Authors: Linda Francis Lee
Tags: #Women television journalists, #Man-woman relationships, #Single women, #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #Adult, #Fiction, #Athletes, #Texas, #Love stories
Suddenly Sexy (24 page)
Unchecked desire made her legs weak as he ran the edge of his thumb
along the delicate seam beneath the tight curls. Then slowly he tugged
her forward, her legs spreading wider. And when he pulled her gently
from the counter and onto the hard head of his manhood, she gasped and
clung to him, her legs curling around his waist.
He moved her carefully on the plump head, and he groaned into her neck.
Then slowly, gently, he
guided her hips as she slid down the hard, full
length of him.
He cried out her name when he had impaled her completely. But he was
big, too big, and she gave a
small mewling cry.
"Damn," he said, his voice ragged.
With amazing strength, he pulled her free, then set her on her feet.
When she would have touched him, he turned her around until she braced
her hands on the counter.
"I won't hurt you," he promised. "But I can't stop."
He peeled away her skirt entirely. She felt aware of herself as she had
never been before. Naked and daring.
He ran his palm up her spine. His touch whispered around, over her
ribs, until he found her breasts. Her nipples puckered even tighter, a
tiny moan escaping from deep in her chest. His palms pushed the mounds
high, his thumbs circling, making her body pulse. And when his hands
drifted down and around, they didn't stop until they came to her bottom.
"You are amazing," he murmured, palming each round cheek, parting her
ever so slightly, then pressing his hard erection against her. "You
turn my thoughts upside down, twisting my mind until all I see is you
and all I want is to slip inside you until I come."
He took her hand and guided her back to the bedroom. But he didn't take
her to the bed. He had her sit on a small love seat. Her breath caught
when he kneeled before her, then gently spread her knees.
"I want to touch you and kiss you everywhere." Her chest rose on a deep
breath. "Your eyelids"âhe kissed her thereâ"your ear"âhe brushed his
lips along the delicate shellâ"your mouth." He gave her
a fleeting
kiss, taking her hands and stretching them out along the back of the
love seat.
"Don't move your arms," he commanded gently.
Then he cupped her face with his palms and he kissed her again.
She inhaled deeply, and he tasted her mouth. He circled and probed.
Instinctively, she sucked as he slid his tongue into her, and when she
started to move her arms, he stopped. "No moving," he reminded her, his
voice gruff against her lips as he kept a tight rein on his desire.
She cried softly in frustration as he began to kiss her skin,
exploring. She moaned when he pulled away, but the moan shuddered when
he touched her nipples with the pads of his thumbs, and her head fell
back, her wild tresses cascading in a tumble of curls.
"I burn to feel you," he said. "Here." He squeezed ever so slightly,
then took her in his mouth, sucking her nipple deep, tonguing the
barely perceptible indentation in the very tip before drifting to the
soft underswell. His breath rasped in his chest, his body straining
toward her. "Here." He trailed lower over her abdomen, and then lower
until his lips grazed her tight V of curls. Her head came up, but her
arms didn't move when he nudged her knees farther apart. Their gazes
met. "And here," he whispered.
Without looking away, he touched the sweet tender flesh between her
thighs, parting her with his finger.
Instinct flared, and she tensed against him.
"Let me touch you."
Then she eased just a bit, enough so that he could glide his finger
along the wetness on her secret folds.
"I said I was going to touch you everywhere. I've barely begun."
She bit her lower lip in that way she had that drove him mad.
"Trust me," he said, his body pulsing, barely patient enough to show
her pleasure, show her the very intensity her body could experience. He
wanted to lay her back and give in to the driving need he felt
to be
inside her. But not yet.
Her knees jerked apart in tiny increments as he began to run his
fingers through the tight curls. When finally she exhaled a sighing
breath, he slid first one finger inside her, then two. Her hips tilted
up to him as he stroked. When he dipped his head and licked her, she
was lost, and did little more than open farther to him.
He licked and sucked, stroking her. She gave in completely, threading
her fingers in his hair, her body arching over his head as he trailed
his lips along her curves. Then suddenly they were on the carpet,
their
bodies tangling together.
They rolled, each hungrily trying to get closer. Frantic, until they
rolled again, bringing him on top.
