The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (32 page)

John has not released her hand under the
table and is trying to balance Jacob on his knee and serve himself
food at the same time. When Reagan can take no more of his not so
gentle caress, she pulls her hand free and shoots him a warning
look. He doesn't smile or smirk or grin at her like he normally
does. His gaze is heavy, heated and fixed on her mouth. It also
holds more promise than Reagan cares to explore. She quickly looks
away.

"Are you going to tell your grandfather that
you can't work with him tonight, or are you going to make me do
it?" he asks quietly.

The conversations flow around them and the
children talk and giggle.

"No, stop it," she answers and shakes her
head. Her temperature has finally cooled a few degrees, and she can
better manage her brain.

"No, you aren't working? Or no, you want me
to tell him?" John demands.

Jacob bounces on his knee and grabs a
handful of John's peas.

"No, I'm not telling him and neither are
you. I need to be out there. Stop talking like that. Jennifer is
probably…"

"Doc, I think Reagan needs the night off,"
he states.

His comment rudely and abruptly breaking
into everyone's conversation, drawing their attention to both of
them. Reagan would like to shrivel up and die on the spot as
different members of the family are staring at them with strange
looks.

He just keeps going, "She's been out there
all day and almost every night for the past three nights."

"Shut up," she hisses at him and pulls at
his forearm which he shirks off like she is just annoying him.

"She's exhausted, clearly," John remarks and
this time does grin at her.

Grandpa is giving her a long, appraising
look and then regards John.

"I'm fine. Don't be an ass," Reagan blurts
before she realizes she's done so.

"Reagan," Grams warns in a threatening
tone.

"I agree, John. Honey, you do need to rest.
I've got it covered. You just take Jacob and get some sleep
tonight, alright?" Grandpa says so kindly.

Ohhh, if only her grandfather knew why the
knight in shining armor beside her is making such a big deal over
her lack of rest, he would probably go and get his shotgun.

"But, Jennifer is likely…" she starts.

"I know, dear. But you being out there isn't
going to stop it from happening," Grandpa interrupts this time with
a deep grimace and returns to his meal.

Reagan tosses down her fork, which clangs on
her plate, and seethes at John, not caring to hide her anger toward
him. This is bullshit! He doesn't own her. He doesn't have the
right to do this.

"You better eat up," he suggests after the
conversation resumes.

The two teen boys talk animatedly about
using the plows on the tractors today. As if that is something to
be excited about. Her life is in an upheaval, and Simon and Cory
are talking about damn tractors!

"Leave me alone," she says through her
gritted teeth. John ignores her and feeds Jacob some of his roasted
chicken.

"You're going to need your strength," he
says.

He is so point blank, so deadpan, so sensual
that Reagan's face ignites into a brilliant blush.

"…and what goes on around the house and the
med shed and our patrol schedule needs to be kept under the
strictest confidence," Grandpa is saying to Sam and Simon.

Both teenagers nod in agreement and swear
their loyalty to the McClane clan. There was never really any doubt
of their trustworthiness since the visitors seem to treat them so
badly.

Simon speaks out, which is unusual for him.
"They don't like it very well when we're over here. I mean, some of
them don't."

"Let us handle that, Simon," Kelly tells him
firmly.

Simon nods and looks to Sam who in turn
looks down at her lap.

"Don't make me feed you," John threatens
beside her.

How the hell had this turned so quickly
between them? She hates him! She isn't attracted to him. He
irritates the hell out of her. But, God, when he touches her it is
like fire in her veins. And for some bizarre and unfathomable
reason she doesn't want to kick his ass anymore when he touches
her. His touch sends chills down her spine but not the bad
kind.

"Stop…," she starts to correct him, but John
picks up her fork and then they ensue in a battle over it.

"Give it!" she screeches which makes him
finally release it. Again, everyone stops eating to stare at them
which, in turn, makes her blush harder. He has no damn right to
tell her to eat, or not work in the shed, or… have sex with him,
either.

"Reagan McClane, what has gotten into you,
young lady?" Grams asks in her most disapproving voice.

