Turned away from him in the passenger seat, she looked out the window, her hand over her mouth as if it hurt. Her guard was down for a second, then she stiffened and reached for her seat belt without looking at him.
Confused by that unexpected glimpse of vulnerability, he braced himself before sliding behind the wheel.
I’ll be down your throat so hard, you’ll have to take what I give you.
Where the hell had that even come from? He’d never said anything remotely like that before. Never even thought it. But worse, he’d actually meant it. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. She should have slapped his face.
Wait, why hadn’t she slapped his face?
He glanced at her. She was still turned away. But he didn’t miss the way her fingers absently stroked her bottom lip, making him want to crush her mouth all over again. He stifled a low moan. He was such an idiot. She wasn’t vulnerable. She was damned dangerous. That’s what she was. Dangerous and venomous.
The car accelerated as he headed back to the bar. She hadn’t tasted venomous. No, she’d tasted like forbidden fruit. And no wonder it was forbidden when it tasted so sweet.
He pulled to the curb a few thousand years later, the tension in the car ready to shatter at any second. He turned to try to say something civilized, but she was already opening her door.
“Thanks for the ride,” she smirked at him, standing in the doorway, those black eyes sweeping over him in a blatantly sexual invitation.
He gripped the steering wheel until it almost snapped. It was the only way to keep himself from launching across the car and dragging her back inside so he could carry out his earlier threat.
Then she laughed, that dangerous soft laugh that cut most men off at the knees. “Call me,” she said sweetly, blowing him a kiss, then slamming the car door in his stunned face.
Damn. If he didn’t hate her so much, he’d be in love.
Madlyn watched the SUV pull away from the curb and around the corner before she attempted to walk back into her mother’s bar without falling to her knees. Her insides still crackled with sexual tension she hadn’t felt in years.
That kiss…
She shook her head, trying again to clear it, but it was useless. He was already inside her, taking up residence in her central nervous system where she’d committed him to memory. She could still taste him, and he was delicious. Shocked by her reaction to him, she couldn't silence that small part of her that secretly rejoiced that she could still feel anything remotely that good, despite the guilt that accompanied it.
“How did it go?” her mother asked when she stepped into the bar.
“They’re wasting their time.” Madlyn ignored the familiar exasperation that colored her mother’s sunny expression. Her mother was never going to understand, and Madlyn didn’t have the heart to make her. Emma had been through enough in her life. If her mother ever found out what Madlyn had been balancing all these years, she would be devastated.
“Your grandfather’s not bulletproof.”
“He’s the next best thing,” Madlyn said, her words heavy as all the weight she lived with settled back onto her shoulders. “Lots of people have tried to bring him down, you know that. He just has too many favors he can call in.”
“He’ll get his,” Emma promised with an assurance Madlyn wished she could believe. “You’ll see, honey. He will get his in the end.”
“He’s eighty-three,” she reminded her mother. “It’s too late.”
“Well, he’s sitting in jail right now. That has to mean something.”
Madlyn sighed. She knew Winston Robicheaux better than anyone else alive. He might be in jail for contempt of court, but that was only because he hadn’t made a phone call yet. It wouldn’t last.
Then a strange little spark licked along her spinal column. He certainly was taking his time making that phone call. The spark burned deeper in her gut. Maybe, just maybe…
No.
She shut that down. She could have crucified the old man anytime, but there was too much at stake. She’d made a deal with that particular devil almost ten years ago, and she had no choice but to keep up her end of it.
Chapter Three
The sun was warm on her face as she watched her son kicking his soccer ball across the bright green grass. She settled on her favorite park bench and casually crossed her legs. She wouldn’t have long to wait. She glanced down at the leather purse next to her and wondered if she had time to check the cell phone she had just zipped up inside the bag. A shadow moved across the sun, and she felt him join her. She went very still, the phone forgotten as all her senses went on high alert and the slow burn started inside her.
“I can’t believe how much he’s grown.”
She nodded, unable to speak as her throat closed down. She kept her eyes forward, concentrating on not turning her head as an arm stretched across the back of the bench behind her. She’d worn her hair up the way he liked, so he could stroke the sensitive skin at her nape. Sometimes, she almost felt his fingers stirring across her skin.
They sat there together for a long time, watching Robbie play. Her ears roared and her eyes burned, but she resisted every urge to turn her head. She could smell his cologne now, that dark, spicy scent that drenched her with longing. Stay still. Don’t move. Just breathe. Just listen. Just wait.
Robbie stopped kicking the ball, looked up at them, grinned and waved. There was movement in her peripheral vision when Robert waved back. She stiffened, keeping her face forward. She didn’t dare move her head. She should’ve been used to it by now, but it just got harder and harder to resist.
“He’s so beautiful.” His voice was thick with emotion.
“Yes.” The words squeezed past the pain in her throat. She couldn’t look. She wanted him to stay as long as possible, but if she looked…
“I know you don’t believe me, Maddie. But it’s almost over.”
She nodded, blinking back the hot moisture that threatened to blind her. She cleared her throat before she could speak again. “I believe you.”
