HUNTING (PAVAD) Page 18

“You certainly went all out with the games. Have you always been that competitive?”

  “Just a bit.” And he’d probably been showing off for her, a little. It was what a man did when with a woman he wanted to impress. “It was hard to resist, seeing her face.”

  “Yes, it was.” Julia’s expression softened and a smile touched her face. He wanted to kiss that smile. So he did, briefly.

  “And watching the two of you together. You’re good with her. I think you’ll be a wonderful mother.”

  “What changed your mind?” Her little smirk was back. It took every bit of restraint he had to resist kissing that smirk. For now.

  “I never doubted your capabilities.” And he hadn’t. What he’d doubted was her ability to let the child close enough to matter. But Julia had proved him wrong on that count early on. Just watching her with Ruthie was enough to convince him she’d done the right thing trying to get the little girl. And how could he not respect her for doing it? But he doubted she’d believe him if he told her so.

  “Sure you didn’t.”

  “It just surprised me that you’d want to make that kind of commitment to a child you’d only met once or twice. But it is admirable.”

  “I’m not doing it for admiration. I’m doing it because she had no one else.”

  “But her brothers did?” There’d been three.

  “A great-uncle. He wrote me a letter. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Ruthie, it was just that she was too young and too female for him to handle. He’s in his sixties, is very rough, and wrote that he’d planned to leave his ranch to her brothers, anyway. I’m half convinced he took them to help him work the place. It would have been no real life for her. He sounded relieved I was taking her in the letter.”

  “And the Byrums had no one else.”

  “No one who would step up to the plate. She was all alone. I couldn’t do nothing.”

  “No, you couldn’t have.” He acted before he thought, pulling her over into his lap. Her hand wrapped in the material of his shirt over his arm. Her eyes had widened, and her mouth parted slightly.

  She looked perfect for kissing. So Malachi did what he always did when a decision was needed—he acted.

  At first she was stiff in his arms, for maybe two seconds, then her arms slipped around his neck and she clung. Like she had in South Dakota.

  Why had it taken him so long to realize this was exactly what he’d wanted from her? Was he wearing blinders where she was concerned? Had he been for the nine months she’d been with PAVAD? Why?

  Her hands were in his hair and she was holding him just as tightly as he held her. He shifted her, leaning her back against the arm of the sofa. She didn’t try to pull away, and he didn’t try to rush her. But he kissed her with everything he had.

  She pulled away slightly, trying to catch her breath. He let her, shaken by his own feelings. He rested his forehead against hers.

  “Well. This is so not what I expected when I agreed to stay here. One thing’s for certain, you certainly don’t kiss like a Neanderthal.”

  “Thanks.” He let her sit up, but held her on his lap when she tried to scoot away. “Don’t move. Please don’t move. You feel good right there.”

  “I think the best thing for all of us would be for me to do exactly that.”

  He tightened his hands on her waist, shifting so that she looked directly into his eyes. “Why?”

  “Because…because…I’m me. And you’re…you’re… annoying. And arrogant. And you drive me insane nine-tenths of the time you’re around! This doesn’t make any sense.” She shook her head, and the pony-tail swung with the movements.

  “I think it does. I think the reason I do all those things to you is because you know deep down that I can make you feel. And I think that terrifies you.” He leaned her back a little, just until she was clutching his arms for balance. “Admit it; I scare you. Little coward. Kiss me back.”

  ***

  Oh, how she wanted to hit him. She knew why, too. He was right. She was a coward. What could this hurt either of them? South Dakota, a mere month ago, hadn’t hurt them. Hadn’t affected their lives at all, other than to make them more aware of each other. More vulnerable—at least, she was more vulnerable. She couldn’t forget that.

  But, then again, this was Malachi, and she’d not wanted a man like she’d wanted him in years. What would it hurt? She’d stay with him until he caught the bad guy, then she and Ruthie would return to their lives clear across town. She’d content herself with happy memories of being with an attractive, kind, and loving man. Those memories could sustain her just like those of Rick did.