"Um, John had my fork," she mumbles
ignorantly.

"Well that isn't a reason to act like a wild
heathen at my dinner table. Now apologize to John," Grams
orders.

Reagan's eyes about pop out her head.

"Go on, young lady. You need to set the
example for these kids, not be the bad example."

"Ss… sorry," she stutters with a great deal
of irritation.

"No, problem, boss. Oh, look, here's my
fork," he lies and then shoots her another grin.

His damn grin is also slightly
irresistible.

He winks and adds, "My mistake."

His blue eyes hold hers another second
before she can turn away.

The dinner conversation continues again as
Grandpa and Sue go over what they would like the children to learn
in the coming school year. Grandpa is talking medicine while Sue
suggests studying medicinal herbs, and plant and seed storage.
Grams chimes in with canning, and Hannah comments about music.

"I… I'm not having… you know with you. So
just forget it and leave me alone," Reagan tells John dismissively,
even waving her hand like she's swatting an errant fly, hoping
he'll cool his heels.

"What is 'you know'?" John asks.

His smirk is damned irritating, and Reagan
refuses to take the bait. He leans closer, his mouth almost
touching her ear. She can feel his hot breath there.

"I didn't say anything about 'you know.' I
said I was going to make love to you, and I still am so finish your
meal so we can get on with our night."

Reagan feels like she's about to pass out.
She can't even look at him. Her cheeks feel overly hot. Her stomach
does a flip. Why is he doing this? What has gotten into him? Why
does he talk like that?
Who
talks like that? He'd always
just stuck to playful flirtation which she'd assumed was just
playful
joking
around her because she can't possibly appeal
to him. She has so many flaws that nobody would want her. The long
scar on her face is just the icing on the cake. God, she has to get
herself out of this. Where is her knife when she needs it? How had
she gotten herself into this is a better question? They'd only
shared a few kisses counting the one at the barn, in her closet and
now the one in the laundry room. The one in her closet hardly
counts, either. They had both just been exhausted from the trip to
the city. Hadn't they? It isn't like she is some temptress for
Christ's sake!

"Who's up for music after dinner?" she
blurts loudly and again gets the bizarre looks from her stunned
family. Hannah doesn't miss a beat, though.

"Oh, that's a wonderful idea, Reagan!" her
little sister says in her silly, Disney movie voice and claps her
hands twice.

Kelly smiles down at Hannah with pride,
though she is a total dork in Reagan's opinion. Shit! This isn't
what Reagan really wants to do, either. She'd just blurted it out
to get John off her case.

Hannie just continues on with her
excitement, "We can play together. Or you could just play for us.
It's been too long."

Yeah, no shit it's been too long, Reagan
wants to scream! She doesn't like music anymore. It reminds her of
a time when her life had been simple, not full of hate and death
and blood and destruction. Jesus, now she has to join in on music
night? This day just keeps getting better.

"Good, I want to hear you play again,
Reagan," Grams says.

The meal is coming to a close with dessert
that will surely hop up the little kids on sugar. Not getting the
kids to go to bed could work in her favor.

"Great," she mumbles sarcastically and tries
to pick at her apple cobbler as the family goes back to talking
about ten different things at once.

"Well played," John says against her ear
again, making her jump. "But you can delay the inevitable as long
as you like. My shift doesn't start until four a.m."

Her arm breaks out in gooseflesh, and he
obviously sees it because he runs his index finger horizontally
across her forearm like he had that damn day in the barn. Being
sleep deprived as it is, she's definitely not going to make it
until four a.m. playing music.

When the dinner is cleared away and the
children have cleaned the kitchen, everyone but Grandpa gathers in
the music room to listen as Reagan takes a seat at the stupid, damn
piano. She hasn't played in over six months. Sometimes she would
let herself into the music room at the university with the huge
grand piano and play when there weren't classes going on. John has
set Jacob on the floor, and the baby is trying to eat all of the
toys systematically. Sue sits with Jacob and the other kids and
cradles Isaac at the same time. John comes to stand beside the
piano. Unfortunately.

