Joan Pickart - Man...Mercenary...Monarch

Laura reached across the table and covered one of John’s hands with one of hers as she leaned toward him.

“Going to do about what?” she said. “What’s wrong, John?”

John turned his hand over and grasped Laura’s. Heat shimmered up her arm, across her breasts, then began to swirl throughout her. She could feel a warm flush stain her cheeks, but made no attempt to free her hand from John’s hold.

So strong, she thought, yet so gentle.

“The last time I was home,” John said, looking directly at her again, “I came here, to Jake’s, met up with a woman I knew and we spent the night together. We both understood there were no strings attached. It was just…well, a night.”

“I understand,” Laura said.

“A couple of days ago I received a letter from a friend of that woman,” John continued. “It had taken quite a while for the letter to reach me because I was out of the country. The letter said that the woman I knew had died several months before.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Laura said.

“Yeah, well, there’s more,” John said, his grip on Laura’s hand tightening slightly. “The woman had…she never told me, but…” He shook his head.

“John?” Laura said.

“She had my baby, Laura,” he said, his voice gritty with emotion. “My son. She hadn’t planned on telling me, nor making any demands on me, but then she died.

“Her friend took the baby and started the process of finding me to tell me I had a son, that I needed to be his father because he no longer had a mother. He doesn’t have anyone.”

“Dear heaven,” Laura whispered. “A baby. You have a son who needs you to make a home for him, to raise him and—how old is he now?”

“Eleven months. He’s going to celebrate his first birthday pretty soon. His name is Jeremiah.”

“Have you seen him?”

“No.” John frowned. “I spoke with the woman on the phone and told her I’d pick Jeremiah up tomorrow. I needed some sleep and a plan for—ah hell, Laura, what am I going to do? How can a man like me raise a son?”

Sudden tears stung Laura’s eyes as she saw the raw pain on John’s face, heard it in his voice. She wanted to close the distance between them, hug him, hold him, tell him he wasn’t alone.

“A man like you?” she said, blinking away the unwelcome tears. “You’re saying that in such a derogatory manner, and you shouldn’t. You’re warm and caring. You were the one, the only one, who stepped in and rescued me from that aggressive man.

“You’re holding my hand, John, and you could crush it with very little effort, but I know my hand is safe. I know that I’m safe with you, because your strength is tempered with infinite gentleness.

“How can a man like you raise a son? By just being you, by loving Jeremiah with all your heart. You’re his father, and I think he’s a lucky little boy to have you.”

“Thank you, Laura,” John said. “More than I can even express in words.” He drew a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “I guess all I can do is the best I can do. Man, I’ve never even held a baby before, let alone…I suppose there are books I can read about child care or something.”

Laura nodded. “You can use books as a guideline, but don’t expect Jeremiah to do exactly what is described. Babies are people in small bodies. They have personalities, likes, dislikes, just as adults do. You’ll need to follow your own instincts.”

John chuckled, the rumbly, male sound causing a shiver to course through Laura.

“You’re assuming that I have some paternal instincts,” he said, smiling. “If I do, they’re news to me.”

Laura matched his smile. “They’re there. Trust me. No, correct that. Trust and believe in yourself, Daddy.”

John’s smile faded. “Daddy. Father. Whew. I guess it’s really sinking in that I have a son.” He paused. “I wonder if he looks like me? Do year-old babies talk? Walk?” He laughed. “Play poker?”

“Oh, it’s so good to hear you laugh,” Laura said, “see you smile.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you, Laura. I’m very glad that you got cabin fever and came to Jake’s tonight.”

“So am I,” she said softly.

They smiled, warm smiles, meaningful smiles, smiles that wrapped around them like a comforting blanket.

Then the smiles disappeared as they continued to gaze into each other’s eyes. The desire within them burned brighter, hotter, consumed them.

And they welcomed it, because it was real and rich, and so very, very right. It belonged to them in their private and special world.

They communicated without words, messages of want and need sent and received with intertwined emotions of peacefulness and excitement.

John slid out of the booth and extended his hand to Laura. She placed her hand in his with no hesitation and moved to stand by his side. He retrieved their jackets, assisted Laura in putting hers on, shrugged into his own, then dropped several bills onto the table.

With his hand resting on Laura’s back, they made their way through the crowd at the bar to emerge into the clear, cold night.

“I walked over from my motel,” John said quietly. “It’s a couple of miles from here.”

“I borrowed a vehicle from where I’m staying,” Laura said. “We can go in that.”

John stepped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Laura.” He looked directly into her eyes, able to see her in the light from the neon sign on the building. “I want you to know that this isn’t just…just a night like I spoke of before.”

“I know that, John,” she said softly. “I don’t quite understand why this is so right, but it is, and I’ll have no regrets about what we’re going to share. I promise you that.”

He nodded, brushed his lips over hers, then tugged his Stetson low on his forehead.

A short time later, John parked the truck Laura had borrowed in front of his room at the motel. He’d left a small lamp on and the room welcomed them with a dim, golden glow.

John closed the door and slipped the chain into place. Laura leaned against the door and he braced his hands on either side of her head.

“I can’t see you after tonight,” he said. “I have to focus on my son, on learning how to become the best father I can be.”

“I understand,” she said, nodding. “It’s better this way, because I’m only here temporarily. This is our night, John. It was fate, our meeting at Jake’s, talking, sharing, feeling as though we’d known each other for a very long time. It’s all very special, rare, and very, very beautiful.”

John nodded, then lowered his head to claim Laura’s mouth in a gentle, fleeting kiss.

Laura kept her arms at her sides as he kissed her again, deeper this time, parting her lips to seek, find, then duel with her tongue in the sweet darkness of her mouth.

Laura’s legs began to tremble and she gripped John’s jacket, holding fast.

The kiss went on and on.

It was magic.

It was a night stolen out of time and reality.

It was clothes seeming to float away by a wish, instead of a touch, as desire exploded within them with hot, licking flames. It was passion soaring to previously unknown, glorious heights.

Cool sheets on the bed greeted their heated bodies and they kissed, caressed, explored, marveling at the wonders discovered.

John supported his weight on one forearm as he skimmed his other hand over Laura’s breasts, then on to splay over her flat stomach.

“You’re beautiful, Laura,” he murmured, close to her lips.

“So are you,” she whispered, her fingertips tracing the taut muscles in his back.

He shifted lower to lave the nipple of one of her breasts with his tongue. Laura sank her hands into his thick hair, pressing his mouth harder onto the soft flesh. She closed her eyes for a moment to savor the exquisite sensations rushing through her.