The Only Thing

by Marie Harte

  But Linda had a bone to pick. “Bah. You baby her too much. No. The girl needs a reality check. Life isn’t going to get better as she ages. She’s pretty and young now. The world is her oyster. But it won’t be that way forever. Tell you what, Hope, why don’t you bring your new boyfriend to dinner? I’m happy to meet him…if he exists.” Linda snorted.

  Hope frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “Just that it’s convenient you have a boyfriend all of a sudden, one who seems to press all my buttons.”

  “He exists, all right.”

  “Ha. Sure he does.”

  “He does too.” Not. He does not. And why can’t I stop sounding like a rebellious eight-year-old? Hell, might as well roll with it. “You know, he’s an amazing artist. Maybe I’ll talk him into that tattoo I’ve been thinking about getting.”

  Linda’s eyes narrowed. “You will not.”

  “I’m twenty-nine years old. I can do what I want.”

  “I’m still your mother, young lady. You want peace between us, you follow a few simple rules.”

  “Simple rules? Date rich men and work for you, living the Linda way? Is that it?”

  “Well, you’re not getting any younger,” Linda snapped.

  “You know what? I’m full.” Hope stood. “I’m finished with brunch. Thanks, Dad.”

  “Hope…”

  Her mother glared. “Say and do what you want. You always do…no matter how poor those choices might be.”

  It was as if Linda heard nothing but her own voice. Live by her direction. Date who she chose. Pop out a kid or two to round out Linda’s idea of how Hope should live her life.

  Well, screw that. Hope now had some plans to make, and one tattoo artist to see. With any luck, he’d done jail time.

  She couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 3

  Monday evening, J.T. was finishing up a client when Suke stuck her head over the high partition separating his station from the others.

  “Sorry, but there’s a hot chick here to see you.”

  “I don’t have anyone scheduled after Dan.”

  Dan tensed as the needle dug into a tender spot.

  “Yo, man, relax. I told you, we’re nearly done. You’re doing great.”

  “Sorry, sorry.” Dan drew in a breath and let it out. “I friggin’ hate this part.” He’d had a similar tattoo drawn over his left wrist, so he knew what to expect on his right.

  “Yeah, the parts that aren’t as fleshy hurt more. But you wanted it.”

  “Hell yeah.” Dan chuckled and remained still, his arm stretched out on the table extension, unmoving under J.T.’s hand.

  J.T. once again put pressure on the foot pedal, the quiet of the rotary machine a welcome relief from the older, louder equipment he used to use. The days of the loud drilling noises, cigarette smoke, and metal music gone wrong no longer existed. Now he tattooed his clients to some chill bass vibing the studio.

  “The chick?” Suke said again. “I told her to wait.”

  “Yeah, sure. Fine. I’ll talk to her when I’m done.”

  Suke nodded and left.

  It took J.T. another half hour to finish with Dan. After covering the tattoo in ointment and plastic wrap—because he knew Dan would just rip a bandage free to show off his new tattoo—he walked the guy out.

  “Remember, any problems, call me. You didn’t scab last time, so I’m thinking you won’t this time either. Give it a week and a half to heal, then I want you back in so I can take some pictures. That is one wicked reaper, Dan.”

  Dan grinned. “I know, right? You’re the shit, J.T. Love you, man.” He did the perfunctory half chest-bump on his good side and cradled his tattooed arm like a baby. After paying Suke, he left with a promise to return.

  J.T. sighed and rolled his head on his neck, then stretched his shoulders. The session had been three hours long, but so worth it. He’d done excellent work. He glanced around, pride in his efforts enforced by the artistic feel of the place. His place.

  The funky lobby of Tull Paint & Body had been done in dark colors, the floors a clean gray cement. Original artwork decorated the walls, using photos of designs the guys and Suke had done in the studio. A few Tull T-shirts and mugs sat on a rack by the counter, where whoever manned the desk would catch walk-ins and take payments. Where their apprentice, Daisy, would have been if she hadn’t left early to run some errands.

