A Very Gothic Christmas Read online

  He sighed. “Because I wanted to tear your clothes off and take you right there, right then. I think I made it damned obvious to the band. You aren’t some groupie and I don’t want them looking at you that way—to ever see you in that light. You always think the best of everyone. Has it occurred to you, that their seeing me kissing you like that, they might consider you fair game?”

  Jessica shrugged her shoulders, feigning a casualness she didn’t feel. A heat wave spread through her body at his words. The thought of Dillon so out of control left her breathless. She managed to keep her voice even. “I doubt that I’ll faint if one of them makes an attempt. This might shock you, Dillon, but other men have actually found me attractive and some of them have even asked me out. Believe it or not, you’re not the only man who has ever kissed me.” She felt him stiffen, felt the sudden tension in him.

  A hint of danger crept into the deep blue of his eyes. “I don’t think now is the best time to talk to me about other men, Jess.” His voice was rougher than she’d ever heard it, that smoky, edgy tone very much in evidence. He halted abruptly, dragging her into the deeper shelter of the trees. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? Any idea at all?” He pulled her uninjured hand between his legs, rubbed her palm along the front of his jeans where the material was stretched taut, where he was thick and hard and she could feel heat right through the fabric. “I haven’t been with a woman in a very long time, honey, and if you keep this up, you’re going to get a hell of a lot more than you bargained for. I’m not some teenager looking for a quick feel. You keep looking at me the way you’ve been doing and I’m going to take you up on the invitation.”

  For one moment Jessica thought about slapping his handsome face, outraged that he would try to reduce her to a teen with a crush. That he would try to frighten her, or that he would think that he ever could frighten her. If there was one man on earth she trusted implicitly with her body, it was Dillon Wentworth. It took a heartbeat to realize he had captured her uninjured palm, that he was still cradling her wounded hand against his chest. Carefully. Tenderly. The pad of his thumb was rubbing gently along the edge of her hand and he wasn’t even aware of it. But she was.

  Deliberately provocative, she rubbed the stretched material at the front of his jeans. “You aren’t very well suited to the roll of big bad wolf, Dillon, but if it’s some fantasy you have, I guess I can play along.” Her tone was seductive, an invitation. Her fingers danced and teased, stroking and caressing, feeling him respond, thicken more, harden more.

  His eyes glittered down at her like two burning gemstones. “You don’t have a clue about fantasies, Jessie.”

  “You’re in the wrong century, Dillon.” Her tongue slid provocatively along her lush bottom lip and, damn her, she was laughing at him. “I certainly wouldn’t mind unzipping your jeans and wrapping my hand around you, feeling you, watching you grow even harder. And I did consider not wearing my bra so that the next time you kissed me and started working your way along my throat, you would feel my body is ready for you. The thought of your mouth on . . .”

  “Damn it.” A little desperately he bent his head and stopped her nonsense the only way he could think of. He took possession of her mouth and instantly was lost in her answering hunger. She was too sexy, too hot, too everything. Magic. Jessica was sheer magic. He caught her shoulders and resolutely set her away from him before he lost his mind completely.

  She smiled up at him. “Are you ever going to kiss me without swearing first?”

  “Are you ever going to learn self-preservation?” he countered.

  “I don’t have to learn,” Jessica pointed out, “you watch out for me very nicely.”

  chapter

  9

  JESSICA TOOK HER TIME in the shower, allowing the hot water to soak into her skin. Dillon. He filled her thoughts and kept her mind from dwelling on the possibility that she could have lost Trevor. She had never experienced such a powerful attraction. They had always belonged together. Always. Best friends when it hadn’t made sense. She had always found him magnetic, but it had never occurred to her that one day the sexual chemistry between them would be so explosive. She shook with her need for him.

  She closed her eyes as she dried her body with a thick towel, the material sliding over her sensitive skin, heightening her awareness of unfamiliar sexual hunger. She didn’t feel like herself at all around him. His blue gaze burned over her and made her feel a wanton seductress. Jessica shook her head as she dressed with care. She wanted to look her best to face him.

