Burning Wild (20 page)

“That doesn’t mean she wasn’t your mate in a previous life. Are there ever times when she seems familiar to you? Do you have memories of her that you shouldn’t have?”

Jake took a breath. “How could she be leopard and not know?”

“The heat comes on slowly and in small stops and starts. One day she’s fine, the next she can be moody, with a heightened sexual stimulation throwing off the allure to any male in the vicinity. Even the leopard can’t scent her when the heat is in the diminished phase, but races to her when it rises.”

“What happens to her if she’s leopard?”

“Eventually her leopard will emerge, but it is always in the midst of a sexual heat. The leopard will affect the woman. She’ll be as needy as her cat.”

Jake’s body responded to the thought of Emma in need. He could take care of her needs as no one else could. He had complete faith in himself that he could bind her to him with sex. He had learned a long time ago how to make a woman beg for him. Maybe he’d been taking the wrong tack with her all along.

Drake pulled the pickup down the long, winding drive and around to the back of the ranch house where the kitchen door was. “One more thing, Jake. While you were running, security radioed us. They found a microchip recording data, a voice-activated chip in the phone jack in the den. They’ve removed the chip and have it for you. We haven’t had visitors other than the two who brought Susan to the ranch. I had security check their names. Dana Anderson is the governess, and Harold Givens is the tutor. We’re running checks on them now.”

“Thanks, Drake. For everything.” Jake leapt out, but held on to the door, preventing Drake from driving away. “I meant what I said about the surgery. I’ll put some people on it immediately.” He forced himself to look at the claw marks on Drake’s chest. “Make certain you take care of that. You don’t want to get infected.”

“Okay, Mom,” Drake answered. “Good night.” He tossed Jake his wallet and cell phone.

Jake caught the two items, slammed the door closed and stepped back, watching as Drake continued along the road toward the smaller cabins where several of the hands stayed. Then he turned and walked up the walk to the door of the kitchen. He paused a moment to text his lawyers with instructions to put adoption on a fast track for Emma, before going into the house.

He stopped immediately. Even in the dark he saw the cake and he knew he was meant to see it. Emma always cleaned up, but she had left the cake in the middle of the table, along with his painting and two other brightly wrapped gifts. He picked them up. One card said
Kyle
with green crayon scribbled over it, and the other said
From Andraya
, covered in messy purple.

His heart contracted. He’d screwed up big-time. He wasn’t cut out for the father or husband thing. Even as he thought it he climbed the stairs and went into the children’s room to kiss them good night before turning resolutely to Emma’s room. He frowned, standing in front of it. The door was closed. As long as he’d known her, she’d never slept with the door closed all the way because she wanted to be certain of hearing the children. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. It was locked.

Fury swept through him, instant and ferocious, his temper ugly and black. She was angry with him and she dared to lock her door against him? He’d be damned if she started that.

8

EMMA pressed her face into the pillow to muffle the sound of her weeping. Although Susan was downstairs in one of the guest rooms, she didn’t want to chance her overhearing. She especially didn’t want the children to hear. She had thought herself all cried out after Andrew, but here she was, falling apart, feeling confused and alone and so upset without any real reason other than she’d accepted a date. Why had she done that? She didn’t want to go out with Greg Patterson.

For pride’s sake, of course. Jake had so casually dismissed her ability to be attractive to a man. So maybe no man had approached her since Andrew’s death, but she hadn’t really wanted them to. She’d been busy. Mourning Andy. Taking care of Kyle. Having babies. Keeping a large house. It had only been two years. Was she supposed to fling herself at the nearest man?

She turned over and wiped at her burning eyes. She hadn’t cried like this in months. Life with Andrew had been straightforward and easy. With Jake it seemed so complicated. She was in a world she didn’t always understand. As long as she stayed protected on the estate, far from people, she felt wrapped in a cocoon of safety. Jake had a strong personality, but she could deal with him if she just stayed on an equal footing. His acquaintances were another matter altogether.

