Have Lizard, Will Travel

by Eve Langlais

  Simon flipped her onto her back. His expression was hard, his gaze intent. “I told you to stay in the room.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Do you realize how bloody dangerous it is for you to be out here roaming?”

  “Trust me, I know. About fifteen pedestrians die each day because they leave their houses.” Oh, how she missed her home’s safety. Except it wasn’t safe. Someone had tried to kill her in it!

  Someone yelled, “Hey, lady, is that guy bothering you?”

  She opened her mouth to reply, only to have it covered.

  Simon kissed her.

  Kissed her quite well. So well, she forgot about the fact that she needed to escape him. She might have kissed him for a long while, too, had she not suddenly remembered the lizard. The evil creature roamed this park. Might even be sneaking up on them. Wasn’t the death of the couple making out how every horror movie started?

  Her eyes opened, and she went still. She mumbled against his mouth. “Wehvtomv.”

  “What?” He lifted up enough to allow her to breathe, and she managed to explain.

  “We have to get out of here. There is a lizard loose in the park,” she hissed.

  His lip quirked. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a lizard.”

  “Have you never seen Godzilla?”

  “I highly doubt any lizard you saw was that large.”

  “For now. But if it’s been drinking the water from the pond, then chances are it won’t be long before it gets huge.”

  “The only huge lizard around here is on top of you.”

  Her lips rounded into a small O. “That was wildly inappropriate. Not to mention conceited.”

  “Only if it’s false.” He winked. “It’s not.”

  “We are not discussing your man parts.”

  “You’re right, we should return to the reason you left in the first place.” He rolled off her and rose before offering her a hand. “Shall we return to our luxurious accommodations?”

  “With you? I’d rather not.” She crossed her arms, lest he see how she lied. Her nipples were hard. Firm enough to possibly poke another hole in her already disreputable sweater.

  He shrugged, looking unconcerned.

  “You want me to leave fine, but that means you’ll have to handle the wild lizard on your own. Do you recall if it had great big teeth?”

  “Huge ones.” She popped to her feet, and her gaze darted left and right, looking for the slithery fiend.

  He sighed and pulled her closer. She didn’t argue, prepared to climb him like a tree at the first sign of leathery skin.

  “Listen, I know things got off rocky,” he said in a low voice. “Let’s start over. We’ll go back to the motel and talk about things like adults.”

  “Talk about what? None of this would have happened if you’d stayed away.”

  “On the contrary, had I not been around, you would now likely be kidnapped or dead.”

  “Which makes no sense.” Her exasperated reply. “I don’t know what my dad was doing.”

  “Listen, there’s more to tell you, but not out here. There might be eyes watching.”

  “Creepy ones,” she said with a shudder, hugging her body and eyeing the farthest bush suspiciously. Only as they began to walk did she notice his bare—very large—feet.

  “Where are your shoes?”

  “There was no time.”

  “Couldn’t you have at least washed your face? You still have mustard on it.” The sight of it reminded her she’d only eaten half a wiener. What she wouldn’t give for another long, thick one to put into her mouth.

  “I was a little busy chasing down an ungrateful chit.”

  “Ungrateful? I didn’t ask for you to save me. As a matter of fact, I didn’t ask for anything at all. And you know what, I really don’t care what you want. Screw you,” she huffed. “I’m going home.”

  Except she wasn’t, apparently, given he gripped her arm in a tight vise. “Oh no, you’re not. You’re coming with me, Patty.”

  “This is kidnapping. I’ll scream for help,” she hissed.

  “You’ll regret it if you do.”

  “Going to kiss me again?” She could have died at the hopeful query.

  His lips quirked. “I said punishment, not reward.”

  “Who said your kiss was fun?”

  The look he offered held all the arrogance of a manwhore who understood his allure.

  Which might be why she suddenly dropped to the ground and, at the same time, tilted her body so she could sucker punch him in the balls.

  Five

  “Next time, I should just let you get shot!” Simon growled through gritted teeth while pushing the chit back through the motel room door. His sac throbbed something fierce, and his balls were blue in more ways than one, but he’d have to wait to ice them. He had a hellcat to handle first.

  Slamming the door behind him with a foot hooked around it, he marched her over to the bed and shoved her down onto it. She was a right handful, wriggling and spitting at him as he grabbed one wrist and quickly cuffed it to the bed. Pity, he usually used his cuffs for more…pleasurable endeavors.

  “Let me go,” she yelled. “You can’t do this to me.”

  “I can, and will. Bloody stupid woman, do you not get that they’re trying to kill you?! Us? Mainly you!” he hissed, his temper flaring badly.

  That in itself was strange. Simon got slightly miffed at times, maybe even worked up to a mild temper…but truly furious? That was new.

  But he was now. So annoyed that his hand shook as he shoved it through his hair, ruffling its perfection.

  “Don’t blame me, you…you…gigolo. You break into my home with some lame excuse about my father being missing, kidnap me, and almost get me killed. I’d be better off on my own!” she threw back at him, yanking on her bound wrist. The wince of pain made him start forward.

