Maverick Page 15

  When he eased her down on the bed, she opened her eyes in alarm. “Don’t leave me.” His smile was as warm and tender as his eyes. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, darlin’.” “I didn’t tell you—”

  “You can finish tomorrow. There’s plenty of time. You hush now and get some sleep. I’ll be right here.”

  His lips brushed her forehead and she burrowed closer to that strong chest, content to believe him. There was time. . .

  Chapter 9

  The child’s sobs ripped through her heart. “Maggie, help. Pleas e. Maggie—it hurts.” Maggie jerked restlessly—her body as unresponsive as always. The crying continued—soft sobbing yielding to louder calls of pain then fading to quiet whispers that were nearly incoherent. Nearly.

  Maggie could hear them. She heard them every night. Their intensity hadn’t faded in fifteen long years.

  Maggie cried now, too—hopeless ten-year-old’s tears. “I can’t wake up, Melissa—I’m trying, but my eyes won’t open. Can you reach out your hand? I’m right here with you.” Had she ever actually spoken the words? She didn’t know. Her jaw had been shattered in the accident. But it was her skull fracture that necessitated the lengthy, drug-induced coma. Eight months passed before she spoke again—a year before she relearned how to read and write.

  Her first words were the ones she’d screamed silently for months.

  “Where is my sister?”

  No one had ever answered the question. Her scars weren’t visible, hidden behind her hair line, under her chin and behind her left ear. Her sister’s tears had scarred her heart with wounds that would never heal.

  The dreams had faded and almost disappeared for a time in Chicago. Melissa was found, finally. Safe.

  Then the nightmare in Connecticut gave them new life. Since the phone call from Jack, they replayed constantly.

  Now Melissa screamed for her again.

  Another voice mingled with Melissa’s—just as insistent, but much deeper. And softer. As soft as the fingers that swept through her hair. “Wake up, darlin’. It’s a dream you’re having. Just a dream.” Startled and suddenly wide awake, she opened her eyes to find Jack’s deep blue ones. His face was inches from hers, his body even closer, lying half across hers. Her breasts grazed his chest with each breath she took. He smiled at her but didn’t stop the movement of his fingers. “Bad dream, I think, honey. You were trying to talk to Melissa. I don’t think she ever heard you, though.”

  The dream didn’t bother her half as much as his nearness—the rugged hardness of his body over hers. At least he was dressed. His hair was damp. He smelled soap-clean and just-shaved fresh. Awareness shuddered through her and she had the strangest desire to run her fingers through his hair.

  “It’s almost seven.” He answered the question before she could ask it. “I’ve got oatmeal nearly ready. How’s your head feeling?” He pushed up on one elbow, rolling to his side. She sat up, more to get away from him and her strange impulses than anything. “Better,” she murmured. It was true. Her wrist hurt more than her head today. Even better was her recollection.

  remember.

  She remembered all the events of the previous day—or at least all she cared to

  She shoved her legs over the far side of the bed, turning her back on him. She grimaced at her bare legs and stood up to shove her t-shirt down. The gesture didn’t help that much—the shirt fell just to the top of her thighs. Her knees wobbled but held and she cast an anxious glance around for her jeans.

  Jack swept a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, temporarily solving the problem. Which was good because even more important than finding her jeans was a desperate need to get outside.

  “I can walk,” she protested when he picked her up.

  “Your feet will get cold.”

  Seconds later, he opened the door of the outhouse and deposited her inside.

  She slammed the door behind her, muttering, “Stop reading my mind!” and heard a chuckle. Then he began to whistle. “I’ll be fine,” she called, but there wasn’t any answer. The whistling continued and she gave up. The outhouse didn’t smell bad, but it was winter-cold. She huddled the blanket close. By the time she opened the door, she was shivering. Head high, with the blanket trailing behind her, she stepped off the single stair into the dirt, trying to ignore her heat-stained cheeks. Unfortunately, with her nose up in the air, she didn’t see the small rock. Her ankle twisted under her, throwing her off balance and directly into Jack.