  By the time she was back downstairs, everyone was already in the kitchen ahead of her. Dillon looked handsome in clean black jeans and a long-sleeved sweater. It bothered her that he still felt the need to wear gloves in front of his family and friends, in front of her. His hair was still damp from his shower, curling in unruly waves to his shoulders. As always he was barefoot, and for some strange reason, it made her blush. She found it amazingly sexy and intimate. He looked up the moment she appeared in the doorway as if he had built-in radar where she was concerned.

  Dillon almost groaned when he turned his head. He knew she was there, how could he not know the moment she was close to him? She was so beautiful she took his breath away. Her jeans rode low on her hips showing a little too much skin for his liking. Her top was an inch too short, and the material lovingly hugged her full breasts the way his hands might. Her red-gold hair looked wine-red, still wet from her shower and pulled back away from her face, exposing the column of her neck. He blinked, looking closer. She damn well had better be wearing a bra under that thin almost nonexistent top. When she moved, he thought he saw the darker outline of her nipples, but then, he wasn’t certain.

  Just looking at her made him so hard he didn’t want to take a step. “Did you put something on that cut?” His voice was harsh enough that even he winced at his tone.

  Brian caught her wrist as she swept past him and turned up her palm for his inspection, halting her before she could make her way to Dillon’s side. “It’s still bleeding a bit, Jessie girl,” he observed. “She needs to cover it with a bandage, Dillon,” he added helpfully, tugging until Jessica followed him around the counter.

  Dillon grit his teeth together, watching them. Brian was a large bear of a man and Jessica looked small and delicate beside him. His scowl deepened as he watched the drummer span her waist and lift her onto the counter, wedging himself between her legs as he bent forward to examine her palm. His forehead nearly brushed her breasts. Brian said something that made Jessica laugh.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Dillon burst out, stalking around the counter to jerk the bandage out of Brian’s hand. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put a Band-Aid on her hand.” He just managed to restrain himself from pushing Brian out of the way. Her thighs were open and she looked sexy as hell sitting there with her large green eyes silently reprimanding him. “Move,” he said rudely.

  Grinning broadly, Brian held his hands up in surrender and strode back around to the other side of the counter. “The man’s like a bear with a sore tooth,” he confided to Trevor in an overloud whisper.

  “I noticed,” Trevor replied in the same exaggerated whisper.

  Dillon didn’t care. He slipped into the spot Brian had vacated, nudging Jessica’s thighs apart and moving close enough to catch that fresh elusive scent that stirred his senses. At once the heat of her body beckoned. And damn her, she wasn’t wearing a bra, he was certain of it. He bent over her palm, examining the laceration.

  The smile faded from Jessica’s mouth. She nearly snatched her hand back. His breath was warm on the center of her palm sending tiny whips of lightning dancing up her arm. His hips were wedged tight between her legs. The smallest movement caused a heated friction along the inside of her thighs and spread fire to her deepest core. Her body clenched unexpectedly as he moved closer, his head brushing her breasts. She bit down on her lip to keep a small moan from escaping. Her breasts were achy and tender, so sensi
tive she could barely stand the lightest touch. He moved again, his forehead skimming against her blouse as he examined her palm. Right over her taut nipple. Tongues of fire lapped at her breasts, her body clenched again, throbbed and burned for release. All he had to do was turn his head slightly to pull her aching flesh into his hot, moist mouth. Her breath hitched in her throat.

  His blue gaze found hers. Both of them stopped breathing.

  “Well, is she going to live?” Paul asked, breaking the web of sexual tension between them. “Because if you don’t finish up over there, the rest of us might not make it through the night.”

  “Holy cow, Jess,” Trevor began.

  “You don’t need to say a word, young man,” Jessica stopped him. She kept her eyes averted from Dillon; it was the only safe thing to do. She noticed it was awkward for him to manipulate the bandage into place. The brush of his fingers was like a caress against her skin, the glove stroked across her hand as he worked. Her body clenched more with each graze. She trembled. His hand tightened around hers, brought her injured palm to his chest, right over his heart.

