Swerve.epub

by Amarinda Jones

  “Because we have sex?”

  “Yes—no, it’s more the way you take my hand and look at me like I’m important.” No money could buy the feeling that gave her.

  “You are.”

  “And you say things like that.”

  Simon looked deep into her life. “I’ve lived a strange life, Mary. Few people can understand it. I believe you could.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you look at me like you want to know me. Not many people ever do that. They only want what they can get from me.”

  “That sucks.” Mary knew there were people who were sycophants to wealth.

  That they used Simon like that made her want to hunt them down and shake them.

  “Is that why you pretend to be someone else like ‘Swerve’?” He wanted to be taken as a man and not a walking wallet?

  “Possibly,” Simon murmured. “But with you I don’t think you’d care if I had money or not.”

  “I don’t care.” It was true. While her mother had drilled into her head that to marry well was what made a woman great, Mary knew there was more to life than that. She would be happy being less than great with a man who just wanted to be loved by her. Like Simon. Though he’d probably have a heart attack if I said that.

  “Why?”

  Mary placed her hands on his chest and felt the strength beneath her palms.

  “Because…” She hesitated and bit her lip in thought. She could hardly announce she was falling in love with Simon. He would probably think she was mad. They barely knew each other. She worked for him and he was “– I like you.”

  “Like is good. It’s strong and solid.”

  “As are you. You make me want to—” Mary stopped herself. Words were tumbling into her mind and she wanted to say them without thinking, such was the effect Simon had on her.

  “What?”

  She looked at his chest and not his eyes. He saw too much. “You make me want to collapse against you and feel I’m home.”

  Simon hugged her long and hard. “Thank you. I always want to be your home, Mary.”

  She lifted her head. “This is going way too fast.”

  “Does it feel wrong to you?”

  “No.” It felt as it was meant to be.

  “So how fast it goes is not important.”

  Her eyes stayed on hers. “Yes—no, I don’t know. It’s confusing to feel so much. Normally I try not feeling at all.”

  Simon reached down and slapped her ass. “That’s playing safe.”

  “Safe is good.” So was the hand that remained on her butt. Mary wriggled in closer to him, leaving the solid mass of his dick pressing through his jeans.

  “You’ll always be safe with me.”

  In her heart she knew that. “You’re a lovely man.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “I have been called many things but not that.

  Thank you.” He dropped his other hand down to join the first on her ass, pulling her in closer as he did. “Wanna have sex with a rich man in his disgustingly expensive penthouse?”

  “No, I want to have sex with you.”

  “Is Mr. Mayhew in?” Sholto asked the receptionist over the phone.

  “Who’s calling?” came the polite, well polished response.

  “A friend.”

  “I can’t say, sir, until you give me your name.”

  Sholto expected nothing less than the snotty answer he got. Rich people paid well for their privacy.

  “That’s okay, I know he has a lady with him.” At least he was fairly certain he and the Dalton woman were together.” Sholto couldn’t see the fascination. But if she had gotten to him, that worked in his favor. Having a pawn to play with was always good.

  “Is that all, sir?”

  “You’ve told me what I needed to know.” He ended the call. Sholto smiled to himself. Mayhew had a weakness. Mayhew was vulnerable. “Excellent. I’ll use her to stop him and get what I want.”

  “Who is Sholto?” Mary asked as she curled her body into his.

  Simon knew she was worn out from the driving thrust of his dick. When he made love, he did it was an intensity that bordered on desperation. He wanted to tie Mary to him however he could. Maybe it was silly to feel so desperate about one woman but ‘the one’ always did that to a man. Simon tangled his legs with Mary’s and hugged her close. He knew she would want to know. If Mary hadn’t asked he would have thought it odd. The problem was Simon didn’t want to think about Sholto and the fact evil had come so close to his woman. He pulled her in a little bit closer. “He’s just a man.”

  “That you don’t like.”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And he’s not after-sex conversation.” Simon leaned in and kissed her nose.

  “Let’s talk about the wedding tomorrow.”

  Mary snorted and slapped his chest playfully. “Oh yeah, that’s certainly something I want to think of now.”

  “Not looking forward to it?” Simon had no siblings. It had just been him and his parents. They all kept in touch as families but none of them trespassed on their other’s lives.

  “The wedding is going to be a pain in the ass.”

  “You’re the black sheep of the family, huh?”

  “Yep, me and Clare. Though she’s a lesbian, so in my mother’s eyes she’s technically going to hell first but in saying that, if Clare got married to even a woman she will redeem herself in our mother’s eyes.”

  Simon laughed as he remembered the bustle of energy that was June Dalton.

  “So the thing with your mother is it’s all about getting married regardless?

  “Yes. It’s all about the ring on your finger which is funny because mother never married any of the fathers of her children.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, they all scarpered. ‘Can’t blame them really. She’d be hell for a man to live with.”

  “Do you want to get married?” At that moment there was nothing more Simon wanted to do. He didn’t believe in long courtships and waiting periods. He knew that when something was right, there was no point wasting time on rituals that prolonged the inevitable. Mary’s eyes locked with his. Simon saw what he needed to. The lady felt the same as him, yet she was going to play it safe.

