FLASHBACK Page 13

"Don't worry. I have a backup plan."

  "What is it?"

  "Run like hell." He squeezed her shoulders again, just to let her know he was joking, and she shot him a withering glance. He eased away from her and pushed the broom forward as he stepped toward the raccoon. It hissed alarmingly. He hoped it wouldn't jump at his face. He had a humane trap at home, but he didn't think Laura was going to think much of the idea of him running home to get it.

  "Here goes."

  "Be careful."

  He turned his head away to protect his face as he gave the raccoon a firm nudge with the broom in the direction of the door. The animal gave a kind of roar and then he heard its claws hitting the floor and running.

  There was a shriek from behind him, then Laura hurtled past him and tumbled onto the bed.

  He saw a flash of gray and realized the frightened raccoon hadn't run out the door, but under the bed toward them.

  Not only did they have sharp little claws and teeth, but some of them carried rabies. Jack jumped up beside Laura on the bed while the animal regarded them with blatant hostility.

  All Jack had accomplished was to reverse their positions. Now they were on the bed, and the raccoon in the spot Laura had just vacated.

  "Is there a plan C?" Laura asked.

  "Yeah. We shut the little guy in here, go to my house and pick up a live trap. Then we'll let it go out in the woods, somewhere far away."

  But just as they eased off the bed, the raccoon made a sudden leap, climbed the new rose tapestry curtains and squeezed out the open window.

  "That must be how he got in," he muttered.

  Laura got off the bed and went to shut the window, leaving it open just an inch. "And I don't think it's a he."

  Jack joined her at the window, just in time to watch the animal leap from the cherry tree into a neighboring fir, where three tiny versions of the same masked face stared out of a nest.

  "No wonder she was so upset – she had to get home to her babies."

  "The urge to protect those you love is pretty strong," Jack agreed. Something squeezed tight in his chest. Even though there'd been no danger, just the fact that Laura had been nervous had him acting like Sir Galahad. Or maybe one of those fairy-tale guys fighting dragons to win princesses. Of course, he wasn't much of a prince. But then, one frantic mother raccoon wasn't much of a dragon, either.

  "Jack…" Her soft voice in his ear pulled him out of his reverie.

  "Mmm?"

  "Ah, just this once, I'm glad you were gender-biased."

  He gazed down into those gorgeous, rich brown eyes staring back at him, and all his earlier fantasies came rushing back.

  He turned her so her back was to the window, and trapped her with his arms. "That's good. Because I'm going to bias your gender again," he whispered, low and menacing.

  He felt the quiver of response.

  "I'm going to bias your gender until you beg for mercy."

  "I won't," she replied, deliberately sultry.

  "You will," he promised, and shut her up by kissing her.

  Her lips were soft and full and they trembled slightly beneath his. Poor kid, she really had been scared. He pulled her in tighter and a little sigh escaped. Her lips opened to him and his greedy tongue plunged inside, savoring the hot wet depth of her mouth.

  Her trembling was getting worse, not better, the more they kissed. He realized, with a little masculine thrill, that he was making her tremble. Her tongue stroked his and in seconds he was back in a state of raging arousal, even worse than when he'd first burst into the room.

  His hands groped for the snaps on her overalls, but she wasn't the only one trembling. He fumbled, trying to pop the ridiculously small metal disks, drawing back from her mouth to pant, "From now on, you wear skirts to work."

  "Skirts…" Her eyes were unfocused, her lips passion-plump. He felt her fingers cup his arousal and rub him through his jeans.

  He groaned, enjoying the delicious torture. He was going to explode any second. Reluctantly, he pulled her hands away. "Do you own any crotchless panties?"

  "No." She undid his belt.

  "I'll buy you some."

  He had the bib down and her T-shirt up and over her head.

  "What color?" She leaned against the window. Dappled sunlight haloed her and left her face shadowed. He hoped to hell the just-blossoming cherry tree would hide them from view.

