by Sandra Owens
“Hey, darling. You hanging around, waiting for me?”
As if. She dropped her phone in her purse and clicked her car door unlocked, opening it. “Nope. Just leaving.”
Kyle pushed her door closed. “What’s your hurry, babe? Come on, I’ll buy you a drink. We can go to Annie’s, have a few beers, dance a little.” He edged closer, crowding her. “Maybe get to know each other better after that.”
“No thanks.” She tried to turn away, but he pressed himself against her. “I said no, Kyle.” Panic welled inside her, and she fought down the bile rising in her throat.
“I heard you, darling, but your eyes say yes.”
She pushed against his chest. “Get off me!” Suddenly, he jerked backwards like a puppet on a string.
“The lady said no.”
Jamie? At hearing his voice, the panic receded, and an inappropriate giggle escaped. Feeling giddy with relief, she peered around Kyle and waved her fingers. “Hi, Jamie.” How had he snuck up on them like that? “You gonna put him on the ground like you did that guy at the airport?”
“Who the fuck are you?” Kyle said.
“You want me to?” Jamie asked, ignoring the man he held by the back of the neck.
It would be satisfying to see Kyle dropped on his face, but she still had to work at the place for two more weeks, and Jamie wouldn’t be around to keep an eye on the creep. She had a feeling the bartender wouldn’t appreciate eating dirt and would blame her.
“No, I just want to go home.”
“That’s too bad. I was looking forward to it. Lucky for you, Kyle, the lady wants to go home. Apologize to her, then disappear.”
When no apology came, Jamie tsked. “You have one more chance.”
When Kyle’s eyes bulged, she squinted at his neck, trying to see what Jamie was doing to the man with just his fingers. However he was doing it, it was a neat trick.
“I-I’m sorry.”
“Now say, ‘I’ll never bother you again Ms. Darling.’”
“I won’t bother you again.”
It was kind of like watching a ventriloquist at work, and Sugar swallowed a giggle, certain Jamie wouldn’t see the humor. Her reaction didn’t match what had almost happened, but for some reason she felt like she’d just inhaled some kind of laughing gas.
“‘Ms. Darling.’ You forgot that part. And say it like you mean it.”
A girlie squeal sounded from Kyle. “That hurts, man.”
“I’m waiting,” Jamie said, following it with an impatient sigh.
“I won’t bother you again, Ms. Darling.”
Jamie glanced at her. “Do you think he means it?”
She studied Kyle’s face and almost felt sorry at the pain she saw in his eyes. But he’d refused to believe she meant no, so he had this little lesson coming. “I think he does, but if he bothers me again, I’ll be sure to let ya know.”
“I won’t,” Kyle croaked, sounding almost like a frog.
“What’s his last name?”
“Baxter.” Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. But he really had sounded like a frog, and she was feeling a little like she was drunk. Jamie had appeared like some kind of superhero, and that made her happy. Could happiness give one a high?
She put her finger in her mouth and bit down on it enough to hurt. This was even better than the airport dude. She’d missed most of that when Jamie had ordered her to leave.
“Here’s the deal, Kyle Baxter. Ms. Darling so much as hints you’re bothering her, you and I’ll have another little chat. Understand?”
Kyle bobbed his head. Jamie let go of him, and Kyle about tripped over his feet in his haste to leave.
Jamie, hands on his hips, watched until Kyle’s car disappeared from sight, then turned to her. He frowned. “Why are you eating your finger?”
She lost it then.
Of course, the woman would think it was funny. What had he expected, that she would understand men like Kyle Baxter took what they wanted? If he’d not come along when he had . . . Jamie shook off the thought, not even wanting to contemplate what might have happened.
“Is this to be our relationship then, Ms. Darling? You drawing men to you like bees to honey, and me riding in on my white horse and rescuing you?”
