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“Who’s Jacky?” Eric asked before he could stop himself, annoyed with himself at the slight burn of jealousy. Jaclyn just looked at him as if she couldn’t figure out why he was asking such a dumb question.
Madelyn frowned at him. “Jaclyn’s father,” she said abruptly, the full stop in her tone telling him she wouldn’t appreciate any further questions in that direction.
Huh. Okay. That explained Jaclyn’s name, at least: it was a blend of Jack and Madelyn.
Madelyn turned back to her daughter, gently touched her arm. “I’ll see if it’s okay for you to leave now. You’re exhausted.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I’ll take her home,” Eric said firmly.
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary,” Jaclyn said coolly. She was handling this well enough, but the night was far from over and the adrenaline overload hadn’t quite hit her yet. When it did, the exhaustion would knock her on her ass.
“I want to ask you a few more questions,” he promptly lied. Well, it wasn’t a lie, because he did want to ask her some things, but it was more like the same questions he’d already asked, just phrased differently. Sometimes a little change in a sentence could trigger a memory. “I can do that on the way back to Hopewell, or I can follow you home and we can talk there.”
“Fine,” she said wearily. “I’d just as soon get this over with.” She planted a kiss on Madelyn’s cheek. “I’m glad you were here. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be late, because I have to arrange for a car, but I’ll be there.”
“You should take the day off,” Madelyn said, but Jaclyn immediately shook her head.
“No, I’m better off at work, where I’ll have things to distract me. Besides, tomorrow’s another hectic day. Remember my rehearsal tonight? You wouldn’t believe. I have to tell you all about it.”
Having been there, Eric completely, but silently, agreed with her.
Madelyn pressed her lips together. “You call me when you’re safely home.”
“I will.” She thanked the others for being there, thanked the Atlanta officers and detectives, thanked the witnesses, apologized for the disturbance to the people who lived in the neighborhood. Recognizing the signs of impending collapse, Eric finally put his hand on her elbow and led her to his car.
She was stumbling slightly, and he provided more and more support as they walked. She said, “I’m not sure what questions you think you have, but I don’t know anything I haven’t already told you. Not about Carrie, not about tonight.”
“Once you start talking, something of interest might occur to you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then we’ll talk about cars,” Eric said as he opened the passenger door for her and she slipped in. She fumbled with the seat belt and he bent down, fastened it for her. He rounded the car, got in beside her, and clipped his own belt. “I swear, when this is over I’m taking you to a car show.”
“When this is over, I’m never going to see you again,” she responded.
“Every woman should know the difference between a Ford and a Toyota and a Cadillac.”
“They have four tires and a steering wheel. Other than that, who cares?”
“If it makes you feel better, we can take Diedra, too. Not a Mini Cooper, my ass.”
Chapter Twenty-one
A HARD, WARM ARM SLIPPED AROUND HER, TUGGED HER sideways against a rock-solid shoulder. Half asleep, she sighed and nestled closer, because he was so warm and felt so secure, and she was almost boneless with fatigue. “You’re home,” he murmured, using his other hand to tilt her chin up. He slanted his mouth over hers in a leisurely kiss that slowly deepened until his tongue was in her mouth and sheer heat began to chase away her fatigue.
Yes, she was home, she thought vaguely. Jaclyn sighed again, slipping her hand around his neck and up into his hair. God, he smelled good, man smell mingled with heat and sweat and night air. Skin was skin; why did men smell so different from women? But they did, and his smell made something in her purr like a kitten.
His left hand slid over her breasts, rubbing and finding her n
ipples through her layers of clothing, catching them between his fingers and lightly pulling so that they tightened and stood out. Pleasure slowly grew, like a tide coming in, washing over her in incrementally higher waves and pushing the fatigue aside but still leaving her boneless. Her body knew his, knew the weight and heat of him, knew how he moved, knew the things that made him groan and the sounds he made when he climaxed. She shouldn’t be kissing him, shouldn’t let him touch her the way he was touching her, but she was tired and she’d almost been killed tonight and she wanted him even more than she had when they’d first met.
But this was exactly what she’d done wrong the first time, leaping before she looked, and that had turned out to be an emotional disaster. Throwing caution to the wind just wasn’t how she operated—at least, how she operated most of the time. Eric jarred her out of her comfort zone, goaded her into saying and doing things that she would normally never say or do. The thing about comfort zones was that they were, well, comfortable, and getting out of them wasn’t.
In the back of her mind, alarm bells began to ring. She had to stop, or the next thing she knew he’d have her skirt up and her underwear off, and there wouldn’t be any stopping. She didn’t want to go there again, didn’t want to set herself up for even more hurt.
Bracing her hand against his shoulder, she tore her mouth free of his and pushed back, turning her face away. “No. I’m sorry. I was half asleep and … no.”
