by Sandra Owens
Junior jumped onto the table and tried to catch the cursor. “Well, Junior, it appears nothing’s changed.”
She started to turn off the computer but paused. Should she? Probably not, but her curiosity got the best of her. She typed in Jamie Turner of Pensacola, Florida, then James Turner. Nothing. She’d lay odds the boss had a hand in keeping his men under the radar. To test her theory, she entered the names of the other men from K2.
“You really are scary, boss man,” she murmured when her prediction proved true. It only made her want to work for K2 even more. After she started her new job, she’d talk to Maria about things she could do to stay hidden.
Taking a guess, she typed in James Turner and broadened her search. There were a lot of them, but she paused when she came to a James Sr. from Akron, Ohio. It was an obituary for a husband and wife killed in a car crash ten years ago. They were survived by their son, a James Jr., age twenty. She guessed Jamie to be about thirty, give or take a year. Right age.
After that, it was easy to find the article detailing the accident. “Oh, God, Junior. He was driving the car.” Her cat lowered his body onto the desk, prepared to listen as he did each night when she ranted about bad cop and bad cop. “Says here he was speeding and hit black ice. His father was having a heart attack, and Jamie’s mother was in the backseat with him. Neither one of them had on their seat belts, only Jamie. They were both killed, and Jamie walked away without a scratch.”
If that had happened to her, she’d never get over the guilt. Was this her Jamie though? She keyed in a search for Jamie Turner of Akron, Ohio, and was surprised at the number of hits. Jamie the quarterback, winning the homecoming game with his Hail Mary pass. Jamie the homecoming king, laughing as a crown was put on his head. Jamie smiling at the homecoming queen who looked back at him with adoring eyes. Then there was Jamie winning a gold medal at the state swimming finals. Jamie pitching a shutout against the school’s rival.
“Holy freaking Batman, Junior. He’s Superman.” Or, he had been. After high school and the wreck, the only thing she could find about him was a follow-up article on the school’s hero a few months after the accident, announcing he’d enlisted in the navy.
What she found interesting: there were no stories about him after he graduated until the accident. Wouldn’t a kid that talented go to college? Surely, he’d had scholarship offers. There was a missing piece, though, and she was more determined than ever to solve the puzzle of Jamie Turner.
What she now understood, however, was why he never laughed.
Jamie intentionally arrived at K2 thirty minutes early for the sole purpose of getting into the inner sanctum before he’d have to acknowledge Sugar Darling. SNAFU. There she was, a cheery smile on her face.
“Good morning, Jamie. Thanks again for seeing me safely home.”
It would be rude to ignore her, so he stopped at the receptionist’s desk. “No problem. Are you working there tonight?” Shut up, mouth. Not his concern. The purple blouse turned her eyes the violet color he liked best. They were almost as pretty when they were blue, though.
“I am. Two more weeks, then I’m done with them.”
“I’ll follow you home tonight . . . You know, just to make sure there aren’t any problems,” he said before punching in his code. Just because he wanted to make sure she wasn’t hassled didn’t mean anything.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
As he entered K2’s inner sanctum, her words registered. She was leaving the Booby Palace? Good, then he could stop worrying about her.
He backed up a step. “You’re welcome.” Now that he stood behind the receptionist’s counter, he could see she wore a black skirt that stopped several inches above her knees. His gaze followed her long, shapely legs down to the black do-me heels with little straps. Somehow, whatever she wore always seemed to be a mix of classy and sexy. Very sexy.
It had been years since he’d allowed himself to even think of having wild monkey sex, but lust slammed through him with the force of a torpedo hitting its target. England’s eggs, he wanted her. Right there, right then. On top of the counter, on the floor, he didn’t really care.
“Jamie?”
He jerked his eyes up and felt his face flush. Was he blushing? What was it about Sugar Darling that made him want to throw all his rules out the window? She stared back at him, and he about bit off his tongue to keep from asking her out to dinner.
“What?” It was like being back in high school, trying to act cool around a hot girl and failing miserably. It was both awkward and exciting, but in the intervening years, he’d apparently lost his smooth moves.
She lifted one lovely shoulder in a shrug, the gesture pulling her blouse apart enough for him to see the creamy valley of her breasts.
There were times in a battle when it was wise to retreat and regroup, and he decided it was one of those times. “Well, have a nice day.” What a total dork he was, but her eyes softened, and she smiled that gorgeous smile of hers, and he found himself smiling back.
“You have a nice day, too.”
For the first time ever, he had trouble concentrating on his job. All he could think about was Sugar Darling, imagining her naked except for her do-me heels. He pictured her under him, over him, in a bed, and against the wall. Wild monkey sex—he wanted it, and he wanted it with her. From the way she looked at him, she was definitely interested.
What was he going to do about it?
Since the accident, he’d not questioned his self-imposed rules. There were times he’d like a beer or glass of wine, but it was an easy enough rule to follow. He especially didn’t miss the drugs. Did miss the cursing a bit though.