  “I don’t think marriage is a cure all for everything.”

  He smiled. It wasn’t a yes but it wasn’t a no. “Yeah, how so?”

  “Well, too many people rush into it and make a mess of it because they don’t try. They think it’s all going to be magical and therefore, no effort is required.”

  Simon felt a weird surge of excitement rush through him. It was like the day they first met but different. This was a deeper side to Mary. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and would accept no less despite the pressure of her mother.

  “Sounds like you’ve given marriage a lot of thought.”

  “I know what I want.” She stroked her hand up and down his arm.

  Even a simple touch from Mary made his pulse race. “And that is?”

  “Someone I can talk to and be with and make love with regardless of whether I have a ring on my finger.”

  “That sounds like the ultimate happy ending.” It was exactly what Simon wanted. Women normally were attracted to him because of wealth. Some of them had great physical beauty but none had the heart Mary did.

  Mary rose up so she was on her elbow. “Do you think happy endings exist?”

  “I want to believe so.”

  She licked her lips in thought. “Tomorrow at my sister’s wedding, be less—”

  “What?”

  “Perfect.”

  Simon chuckled at that. He knew he was anything but. “You think I’m perfect?” He wanted to be real and her man without any pretence.

  “Maybe that’s the wrong word but you’re every mothers dream for their daughter. You’re rich, attractive, sweet—”

  “You think I’m sweet?” It seemed silly but such a simple phrase pleased Sim
on.

  “I think you’re adorable.” Her eyes widened and she blushed. Perfect. He kissed he nose. “And I’ll do my best to be less than perfect.”

  Chapter Seven

  That was how Swerve tuned up at the wedding. Sure, he wore a jacket that was befitting a man of wealth but the frayed edged, faded jeans, beaded friendship bracelets around his wrists, the beat up sneakers and the surfer sun glasses perched on the top of his head? They were pure Swerve. As was his language. He confused and amused many with his ‘gnarly dude’ comments and his colorful, uninhibited conversation that had people wondering what planet he came from. Few would have noticed the keen attention in his eyes as he listened to those around him. Mary was fascinated watching him. Her mother, once over her initial surprise appeared pleased that Mary had turned up with a man, despite how he dressed and acted, and not another woman like her sister Clare.

  “What a drag,” Clare murmured as she puffed on a cigarette perched on the end of a long silver cigarette holder.

  Mary smiled. She loved Clare. She was an original who cared little for what others said. Her sister was, as she threatened to be, dressed in a 1920s style black tuxedo and her short, cinnamon brown hair was cut in a severe bob designed to match the theme. “Nice threads.”

  “I bought it in a good will store. I knew it would give mother heart palpitations.”

  “That, and the friend you arrived with.” The tall, Amazonian blonde had taken everyone by surprise. In her tight fitting mini dress her legs seemed to go on forever.

  “Tymber? She’s a sweetheart.”

  “She seems nice.” Not that Mary had gotten more than two words out of her sister’s girlfriend. Tymber was the type who nodded and smiled and simply looked good.

  “I’m in love,” Clare announced as she surveyed the other guests. They were in the garden that led off from the so called ‘Forever Room’ that her sister, Fran had been married in. The garden was big, spacious and dotted with intricately cut hedges in the shape of hearts. It was tacky, but not surprising when it came to what her mother envisaged as appropriate to weddings. Not that their mother had ever been married. Her excuse was she had ‘never found the right man.’ Mary knew the Dalton matriarch had certainly found a lot of wrong ones.

  “Of course you’re in love.” Mary had heard that a lot from Clare and she hoped one day it would come true. “She’s awfully tall.” The women in the Dalton family rarely grew taller than five-foot-two.

  “It doesn’t matter when you’re with the love of your life.” Clare pointed one long finger in Simon’s direction. “So, what’s the story on the surfer dude? Did you bring him to drive mother crazy?”

  “He’s a friend.”

  “With benefits?”

  “It’s complicated.” In her heart Mary had already fallen in love with Simon, in whatever version he presented himself in. In her head? She knew there was more to the man than he was telling her and that made her wonder what he was hiding.

  “Yeah, it usually is.” Clare blew out some smoke. “He’s got a nice ass. I’d consider taking a turn with him on the ass alone.”

  “Really?”

  “I like quirky and great butts,” Clare responded. “You know mother likes him.”

  “Mother likes anyone with a cock.” Despite his best efforts as Swerve, her mother was not deterred from making him her next son-in-law.

  “Are you going marry him?

  “No.” She thought for a moment. A negative response didn’t fit her feelings. “I don’t know.” That was more like it. Mary looked at her sister Fran. As befitted a bride, she and her groom were surrounded by well wishers. “She looks like a meringue.” The dress was so white it was blinding. And the layers of tulle?

  Impossible and so many that Mary wondered how she moved under all that.

  “Funny how sluts always wear white.” Clare blew out smoke through her bright scarlet painted lips.

  None of the Dalton girls were saints but Fran had been through a whole football team at one stage so white was an interesting choice of color. “Will looks terrified.”

  He looked like he was going to faint or run away screaming.