  He chuckled at the murderous gleam in her eyes and lifted her back into his arms. Inside, he settled her in a creaking cane chair in front of a roaring fire. “Sit here while I finish making breakfast.”

  She wanted to tell him she wasn’t hungry. Her stomach responded immediately to the wondrous smells coming from two huge pots steaming on the woodstove. It rumbled loud and often as Jack dished up two bowls of cereal.

  She frowned. No way oatmeal smelled that good. But it did. He set the bowls on the table and picked her up again—chair and all this time. About to protest, she gave up the fight completely when she heard his cheerful announcement.

  “I’ve got water heating—thought you might like a bath after breakfast.”

  She just couldn’t stay mad at a man who made such delightful conversation before breakfast. “Coffee or more tea?” he offered, then continued before she could answer. “I’ve got black and the Earl Grey, but you like black in the mornings, don’t you?” He dunked a mug into the boiling pot of water on the stove and handed her a teabag.

  “How did you—”

  “Melissa,” he grinned. “But I already knew.”

  A hundred questions sprang to mind, but she stuffed a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth to keep herself quiet. All the questions flew out of her head as she savored the delicate hint of cinnamon and the tangy burst of sweet apple.

  “This is instant?” She didn’t believe it for a second, but that’s all she’d bought—instant cinnamon and apple oatmeal. Her favorite breakfast. Only she’d never tasted it like this. “I brought a few things up with me,” he admitted. “You didn’t have room to carry much. I had the truck.”

  How did he know?

  A coincidence? Her favorite tea—maybe. Her favorite breakfast and her favorite tea? Not a chance.

  She felt a sudden chill and shoved away the questions in her mind. After breakfast. And after her bath. No point picking a fight with him until then.

  Jack didn’t seem to notice her silence. “There’s an old washtub we can use for a bathtub. If you want.” Now his smile was clearly a gloat. Maggie bit her tongue, nodded and sipped her tea.

  “I thought I’d go pick up your bike while you’re in the tub.”

  She kept her eyes on her empty bowl and carefully licked her spoon clean. If he thought she’d be grateful for giving her a little privacy while she bathed—

  Well, you are.

  I don’t have to tell him. Anyway, I need the bike back here so I can take care of his truck and get away.

  He refilled her bowl. She still refused to look at him, but she picked up her spoon again. Are you eating more because it’s something to do? Or because this is the very best oatmeal you’ve ever tasted?

  Her cheeks flamed. She was delighted he didn’t notice.

  “I’ve been thinking, Maggie.” Now his tone was speculative. “The police didn’t find any personal items in your parent’s car besides the camera?”

  Not her favorite subject, but far better than her bath. “Nothing. Not Mom’s purse, or Daddy’s wallet—not even his flask. And surely, even back then, there should have been a registration, even if the car was new—temporary plates, something—”

  He nodded agreement. “But there wasn’t?”

  “Only the camera.”

  “And you were taken three counties away and dropped off at a hospital?” “A hospital parking lot.”

  “Who dropped you off?”

  She shrugged. “No one knows. They found me in a parking
lot next to the emergency room. No one saw anything.”

  “What about Melissa? What happened to her?” “My mother’s sister, Aunt Nan, found her about three weeks after the accident at a children’s orthopedic hospital outside of Phoenix. She had a badly broken arm.” Maggie pulled the blanket more closely around her shoulders.

  “When Mom didn’t write my aunt from California, she got worried. She retraced our route and found Melissa. She was taken to the county hospital where the accident was, but they immediately transferred her to Phoenix because of her arm. The funny thing was, I got transferred to that same hospital just a few weeks after Melissa’s discharge.”

  “The county hospital?”

  She shook her head. “The one outside Phoenix.”

  “Who took Melissa to the hospital?”

  “A couple. They found her on a picnic table at a rest-stop by the road.”

  Jack frowned. “Do you know who they were?”

  Maggie nodded. “Eric and Carmen Trujillo. I spoke with them—after I found Melissa. They only found Melissa—no one else was around.”

