Just Desserts Part 18

"Give me five minutes," he said, lowering to one nipple and tugging it gently into his mouth.

"Can't spare it," she responded breathlessly, a catch in her voice.

"Five minutes," he repeated roughly before his mouth captured hers.

She was lost in the kiss but mindful of her body's jerking response to his ministrations, quite conscious of the slick, wet warmth between her legs that now begged for his attention.

Unable to do more than kiss him back wildly, she grasped his shoulders as he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist, carrying her with him to the door to secure it.

By the time they reached his bed, both of them were breathless and too captivated by pa.s.sion to worry about discarding clothes delicately, so much so that Marilyn barely sheathed him with a condom before the optimum moment. Jack was inside her within seconds, his body rigid with an aching need to fill her and feel her desire explode with his. Consumed by an unquenchable thirst to push her beyond whatever boundaries she might have, he couldn't have held back if he'd tried.

He rolled over, taking her with him, positioning her above him, his hands on her hips, and despite the urgency of his thrusts, there was something extraordinarily tender in his touch and the look in his eyes.

Marilyn cried out as her body shattered long before she was ready mentally, and when she did, Jack reversed their position, this time staring down at her, his eyes never leaving hers as his arms held her fast and he nudged her to yet another explosive peak.

"I've...never...done this in...five minutes," he apologized, panting afterwards. "Well...there was that one time with you."

"I won't tell if you don't."

"Deal. Oh, G.o.d." He lay back against the pillows and groaned.

"That's it?" she asked.

Jack was stricken. "What do you mean by that?"

"Five minutes is all you're going to give me?"

"I gave you about five hours of it last night!"

The two of them burst into laughter, immediately shus.h.i.+ng one another in case anyone could hear them.

"I'm going to give you my undivided attention, slaving over a hot stove for the next two days. What more do you want?"

"The next three nights," she said, smiling impishly. She pushed aside the thought that followed-I'd like more than three nights with you...much more.

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

Chapter Sixteen.

Native American Chicken Corn Chowder Ingredients: 2 cups sofke corn (cleanse with water until water runs clear) 1 whole chicken, cut up Salt & pepper to taste Boil about 2 1/2 to 3 hours, never letting water level dry up. Once chicken and corn are cooked, let it boil

and cook down so that there won't be so much water. Then add: 1/4 cup chopped carrots 1/4 cup celery Cook on low heat for approximately 30 minutes. Serve hot.

"You're a man of many talents," Sam commented once he and Jack were in the middle of the Illinois River and Jack had caught the first trout of their outing.

"Not really," Jack said with a grimace.

"Oh, don't be so modest, boy!" Sam said encouragingly. "Marilyn can't stop talking about you."

Jack looked over his shoulder at his fis.h.i.+ng partner and caught the older man eyeing him thoughtfully.

"I've been droppin' a line in this river since I could walk," Jack said. "So this li'l ole trout ain't nothin'." He grinned. "My younger brother Chance-now he's a fisherman. He can out-fish anybody, any day of the week."

Yeah, but he's not the Delacroix who's boinking my daughter!

Jack jumped. Had Sam really said that? He shot Sam a worried glance, only to find the old man concentrating on his lure. Jack's breath that had caught in his throat finally exploded in a whoosh as he realized his imagination was out of bounds and that neither of them had said anything.

"How long do you figure we'll be out here?" Sam asked.

Jack shrugged. "Probably a couple hours. 'Til you get tired, I suppose. Why?"

"Because that's two hours of your life that you can't get back. When you are my age, those two hours become important. So why don't you level with me and tell me why my daughter doesn't want you preparing Beef Flambe for me tonight?"

"Pardon?"

"She's tried twice to get me over to her cabin so she can cook for me-and frankly, I'd rather she didn't."

