by Lora Leigh
His nostrils flared as he excused torment for anger and let the anger reign.
"I'm clean, Chase. We both know it. And she is, too." She was protected. The investigation they had run on her for the club had pulled up all sorts of interesting information. There were still too many questions and not enough answers, but there was no question of any risk, to either of them. She was taking a birth control shot, there were no reports of recent lovers. The risk was minimal.
"That's not the fucking point," Chase growled. "Son of a bitch, sometimes I think you've lost your damned mind."
He pushed his fingers through his hair, satisfaction pulling at the edges of exhaustion and making him more tired than he had been in the past nights. "Maybe I have." He finally shrugged. "Take care of her tonight. Tell her I'll see her when she gets to the Sinclairs' in the morning."
Chase stared back at him in complete disbelief. "You're kidding me? Damn you, Cam, you can't just walk away from her like that. She's not one of the little toys you up and leave laying. She's going to kick your ass."
Yeah, she would. She was going to be madder than hell.
"Cam, this will hurt her. Is that what you really want?" Chase asked, as Cam turned to head back to the living room.
He paused, his teeth clenching. He couldn't hurt her. Pissing her off, he could deal with that.
"I'll sleep on the couch." He shook his head, but he didn't turn back to his brother or the sight of the woman who haunted his heart.
For once, the thought of Chase cuddling and comforting their lover after the sex bothered him. Just as the thought of him cleaning Jaci's sweet body afterward had bothered him.
And he couldn't help it. He moved into the living room and pulled his slacks back on before sitting down on the couch and leaning his head against the back cushion.
There, he stared at the ceiling; but he saw the shadows of the past and he couldn't make himself return to that bedroom.
The light from the other room flicked off and he heard the muted sound of Chase's voice comforting her as he lay in that big bed with her.
He had never regretted not sharing a bed with a lover, until tonight.
He stared at the couch and breathed out tiredly before stretching out on it. At least it was long enough, comfortable enough. For the amount of money Ian was paying for this suite, it sure as hell should have been.
But, of all the years stretching out behind him, of all the lovers he'd ever known, none had compared to Jaci or the intensity of pleasure and satisfaction he felt now.
He'd forgotten the damned condom. He hadn't meant to, and he'd have to rectify that. But, God, it had been good. So hot and tight, her pussy flexing and milking his cock until he spilled himself inside her.
He'd never done that. Ever. Even with the first woman he'd fucked, he'd refused to do so without protection. And now, with Jaci, he hadn't had enough sense to remember to sheath his erection—because he hadn't wanted that between them.
As he stared at the ceiling, he admitted to himself that there were already so many barriers that he placed between them that he couldn't tolerate that one.
That one pleasure, unlike anything he had known in his life, was one he never wanted to give up.
5
Jaci arrived at the Sinclair mansion the next morning at exactly ten, as per Courtney's demands, so furious with Chase and Cam that she could barely stand to breathe. Cam had been noticeably absent when she had awakened. She may as well have been alone in the bed, because Chase was on one side while she slept on the other. And Cam? The bastard. He had been asleep on the couch. As though sleeping with her were somehow dirty.
She should have known better. Seven years separated them, and Cam hadn't exactly stayed the same.
The scar on his face, though not disfiguring, had been the result of something violent and painful. He had changed. He was harder—more demanding. And unfortunately, that didn't do a damned thing to turn her off.
So now, the morning after was like a bad taste in her mouth and the memory of both men, leaving as she had ordered them to do before she showered, only pissed her off more. The fact that she had left the hotel without coffee only compounded her early morning snit.
Coffee was waiting in the solarium, as were delicate breakfast pastries.
Courtney was sitting at the round table, sunlight falling around her long brown hair, no makeup—not that she needed any—and she was still wrapped in a robe. She looked like a sleepy, lazy kitten contemplating a long nap. Which wouldn't surprise Jaci. Courtney had been known for her afternoon naps before she married Ian Sinclair.
"Coffee's caffeinated and the pastries are to die for." The other woman smothered a yawn and blinked back at Jaci. "I hate you for looking so beautiful at this ungodly hour."
Yeah, real beautiful, Jaci thought with an inner snort. Covering the shadows under her eyes and her pale features while attempting to look natural hadn't been that easy. Especially trying to do it while she cursed the Falladay twins.
"Courtney, the sun has been up forever," Jaci finally pointed out as she sat across from the other woman and sipped at the delicious brew a young servant poured for her.
"Hmm. Well this is true. But I didn't get to sleep until well after it had risen." A curl of her lips, satisfied and filled with feminine pleasure, was all the clue Jaci needed.
"Party lasted that long, did it?" She pretended to misunderstand, because she really didn't want to blush and give Courtney a reason to suspect Jaci had had her own late-night party, one she promised herself would not be repeated.
"Well, Ian had much to make up for," Courtney informed her. "I get rewarded for behaving politely at these functions. You know, the ones where I have to allow piranhas like the Robertses under my roof."
Courtney's voice vibrated with disgust. She had learned of the problems Jaci had with the Robertses several years before, during their friendship in England. Courtney's parents had hired Jaci after meeting her, to redesign a guest house, and they, too, had been informed of the rumors after hiring her.
