Harlequin Dare May 2021 Box Set

by Jackie Ashenden

  “Why were you living in a rented RV, for fuck’s sake? Someone should have made sure you were taken care of.”

  “I donated it.” I lean my head back against the cupboard. I can see Jax’s surfboard through the kitchen door, leaning up against the fence. “The women’s shelter sent Ren a really nice letter thanking him for his generous gift. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. My lawyer included a restraining order in our settlement. I wasn’t supposed to talk about him, and he wasn’t supposed to come within two hundred yards of me. He was really unhappy to see me today. He told me I had to quit, or he’d tell you all about my gold-digging past. I’m sure you can see now why I didn’t want to be dating my boss again. It really hasn’t worked out for me before.”

  Angry crying. I hate that I’m an angry crier. I try not blinking, but it doesn’t work and the tears leak down my cheek anyhow. “So now I think you know everything. We can just keep it quiet, handle this how you want. It’s all over now.”

  Jax shakes his head. He doesn’t look angry anymore, just tired. “Secret’s out, Peony. That guy harassing you on the porch is from the media. There’s probably more out there.”

  He hands me his phone so I can see the website he was looking at. It’s all there, for the whole world to see. My relationship with Carter, the settlement, the legal documents where I promised eternal silence in exchange for cash.

  I want to bolt from this kitchen and run and run and run, but this hasn’t helped me in the past. It’s what I did when I thought I’d left Carter behind me. It’s what I’ve tried to do with Jax, even though he’s a good guy and deserves so much better.

  “I’ll go,” I tell him. “You can have that Lake person fix this.”

  “Peony—” He stops, as if he doesn’t know what to say next.

  That makes two of us. I swipe away my tears. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need to get pulled into this shit.”

  “Ren’s behavior isn’t your fault. He made some bad choices of his own. Stay here. I’ll figure this out and get back to you, okay?”

  Jax shoves to his feet. He keeps his back to the front of the house, though, probably because that asshole reporter is hanging around there, trying for a shot.

  “Okay.” I should say something else, make a move to keep him here or set him free completely. He’s looking out for me, sure, but I suspect it’s an instinctive reaction on his part, like putting his fists up when there’s a punch headed toward his face or jerking himself out of the way of an oncoming truck. Jax protects. That’s who he is. It’s what he does. What he needs, however, is to protect himself from me, so I don’t stop him when he heads out the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jax

  I PULL MYSELF up the rocky face as fast I can. My priorities right now are a) getting to the top and b) getting to the top before Liam does. It’s not lunchtime yet, but we’ve already raced to the top of two different boulders so that I can work out some of my frustration with the whole Peony situation. It’s been three weeks since the Carter revelation and I’m starting to suspect I’ve mishandled things.

  Okay. I’ve definitely mishandled them because I’m alone, no Peony in sight, and I’m not okay with that. I have to fix this. Get Peony back. Preferably make her realize that my silence was a mistake and not a rejection, and that I just want things between us to be like they were before.

  I slap my hand on the top of the boulder. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner.”

  Except my hand meets Liam’s fingers instead of rock. He’s beaten me to the top. He swings the rest of his oversize body up on top of the massive boulder and gives me the finger with his other hand. “Loser. Now you have to talk about it.”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything.” I flop backward after a quick spider-and-bird-poop inspection.

  He tips his head at me. “So let me tell you a few things.”

  As if I could stop him.

  “You hooked up with Peony at my sex party after you went all white knight and kicked the ass of a guy who was accosting her.” The corners of his mouth draw down as he lays out my sins. “And then you hooked up some more, she left you, you discovered you were accidentally married, and then you dropped that bombshell on her at her job—along with the happy news that you were her new boss. So then you have all sorts of sex with her and you’re convinced it’s super special, and she gets the gold star in the world championships of sex acts, right up until you panic because she did some possibly dumb shit in her past and so you push her away.”

  “Thanks for the unnecessary recap,” I snarl.

  “Or did she finish with you because you went all Neanderthal and possessive?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does.”

  “I wasn’t a Neanderthal. Much. Peony was just done. Our marriage was a freaking spectacle and her track record with rich bosses is—to be frank—disturbing. I just liked her for her. I loved her.”

  Liam fiddles with the lines we’ll use to drop back down to the beach. “You totally sure she’s done with you?”

  “As far as I can tell.”

  “But you’re not done with her despite flouncing out the door with her.”

  “No,” I bite out. “I still want this thing with her.”

  “Thing.” Liam snorts. “You need to find some better words. Go channel your inner Mr. Darcy or at least drop the cash for a decent ghost writer to make something up for you. You want me to stand in the shadows and feed you lines? ’Cause I’ve seen that movie and I’ll totally do it for you.”

  Right. As if he’s got a silver tongue and can explain why I need Peony back so badly.

  Liam swings over the side of the boulder while I’m still searching for words and I valiantly resist the urge to kick him in the head. The ungrateful bastard still fires a parting shot. “So go after her.”

  As if I can.

  How do you chase after someone who’s hit the Eject button on your shared life?