  “I think that should protect it, baby,” he said gently. He caught her waist, only his gloves preventing him from touching her bare skin as he helped her to the floor. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, Dillon, I appreciate it.”

  “How long is the darned thing going to take to heal?” Don demanded. “We need her to play. We’re not nearly finished.”

  “I laid down several different guitar tracks earlier today, before you were up,” Jessica said, “I wanted to try a few things, so at least you have something to work with.” She moved cautiously around Dillon’s large frame, careful not to touch his body with hers. She curled her fingers in Trevor’s hair, needing to touch him, but not wanting to injure his boyish pride by making too big a fuss now that he was safe.

  “What things?” Robert asked curiously, a hint of eagerness in his voice. “I thought bringing in the sax was a perfect touch. The orchestral background worked like magic. You have some great ideas, Jess.”

  Jessica gave him a quick grin of thanks. “I wanted to record a few different guitar sounds. I used the progression we started with yesterday but enhanced it with some melodic embellishments. I wanted an edgy sound to go with the lyrics so I used the Les Paul for rhythm. I still would like to do a little more layering. You should listen to it, Robert, and see what you think. I thought we might use the Strat for lead over the rhythm. The different sounds layered might really add to the piece.”

  “Or make it too busy,” Don objected. “Dillon has a hell of voice, we can’t just blast over the top of him.”

  “But that’s the beauty of it, Don,” Jessica countered. “We’re still sticking to basic sounds. Very simple. Layering allows us to do that.”

  Brenda slumped over the tabletop dramatically. “Just one night I’d like to talk about something other than music.”

  “I thought they were talking in a foreign language,” Tara said. She pulled out the chair beside her aunt. “Boring.”

  Jessica laughed at her. “You just want that hot chocolate I promised you. I’ll get it for you. Trevor? Anyone else?”

  “You shouldn’t be so careless, Jessie,” Don reprimanded. “We only have a short time to get this together. You can’t afford to damage your hands.”

  She paused in the act of removing mugs from the cupboard. “I don’t honestly remember you being such a jerk, Don. Have you always been this way, or just recently?” If he took one more potshot at Dillon she was afraid she might throw a mug at his head. She didn’t look at Dillon as she took the milk and chocolate from the refrigerator. There were wounds that went deep and Don seemed to want to rake at them. Jessica set everything very carefully on the counter and smiled sweetly, expectantly, at Don.

  Trevor and Tara exchanged a long, amused glance. They’d heard Jessica use that tone before and it didn’t bode well for Don. Tara nudged Brenda to include her, and was rewarded with a small smirk and a raised eyebrow.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it, Jess—everyone’s too sensitive,” Don replied defensively.

  “I suppose we’ll all overlook it this time but you need to work on your social skills. Some things are acceptable and some things aren’t.” Without turning her head she raised her voice. “You’d better not be mimicking me, Trev.”

  The twins exchanged another quick grin. Trevor had been mouthing the words, having heard them said numerous times. “Wouldn’t think of it,” he said cheekily.

  “Dillon, would you like me to make you a cup of hot chocolate?” Jessica offered.

  Dillon shook his head adamantly, shuddering at the mere thought of it. “I can’t bear to look at the stuff. I had enough of that at the burn center.”

  “Why do you keep it then?” Jessica asked curiously.

  “For Paul, of course,” Dillon grinned boyishly at his friend. “He practically lives on the stuff. I think it’s his one vice.”

  Jessica held up a mug. “How about you then, Paul?”

  “Not tonight, I’ve had enough excitement. It might keep me up.” He ruffled Tara’s hair. “I figure we can share it until Christmas, then I expect it to be replaced by gift certificates and Hershey bonuses.”

  “I write lovely I.O.U.’s,” Tara announced. “Just ask Trev.”

  “And you’ll be old before you can cash them in,” Trevor warned Paul. “But her handwriting is beautiful.”

