“Claudia told me he accidentally shot someone?” Rory shook his head.
Parker grimaced. “Terrible thing, the guy was a cop. Died at the scene.”
“Whoa. That’s heavy.”
Jacob shook his head. “I hate to put a damper on the praise for this guy, but in my opinion John Merrick has a drinking problem.”
“I know he has a drink now and again.” Benjamin Wainwright’s eyes sharpened on Jacob. “What makes you think it’s a problem?”
“Half the time he was here at the shop he was drunk,” Jacob said. “The other half he was accusing me of being the stalker.”
Julia had been hoping Jacob wouldn’t go down that road, but he’d never been one to keep his opinions to himself. The worst part about it was that John wasn’t here to defend himself.
“I think John is struggling with what happened in Chicago,” she said.
Parker leaned closer and lowered his voice. “While I was checking him out, I heard rumors of an impending lawsuit. The widow of the dead cop was considering filing a civil suit against him for negligence and endangerment. She had children, you know.”
“I had no idea,” Claudia said. “How terrible for everyone involved.”
Benjamin Wainwright grimaced. “Very difficult situation to say the least.”
“Hopefully, he wasn’t drinking when it happened,” Jacob put in.
Julia shot him a hard look. “I believe the drinking is a result of the tragedy, not the cause of it.”
He looked contrite for a moment, but he wasn’t deterred. “Look, Julia, I’m not saying he shot anyone on purpose. But some of the things I witnessed when he was here make me wonder about his competence.” He looked at Benjamin. “Frankly, I was surprised you hired him.”
Julia counted to ten. “I think that’s enough idle gossip for one evening,” she said. “And just in case any of you have forgotten, John is the one who apprehended the stalker.”
Benjamin Wainwright nodded at his daughter. “Well said, Julia.”
Parker nodded solemnly. “Maybe you should counsel him, Benjamin.”
The elder Wainwright nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll give him a call when we get back from Baton Rouge. He’s a good man. I’d hate to see him go down the wrong road.”
Julia didn’t think John would willingly let her father “counsel” him. But she agreed that it would be good for him to talk to someone about the shooting. If not her father, then someone else.
“So, Julia, have the police ascertained the reason why this guy targeted you?” Parker asked.
Her father grimaced. “We were wondering if it had anything to do with the ministry.”
Julia had been raised never to lie, so she wasn’t very good at it. At the moment she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “From what I understand this guy is a serial stalker. He had already served prison time for stalking a radio talk show host. I don’t believe it had anything to do with the ministry.”
“There are a lot of troubled souls in this town,” Benjamin said.
Parker nodded in agreement. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”
“Indeed.”
“I’m just glad it’s over,” Julia said.
Claudia raised a stemmed glass. “I think this calls for a toast.”
Six glasses rose. Glass tinkled. “Here’s to the good guys,” Benjamin Wainwright said.
Julia was thinking about John when a pounding sounded on the front door. She knew it was unnecessary now that the stalker had been caught, but a chill passed through her nonetheless.
“Did you put the CLOSED sign in the window?” Jacob asked.
“I did,” Julia said.
“There’s always someone who chooses not to read it,” Claudia put in.
“Or doesn’t care,” Jacob added.
Setting her glass on the counter, Julia started toward the door, but Jacob stopped her. “You hang with your dad,” he said. “I’ll get rid of them.”
She smiled. “Be nice.”
He smiled back. “I’m always nice.”
She returned to where her father and Parker were in the midst of a conversation about the upcoming convention. “My keynote,” Benjamin was saying, “promises to be controversial, but if I’ve learned anything in the last sixty years it’s that change isn’t easy, even when it’s past due.”
Parker nodded. “I’m halfway through the speech and it’s really powerful.”
“I wrote a rough draft. But when I step up to that podium, I’m probably going to wing most of it.” He rapped his hand against his heart. “What I have to say comes directly from here.”
Out of the corner of her eye Julia watched Jacob cross to the front door. She was aware of him mumbling something beneath his breath. The rustle of the blinds as the door opened.
Claudia was speaking to her. Something about a new restaurant in the Quarter. But Julia’s attention was on the visitor at the door, because at some level she knew who it was.
“What are you doing here?” came Jacob’s voice.
She turned to see John push his way inside. “Where is she?”
His gaze clashed with hers. An unwanted thrill barreled through her when his eyes skimmed down the front of her. She could feel her heart thrumming against her ribs. Something primal inside her calling out to something even more primal inside him. But she was keenly aware of the other people in the room. The eyes on her. On him. The speculation this unexpected visit would bring.
“Oh. John. Hi.” Brilliant greeting.
He didn’t even acknowledge anyone else in the room. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
He ran the last two words together, and with a keen sense of disappointment Julia realized he’d been drinking. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Everyth’ns fine.” Blinking, he looked around the room as if realizing he’d walked in on something. “Mr. Wainwright.”
“John.” There was no censure in her father’s voice, but his eyes were watchful.
