by Lori Foster
His inky black hair hung over his brow, bone straight and shiny as silk. His long, dark lashes were at half-mast, his brows slightly drawn. Hollywood had voted him one of the “Most Beautiful People” and she had to agree. Success at the SBC made him revered as a fighter, and success at movies made him a prime catch for any producer. Wise investments had left him ultrarich.
So maybe most people did look more at the package than the real man. Maybe women saw the characters he played, and not Jude Jamison, flesh and blood. Did anyone else realize his love of art? Or his protective streak that ran a mile wide?
Did anyone else see his vulnerability?
They’d never gotten too intimate in conversation, but after the evening’s events, she felt justified in prodding. “Is that what other women have done? They chased you for your money?”
Jude drew back as if she’d smacked him—a very telling reaction.
Had he been hurt? The possibility brought out her own protective instincts. He’d been through so much. Outwardly, he’d dealt with it all; but inside, how did he feel? “Jude?”
“Jesus.” He suddenly looked disgusted. “Don’t start mothering me, okay?”
“But—”
“I need to get laid, May, not coddled.”
Taken aback after all his soft speaking, she flinched and would have stepped away, but he cupped her neck, tipping her face up, holding her close. “Tell me you want me.”
“No.”
“Tell me, May.”
His breath brushed her lips. His hands were big and warm on her sensitive skin, destroying her concentration. To brace herself, she gripped his forearms. “I… it’s a moot point. I can’t get involved.”
“Fine. No major involvement.” His thumb moved over her bottom lip. “That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves.”
May closed her eyes, hurt and disappointed, and embarrassed that, for even a moment, she’d held out some silly hopes. To be sure, she asked, “You want to have sex with me?”
He brought her closer. “I guarantee you’ll enjoy every second.”
Of that, she had no doubt. But she wasn’t a woman who indulged in casual sex. Not even for Jude Jamison. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Impatience sharpened his tone. “You know you want to.”
“Maybe. But I’m a smart woman. I don’t take chances—” She almost added, with my heart, but bit the words off in time.
“Chances?” His expression went cold. “What does that mean, exactly?”
She’d angered him when that had never been her intent. Just because she did want him—more than she’d ever wanted anything—she refused to wear her heart on her sleeve, or give him more reason for amusement. She had her pride, and she’d damn well keep it. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” He used the edge of his fist to tip up her chin, still close, still appealing. “Spell it out, May. Tell me why.”
And then he’d go and never come back? The thought left her shaken, already filled with remorse. In all her twenty-nine years, she’d never known a man like him. If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never meet another. For her, it wasn’t about his money or fame. When with him, she felt… happy. Somehow more complete.
If only he felt the same…
She returned his compelling gaze and made a decision. She would kiss him. Just once, but she deserved that much. If she didn’t, she’d never forgive herself. After tonight, she’d probably never see him again.
It wasn’t easy, but she held herself in check, maintaining the small distance of their bodies, only brushing her mouth over his, lingering for one heartbeat, two. Her breath accelerated. Her heart pounded.
She forced herself to lean away.
Confused, definitely irritated, Jude scowled at her, running his tongue along his lower lip, as if tasting her. “Tell me, was that a weak come-on, or an insulting kiss-off?”
A half laugh took her by surprise. The fact that she couldn’t even kiss him right only proved her point. Playing with Jude was like playing with fire; she already felt burned.
With a groan, she admitted the obvious, “I have the spine of a jellyfish.”
Jude pinched the bridge of his nose. “Swear to God, May, the shit you say has no meaning.”
Fighting her smile, May looked up at him and wished for a different life. “It means I’m weak.” She drew a reinforcing breath. “It means I want—”
“Hello!” Her brother barged into the room with indisputable bad timing, obliterating the moment… and saving May from her own foolish babble.
In a drunken slur, Tim Price bellowed, “There you two are.” He tripped over his own feet, fell into the table holding the framing pieces, and sent several lengths of wood and metal clattering to the floor. The table skidded away under the impact, and a corner clipped May’s hip with bruising force.
Startled, she jerked sideways—right into Jude’s arms.
For one tantalizing moment, her breasts pressed against him, her soft thighs nudged his. He’d never held her before, never felt the perfect fit of their bodies, and to experience it now, on the heels of that barely-there kiss, left him raw.
Something dark and dangerous tightened inside him.
If he’d had any doubts at all about the force of his desire for this one particular woman, holding her had eradicated them.
Red faced and disheveled, May pushed away from him. “Good grief. Jude, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Just horny. “You?”
She wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. “I’ll live.” Discreetly, she rubbed her hip where the table clipped her.
Slowly, Jude turned to face Tim. Not since his days in the SBC did he want to take apart another man the way he did now. “Watch what you’re doing next time.”
Tim just laughed. “Next time? Does that mean you plan to make a habit of molesting my sister in the back room?”
May jumped as if goosed. “Tim!”
Too drunk to listen, he waved away the warning. “A little hanky-panky never hurt anyone. Hell, it’ll probably do you some good.”
