Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)(70)

She rolled to her side and propped herself up on an elbow. “Really? You haven’t? How is that possible?” she asked him.

“Can we worry about that tomorrow?” he asked her. “I’d hate to screw this up.”

“If you insist.”

“We’re going to try this again before tomorrow. See if we know what we’re doing…”

“If you insist,” she said again, laughing.

“I want you again,” he said. “Already. I think you have a magical effect on me.”

“Oh.” She laughed. “Poor you.”

“By morning, you might regret this.”

She sighed. “Betcha I don’t…”

And he began with soft kisses on her lips…

When Jack got home, the baby was asleep and Mel was sitting up, comfortable in one of his shirts, the laptop on her knees in front of her, either researching something on the Internet or writing e-mails. It always made him smile to see her like that. She said she liked to wear his shirts right after her shower, smelling his musk on them. He liked to wear those same shirts the next day, a reminder of her body inside, the faint memory of her fresh scent apparent. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.

“What?”

“Brie is back in town. She’s with Mike.”

“Really?” Mel said, suddenly giving him her attention. She closed the laptop and put it aside.

“I haven’t seen her. When I was leaving the bar, her Jeep was parked next to Mike’s car. She came to Mike. Not to us—to Mike.”

She shrugged. “Well, that makes sense. He loves her.”

“How do you know that?” Jack asked.

“How could you not?” she asked.

Jack sat back on the couch. “I thought he was just trying to get laid.”

“That’s pretty irrelevant,” she said, laughing. “You’re all trying to get laid. Some of you actually love the women you’re trying to get close to.”

“You act like we’re all just a bunch of bulls being led around by our dicks.”

She laughed at him, gleefully for a woman who was annoyed to be pregnant, and moody to boot. “Do I? I wonder why?”

“So you think this makes sense?”

“Extraordinary sense. It even makes me nostalgic.”

That caused him to smile devilishly. “Nostalgic enough to take me to bed?”

“Tell me something—are you letting go of this weird control thing you have over Brie?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost tiredly. “It’s not like I haven’t wanted her to have a full life. I thought she was going to have that with Brad, the shit. It was Mike who worried me—he’s been such a frickin’ tomcat.” He glanced at his wife’s disapproving expression. “Yeah, yeah, let’s not go over that again. We all made our rounds.”

“I doubt he made any more rounds than you,” she said.

“It was just the marriages that got under my skin,” he said. “So help me God, if he marries her and walks away from her, I am going to kill him.”

“Looks to me like he’s totally sunk,” she said. “A complete goner.”

“Fine,” Jack said shortly. “I’m out of it now—she’s staked her claim.” Then he reached out a hand, threaded it under her hair and around the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. He kissed her deeply. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Pursued. How are you feeling?”

“Lucky.”

Eleven

In the cool light of morning Mike rose on an elbow to look down at the beautiful pale body of his love. Brie slept on her stomach, and the curve of her back and small, round bottom was exquisite. Irresistible. He hated to disturb her, her rest was so peaceful, but he couldn’t help himself—he touched her. He ran his hand tenderly from her neck, down her spine, over her bottom. She hummed in half sleep and he pressed a gentle kiss into the small of her back.

There was a soft knock at the door. She lifted her head; her hair cascaded over her face. “Shhh,” he told her. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

While he sat on the edge of the bed to retrieve his jeans from the floor, she saw the tattoo on his back for the first time—a large sunburst right between his shoulder blades. Very sexy on that broad, brown back. She’d seen the other one earlier, an armband in the shape of a chain. He shrugged into his pants, pulling them up over his hard, compact butt.

When Mike opened the door he saw that someone, Jack or Preacher, had left a breakfast tray on the ground just outside the door. He looked around; there was no one there. Mike brought the tray inside. There were two covered dishes and a thermal pitcher of coffee. He put it on the table. His kitchen was fully equipped with dishes, utensils, pots and pans—but he hardly ever used it. He took all his meals at the bar.

Then he realized something else was missing—there was no log splitting this morning despite the fact that the weather was perfect. Jack was giving them more than just privacy—he wasn’t even making his presence felt on the property.

Mike took off his jeans again, letting them drop. He got back into his bed and continued the pleasurable study of Brie’s smooth, silky back. He scrunched up her tangled hair and pulled it to his lips. She hummed contentedly.