The Lawson Boys: Marty

by Angela Verdenius

Great. Just great.

  Crumpling it up, she shoved it into the console and shut the door. Annoyed, she started the car and pulled out of the car park.

  Okay, she’d made it through the shopping, she told herself. She’d made it through, the whole sordid thing would blow over, and everything would go back to normal. She just had to weather it a bit longer.

  Pulling into her driveway, she entered the garage and the door rolled down behind her. Unlocking the door into the kitchen, she proceeded to unload the groceries onto the kitchen counter.

  Cleo pranced around, sticking her head into the bags and investigating the smells. Belle opened a tin of tuna and put some into a bowl for her. She was just starting to pack the food away when her doorbell rang.

  Ignoring it, she continued unpacking, but when it proceeded to ring insistently she finally grew annoyed enough to answer it. Stomping down the corridor, she flung the door open. “What?” And then she nearly swallowed her tongue.

  Standing on her doorstep with his sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, a pair of jeans that fit snugly over his long legs, his brows raised under his unruly mop of blonde hair falling over his forehead, was Marty Lawson.

  She stared at him.

  “Not a good time?” he finally drawled.

  “I -no. I mean, yes.”

  His disconcerting gaze slid over her face. “Yes or no?”

  “I guess…yes.” Belle moistened her lips, still surprised. “What are you doing here?”

  “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

  “My phone?”

  “You didn’t ring me back.” Hands on hips, he studied her. “You’re looking a little pale. Are you feeling okay?”

  Before she realised what she was doing, Belle reached up to touch her cheeks. “I feel fine.” Jerking her hands away, she frowned. “I don’t understand. Why are you here?”

  “I told you. You didn’t answer the phone, nor did you ring me.”

  Puzzled, she leaned against the door. “Sorry?”

  “Sorry as in sorry you didn’t call me, or sorry that you don’t understand?”

  “Um…both?”

  Taking a deep breath, Marty looked at her for several seconds in silence before he asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Well, yes.” Belle started to gather her scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. “But why are you here?”

  “I said-”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I mean, why are you here?”

  “I think we’re circling the issue.”

  “The issue?”

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  Belle blinked. “What?”

  “Strange, you seemed more able to grasp simple questions back in the city.” Marty glanced around. “Must be all this fresh air.” Smiling suddenly, he reached out, caught her shoulders in his big hands and turned her effortlessly around. “Inside.”

  Before she knew it he’d crowded behind her and neatly pushed her into the hallway, the door closing behind them.

  Cleo stuck her head around the kitchen doorway, her golden eyes widening at the sight of Marty.

  Curious as to why exactly he was here, Belle turned to face him, only to find herself looking directly at his upper chest. She looked up further to the base of his throat. It was a strong throat, tanned, and when she lifted her gaze it was to glide up past that now familiar strong jaw and firm lips and higher until she was looking up into brilliant blue eyes that held a touch of heat.

  Heat? Oh yeah, heat all right. The heat from his body seemed to swirl around her, sucking her into his lethal zone. His clean, masculine scent tantalized her senses, stroking through her, and she actually swayed towards him before she realised in horror what she was doing and jerked backwards in mortification.

  “Tea,” she almost stammered. “Yes, tea.”

  One dark eyebrow quirked quizzically and she blinked. Nope, no heat in his eyes, just a - knowing? Shit no, please, not the knowing expression. His lashes lowered briefly before lifting once more, this time his eyes holding a glint of humour.

  Great. Wonderful. She’d made a fool of herself once more. All she could do was brazen this out. Why not? She had to brazen the scandal out, so what was one more embarrassment?

  Swinging on her heel, she hurried down the hallway and into the kitchen, moving around to the other side of the counter and switching on the kettle.

  Damn it, she thought, watching him enter and squat down to pat Cleo, his firm backside shown to advantage in those bum-hugging jeans, even her cat couldn’t resist him. One sniff from her, one stroke from him, and the little hussy was on her back with her stomach bared to his long fingers.