Face hot, May confronted her brother in a hush. “What in the world are you doing here?”
“What’s this?” He flung out his arms, splashing the contents of his drink onto the floor, the wall, and his sister. “I’m not welcome?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” After a fast, mortified glance at Jude, May brushed at her sleeve and summoned a sickly smile. “I’m just surprised to see you, that’s all.” Worried that others would hear Tim and become aware of his drunkenness, she looked toward the open door.
Jude took pity on her and quietly closed it without comment.
Alcohol fumes preceded Tim’s guffaw. “Relax, sis. I’m just razzing you. Hell, I’m all for you hooking up with Mr. Celebrity here.”
Jude had started out the night with the firm conviction that he’d end it in bed with May. Now he felt like an ass over his own cocky ego, and that left him in a sour mood, one he would more than gladly take out on Tim.
He took a step forward—and May whirled on him. Voice shrill, posture stiff, she said, “I can handle this.”
Under the circumstances, her insistent demeanor didn’t faze him. “I could handle it better.”
Her fists landed on her hips, and her brows clamped down. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you calling me dumb again?”
Jude rolled his eyes. “I never called you dumb.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I called you sexy.”
Tim, the idiot, remained unaware of the friction he had caused. “So, besides the obvious, what are you guys up to?”
Obliging May, Jude held out his hands, offering to let her answer.
Skeptical at his concession, May turned back to her brother. “Jude’s choosing some frames.”
“Ha!” Tim saluted them both. “S’ that’s what we’re calling it these days?”
“Tim!”
“You might as well quit screeching, hon
ey. He’s too drunk to listen to you.”
In an aside, May snapped, “Don’t call me honey.”
Tim looked between them and broke into a loud laugh. “Shit, May, it’s clear he’s got the hots for you. Anyone can see that.”
“Tim…”
“Well, you don’t really think he likes all that stuff he buys?”
“Actually, I do.”
Almost as one, brother and sister turned to stare at Jude.
Smiling, Jude clarified for them, “Have the hots for May, and enjoy what I buy.”
Mortified, May covered her face. “Oh God.”
Staring at May’s bent head, Jude said, “I’m a connoisseur of beautiful things.”
Tim grinned. “There ya go, sis. You have art in common, he likes the looks of ya, and it’s not like you’re gonna find a better catch.” In a ludicrous stage whisper, he added, “And in case you’ve forgotten, he’s friggin’ loaded.”
“Oh. God.”
“He’s right, May, I am.”
May glared at Jude. “You’re not helping.”
Jude shrugged. “I don’t give a shit about helping Tim. I just want you to understand my position.”
Tim turned to him with a calculating eye. “Yeah, given your black past, God knows you’d be lucky to have her.”
Jude disliked Tim—not only for how he treated his sister, but for his general disrespect of the world and his selfish preoccupation. He owned a car dealership, and when sober, he worked nonstop to bag a sale. Not only was he a drunk, Tim epitomized the clichéd car salesman persona.
When forced into his company, Jude only tolerated him for May’s sake.
“You want to spell that out, Tim?”
Tim tottered toward him. “Most o’ the world figures you for a murderer. Laying low with a nice, small-town girl like May would put a stopper in the gossip mills, eh?”
Anger overtook Jude’s tolerant nature. He surged away from the wall.
May didn’t give him a chance to react.
She stepped in front of Tim, blocking Jude’s path. “You’ll shut up right now, Tim Price, or so help me you’ll regret it.”
Jude pulled up short. He’d never heard that particular tone from May, and to hear it now… Was she afraid he’d wring her brother’s neck? Or was she threatening Tim personally?
She didn’t have to worry about him. He wouldn’t really hurt Tim. He might bust a few teeth so the bastard wouldn’t talk so much, but…
Over her shoulder, May said to Jude, “And that’s enough out of you.”
Jude straightened to his full height. “What the hell did I do?”
“You’re provoking him.”
“Bullshit.”
“He’s drunk, but you’re not. Tim probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying.”
“Oh, I think he knows.”
“Damn right I do.” Tim wavered on his feet. “You’re bored hangin’ out with us common folk, and you’re usin’ my sister to spice things up.”
Jude reached past May, but Tim flailed back, then fell on his ass.
May positioned herself between the two men. “There, you see. You’re doing it again.”
“I don’t believe this shit. He insulted you.”
“I’ll deal with him, don’t worry about that. Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but you should go.”
Jude’s brows shot up in disbelief. She was dismissing him? “You’re joking, right?” He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had sent him packing.
“I need to talk to Tim.”
Through set teeth, Jude said, “Fine, go right ahead and talk. I’ll wait for you.”
“No.” She shook her head. “This might take a while and I—”
Light flashed into Jude’s peripheral vision. Shit, shit, shit. He didn’t have to look to know that a photographer had just captured their entire conflict on film.
“Ed Burton! You’re not allowed back here.” Indignant, May pointed a stiff finger at the local photographer who always made a pest of himself. “I want you to leave right now.”