Marguerite and Dane Mattlaw had brushed aside the gossip and welcomed Jaci into their family, though.
Their acceptance and friendship meant more to Jaci than she had ever been able to express. But now, just as Jaci had feared, that friendship would cause Courtney several problems.
"I warned you." Jaci tightened her lips at the reminder of the trouble the Robertses could cause, and shifted her attention from her fury at Cam. "It won't stop until I'm gone."
"Why don't you kick her ass?" Courtney suggested with a clearly bloodthirsty smile. "Pull her hair out and make her orthodontist another fortune by knocking those overly bright teeth down her throat. I'll cheer you on. I'm certain I can find the proper outfit for the occasion."
Jaci had to smother her laughter. She was afraid Courtney was much too serious. This was, after all, the woman who had sucker-punched the mugger she and Sebastian had saved Jaci from in England. They hadn't known her. They had heard her cries as they left the club they had been to, and raced to her rescue.
"Be good, Courtney."
Courtney frowned. "That only works with Ian, my dear. He has the proper reward for such restraint. You do not."
Jaci shook her head. "This is my battle, my friend. What did they do after I left?"
Courtney's lips thinned.
"You may as well tell me." Jaci could feel her stomach sinking. They always did something.
"No more than they ever do whenever they manage to insinuate themselves into whichever party you're attending. Made their nasty little innuendoes and smiled those superior smiles of theirs. Ian should have let Cameron dust the floor with that bastard Richard, like he wanted to do."
Jaci breathed in roughly. "What are you talking about?"
"Ian stepped outside just as his investigator Cameron was getting ready to follow Congressman Roberts to the study." Courtney smiled. "He distracted Cameron, of course." She pouted. "I wou
ldn't have minded a bit helping that luscious investigator hide the body after he killed him and I informed Ian of that quite clearly."
"And in those exact words." Ian stepped into the room as he gave his wife a mock glare. "Sweetheart, luscious isn't a word you should be attaching to my investigator, you know."
Courtney smiled sweetly, her brown eyes twinkling with love. "I'm not blind."
"I'm sorry, Ian," Jaci breathed out roughly. "I did warn Courtney when she offered the job what was coming."
"Yet you didn't refuse the job," he pointed out.
"If I refused every job that could cause me problems, I'd be out of work." She stared back at him coolly.
"I gave her more than the standard warning that I give anyone else, once I know they're associated with the Robertses."
Ian poured his own coffee, then moved to the table and sat close to his wife, staring back at Jaci, his gaze brooding, watchful.
Dressed in black pants and a white silk shirt, his dark hair pulled back from his face to the nape of his neck, Ian Sinclair looked like the finely honed dominant force she knew he was.
"A bit more of an explanation would have been nice," he suggested. "It's hard to deflect the problems they could cause without information, Jaci."
Well, that was one of the more unique attempts to get an explanation from her.
"I don't need anyone to deflect problems for me." She pushed the cup back and stared him in the eye.
It wasn't always easy. Ian's gaze could be brutally piercing.
"It seems to me that you do," he stated. "How many jobs have you lost this year because of them?"
"That's why your deposit is nonrefundable." Her smile was all teeth. It wasn't the first time she had been in this position. It wouldn't be the last. "Would you like me to leave, Mr. Sinclair?"
He merely stared back at her silently as Courtney glared at him. Rather than causing her friend further problems Jaci decided, in that moment, that leaving this job might not be a bad idea.
And after the night before, she doubted Chase or Cam cared where the hell she went.
Jaci rose slowly to her feet, regret laying heavy on her chest, though she made certain it didn't show on her face. Whatever had happened the night before, it must not have been pleasant. The Robertses usually engaged in guerilla tactics, but if Cam had confronted Richard . . . her heart gave a hard, brutal thump. If Cam had confronted him, it might have been worse than she could imagine. No wonder he had been so pissed when he arrived at the hotel, or that he hadn't been able to bring himself to sleep with her.
The pain it caused was brutal, stomping on her soul with steel-spiked talons.
"Ian." There was a thread of steel in Courtney's voice, though her husband only glanced at her broodingly.
"Courtney, your husband has a business to consider," Jaci pointed out softly. "I promise, it's not a problem."
It might very well bankrupt her.
"I can leave now, Mr. Sinclair. As I said, I do understand your position."
"Did I ask you to leave, Ms. Wright?" he demanded arrogantly. "I believe I asked for an explanation instead."
"And I'll give you the same answer I've given everyone else who's demanded that explanation. What happened does not affect how I do my job. I don't owe you explanations. All I owe you is the option of letting you out of the contract."
"Without the deposit?" he answered coolly.
"Ian, stop," Courtney muttered.
Jaci shook her head. What the hell did it matter? As large as the deposit was, in the long run, it wouldn't do a damned thing to halt the slide of her career. Once knowledge that Ian Sinclair had released her got around, she would never get another job that paid well.
"You'll have your deposit back within the week, minus my traveling expenses." She lifted her leather briefcase from the floor and turned, moving quickly for the doorway.