Supporting his weight on his forearms, he framed her face. Her
innocence and love shone up to him. Then she moved against him, and he
needed to be inside her.
He guided himself to her and instantly he realized that despite her
being wet and wanting him, he'd have to be careful, go slowly.
Sharp need stabbed through him, but he concentrated on Kate and her
pleasure.
He kissed her patiently, wooing her, pulsing against her opening,
teasing her flesh into easing. But Kate groaned in frustration,
whipping her head from side to side.
"I want you inside me, all of you."
"I don't want to hurt you again," he managed to say over the shuddering
desire that threatened to consume him.
She slid her hands down his back to his naked hips. "You won't." Then
she pulled him to her, and he couldn't hold back any longer.
He gave in to the full strength of his need, and a deep groan escaped
him. He nipped and sucked, unleashing desire as he sank deep. Her mouth
fell open on a silent gasp. But when he tensed and tried
to pull out,
she said, "No!"
"You want this? You want me?"
"Yes! Yes!"
She rolled her head on the carpet with each syllable. Pleading.
Demanding.
He pulled her close, his heart pounding against his ribs, and he felt
her entire body trembling as she adjusted to him.
"Wrap your legs around my waist," he instructed her.
The minute she did as he asked, he sank even deeper, and this time he
gasped at a woman who could take all of his lengthâas if this woman,
Kate, was meant for him. Had always been meant for him.
"Damn," he whispered thickly into her mouth. "You're mine."
He began to move slowly until he felt her passion surge again. She
panted as he stroked her slickness
with his sliding shaft, bringing her
up toward orgasm, kissing her, his tongue mimicking his lower body. And
just when she cried her release, he plunged deep and captured her mouth
with his, slipping his
tongue into her hot wetness and feeling her
shuddering tremors as his own. Then the tremors were his,
his body
erupting and arching into her, convulsing with a sheer aching intensity
that he had never experienced before with any woman.
He whispered her name three times as his passion spent itself.
They clung together for what seemed like hours, neither wanting the
bubble around them to burst. When he finally pulled up onto his elbows,
he saw that her cheeks glistened.
"Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice ragged.
She smiled at him, then reached up and touched his face. Her fingers
came away wet. "They're your tears, Jesse, not mine."
"Jesse! Where the hell are you?"
"Fuck, it's Derek," Jesse stated.
"Did you lock the door?"
"You were the last one in."
Kate gasped, and they broke apart. Like guilty teenagers, they raced
back to the kitchen and started scrambling to pull on their clothes.
Jesse was done in no time, but Kate fumbled with her buttons.
Jesse gently but assuredly moved her hands away. "Let me."
"There's no time!"
"Exactly," he said, amused when he gestured to the mess she had made.
He worked the fastenings with ease. "There."
Kate gasped when she saw the ripped edges of her panties on the floor.
"No! Over therel"
"Damn. How do you forget underwear?"
She started to argue.
"This isn't the time, Kate."
Which was true. But neither of them could retrieve the slip of material
before the older Chapman
burst into the guest cottage.
"What the hell is this?" Derek asked grimly, his hair and shoulders wet
from the rain that had started
to pour. He shook the afternoon edition
of the El Paso Tribune in the air.
Every trace of vulnerability in Jesse disappeared. "Hello to you, too,
big brother."
"I don't need any of your smart mouth. What the hell is this article?"
"What are you talking about?" Jesse asked, his voice dangerous.
Derek waved the folded newspaper. "The front page of the sports
section."
Tension raced through Jesse's body fast and quick. For long seconds, he
didn't move. It was Kate who reached for the Tribune.
Jesse was frozen on the spot, his face a mask of stone.
As the two brothers glared at each other, she unfolded the section and
was immediately hit by the headline.
It's Hell Being a Hero
Or so it would seem for El Paso's prodigal son Jesse Chapman By Tommy
Davis
Jesse glanced over her shoulder and saw it, too. With a jerk, he turned
away, bracing his hands against the counter.
"Jesse?" she started to say.
"Read it to him, Kate," the older Chapman said. "He needs to hear what
is being said about him."
