Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) (24 page)

Jesse met his angry gaze. “That’s what you want me to think. But the truth will come out.”

Marti took hold of his arm once they were outside, slowing him down. “What happened? Did they beat you?” She gestured to his eye.

“I didn’t go quietly.” He seemed to take her in, his expression softening as he brushed a lock of hair from her face. “I’m okay. Don’t look so worried.”

She let out a long breath. “I’ll try.”

They stopped at Bad Boys on the way home. Caty squealed and rushed into his arms. The small mid-morning crowd turned to look, then whispered speculatively. Marti was sure they already knew about the attack and Jesse’s arrest.

“I heard you broke two of Paul’s ribs. Good for you, big brother.”

“Caty,” Helen admonished. “He didn’t break anything.”

Caty lowered her voice as she took in his black eye, but before she could say anything, he shook his head. “It’s no big deal.”

“What did they set your bail at?”

“No bail,” Marti said. “Paul didn’t press charges. Odd, huh?”

“Very odd.”

Jesse was quiet, and Marti hoped he was just tired. Helen held up the conversation for the ride back to her house. When they reached home, Helen checked in at the office and found she was needed for a case.

“I’m only part time, but they get to choose which part. Relax here.”

Jesse took Marti’s hand and led her up the stairs. It gave her a funny feeling, him leading her up to his old bedroom. Not that she expected anything to happen, not as tired as he must be. And it wouldn’t happen anyway, she added tersely.

The bed was still rumpled. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, softly lighting the room. He stripped off his shirt and lay down, pulling her down beside him. His eyes were sleepy, yet something kept them from slipping closed.

He smiled, reaching for a strand of hair. “You dyed your hair back.”

She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear before realizing what she was doing. “Argh. Now you’ve got me doing it. Yeah, I dyed it back. Easier to take care of.”

His smile faded, replaced by that faraway look. He still held her hand, moving and bending it, studying it.

“Jesse, what’s wrong? You don’t feel bad for what you did to Paul, do you?”

“No, I feel bad for what I did to you.”

“To me?” There was a strange pounding in her heart, put there by the way he touched her hand, the way he looked at her with quiet agony in his eyes.

“I let you down. My anger got the best of me and got me put in jail. I promised to take care of you, and it’s damned hard to do that locked up. All I kept thinking about was what if something happened to you. If he knew I’d been arrested, he’d know I wasn’t there watching over you.” He squeezed her hand, finally meeting her eyes. “You’re my life right now. I can’t let my emotions override your safety. Never again, Marti.”

She found it difficult to breathe when he said,
You’re my life right now
. What to say to him after he’d said that? How to take away the self-crimination in his eyes?

“You didn’t let me down, Jesse. I know you were trying to put an end to this. I was safe here. You knew I’d be okay.”

He looked at her for the longest moment, weighing her words perhaps. She tried to catch her breath without letting him know he’d taken it from her. Before she could accomplish it, he leaned over and kissed her. Like under the tree last Christmas Eve, he pressed his mouth to hers, not in passion but in tenderness. Passion she could fight. Maybe. But how could she fight tenderness?

He kissed her again, closing his eyes as if savoring the feel. Or deciding whether to kiss her some more. She was poised at the edge, hoping he wouldn’t, wishing he would.

He didn’t. Without opening his eyes again, he laid back, pulling her along with him. Her head nestled against his shoulder, and she could feel his breath on top of her head. His heart beat beneath her ear, lulling her into a dreamy state. His hand still held hers, although his grip loosened as fell asleep.

It hit her again, that scary revelation of earlier. Could she stand a lifetime of this? Of simply being loved?

One of their earlier conversations echoed in her mind:

No proposals tonight?
she’d said in a snippy tone after he’d seen Abbie.

No. Why, you got one for me?

Which made it sound like he’d be open for one. From her. He’d asked her to stay, or at least suggested it.

Stay, Marti. Don’t lose him.

She couldn’t help, though, considering the source of her snippiness: Abbie. Abbie, who could no doubt offer him much more than she could. Who knew about raising kids. Who wasn’t so messed up. Who had two boys who idolized Jesse and needed a good father.

