Midnight Promises
And, of course, he’d been gone most of the time.
“Listen,” Jack said. “I can see why you want to leave Denver. But why go back to Highpoint, for God’s sake?” He gave her his most beguiling smile.
That smile put her on her guard. “I miss Highpoint.”
“But there are lots of small towns close to Denver where you could feel safe—Shawnee, Longmont, Boulder, Bennett—half a dozen others. I’ll bet some of them are crying out for teachers with your qualifications. If you lived nearby, it would still be easy for us to get together when I’m in the country.”
“Highpoint isn’t that far from Denver. We can get together if you’re willing to drive a little farther.” He wouldn’t do it, of course. Not often, anyway. Jack hated Highpoint as much as Annie loved it.
Abruptly he stood and started to pace. “You could try compromising a little. What about Colorado Springs? If you lived there you’d be able to see your brothers every weekend if you wanted, and it still would be simple for me to drive down for a visit.”
She watched him pace, exasperated. “Are you suggesting I should shape my life and my career around your dislike for our hometown?”
He stopped. That odd look was back in his eyes when they met hers, a strange hardness she wasn’t used to seeing on her old friend’s face. “No, I’m suggesting you shouldn’t shape your life around fear.”
Her heart jerked in her chest. “You think I’m running away. That I’m a silly, scared fool.”
“I don’t blame you for being frightened by what happened. Hell, my hands shook for half an hour after I heard. But running home isn’t the answer.”
“I’m not ‘running home.’ I like it in Highpoint, Jack. I like it better there than anywhere else I’ve been. Why wouldn’t I want to live there?”
“You’ve never really been anywhere, Annie. You’ve never cut the ties. You keep the past knotted up around you like a rope. It’s familiar, it’s comforting, and it’s keeping you from following your dreams.”
She shook her head. “I’m not giving up my dreams. I’ll still teach—”
“Forget about teaching. I’m not talking about that. What about travel? What about all those places you always wanted to see someday?”
“Travel is your dream, not mine.”
“You teach English as a Second Language because you’re fascinated by other places, other peoples.”
“I—you’re wrong. There’s a great demand for ESL teachers—it made sense to go where I’d be needed, that’s all.”
His lips thinned. He paced over to the box she’d just finished filling and started digging around in it.
She came to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I know they’re here somewhere.” He moved to another box, one she’d already sealed, and pulled the tape off.
“Stop that.” She moved over to him, shoving at his hand.
He ignored her, ripping open the box and grabbing a handful of the contents—her collection of old National Geographic magazines. “How many back issues do you have, Annie? How long have you been dreaming about faraway places?”
“Oh, good grief! Millions of people read National Geographic who don’t have some secret yen to take off for Tunisia!”
“But most of them weren’t abandoned by parents who preferred those faraway places to staying home and raising their kids. Parents who died in one of those faraway places.”
She froze. How could he? How could he throw that in her face? “My mother didn’t abandon us. And my father had to work.”
“You mother was gone almost as much as your father, from what Charlie has told me.”
“She felt that her place was with her husband, whenever possible,” she said stiffly. “She knew we’d be fine with Nana.” Hurt throbbed through her. She turned away. “I had no idea you were building some kind of a fantasy based on my reading material. There’s no deep, dark secret here, Jack. I like to read about distant places. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” He shook his head. “Maybe I’ve got some selfish reasons for not wanting you to move back to Highpoint, Annie. But not all of my reasons are selfish. I don’t want to see you bury yourself there.”
She turned around. He was close. Too close. He stood only a hand’s breadth away now, his bitter-chocolate eyes intent on her face, his long, perfect body near enough that she could feel the heat from it. Her heart began to pound out a strange, erratic beat. “You’re seeing me through the lens of your own compulsions, Jack. I’m not the one who feels trapped if I stay in one place for too long.”
“No, unfortunately you don’t feel trapped in Highpoint. You feel safe.”
“What’s wrong with feeling safe? What’s wrong with wanting to be around people who know me, people I’ve known all my life?”
“I hope there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be around people who know you.” His crooked grin was familiar. The look in his eyes wasn’t. “Since that’s one of the things I like best about you. You know me better than just about anyone. Annie, don’t go back to Highpoint. Come away with me, instead.”
