“No,” Reece said as if he had to unlock his jaw to get the sound out.
“And nobody else knows her connection to me, so why would they suspect she’s down here partying it up with me?”
Silence. He took that as acknowledgment he had a point since Reece would never say so. “We’re still okay. Our cover’s intact, and unless you have another house somewhere wired up like the Pentagon, this is still the best place for her.”
More silence. Then, grudgingly, “All right. First hint of trouble, we’re pulling you both out.”
“Understood.”
Dial tone. Jude flinched as the sound grated across his eardrums. He didn’t know why it still hurt; Reece never said goodbye.
Figures. Even when he tried to be helpful, he managed to fuck things up.
He stood and returned to the house, feeling like he should keep Libby in his sights at all times now. Just in case. He believed what he told Reece—nobody should be able to make the connection between them and this fortress of a house was the best place for her.
Still…
He didn’t make it past the kitchen. The flower he’d left for Libby on the counter was gone. He spent a moment searching the floor, the sink, anywhere it could have dropped. Then he spotted the trashcan against the wall, its lid open.
No. She didn’t.
He tossed his phone on the counter and crossed to the trash. On top of everything lay the flower. He had to pick a new one this morning since the bloom from yesterday had wilted before Libby saw it, but this one was starting to wilt, too, and looked sad and pathetic on its bed of crumpled paper towel. He plucked it out with two fingers. Talk about kicking a guy when he was down. He started to toss it away again, but stopped short and scowled at his refection in the patio doors.
Was he really just going to give up? Libby had spurned his advances nine years ago when he first saw her standing in front of a 9/11 exhibit at the Smithsonian. If he’d given up back then… well, they wouldn’t be in the awkward position they were in now, with broken hearts and wounded prides. But there had been so many good times before the bad, and he wouldn’t trade those precious memories for anything.
So, no, he decided and placed the flower on top of the trashcan, accepting her challenge. Forget that crap defeatist attitude. He’d just have to keep trying.
Chapter Eleven
Another flower.
This time, he’d stuck it in the fridge. Getting more creative, Libby thought with a half laugh. Now he was making her seek them out like an Easter egg hunt. Every night she told herself she wouldn’t play along again, and yet every morning, she couldn’t help but peek into cupboards and other hidey-holes…discreetly, of course. At least until he went out for his swim. Then she turned the house upside-down searching. No way would she let him know that she actively sought out the flowers or that a little thrill went through her every time she found one.
Today’s pick was a beautiful bluish-purple, the blossom as big as her fist. She pulled it out of the fridge and underneath it…
“Oh my God.”
Her book! The one she’d dropped in the pool when the iguana paid them that unwelcome visit. Here it sat between the milk and a pitcher of ice tea, a brand new copy, the dust jacket all shiny and clean. Where had he gotten it? He hadn’t left the house…except for the three times he ran out to the front gate and impatiently checked the mail yesterday.
Sneaky man.
She picked up the book, let the fridge door fall shut, and ran her fingers over the cover. This, she hadn’t expected from him. He wasn’t an insightful or thoughtful man. How had he known that once the burn of embarrassment and fear over the iguana ordeal wore off, she most regretted the loss of her book?
Libby set the book aside and turned her attention to the flower. It was so hard to stay annoyed at him when he pulled stunts like this. Twirling the stem between her fingers, she drifted over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden and tried to spot the plant it had come from. She had to give him credit for his stubborn perseverance. Any other man would have given up on this game by now.
After one last indulgent sniff of its petals, she smiled and tossed the flower in the trash. But the book…that she would keep. No sense in letting a good book go to waste, even if it was to prove her point.
Although, to be honest, she couldn’t quite remember what exactly her initial point had been.
…
Jude watched through the window as Libby searched for and found his gifts in the fridge. She picked up the flower and buried her nose in its fragrant petals. For a second, just sliver of time as she stood there, highlighted by a sunbeam with the flower in her hand and a secret smile curving her lips, hope had buzzed through his head and quickened his pulse.
Maybe this time…
But, no. She turned away from the window, stepped on the pedal of the trashcan to open the lid, and tossed the flower just like all the others.
“Fuck.” Jude shook his head and let himself have a moment to sulk. She had to be the most unromantically inclined woman ever. What was it going to take to get by all of her defenses?
But then he noticed her pick up the book he’d asked Camden to buy and overnight to him with Seth’s name on the box. He’d had a helluva time talking his brother into it, but the way she hugged that book to her chest made it worth the fight. Hot damn. She was finally keeping something he’d given her. Why that made him want to dance, he didn’t know, but he indulged in the urge and executed a tap-tap-slide around the pool that would have had his mother beaming with pride.
“Nice moves, Slick.”
He spun and grinned at Libby. “Yeah?”
She smiled as she walked out onto the patio. “Seriously, I’m impressed. You can really dance. I never knew that about you.”