But the sex . . . He’d accustomed himself to reining in his needs and had believed he’d been successful. As he sucked on a lemon drop, he swiveled his chair and stared at the map on the wall, trying to concentrate on the red pushpins where K2 had active operations underway. Annoyed, he threw his pen on the desk. He’d wasted an entire morning thinking about Sugar.
Did he want her? Absolutely, unequivocally yes. More than he’d wanted another woman in years. He was hard just thinking about her, but she was a threat to the rules he’d put in place.
For months after the wreck, he’d been lost in a haze of drugs and booze in an attempt to dull the pain of what he’d done. Then the day came when he had to appear in court. Although he’d hit black ice, and that was determined as the cause of the accident along with his high rate of speed, he’d tested positive for marijuana and alcohol.
To his dying day, he would thank his lucky stars to have gotten the judge he had. His attorney had advised him to plead not guilty because Jamie didn’t have any priors, and it could be argued he was speeding to the emergency room because his father was having a heart attack. The lawyer had thought it likely Jamie would only get his hands slapped.
Refusing to take the advice, he’d pled guilty, hoping the court would throw him in prison where he belonged. Instead, the wizened old judge had been sympathetic of Jamie’s loss and strongly suggested he join the military.
“If you want to honor your father’s and mother’s lives,” he’d said, “do something with yours that would have made them proud.”
That night, he’d gone to the house that was no longer a home with parents who loved him even when he’d screwed up, and, in a rage that he hadn’t been locked up and the key thrown away, he had gotten stoned dead drunk.
He’d blown everything. The college football scholarship he’d lost the summer after graduation when he’d hurt his shoulder playing a game of football with friends, all of them high. The homecoming queen—his girlfriend—had broken up with him when it turned out he wasn’t going to be a college football star.
Then he had killed his parents, and every screwup that came before paled in comparison.
What kind of judge turned loose a man who ruined everything he touched
? The next morning, he’d stood in front of a mirror, bleary-eyed and swaying, staring at himself as he contemplated his choices. Out of all the things said in the courtroom the day before, one thing kept hammering over and over in his mind. The judge was right: his parents wouldn’t be very proud of the man looking back at him.
Jamie gave himself three days to sober up, then went to the closest recruiting office—which happened to be the navy—and enlisted. When the opportunity arose, he tried out for the SEALs and managed to get through the elimination process by the skin of his teeth. By that time, he’d already instituted the rules he would live by, and it was no surprise when his SEAL teammates nicknamed him Saint.
The last thing he wanted in his life was a woman who called to the man who was far from a saint. There’d been women who had tempted him to fall back into his old ways, but it had been a quickly passing urge, easy to resist.
Sugar threatened rule number three: no anything-goes sex. Because he knew down to his toes that’s how it would be between them. If he gave in, which rule would fall next? He’d already cursed twice because of her, even if it was only in his mind. Next thing he knew, he’d slip and say one aloud. Doing drugs didn’t worry him. He’d never touch the stuff again. But alcohol? Different story.
When would he decide there would be no harm in joining her in a glass of wine over dinner? No, he had no choice but to resist Sugar Darling. He lived his life to honor his parents, and nothing else mattered.
CHAPTER SIX
God, she was tired. Going from one job to the next was taking its toll. The numbers on the computer screen blurred, and Sugar pushed away from her desk. The music blaring from the strip club didn’t help her pounding headache, and the three cups of coffee she’d downed to stay awake weren’t doing it any good either.
One more week and she’d never have to come back to the club. Robert hadn’t given up trying to talk her into staying, but she was so ready to be gone. The one plus—Kyle had avoided her like the plague. She’d been a little worried he would ignore Jamie’s warning, but apparently Jamie’s message had come through loud and clear.
She powered off the computer and tidied up her desk. A tropical storm had moved offshore and it was raining so hard she could hear it hitting the roof even over the music. After slipping on her raincoat, she grabbed her umbrella and purse. Wouldn’t want to keep Jamie waiting.
True to his word, he’d been parked behind her car every night when she walked out the door. He didn’t get out, didn’t talk to her, just followed her home and waited until she was inside her condo before driving off into the night.
It was kind of weird, like having a phantom guardian angel. She’d tried to tell him the day before when she was at K2 that it wasn’t necessary, that Kyle wasn’t bothering her. He’d just grunted and walked off.
That was weird, too. After his one day of being nice to her, he was now ignoring her completely, to the point that she actually missed the grouchy Saint. Strangely, he intrigued her more each day. After what she’d learned about him on the Internet, she’d come to the conclusion there were depths to him he kept hidden.
It was as if there were two different Jamies: the one before the accident that had killed his parents and the one after. Unable to resist, she’d spent hours studying the pictures of him in high school, and in almost all of them, he was either laughing or had a big smile on his face. She could understand the grief and guilt he must have suffered, but it was as if he had banished forever the boy who had always been happy.
She thought back to the day she’d found Junior in the alley. Her cat had not been pleased when she’d trapped him and carried him home. He’d hissed and spit; he’d hidden for days under her bed. Since he couldn’t talk, she could only try to imagine what he might have gone through trying to survive. Considering his bent tail and the missing part of an ear, at some point, he’d obviously either been in a fight or had been tortured.
