He tugged on the sheet, pulling it down to the tips of her breasts. She pulled it back up.
"Bet I can get this off you faster than a prom dress," he drawled.
"Oh, brother. You're pretty happy with yourself right now, aren't you?"
"Damn right I am," he said as he leaned down and kissed her. His tongue slipped inside and tickled the roof of her mouth.
When he pulled back, she was breathless. But then, so was he.
Oh, how she loved this man. He was so completely perfect for her. She reached up to brush his hair off his forehead, an excuse
to keep touching him. She couldn't seem to get enough.
" 'Heavens to Betsy'?" he drawled. "That's what you said, sugar, when you were coming apart in my arms. Actually, you screamed it."
She laughed. "I did not."
"Yeah, you did."
"I know what you shouted, but I'm not going to repeat it."
His grin was lecherous. "Guess what."
Her fingers trailed down the muscled cord on the side of his neck, then crossed his shoulder. She gently traced it with her fingertips.
"What?" she asked lazily.
"Prom dress is gone."
Startled, she lifted her head and looked down. The sheet was around her ankles. "You are good."
He leaned down and kissed each breast. His fingers slowly circled her navel. A jagged scar crisscrossed the lower part of her abdomen. The raised, puckered center indicated a bullet had done the damage. Probably a.38, he thought. Or maybe a.45.
Damn, it was a miracle she had survived. He leaned forward and took his time kissing every inch of her stomach, smiling as she inhaled sharply. He rolled back on his side so he could watch her face as his hand slid down into her soft curls.
Avery was having trouble catching her breath. "Do you want…"
"Oh, yeah. I want."
Moaning softly, she moved restlessly against him, her toes rubbing his lower legs.
She tried to touch him, but he grabbed her hand. "Relax, sugar. Let me…"
It was as far as he got. She was surprisingly strong. And bold. She pushed him onto his back and leaned over him. "Relax?
I don't think so, John Paul. This is a team sport, isn't it?"
He couldn't answer her. Her hands had captured his arousal, and she was slowly driving him wild with her caresses.
"And…" she whispered as she straddled his hips and kissed him passionately.
"And what?" he asked, his voice as coarse as sandpaper.
Her eyes sparkled when she answered. "I'm definitely a team player."
Chapter 31
The man was insatiable. Avery woke up at noon. She didn't usually sleep so late, but John Paul hadn't let her get much
est during the night.
She was on her stomach with one arm hanging over the side of the bed. He was tickling her back. His fingers were as light
as feathers. Was he trying to drive her crazy, or was he being so very gentle because of her scars?
Oh, God, her scars. Even Carrie, who loved her like a mother, couldn't stop herself from grimacing when she looked at her.
"You awake yet?" he asked. "Avery?"
She didn't say good morning. She blurted, "What do you think?"
"About what?'
"My back."
"Can you handle the truth?"
Uh-oh. She didn't like his tone one bit. She could feel her defenses building inside her. "Yes, I can handle it," she said tightly. "What are you thinking about?"
"Your sweet little ass."
She rolled over and looked up at him.
"It's the first thing I noticed about you when you came strutting inside the lobby of that spa."
Smiling, she said, "I didn't strut."
"Sure you did."
"You're a pervert."
"You're a liberal. I figure that makes us even. About the scars…"
She was still smiling when she asked, "Yes?"
"They're just scars. They don't define who you are. Now get up. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. Move it," he said as
he rolled off the bed.
He was stark naked and seemed thoroughly happy about it. He was gorgeous. All muscle and male.
"Put some clothes on, for Pete's sake."
"Why?"
"Do you go around like that in the swamp?"
"I wish I could, but I can't, not with the gators and snakes."
He grabbed his jeans from the chair and went into the living room. Avery took a quick shower and put on a pair of navy shorts
and a pale yellow blouse. Her hair was tucked behind her ears when she padded barefoot into the living room.
John Paul went into the kitchen to fix her plate and placed it in front of her. Then he handed her a bottle of Tabasco sauce.
He'd prepared scrambled eggs with lots of pepper. She took a bite and quickly washed it down with orange juice.
"You like spicy food," she said, smiling.
"In Louisiana, spicy food is a way of life."
"What was it like growing up in Bowen with a father everyone in town calls Big Daddy Jake?"
"Interesting," he answered. "My dad's quite a character, always got something going, if you know what I mean. He's a bit of a con, but he's got a good heart."
He told her a couple of funny stories about the mischief that he and his brother, Remy, got into when they were boys. He mentioned his father and his younger sister often, and each time, she noticed, his voice softened.
"Mike's as bossy as you are." His smile indicated he thought that was a good thing. "She's a surgeon," he added proudly. "Her name's Michelle, but everyone calls her Mike, everyone but her husband. They're expecting their first baby in September."
"Theo," Avery said. "She's married to Theo, and he's an attorney with Justice."
"That's right."
He told her another story while she ate her breakfast, and then she helped him do the dishes.
"It rained hard early this morning. Thunder shook the rafters."
"I didn't hear a thing."
"I wore you out."
He sounded cocky. She decided to let him have his due. "Yes, you did," she agreed as she folded the tea towel and put it on
the counter. "We have to make plans."
"I know," he agreed as he followed her into the living room. She curled up on the sofa. He sat down in a chair, kicked his
shoes off, and propped his feet up on the opposite end of the sofa. He was such a big man he swallowed up the chair.
"But not today," he said. "Today we rest and talk. Tomorrow we plan."
"What will we talk about?"
"Not what, but who," he said. "We need to talk about Jilly."
She had put it off as long as she could. Nodding, she said, "Carrie kept a diary. She was very young, around eleven, when she started writing in it. The diary wasn't filled with her hopes and dreams and crushes, though. No, it was all about Jilly. Every
single page was filled with one horrific incident after another involving her sick sister. Carrie told me she wanted to have some kind of record… proof, I guess, in hopes that one day Jilly would get caught, be put away. She thought that if the doctors read her diary, they would realize how dangerous Jilly was and make sure she stayed behind bars for the rest of her life, but I think there was more to it than that. I think that deep down Carrie believed that one day Jilly would kill her."
"That was a hell of a way to grow up," he said.
Avery agreed. "Carrie stopped writing in the diary when Jilly left town, but she always kept it, just in case Jilly came back.
I knew where it was hidden, but Carrie wouldn't let me read it."
"But you did read it, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did. I wish to God I hadn't, though. I was old enough to think I could handle anything, but there was such scary, sick
stuff in there…"
"How old were you?"
"Fourteen. I read every word, and I had nightmares for months. Carrie had put in a lot of details, and I learned all the twisted