I heard a great gusting breath and a muttered curse. “I’ll be gentle. I promise. Just relax and I’ll make you feel better.”
“But you’re really big and . . .”
The office door flung open with a bang. Startled, I swung my head to the door, straining every muscle in my back and neck. Expletives a nun would faint at burst from my mouth. Apparently everyone else must have fainted too since it was a few beats before a woman shouted, “I knew you’d cheat on me with her. How could you?”
“How can I cheat when I’m not even dating you?” Remy asked dumbfounded.
“Is there something going on here?” a familiar male voice asked.
I moaned and rested my head on Remy’s desk.
“Kitten?”
I peeked up at Caleb who was behind the fuming cocktail server.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“How could you!” The woman interrupted with a cry, glaring at Remy who looked as if he had a headache that wouldn’t go away. “Why would you want her and not me?”
“Jet is in pain. I’m trying to help,” he answered, gripping onto his last thread of patience.
Caleb’s eyes raked over my knotted form, taking in the splotchy bruises. He brushed the bristling server out of the way and knelt beside me. “Kitten, what happened?” His fingers tenderly grazed my cheek. “Were you in a car accident?”
“I could hear how you were trying to help,” the argument continued. “‘I’ll be gentle. But you’re so big!’” she squeaked in imitation.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was trying to massage her shoulder,” Remy said.
“I see the way you look at her, like she’s a rare jewel.”
Remy cursed and squeezed the bridge of his nose.
“You’re wrong,” I interrupted, hoping she would cease caterwauling for a moment to let my head rest. She crossed her arm with a scowl. “Remy doesn’t think I’m a rare jewel. He thinks of me as an annoying sister. If he thought I was a jewel, he wouldn’t manhandle me all the time. I’m more of a sack of potatoes to him.”
“Manhandling is a form of foreplay!” The server turned wide, pained eyes at Remy.
The woman had a screw loose.
Remy and I both grimaced. “I think you missed the point,” I said. “Remy doesn’t want me. He was telling me how much he likes you and can’t wait to see you again. He was only helping me out because I’m hurt.”
Her face hesitantly cleared. She peered up at him with soft, watery eyes. “Is that true? Do you want to see me again?”
Remy took a step back in horror and shot me a piercing look. I would’ve shrugged off the murderous glare but that’s how we ended up in this predicament.
“We need to talk,” Remy growled, taking her by the elbow, hauling her out the door. Her face was turned up at him in adoration. Before he swung the door closed, he barked at Caleb, “Don’t let Jet out of your sight tonight. She has no place to stay and someone tried to kill her.”
My mouth dropped open. Damn him! Remy said that in retaliation! He confirmed my thoughts when his murderous glare twinkled for a split second then darkened again as he hauled the server out and slammed the door.
Caleb and I stared at the closed door for a moment.
“I can honestly say, you keep life interesting,” Caleb said in his nonchalant way.
“It’s not me. It’s everyone around me.”
“You’re like the sun that keeps them all in orbit,” Caleb teased, reaching over to rub my shoulder. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.”
“And was Remy going to massage everywhere?”
“Not you too,” I muttered.
“No. Not me too,” he said, soothing my shoulder. “But, I must admit, it did sound condemning. My heart stopped for a few beats before I realized the situation couldn’t possibly be what I heard. I trust you. I know you’d tell me if there was someone else.”
I froze at his words. My stomach knotted and clenched as painfully as my shoulder.
“Come home with me,” Caleb said. “I’ll work out the kinks while you tell me what happened.”
I shook my head to protest, seizing my neck in an awkward position. My breath escaped in a shuddering hiss.
“Why must you always try to be strong and independent? I love that you are, but let me take care of you. There’s nothing wrong with allowing others to help. Everyone has a person they rely on. I want to be that person for you.”
I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to spend time with him while he massaged my aching body. I hesitated because I couldn’t remember if I said I would see Greyson tonight. I don’t think I did since this was Caleb’s date night . . . right? Or is it the other way around? Oh, hell!
“I’ll even update you on my leads,” Caleb added, yanking me from my thoughts.
“Did you find her?”
“I’ll answer all your questions while you’re comfortably naked in my bed.”
“Naked?”
“How else will I massage the oil in?”
“Oil?” I repeated like a squawking parrot.
“Warm oil.”
He drove a hard bargain.
Chapter 13
“What do you mean someone tried to kill you?” Caleb’s hands froze in mid-stroke.
“Keep rubbing. I think you almost got the kink out.”
His hands slowly resumed their ministrations. “I thought Remy was kidding when he said someone tried to kill you.”
“Remy doesn’t kid. I wasn’t going to tell you, but you kept insisting on hearing the story.”
“I thought you were in an accident.”
“No. This was no accident.”
“Why didn’t you want to tell me?”
“You have enough on your plate without adding my worries.”
His hands stopped again. “Adding to my worries? Do you really think I wouldn’t want to help?”
“I know you’d want to help. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”
“So, you don’t want my help?” He sounded hurt.
“That’s not what I said. Finding Jessica is your priority. Not getting killed is my priority.”
