“I worry about you not eating.” He put the tray on the floor. “That’s not happening again.”
Especially here. He’d put every cold cut known to man on the tray along with numerous cheeses and countless sides. Steam rose from onion rings, mac and cheese, potato skins, and fries, their scent tempting Jacquie, her stomach rumbling for a taste. There were also several slaws: carrot, cole, and the vinegary kind, plus ones she didn’t recognize. He’d brought plates, utensils, napkins, four beers, and a whole chocolate cake, five layers at least.
Her taste buds came alive. “I want dessert first.”
He dropped a napkin on her thigh then gave her the cake and a fork. “Dig in. Wait. Scoot over first.”
She’d sat smack in the middle, hogging each side.
Once she neared the opposite end, Andy climbed on. “Give me the cake.”
“No.” She held it to her, away from him. “Why?”
“So you can sit between my legs. Once you do, I swear I’ll give it back.”
“I want your promise in writing.”
“Jacquie.” He fought laughter, his shoulders tensing from the effort. “Hand it over or no spanking for you.”
He knew her weak point. She stabbed her fork into the cake, delivered both to him, then settled between his legs, facing him.
His sigh warmed her ear. He gave her the cake. “Eat.”
“Not without you.” She cut off and speared a huge bite, offering it to him.
He gobbled the treat quickly, a piece falling on his chest.
She licked it off.
They’d wolfed down a sizeable portion when he moaned. “Eww. I need something salty.”
“Me too.”
He chomped on prosciutto and mozzarella.
She practically inhaled the potato skins, cole slaw, salami, and turkey. Mouth full, she kissed his cheek. “Damn you’re a good cook.”
Turkey fell from her mouth onto his chest.
He plucked it off and licked it from his finger. “Thanks, I—”
Her Dominant Men ringtone came on.
Andy shoveled carrot slaw into his mouth and talked around it. “I like your choice in music.”
She elbowed him, ignored his yelp, and dove back into the chocolate cake.
He nudged her. “Your phone’s still ringing. Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“As soon as I finish dessert. The cake’s more important.”
“What if Bree’s calling?”
Jacquie’s chews slowed. It wasn’t unusual for Bree to phone her on days off, asking about something at the club. Like where Jacquie had filed an important document Bree couldn’t find and needed ASAP.
Taking the call might be wise. She could give Bree a quick rundown on how great today turned out and ask for advice on how to make this last.
She pushed the cake toward Andy. “Hold this, will you?” After glancing around, she felt between their legs.
“If you’re looking for my cock, it’s in front of you.”
“Where’d my phone go?”
“Maybe it fell on the floor.”
It had. She scrambled off Andy, grabbed it, and left the chaise.
“Hey.” Food muffled his complaint. “Where are you going?”
She pointed at the windowed wall. No way did she want him hearing what she said to Bree. “Be right back.” She brought the phone to her ear. “Bree?”
“No. Max.”
Jacquie’s legs went watery. She pressed her palm against the glass to steady herself. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
His strong voice reached deep within her pussy, coaxing it to respond. In reply, it grew wet and needy. She wasn’t certain what to say or why he was calling. “How’d you get my number?”
“Bree… That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
He chuckled. “You have to ask when I’m talking to you?”
Smiling, she leaned against the window. “Guess not.”
“What are you doing right now?”
As dumbfounded as she was at him calling, she hadn’t forgotten about Andy. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, afraid he’d heard what she’d said to Max. Hell, she couldn’t recall her responses, her thoughts hopelessly tangled. “Uh, I’m… I’m…”
“Involved with someone?”
She made a face, not knowing how to answer, and hoped to God he wouldn’t ask about Andy. Somehow discussing him with Max seemed like a betrayal even if it wasn’t. She liked him, Andy, and Devlin equally. Her feelings would never change no matter what they thought or did. “I’m busy right now.”
“What about tomorrow?”
