“I was a navy SEAL,” he said, pushing the arm of his shirt up so she could see the tattoo of the SEAL logo.
“Wow …” she said, impressed in spite of herself, “how long were you with them?”
“Eight years,” he told her, grinning at her awed look.
“What about after that?” she asked. “Or did you just get out?”
“No, I’ve been out for years,” he said. “I was with NYPD until about a year ago.”
“You were a cop?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he saw the amused look on her face, “not a word out of you, or I’ll drown you in that tub.”
Cassie did her best to hide her grin. Then she gave him a serious look.
“So why did you quit to do this? What do you call it? Glorified babysitting?” she asked, her look sly.
“That’s what it is,” he told her, his look placid. Then he shrugged. “The money’s better, and I don’t get screwed over by judges, lawyers, or the so called ‘justice system’ all the time.”
“Don’t believe in our justice system, Mackie?” she asked.
“I think it works far too well for the criminals,” he replied.
Cassie chuckled, nodding in full agreement.
“Are you pruning in there yet?” he asked then, sounding fatherly.
“No, Dad, I’m soaking, there’s a difference,” she said, scrunching up her face at him. “Speaking of which. Got any kids?”
“Nope,” he said, his eyes twinkling with humor, “except for you, of course.”
“Just because you’re tons older than me, Mackie, doesn’t make me a kid,” she said.
“Tons older?” he repeated with a wry grin. “How old do you think I am, little one?”
“Uh,” she stammered, realizing she really had no idea.
“Guess,” he said.
“I’d say at least forty-five,” she said.
“And why do you think that?” he asked her, his face giving nothing away.
She shrugged. “Because you’re so serious all the time, and because you just seem so much older.” She shrugged again. “I don’t know, it’s just an impression I get from you.”
John nodded, his look considering.
“So?” she said.
“So?” he repeated.
“How old are you, Mackie?” she asked then, giving him a narrowed look.
“Not as old as you think,” he said.
“So, how old, you stubborn brat!” she exclaimed, laughing all the same.
“I’m thirty-five,” he said.
“No friggin’ way,” she said, shaking her head.
“Seriously,” he told her, “I’m only thirty-five.”
“Wow,” she said, sounding surprised, “I never would have guessed that.”
It was John’s turn to shrug. “I think being in the SEALs made me grow up pretty fast. People always think I’m older than I am.”
“Kind of a drag,” she said.
“Not really,” he said, grinning. “I get the respect, without having the gray hair.”
“That’s true, you don’t have one gray hair that I can see,” she said.
“Despite your best efforts, huh?” he said smiling at her.
“Yeah,” she said, sighing, “you’re a tough cookie.”
“Not that tough,” he said, moving to kneel next to the tub, his eyes looking into hers. “In fact, if you ever scare me like you did, again, I’ll probably kick your ass.”
“Is that a threat?” she asked mildly.
“It’s a promise, little one,” he told her.
She looked back at him for a long moment and saw that he was serious to a point. She really had scared him. Which made her wonder, did he really care about her?
“Is it me you care about, Mackie?” she asked, her voice softer. “Or is it the job?”
He looked at her for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Sometimes, they’re one in the same.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Mackie, and you know it.”
Again, he was silent, then he pursed his lips in contemplation. Finally, he nodded, as if to himself.
“I care about you, it’s not just the job, okay?” he said, his tone of voice soft as hers had been.
Her violet eyes widened, then she smiled softly and nodded. “Okay,” she replied, her look very affected.
He stood up then, giving her a stern look.
“Don’t stay in there too long, you’ll get a chill,” he told her.
“Yes, Dad,” she said, grinning at him.
“Watch it, kid,” he said, grinning.
He left the bathroom and Cassie finished her bath thinking about what he’d said. John Machiavelli was far from the type of man she’d ever be attracted to, but all the same, she had to admit it had felt good to know he cared about her and that she wasn’t just a job to him. She wondered though, did he get emotionally involved in all of his clients? If you lived with a person, guarding them night and day, wouldn’t you naturally start to care about them? That thought got her out of the tub and drying off quickly. She put on her thick bathrobe and walked out to the living room. He wasn’t there.
“Mackie?” she called, feeling unreasonably panicked for a moment.
“Out here, little one,” he said, from the balcony at the back of the apartment.
She looked in that direction. He was sitting on the bench smoking a cigarette. She walked outside, curling up on the bench next to him, leaning against him. He grinned, it had become a habit for her. Whenever they sat together, she curled up like a cat, laying against him. He was her security in every way, and he accepted that, not reading any more into it than that.
“Mackie?” she queried, glancing up at him, as he moved his arm to the back of the bench so she could get closer.
“Yeah?” he asked, glancing down at her.
“Do you care about all your clients?” she asked. “I mean, like you just admitted to caring about me?”
He narrowed his eyes as he blew a stream of smoke out, then grinned in a self-effacing way.
“No, not all clients,” he said.
“Could you be more non-committal, do you think?” she asked sarcastically.
