by Vivian Arend
Jack blanched. “Gross.”
“I know, right? And listen to this one—‘Glad you set us up at a place with a fancy dress code. Hope whatever she’s wearing is tight and low-cut.’”
“Grosser.”
“I feel like I arranged a date for one of those fuckers on To Catch A Predator. But this last message— ‘I’ll text you tomorrow with all the dirty deets. Definitely gonna get some tonight.’” Dean gagged. “Um, how about you don’t text me tomorrow, asshole? I’d rather wax off all my body hair than hear about this creep’s sex life.”
Jack shook his head in amazement, unable to believe guys that sleazy actually existed. He and the boys were known to joke around about sex, even have serious convos about it every now and then, but to brag about bagging a chick to a total stranger? That was just wrong.
“Who is this guy?” he asked Dean. “Is he one of the clients you and I interviewed last week?”
His partner shook his head. “Gillian and I met with him. Name’s Billy something-or-other. Billy Taylor. Yeah, Taylor.”
Jack froze. “Billy?”
“Yup.” Dean held up the stack of papers in his free hand. “His file is in here somewhere.”
An uneasy feeling trickled down Jack’s spine as he grabbed the files from Dean’s outstretched hand. He was probably being paranoid. There were tons of Billys and Bills and Williams in the world, thousands in San Francisco alone. No way was this the same Billy who Pepper had been talking about at the barbecue.
With an impressive feat of speed, Jack shuffled through the files. Names, dates, and data flashed in front of his eyes until he finally found what he was looking for.
There. Billy Taylor.
Place of employment?
SFPD
“Shit,” Jack mumbled, before his gaze snagged on something even more disturbing. The name of Billy Taylor’s date—Penny Wilson.
Jack stared at those eleven letters for what felt like an eternity.
And then he exploded.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
The tornado of fury inside him homed in on Dean, who blinked in confusion. “What?”
“You set up a date for Parker’s sister?” Jack shouted. “With this asshole? Jesus Christ, Dean! Parker’s going to kill you for letting this creep get anywhere near Pepper—”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean cut in, genuinely flabbergasted. He leaned in and tapped the top of the page. “Her name is Penny. P-E-N-N-Y. Penny.”
“That’s Pepper’s goddamn alias! I can’t believe—”
“Why the fuckity-fuck does Parker’s sister have an alias?!”
“—you didn’t vet his date before you took the job!”
“It wasn’t necessary!” Dean yelled back. “Because he obviously doesn’t want to get to know her! He just wanted us to set up a romantic date so he could bang her—”
“Gonna be hard for him to do that after I murder him!”
“Who has an alias, for fuck’s sake? How was I supposed to know it was Pepper?”
The two of them abruptly stopped shouting, breathing hard as they stared each other down. Dean still looked confused, so much so that Jack’s anger dissolved. He couldn’t blame his friend for not knowing about Pepper’s ridiculous habit of using another name when she met new people. Jack had grown up with the Wilsons, but Dean had only joined the fold a few years ago. Pepper had gone off to school by then, which meant that Dean had never even met her.
“Shit. I’m sorry for flipping out on you,” Jack said, guilt and disgust at having lost his temper warring with fury that Billy was out with Pepper. “You couldn’t have known.”
Dean shook his head in bewilderment. “I had no clue he was trying to get with Parker’s sister. I mean—she’s a redhead, isn’t she? The file said Penny had black hair, and…oh, fuck. You’re right. Parker is gonna kill me.”
Another wave of blind rage obstructed Jack’s vision, except this time it had nothing to do with Dean’s inadvertent screw-up and everything to do with Pepper’s sleazy date.
Definitely gonna get some tonight.
Jack’s hands curled into fists, crumpling the files he was still holding.
That slimebag fake-cop loser actually thought he stood a chance of getting Pepper into bed?
Not if Jack had anything to do with it.
Pepper’s temper was still raging by the time she crawled out of her cab at the restaurant, carefully adjusting the skirt of her little black dress over her knees as she exited. She did up another button on her jacket, breathing out slowly in an attempt to blow out the rest of her frustrations. Her smile had to look forced, but Billy didn’t seem to mind, his admiring gaze taking in every inch as she approached the door of the restaurant.
Unfortunately, his admiration lingered a little too long on her chest, and that after she’d deliberately made sure to wear something that covered most of her assets.
Talk about awkward situations. Pepper had been within thirty seconds of calling the big evening off. Then Jack had to go and screw things up.
She didn’t really want to be here tonight. She’d had her phone in her hand to call and cancel, when he called instead. At that point there was no way she could back down, and now she felt like a creeper for being at one of the most expensive places in town when she totally planned on telling Billy she never wanted to see him again.
Damn Jack Hunter. Damn him to hell.
“You’re gorgeous.” Billy managed to pull his eyes above her neck level briefly, flashing his pearly white smile that now made her think of cannibals preparing for a feast.
It wasn’t his fault that she’d gotten cold feet. Or shoes of ice. He hadn’t done anything specific to make her leery, but after the debacle at the end of her road trip, maybe her spidey senses were tingling. A little too hard, and not in the way of good tingles.