Not knowing what else to do, she began to read. "Rumor has it that
Jesse Chapman hasn't been able to play since he saved a woman's life."
She glanced at his back. "Tommy Davis is that reporter we saw
that day
on the golf course, isn't it?"
"The one and only," he said coldly.
She went on.
"Is he really a hero,
or is he still the bad boy of golf
who took to the wild life like a duck takes to water? My guess is that
if Jesse wasn't such a pretty boy, there wouldn't be a sports person
around who would have heard of him. Will he change that this August at
the PGA Championships'
Does he have the talent worthy of the
attention
he's given?
"But more than that, is Jesse Chapman
really a heroâor just a wolf in
shining armor? Because this reporter has learned that the only reason
the woman collapsed that day on the Westchester driving
range was
because she was hit with a golf club. Did Jesse hit her, then save her
in turn? Hard to
know, because no one is talking, including Jesse
Chapman. What is our local bad boy hiding?"
The article went on, detailing Jesse's life for the last decade. The
minor tournaments won. The press coverage gained.
Shock rippled through Kate. When she glanced up, Jesse had turned
around, facing her.
"Is it true?" she asked. "Did you hit that woman?"
"Did you, Jesse?" Derek demanded.
Jesse's jaw cemented.
Derek closed his eyes as if praying for patience. "What the hell have
you done that a guy like Tommy Davis would question
whether the reports about you being a hero are true or not?"
Kate watched that shift in Jesse that she had seen before. On the set
of
Getting Real
, on the golf
course
in front of Tommy Davis. And now.
Suddenly the smiles returned. "I'm no hero, big brother," Jesse said
with his bad boy smile. "You of all people should know that. Haven't
you made that clear to me for years?"
Derek's eyes narrowed, only then the patience evaporating. "Damn it,
Jesse. What pushes you to do
these things? Drinking at age elevenâ"
Jesse held up his hand in an exaggerated attempt to be helpful. "You've
got it out of order. First
smoking, then drinking."
Kate watched the exchange with growing horror.
"Don't worry, I didn't forget, Jesse. Just like I didn't forget the
present Dad gave you when you turned thirteen. A whore and a birthday
fuck. Was she good? Did you enjoy it?"
Kate felt like she had been punched.
"You and Dad," Derek continued, "with your drinking and your women."
Kate couldn't believe what she was hearing, and she also could feel
that Jesse was losing his tight grip
on his bad boy smile. He was about
to break.
"You're a broken record, Derek. Let me make it easier. Drinking,
whoring, irresponsibly fathering a son. What else?"
Dark eyes glared into dark eyes, inches apart. Then something caught
Derek's attention. He glanced over to the kitchen floor and saw the
ripped panties. After a second, he
glanced between Jesse and Kate.
"What else, you ask? How long have you been screwing Kate?"
Instantly, Jesse had his brother pinned against the wall. "I've never
done anything to hurt her."
"Yeah, right. You keep forgetting the day of my wedding. Screwing her
in your bedroom. And don't you know all of El Paso is talking about her
being your newest plaything while you conveniently stay in her guest
cottage? Looks to me like that's just what's been going on."
Jesse slammed him against the wall again, knocking Derek's breath out
with a guttural gasp.
"Jesse! Stop!" Kate raced forward, breaking into that dark place where
Jesse had gone. After a second,
he jerked away, Derek bending over to
catch his breath.
She had never seen any man look so ravaged as Jesse did then. With a
growl of pain, he banged out of the cottage, into the rain, and was
gone.
She wanted to follow, but didn't. She turned to Derek, staring at him
as she tried to understand. "Regardless of what you believe, I threw
myself at Jesse the day of your weddingâand Jesse told me no."
Derek straightened, confusion slowly giving way to a reluctant
knowledge, a single frown line of guilt marring his features. "Maybe
I'm wrong about that, but not about the other things. Jesse has been
wild and irresponsible for as long as I can remember."
She looked at this tall, strong man, so like his younger brother in
looks, but lacking a flare for life and laughter that had come to Jesse
so easily. Her voice was soft when she spoke. "I think you're jealous
that your father has always paid more attention to Jesse than to you."
His eyes narrowed. "I didn't give a damn if Jesse had his attention."
"Didn't you?"