“Sure,” he replied, grinning.
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Mackie!”
He looked down at her, his dark eyes catching hers. “What do you want to know, little one?” he asked. “Do you want to know if I care about you more than other clients I’ve had?”
She bit the inside of her cheek, not sure what she wanted to know, but then nodded.
He blew his breath out, then nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he said, “but then again, I’ve never had a client do what you did, Cassie. That’s a pretty intense situation, which tends to cause pretty intense emotions.”
Cassie nodded. “So it’s because of what happened?”
He looked down at her for a long moment. “Does it really matter that much?”
“I guess not,” she said, feeling sense of disappointment.
John nodded, his eyes looking out over the landscape again. She sat with him in silence, her head against the side of his chest. She had to admit that it felt really good to be with him. She felt safer than she’d ever felt in her life. She didn’t know if it was natural to feel that way toward someone who was your protector or not. That was why she was asking him so many questions. It was imperative to her that she understand what she was feeling and categorize it. Since he wasn’t helping her, she knew she’d have to wrestle with it on her own.
They sat, watching as the clouds rolled in. He cautioned that she should go inside, since the wind was picking up and she felt her shiver. She refused to budge, so finally he stubbed out his third cigarette and got up, picking her up in his arms, and carried her inside.
“Always have to have everything your way, don’t you Mackie?” she said, grinning despite her tone.
“That’s right,” he replied mildly.
“It’s an annoying
little personality quirk of yours, you do know that, right?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, grinning as he set her down on the couch.
She reached up grabbing his hand and tugged at him, pulling him down on the couch with her. He’d left the sliding glass door open so the breeze was blowing in.
“Can I at least close the door?” he asked.
“No,” she said, “I like the way the air smells before it rains.”
John sighed, leaning back against the couch. She snuggled up next to him and they watched TV for a while. Eventually he got up and got them some dinner. He heated up soup he’d made the day before, and they ate in companionable silence.
Cassie fell asleep on the couch, leaning against him. When he was ready to sleep, he got up carefully, picking her up and taking her to her room. Much like a father would, he lay her down in her bed, and covered her up. Standing up, he looked down at her as she slept. He shook his head slowly, then walked out of the room.
Hours later, John lay in his bed. The storm had begun in earnest. Thunder rumbled constantly and lightning sliced through the sky. He barely felt the change in the mattress as Cassie climbed into bed next to him. It was a testament to his complete awareness even when he was asleep. Her slight frame barely moved the mattress he lay on, but his eyes were open instantly as he turned over to face her.
She stared up at him with her big violet eyes, as if expecting him to yell at her or at least tell her to go back to her own bed. A crack of thunder boomed, and she flinched ever so slightly. Without a word, John put his arm out to her, and she snuggled against him as if seeking a safe place. In fact, that was true. She’d awaken from a nightmare and was out of bed in an instant running on bare feet to his room. She’d stood for a few moments, not sure if she should push her luck with him, but the lightning had made her mind of up for her.
She still wore her bathrobe. John wore sweat pants, but no shirt. All the same, as far as she was concerned this was very innocent. She snuggled closer with another crack of thunder and she noted that he smelled pretty good. It was something she’d noticed before. He smelled very masculine, no fruity, perfume scents for him. His cologne was subtle, but definitely him. Kind of a quiet strength.
John lay on his side, and she lay on hers facing him. His arm was under her neck, his hand snaking around to touch her back. His hand touched her waist, and he stroked her hair back from her face as he looked down at her.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
She nodded, a bit embarrassed that she was being such a big chicken, so she wouldn’t look up at him. John grinned, sensing that she was embarrassed. He hugged her close and closed his eyes again. They lay quietly for a long time, listening to the rain. She moved her head to rest against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She tried very hard to ignore how good it felt to be held by him.
She became curious as to what he was thinking, and she moved her head to look up at him. Her movement caused him to look down. They ended up eye to eye.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Some,” she said softly.
He nodded, not looking too worried about her lying there with him. He rolled to his back keeping her next to him. He closed his eyes again. She unclasped her hands that were between them, putting one on his chest. It was then that she felt his muscles. Mackie was a big guy, huge in comparison to her, at six five and probably at least 230 pounds. He was a full foot and a half taller than her and weighed almost two and a half times what she did. What she hadn’t really realized was that the bulk he had was really muscle. She’d never seen him with his shirt off, not even when they’d worked out that day.
Now she was really curious. She gritted her teeth; her damned curiosity got her into trouble consistently. She lay there, trying to think of other things. But her hands rested on his chest, and she could feel his muscles rippling under her hands as he reached up to scratch his eyebrow. Finally, she thought, Oh what the hell and moved to sit up, taking the covers back with her. She turned to look down at him. Holy shit! was the thought that came to mind first. He was all cut muscle, washboard abs, and biceps. There was the lightest dusting of black hair, not overly so, but enough to make him look more masculine.
Her eyes trailed up to his face and she saw he was looking at her with one black eyebrow raised.