With her lips pressed tightly together, she gave a furious shake of her head. When he’d walked up behind them and heard her tell the man no, an unexpected pleasure that she wasn’t a willing participant had invaded his heart. He was a warrior. Invasions were meant to be fought, and fight this one, he would.
“You were seconds away from being assaulted, and I fail to see the humor in it. Would you like to share why you found this situation funny?” Her eyes were a sexy dark blue, but it could be the artificial lighting from the spotlights shining around them, or so he told himself.
“Frogs . . . ventriloquist . . . you know,” she gasped, her neck-length hair swirling around her like silk threads. She waved her fingers at him, then turned and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook and little snorts emitted from her.
“No, I don’t know.” What did frogs have to do with anything? Nothing she just said made sense, but his lips twitched anyway. Being a serious type of man, he didn’t see the humor in much of life, although he used to. Why was it that out of all the people he knew, this woman had him wanting to laugh?
Except when he wanted to strangle her. “When you’re done, let me know.” He moved to the front of her car and leaned against the grill, slid his phone out of his pocket and checked his messages, then his e-mail. Suppressing the part of him that longed to be included in the joke, he listened to her laughter until it trailed off.
“I’m sorry. My reaction was inappropriate, I know. I’m just happy, is all. You can’t know what that means to me.”
She stood before him, her hands clasped in front of her, reminding him of a disobedient child waiting to hear her punishment. There had been something implied by her last sentence, and the question was on the tip of his tongue to ask why she would say such a thing. He held back the words, though, because it was a stupid thought. The woman was always happy.
“No need to be sorry.” He pushed away from the hood. “Get in your car and wait for me to come up behind you. I’ll follow you home.”
“You don’t have to. I’m sure you have better things to do than playing nursemaid.”
If the night had gone as planned, he certainly would have. Strangely, he wasn’t all that disappointed he wasn’t with Jill. “Go on, Sugar, get in your car.”
He expected her to argue, but she only shrugged and turned away. Someday he might figure her out. Not that he particularly wanted to.
At the door to her car, she stopped. “Ya know, that’s the nicest you’ve sounded when talking to me. Your tone of voice I mean.” She slid behind the wheel and stared straight ahead.
Piddling puddles. Did he always come across as being mean to her? Maybe he’d try to be nicer, not that he’d be around her much longer. A little less than two weeks and Barbie would be back at the lobby desk, then Ms. Darling would return to her little hole in the Booby Palace. As he walked to his car, he eyed the breast-shaped building. Why in the world did she work there? It wasn’t a safe place for a young woman. Any woman for that matter.
He pulled his car behind hers and blinked his lights. Her little orange car surged forward in spurts until it turned out of the parking lot. Jamie shook his head and chuckled. Someone needed to teach the woman how to drive. It wasn’t until they were on the road and away from the illumination of the parking lot that he realized she hadn’t turned on her car lights.
“Sugar, Sugar, Sugar,” he muttered. “How in God’s name do you manage to stay alive?” She didn’t just need driving lessons, she needed a keeper—or at the very least, a chauffeur. A bodyguard wouldn’t be amiss either. He clicked his brights and
instead of turning on her lights, she pulled to the side of the road.
“Is something wrong?” she asked when he walked up to her door.
“Yes, your lights.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together. “What about them?”
He sighed, something he should probably get used to doing when around her. “You don’t have any.”
“They’re broke?”
“I really worry about you, Sugar.” He leaned in, reached past her, and turned on her lights.
A mistake, he instantly realized when his arm brushed against her breasts, all soft and warm. Unable to help it, he breathed in, inhaling her scent. She smelled like a combination of coconuts and vanilla, making his mouth water. Jerking his head out of the car, he backed up a step, far enough away that he couldn’t smell her.
“You worry about me?”
“I meant . . .” The pleasure shimmering in her eyes stopped him, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the remark had been meant to imply he wasn’t sure she had any brains in that beautiful head of hers. “Yeah, I guess I do.” And he kind of did.
