Full Circle (RUSH, Inc. Book 3)

by Carol Caiton

  "I was pretty sure you did. The day you slapped Simon's face, Kyle called to you and you went right into his arms."

  "I scarcely knew him then."

  "Maybe. But he was ready to take care of you and you trusted him to do it."

  Hannah was right. "But I want a blue link," she said. "I want the security of knowing I'm highly compatible with the man I marry."

  "You don't think you're compatible with Kyle?"

  "Yes, I do, but—"

  "Do you think he's after your money, Jess?"

  "No. Not at all. I've had access to his bank accounts. I don't even know why he wanted me to barter for the car he bought. He's got as much money as we do."

  Hannah frowned. "Then why is he out in the hot sun working construction?"

  "Because of something that happened when he was a policeman in Philadelphia. Something that hurt him here." She tapped her fist to her heart. "He left his job and came to Florida . . . to separate himself from the pain, I think. Maybe physical labor helps him forget."

  "Well he seems pretty serious about you. I know you want a blue link, and I'll be the first to support you on that. It's the reason we're here. But I think you'll always wonder what might have been if you don't give this thing with Kyle a chance."

  After the things he said to her at Urns & Leaves and the way it made her feel inside, she didn't think she had much choice.

  "Simon was at Urns & Leaves when Kyle came in."

  Hannah's eyes widened. "Is that what you meant by eventful? What happened?"

  Jessica began to explain. But when she described her anxiety as the security guards ordered Simon to release her, Hannah started laughing.

  "Oh, I wish I could have seen that!"

  "It was terrible, Hannah. Haven't you heard how people whisper about him? They talk about his blue link and they say she locked herself inside the Moon Orchid Spa to protect herself from him . . . . Can you imagine how he must feel? Simon would never hurt a woman. Not ever. And now they'll be talking about this as well."

  Hannah stopped laughing and sighed. "You're right, they will. And yes, I've heard the whispers. I'm sure he has too—"

  Her telephone rang, interrupting their conversation.

  "I should go," Jessica said.

  "I'll call you tonight. We can finish talking then."

  "Yes, all right."

  She mouthed a silent goodbye as Hannah lifted the receiver. She had an awful lot to think about, and she wondered when she'd hear from Kyle again.

  * * *

  Kyle took a look at his wristwatch—not the crusty, plastic-banded one he wore on the job. He'd sprung for something nice to go with the black jeans and gray pullover he'd bought the evening before. He usually looked like a bum when he saw Jessica or her sister. He didn't today. But it had been a long time, a hell of a long time, since he'd felt as uncertain as he did right now, standing beside her car.

  He wanted her back. He wanted to listen to her talk while she figured out how to express herself in a language she'd forgotten. He wanted her to tell him about her life while she traveled the world with her father. He wanted to see the inside of her apartment, to have a look at her personal space. What colors did she like? Did she combine a variety of cultures when she decorated? He wanted to see how she lived. He wanted to watch her smile light up the room . . . and he wanted her to make him laugh again, to keep chasing away the demons that sat on his shoulders. He still had some personal hurdles to jump, but he knew what he wanted. The question was, did she want the same thing?

  She was late. But she didn't know he was standing here waiting for her. Maybe she'd decided to have lunch with Hannah. If so, he'd settle in for the duration because he didn't plan on leaving until he talked with her.

  He shifted his weight to the other foot, looked up, and saw her walk through the checkpoint doors. Jesus, she was pretty. Pale wisps of hair escaped the clip she wore while she worked and he watched as she tucked them behind her ear. Yeah, Michael was right. He had it bad.

  She looked over, spotted him from two aisles away and stopped walking. His heart began to thud. What kind of reception would he get? Had his words meant anything to her?

  She started forward again and he took a step away from her car. Damn, but he wanted her. Just to be with her.

  When she reached the next car over, she stopped again and he made himself stand still. Waiting. He was no more than six feet away from her, but this had to be her choice. He'd said everything he could say at this point. It was too soon for anything more.

