Gentle Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 4)

by James, Marysol

  That last memory pierced her deep and she shook her head against the emotional pain.

  You fucker… why didn’t you just stay in the past, where you belonged? I was functioning just fine – not awesome, admittedly, but OK – and seeing you again has made it so. Damn. Hard. To get up in the morning and breathe.

  Gathering her strength for the upcoming eight-hour work day, she opened the door of the café and gratefully inhaled the aroma of strong coffee. Yeah, today she’d need four of Spider’s most lethal espressos to get herself together, for sure.

  “Mornin’, Mirrie.”

  She turned and with a great effort, pasted a fake smile on her face. “Hi Spider.”

  Liam ‘Spider’ Valance – her boss and good friend – stood at the counter carefully stacking fresh-baked cookies on the glass display tray. She stared at the white chocolate chip ones briefly, decided what the hell, wandered over.

  “Can I have one of those?” she asked hopefully.

  Spider grinned, his dark eyes dancing in the morning summer sun. His face was almost completely covered with a tattoo of a black spider web and the rest of his slim frame was inked with spiders of all shapes and sizes. Despite the intimidating exterior, the man was a mushy marshmallow inside and Mirrie knew it.

  “Breakfast?” he teased her.

  “You know it.”

  He shook his dark head. “Yeah, sure, grab a few. You need a coffee?”

  “Many,” Mirrie responded, her mouth already full of cookie. “Many, oh-so-many coffees.”

  “Sweet and strong, huh?”

  “Yep. Thanks.”

  “Uh-huh.” Spider shook his head again as he released some of the steam from the espresso machine, watched Mirrie closely. God, she looked like absolute shit yet again and he was determined that today was the day she was going to come clean about what was going on.

  He’d asked, of course, over and over and she’d faffed it off as allergies. As if that could explain her pallor and exhaustion and red eyes, when Spider was well aware that the woman didn’t have allergies. She was damn near indestructible, actually, and had never even taken a sick day in almsot four years of working for him.

  “Oh, by the way?” he said now. “You left your phone here last night. Again.”

  “I did?”

  He produced it from behind the counter with a flourish. “You did.”

  Mirrie took her cell with a sheepish grin. “I hate this damn thing. I never even notice when I don’t have it with me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know.” He shook his head with nothing but affection. “You’re the ultimate anti-tech woman. Nothing about you makes sense, sweetie… like for example, why are you smiling when it's clear that you’ve been crying all night?”

  She jumped. “I haven’t!”

  “Uh-huh.” He rolled his eyes.

  Without another word, Mirrie ducked in to the staff room to hang up her jean jacket and also to avoid that knowing look in Spider’s eyes. He was smart as hell, unfortunately, and he knew her like the back of his heavily-tattooed hand. She’d managed to avoid a full-on conversation with him, but she suspected that the clock was ticking down.

  She heard Spider’s voice now and she knew that he was talking to a customer. Quickly, she put on her dark green apron and glanced in the mirror. She’d gone heavy on the makeup today in a vain attempt to conceal her exhaustion and she’d kind of succeeded. She ran her fingers through her bright-pink hair, tucked it behind her ears, licked her lips. Yeah, that was about as good as it was going to get.

  She exited the staff room, stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the customer’s broad back, muscled shoulders, long blond hair. Spider was making goo-goo eyes at the man and flirting wildly.

  “What the hell?” she choked out. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Shane turned around now, a grin splitting his gorgeous and oh-so-slappable face in half. “Hey, babe.”

  “Babe?” Spider echoed, delighted. “Oooh. I need to hear this.”

  “Don’t you ‘babe’ me,” Mirrie hissed. “And get the fuck out of here.”

  Spider stared at her, astonished. “Why are you swearing at the hot man?”

  “Yeah,” Shane said, still grinning. “Why are you?”

  “Get. Out. Now.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Mac gestured at the coffee that Spider was pouring. “I’m a paying customer.”

  “He’s getting that to go, Spider,” Mirrie said, ignoring Shane completely.

