Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed?

by Jami Davenport

  “How do you want it, baby?”

  “I want it alone.”

  “That doesn’t sound too exciting.” His work-roughened hands crept under her T-shirt and slid along her spine. Those calloused hands felt better than raw silk.

  Harlee bit her lip, but it didn’t stop her body from responding. His mouth found hers. She pursed her lips and resisted—for about two seconds. He wore her down. Not that it took much. She opened her mouth to him and invited his tongue inside. Oh, man, the guy could kiss. She felt aftershocks down to her toes.

  Jake pulled back a fraction of an inch. His lips moved against hers as he spoke. “So how do you want it tonight?”

  “I want you tied to the bed so you’re helpless. Then I’ll torture you all night.” She’d pay him back for his earlier insensitivity, for being too ashamed of her to invite her to his mother’s party.

  His mouth spread into a broad grin. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Forget it. You’d enjoy it too much.”

  “You’re contrary tonight.”

  “Only because you made me that way.”

  “I love it when you’re pissed. It makes the sex that much more exciting.” He planted little kisses on her jaw as he settled his body between her legs.

  “Stop it. Get off me. You promised you’d sleep on the couch.”

  “Who’s sleeping? I liked your earlier idea. But if you don’t want to render me helpless so you can torture me, I guess I’ll have to do the work.” He grasped her ankles and lifted them high and wide over her head. He held them there, effectively pinning her body to the bed. “Too bad I don’t have any rope.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t tempt me, baby.” His dark eyes danced. She could imagine the mental images flipping through his testosterone-saturated imagination. Maybe rope wasn’t such a bad idea. Their eyes met, and their wills clashed. She struggled against him in a feeble effort to dislodge him, not that she really wanted him to stop doing all those things he did to her. But a girl had to keep her pride and make the guy beg. She didn’t pause to remind herself that she might be doing the begging. After all, he had her spread wide open and vulnerable.

  Holding her captive with his eyes, he positioned himself at her pink, swollen entrance. She felt his cock nudge the opening. With one hard swift thrust, he lodged himself deep inside her. The force of it ripped the breath from her lungs. His size stretched her, and his familiar warmth filled her. She rotated her hips to take him deeper. He held her legs high and wide and slid in and out. Their bodies slapped together on each down stroke. Harlee gasped for air and begged for mercy she didn’t want.

  “Do you want me to stop, baby?” He paused on the upstroke, barely inside her.

  “No.” Her strangled cry begged for him to fill her emptiness. Not just her body, but her heart and her soul.

  He slid back inside with a stroke so slow it was agonizing. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that branded her to him. Wild and hot, their tongues entangled.

  She needed oxygen. Needed to breath. With great reluctance, she broke the kiss and gulped in air.

  His eyes, glazed with lust, reflected amusement at her lack of control. “Sure you don’t want me to quit? I aim to please.”

  “Then aim a little harder and make me scream.” She saw something snap in his eyes. Like a broken rubber band stretched to the point of no return. His iron-clad control shattered, and he slammed into her.

  She didn’t care that he was rough. She wanted him rough, hot, wild. She wanted her bad boy tonight. “Oh, Jake! Harder. Please. Harder. Harder!” He was more than happy to comply. The power of each thrust lifted her hips off the bed. Harlee sunk her teeth into his shoulder. Her hips rose to meet his, their rhythms melded, and their hearts beat in unison.

  He hesitated, deep inside her. His thumb found her most sensitive spot. She shuddered. His body gathered itself for the final release. Harlee ground her hips against him as he filled her. Her own body responded by taking flight, breaking the bounds of earth and leaving her weightless. She reached for him, wanting to connect, to be one. Briefly, they touched soul to soul until their reality once again invaded their fantasy.

  Jake collapsed on top of her. Harlee buried her face in his shoulder to muffle the words fighting for expression.

  I love you, Jake Reynolds. I love you. I love you.

