The Rebel

by J. R. Ward

  If only Celia hadn’t ended the pregnancy. If only he’d been the rich man she’d thought he was—

  There was a soft knock on the door.

  He pulled on some boxers. “Yeah.”

  He didn’t look up as the hinges creaked. He knew who it was.

  “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Frankie’s voice was warm, concerned.

  He had to give her credit. There were few women who would handle the transition from hot and bothered to cold and deserted so well.

  “Are you?” she whispered.

  He wasn’t going to lie to her so he kept his mouth shut. Because he wasn’t okay. He hadn’t been okay for a while although he’d gotten damn good at hiding it.

  He felt the mattress dip down slightly as she sat next to him. She’d pulled on jeans and a long T-shirt.

  “If you want to talk…”

  “No.” Because damn it, he was on the verge of tears. And there was no way he was going to cry in front of her. Going limp in her bed was enough of a cringer for one night.

  “That’s all right.” She let out a small laugh. “I know all about keeping things inside as you’ve witnessed firsthand. So I’m good with silence.”

  He didn’t answer her, but reached out and took her hand in his. Her skin was smooth, soft. He stroked his thumb over the pad of her palm.

  “You know what?” she said.

  “Hmm?”

  “We keep this up, we might just get to be friends after all.”

  He looked over at her. She’d left her glasses back in her room. God, her eyes were lovely. So blue. A bottomless blue. He had the sudden impulse to get lost in her eyes, just let himself float away and trust that she would catch him. He opened his mouth.

  Ah, hell. He couldn’t do it. “I’m sorry, Frankie.”

  She reached up and brushed his hair back. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  “I don’t care that we stopped. Well, I do. But I wouldn’t want you to be with me if you had doubts.”

  Doubts? About being with her? He’d been so into her, he’d almost said to hell with the condom. And that was at the core of what killed him. That he’d been so tempted to throw out common sense just because he wanted her so badly.

  Considering all he’d lost, you’d figure he would have learned something.

  Self-hatred burned in his gut. With Celia, he’d been careless. With Frankie, he’d been close to losing control. Neither spoke well of him as a man.

  “Will you let me stay with you awhile?” she asked. “Not to have sex or anything. Just to, you know, hold you.”

  “Yeah.” He’d like that.

  Nate leaned back against the pillow and she curled up at his side. Her breath drifted across his bare chest and her hand rested on his waist lightly. He crossed his feet at the ankles and closed his eyes. Her presence eased him.

  “Now I know how hard it is,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “Wanting to help and not being able to.”

  He kissed her temple. “You are helping.”

  FRANKIE SHIFTED, FELT HER thigh brush against warm, male skin and came awake instantly. She looked up into Nate’s face. His beard had grown in overnight, darkening the thrust of his jaw. His hair was smudged this way and that. His eyes were open, lids low.

  “Good morning,” he said with a gravel voice.

  “Hi.”

  The reserve hadn’t left him. She still felt as though he was reining himself in. And as much as she still wanted to know what had happened, she wasn’t about to ask him again. She hated when people did that to her.

  “Guess it’s time for breakfast.” She shifted upright, swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and felt the cool pine boards under her feet. “It’s going to be a busy week for us. We’ve got a whole family arriving today and…”

  She chattered on, her voice sounding false to her own ears. But then that tended to be the end result when you were talking about one thing and thinking about another.

  Did last night really happen? Was there actually a time they had been so close? Yeah, but only physically and that was the easiest way, wasn’t it? Which was why people had one-night stands. No strings, but just enough intimacy to remind you that you could in fact relate to another human being.

  “Frankie?”

  She stopped mid-sentence.

  “Last night ended because—” He rubbed his temples. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  So he said.

  “It’s all right. Really. Probably for the best, too.” She walked over to the door. “See you downstairs.”

  His eyes bored into hers. “Yeah. Downstairs.”

  But they didn’t spend much time together that morning. He was busy at the stove, she was working in her office. But at least on the few occasions she passed through the kitchen, he looked up, met her eyes and nodded.

  She was back at her desk, reviewing with satisfaction the way the dinner reservations were getting tight, when the phone rang.

  “Is Nate there?” It was a deep male voice. Hint of an accent she couldn’t quite place.

  “Yes. Who’s calling?” She blurted out the question on reflex, but she was really interested in the answer.

  “Spike.” The man’s tone suggested impatience.

  And considering the guy was named after a piece of hardware, she put two and two together and decided he probably wasn’t into small talk.

  “Hold on.”

  She called into the kitchen and Nate came right away, wiping his hands on the white apron he’d tied around his lean hips. She tried to keep her eyes from bouncing to his wide chest, and failed. His T-shirt was navy blue and had a worn logo on it, but all she could really see was the way his muscles had looked the night before, shifting under his skin as he’d held himself over her body while kissing her breasts.

  Frankie got to her feet, wondering if he’d want privacy. Although even if he didn’t, she needed a little air.

  “Stay,” he said as he picked up the phone. She sank back into her chair. “What’s up? Where? Yeah, I know the place. When are you seeing it? How much they want for it?”