His associates treated her like a piece of the furniture, or a servant—and technically, she
was
a servant. She was the housekeeper, not the mistress of the house. Jake gave her such free rein, she had grown complacent, believing that this house was her home. The petty meanness and raised eyebrows had never hurt until now—until she realized the precarious position she’d put not only herself in, but Andraya and Kyle as well.

She wouldn’t call the men and women who came to the house Jake’s friends. They were business associates, people looking for favors—or trying to get close to him. She could have told them, after watching him for two years, that Jake didn’t let anyone close. There was always a distance between him and everyone else—including the children.

Was that why she was weeping? She had waited as long as she could for Jake, and when it was apparent he wasn’t coming to his own birthday party, she’d let the children blow out the candles and eat. Quite a bit ended up in their hair and all over their clothes so she’d whisked them to their baths. As she washed the cake from their hair and skin she finally realized how alone she was—how alone they all were. They lived in the shadow of Jake’s presence, day in and day out, yet he hadn’t really made them a part of his life.

Jake listened when she told him of the children’s progress and related all the cute things they did as they grew and began discovering the world around them, but his face didn’t light up; he didn’t laugh the way he should. He held himself back from them—apart from them. She’d felt sadness for Kyle and Andraya as well as for herself. In that moment she’d realized there was no real hope for her and Jake. As much as she loved and respected him, as much as her body craved his, she would need much, much more than he was capable of or willing to give her. She’d put the children to bed and come to her room, locking the door so they wouldn’t walk in on her if they heard her unrestrained sobbing.

Now she had the added humiliation of her body burning day and night, desperate for Jake’s touch. She could barely face herself, remembering how she’d practically thrown herself at Jake, kissing him—
kissing
him. She touched her mouth, her lips, remembering the feel and shape of him, his taste and texture. She wanted to crawl into him, devour him, the urges so strong and overwhelming she didn’t trust herself near him. She was going to ruin everything she had. Or maybe she really didn’t have anything at all.

Great sobs wracked her body, tightened her chest and tore at her throat.

“Why the hell did you lock me out?”

Emma nearly jumped off the bed, her eyes going wide with shock, her heart slamming hard in her chest, then pounding fast as adrenaline poured into her body.

“Are you crazy?” she demanded. “Jake, you scared me.” She threw her pillow in the direction of his voice, unable to stop the aggression surging through her. “Get out.”

The missile didn’t slow him down. He stalked across the room to tower over her. She should have been intimidated, as was obviously his intent, but his behavior only made her angrier.

She shoved her hair back to glare at him. “You are such an ass. Don’t you have any boundaries? My door was locked.
Locked.
That clearly means don’t come in.”

Jake’s anger melted the moment he saw her sitting in the middle of her bed with her long hair tousled and unkempt as if she’d just been made love to. Her eyes were large, framed with thick lashes, staring up at him with sparks of fire radiating from them. She looked kissable, too kissable. He could barely resist leaning down and taking possession of her mouth. It was only then that he noted her face, pale with red splotches and traces of tears.

His gut clenched. He caught her chin and tipped her face up to his. “You’ve been crying.”

She jerked back, turning her face away from him. “Hence the locked door and the need for privacy. Now please go and leave me to it.” She wiggled her fingers toward the door dismissively.

“No.”

Her head snapped back around, hair flying in all directions. “Jake. I’m clearly upset. Could you just for once have a little respect and let me be tonight?”

“I’m not leaving you alone when you’re upset.” He sank down onto the bed, forcing her to scoot over a little to give him sufficient room. “I’m sorry about the birthday party. My absence was unavoidable.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

He could see it made her even angrier that she had automatically moved over for him. So often in the past two years he’d come to her room and they’d lain side by side, talking when neither could sleep, and he counted on that familiar closeness.

“I’m not crying because of you or the fact that you didn’t show up to your own birthday party. Although selfish, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.”

