The heavy scent of bacon and maple syrup flavored the air, making his mouth water in anticipation. When Payne had mentioned that Clara’s was the hot spot for breakfast he hadn’t exaggerated. The dining room--a charming space littered with mismatched tables and chairs, fresh cut flowers and braided rugs--was packed with people. Old farmers sporting overalls and John Deer hats, young professionals, couples and families, a hungry sample of Monarch Grove’s population all gathered at the alter of good food.
Wearing a little tiara on her new platinum locks and bright red lipstick, Clara greeted him herself and showed him to a table. “I hope you were able to sleep after your walk,” she said, a polite unintentional reminder that he’d woken them all up. He smiled and resisted the urge to grind his teeth.
“I was, thank you,” Mick told her. He settled into a chair.
“Nothing strange happened, I hope? No missing toiletries or flickering lights?”
“Er...no,” Mick said, caught off guard by the strange question.
Instead of looking happy, Clara actually seemed disappointed. Her face fell. “Excellent,” she murmured distractedly.
Mick decided a subject change was in order. “If breakfast is as good as it smells, then I’m in for a treat.”
She brightened. “You’re definitely in for a treat. Tina’s a phenomenal cook. She’s my little ace in the hole. The B&B has the best food in town no matter what anyone tells you.” She leaned down as though about to share an important secret. “Steer clear of Mabel’s Diner,” she whispered. “She’s had a bit of a bug problem, if you catch my drift.”
Mick inclined his head, wondering why he found the warning slightly gleeful.
Clara straightened once more. “Coffee?”
“Er...black, please.” She nodded briskly and hurried away.
Clara hadn’t been gone five seconds before a busty blonde who looked like she’d colored her extremely tanned face with a paint-by-numbers kit suddenly slid into the chair across from him.
Chastity, no doubt, Mick decided, inwardly recoiling.
While attractive in the literal sense, she had a hard, cunning look about her and, though she wore black, the tight sleeveless shirt and short skirt hardly said “grieving widow.” More like “street walker,” he thought uncharitably.
She and Sarah Jane couldn’t have been any more different and, if he hadn’t trusted her story to begin with, he sure as hell didn’t believe it now.
“You must be Mick,” she said, smiling. Feminine interest sparkled in eyes surrounded by clumps of mascara’d lashes.
“I am.”
When he didn’t say anything else, a momentary look of confusion stole across her overly made-up face. “So?” she prodded. “How are things going?”
“Fine. When I have something to report, I’ll tell you. Wasn’t that the agreement?” He purposely kept his tone even, knowing that any interest or even superficial friendliness would only encourage her to stay.
“I’m not sure,” she replied slowly. Those shrewd eyes continued to size him up. She hesitated. “Is there a problem, Mr. Chivers?”
Mick swallowed a long-suffering sigh. More than he cared to enumerate.
Thankfully, a petite dark-haired woman--Tina maybe?--came to his rescue by arriving with his plate. “Good morning,” she said, smiling warmly at him. “I’m Tina,” she confirmed. She didn’t so much as glance at Chastity. “You’re the photographer who’s working with Sarah Jane, right?”
From the corner of his eye he saw Chastity’s lips slide into a smug smile and though it went against everything inside of him, he managed to nod, silently affirming the lie.
He was so not cut out for this line of work.
Or maybe it was just this case. Either way, he knew he was screwed. And though he’d only been in the security field for a couple of days, it was long enough for Mick to know that it wasn’t going to satisfy his soul. It was more watching and less movement, and other than actually being with Sarah Jane, a complete bore.
“We didn’t get a chance to meet last night. I’ve got your to-go order ready in the kitchen, so don’t forget to ask for it on your way out.”
“I won’t, thanks.”
Chastity cleared her throat loudly. “Aren’t you going to take my order, Tina?”
Every muscle in Tina’s petite body went rigid and she turned a patently false smile in Chastity’s direction. “I’m not a waitress. I’m the cook.”
“Nevertheless you work here and I’m a paying customer. I’d like what he’s having.”
