Midnight Promises. Eileen Wilks
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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