Killjoy

She changed the subject to a less stressful one, talking about silly things that had happened to her when she was growing up.

He told her stories about his life and his family, and when he talked about his father, she laughed several times.

"People really call him Big Daddy?"

"Yeah, they do. You'll like him," he predicted.

He was assuming she would meet his father someday. She'd like that. She wanted to know about his family and his home and

his work. She wanted to know everything about him. Before she could continue the conversation, they saw two pairs of headlights coming up the road toward them.

He swerved onto a side road and turned his lights off.

They silently waited until the cars passed by.

"When you asked your brother-in-law to help, were you worried he might tell the FBI where we're going?"

"Because he's with Justice?"

"Yes."

"Family comes first, sugar. Always."

"Still…"

"He won't tell, and he will help. I told him what I needed done, and he agreed."

"Good. I'm glad we can trust him."

They waited in the dark for a few minutes before he felt it was safe for them to go.

Avery's mind wandered and then circled around and around what he'd whispered in her ear. Maybe if she stopped staring at

him, she could think about something else. It had been such a long time since she'd been intimate with a man, and she thought

she had become an expert at blocking those thoughts and urges.

She had been an expert anyway, until he came into her life. Now the floodgates were wide open, and all she could think about was touching him. Everywhere.

For thirty more minutes she battled to think about something other than sex. She mentally balanced her checkbook, then

calculated how long she could stay in her apartment without a paycheck coming in. Three months or four? If she got fired.

She started tapping her foot on the floor. Who was she kidding? Of course she was going to get fired. They couldn't arrest her

for being insubordinate, but would Carter charge her with hindering an investigation?

John Paul put his hand on her knee. "How come you're so jittery?" Then, before she could come up with a good lie, he said,

"There it is."

He pulled onto a dirt road. His night vision was better than hers. She hadn't even noticed the little curve. "You're sure?"

His hand was still on her leg, and she wasn't inclined to move it. She stared straight ahead, pretending to watch the road as she thought about ripping his clothes off him.

Was she turning into a slut? She shook her head. No, she was simply having normal urges, like any other woman, but because

she hadn't had those urges in so long, she wasn't handling herself well.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

Sex, damn it. I'm thinking about sex. "Nothing much."

"Yeah?"

Even his voice was sexy. Threading her fingers through her hair, she realized how tense she was, and how horribly unsure of herself.

They drove around a bank of trees, and then the road flattened into what she thought might be a field. It was impossible to tell in the dark. She began tapping her foot on the floorboard again. She was nervous about being alone with him in the secluded cabin.

He pulled up to the steps in front. When he turned the motor and the lights off, it was pitch black. She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face.

"You stay put until I get the key from under the porch step."

She couldn't have moved if her life had depended on it. Her legs felt like rubber, and she thought she just might start hyperventilating. Fortunately, she had her wild thoughts under control by the time he'd unlocked the front door and turned the lights on inside the cabin. She got out and helped him carry in the bags.

The cabin was charming and smelled of pine and Lysol. A stone fireplace faced the front door and was flanked by two wicker chairs with red-and-yellow-checked overstuffed cushions. The hunter green sofa had seen better days, for the arms were

frayed, and the fabric was faded, but it looked very comfortable. To the right of the front door was a round pine table and four single ladder-back chairs.

Beyond the table was a narrow kitchen with a back door. She placed a bag of groceries on the counter, then walked through

the living room to the other side of the cabin. There were two doors along the short hallway. The one on the left opened into a bathroom. At the end of the hall she opened the other door and stepped inside. Soft light spilled into the spacious room. A double bed with an old iron headboard was covered with a multicolored quilt.

The longer she stared at the bed, the faster her heart beat. She could hear John Paul putting the groceries away, knew she should probably help, but couldn't seem to make herself move.

"It's just a bed, for Pete's sake. What's the big deal?"

Disgusted with herself for being so nervous, she grabbed her duffel bag and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

She hadn't bothered to pack a pretty nightgown or a robe. After she dried her hair and brushed her teeth, she put on a pair of skimpy pink panties and her ratty old Santa Clara T-shirt. It was at least three sizes too big for her. It hung like a tent and ended just above her knees.

Staring into the mirror, she took inventory and decided she came up lacking in the feminine wiles department. For the first time in her life, she wanted to look pretty. Boy, wouldn't Carrie have a good laugh now? She was always criticizing the way Avery dressed, and for once, Avery had to agree.

There wasn't anything she could do about her appearance now. With a sigh, she put her bag in the cor-

ner of the bedroom so she wouldn't trip over it, then walked into the living room just as the front door opened and John Paul came inside. He shut the door, bolted it, then turned around and froze.

"What happened to you?" she asked. He didn't answer her. "You look like you showered in the dirt. What happened?" she repeated.

John Paul couldn't make himself stop staring at her legs. Fantasies were raging in his mind. "I put the car in the barn, and I thought… the oil… the tires…"

"Yes?"

"What?"

He finally forced himself to look into her eyes, knowing he probably resembled a buck caught in the headlights. When he'd

noticed her standing in the doorway, his knees damned near buckled. That well-scrubbed look was intoxicating. She was simply gorgeous. Did she have any idea of the power she had over him?

"What about the oil and the tires?"

"That's right."

He was blathering like an idiot, and she was fully responsible for his radical drop in IQ. He strode past her, muttering incoherent words as he went into the bathroom and shut the door.

She took a bottled water out of the fridge, turned the lights off in the kitchen and the living room, and then went into the bedroom. She kept telling herself to relax as she folded the quilt. She found clean sheets on the closet shelf and put them on the bed with a lightweight blanket she pulled out of the cedar chest. She climbed on top, scooted to the middle. Straightening her back, she folded her legs in the lotus position. She tried to clear her mind and concentrate on her breathing. Just as she was about to sit down in her imaginary porch swing without a care in the world, she was interrupted.

"Going to your happy place?"

Her eyes flew open. John Paul was standing in the doorway watching her. He wore a pair of shorts and nothing else. He hadn't even bothered to button them. He had taken the time to shave, she noticed, and he'd washed his hair too. There were big drops

of water glistening on his ta

Sitting on the bed definitely put her at a distinct disadvantage. If they were going to approach their situation as adults, she