Rock Me All Night (5 page)

She glanced over at Jack when he squeezed her leg. In the fleeting light of the street lamps he went in and out of focus, much as he did in her mind. He was clear to her one second, deep-dark mysterious the next.

She'd been trying to find out about his past. His dad, Diamond Dave Montrose. Second only to Evel Knievel, the daring stuntman who'd jumped his motorcycle over anything.

“You okay? I asked you why you thought I was uncomfortable.”

She shook herself. She needed to keep her wits about her. “Yeah, I'm fine. I worried that by asking about your dad I might have upset you. Ty talks about him all the time.”

“Men don't get upset. That's a girlie thing.”

“Having emotions doesn't make you girlie. Everyone has them.”

“Right, but only woman have to dissect them and get…bothered by them.”

“I forgot that you were a big, bad he-man. My mistake.”

“Don't let it happen again,” he said with a grin that made her melt. He was a grade-A flirt and tease. She knew without a doubt that if she kept things light between them they could have a red-hot affair that would burn out before summer.

He didn't even keep a car more than six months. Make that matter, she thought. But the thrill of being with him made the vehicle thing hard to ignore. It was another warning that this wasn't forever. That her goal of marriage someday soon wasn't going to happen with this man by her side.

She wanted more from him—already Jack meant something to her. She knew he didn't want to talk about his dad and she had no idea why. But she wasn't going to allow him to evade her. He was her break-the-rules guy. So that meant she wasn't going to politely do what he wanted. She was going to go for everything, risk everything.

“You're avoiding talking about your father.”

He scratched a pattern in the fabric of her jeans, each stroke of his finger curving deeper toward her inner thigh, higher on her leg. She felt her body softening, preparing to welcome him inside.

“I'm not. I just don't want to spoil your image of Diamond Dave,” he said.

Lauren took his hand in hers, tracing over his large knuckles and studying that strong hand. “Not a good dad?”

“Let's just say the spotlight was more important
than teaching two boys how to drive,” Jack said, his deep voice husky. She knew he was telling her something he didn't want to.

“Did you teach Ty?” she asked. Duke had taught her, but only because he'd had to do community service for drinking at a football game and her father had negotiated her driving lessons as suitable time served.

“Yes. But just because he believed the crap our dad was feeding him and I didn't want Ty to end up in a wheelchair like Dave.”

“What crap?” she asked, holding his hand in both of hers now. She wanted to give him some simple comfort in any way that she could. She knew that it was little, next to nothing, but this was all she had to offer.

“That life is best lived at ninety-five miles per hour. Flying high and living large. ‘Don't slow down for anyone, boys. That's all you need to know to drive a car.'”

Her heart ached at the emptiness she heard in Jack's voice. He'd taken those words to heart. She didn't know what to say. Because she knew Jack would scoff if she even intimated that he needed comfort for his childhood. “Well, you did a great job of teaching yourself.”

She wanted to change the subject but had no idea how to.

“Hell, I didn't, not really. I like that feeling that comes with flying. I like being out of control. And I made peace with that side of myself.

“How?”

“By believing that nothing lasts forever.”

“Nothing?”

He lifted their joined hands and brushed his lips against hers. “Nothing, but some things make the fleetingness of life worthwhile.”

“Me?”

“You,” he said, his deep voice dropping an octave.

J
ack had learned early that he needed to spend a lot of time outdoors. Sports were the one constant in his ever-changing life. Exercise was something he enjoyed. Lauren eyed him curiously when he turned off the highway and pulled to a stop near a deserted park.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“Snowshoeing. There's an easy path nearby.”

“I've never done that before. Is it hard?”

“No. It's soothing…quiet and peaceful.”

She'd been working all night and he wanted to take care of her. Between the moon and his flashlight, they'd be able to see. He gestured for her to stay put
in the H2 while he got their gear together. “Would you like some hot cocoa?”

“Yes, please.”

He grabbed the Thermos and poured a cup for each of them. She smiled up at him but quickly glanced away. She was nervous. It reassured him in ways it really shouldn't have.

He started to tip his cup toward hers in a silent toast, but she stopped him. “To living large and finding happiness.”

He tapped the rims of their glasses together, his eyes never leaving hers. She had the most expressive eyes. He should warn her that her secrets were there for any man to see. To delve into and take advantage of.

He knew that living large with Lauren was dangerous. More so than any out-of-control ride down a racetrack.

He turned away, taking a deep swallow. How had she turned the tables? And how could he regain control? “I made soup for later.”

“From a can?” she asked with that spark in her eye that said “men can't cook.”

“Never.”

“Takeout?”

“No.”

“Well…”

“What?” he asked, sorting through the gear and getting the sticks ready for them to use.

She narrowed her eyes. “Come on, fess up. You can cook.”

He shrugged at her. He didn't want to discuss it, but he liked to eat and had never really stayed put long enough to find decent take-out places.