  “No, he’s not, Spider.” Mac eyed the pastries piled up in front of him. “Wow. Those smell good. Fresh-baked?”

  “Yep,” Spider said. “I made ‘em myself this morning. You want something?”

  “Sure do,” Mac said. “Maybe a few croissants? And a blueberry muffin and… ummm, let’s see… those white chocolate chip cookies look amazing.” He glanced at Mirrie, remembering how much she loved sweet stuff. “Three of those.”

  “To stay, yeah?” Spider asked.

  “Uh-huh.” Mac wandered over to a table next to the window. “I ain’t going anywhere.”

  “OK,” Spider said. “I’ll bring you your food in a sec.”

  Mirrie had witnessed this exchange in shock and finally managed to find her voice. “You’re gonna what?” she demanded. “Spider, whose side are you on?”

  “Oh,” her boss said innocently. “Are there sides?”

  “You’re goddamned right there are sides,” she said. “Get him out of here or I’m walking out.”

  “Why?” Spider said, genuinely perplexed now. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong is that I’m in love with her,” Mac explained. “But she’s fucking stubborn and won’t admit it or listen to me about it.”

  Spider stared at her wide-eyed, wondering how he’d missed this tidbit about her life. “Really?”

  “No!” she sputtered. “None of that’s true! He’s a fucking stalker and if you don’t kick him out, I’m leaving.”

  “Are you a stalker?” Spider asked Mac as he brought him his coffee and a loaded plate.

  “No.” Mac took a sip of the coffee. “I’m a doctor.”

  Light dawned on Spider’s face. “Oh… wait up a second. You’re Shane.”

  “Guilty as charged.” He smiled at the other man. “So she’s talked about me, huh? What’s she said? Don’t leave out any of the good stuff.”

  “How’d you find me?” Mirrie demanded suddenly. “If you’re not a stalker?”

  Mac gave her his trademark smart-ass grin. “One guess.”

  “Fucking King’s Men,” she muttered.

  “Yep,” he said cheerfully. “Fucking King’s Men. Can you believe that King didn’t even give me a break on the price? Cost me a small fortune to track you down, but it was worth every penny.” He popped a piece of cookie in his mouth. “So, really, they’re the stalkers. Not me.”

  Spider turned to Mirrie. “I don’t get what’s going on here, but I’m not kicking him out if he isn’t wrecking the place.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out.

  “Besides,” Spider continued, taking in the handsome face and large, muscled body. “He dramatically improves the view around here.”

  “Well, thank you,” Mac said. “I’m fine with being purely ornamental.”

  “Perfect.” Spider went back behind the counter. “I’ll just stand over here and pretend to be deaf, then. You two get on with whatever it is you need to sort out.”

  “We have nothing to sort out,” Mirrie said. “Nothing. And I’m out of here.” She turned and started walking to the staff room.

  “You can’t go,” Spider said calmly.

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Because.” He took off his apron. “I need to get to the bank and Vera’s not due to start work until nine. You gotta stay here an
d handle the customers.”

  “The bank?” Mirrie spat out. “It’s seven-fifteen in the morning.”

  “Yep.” Spider shrugged in to his jacket. “My meeting’s at eight.”

  “Bullshit,” she said.

  “Bulltrue,” Spider responded. “So you need to stay.”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she demanded in a furious whisper. “In the back?”

  “Yeah,” Spider said. “Let’s talk for a minute. In the back.”

  Mac waved his hand at them. “You two go on. I’ll keep an eye on the place.”

  “Thanks,” Spider said.

  “Don’t thank him,” Mirrie whispered again, totally enraged. “He’s an asshole.”

  “I heard that,” Mac called at their retreating backs.

  “You were meant to!” she called back. “Asshole!”

  They went in to the staff room, shut the door, regarded each other.

  “How can you do this to me?” Mirrie finally said. “You know who that is… you know what happened between us.”

  “I do.” Spider leaned back against the wall and loosely crossed his arms. “Which is precisely why I’m not asking him to leave. You two need to talk.”