  * * * *

  Joe Reynolds sat at his desk in his executive suite. He flipped through the several pieces of paper.

  “Well?” Warren asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

  “This is crap.” Joe gauged his nephew’s reaction to his blunt response.

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Warren. Is this all you came here for? I’m a busy man.”

  “She’s his girlfriend and his employee. They’re living together.” Warren gritted his teeth, openly displaying his impatience.

  Joe shrugged. He assessed his bad-seed nephew with a critical eye. His sister’s only child, spoiled rotten in ways that even his own kids weren’t spoiled, with an emphasis on “rotten.” Short and husky with dark hair and receding hairline, you could never mistake him for being handsome. On the other hand, the expensive clothes Warren wore made the most of what he had.

  “Women like her bargain with their bodies. She’s using her body to get what she wants from Jake.”

  Joe slapped the papers down on his desk so hard that Warren flinched. “None of this means anything. A bunch of gossip printed from the Internet and interviews with people that have every reason to lie. Not one thing you’ve shown me is legitimate.”

  “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Some of it must be true.” Warren glared at Joe, which didn’t impress Joe in the least.

  Joe stifled a yawn. “You’re asking me to interfere in my son’s life over something that girl might have done. I almost lost him once, Warren. I’m not going to interfere again for a flimsy reason like this. I see no proof that she’s a gold digger. As far as I can tell, she’s a hardworking young lady who’s caught my son’s eye.”

  Joe had paid off the first wife and sent her packing in Jake’s best interests, of course. He’d do it again if necessary, but he hoped it didn’t come to that.

  “You sure have mellowed in your old age,” Warren grumbled.

  “It’s called wisdom combined with a wake-up call.”

  “Shit, I can’t believe this. This doesn’t upset you?” Warren jabbed a finger at the pile of papers. “Okay, then look at this.” Warren slapped a worn envelope down on the desk.

  Joe picked it up. The postmark was over two years old and from Friday Harbor. It was addressed to Harlee. Feeling a bit odd, Joe pulled the letter out of the envelope and studied it. “This is personal. Where did you get this?”

  “It doesn’t matter where I got it. It establishes motive.”

  “We aren’t trying her for murder, Warren.” Joe clenched his jaw. His nephew should not be in possession of such a letter, disturbing as its contents were. He had to have gotten it through illegal means. “Where did you get this?”

  Warren ignored the question. “Harlee has a big reason to stop the construction of that camp.”

  Warren was right about that, and it concerned Joe. It also upped the stakes and put his son to an even stronger test. Joe folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope. His slow, deliberate actions had Warren squirming in his seat.

  “Well?”

  “I want to see how this plays out, how Jake handles himself under pressure. What decisions he’ll make.”

  “This is all just a game to you!” Warren rose to his feet and stood over Joe’s desk. His face contorted with rage. “You don’t give a shit what he does with that property or what happens to me.”

  Joe stood calmly. His six-foot-three frame dwarfed his nephew. He’d always kept himself in good shape as part of his rigid adherence to structure or at least had been at one time. Now it was just habit. Regardless, it served him well in this case.

  Warren bac
ked up a few steps.

  “I don’t take kindly to threats, relative or not. As far as what happens to you, you’re not my concern. Knowledge of this information remains between us. No one else is to know.” Joe pointed at the door. “Now, get out.”

  Warren left the papers on the desk and stomped out of the room.

  Joe sighed and summoned his administrative assistant. He needed to get a handle on this situation. Despite his insistence to the contrary, he was concerned.

  Two hours later, Joe sat in one of Seattle’s posh restaurants eating dinner with his middle son. Brad would do just about anything for a free meal. They made small talk for a while before Joe got to the point.

  “So, tell me, Brad, what the status of Jake’s relationship with Harlee?”

  Brad leaned back in his chair and grinned. He finished chewing and answered his father. “The poor fool is in love with her.”

  “In love with her? Did he tell you that?”

