Savor the Danger (9 page)

She did not want to be armed. “You're here, so what do I need with a gun? Aren't you protection enough?”

He went so still, it almost made her laugh again. Until he said, “You suggesting I should stick around 24/7?”

“What?”
A rush of heat hit her cheeks. “
No,
of course I wasn't.”

Keeping her caught in his gaze for far too long, he studied her, and finally smiled. “Yeah, I'm protection enough. I guess as long as you're with me, you don't need anything else.” He snatched the keys out of her lax hand. “Come on. Let's get out of here.”

Objecting was beyond her. Jackson held her back while he opened the door and searched the area with a mere sweep of his gaze that, if she wasn't familiar with Trace's habits, she might have missed.

Apparently he considered the coast clear, and they headed out.

The bright late-day sun sank a little lower in the sky, casting long tree shadows over her sidewalk but not quite reaching her car.

“You don't park in your garage?”

“Usually, yes.” The car would be sweltering after baking in the sun. “But since I hadn't planned to be home long, it didn't seem worth the bother.”

He opened the passenger door for her. “You came home only to turn around and leave again?”

Trying to stay busy so she wouldn't think of him. Not that he needed to know that much. “I'd only wanted to change my sandals, that's all.”

Scowling, he closed her door and strode around the hood to the driver's side. He started the engine but then rested his hands on the steering wheel and hesitated.

Alani half turned in her seat. “Jackson?” Was he feeling sick again? God knew, she shouldn't ask, he was so touchy about it.

Dark, almost foreboding, his gaze swung to her. In a
voice gone low and gravelly, he said, “It's sort of eating me up, knowing I hurt you.”

Oh. So that dark look was out of concern for her? Some strange, pervading contentment lightened her mood. “That's so sweet.”

His expression became outright volatile.

Smiling, Alani touched his shoulder. “But you didn't.” She was sore, yes, but the trade-off had been well worth it. “I told you, you were…”

“Gluttonous?”

“Tireless,”
she corrected. “Yes. But I liked it.”

Showcasing his lightning-fast reflexes, Jackson caught the back of her neck and drew her close enough to steal her breath with a hot kiss.

He turned his head, fit his mouth over hers, licked over her bottom lip until she opened up, then stroked in. Deep, thorough.

As he eased away, his thumb teased the corner of her mouth. “Thank you. Glad to hear it. But I was talking about your feelings.”

“My feelings?”

“You stayed out today because I made you feel bad.” His gaze searched hers. “You're not the type to sit home and cry, so you got busy. Right?”

She would not bare her soul to him. “It's all right, Jackson. I understand now.”

“No, it's not all right.” He kissed her again, light and quick, over her lips, her jaw, then treated her to a tingling love bite at the side of her neck. “I'll make it up to you, honey.”

Eyes closed and breath hitching, Alani tipped her head back to make it easier for him. “All right.”

“I want the memory of this morning long gone.” He
trailed warm, damp kisses along her skin, from her neck down to the hollow of her shoulder.

Every place his mouth touched, she tingled; his promise had her stomach flip-flopping. “Yes.”

“I'll give you better memories, Alani.” His teeth touched her skin.

Without realizing it, she sank her fingers into his hair, knocking aside his hat, holding him closer.

“Easy now.” He kissed her chin, the tip of her nose, and lastly, in a tender and nonsexual way, he pressed a lingering kiss to her brow. “Don't get jumpy on me, but we might have company.”

The words didn't register. She tried to find his mouth again.

Smiling, Jackson murmured, “Darlin', you are so damn sweet.” He tipped up her face and waited until her heavy eyes opened to focus on his. “Thing is, we're in your car in the driveway, in broad daylight, and I think we might have some surveillance going on.”

Alani dropped back to the here and now with a resounding
thud.
Jolted, she started to look around, but his hands continued to hold her.

“No, don't look. There's no danger right now. But I think we ought to get going.”

“Where?” she asked in a nervous whisper. “I mean, where are the people watching us?”

“No one can hear you, honey.” But then to answer her question, he said, “At the next cross street, down from the corner. Sleek silver sedan. Darkened windows. They pulled up, stopped, and haven't budged in all the time we've been out here.”

Alani nodded. Pulling away from him, she tucked her hair behind her ear, and—oh so casually—glanced toward the car and away again. Hands on her thighs,
muscles tensed, she struggled to sound as unconcerned as Jackson. “What if they follow us when we leave?”

Jackson set his hat back on his head. “Then we'll lose them.” He put the car in gear and backed out.

“Just like that?”

“Yup.”

“You won't get their license plate number?”