He kept putting her on the spot and here of all places. She should tell him to call back tonight when she was home. They could discuss plans then, if that’s what he was getting at. She took a deep breath, prepared to say she had to run and to phone her later. “No, I’m not busy then. Why?” Damn. Lindsay Lohan had greater self-control.
“Are you okay?”
She should be dancing at being with Andy and having Max finally call, but couldn’t lift her feet. “Never been better.”
“Good. Bring your mood to my place tomorrow morning. We can talk about your ideas for the club, which may help the album. I’ll have my driver pick you up at say eight. Unless you’d prefer a later time.”
No one famous or rich in LA drove themselves. She pressed her forehead against the glass, elation and guilt battling within her. She shouldn’t be making plans with Max at Andy’s house. It wasn’t right.
Unless this was only about having a good time. No commitments. Their choice not hers. For some reason she kept forgetting their preference regarding relationships. “Eight will be fine. Should I bring anything?”
“Other than yourself and your phone with the notes on it, no. What’s your address? I’ll give it to Eduardo so he can pick you up.”
“Where will he be coming from?”
“My Malibu compound.”
She wasn’t certain if a compound was larger than an estate, but didn’t ask, giving him her address instead.
“Got it. See you then. Can’t wait.”
“Me either.”
She ended the call, her insides trembling from happiness and dread. Although she’d never been the daughter her parents had hoped for, she wasn’t a sleaze either, jumping from man to man. This had been far easier when everyone was together at the club.
Praying her face wouldn’t give her away, she turned to Andy.
He chewed prosciutto, the end hanging over his lip, his gaze on the potato skins she’d left. Without glancing her way, he chose one.
* * *
Tapping his phone against his leg, Max debated calling Andy to see if he’d pick up. If he didn’t, he and Jacquie were together.
Max punched in Andy’s number then turned off his phone unable to go through with his juvenile plan. He was too close to the guy. Devlin too. They might argue and snipe at each other, but never to wound. That’s just how guys behaved. They couldn’t hug and hold each other’s hands like women did when they got together.
At times like this, he wished he’d been born female. They always knew what to do when the opposite sex was involved, never undercutting their girlfriends. Except for those few psychos who’d killed their rivals to get the man.
Okay, so they didn’t have the answers either, everyone floundering through relationships. Not that what he had with Jacquie qualified as anything serious. They were and would always be friendly acquaintances. At the most, friends with benefits.
Stretched across the sofa in his great room, he stewed over tomorrow given her reaction to his call. When they spoke, shock, yearning, and reluctance sounded in her voice.
Andy had probably been nearby. Being a nice person, she hadn’t wanted to be obvious about making a date with another man. Only someone with a stone-cold heart would have done so. Jacquie didn’t come close. She was the sweetest woman he’d ever met, barely throwing him d
irty looks whenever he got out of line.
Max should have ended the call—fuck, he shouldn’t have phoned her, but his competitive nature had kicked in this morning and he didn’t want Andy having all the fun.
Hearing her voice not only became important but necessary. He missed her. How screwed up was that? He’d ridiculed Andy for liking her too much when he himself was no different.
So far, she hadn’t made a choice between them, otherwise she wouldn’t have agreed to come here. Max would have worried about Devlin being in the mix, but he never dated the same woman twice. The Jacquie situation was between him and Andy.
To what end, Max didn’t know. Except he wasn’t going to fight Andy for her. Doing so wouldn’t be cool. Maybe a threesome would work in the time they had left before the tour. Jacquie being on board was a given. Hell, she’d had no trouble enjoying a foursome for fun. Fun being the operative word.
He kept forgetting the bottom line in this but wouldn’t again. Especially come morning.
* * *
At 8 a.m. sharp, a horn honked near Jacquie’s front door. She suspected it was Eduardo given elderly people lived on either side, both couples retired and not waking until ten or so.
Holding her purse, she stepped outside, the day humid and breezy, scattered clouds racing across the sky.