  “You believe them?” Maggie smiled at the frustration on his features. She knew that look—knew that feeling better than he did. “They’re simply a nice couple. Nothing to hide. They live in Mira Vista, actually.”

  “Where you were found?”

  “Mmm. But I believe them, Jack. They didn’t ever see me.”

  Jack sat back in his chair. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know.” Maggie stood, keeping the blanket carefully around her. Her body ached, undoubtedly from the bike accident. The old cane chair wasn’t helping. The only other place to sit was the bed. Her muscles didn’t give her a choice.

  “Was that dream you had this morning related to the accident?”

  “I guess. I’ve had it before. I don’t know if it actually happened or if it’s just my emotions trying to cope.”

  He was silent, obviously waiting, so she described her dream sketchily, glossing over her injuries.

  It was obvious he wasn’t fooled. “What happened to you that kept you in the hospital for nine months?” “Skull fracture. Crushed jaw. Five surgeries. Take your pick. I don’t remember a lot about that year. I was in a coma for a while. I asked Melissa once if she remembered the accident. Or crying for me.” Maggie smiled. “She remembers the smells. Neither of us are very fond of hospitals.”

  “So how did you finally find her?”

  “Actually,” her smile became a grin and she shook her head. “She found me.”

  Jack refilled her juice glass and brought it to the small table beside her. He sat down on the foot of the bed, but when her fingers brushed over her swollen wrist, he retrieved the aspirin and handed her two. She swallowed them with juice and he sat down again, this time so close their thighs brushed. He reached for her injured arm. “Let me just take a look—then we’ll get your bath going. Tell me how Melissa found you.”

  She watched his progress with the elastic wrap, her voice soft. “It happened six years ago, inside the Chicago Public Library. She was eighteen, and just beginning to look for me. She wasn’t ever lost at all—or at least not for long. Aunt Nan found her and stayed with her while she went through therapy after her surgery. Aunt Nan looked for me, too, but only around Phoenix. Phoenix is nowhere near Mira Vista, so she never found me. She knew Melissa had been in a car accident— I guess she assumed I was dead.”

  “You didn’t ask her?”

  “By the time Melissa found me, Aunt Nan had died. She told Melissa to find out what had happened to me, though, so she went to the library.”

  “The library?” Jack smiled. Maggie nodded. He’d met Melissa, she knew she didn’t have to explain further. “Yeah. She asked the librarian how to go about locating her sister.” Remembering, Maggie forgot Jack, and his hands working at her wrist.

  “Name?” the librarian had asked with a bored indifference. Everybody and their sister were forever looking for each other here.

  “Maggie. Maggie Chambers.” And the bored librarian had looked down at the application for a brand new library card she held in her hands.

  “There’s one over there.”

  “Where?” Melissa didn’t ask what the librarian sent her to find. She sat down at Maggie’s table and cleared her throat. “The lady at the desk said you could help me.” Maggie, a little annoyed at the interruption, was pouring over Chicago phone books, looking for a name—any name—that would jar a long-ago childhood memory. “Help you with what?” She didn’t even look up.

  “Find my sister.”

  Maggie smiled and gave the pretty blond girl a quick glance. “I’m looking for mine, too. What areas have you covered?”

  Melissa smiled a little uncertainly. “Just the desk. And she sent me here.” “What’s your sister’s name?” Already bored with the dense girl, Maggie returned to her phone book.

  “Maggie. Maggie Chambers.”

  Her gaze lifted slowly from the tiny type of the large book, and into eyes she would have recognized immediately if she’d taken the time to look. “Melissa?” she whispered. Melissa’s beautiful eyes filled with tears. “She used to call me Melissa.” Maggie had shaken her head. “No, Melissa, it’s me. It’s Maggie, honey.”