His hands slipped around my waist, flipping me over to face him. Caleb rarely scowls, and when he does, it’s not something to be taken lightly. The way he was currently scowling had me scurrying under the covers.
“I can’t believe you think money is my priority!” Caleb gritted, clearly grasping to hold onto uncharacteristic simmering anger. “You are my priority! Someone tried to kill you and you expect me to turn a blind eye while I look for Jessica?”
“Not a blind eye. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I want to worry! I want to care! I want to be more than just a friend, but you keep treating me as a friend.”
“I’m naked in your bed. That’s more than just friends.”
“Barely,” he muttered, though his eyes skimmed over the bit of uncovered skin.
I had hurt him.
That wasn’t my intention, of course. How could he not be hurt when I alternately push him away and pull him close?
I reached out to take his hand. “I meant what I said the other week. I love you, Caleb. You are so much more to me than just a friend. I just need time to sort out my feelings. I’ve never been in love before,” I said, leaving out the part where I’ve never been in love with two men before. I’m surely going to hell for stringing two men along. Maybe not to hell. I’m sure heaven has an uncomfortable place for those with dim halos.
His face softened, though I could tell he wasn’t satisfied. “Love should be easy, not a difficult decision.”
I smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. “Falling in love with you was quite easy. A little too easy and too quick. I’m not asking for a sabbatical. I’m just asking for a week or two to get my thoughts straight and a killer off my back.”
His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “How can you be so blasé about a k
iller?”
“I’m not blasé. I’m scared. But right now, I’m tired and sore.”
He sighed with a nod of acceptance. “Flip over. Let me finish your massage.”
I complied and settled myself for his soothing hands and warm oil.
“Tell me from beginning to end what happened,” he said while drizzling heated liquid along my aching body. “You’re bruised from head to toe.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Remy gave me permission to keep you all night. I have no choice but to keep you. He is, as you say, ‘big.’” A grin laced his bedeviled voice.
“Permission,” I snorted. “He has no say.”
Caleb was silent for a moment as his hands moved in a satin rhythm. “Has anything ever happened between you and Remy?”
“What do you mean ‘happened’?” I asked. “That covers a lot of territory.”
“I’m just wondering if I should be jealous at all. He sometimes acts like your keeper. Just because you’re not seeing him now doesn’t mean you haven’t seen him in the past.” Caleb’s voice was calm so I didn’t think he was actually jealous. And there was no need to be. It’s just Remy.
“Like I told the waitress, he thinks of me as a pain-in-the-ass sister. He’s said so on several occasions. We’ve been through a lot together, but that doesn’t mean we want to sleep together.” God, that’s the last thing I need; a brooding, hot-tempered man with a love of guns who likes to throw me over his shoulder instead of communicating. Heaven help the woman who finally reins him in.
“Tell me the story about how you got all these bruises before I go mad with unanswered questions.”
“Well,” I said, feeling his hand skim up my thigh. Mmmm. “I was working on an excavator when the bucket hit a rock. At least I think it was a rock. I never did find out.”
“You were operating an excavator?” he asked incredulously.
“Of course. The pond isn’t going to dig itself.”
“Pond?”
“Yes, pond.” Being deliberately obtuse, I navigated the treacherous minefield of unspoken facts. “Anyway, I left the cab to see what I hit and that’s when someone jumped in and started operating it. The arm was swinging wildly until . . . well, let’s just say I had to run and duck a lot.”
“So you were able to escape,” he said with a deep breath.
“No. The bucket scraped me up with a pile of dirt. The arm extended all the way up and then . . .” The free fall ran through my mind. How did I survive? A cold, eerie shiver snaked its way through to my heart. “I was dropped. I fell to the ground. I was found in a pile of dirt.”
I realized his hands had stopped. They must have stopped a while ago. I peered up to find his face had blanched to a pale white.
“I’m alive, Caleb.”
“H-how did you survive?” he asked numbly. “Why were you digging a pond? Where? Why didn’t you call? When did you learn to operate an excavator?” As the number of questions grew, his momentary shock wore off. “Who found you? Who’s trying to kill you?”
Too many questions. I turned over and grasped his arms, yanking him down. He lost his balance, tumbling on top of me. Not a bad position to be in unless you’re bruised all over.
“I’m alive, Caleb,” I repeated, guiding his lips to mine. “Just kiss me.”
He complied. I knew he would, and relief filled me. Blissful relief. His lips were gentle with feathered kisses, caressing and loving. It wasn’t long before it changed into something heated. Something more. God, I love more.
His body pinned me to the soft mattress as his hand cupped my face. “I’m sticking to you like glue.”
“You already are,” I teased, wiggling underneath him.
He playfully nipped at my lips. “You know what I mean.”
“I just want to kiss.”
His blue eyes grew heavy before a spark caught. “You just want to kiss?”
I heard a challenge in his voice. “Yes,” I answered tentatively.
“Then let’s get started, shall we?” The challenge was still there. Before I could reply, I found myself flipped over again.
“Caleb?” My face pressed into the pillow.
