chapter
7
“COME ON, JESSIE,” Trevor wheedled, stuffing a third pancake in his mouth. “We’ve been here a week. Nothing’s happened to us. There’s no weird stuff happening and we haven’t even had a chance to explore the island.”
Jessica shook her head adamantly. “If you two want to explore, I’ll go with you. It’s dangerous.”
“What’s dangerous?” Trevor glared at her as he picked up a huge glass of orange juice. “If Tara and I are in any danger, it’s of being sucked into one of those video games we’re playing so much. Come on, you and the others have been locked in the studio and we’re always alone. We can only watch so many movies and play so many games. We’re living like zombies, sleeping all day and staying up all night.”
“No.” Jessica didn’t dare look at the band members. She knew they thought she was overly protective when it came to the twins.
Brenda snickered. “It’s none of my business but if you ask me, they’re old enough to go outside all by themselves.”
“I have to agree with her,” Brian seconded, “and that’s plain scary. Trevor’s a responsible kid, he’s not going to do anything silly.”
Tara glared at Brian. “I am very responsible. I said we’d look for a Christmas tree. Trevor wants to find one and chop it down.”
Jessica paled visibly. “Trevor! Chopping involves an axe. You certainly aren’t going to go chopping down trees.” The thought was truly frightening.
“They aren’t babies,” Brenda sounded bored with the entire conversation. “Why shouldn’t they go outside to play? All that fresh air is supposed to be good for kiddies, isn’t it?”
Jessica glared at the twins’ aunt as she sipped her morning coffee. “Stop calling them kiddies, Brenda,” she snapped irritably. “They have names and like it or not you are related to them.”
Brenda slowly lowered her coffee mug and peered intently at Jessica. “Do us all a favor, hon, just have sex with him. Get it over with and out of your system so we can all live in peace around here. Dillon’s walking around like a bear with a sore tooth and you’re so edgy you exhaust me.”
Trevor spewed orange juice across the counter, nearly choking. Tara gasped audibly, spinning around to glare accusingly at Jessica.
“Oh dear,” Brenda sighed dramatically. “Another huge gaffe. I suppose I shouldn’t have said ‘sex’ in front of them. One must learn to censor oneself around kid . . .” she paused, rolled her eyes and continued. “Children”
“Don’t worry, Brenda,” Trevor said good-naturedly, “we kiddies learn all about sex at an early age nowadays. I think we were a little more shocked at your mentioning Jessica and our dad doing the a . . .” he glanced at his sister.
“Dastardly deed,” Tara supplied without missing a beat.
Brian mopped up the orange juice with a wet cloth, winking at Jessica. “It would be dastardly if you decided to hop in the sack with Dillon. All his wonderful angst and creativity might evaporate in a single night.”
“Shut up,” Jessica snapped, placing her hands on her hips. “This conversation is not appropriate and it never will be. And we aren’t doing anything, dastardly or otherwise, not that it’s any of your business.”
Tara tugged at the pocket of Jessica’s jeans. “You’re blushing, Jessie, is that why you’re irritable all the time?”
“I am certainly not irritable.” Jessica was outraged at the suggestion. “I’ve been working my you-know-what off with a madman perfectionist and his group of comedy club wannabes. If I’ve been a teensy little bit edgy, that would be the reason.”
“Teensy?” Brenda sniffed disdainfully. “That doesn’t begin to describe you, dear. Robert, rub my shoulders. Having to watch my every word is making me tense.”
Robert obediently massaged his wife’s shoulders while Brian circled around Jessica completely, peering at her with discerning eyes. “Your you-know-what is definitely intact and looking delicious, Jess, no need to worry about that.”
“Thank you very much, you pervert,” Jessica replied, trying not to laugh.
Dillon paused in the doorway to watch her with hungry eyes. To drink in the sight of her. The sound of her laughter and her natural warmth drew him like a magnet.
He had spent the last week avoiding brushing up against her soft skin, avoiding looking at her, but he couldn’t avoid the scent of her or the sound of her voice. He couldn’t avoid the way his blood surged hotly and little jackhammers pounded fiercely in his head when she was in the same room with him. He couldn’t stop the urgent demands of his body. The relentless craving. She haunted his dreams and when he was awake she became an obsession he had no way to combat.