  Now Maggie’s eyes focused back on Jack’s and she blinked away a sheen of tears. “Anyway, she told me Aunt Nan had died only the month before. Aunt Nan never stopped looking for me and my parents, but she never found them, either. She left college money enough for both Melissa and me and instructed Melissa to never give up the search for me. Melissa spent her half of the money on a brand new car and went to the library. “

  Jack shook his head. “Only Melissa.”

  Maggie nodded agreement.

  “You went to college then.”

  “Soon after, “ Maggie continued. “We got an apartment. I got Melissa through one year of school but then she wouldn’t go anymore. The boys were cute, but she insisted she didn’t actually have to be a student to date them. She loved her department store job and no amount of school would help her with that. I tried everything, but nothing worked. I finally just gave in,” she sighed.

  “Sometimes with Melissa, that’s all you can do.”

  He was too close again. He settled her sore arm on his lap and ran his fingers up her arm to her shoulder.

  “I—You got to know her pretty well in just a week.”

  His smile was fond. She couldn’t tell if it was for Melissa or for her. “Yeah, I guess I did.” His fingers continued up the column of her neck, around her ear, sliding to her nape. “She’s nothing like you, my Maggie.” He looked fascinated, enthralled, staring at her. Maggie yanked her gaze to his mouth and willed away the warmth stealing over her. “No, we’re—”

  “Different,” he whispered. She could feel his warm breath against her lips. His fingers at her neck stopped her instinctive withdrawal. Awareness shocked her nerve endings, heat from him, entering her pores, pooling deep inside. Touch me. . . “Very,” she stammered, blushing wildly. “I’m—”

  “Intense.” His thumb traced her lower lip; her mouth parted in a soundless cry. “Jack, stop,” she murmured, then spoiled it by closing the fractional inch between them herself. Jack growled and pushed her back into the pillow. His arms held hers to the bed at the elbows. The kiss shattered her soul. Gentle, but barely restrained. Rewarding, but with too much hunger left snarling. Almost close enough, almost satisfying, almost mating. . .

  Maggie heard the soft moan escape from deep in her throat but paid no attention. It didn’t matter, what she said, what she did—she had to be closer. She fought his hands, still holding her down.

  Jack released her as suddenly as he’d pinned her. She didn’t dare meet his eyes, even when a firm hand behind her neck eased her head up and into his rock-hard chest. hammered as hard as her own. His fingers traced her jaw. “Look at me, Maggie.”

  She did, surprised and a little annoyed by the amusement she found in his e
yes. tried to speak, he shook his head, laying a finger across her lips.

  His heart

  When she “Intense, Ms. Chambers. Fits you to a T.” He brushed another kiss across her lips then abruptly stood up. “Ready for your bath?” Ten minutes later the washtub was full. A tarp lined the weathered metal, making it slippery but ensuring she wouldn’t have rust splinters, “In places you wouldn’t want me digging them out,” he said.

  The picture in her mind was vivid. His hands were all over those “places.” The room was too warm again. She didn’t dare think of undressing—she wasn’t wearing enough as it was. “I— Thank you.”

  He set two smaller pans of heated water next to the tub. “For a warm-up, if you want to soak for a while. Are you sure you can manage?”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks again, Jack.” She kept her eyes firmly on the upper part of his body. The single time they’d strayed lower had revealed more than she cared to see just now. He slid his hands into his pockets. “Soap’s there.” He nodded to a chair pulled close to the tub. “And a towel. I’ll—” he stopped and cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in an hour.” He closed the door behind him, but it was a long time before she heard the loud engine start. By the time it did, she was tense and nervous, hoping like hell he wouldn’t come back inside.

  Her body was every bit as aroused as his—her breasts tingled and her nipples were hard peaks. The aches in her legs and back from the accident seemed to have shifted to low in her belly. And the heat of the water didn’t help at all.

  What if he asked if he could stay and wash your back? Maggie groaned and willed her muscles to relax. Now that she took the time to look, she couldn’t believe he really wanted anything to do with her. Mud streaked her arms and neck. She had dirt between her toes. For the very first time, she was glad she’d cut her hair. Short hair couldn’t physically hold as much dirt as long.