  “J.T.?”

  He froze for a moment, feeling déjà vu. He kept hearing Hope Donnigan’s voice in the weirdest places. Although she had actually been at his dad’s on Friday. He turned to see her standing by the wall-mounted screen to his right. Huh. She was really here.

  “Hope?”

  She wore open-toed sandals showing off dainty, blue-painted toenails. Shapely legs disappeared under a knee-length, floral sundress. A cropped sweater hid her shoulders. She looked like the essence of summer, and he wanted to kneel down in worship. Innocence radiated from her in waves, as if begging him to muss her a little.

  He should have felt dirty for wanting to muddy that innocence. Instead, he grew more aroused. Hell.

  “Hi.” She smiled at him.

  His heart raced. Damn, that dimple slayed him every time.

  “He says hi back,” Suke said dryly. “I’m Suke, one of the harder-working artists around here. I take it you know J.T.?”

  Hope nodded. “Great place. I hadn’t realized it was down here.”

  As she and Suke spoke, J.T. watched them interact. Hope didn’t seem to care that Suke had tattoos up and down her arms, piercings in her nose and lip, and spiked black hair in a dare-to-be punk style. Nor did she seem to mind the way Suke was eye-fucking her.

  “Hey,” he growled; he minded.

  Suke grinned. “I’m leaving for the day. You need me to stick around and lock up? Maybe walk Hope out to her car?”

  “Go.”

  Suke chuckled and left.

  “She’s nice.”

  He laughed. “Suke? She busts our balls on a daily basis, but we love her. Now what brings you to the lion’s den?”

  Hope grinned. “Is that what this is? The sign outside said Tull Paint & Body.”

  “Yeah, a play on Auto Paint & Body, like a car paint shop. I worked for my dad before I opened the place, and some of him stuck.” Jesus, he was babbling.

  “Tull?”

  He shrugged, searching for calm. “My dad is a big Jethro Tull fan. Sounded cool when I was twenty-five.” He paused, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What’s up, Hope?”

  She flushed, now looking uncomfortable. “Ah, this is kind of awkward. I have a favor to ask.” She didn’t say any more.

  She looked so damn adorable. He couldn’t help himself. He had to mess with her. “Okay. So you want a baby without the commitment. I get it. You want to make one right here or in the back room? Do you have some paperwork for me to sign first? You know, about rights for the kid?”

  “What? No.” She blinked at him. “Have you done that before?”

  “Nah, but I can’t think of a more awkward conversation. So now that I know you’re not here to use and abuse me, what can I do for you?”

  “Ah, actually…” Her face turned bright red.

  He gaped. “Shit. Really?” He took a step closer. “You want to abuse me? I’m game.”

  “J.T.” She blew out a breath. “I have a problem. And I kind of dragged you into it.”

  “Color me intrigued.” He led her to the high-backed purple leather chairs by the coffee table, on which a print portfolio of their work lay, along with some tattoo mags.

  “Sorry,” Hope apologized. She crossed her legs to sit demurely in the chair, and his heart threatened to leap from his chest. He wondered if she felt the same sexual chemistry he had since the first time he’d laid eyes on her.

  Probabl
y not, since she didn’t seem affected by him. She was shy, gorgeous, and could have any guy she wanted with the crook of her finger. He couldn’t imagine why she needed his help, but whatever. He was game. And truth be told, he felt protective of her. She was a weird extension of family his sister had married into.

  “Hope? Just tell me.”

  “It’s my mother. She’s such a pain.” Hope glared, and he was taken aback by the fierceness from a woman he’d never seen be anything but pleasant. “She was on me about dating some rich guy. A doctor this time. Then she was riding me about my job, my lifestyle, being boring. You name it. She jumped on my nerves and ground them to nothing.”

  “Ah, sorry.” He still didn’t see what part he had to play in this.

  “So I mentioned I was dating someone. A tattoo artist who had baby mommas everywhere and had done time. Have you done time? Because that would be good.”