They were the only words she could manage. She had so many things she wanted to tell him. Lists she had rehearsed in her head. She opened her mouth and almost started to speak, but he stopped her, and for a second, she did feel the warmth of his hand passing very close to her skin.
“It’s all going to be okay,” he said. “I promise.”
It was a reflex action. One she couldn’t fight anymore. She turned...
Madlyn sat straight up in bed, her mouth wide open in a silent scream. But there was no air in her lungs and no oxygen to inhale. She couldn’t even gasp as her chest threatened to collapse, then a few heart-stopping seconds later, her lungs filled themselves, releasing her from the paralysis. She fell back against the pillows and tried to breathe through crushing intense pain.
There was never a transition from the dream to reality. One minute she was asleep and the next she was wide awake. She counted to ten and reminded herself it wasn’t real. She hadn’t been with Robert. They were just dreams.
Never mind that it was the same dream and that sometimes their conversations picked up where they’d left off. Sometimes the dreams lasted longer. As long as she didn’t turn to look at him, she didn’t wake up. She’d gotten pretty good at not looking, but tonight she’d needed to see him for just a second. She needed to see that crazy happy smile one more time.
She raked her hands down her face and got out of bed. She could never sleep after the dreams. She stopped trying years ago. Instead, she’d always called Stefan and they’d talk until the sun came up.
More pain crested over her, and she blinked back stupid tears.
She couldn’t call Stefan. Not anymore. She’d come to terms with losing that friendship. It had been necessary. Jen was safe. That had to mean something.
And her grandfather was behind bars. Maybe she had a real chance of getting her son back.
Her fingers touched her lips. She could still feel that kiss
. She licked her lips, hard, trying to chase the sensation away.
She’d never been kissed like that. He’d laugh his ass off if he knew, but until yesterday, the only man she’d ever really kissed had been Robert. Her brief relationship with Stefan in college had been about driving out demons and nightmares. It hadn’t been about affection or romance. It had been about oblivion, where there were no dreams. So there’d been no kissing.
The other encounters she’d had had been brief, fleeting nights where she and her partners weren’t interested in the kind of intimacy kissing brought.
But Jared. Her entire body rippled with pleasure as she thought of him. Robert had never driven her over the edge with just a kiss. They’d been kids, she reminded herself. Robert was only nineteen when he died. Their fumbling first attempts at sex had been awkward and salvaged only by Robert’s sense of humor and his claim that practice made perfect. She remembered laughing, and they’d practiced like rabbits for three years until they were old pros.
Guilt rose in her like acid.
Robert had never made her feel such desperate, starving passion.
She was surprised that it was morning already. She didn’t feel like she’d slept at all, but it was much later than she thought.
She waited until 8:30 to call her sister. She wanted to see Robbie, and hopefully, Suzanne would let her since their grandfather was out of circulation. He hadn’t let her see Robbie in weeks, not since the night Stefan Sellers had destroyed his attempt to take control of Jen Taylor’s trust. The loss of that money was something Winston wouldn’t forgive her for.
But she was desperate to see her boy. So when Suzanne didn’t answer either of her calls, Madlyn sent a text that read:
Why won’t you let me see my son?
Her phone chimed right back.
You can’t see him. I’m sorry. Gary will tell Granddad.
She hated her brother-in-law. Suzanne had married him because he came from the right family and because their grandfather had wanted her to marry the preening asshole. Suzanne resented her because Madlyn had not married the man her grandfather had handpicked for her. She’d been determined not to allow him to control her life the way he did her sister’s. Now she paid for that defiance every single day and so did her son.
You could take the kids to the zoo, and I’ll meet you.
She bit the inside of her mouth and waited. There was no answer.
Jared pushed away from the low stone wall that divided the golf cart parking lot from the country club’s pro shop and restaurant when he saw Grant’s golf car. He was surprised to see his father sitting in the passenger seat. His dad must be having a good day. Jared couldn’t remember the last time he’d played golf. Maybe the new drugs were working.
“What the hell did you do to your hair?” Milton asked, the moment he was in earshot.
Jared stiffened. He’d forgotten about his hair. “I needed a change.”
“You struck out, didn’t you?” his dad asked as he eased his way out of the golf cart.
Grant looked up, a rare smirk on his brother’s face. “I told you to take a cheesecake.”
Jared just exhaled and bit back his remarks. “She wants a partnership.”
“A partnership?” Milton caught hold of Jared’s arm, and Jared walked with him to the Nineteenth Hole restaurant at the clubhouse. “Now that’s an interesting idea.”
“It’s not going to happen.” Grant moved ahead of them to find an empty table at the club’s restaurant.
Jared ran the gauntlet with his father, nodding to the rich and powerful club members who made sure they spoke and shook hands with Milton Marshall. Jared was used to the attention his father garnered. People genuinely liked his father, but mostly they wanted to make sure he still liked them.
Milton rarely appeared in public these days. But today was a good day, and he was enjoying the attention. But his grip never eased up on Jared’s arm. Jared tried not to react to his father’s need for assistance. Watching Parkinson’s disease reduce his once vital and frankly terrifying father to a mere mortal was painful. He swallowed back the panic that crept into his gut when he realized his father would not always be there.