"My father and Jesse had plenty in common. Let the two of them be wild
and ruin their lives. I wanted
no part of it."
She bit her lip as she considered his words. "Is it possible for a
grown man to have 'plenty in common' with a child? Or does the adult
teach a boy the ways of a man?"
She saw Derek's eyes flicker, and just then something occurred to her.
"You were, what, nineteen when Jesse was eleven? Wouldn't you have made
a better drinking buddy? Why
did
your
father turn to Jesse instead of
you?"
He shrugged with a nonchalance that Kate could tell he didn't feel. But
he didn't respond.
"Did he ever ask you to go drinking?" she persisted.
"Yes! And I said no. But Jesse didn't."
His burst of anger made her head jerk back, and she blinked in
surprise. "Derek, why are you so angry? Don't you see?" she said with
kind insistence. "You want points for saying no at nineteen, and
condemn Jesse for not turning him down at eleven. You, an adult, versus
Jesse, a boy?"
Derek's thunderous gaze wavered.
"I don't know what really went on in that house of yours," she added,
glancing out the window as she remembered the past, "but I do know that
on the night of his thirteenth birthday, he came to me,
fighting back
tears, and he wouldn't let me touch him. He never let me touch him
again."
As if he had been hit, Derek took a step back, and this time his face
darkened with something other than anger.
She met Derek's gaze. "Did it ever occur to you that as the older
brother, you should have at least tried
to protect Jesse from the very
attention you blame him for having?"
Derek's nostrils flared, and she could see understanding finally,
completely, sink in. "Hell," he bit out.
"Sounds like it was," she said. "For both of you, I'm sure. But you
never thought to help Jesse find his way out of it."
"Hell," he repeated, dragging his hand through his hair in a way that
made him look so much like Jesse.
"He needed a father and a big brother. Do you see how he didn't get
either?" Reaching out, she laid her hand on his arm. "I'm not trying to
blame you, Derek. Really, I'm not. I'm just trying to point out that
Jesse doesn't deserve blame, either. Your father deserves that."
"Hell," he said one last time, before he left the cottage.
She didn't know what he would do. All she knew was that she had to find
Vern Leeper and learn what had really happened at the Westchester Open.
along the delicate seam beneath the tight curls. Then slowly he tugged
her forward, her legs spreading wider. And when he pulled her gently
from the counter and onto the hard head of his manhood, she gasped and
clung to him, her legs curling around his waist.
He moved her carefully on the plump head, and he groaned into her neck.
Then slowly, gently, he
guided her hips as she slid down the hard, full
length of him.
He cried out her name when he had impaled her completely. But he was
big, too big, and she gave a
small mewling cry.
"Damn," he said, his voice ragged.
With amazing strength, he pulled her free, then set her on her feet.
When she would have touched him, he turned her around until she braced
her hands on the counter.
"I won't hurt you," he promised. "But I can't stop."
He peeled away her skirt entirely. She felt aware of herself as she had
never been before. Naked and daring.
He ran his palm up her spine. His touch whispered around, over her
ribs, until he found her breasts. Her nipples puckered even tighter, a
tiny moan escaping from deep in her chest. His palms pushed the mounds
high, his thumbs circling, making her body pulse. And when his hands
drifted down and around, they didn't stop until they came to her bottom.
"You are amazing," he murmured, palming each round cheek, parting her
ever so slightly, then pressing his hard erection against her. "You
turn my thoughts upside down, twisting my mind until all I see is you
and all I want is to slip inside you until I come."
He took her hand and guided her back to the bedroom. But he didn't take
her to the bed. He had her sit on a small love seat. Her breath caught
when he kneeled before her, then gently spread her knees.
"I want to touch you and kiss you everywhere." Her chest rose on a deep
breath. "Your eyelids"âhe kissed her thereâ"your ear"âhe brushed his
lips along the delicate shellâ"your mouth." He gave her
a fleeting
kiss, taking her hands and stretching them out along the back of the
love seat.
"Don't move your arms," he commanded gently.
Then he cupped her face with his palms and he kissed her again.
She inhaled deeply, and he tasted her mouth. He circled and probed.