Still, time to make the best of it. “You look pretty good yourself.”
And he did. The man cleaned up nice, in a sharply cut suit she wondered how he could afford. Even that was a thought she had to thank Jack for putting in her brain, along with Suz, if she were honest, because cops were notoriously underpaid. Pepper would hate to know what a parking jockey pulled an hour.
“If you’ll follow me to your table, please.”
Small talk was cut off as she wove between small tables in pursuit of the maître d’. Billy snapped to attention and pulled out her chair, his hands lingering a little too long on her shoulders before he made his way to his own seat.
A flurry of attention hit their table as water was poured and silverware rearranged, their napkins laid in their laps. By the time the waiter returned with menus in his hand, Pepper was ready for something to hold onto to stop herself from fidgeting.
Only Billy beat her to the punch, waving the menus off as he caught her hand in midair and laid it on the table under his. “We won’t need those. I’ve already decided what we’re going to have.”
Oh really? echoed very loudly in her head, but Pepper managed to cling to a smile. She wasn’t sure what kind of a smile though, because her teeth were locked together and the muscles in her neck had all turned to iron.
“I’d like a bottle of the Asti Spumante, and we’ll have bacon-wrapped scallops for an appetizer. Followed by the chef’s special.”
Their waiter hesitated. “One order or two?”
“Two, of course,” Billy snapped before turning his attention back on Pepper.
At this point Pepper hoped the special was steak and lobster that had been hand raised by royalty in the Caribbean Islands then paddled all the way to San Francisco in long boats. She didn’t give a damn how much it cost, because Billy had stepped over a line that he never should have approached.
She’d worked restaurants while going to school. It was hard, often thankless work, and the jackasses had always made themselves known. She glanced around the room, seriously considering excusing herself to the washroom then outright leaving.
B
illy still had her fingers locked in his grasp. “You look amazing. And are you wearing contacts? I don’t remember your eyes being that vivid emerald green before. It’s so unusual with your black hair.”
Pepper grimaced before she caught herself. She did have colored contacts. Pale green ones she used to hide her real eye color. Jack had gotten her so riled up she’d forgotten to pop them in. “Good catch. They are different tonight.”
“I look forward to staring into them,” he said, stroking his thumb over her hand. “All night long.”
The noise she made must have been close enough to a sneeze he let her go, and she scrambled in her purse for a tissue. Pretending to have to blow her nose was better than gagging.
This was ridiculous. While he hadn’t been nearly this skeezy on their previous dates, tonight his true colors were flying too high to ignore. She was ashamed of herself for having let things go on as long as she had. It was one thing to tell him that she didn’t want to see him anymore, but now she was getting spiteful, and she’d always detested that in people.
Except when it came to tormenting Jack. There it was all systems go, because some things were sacred.
As for her current dilemma, maybe if she said something quickly their order could be canceled. Or she could offer to pay for half the damages and just take a taxi home.
“Billy…”
He turned back with a jerk and a guilty expression. Confused, she glanced to the side where he’d been looking. A beautiful woman wearing a long gown had bent over to get something from her purse. The woman and her gown were both fantastic, the bodice clinging to breasts that had to be held in place with two-sided tape. But even while Pepper went through a mental scroll of which A-list model could be seated next to them, it registered that Billy had been ogling the woman’s boobs.
His phone buzzed, and though he looked apologetic he pulled it out and checked the screen. “Never know when work will call,” he said importantly.
“Of course.” Although she didn’t think parking attendants were on the emergency response list.
He tapped something in response, his confusion clear.
“Something wrong?” Pepper asked.
“Nothing to worry—” The phone went off again, and this time his eyes widened and his face grew completely white. “Excuse me.”
Before she could ask anything else, he got up from the table and left, headed for the washrooms.
Pepper collapsed back in her chair, the inelegant pose not doing anything for her figure, but she was done pretending. It was the perfect moment to escape. She reached for her wallet and pulled out a number of twenties, eyeing them sadly.
She was about to dash a quick note to go with the money when someone sat opposite her. She killed the curse before it could escape her lips and worked up the courage to explain in person that it was time for her to go.
Only it wasn’t Billy sitting across from her.
“Jack?”
“Pepper,” he responded, his gaze fixed on hers as if he didn’t give a damn who else was in the restaurant, or that he was sitting in some other man’s chair.
“Jack.” Firmly this time, because she did not need his bullshit right now.
“Pepper.” The bastard signaled to the waiter who rushed over as if his ass were on fire. “Cancel whatever was ordered for this table. Something has come up, and I’m afraid they won’t be able to stay.”
Her jaw hit the ground, and she suddenly understood the whole concept of sputtering mad. Even as Jack passed over a wad of bills to the suddenly willing waiter, Pepper prepared for battle.
Gentle piano music playing in the background. The low murmur of polite dinner conversation and utensils clinking against fine bone china. The ambience was one of peaceful luxury, but she was ready to salt the earth and burn it all down.