With extreme patience and determination, she’d slowly won him over. When Jamie had given her a manly grunt the day before—after she’d told him he didn’t need to worry about protecting her—a lightbulb had gone off. If he was worried about her, that must mean he cared, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. Could she win Jamie over as she had Junior with the same kind of patience and determination?
“Here, kitty, kitty,” she murmured as she opened the door to step outside the Palace. With a new purpose in mind, she brought up her umbrella and the wind promptly tore it out of her hands.
“Get in the car!”
Sugar jerked her gaze from her departing umbrella to the car parked two feet in front of her. Jamie leaned over his console and pushed the passenger door open, and she scurried inside.
“Wow, did you see that?” Crap, in the few seconds it had taken to get in, she’d gotten soaked and was dripping water all over his leather seats. That should make him happy. When he grunted what she took to be a yes, she had to bite back a smile. Oh, yeah, kitty, kitty was hissing.
“Where ya goin’? You just drove past my car.” She twisted and stared at the receding car until it was lost in the rain.
“You can’t drive worth a . . .”
“Shit?” she supplied at his pause.
“On a clear day under the noonday sun,” he finished as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’d be a menace to yourself and others on a night like this.”
“But I need to get to work tomorrow.”
A longer pause this time. “I’ll pick you up in the morning and take you to get your clown car.”
“I think my car just got insulted.” She pretended to be offended by adding a huff and staring out the window. When she’d ignored her cat during the you-can-trust-me stage, he’d soldier-crawled to the edge of the bedframe where he could keep watch on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she waited to see if Jamie would look at her. He did. One point to her.
“Admit it, Sugar, that thing is an easy target for ridicule.”
Convincing herself she’d heard a smile in his voice, she shifted toward him. “Torture me if ya want, but I’ll admit no such thing.” Well damn, his eyes heated and his nostrils flared. She was onto something it appeared. Just what, she wasn’t quite sure yet, but she’d puzzle it out. “Course, I’ve never had my feet lit on fire, so I might blab all my secrets.”
“Had your feet held to the fire,” he said, the slight crinkle of amusement at the corners of his eyes contradicting his scowl.
“That, too.” The windshield wipers slashed back and forth on high speed, and the car’s lights were overpowered by the heavy downpour. It was probably a good thing she wasn’t driving in this mess.
Inside it was warm and cozy, and the man next to her smelled damn good, the spicy scent of his aftershave making her want to press her nose to his neck and breathe him in. He wore a button-down, white Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She laced her fingers together to keep from trailing them over his arm to see if it was as muscle-hard as it looked.
A sign ripped from its moorings flew across the road in front of them. Sugar screamed and grabbed Jamie’s thigh. He swerved to the left without changing speed, and continued down the road as if flying signs were an everyday occurrence.
“Wow, I’m impressed. I woulda crashed us into one of those parked cars.”
“The reason I’m driving and you’re not.”
It wasn’t until his leg twitched under her palm that she realized she still had her hand on him. She almost snatched it away, but that was what Hannah would have done, so she left her hand where it was. If he didn’t want it there, he wouldn’t hesitate to let her know.
It felt good to touch him, but she’d known it would. His heat seeped through her skin and up her arm, warming her. Probably, she shouldn’t caress his leg the way she wanted. Hannah had been taught about sex by Rodney, and she’d hated having those cruel hands on her. Sugar wanted those memories replac
ed by good ones, but she’d yet to meet a man she thought could live up to her fantasies.
Until Jamie.
She’d rented endless romantic movies over the last two years, studying couples falling in love and how they treated each other. At first, the love scenes had made her physically ill, but as time went on and she continued to watch them, she’d started to understand Rodney was a sicko and how it had been with him wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.
Jamie pulled up in front of her condo, leaving the car running. During the ride, he’d not spoken since he’d informed her why he was the one driving, nor had he pushed her hand off his leg. On an impulse, she leaned across the console and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Thanks for the ride.” She grabbed her purse before turning to open the door.
“Sugar,” he said, sounding like a pissed off, growling dog.
Pulling her back to him, he curled long fingers around the nape of her neck and covered her mouth with his. The revulsion she’d been afraid would rear its ugly head the first time a man’s mouth touched hers was nonexistent.
Oh, God. So that was how it felt to be kissed by someone who she actually wanted to kiss her. It was wonderful, marvelous—spectacular even. He teased her lips with little nips, and then he slid his tongue inside her mouth.
Afraid he would stop if she responded the way she wanted, she tentatively touched her tongue to his. He tasted like tart lemons, and she gave a little sigh of pleasure. Remembering she’d wanted to touch his arm, she placed her hand on his forearm, feeling his muscles flex under her palm. She sensed he held back, but she didn’t know how to let him know he could devour her if he wished. She gave a little sigh of impatience, and he stilled.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
His hand slid away from her neck and he pulled away. It was too dark to see his eyes, to know if there was regret in them. “That was nice,” she said, then cringed at how mundane that sounded considering her body was tingling all over.