  "Kyle?"

  Her eyes searched his for long seconds. Then she lowered her over-sized purse to the concrete and he saw the hope in her eyes.

  Yes, goddamn it, yes.

  He held out a hand. He didn't know what she wanted from him, but when she walked into his arms and slid her hands around to his back, he was ready to give it to her.

  He swept her up against him and rested his cheek against her hair. He knew he'd only been going through the motions of living for a long time, but holding her like this filled him with new energy, new hope. "Jess . . . ." He breathed in. Breathed out. "Christ, Jess. Don't shut me out like that again."

  He drew back, saw the tears welling in her eyes, and crushed her mouth under his.

  "Kyle Falkner?"

  With one swift move, he swept her behind him, holding her there with a hand on her hip. She was trembling and he wanted to tear into the three men facing him—two security guards and a third man wearing a blue dress shirt and tie, waiting for him to answer.

  "That's right," Kyle said, eyeing the guy out in front

  "Do you have a link with this woman?"

  Jessica tried to edge out from behind him. "You know he doesn't," she accused.

  Shit.

  Kyle squeezed his fingers to reassure her.

  "Let him answer the question, Miss Breckenridge."

  Calling her by name put Kyle on alert. The guy had done his homework.

  "No," he answered. "I don't have a link with Miss Breckenridge."

  "I'm Jeremiah Case, chief of security, Mr. Falkner. These two guards are going to escort you to your vehicle and then off the property, at which time your membership at RUSH will be terminated."

  "It's not—" Jessica started. But Kyle squeezed again and she quieted.

  "You can choose to dispute my decision if you'd like, but there are witnesses." He indicated the two guards behind him. "And, of course, the security video." He raised a casual hand to point out one of the overhead cameras.

  Kyle said nothing.

  "As per your membership agreement, any prepaid fees are now forfeit," Case went on. "You can make an appointment, as a guest, to have the security implant removed from your wrist, or you can leave it in. Either way, it'll be deactivated as soon as you leave the grounds today."

  Kyle clamped his jaw, stared at Jeremiah Case, and nodded. "Understood."

  Apparently Jessica was through with being silent. She poked her head around his arm and said, "What about me, Mr. Case?"

  "What about you, Miss Breckenridge?" He looked at her questioningly.

  "Am I to be fired from my job here? Do I lose my membership as well?"

  "No."

  "No?" She held onto Kyle's arm and eased around to stand at his side.

  "No," Case repeated.

  "Why not?"

  "Because it was Mr. Falkner's responsibility to exercise restraint. Any relationship you have with one another should have been kept off property."

  "But I'm the one who rushed into his arms."

  "And it was up to him to step back."

  "Jessica," Kyle said, "it's in the contract agreement."

  "But Kyle—"

  "Shhh," he told her. "Go ahead home, honey. I'll catch up with you in a little while."

  Stubbornly she pressed her lips together. Then she glared at the chief of security. "I don't like you, Mr. Case."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Breckenridge."

  Scowling, she turn
ed away and looked up at Kyle. "A little while?"

  "Yes." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Don't forget your purse."

  She gave a last glance to the other three men, frowned, then snatched up her pocketbook and walked around to the driver's side of her car.

  Kyle backed up when she started the engine. She reversed out of the parking slot, started toward the exit, and he turned to Case's team. Behind them and off to the left was one of RUSH's security vehicles. Jeremiah Case raised a brow and Kyle stepped forward. He wasn't going to give them any trouble. But he didn't like the thought of losing his membership while Jessica continued to work here. He didn't like that at all.

  * * *

  Jessica clasped her hands together in front of her, trying to contain her worry, and stared out at the city lights. Why hadn't he called? He wouldn't have been detained at RUSH all this time. Jeremiah Case said Kyle was to be escorted off the property. Could something have happened to him? An automobile accident? If his jeep rolled over, he had no protection for his head. The fabric roof . . . .

  The telephone on the wall beside her front door rang, jarring her from her thoughts. After a frozen second, she dashed across the room. The front desk wouldn't call this late unless she had a visitor.

