What Belongs to Her (Harlequin Superromance)

by Rachel Brimble

  “Pervert.”

  She faced front as the queue moved forward and they stepped inside. Eight booths big enough to comfortably sit six people each lined a window at the far side, with tables scattered throughout, and a huge deli counter covering the breadth of the shop at the back. The atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful as bursts of laughter mixed with the chatter from the customers, and shouts and calls came from behind the busy serving area.

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slipped out a ten-pound note. “Why don’t you grab us a table and I’ll do the honors. What are you drinking?”

  She tipped her head back and met his eyes. “Cappuccino would be great. Thanks. I’ll be right over there at the front of the counter. I don’t want to miss any of the action.”

  He frowned. “What action?”

  She wiggled her eyebrows and left the queue. John followed her progress as she sashayed between the tables. She hung the strap of her bag on the back of a pine chair and sat, propping her elbows atop the gingham tablecloth. She intertwined her fingers and rested her chin on them, her dark gaze locked on his, a soft smile playing at her lips.

  When his dick woke up again, John snatched his gaze from hers and approached the counter. The young girl serving was busy putting the change in the till from the previous customer. She didn’t bother looking up when she spoke. “Yes, sir, what can I get you?”

  “A black coffee and a cappuccino, please.”

  “Coming right up.” She slammed the till closed and finally met his eyes. “Oh...wow.” Her cheeks flushed a deep red before she turned and headed for the huge steel coffeemaker behind her.

  Frowning, John slipped his glasses into the vee of his shirt.

  “Well, hello there. And who might you be.”

  The woman who appeared in front of him tossed him a wide grin. She was ample in stature and, judging by the glint in her eye, intended to eat him alive. Straightening his shoulders, he held out his hand. “John Jordon. Nice to meet you.”

  Her smile vanished and the glint disappeared as if a storm had blown in and snuffed out a candle. “Well, well, well.”

  John glanced over his shoulder toward Sasha as unease rolled up his spine. Her grin widened. He turned back to the woman behind the counter and dropped his offered hand. “Is everything okay, ma’am?”

  She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, pushing her rather generous bosom to rest on top of them. “I don’t know. We’ll have to give it a little time before either of us knows, won’t we?”

  John raised his hands in surrender. “I just came in for coffee.”

  “Where’s Sasha?” She ran her gaze over his chest. “You left her to run that fairground on her own? Or is that good-for-nothing Freddy Campton down there shouting the odds?”

  Ah, so this is Marian. He smiled. “Marian, right?”

  She didn’t as much as lift the corners of her mouth. “The one and only.”

  Seconds passed before John tilted his head in Sasha’s direction, keeping his gaze on Marian’s. “Sasha’s over there. No doubt enjoying the show.”

  Marian slid her gaze toward Sasha and the transformation in her demeanor was so ridiculous, John was struck dumb. Her face broke into a wide smile and her eyes lit with adoration before she dropped her arms and hastily wiped them on the towel hanging from the waistband of her apron. She waved at Sasha. “I’ll be right over.” She turned to John and the smile vanished. “Go grab a seat. I’ll bring your coffees over.”

  Giving up hope of a friendly exchange, John lifted his shoulders. “Great. Thank you.”

  He approached Sasha and stared at her. “Enjoying yourself?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’m guessing you and Matron Marian are pretty close?”

  Sasha laughed. “If she hears you call her that, she’ll slice your balls off quicker than you can draw your next breath.”

  “Is that so?”

  She grinned. “Yep. You’re in for one hell...” Her gaze drifted to a spot behind him and her eyes lit up like they had lanterns behind them. “Oh, great. More company.”

  John spun around. Marian walked toward them carrying their coffees. Beside her was a woman with the reddest hair and greenest eyes he’d ever seen. If he thought Marian was prepared to eat him alive, the careful appraisal of this latest Templeton Cove resident left him no doubt she’d be more than willing to hold him down while Marian executed her chosen sadistic pleasure.

