Out of Uniform

Page 8

“It’s not?”
Did she sound disappointed or was it only his over-active libido leading him into wishful territory? “Given your droopy eyes, you would probably crash before the first kiss, anyway, and wound my ego forever.”
A grin tugged at her full pink lips, which in turn tugged at his self-control. Damn it all, she wasn’t even his type. He usually went for the more chatty, flamboyant sorts who filled the conversation, which left him free to stay quiet.
This woman had listener written all over her.
Tucking her into bed, alone, was the smarter move. “I’m talking wake-ups every two hours in case you have a concussion. It’s easier if we stay in the same place, rather than me tromping through the parking lot in fifty below wind chill to wake you up to count my fingers.”
Strawberry-red crawled up her face. “You must think I’m a paranoid granny.”
“I think you’re alone and don’t know who to trust.” Hell no, she wasn’t paranoid. He wanted nothing more than to rip the bedspread off one of those mattresses and tangle his body with hers. But a rivaling need churned inside him, a need to protect her, find out who had handled this woman so carelessly.
He tipped her chin with his knuckle. “I promise, I’m not going to jump you while you’re passed out.”
Did she know that she kept moving ever so slightly against his touch while she stared into his eyes? Just when he considered extending his reach and cupping her face in his palm, she nodded, leaning back. “Thank you. Again.”
“Okay, then.” Restless, Jacob stood and paced around the room, snagged her coat, turned the heat down. He yanked the door open. “Let’s get moving.”
Frigid air blasted them. The wind nearly lifted Dee off her feet like Mary Poppins. Jacob allowed himself to drape an arm around her shoulders as they charged across the parking lot, sleet and snow stinging his skin.
Lord, she felt good against him.
Inside the lobby, Dee dipped from under his arm without meeting his gaze. “I’ll just get some extra sheets,” she mumbled as she all but sprinted for the supply closet.
Jacob shut off the coffeemaker and followed slowly. He found Dee tucking the beddings along the sofa cushions. He braced a shoulder against the archway leading from the hall to the living area. “Thanks. But I can take care of that myself. I’m going to catch up on some paperwork out front, then I’ll probably end up falling asleep in the recliner.”
She didn’t stop.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Dee sank to the edge of the couch and slid off her shoes. “Going to bed?”
“Right. Bed.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the loft. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s over there.”
Her jaw set. “Your bed is over there. My bed is here.”
“I don’t think so.”
Her tennis shoes thumped to the floor. “I knew you would be this way. Don’t you get tired of being so predictable? Stop with the male strutting ritual. A recliner isn’t a bed. If your feet hang off the edge of the motel room beds, you really can’t expect to fold yourself onto this sofa. I’m almost half your size. The couch is fine for me.”
The woman would argue with a rock.
“Dee, I’m going to be up most of the night anyway. You might as well be comfortable.”
“I won’t be able to sleep if you’re on the sofa or in a chair.”
Jacob almost laughed. Her eyelids were millimeters away from sliding closed. She’d be asleep sitting up if he kept talking.
He shifted his weight to one leg. Why not let her think she’d won? He could move her after she zonked out, probably less than sixty seconds from now. “Okay. Have it your way. Enjoy the couch.”
“Thanks. I will.” She lined her shoes with precision beside the sofa. After a self-conscious glance over her shoulder, she whipped the sweater over her head, unveiling the T-shirt beneath.
Carefully she folded the sweater into an exact square and put it on top of her pile of meager possessions. Seeing her take such care with cast-off clothing, Jacob wanted to buy out Macy’s.
Dee slid beneath the sheets, tugging the blankets up to her chin. He watched her eyelids flicker. Just sixty seconds and temptation would be deeply asleep.
Jacob shoved away from the archway and flipped off the light switch, leaving only the fluorescent bulb over the stove on. Moonbeams filtered in through the skylight over his bed.
Sixty seconds suddenly seemed like a hell of a long time.
Burrowing deeper under the blankets, Dee flattened her spine against the sofa back. “Hopefully by tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in my own bed. Or maybe I’ll be curled up in some bay window, watching the snow and drinking hot cocoa. I think I like hot chocolate with whipped cream. It sounds good, anyway.” She sighed, a heavy sound full of resignation. “Someone’s got to notice I’m missing soon. A person can’t simply disappear without somebody noticing.”
“Sure,” he lied. He’d seen enough cruelty in the world to know otherwise.
“My family must be so worried.” Her words slurred together.
“Of course.” Lord, he hoped so.
“We’ll call the station again in the morning before we set out for the hospital.” Her breathing grew slower, deeper with each word.
“First thing. Bet you’ll be glad to see the last of that cleaning bucket.”
She seemed to have drifted off, so he eased forward a step. Dee burrowed her head into the pillow, and he hesitated.
“What did he look like?” she whispered.
“Pardon?”
“The man who left me here. What did he look like?”
Jacob called to mind the face of the man who’d signed the register, a scumbag he very much wanted to deck. “About five foot ten. Medium build. Midthirties with blond hair.” He struggled to remember more about a guy he’d seen for all of about five minutes. “His clothes looked expensive, good quality Gore-Tex as if he knew what he needed for this kind of weather. And no wedding ring.”
