Intimate Secrets Read online

  “Let me,” he said, getting out of bed to pull on his jeans.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  He nodded and grinned. “I’ll be right back.”

  He padded into Ivy’s bedroom and turned on the light. “What seems to be the problem, little one?” he asked as he leaned over the crib. She was sitting in the middle of the crib, tears in her big brown eyes.

  She smiled when she saw him and babbled something he didn’t understand.

  He wiped her tears, then checked her diaper. Wet. Just as Josie had suspected.

  He laid her down, unfastened the wet diaper, glad to see it was nothing more than that, and applied the moisturized wipe, then slid another diaper under the wriggling toddler.

  Ivy giggled and babbled away, kicking her legs and waving her arms and trying to get up, as he tried a half dozen times to figure out how the disposable diapers attached.

  Finally, he succeeded and pulled the blanket over Ivy. She had settled back down, her dark eyes flickering closed as he leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead. What an adorable kid, he thought as he turned out the light and started to leave.

  He stopped at the door, glancing back. In the dim light of the night-light he saw Ivy’s eyes close. He waited for a few more seconds but she didn’t open them again.

  He tiptoed back to Josie’s bedroom. In the dark, he could see her lying on the bed. But as he neared, he heard the steady, rhythmic breathing.

  “Josie?”

  She didn’t stir.

  He stared down at her. As angelic as her daughter. He pulled the blanket up to her chin, covering her delectable naked body and holding his desire at bay. When she still hadn’t stirred, he picked up his clothing and headed downstairs to the couch.

  Several hours later, shivering and aching for just the nearness of her, he returned upstairs, stripped off his jeans and climbed in beside her. She snuggled against him, sighing softly.

  He smiled and closed his eyes, at peace.

  MORNING BROKE BRIGHT and sunny. Josie stirred and rolled over, seeking the wondrous heat that enveloped her as she’d slept. But the bed was cold and empty. Just as it had always been. She felt an odd desolation, missing something she’d never had. Or had she last night?

  She lay on her back, watching the sun play on the ceiling, wishing she could get back the feeling she’d had before opening her eyes. With only a faint memory of the dream to keep her warm, she clung to it, unable to remember anything more than a feeling of being cherished in a cocoon of heat and safety.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to remember more, but it was gone. Just like the darkness.

  Her eyes flew open at the sound of voices in Ivy’s bedroom across the hall. Had Mildred spent the night? Josie tried to remember what had happened last night but couldn’t discern reality from dreamland.

  Ivy’s sweet laugh floated into the bedroom and Josie smiled, some of the warmth coming back. Then she heard another voice. Definitely not Mildred’s. She threw back the covers, shocked to find herself naked, her skin flushed.

  She stood, the cool morning air raising goose bumps across her flesh as the sound of Clay’s voice washed her with heat. She reached for her robe, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

  Last night: Raymond. Murder. Clay. Cops. Cabin. Kiss. Nothing after that but warmth and fuzziness.

  She tied her robe around her and moved toward the sound of Ivy’s and Clay’s laughter. It filled the cabin, as sweet and pure as sunlight, and tugged unmercifully at her heart. The cabin had needed the sound of male laughter. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much.

  Clay’s deep, soft voice stopped her at the doorway to Ivy’s room. “About this diaper,” he was saying as he leaned over her daughter, his large strong hands fumbling with the tabs. His voice as soft and gentle as his movements. “It’s a lot easier to put on with a little cooperation from you. You know what I mean?”

  Ivy giggled and kicked vigorously, making Clay laugh.

  The sight caught Josie completely off guard. Her heart filled like a helium balloon. She loved this man. The thought rattled her. Surely she hadn’t admitted it last night to him, had she? She gripped the door frame, remembering the kiss.

  What had followed it?

  Her body suggested something had definitely happened. Was still happening. Just the sight of him seemed to caress her already-sensitive bare skin. Her nipples hardened to points against the fabric of the robe and a heat filled her, making her ache.

