? Skip, how’s the pressure down there?”

“Just fine. I’m going to pump another couple truckloads or so of mud down the hole to make certain she doesn’t blow again. Don’t want to waste perfectly good crude.

Kate here said she’d love to go with us later to celebrate. Says she knows a neat little bar in Hattiesburg. Why don’t you clean up and take her in that fancy car of yours? Max and I will come along later in one of the trucks.”

Jake could have throttled his friend—or hugged him, depending on whether he was listening to his brain or his cock. “Sure. Okay with you?” he asked Kate, telling himself that her answer didn’t matter one way or the other.

She smiled again, that soft, sweet smile that could take a less wary man to his knees.

“That’s fine. I’d better get home and clean up,” she said, brushing at a spot of mud that had somehow made its way to her satin-smooth thigh.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

17

“I’ll pick you up.” Jake hoped she didn’t notice the bulge in his jeans—or the tremor he detected in his voice that made him sound like a lovesick teenager.

“Want to bring me up to date on what’s going on down there?” he asked Skip after Kate was gone, gesturing toward the well that would be Black-GreenTex Number One.

“Max and Harry just got back with two more truckloads of mud, and they'll go for more as soon as we pump out the trucks.”

“How much pressure's she giving us?” As always when a new well came in, Jake worried about a blowout. “It's been a long time since I saw one blow as high as this one.”

“Fifteen, sixteen thousand pounds. My guess is, we're gonna have to pump two, maybe three more truckloads of mud down the shaft to keep her stable. Did you arrange with the pipeline to hook us up?”

“They'll be here Wednesday. Will you be ready?”

The crew would be hard pressed to control the gusher, let alone worry about setting pipe and gas-lifting equipment. Jake hoped the around-the-clock presence of a couple of dozen roughnecks as well as armed security guards would discourage their saboteurs.

“Yeah, unless something goes haywire. Once we pump the rest of the mud on down, she should hold 'til we can tie her in to the pipeline and let her rip.” Skip smiled broadly, his toothy grin reminding Jake of an old-time vaudevillian in black-face makeup. “You decide yet which well we're gonna drill next?”

Jake shook his head. “I want to take new soundings. Your hunch was right about this one, but you came too close for comfort. Five hundred feet more and we'd have had to stop drilling.”

“Yeah. Don't think I didn't notice that permit was only good for ten thousand feet.

I've been sweating it, too. We gonna go for another deep well, or is the next one gonna be shallow?”

“Shallow. Dad and Scott tell me GreenTex needs cash now more than it will, five years down the road. When you're ready, I'll show you the new spots I've picked. Right now, concentrate on getting this baby flowing into the pipeline.”

“Okay by me. Want a beer?” Skip asked, his filthy hand already digging into the washtub full of ice that Jake had watched Max unload from his truck a few minutes ago.

“No thanks. Better not when I'm gonna be driving, especially since you volunteered me to take Groveland, Mississippi's newest future millionaire out to celebrate.”

“Hey, I thought you could use a little contact with the gentler sex after spending all that time alone in the Saudi desert.”

Jake grinned. “Who’s to say I didn’t find myself a sexy little houri over there? A whole goddamn harem full of them, for that matter?”

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

18

“Me.”

Jake sobered when he took in Skip’s serious expression. “You’re right. There hasn’t been anybody important since Alice and I split up.” And there hadn’t been any woman at all for a long time. His cock had been making that fact abundantly clear since he’d laid eyes on Kate Black.

Skip laughed. “Well, you look ready, my friend. Go on, lighten up a bit. I know what Alice did bummed you out, but not every woman’s like her.”

Not exactly, maybe. But after what he had been through, Jake wasn’t anxious to take a chance that he’d be any better at choosing a mate the second time around.

“You may be right,” he muttered before changing the subject. “The security guys look as though they can handle anybody that might have an idea of torching this baby.

Want to let the whole crew come?”

“Nah. Just Max and me. We’ve been having a few drinks after bringing in a gusher ever since our first one ten years ago. And we can disappear fast if it looks as if you’re gonna score with little Kate.”

“Not likely. Hey, make sure your guys know to lay off that beer until they finish their shifts. We don't need anybody losing a hand or foot because they got boozed up and then tried to operate the machinery. And tell your foreman to make damn sure the security guys stay stone-cold sober.”

“You got it. Watch out on the highway. Max said the state highway patrol's thicker than thieves out there. You better hurry. Ms. Black'll be wondering if you fell into the well.” Skip downed the rest of his beer and turned to direct the men who were adding mud to the circulating pumps.

* * * * *

He’d said he'd come get her in two hours.

Still damp from her bath, Kate checked the time. Then she turned back to her closet and searched for something to wear. Why she should care what Jake Green thought of her attire, she didn't know. But it mattered. Sighing, she selected a dress she'd bought before her college graduation.