“Fine,” she said, baring her teeth in a frightening smile. “I’ll make something special for you.”
Only if spit was special, Mick thought, resisting the urge to laugh. Evidently Chastity wasn’t as stupid as she looked because she finally just harrumphed a disgusted breath and told Tina to forget it.
Victorious, Tina grinned. “Are you sure? I’d be happy to personally take care of your plate. Really,” she said between clenched teeth. “I would.”
“I said no,” she repeated. She gestured impatiently between the two of them. “Can’t you see you’re interrupting our conversation?”
Tina’s gaze turned shrewd and speculative. “You know each other?”
Dammit to hell, this was exactly what he’d been afraid of. “We just met,” Mick said, thankful that he hadn’t had to lie again.
Seemingly satisfied, Tina nodded. “Nice meeting you, Mick.” She moved away from the table, giving him a clear view of the door.
He wished she hadn’t.
Because Sarah Jane was standing there. An instantaneous fission of heat stole through his belly and settled in his loins at the mere sight of her.
But it was the sight of him--seated with her enemy--that worried him.
A sardonic it-figured smile rolled over her lips--as though she’d hoped he’d have better taste--and she gave him a little up-nod in acknowledgment, then looked away.
Following his gaze, Chastity glanced over her shoulder, saw Sarah Jane, then, smiling maliciously, stood.
“Mission accomplished,” she said. “Watch her like a hawk and let me know the minute you catch her breaking into my house. I’m looking forward to sending her back to jail.”
* * *
“She didn’t waste much time, did she?” Mason muttered under his breath. “I swear I think that woman has got some sort of sonar for when new men arrive in town. It’s like a Fresh Meat alarm goes off and she swoops in, ready for the kill.”
Seething, reeling and bitterly disappointed, Sarah Jane nodded to a couple of people as she walked through the dining room, paused to listen to Mae Bell Hodges latest update on her husband’s gout, then continued on to the kitchen where she and Mason typically ate their breakfast with Tina.
Though she knew it was irrational and knew it was more than likely a product of her sexually-deprived lust-ridden brain, Sarah Jane’s own internal alarms were ringing so loud she could barely hear her own thoughts.
Something about seeing Mick Chivers with Chastity was...off.
And it was more than the absurd jealousy and illogical anger turning her mind alternate shades of green and black. It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’d actually applied a little make-up this morning, had taken time with her hair and had agonized over which friggin’ shorts made her ass look smaller. If Chastity was his type--cheap, easy and stupid--then so be it. She shoved open the kitchen door with a little more force than needed, sending Clara reeling back. Then good riddance.
“Sarah Jane,” Clara admonished, adjusting the little crown on her newly tinted hair. “That’s not how a lady enters a room. This is a bed and breakfast, not a road house bar.”
“Sorry, Clara.” She dropped into a chair at the kitchen table, snagged a biscuit from the tray and took an intentional bite to keep from screaming.
Tina stilled and sent her a sympathetic smile. “You saw.”
“She did,” Mason said because Sarah Jane’s mouth was still stuffed w
ith food. He shook his head and exhaled a disgusted breath. “You know, I’m a man and even I don’t get it. Yes, the girl has got a nice set of breasts--“
Sarah Jane glared at him.
“She does, SJ. Just stating the facts.” He frowned, his peach fuzz bunching around his lips. “But there’s nothing else there. She’s not ugly, but she’s not beautiful either. She’s spent so many hours in the tanning bed--
“And by the pool she talked my father into putting in,” Sarah Jane interjected.
“--she looks like a damned rotisserie chicken. She’s dumb as a box of rocks.” He shrugged again. “I just don’t get it. And like I said, I’m a man.”
Tina set a steaming plate in front of both of them, grabbed one for herself, and then joined them at the table. “You’re just a man of better taste, Mason,” Tina said. “Unfortunately, a lot of men don’t care whether a woman is smart or not.” She shot a look at Sarah Jane. “No offense to your father, but he couldn’t have been thinking with his brain when he decided to marry that shallow, mean-spirited slut.”