  Peony hasn’t reached out to me since I left. She has, in fact, officially quit her job at Hotly and she’s given Our Little Secret a wide berth. Just to be clear, I thought giving her some space was the mature, husbandly thing to do. Have I screwed things up even more?

  I chew on this unwelcome possibility while I climb down to where Liam’s waiting for me on the sand. His smirk fades into a pained grimace as he takes in my face. Clearly I should avoid high-stakes poker games and important business negotiations today. Just to be clear, I’m not asking him to fix things or blow smoke up my ass about my chances with Peony.

  Even though I’d take it.

  He curses and goes for it. “Look. You avoid romantic relationships. You should have been practicing for the last ten years, like everyone else. Somehow we’ve managed not to kill each other, and your sister thinks you’re the best. She claims it’s pretty much always been you and her against the world.”

  If my eyes sting a little, that’s because it’s allergy season.

  “So you totally know how to have a relationship,” he continues. “Even if you tend to take the caveman approach.”

  “She quit working at Hotly yesterday,” I tell him. “I haven’t checked to see if she’s moved out of our cottage, but she never stays put for long.”

  I wish I could stop worrying about Peony. I wish we were just two normal coworkers who’d met and hit it off, and not a guy with too much money and a girl with too much baggage. I want us to be us again.

  Liam groans. “I’m only gonna say this once, so listen up. She doesn’t need you to take care of her. Jax. She just needs you to care about her. Loudly, quietly, publicly, messily, or with your usual goddamned efficiency. Don’t turn this into some kind of messed-up-man version of ‘if you love someone, set them free.’”

  “I wanted her to choose to come back to me.”

  Liam slaps my back. “The thing about caring for s
omeone is that you have to choose to show up.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Peony

  WOMEN’S MAGAZINES PROPOSE fixing your relationship by spicing things up in the bedroom; they publish lists of sexy fantasies you can pick from. But I’ve already done that. Like so much of my relationship with Jax, I’ve started from the end and worked toward the beginning. This time I want to start in the right place. I want to end with Jax.

  Six maybe-not-impossible things, Peony. That and belief is all it takes to slay the jabberwocky. So I get busy with my pink Sharpie and write:

  1. I don’t have to leave. I can choose to stay. Fireflies aren’t just a flash in the pan.

  2. I can find a new job that lets me organize the heck out of other people’s stuff. I’m good at it, and people will pay me to do it.

  3. I can take care of Jax because even big, bad bosses need TLC sometimes.

  4. I can say yes when people want to help me.

  5. I don’t have to be a world-class surfer. I only have to try. And not get eaten by sharks.

  6. I can make Jax love me again.

  I make Impossible Thing No. 1 happen by moving back into Our Little Secret. It feels like a hundred years ago that Jax and I sat on the kitchen floor together, but it’s only been weeks and my key still works. There are no Jax sightings, though. His surfboards decorate the backyard but the fridge is a sad and lonely wasteland. His clothes are gone from the closet, and his bike’s not parked in the side yard. He’s not here, but I am.

  Impossible Thing No. 2 is in progress. I sign up as a temporary librarian with San Francisco county and I promise myself that I’m enrolling in San José State’s online library program.

  Impossible Thing No. 3. I stalk Jax’s corporate website for his Market Street office address. This part is a whole lot less certain than choosing a bedroom or looking for a new job.

  Jax has a serious power office.

  His company owns the building—naturally—and there’s an enormously shiny, chrome-filled lobby full of men and women in sober dark suits and really expensive footwear. I pretend I’m there to deliver an edible bouquet and the security guard in the lobby makes sure I get on the right elevator.

  The executive assistant manning the front desk is less easy to persuade, but I flash the monster rock on my ring finger, swallow my pride, and announce that I’m the boss’s wife. This means he decides to escort me to Jax’s office to wait for my man—and I decide to make a pit stop when we pass a conference room.

  Jax is lording it over the suits in the room.

  He’s sprawled at the head of a long table, legs stretched out in front of him, fiddling on a tablet. His hair is loose around his face and he has shadows under his eyes. He looks like a pissed-off boardroom pirate.

  Game on.

  I wave at him. Jax has one of those supermodern, fishbowl conference rooms that’s all glass on one side, so it’s not hard to get his attention. I know exactly when he spots me. He scowls at my assistant buddy and sits up. I knock on the closed door and then push it open.

  Come on, big bad wolf. Let me in.

  Jax watches me come for him, which means he sits there and glowers.

  I smile at our audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, I need to borrow the boss for a minute.”

  I point to the door, but no one moves. Drat. Bet they’re afraid he’ll make them walk the plank. I narrow my eyes at Jax.

  “Let’s take fifteen,” he barks.

  He stares right back at me while our audience files out.

  I’m deliberately dressed for trick or treating, even though it won’t officially be Halloween for a few more weeks because costumes and role-playing have been the theme song of our relationship. My black dress is high-necked, long-sleeved, and stops three inches north of my knees. In the interests of not freezing—San Francisco is notoriously cold—I’ve paired orange-and-black knee socks with my Dr. Martens. It’s part sexy dom, part bad ass Goth, so the possibilities are endless.