  A couple of uh-uh’s and another yeah followed. He hung up the phone, thanked her for getting him and left.

  Frankie looked out at the lake, thinking that the reminder was a good one. Nate was a short timer at White Caps. As soon as Labor Day came, he was going back to the city to find his destiny as the next Bobby Flay. And one day, a few years from now, she was going to crack open a magazine and read about the new, hit restaurant in New York City. There’d be a picture of him and she’d stare at it for a while, thinking what might have been if they’d made love. But might have been was better than knowing exactly what she was missing. Right?

  Oh, what a load of bull. She wanted him. Even if he was leaving. Even if it was going to hurt later.

  “Frankie?” Nate was back, standing in the doorway of the office. “You got a second?”

  She nodded and was surprised when he closed the door. Her body tensed, but she kept her expression as neutral as possible. She wondered if he was going to quit.

  “I really appreciate you giving me some space.” He dragged a hand through his hair.

  She laughed stiffly. “You look like you’re about to apologize for something.”

  “I am.”

  “Well, please don’t.” She didn’t really want to hear about how he regretted getting what he’d asked for.

  He grew quiet. Then took a deep breath.

  “Okay. But I want you to know something. I’m dying to be with you. Tonight. Now. Right now.” His eyes leveled on hers and they burned. “Would you consider giving me a second chance?”

  Good Lord, was Santa Claus a fat man in a red suit? Of course, she would.

  She got up from the chair because her body suddenly needed to move. Anticipation had replaced the dread she’d felt and the sweet rush was a hell of an i
mprovement.

  “Well, ah, it was pretty good,” she said, trying not to come across as desperate. Although what an understatement that was.

  Hell, with the door closed, she was tempted to sweep her computer off the desk just so they had a flat space to get busy on.

  “It was a hell of a lot more than good for me,” he said in a low, sexy tone.

  Frankie looked at him, remembering the feel of him against her. “I want more of you,” she said softly. “God help me. But I want more.”

  Nate came around the back of the desk and took her into his arms, pulling her against his body. With his hands on her hips, he drew her in close and she felt his arousal.

  “So do I.” His voice was deep, husky.

  She put her hands against his chest and held him back. “But I don’t expect you to stay once September gets here. This is just casual sex, okay?”

  That was a lie, of course. She liked him. She really did, even though he was arrogant and demanding and she didn’t know enough about him.

  When the fall came, she was going to have a big clean-up job to take care of after he’d left, but she wasn’t about to try and tie him down just so she felt better about sleeping with him. First of all, she was an adult, which meant she was fully capable of making a bad decision and having to live with the consequences. And second, he didn’t owe her anything. Two and a half weeks ago they’d been total strangers and in another five or so, he would go back out into the world on his own.

  “This is only casual sex,” she repeated, as much for her own benefit as his.

  Nate’s eyes blinked once. “Whatever you say.”

  “So, are you going to the pharmacy or am I?”

  THAT NIGHT THE RESTAURANT was a madhouse. People were actually waiting for tables and Nate was in his element. She’d never seen someone work so fast or so well.

  At the end of the evening, even though she was wilted from all the work, she went to her office to add up the receipts. She had to go through them twice. They’d done five thousand dollars worth of business.

  Was it possible that miracles really did happen?

  When the phone rang, she picked up. “White Caps.”

  There was static and then, “Frankie?”

  “Alex! Where are you?”

  “Heading for home, believe it or not.” More static. “—be there in about a week.”

  “A week?”

  “—then we’re heading back out—America’s Cup training—”

  “Alex?”

  “—better go now. See you soon.”

  “I can’t wait to see you!”

  “Same h—” The connection broke.

  She hung up the phone smiling.

  “Who was that?”

  She looked across the room. Nate was leaning against the doorjamb. He’d taken a shower and changed into cut-offs and his hair was wet, curling against his neck.

  “Ah—my brother. He’s coming for a visit.” She got to her feet, feeling awkward.

  Nate stared at her from under low lids, anticipation coming off of him in waves, but she wasn’t exactly sure how this was supposed to work between them. He answered the question by striding into the room and putting his hands on her waist.

  “It’s late. We should get to bed.”

  She slid her arms around his neck. “Funny, I was thinking the exact same thing.”

  Upstairs, she drew him into her bedroom and had a moment of trepidation as he undressed her. But the moment they fell onto her bed and his body was on hers, she stopped thinking. The sensations he roused as he suckled her breasts and swept his hand between her legs were all her brain could handle.

  What a lover he was. Relentless, he pleasured her over and over again until she didn’t think it was possible for her to climax one more time. Unfortunately, he refused to let her reciprocate. Every time she tried to reach for him, he stayed just out of range. He was generous to the point of frustration and she had a feeling he was making up for leaving the night before.

  But his pleasure was hers.

  “Why can’t I touch you?” she moaned, trying to get to his erection.

  His voice was rough in her ear. “Because I’m going to come the instant you do. God, I’m so hot for you.”