Shaking his head, Jacob stepped back, his questioning gaze going to Julia. “I can ask him to leave.”
Julia wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to keep John from making an ass of himself. Maybe because she cared. Because she knew he was a good man and that in spite of that fact he was going to make a bad impression on people whose opinion mattered to her.
Parker crossed to where John and Jacob stood just inside the door. “Maybe someone ought to drive him home,” he said.
“I don’t need anyone to drive me home.” John didn’t even spare the other man a glance. His eyes were on Julia. “I need to talk to Julia. Now. In private.”
She stared back, wondering if he could see the hard beat of her heart, because it was going wild inside her chest. He didn’t look very coplike standing there in his faded blue jeans, biker boots and black leather bomber jacket. He looked dangerous. For the life of her she couldn’t fathom why he’d come to see her.
“We can talk in the storage room,” she said.
“Maybe you ought to talk out here.” Parker tried to sound casual, but Julia didn’t miss the concern in his voice. “After all, you’ve got all this food.”
John said nothing. Didn’t even acknowledge the other man.
“Excuse us just a moment.” Wiping palms that had suddenly become clammy on her skirt, Julia turned and started toward the storage room.
Her knees were shaking when she walked in. She turned to see John enter. She started when he closed the door behind him. Her heart began to pound out of control when he locked it.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Making sure we don’t get interrupted.”
“Interrupt what?” She was sorry she asked the question the instant the words were out. She saw his intent in his eyes as he started toward her. An unnerving intensity radiated from him as he moved. Julia sensed danger; the instinct to flee barreled through her.
She didn’t even realize she was moving backward until her
back came in contact with the shelf behind her. All she could think was that there was no place to run. That she wasn’t equipped to handle this man, this situation.
He reached her a moment later. In one smooth motion he locked her in with his arms by grasping the shelf behind her. Julia got an impression of mile-wide shoulders. Lean hips encased in faded denim. She jerked her gaze to his face, caught a glimpse of heavy brows riding low over eyes glittering with dark intentions. Two days of stubble on a lean jaw. A sculpted mouth pulled taut.
“This,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.
TWENTY-ONE
Julia was no stranger to the power of lust. In her books, she explored the many facets of passion, delving into the darker, forbidden side of desire. But none of her writings had prepared her for this encounter with John Merrick.
The hot shock of pleasure stunned her. Every nerve ending in her body jumped to life the instant his mouth touched hers. Her blood heated and began to boil in her veins. A pang low in her abdomen transformed into an ache that was urgent and unbearable, a knot drawn inexorably tighter.
Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined a simple kiss throwing her into such a maelstrom of physical and emotional upheaval. But she knew there was nothing simple about this kiss. About this moment. Or the man holding her in his arms.
Using both hands, she pushed against his shoulders. But the attempt was token, because deep inside her something called out to him. She wanted this and no false pretenses were going to change that. His shoulders were rock hard beneath her palms. His skin was hot to the touch. Sweat dampened his shirt beneath his bomber jacket. She ran her hands over his shoulders, down the muscled biceps of the arms that pinned her. All the while his mouth coaxed and teased and made promises she knew better than to believe.
She believed anyway.
It was wrong for her to want him. Wrong for her to respond here and now and with no holds barred. But for the first time in her adult life, Julia didn’t think about doing the right thing. And even though in the back of her mind she knew this would cost her later, she didn’t let herself think about repercussions.
A swirl of dizziness engulfed her when his body came flush against hers. She got the impression of hard planes and angles. She wanted to put her hands on him and explore all of them. A gasp escaped her when he moved against her, but he deepened the kiss and swallowed the sound.
For an instant she resisted, but the feel of his mouth against hers tore down her defenses. She wanted his tongue in her mouth. She opened to him. He went in deep. At some point he’d loosened his grip on the shelf behind her. His hands trembled slightly as he set his palms on either side of her face and angled her toward him. His palms were damp and rough against her skin. A tremor moved through her when they slid to her shoulders and skimmed down her arms to rest on her hips.
Gripping her there, he moved against her. Once. Twice. She was keenly aware of his arousal sliding against her pelvis. A groan rumbling up from his chest. Her own blood pounding like a drum in her womb. She shivered when he removed her shirt. A protest escaped her when he cupped her breasts.
But John didn’t stop. He didn’t give her time to catch her breath. His hand went to the front of her bra and for several seconds he struggled with the clasp. When he couldn’t get it open fast enough, he used both hands and snapped the thin scrap of material.
Her breasts sprang free. Pleasure surged when he brushed his fingertips over her swollen nipples. Julia arched her back, giving him unencumbered access. He cupped her breasts. She muffled a cry when he took her sensitized nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and gently squeezed. All she could think was that if he stopped she would surely die.
He broke the kiss. Her head lolled back. Then his mouth was on her breast, warm and wet and sucking. The intensity of the pleasure made her cry out. Her womb contracted and she wondered if a woman could orgasm from breast stimulation alone.