  “You’ll bloody well hurt yourself if you do that, just—”

  Her foot scissored from the bed and narrowly missed clipping his poor balls again. He jumped back, barely in time.

  “Behave!” he ordered.

  “Make me,” she spat. “Help! H—”

  His shirt proved an excellent rag to stuff into her mouth. It did nothing for the glaring.

  “Don’t give me that look. I’ll take it out when you can act rationally.”

  In the meantime, he needed to cool off. And shower. A glimpse in the bathroom mirror showed him looking less than his best with the mayo and mustard smeared across his face.

  He sighed as he stripped and stepped into the spray. He washed quickly, giving his balls a once-over, just to make sure they hadn’t gone Humpty Dumpty on him.

  No broken eggs here. Good.

  The damned woman had thrown a hot dog at him, all because she feared lizards. A good thing he’d stashed his clothes nearby as he had to quickly change.

  His initial plan to follow her and see if she lied had changed as he realized that she had nowhere to go. She’d called no one. Spoken only to the hot dog vendor. Eaten it with lips that would look better wrapped around the meat sausage swelling between his legs.

  A seduction that seemed unlikely given he had her handcuffed to the bed. And not in a fun way.

  Dammit. Things had not gone to plan at all. Worse, she now didn’t trust him. That would have to change. If someone were after Petunia, then it was because they thought they needed her.

  Which meant, Simon needed her.

  Needed her pliant, and in better humor. Problem was, the only method he had to please women involved them both getting naked, and right now, he didn’t trust her anywhere near his somewhat bruised family jewels.

  He’d have to butter her up. The things he did for work.

  Entering the bedroom, he froze at the soft sobs.

  “Are you crying?” He didn’t have to fake sounding appalled, he was horrified. She couldn’t reply, not with the gag.

  He sat on the bed and pulled the shirt out. She blinked we
t lashes at him, and he noticed that she no longer squinted. As a matter of fact, both of her eyes were the same size. Big. Thickly lashed. Her lips were parted and full. And quivering.

  “I j-j-just wanna go h-h-home,” she stuttered between hiccupping sobs.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “This got way out of hand.”

  His fault. A little bit. Mostly hers because she didn’t react as she should have. Where was the melting? The swooning? Giving Simon anything he wanted? Instead, there had been arguing with everything he said, definitely no swooning, and then throwing sausages at him!

  “I don’t understand why this is happening.”

  “Because your father got embroiled in something he shouldn’t have.”

  “How do you know all this? Who are you really? And don’t tell me a friend or coworker of my father’s. I know his friends, and they’re not this young or good-looking.”

  Simon’s chest swelled. “I knew it, I should have said ‘student.’ But they didn’t think I was young enough to pull it off. As if thirty is old. It’s not. It’s the prime of my life.”

  “You’re not a student?”

  “No. I’m a secret agent.”

  He waited for her awed reaction. It didn’t come. Perhaps there was something wrong with her? “As in spy.” Still nothing. Maybe something seriously wrong… Those words always had the ladies swooning. “Aren’t you going to ask me who I work for?”

  “I am not feeding your delusion.”

  “It’s true. See.” He pulled out his badge and flashed it.

  “RI3?” Her nose wrinkled. “Never heard of it. Are you some kind of fake cop? Like a mall guard or something?” Her eyes widened. “You’re with campus security, aren’t you? Did my dad walk off with some equipment again? Because if that’s the case, he wasn’t stealing it. He probably stashed it in his basement to make wine again.”

  “I am nothing so trivial as a security guard. I am a secret agent, and it is of utmost importance that we find your father.”

  “I thought the most important thing was keeping me safe.”

  “That, too.”

  “What if finding my father puts me in danger, then what? Because the two would seem at odds. So, who’s more important? Me or him?”

  “Er.” Blasted woman and her twisty logic. “I’m supposed to keep you safe, find out everything you know, and rescue your father.”

  “By yourself?” She eyed him. “Shouldn’t you have help?”

  “No.” He could handle this on his bloody own, thank you very much.

  “How are you going to find my dad?”

  Honestly? “I don’t know. There isn’t much to work with. His apartment was thoroughly ransacked. None of his cards have been used or accounts touched. The last known sighting of him was that damned video.”

  “What video?”

  Simon hesitated. Showing it was tantamount to admitting that there was a bestial side to humanity. But what if Patty saw something?

  “Hold on a second while I grab my phone.”

  She rattled the cuff. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  The reminder drew his gaze, especially to the strip of skin that showed between her sweater—which had ridden up—and her bottoms.

  He really should replace her wardrobe. With something slinky and sexy that he could strip off with his teeth… He shook his head to get rid of the thought and headed across the room. He returned quickly with his phone and went through a few protocols before gaining access to the video.

  He played it, and she said nothing until the end. “Play it again, at half-speed, please.”

  A tiny crease appeared in her brow. Then her lips pursed. At the end of the second viewing, she looked at him and said, “That’s a pretty good college prank.”

  He let her believe that. “Do you happen to recognize the book he’s making the potion from?”

  “Nope. Never seen it before in my life.”

