Christmas Getaway (12 page)

“Most men are,” Jean said. “Women, too.”

“It wasn't until I saw those framed pictures of the two of us that I realized I do want to remember the past. I want to remember her, not our dysfunctional parents. I'm sure Molly told you there was lots of money in our family but not a lot of fun. Still, Molly was my best friend.”

“She'd say the same, Sam. Now turn around so I can get in this bed. I'm beat.”

“How about some wine?” he asked, pouring himself a liberal glass. It was going to be a long night if he had to ward off the temptation of being in bed with Jean, listening for trouble.

“Not for me. I'm going to click my heels three times, fall asleep, and dream of home and shopping at every department store in town. I haven't even started my list,” she said sleepily.

Sam heard the bed shift. He waited a few more moments, then swallowed half the wine he'd poured to give himself strength. He didn't dare make a move on Jean—she was tired and not in the mood to be swept off her feet. All she was dreaming about was home.

He heard even breathing and turned around to see she was already asleep. She looked like an angel, a very sexy angel.

But not for him. He shook his head, and went to sit in the rocker by the window to gaze out into the night. The police had said they'd send some guys to pick up his car and take it back home for him; they'd also told him Molly was fine. But Sam knew that until O'Bannion and Morrissey were found, he wouldn't be able to let down his guard.

 

I
N THE NIGHT
Jean awakened, and realized Sam wasn't in bed with her. She couldn't see much in the dark, but she could see
him silhouetted near the window. “What are you doing?” she asked softly.

“Nothing. Thinking.”

“Don't you think you should get some sleep?” To be honest, she wanted him in bed with her. She was getting used to the warmth of his big body beside her.

“Nah.”

“The bed's very soft,” she said, well aware she was luring him, and she saw that he turned to face her.

“Are you inviting me into your bed, Jean?”

She giggled. “It's not my bed.”

He walked over beside her and her pulse sped up, almost making breathing painful. She wanted him, in the worst way.

“And ‘Mom's' up the street,” he said with a sigh. “As much as I want to get in bed with you, I don't think I can get over the specter of Mom.”

Frankly, some good rousing sex would keep her mind off the goons that had decided she was Job #1, but Jean knew she didn't dare say that to Sam. He'd never relax. “It is daunting,” she agreed. “Let me see if I can massage some of the tension out of you.”

“I guess that's okay since we're supposedly married,” he said, and she laughed.

“Just lie down so I can help you unwind a little.”

He did, slowly lowering himself into the bed.

She admitted that she was a bit disappointed he didn't bother to take off a single layer of clothing. Since he had on three—a fleece-type jacket, a nice cotton shirt and some thermal underwear—it was pretty obvious he intended to sleep just as he had last night, fully clothed.

Big hands suddenly cupped her shoulders, kneading the tension from her own body. “That feels wonderful,” she said
on a surprised sigh. The best part was the feelings flowing inside of her, womanly feelings, making her glow with desire.

Of course her Ranger wasn't about to let himself be seduced. She wanted to cry into the pillow with frustration, then froze as Sam suddenly stood.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Did you hear something?”

“I'm undressing,” he said, “That's the only way to test this marriage thing out.”

Her eyes widened. She heard layers peeling off, clothes hitting the floor. She held her breath, waiting to be enveloped by Sam's warmth.

He finally slid in next to her and framed her face gently with his hands, kissing her the way she'd always dreamed of being kissed. “Don't stop,” she murmured. “Don't stop kissing me.” She didn't think she could stand it if he didn't pull her cotton T-shirt off—okay, it wasn't romantic, but she'd been going for modest.

“Are you sure you're okay with this?” Sam asked.

She pulled the T-shirt off. “Every girl should get a pretend husband once in her life.” She smiled in the darkness when he trapped her hands above her head and kissed down her throat, along her breasts and then each nipple, sending pleasure washing over her. Everything was going oh, so, well—this was going to be the Christmas present of her dreams—until the window shattered and all hell broke loose.

“R
UN
!” S
AM COMMANDED
, so Jean grabbed her clothes and her purse out of habit and headed off into the cold Kentucky woods barefoot. She stumbled into her jeans, pulled on her boots, then stopped in her tracks. “Why am I running? I don't want to spend my entire holiday running from some creep!”

“Let's have bravado later,” Sam said. “Someone's out there, and for some reason, Len's dogs didn't sound an alarm. Run first and ask questions later.”

It was four miles to the road, Jean remembered, and they were heading that way. She could make four miles easily, but she wished she were still in bed with Sam—that pleasure seemed a distant memory.

“Did someone shoot out the window?” she gasped, running, hoping she didn't brain herself on a tree in the black night.

