Mary Baxter - His Touch

His voice had just enough harsh strength in it to further assault her senses. She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or if he really meant it. It wasn’t important. It wouldn’t be wise to enter into a light, bantering conversation with him. Ever. That in itself would be asking for trouble. Strictly business. The less she knew about him, the better off she would be. He, on the contrary, seemed to think everything about her life should be an open book.

But this mess she’d gotten herself into for whatever reason wasn’t his fault. She had to remember that and not take her mounting frustrations out on him.

She didn’t know much about him. But she knew enough to realize he didn’t take orders nearly as well as he gave them.

“It’s lovely,” she finally forced herself to say, though she barely got the words past her dry lips.

He didn’t respond for a second, but he didn’t stop looking at her, either. “Hopefully we’ll nail the bastard and I’ll be out of here ASAP.”

Jessica flushed at his uncanny ability to read her mind. “I hope so, too,” she responded, not about to apologize for anything, including her attitude.

“Try and get some sleep,” he said, following another moment of strained silence.

“Do you need anything?” She hadn’t planned on continuing the conversation, but a myriad of hidden emotions seemed to be driving her to say meaningless, irrational things.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to concern yourself about me.”

Something in his tone further irritated her. “I’m not,” she said coldly. “It’s just that you are in my home.”

His lips turned into a smirk of sorts. “Trust me, I’m aware of that.”

Her flush deepened. “Good night.”

She didn’t know what his response was to her abrupt words or departure. Moreover, she didn’t care. If that conversation was anything to judge by, this was going to be a worse ordeal than she’d first imagined.

Only after she was back in the sanctuary of her room did Jessica breathe a clear breath. As Brant had said, she could hope it wouldn’t take long to find the pervert, then both of them would be out of their misery.

Although she wasn’t sleepy in the least, Jessica slipped out of her clothes. That was when her stomach rumbled and she realized she was hungry. She supposed she could wander downstairs and grab a quick snack. Or not. She might cross paths with Brant again.

So what if she did?

If not tonight, then certainly in the morning and all during the day, she reminded herself, slipping into a caftan. Still, she didn’t move toward the door. Instead, she grabbed a folder out of her briefcase and headed for her desk, where she turned on the computer.

Her first instinct was to check her e-mail, but, as usual these days, she hesitated, choosing to finish her work first. If she had a frightening or degrading message, it would upset her and detour her concentration.

If only the phone would cooperate. As if compelled by the same magnet that had drawn her to Brant, her gaze sought the beige instrument. In the process her eyes caught on Porter’s picture, which sat beside it. For a moment a wave a despair washed through her.

How dear and gentle he had been, and how she missed him, despite the fact that passion had never really figured in their relationship. Even though she’d shared his bed, he had never stirred the embers of her emotions. Oftentimes she’d wondered if she was capable of feeling such stirrings. Having been reared to distrust men, she’d been a virgin when she’d married Porter.

Because of that, her husband had treated her like a fragile piece of porcelain in bed. Out of the bedroom, however, he’d treated her like an equal, which had become the strength and underpinnings of their solid marriage. It had been through him that she had overcome so much pain, making her strong-willed and resilient, strengths she knew would get her through this latest ordeal.

Yet when she’d told her mother she was getting married and to whom, Opal Cannon had been outraged.

“Have you lost your mind?” she’d asked, a frown adding unflattering years to her otherwise unlined face.

Jessica had stiffened. “That’s a hurtful thing to say.”

“I don’t care,” Opal declared with a sweep of her pudgy hand. “I thought I’d done a better job of rearing you than that.”

“Oh, Mother,” Jessica said, her tone brimming with sadness. “I wish you could let go of the past. What Daddy did has almost ruined your life.”

“And you’re about to do the same thing.”

Jessica shook her head adamantly. “Not all men are like Daddy. Contrary to what you think, some have sticking power.”

Opal’s frown deepened. “And you think Porter does?”

“Without question.”

“What about that son of his?”

Jessica stiffened. “What about him?”

“If you think he’s going to put you before that kid, think again. You’ll always be second.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Even if he hated his own flesh and blood, you’re still making a big mistake. Why, he’s old enough to be your father, for heaven’s sake.”

“That’s all right.”

“Is that what you’re looking for, huh? Someone to take his place?”

“Of course not. How can you say that?”

“Because that’s what it looks like from the outside. You’re a successful attorney with a bright future in front of you, with the sky as the limit.”

“Marrying Porter’s not going to change that.”

“That’s what you think,” Opal countered scornfully. “Before you know it, you’ll be dancing to his tune.” She paused, her breathing becoming more labored by the second. “What about your desire to go into politics?”

“He’ll support me.”

“Dream on, honey.” Opal’s tone was tainted with bitterness. “He has political aspirations of his own, if I’m not mistaken.”

Jessica crossed her arms over her chest as if seeking protection from the sharp blows of her mother’s criticism. “That he does, and I’ll support him one hundred percent. If need be, mine can wait.”

Opal threw up her hands. “For all the headway I’m making, I might as well be talking to a brick wall. You’re as obstinate as that sorry daddy of yours.”

Jessica winced visibly. It seemed her mother took delight in taking her own hurt and anger out on her just because she’d been close to her father and had even been willing to forgive and forget, if only Farrell had made the effort to make amends before his death. Of course, he hadn’t, which made the pain of his rejection that much harder to bear. But she had managed. Unlike her mother, she’d moved on and grieved over the loss of her dad, silently, in the darkest corner of her heart.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mother. However, I’m not asking your permission to marry Porter.”

“Then what are you asking?”

“Your blessings, actually.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give them.”

That cut to the core. “What happens when Joan decides to get married? Will she be subjected to the same lecture?”

“No because she won’t make that mistake. She has better sense.”

“Sure, Mother,” Jessica responded, making an effort to hide her smile and her disdain. Her younger sister had had numerous boyfriends, a fact that she’d hidden from their mother. One day, though, Joan would meet Mr. Right and marry him. Jessica would be curious to see her mother’s reaction to her favorite child’s rebellion.

“You go ahead and take the leap,” Opal said into the silence. “But mark my words, you’ll be sorry.”

Needless to say, she and her sister both had defied Opal, and both marriages had been successful. Joan, fortunately, was still married, with three children whom Opal doted on. As for herself, she had never been able to completely forgive or forget her mother’s hurtful words or hostile attitude.