  A lie. Simon knew it was a falsehood the instant it crossed Patty’s lips. She might be good at resisting his charms and thwarting him at every step, but she was a terrible liar.

  “Really? Well, that’s a shame. Because I think that book is what those thugs are after.”

  She scoffed. “Why would anyone kidnap or try and kill someone over some recipes?”

  The use of the word recipes just reinforced his belief that she knew about the book.

  “Pharmaceutical companies have big pockets when it comes to snatching up old wives’ potions.”

  “Then why not just approach me or my dad and bribe us?”

  Damn her and the human logic. How to explain that the shifter recipes had to remain top-secret?

  He couldn’t. Which was why he pressed on to get her to admit the truth. He pointed once more to the book. “Are you sure you don’t recognize it?” he asked with his serious, most approachable mien. The you-can-trust-me, followed by drop your panties, tell me everything, what’s the number of your room?

  She tried so hard to sound truthful when she lied and said, “Nope.”

  Six

  Petunia lied and really hoped Simon bought it.

  She’d almost given it away when he showed her the video because the recipe book her dad brewed the potion with belonged to Great Grandma Acacia. And Petunia only knew of it because she’d seen it in pictures. Her daddy wasn’t well liked by her mother’s side of the family. They looked down on their precious Rose marrying a college professor. Petunia could understand their bafflement. Still, from everything she knew, theirs was a love match until her mother died. A tragic car accident when Petunia was in her teens.

  As for the child left behind? At the funeral, more than one bright-eyed relative had glanced at her. Even whispered loud enough that she could hear.

  “Doesn’t take after her mother at all. Pity.” Which hurt because she’d thought she’d inherited her mother’s eyes and hair.

  Given the rift, how had her father gotten his hands on the book? She doubted her mom’s family had just handed it over.

  “Well, I guess we should bunk down.” Simon lay on the bed beside her, and she squeaked, her entire body stiffening with surprise.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting some sleep.”

  “Not in here, you’re not.”

  “Well, you’ve proven yourself not exactly trustworthy, have you, Patty?”

  “It’s Petunia,” she enunciated. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m handcuffed.”

  “But you’re wily. Which means, I’d better stick close to you.”

  He lay down on his back, sans shirt and only wearing pants. So many inches of male torso for her to drool over.

  Seriously. The man had no shame.

  “This isn’t going to work.”

  “Too bright? Sorry about that. Let me get the lamp.” He leaned over her body, that bare chest rubbing against her sweater. The weight of him briefly resting atop her.

  A heated spot between her legs pulsed.

  Click. Darkness descended suddenly, and she blinked. Especially since he took his time sliding back to his side.

  “Better?” he purred, sounding awfully close, the hotness of his breath brushing her ear.

  “No.” Said in a breathy whisper.

  “How rude of me to not think of your comfort. Let me help you out.”

  She didn’t know what he meant until the hem of her shirt moved upwards, skimming over her belly.

  “What are you doing?”

  “If you’re like me, then you don’t like sleeping in your clothes.”

  “I don’t, but—”

  “But what?” His soft purr interrupted her protest. “We’ll need to be well-rested if we’re to conduct a proper search for your father tomorrow. You do want what’s best for him, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” However, she didn’t think getting naked would help her sleep. The moment he peeled the shirt over her breasts and past her face was when he discovered his dilemma.

  “Your cuffs are in th
e way.”

  “You could take them off.” Said in a husky voice she didn’t recognize.

  He took her words to heart, but with her pants. They slid down her thighs and left her bared, the cotton granny panties not doing much to hide her. As for her bra? It was comfortable for a reason. Not much fabric left given it had worn so thin.

  “My arms,” she murmured as he tugged the pants free from her feet and then moved back up the bed.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” He caged her with his body, and her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that she could see the smooth muscles of his upper torso. The strength in the arms bracketing her.

  “You can’t,” she said stupidly.

  He smiled.

  “Um.”

  He smiled wider.

  “Hello, Petunia.” She didn’t know if it was the fact that he’d used her real name or that he lowered himself so that his lips were but a hair’s breadth from hers, but her heart pounded. Her cleft throbbed. And she desperately wanted him to kiss her.

  “Goodnight.” The warm words whispered over her lips.

  Nothing more. He lay down beside her.

  She sighed as the wet spot between her legs continued pulsing.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, a little too smugly.

  “I can’t sleep with these cuffs.”

  “How am I to make sure you don’t sneak off while I’m sleeping?”

  “What if I gave you my word?”

  “You’ve already tried to run.”

  “But I hadn’t promised I wouldn’t.”

  “And that makes a difference?” he asked.

  She blew a raspberry. “Huge difference. My mother always said our word is the only true thing of value we have.”

  “Even if I release you, we’re still sharing a bed.”

  “If you insist. Although I should warn you, I’ve been known to cling.” If she thought that would scare him off, she was wrong.

  “Snuggle all you like, Petunia. And if you need something more, you just let me know.”

  Pompous ass. It was as if he knew. Well, two could play this game. The moment he released her, she flung her arms around his neck and threw him off guard. He was tense in her grip as she exclaimed, “Thank you.”