“Sure I will. And Trace or Dare will check it out. But it could be nothing.”

“You don't believe that.” Already she felt she could read him, and while he might act all nonchalant, he was on alert. “Do you?”

“I believe it's all under control.” After pulling out onto the street, he glanced in the rearview mirror and drove forward. “Now, about you and me and that lousy morning after.”

He couldn't be serious. “Are they following?”

“Don't worry about that.”

Dismayed, she looked back, not surprised to see them closing in.

“How many times did I have sex with you?”

Thrown a little, she did a double-take. “I don't know.”

He groaned. “Way to wound me, woman. You're saying it was so forgettable, you couldn't keep track?”

Ready to clout him, Alani growled, “Five times.”

“Five! No shit?” He grinned. “That's a personal best for me.”

He could be so outrageous. “I told you, you were very enthusiastic.”

“I think it's more that you're so irresistible.”

“Not likely.” As she watched him, Jackson glanced in the rearview mirror several times. “No one has ever
thought so before, but from what I understand, you've always gone overboard when it comes to sex.”

“Nah. Who you been talking to anyway?” He made a sound and repeated, “Overboard,” as if such a thing didn't exist in relation to sexual indulgence. “I bet you've always been a hot little number, but with Trace's eagle eye, all the interested guys were probably afraid to come calling.”

Hot little number?
“You make me sound like a race car.” When Jackson turned the corner, she checked her side-view mirror and saw the car continue going straight. Her relief was so great, she slumped in her seat. “They're not following anymore.”

“Nope.” Jackson removed the hat and tossed it to the backseat. She noted that he seemed no less alert, though. “We'll get back to your hotness in a minute.”

She wouldn't hold her breath.

Fishing his cell phone from his pocket, Jackson pushed one button and put it to his ear. After another glance at her, he said, “Just shed a silver BMW sedan. Ritzy. Four-door. Tinted windows. License plate Echo-Lima-four-six-Delta-Bravo.” He listened a second, glanced at Alani again and said, “Doubtful.” He nodded. “You betcha.”

After closing the phone, he put it back in his pocket.

“Trace?”

“Yup.” He continued to check the mirrors, the road, the area around them.

“What's doubtful?”

“That any guy who meets you doesn't want you. Even if he doesn't tell you so, believe me, if he's straight, he's thinking about getting you naked.”

What he said was so far removed from what she'd asked, and so removed from her reality, that it threw her. “That's—”

“You have a really fine body. Did I tell you that last night?”

Not that exactly, but he'd given her comparable compliments all night long. She didn't get it any more now than she had then. “I'm not real curvy.” She glanced down at her own mediocre chest. “And compared to Priss and Molly—”

“No, whoa, hey, don't go there.” Discomfort had him shifting his shoulders. “Priss and Molly are married to friends, so discussing their boobs is over the line. Can't do it.”

He appeared so horrified that Alani snickered. “Makes you uncomfortable, does it?”

“Bad protocol, that's all.” He turned on the road that would lead to the commercial area nearby. “Let's just say you're all three lookers but in different ways, okay?”

“You have to admit they're both well-endowed.”

“I guess.” He shrugged. “Doesn't matter, though, because they aren't you.”

Ahhh…
Her heart tumbled over. That was about the nicest thing any man had ever said to her. She reached across the seat and put a hand on his thigh. “You're so curious about what you did to me.”

He stilled with sensual awareness. “Yeah?”

Beneath her teasing fingers, his thigh tightened. “Don't you want to know what I did to you?”

“What you…?” On an indrawn breath, he flashed her a hot look—and the silver BMW appeared again, this time coming toward them.

“How did they—”

“Hold on.” Barreling straight through a red light, the car crossed lanes and sped toward them.

Alani gasped. Tires screeched. Other drivers blared their horns. To avoid a head-on collision, Jackson did
some fast maneuvering, taking them up and over the curb, narrowly missing a telephone pole and a stopped car. He came back to the street again just shy of colliding with a van.

At the side of the road, he hit the brakes.

Slamming the car into Park, he jerked his door open and stepped out to look after the retreating car. Watching over her shoulder, Alani saw the car fishtail, then right itself and disappear around a corner.

A truck driver came jogging over. “Hey, you guys okay? Anyone hurt?”

Two younger men, cursing every other word, offered a similar query. One of them said to Jackson, “Who the fuck was that? Did you see how that dipshit ran the light?”

His buddy added, “I thought he was going to ram you!”

Alani heard Jackson replying, his tone matching that of the other men—heated, furious…like the average male.

He was such a good actor; there was nothing average about Jackson. As she watched, he reached back and tugged down the hem of his T-shirt—to cover a gun.