A grubby pickup idled, the motor sounding like it was on its last legs. The body might have been red at one time but had faded to a sickly brown, more primer on it than paint.
A huge Hispanic guy in his early or mid-twenties flashed a smile, his teeth straight and exceedingly white against his swarthy complexion and tee. He leaned across the front seat and pushed the passenger door open. “Hola! Eduardo.” He smacked his chest. “You Jacquie?”
“Hey, Eduardo.” She lifted her hand in greeting. “I am.”
He went blank.
She approached. “Habla usted Inglés?” Do you speak any English?
“No.”
Luckily, she’d taken a crash course in Spanish upon arriving in LA to better her chances at getting lousy temp jobs that paid crap.
At last, her resourcefulness paid off big time. She climbed into the cab, avoiding the torn vinyl on her seat, and spoke Spanish. “No biggie. I love your language. Way prettier than English. So, you’re Max’s driver, huh?”
“Sí.” He zoomed from her complex and onto the street. “But only when he needs me to pick up stuff like you and the plants in the back.”
They overflowed the pickup bed.
“I also clean the grounds and keep the workers doing what they should or else, you know?” He shook his fist.
His biceps were as big as her thighs. “I do. Good for you. Are you the foreman or caretaker?”
“Oh no.” He gave her a sad look. “Mr. Oglebee bosses everyone around but messes up bad.” Eduardo told her about the latest problem involving mulch, water flow from the sprinklers, and sod. “It took me and three other guys a whole day to clean up the mess. Mr. Nolte was not happy, if you know what I mean.”
She didn’t. Max hadn’t seemed prissy about anything, particularly lawn care. “Was it really such a big deal?”
“Mr. Nolte doesn’t want nothing hurting his animals. They come first. He was worried the little ones would get stuck in the mud, and with the sprinklers messed up they might drown. But we kept them away from the area, nice and safe, like they should be.”
He might as well have spoken Greek. “Animals?”
His broad face lit up. “Sí. The grounds are like Noah’s Ark in the Bible. Well, maybe not as many kinds of animals.” He shrugged. “But a lot. Mr. Nolte has dogs, cats, horses, ducks, sheep, goats, ferrets, and a lot more. I can’t think of all the kinds now. But you’ll see once we get there.” He sped down the PCH, slowed then made a left at a stop leading into the hills.
She couldn’t picture Max with a cat or a ferret, unless he was going to use them for his video. “Did someone bring the animals there?”
“Sure. Mr. Nolte did, although some found their own way like the cats, sheep, and goats. Whenever an animal is homeless or injured, he brings it to his place and makes it well. Some have left in the past when they were better.” He shook his head. “But most stay because we feed them like kings and queens.” He laughed.
Jacquie hadn’t imagined Max as an animal lover but wasn’t surprised. Deep within, he was like Andy and Devlin, a man who longed for closeness and love even as he avoided it, instead giving his heart to his critters. She’d liked him too much before this moment. Her heart opened further to him now as it had to Andy yesterday.
Her throat tightened at how Andy had looked and behaved after she’d returned to the chaise. He’d forced laughter, their easy camaraderie gone, teasing no longer possible. When she tried to yank his chain, he didn’t retort.
She would have bet her life he knew Max had called.
Discussing Max with Andy wasn’t feasible. He wouldn’t have heard a word, only his inner voice telling him she preferred Max—and Devlin—over him. He thought they were better-looking, cooler, whatever. Nothing she might have said would have changed his mind.
Besides, actions were better than words.
She licked and suckled him from toe to scalp, loitering on his best parts, loving his balls and dick until he begged for a lull, admitting she’d worn him out. As he slept, she cradled him in her arms. The moment he awakened, she gave herself to him fully and honestly.
By the time they parted, and he drove her home, he was back to being the Andy she knew and loved, teasing and talking about his lyrics.
They lingered in the lot for an hour or so. She didn’t invite him in, afraid Max might call during that time or visit without warning.