  “He doesn’t need to; I can tell.”

  Joe frowned. He hadn’t expected this piece of news. “Does he have plans to make it a more permanent arrangement?”

  “No, not at all. He thinks it’ll be over as soon as that camp is demolished. It’ll be a death sentence to their relationship considering how passionate she is about saving the place.”

  “Why is she so passionate about it?” Joe played dumb. Brad never could keep his mouth shut, and he didn’t disappoint Joe this time around. Must have something to do with spending those nine months in the womb with Bridget. Sometimes, he swore Brad was a male version of his only daughter.

  “She has history with that camp and the Bakers and Rose Maguire.”

  “The Bakers,” Joe commented when Brad finished. “A very well-respected old Seattle family. I also knew Rose Maguire. Didn’t we donate money to that camp?”

  “Probably. Dad, you’re not going to try to split them up, are you?”

  “Brad, why would you think such a thing?”

  “Just checking.”

  “Actually, Warren paid a visit earlier. He has some concerns about her…uh…background and her intentions.”

  Brad rolled his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake. He’s just worried about Warren and what Warren wants. I like her. She’s very sweet. Nothing like Jake’s ex, in case you’re wondering.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” He didn’t give Brad’s assurances much credit. The boy wasn’t the best judge of character. After all, he’d been best friends with Warren growing up.

  Regardless, he’d keep an eye on the situation. He’d never allow Harlee to drag Jake down like Tammy had. Just the thought of that woman’s name made his stomach tie in knots. If this went too far, Joe knew ways to put a stop to it. If necessary, he’d act swiftly and completely. He’d never met a person yet who couldn’t be bought for the right amount of money. For now, he’d support their relationship. To do anything else would only drive the two closer together and alienate his youngest son from the family once again.

  Unfortunately, she was Jake’s employee, and that could only lead to disaster.

  As far as the camp, a clever businessman found ways to manipulate any scenario to his advantage. Jake was clever, but was he disciplined enough to use his inborn talents? Did he have the guts to make the tough decisions?

  * * * *

  Jake asked Harlee to put another call into Bob Parish. Harlee dialed the phone then disconnected the call before it ever had a chance to ring.

  “Jake, no one answers. Just a message that the office is closed for the holidays.”

  “Well, crud. That’s an asinine way to run a business. Did you leave another message for him to call me?”

  “Yes, I did but then I’ve left several.” When she was young, lying came easily to her. Not now. Lying to Jake was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done.

  “A few weeks! What the hell is going on? We’re supposed to be discussing the demolition of that camp, and he’s off for the holidays?”

  “Some people do have a life outside of work.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I have a life. We have a life.” Jake jumped to his feet and overtook her in one swift stride. He pinned her against the wall and kissed her thoroughly. When he was done, she sagged against the wall like a limp rag doll. “Remember this? Remember last night?”

  Harlee nodded mutely. Oh, yeah, and the night before that and before that and…

  “Do you call that not having a life or do you consider screwing me to be work?”

  “No, I don’t consider it work.” She straightened as much as those shaky legs allowed. Damn, he loved demonstrating how much he could turn her on. Not that it took much demonstration. He could do it with a look from those chocolate eyes or a touch to her arm.

  “Tell my brother to forget it. Go with me on Saturday night.”

  “No. I told him I’d go, and I’m going.”

  “Harlee.”

  “Don’t ‘Harlee’ me. You had your chance. Brad and I are only friends. You know I’d never do anything with your brother.”

  “I know, but…”

  “Don’t be silly, Jake. I’m going with him. Nothing you say will change my mind.”

  “Then I’m going, too.”

  “Good, I’ll see you there.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Brad put me up in the Four Seasons.”

  “Dad leases a suite of rooms there for business, so he claims.”

  “So are you saying he uses it for illicit affairs?”

  Jake shrugged.

  “Well, then it’s appropriate I stay there.”

  “You’re not an illicit affair, Harlee.”