  Knowing fingers.

  Goodness, she could remember what those fingers felt like when they’d stroked down her own skin, sliding into her panties and lingering on her backside.

  Her very ample, dimpled backside.

  The thought was like a bucket of iced water and she turned away to search for the tea cups. Whatever Marty was here for, it wasn’t her. She didn’t believe that for a minute regardless of what he said. He hardly knew her, and certainly wouldn’t have come all the way from the city to the country for anything more than probably making sure she was going to keep her mouth shut and not mention that she’d been staying with his parents. Or maybe he was here as a favour to his Mum, seeing as how she and her own mother were best friends.

  Damn it! She shouldn’t have made that phone call to apologise.

  Damn it! She should have rung Marty’s phone number and assured him over the phone that she’d keep her mouth shut.

  Damn it! Just - damn it!

  “Cute cat.”

  She turned to see Marty standing with Cleo lying in his arms, her eyes closed blissfully as he continued to stroke her tummy. Yeah, Belle had an idea what that felt like. Don’t think about it.

  “Cleo,” she informed him, “came to my door as a little stray with a bellyful of kittens.”

  “Oh?” Grinning, he looked down at Cleo. “One for the boys, are you?”

  “Not now.” Needing something to do with her hands so she didn’t stand there and stare at his hands - those strong, capable, calloused hands - Belle started to unpack the last of the groceries. “She was sterilised as soon as her kittens went to their new homes.”

  “You didn’t keep any?”

  Opening the pantry, she put the packet of spaghetti inside. “No. I wasn’t sure I was going to keep her, but…” She glanced at Cleo, who was looking supremely pleased with herself.

  “But you couldn’t part with her when the time came?” Marty guessed, tossing a silky hank of blonde hair out of his eyes.

  Oh, that was such a wicked, bad boy gesture, especially when combined with those blue, blue eyes. Belle cleared her throat. “Correct. Now she runs the house.”

  “All females do.” Managing to swap Cleo into the cradle of one arm without disturbing her position, Marty perched on a high stool at the counter.

  She remembered Sugar, his little dog, lying back in his arms. She just bet a few women had been swept up into those strong arms and cradled close, too. Not that he’d be doing that to her unless he wanted to give himself a hernia.

  Stop it! Just stop it!

  Silence filled the kitchen. Belle, not really knowing what to say, took the bag containing the fruit and took it to the sink. After washing the apples, she put them into a basket and put them back on the counter.

  Taking one, Marty polished it on his shirt and took a bite. Chewing, his strong jaw working, he studied Belle while Cleo lounged back in his arm. How he managed to look so masculine and downright sexy with a cat flopped back in his arm was beyond Belle, but he managed it effortlessly.

  The man really was lethal.

  And sitting in her kitchen.

  The question was…why?

  Picking up the remaining fruit, she placed them in the ‘fridge and returned to the counter to switch off the boiling kettle, only to find that Marty had alread
y done it.

  Dropping a tea bag into each cup, she poured the hot water in and jiggled the bags. “How strong?”

  “Black, no sugar.”

  Tough boy. Figured. Taking the tea bags out, she pushed one cup in front of him before pouring milk into her tea. Finally, she looked up at him.

  He quirked a brow at her. Him and his damned eyebrows. She’d never seen such expressive eyebrows, for God’s sake. One quirk could manage to make him look puzzled, wicked, or downright hot. It wasn’t fair. The man was lethal enough with his buff body and handsome face, to have those eyebrows as well was just sinful.

  Eyebrows. Geez. She mentally thunked her forehead with the heel of her hand. They were just eyebrows, nothing wicked about eyebrows.

  His eyes twinkled suddenly. Yeah, that was it. Those eyes were lethal.

  Or maybe she just needed to pull her skittering hormones in order and just get to the point. “Why are you here?”