She shouldn't have been surprised. Of course he was armed. Like Trace and Dare, he probably went nowhere without a weapon or two on his person.

The tripping of her heart began to slow. Why hadn't she noticed that particular bulge before now? Maybe because she'd been so interested in the rest of his body.

She had to learn to pay better attention. Hadn't her kidnapping taught her anything?

Jackson stuck his head in the door. “You okay, honey?”

Behind him, the other males peered in at her, too.

She realized she had a death grip on the door handle
and deliberately loosened her hold. One breath, two… She formed the semblance of a smile. “I'm fine.”

His gaze looked diamond bright and full of determination, but his tone maintained that “typical male” quality. “You sure?”

“Just shaken, that's all.” She opened her door and stepped out. No one had wrecked, thank God.

Warm air blew against her face. Fading sunlight reflected off the concrete. Traffic began moving again.

Looking around the area, she saw so many parked cars, poles, streetlamps and people, it was nothing short of a miracle that they hadn't wrecked.

And wrecking, she knew, had been the intent.

Someone wanted to hurt them. Was she the target, or was Jackson? Not that it mattered; neither was acceptable.

“…couldn't see the driver,” the older man was saying. “Not with those darkened windows.”

“I got part of the license plate number,” one of the younger men said. “I wrote it on the back of a receipt.” Anxious to be of help, he handed it to Jackson. “That dude could've killed someone.”

Dude.
The assumption being that anyone driving so aggressively was probably male.

Jackson said, “Thanks.” He tucked the tattered receipt into a back pocket.

Lifting a hand, Alani shielded her eyes from the setting sun. “Well, hopefully the driver will get home without endangering anyone else.”

Jackson studied her.

“We should be going,” she told him. He needed to do…whatever it was he did during times of emergency. To hurry things along, she said to the bystanders, “Thank you so much for stopping.”

“Wanted to make sure you were okay.” The truck driver took off his cap and replaced it again, settling it in the exact same way. “That was some fancy driving you did there. It's a wonder you didn't crash.”

True.

Next time, would they be as lucky?

U
NSURE WHAT TO THINK
of Alani's mood, Jackson tightened his hands on the steering wheel. “You sure you're okay?”

“Yes.” She kept her face turned toward the window.

Wanting to comfort her, or reassure her, or do…whatever she might need him to, Jackson pressed her. “Not shook up a little?”

She glanced at him. “Are you?”

He snorted. “No.” He didn't get
shook up.
“Course not.”

She sized him up, nodded and looked away again. “Neither am I.”

Damn it. He didn't want her drawing comparisons because he didn't expect her to have the same reaction as him. Hell, he was a professional and some yahoo in a car playing chicken wasn't even close to the nearest miss he'd ever had.

“You looked spooked right after it happened.”

Her shoulder lifted. “I thought we were going to wreck.” With nervous fingers, she tucked her hair behind her ear. “But we didn't.”

“You know I won't let anything happen to you?”

A smile—sad, bemused—came and went so fast he almost missed it. “You're not invincible, Jackson.”

He repeated, with more force, “I won't let anything happen to you.”

Almost as if to comfort him, she glanced his way and said softly, “Okay.”

Deciding he'd just have to prove it to her, he drove in silence the rest of the short distance to the strip-mall parking lot.

As he pulled off the main road, she turned those big golden eyes on him. “What are you doing?”

“We're doing dinner and a movie, right?”

“We are?” Confused, she looked around the lot. “I mean, still? Even after that near miss?”

“As close calls go, that didn't even rank in the top twenty.” He parked the car and walked around the hood to open her door.

Alani gave him a hard stare. “What are we doing really?”

He held out a hand. “We're really going to pick up some groceries for dinner and rent a movie. No chick flicks, though. Anything but that.”

Alani didn't take his hand.

“All right, fine, a chick flick it is. I can suffer through one if it matters that much to you.”

Her long sigh expressed sarcasm, annoyance and a refusal to budge. “There's no way you're this cavalier about a direct attack—and that's what it was. The car wanted us to wreck. But then what? You have to have a theory, and I want to know what it is.”

He'd told Trace she wasn't a china doll. Well, she wasn't obtuse, either. He glanced around the lot but didn't sense any spying eyes. “Remember what you said about keeping our routine, to draw them out?”

Now that he'd given in, she accepted his hand and stepped out. “Yes.”

“That's what we're doing.” He put his arm around her and headed for the video rental first. “I don't feel anyone
watching us, but in case anyone does, they'll think we wrote off that incident as a bad or irresponsible driver.”

“Because you don't want to tip your hand.”

