Just One Kiss (6 page)

“Are you doing all right?” she asked when they were halfway down the staircase.

He grimaced. “As well as can be expected, considering what you and your kid have put me through.” His tone was sharper, more gruff than he'd intended.

He saw a flash of answering fire in her eyes, but she said nothing. He almost wished she would get angry with him, exchange barbs of ire with him so he could get rid of some of the energy that coursed through him at the moment.

As he slid into the passenger seat while Marissa stowed his crutch in the trunk, he felt mean-spirited and small. Nathaniel greeted him from his car seat in the back. “Daddy,” he said, and laughed.

“Wrong, kid. Jerk is more like it,” Jack mumbled in reply.

Marissa slid behind the steering wheel, studiously refusing to look at him. She started the engine.

“Go on. Say it.”

She turned and looked at him curiously. “Say what?”

“Tell me I'm a jerk.”

“Okay. Jack, you're a jerk.” Her eyes glistened with a touch of good humor. “Now you feel better?”

“Yeah, I do.” He adjusted the seat to give him more leg room for his cast. “Don't you ever hold a grudge?”

“Not really. I try not to expend energy on nega
tive emotions.” She put the car into gear and drove away from Jack's house. “Besides,” she said, shooting him a teasing side-glance, “if I held a grudge against you every time you were cranky or said something ugly, I'd be completely exhausted.”

“Still, I was out of line and I apologize.” He tunneled a hand through his hair. “I just hate feeling so…so…”

“Helpless?”

“Yeah.” Surely it was the feeling of helplessness that had attacked him on the stairs. It had absolutely nothing to do with any desire he might feel for the Pollyanna sitting next to him.

“When you get to the intersection up ahead, take a left,” he said.

As she concentrated on driving, he focused on looking at her. The early-morning light enhanced the gold of her hair and gave her skin a healthy glow. He couldn't discern any makeup except for a slight darkening of her long lashes and a sheen to her lips.

She wore a pair of worn cutoffs and a green T-shirt that looked as if it had been through the wash cycle many times. “How long did you say you were here on vacation?” he asked.

“Three glorious weeks.” She flashed him a quick smile. “My grandmother gifted me with the vacation. Otherwise I'd have never been able to afford it on my own.”

Now it all made more sense. He hadn't figured her for the normal moneyed vacationer. A gift of
what had probably been a much-needed vacation, and he was taking up her time making her feel guilty for an accident that really wasn't anyone's fault.

“I promise you after today, I won't take up another minute of your vacation time,” he said.

She flashed him a quicksilver smile. “I don't mind. I have a feeling it wouldn't have taken me long to grow bored of the beach. And with Nathaniel, options for other forms of entertainment are rather limited.”

“Go right up here,” Jack said, pointing to the nearby intersection.

He gazed at her once again, finding it easy to look at her. “I'll bet you're a good nurse's aide.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don't know. It's easy to imagine you flitting from patient to patient, dispensing cheer and optimism along with pills and shots.”

She laughed. “I don't flit, but I like to think I'm good at what I do, and part of my job is tending patients' emotional needs as well as their medical needs.”

Jack had a few needs he wouldn't mind her attending to. He pointed for her to take the next right turn, not wanting his mind to dwell on the fact that he found her more attractive than any woman he'd met in the past five years.

“So, who are we going to stake out?” she asked.

Jack shifted position in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. “His name is Samuel Jacob
son, and we're going to a house he owns but hasn't lived in the past six months. That phone call last night was from an informant of sorts who said Samuel is going to be at the house sometime today. All I intend to do is see if he shows up, then call a friend of mine on the police force and he'll come and make an arrest.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket to show her.

“An arrest? So this man is a criminal?” She cast him a worried glance.

“Strictly white-collar stuff. I told you yesterday, this is not a dangerous assignment.” He grinned at her. “I might be a jerk, but I'm not totally without a conscience. I would never have agreed to you and Nate being with me if I thought there was even a hint of danger.”

She flashed him a grateful smile and he wondered if she'd taste as sweet as she looked. Would her lips be warm and soft? Would they open eagerly beneath his? Would she wind her arms around his neck, press her body intimately against his? He shoved these disturbing thoughts aside.

She was here on vacation and in less than three weeks would return to her life back in Kansas City. She'd probably eventually marry a doctor and live her happily-ever-after.

Besides, all Jack wanted from her was a night. One single night of unemotional lust, one solitary night of uncomplicated indulgence of physical pleasure.

Nathaniel let out a loud cry from the backseat, as if he'd been privy to Jack's thoughts and was voicing his protest.

