Midnight Promises

“Would it make you feel better if I said we’ve never been to bed together?”

“No. That would be downright weird. You are married.”

Jack took a healthy swallow of coffee. Obviously he needed more caffeine, or he was going to say something stupid and mess up an important friendship. Jack didn’t fool himself that he came first with Charlie—or anyone else, for that matter. Including Annie. With the McClains, family came first. Always. And however many hours Jack might have spent in the McClain kitchen when he was younger, he wasn’t really family.

Though he was Charlie’s brother-in-law now. Funny. That hadn’t occurred to him before. He liked the idea.

“Okay, so I’m acting like an idiot.” Charlie scraped his hair back from his face. “I didn’t really think you’d gotten her pregnant. You’ve got your flaws, but you wouldn’t have left her to handle things alone if she’d been carrying your child, no matter what kind of emergency came up with your job.”

“Thanks for that much.”

“She might have gotten pregnant by someone else, though. Someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t marry her. I thought maybe she told you about it, and you married her to give her child a father.”

A peculiar feeling stole over Jack when he thought about Annie being pregnant by another man. It wasn’t jealousy. At least, he didn’t think it was, since it was nothing like the nasty twist of anger he’d felt when he’d heard that Annie might be interested in Toby Randall. No, this was a quiet feeling—quiet, but not gentle. Not soft. A stinging gray feeling, like an acid fog. “Have you taken to watching soap operas? That’s the screwiest idea you’ve come up with yet.”

“But it’s just the sort of thing you would do, Jack. Or are you going to tell me that if Annie were pregnant and unmarried you wouldn’t offer to marry her?”

“Well…” Jack rubbed a hand over his face. Charlie was right. He’d do just about anything for Annie. “That wasn’t how it happened, though. Annie wasn’t—isn’t—pregnant.” And his reasons for marrying her had been wholly selfish.

“Yeah? So why did you two get married, then?”

Jack didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t going to lie to Charlie. He’d already lied to Charlie’s sister, and that had felt bad enough.

When the inspiration to get married had first hit Jack, it hadn’t occurred to him that Annie might want the empty trappings of romance slicked over the very real friendship they shared and the passion they’d just discovered. He’d thought she was too sensible to buy into all those pleasant lies about love that so many women wasted their lives on. On their wedding night he’d found out he’d been wrong.

They had been alone in the elevator, on their way up to the honeymoon suite, and Jack had been skimming his mouth across hers, teasing himself with a taste of the feast waiting for them. All of a sudden she’d pulled back, her eyes serious and scared. She’d asked him if he loved her.

Jack had felt sucker punched. He’d taken a couple of seconds too long to answer. Oh, he’d managed to smile and say what she wanted to hear, but his hesitation had hurt her. He hated that as much as he’d hated lying to her.

“Well?” Charlie demanded. “Is it that hard to come up with a reason?”

“I was hoping to think of a way to phrase it that wouldn’t make you want to punch me.” Jack rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. It felt odd. He was used to having hair there. Annie had accused him of having let the barber scalp him. He smiled. At least she noticed him. She didn’t want to admit it, and she would have liked to push him back into his not-quite-a-brother place in her life, but she did notice him. And not as a brother.

Charlie eyed him for a moment, then shook his head. “Maybe I don’t want to know. If it has something to do with sex—”

“You don’t want to know.”

Charlie scowled and moved over to where he’d left his coffee. He took a sip, grimaced and set it down. “Damned stuff is cold.”

“Serves you right for eating all the doughnuts. Why did you come hassle me so early, anyway?”

“I’ve got a load of pipe that’s supposed to be in California tomorrow and I wanted to talk to you before I hit the road. Which reminds me—why did you tell me to keep an eye on Annie until I talked to you?”

Jack frowned. “Damn. I wish you didn’t have to leave town right now.”

“Curiouser and curiouser. If you’re looking for me to play matchmaker—”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Jack ran a hand over the top of his head. No way to lead into this gradually, he decided. “I think someone tried to kill me. There’s a chance that Annie is in danger, too.”

The sun was up, but Annie wasn’t. Normally she was out of bed as soon as she was awake, which was always early. But today she didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to sing with the radio or talk to her brothers. She didn’t want to face the decisions this day was likely to bring. Most of all, she didn’t want to face Jack.

Pulling the covers over her head and staying in bed for the next few weeks sounded like a great plan, she thought wistfully as she watched dawn chase the shadows from her room. But she’d played the coward too long already. With a sigh, she threw back the covers and left the warmth of her bed.