“What? What did you say?”
“Come with me when I leave on my next job. You can teach. There will be plenty of people who want to learn, believe me, and I’ll take care of you. I can make you feel safe, Annie.”
“I can’t believe you said that.” Jack had never been overprotective the way her brothers were. He’d been the one who taught her rock climbing—he had insisted on it, in fact, showing her how planning and knowledge minimized the risks. Annie could handle almost anything if she knew what the risks were and could plan for them.
But you couldn’t control some risks. She licked her lips nervously. “You’re looking at me funny. I wish you’d quit it.”
His eyes drifted to her mouth. “Funny?” he said absently. “I guess so. I’ve always liked your mouth, Annie.”
“What?” Alarm had her heart jumping into her throat. She raised one hand to where her pulse throbbed, as if she could force her heart back where it belonged. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mouth. Maybe…” he murmured, and she had the feeling he was talking to himself, not her. “Maybe it’s time.” He started to lower his head.
She jerked hers back. “What are you doing?”
His grin flashed. “Isn’t it obvious? Here. I’ll show you.” And his mouth came down on hers.
The shock of it held her still for a moment too long. Long enough for the pleasure to catch her, a shimmering loop of pleasure that settled over her in one quick shiver. Long enough for a thrill to chase itself up and down her spine as his lips moved on hers…oh, such smooth and clever lips. She had wondered. For years she’d wondered about Jack’s kisses as much as she’d feared them, fighting the need and the curiosity with her too-complete knowledge of the man. One taste, and wonder overtook fear in a burst of heat. His hand was at her nape and his fingers were as clever as his mouth, drawing chills across her flesh, making her ache. It was too much.
It wasn’t enough.
That thought made her turn her head away from his lazy, maddening mouth. “Jack, this is stupid. You don’t think of me this way—you know you don’t!”
Turning her head hadn’t saved her. It only left other places available to him. When his mouth skimmed along her cheek to the sensitive skin just under her jaw, she shivered. He chuckled, damn him. “Of course I’ve thought of you ‘this way’ from time to time. I’m a man.” He nibbled at her earlobe. “I just never let myself do anything about it before, because we’re friends.”
“Then why—oh, stop that!” She got herself together enough to push away the hand that had wandered up her side, nearly reaching her breast.
He obeyed, straightening to look at her. “You’re trying to leave me, Annie. I don’t want you to go.” His eyes were dark and unreadable—magician’s eyes, capable of raising both heat and hope in a woman who welcomed neither.
The hope was impossible. She knew that. The heat was all but irresistible. And why not? she thought suddenly. Why not let herself have this one time, this one memory? Surely being with Jack one time wouldn’t make the hurt that much worse later, when he was gone.
He raised one hand and deliberately cupped her breast, those magical eyes fixed on hers. Her breath caught and her eyes closed and she knew she was losing her mind. Giving herself to Jack would only make the pain worse. Much worse.
But maybe it would be worth it. Maybe…
When his mouth caught hers again, she wasn’t ready. How could she have been ready for the need in him, the hunger? It amazed her, swept her under, taking her to a dark, private place where sensation ruled and no hope seemed truly impossible. He wrapped himself around her—his arms, his scent, his hunger—and when he pulled her down with him, she went.
When she finally broke the kiss, they were tangled together on the floor. He’d kept most of his weight off of her, but her ribs ached dully. The pain was an insufficient distraction when Jack’s hand was beneath her sweater, hot and demanding on her breast.
“Don’t leave, Annie,” he murmured against her neck.
“Jack,” she gasped. “Jack, I’m not the one who will leave. You will. In a few weeks you’ll be off again, building something on the other side of the world.”
“So come with me.” He lifted his head. His eyes were bright with impulse and delight. “Why not? The timing is perfect, Annie. You’re at loose ends right now. You want to feel safe, and I want to make you safe. Why not come with me on my next job?”
“Why not?” The question was so foolish that her mind went blank for a moment. “Why not? Are you crazy? Do you really think I’m going to travel halfway around the world with no ring on my finger, no promises, nothing but a casual ‘why not?”’