After a moment of silence, in which Jack had nothing to say, Sam continued. "My daughter's culinary expertise extends to peanut b.u.t.ter and banana sandwiches for any meal and the occasional can of soup, provided she can get the can opener to cooperate. Her coffee comes from Starbucks, her breakfast bagels from a bakery and her meals from either a delivery vehicle or behind a fast food counter. She lived with her boyfriend before she made this trip-but suddenly, the man who gave her everything wasn't good enough for her. So what gives?"

"She-she had a boyfriend?"

"A fiance, actually. Weird fellow. I never cared much for him, but he was good to my daughter. Kept her in the country at least. So are you going to tell me what's going on or not?"

Moment of truth, Jack told himself. But he couldn't do it.

"Maybe she just wants to spend more time alone with you, sir," Jack offered.

Sam shook his head. "Doubt it. Marilyn takes after her mother-that woman would rather spend twice the time dancing around a subject and sneak up on it rather than confront it head-on. Many women are funny like that-never met a man who did it, though."

Jack squirmed, his conscience p.r.i.c.king him. Was Sam cagey enough to suspect him of doing the same thing? After a few seconds contemplating just how far he was willing to go with his lie, Jack confessed.

"She thinks that I can't cook. Actually, I only learned how this past year, but she came here with one of my Navy buddies, and I guess they got to talkin' on the plane. Anyway, when they landed here, she believed him, and it's not Chuck's fault-I never told him I'd been practicing."

He didn't know Sam O'Malley well enough to gauge his reaction, whether the old man would be angry or disappointed. What he didn't expect was the loud guffaw followed by laughter so thick that Sam choked on it.

Jack set the stringer with their first catch back in the river with one end hooked to a ring on the canoe. Then he turned to face Sam, who was still laughing.

"I should've known," Sam said, wiping his eyes.

"What's that?" Jack asked.

"That she'd managed to land herself in hot water. Remember what I just said about her mother? Marilyn's the same way. She's talked about everything but this upcoming cooking contest. We've talked about her childhood, whether or not she's bossy-which she is-and canoe trips and my brother. But we haven't talked about the events of this week. Now I know why. Oh, man."

The old man chuckled again and sighed loudly. "What I wouldn't have given to have been a fly on the wall the moment she learned the author she's backed can't cook."

"What do you mean the author she's backed? I thought it was you who'd be disappointed." Jack stared at Sam in shock.

"Me? Oh, sure-I love your books. But it was her idea to have this cooking contest. I 'd have been happy just sitting down to a meal with you and talking. Like now."

"Then you're not upset?"

"Why should I be?" Sam asked. "I'm not the one who is in this predicament."

Jack could feel his shoulder muscles relaxing as he realized that Sam wasn't going to be hurt by his admission.

"Your daughter and Colette, along with my best friend, have been trying for the past couple days to teach me how to cook just so I wouldn't embarra.s.s you or get you in trouble with your brother."

Sam seemed to find this news even funnier than the last. "Oh, really? And what did they have you cooking?"

Jack told Sam about the huge pot of Amish ketchup and the disastrous cherries jubilee, and the old man laughed so hard Jack thought he'd have a stroke.

"Let's not tell her, okay?" Sam asked, wiping his eyes.

"What? That you know or that I've been lying to her all week?"

"Oh, G.o.d, both. Let's keep this between us for right now."

"What about the Beef Flambe tonight?" Jack asked. "If I cook it she'll know I've been lying to her, and if I don't... "

"Sorry, Jack, you'll just have to wing it, I guess." Sam shrugged, his body still shaking with laughter. "I think my brother has plans to have dinner with Robert in his cabin, so don't worry about having a big audience."

"Well, that's a relief!" Jack crowed, still in shock that Sam wasn't upset with him.

"But not a word to my daughter!" Sam cautioned, wagging a finger.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir...why not?"

"Because I want to see just how far she'll carry this farce. Something tells me that she feels she's got something to lose if you don't come through for her."

"For you. She said this is for you."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Sam asked, blinking.