Charlie’s car was gone, she noticed when she glanced out the window, but Ben’s pickup was still in the driveway. No doubt she had an uncomfortable discussion waiting for her.

Annie showered quickly and dressed in jeans and an old beige sweatshirt. To bolster her spirits she pulled on yellow socks—yellow turned up on high, a blindingly cheerful color she hoped would give her a visual punch of optimism whenever she glanced at her feet. Then she gritted her teeth and went downstairs.

Her big brother sat at the kitchen table, scowling at his coffee.

Ben was the oldest, the largest and the darkest of her brothers, both in appearance and outlook. He was a seriously stubborn man with a passion for the outdoors, a quick temper and a huge heart. Some people were intimidated by him. Many underestimated him, thinking a man as big and gruff as he was had to be all brawn and no brain.

Annie knew better. She mentally girded up her loins for battle and stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning,” she said brightly, heading for the coffeepot. “Why aren’t you down at the yard making your secretary’s life miserable, or out browbeating a flunky or two at one of the sites? It’s nearly eight o’clock.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Maybe you could yell at me instead. It usually makes you feel better.” Ben’s temper didn’t bother her. His brooding did. It meant he was blaming himself for something.

“You’re not having breakfast?” he said when she sat down across from him.

She shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”

He studied her over the rim of his cup as he sipped his coffee. “One of my crew on the Baker job called in sick. If you’re not already booked up, I could use you. I want to get the drywall finished today.”

Was that all he’d wanted to talk about? “Sure,” she said, relieved, though hanging Sheetrock was one of her least favorite construction jobs. The only one she liked less was laying insulation. She always itched for days after handling that, no matter how careful she was. With Sheetrock she just sneezed a lot from the dust.

“All right, then.” He set his cup down, squaring his shoulders as if he were about to heft some unpleasant burden. “Annie, I think you should move out.”

Hurt jolted through her. Her hand jerked, and coffee spilled. “I—I thought things were working out okay, but if there’s a problem…” Her voice twisted into silence before she could get control of it. “If that’s what you want, then, sure. I’ll move out. It may take me a little while to find a place…you know what that’s like around here, especially with skiing season coming up, but—”

“Hold on. I didn’t mean it that way. The house is yours as much as it’s mine. Hell, I’m not doing this right.” He scowled. It was the expression Ben used for almost any strong emotion. “I’ve been selfish. I like having you around, but it isn’t right. You should be living your own life.”

“But I am! Maybe you try to interfere with that from time to time, but I don’t let you. So there’s no problem.”

He shook his head. “You’re married, but you’re living at home with your brothers. That doesn’t sound to me like living your own life.”

Uh-oh. She’d bumped into one of Ben’s walls. He was usually fairly reasonable in a pigheaded sort of way, but there were a few subjects on which he was stone-hard, granite-solid. Rigid, in other words.

Marriage was one of them. “I realize my situation is unusual, Ben, but this marriage isn’t—” Real, she almost said, but she remembered the way Jack had reacted when she’d said that yesterday. “This isn’t exactly a normal marriage. We haven’t lived together. We haven’t…” No, she didn’t want to tell him what else she and Jack hadn’t done. “It’s complicated.”

“Either you’re married or you aren’t. If you are, your place is with your husband.”

That had certainly been what their mother had believed. She’d followed her husband all over the world, leaving her children with their grandmother—until she’d left them in the most permanent way possible. Annie’s mouth tightened. “This isn’t the nineteenth century, and even you aren’t that black-and-white. There are all sorts of reasons that a woman might not stay with her husband…infidelity, cruelty, abandonment—”

Ben’s hand fisted on the table. “If he’s hit you—”

“No. Oh, no! I didn’t mean that! Good grief, Ben, you know Jack. You might not like him, but you know he would never hit me. Or any other woman.”

“Was he unfaithful?”

She opened her mouth—then closed it again. She had no idea. It was something she’d tried not to think about. Logically she knew that if Jack hadn’t been faithful to their hasty, unconsummated marriage, she couldn’t blame him. All they had really shared was a few kisses and some impulsive promises spoken in front of an Elvis impersonator. But she felt absolutely wild at the thought of Jack being with another woman.

Annie licked her lips and answered with careful honesty. “Not as far as I know.”