“All right.” He sat up suddenly. He was grinning. “All right, that’s fair. We’ll get married first.”
Chapter 3
She had crumbled, Annie thought, giving the porch swing another desultory push. As humiliating as it might be, that was the truth. One hint that Jack needed her—one more long, passionate kiss—and all her good sense had been burned away. She had agreed to fly to Las Vegas with him that same night.
Another creak joined the one from the porch swing as the front door opened, spilling light across the darkness for a moment. The door closed again, renewing the darkness.
“You hiding out here, or holding a one-woman pity party?” Her next-oldest brother’s voice was deep, but not the bass rumble of Ben’s; Charlie was lighter than their oldest brother in every way.
“Neither one. I’m brooding over my sins.”
“Ben wants to know if you’ve got your jacket on. The wind’s starting to pick up again.”
She sighed. Ben might not be speaking to her, but he was still looking out for her in his own overbearing way. “Yes, I’m wearing a jacket. Have you come out here to yell at me some more?”
“Maybe.” He moved toward her, a lean, rangy shape in the darkness. “Scoot over.”
“It’s wet,” she warned him, sliding to one side.
“I’m tough. I can take it.” His weight added another creak to the quiet night as the wooden swing settled under him. “That was quite a bombshell Jack dropped.”
“Wasn’t it, though.” Jack hadn’t hung around to deal with the aftermath of his revelation. He’d given Annie one more quick kiss and announced that he’d be seeing her soon. Ben, who’d had that “pound now, talk later” look showing in his eyes, had grabbed Jack. Fortunately, Charlie had shown up then and had stepped between the other two men.
Jack had told Charlie to keep an eye on her, and left.
“So,” Charlie said. “Which of your sins are you brooding over?”
“The sin of silence.”
“Ah. You know, I think I understand why you didn’t tell us you’d married Jack. It’s a stupid reason, mind you, and I’m still mad. But I can understand.”
“Really?” Annie gave a small, mirthless laugh. “Tell me, then, because I don’t understand myself anymore.”
“You hate to make mistakes. Either marrying Jack was a mistake, in which case you didn’t want to tell anyone until you fixed it by getting divorced. Or letting him go was the mistake, and you didn’t know how to fix that.” He pushed off with his foot, and they swayed gently. “Which was it?”
“Both. Neither.”
“You still don’t know, huh? Okay. How about telling me how you ended up marrying Jack Merriman in the first place, then?” He slanted her a glance. “According to that lame excuse for an explanation you gave us, Jack showed up unexpectedly at your Denver apartment one afternoon, and that night the two of you flew to Vegas and got married. He got a call from his boss about an emergency with some project of his, you panicked, the two of you argued, and the next day he flew to some godforsaken corner of the world and you flew back to Denver, where you finished packing and then came home to Highpoint.”
“That about sums it up.”
“I think you’re leaving a few things out,” he said dryly. “I can picture Jack deciding to get married at five o’clock and tying the knot at midnight, but you aren’t exactly the impetuous type.”
“If you think that’s funny, try this—it was more or less my idea.”
He dragged his foot on the porch, stopping the swing. “You’re kidding.”
She shrugged. “I was the one who mentioned rings. I just didn’t expect him to jump on the idea.” Annie had always found it easier to talk to Charlie than to Ben, but she couldn’t imagine explaining exactly how the subject of marriage had come up—with Jack’s hand on her breast and her mouth wet from his. “I wasn’t myself. I was still shaken from the assault, I’d just turned in my resignation, and when Jack showed up I was packing.”
“That’s another thing I don’t understand. Why aren’t you teaching?”
How could she explain what she didn’t understand herself? “I am teaching. The evening classes at the community college are enough while I figure out what I want to do. I don’t want to make another mistake.”
“So…you were confused when Jack showed up, and being confused naturally made you propose?”
She had to smile. “Not exactly. I indulged myself with the idea of fate. The timing seemed so…I mean, Jack wasn’t supposed to be back in the country for another two or three weeks, but suddenly, on almost my last day in the city, there he was. And there I was, newly unemployed.” She shook her head. “Fate seemed like a reasonable explanation at the time.”
“Seems like you’re still leaving out something pretty important. Like your feelings, and why you would jump to the conclusion that Jack Merriman was your fate.”