Now that he thought about it, he remembered glancing at the guy’s finger since he’d checked in as a Mr. and Mrs. “I wish I could give you more.”
Especially since it was her only hope for a link to her old life. Even if the link sucked, big-time.
“I guess it’s too much to hope for that he got lost looking for morning coffee.” Her voice faded into a final shaky sigh.
A tiny, scared sigh that stabbed clean through him.
“We’ll find out who you are,” he vowed.
No answer.
Jacob stepped away from the kitchen counter.
Sixty seconds complete. Dee’s chest rose and fell in the even pattern of heavy sleep. He ambled over and knelt beside her.
Only in his life for one day and he would never forget her. What made her so special? Sure she was pretty, but not a knockout by technical standards. And she was so delicate—but stubborn.
She had a fire and grit he respected. No whining or clinging-vine crap; she’d pulled herself through a day that would have sent most people diving into a bottle of Valium.
Jacob eased his arms under her, slowly, watching for signs of stirring. There weren’t any. She’d fallen asleep hard and fast, her slender body deadweight.
Dead? His gut fisted. He’d been so concerned with concussions, he hadn’t considered foul play.
He should have considered that straight up. Jacob forced himself to recall every detail of “Mr. Smith’s” face, his vehicle. Hopefully the Suburban plate number could be traced. He had it on file.
And if it couldn’t be traced…That implied a danger for Dee he didn’t even want to consider.
Jacob tucked her more securely against his chest. He couldn’t stop himself from dropping his head closer and inhaling, tightening his grip and savoring her softness she’d hidden beneath the sweater all day.
If John Smith had wanted her dead, it wouldn’t have been difficult. There must be another answer, and they would find it at the police station.
He would help her through the police procedural red tape in a way her tour bus buddy never could. The Tacoma PD would damn well do their best to find out who this Dee Smith/Jane Doe was. He would make sure of that.
Gently he lowered her to his bed. He draped the quilt over her and stroked the hair from her face. Silky strands slid through his fingers, glistening in the beams shimmering through the skylight. His battered knuckles skimmed petal-soft skin.
A man could lose himself in her softness.
But she needed to remember her past, and he was a man who wanted to leave his behind.
Standing by the lobby coffee machine, Dee sunk her teeth into a cream-filled chocolate doughnut. She would vacuum carpets until the end of time for more of these.
She stared at Jacob through the plate-glass window as he warmed his truck for their trip into town. All faded denim and elemental power, he made her mouth water for more than doughnuts.
Jacob’s deep voice had reached to her through the night, comforting, protecting, wrapping itself around her like the quilt. She might not have always known where she was, but his voice had anchored her as she embraced another snippet of sleep.
Man, she was hungry, ravenous, wide-awake and better rested than she could ever remember feeling. A laugh snuck free. Like that was a stretch given she had a little over twenty-four hours’ worth of memories.
What had he thought as he’d moved her to his bed? The notion of him carrying her was both frustrating and more than a bit exciting.
Putting that first horrible day behind her made the world seem full of possibilities. It was okay to lean on Jacob, just a little. They were only riding into town together.
She watched him prepare the truck. Methodical. Steady. He moved with even-paced determination. He stepped from the cab, leaving the blue Ford running, puffy clouds billowing from the exhaust pipe.
Snow dusted his jet-black hair and shoulders. He really should wear a hat. She almost grabbed one for him, but stopped herself. She could already envision his sleepy-lidded look if she shouted out the door to him like some overprotective mother or schoolteacher.
His arms reached an impossibly long stretch across the windshield to scrape ice. Just below the waist of his navy ski parka, his jeans pulled taut against his backside. Chocolate melted in her mouth, warm and full over her taste buds.
Jacob knelt to disconnect the electrical cord from the block heater and thoughts of long, chocolate-flavored kisses slid away.
Block heater. A unique piece of equipment. The special addition to cold-weather-area vehicles to protect the battery. That wasn’t standard information except for someone who lived in extreme climates.
Yes. She wanted to dance. A real clue. Maybe more would come to her throughout the day. And if she were from this region, that would make locating her all the easier.
Background information. A small bit, but so important to a woman with little enough to call her own, and a driving need to find out if she had a child.
Dee dashed for the door, ready to share her revelation. “Jacob, guess what?”
He turned to her, snowflakes hanging on those long lashes of his. For a moment, no clouds darkened his eyes, just a pale, clear blue for her to fly into.
She forgot how to talk. Thinking became temporarily optional, as well, while she let his eyes glide over her.
Dee cleared her throat. She pointed to the cord dangling from the truck grill. “That’s a block heater.”
He blinked. His blue eyes became moody and impenetrable again. “Uh, yeah.”
“A block heater. I know what it is. I can see one in my head. I have one. I must be from the North, or was at some time.”
A half smile kicked up one corner of his mouth. “Good, good. Go with it. What does the car look like?”
Dee closed her eyes and thought, hard. Squinting though one eye at Jacob, she said, “Brown, maybe?”