  Only the unhappy ending wouldn’t have to be there. Jules hesitated for a second, then unbuttoned his shirt, decision made. The undershirt was so…so…essentially goody-goody Malachi. Still, it made every muscle he had look harder, stronger, even more perfect. She wanted to touch and taste him again.

  Was this something she would regret?

  Honestly, she didn’t think it mattered. What mattered was that he was there beside her, and he was alive. They both were. Wasn’t that what really counted? They were together, and today—tonight—was all they really had. All that either of them could guarantee in this world. Shouldn’t they seize it? Her hands moved a little faster as she pulled the undershirt over his head. Why had he felt the need for it? Was he that much of a stickler for propriety?

  Stupid man. Didn’t he know undershirts were useless?

  His hands were just as quick, just as frantic as her own when he pulled the sweatshirt over her head and threw it toward the wall. She giggled when it landed on Clark’s head, and the dog just rolled on it and went back to sleep.

  Her bra was next, then his hands were on her breasts and cupping them more tightly than she’d expected. God, he had great hands. Perfect hands. He touched her nipples, both of his thumbs stroking each piece of flesh with just enough rough pressure to have her stomach tightening so quickly she could barely think, breathe. Yes, he had wonderful hands. Hands that touched her everywhere.

  “The knowledge of this damned tattoo has driven me insane, did you know that? I saw it one time. And it haunted me for a month.” He kissed her there on the tiny mark she’d gotten after medical school graduation.

  “Why? It’s just ink.”

  “It’s a hint at the type of woman you really are underneath. My kind of woman.”

  She gasped when he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the living room and toward the stairs. “Be quiet. She’s not a deep sleeper.”

  “Don’t worry, my room’s way down the hall.”

  “I know…but…our clothes?”

  “I’ll get them…later.” He laid her on his bed, and Jules reached for him. Reached for him, and then held on.

  Chapter Fifty

  * * *

  For one to be considered a true voyeur there had to be sexual gratification while watching others engaged in sexual contact.

  That was why he’d never considered himself a true voyeur, a pervert, a peeping tom.

  Until today.

  Those techs, beautiful women in their own right that he’d met several times, hadn’t found the camera he’d placed deep in the wall of Malachi’s bedroom. No, it remained pointed straight at the bed.

  At the couple there.

  Malachi had touched her before; he could see that now in the familiar way the other man stroked her. She was highly responsive—had he ever been with a woman that responsive? Willingly responsive? Julia loved being touched, loved pressing that body against a man’s. She was a definite sensual creature.

  It should be him in that bed with that woman.

  Malachi wasn’t good enough for her. Didn’t she realize that? Or did she need him to open her eyes to that?

  That’s what he would most certainly do; he would take Julia Bellows for his own, and not just to toy a bit with Malachi, liked he’d originally planned. After what he was witnessing on the screen, he could not kill that creature. But he could mo
st assuredly enjoy her himself. It would just take more planning, and more risk. A more advanced kind of game.

  One that he was willing to play.

  He would have her taken, and then he’d take her. He’d use a mask so that she would never know it was him and not her precious Malachi. They were almost the exact same size—he’d compared clothing size and body shape many times with Malachi through the years. His contacts were blue-tinted. He’d darkened his hair gradually, so no one would realize the black he now had wasn’t the color he was born with. No, his natural hair was more the honey-colored that Julia Bellows sported.

  Their children would have that same hair coloring. Interesting.

  He would keep her for…three weeks, perhaps in the room downstairs he’d prepared for his previous matrimonial candidate. That should be long enough. Break her to his will, then he’d have her return to her home, and that orphaned child of hers. The little girl, a ward of the state, would only help his image. Then he would engage in a romance with Julia, helping her overcome her trauma at the loss of her husband and her lover Malachi. And at the hands of her vile kidnapper.

