Taking on Twins (21 page)

Meredith issued the little foursome a curt nod. “I'll find Joe and see to it that Jackson makes it to his room all right.”

Mingling a little as she went, Meredith followed Jackson out of the great room and into the house proper.

“What the devil was going on there?” Rand stroked his jaw thoughtfully.

Lucy tsked in disgust. “She's clearly looking for an excuse to escape the party. Her drunk nephew was just the ticket.”

Wyatt shook his head. “It's sure not like Jackson to get wasted like that.”

“It could happen to anyone,” Annie said in his defense. “It's his sister's day. He might be feeling a little lost.”

“His hands certainly were, at any rate,” Wyatt said and they all exchanged worried smiles. “I'll go check up on him after he's had a little time to sleep it off.”

 

Save for a few servants rushing back and forth to the kitchen, the house proper was empty. Careful not to draw any undue attention to herself, Patsy followed Jackson at a discreet distance to his wing. After several botched attempts, he found the corridor that led to his room and Patsy was relieved to note that they were alone. Jackson ricocheted off the walls like an eight ball in search of a corner pocket, then finally stumbled upon his door and found his way inside.

Time was short. Patsy strode past his suite to a grandfather clock at the end of the hall. She checked over her shoulder to make certain she was still alone before she opened the small door that housed the clock's heavy weights and reached inside. After she'd withdrawn a black cloth bag, she set the clock's stalled pendulum in motion once more and hurried back to Jackson's room.

Wearing only his BVDs, Jackson was just staggering out of his bathroom as she arrived. He leaned against the door
frame, planted his hands on his narrow hips and tried, to the best of his limited ability, to focus on her.

“Meredith?”

Patsy gently closed the door behind her and gave the lock a twist. She swallowed.

He was built the way she liked a man. Hard. Lean. Muscular. Far more to her taste than his fleshy-from-too-much-good-life father. And though she was reticent to admit it, being that she hated him and all, Jackson's powerful personality could be a real turn-on, too. When he was stone cold sober, there was a frightening edge to his demeanor that sent tingles up and down her spine.

She gave her head a little shake. Indulging in fantasy could wait. Right now she was here to do a job.

Delicious or not, this boy had to go bye-bye.

“Oh, Auntie. Look at you. Here to tuck me into bed.” His eyes were fully dilated and he wore a dopey smile.

“Yes,” she breathed, and clutched the cold steel of her revolver through the cloth of the bag. “Time for Jackson to go night-night.”

“Are you gonna wear jammiesh, too?” He pointed to her black bag.

“No. No.” She laughed and set the bag on his dresser. “Why don't we get you into bed?” Attempting to seem casual, she sauntered over to the bed and pulled back the comforter. The sooner he was unconscious, the sooner she could take care of business.

“I like that about you.” He pushed off the door frame and negotiated the few steps it took for him to fall onto his mattress. “Alwaysh ready for bed. C'mom on in, the water'sh fine.” His hand snaked out and he grabbed her wrist and tugged.

Not expecting this sudden action, she fell down beside him and, flailing about, struggled to right herself. But even
in his inebriated state, he was too strong. Before she knew what hit her, Patsy found herself pinned beneath his body.

“Jackson! Let go of me this instant!”

He ignored her and shoved her legs apart with his knee.

“C'mon, Auntie. You know you want it. We're boozoom buddies, remember? Why don't you give me a little kissh? The way you used to, back when I was a little boy.”

Patsy hated herself for the sudden rush of sexual excitement she felt at her predicament. Her wrigglings against him were a sorry attempt to free herself and, for a moment, she allowed herself to forget her mission.

“Mmm, baby.” He playfully bit her earlobe. “That'sh right. Relax. Let'sh bury that hatchet now, huh?”

His breath was hot on her neck, his words irreverent, his body, hard. She wanted him. How entirely idiotic. She was old enough to be his…well, his much older sister. It was ridiculous. Not, of course, that she was anything to sneeze at. After all, she spent a small fortune keeping herself in shape.