  “I’m not? Then what am I?”

  “You’re my friend. My colleague. My lover.” He grinned. “How’s that?”

  “Are you trying to score points?”

  “I’m trying to score.”

  “You’ve been scoring a lot lately.”

  “Not enough.”

  Harlee laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. She rubbed against him to whet his appetite for her particular brand of nourishment. “You are one hungry man.”

  “You are one hungry woman.” His hands surrounded her waist and anchored her against him.

  “The better to eat you up, my dear.”

  “Wrong fairy tale, Goldie.” Jake nipped on her earlobe. “And I already know who’s been sleeping in my bed, and she’s staying there.”

  Staying there for how long? A few more weeks? Or less than that? Harlee’s gaze shifted to the phone and back. How long could she play this game with him before he discovered her deception?

  She needed a few more weeks. For now, she’d stall and pray he didn’t uncover her lies.

  Chapter 17—The Sex Dress

  Harlee opened the door to find Mariah and Bridget on the other side. She threw her arms around them and hugged them. “I thought you guys would never get here.”

  “We were shopping.” Mariah stated the obvious. They swept into the room. No easy feat considering they came bearing mounds of packages.

  “You guys have been shopping when we should be working out a plan of attack?”

  “This is part of the plan.” Bridget dumped her packages on the couch.

  “This?” Harlee pointed at the packages. “All I see are endless Nordstrom bags.”

  “You’re about to see more than that.” Mariah’s determined expression didn’t bode well for Harlee. She moved out of range but suspected nowhere would be safe.

  “Let’s get to work. I can’t stay long. I have to get ready, and Rico hates it when I make him late for things. These are for you.” Mariah gestured at the small mountain of packages at her feet.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Mariah gave her a quick once-over and frowned. “Believe me, I did. It’s your lucky day. Your fairy godmothers are here.”

  Harlee hugged her arms to her chest as Mariah and Bridget walked around her.

&nbs
p; Mariah pointed toward a small table. “Take a seat. By the time we’re done with you, he’ll be stepping all over his tongue.”

  “Brad?”

  “Of course not. Jake.”

  “I have plans for Brad,” Bridget piped up. “So don’t worry about him. Worry about Jake.”

  “I really don’t care about Jake.”

  “Nonsense. Don’t toy with me. I have eyes. Hurry up, what are you waiting for?” Mariah motioned impatiently and with such authority Harlee didn’t dare cross her. Defeated, she plopped into the designated chair.

  Mariah placed a leather suitcase on the table and flipped open the lid. Inside, makeup of every size and shape nestled in neat little rows. Harlee’s eyes grew large. She’d never seen a makeup case so large in her life. There had to be more makeup in that case than was shelved in the aisle of the local pharmacy. And this wasn’t pharmacy makeup. Not even close.

  “What are you doing with those scissors?”

  Smiling, Bridget snapped the scissors open and shut.

  “She’s trimming that mop.” Mariah held up a handful of hair and examined it. “Split ends,” she noted with horror.

  “Don’t cut my hair.”

  “She’s going to trim it, that’s all. Just be quiet, you’ll love it when she’s done.”

  “Keep whining, and I’ll shave it off,” Bridget threatened.

  “When did you learn to cut hair?”

  “I was the hairdresser for the Queen of England in another incarnation according to my channeller.” Bridget spoke with the utmost seriousness.

  “I’m outta here.” Harlee started to get up, but Mariah and Bridget both held a shoulder and pushed her against the back of the chair.

  Six-inch locks of her hair fell into her lap and onto the floor. Unable to stand it, she squeezed her eyes shut which didn’t block the snip-snip of Bridget’s enthusiastic scissors.

  * * * *

  Mariah unveiled an entire wardrobe made to fit Harlee’s figure. Her legs looked longer and her curves, curvier. At her captors’ insistence, she modeled every dress in the collection. Finally, they settled on a deep blue cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and spaghetti straps.