She wanted to touch him, explore every hard plane, take his breath the same way he was taking hers. Reaching out, she skimmed her hands over his chest. The buttons of his shirt seemed like a monumental task when she could barely think, so she used both hands and ripped his shirt open. Vaguely, she was aware of buttons popping and hitting the floor. He quivered when she skimmed her hands over his pebbled male nipples. His quick intake of breath told her he was sensitive there so she did it again.
The floor shifted beneath her feet when he reached down and cupped her between her legs. She felt herself begin to melt. Julia knew she should stop. The moment was rapidly spiraling out of control. It was a moment she would be sorry for later. But the pleasure was like a powerful narcotic racing through her blood. A drug that fed a ravenous need she hadn’t even known existed.
John whispered something in her ear. But Julia was beyond hearing, beyond understanding. She was aware of his hand sliding down her hip. Cool air rushed over her thighs as he raised the hem of her skirt. Then his palm was flush against her belly, sliding lower into the waistband of her panty hose.
She knew what would happen next. But lost in a sea of sensation, she wasn’t strong enough to stop him. If only he would stop kissing her.
But he didn’t stop.
His fingers brushed the curls at her vee. Her mind ordered her to shove away from him and stop this madness before it veered into dangerous territory. But her body betrayed her intellect. She reveled in the smooth slide of his palm over her skin. When he reached the apex of her thighs a second time, she opened to him. Her legs went weak when his hand slid over her mound, separated her. She cried out when two fingers dipped inside and went deep.
“Easy,” he whispered.
Julia went rigid for an instant, then her bones seemed to melt. “John . . .”
“That’s it,” he said and began to stroke her.
The world around her faded to monochrome and ceased to exist. All she could think was that she was at his mercy. That in all the years she’d been writing, she’d never even come close to capturing the power of true desire. The reckless heat of unencumbered lust. The tangle of emotions that went along with both of those things.
The pleasure built with breathtaking speed, with stunning intensity. Need tore down her intellect, piece by devastated piece. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her hips moved in time with his hand, each stroke driving her to a higher level of madness. All the while he kissed her like a man possessed.
The climax crashed over her like a tidal wave. Control fled. Every sense heightened to a fever pitch. Her body broke a sweat. Vaguely, she was aware of his name on her lips. Her fingers digging into his shoulders and back while the sensations coursing through her seemed to go on and on.
For several seconds Julia could do nothing but cling to him. At some point her legs had buckled. She would have slid to the floor, but he was holding her propped against the wall. Her entire body trembled with aftershocks. Vaguely, she was aware of their labored breaths. It was a harsh sound in the confines of the storage room—as if both of them had just run a marathon.
Slowly, her senses returned. John continued to hold her, but he gently slid his hand from inside her pantyhose and smoothed her skirt.
Julia let him hold her, but only because she didn’t yet have the strength to stand on her own. She couldn’t believe what she’d just allowed to happen. She couldn’t believe she’d done something so utterly reckless. Her. Ms. I’m-always-in-control Wainwright. She who never veered from the straight and narrow. She who, at the age of twenty-nine, never kissed on the first date. What in the name of God had she been thinking?
But Julia knew what she’d been thinking. She hadn’t, and that was the problem. She’d handed the controls over to John. Everyone knew men couldn’t be trusted to make decisions when it came to sex.
Sex.
Oh God.
Embarrassment was the first emotion she could identify. Not only because she’d given herself to John with such reckless abandon, but because her father and several close frien
ds whom she cared for and respected—people whose opinion of her mattered greatly—were standing just one room away more than likely wondering what the hell they were doing in the storage room.
Regret came in a blinding rush.
She disengaged herself from John. Because she couldn’t meet his gaze, she looked down at her disheveled clothes and brushed at them frantically. When she mustered the courage, she made eye contact with John.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He met her gaze levelly. “Screwing things up probably.”
“Damn right you are.”
“I didn’t mean for things to go that far.”
Spinning away from him, Julia tucked her blouse into her skirt. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I can’t believe you let me.”
That was the worst part about the whole episode, she thought. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t blame it on him. She had partaken in the moment every bit as enthusiastically as he had.
“That’s the most . . . inappropriate thing I’ve ever done in my life.” Not knowing what else to do, she began wiping frantically at the wet spot on her skirt.
He handed her a Kleenex from a box on the shelf. “Let me help—”
“I can do it.” She ripped the tissue from his hand and dabbed at the spot. “My father is standing out there wondering what the hell we’re doing in here.” When the spot had been blotted, she looked at John. “What do you suggest I tell them?”
He rolled a shoulder, and Julia couldn’t help but remember how that shoulder had felt beneath her hands when he’d been kissing her. “Tell them I came to you with a problem.”
“That’s not far off the mark.”
He laughed. It was a rich, masculine sound. That he could be flippant about this ticked her off.
“This is not the least bit funny,” she said. “You waltz into my shop drunk and . . .” She closed her eyes.
“It takes two to tango, Julia.”
“I’m not saying you’re the only one to blame for this, but you instigated it. Neither one of us is in a position to . . .” But the words failed her.