In The Enemy's Embrace

Chapter Three

When they got home from the mall, Jessica remembered to check the messages on her cell phone. Two from her parents and one from Abbie—her college friend and now her cousin Mac’s wife—who’d heard about the fire and wanted to check on her.

Nick made several trips carrying in her new wardrobe, then backed out of her bedroom and stood in the hall as though he didn’t trust himself to be in the same room with her and a bed.

Attraction? she wondered. Or simply not interested and determined to keep his distance lest she get the wrong impression? Because she wasn’t absolutely sure, she became flustered.

“Um, my dad called twice. I guess I better call him back.”

“I thought you said you phoned him this morning.”

“I did. But I got the answering machine.”

Nick stuffed a hand in the pocket of his pants, and his brows drew together. “You left a message on your parents’ answering machine about your apartment burning down? They must be worried sick.”

The censure in his tone annoyed her. “I left a detailed, reassuring message, told them exactly where I was and what I planned to do today in case we missed connecting.” Criminy, the man even found fault with the way she made a telephone call. “I think I know how to talk to my own parents, Nick.”

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry. I saw the destruction of the fire firsthand. It haunts me.”

Just when her temper was about to soar, he said something to knock the wind out of it. She hadn’t thought about what he’d seen conjuring images of horror for him, as well as her.

“Apology accepted and one rendered,” she said. “Censure and bossiness pushes my hot button. I spent a lot of years getting my cousins Alex, Cade and Mac to realize I didn’t need their guidance, input and overprotective gestures at every turn. I’m a little touchy in that area.”

“Then we’re probably going to have a problem. I am who I am, Jess.”

She leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, grinned when he took another backward step into the hall. “There’s no probably about it, sugar. But if I can train three cowboy sheikhs, it shouldn’t be too much of a pain to do the same drill with you.”

“Don’t try to handle me, Red.”

“Likewise.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded and turned away. “I’ll be in the study.”

Jessica moved back into her room and sat on the bed, her legs threatening to give out. Why did sparring with Nick affect her so? Her knees felt like overcooked linguini.

Taking a calming breath, she punched in the number for the Desert Rose Ranch. She half expected the housekeeper, Ella, to answer the phone. Instead, both her parents’ voices came over the line, her father’s a half a beat after her mother’s—obviously from two different extensions.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Jessica! Honey, are you all right?” Vi Coleman’s voice trembled ever so slightly. She was one of the strongest women Jessica knew. To hear the emotion brought tears to Jess’s eyes.

“Didn’t you get my message, Mom? I told you everything was fine.”

“I know. But I’m a mother. If I can’t see and touch one of my children, I imagine the worst—even if you tell me different.”

Jessica was Vi’s only biological child. But Vi had raised her husband’s nephews, Alex, Cade and Mac, from the time they were young boys. Born to Arabian royalty, they’d come to live with their aunt and uncle when danger had threatened their lives. Vi truly considered them her own. And although Aunt Rose was now happily back in their lives after they’d believed her dead all these years, Vi was still the one who held most of the memories of the boys growing up, the one who’d been the main influence in shaping the men they’d become.

“I’m okay, Mom. None of my clothes survived, but I remedied that problem with a trip to the Galleria.”

Vi gave a chuckle that ended in a hitch. “I just had the most ridiculous urge to ask if you’d been wearing clean underwear.”

Jessica laughed, felt her heart open wide. She was so darn lucky to have such great parents. “Gosh, I love you.”

“And we love you,” Randy Coleman said, taking over for his wife who seemed to have developed a frog in her throat all of a sudden.

“Hey, Dad.” Jess cleared her own throat. “Guess that apartment building is one investment Coleman-Grayson should rethink.”

“The insurance company will make it right.”

“The building, perhaps, but not the lost rent.”

“That’s the least of my worries, honey. I’m just thankful you got out unharmed. We saw the photos in the Bridle paper this morning.”

“I figured you would. That’s why I called early. Where were y’all, anyway?”

“Khalahari had some trouble this morning and we were out in the stable with Alex and Hannah.”

“Is she all right?” Jessica knew the highly valuable Arabian mare wasn’t due to foal yet. But Khalahari had a history of tough pregnancies and foaling early. Khalid’s birth was a prime example. If it hadn’t been for Hannah Clark-Coleman, they’d have lost both Khalahari and Khalid. But Hannah, the young veterinarian her cousins had teased as a kid, came through for them all and saved the day. She’d also tempted the sheikh, and now she and Alex were married and the proud parents of four-month-old twin boys.

“Khalahari’s fine,” Randy said. “It was a false alarm. But you know how Alex is over that mare.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m glad you’re staying with Nick, sweetheart,” Vi said. “He’ll do right by you.”

Jessica wound the phone cord around her finger and refrained from commenting. Her parents had an entirely different perspective of Nick Grayson from hers.

“It shouldn’t be for very long. Once I get a car rented—or lease a new one—I’ll get out and look for a new place.”

“Oh, honey. Don’t rush it. Promise me,” Vi said. “Stay for a couple of weeks. Your father and I, at least, need that much time to recover our nerves.”

Jessica was sure they didn’t realize what they were asking of her. Her own nerves might not survive a two-week stay under Nick Grayson’s roof. Besides butting heads at nearly every turn, the uncontrollable adrenaline rush of desire she experienced at a mere look or touch was wearing her out.

“Okay, I won’t rush off.”

“I’m sure you have a hundred things to do, so we won’t keep you with any more of our worries. You call if you need us, you hear?” Randy said.

“I’ll call, Daddy. And let the rest of the family know that everything here’s fine. I love you guys.”

She disconnected the call, then dialed the guest house at the Desert Rose, where Abbie and Mac had moved into after they’d married. Might as well take care of all the calls at once.

Twenty minutes later, she still sat on the edge of the bed, her nerves humming from retelling the horror of the fire. She’d played it down of course, but her own vivid memories wouldn’t be quieted.

Action was what she needed, she decided, and she got up to put away her new wardrobe. She ought to exercise her independence and go to a hotel. But she’d promised her parents she’d stay with Nick. It made them feel better. Her father was proud of her, truly wanted her to follow in his footsteps, but sometimes he hurt her feelings by insisting she rely on Nick.

Still, she hadn’t slept well last night—or rather the hours left of the early morning—because she’d kept seeing smoke and flames and terror every time she’d closed her eyes, hearing the scream of alarms and the wail of sirens.

This house had fire sprinklers hidden in the high ceilings, plenty of windows and doors to get out of in a hurry if the need arose.