She leaned forward. “I hope you’re wearing a cup.”
Jack’s expression didn’t change. He just kept smiling. “You look more as if you hope I’m not wearing one.”
“Well, since I’m never ever finding out what comes between you and your Levi’s, why don’t you get your bossy ass out of here before my date gets back?”
“He’s not coming back.”
“He’s not—” Oh God. What had Jack done?
She shot to her feet, gave him one last dirty look, and raced for the washrooms.
She wasn’t sure what she would find. If Billy’s sudden absence involved decapitation or blood, she wasn’t dressed to hide the evidence. Though considering Jack was on her tail, two steps behind her as she stomped from the table, maybe she’d be the one to pull a citizen’s arrest and get him locked up for a night or two. Damned bastard.
There were no dead bodies in the hallway, which she figured was a good sign. The men’s room door was closed, and she hesitated for all of two seconds before pushing it open and walking in.
No dead bodies there either.
She whirled to face Jack. “What the hell did you do to him?”
Masculine cursing broke out at her back from the man at the urinal.
“Why don’t we discuss this outside?” Jack suggested. “Give the poor man some privacy, for God’s sake.”
Her cheeks were flaming hot, but a little bit of seclusion for when she skived him would be a good thing. She darted down the hall, slipping past the front desk even while the waiter gave an enthusiastic farewell to Jack.
“How much money did you give him?” Pepper demanded over her shoulder as she hurried into the parking lot.
He caught her by the arm and tugged her to the side into a small garden area with fountains. “More than Billy would’ve given him, I can almost guarantee.”
The death grip on her arm meant it was easier to follow him instead of protesting again in front of the group of elegantly dressed women making their way to the front entrance.
They were tucked all the way into a back corner of the garden before Jack finally stopped. He pointed at the ornate granite bench. “Sit.”
“You sit. Or play dead—that would be even better.”
Jack shrugged. “Have it your way.”
He planted his butt on the bench, all without letting go of her. She had a position of authority over him, staring down with her arms firmly crossed. Or at least it seemed authoritative until she realized his legs were wide open and she was standing between them, and the position of her arms lifted her breasts in line to his direct gaze.
Fine. If he wanted to stare at her tits they could have this conversation while the girls were in the way.
“What did you do to Billy?” she demanded.
“Read this.” Jack held out his cell phone.
She grabbed it from his hand and checked the screenshot. “What is this? Some of your bathroom humor?”
“Messages forwarded from Dean’s phone.”
“Ha! Why am I not surprised?” She thrust the phone back at him.
He caught her by the hips and held her immobile, the position too damn intimate, especially when the images he’d raised the other day in the gazebo flashed back.
If she stepped on the bench, feet on either side of him, he’d be able to do all those things he’d taunted her about—and she wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t been talking about Kendra at all. She was the one he wanted to go down on, and when he moistened his lips, all she could think about was his tongue slipping into intimate places.
A whole lot quieter now, Jack locked his eyes with hers and refused to let her look away. ““Read the damn messages. All of them.”
She had no choice but to obey. The rising sense of ick rolled to outright nausea as the text messages got dirtier, and when the fourth one mentioned Penny, she froze.
Oh my God. “That fucker.”
“Keep reading,” Jack insisted, but his grip on her hips had loosened. No longer trapping her in place, his fingers rubbing lightly as if he couldn’t resist touching her.
The dirty messages stopped, switching to messages from Jack to Billy.
To
uch her, and you die.
Who is this? How did you get my number?
Jack Hunter. I’m Penny’s boyfriend, and I’ll be there in five minutes. Run.
Good grief. Pepper’s mood flipped between exasperation and relief. “I didn’t ask you to rescue me,” she pointed out.
“The guy was bragging to Dean about fucking you. And I didn’t rescue you, I just kind of hurried along what would’ve happened before too long anyway. Because he’s not the guy for you.”
He had that right. Her frustration and bluster faded. “Okay, I’ll say it. Your methods are unorthodox, but this time, thank you.” And again she became ultra aware of his hands holding her, and that wasn’t good, because he and she were just…
Were just…
Oh God, she had to get out of there. She shifted her weight from side to side. “I’ll see you at the office.”
“What’s your rush?” The tension in his body changed, as if he was aware that his earlier actions were no longer the most important item on her agenda. Now the relentless tingles spreading from where his open fingers had slipped back to cradle her butt had her in danger of setting off a power outage over the entire city quadrant.
He kept touching her, but his gaze stayed locked on hers. She couldn’t even get mad at him for being a hound dog and staring at her body. “Stop looking at me like that,” she ordered.
Or, she meant to order—the words slipped out more like she was pleading with him to never stop.
“Looking at you like what?” he asked.
“Like you’re hungry.”
Full pause. Utter silence. Then…
“You’re right, I should stop. Because I’m not hungry.” He shifted his hips to the front of the bench, pulling her toward him until the fronts of their bodies made contact. “I’m starving,” he confessed.
It was the perfect moment for a smartass response, but her vocal cords seemed to be frozen. Every heartbeat intense enough to shake her body.