  "Black. Red. Pink…" Who cared what color? "A pair for every day of the year."

  Her breasts were creamy-golden; the darker tips puckered and rose the minute he touched them, just brushing his palms over the tight peaks. She arched toward him and a shaft of morning sun played across her chest, turning the tips to russet.

  He lowered his head reverently and sucked a nipple into his mouth.

  A shudder ran through her body.

  For a long time he licked and sucked, just the nipple, then trailed a wet path to the other side and repeated the process. When he lifted his head, the tips glistened, diamondlike against the soft creamy velvet of her skin. The denim overalls sagged at her hips, the bib flipped over the greatest of her treasures. He kissed a path down her belly, leaving a trail of goose bumps, before he eased the overalls and her panties down in one push. Then he settled her hips on the wide windowsill, parted her knees and knelt before her.

  A soft breeze from the open window wafted over them, bringing the scent of cherry blossoms, as he kissed his way up her thigh, forcing himself to go slow, yet burning with the need to taste her.

  When at last he parted the glistening curls and lapped the salt honey of her, she cried out and grabbed onto the heavy curtains. He savored the wet, quivering feminine flesh, taking his time, loving the little panting noises she made, the mindless way she pumped her hips beneath his tongue.

  "Please … please…" she sobbed. He was too much of a gentlemen to ever bring it up, but he treasured the knowledge that he'd just made her beg. As he'd promised he would.

  He had his jeans down and the condom on in record time, needing to be inside her as much as he knew she needed him. Moving between her spread legs, he grasped her hips, hard enough to hold her still beneath him, and gave her what she begged for.

  He thrust deep and hard, all the way in.

  She shattered as he entered that tight slick passage, her hips jerking right up off the windowsill to meet his as she wrapped her legs round him. She clung to the curtains fisted in her hands while he supported her hips and rode the climax with her.

  He kissed and soothed her for a minute, letting her get her breath back, then he got to work stoking her up once more.

  "Again," he whispered.

  "I can't," she panted. But the quivering flesh clenched tight around him and he didn't believe her.

  He increased the tempo, wanting to give her everything he had. She was hot, tight – and the way she was moving, she was going to make a liar out of herself, which she did, crying out a second time, and this time he exploded, right along with her.

  "I can't believe it. I never come twice," she murmured a few moments later.

  "You're in the hands of a superior lover, Ms. Kinkaide," he joked. But her words thrilled him to the core. He wanted to reach her in ways no man ever had, or could.

  She chuckled and slumped against him.

  It wasn't exactly comfortable, the pair of them heaped on the floor. He eyed the big bed, hulking in the middle of the room – big enough for a sexual gymnasium. If it was the last thing he ever did, he was going to get Laura Kinkaide naked in that bed.

  "Come on." He pulled her to her feet and tried to drag her toward the bed, but he'd forgotten they both had their pants around their ankles. She giggled as they stumbled, clinging together to keep from falling. "Round two."

  "You're ready to do it again?" Her eyes opened wide.

  "I told you. I'm a superior lover. Anyway, your sexy body is enough to recharge any man." He started hopping toward the bed.

  She pulled away, breathless and laughing. "We can't,
Jack. It's Wednesday."

  "In case you hadn't noticed, I do my best gender biasing on Wednesdays." He lifted her hair and put his tongue right on that magic spot beneath her ear, the quickest way he knew past her defenses.

  She let out a frustrated groan. "No, no. The committee meeting's tonight. I have to finish some things."

  Damn. He wanted to get the rest of the carving done on the downstairs mantel before the committee trouped in. He pulled up his pants. The bed would have to wait. He watched her pull her clothes back on, and was shocked at how much he wanted to take her all over again.

  "Back to business," she said, snapping her overall bib on crooked.

  "Just don't forget you've got some very unfinished business – with me."

  *

  "I call this meeting to order," Delores Walters announced firmly, silencing the excited buzz of a dozen voices gathered in Laroche's high school.