Instinctively, she sucked as he slid his tongue into her, and when she
started to move her arms, he stopped. "No moving," he reminded her, his
voice gruff against her lips as he kept a tight rein on his desire.
She cried softly in frustration as he began to kiss her skin,
exploring. She moaned when he pulled away, but the moan shuddered when
he touched her nipples with the pads of his thumbs, and her head fell
back, her wild tresses cascading in a tumble of curls.
"I burn to feel you," he said. "Here." He squeezed ever so slightly,
then took her in his mouth, sucking her nipple deep, tonguing the
barely perceptible indentation in the very tip before drifting to the
soft underswell. His breath rasped in his chest, his body straining
toward her. "Here." He trailed lower over her abdomen, and then lower
until his lips grazed her tight V of curls. Her head came up, but her
arms didn't move when he nudged her knees farther apart. Their gazes
met. "And here," he whispered.
Without looking away, he touched the sweet tender flesh between her
thighs, parting her with his finger.
Instinct flared, and she tensed against him.
"Let me touch you."
Then she eased just a bit, enough so that he could glide his finger
along the wetness on her secret folds.
"I said I was going to touch you everywhere. I've barely begun."
She bit her lower lip in that way she had that drove him mad.
"Trust me," he said, his body pulsing, barely patient enough to show
her pleasure, show her the very intensity her body could experience. He
wanted to lay her back and give in to the driving need he felt
to be
inside her. But not yet.
Her knees jerked apart in tiny increments as he began to run his
fingers through the tight curls. When finally she exhaled a sighing
breath, he slid first one finger inside her, then two. Her hips tilted
up to him as he stroked. When he dipped his head and licked her, she
was lost, and did little more than open farther to him.
He licked and sucked, stroking her. She gave in completely, threading
her fingers in his hair, her body arching over his head as he trailed
his lips along her curves. Then suddenly they were on the carpet,
their
bodies tangling together.
They rolled, each hungrily trying to get closer. Frantic, until they
rolled again, bringing him on top.
Supporting his weight on his forearms, he framed her face. Her
innocence and love shone up to him. Then she moved against him, and he
needed to be inside her.
He guided himself to her and instantly he realized that despite her
being wet and wanting him, he'd have to be careful, go slowly.
Sharp need stabbed through him, but he concentrated on Kate and her
pleasure.
He kissed her patiently, wooing her, pulsing against her opening,
teasing her flesh into easing. But Kate groaned in frustration,
whipping her head from side to side.
"I want you inside me, all of you."
"I don't want to hurt you again," he managed to say over the shuddering
desire that threatened to consume him.
She slid her hands down his back to his naked hips. "You won't." Then
she pulled him to her, and he couldn't hold back any longer.
He gave in to the full strength of his need, and a deep groan escaped
him. He nipped and sucked, unleashing desire as he sank deep. Her mouth
fell open on a silent gasp. But when he tensed and tried
to pull out,
she said, "No!"
"You want this? You want me?"
"Yes! Yes!"
She rolled her head on the carpet with each syllable. Pleading.
Demanding.
He pulled her close, his heart pounding against his ribs, and he felt
her entire body trembling as she adjusted to him.
"Wrap your legs around my waist," he instructed her.
The minute she did as he asked, he sank even deeper, and this time he
gasped at a woman who could take all of his lengthâas if this woman,
Kate, was meant for him. Had always been meant for him.
"Damn," he whispered thickly into her mouth. "You're mine."
He began to move slowly until he felt her passion surge again. She
panted as he stroked her slickness
with his sliding shaft, bringing her
up toward orgasm, kissing her, his tongue mimicking his lower body. And
just when she cried her release, he plunged deep and captured her mouth
with his, slipping his
tongue into her hot wetness and feeling her
shuddering tremors as his own. Then the tremors were his,
his body
erupting and arching into her, convulsing with a sheer aching intensity
that he had never experienced before with any woman.
He whispered her name three times as his passion spent itself.
They clung together for what seemed like hours, neither wanting the
bubble around them to burst. When he finally pulled up onto his elbows,
he saw that her cheeks glistened.
"Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice ragged.
She smiled at him, then reached up and touched his face. Her fingers
came away wet. "They're your tears, Jesse, not mine."