But still. She didn't have time for this. She had to frame this jerk for murder, and then get the hell out of here.

“Auntie Meredith?” He pinned her legs beneath his and moved his arms between their bodies. “Hafe you sheen my hands? They sheem to be missin' in action.”

Meredith gasped. Yes, his hands were most definitely enjoying being out on their own. “Jackson!”

“They're huge, huh? And you know what they say…”

His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in a dead weight on top of her body.

“Jackson?” She lay silent, waiting, unbelieving. He chose
now
to pass out? Of all the— She grunted in exasperation and tried to thrust him off, but he was limp as a solid lead noodle. Clearly, she'd miscalculated the amount of drug she'd needed when she'd doctored his champagne.

Near as Patsy could figure, he outweighed her by sixty to eighty pounds. Getting out from under him with her party hair intact and still finding time to complete her business was going to be tricky.

 

“Noah and Alex seem to be having fun,” Annie observed in a stilted voice as she and Wyatt took a stroll alone together through one of estate's many gardens. She'd been desperate for some fresh air, and Wyatt had obliged.

The twins were out front with the ushers, decorating the limousine with tin cans and shaving cream. So far they'd had a bell-ringer day. After a morning pony ride, they'd eaten a sumptuous breakfast, played with Joe's dogs, attended their first wedding and were now up to no good. It was a dream vacation from their vantage point.

“Mmm.”

“I don't think they'll ever forget the pony rides.” She wanted to keep the conversation superficial, the focus off her own problems. It seemed that as long as she didn't think about the future, she was able to fake normalcy.

“Mmm.”

“Or the swimming pool.”

“Mmm.” Wyatt was clearly distracted.

“Or the space aliens that abducted them in the middle of last night and turned them into girls, which is okay, since I've always wanted daughters.”

“I'm sorry. Did you say something?”

“No.” She plucked a bright flower from an oversized azalea and tucked it behind her ear. “You seem to be lost in thought.” After Jackson's display back there, it was no small wonder. No doubt he was wanting to go check on him and make sure he was okay.

Wyatt abruptly stopped walking and, pulling her off the pea-gravel path, led her to an ornate concrete bench that
was situated in the middle of a rose garden. Angling his head, he gestured for her to sit down next to him. The delicate fragrance of rose blossoms scented the air and off in the distance, music and laughter and voices could be heard coming from the reception.

Annie's stomach grew tight at the suddenly serious expression on his face. Uh-oh. No. She wasn't ready for this.

“Annie, I have been doing a lot of thinking over the last couple of days and the wedding here today just seems to…I don't know, hammer the point home.”

She felt herself growing cold. Then hot. Feeling dizzy, she unbuttoned the top button of her suit jacket, then buttoned it again. Something told her that he wasn't worried about Jackson's sobriety at the moment.

Wyatt dropped off the edge of the bench to his knees. He took her hand and all of the air was suddenly sucked out of her lungs.

“Annie, I know this is going to seem kind of sudden and all, but it doesn't feel that way to me. To me, it feels like I've been waiting all my life to do this.”

“Oh, Wyatt,” Annie croaked, beginning to panic in earnest. Not now. Not here. She wasn't even on home turf, where she could cry and fall apart among friends and family.

“Shh, let me finish.” He touched her lower lip with his fingertip. “I only wish I'd had the good sense to do this when your father first got sick.” Settling himself more comfortably on his knees, he took a deep, calming breath and then smiled. “Annie, I love you now, more than I ever have. You have grown and matured into such a beautiful, graceful woman. I'm so proud of what you've accomplished with your life. You are a wonderful mother, a hard worker, a good friend and daughter. You are talented be
yond belief, and you make everything seem so easy. So comfortable. So safe.

“I'm the person I like to be, when I'm around you. You bring out the best in me. With you, I'm energized. Positive. Wanting to believe in the future. Happy.”

Gently, he brought her fingertips to his mouth and kissed them one at a time while he formulated what he wanted to say next. Obviously, this was difficult for him. He was making himself vulnerable to her, and that only increased her angst.