  There went those eyebrows again, this time registering polite surprise. “I’d have thought that was obvious, now you’ve had time to think about it.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  He took another bite of apple, chewing thoughtfully while studying her intently.

  Picking up the cup, Belle pursed her lips and blew lightly on the hot surface of the liquid. His eyes darkening just had to be her imagination. The stress was really getting to her. Big time. Rattled all over again, she put the cup down and proceeded to gather up the empty grocery bags, anything to keep herself busy and not looking at him.

  “I was worried about you,” Marty said.

  It was her turn to be surprised. “I’m fine.”

  “You cried the other night when I rang you about the photo.”

  She flushed. “No, I didn’t.”

  He looked her directly in the eyes. “Your friend said you did.”

  “Holly exaggerates.” Crossing to the pantry door, she stuffed the plastic bags into the storage container for later use.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.” Taking a deep, calming breath, she glanced over the pantry shelves. “Would you like something to eat with your tea? A biccie?”

  “No.”

  This was getting them nowhere. “Look, Marty, why are you really here?”

  “For you.” His voice was directly behind her.

  Swinging around, she gaped up at him standing so close to her. She hadn’t heard him move.

  Cleo was sitting on his vacated stool with a disgruntled look on her furry face.

  He stood directly before her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body, his gaze intent, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans.

  Stay calm! She cleared her throat. “You’re here for…me?”

  “Yeah.” His gaze slid slowly over her face, lingering on her lips before sliding down further, over her throat and shoulders, stopping on her breasts.

  “Oh God!” It hit her hard, like a bucket of iced water, and she fisted her hands. “I don’t believe you!”

  There went those damned eyebrows again, arching up in query.

  “You think I’m a slut!”

  Any hint of wickedness disappeared from his widening eyes. “I what?”

  “You think I’m an easy lay, a woman who puts out!” Placing one hand on his chest, she shoved hard, pushing past him at the same time. “What’s the joke? Is this a dare?” Refusing to look at him, she stormed back to the counter and braced both hands on it, glaring at the now empty stool which Cleo had quickly vacated. “Go home, Martin. I’m in no mood to be made fun of.”

  “I’m not making-”

  “I’m not a slut!”

  There was silence for several seconds before Marty said in a dangerously low voice, “You better not be saying what I think you are.”

  “Then let me make it easy for you to understand. Just because I was stupid enough to tell the whole world that I let Trevor bed me doesn’t mean I’m spreading my legs for anyone else, and that includes you!”

  Yeah, that was telling him. That was laying down the law, letting him know exactly what she thought of him.

  Yeah.

  Only as the silence grew longer and heavier and a whole hell of a lot tenser, she started to get a little nervous.

  “Is that what you think?” The words were silkily dark.

  Was it her imagination or had he just invaded her personal space, because sure as God had made green apples her nerves were tingling. Heat prickled along her spine and she could swear that his lethal zone had just collided with her aura. It made her fury sputter weakly.

  Swallowing, but still angry, she replied tersely, “Yes.”

  “Know it for a fact, do you?” Those words slid across her skin like the lick of black leather, threatening, promising all kinds of punishments.

  “Yes.” The answer came out shakily. Oh God, get a grip! She didn’t know if the shivers going through her were of fear or a delicious reaction to his words and tone - oh geez! Not delicious! No no no! Definitely fear! No, anger. Yes, anger!

  “I see.” There was the brush of warm breath across the nape of her neck and she jumped, but before she could swing around to face him and assure herself that he was just a horny bloke and not in a million years a threat to her senses, two heavily muscled arms appeared each side of her and two big hands slammed down on the counter top right beside her much smaller ones. The heat of his muscled chest was against her back as he leaned over her, caging her in with his body, his ribbed stomach against the small of her back, his groin pushed against her bottom, the fronts of his hard thighs aligned behind her softer ones.

  She was surrounded by heat, and then the heat that almost made her knees buckle was by the hot, moist mouth so close to her ear as he breathed softly, “You have no idea in what way I want you, Belle.”