“I know,” Sarah Jane admitted, though she did think that he’d come to regret it in the weeks prior to his death. He’d said a few little things, but nothing that would have really opened an honest dialogue about the situation. In fact, it had been more of an impression than anything else.
Furthermore, she’d be lying if she hadn’t hoped that Mick would have had better taste. Honestly, physical attraction aside, she credited him with more character. He hadn’t seemed like the type who would be interested in Chastity. She’d thought he had more depth. More class. More sense.
Frankly, by yesterday afternoon, she’d thought she’d detected a little interest in her. While he hadn’t blatantly flirted, he’d certainly been quick with those slow melting smiles and there’d been a hint of interest in those shockingly blue eyes. Honestly, she’d never seen eyes that particular shade before. Intense, clear, bold, the color of an old bottle she’d once found buried near the surf in the sand at the beach. And if it was true that the eyes were indeed the window to the soul, then Mick Chiver’s soul was a kaleidoscope of recklessness, irreverence, honor, pain and sorrow. How did she know this?
The same way she knew that there was more to Chastity and Mick than what met the eye--intuition.
True, Chastity had a knack for picking up the scent of a new man, but from the strange look--a combination of irritation and embarrassment--she’d glimpsed on Mick’s face, something else was in play here.
“If it makes you feel any better, I was delivering food in the dining room when she came in. He didn’t invite her to sit down. She invited herself.”
Typical Chastity. Still...
“I’ve got a weird vibe about this,” Sarah Jane said. She speared a fresh strawberry and considered it thoughtfully.
Tina selected a piece of bacon and chuckled. “That feeling is called jealousy, my dear.”
Mason’s gaze widened. “Jealousy? What do you mean jealousy?”
Tina merely rolled her eyes. “Mason you are a sweetheart, but you’re blind.”
“These are new glasses,” he said, offended, straightening a bit in his chair. “It’s just taking me a little while to adjust to them.”
Sarah Jane and Tina shared an unspoken look, then they both started giggling.
Used to their silent communication, her assistant’s lips twisted. “Want to clue me in on the joke?”
“No,” Sarah Jane said. She cleared her throat and looked at Tina. “It’s...more than what you said. It doesn’t feel right.”
“Sarah Jane, it doesn’t feel right because the woman has been the bane of your existence since Kindergarten. She stole your father, stole your house, stole your inheritance, and now she’s put the moves on the first guy who has cranked your tractor in months.”
“It’s been more than a year, thank you,” Sarah Jane corrected glumly.
Mason’s eyes rounded and he gazed at her in wide-eyed astonishment. “Oh,” he said knowingly. His eyes sparkled with humor and he shot her a sheepish smile. “That explains a lot. I thought you were acting a bit funny yesterday. Strange, really. I just thought you were nervous over all those pictures he was taking of you.”
That had been a bit nerve-wrecking. It seemed like every time she’d turned around, Mick had been snapping another photograph. It was also clear that he knew a bit about carpentry and home repair. He’d inspected the house and made a lot of comments regarding the structure and how it could be fixed, and at one point had even put his camera down long enough to help her loosen a particularly stubborn bit of molding. She could tell he’d been itching to do more, but she hadn’t suggested that he pick up a hammer.
In her line of work--a predominantly male field--Sarah Jane battled against what she’d dubbed the “little woman syndrome.” On more than one occasion she’d dealt with a clod-brained big-muscled morons who thought she was too weak and too ignorant to do the job, so she’d become a bit sensitive to help from the opposite sex. She glanced at Mason and felt her lips twitch. Mason didn’t count--she was manlier than Mason. At any rate, if she were perfectly honest, she’d let Mick help her because she’d wanted to be closer to him, to watch those muscles bunch and tighten.
And she hadn’t been disappointed at all.
The man was, in a word, glorious.
And he’d been sharing breakfast with Chastity.
She didn’t care what Tina said, this feeling--this instinct--was more than jealousy. Though she would definitely cop to that. She’d planned on asking Mick to join them for breakfast this morning, so seeing him two feet from her enemy hadn’t been pleasant.
“I asked them if they knew each other,” Tina told her. “And he said they’d just met.”