“Then you should be with him. Not here.” He leaned back in his chair. “And I don’t dislike Jack. It may take me a while to get used to the idea of having him as a brother-in-law, but I don’t dislike him.”

“You hit the ceiling yesterday when you heard he was in town.”

“That was a knee-jerk reaction. I thought you were keeping something from me the way you used to when you and Jack and Charlie were up to something.” His eyebrows drew down. “As it turned out, I was right.”

The ringing of the doorbell was a welcome interruption. “I’ll get it,” she said quickly, pushing her chair back and standing.

“Wait a minute.” Ben’s hand clamped around her wrist. “You should know that I’m going to send a notice to the paper today, announcing your marriage.”

“You’re what?”

“You heard me.”

“It isn’t up to you to make a decision like that!”

“Now that I know that you’re married, it would be lying for me to pretend otherwise. I don’t like lies. A notice to the paper is the simplest way to handle things.”

“It must be nice to be so perfect,” she said bitterly. “So sure of yourself and what’s right.”

“I’m not sure of much this morning. Obviously I made some major mistakes when you were younger, if you didn’t think you could tell me that you’d gotten married.”

More than lectures, more than scowls or yelling, she hated it when Ben started blaming himself for her mistakes. That was one of the reasons she hated making mistakes so much.

The doorbell rang again. She jerked her hand free, hurried through the living room to the front door, flung it open…and groaned.

Jack’s grin came slow and packed with wicked suggestions. “Good morning.”

She slammed the door shut.

Chapter 4

Ben came up behind her, turned the knob and stepped out on the porch. “She’s upset,” he said to Jack.

“I got that impression.”

“I told her that I’m sending a notice to the paper about your marriage.”

“Good.”

Ben paused, looking Jack over. He was half a head taller and forty pounds heavier than the younger man. “If you hurt her, I’m going to break parts of your body. I haven’t decided which ones yet.”

Jack looked wary, but nodded. “Fair enough. You’ve got the right to look out for her.” He glanced at Annie, then back at Ben. “I need to talk to you about that, actually. Later.”

Annie considered closing the door again and locking it against both of them, but Ben probably had his key with him, which would really detract from the effect.

“There’s something I need to know,” Ben said.

Jack’s eyebrows went up quizzically. “And that is…?”

“Have you been faithful to Annie?”

Jack straightened. “I think that’s something to be discussed between Annie and me. So—do you want to arm wrestle? Bloody my nose? Or can I go inside now and talk to Annie?”

Ben’s hands closed into fists. “You can damned well answer me first.”

If anyone was going to hit Jack, it would be her. She stepped outside and put her hand on Ben’s arm. “No. This is between me and Jack.”

It wasn’t easy for her brother to back down. She knew that. Ben needed to fix things. It might drive her crazy when he tried to fix her, but he also wanted to fix things for her. She knew that his instinct now was to shake the truth out of Jack.

For the first time, she wondered if her brothers had spoiled her. Oh, not in a material sense. After her parents died there had been money enough for the necessities and an occasional treat, but that was about it. But Ben and Duncan and Charlie had always been there for her. Their love was a constant in her life, something she could depend on, no matter what. Maybe that had made her expect too much. Maybe no man would ever love her the way she wanted to be loved.

After a moment she felt the tension ease in her brother’s arm. “All right. I don’t like it, but all right. I need to get to work. Annie, I need you on the site at eight. We’ll talk more about you moving out when I get home.”

Jack’s eyebrows went up again, but he didn’t speak until he’d followed her into the house, closing the door behind him. “You’re moving out?”

She shrugged. “Ben’s suffering from one of his attacks of uprightness. You want some coffee?”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Jack shook his head. “Uprightness? Ben thinks you should be living with me, doesn’t he?”

She felt her face heat and spun around, starting for the kitchen. “I want coffee, whether you do or not.”

He followed her, still marveling. “Who would have thought that Ben McClain would turn out to be on my side?”

“Remember that he also threatened to break various parts of your body,” she said as she grabbed a mug from the cupboard.

“Only if I screw up. I don’t intend to do that. Annie?”

Something about the way he said her name made her turn, the empty mug in one hand, her back against the counter.

He was too close. He came even closer, stopping a hand’s breadth away and trapping her by leaning in, his hands braced on the counter on either side of her. “Why did Ben ask if I’d been faithful? Were you afraid to ask me yourself? Or do you just not care?”