  She would be intelligent enough to understand that he and only he would suit her needs.

  Yes, within six months they would be married, and expecting their first biological child by their first anniversary. Then he would have the perfect family—the beautiful wife, and two presentable children.

  He’d move into his chosen political path much quicker than he’d expected. Yes, Julia was a far better candidate for his wife than Paige.

  Paige met only half of his requirements.

  But Julia…

  Julia met them all…

  And it was even better that she was now Malachi’s, because she would be one more thing he would take from Malachi.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  * * *

  Jules woke long before he did, partially because she needed the bathroom and partially because Lois was breathing doggie breath in her face. Clark was stretched out over her feet. She didn’t know who snored worse, the male dog or his master.

  She stayed where she was for quite a long time, despite the persistent urge to go to the bathroom. Malachi was warm and strong and alive right there beside her, and she didn’t want to lose what she felt in that moment.

  Dear gods, he was right. He did make her feel, everything she didn’t want to feel. She didn’t want to be attracted to anyone. Didn’t want to wipe Rick from her mind and body and replace him with someone else. How could she? She’d loved Rick more than she’d ever loved anyone in the world, and she just flat out didn’t want that again.

  It hurt too damned much when that love ended. And in her experience, it almost always did. Her mother had stopped loving her father. Her stepfather and mother’s relationship wasn’t much better. They’d been barely speaking to one another when they had died. Georgia had lost Bryan, too. And Jules could not—would not—forget how it felt to watch her best friend suffer such devastation.

  Georgia had found peace and new love with Hell, but that was definitely something Jules didn’t want.

  She wouldn’t take that kind of a risk again.

  She nudged Lois out of her way, and stood. This wouldn’t—couldn’t—happen again.

  The weight of that decision followed her to the bathroom.

  Malachi was still sleeping when she crept back to her own room, showered and dressed. Apparently, he was a deep sleeper. His sister was at the stove, heating what appeared to be oatmeal in a pot when Jules walked in.

  “Why don’t you just use the microwave?” Jules asked. The kitchen was not her favorite part of a house. She was far more proficient at microwaving.

  “Kills the flavor. I made extra for you and the kid.”

  “Where’s…your brother?” She’d hidden upstairs in Ruthie’s room as long as she thought she could get away with.

  “Not calling him ‘his highness’ today?” Al loved to add fuel to the fire of Jules’ exchanges with Malachi, and Jules usually just ignored her. Not today. “I assume you mean Tweedledee.”

  “Al…”

  Al studied her for a moment, then sat the spoon down. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Jules lifted Ruthie into the booster seat she’d brought with them from her house. Al passed her an already half-cooled bowl of oatmeal and Jules sat it and a peeled banana in front of the little girl. “Nothing. Not really.”

  “You look like a ghost. Did you two argue again last night?”

  “No. We didn’t argue.” Far from it. “We took Ruthie to Pizza Pit.”

  “Sounds like fun. So you and Malachi? Went out, together? And didn’t…uh…kill each other? Interesting.”

  “What’s so interesting about it?”

  Al grabbed the remote on the table in front of them, and turned on the small TV in the corner of the kitchen. PBS Kids immediately drew Ruthie’s attention.

  Al stepped directly in front of Jules, and Jules looked up at the taller woman. Sometimes, Al was just that damned perceptive. “Something’s happening between you, isn’t it?”

  Jules closed her eyes for a moment. Pulled in a deep breath. “I—I think it is. And…I don’t want it to.”

  “I see. And Mal’s pressing the issue, isn’t he?” Al hugged her. “Once big brother gets an idea in his head he rolls downhill faster than Sisyphus’s boulder.”

  “And I’m the rock. Or the hill. I haven’t figured out which yet.” Jules turned away from her friend, the woman’s blue eyes too much like her brother’s for Jules’ comfort.

  “Would it be so bad? To be with Mal?”