He winced at her accurately delivered punch. Emma sat with her knees drawn up, rocking back and forth in obvious distress. He doubted if she even knew how upset she was. She was curled up as small as she could make herself, her eyes drowning in tears. Jake reached over and scooped her up easily, cradling her against his body, holding her close to him.

“If it wasn’t me that upset you so badly, what was it? I’ll take care of it, but you have to tell me what’s wrong first.” He brushed a trail of kisses from her temple to the corner of her mouth and back up, stealing every tear with his lips.

Emma buried her face against his chest. She couldn’t look at him. The moment his mouth slid over her skin, electrical charges raced from her breasts to her belly. She didn’t dare look up—she might start kissing him, and then what would happen? She had no doubt that Jake would be willing to have sex with her. He was always willing to have sex with someone. She could feel him, hard as a rock, against the backs of her thighs, but she wasn’t made for one-night stands or passionate flings that burned out fast. She had two children she loved and a home she wanted to stay in. Giving in to sexual desire would momentarily satisfy her, but would ultimately cost her everything. Jake just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—make an emotional commitment.

“Talk to me, honey. You can tell me anything, Emma.”

His hands ran up and down her arms, over her scorching skin, driving her temperature up even more.

“I’m just having a bad day, Jake. I have them sometimes. Everyone does.” Her skin was so sensitive it almost hurt to have him touching her. The sensation had faded for a while earlier in the evening, but now it seemed to be returning with more force than ever. “I have to lie down. And the light has to be off. And I need to be alone.”

Jake frowned and rubbed his face over hers, almost like a cat. “Maybe I should call a doctor, Emma. You feel a little feverish to me.”

In spite of everything, she felt the urge to smile. Jake probably had never used the word feverish in his life before Kyle was born, and now he was throwing it around like an old pro. “I’m fine. Crying always makes a person hot and sweaty.” She was too. And he smelled so good, fresh from a shower; she could always tell. His hair was damp and he smelled clean with a faint, elusive tang of wild.

“That’s not good enough, Emma. Some women may just cry for no reason, but not you. Someone or something upset you. I intend to know what it was before I leave this room tonight.” He allowed her to slip out of his arms.

She closed her eyes against the feel of the pads of his fingers sliding over her skin as she stretched out on the bed, giving him plenty of room so he wouldn’t have to touch her. “I guess you really don’t understand the concept of a locked door.”

He shrugged, there in the near dark, rolling his broad shoulders in the casual way he always had. She was instantly aware of every muscle sliding under his skin. Emma squeezed her eyelids closed tighter. She drew in a breath and took him into her lungs.

“Locked doors are for everyone else, honey.” He leaned over, brushed a kiss across her forehead and stretched out beside her.

She realized how completely natural it felt. She’d been married to Andrew five months. She’d been with Jake for two years. He’d been coming to her room every single night, from the very first day she’d moved to his home. He’d held her that first night when she’d awakened with a terrible nightmare, the stench of fire and the heat of flames still so raw and vivid. His every gesture was more familiar to her than Andrew’s. When she remembered a man’s touch, it was Jake’s touch. When she burned at night for a man’s body, it was Jake’s body. When had that all started to happen? And why now? Why was she waking up now? She was terrified of the change, afraid she would lose everything.

“Tell me about your parents. You don’t talk much about them,” Jake said.

“My parents?” Emma echoed, startled. Her heart fluttered.

His hand slid against hers, his fingers tangling with hers. She ached inside as he brought their joined hands to his chest, right over his heart. He always did that—tied them together. She was tied to him by far more than the children.

“You do have parents, don’t you?”

The rare amusement in his voice tugged at her heart-strings. She could feel his body, solid and warm right beside hers. She could count his steady heartbeats. “Of course I have parents. Do you think I crawled out from under a rock?”

He brought her fingers up to his lips and bit down on the ends. His mouth was hot and moist and his teeth strong, although the bite was gentle and sent little tingles of arousal teasing along her thighs and belly. “I think you don’t want to tell me about your parents. Did you have a happy childhood?” He turned his head to look at her. “I just assumed that you did because you’re such a happy person.”