  They stopped in front of him, and Marian glared. “Inspector Garrett, let me introduce you to Mr. John Jordon.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  SASHA SWIPED THE tears of laughter from her eyes and pushed to her feet. Marian was one thing, but leaving John to cope with Inspector Garrett and Marian was too much to expect of any man, animal or superhero. She’d begun the day with plans to make John’s welcome as uncomfortable as possible, but her fiasco on the Mixer and him making her laugh meant unnecessary cruelty was no longer part of the deal.

  She stepped away from the table to stand at his side. She smiled. “Inspector Garrett. Nice to see you.”

  The inspector dragged her steady gaze from John’s and smiled. “Hi, Sasha. Marian seems keen to introduce me to your friend.”

  A sudden and inexplicable need to defend John stole through Sasha. She didn’t want to leave him to the wolves. Something about him intrigued her, interested her to the point she didn’t want that tiny, unnamable facet of his personality quashed on his second day in the Cove.

  Her sympathy was unnerving and she swallowed hard against its implication. She waved her hand in what she hoped was a gesture of indifference. “John’s...um... John’s...”

  “Why don’t I help you out?” Marian placed their coffees none too gently on the table. “This, Inspector Garrett, is John Jordon—Kyle Jordon’s son and heir.”

  Sasha grimaced. The entire bakery descended into silence, barely broken by the clatter of crockery and the occasional cough or snigger. Marian’s booming voice was her trademark, the reason people warmed to her and loved her—but in that moment, Sasha understood why others dreaded her undivided attention. The queue of people turned toward the show, and Sasha’s cheeks burned.

  John, on the other hand, appeared nonplussed as he extended his hand to Inspector Garrett. “Nice to meet you, Inspector.”

  With her usual cool air, the inspector closed her hand around his. “Are you planning to stay long, Mr. Jordon? Or is this a flying visit?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

  Sasha whipped her gaze from one to the other. It was crystal clear as John stood unmoving in front of DI Garrett, his cool gaze locked with hers, he was Kyle’s son. He was no more concerned by the inspector’s perusal of him than Kyle would’ve been.

  The inspector stared straight back, her intelligent gaze scrutinizing him. Sasha shifted from one foot to the other. Confrontation was never a good thing for her, regardless of the “don’t mess with me” reputation she liked to project. Her persona had been forced upon her and maybe even branded her—but she also accepted, acknowledged and embraced it as if it were a powerful and protective coat of armor. Nothing and no one made her inferior to anyone or anything else.

  Pulling back her shoulders, she shook off the vivid memories that never went away and stepped forward. She cupped her hand around John’s elbow. “We just came in for morning coffee, Inspector. Maybe you’d like to join us?”

  Inspector Garrett continued to look at John. “Your father was a known figure around here, Mr. Jordon. Known for the wrong reasons. I hope you’re not going to give me any concerns while you’re here.”

  “Am I being tarred with the same brush already? Just because Kyle and I share a name?”

  The hairs on Sasha’s neck quivered. The cool tone of his voice and stiff set of his shoulders screamed of Kyle, yet John’s smooth, upper-class accent and undeterred self-confidence showed someone else entirely. Kyle was easily provoked, his temper a tangible and undeniable aspect of his fe
ared potential for violence. Whereas John’s relaxed, immovable stance showed an equitable man, open to reason and discussion. It drew Sasha to him with a force she neither liked nor wanted.

  The inspector tilted her chin. “I’m not the kind of cop who jumps to conclusions, Mr. Jordon. That doesn’t mean the rest of the town won’t.”

  He glanced over her head toward the spectators, then at Marian and finally at Sasha. She met his gaze and silently pleaded with him to back down. She didn’t want him to fight the inspector but instead, sit with her and prove himself completely unlike Kyle. He briefly closed his eyes and dropped his shoulders. Sasha’s heart picked up speed as she waited.

  He faced the inspector and raised his hands in surrender. “Why don’t you join us? Ask me anything you’d like to know. I’ve nothing to hide.”

  Marian sniffed. “Hmm.”

  Inspector Garrett shook her head. “I’ve no wish to harangue you, Mr. Jordon. Enjoy your coffee. Now I know you’re in town, I hope I’ve no reason to be anything other than civil should we bump into each other.” She turned to Marian and raised an eyebrow. “I hope the same goes for everyone else, too.”