TWENTY-ONE
Someone called out, causing Jesse and Kate to freeze."Jesse! Where the hell are you?"
"Fuck, it's Derek," Jesse stated.
"Did you lock the door?"
"You were the last one in."
Kate gasped, and they broke apart. Like guilty teenagers, they raced
back to the kitchen and started scrambling to pull on their clothes.
Jesse was done in no time, but Kate fumbled with her buttons.
Jesse gently but assuredly moved her hands away. "Let me."
"There's no time!"
"Exactly," he said, amused when he gestured to the mess she had made.
He worked the fastenings with ease. "There."
Kate gasped when she saw the ripped edges of her panties on the floor.
"No! Over therel"
"Damn. How do you forget underwear?"
She started to argue.
"This isn't the time, Kate."
Which was true. But neither of them could retrieve the slip of material
before the older Chapman
burst into the guest cottage.
"What the hell is this?" Derek asked grimly, his hair and shoulders wet
from the rain that had started
to pour. He shook the afternoon edition
of the El Paso Tribune in the air.
Every trace of vulnerability in Jesse disappeared. "Hello to you, too,
big brother."
"I don't need any of your smart mouth. What the hell is this article?"
"What are you talking about?" Jesse asked, his voice dangerous.
Derek waved the folded newspaper. "The front page of the sports
section."
Tension raced through Jesse's body fast and quick. For long seconds, he
didn't move. It was Kate who reached for the Tribune.
Jesse was frozen on the spot, his face a mask of stone.
As the two brothers glared at each other, she unfolded the section and
was immediately hit by the headline.
It's Hell Being a Hero
Or so it would seem for El Paso's prodigal son Jesse Chapman By Tommy
Davis
Jesse glanced over her shoulder and saw it, too. With a jerk, he turned
away, bracing his hands against the counter.
"Jesse?" she started to say.
"Read it to him, Kate," the older Chapman said. "He needs to hear what
is being said about him."
Not knowing what else to do, she began to read. "Rumor has it that
Jesse Chapman hasn't been able to play since he saved a woman's life."
She glanced at his back. "Tommy Davis is that reporter we saw
that day
on the golf course, isn't it?"
"The one and only," he said coldly.
She went on.
"Is he really a hero,
or is he still the bad boy of golf
who took to the wild life like a duck takes to water? My guess is that
if Jesse wasn't such a pretty boy, there wouldn't be a sports person
around who would have heard of him. Will he change that this August at
the PGA Championships'
Does he have the talent worthy of the
attention
he's given?
"But more than that, is Jesse Chapman
really a heroâor just a wolf in
shining armor? Because this reporter has learned that the only reason
the woman collapsed that day on the Westchester driving
range was
because she was hit with a golf club. Did Jesse hit her, then save her
in turn? Hard to
know, because no one is talking, including Jesse
Chapman. What is our local bad boy hiding?"
The article went on, detailing Jesse's life for the last decade. The
minor tournaments won. The press coverage gained.
Shock rippled through Kate. When she glanced up, Jesse had turned
around, facing her.
"Is it true?" she asked. "Did you hit that woman?"
"Did you, Jesse?" Derek demanded.
Jesse's jaw cemented.
Derek closed his eyes as if praying for patience. "What the hell have
you done that a guy like Tommy Davis would question
whether the reports about you being a hero are true or not?"
Kate watched that shift in Jesse that she had seen before. On the set
of
Getting Real
, on the golf
course
in front of Tommy Davis. And now.
Suddenly the smiles returned. "I'm no hero, big brother," Jesse said
with his bad boy smile. "You of all people should know that. Haven't
you made that clear to me for years?"
Derek's eyes narrowed, only then the patience evaporating. "Damn it,
Jesse. What pushes you to do
these things? Drinking at age elevenâ"
Jesse held up his hand in an exaggerated attempt to be helpful. "You've
got it out of order. First
smoking, then drinking."
Kate watched the exchange with growing horror.
"Don't worry, I didn't forget, Jesse. Just like I didn't forget the
present Dad gave you when you turned thirteen. A whore and a birthday
fuck. Was she good? Did you enjoy it?"
Kate felt like she had been punched.
