Craving Her Soldier's Touch. Wendy S. Marcus
hands and warm up before I touch them. Brrrrr it’s chilly in here.”
“Only if you’re wet and naked.”
“So I’m not complaining or anything.” Jaci hurried down the hallway to her bathroom. “But what’s with the surprise arrival?”
“I was worried about the weather. They’re predicting heavy flooding all along the east coast from the storm, and I didn’t want to miss the charity ball,” Jena called after her.
“So you can protect me from Jerry Three?” Since she’d stopped responding to all communication from the current head of the family—despite his threats—after that horrible night he’d received the e-mail from Iraq and summoned her to the estate. Where he’d proceeded to unload every negative, hateful thought he’d harbored against her. It’d taken over an hour, during which he’d blocked her exit from his office. And he’d ended his tirade with a smack to the side of the head she hadn’t seen coming.
Her own fault for underestimating his anger and overestimating how much he’d changed since she’d moved out.
“That’s Jerald Xavier Piermont the third.” Jena did an impressive impression of their pompous half-brother, a man who’d turned out exactly like the heavy-handed, business-focused, wealth-obsessed father they shared. “You disobedient, classless twit.”
“You’ve been practicing.” Jaci smiled, slid into her soft fleece robe and tied the sash. It was good to have her sister home. Where she belonged regardless of the secrets she kept. Like where she’d been for the past ten months, why she’d disappeared without a word of warning, and whose genetic contribution was partly responsible for her precious babies.
“He had the nerve to show up here two weeks ago,” Jaci said. Uninvited. Unwelcome. To demand she stop her childish silent treatment and agree to a date with ‘the most eligible bachelor in the tri-state area’ who Jerry had convinced to meet her. And if she could pretend to be nice for a few short weeks, marriage would unite two powerful families and solidify a highly profitable business merger.
Jaci was not a bargaining chip.
“You know he isn’t as bad as you make him out to be,” Jena said.
Maybe not, if you were sweet and accommodating and easily influenced like Jena. Jaci washed her hands in hot water. But if you, heaven forbid, dared to question him or disagree with him or ignore one of his many ridiculous, oppressive rules, he could be—and was—brutal.
Jaci returned to the second bedroom which she’d outfitted as a nursery in preparation for the twins’ arrival. “So if he’s not so bad,” Jaci said quietly. “Why didn’t you stick around and have the babies locally?”
Without looking up, Jena snapped the sleeper of the baby on the changing table and shrugged.
“He doesn’t know, does he?” Jaci asked.
Still looking at the baby, Jena shook her head. “I figured it’d be best to tell him in front of witnesses.” She looked up and smiled. “With my older, wiser, fearless sister by my side.”
“Two is always better than one,” Jaci repeated their mantra for dealing with Jerry’s nonsense.
“In this case one to do chest compressions while the other runs for the defibrillator after I inform Jerald he’s an uncle to two illegitimate little Piermonts,” Jena said.
“I call the defibrillator.” Jaci held up her hand. And if she should happen to trip and sprain her ankle on the way to get it … oh well.
Jena handed Jaci the baby from the changing table and lifted the other twin from the double stroller.
Jaci cuddled her niece close, rubbed her cheek over fine silky hair, and inhaled the scent of baby shampoo and powder and sweet, loving innocence. “Which of my adorable, unhappy nieces is this?” She rubbed her tiny back in an attempt to calm her.
“For the time being, I dress Abbie in pink and Annie in yellow, until I can tell them apart.”
“Promise me you won’t let anyone label them.” The quiet/sweet/shy one. The mouthy/wild/disrespectful one. Childhood labels were near impossible to outgrow no matter how much a person tried to change or improve.
Jena—who’d often complained of feeling stifled under the expectation of her labels—shook her head. “Promise.”
After Jena changed Annie, Jaci followed her into the kitchen, noting she’d lost all her pregnancy weight and then some. In the bright light she looked drained. Exhausted. Well Jaci would fix that with good food, lots of loving care, and a much needed second pair of hands. “Mom would have liked you naming one of your twins Annie.” After her.
Jena smiled sadly. “I know.”
Jaci settled into a kitchen chair. “I can hold Annie, too, while you make the bottles.” She held out her left hand. “After all, I can’t be the favorite aunt if I come off looking like I’m playing favorites.”
“They’re all of four weeks old, Jaci.” Jena put her free hand on her hip and gave Jaci the give-me-a-break look. “And you’re their only aunt.”
Was she? Without knowing the father’s identity, how could she be sure? Jaci reached for a yellow-socked foot. “Come on. You’ve been hogging them for weeks. Now it’s my turn.”
Jena placed Annie in Jaci’s available arm and she gave her second little niece some loving. “I was trying to clear my schedule before you got here, so I’m on call this week and have to head out for work early tomorrow morning. And I’ve got a full schedule after that. Will you be okay alone?”
“We’ll be fine,” Jena said with a tired smile.
“You know I may have mentioned you were coming home with the twins to Mrs. Calvin up on seven.”
Jena shot her an aggravated look. “I specifically asked you not to tell anyone.”
“How was I supposed to find a quality babysitter, who we are not friends with and doesn’t know Jerry, to babysit on Saturday night without telling them about the twins? She seems nice and always smiles at me when I see her. And she looks so sad sitting in the lobby after her grandchildren leave every Sunday. I wanted to cheer her up. Hey.” Jaci snapped her fingers. “I bet she’d love to come down and give you a hand if you need it tomorrow. It’d be a good opportunity for you to get to know her and show her how you like things done. I’ll leave her number on the refrigerator before I head out in the morning.”
After lifting Annie and handing Jaci Abbie’s bottle Jena smiled. “It’s good to be home.”
With each baby now voraciously sucking on her bottle, the room got suddenly quiet. “How long do you plan to stay?” Jaci couldn’t stop herself from asking. The stress of the next three months, of Jerry intensifying his crusade to marry them off to two of his business associates by their birthday, would be so much easier to handle with Jena by her side.
“Twenty-five years old,” Jena said, as usual, knowing the real question behind her question.
“It’d always seemed so far away.” Jaci stood, had to move. “Damn, daddy. It wasn’t enough to control our every move while he was alive. He has to do it from his grave.” Which he wouldn’t be in if not for Jaci. So many times she’d wished him dead. Death by car accident, bullet wound to the chest from random mugging, asphyxiation from some outrageously expensive food delicacy lodged in his airway. He probably died the way he did on purpose. So she’d be blamed. So she’d have to live with the guilt.
Abbie stirred in her arms. “Ssshhh.” She rocked the tiny bundle. “No one will ever hurt you, sweetie,” she whispered. “You or your sister. Not as long as Auntie Jaci is around.”
Ian couldn’t breathe. Something heavy lay across his chest. He tried to move. Couldn’t. His left leg caught in a vice. On fire.
Something dripped on his