  Marian opened her mouth, her cheeks flame-red with indignation. “But—”

  “Because the people of Templeton Cove are good people.” The inspector stared at Marian. “We don’t judge without reason.”

  Sasha released her held breath. “Thank you, Inspector. I’ll be working with John at the fair. Feel free to drop by anytime.”

  Inspector Garrett drew her gaze slowly over John’s face once more. “Thank you, Sasha. I might just do that. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jordon.” She offered her hand.

  John shook it with a curt nod. “You, too.”

  When Inspector Garrett gripped Marian’s elbow and steered her toward the counter, Sasha mirrored the action by steering John to their table. She only released him once he sat. She slid into the chair opposite him. “Well, there you go.”

  He stared at her, his blue eyes dark with irritation. “What?”

  “That’s the reaction you’re going to get around Templeton. Surely you didn’t expect any different when you planned this little tour this morning?”

  “How often did my father show his face here? Around town?”

  His tone was cold, his eyes somber. The question hadn’t been the first she’d expected. Didn’t he want to know where Marian got off treating him like a second-class citizen? Didn’t he want to know about Inspector Garrett? She lifted her shoulders. “Not much. He was either at Funland or off in his car somewhere.”

  “What about his business associates?”

  Sasha felt a sudden disquiet and glanced toward the inspector, who stood at the counter waiting for her coffee. Marian shot Sasha another glare and she snapped her gaze to John’s. “I don’t know.”

  “You must know something.”

  “I don’t.”

  Silence descended and the tension escalated. After a long moment and no sign of their coffees, Sasha pushed to her feet. “Let’s go. I don’t feel comfortable talking about Kyle here.”

  She made for the door, heedless of the stares of Inspector Garrett, Marian and the other pairs of eyes burning holes in her back. She shouldered past the queue of people filing into the bakery, her emotions torn. Why did she have to care about people so damn much? Why did everything come down to wanting people to be happy and enjoying themselves? When would she reach the jaded age of adulthood when she wouldn’t give a crap about anyone but herself?

  She shouldn’t have backed up John—he was big enough to handle himself and from what she’d witnessed so far, nothing shook his cool exterior. She’d never know if he fought daily demons as she did, and for that she was grateful. She liked him, and because of that she prayed that once she had gotten the fair from him, he’d disappear as quickly as he had come. He tugged on something she’d thought stolen from her years ago. He tugged on her need for a man to care about her.

  Swallowing hard, Sasha drew in a strengthening breath, drawing her protective cloak around her. The warm July sunshine hit her face as she stepped from beneath the shade of the bakery awning and leaned on the hood of John’s Mercedes. Maybe the sight of her butt on his fancy, expensive car might break his cool. He emerged from the bakery and approached her. He didn’t so much as blink to see her leaning on the hood of his car and instead stepped off the curb. He stood directly in front of her and the parked car behind him.

  “Why did you leave like that? It would’ve been beneficial for us to face them out in there. Show it’s us running the fair now, not Kyle.”

  She stiffened. “Us, John? Is that what you really think?”

  “Don’t you?”

  His gaze bored into hers. Sasha’s heart beat wildly, and her hands turned clammy. In all the time Kyle had run her and her granddad’s lives, not once had he indicated they were on the same team, in even the smallest of ways. Funland was Kyle’s, from the dirt on the ground to every lightbulb on every ride. Her heart twisted and she looked away. “Don’t say things like that. You and I both know you couldn’t possibly believe it.”

  “Why not? Hey...” He touched his finger to her chin, gently turning her face. “Why not?”

  Heat assaulted her cheeks as a bolt of God knew what shot through her body on such intimate and gentle contact. What the hell was he doing? Why was he playing her like this? She pushed away from the hood and marched to the passenger side. More important, why the hell was she letting him? She fisted her hands on her hips. “Open the car. I want to get out of here.”

  She glanced past him toward the bakery window. She could practically feel the heat coming through the glass as Marian self-combusted inside.

