She would poison his poached eggs. Jackie could see the justice in that. He would come down for breakfast, cool-eyed and smug. She could even imagine what he'd be wearing-beige cotton slacks and a navy-blue shirt. Without a wrinkle in either.
She, giving him no reason to suspect, would serve him a lovely plate of Canadian bacon, lightly grilled, and poached eggs on toast. With a touch of cyanide.
He would sip his coffee. Nathan always went for the coffee first. Then he'd slice the meat. Jackie would fix herself a plate so everything would seem perfectly normal. They'd discuss the weather. A bit humid today, isn't it? Perhaps we're in for some rain.
As he took the first forkful of eggs, the sweat would break out cold on her brow as she waited… and waited.
In moments he would be writhing on the floor, gasping for air, clutching his throat. His eyes would be wide and shocked, then all too aware, as she stood over him, triumphant and smiling. With his last breath, he would beg for forgiveness.
But that wasn't subtle enough.
She was a great believer in revenge. People who forgave and forgot with a pious smile deserved to be stepped on. Not that she couldn't forgive small slights or unconscious hurts, but the big ones, the deliberate ones, required-no, demanded-payback.
She was going to give Nathan Powell the payback he deserved.
She told herself he was a cold fish, an unfeeling slug, a cardboard cutout. But she didn't believe it. Unfortunately for her, she'd seen the kindness and sense of fair play in him. Perhaps he was rigid, but he wasn't cold.
Maybe, just maybe, she had read too much into the kiss. Perhaps her emotions were closer to the surface than most people's, and there was a possibility that he hadn't heard the boom. But he'd felt something. A man didn't hold a woman as if he were falling off a cliff if he'd only slipped off a curb.
He'd felt something, all right, and she was going to see to it that he felt that and more. And suffered miserably.
She could take rejection, Jackie told herself as she ground fresh beans for coffee. Smashing something into dust gave her enormous satisfaction. Rejection was that part of life that toughened you enough to make you try harder. True, she hadn't had to deal with it very often, but she thought of herself as gracious enough to accept it when it was warranted.
Frowning, she watched the kettle begin to steam. It wasn't as though she expected men to fall at her feet- though she had enough ego to want one to trip a little now and again. She certainly didn't expect pledges of undying love and fidelity after one embrace, no matter how torrid.
But damn it, there had been something special between them, something rare and close to wonderful. He'd had no business turning it off with a shrug.
And he'd pay, she thought viciously as she poured boiling water over the ground coffee. He'd pay for the shrug, for the pretending disinterest, and more, he'd pay for the night she'd spent tossing in bed remembering every second she'd been in his arms.
It was a pity she wasn't stunning, Jackie mused as she heated a skillet. Really stunning, with razor-edged cheekbones and a statuesque build-or petite and fragile-looking, with melting blue eyes and porcelain skin. Frowning a bit, she tried to get a good look at her reflection in the stainless-steel range hood. What she saw was distorted and vague. Experimenting, she sucked in her cheeks, then let them out again with a puff of air.
Since her appearance was something she couldn't change, she would make the very best of what she had. Nathan Powell, man of stone and steel, would be eating out of her hand in no time.
She heard him come in but took her time before turning. The skimpy halter made the most of her tanned back. For the first time in days she'd raided her supply of makeup. Nothing jarring, she'd told herself. Just a bit of blush and gloss, with most of the accent on the eyes.
Jackie tossed one of her best smiles over her shoulders and had to stifle a shout of laughter. He looked dreadful. Wasn't that a shame?
He felt worse. While Jackie had been fuming and tossing in her bed, Nathan had been cursing and turning in his own. Her cheerful smile made him want to bare his teeth and snarl.
One kiss and they'd get back to normal? He'd have liked to strangle her. Things hadn't been normal since she'd forced herself into his life. As far as he could recall, his body hadn't ached like this since he'd been a teenager, when, fortunately, his imagination had outdistanced his experience. Now he knew exactly what it could be like and had spent most of the night thinking about it.
'Morning, Nate. Coffee?'
Nate?
'Hot and fresh, just the way you like it.' If her voice had been any sweeter, she'd have grown wings. 'We have Canadian bacon and eggs on the menu this morning. Ready in five minutes.'
He downed the first cup. He set it back on the counter, and she filled it again. She'd used a freer hand with her scent. Her fragrance still wasn't rich or overpowering, but this morning it seemed just a bit more pungent than usual. Remember? it seemed to say. Cautious, he glanced up at her.
Did she look prettier, or was it just his imagination? How did she manage to make her skin always look so glowing, so soft? It wasn't right, it wasn't even fair, that her hair could be constantly disheveled and appealing whether she was tossing a salad or napping on his couch.
He'd have sworn he'd never seen anyone look so alive, so vivid, in the morning. It was infuriating that she should be so fresh when he felt as though he'd spent the night being pummeled by rubber-tipped sledgehammers.
Despite his best intentions, his gaze was drawn to her mouth. She'd put something on it, something that left it looking as moist and as warm as he remembered it tasted. Dirty pool, he thought, and scowled at her.
'Mrs. Grange is coming in today.'
'Oh?' Jackie smiled at him again as she turned the sizzling bacon. 'Isn't that nice? Things really are getting back to normal, aren't they?' Jackie broke an egg, one-handed, and dropped it in the poacher. 'Do you plan to be here for lunch?'
The yolk didn't break, and the shell was neatly dispatched. A nice trick, Nathan thought. He was sure she had a million of them. 'I'll be in all day. I've got a lot of calls to make.'
'Good. I'll be sure to fix something special.' She turned to him again to give him a long, interested study. 'You know, Nathan, you look a little haggard this morning. Trouble sleeping?'
No matter how much it cost him, he wouldn't snarl. 'I had some paperwork I wanted to clear up.'
Jackie clucked her tongue sympathetically as she arranged his breakfast on a plate. 'You work too hard. It makes you tense. You should try yoga. There's nothing like a little meditation and proper exercise to relax the body and mind.'
'Work relaxes me.'
'A common misconception.' Jackie set the plate neatly in front of him, then scooted around the counter. 'The fact is that work occupies your mind and can take your mind off other problems, but it doesn't cleanse. Take a good massage.'
Jackie began to knead his neck and shoulders while she spoke, pleased that at the first touch he jerked like a spring. 'A really good massage,' she continued as her fingers pressed and stroked, 'relieves both mind and body of tension, A little oil, some soothing music, and you'll sleep like a baby. Oh, you've got yourself a real knot here at the base of your neck.'
'I'm fine,' he managed. In another minute the fork he was holding was going to snap in two. She had magic in her hands. Black magic. 'I'm never tense.'
Jackie frowned a moment, losing track of the purpose of the exercise. Did he believe that? she wondered. Probably. When a man was always tense, he obviously thought of it as normal. When her heart started to warm toward him, she lectured herself.
'Let's just say there's relaxed and there's relaxed.' She concentrated on the teres minor. 'After a really good rub, my muscles are like butter. I slide right off the table. I've got some wonderful oil. Hans swears by it.'
'Hans?' Why was he asking? Nathan thought as, despite himself, he stretched under her hands.