  “No.” She struggled to not shout at her friend. “No, that’s precisely why he has to leave, Spider. If word gets out that he was here, that we saw each other?” She bit her lip. “You know what would happen to us. It’s no joke, no matter how lightly he’s taking it.”

  Spider was serious now, his face devoid of any and all humor. “Mirrie, the man isn’t an idiot. He knows the score and he’s still here, which means that he has a damn good reason to take this huge risk. Don’t you think you should hear what it is?”

  “No,” she said again.

  “Today isn’t the first time you two have talked recently, is it?” Spider said shrewdly. “You’ve seen him before now, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “A few days ago we ran in to each other and we met for coffee. I told him everything, OK, and the deal was that he’d get his answers and then we’d go our separate ways. But as you can see…” She gestured at the door, in Mac’s general direction. “The asshole’s here.”

  “Maybe he wants you back,” Spider said cautiously. “He did say that he loves you.”

  “Again, you know what would happen to us if the Fallen Angels heard about that.”

  “Are you sure they’d still care?” Spider asked softly. “I mean, yeah. Four years ago, they were still pissed about you walking away from them, but so much time has passed since then. Don’t you think that maybe they’ve just forgotten about you? About both of you?”

  Mirrie stared at him, totally incredulous. “Do you know anything about MC members?”

  Spider shrugged and lowered his eyes. “Yeah. A bit.”

  “Well, one thing you clearly don’t know is that MC’s never ever forget a slight or let go of a grudge. There’s no such thing as a statute of limitations with these kinds of guys, OK? Four years is like four minutes to them, trust me.”

  Spider was silent.

  “Spider, please.” Mirrie fought to keep her voice steady. “Please get him out of here. It’s not safe for him or for me. Please… help me.”

  “Yeah, alright.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll help you.”

  “God, thank you.” The relief was immense as it washed over her. “So let’s go and ask him to leave…”

  “No.” Spider snapped out the word. “No, that’s not how I’m going to help you.”

  “What?”

  “He stays until you guys talk.”

  “Spider…” Her panic was rising again. “Please...”

  “Mirrie.” Something in his voice made her stop talking and gaze up at him. “Listen to me.”

  It was only Mirrie’s love and respect for her friend that kept her quiet. She nodded.

  “Sweetie.” He paused, gathered his thoughts. “Look, I saw you after you ended things with Shane. I saw how fucking wrecked you were and how long and hard you hurt for him. You hurt for years, Mirrie… you’re still hurting now. What you did? Walking away like that? It saved his life but it killed you in some ways and I know it.”

  Mirrie shut her eyes, struggling to hold back the tears.

  “He’s here now, at long last. He says he loves you. I think he wants to fight for you.” Spider touched her arm gently. “I’m not saying that you go back to him, OK? I just think that he deserves to be heard. Just give the man a conversation.”

  She opened her eyes now. “I wish I could. But I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because then I’ll start to hope for us.”

  “You don’t want that? Don’t want hope?”

  “No.” She wiped her tears away with both hands. “This can’t happen, Spider. Me and Shane? We can’t happen. I can’t open that door even one little bit, because when it slams shut in my face – and don’t kid yourself, it will slam shut – I’m not going to be able to handle it. Not this time; not again.”

  “What if it didn’t shut? What if you guys could make it work?”

  “This isn’t a Hollywood movie. This isn’t a romance book. This is real life – this is my real life, mine and Shane’s.” She shook her head and he saw her visibly pulling herself together. “There’s no happy ending for us. We’re no Cinderella and Prince Charming. Me and Mac, we’re more like Romeo and Juliet… we’d both fucking end up dead.”

  “Mirrie…”

  “No.” Her tone was clipped and cold. “You go to your fake meeting at the bank and I’ll handle the customers.” She glanced at the clock. “The morning rush is about to start, so I need to get back out there.”