I’m trying to be a better person. Jesse’s helping me to be better, nicer, to forgive myself, love myself.

Ah, hell. That was the irony of it: by wanting Jesse, she was being selfish once again.

CHAPTER 14

Donna Hislope walked into the diner, flashing Caty and Marti a phony smile before prissily sitting at the counter. She licked her finger and ran it down the hair that tapered to a point at her temple.

“She either wants to know something, or wants us to know something,” Caty whispered before slowly making her way over. “Hi, Donna. How’s your dad?”

“Oh, the usual. And speaking of that, can I have my usual?”

“Chocolate milk shake,” Caty said with a nod, turning to prepare it.

“Oh, you’re funny. No, a glass of tomato juice. Got to watch my figure.”

Marti lifted an eyebrow at Donna’s barrel torso leaning against the counter. Not that she felt particularly shapely, but at least she had good reason.

“Marti, how are you doing? I heard about the break-in last week. The creep broke into
your
bedroom, I understand. Too bad he picked the time you and Jesse are, uh, having problems.”

Either the sheriff or the deputy had a big mouth, Marti thought, cursing the gossips of the small town. She smiled. “Yeah, well, back ache or no,
our
bed will have to do until the baby’s born.”

Donna showed her large, flat teeth in a lascivious smile. “If I had a husband like him, I wouldn’t let him sleep alone for a minute. Speaking of that, guess who asked me for a date next Friday? Paul Paton.”

Caty’s eyes widened. “I hope you didn’t accept it.”

Donna pulled at her polyester mini-skirt, shifting around on the stool. “Oh, come on. You don’t really believe he’s after Marti, do you? He’s too good-looking to go around attacking women. And he’s a lot hotter than the other guy who’s been flirting with me lately.”

Donna examined her fingernails, forcing Caty to ask, “And who’s that?”

“Dean Seeber.”

Marti saw Caty’s spine stiffen. “Dean asked you out?” Caty asked in a thin voice.

“Well, not directly. Yet. But he sent me flowers today. I have to call and thank him, I suppose, but that’s all he gets. I wouldn’t be caught dead with him.”

Caty’s face flushed, a mixture of disbelief and betrayal in her eyes. Marti spoke up before Caty could give away the affection for Dean she always hid, even from herself.

“What’s so bad about him?”

“He’s just weird, that’s all. Not bad looking or anything, just too strange for me.” She took a sip of her tomato juice, left a dollar on the counter, and stood. “Nice chatting with you, girls.”

“Be careful on that date, Donna,” Marti said.

She held out her arm and dropped her wrist. “Oh, pooh. I think you two aren’t getting enough. You’re too uptight.”

Marti shook her head as the glass door swung shut. “I’m uptight not because I was almost killed last week, but because I haven’t had enough sex lately. There’s logic for you.”

Caty stared out the window with narrowed eyes, watching Donna get into her new sports car. “Do you think Dean really sent her flowers?”

“There’s one way to find out: ask him. Um, your concern wouldn’t be anything other than friendly, would it?”

Caty met her eyes. “Of course not. But I’d break his nose if he went out with her.”

Later that evening, Marti sat across the table from Jesse, watching him pick at his food. Mostly he was stirring it around, and she couldn’t take blame for lousy cooking; the peas were canned and the roasted chicken came from the grocery store.

With her toe, she tapped his leg. “What’cha thinking about?”

“A lot of things. I’ve asked Paul twice why he didn’t press charges. He doesn’t even meet my eyes, just shrugs and turns away. That isn’t like him. It’s not that he’s even acting guilty, just preoccupied. He knows I’m still determined to prove his guilt. I don’t get it.”

“Maybe Paul isn’t the one. I mean, whenever I’ve seen him, in the diner, he never acts like he’d murder me if he had the chance.”

“Don’t be fooled. Paul has always been superb at masking his emotions. But I’m going to have all day Sunday to watch him. You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

“To where?”

“Racing.”

She shifted in her seat. “I don’t know. I’m not really into that racing stuff, the noise and crowds and all.”

His flash of disappointment turned smug. “That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll have a couple of women in the stands to cheer me on.”

