Aidan didn’t like the idea of her caring for either guy, short or long term. Which was silly. Of course, she’d had a life before he stumbled into Cypress Key. He shouldn’t even care. No way could this be that jealousy deal again. He never got jealous.
Women had formed a long smooth highway in his life, time spent with one merging into the time with the next and forming one smooth stream. Lily Foster had been a small crack in his smooth road—she’d definitely intrigued him until Aidan had discovered she was interested in his friend Rhett and vice versa. Yet in his time here with Casey Stuart, he found himself at the end of that smooth road with a yawning deep cavern to cross, and he didn’t quite know what to do about it. Like Lily, Casey was uncharted territory. Was that it?
Better he go back to the smooth road he knew. No fumbling his way. Better he focus on the business at hand—Archer Bartow’s shenanigans. He had fumbled enough already.
Maybelle Crawford had played him from the beginning. She had wanted Aidan in Cypress Key, and she had succeeded. He always insisted on being in control of his projects, and Belle had wrested that control away. He didn’t know how he felt about that.
He intended to put his real estate team through the ringer, when this was all over, for not discovering the mayor had a chokehold on Cypress Key and had corrupted the city government. Had Belle controlled Aidan’s real estate team as well? Had he known all this ahead of time, would he have pulled out of the venture? Hell, he could pull out now if he wanted. Call the property purchase a loss and move on. But that would mean telling Rhett their new partnership on a project had failed, and he himself was to blame.
He paid the waitress when she brought his check and rose to leave. And go where? Back to Frank’s? Not yet. He needed to think some more before he ran the risk of another run-in with Casey.
Wildly independent Casey.
Was she the reason he hadn’t hauled his lawyers in here to free him of this legal entanglement and to pull the plug on his project?
He walked down Second Street and headed for the Sand Dollar Tavern. Figured he’d see who might approach him at the bar tonight. Folks in town seemed to know who he was, and he suspected his own run-in with the Bartows made residents feel comfortable opening up to him like Neal and Traynor had. Maybe one of the residents would have an idea what Bartow’s game plan was. He was missing something in the blatant scheme of loan offers Bartow made around town. The man was more than just a cheap loan shark. Aidan could feel it in his bones. His instincts had never steered him wrong.
He needed evidence to prove anything on Bartow, and he knew just who could find the dirt, if any existed. He withdrew his cell and hit the third name on his favorites list.
Liam Shaunessy picked up on the second ring. “How’s the fishing? Caught your trophy tarpon yet?”
“The fishing was great and about to get a whole lot better.”
“That so?”
“I’ve gotten myself in a bit of a pickle, Shaun.”
Aidan heard the rumble of the big Irishman’s chuckle as though the man stood next to him. Liam Shaunessy had been his personal private investigator as well as a good and loyal friend since the night Aidan had saved the man’s life eight years earlier. Shaunessy had his own private investigation and security firm even then, but now he had offices at locations worldwide. Yet when Aidan called, the Irishman dropped what he was doing and came to help.
“So, what else is new? Do I assume you want some skirt checked out?”
“No!” Aidan said indignantly. “What is it with you and Ian? You think all my troubles involve a woman.”
Shaunessy chuckled. “The big Highlander’s with you, is he?”
“He was. He’s probably in Tampa by now. Joe was headed out yesterday.”
“If you’re not on the yacht with Joe, where are you?”
Aidan gave an abbreviated version of his existing legal troubles and had to wait for the Irishman to stop laughing.
“Why does everyone think my getting arrested is so funny?” he muttered.
“Because you can talk your way out of anything. There has to be a woman involved.”
“Shaun, will you just listen?” Aidan snapped. “I need you to get the low down on some folks in this town.”
He went through the whole saga of him working undercover in Cypress Key and Bartow’s loan scheming.
“So this Bartow owns the sheriff, the judge, the banker, and most of the council?”
“That’s the long and short of it.”
“You’ve really stepped in it this time, haven’t you, boyo?”
“Yeah, and I can’t bring my project in here until I get this mess cleaned up. That’s where you come in. Something fishy is going on here; I can feel it.”
“And you want me to check out these Bartow folks, correct?” Shaun asked.
“For starters, yes. I may need you here for a while. That doable?”
“You know it is,” Shaunessy told him, all seriousness now.
“Thanks, man. Dig up whatever you can in the next day or so, and I’ll work my end. Then, we’ll compare notes.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to come spring you right away?”
“No, I’m good for now,” Aidan told him. “I’m out on bail until my hearing, which gives us time to figure out what the heck is going on around here.”
“You watch your back. A man who owns that much of the local government is a dangerous man indeed. I don’t like you there by yourself.”
“That’s why I called you,” Aidan said.
“Sure enough. Stay safe until I get there, boyo. I’ll be in touch.”
Shaunessy would get the goods on Bartow and his cohorts. Aidan had no doubt. Nobody was better at digging up hidden treasure or in this case, dirt than Liam Shaunessy. He had connections in the underworld and in foreign and domestic governments and everything in between. There was nothing his friend Shaun couldn’t find, and no one Aidan would rather have at his back in a fight.