  He stared at her for a moment longer before pulling his keys from his pocket. The locks shunted open, and Sasha yanked the door and got inside. She pulled on her seat belt, her hands shaking. He slid in beside her, and the scent of musk and man rose between them, only to be torn away by the gathering breeze.

  He turned the ignition. “We need to talk. Properly.”

  “We will.” She stared ahead. “Right now I want to work. Funland needs me, John. The sooner you get that, the better.”

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, Sasha entered the Coast Inn and approached the bar. It was Saturday night and the place was busy with patrons, but not so busy that she felt the need to turn around and leave. As desperate as she was to talk with her best friend alone, Sasha also wanted the cover of human bodies should John or Freddy decide they needed a drink as much as she did. This way she and Leah could make a dive for the back door with a better chance of escaping unnoticed.

  “What can I get you?”

  She plastered on a smile as the bar’s owner came to stand in front of her. “Hi, Dave. Can I get a glass of pinot gris for me and a merlot for Leah?”

  “Sure.” He turned to get the bottle of white out of the fridge. “Haven’t seen you here in a while. You okay?” He filled her glass and placed it on a coaster.

  Am I okay? Now, there’s a question. She took a sip of her drink. “I’m great. Busy as always.”

  He eyed her carefully as he unscrewed the cap of the merlot. “Are you sure about that? I heard Kyle Jordon’s son turned up.”

  She met his eyes for a moment before feigning interest in the black-and-white prints of Templeton Cove adorning the wall to the side of her. “Yep.”

  “And?”

  She faced him. “We’re working it out. I’m getting to know him and he’s getting to know me.”

  He placed Leah’s drink on a second coaster and lifted an eyebrow. “Marian said he’s a good-looking chap and she’s watching him. Do I need to watch him, too?”

  Sasha smiled and slumped her shoulders. “No. I’ve got it under control. You can simmer down and tell Marian to do the same the next time you see her, okay?”

  Dave winked. “You know we’re only looking out for you.”

  “I know.” She lifted the drinks from the bar. “It’
s appreciated, but John’s all right...considering.”

  “Considering what?”

  “Considering I’m still giving him the benefit of the doubt.” She smiled. “If at any point I think the guy needs reminding I’ve got the whole of Templeton looking out for me, I’ll let you know.”

  He laughed. “I’m always here. You know that.”

  She lifted her glass in a salute before turning and heading purposefully to a table as far away as possible from the small dance floor in one corner and the pool table and dart nook in the other. Despite her bravado with Dave, Sasha’s heart hammered with nerves. John Jordon was far from “all right” as far as her body was concerned.

  The man was a walking, talking magnet to her libido and that meant trouble whichever way she looked at it.

  She was used to mental and emotional knock backs, used to people pulling her from her intended path, but John Jordon was a different challenge than any she’d faced before. His cool blue stare and bright, sudden smile jolted her. Made her waver, doubt and feel. She cursed. Even now, she wanted to smile because she thought of him.

  He was...interesting. That was it. Interesting...and phenomenal to look at.

  She sat down and stared into the golden depths of her glass, twirling the stem back and forth with her fingers as the past twenty-four hours played through her mind. Once they’d return to work after leaving Marian’s, it became very clear, very quickly, both she and John had individually made the decision to keep their distance. It had been almost comical how they avoided each other, barely sharing more than a sentence or two for the rest of yesterday and all of today.

  Freddy brooded and snorted his way around the fair, casting glares at her, John or anyone else in his line of sight. The atmosphere was stretched to breaking with the three of them biding their time to see who would cut the first inch and let some of the pressure escape.

  Well, it won’t be me. Not yet. I want to know what both of my opponents have in mind before I decide what to do next. One wrong move and everything I have planned will crash and burn.

  The bar door swung open and Sasha lifted her gaze. Leah, her best friend of the past ten years, came striding toward her, seemingly in time with the drumbeat of the soft rock ballad blasting from the speakers. Her blond, short-cropped hair and dark-rimmed glasses belied her friend’s soft nature. At five-three, new patients could’ve made the mistake of thinking Nurse Dixon a pushover...until she showed them who was boss with a syringe inserted into their bare ass cheek.