She stood and threw her napkin across the table at him. “Desiree and Abbie can wear cheerleading outfits and wave pompons for all I care.” At his grin, she added, “I didn’t say I wasn’t going, just that I wasn’t sure. And don’t use your
women
to manipulate me into doing things, Jesse James.”

He shook his head slowly. “You’re something else, you know that? I was referring to Caty and Ma.”

She threw a bun at him, smearing his nose with butter when he didn’t duck in time. “I know exactly who you were referring to, and it was not them.”

When she grabbed her plate and glass and headed into the kitchen, he came up behind her and leaned down next to her ear. “Anyway I have to get you there. I don’t want you here by yourself while I’m at the race. Besides, I want to keep an eye on Paul’s reactions to you all day.”

“Sure, use me.” She turned on the water.

Sliding his arms around her belly, he whispered, “Don’t tempt me, Marti. Don’t tempt me.”

It seemed like hours before Marti drifted off to sleep. Jesse had shifted and moved for a while, but she lay silent and still, not wanting him to know she was awake. There was something intimate about sharing a midnight conversation in bed in the dark.

Now she was awake again, and it was still dark. She wasn’t worried about waking up with somebody standing over her bed, not with Jesse beside her. Something woke her, and then she realized what it was. She felt his warm hand on her bare belly and knew he was awake. The blankets covered her waist, but her shirt had bunched up. Her eyes adjusted to the ghostly light streaming through the curtains. She turned her head toward him, finding him lying on his side facing her.

She couldn’t see his eyes, only shadows. “Jesse? Are you awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he whispered, his voice velvety in the darkness. “I felt the baby move, and I started thinking about him in there.”

She felt a shifting in her stomach and smiled. “What were you thinking about?”

He trailed his fingers lightly over her belly, and in the moonlight, she could see the smile on his face. “What his life is like, what he feels. Is he happy, or does he know what happiness is about yet? Could he feel your terror last week? Can he feel when you’re happy?”

She remembered his kiss in his old bedroom, and her heartbeat quickened. Did the baby feel that, too? Part of her wanted to feel Jesse’s mouth on hers again, desperate to experience that new sensation of tenderness and masculine sensuality. Part of her wanted to pack up that very moment and run to California as fast as she could because it hurt too damned much.

He reached up and touched her cheek. “You are so beautiful.”

“Jesse…”

His finger grazed her lips, skin rougher than his lips would have been. “You are.”

“I feel like a duck,” she murmured against his finger. “I look like I swallowed a bowling ball.”

“You have a glow that’s like gold, and your eyes sparkle. Your belly is one of the most beautiful parts of your body.”

The glow, the sparkle, they were from the baby. Only from the baby. Her dry throat, the warm flush on her face, that was all from the pregnancy, too. He touched her chin, drawing her closer for another devastating kiss that would rock her insides and her resistance. She squeezed her eyes shut as he moved closer.

“Don’t kiss me.”

“Why not? I like kissing you.”

“I can’t handle it.”

Well, at least she was being honest. He had kissed her four times, and each time she had felt it farther down in her heart, pushing away reason, lulling her into a false confidence that she could deserve a man like Jesse.

“What’s there to handle? I kiss you, you kiss me back. Are you afraid I’m going to jump you?”

She found herself adopting that awful habit Jesse had started, tucking her hair behind her ears. “No, actually, I’m afraid I’ll jump
you
. You know, pregnant women, hormones, all that.”

He leaned closer again. “I can deal with that risk.” His mouth grazed hers before she backed away.

“Jesse, I don’t want to… I mean, I
want
to, but I can’t. Physically I want to, but emotionally I can’t. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“You don’t want to make love with me because you’re afraid it might be so wonderful, you couldn’t leave.”

“No.” Yes.

When he touched her mouth with his, she didn’t back off. “Who said that if I kissed you, we’d have to make love?”

“Well, we are in bed. It always seems that men can’t kiss or hold a woman without expecting more. To men, kissing means sex—”

He was kissing her then, and more than kissing, teasing her lips with his tongue. Her heart tightened, wanting to resist, unable to. Her mouth opened at his invitation, against her will. Without hesitation, his warm tongue moved along her teeth, tickling the roof of her mouth, all in an agonizingly slow, lazy way.