“Shh.” His breath at the back of my knee caught me off guard. I scurried to escape the thrilling tickle. Using his weight to hold me, I was imprisoned as his tongue explored at his leisure.
“Caleb!” I squeaked as he played on a particularly ticklish spot.
“Shh.” He continued.
“Caleb!”
“Did I mention I used flavored body oil? I have a whole feast waiting to be devoured. You’re like a buffet of strawberries,” he murmured contently as his mouth continued on its path.
Dear Lord, he massaged the oil all over. The slow, maddening path he was traveling would take a year to trek. My fingers curled into the sheets as he flicked his tongue along my inner thigh.
Oh.
Oh!
I couldn’t even imagine if the oil was on my front too. His tongue was a torturous pleasure invading at a drugging pace.
The wisp of cool breath traced along the warm trail left by his tormenting tongue made me quiver.
“Just wait until I roll you over,” he taunted, ripping a moan from my throat in anticipation.
“We should stop,” I whimpered, not wanting to stop at all. His vexing tongue annihilated nearly all reasoning.
“No stopping.” The low timbre of his voice vibrated the ticklish spot he was lingering on. “It’s our third date. You know what that means.”
“We barely had one date. And I don’t even think that counts.”
“It’s the third,” he stated, nipping a tender bit of flesh.
“Did you forget how to add?” I argued, hoping for another responsive assault. He nipped again, making my fingers clench the pillow.
“It’s a shortcoming. However, I know it’s the third date.”
“Shortcoming? You can count a stack of chips in a single glance,” I retorted, knowing another nibble was on its way. “Oh!”
His lips pressed to a punished spot. I felt the smile in his gentle kiss. “Did that hurt, kitten?” he questioned, clearly waging war in his own diabolical and wonderful way.
“Not when you’re kissing it all better,” I said into the pillow, burying my gasps.
“What date are we on?” he questioned between kisses.
“I believe this would count as one and a half. But that’s as far as I’m willing to concede.”
“No such thing as a half date.” Another bite and soothing kiss. It’s not as if the nips hurt. It was enough to feel a slight pinch. The deliriously loving kiss that followed made the experience that much more sensitive and arousing. If this was the way he argued, I could get used to it. I could even foresee fabricated arguments in our future.
“Then we’ll round up. This is the second date,” I compromised, earning another nip that sent me reeling.
“What will it take for you to let me love you?” he asked.
Very little, I thought, though I was putting up a small resistance. Whether he knew he broke through that thinly veiled resistance or not, I’ll never know, but he did change his tactic, much to my disappointment.
He slid off the bed, leaving the cool air to chill my skin.
“Where are you going?” I asked his retreating form.
“I’ll be right back. Relax for a few minutes.”
I slid under the covers and waited. And waited. Where the hell is he? After waiting a few more minutes I finally crawled out of bed and slipped into a T-shirt.
“Caleb?” I called, padding out of the bedroom.
“In here,” he called.
I followed his voice to the kitchen where he was standing at a cutting board . . . chopping.
“What in the world are you doing?”
He smiled in his boyish way. “You agreed we’ve had two dates. We’ll have our third in twenty minutes.”
I could have debated such obviously flawed logic, but in
reality, I wanted him. And why can’t I have him? If either Greyson or Caleb love me enough, they’ll take me as I am: Confused, with a hearty though repressed sexual appetite. If not, well, then the choice will be made for me.
His eyes drifted over to me as I settled at the breakfast bar. “Does this mean you agree?”
“Why did you leave?”
He knew I meant leave the bed.
“Because after tasting you and strawberries, I was suddenly famished. You must be too. I also was very close to embarrassing myself in the heat of the moment,” he admitted with a rough laugh. “I had to take a minute.”
I smiled and watched as he chopped vegetables. I understood his need to take a break. If he knew how close I was to letting him flip me over and . . . well, I doubt food would have taken priority. To tell the truth, I was hungry, and the reprieve from the bedroom was welcome—though not welcome at the same time.
“Do you need help?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I want you to relax. Let me take care of you.” He placed a pot of water on the stove to boil.
“What are you making?”
“I don’t have a name for it. It’s the only edible dish I make.”
“Then you should name it,” I said.
“You can name it after you taste it.”
“Deal,” I said, lingering on his active hands. Such wonderful hands. “Tell me what you found out about Jessica.”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? You lured me here to tell me what you found out about Jessica,” I said in mock anger.
His lips twitched into a smile. “I refuse to feel guilty since it worked.”
“And if it hadn’t worked?”
“But it did.” His smile beamed.
“Really? You haven’t found out anything about Jessica? Did you hear back from her brother?”
“Peter called this morning. He’s had no luck tracking her down. He’s worried. If her own cop brother can’t track her down, I don’t see how I can.”
“Have you heard from the bank? Did they research where the money went? I can’t see Jessica toting around several duffel bags stuffed with cash. She must have done something with the money . . . like wire it to an offshore account.”
“The bank is still researching, but I found out that my bank never had all of my money. It was spread across several banks.”
Squeeze Play Page 10