“Where'd you learn to cook? Your mom?” she asked.

“No. In a night class,” he said, handing a pair of snowshoes to her. He gave her some brief instructions on how to snowshoe.

“Why?” she asked in that quiet way of hers.

Never talk about old lovers with a potential one. Years of navigating the dating scene had made it easy to lie. At least in the past. With Lauren things were different. “Um…I wanted to.”

“Oh, I see. Was she blond, brunette or redheaded?”

“Blond actually.” He put his shoes on and led her away from the vehicle.

Lauren laughed. He stopped to look at her. She had one of those laughs that made him want to say screw it and leave off these trappings of seduction. He wanted her. Learning each other's secrets could come later.

“Pitiful, I know, but I really liked the cooking lessons, which have lasted longer in my life than she did.”

“I hope so, since you invited me out. Unless you're planning on starting a harem.”

“Too much trouble. Pleasing women takes a lot of energy.”

“I'm not sure I like being lumped in a group like that. I'm very low-key. Very undemanding.”

“How do you figure?”

She stopped and toyed with the charm on her necklace. In the moonlight she seemed untouchable. “I wouldn't have asked you to take a cooking class with me. I always delve into his interests.”

Jack stopped, too. Lauren wasn't the kind of woman who doubted herself in any situation. He knew there was something important in what she was telling him but had no idea what. “Why?”

“I like learning new things. And… Never mind.”

“Tell me, Lauren. You can trust me.”

She shook her head, those thick tresses spilling over her shoulders, and then she looked up at him. Right in the eye. “I know I'll always have something lasting when the relationship ends.”

She took a step away from him. Her tracks were the only ones in the thick layer of snow. “My mom says that it's because I don't believe a real man can live up to my dream man.”

“What do you think?” he asked. He followed her easily.

“I think Mom puts too much stock in the books she's read. But I can't say that to her.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“I'm not sure.”

“I have a theory.”

“You've only known me a few days. I'm not sure you have enough info to make an observation.”

“Do you want to hear it or not?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. A light snow began to fall. He took his scarf off and wrapped it around her neck. “Okay.”

“I think it's because of your job.”

“What?”

“I've been listening to your show, and you have this aura of intimacy with your listeners. And I think that's why you set yourself up for failure in relationships.”

“You don't know—”

He put his finger over her lips to stop the words. She was defensive and he couldn't blame her. Soul baring wasn't really on the menu tonight.

“You don't have to defend yourself. It was only my opinion.”

 

Lauren knew she'd said too much and strove to put some distance between them again. They talked of books and music. Jack set an easy pace through the park. She wasn't surprised to learn that he never kept any books or CDs for more than a few months. She couldn't imagine not having her favorite novels in her house so that she could reread them when the urge struck.

But that didn't stop her from remembering what he'd said—she did fear intimacy. She'd spent her entire life making sure there was some barrier between
her and others. The radio was the ultimate cocoon, and she honestly didn't think she could work in another field.

The morning was beautiful and unexpected, but she was chilled by the time they returned to the Hummer H2. He turned on the heat and handed her a mug of vegetable soup. He shifted closer to her on the seat and she scooted away, then realized she was once again running away after she'd vowed to stop doing that.

“Tonight was your last night on the midnight shift?” he asked.

Lauren leaned back against the seat, letting the warmth from the heated leather surround her. “Yes. I'm moving to the morning drive time starting Monday.”

“With your voice and your empathy you ought to do well there.”

She knew he was right. Ty had been bugging her for years to move to the early slot, where she'd get more listeners. But Lauren liked the anonymity of doing the midnight show. She had some loyal fans but it was a small fan base. “I guess. Ty is moving me to help with the station's Valentine's Day promo.”

“That Mile of Men thing. You know that's reverse sexism. If I sponsored a Mile of Women, you'd go nuts.”

She had to laugh because she was coming to know Jack. He wasn't at all what she'd first expected him to be. Especially when it came to women. He wasn't
a hound, as she'd expected. In fact, he had a deep well of caring that surprised her. “I know. You're right. But hey, that's acceptable in society now.”

“Going to ride that wave while you can?” he asked. He stretched one arm along the back of the seat. She'd deliberately sat close to the door to keep some space between them.

“Men did it for a long time. It's our turn.” Though she didn't really have a scorecard that she kept in the battle of the sexes. She suspected Jack didn't either.

“So will you be cruising that mile for men? Is that why Ty moved you?”

“Partly. I also challenged my listeners to help me find Mr. Right.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”

She knew he meant it lightly but she couldn't treat it or him that way. She did want him.

“Not chopped liver. I can't decide what you are, Jack.”

He dropped his arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer to him, pulling her into the shelter of his body. She knew that it made no sense, but the last of her chill faded when she was tucked up against him. This was her fantasy moment. She wanted to curl up against him. Let his warmth wrap around her body while his scent and his voice wrapped around her other senses.