Ignoring her order, Ed turned his camera this way and that, catching the scene from various angles. He had his long, thinning hair pulled back in a ponytail, an unlit cigarette caught in his teeth, and one faded blue eye pressed to the viewfinder.
“Damn it.” May grabbed her brother, hauled him to his feet, and herded him toward the back exit.
Ed made to follow, but Jude stepped into his path. “You heard her. This is a restricted area. No customers allowed.”
“Yeah?” Ed straightened to a height that equaled Jude’s, but he was so skinny, a strong wind could blow him over. “So what are you doing back here?”
Jude crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Ed with the same attention he’d give a slug. “How is that any of your business?”
“The public wants to know.”
He smiled and said, “Fuck the public.”
Raising his camera for a shot, Ed said, “I’ll be sure to share your sentiments.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Jude started forward, deliberately forcing the other man to scamper out of his path until he’d cleared the door frame and was once again in the outer room. More flashes blinded Jude, but he just kept striding forward, deliberately leading the paparazzi all the way to his Mercedes Benz SL, affording May the privacy she needed to send her brother packing.
But by tomorrow morning, he knew his image would be on the editorial desks of every celebrity gossip magazine in the country. Unfortunately, shots of May looking startled and flustered with her brother in a drunken sprawl on the floor would be right beside them.
It infuriated Jude that he could do nothing to protect her from one of the uglier aspects of his world.
He was known as a man in control, yet in this instance, helplessness burned inside his gut.
Maybe May had the right idea, after all. If she got involved with him, even for a casual romp, reporters would breech her privacy, slander her name, and scrutinize her every act. She’d be subject to the same rumor and innuendo that colored his life. He might be rich with some dubious fame, but Tim had nailed it: Most of the world considered him a murderer who’d gotten off the hook, not through innocence, but through money spent.
Despite his disappointment, Jude knew the best he could do for May was leave, and so he did… trailed by camera hounds, ripe speculation, and the gaping interest of the crowd.
Even in Stillbrook, Ohio, some things never changed.
Chapter 3
Caught in a riptide of emotions, May bullied her brother, none too gently, out the back door and away from her customers. His drunkenness had caused a good deal of embarrassment. And with the way he’d insulted Jude, she wanted to throttle him.
But damn him, he’d also interrupted… something. The way Jude had looked at her, the things he’d said. Astounding things. Maybe true, more likely just a come-on. But… for her.
So just maybe she should thank Tim for the interruption.
Damned if she would.
Maintaining a fast clip, she dragged her brother along until they reached the side of the building shielded by deep shadows. Outside the air conditioning, her suit was entirely too warm and constrictive. The rain had stopped, but humidity hung in the air, curling her hair, leaving her skin damp, causing her blouse to stick to her skin.
Why Tim had to drink so much and so often, she didn’t know. Why he seemed to take great pleasure in humiliating her, she’d never understand.
Yanking his arm away from her firm hold, he grouched, “Slow down,” and ended up sloshing into a puddle.
To keep him from falling on his face, May caught his shabby sleeve. She shook with unbridled fury. And disappointment. Drawing on lost reserves, she asked, “How’d you get here?”
“I drove.”
No. Incensed anew, May shoved him up against the rickety fence that divided her modest gallery from the housing plots behind it. At twenty-six, Tim had her on height, weight, and strength. He’d s
topped being her little brother a long time ago, but he would always be her younger brother—by three years.
For as long as she could remember, she’d championed him, loved him, and shielded him the best she could from their parents. That afforded her certain undeniable rights.
The right to protect him from himself.
Stumbling on the gravel lot, Tim laughed and swatted at her hands as she searched his every pocket until she found his keys.
When he realized her intent, he began a loud protest and tried to grab the keys back from her.
“Shhhh.” May clutched the keys tight in her hand. “Do you have any idea what’ll happen if someone catches you drinking and driving? You’re plastered. God, Tim, you’re always plastered anymore. I’m sick of it, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you hurt some innocent driver.”
“I got here okay.”
“Thank the good Lord. But I’m not a gambling woman, and you know it.”
His shoulders went rigid. “Is that a slur?”
Oh God. It was too much. Way too much. “You’ve been gambling again, haven’t you?”
Sheepish, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away. “Only a little.”
May curled her arms around herself, trying to think what to do. By her own accord, a path she’d chosen and accepted, she held responsibility for many things. But sometimes it felt like control spiraled away from her. Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to run away, deny them all, shake off the caring that they took for granted and didn’t appreciate anyway.
Sounding sullen and spoiled and… hurt, Tim straightened his shirt, then ran both hands through his unkempt hair. “All right, fine, if you’re going to mope about it, you can drive me home.”
If the tightness in her chest didn’t make a deep breath impossible, May would have screamed in frustration. Through her teeth, she said, “I’m in the middle of a showing. I can’t leave.”
“Oh, great. You don’t want me here, but you don’t want me to leave? What the hell am I supposed to do, then? Sit out here in the rain and twiddle my thumbs? No, thank you.” He made another grab for his keys, and May shoved him away.