“Oh, Wyatt—”

“Hold that thought,” he whispered. “I couldn't love your boys more if they were my own, and I know that relationship will only get better with time. I want to parent them. To teach them to be men, the way Joe did for me. I know from personal experience that it's not biology that makes a father. It's love. And commitment.”

Annie could not swallow past the lump in her throat. Tiny sobs backed up like a logjam behind her lips. Tears scalded her eyes and then her cheeks. Her breathing was as shallow as if she'd just run a mile. She felt light-headed. Faint. Her heart was thrumming a mile a minute, her arms were numb and she was sure she was in the throes of cardiac arrest.

He was so incredibly sweet. His words were what she'd waited her entire life to hear.

But the circumstances were still so wrong.

A keening wail sounded and Annie was dismayed to discover it had come from her own throat.

“No!” she gasped and leapt to her feet and began to stumble back to the path that led to the house. “I can't let you do this.”

 

While Patsy listened to Jackson's slumberous breathing in the next room, she checked her makeup and hair in his
bathroom mirror. Not too much worse for the wear, she decided. Baring her teeth, she made sure there were no stray streaks of lipstick and with a last appreciative glance, declared herself perfect and ready to return to the party.

But first, she needed to attend to a bit of a chore.

Patsy moved to the dresser and retrieved her black bag. Nudging Jackson's legs aside, she made herself comfortable at the edge of his bed and opened her bag removed the gun she'd found out by the cliff. Too bad it had been so dark that evening. All she remembered seeing was a black shadow.

Was there anything more beautiful than a 9mm automatic Luger? She stroked the dark metal shaft. Perhaps, but the sight of this key to her perpetual freedom excited Patsy nearly as much as the man who slept so soundly at her side.

She smiled, recalling Joe's birthday. Now
that
was a party. But not to worry. Soon enough, everything would work out to her advantage.

Once she had the gun polished and clean, Patsy slowly reached for Jackson's hand. When he didn't stir, she grew bolder and pressed his hand around the gun's barrel and stock, taking care to slip his finger over the trigger. Finally satisfied that she had all the incriminating evidence that she needed, for now anyway, she released his hand, slipped the gun back into the bag and after looking both ways down the hall corridor, returned to the grandfather clock to make her deposit.

 

Wyatt caught up with Annie just before she got to the path and dragged her back into the garden. And, just as he had done so many years ago, he completely ignored her cries of outrage, hauled her under a grove of trees and
pressed her spine up against the nearest trunk. Even as she protested, she arched against him.

Heat flared in Wyatt's belly. Dipping his head, he nuzzled her neck and filled his hands with her thick, wonderful hair.

“No,” she moaned and writhed, fighting to get away.

“Yes.” Like a man starved for over a decade, he dragged her mouth beneath his and hovered over her lightly parted lips. As she whimpered, he tasted her bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, nipping, nibbling, then muted her protests with his tongue.

He gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her flush against him so that every part of their individual bodies found its perfect counterpart. They fit together as well now, as they had when they were kids. Even better. His hands dropped to the gentle slope of her hips and he urged her ever closer.

Their kiss turned wild. Frantic. He spread his legs for balance and immobilized her between his body and the tree, as if by doing so, he could keep her from running. She clutched his arms for support and he had the feeling that his body and the tree were all that held her up.

“Wyatt, no,” Annie whimpered. “We shouldn't. This will only make it worse.”

Even as she protested, she kissed him back with all the desire he felt building within himself. Wyatt was breathing like a freight train chugging uphill as he kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw, her mouth again. Annie's breathing came in labored puffs as ragged as his own.

He felt her hands rise to cradle his head and she responded to his kiss with the ardent abandon of a full-fledged woman now. Annie was no longer a girl, and that excited Wyatt more than he ever could have imagined possible.

Again, as he had a decade ago that night in the trees next to the college library, he lost himself in her and felt their souls melding together. There would be no other life for him now, without Annie. He'd lived long enough as only half a human. She made him whole. He could not—would not—go on, without her.