  Hoo boy, that just sent all sorts of vivid imaginings racing through her brain, each one hotter than the last, more tantalising, more erotic, and none of it helped by the sensation of his heat, scent and strength surrounding her.

  Marty Lawson was more lethal than she’d ever imagined.

  “You see, you hot-tempered little firecracker,” he continued in that same silky voice that promised all sorts of dark things, “I was worried about you. I came to check that you were all right, imaging you crying and upset. But surprise, I found someone else.”

  What on earth did he mean by that? Even as she thought it, she inhaled deeply, unable to resist wallowing wantonly, just for a very short time, in his nearness and masculine scent.

  Talk about weak-willed. She struggled to regain her senses, which was kind of hard when his lips brushed her ear as he spoke, his warm breath making her nerves tingle, his hard, muscled body making her feel so soft and submissive and delicious. Closing her eyes, she tried to centre herself.

  Big mistake. Now all her senses were trained on him.

  “Know what I found, Belle?” His whispered slid through her like liquid heat.

  “Um…” She struggled to even think coherently.

  Those firm lips brushed her ear again, making her tingle with every movement, every moist breath. “I found a woman who is fiery and passionate and hot.”

  Her eyes popped open. “What?”

  “You think you’re meek and mild, but underneath you’re a firecracker waiting to go off.” His teeth grazed her ear, making her jump. “I felt your fire back in the city, the first time we kissed. You were hot, Belle.”

  “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You do. And that tells me something else.”

  “What?” Her breath caught as his hips nudged hers in a deliberate move.

  “That tells me that I’m the only one that has felt that fire.” One hard thigh slid smoothly between hers.

  He didn’t move it any further, his knee rubbing against her leg, but it was enough for her to feel…invaded.

  Deliciously, enticingly invaded.

  Good God, a simple little movement and she felt invaded? Eithe
r she really was easy or Marty was an expert in seduction.

  Oh wait, he was an expert in seduction.

  That little knowledge cleared the cobwebs of desire a little.

  “Look, Martin, I don’t know what you’re up to.” She refused to acknowledge how husky her voice sounded. “But-”

  “I came here to check on you, I was concerned.” One big hand slid closer, his thumb grazing over her little finger. “The thought of you crying made my gut clench.”

  Almost hypnotized by the sensation of his thumb rubbing her finger, Belle could only close her eyes.

  “That’s never happened before.” His voice was soothing now, stroking across her tumultuous emotions, lulling her. “I’ve comforted crying women, I’ve never liked to see one cry, but you, Belle Broune, you’re different.”

  She couldn’t even float up through the languid sensations cradling her to reply. His breath was warm on the side of her neck, his lips nuzzling the pulse that pounded in her throat.

  “The thought of you crying made me want to gather you close, to protect you from anyone who would dare to upset you, to hurt you. I couldn’t get you out of my mind.” His thumb grazed higher, fingers following until his calloused palm was cupping her arm and trailing slowly upwards. “You refused to answer my calls, to ring me, so I finally came to see for myself that you were okay.”

  The trail his palm left behind was hot, there was no other way to describe it. Little sparks seemed to dance across her skin. Heat was pooling low in her loins.

  “And there you were.” His hand trailed back down until he shackled her wrist in a loose but definite hold, his other hand repeating his movements. “Surprised to see me, not understanding. So sweet. At first.” He nipped her throat and Belle was grateful that he was pressed against her, keeping her upright, or she’d have fallen to her knees right then and there. “But when I tried to explain you leaped to the wrong conclusion.” He shackled her other wrist, his hold firming on both. Not tight, but letting her know that he captured her. “Telling me that you weren’t going to spread your legs for me, that I thought you were a slut. You’re very lucky, Belle, that I didn’t just turn you over my knee then and there.”

  “What?” The delicious cobwebs of sensation holding her captive started to dissolve at the harshness of his words.