  “So true, I’m vain about my handwriting. I need to be famous so I can sign autographs.” Tara took a sip of the chocolate. “Why did you have too much chocolate at the burn center, Dad?”

  There was a small silence. Brenda casually draped her arm around Tara. “Good question. What did they do, make you live on the stuff?”

  “Actually, yes.” Dillon looked across the room at Paul, a vulnerable, almost helpless look on his handsome face. It was so at odds with his usual commanding presence, his expression tugged at Jessica’s heartstrings.

  It was Paul who answered very matter-of-factly. “Burn patients need calories, Tara, lots and lots of calories. Where your father was, they made drinks using chocolate. You’d think they would taste good, but they didn’t—the mixture was awful, and he was forced to drink them all the time.”

  “They ruined chocolate for you?” Tara was outraged. “That’s terrible.”

  Dillon gave her his heart-stopping, lopsided grin. “I guess it was a small price to pay for surviving.”

  “Chocolate is my comfort drink,” Tara admitted. “What’s yours?”

  “I never really thought about it,” he admitted. His blue gaze was drawn to Jessica. There had been no comfort in his life since he’d lost his family, lost his music, lost everything that mattered to him. Until Jessica. He felt a sense of peace when he was with her. In spite of the overwhelming emotions, the explosive chemistry, in spite of all of it, when she was near him, he felt comforted. He could hardly say that to his thirteen-year-old daughter. If he didn’t understand it, how could anyone else?

  “I like that thought, Tara,” Paul said, “I use chocolate for my comfort drink, too.”

  “Coffee, black as can be,” Brenda chimed in. “Robert likes a martini.” She smiled up at him. “I drive him to drink.”

  “You drive everyone to drink,” Brian pointed out.

  “You were swilling six-packs of beer long before I ever came on the scene,” Brenda said, looking bored. “Your sins are all your own.”

  “We went to kindergarten together,” Brian reminded everyone.

  “And you were already beyond salvation.”

  “Give it a rest,” Don begged.

  Jessica thought it a perfect time to change the subject. “By the way, who owns the long, hooded cape?” She asked with feigned indifference. “It’s quite dramatic.”

  “I have one,” Dillon said. “I used it onstage years ago. I haven’t thought of it in years. What in the world made you ask?”

  “I�
�ve seen it a couple of times,” Jessica said, her eyes meeting Tara’s as they sipped their chocolate. “It was so different, I wanted to get a look at it up close.”

  “It has to be here somewhere,” Dillon said, “I’ll look around for it.”

  A chill seemed to creep into the room with her question. Jessica shivered. Once again the terrible suspicion found its way into her mind. Had someone deliberately lured Trevor to that exact spot? It wasn’t possible. No one could actually predict a rockslide closely enough to set a trap. She was really becoming paranoid. Dillon couldn’t have been the one wearing the cape when the rockslide had buried Trevor because Dillon had been with her. She glanced around the room surreptitiously, realizing she really knew very little about the other band members.

  “I remember that cape!” Brenda sat up very straight with a wide smile. “Do you remember, Robert? Viv loved it. She was always swirling it around her and pretending to be a vampire. Dillon, we borrowed it from you for that Hollywood Halloween thing, Robert wore it, remember hon?” She looked up at her husband, patting his hands as he gently massaged her shoulders.

  “I remember it,” Paul said. “It was hanging in your closet, Dillon, at least it was a month ago. I hung your shirts up when they came back from the laundry service. Viv thought vampire and you thought magician.”

  “I thought women,” Brian said. “You know how many women wanted to see me in that cape and nothing else?” He puffed out his chest.

  “Ugh,” Tara wrinkled her nose. “That’s totally gross.”

  “That’s beyond gross, Brian,” Brenda protested, “I’ll never get the picture out of my mind.” She covered her face with her hands.

  “You loved it,” Brian pounced immediately. “You begged me.”

  “Way too much information,” Jessica cautioned.

  “I did not, you idiot!” Brenda was outraged. “I may be many things, Brian, but I have taste. Seeing you prance around naked in a vampire cape is not my idea of sexy.”