  “I would be if I married into our family. He now has to produce an immediate grandchild or mother will wonder about him. That’s enough to dry up any man’s semen.”

  Both sisters laughed. Mary loved that Clare said and acted how she felt.

  “Remember when we were kids and Fran always wanted to be a bride?” Claire reminisced.

  “And you wanted to be Batman.” Mary could still remember the curtains Claire had pulled down from the railings and draped around her, curtains rings attached, as she went off to fight evil which usually meant jumping off the garage room and scaring her mother to death. “God, you were a bugger of a kid.”

  “And you wanted to run away to a deserted island and read your books.”

  “Yeah, I was boring.”

  “Nah, you just wanted peace and in our house with our mother that wasn’t an option. Do you think that’s why dad left?”

  Mary raised her eyebrows. “Which dad?” As far as she could work out there were several possible dads on their mother’s quest to hold onto a man. Genetically Mary had no idea where she stood.

  “I like the way Swerve looks at you,” Clare changed the subject as the man in question waved at the sisters. “He loves you.”

  Mary waved back. Lordy he is beautiful. “It’s sex.”

  “Mary!” Clare sat bolt upright in feigned shock. “You had sex?” They both laughed.

  “For god’s sake, don’t tell Mother.” the last thing Mary wanted was Simon being driven away by the machinations of June Dalton. But, in thinking that, Mary had a feeling her mother had met one of the few people who wouldn’t be corralled into her way of thinking. “Poor Will.” He had never had a chance.

  “Sucker,” commented Claire before adding. “Who’s that?”

  “Uh, oh.” It was Sholto. The why he was here was obvious. He didn’t like Simon, for whatever reason. The how he had tracked them down, was interesting. It wasn’t like Fran’s wedding, despite what Fran might believe, was the social event of the year and was reported as the place to be. “That’s Sholto.” Who was he to Simon? Last time they met, she’d got sidetracked from asking Simon.

  “Seriously? Who names a kid that? And what’s in his hand?” Clare craned her neck. “Is that fire?”

  It was indeed fire. It looked like it was growing out of his hand almost like an extension of the man. But that was crazy. No one could produce fire like that.

  Regardless of the how and the what. Sholto was walking directly towards them.

  “Shit.” Mary stood up.

  “Fuck.” Clare followed her.

  “Simon—” Mary called out before correcting herself. “– I mean Swerve.”

  Simon looked from Mary to Sholto. “Run.”

  Mary kicked off her heels and grabbed her sister’s hand. “You heard the man.”

  “I hate running,” muttered Clare as Mary pulled her along.

  “Well, I’m not keen on dying.” Before they could get more than a couple of steps they ran into a woman. Her dark hair, eyes and the black lace, almost old world dress that covered her from top to toe stopped the sisters in their tracks.

  “Come with me,” Socia Black ordered in a tone that was not meant to be anything but a demand.

  “Who are you?” Mary was agog. She was pretty sure her socially careful sister Fran didn’t have alternative friends like this.

  “Yes,” Clare purred with interest. “Who are you?”

  Mary rolled her eyes. Now was not the time to pick up would be lovers.

  “Someone who can save your asses. Simon can look after himself.”

  “You know Simon?” What the hell was going on here? “How?” Jealousy pricked at her mind.

  “I’m not going to do twenty questions.” Socia gave each woman a hard push to make them move.

  Despite the jealousy and the po
ssibility that a mad man planned to disrupt her sister’s wedding, which in truth would have made it a normal Dalton dysfunctional event, Mary trusted the woman who urged them on. “Who are you people?” Her.

  Simon. Sholto. What was going on?

  “You don’t want to know,” Socia murmured.

  “Oh, but I do.” Mary pulled her sister along as they rounded the side of the reception centre.

  “Mary Dalton, you may not know me but I will keep you safe.”

  The way the dark haired woman spoke sent a shiver up Mary’s spine, yet she instinctively knew she didn’t doubt the woman’s word.

  “Strange how everyone seems to know my name all of a sudden.” Mary wanted to sound calm and in control but too much was happening at once.

  “Destiny names few, and many remember.” Socia responded as she led them to the front of the building.

  “Destiny?” Again Mary felt the shiver run through her.

  “Are you single?” Clare asked Socia.

  Mary stopped in her tracks. They were at the front entrance. People were coming and going and there was traffic and noise on the streets. Hiding in plain sight was always a smart move. She looked at the dark woman beside her. She was, in essence, beautiful. Fine, smooth skin, intelligent eyes that held more secrets than the owner could bear and lips that were crooked yet quirky as if they smiled only when it was safe to do so. “Who are you?” Mary asked again. Somehow, she knew this woman was important.

  “My name is Socia Black.” She looked around her and then nodded as if satisfied. “And I must leave you.”

  Mary stood for a long moment and exchanged a look with Socia that filled her with strength yet also made her feel a deep sense of loneliness in the dark woman.

  “Look after yourself, Socia Black.”

  Socia looked surprised at the words directed at her. “I always do.” She reached over and touched Mary’s shoulder. “You’re Simon’s woman, therefore you’re his weakness and Sholto knows it. Be careful.”