  "Hello?"

  "Miss Breckenridge?"

  "Yes?"

  "Kyle Falkner is here to see you."

  Relief and excitement sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through her.

  "Yes," she answered. "Ask him to come up please."

  Hurrying to the bathroom, she checked the mirror and smoothed her hands over the white tank top she'd chosen to wear with her new blue jeans. Did it fit her form too closely? Did the crescent moon that dangled near her cleavage draw attention to her breasts? With the butterflies fluttering at full speed in her stomach, she reprimanded herself for not thinking of these things before.

  Sliding a palm to her abdomen, she closed her eyes and slowly breathed in. Her clothing was fine. She was presentable. Kyle knew she wasn't promiscuous.

  His knock sounded on her door and there was no more time to debate it. She forced her shoulders to relax and walked over to open it.

  "Kyle."

  Dark brown eyes met hers and the joy she felt at seeing him, being with him again, filled her to overflowing.

  Stepping back, she opened the door wider and felt his hands slide to her waist as she closed it again.

  "Come here, Jess," he murmured near her ear.

  He didn't have to tell her a second time.

  Turning, she rose up on her toes, slipped her hands behind his neck, and sank her fingers into his hair. "Yes, Kyle," she whispered.

  "Yes," he whispered back.

  He dipped his head and his breath whispered across her lips. Then he fitted his mouth to hers. Soft. Warm. And so perfect to everything bursting in her heart.

  His tongue slid into her mouth and she crowded in closer, helpless to the lure that seduced her whenever he touched her. So quickly her body warmed, swelling with want, and she wanted to know the things he could teach her. So she pulled away.

  "Kyle," she gasped, tearing her mouth from his.

  Sliding her arms down to wedge them between her upper body and his, she pushed until he relaxed his hold.

  "It's too much, Kyle. You make me feel too much."

  He lowered his forehead to hers. "I like it when you feel too much." His hands caressed her back. "Do you always respond like this?"

  "No." Heat stole into her cheeks. "I think there's something wrong with me."

  She felt his smile. "There's nothing wrong with you, honey. No. Don't be embarrassed. Look at me, Jess."

  Lifting his head from hers, he linked his fingers at the small of her back. "I like the way you respond. And I like knowing no one else makes you feel this way. Damn but you feel good."

  He pulled her in closer and she felt the hardness of him, felt the pleasure too of knowing that hardness was his response to her.

  "Kyle?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Would you like something to drink?"

  He smiled. It was a knowing smile that only added to her embarrassment.

  "Do you need to get me something to drink, Jess?"

  "Yes. I'm trembling."

  "I know you're trembling. I feel it." He brushed his lips over her forehead. "Go ahead then. Anything you have is fine."

  She reached for his hand as he released her and she towed him behind her toward the kitchen area. "Please sit down."

  "That's okay, I'll stand."

  He leaned against the counter as she washed her hands and reached for a blend of coffee she'd purchased from Urns & Leaves. But the reprieve she needed wasn't forthcoming. She was so intensely aware of him standing at the edge of her kitchen, his presence seemed to fill all the space surrounding her.

  Still shaking, she spilled coffee grounds on the counter and closed her eyes, struggling to put all her pieces back together.

  She heard Kyle approach, felt his approach, and opened her eyes. He reached a suntanned hand in front of her and took the small bag, placing it on the counter.

  "Why are you crying, honey?"

  She looked up. "I'm not crying."

  "Then what's all that wet stuff running down your cheeks?"

  Confused, she brushed her fingers over her face, bemused when they came away with tears and mascara.

  "I didn't realize I was crying."

  "Tell you what," he said, taking the small scooping spoon from her other hand, "why don't I make the coffee while you go clean up?"

  It took only a short time to rinse her face and reapply her makeup. When she was finished she felt calmer, refreshed. She'd needed those few minutes away from him for her emotions to settle.

  When she came out of the bathroom the aroma of brewing coffee filled the air and he was waiting.