“He's probably hungry,” Marissa said. She pointed to the plastic grocery bag between her and Jack. “There's a couple of bananas in there. Would you mind peeling one and giving it to him?”

“Nana,” Nathaniel said, and nodded his head.

Jack rummaged in the bag, finding not only bananas, but also hard candy, licorice, a bag of chips, a container of mints and several sausage sticks. “Did you pick this all up on the way to my place?” he asked as he grabbed one of the bananas and peeled it.

She nodded. “A stakeout just isn't a stakeout without a bunch of junk food.”

Jack turned and handed Nathaniel the peeled banana. “Daddy.” Nathaniel grinned at him and took a bite of the fruit.

“Not in this lifetime, kid,” Jack replied. He turned back around to face the front. “Okay…slow down. We're approaching the house.”

In the past six months Jack had been in this quiet, upper middle class neighborhood dozens of times, always hoping to find some sign of life in the Jacobson house.

“It's the gray house just ahead. Pull to the curb there, next to that large tree,” he instructed. Although they were two houses away from the Jacobson place, this vantage point gave them a perfect
view of the two-story house and the driveway. “You can go ahead and cut the engine,” he said.

She did, then moved her seat back, allowing her more leg room. She had great legs…long, with tanned skin that looked soft as silk. His fingers itched as he imagined stroking that skin.

Irritation whipped through him. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was this particular woman getting under his skin so effectively?

She'd already told him he wasn't her type, that he certainly wasn't Mr. Right material. And he certainly didn't believe in finding a Mrs. Right for himself.

So why did he have the sudden desire to convince her that he could at least be her Mr. Right For One Night?

M
arissa hadn't considered how close the quarters would be in a car, but as the minutes—hours—passed, she found herself acutely conscious of Jack.

His scent filled the confines of the car, a clean, masculine fragrance that was pleasant. As usual, his hair was in charming disarray, giving him a virile, outdoorsy look that Marissa couldn't help but find attractive.

He was clad in a pair of jogging shorts and gray T-shirt that exposed the tanned muscles of his arms. The cast that encased his leg did nothing to detract from the utter strength and masculinity he emitted.

Restless energy radiated from him, making her feel edgy and tense.

She wondered if Nathaniel sensed the energy, as
well. He was fussier than usual. He rubbed his eyes, threw his banana on the floor and emitted the sounds of a little boy who desperately needed a nap.

“What's wrong with him?” Jack asked as Marissa twisted in her seat for the third time in as many minutes to try to still the unhappy child.

Marissa looked at her watch. “This is about the time he usually takes a morning nap. For some reason, he's fighting it.” She gave Nathaniel one of his favorite toys, but he threw it on the floor and continued to whine.

“Maybe if I hold him for a little while,” she said, not wanting the little boy's crying to get on Jack's nerves. She twisted around in her seat and with a huge effort managed to unbuckle Nathaniel and pull him over into the front seat and onto her lap.

She pressed Nathaniel's head down against her chest and patted his back, hoping to get him to fall asleep. But he stiffened against her, fighting any and all attempts she made to calm him.

“Hand him to me.”

Marissa stared at Jack. “You don't intend to throw him out the window, do you?” she asked dubiously.

He grinned at her, that sexy smile that for some reason seemed to raise her internal temperature. “I promise if the urge to throw him out the window strikes me, I'll let you know before I follow through on it. Just give him to me for a few minutes.”

Nathaniel went willingly to Jack and sat in his lap.

“Okay, Nate. What's going on?” Jack asked.

Nathaniel stopped whining and stared at Jack, his blue eyes round as saucers.

“Don't you know real men don't cry?” Jack said.

“I don't believe that,” Marissa said. “Real men express their emotions, even if it makes them cry, and that's what I intend to teach Nathaniel.”

“Ah.” Jack looked from Marissa back to Nathaniel. “Now I see why you're upset. Your mama intends to make you a sissy.”

Marissa laughed and Nathaniel grinned, as if he understood the entire conversation and found it vastly amusing.

“You're a mess, Jack Coffey,” Marissa exclaimed.

“Hear that, Nate? Your mom is maligning me. What are you gonna do about it?”

Nathaniel stared at Jack for another long moment, then leaned his head against Jack's chest and closed his eyes. Within seconds he was sound asleep.

“Typical male,” Marissa said. “When the going gets rough, he goes to sleep.”

Jack said nothing, but lightly patted Nathaniel's back. The little boy snuggled closer.