"You and Dad," Derek continued, "with your drinking and your women."
Kate couldn't believe what she was hearing, and she also could feel
that Jesse was losing his tight grip
on his bad boy smile. He was about
to break.
"You're a broken record, Derek. Let me make it easier. Drinking,
whoring, irresponsibly fathering a son. What else?"
Dark eyes glared into dark eyes, inches apart. Then something caught
Derek's attention. He glanced over to the kitchen floor and saw the
ripped panties. After a second, he
glanced between Jesse and Kate.
"What else, you ask? How long have you been screwing Kate?"
Instantly, Jesse had his brother pinned against the wall. "I've never
done anything to hurt her."
"Yeah, right. You keep forgetting the day of my wedding. Screwing her
in your bedroom. And don't you know all of El Paso is talking about her
being your newest plaything while you conveniently stay in her guest
cottage? Looks to me like that's just what's been going on."
Jesse slammed him against the wall again, knocking Derek's breath out
with a guttural gasp.
"Jesse! Stop!" Kate raced forward, breaking into that dark place where
Jesse had gone. After a second,
he jerked away, Derek bending over to
catch his breath.
She had never seen any man look so ravaged as Jesse did then. With a
growl of pain, he banged out of the cottage, into the rain, and was
gone.
She wanted to follow, but didn't. She turned to Derek, staring at him
as she tried to understand. "Regardless of what you believe, I threw
myself at Jesse the day of your weddingâand Jesse told me no."
Derek straightened, confusion slowly giving way to a reluctant
knowledge, a single frown line of guilt marring his features. "Maybe
I'm wrong about that, but not about the other things. Jesse has been
wild and irresponsible for as long as I can remember."
She looked at this tall, strong man, so like his younger brother in
looks, but lacking a flare for life and laughter that had come to Jesse
so easily. Her voice was soft when she spoke. "I think you're jealous
that your father has always paid more attention to Jesse than to you."
His eyes narrowed. "I didn't give a damn if Jesse had his attention."
"Didn't you?"
"My father and Jesse had plenty in common. Let the two of them be wild
and ruin their lives. I wanted
no part of it."
She bit her lip as she considered his words. "Is it possible for a
grown man to have 'plenty in common' with a child? Or does the adult
teach a boy the ways of a man?"
She saw Derek's eyes flicker, and just then something occurred to her.
"You were, what, nineteen when Jesse was eleven? Wouldn't you have made
a better drinking buddy? Why
did
your
father turn to Jesse instead of
you?"
He shrugged with a nonchalance that Kate could tell he didn't feel. But
he didn't respond.
"Did he ever ask you to go drinking?" she persisted.
"Yes! And I said no. But Jesse didn't."
His burst of anger made her head jerk back, and she blinked in
surprise. "Derek, why are you so angry? Don't you see?" she said with
kind insistence. "You want points for saying no at nineteen, and
condemn Jesse for not turning him down at eleven. You, an adult, versus
Jesse, a boy?"
Derek's thunderous gaze wavered.
"I don't know what really went on in that house of yours," she added,
glancing out the window as she remembered the past, "but I do know that
on the night of his thirteenth birthday, he came to me,
fighting back
tears, and he wouldn't let me touch him. He never let me touch him
again."
As if he had been hit, Derek took a step back, and this time his face
darkened with something other than anger.
She met Derek's gaze. "Did it ever occur to you that as the older
brother, you should have at least tried
to protect Jesse from the very
attention you blame him for having?"
Derek's nostrils flared, and she could see understanding finally,
completely, sink in. "Hell," he bit out.
"Sounds like it was," she said. "For both of you, I'm sure. But you
never thought to help Jesse find his way out of it."
"Hell," he repeated, dragging his hand through his hair in a way that
made him look so much like Jesse.
"He needed a father and a big brother. Do you see how he didn't get
either?" Reaching out, she laid her hand on his arm. "I'm not trying to
blame you, Derek. Really, I'm not. I'm just trying to point out that
Jesse doesn't deserve blame, either. Your father deserves that."
"Hell," he said one last time, before he left the cottage.
She didn't know what he would do. All she knew was that she had to find
Vern Leeper and learn what had really happened at the Westchester Open.
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