Now Jack was confused. "Doesn't your brother give you a hard time? Hasn't he threatened to buy you out of your company?"

Sam snorted. "He also threatens to whip my a.s.s every now and then, although we're both in our sixties. Doesn't mean he would if he could."

Sounds like my brothers and me, Jack thought, amused. Only older.

"I earned my way back into controlling interest of our little company a long time ago," Sam said. "And then some. I just don't make a big deal out of it. Would only upset my brother, so I act like I'm still the pesky kid he used to take care of sixty years ago."

Jack nodded. He could identify with that statement as well. He'd managed for years to help his brothers pay off the mortgage on the trout camp, to pay for all the new cabins and renovations, and to even build a nice nest egg for future necessities. Of course, all of them had done their share of manual labor on the property, but most of the money to build and maintain the camp had come from Jack's book sales. And he'd had the good sense never to point it out.

"Then what about Marilyn? Isn't her job in jeopardy if I screw up?"

"Oh, probably. That is a point that Dave will press. He wanted someone else to take over the position, but his girl couldn't start right away. So Marilyn has to prove herself, just as anyone else would. But hopefully, with Robert and Marie out of the picture for at least tomorrow, everything will work out for the best."

"Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned." Jack thoughtfully rubbed the stubble of beard that had begun on his jaw, which only seemed to further tickle Sam.

"Would you like to take a break?" Jack asked after a few silent moments.

"Sure. What'd you have in mind?" Sam replied.

Jack lifted the lid of the ice chest, exposing a half dozen bottles of Sam's favorite beer that he'd had Chance pick up in town for him that morning.

Sam smiled. "I had a feeling we were both fis.h.i.+ng in the wrong spot."

Jack smiled back in total understanding.

"You're a middle child, right?" Sam asked. "It's like this-the oldest child almost always has this burden of expectation thrown onto them and winds up either a burnt-out overachiever or a stress ball of emotion. Middle or younger children don't have that. Not as much is expected of us, and we learn early that getting ahead of our parents or older siblings comes at a heavy emotional price anyway, so we do one of two things. We are compet.i.tive and push ourselves to prove we can kick all their b.u.t.ts into next week, or we are the sneaky family success stories, the ones who don't like to toot our own horns.

We prefer quieter circ.u.mstances where we polish our medals in private."

"Sounds like me."

Sam studied him carefully. "You appear to be pretty laid back to me."

"Almost comatose," Jack agreed.

"So you know what I mean." Sam stepped out of the canoe and helped Jack drag it up the embankment before continuing. Once they'd sat beneath a large tree and popped open the beer, however, he clinked his gla.s.s with Jack's and said, "Here's to beer, women and fis.h.i.+ng."

Jack toasted him back and laughed, the first freeing sound he'd managed in days. "I can't believe Marilyn has gone to all this trouble for anyone but you."

Sam shook his head again. "No. This is for her somehow. And now that I've met you, I have a feeling I know why. So let's just play along and enjoy the ride."

Jack mentally chewed on that.

"She used to study that photo on the back of your last book," Sam admitted. "So I have to ask you-are your intentions toward my daughter honorable?"

"My intentions are always honorable," Jack said. "It's when the little head wars with the big head that things get confusing." He immediately cursed himself silently for being so blunt with Marilyn's father.

"Good. I was afraid she'd combust without some form of release. She needed to get laid."

Jack choked on his beer and glanced over at Sam to make sure he'd heard correctly. The old man merely winked at him and continued drinking his brew. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, savoring their beer and watching the river meandering over rocks and around bends.

"Ah, this is the life," Sam said. "I envy you, my boy. Must be great to wake up to this every day."

Jack agreed. "The wildlife around here helps make the place so comfortable. In winter, the deer will come up and practically eat out of your hand. As long as they remain in the woods surrounding the river, they're protected from hunters."

"How's the fis.h.i.+ng in winter?"