  “I didn’t know you knew how to change a diaper,” she said, leaning against the doorjamb and trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

  Clay looked up in surprise and grinned. “You should have seen me last night. It took a few tries to figure it out, and I still haven’t got it down yet.”

  His gaze lit on hers, sending a shock of desire through her.

  She walked over to the dressing table and Ivy. Clay had managed to get one side of the diaper attached. The other flapped in the breeze Ivy was making with her legs and arms. “About last night—”

  “No need to apologize,” he said, resuming his diaper changing.

  Apologize? What did she have to not apologize for?

  Ivy kicked and giggled and tried to get up, but he finally got the other half of the diaper ends together. He swooped the toddler up and into Josie’s arms, smiling at the two of them as if they made a picture he couldn’t resist.

  Ivy wrapped her arms around Josie’s neck, but her attention was on Clay. She seemed fascinated by him. Ivy hadn’t been around many male role models. Not that Josie had ever thought of Clay as a role model for her daughter. Until now. The realization did more than surprise her.

  “About last night—” she began again.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about Odell,” Clay said, as if he thought that’s what she meant.

  Not hardly. Last night’s horror had been blurred by waking up this morning, all warm and fuzzy, along with her body’s continued reaction to Clay since she’d gotten up.

  “I called a judge in Texas to get permission to open Odell’s grave, and I had his dental records picked up.” Clay obviously had pull in high places. “With a little luck, we’ll know by this afternoon—”

  “Did we make love last night?” she interrupted.

  He looked up in surprise, his eyes widening. A lazy smile played at his lips. “You don’t remember?”

  “No, I don’t,” she admitted.

  “I’d like to think that if we’d made love you’d remember,” he said, sounding as if he was only half joking.

  She met his gaze, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth for a moment. She licked at her lips but had the good sense not to say anything.

  “Ivy interrupted us,” he finally said. “I went to check on her. By the time I got back, you were sound asleep.”

  She nodded, feeling as if there had to be more. Or maybe her body had just ached for more. “I thought I remembered you in bed with me,” she said as she put Ivy down, then tugged the robe tighter around her.

  His smile broadened; his dark eyes bored into hers as if her words and her movements amused him. “I couldn’t find a blanket, almost froze to death on the couch. I had no idea Montana was so cold in May.” The heat of his gaze sent a lightning bolt through her. “I finally crawled in bed with you and got warm.”

  At least she wasn’t losing her mind. Not entirely.

  “But nothing happened.” He seemed to wait to see how she felt about that.

  “It’s probably for the best,” she said as she turned toward the kitchen and away from him, not wanting him to see the disappointment in her expression. “Hungry? I think I have some elk sausage Ruth’s brother made.”

  Starved, Clay thought. But not for elk sausage. Or breakfast. He watched Josie walk down the stairs to the kitchen, pretty sure she had nothing on under the robe. The memory of her naked body pressed against his filled him with a yearning desire to take her back to bed. But that wasn’t going to h
appen, he realized as Ivy came toddling to him.

  “Panquakes,” she said, gazing up at him with those big brown eyes and that cherub face. “Panquakes?”

  Josie called back, “She wants to know—”

  “If I like pancakes,” he said, sweeping the baby up into his arms as he trailed her mother down to the kitchen.

  “I love pancakes,” he said, surprising himself by giving Ivy a kiss on her fat little cheek. His gaze lifted to Josie. She seemed a little surprised as well, as if she wasn’t sure she knew him. He hardly recognized himself.

  He’d come here to catch a thief and recover the jewels. He’d expected to catch Josie in that same net. What had changed his mind about her?

  Or had he changed his mind? He studied her for a moment. Did he really believe she was innocent? He damned sure wanted to. Or maybe he just wanted her so badly that it didn’t matter.

  Either way, it wasn’t like him. Not By-the-Book Jackson. He’d changed. Seeing her with Ivy, seeing her with the horses, seeing a woman he hadn’t known in Texas. Maybe he just hadn’t let himself get to know her.