  "Unlike most committees I've served on over the years, the Save the McNair Committee has actually accomplished what it set out to do." She paused for the smattering of laughter. "And remarkably efficiently, I might add. We'll hear from the two primary contractors later, and then we'll tour the property."

  Jack's eyelids were getting heavy, just as they always did when he had to attend a meeting like this. He knew it was important to pay attention, and he really tried.

  He'd downed two cups of coffee during the milling-around time before the business started. But committee meetings were like sleeping pills – something caffeine alone couldn't combat.

  He sat at the back of the classroom where the meeting was being held. Classrooms just naturally made him drift to the back. Laura, he noted, was sitting at the front. Typical suck-up-to-the-teacher behavior.

  He let his head loll against the back wall, trying to appear riveted by the proceedings, and stifled a yawn. The business went from previous minutes through donations to financial position.

  There were the usual droning voices, the usual questions and comments from the ones who just couldn't sit still in a group without saying something. He knew them all, of course. The committee treasurer was Mary, his bank manager, who was a lot less friendly since Cory had grilled her about her sex life. In her measured voice she recounted the financial position.

  Jack liked Mary. He liked the calm way she spoke about things without rambling off the point. He had a pretty good head for numbers himself, so he listened to Mary's report, putting together a mental picture of the project's finances. His head jerked back as he pieced the truth together from her summary of debits and credits. Suddenly, he didn't feel sleepy anymore.

  A government grant they had preliminary approval on had just been canceled. Mary read from an official-looking letter. Fiscal belt-tightening, it explained, meant that money for education and health care had to come before heritage projects. Perhaps in a year or two…

  In her calm, banker's way, Mary was telling them there wasn't enough money to complete the work on McNair House. Instinctively, he glanced to the front row and noticed that Laura's back was unnaturally straight.

  As though she felt him staring at her, she turned and gazed directly at him, a question in her eyes, concern in her creased forehead.

  He nodded, and Mary's next words confirmed his conclusions.

  "I'm afraid, ladies and gentlemen, that unless a miracle occurs, this committee will run out of money before the renovations are complete."

  There was a collective holding of breath as the dozen or so committee members got the point. Then hands were thrust in the air, waving madly.

  Two hours later the group was as far from solving their financial difficulties as when Mary had first informed them of the crisis.

  "I suggest we get on with the tour, anyway," said Mrs. Walters, in her brisk way. If there was a way to save the project, Jack knew she'd find it.

  The school was a scant block away from the McNair House, so the meeting moved en masse and on foot to view the renovation-in-progress.

  Jack clomped along with the rest of the dejected, and much quieter, group, sensing when Laura fell into step beside him. He let his gaze focus on the house standing high and proud on the hill.

  It had seen so much, that house; weathered natural storms, financial disasters, emotional upheavals. Just when it was getting a second glorious chance at life, another financial disaster had hit.

  Which put Jack out of a job. Not that he was short of work; he had a list of projects waiting. It was more that he hated unfinished business. And besides, this job had become personal.

  He did some quick mental arithmetic. If he donated all his time, that would cut the shortfall considerably. He could then use his own donation to guilt some of his suppliers into donating materials – especially if they got some kind of recognition from the city for their philanthropy. He could persuade them that being generous corporate citizens also made good business sense.

  Beside him Laura spoke.

  He was so caught up in his idea he had to ask her to repeat herself.

  "I said, how's your financial position?"

  He looked at her blankly, knowing that part of the reason he was suddenly so interested in saving a civic monument had to do with Laura. He wasn't ready to give up the job that kept her working by his side every day.

  "I'm thinking about donating my time." She said it rapidly, sounding nervous. "But I can afford to do it I mean, my company can. In fact, I could use the charitable donation to help with my taxes. What I was thinking is that we'd both say we were donating half our time. I'll make up the difference."

  Irritation stabbed at Jack. Did she think he was some kind of deadbeat? Maybe he wasn't a flashy guy like her swanky city friends, but his finances were more than respectable. He certainly didn't need any handouts. He planned on dishing out the charity.