Shaun always said his luckiest day came when Aidan saved him, but Aidan knew it was the other way around.
~ ~ ~
The Sand Dollar had filled up for the second night in a row. Aidan wandered over and claimed an open stool he spotted near the end of the bar, still crowded with the five o’clock folks there for Happy Hour on their way home from work.
The bartender slid him an ice-cold draft with her best sexy smile. She wasn’t the same one as last night, and no shrimpers here tonight or not yet. The shrimping boys didn’t keep to normal business hours. They worked when the shrimp were running.
Aidan felt the hand on his shoulder before the woman sidled up to his stool. Funny how he knew instantly from the touch she wasn’t Casey. The fingers stroked down his arm first, then the nails dug in a little too far, the pressure a little too hard.
He turned and stared into Deedee Bartow’s smiling eyes. A beautiful woman with her hands roaming across him in an all-too-familiar manner. Which did nothing for his libido. And what was up with that?
He was screwed. That’s what. As long as Casey Stuart’s image continually flashed before his eyes, he had gone immune to other women. Not that he wanted any part of this one.
Damn.
This was strange. He should mind. But he didn’t.
What he wanted to do was head back to Frank’s house. He needed to get this handsome-guys-will-surely-desert-you thing out in the open with Casey. He couldn’t argue over whether he was handsome or not. His looks were what they were, the ones God gave him. But he could sure argue the trustworthy part and Casey always jumping to conclusions. She thought he was leaving, but he wasn’t.
She’d eventually learn her lesson about assume, but for tonight, he wanted to see if he could get Casey all riled up. Lord help him, she was gorgeous when she was
angry—eyes flashing sparks, cheeks flushed. And damned if Belle Crawford hadn’t given him hope. He didn’t know what he had going with Casey, but he knew it was unique . . . special . . . maybe one of those once-in-a-lifetime things, or so his instincts screamed to him whenever she came near. He had to find out. Before he left Cypress Key.
Deedee’s hands shifted up his arm to his shoulder. Man, she was a brazen one. A stark reminder of his mission here in town. Casey, he would argue with later. Right now, he needed information from DeeDee since he was here and the opportunity had presented itself. Again.
He had a job to do. Last night, he’d managed to ward off Deedee’s ill-timed pass at him. Tonight, she had something he wanted. Or maybe the other way around.
“Hey there,” he drawled, turning slightly on his bar stool.
She perked right up and slid in closer. Of course, she did.
Damn, this is going to be a long night.
“Why are you back at the Sand Dollar again, sugar?” she purred. “You lookin’ for me?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
She grinned, more of a come-hither-I’m-all-yours smile, now that he looked closer.
“I knew you’d get tired of Casey Stuart soon enough. The guys always do.”
Aidan felt his smile slip, as he fought for hard-won patience. “And then, you’re waiting for them?”
Her smile disappeared. “No, I usually snag them first.” She leaned in and nuzzled his neck, then whispered in his ear. “And I’d’ve hooked you, too, if I’d known you were in town.”
~ ~ ~
Casey paced the game room in short quick strides.
What am I doing down here? I should just go on up to bed.
She forced herself to stop and sat on the edge of the sleeper sofa to stare at the large-screen television, not really watching whatever was on. She had changed clothes after Janie’s phone call, fully intending to head for the Sand Dollar and retrieve Aidan from the clutches of that floozy Deedee Bartow.
Casey didn’t think her a floozy just because Deedee liked sex and had an active sex life. That was Deedee’s choice. Janie and Casey’s other girlfriends had active sex lives, and she didn’t begrudge them. No, Casey called Deedee a floozy because of her indiscriminate, any-guy-will-do sex life. That too was her choice, but too often Deedee slept with a guy just to steal him away from, or to hurt, another girl. That made her a floozy in Casey’s book.
Deedee only wanted Aidan because Casey had him. No, that wasn’t true either. Deedee wanted Aidan because he was drop-dead gorgeous, and she’d already slept her way through most of the single men in town—and some not so single. She was hunting for fresh . . .
No! Casey refused to think of Aidan as fresh meat. He was far too important to her to lump him in with the rest of the single-male population in Cypress Key.
That Deedee thought Casey had Aidan was just another plus in the floozy’s book. Their rivalry went back to the sixth grade when Davy Simpson had asked Casey to be his girlfriend. Thrilled to be singled out by the cutest boy in her class, Casey had said yes, having no idea what being his girlfriend entailed. Davy had grinned, strode across the playground, and immediately informed Deedee in front of a large contingent of sixth-grade girls that she was no longer his girl. A sore loser to say the least, Deedee took a swing at the boy. She’d been swinging at Casey ever since, and she chased after every guy Casey even looked at. Now Deedee had set her cap for Aidan.
Except Casey didn’t have Aidan. She’d shoved him away this afternoon with both hands. Right after he had saved her from being manhandled by PJ and his boys. Right after Aidan had given her the greatest kiss of her life.
Heck no, she didn’t want to be just friends. But she didn’t want to get hurt again either. She suspected—no, she knew—Aidan had the power to hurt her worse than she had ever been hurt before. Just the thought of him in Deedee’s or any woman’s arms stabbed at her heart. Her mind reasoned that if he was only going to be in town a month, then any girl he dallied with would get left behind, so it may as well be her.