  He blinked. “Huh?”

  Like a steamroller, she continued, “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend the next time I have to go to dinner at Mom and Dad’s. And you need to be awful.”

  He didn’t like the tone of this drama. “What? Play the big, bad black man to scare your lily-white mom?”

  She snorted. “Please. If only it was that easy to scare Linda Donnigan.”

  He relaxed, more than glad to know she couldn’t care less about his skin color. “Then what do you need, exactly?”

  “My mother loves people of all races, genders, and sexual persuasions. But she’s a snob. It’s all about money and success with her. If you’re not dying to be president, you’re nothing.”

  “President as in…?”

  “The top of whatever your career is, or the actual POTUS. With Linda, it could be either,” Hope said wryly. “I have no drive to be more than Cam’s assistant right now. I work at my cousin’s investment firm, and I’m basically a glorified secretary. But I’m okay with that.”

  “You don’t sound okay.” She sounded frustrated.

  “I am. Mostly.” She sighed. “Look, none of this is your fault. I needed someone I thought my mother wouldn’t like.”

  “That hurts.” He wasn’t lying.

  “It’s not personal. She doesn’t know you, J.T. But she’s not a fan of tattoos at all. And you look tough. So I thought, who do I know who would freak my mother out?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “I just need you to pretend to be my new boyfriend a few times. Then we can ‘break up,’ and she’ll never know.”

  “I have met your mom, you know. It was brief, at Del’s wedding. She might remember.” He frowned. “Then again, she was drinking that night.”

  “She likes champagne.” Hope leaned closer and grabbed his hand.

  The feel of her smaller palm against his caused sweat to break out on his forehead. He stared into her honey-gold eyes and felt himself nodding.

  “Dinner will be delicious, because my dad’s an amazing cook. But it might be uncomfortable because Mom will grill you.”

  “Why not just ignore her and do what you want?”

  Hope’s face set in a charmingly militant expression, though he doubted she’d be happy with the description. “It’s the principle, J.T. She thinks she can tell me what to do, how to act, where to work. I’m tried of it. Tired of her always thinking I suck at everything. So I lashed out, acted like a spoiled teenager, and now I’m stuck backing up what I said, or I’ll look even stupider than I already do.”

  “Isn’t it more stupid?”

  “No, it’s stupider.” She looked hard at him. “Don’t tell me you’re a grammar nazi.”

  He flushed. “Ah, sorry. My one vice.”

  “You only have one?” She raised a brow.

  “Funny. But at least lying to my mother isn’t one of them.”

  She said nothing, just looked unsure of herself.

  “Oh, now see, that’s probably awkward. Me mentioning my mom, who’s dead and all.” Which she would know, being so close to her Aunt Sophie.

  She just stared at him.

  “What? She died when I was four. I barely remember her.” Sad but true. What he knew of her had come from watching his father grieve for the woman for nearly thirty years. He cleared his throat. “So this dinner. You want me to come and act all thug-life for your mom?”

  “Yes. No. It’s dumb.”

  It was an excuse to spend time with her. Why the hell was he trying to talk her out of this? “I get it, Hope. Your mom is making you feel like you don’t know your own mind, and you’re trying to show her you do.”

  “I told her I might get a tattoo, and she went off.” She smiled. “I’m not proud of it, but annoying her was the highlight of my day yesterday.”

  He laughed with her. “Big of you to admit. Hell, why not? I’ll go to your dinner.”

  “Thanks. I don’t know when it will be. In a week or two, maybe.” She gripped his hand, and he wondered if she was aware of him holding on to her with no intention of letting go anytime soon. “About what I said before… Forget all that. Just be yourself. You won’t scare her, but you’ll show her I can make up my own mind.”

  She started to pull her hand away, and he tightened his hold. “Now wait a minute. What’s in all this for me?”

  “A great dinner?”

  “Hmm. No. I was thinking of something else.”

  She grew guarded. “Like what?”