Thoughtfully, Dillon leaned one hip against the door. The intensity of his sexual hunger surprised him. He had always felt that Jessica was a part of him, even in the old days when it was simply companionship he had sought from her. They merged minds. Her voice blended perfectly with his. Her quick wit always brought him out of his brooding introspections and pulled him into passionate battles in every aspect of music. Jessica was well versed in music history and had strong opinions about composers and musicians. His conversations with her inspired him, animated him.
There was so much more. He felt alive again after a long interminable prison sentence. It wasn’t at all comfortable, but along with bringing him to life, Jessica was putting the soul back into his music. He swore to himself, each time the moment he opened his eyes that he wouldn’t give in to the whispers of temptation, but it seemed to him that he had gone from a barren, frozen existence straight into the fires of hell.
He couldn’t help loving his children, being proud of them. He couldn’t help seeing the way Jessica loved them and the way they loved her back. And he couldn’t help the desperate longing to be part of that bond, that intense love. Dillon had no idea how much longer he could keep his hands to himself, how much longer he could resist the lure of a family. Or even if he wanted to resist. Did he have the right to allow them into his world? He had failed once and it had changed the course of so many people’s lives. Death and destruction had followed him. Did he dare reach out again, risk harming the ones he loved? He swept a hand through his thick hair and Jessica immediately turned, her vivid eyes meeting his.
Jessica could feel her heart thundering at the sight of him. A faint blush stole into her face as she wondered if he had overheard the conversation. She could only imagine what he must be thinking. Looking at him nearly took her breath away. There had always been such a casual masculine beauty to Dillon. Now, it seemed more careless, a sensual allure against which she had no resistance. One look from his smoldering eyes sent her body into meltdown. He was looking at her now, his blue eyes burning over her, intense, hungry, beyond her ability to resist.
Jessica tilted her chin at him in challenge. She had no reason to resist the strong pull between them. She wanted him to belong to her, body and soul. She saw no reason to deny it. As if knowing her thoughts, he lowered his gaze which drifted over her body, nearly a physical touch that left her aching and restless and all too aware of his presence.
“Dad?” Tara’s voice instantly stopped all conversation in the room. It was the first time she had addressed Dillon that way. “Trevor and I want to go looking for a Christmas tree.” She glared at Jessica. “We aren’t going to chop one down, only look for one.”
Dillon smiled unexpectedly, looking like a mischievous, charming boy, so much like Trevor. “Is Mama Tiger showing her fangs?”
“Her claws anyway,” Brenda muttered into her coffee mug.
“The weather’s good, so we’ll be perfectly safe,” Trevor added, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Someone has to get this Christmas thing off the ground. We have less than two weeks to go. You’re busy, we don’t have that much time left, so Tara and I can handle the decorations while you work.”
Dillon didn’t look at Jessica. He couldn’t look at her. The boy’s face was hopeful and eager and trusting. Tara had called him ‘Dad’. It tugged at his heartstrings as nothing else could have. His gaze shifted to his daughter’s face. She wore an expression identical to her brother’s. Trust was a delicate thing. It was the first time he’d come close to believing in miracles, that there might be second chances given out in life, even when he didn’t deserve it. “You think you can find the perfect tree? Do you know how to choose one?”
Jessica blinked, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to keep from protesting. Dillon’s tone had been casual, but there was nothing casual in the vivid blue of his eyes, or the set of his mouth. His gloved hand rubbed along his denim-clad thigh, betraying his uncharacteristic show of nerves. The gesture disarmed her, stole her heart. She wanted to put her arms around him, hold him close, protectively, to her.
Tara nodded eagerly. She grinned at Trevor. “I have a long list of requirements. I know exactly what we want.”
Don had been sitting quietly in a chair by the window but he turned with a quick frown. “You don’t just arbitrarily chop down trees because you want a momentary pleasure. In case you’re not aware of it, when you chop the tree down, it dies.” The frown deepened into a fierce scowl when Dillon turned to face him. “Hey, it’s just my opinion, but then that doesn’t count for much around here, does it?”
“I’m well aware of your environmentalist concerns, Don,” Dillon said gently. “I share your views, but there’s no harm in topping a tree or taking one that’s growing too close to another and has no chance of survival.”
“We’re supposed to be working here, Dillon, not celebrating some commercialized holiday so the privileged little rich kids can get a bunch of presents from their rich daddy.” There was unexpected venom in Don’s voice.