“You look scared. I'm not going to pounce.” He reached out and twirled a strand of her hair around
his finger. Men always did that. Her curly ringlets seemed a temptation few could resist.

“I'm not afraid.” Because the time for hedging had passed, and she knew without a doubt that she wasn't leaving tonight until they'd made a decision to go forward and pursue the attraction between them.

“Then what is it?” he asked. He tugged a few more strands into his hand so that her hair was wrapped around his fingers.

“Promise not to laugh?” she asked. Why did it matter? Her brother Duke always said she worried too much what others thought. But then, he was a six-foot-four linebacker and she wasn't.

“Yes,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I'd never laugh at you, Lauren.”

Jack made her feel good. She put her soup mug on the floorboard. She wrapped her arms around her waist and looked up at him. “I just have this image in my head of me and you.”

“Naked?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Because that doesn't make me want to laugh, sweetheart. That makes me want to howl
hot damn.
”

She shook her head. It would be so easy to let herself get distracted. To keep this thing between them light and fun. But then in six months she'd be alone again.
Don't forget that.

“No. Though I like that one, too. This one is…well…”

He sighed. His free arm snaked around her waist
and he lifted her onto his lap. And she was where she wanted to be. The hand in her hair pushed her head down onto his shoulder. And dammit, his shoulder felt as if it were made to cushion her head. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

“Tell me, Lauren. Trust me with your secrets. I'll keep them safe.”

She wrapped her one arm around his waist and closed her eyes. “This is it. My image was this. You holding me close.”

“Anything else?”

“Well…”

“What?”

“I love your voice. In my dream you were reading to me.”

“What was I reading?”

“Shakespeare sonnets.”

“Woman, do I look like a sonnet kind of guy?”

“It was a fantasy,” she said, wriggling to get off his lap.

He held her still, tipping her chin up with his free hand and then kissing her deeply, thoroughly. Making this fantasy more real than she'd ever imagined it could be.

He lifted his head after a long moment, and Lauren saw something in his eyes that spoke to her heart.

“I was never a huge fan of Shakespeare, but I do know a few lines from Marlowe's ‘Helen of Troy.'”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and listened
to his voice. It rumbled in his chest. This was just about perfect. The evening, the voice. She felt as if she'd found that secret thing she'd been searching for.

“Was this the face that launched a thousand ships/ And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?/ Sweet
Lauren,
make me immortal with a kiss.”

She tunneled her fingers in his hair and brought his mouth to hers. This time she took charge, pushing her tongue deep into his mouth. Tasting again the cocoa and the desire of this very strong man who called to her soul.

 

Lauren shifted over him, straddling his lap, and all thoughts of that Marlowe play slipped away. Her mouth moved over his. Jack held her scalp in his palms, holding her still while he explored her.

She moaned, and he wanted more from her. More sounds, more noises. More everything.

She pulled back and stared up at him. Her lips were swollen and wet from his mouth. Her pupils were dilated and her skin was flushed. Her breathing was rapid, and his mirrored hers.

“So I'm Helen?” she asked, her contralto voice even deeper than normal.

“Hell, yeah,” he said.

He rubbed the back of her neck and then slid his hands down her back until he cupped her rump. He flexed his fingers against her hips and she rocked forward against his hard-on.

“God, woman, don't do that.”

“Why not? It feels so good.”

She let her head drop back as she moved against him. Her breasts thrust forward, her eyes closed. She had an earthy sensuality that he'd sensed listening to her on her show. Seeing it firsthand set him on fire.

Watching Lauren made him hotter than he'd ever been before. Her nipples hardened under her shirt. Jack used his hands in the middle of her back to bring her closer to him. He raised her shirt and licked her nipples.

She grabbed his head and held him closer to her. “More.”

He bit lightly at her distended flesh, and when she moaned again he started suckling on her. Her thighs clamped tighter around his hips.

Her womanly scent surrounded him and he stopped thinking. She felt better than any woman he'd ever held. He freed the buttons of her shirt and pushed it aside.

Her bra of white lace demicups made him groan. He pushed the cups out of his way and then stopped to study her. She was watching him. Her nipples were hard and pointed. Her stomach contracted with each breath she took and her hips rocked slowly against his.

He kept one hand at the small of her back. Held her still so that he could feast on her as he wanted. First with his eyes. Just looking at the textures of her
velvety-soft skin and the colors, pink and cream. She was so soft.

He lifted his free hand and rubbed his knuckle over first one exposed nipple and then the other. Leaning forward, he let his breath brush over her.

She held his head tighter and lifted her breasts. “Please…”

“I'll please you, sweetheart.”

A song started playing and Jack started away from Lauren. “Oh, damn. My mother.”

“What?”

Lauren pushed herself off his lap and scrambled for her purse. “Hi, Mom.”

Jack was still dazed. What the heck had happened?