  “How about a real date? You and me go have fun together. Like out in public somewhere,” he said so as not to scare her. “Your choice.”

  Her eyes widened. “You want a real date?”

  “Did I stutter?”

  “Um, well, okay.”

  “Why so surprised?”

  “I don’t know.” Then he saw it. That flutter of nerves, of desire, as she stared at his mouth.

  Oh hell. He had little discipline when it came to Hope Donnigan. Knowing she wanted him back would make dating her a very bad idea. Yet he couldn’t help himself.

  “Come on. I’m a safe guy to be with. My sister will kill me if I screw you over, which I wouldn’t anyway. But she wants me keeping the McCauley ecosystem steady.”

  Hope’s slow smile was blindingly beautiful. “McCauley ecosystem?”

  “Yeah. There are all these relationship ties between the McCauleys and you Donnigans. Then add in us Websters, and Rena, the guys at the garage, ’cause they’re close like family. The gang at Ray’s…”

  “I’ve always wanted to go to Ray’s Bar.”

  He paused. “It’s kind of a rough place.”

  “All the more reason for me to go. Okay, J.T. You’ll have your date. I get my dinner. And it makes sense to hang out a little, because my mother will interrogate you. We really do need to get to know each other better.” She looked a bit nervous when she added, “But, um, no kissing or sex or anything, okay? I’m coming off some bad relationships, so I’m staying away from men. But you won’t count, because this is pretend.”

  “I don’t count?” Now she’d irritated him.

  “Not what I meant. I meant—”

  “I get it.” But he didn’t like how fast she was to dismiss him. “Okay, deal. We go to Ray’s for my date. We go to your place for your fake dinner.”

  “My parents’ place, but yeah.”

  “Shake on it.”

  “You have my hand.”

  “A hug then, since you’re practically family.” He tugged her to her feet, then pulled her into his arms and sighed at how perfectly she fit. “You are tiny, aren’t you?”

  She withdrew and glared up at him. “I’m not a child, J.T.”

  “Trust me, I know.” He kissed her before she could reject him. A quick peck on the lips was all he intended.

  But the moment their lips met, they both froze.

  He meant to pull away, knowin
g he’d gone too far. Then Hope softened under him and gripped his arms, her fingers trailing down to knead his thick forearms. She made a tiny growl and opened her mouth.

  When her tongue slid between his lips, he forgot himself and yanked her closer.

  And that was all she wrote for the next several minutes of his life.

  * * *

  Hope lost herself in J.T. He smelled like an invitation to sex and tasted like candy. Good Lord, but the man knew how to kiss.

  The moment he’d touched her lips, she’d forgotten her own advice to steer clear of men and latched on to him. And now she could do nothing but enjoy a real man concentrating on her.

  He moaned, slanted his mouth at an angle that gave him deeper access, and followed her tongue with his, dipping into the recesses of her mouth and stimulating every damn cell in her body.

  He was hard. All over. His broad chest swelled. Arms that she could barely fit her hands around tightened. As did the rest of him when he drew her into his body.

  She felt caged in his embrace, totally controlled by a man much more powerful than herself. But she sensed nothing but arousal and safety, oddly enough. Nothing overbearing, like what she’d experienced with a few of her exes.

  A smart woman would put a stop to the kiss. Especially when he put his large hand at the small of her back and pulled her closer still, allowing her to feel the impressive bulge between his legs. Their disparity in size was evident, especially that big part of him she felt all too clearly when he rubbed against her belly. She gasped, caught between his kiss and his shocking dimensions.

  He trailed his lips down her cheek to suck at her neck.

  She moaned, tilting her head back, doing her damnedest to find the will to push him away. But her body had other plans.

  Her breasts ached. The place between her legs throbbed. And the rest of her tingled, every part of her needing to lie down on the nearest horizontal surface so she could spread her legs in welcome…

  “No.” She pushed weakly at his chest.

  J.T. froze, panting. “No?” he choked out.

  “Yes. I mean, no. We can’t do this,” she managed between large intakes of breath.