Tara slid close to Jessica for comfort. Immediately Jessica pulled the girl into her arms, stroking the dark, wavy hair with gentle fingers. Beside her, Trevor shifted, but Jessica caught his wrist in a silent signal and he remained silent. His arms went around both Jessica and Tara, holding them close to him. The silence stretched to apprehension.
Dillon stirred then, straightening from where he had been leaning lazily against the doorframe. Dillon walked over to stand in front of his children. Very gently he caught Tara’s chin in the palm of his gloved hand and lifted her face so that her blue eyes met his. “I’m looking forward to Christmas this year, Tara, it’s been far too long for me without laughter and fun. Thank you for giving the holiday back to me.” He bent his head and kissed her forehead. “I apologize for my friend’s rudeness. He’s obviously forgotten, in his old age, how fun holidays can be.”
He touched his son then, his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I would greatly appreciate it if you and your sister would go out this evening before it gets too dark and find us the best tree you can. If we weren’t in the middle of working this song I’d go with you. You find it and we’ll go together to get it tomorrow evening.” His fingers tightened momentarily as his heart leapt with joy. His son. His daughter. The terrible darkness that had consumed him for so long was slowly receding. His body actually trembled with the intensity of his emotions. He had never dared to dream of the two beloved faces staring up at him with such confidence and faith. “I’m trusting you to take care of your sister, Trevor.”
Trevor swelled visibly. He glanced at Jessica, a tremor running through him, his hands tightening until his fingers dug into Jessica’s arm. She smiled up at him with reassurance. With understanding. She could not allow her fears to take the pleasure from all of them. Especially when she didn’t even know if her fears were grounded in reality. When she looked back at Dillon her feelings were naked on her face.
Dillon’s breath caught in his chest. There was raw love on Jessica’s face, in her eyes. She looked up at him as no other in his life ever had. Complete confidence, unconditional love. There was never a hidden agenda with Jessica. She loved his children completely, fiercely, protectively. And she was beginning to love him the same way. “You and Tara go now before it gets dark. I have some business matters to discuss.”
Trevor nodded his understanding, grinning triumphantly at Don. He led Tara out of the room, urging her to hurry to get her jacket so they wouldn’t lose the light they needed.
Dillon reached down and took Jessica’s hand, raised it to the warmth of his mouth. His blue gaze burned into her green one. Mesmerizing her. Holding her captive with his sensual spell, in front of all the band members, he slowly pressed a kiss into the exact center of her palm, blatantly branding her. Staking his claim.
Jessica could feel hot tears burning behind her eyes, clogging her throat. Dillon. Her Dillon. He was coming back to life. The miracle of Christmas. The story her mother had so often told her at night. There was a special power at Christmas, a shimmering, translucent, positive, force that flowed steadily, that was there for the taking. One had only to believe in it, to reach for it. Jessica reached with both hands, with her heart and soul. Dillon needed her, needed his children. He had only to open his heart again and believe with her.
Dillon tugged on her hand, drew her to him so that her soft curves fit against the hard strength of his body. Then he turned his head above hers toward Don, pinning the man with a gaze of icy cold fury. “Don’t you ever speak that way to my children again. Not ever, Don. If you have a gripe with me, feel free to tear into me, but never try to get to me through my children.” There was a promise of swift and brutal retaliation in his voice.
Jessica looked up into his face and shivered. Dillon was different now, no matter how many glimpses she caught of the person she had once known.
“You want me out, don’t you, Wentworth? You’ve always wanted me out. It’s always been about ‘Precious Paul’ with you. You’re loyal to him no matter what he does,” Don snarled. “I worked hard, but I never got the recognition. You’ve always resented me being in the band. Paul,” he gestured toward the man sitting ramrod stiff in the chair by the window. “He can do anything and you forgive him.”
“You’re not so innocent, Don.” Brenda yawned and lazily waved a dismissing hand. “You musicians are so dramatic. Who cares who loves whom best? At least Paul didn’t use his lover to get him into the band.”
Dillon’s head snapped up, his eyes glittering. “What the hell are you talking about, Brenda?”
Jessica glanced around the room. Everyone had gone still, looking nervous, guilty, even Paul. Don flushed a dull red. His eyes shifted away from Dillon.