She had to blink back her tears, her rage. It was burning in her now.
"Jaci, wait," Courtney called softly, but without conviction, as though she were hesitating. Everyone hesitated.
With her head down, she strode to the door, then slammed into a completely immoveable, impossibly hard form.
Hard hands steadied her, gripped her upper arms, holding her closer rather than pushing her away, as her head jerked up and her lips parted on a gasp of anger, maybe of hope. Until she glimpsed the ice in his eyes, the hard expression, the fact that the Cameron she had known was here in body only. The man inside had changed.
"Sorry about that." She attempted to pull back, to drag herself away from his body, the temptation, the regret. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
"I was." He didn't let her go.
He had allowed her to plow into him. Just as he had allowed her to climax over and over, before he turned tail and ran. Well, now he could watch while she walked away. Turnabout, and all that bullshit.
"Well, aren't you just the watchful one." Her voice was shaking as she jerked out of his grip. "If you'll excuse me, I was just leaving."
"No, she wasn't."
Her head jerked back to Ian in shock, even as she was aware of Cam's fingers curling around her arm once again.
"Whatever games you're playing, I'm not involved," she said, her voice cold. "I don't need this job bad enough to play them."
"Jaci, please." Courtney rose to her feet, her expression concerned, as her gaze shot to Cameron. "There are things involved that you're perhaps not aware of."
"Then I'll stay unaware of them." She pulled at her arm, then turned on Cam when he refused to release her. "Let my arm go, Cameron Falladay. I refuse to play your games, either."
His lips quirked. The scar at the side of his face, slashing over his cheek, whitened as he stared down at her.
"You've already lost that option, so let's play the one facing you instead," he suggested.
He released her when she jerked at her arm. She barely glimpsed the surprise on his face, as she brushed past him and stalked through the formal dining room to the foyer beyond.
Screw this job. Between the Robertses and her own weakness where Cam was concerned, the potential for destruction was much higher than the effects of bankruptcy.
Image
"Ms. Wright." The butler, Matthew, moved from the small office between the main mansion and the residential wing, his expression questioning. "May I help you?"
"I need a cab." A polite smile, a gnashing of teeth. "I'll be waiting outside for it."
His gaze glanced over her shoulder, then back to her. "It may take more than half an hour for one to arrive," he warned her. "Perhaps you could wait inside?"
"I'll wait outside."
She moved for the doors, only to come to a rather abrupt stop as a strong arm hooked around her waist, lifted her from the floor, and began to carry her toward the stairs.
"Forget the cab, Matthew," Cam ordered, his voice cold.
"Let me go, or I'll have you arrested for assault."
"Stop threatening me, or I'll turn you over my knee and paddle your bottom," he grunted, as he moved past the staircase toward the back hall. "We're going to talk."
"I don't want to talk to you." Her voice was shaking with anger and pain. "And you and Ian Sinclair can shove this job right up your . . . omph." His arm tightened around her just enough to shut her up and leave her fuming.
"Let's not get naughty, Jaci," he drawled as he moved through the hall.
"How about homicidal instead?" She kicked at his legs, only to hear his chuckle when her slender heels connected with a pair of tough boots.
It was almost laughable. She had awakened with an enthusiasm she hadn't had in years, and now here she was, on the verge of bankruptcy and being toted through the Sinclair mansion like a misbehaving puppy by a man who couldn't even be bothered to stick around in her bed after fucking her half to death.
His arm flexed beneath her hands and the controlled motion against her back assured her that he
r weight was barely noticed and her struggles didn't effect him in the least.
"Here we go." He stepped into a sunlit office, closed and locked the door behind them, then sat her on her feet. "Don't bother trying to run out. The door won't unlock without the proper code."
Her gaze flew to the door. There, on the side panel, was a security lock. She hated him. She hated herself because she wanted to stay, even as she wanted to run.
"This is so juvenile," she informed him, as she straightened the thin summer knit shirt she wore over the band of her skirt. "Hauling me around like a damned sack of potatoes. Where the hell do you get your nerve?"
"From a Cracker Jack box." He moved across the room. He was dressed in jeans and a white cotton shirt, his black hair lying loose around his face, brushing his collar and framing his dark face as he glanced back at her.
"Now, why do I believe that?"
Jaci crossed her arms over her breasts and glared back at him as he hooked a leg over the corner of the desk, perched on the edge, and watched her coolly.
"So. Roberts?" He arched a brow.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm going to start making people pay me every time they ask me that question," she snarled. "I wouldn't need to work."
His expression didn't change.
There was none of the lover that had taken her the night before in his face. This man was different—as though the passion and lust they had shared had never happened. And she wondered if her heart could have broken worse seven years ago?
"According to the congressman, you attempted to steal fifty thousand from the desk in his home office.
When you were caught, you attempted to seduce him. His wife walked in and threw you out of the house."
In reality, she had walked in on the congressman, his wife, and their secretary while the three were involved in some very nasty sex games. Black leather and attachments, and Rick Roberts in a very compromising position.
And they had believed she would join in! No, they hadn't just believed, they had attempted to force her to join in.