A brilliant smile lit her face. “Thank you.”
Jamie considered bashing his head on the roof of his car when he reached it. The soft way she’d said it—as if she couldn’t believe someone cared enough to worry—had him wanting to make promises he had no intention of keeping. He did not want her turning her beautiful smiles his way, nor did he want to be the one worrying about her. No way. Nohow.
Sugar Darling might have once been the type of woman he was drawn to, but no longer. He was not the same man. He’d put too much effort into locking down the wildness that had robbed him of his parents. No drugs, alcohol, cursing, or wickedly sexy women—his self-imposed punishment for his sins.
As he followed her home, he vowed that as soon as her time at K2 was over, he’d avoid her at all costs. Not being a stupid man, he could admit she was dangerous not only to herself, but to him. He brought his forearm up to his nose and sniffed, then popped a sour lemon candy into his mouth to combat the lingering scent of coconuts.
He would call Jill and apologize again, explain he’d been under a lot of pressure on his business trip and hadn’t been himself the last few days. Jill was exactly the kind of woman he wanted in his life, one who didn’t call to the beast in him that had stolen the lives of those he loved.
If she bored him at times, all the better. It kept him settled on the course he’d set for his life. He frowned, wondering exactly how that made any sense.
Sugar pulled into her condo parking space, and he stopped behind her little car, leaving his ignition on. Just wave and go inside, Sugar. Don’t come back here. Apparently, she couldn’t read minds.
“Thanks, Jamie.” She leaned past the window and kissed his cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
Blasted bleeping bunnies.
Just great. Now his “Saint curses” had expanded into three words. He stayed until she disappeared inside, trying not to think about how her lips had felt on his skin. A coconutty aroma wafted up and he groaned. Why did she always have to smell so damn good?
Just great. That was twice a cuss word had popped into his head when thinking of her. He touched the spot where she’d pressed her lips, where the skin still tingled from the kiss. If she could do that to his cheek, what would it feel like to have his mouth on hers?
He grew hard just thinking about kissing her. “Get a grip, Saint,” he growled. It’s not ever gonna happen. The last thing he wanted was a passionate love affair with a beautiful, violet-eyed woman who was trouble with a capital T.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sugar stood in the dark and peeked through her blinds. Why was Jamie just sitting there? Should she have invited him in? She almost had, but settled on an impulsive kiss, afraid he’d reject her invitation with the disdain he normally showed toward her. Finally, he drove away, and she dropped the blind back into place.
God, why did she have to act so stupid around him? He’d just made her so nervous that she’d giggled like an idiot, then hadn’t even remembered to turn on the car’s lights. But he’d been nice to her, and he’d said he worried about her. How long had it been since anyone had cared enough about her to worry? She picked up the cat making figure eights around her legs and held him above her head. “He’s worried about me, Junior. What do you have to say about that?”
Dale Junior meeped, his word for feed me now! Apparently, her cat didn’t understand the importance of having someone concerned about her. Something had changed. Jamie had actually smiled at her. How pathetic that a few kind words and a brief smile had sent her heart racing.
Junior meeped again, louder and more insistent.
“Okay, okay. I’m fixin’ to feed ya. Have some patience.” She carried him into the kitchen and set him down. At the sound of the can opener, his figure eights took on the speed of his namesake behind the wheel of a race car.
Once Dale Junior was happily feeding his face, Sugar went into the living room and turned on her stereo before heading to her bedroom. She stripped off her clothes, dropping them in the hamper, then turned on the bathwater. After adding vanilla-and-coconut-scented bubble bath into the tub, she walked back to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine.
Hannah would have been mortified walking around nude, even alone in the privacy of her own home. It had been a coincidence that she’d read a novel not long before she put her plans to disappear into motion. In it, a government agent was teaching a man wanted by drug kingpins how to disappear.