Casey had fully intended to march over to the Sand Dollar and retrieve him. Sadly, she only made it as far as the sleeper sofa before doubts crept in. She couldn’t storm into the tavern all alone. How would that look? Having no friend tagging along with her as cover, she would stand out like a violin in a marching band. Casey would end up making a fool of herself in front of half the town, especially if Aidan ignored her.
The ignored her part kept her butt planted right here on the sleeper sofa.
Waiting for Aidan.
Waiting to tell him she had made a mistake. A big mistake.
Wait!
What if Aidan didn’t come home?
What if Aidan went home with Deedee? Or some other woman?
That image rippled a wave of nausea through her belly. And if he did come home, what would Aidan think when he discovered her here waiting for him?
She gasped and flew off the sofa. The clock showed nine, and suddenly, she didn’t want to know how long Aidan stayed out with Deedee. Better not to know. Better to wait until tomorrow to confess her change of heart. She could fight for him then. Time to head for bed.
Before she could escape, the back door swung open. Aidan froze in the doorway. His big body shut out most of the light from the outside lamp over the back door. Only light from the TV shone in the game room, but Casey knew he could see her staring at him like a cow at a new gate.
She couldn’t see his eyes with him in silhouette. She could feel his eyes though, checking out every inch of her. She knew when his gaze slowed at her lacy tank—she’d chosen her sexiest blouse, when she aimed for his retrieval from the tavern—and slowed again at her skinny jeans, which hugged her hips and legs like a second skin. Even from eight or so feet away, his scent had enveloped her and wreaked its usual havoc with her motor impulses, making them almost non-existent. She would give anything to see his eyes, to see if anger or forgiveness hovered there. Her fingertips tingled with the need to dig into the soft curls at his nape.
Silhouetted in the outside light, he looked big . . . and dangerous. Over six feet of pure sin. Too much for her to handle, and Casey officially changed her mind. Turned chicken.
Aidan must have sensed her decision to flee, like a timber wolf senses his prey. “What are you doing down here?”
The deep sensual timbre of his voice vibrated along her spine and created tiny pinpoints of desire along its length. Her mouth had that dry feeling she got at the end of her tour spiel—dry and raspy.
“I-I was just going up to bed.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“I-I was too.”
His sexy chuckle rumbled in the darkness, and her skin prickled with anticipation. She couldn’t fool Aidan or herself.
Her brain taunted, Flight or fight, make up your mind.
She suddenly recalled her earlier decision following Janie’s call—to grant herself the month with Aidan. Better her have him than let Deedee steal him away. Casey had fully intended to enjoy every single minute of that month with Aidan before she’d chickened out just now. Instead of running away, she could enjoy the feel of those broad shoulders and muscled arms filling up the doorway right here. She could also allow herself a good long stare at that perfect butt when he turned, and maybe even enjoy that kissable mouth with those please-never-take-them-off-me lips.
“Stop looking at my mouth,” Aidan growled, “or you’ll be sorry.”
Her heart ended her dilemma. Go for it.
She could feel his unseen eyes track the movement of her chest, rising and falling with each hard-won breath. Time to force the issue for them both.
“K-Kiss me,” she whispered. Frozen in place, she left the outcome up to Aidan.
He didn’t move a muscle for three lifetime-l
asting heartbeats.
One . . . he doesn’t want me.
Two . . . he’s still angry.
Three . . . my own fault.
She turned for the stairs, and he had her in two strides. His arms snaked around her waist and yanked her tight to his chest as his mouth took hers. This was no tender, make-up kiss. This was all need and desire and maybe a little punishment too.
She didn’t care. Her fingertips had gotten their Christmas wish, and Casey buried them in the silky hair at his collar, luxuriating in the soft texture and wanting to keep him close. Even that didn’t stop the tingling in her fingertips.
Aidan tongue teased at her lips, then swept inside and tangled against hers. She grew lightheaded as she reacquainted herself with the moist sweetness of his mouth, tinged with a hint of beer. A joyful reunion after the fear of separation, and she intended to savor every sexy nuance of flavor.
He growled low in his throat and turned his head to deepen the kiss. Casey just prayed he wouldn’t stop kissing her. Aidan had to care about her. He didn’t, couldn’t kiss another woman like this. Could he? An image of Deedee flashed behind her eyelids.
She pulled back, but her fingers refused to relinquish their hold on his soft curls.
“What was that for?” he asked, his voice rough with desire. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“I don’t want to be just friends,” she whispered.
“Thank God.”
Aidan covered her lips with his and lifted her slightly off the ground to walk her backward. Holding her tight to him, he put one knee on the sofa and deftly laid her down, then lowered himself along her length without ever slowing his sensual exploration of her mouth. She knuckled her fingers into the hair at his nape to hold him in place. She wanted the dizzying sense of euphoria that gripped her to go on forever. His leg slid over and wedged between hers. She savored his partial weight and wondered whether he’d think her fast if she tugged him all the way on top of her. Her body heated up from her ears to her toes with want and need.
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