  “It would be…horrible.” To her shame a tear formed and fell before she could wipe it away. “I can’t do it again, Al. I don’t want to. I want to focus on Ruthie, and my work, and that’s it. I’m not ready for more than that.”

  “And you told him that, but when it comes to the actual resolve part of things, you epically failed. Might want to work on that.” Al pulled something from the countertop. Jules felt her face flame. She grabbed the bra and shoved it in her purse. Oh, God. They’d forgotten their clothes. “Oh, kid. You two really get to each other, don’t you?”

  “And that terrifies me. He’s…he’s...perfect.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  * * *

  Ruthie was staring at him. She watched every move he made like he would watch a suspect during an interrogation.

  “Did you foamicate?” It took him a moment to figure out what she meant. He nearly choked on the toast Al had plopped in front of him once her words sank in.

  “Excuse me? That’s not a nice word to use.”

  “Then why was Momma Jules in your room?”

  “This is my house, sweetheart. Al is my sister. Remember?” How had she known? They’d been quiet.

  “Then why are me and Momma Jules here? Did you foamicate?” She looked at him, with an expectant stare that had him squirming in his seat. Was the guilt on his face now so suddenly clear that a three-year-old could see it? “Did you? Foamicating is bad. I don’t want Momma Jules to be bad.”

  Al was snickering at the kitchen island behind him, then outright laughing. At Malachi’s glare, she sobered, and squatted down in front of Ruthie. “Honey, that kind of stuff is private. And Momma Jules would be embarrassed if she heard you asking men that.”

  “Oh. Ok.” She dug into her cereal with gusto, but Malachi doubted she’d forgotten the question. But how much of its meaning did she understand? The child had been born into a religiously corrupt household, where such topics were probably discussed with all the fire and brimstone one like the girl’s father could muster.

  “Thanks, Al. Between us?”

  His sister’s blue eyes—identical to his and Mick’s—sparkled as she looked at him. She was definitely laughing at him. Nothing unusual—Alessandra usually was. Her humor was what made her unique. That it was directed at him most of the time was just one of the irritations he had to deal with.

  “So why are
we here? I want my new room.”

  “You’re here because…” What had Jules told the little girl? What was he supposed to say now? He looked at his sister for help. She shrugged; he’d get no help from her. Figured. “You’re here because Mamma Jules is helping me with some work I need to do.”

  “And because the people are coming to fix the floor at our house, remember?” Julia’s words were calm and firm, no trace of embarrassment. Had she heard Ruthie’s earlier comment? Malachi looked at her face, and found nothing. She’d carefully blanked her expression. Was that the strategy she was going to take between them?

  Sudden nerves hit him.

  He’d assumed she wasn’t in his bed when he woke this morning because of the little girl staring up at the two of them. But maybe Julia had run away again? Even if it was just down the hall?

  Frustration and irritation filled him. He was not letting her do that.

  “How long does it take to fix a broked floor?”

  “A few days, maybe a week. It could even be longer,” Malachi said. He hoped it wouldn’t be that long until they caught the bastard threatening them all. But he had Julia in his home. In the room right next to his. Yes, his sister was on the other side of Julia, and Ruthie across the hall. But…Julia was in his home. And she’d already been in his bed.

  He was coming home with her tonight, and that was one hell of a tactical advantage.

  Malachi was an excellent strategist, and Julia wouldn’t stand a chance.

  ***

  “Why my mother?” he asked as they were crossing the parking lot of PAVAD fifteen minutes after they’d dropped Ruthie off with his parents.

  “Al suggested it last week at church. Rosa is getting married and retiring, except for about ten hours each week. And Al thought your mom would enjoy it. She thinks your mother is missing working with children on a regular basis. And thought it would help both me and Ruthie out. I couldn’t disagree with her. And besides, your mother is someone I trust.” She shrugged, still speaking to him in the same bland tone that had driven him crazy since they’d left the house. She wouldn’t let him steer the conversation to what he wanted. Damned stubborn ass woman.