One of the things he’d drilled into the man over and over was to do absolutely nothing the same. Don’t watch the same TV shows, don’t subscribe to the same magazines, don’t have the same interests, no matter how much you might love something. “You must become a new man, a completely different man, if you want them to never find you,” the agent had said. “Dangle one tiny thread of what they know about you, and they will find you.”
Sugar had taken the advice to heart, figuring the author must have researched how to drop from sight when writing the story. If Hannah liked something, Sugar didn’t. If Hannah didn’t like something, Sugar did.
Sugar liked wine, NASCAR races, cats, and walking around her house nude. She tried not to miss mint green tea, the Discovery Channel, her dog, and her warm, comfy robe. At least she’d managed to find a good home for her schnauzer before running away. When Rodney had asked where Baby was, Hannah had lied to him for the first time in her life, telling him her dog had gotten out and run away. To support the lie, she’d posted flyers on light poles and cried for a week.
The tears had been real.
Two long years she’d been alone since then, afraid to make friends, fearing she would slip up. But she seldom felt a stir from Hannah these days—she wasn’t sure she could go back to the person she had been no matter how hard she might try. Now that she had a taste of all she’d been missing, she had no desire to give up her new life.
Sugar set the wineglass on the edge of the tub and stepped in. Reaching over, she turned off the water and leaned back, sinking down. “Mmmm. Feels good.” As she sipped her wine, she found herself thinking about her new friend, Maria. She’d never had a girlfriend after her mother died. Friends visited each other’s houses, and never knowing what her father’s mood might be, she hadn’t dared to invite anyone over.
She was almost afraid to hope that someday she could consider Maria her best friend. To have a girlfriend she could call if she just needed to talk, maybe someone to shop with on occasion, wouldn’t that be something?
Maybe a day would come when she would even have a boyfriend. She’d never had one of those before. Rodney didn’t count. Not wanting to go there and spoil her good mood, she closed her eyes and brought Jamie’s face to her mind. Wouldn’t he make a fine boyfriend? So what if it was a dream that would never come true? Nothing wrong with wishing.
“Mowwl.”
“When are you going to learn the word is meow?” Sitting on the rim of the tub, Junior blinked green eyes at her before turning his attention to swatting bubbles, one of his favorite things to do.
She’d found him a year ago behind the Booby Palace, a dirty, starving kitten. A cat was the perfect pet for her, and Junior had turned out to be a good listener. When he brought his paw up to his mouth and licked it, he wrinkled his nose and did a cute little tongue flick.
“Silly boy. No matter how many times you test them, they’re still going to taste like soap.” He wasn’t a pretty cat, just a common orange tabby with a bent tail and the tip of one ear missing. She’d always wished he could talk so he could tell her what had happened. Pretty or not, she loved him dearly.
“The water’s getting cold. Are you ready?” Apparently, watching the water drain was a fascinating event to a cat. To hers, anyway. She left him to his amusement, wrapped a towel around herself, and picked up her wine.
It was time for her nightly ritual of surfing the Internet to see if bad cop and bad cop were up to anything. An hour later, she sat back. Her greatest hope was to one day see that their dirty deeds had caught up with them. Nothing would please her more than to have a picture pop up of the two of them in handcuffs, doing the perp walk in front of cameras.
Although she watched for bad cop’s and bad cop’s crimes to catch up with them, if that ever happened, there was no doubt in her mind that Rodney would try to drag her down with him. Running away from an abusive situation was one thing, but there was much more to her disappearance than that.
She stared at the picture of Rodney at a ribbon cutting for a new beauty salon, her father standing close behind in his usual ass-kissing place. It saddened her that the man she’d once adored was no more. After her mother died, he’d started drinking. That was bad enough, but then he’d met Rodney Vanders, the chief of police of the small town of Vanders, South Carolina. The Vanders had ruled the town with an iron fist for four generations. Rumors abounded of the bribes and bullying by Rodney, his father before him, and so on. Unfortunately, everyone was too afraid to do anything about it.