“Sheer, unadulterated stupidity?”
“You were infatuated with him when you were fifteen.”
“I’m not fifteen anymore.”
“No, you’re old enough to know the difference between infatuation and love. Which is it you feel for Jack?”
She didn’t want to say it. Not to Charlie, not to herself. So she pushed against the wooden floor of the porch with her toes, getting the swing moving again, and didn’t answer directly. “Did I mention that we were married by an Elvis impersonator?”
Charlie gave a bark of laughter. “An Elvis impersonator? Was he wearing one of those glittery costumes?”
“Complete with a cape and jet-black hair falling in a little curl on his forehead. And a potbelly.”
“How did you wind up getting married by Elvis?”
“It was Jack’s idea, of course. We landed in Vegas about nine, and it took a while to get the license.” Long enough for Annie’s common sense to wake from the sensual daze caused by Jack’s kisses, but every time she’d been about to change her mind, he’d kissed her again. Jack had swept her to the altar—or in front of a caped Elvis—on a tide of hormones, humor and muddled misgivings. “We drove around a long time, arguing about where to do the deed. It was nearly midnight when he spotted the Elvis chapel and that was it for him—the perfect place to tie the knot.”
It had been so tacky. And so much fun. In spite of the nerves that had made her half-sick by the time they spoke their vows, she’d giggled when the King’s look-alike had drawled out the ceremony. “My favorite part was when ‘Elvis’ crooned, ‘Do you promise to love this man tender, love him true, in sickness and in health…”’ She grinned, remembering.
“But you stopped laughing at some point.”
Not long after the promises she’d made that midnight, in fact. Annie looked away, turning her face into the wind. The cold air made her eyes sting. “We were in the hotel elevator on our way up to the honeymoon suite when I found the courage to ask what I should have asked before we left Denver.”
“What was that?”
“I asked him if he loved me.” She closed her eyes. She could see the expression on his face as clearly as if it had happened only seconds ago. “He looked at me as if I’d suddenly started speaking Martian. Then he gave me one of those lopsided grins and said, ‘Sure. Of course I do.”’
That’s when Annie had known herself for a fool. It would have hurt less if he had been upset or angry, because then she would have known that the words meant something to him. Instead, it had been painfully obvious that he’d said what he thought she wanted to hear.
Charlie spoke quietly. “A man couldn’t ask for a better friend than Jack. But for a woman…well, he doesn’t mean to be hard on the women in his life, but he often is.” He paused. “Do you remember his senior prom? He had three dates that year.”
She sighed. “He ended up going with Ellen Baxter.”
“The weird thing is that none of them hated him afterward.”
“Weird, but not surprising.” Part of Jack’s charm was his kindness. He could be impulsive, thickheaded, careless enough to end up with three dates to the senior prom—yet he hated to 1 hurt a woman’s feelings. He’d taken Ellen because he’d known that the other two girls would be able to replace him easily—and they had. But Ellen had been new in town, and shy. Jack had worried aloud to Annie that Ellen would end up staying home if he didn’t take her. That was why he’d asked her, in spite of the fact that he was slightly overbooked for the occasion. He hadn’t treated Ellen like a pity date that night, either. He’d done everything he could to make her feel special.
Then he’d never asked her out again.
Annie doubted that Jack had any idea how much poor Ellen had hoped that he would want to see her again. And because she knew Jack, she couldn’t help wondering…had he had married Annie because he’d guessed how she felt about him? Because he’d felt sorry for her?
It was possible. Oh, yes, it was only too possible. You want to feel safe, he had said, and I want to make you safe.
Charlie stood. The swing groaned, swaying from the sudden loss of his weight. “You’ve gotten yourself in one hell of a mess, half pint. I don’t think you’ll be able to straighten it out until you figure out what you want.” His footsteps were quiet as he headed for the door.
“I know what I want. I just don’t think I can have it.”
Charlie’s voice was gentle. “What, then?”
“I want to have Jack back.” She swallowed the quick stab of pain. “I want things to be easy and comfortable between us the way they used to be. I want us to be friends again.”