Marissa frowned and stared out the window at the house they were watching. Jack Coffey confused her. He professed to hate children, yet seemed to have a natural way with Nathaniel.

Seeing her son snuggled against Jack's broad chest touched her, made a strange yearning stir deep inside her. The Mr. Right of her dreams would be good with Nathaniel. He would love her son as he loved her. But of course her Mr. Right was nothing like Jack.

“So, what did this Samuel Jacobson do? Take a cruise on company funds? Pad his expense account?” she asked, trying to focus on something other than her son in Jack's strong arms.

Jack stared out the window at the house, not answering for a long moment. “He's a deadbeat dad,” he finally said with a frown.

Marissa turned and looked at him in surprise. “A deadbeat dad?”

“He's got a place in Florida, a house in the Cayman Islands. He owns a Mercedes and a boat big enough to house a family of four. And he's got an ex-wife who's living with their two children in a cramped apartment. She's financially struggling and he refuses to pay child support. He's got several judgments and bench warrants out on him.”

“So the ex-wife hired you to find him?”

Again Jack hesitated before answering. “No, she doesn't have the kind of money it takes to trail an errant ex-husband. I do some volunteer work for an organization that helps mothers obtain their child support.”

Marissa eyed him thoughtfully. The man was a bundle of contradictions and surprises. He was a
man who professed to hate children, yet volunteered his valuable time and skills on their behalf.

What other surprises might he offer? One thing was certain, there was more to Jack Coffey than he pretended.

“How did you know he might be here today?” she asked curiously.

“Over the last couple of months, I've made friends with his neighbors.” Jack pointed toward the house next to Samuel Jacobson's. “Samuel always calls them to let them know when he's going to be in town for a day or two. He likes the house aired out and asks them to open a couple of windows. Anyway, that's the call I got last night, from the neighbor telling me he'd spoken to Samuel.”

Marissa nodded. “You want me to move him to the backseat?” she asked, gesturing to her sleeping child.

“Nah, he's all right. As long as he doesn't elbow me and break a rib or stretch and poke out my eye.”

“I think you're safe.” Marissa reached into the sack of goodies and pulled out a bag of red licorice. She opened the package and offered him a piece, but he shook his head.

“So, what made you decide to volunteer for this particular organization?” she asked, then took a bite of the licorice stick.

“I don't know. Seemed like a worthy cause.”

She smiled teasingly. “I have to admit, I'm sur
prised. You seem more the type to work for a group like Grouches Have Rights, Too.”

He winced in mock pain. “I deserve that. I haven't exactly put my best foot forward with you, have I?”

“It's difficult to put your best foot forward when that foot is broken.”

Jack grinned and started to say something in return, but stopped as a car pulled into the driveway of the house they'd been watching.

A short, overweight, balding man got out of the car and unlocked the front door, then disappeared inside.

“Is that him?” Marissa asked eagerly.

“That's him.” Jack pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in several numbers. “Come and get him,” he said to whoever answered his call.

He hung up, then smiled at Marissa. “Now we just wait and watch and hope my buddy gets here before old Samuel decides to take off again.”

Within minutes a police car pulled up in front and two burly officers got out of the vehicle and approached the house. They disappeared inside and Marissa found herself holding her breath.

“Yes,” Jack hissed as the officers stepped out of the house, Samuel Jacobson in handcuffs. He slapped his knee and grinned at Marissa, a full-bodied smile of triumph. “We finally got him!”

Joy swept through Marissa. “What happens now?” she asked.

“Samuel Jacobson will face an irate judge, and we go home and I fix you a celebratory lunch.”

“Sounds good to me. Let me just get him back in his car seat.” Marissa reached over and grabbed Nathaniel, who still slept soundly.

He was too heavy for her to attempt to lift over the seat, so she got out of the car, settled him in the back, then got back behind the wheel.

“What's for lunch?” she asked as she started the engine.

“You like Chinese?”

“Love it,” she replied.

“Good, I'll order in from my favorite take-out place.” She felt his gaze lingering on her. “Marissa…thanks for everything you've done to help me out.”

“You're welcome,” she replied, trying to ignore the burst of heat that warmed the pit of her stomach. Jack Coffey cranky was one thing. Jack Coffey gracious was downright dangerous.

When they got back to Jack's house, Nathaniel was still sleeping. Marissa carried him into the living room and placed him on the floor.

“What do you want me to order for you?” Jack asked from the kitchen.

“Anything. Surprise me,” she replied as she covered Nathaniel with a light blanket.

“If you want to wash up, help yourself,” Jack said. “I'll just call in the order.”