  And then he went back to work on her.

  The only time he paused was to put the condom on.

  His body was taut over hers as he came back to her. She reached for his hips to pull him down, but he resisted, resting his forehead on hers. His breath was ragged.

  “Frankie, look at me. I want to see your eyes.”

  And then he sank into her body, filling her, stretching her. He was slow at first but then his thrusts gained power until she was climaxing again. As her body grabbed onto his, he went rigid, her name torn out of his throat.

  AS DAWN CAME, NATE rolled over, pulling Frankie tightly against his body. He had to get up in a matter of minutes to start breakfast and wanted to savor the quiet moment.

  She stirred in his arms. “Is it morning already?” Her voice was groggy as she rubbed her eyes. “Unfortunately.”

  They’d made love twice more during the night and had fallen asleep only an hour before, but Nate felt like he could run a marathon.

  He trailed his hand down the smooth plane of her stomach and then onto her thigh. “You know something?”

  “What?”

  Nate shut his mouth. He was going to say he could really get used to waking up next to her, but he thought about her casual-only limits.

  Hell, his own casual-only limits.

  As he kept his lips zipped, he thought, well, wasn’t this was a new one. Usually women wanted him to talk to them and he had nothing to say. Or nothing they’d want to hear, to be more accurate.

  But, God, after last night, he wanted to let loose with a whole stream of romantic drivel. She’d rocked his world and not just physically.

  Frankie rolled over and looked up at him.

  Man, he liked the color of her eyes.

  “What?” she prompted.

  “I gotta go.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth and then got out of bed quickly. He was pulling on his shorts when he caught her smile.

  “You’ve got a beautiful body, you know that,” she said, eyes going low.

  He paused, glanced at the clock.

  Breakfast could wait a little longer.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  FRIDAY NIGHT, JOY LOOKED up from the hostess stand and froze.

  Gray Bennett towered over her, a smile on his sexy-as-hell face. He was dressed in white linen pants, a navy blue blazer and an open-necked shirt. He was tanned, his hair was a little on the long side, and he looked better than any man had a right to.

  “Hello, Joy.”

  She cleared her throat, not willing to take a gamble on her voice. “Good evening.”

  “How are you?”

  She smiled, feeling a glow come over her like a heat lamp had been turned on above her head.

  “Really well.” Now that he was here.

  “This place is packed.” He glanced out across the tables. “I didn’t know you had to make reservations.”

  She blurted immediately, “I can make an exception for you.”

  As well as making a fool out of myself, she thought. God, the eagerness in her voice made her want to wince.

  He just smiled. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” But she prayed he didn’t have ten people with him. “How many?”

  “Just my father and I.”

  Joy glanced to the door and saw Mr. Bennett talking to the mayor and his wife. Gray’s father had had a stroke over the winter and was still recuperating, leaning heavily on a cane.

  “I’ll put you on the lake side. Come right this way.”

  She could feel him moving behind her and saw some of the other diners look up and whisper. Gray Bennett was something of a local celebrity, considering all of his political power and connections. It wasn’t often that someone who hobnobbed with world
leaders floated through town.

  Although she knew the women would have stared if he’d been no more than a garage mechanic. That masculine air of his was an aphrodisiac like none other, capable of putting oysters in the shade.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked as he sat down.

  “A bourbon would be great.”

  “I’m sorry, we only have wine.”

  “Then a glass of something white is fine. And one for my father, too. Assuming he eventually ends his conversation with the mayor.” He smiled up at her and opened his menu.

  On the way to the kitchen, Joy checked her watch. If everything went well, he’d be in their dining room for over an hour. Longer if he ordered dessert.

  Sweet heaven, he was too handsome to look at.

  As she poured two glasses of wine, she practiced the list of specials in her head, hoping she could come across smooth and in control. Like him.

  She was heading for the double doors with a tray when Frankie called out, “Joy! We’ve got a problem.”

  Joy paused, looking through the round glass portals at Gray’s table. He was helping his father sit in a chair.

  “Joy!” Frankie’s voice was sharp.

  “What?”

  “Grand-Em is back in the Lincoln Bedroom. Mr. Thorndyke just called. Can you go calm her down and get her into her own room?”

  Joy squeezed her eyes shut. Not tonight. Not with Gray here.

  “Pickup!” Nate called out.

  “Joy?” Frankie said, coming over urgently and taking the tray from her hands. “I’ll take these drinks out. Where to?”

  “Table twelve,” she replied.

  Frankie shot over to Nate, put the two entrées he’d just plated on the tray next to the glasses and pirouetted out into the dining room.

  A moment later Joy followed, on her way to the Lincoln Bedroom. As she passed by Gray’s table, she heard Frankie telling him and his father about the specials.

  She was out in the hallway before she had to look back. Gray was laughing at something Frankie had said, a big, wide smile on his face, his eyes creasing at the corners.

  And then suddenly, he looked at her. He actually looked right through the crowded room, directly at her. His smile lost some of its breadth and those stunning, shrewd eyes narrowed on her face. Joy stopped breathing.