  I thrust the orange plastic pumpkin I’m carrying at him. “I’ve brought you a treat.”

  “Thanks,” he says dryly. He makes no move to take the pumpkin, so I set it down on the table since it’s that or hug it to me like a virgin clutching her pearls.

  “And I thought we should talk, instead of me evading and you pouting in your corner. Although it’s a really nice corner.” I pat him on the shoulder. “If you’re going to be all dark and broody, this is a good place to do it.”

  I give his power chair a little push. Fortunately, it’s on wheels or I wouldn’t have a hope of moving him. Once I have him positioned to my liking, I hop up on the table.

  “What are you doing here, Peony?”

  “Fighting for you.” I lean forward and try to hook his chair arm with my foot so I can drag him closer. God, he’s gorgeous and I’ve missed him. “Help me out here, okay?”

  He scoots obediently and something inside me melts. “I thought we were done.”

  “You did walk out on me. Did you mean that?”

  If he did, today’s plan is going to involve more grovel than I planned on.

  He makes some growly sounds and shoves his fingers through his beautiful hair.

  “Peony, you don’t stick around for relationships and I don’t know how to make us work, either. The only relationship glue I’m good at involves cash and sex. That’s what I have to offer.” He pauses. “That sounds even worse when I say it out loud than when I think it. It was supposed to be a metaphor. Or a simile. Something way less stupid-sounding about how we both need to work at sticking.”

  His mouth turns down in a frown.

  I lean forward so far that I’m practically perched in his lap. “You have a lot to offer, Jax. You’ve just always started with cash and I’ve always been afraid to give someone a chance. Now we both have a bad habit we need to work on. Try offering something else. Or let me offer you something. I want to be your go-to person, the one who gets to do stuff for you. The one who’s with you.

  “I wish I knew what you see when you look at me,” I continue. “Because you see a whole lot more than I do when I’m looking in a mirror. I’d like to be that Peony. I like who I am when we’re together.”

  “Peony 2.0 is pretty amazing,” he says. There’s something in his eyes—hope and nerves, maybe need. Definitely heat.

  “I’m not the same without you,” I confess. “I totally screwed up by not sharing more earlier. And then I let you walk away when I should have tackled you by the knees and asked you to stay.”

  His gaze flickers. “I don’t want to tie you down if you need to go. I’m not going to be that needy guy.”

  “I need you,” I admit. “Sure, I can make a go of things on my own, and it might even be good, but something would be missing. Someone. Everything’s better when you’re in my life.”

  Go big, or go home alone. I slide off the table and crash land on his lap. Hopefully, the hallway’s cleared out, or they’re going to get an eyeful. My arms go around Jax’s neck, my fingers tracing the soft, warm skin above the collar of his shirt. I get just one chance at this. I have to be enough.

  “I know you’re probably angry at me,” I say. “I’m angry at me. I should have told you about Carter the Ultimate Asshole Boss. I shouldn’t have kept secrets. I know you needed some space, but I definitely should have come after you to explain at some point. Or make you listen. We could have played the tie-me-up game again and it could have been your turn to be it and then I could have explained—”

  “That you’d been hurt by too many rich assholes who brought sex and money to the table instead of themselves? Who thought you were looking for a payout?”

  “True story,” I agree. “Although let’s be fair—all that money paints a target on you in some circles. I think those women must be blind. Or something. It’s not the money that makes you a prize.” />
  He reaches up and smooths my hair behind my ear. “They don’t see me like you do.”

  “Well—”

  “You see me, even when it seems like I might be acting just like all your other asshole bosses.”

  “You’re technically not the boss of me anymore,” I point out.

  He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Wanna bet?”

  “Maybe I’m the boss of you. Or we could be really revolutionary and take turns.”

  “Partners,” he interrupts.

  “Excuse me?” I’m distracted by his fingers stroking the sides of my hips, trying to tug me closer when we’re already as close as two fully dressed people not having sex can get.

  “We’ll be partners. Co-CEOs of the merger of Peony and Jax. We’ll make the rules for us together, and the first rule is that we stick together. Always. No more running off. No more silence. Lots of explaining and trust and honesty.”

  “Total honesty?”

  “Always,” he says gravely.

  “Then I have something to tell you.” I peel one hand off him and shove it into the pumpkin where I’ve stashed my pièce de résistance. It’s a Ring Pop, a bright, cherry red with a plastic band. I slide it onto his finger. “I love you. Will you marry me for real, Jax Valentine?”

  He yanks me to him, burying his face in my throat. “I missed you,” he says thickly. “Yes. I’m sorry I screwed up.”

  “Me, too. But not all mistakes are bad, right? It turns out sex parties aren’t really my thing, but then I met you and you rescued me and now here we are.”

  “With you rescuing me right back.” He kisses me softly.

  “Well, taking turns is important. For example, I love you.” I press a kiss against his mouth.

  He returns my kiss with interest. “And I love you, too. You’re my fantasy come true.”