"Go away," she hisses as the rest of family
sits around the room waiting for her to play.

"Do I make you nervous?" he asks.

His deep timbre is full of mischief and
something else she can't quite put her finger on. Is it desire? She
just wishes he'd quit looking at her like that—or at all.

"No!" she barks, lays her fingers lightly
over the tops of the ivories, closes her eyes a moment and places
her right foot to the right pedal. When she opens her eyes again,
Reagan begins playing. She can forget about everyone else in the
room, that is, everyone except for John. The music takes over her
fingers, her mind and her body. It's the same as when she goes for
a run, and it's why she's always used either one as an outlet when
her mind felt too bogged down, too crowded with information.

"Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata," he
remarks.

Everybody knows this song. It's not a
surprise that he knows it.

"It's actually called Sonata…" she starts to
inform him, but John interrupts her.

"I know. Piano Sonata number fourteen in C
sharp or Sonata Quasi Una Fantasia," he answers eloquently.

She's never heard him talk like that before.
It is a day of many first discoveries with John.

"How did…"

"My mom was a music teacher, remember?"

"Oh," Reagan says as the room fades away and
her song crescendos and flows.

"Scooch," he orders.

John sits beside her on the piano bench
whether she wants him to, which she doesn't, or not. His fingers
start on the upper keys as he mimics with one hand what her right
hand is playing in the treble keys. He surreptitiously places his
left hand on her thigh where no one can see. But she can feel it
because it's huge and hot through her jeans.

"Oh, how lovely," Hannah remarks and claps
again.

Reagan has to admit it does put a rather
interesting twist on the piece. But his fingers keep getting in her
way. He's an accomplished piano player and his long fingers, those
fingers that had been on her breast such a short while ago… her
fingers misstep.

"What the hell?" she exclaims under her
breath. That never happens.

"Distracted?" John asks.

He bumps his shoulder playfully against hers
and continues to play until she catches up again.

"No," she grits her teeth and continues on,
managing to finish without any more errors. Hannie claps and others
follow suit.

"See? Proves my point. I knew you were gay,"
Kelly quips to John as he leads Hannah toward the piano.

Her duet partner slides his hand slyly off
of her thigh again but not before he gives it a firm squeeze that
sends a shockwave into the pit of her stomach. Grams is oblivious
because she is holding Jacob, who keeps pulling at her long braid.
John laughs as Hannah gives Kelly a disapproving look.

"Kelly, that's not nice," her sister
scolds.

Kelly smiles down at her like she's just
praised him. Ok, so he is smitten, but it certainly doesn't give
him permission to defile her sister. Hannah's arm rests on Kelly's
massive forearm, although there is no need for her to do so because
the piano is right beside her.

"No, but it's true," Kelly says with a
chuckle.

Reagan rises sneakily from her bench.

"No, don't stop, Reagan," Hannah begs.

Her damn dog ears had heard the bench
squeak.

"I'm tired, Hannie. Why don't you play for
us and sing something?" Reagan requests and finally after a few
rounds of debating, Hannah relents. Em takes a seat on the bench
next to Hannah and asks her a bunch of questions that Hannah
patiently answers about music before she begins.

Jacob has crawled off of Grams's lap again
as Reagan joins him on the floor on her knees. John is across the
room, sitting on the sofa next to Kelly who is talking to him.
However, John is staring intently at her. She's not even sure he
hears what his friend is saying to him. Reagan is gazing so long at
John that she doesn't look up in time to catch Jacob before he
whacks her knee with a toy car.

"Ouch," she remarks and takes the truck from
him. When she looks back at John, he is still watching her, but his
familiar smirk is there. Good, it's better than the predatory stare
he's been giving her like he's about to rip her clothes off.

"Jacob is so cute, Reagan," Sue remarks.

Reagan nods in total and complete agreement.
"Yeah, he is, I guess," she replies as the little stinker chews on
another toy, adding to the overall slobbered-on appearance of any
toys in his perimeter. She glances up at John again. He is back to
the stare. Jacob is supporting his upper body by balancing his
hands on her thigh. Unfortunately, he also bites her thigh.