She hadn’t worn it since she came back home. Longer than that. The last night she’d had it on was when David proposed. Kate set the floral print sundress onto her bed.

Funny. For the first time, thinking of her broken engagement hadn’t made her want to cry.

Without trying, Jake had managed to shove David to the far corners of Kate’s mind.

The idea of going out with Jake scared her stiff—but it excited her too. Despite her doubts, she wanted to experience the heady awareness he generated in her.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

19

Awareness that was sexual. Carnal. Different from the quiet, comfortable kind of togetherness she’d enjoyed with David.

Once Kate had believed their kind of love would last a lifetime. David had been a steady anchor.

Jake was a tempest, a whirling dervish who would touch her briefly and leave destruction in his wake.

She shook off her misgivings. Today, she would celebrate life. While arrogant, earthy Jake Green wasn't the kind of man she'd dreamed of, he certainly was a man. All man. The most delectable specimen of manhood she'd ever seen.

Recalling how the skin-tight, filthy Levis and oil-soaked T-shirt emphasized every hard-honed muscle in his long, lean body, she touched her lips. Even now she felt the heated imprint of his hard, demanding mouth.

Damn. She’d never be ready on time.

Kate snatched up clean underwear and began to dress. Before she was done, she heard someone knock. She was gasping for breath by the time she snatched open the door and greeted Jake with a nervous smile.

“Come on in. I'll be just a minute.”

He looked good enough to eat, freshly scrubbed and shaved. Designer jeans and a pale yellow polo shirt did little to mitigate the aura of danger she’d noticed about him from the first. “You look nice,” she added as she led him inside.

“Yeah. Folks say I clean up pretty good.” His hard but sensual lips curved in a devastating smile. “So do you, honey.”

Her cheeks grew warm at his offhand compliment. “You can wait here,” she told him, gesturing toward the old-fashioned parlor.

“No rush.”

The echo of Jake's deep, smooth drawl stayed with her as she slipped her feet into high-heeled white sandals. In less than two minutes, she was back downstairs and ushering Jake out the door. She noted his casual good manners when he held the door of a dusty black Porsche open so she could slide onto its soft leather seat.

“Sorry about the car. There's no place around here to get it washed,” he muttered.

Then he closed her door and walked around to the driver's side.

A tingly sort of fear washed over Kate as she watched Jake fold his big body into the low-slung car. But the trepidation wasn’t nearly as strong as her need to go for it.

Enjoy every sensation she was confident he could hone to fever pitch. His hands were rough, a working man's hands, hands that moved steadily when he fit the key into the ignition and reached to grasp the gearshift knob beside her thigh.

Would he move his hand a fraction of an inch and touch her? She wished he would.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

20

More than that, she wished she were the sort of woman who’d dare to edge her leg closer until it brushed against the callused pads of his long fingers. Or reach over boldly and stroke the soft denim that covered his rock-hard thigh.

Kate’s nipples tingled. Dampness gathered between her thighs. She squirmed against the glove-soft leather seat.

Sexuality positively oozed from every pore of Jake’s work-hardened body, each nuance of expression on his ruggedly handsome face. While he scared her silly, he made her ache in ways she’d never ached before.

“You're off in another world, honey,” he said, startling her with his astute observation when he took a corner smoothly and guided the car out onto old Highway Forty-Nine. “Thinking about what you're going to do with those royalty checks we're gonna start sending you soon?”

“No. I was thinking about you.” About his big callused hands and how they’d feel on her naked skin. About whether his muscular body would feel rough or smooth against her own softer curves. Of course she’d never confess her fantasies to him.

“Me? What about me?” Jake pulled out into the left lane and accelerated to pass a coughing old pickup truck. With a graceful move, he inserted a CD in the slot and adjusted the volume.

Soft instrumental music surrounded them, and surprised her since she’d braced herself to endure the loud lament of some country and western singer.

Kate wanted to peel away the layers, get beyond her fantasies to the real Jake Green. “I was thinking I don’t know you. Where you’re from. What it is you do.” She paused, recalling something else he’d said. “For instance, I have no idea why you don’t like women very well. Why you seem to think we’re all heartless gold-diggers.”

“I learned the hard way.” Jake looked over at her and grinned. “Don't get me wrong, honey. I like women just fine. I'm just not about to let one of you get to me again.”

A muscle twitched under the smooth-shaven, bronzed skin of his jaw, and Kate wondered what or who had hurt him and hardened his heart. “Okay. Tell me a little about yourself.”

He glanced over and smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man. Lashes she’d die for. For a minute Kate thought he was going to clam up.

Then he spoke. “I've lived in Houston all my life, but I spend most of my time on drilling sites. I've just come back from Saudi Arabia. Before that, I was in West Texas for a few months. I’ve spent time in oilfields in Kuwait, Venezuela, and offshore in the Gulf. I like being where the action is. If I didn't, I'd take my old man up on his standing offer of a vice presidency and a cushy office back home.”