“It was a rock, which is why I wasn't too worried about leaving the cabin. But why hang around to be target practice? If they want to shoot, they'll have to do it in the dark. The rock was thrown from the north—we'll go west to the highway. But not to Len's, which is what I think they'll suspect.”

“I'm getting tired of this,” Jean said. “I've got a good mind to stop and yell that I don't know anything about their silly diamonds and I don't want to know anything about them.”

He pulled her over a fallen log. “But you did, unfortunately, hear something about a plan to kill some kids, which makes you a problem. I think that's what this is all about.”

“That's a problem for me, too. If they think they need to take me out in order to keep me from letting the whole world know that some children might be in danger, then they'd be right on that score.”

“C'mon.” Sam grabbed her hand as they dashed through a clearing.

Behind them they heard dogs barking, a sudden eruption of sound in the dark, frigid night. “Sounds like Len's dogs are on the case,” Jean said.

“They sound pretty fierce. And God help them if Mom finds them.” The very thought made him grin. If the dogs were after their attacker, it would buy him time to get Jean far away.

“I feel bad for Len. We should never have accepted a ride from him.” She gasped as a burst of cold wind stole her breath.

“We'll send him a ham for Christmas and some chocolate for his mother.” Sam was pretty certain gifts were in order, and some money to pay for the window and damage to the lovely cabin. “Hey,” he said, stopping suddenly to allow Jean to catch her breath, “I've got a wild-and-crazy idea.”

“Really? Just one?”

He cupped his hands around Jean's face. “This one's a doozie.”

“What?” She looked up at him.

“When this thing is over and far behind us, we come back here and finish what we started.”

The breath she'd needed to catch left her completely. “There are plenty of other places to go.”

“I know. But this hideaway has sentimental value.”

“How?”

“First kisses count, even for New England wildcats, don't they?”

“You did kiss me before—”

“But not naked,” he said, kissing her again, taking possession of her mouth and making her want him more than ever. “Not naked and pretend-married. So…deal?”

“I thought the marriage part would have you running scared,” Jean said.

“I'm running and I'm mildly scared,” Sam said, grabbing her hand and pulling her with him again, “but it's not because of a kiss.”

“Ask me again after you meet my parents,” she said, and he laughed.

“If your mom's anything like Len's description of his mom, I'll probably be fine.”

 

A
T THE HIGHWAY
, Jean's teeth were chattering and she was nervous, but she would be fine on her own, as she tried to assure Sam many times. She was almost desperate for him to get back and make sure Len and his mother were all right. But Sam stayed put, his arms around her, trying to warm her.

The man was terrible at listening, but secretly she admitted he felt wonderful.

He had called his police contact to say that Jean needed to be picked up, and also that he'd need the help of the local law enforcement. She wasn't surprised a few moments later when a squad car pulled up to drive her to the airport. She
was
surprised and a bit sad when Sam didn't kiss her goodbye. He looked at her, then saluted the two cops in the front of the car.

“Take care of her,” he said, and they nodded, pulling onto the main highway again. Turning, she craned her neck to watch Sam disappear up the road toward Len's place.

She wondered if she'd ever see him again—and had the oddest, sinking feeling that despite his “wild-and-crazy ride idea” she wouldn't.

 

J
EAN SAT ON THE
tiny plane, awaiting takeoff. She hadn't wanted to call her mother and scare her to death, but if she said she was being put on a private plane courtesy of the police, her mother would erupt with questions. She needed to think through a careful story plan. Nothing would escape her mother's sharp gaze, and the lack of luggage was going to be questioned, not to mention Jean's disheveled appearance. It wasn't every daughter who came home from a wedding in which she was to have been the maid of honor wearing no makeup, dirty jeans, scuffed shoes and hair that hadn't seen a brush since morning. She still had her purse, though, so as far as Jean was concerned, everything was peachy.

Except for worrying about Sam. She couldn't help it. Even though she knew he was an experienced lawman, they had no idea exactly who was after them.

She accepted a Bloody Mary from the single flight attendant and closed her eyes. Connor's mean gaze appeared like a bad omen in her memory. She replayed his threatening words as clearly as if he were sitting next to her, and now that Molly's wedding was no longer on her mind, she could hear the menace in his tone.

What had he meant by killing kids? Shivers ran up her arms. How heartless did someone have to be to even consider harming children?

If Sam was right, and all this trouble had come because she'd accidentally overheard some terrible plan Connor had, she was okay with it, as long as the children were safe.

The airplane's engines roared to life, a comforting
sound. Jean laid her head back, not afraid any longer. She was on her way home for Christmas, and everything would be all right.