Marissa started down the hallway to find the bath
room. She knew the room at the end of the hallway was Jack's bedroom, but she wasn't sure which of the other three closed doors was the bathroom.

She opened the first door on her right and froze in the doorway, shock sweeping through her. It wasn't the bathroom—rather, it was a child's room.

A wallpaper border of dancing bears lined the ceiling and a wooden crib with a matching blanket stood against one wall. A toddler bed was along the other wall, the top of it covered with a variety of items.

Someplace in the back of her mind she knew she should step back, close the door, but intense curiosity drew her into the room as she tried to make sense of what she was looking at.

Teddy bears, a toy truck, a miniature fire engine, a baseball glove, clothes in a variety of sizes, everything still in its original box or package. Why was it in here? Who was it for?

Why did Jack, a man who'd never been married, a man who professed to hate children, have all these things? Questions whirled in her head as she walked over to the crib and stared at it in bewilderment.

“What in the hell are you doing in here?”

She gasped in surprise and whirled around to see Jack standing in the doorway, the fires of rage burning in his eyes.

Jack knew his rage was out of proportion for the offense, but this room held all his dashed hopes, all his broken dreams and every heartache he possessed.

He hadn't been in it for months and certainly hadn't wanted to share it with anyone else.

“I—I thought this was the bathroom. I'm sorry.” She took a step back from him, her eyes wary.

The initial rage seeped out of him and he nodded curtly. “The bathroom is across the hall.”

He was vaguely aware of her slipping past him and disappearing from the room.

Being in this room was like being thrust back in time…a time when a dark-haired child had laughed and grinned from the crib, a little boy who had called him Daddy, who had given him sloppy kisses and captured his heart.

He walked over to the toddler bed, bought for a third birthday and never slept in. The fire truck was for a fourth birthday, the baseball mitt for a fifth. Stuffed animals, clothing progressing in sizes… Christmas presents never opened, a future never realized.

Jack was unaware of the passing of time as he stood in the room and stared at the items that would never be played with, never be worn.

He wasn't sure why he still continued to buy birthday presents and holiday surprises for a child he'd lost.

A stack of picture books rested on top of the chest of drawers. Jack had read those books to a wiggling, giggling two-year-old. They were the last presents Bobby had ever used.

The ringing of the doorbell echoed through the
house and pulled Jack from the inertia that had gripped him. He backed out of the room and closed the door, shutting in the past…and hopefully the pain.

He opened the front door to see the Chinese food deliveryman, and realized he must have been in the bedroom for some time. He paid for the order and carried it into the kitchen.

Marissa had set the table and now stood at the window, her back to him.

“I hope you're hungry.” Jack forced an unnatural cheer into his voice. She turned to face him. “I ordered enough food for ten people.” He began setting out containers, aware of her gaze intent on him.

He sank into a chair and motioned for her to sit opposite him. He released a weary sigh. “Don't worry, I'm not a pervert or anything like that.”

“That never crossed my mind.” Her eyes, so green and clear, showed her confusion, but he had a feeling if he offered no explanation, said nothing about the room she'd seen, she would respect his privacy and not mention it, either.

“His name was Bobby.” The words fell unbidden from him, and in simply saying the sweet name, memories rushed in to ache inside him. “He was almost three years old the last time I saw him.”

“He was your son?” she asked softly.

He nodded, although claiming Bobby as his son seemed far too simple for what the child had meant
to him. Bobby had filled his world, had been the catalyst for hope and dreams.

“What happened?” Again her voice was soft. “Did…did he pass away?” Her voice held dread for his answer.

“No…at least, not that I know of.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed once again. “Although there are days I think it would have been easier if he'd died. Then at least there would be some closure.”

A tiny frown wrinkled the center of Marissa's forehead. “I don't understand. What happened?”

Jack took a moment to open the lid of several of the Chinese food containers on the table. He had spent the past year trying desperately not to think about Sherry, about Bobby, shoving away the pain, swallowing the grief.

“I met Sherry, Bobby's mother, while I was still a cop. There had been a break-in at her apartment and I was the one who caught the call. Sherry was beautiful and lively and there was an instant attraction between us. Almost immediately we started a relationship and within two months, she was pregnant.” He pushed one of the containers toward Marissa.

“No, thanks,” she said. “I'll eat later.”

He wasn't hungry at the moment, either. “I begged Sherry to marry me, but she wanted nothing to do with marriage, said things were happening too fast, that we needed to slow down. Still, she moved
in here with me when she was five months pregnant and on April fifth, Bobby was born.”