  He smiled to himself, remembering last night. He wanted to get to know her better. She was definitely some kind of rare woman and he wanted her. More than he could have ever imagined he could want a woman again.

  Was it possible she wanted him as much as he did her? He thought about her reaction last night and again this morning in broad daylight. The image of her hard nipples pressed against the thin robe made him groan inwardly.

  “I make a mean pancake,” he said, desperately trying to get his mind on something else besides her lush body.

  “You cook?” she asked in surprise.

  He grinned, his gaze dropping from her eyes to her lips.

  She ran her tongue over her lower lip, then caught her lip between her teeth. When he met her eyes again, he saw the warning. Please don’t do this. Not now. But soon.

  “Pancakes,” he said, heading for the fridge. “All I need is flour, eggs, milk and a little baking powder.”

  “Panquakes!” Ivy shrieked.

  “I think Ivy better help me,” he said, lifting her up onto the counter beside him.

  Josie groaned. “You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.”

  “Got an apron?” he asked.

  She pulled one out and held it up. “Ruth made this one for me.” It had embroidered flowers and lots of ruffles on it. She arched one fine brow, daring him to wear it.

  He’d never been one to back down from a dare, and this morning he’d have done anything to see Josie smile. He took the apron and put it on, making her laugh. He liked to make her laugh. And Ivy, too.

  “Want to learn how to break an egg?” he asked the toddler as Josie set about cooking the sausage.

  Thirty minutes later, the kitchen looked as though a northerner had blown through. Flour dusted the counter, floor, him and Ivy. Egg ran down the front of the cabinet and batter ringed the bowl in splattered drying drops.

  But he and Ivy had fried up a batch of perfectly browned pancakes to go with the elk sausage Josie had cooked.

  “Don’t worry,” he said at Josie’s disapproving look at the mess he and Ivy had made. “I also do my own dishes.”

  She eyed him askance. “What have you done with the real Clay Jackson?”

  “Maybe you just never knew him,” he suggested seriously.

  “Maybe not,” she agreed, her gaze holding his for a long electric-filled moment.

  They sat down to breakfast, pulling the high chair up between them. Clay watched Josie take her first bite of his pancakes. Her eyes widened in surprise. She looked over at him.

  “These are really good,” she exclaimed.

  He just grinned, having a hard time keeping his eyes—let alone his hands—off her. He couldn’t wait to kiss her again. He couldn’t wait to get her back into that bed. It was hard to concentrate on anything with her sitting there, naked under the robe, her blond hair bed-mussed, sleep still lingering in her eyes.

  The elk sausage was spicy and a perfect complement to the pancakes, as was Ruth’s huckleberry syrup.

  They ate in a relaxed, companionable silence. It seemed so right, sitting here with Josie and Ivy, eating breakfast, that he hated it when his cell phone rang just as they’d finished.

  Judge Branson? Clay answered the call, his body feeling numb and weak. “Clay Jackson.”

  “You said to get back to you as quickly as possible,” the judge said, all no-nonsense. “Had that body exhumed. Sent off samples for DNA testing with a rush request. But I have to tell you, I think it’s a waste of good money to run the DNA. Odell Burton’s dental records matched the body’s.”

  “What about the ring?”

  “No jewelry was buried with the body. Family says they had a break-in a few months ago. Bunch of stuff was stolen, including Odell’s ring. By the way, you remember O.T. Burton, Odell’s father? Well O.T. says he doesn’t want to hear Odell’s name again and that this had better be the end of it. Anything else?”

  “No, thanks, Judge.”

  He hung up and stood for a moment without turning around. He could feel Josie nearby and hear Ivy chattering up a storm as if telling her mother a story. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, in silent thanks.

  “Odell’s dead,” he said quietly as he turned to face her.

  “They’re sure?”

  He nodded. “No mistake. The dental records matched. The judge sent off DNA samples as well, but it’s definite. Odell’s dead. As for his ring, O.T. says it was stolen along with some other stuff a couple of months ago.”