“Better to keep the bastards guessing.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

They stepped into the air-conditioned video store. Making his preference known, Jackson steered her around toward the action movies. “I don't want to freak you out. That's why I didn't tell you.”

Solemn, she asked, “You expect me to freak out?”

He thought about it, studied her earnest face and shook his head. “Not really, no. You're a little bitty thing, and there's this air of innocence around you.” He leaned down to speak closer to her ear. “It's sexy as hell, let me tell you.”

At his whispered words, she came to a dead stop in the aisle.

Jackson straightened and got her moving again. “But I think you've got a hell of a lot more guts and backbone than you let on.”

This time, her “thank you” held more real gratitude.

“Trace will have my ass, but if you really want the blow-by-blow, then I'll give it to you.”

“So you haven't been giving me the…blow-by-blow?”

“Nah.” Stopping in front of his favorite movie section, he chose a new release with Bruce Willis in it. “Look, this one is on sale. We can buy it instead of rent it.”

She took the movie from him. “So what else have you kept from me?”

Uh-oh. She sounded pissed again. Jackson rubbed his ear. “You know when the car stopped following us?”

“It turned down a different street and I thought that was the end of it.”

“Yeah, I know you did.” He never, ever, wanted her robbed of that innocence. “Thing is, I knew it'd be back.”

Comprehension dawned. “When you were talking to Trace, you said something was doubtful.”

Off to their side, two women stared at him over a rack of movies. Jackson ignored them. He and Alani spoke low enough that no one could hear them, and the women, beyond gawking, weren't a threat in any way. “He asked if I'd lost them. But I figured the car was trying to get around ahead of us to cut us off.”

“How could you know that?”

“Instinct.” Jackson cupped her face, and he didn't give a damn who saw him kiss her. He kept the contact brief, but sometimes, around Alani,
not
kissing her wasn't an option. “He also told me to keep you clear of danger, and I said I would.”

Alani stared at him through several heartbeats before she glanced over at the nosy women. She glared at them. “Those women are looking at you.”

He shrugged. “I'm not looking back, now, am I?” With one finger under her chin, he brought her face around. “Pretend they're not there.”

“You were still aware of them.”

“I'm aware of everything, sugar. Including your jealousy.”

“My…? Ha!” Fuming, his movie choice in her hand, she headed for the checkout.

He kept pace with her. “Whoa. Hold up, will ya?” A few more people glanced their way, but most were busy making their own movie choices. “What's the matter now?”

She looked hot under the collar, her expression tight, her face flushed with annoyance. He waited for her to
deny any jealousy, and instead she said, “You knew that car would come back around again and you didn't tell me.”

“I suspected,” he clarified. “And you're causing a scene, blowing our hoax big-time.”

Her expression pinched even more.

He had to bite back a smile. She was so darned cute when riled. He started to tuck her hair behind her ear, but she jerked her head away, and he dropped his hand. “If you don't lighten up, we may as well shout to the whole parking lot that we have nefarious types tailing us and we know it. And let me tell you, that's going to open up a whole can of worms from the local police on up the chain of command.”

Miraculously, as Jackson watched, her features smoothed out. Though her eyes still glittered with annoyance, she laughed, swatted at him, then went on tiptoe to kiss him right on the mouth.

Almost like they'd had a spat and then made up.

Leaving one hand on his chest, she settled back on her own two feet and asked innocently, “Better?”

“Oh, yeah.” Her agility in handling that, in maintaining the cover, flattened him. And turned him on. The woman had untapped skills. “If you want, you can kiss me again for good measure.”

Instead, smiling at him, she trailed one fingertip down his chest all the way to his belt buckle. She looked back at the women—who were still staring after him—and dropped her hand with a satisfied smile. “Let's go.”

Yeah, Jackson thought. Let's. He couldn't wait to get her alone so they could really talk.

And so he could really kiss her.

And maybe get her hand back on his belt buckle.

But fifteen minutes later, after buying the movie, they
were halfway through the grocery shopping when he realized she was more pissed than he'd first thought. By rote, she dropped items into the grocery cart, staying a few steps ahead of him, constantly keeping him at her back.

Giving him the cold shoulder.

She'd withdrawn from him. Again.

He didn't like it. He much preferred her teasing, or even her anger, because at least then, she opened up to him. But this, the silent treatment, sucked.

He waited until they were in front of the produce, away from most prying ears, before he asked, “So what'd you do to me?”

A nearly imperceptible stiffening of her shoulders gave her away. She remained silent as she placed a fat tomato in with the other groceries.