“I, uh,” she stammered, trying to think of a good excuse for staring at his chest.
He said nothing, continuing to stare back at her, a grin playing at his lips.
Cassie dropped her head, grinning at herself, then looked up at him through the veil of her black hair.
“I was kinda checking you out,” she said, sounding like she’d been caught doing something criminal.
John nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said simply.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know, you could at least pretend to be curious about what I thought of what I saw,” she told him sassily.
Again, he held back a grin. “Okay,” he repeated.
“Mackie, don’t be a butt head,” she said petulantly.
He moved to sit up, looking down at her. “Okay, Cassandra,” he said, his tone indulgent, “what did you think of what you saw?”
She looked up at him, her violet eyes narrowed. “I think you’ve been damned sneaky, John Machiavelli.”
“Sneaky?” he asked, looking surprised.
“Yeah, you didn’t bother to let on that you have one hell of a bod under those clothes you wear,” she said, grinning.
“That’s all conjecture, little one,” he said, his grin in place.
“Conjecture?” she asked.
“Yes, indicating that it’s an assumption based on one’s own preferences. I wouldn’t have presumed to know your preferences, thereby indicating that I should ‘let on’ about anything in particular.”
“Did you go to college to talk this way?” she asked, giving him a sour look.
“I went to college, yes, but I talk like this way to irritate the shit out of people like you,” he said, grinning.
“It’s working, Mackie,” she said, giving him a narrowed look. “Now, it’s not any kind of assumption, Mr. Machiavelli, it’s a simple fact, that”—she put her hand to his chest—“this is a fantastic bod.”
“If you say so,” he said, his tone once again indulgent.
“Does nothing throw you, Mackie?” she asked, her tone exasperated.
“Not much,” he replied.
He should have known by the look in her eye, but it happened too quickly to think, let alone react. She moved to her knees, pressing her lips to his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms went around her in simple reaction as her lips moved over his sensually, demanding that he respond. And respond he did. He placed one hand on the back of her head, cradling the base of her neck gently. His lips intensified the kiss tenfold as his other hand held her at the small of her back. She groaned against his lips, pressing closer to him. Her nails grazed his back as she grasped at him in reaction.
She climbed into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist as they continued to kiss. His hand touched her face gently and his thumb brushed her cheek. His lips kissing hers over and over again, which made her press closer to him, wanting more. He lay back, taking her with him so she lay over him. It was his way of saying that she was in control. Her lips made their way down to his neck. His hand was in her hair, caressing her, showing her that he liked what she was doing.
She continued down his chest, kissing his skin. When she reached his nipple, she slid her tongue over it, eliciting a quiet moan from him. Closing her mouth over the nipple, she sucked it then bit just hard enough to elicit a gasp of pleasure from him. That sound set her senses tingling all over again. It made her want to push the man over the edge, to hear him lose his iron control. As she continued to move down his body, she curled her fingers around the waistband of his sweats, pulling them off as she moved down.
As she glanced up, she saw his dark eyes on her, and she co
uld see the heat burning in them. It excited her more. He was not made out of steel, even if he looked and acted like he could be.
John stared down at her, seeing the vixen she was now, as opposed to the vulnerable, fragile girl she’d been hours before. The surprise he felt was combined with a sense of anticipation, and he knew he was well beyond any sort of power to stop what was happening between them. His morals were not such that he refused to get involved with a client. He knew he should avoid this kind of entanglement, and he had up until this point, but Cassie Roads was not someone he could avoid anymore. As her mouth slid down over him, he let go of every vestige of control he’d had, giving into what he wanted.
He held on just long enough to pull her up to him, and he kissed her deeply as his fingers untied her bathrobe. She straddled his waist, pulling the robe off and tossing it aside, giving him an ample view of her petite, well-shaped body. His hands slid up and over her skin, as their eyes connected again. His hand slid behind her neck, pulling her down so he could kiss her again. She slid her body down his, sliding down onto him, making him shudder. Her tiny frame was definitely consistent, inside and out. She was so tight over him that he was sure he was going to lose control instantly.
Fortunately, she was having the same problem. Her body was reacting in waves at the feel of him filling her so completely. That, combined with the feelings she’d already developed for him, and the erotic idea of what they were doing, made her lose herself in the sensations completely. She cried out against his neck, and he groaned out loud in his release, in time perfectly with hers.
They lay together, both panting and smiling at the same time.
She nipped at his neck, moving her lips to his ear. “And you didn’t tell me you were incredibly good in bed, either,” she chided.
John chuckled, turning his head to catch her lips with his, kissing her deeply again.
“Conjecture,” he told her simply.
“Bullshit,” she replied.
He grinned in the semi-darkness of the room. He cuddled her close to him and pulled the covers up over the two of them. They fell asleep a few minutes later, her body still surrounding him, her head on his chest, her ear pressed to his heart.
In the Fast Lane (Wild Irish Silence Book 2) Page 10