  “Hon –”

  “If you won’t kick him out, fine.” She pushed her hair back. “But I won’t speak to him. He can just sit there all day until he gets the message.”

  “Mirrie. Just talk to – ”

  She opened the door, ignoring him.

  Mac saw her emerge, took in her watery eyes. Right away, he got to his feet, alarmed and worried.

  “You OK, babe?”

  Mirrie didn’t even look at him. She looked scarily calm and unemotional, totally uninterested and almost numb. More than anything, that last thing gave him pause.

  He hesitated, unsure what she thinking and feeling now. “Mirrie?”

  She walked over to the counter and started to pour herself a coffee. She had the feeling that it was going to be a very, very long day.

  The door opened and six people all came in at once; Mirrie greeted the noise and chaos with nothing but relief. Most of the customers were regulars, so she was able to relax and ease in to the familiar banter and joking without any effort.

  Mac retreated to his table without a word. He watched Mirrie work, listened to her forced laughter, kept an eye on the street outside. And he settled in: he was in it for the long haul. He was in it for however long it took.

  I’m not leaving, babe, not until we talk. Not until you hear me.

  **

  Four hours later, Mac was steadily working his way through yet another towering pile of pastries. He had the definite feeling that he’d need to double down on his workouts for the next month to make up for this calorie-bomb of a day.

  He sipped his fifth cup of coffee and watched Mirrie and Spider behind the counter. They were talking quietly but he didn’t think it was about him. In fact, he was sure that Mirrie hadn’t breathed a word about him since she’d come out of the back room. God knows, she hadn’t breathed a word to him.

  To Mac’s utter shock, she wasn’t shooting daggers at him with her gorgeous eyes. She wasn’t muttering under her breath or huffing every time he went up to the counter and asked her for something. She hadn’t dragged him in to the staff room for a knock-down argument, hadn’t ordered his ass
out of her place of work, hadn’t shown one flash of ire.

  No, she was very polite but distant, as if he were a total stranger instead of the man who’d seen her through a severe trauma, the man who’d made love to her until she’d screamed his name. There wasn’t so much as a flicker of recognition in her expression and she’d kept this up all morning. It was like he was invisible.

  This all stumped him, if he were being honest. Truly, he’d expected fire and brimstone; shouting and maybe even a thrown dish or two. He’d thought that if he could just get her to interact with him, even if she was angry, they could get a conversation going. He’d counted on her at least acknowledging him – even if it was to smack him upside the head.

  But this woman? This reserved, controlled Mirrie? She was a total stranger to him and on some level, it actually frightened him. He didn’t know her when she was like this… and he had no clue how to reach her. Just like he'd never had any clue how to reach his father.

  Mac's gut twisted as he thought about that bastard. Mac's mother had died giving birth to Mac and his father Royce had never, ever forgiven him for it. More than once, Royce had told Mac that he had, in effect, killed his own mother and taken away the only thing that Royce ever could or would love. God knows that he didn't love Mac and never even attempted to for one instant.

  Mac had had a privileged upbringing: nannies, cooks, maids. Toys, clothes, trips with his nannies. But when he and his father were alone in the evenings and Royce dove in to the bottle, Mac's life became a living hell. Royce beat him often and brutally, shouting the whole time that Mac had ruined his life, that Mac was a despicable little murderer. On those long, bloody nights, Mac learned that to love someone was the most dangerous thing in the world to do. Love made you vulnerable and it made you weak and it made you insane.

  He was raised by the help in a massive and isolated country estate house until he was eight years old. That was when Royce shipped him off to boarding school without even a pretence that he was sorry about seeing the back of his only child. To his surprise and despite his cold and violent childhood, Mac had excelled at school. In fact, he'd loved it. He loved being around kids his own age for once; he liked the team sports; he cherished not being afraid of punches and blows; he discovered that being funny and uncaring was a form of protection. He worked his ass off and showed a definite aptitude for science and anatomy, and he knew as early as the age of ten that he was going to be a doctor. He set his mind to it and never questioned it, never second-guessed it. It was his destiny.