Undaunted, Jackson leaned on the cart handle, his arms crossed. “Remember, you said I should stop asking what I did to you, and instead ask what you did to me. So I'm asking. And my imagination is running wild.”

She didn't acknowledge him when she put a five-pound bag of potatoes in the cart. Did that mean she expected to feed him more than once—or did she always buy five pounds?

“C'mon, Alani,” he prompted her, hoping to draw her out of her mood. “If I got a hummer, I'd really like to know—”

She slammed a bag of carrots into the cart, so close to him that he had to duck back.

Fascinated with her temper, he waited, watching her closely, anticipating what she might do.

She stopped, drew a breath. Her eyes narrowed meanly. “Yes.”

A tidal wave of heat snapped Jackson's spine straight. “Yes,
what?
”

“Yes.” She smiled with smug satisfaction. “You got a…a hummer.” Saying it brought a blush to her fair skin, but it didn't stop her from looking boldly toward his crotch. “And while I'm not real practiced, you definitely liked it.”

Oh, hell. She knew how to fight dirty, too.

As she sauntered past him, secure that she led in the score, he turned the cart and rushed to catch up. “So…”

All kinds of images ripped through his mind, some of them achingly sweet, most of them scorching, a few even raunchy.

Strangling on his lust, he cleared his throat. “Did I…you know, coerce you into doing that?” He hated that thought as much as he loved the other thought—that she'd wanted to taste him, that she'd maybe initiated that particular form of intimate pleasure loved by all men. “Or did you—” he searched for the right word “—volunteer?”

Over her shoulder, she said, “I can't be coerced.” And she smiled that taunting smile again. “I was curious. You were accommodating.” She shrugged as if that explained everything.

Yeah, he could just imagine how accommodating he'd been. He wouldn't mind accommodating her again, real soon.

Jackson moved up alongside her. It wasn't easy since he had to push the cart through the crowded aisles. “So…” Damn, but he'd never been hesitant with sex talk before. He had to clear his throat again. “Did you like it?”

“Sure.” She didn't even take a second to think about it. “Actually, I loved it.”

His knees went weak. His heartbeat galloped. No way in hell could he shake the visual of Alani's mouth on him, her tongue moving over him, her cheeks hollowed as she…

Oh, God. In a croak, he asked, “Interested in doing it again?”

“That depends.”

Oh, no. No, no,
no.
He would not bargain with her. He wouldn't let any woman, not even Alani, manipulate him with sex. Hands tight on the cart handle, his abdomen in knots, he asked, “Depends on what?”

“How our relationship progresses, of course.” This time her laugh was legitimate as she stopped and turned to him. “Did you expect me to negotiate? To offer you favors in exchange for…what? Less cloak-and-dagger? More openness?”

“I dunno.” He would never understand her, but by God, he would keep trying. “Maybe.”

Gently, as if explaining to a child, she said, “You do what you do, Jackson. Within your specialized field of expertise, I mean.” She flapped a hand. “If you're anywhere near as good as my brother or Dare, then most everything you do has a motive, I'm sure. I might not always like the method, but I do understand the intent.”

His molars clenched. “I'm every bit as good as them, damn it.”

“And so incredibly modest, too.” Turning her attention to the shelves, she examined a few spices. “But none of that has anything to do with our private relationship, now does it? And I'm afraid the two are going to clash.”

He grabbed some peppercorns and tossed them in with the steaks. “Clash how?”

“I'm not in your field, remember? I don't thrive on danger. I don't think in terms of targets and threats and countermeasures. I'm just your average, run-of-the-mill interior designer.”

He let his gaze drift over her. “Nothing average about you, woman.”

For only a second, she looked moved by the compliment—before she shored up her resistance again. “Unless you explain your motives on occasion, how am I to decipher when I'm being kept in the dark for my own good, versus when you just plain don't want to share something with me?”

He rubbed his ear. “I dunno.”

“I don't know, either. But it makes it impossible for me to gauge things.” She touched his jaw. “And that's a conundrum.”

A woman brushed by in her cart. Though she had what looked to be a two-year-old facing her, she gave him the once over and smiled.

As if to shield him with her body, Alani stepped in front of him and glowered at the poor shopper.

“Down, killer.”

“I suppose you just love all the attention, don't you?”

“I—”

“Forget it, Jackson.” Refusing to let him reply one way or the other, she indicated their collected groceries, the thick steaks, makings for salad and potatoes. “Do we have everything?”

“Looks like.”

“Great. Let's get out of here.” She forged forward, expecting him to follow.

“Yes, dear,” he said, mostly to himself because he didn't want her any more worked up over something as silly as unsolicited attention. He watched the sway of her hips as he trailed her to the front of the store.