Andy didn’t mention another hookup, nor did he say anything about her statue, a perfect opening for them to see each other.
His face told her he expected nothing from their connection except an entertaining diversion. Being friends wasn’t in the equation.
As he drove away, he didn’t bother glancing at her through a window.
God, she was an idiot for having started this. Not until Eduardo picked her up had she quit waiting for Andy’s call—since she didn’t have the guts to contact him—nor had her heart stopped aching until then.
The pickup drove higher and higher, the vegetation here untamed, not a manicured lawn in sight, the road paved but pitted in spots.
Near the top, Eduardo angled to the right toward a huge iron gate, tree trunks making up a rustic fence on either side.
The area looked like Max, rough and without airs. What you saw, you got. Sagebrush, wild grasses, cacti, oaks, and scraggly bushes mingled with wildflowers. Their blues, yellows, and reds spattered in various locations. This area had escaped the recent wildfires that destroyed so many homes.
She felt sorry for those people but was glad Max hadn’t faced the devastation, his land too beautiful to harm.
The gate swung in. Eduardo drove past it.
Leaning against the dash, she struggled to take everything in. Several cats zipped across the gravel path.
Eduardo beeped his horn then hung out his window, shouting at them in Spanish to keep off the road.
They stared at him from beneath a tree.
Ahead, several sheep grazed on the lawn, their feet tiny, bodies plump from their wool.
She pointed. “Do they take care of the grass so you guys don’t have to mow it?”
“A good idea, no?” He hit his chest as he had earlier. “It was mine.”
“I’m not surprised. You should tell Max to give you a raise.”
Eduardo laughed softly. “I could never do that. He pays me good. Better than anyone in this state or the ones around it.”
“Watch out.” She gripped his forearm and her seat. “The ducks.”
Two adults and several ducklings waddled toward the road, not a care in the world.
Eduardo leaned toward her. “They won’t come across when I’m here. Watch.”
The
birds turned and tottered next to the road, going the same way as his pickup.
Eduardo stopped.
She dug her fingers in his arm. “Did you hit something else?”
“No.” He pried her hand off and upended a bag, hard brown things falling into his palm. They looked like Tic Tacs only grosser. He pushed them at her. “Throw this out the window.”
“You want me to hit them so they don’t come closer?”
He leaned away from her. “No. They love these pellets. When I leave they always rush to this road and wait until I come back knowing I’ll feed them.”
She pushed the pellets across her palm. “Does Mr. Oglebee feed them too?”
Eduardo scowled. “He’s too busy hollering at everybody. Don’t you tell him I said that.”
From what she’d heard about the man thus far, she didn’t want to meet him. “I won’t. Cross my heart.” She made the gesture, opened her window, and tossed the pellets.
One duckling beat his parents and siblings to the feast. Pure alpha like Max. She blew the family a kiss.
Eduardo drove past corrals for horses, enclosures for goats, barking dogs, and what looked like a porcupine. She inclined her head to it. “Is that what I think it is?”
“It is.” He slowed the truck and looked ahead. “Mr. Nolte’s farmhouse.”
Or Hollywood’s vision of what one should look like. Painted beige, the building sprawled over what might have been an acre. A gabled roof dominated the front, its section the tallest. Adjoining sides had flat, sloping roofs. Large windows graced every area, the panes bronze, sun sparkling off them. The wraparound porch and deck chairs invited visitors to take a load off and sip lemonade like characters in Oklahoma! would.
The dogs they’d passed bounded up the steps and around the side, away from view, their yaps delirious.
The front doors didn’t open.
Max wasn’t behind the pickup or on the grounds.
She turned back to the front.
He strode into the scene from where the dogs had gone.
Her heart pumped harder than the motor in the pickup.
He was naked to the waist, his jeans low-slung, cowboy boots battered, his tat and powerful form enough to bring on an orgasm.
Domination: Surrender Book Two Page 15