  She sank down onto the couch, her body shaking with relieved sobs as she pulled Ivy into her arms. He watched her hug her daughter, washed with an ocean of emotions.

  The sound of a vehicle coming up the hill drew his attention to the window. A sheriff’s car pulled up beside his pickup and parked.

  “Looks like we have company,” he said to Josie as the sheriff climbed out and started toward the cabin.

  Chapter Ten

  It definitely looked like a map. But Josie didn’t recognize any of the pencil markings on the sheet of the once tightly folded paper. Not that there were many markings. Five X’s along a line that wound around in a U-shape, almost a circle.

  “Have any idea what it might be?” the sheriff asked. He’d taken a seat at the quickly cleared kitchen table, a file folder in front of him from which he’d pulled out a copy of the map he’d found on Raymond’s body. “Or if it might have any relevance to Degas’s death?”

  She stared at the sheet of paper, fear filling her, but nothing on the map looked in the least bit familiar. It looked as if a child had drawn it. Crude. Simple. Frightening in the way the words had been printed. Something in the slant of the handwriting that sent a shaft of horror through her.

  The only words on the map were Start by one open end of the line, followed by Pit as the line continued down and around, then Garden, Waterfall, End, Paradise and Finish.

  The word End had been circled in red ink.

  She shivered, hugging herself as she looked up at the sheriff, and shook her head.

  “How about you?” he asked Clay.

  Clay shrugged and shook his head.

  The sheriff leaned back in his chair and studied Clay for a long moment. “Raymond was wanted in Texas for questioning in a robbery two years ago.”

  Clay said nothing.

  “I understand that the thieves were never caught and the cache of jewels never recovered,” he continued, eyeing Clay. “I also know that you used to be in law enforcement and that you still do some consulting work. But you realize you have no authority to investigate a crime in the state of Montana.”

  “Like I said, I’m on vacation,” Clay said with a shrug. “I didn’t even know Josie was in the state.” His gaze shifted to her. “It’s a smaller world than I ever imagined.”

  The sheriff glanced over at her. He didn’t look convinced but didn’t press it. He
picked up the copy of the map and slipped it back into a file marked Degas.

  “We also found a stolen cell phone in Degas’s car.” He seemed to hesitate before sliding another piece of paper across the table toward them. “From what we can gather, Raymond Degas made three calls from the phone.”

  She could feel Clay’s gaze on her, hard and questioning. Was he thinking that Raymond might have called her? That her number at the ranch would be on the list? Oh, no, could Raymond have called her?

  Her chest constricted as she looked down at the three numbers printed on the sheet. Relief swept over her. All three phone numbers had Texas area codes.

  Then she recognized one of the numbers on the list and her heart stopped.

  Clay studied the list as well, but his relief to see that Josie’s number wasn’t on the sheet of paper was short-lived. He stared down at the phone numbers. He knew all three.

  A wave of confusion hit him as his gaze flicked up to Josie’s. She’d paled, her eyes wide with shock.

  “You recognize any of the numbers?” the sheriff asked.

  Clay could feel the sheriff’s intent gaze. Lying wouldn’t do any good.

  “Yes,” he said, looking away from Josie and the fear he saw. “They’re to the San Antonio area. The first number is the O’Malley Ranch.”

  The sheriff looked at Josie. Clay saw that the cop already knew who the calls had been made to. He just wanted to know why. So did Clay.

  “Any reason Raymond Degas would call your family?” he asked her.

  Josie shook her head.

  Clay offered an explanation. “To let them know he’d seen Josie and that she was all right?”

  The cop’s gaze shifted back to Josie. “Your family didn’t know where you were?”

  “Look, sheriff—”

  “Let the lady answer,” the sheriff interrupted him.

  Josie seemed to have regained her composure. “To put it simply, I found myself pregnant. Where I come from that calls for a shotgun wedding. I didn’t want to marry the baby’s father. So I left. I haven’t kept in touch with my family.”

  “Well, they know now,” he said disapprovingly, then he looked at Clay again, waiting.