  As though her apartment belonged to him and he was the host, he now took her hand and led her over to the sofa in the living area. Seating himself on the center cushion, he reached for her waist as she lowered herself, intending to sit beside him. He, however, redirected her onto his lap.

  "Kyle?"

  "Shhh. I only want to talk. We need to clear some things up." Resting his arm across her thighs, he gave her waist a small squeeze. "Just sit and listen, okay? I want to talk about the night we went for a walk. Somewhere along the line things got mixed up."

  Uneasy, she gave a reluctant nod and waited for him to continue.

  "When I said I didn't think of a woman as used if she had sex before marriage, I wasn't trying to convince you to go to bed with me, and I wasn't implying that you should experiment and sleep around. It was an opinion. My point of view. I was responding to your comment when you said you refused to be a used bride."

  The hand behind her began a slow, caressing motion across her back. "When I start a relationship with a woman, Jess, I don't expect it to last forever and neither does she. We like each other well enough, and I enjoy our time together. But frankly, I'm in it for the sex—and that's not a reflection on anyone's morals. Most of the relationships I've had have been brief. Some very brief. One lasted a couple of months, another lasted four, and a few were one-night stands. But the point I'm trying to make, the point I was trying to make that night, is that I don't think less of any of those women for engaging in sex before marriage."

  He stopped talking and searched her face. "No comment?"

  She was careful to hide her pain. "You told me to listen."

  He smiled. "I did, didn't I?" His other thumb began drawing small circles on her abdomen. "When you said you wouldn't be a used bride, a lot of things were running through my mind at the time. But most of all I was stunned. The way you said it—the terminology you used . . . . Honey, values like that went out with the last century. Or so I thought. But my comment was in response to that, not aimed at you specifically."

  She nodded. "I see." Hannah had been right. About that, at least. She'd misunderstood.

  "But let's get one thing
straight."

  She looked into his eyes.

  "When I am in a relationship, no matter how long it lasts, I want exclusive rights. I won't share. And I won't compete. For the duration of that relationship—I don't care if it's only a week—I expect it to be monogamous."

  "Even for you, Kyle?"

  "Yeah, even for me. No double standards. So, did I clear all that up for you?"

  She stirred in his lap and was reminded again of the hardness in his trousers. "Yes, it's clear now. I apologize for misunderstanding."

  "Apology accepted."

  She kept her voice calm and steady and asked, "May I have a turn now?"

  "A turn for what?"

  "To lecture."

  "You want to lecture me?"

  "Yes."

  "All right, sweetheart, have at it."

  Squirming in his hold, she tried to pull away, but his arms around her tightened.

  "I would like to get up, Kyle."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's part of the lecture."

  "Then skip that part. I've waited too long to hold you. Move on to the next part."

  "There is no next part. Holding me, touching me, this is the lecture."

  His expression became confused. "You don't want me to hold you? Touch you?"

  She drew a breath. "Not this way, no. Not sitting on your lap so that I feel . . . the hardness of your body. It's too intimate."

  "I'm almost thirty years old, Jessica. I passed the hand-holding stage a long time ago. Christ, you're so young."

  "Don't blame this on my youth, Kyle."

  Scrambling off his lap, she pushed away and stood up. "A few minutes ago you told me you don't expect your relationships to last forever. Those were your words and I didn't misunderstand."

  "Jess—"

  "No. This is my lecture. It's your turn to sit and listen."

  Kyle, however, did exactly the opposite. Pushing up off the sofa, he narrowed his eyes and towered over her. "Do you go out of your way to misunderstand what I say?"

  "Let me have my turn, Kyle."

  "Didn't anything I said this morning sink in?"

  "Yes. You said no other men. Ever. I just didn't understand that ever to you is only for a short time."

  "Stop jumping to conclusions, goddamn it. —And look who's talking about a short time. Most people buy a coffee table for the living room, maybe an end table or two. But not you. You've got seven pieces of furniture in your whole frigging apartment—and that includes the two chairs at your kitchen table."