  The grudge he was carrying around was getting pretty heavy. He was still smarting from finding out he was good enough for a lusty romp in the servants' quarters, but not worthy to dirty Miss Kinkaide's pristine bridal sheets.

  "That's very generous of you." He tried to keep the irritation from his voice, "I was thinking about donating my time, as well. I can afford it, too, as a matter of fact."

  Wanting to rub her nose in the memory of their earlier coupling, he leaned closer. "I guess we owe the old girl something."

  She glanced up at him, and he watched her teeth start gnawing on her plump lower lip. It filled him with an urge to do the job for her. From her lip, his teeth would travel to the sensitive lobe of her ear and do a little more gentle gnawing. And he wouldn't stop there. When he thought of all the places on that sweet body he'd like to put his mouth, he felt himself harden. Which wasn't the greatest idea, considering he was halfway up Main Street

  in the middle of a committee meeting.

  "Are you sure?" she whispered uncertainly.

  "Absolutely." He smiled down at her and tried to get his mind back on track.

  The tour was a dismal affair. Jack watched the committee members sigh sadly over the new work, alternately admiring it and commiserating that it would never be shared with the rest of the community and tourists. He wished Gran McMurtry were here instead of home nursing a sore throat. She would soon smarten them up.

  Finally, when the glum dozen reassembled in the cavernous drawing room, Jack leaned forward and put his lips to Laura's ear. "Can we tell them now?"

  He felt her involuntary shudder as his breath wafted by that spot, just below her earlobe. If they were alone…

  But they weren't.

  She turned to peer into his eyes, her forehead creased with uncertainty. "Are you sure you can afford this? It's not some macho thing, is it?"

  "Are you sure you can afford this?" he whispered back.

  She smiled and nodded. "You tell them."

  He gazed at her searchingly a moment longer, then turned to face the group. "Before you go, folks, Laura and I have an announcement."

  "Oh, I knew it." The sensible Mrs. Walters was wreathed in smiles
, her plain face flushed pink. "I couldn't be happier."

  How on earth could she know? Jack looked over at Laura, who raised her eyebrows. He turned back to the group. "Laura and I have decided to donate our time on the McNair House."

  For some reason Mrs. Walters looked disappointed. Mary stepped forward, her face the friendliest Jack had seen it since the night of Chip's party. She was beaming.

  "That's wonderful news. I'll have to run the numbers, but I believe our budget can cover the cost of supplies to finish the project, so long as we stick to essentials."

  After the last thank-yous and compliments on the fine work had been expressed, Laura and Jack were left to lock up the house.

  Laura had been quiet during the final part of the tour. He walked over to where she leaned against the banister, and put one arm around her, tilting her face with his free hand. "Regretting your generosity?"

  She shook her head. Her eyes seemed to catch light from somewhere and glowed like the richest mahogany. "I'm regretting our weekend in Seattle." She moved her arms up around his neck.

  His body stirred in response. Just being near her was the biggest turn-on. "What's to regret?"

  "I hardly think Mary would call a horsehair set essential. I'm afraid we'll have to skip the auction." She bit her lip, just like she always did when she was thinking hard.

  Disappointment hit Jack like a blow. He'd been looking forward to the weekend so keenly it was making him nervous. He couldn't afford to fall in love with a woman he couldn't have permanently. Of course, he had to face the possibility it was already too late. Maybe he was already in love with Laura.

  "What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" Laura asked him. From this close he could see the dents her teeth had made in her lip. He leaned down to kiss them away, and she leaned forward to meet him halfway.

  He kissed the dents away. He did such a thorough job Laura's lips were passion-swollen, her eyes blazing with urgent desire, when he lifted his head at last.

  The same desire burned in him, stronger than anything he'd ever known. He wanted to throw her to the ground and take her savagely, there on the floor. He felt a primitive need to stamp his ownership all over her body – mark her as his territory.