Rather than put her at ease, Sarah Jane felt her nape prickle. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because your Step-monster accused me of ‘interrupting their conversation.’” She quirked an irritated brow. “Have I mentioned that I loathe her lately? Because I do. I genuinely can’t stand her.” She took a sip of orange juice and sighed.
“Welcome to the club,” Sarah Jane said with a rueful grimace. “Welcome to the club.”
“You know what I think you should do, don’t you?”
Sarah Jane suspected she wasn’t going to like Tina’s opinion. “What?”
“Forget this whole he’s-off-limits-because-he’s-here-on-business crap and flirt with him. Reel him in.” She grinned and her eyes sparkled with evil humor. “It’ll kill her.”
Oh, it would, no doubt, Sarah Jane thought, tempted beyond reason. A little quickening thrill made her insides tingle with purpose and she felt a slow smile slide across her lips, imagining Chastity’s furious face. Sarah Jane paused, remembering all the reasons she shouldn’t make a play for Mick, the most of important of which was her business. She couldn’t discount the fact that pursuing any sort of relationship with him--especially that of the sexual variety--would be risky, potentially disastrous.
But the idea of letting Chastity win--again--was almost more than she could bear.
It was galling.
It was exasperating.
It was...impossible.
“She’s taken everything else from you,” Tina said, echoing her own thoughts. She pulled a light shrug. “You’re a fool if you let her have him, too.”
“Sarah Jane’s no fool,” Mason remarked, outraged on her behalf, coming to her defense as always, even when he didn’t need to.
A beat slid into three, then she looked at Tina and felt a resolute smile drift over her lips. “He’s right. I’m no fool.”
Competitive, maybe. Self-destructive? Possibly.
But not foolish.
CHAPTER 5
Mick didn’t know what exactly he’d expected of Sarah Jane after she’d seen him with Chastity this morning. A cold shoulder, the silent treatment, a dire warning about the company he was keeping. Those were the scenarios which had ran in circles around his brain as he’d d
riven out to the Milton Plantation this morning.
The one scene he hadn’t pictured, however, was the one playing out before him now.
Sarah Jane Walker was flirting with him.
Ordinarily a beautiful girl--particularly this one, who had the singular ability to turn him on by the simple act of breathing--making a play for him would be a good thing. Hell, an unbelievably freakin’ great thing.
He liked women. He loved sex. He was a man, after all, and like most men he spent the majority of his time thinking about getting laid, getting into trouble and getting a bite to eat. A slow smile drifted over his lips.
And not necessarily in that order, but if they happened in quick succession then all the better.
At any rate, Mick had decided that Sarah Jane’s interest had to be some sort of cosmic karmic payback for all the hellraising and womanizing he’d done in the past. Too many pranks, too many one-night stands, too many too many’s. When karma decided to dole out a payback for almost getting Carson Wells killed, he imagined it would be in the form of something much more heinous than what he was about to go through with Sarah Jane.
Not that it would be a cakewalk, by any stretch of the imagination. He looked at her through the view finder, zoomed in on her mouth and felt his blood race to his groin as he snapped yet another picture that would never make it into the magazine spread. In fact, he could safely say that Designing Weekly wouldn’t be interested in about ninety percent of the photos he’d taken. His lips quirked.
He’d been taking more pictures of her architecture than that of this old house.
But he couldn’t seem to help himself. The smooth shape of her jaw, the sensual slope of neck, even the delicate shell of her ears seemed to be irresistible behind the lens. He’d gotten a couple of good shots of her mouth--the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen period--and longed to capture her eyes, those compelling pools of melting toffee. Gorgeous, warm and expressive. A guy could easily get stuck in those eyes, Mick thought, silently, broodingly, watching her.
When he’d first noticed the change in her, Mick had chalked it up to wishful thinking. Which was stupid considering that he couldn’t touch her. Given the situation--that he was a paid spy who was technically supposed to be catching her doing something illegal--it was beyond insane to wish that she would flirt with him.
Men Out of Uniform: 6 Book Omnibus Page 67