 

F
OUR HOURS LATER
, when Jean knocked on the door of her mother's house, everything was
not
all right. Her sisters opened the door and started screaming melodramatically at her appearance. It was not a Hallmark-card moment, and she was glad Sam wasn't with her to witness it. “What is your problem?” she snapped at her sisters.

Her mother came to the door, took one look at her and snatched her daughter inside the house. “Come in where the neighbors can't see you! Was it a wedding or a war zone, Jean? For heaven's sake!”

“Well, now that you mention it,” Jean said, trying to glance at a mirror as she was dragged into the warm kitchen. She could smell brownies and maybe a chicken being browned, which meant tonight they were likely having chicken spaghetti for dinner. Her stomach rumbled, but she couldn't eat. Not right now. Not until she knew Sam was safe.

He might not call her to let her know, she realized. He didn't have her cell-phone number, he didn't know where she lived. Jean could feel her heart sink despite the warmth of her mother's kitchen and the utter pleasure of allowing her mom to fuss over her.

It wasn't going to be the merriest of Christmases without knowing Sam was all right. Maybe she could call the police herself and track him down. Jean sank into a chair at her mother's kitchen table, the enormity of all that had happened over the past forty-eight hours weighing her down. She wanted to tell her mother everything, wanted to sort out her feelings about Sam, but the fact was, she really needed to keep her
mouth shut…for their sake. From what she could tell, her family had no idea what had really happened at Molly's wedding.

“Hot cocoa, Jean?” her mother asked as Gigi skidded into the room, staring at Jean as if she was a total stranger.

“Yes, please,” Jean said meekly, “you have no idea how good it is to be home.”

 

S
AM LOOKED AT THE
thug Len had tied onto a metal chair just off to the far side of his patio. “It's going to get down to around fifteen degrees tonight,” Sam told him. “Mighty cold.”

The man didn't want to talk. Sam shrugged. He could stay out here all night, especially since he was sitting under the covered part of the patio close to the outdoor heater and a lighted fire pit. Len's mother, Sally, had made him and the other officer some mulled cider, which was warming and delicious in the chilly night. And he was in a really good mood from kissing Jean. “I can stay out here for days,” Sam said, as icy rain began to drizzle from the sky.

Questioning the suspect was really the job of the local police, but since Sam was determined to stay until the backup car came to pick up the guy, he wanted to find out all he could. The officer with him had no objection.

“I'm not talking,” the shooter said, and Sam nodded. “That's fine.”

He thought about Jean then and how soft her body was, and the rain fell harder, and he thought about how much he'd enjoyed holding her in his arms, and an hour later, when his prisoner was seemingly frozen to the bone, Sam heard him say, “Connor wants her dead.”

“Why?” Sam asked mildly as Sally brought him out some warm chicken soup. He could completely understand why
Len and Sally's little cabin hideaway was popular with tourists. Sally, it seemed, knew her way around a kitchen and could whip up all the good comfort foods.

“I don't know why. I just do what I'm told.”

The growled admission sounded a bit desperate. The conditions were getting pretty miserable, so there was a chance Sam might get the truth out of him the first time. “Were you at the wedding?”

“No.”

Sam didn't think he'd seen the guy. “What's in it for you?”

“The pay is good. Whaddya think?”

Sam nodded. “Would the pay be diamonds?”

“I was only paid half up front, but it was fresh, clean bills,” he snarled, which didn't sound so menacing since the guy was half-drowning from the heavy rain. “That's a strange question, even for a cop.”

Sam sipped on the soup, warmed by the savory taste. This rat wasn't one of Connor's tight circle or he'd know about the diamonds—he was merely a hired hand and not really useful. “Are you supposed to follow anybody else? Hurt anybody else?”

“Just your girlfriend.”

He started to say Jean wasn't his girlfriend, then closed his mouth because Len's mother was nearby and he and Jean were supposed to be “married.” Yet the idea of Jean being his girlfriend had appeal, Sam realized, his insides warming for reasons other than Sally's delicious soup.

How would a man from a small dot on the map in Texas convince a woman from genteel New England that everything she ever wanted was far from her home? There was one stop sign in Penn, when she was used to bright lights and stores that stayed open late into the night. Shopping malls, fashionable clothes, Christmas parties.

“Thanks for the info,” he said, finishing up the soup. “Anybody else with you?”

He received silence and then a negative head shake. “Connor said it wouldn't be that hard to take out one of Molly's pampered little friends. Said it was a one-man job.”

And for that I should beat you senseless
.

When the police car showed up, Sam considered his next move. The police would have undercover cops watching Jean's house while Connor O'Bannion was still on the loose. Sam's presence wasn't really needed there. It was Christmas-time and Jean was with her family, and the last thing they'd want was a Texas Ranger horning in.

He said goodbye to Len and Sally, and headed off into the night.