Brenda winced. “Ouch. How was I to know you were kept in the dark?” Dillon’s relentless blue gaze continued to bore into her. “Fine, blame me, I’m always in trouble. I thought you knew; everyone else certainly knew.”
Dillon’s fingers tightened around Jessica’s hand. She could feel the tension running through his body. He was trembling slightly. She shifted closer to him, silently offering support.
“Tell me now, Brenda.”
For the first time, Jessica saw Brenda hesitate. For a moment she looked uncertain and vulnerable. Then her expression changed and she shrugged her shoulders carelessly, her tinkling laugh a little forced. “Oh for heaven’s sake, what’s the big deal? It was a million years ago. It’s not as if you thought Vivian had been faithful.”
Jessica felt him take the blow in his heart. It was a gut-wrenching jolt that shook him, turned his stomach so that for a moment he had to fight to breathe, to keep from being sick. She felt his struggle as clearly as if she were experiencing it herself. Dillon’s face never changed expression, he didn’t so much as blink. He could have been carved from stone, but Jessica felt the turmoil raging in him.
“So Viv had an affair with Don, no big deal,” Brenda shrugged again. “She got him into the band. You needed a bass player—it all worked out.”
“Viv and I weren’t having problems when Don joined the band,” Dillon said. His voice held no expression and he didn’t look at Don.
Brenda inspected her long nails. “You know Viv, she had problems, she always had to be with someone. You were working on songs for the band, trying to help Paul. If you weren’t with her every minute, she felt neglected.”
Dillon waited a heartbeat of time. A second. A third. He was aware of Jessica, of her hand, of her body, but there was a strange roaring in his head. His gaze shifted, settled on Don. “You were sleeping with my wife and playing in my band, allowing me to believe you were my friend?” He remembered how hard he had tried to make Don feel a part of the band.
Don’s mouth tightened perceptibly. “You knew, everyone knew. It was no secret Viv liked to pick up a man now and then. And you got what you wanted. A bass player to kick around, someone to put up with your wife’s tantrums when you didn’t have the time or inclination to put up with her yourself. I won’t even mention the extra money you saved because she was always wanting me to buy her things. I’d say we were more than even.”
Dillon remained silent, only a muscle jerked along his jaw, betraying his inner turmoil.
“She was a bloodsucker,” Don continued, looking around the room for support.
“She was ill,” Dillon corrected softly.
“She had no loyalty and she was as cold as ice,” Don insisted. “Damn it, Dillon, you had to have known about us.”
When Dillon continued to look at him, Don dropped his gaze again. “I thought that was why you didn’t want me in the band.”
“Your own guilt made you think I didn’t want you in the band.” Dillon’s voice was very soft, yet deep inside he was screaming at Jessica to help him. To stop him from saying or doing anything crazy. To save him. There had been such a surge of hope in him. A spreading warmth, a belief that he might reclaim his life. In a blink it was gone. He felt ice-cold inside. Emotionless. His heart and soul had been torn out Everything he had built or cared about had been destroyed. He thought it had all been taken from him, but there was more, gouging old wounds to deepen them, to reopen them. He was shattering, crumbling, piece by piece until there was nothing left of who he had been.
“Damn it, Dillon, you had to have known,” Don was almost pleading.
Dillon shook his head slowly. “I can’t discuss this right now. No, I didn’t know, I had no idea. I always thought of you as my friend. I did my best to understand you. I trusted you. I thought our friendship was genuine.”
Jessica reached up and touched his face. Gently. Lovingly. “Take me out of here, Dillon. Right now. I want to be away from here.” More than anything she wanted to get him away from treachery and betrayal. He had just begun to emerge into the sun after a long, bleak, cold winter. She could feel hands pulling him away from her, back into the deeper shadows. She kept her voice soft, persuasive. Her hands stroked his jaw, the pad of her thumb caressed his lips, a brush of a caress that centered his attention on her. His vivid blue gaze met hers. She saw the dangerous emotions swirling in the depths of his eyes.
Jessica tugged at him, forced him to move away from the others, out of the kitchen. She guided him through the house up to his private floor. He went with her willingly enough, but she could still feel the edge of violence in him, roiling and swirling all too close to the surface.