Her heart made a nuisance of itself, pounding out a quick distress signal against the skin of her throat. “Back off, Jack. If you want to talk, you need to give me some space.”

“It is hard to talk when we’re this close,” he agreed, and lifted one of his hands from the counter. But that gave her no relief, since he used it to play with her hair. He didn’t touch her. He just sifted his fingers through her hair, holding it slightly away from her head, studying it as if there were something fascinating about hair that was as straightforward and lacking in mystery as the rest of her.

It shouldn’t have made her knees weak. It shouldn’t have made desire coil low in her belly, an electric snake pulsing its neon message throughout the rest of her body.

His gaze slid back to hers. “So—are you going to ask? Do you want to know?”

She tipped her chin up. “Have you been with another woman?”

“I haven’t been with any women since we flew to Las Vegas, Annie.” That slow, wicked smile dawned. “Not even you, unfortunately.”

Relief hit her hard, getting tangled up in her brain with hope and colliding in her middle with the pulse of that hungry snake. “Why are you smiling? You were furious before.”

He shrugged and gave her hair a tug. “It’s hard to seduce a woman when I’m yelling at her.”

“I—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “I don’t want you to seduce me.”

“Don’t you? I thought you liked it pretty well.”

Annie hadn’t known that heat could raise goose bumps the way cold did. That it could make her shiver. “What I like and what’s good for me aren’t always the same thing.”

“You want me, Annie. Don’t try to convince either of us otherwise.”

“And what do you want—a wedding night, or a real marriage?”

“If I married every woman I’d ever wanted for one night, I’d be in deep trouble. I want you, Annie.”

Oh, damn. How could he twist her heart into a knot and make it sing at the same time? She put her hands on his chest and pushed, and he let her shift him back a step. “Don’t pretend you can’t keep your hands off me. You managed to do that for years with no trouble.”

He smiled and shifted to lean against the counter, all lazy good nature once more. “Weird how things change, isn’t it?”

She carried his mug over to the coffeepot, which put her back to him. It was easier to talk to him that way. “Look, this is how we got into trouble before. We let ourselves get all hot and hasty and didn’t talk about what we wanted from marriage. From each other. Then, when our expectations had a head-on collision, we hurt each other. I don’t want to do that again.”

“Okay. Move in with me, and we’ll talk about our expectations.”

She froze with the coffeepot in midair. After a second, she poured his coffee. Her hand was admirably steady. “Now, that’s a sensible solution. I can move in with you for a couple weeks, we can have lots of hot sex, and by the time you have to leave the country again you ought to have worked me out of your system. You know how quickly you lose interest, Jack.” She turned around and held out his coffee. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Annie.” He took the mug in one hand—and lifted the other to touch her cheek. “I like the part about lots of hot sex, but I don’t want to get you out of my system. I do want to make sure nothing happens to you.”

“You aren’t talking about that stupid anonymous letter again, are you?”

“Sort of.” He ran a hand over the top of his head. “Look, there are some things I haven’t told you.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “You really do have a crazy ex-girlfriend.”

“I don’t know. Someone sent you that letter. Someone who knew we were married, and you didn’t tell anyone. There’s a chance that it’s connected to…some things that happened on my last job. So I really need to know exactly what the letter said.”

“I don’t remember word for word.” Distracted, she went over to the table and sat down. It seemed like a good idea to have plenty of solid oak between her and Jack. “Something about how I’d be sorry for taking you away from her, and you’d be sorry for treating her so badly. It was childish—the phrasing, the sentiments, even the spelling. Whoever wrote it didn’t bother with a spell checker.”

“So it was either typed or done on a computer.” He frowned and brought his mug over to the table, sitting beside her. “How about the envelope? Was it hand-addressed?”

“No, it was done with a printer on one of those white labels. I noticed because I was curious and I was mad, and that’s why I sent you that note about it. I thought she must be someone you knew pretty well, well enough that you had to break the news of our marriage to her yourself. She had my address.”

“Annie, I haven’t been in touch with anyone I used to date—not in person, not by mail, not at all. And there’s no reason for any of them to have your address.”

“Well.” She cleared her throat. “There wasn’t any return address on the envelope, so I tried to read the postmark, but it was smeared. It had U.S. postage, though. It didn’t come from Borneo or Paraguay or wherever.” She put her cup down. “Jack, what’s going on?”

“Unlike you, I did tell people about our marriage. But not my old girlfriends. I notified ICA headquarters. You’re covered by my insurance now.”

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