Grant already had his father’s chair pulled out, and a server was filling iced tea glasses.
“Now hold on. A partnership?” Milton reflected. “Let’s think about this.”
“It’s crazy,” Grant said, then a rare smile lit his stern features. “But the Hanging Judge would flip out.”
“Marshall, Marshall and Robicheaux, Attorneys at Law. The old man will piss blood for a month.” Milton chuckled, then turned to Jared. “Talk to her again.”
“Take a cheesecake this time,” Grant said, making their father laugh.
“You take her a cheesecake,” Jared said. “You’re not pimping me out again.”
“No,” Milton said. “Bring her to dinner tomorrow night. We’ll soften her up with your mother’s lasagna, then fire the kill shot with your cheesecake.”
“Very funny.”
“The partnership idea has merit.” Grant was suddenly serious.
“She isn’t going to help us. She was very clear about that. She’s loyal to him.”
“He has custody of her son,” Grant said. “That doesn’t give her many choices.”
“Her mother said something odd,” Jared said. “She said the old man was holding Robbie hostage.”
“Hostage?” Milton echoed. “Interesting. I like this partnership idea more and more. Bring her to dinner, Jared. Maybe she’s not as loyal as we think.”
Madlyn set down the paintbrush and wiped away the third paint smear she’d gotten on the baseboards. She was never going to finish at this rate. Sitting back on her heels, she resigned herself to finding another contractor.
Otherwise, the house might not ever be finished. The kitchen and the bathrooms functioned, so it was livable. But she wanted Robbie to have a real home when he came for the weekend. Although her chances were not looking good. She still hadn’t heard back from Suzanne.
A car pulled up in the driveway. She made it to the kitchen as the SUV door opened. She frowned, and her heart missed a beat.
Jared?
What was he doing here?
He looked around curiously, those beautiful eyes covered by sexy aviator shades. He wore a faded black T-shirt with a cupcake, of all things, on the front. The short sleeves revealed more of the black ink swirled up his arms, making her mouth run dry. The metal might be gone from his face, but not from his hands. He wore several rings and various leather straps and cuffs around his wrists. And there was something hanging from a leather cord around his neck.
She closed her eyes and groaned. Her heart shouldn’t be racing like this.
Why did he have to be scruffy?
She was so screwed.
She ducked away from the window before he could turn to see her. She went straight to the back door and jerked it open. “What do you want?”
He placed one foot on the first porch step and stopped. “You worried I’m here to collect on our bet?”
Then he started up the steps. She moved to slam the door, and he stopped it with his foot.
“This is just business, but if you’d like to cash out…” He smiled again, his thumb starting at the corner of his mouth and rubbing across his full bottom lip. Her tongue burned to trace that path. “I’m up for that.”
She froze, unable to look away from his mouth or the wicked smile curving it. She could feel a shiver building under her skin, and it took all her will not to release it.
“I bet you are.” She managed to get the strangled words out with a decent amount of venom.
His mouth quirked, but he didn’t make the sarcastic comment she was expecting. “I’m just the messenger, but if you’ve changed your mind about a partnership, that’s fine with me.”
“Partnership?” She pushed away from the door before he could turn. “You changed your mind?”
“More like I got overrule
d. My dad thinks it’s a good idea.”
“Your dad?” she purred. “You still do everything your mommy and daddy tell you to do?”
A slow smile curved that devil mouth. “Why? Would you rather I did what you tell me to do?”
Damn it. Warm color seeped into her cheeks without warning as everything inside her started to simmer at the sexy undertone. She swallowed hard, angry with herself for letting her guard down. Angry with him for guessing what she was thinking. And knowing what she wanted.
“Would you?” she said, lowering her voice. “Do what I tell you to do?”
He did that thing with his thumb again, pressing it against the place the silver loop had pierced. It made her lips ache to taste that spot, and it was hard to look away from his mouth again. “Why do I have a feeling you’re going to tell me to leave?”
She laughed in defeat. She liked him. And it had been so long since she’d liked anyone. “Because you’re a smart boy. Now get in your car and go home.”
He rested his forearm on the doorjamb over his head. “I’m going to get in my car and go, but I’m going to be back tomorrow at 6:30 to pick you up for dinner. If you want that partnership.”
“Forget it,” she snapped. “I’m not having dinner with you.”
Dark eyebrows narrowed, and he was suddenly so serious she had shivers for an all-new reason. “That’s right. You’re not. You’re having dinner with my parents. My father wants to discuss the future of the law firm he’s devoted his life to. The law firm that for three generations has not had another name on the door other than Marshall, but he’s decided he wants to put your name on his door. He knows Grant needs help, and it’s no secret that I want to practice law about as much as I want a root canal. So you are going to put on your best red dress and Louboutins and that fuck-me red lipstick that drives me crazy, and you are coming to dinner. I’ll pick you up at 6:30.”
The Fall of the Red Queen (Self Made Men...Southern Style Book 3) Page 4