“I learned a lot of things about myself when I was at the burn center,” Dillon said, as he pushed open the door to his study and stepped back to allow her to precede him. “There’s so much pain, Jess, unbelievable pain. You think you can’t bear any more, but there’s always more. Every minute, every second, it’s a matter of endurance. You have no choice but to endure it because it never goes away. There’s no way to sleep through it, you have to persevere.”
The room was dark with the shadows of the late afternoon but he didn’t turn on the light. Outside, the wind set the tree branches in motion so that they brushed gently against the sides of the house, producing an eerie music. Inside the room the silence stretched between them as they faced one another. Jessica could feel the turbulence of his emotions, wild, chaotic, yet on the surface he was as still as a hunter. She knew his strength of will, knew why he had survived such a terrible injury. Dillon was a man of deep passions. He sounded as if he was describing his physical pain, but she knew he was telling her about the other kinds of pain he’d also endured. The emotional scars were every bit as painful and deep as the physical ones.
“Don’t look at me like that, Jess, it’s too dangerous.” He warned her softly, even as he moved to close the distance between them. “I don’t want to hurt you. You can’t look at me with your beautiful eyes so damn trusting. I’m not the man you think I am and I never will be.” Even as he uttered the words aloud, meaning every one of them, his hands, of their own volition, were framing her face.
Electricity arced and crackled, a sizzling whip dancing with white-hot heat through their blood. The heat from his body seeped into hers, warming her, drawing her like a magnet. His head was bending toward her, his dark silky hair spilling around his angel’s face like a cloud. Jessica’s breath caught in her lungs. There was no air to breathe, no life other than his perfectly sculpted lips. His mouth settled over hers, velvet soft and firm. The touch was tantalizing. She opened her mouth as his teeth tugged teasingly at her lips to give him entrance to her sweetness, to the dark secrets of passion and promise.
Dillon closed his eyes to savor the taste of her, the hot silk of her. There was sheer magic in Jessica’s kiss. It was madness to indulge his craving for her, but he couldn’t stop, taking his time, leisurely exploring, swept away from the gray bleakness of his nightmare world into one of vivid colorful fireworks, bursting around him, in him. The need was instantaneous and elemental, the hunger, voracious. His body was all at once savagely alive, thick and hard and pounding with an edgy, greedy lust that shook him to the foundations of his soul. He’d never experienced it before, but now, it surged through his body, primitive and hot, demanding that he make her his.
Jessica felt his mouth harden, change, felt the passion flair between them, hot and exciting, a rush that dazzled her every sense. Her body melted into his, pliant and soft and inviting. His mouth raged with hunger, devoured hers, dominating and persuasive and commanding her response. She gave herself up to the blazing world of sheer sensation, allowed him to take her far from reality.
The earth seemed to shift and move out from under her feet as his palms slid over her back, down to her bottom, where they settled to align her body more firmly with his. His touch was slow and languorous, at odds with his assaulting mouth. His tongue plundered, his hands coaxed. His mouth was aggressive, his hands gentle.
Dillon’s body was a hard, painful ache, his jeans stretched tight, cutting into him. The feel of her, so soft and pliant, was driving him slowly out of his mind. There was a strange roaring in his head; his blood felt thick and molten like lava. She tasted hot and sweet. He couldn’t get close enough to her, wanting her clothes gone so that he could press himself against her, skin to skin.
His mouth left hers to travel along her throat, with playful little kisses and bites, his tongue swirling to find shadows and hollows, to reach little trigger points of sheer pleasure. When he found them, she rewarded him with a little gasp of bliss. The sound was music to him, a soft note that drowned out his every sane thought. He didn’t want sanity, he didn’t want to know that what he was doing was wrong. He wanted to bury his body deep inside of her, to lose himself forever in a firestorm of mindless feeling.
His mouth found the hollow of her throat, the pulse beating so frantically there. He nudged aside the neckline of her blouse to find the swell of her breasts. She was soft, a miracle of satin skin. His hand closed over her breast, her taut nipple pushing into his palm through her blouse, through his glove. Beckoning. Urging him on. He bent his head to temptation.
The door to Dillon’s study burst open and Tara stood there, her face white, her hair wildly disheveled. There was sheer panic on her face. “You have to come right now. Right now! Jessica! Hurry, oh, God, I think he’s crushed under the logs and dirt. Hurry, you have to hurry!”