“Then why are you still married to him? Seems like you would have changed that at some point in the last two months if you really wanted to just be friends.” Her brother opened the door without waiting for an answer. Light spilled onto the porch, then was swallowed up by the night once more as the door closed behind him.
It was the third thud that did it.
Normally Jack could sleep anywhere. He’d slept in shacks, sheds, hotels, tents and palaces; on feather beds, cots, couches and a pile of smelly hides tossed on the earthen floor of a herder’s hut. But he’d had trouble falling asleep last night.
Seeing Annie again had been part of the problem. Being in his aunt’s house was the rest of it. Memories that were gentled by daylight often came out to prowl at night, and he had felt trapped from the moment he’d lain down on the bed he’d slept in as a teenager. After tossing and turning, even getting up to pace a couple of times, he’d abandoned his old bedroom and gone downstairs with a pillow and a blanket.
Jack had never been allowed to lie down on the long sofa in the parlor; it was for sitting, his aunt had always said, and for company. He liked to think it was the novelty of stretching out there that had made it possible for him to finally fall asleep, rather than some lingering trace of adolescent rebellion.
Once he had dozed off, though, he’d slept like the dead. So the first series of knocks didn’t rouse him. He just worked the sound into his dream.
Whoever was there knocked again. This time he managed to get his eyes open and glance at the clock on the wall. Good God. It was barely 6:00 a.m. Who could be so blasted eager to see him at this hour?
But he didn’t respond until a single loud, forceful thud landed on the front door.
He flung back the blanket, dragged himself upright and limped to the entry hall.
There he zipped up his jeans, opened the door and frowned at the man who had been his friend since the sixth grade. “I figured it had to be either you or Ben. I hope you haven’t come here to beat me up. I’m not awake yet.”
“I haven’t decided if you need beating up or not. Here.” Charlie handed him a foam cup.
Belatedly Jack’s nose caught the scent of freshly brewed coffee. He took the cup, pulled off the plastic lid and stepped back, inhaling the aroma and watching warily as Charlie came inside. “You’re not going to punch me while I’m distracted by caffeine, are you?”
“Spoken like a man with a guilty conscience.” Charlie hadn’t been here as often as Jack had been at his house when they were younger, but he knew his way around. He headed for the living room, flipped on the light and glanced at the couch. “Camping out?”
“Something like that.” Jack sipped at his coffee and watched his friend.
Charlie had been a tall, lanky teen, a forward on the basketball team in high school. He’d added muscle to his inches as he got older, but he was still long and lean, standing three inches over Jack’s six feet. He didn’t look much like his sister. His hair was redder, and he had a craggy face with a nose that would have done a Roman emperor proud. “I’ve got some questions to ask you.”
“Figures.” Jack took another sip of coffee. It was hot and bitter and just might be strong enough to jump-start his brain. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any doughnuts to go with this coffee?”
“I ate them on the way here.”
Jack grimaced. “That figures, too.” He took another sip. He needed to be alert in case Charlie changed his mind about pounding him. “You might as well go ahead and ask whatever you came here to ask.”
“Did you marry Annie because she’s pregnant?”
Jack choked, coughed and managed to clear the coffee from his windpipe. “What kind of question is that?”
“A pretty obvious one, I’d say.” Charlie set his cup down on the coffee table and moved restlessly over to the window. “This marriage happened awfully damned quick.”
Jack sipped his coffee and watched Charlie pace as if the floor were covered in hot coals instead of bland beige carpet. Charlie was certainly uncomfortable with the idea of his little sister having had sex. “I don’t know why you woke me up to ask such a stupid question. Even you aren’t dumb enough to believe Annie would lie to you about something like that.”
“I, uh…I didn’t ask her.”
“You didn’t ask her. You thought your sister might be pregnant and had somehow forgotten to mention it, and you didn’t ask her.” Jack shook his head. “You’re an idiot, you know that? I hate to be the one to break this to you, Charlie, but Annie is twenty-six years old. I don’t think she’s a virgin anymore.”
Charlie stopped moving. “No, she’s married. To you. And if I find out that she had to get married—”
“Calm down. I didn’t touch her. Well, no, I did touch her, but not enough to get her pregnant.”
Charlie glowered at him. “And just when did this touching take place—before the wedding, or afterward?”