“Yeah, well, Mom was a dance instructor.” Two swaying steps put him close enough to snatch her into his arms and swing her around to the faint strings of guitar music coming from the beach a block away. “She made all five of us take lessons, always said a real man knew his way around a dance floor.”
“And you lived through high school?”
“Yeah. I even made it cool.”
“You would.”
“Hey, it was a great way to pick up chicks.”
She smacked his chest, but even that didn’t dampen his mood. He spun her, dipped her. When she straightened, her hair fell out of its clip and into her eyes.
She was laughing. “You are in a scary good mood all of a sudden.”
By tacit agreement, neither of them ever mentioned the flowers, so he just grinned and spun her again. “I’d love to take you dancing for real sometime. We’re good together in bed—no, don’t get all huffy. Just stating a fact. We’re good in bed, so we’d be dynamite on a dance floor.”
“If I didn’t have two left feet.”
“Nah, that’s not true.”
She gave a disbelieving laugh. “I practically killed myself and everyone within five feet of me the one and only time I ever tried Zumba.”
“You’re just under-practiced.” With one hand on the small of her back, he drew her into him until their bodies touched from chest to thigh. Swayed with her. She was inflexible as a rod at first, tense but not fighting him. He took that as a good sign and did the relaxing for her, closing his eyes and letting the soft chords of the guitar sink into his bones until the music guided his movements.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she loosened up and her hips joined the rhythm of his. She melted into him, her arms around his waist, her head resting on his chest…and they fit. Just like his parents had when they used to dance across the kitchen, each body instinctively recognizing its missing half in the other.
Christ, why hadn’t he noticed it before? Why hadn’t she? It was so obvious.
The music stopped, but he didn’t let go. There would be more soon. There was always music in Key West.
But at the sudden silence, she lifted her head from his chest. Dazed brown eyes blinked u
p at him and every ounce of tension that had drained out of her poured back in—he felt her spine snap taut under his hand.
He tightened his grip and drew her tighter against him, lowered his head and found her mouth. His ever-present lust for her tried to turn the kiss into something hard and hungry, but that wasn’t what she needed right now. Anything too rough or demanding would make her balk so he consciously worked to soften his mouth. He kissed her with a dreamy intimacy, trying to show her with his lips all the things that he’d ever felt when it came to her but could never voice.
She wound her arms around his waist and kissed him back, her mouth soft and sweet until she changed the angle and took over. She plundered and claimed, curling her fingers into his hair, branding him with the intensity of her sudden flaring need. Blood pounded from his brain into his cock and he lost all sense of himself. He was Libby’s man and his only purpose in life was to give her pleasure.
Right. Now.
Panting, she broke away from the kiss. “Oh shit.”
No, not yet. This perfect moment couldn’t end yet.
Jude sucked in a breath and lowered his head again, intent on finding her mouth with his and reminding her of exactly how good they were together. How right.
She turned away, gave him her cheek instead of her soft lips, then pushed against his chest when he drew back.
Yup, the moment was over.
After a struggle of epic proportions, he let her go and dropped his arms to his sides.
“Libby.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, couldn’t find the words.
She backed away so fast he was surprised she didn’t trip over anything. “I’m going to make lunch,” she said in a breezy tone, the subtext of which clearly stated that the last few minutes were off limits as far as conversation went. Before he managed a reply, she all but sprinted into the house.
Hell no. She wasn’t going to pretend nothing happened. He wouldn’t let her get away with it, not when he felt like his world had been rocked to its foundation. Whether she liked it or not, they fit together.
Jude dipped a hand in his pocket to rub the ever-present ring. Yeah, they fit. And she’d kept the book.
Chapter Twelve
“I told you, Noah. I’m not supposed to talk about it. For my own safety.”
Jude stopped short as he stepped into the house from the patio with a towel raised halfway to his dripping hair. He’d been feeling pretty damn good this morning after his swim, had worked out the tension that kept winding tighter in him as each day passed. But as soon as he heard Libby’s oh-so-practical voice chatting away in the living room, every knot returned to the exercise-loosened muscles of his back and shoulders.
Noah? As in Matchstick, her skinny, flame-haired assistant? Son of a bitch. She couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to call him.
“I wish I could,” she continued with resignation tingeing her voice, “but I have a Neanderthal of a bodyguard and—yes, that’s the one. I know. I’m not particularly fond of him, myself, but you can rest easy. He’s not going to stop me from working.”
Cursing, Jude threw aside the towel and stalked across the kitchen, leaving wet footprints on the tile behind him. He found her seated at the computer desk set into a nook off the living room. As she started speaking legalese into the cell phone clamped to her ear, she clicked her way through a pdf file on screen.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
She jumped and spun around in her seat.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he repeated through his teeth and snatched the phone out of her hand. At the other end of the line, he heard Noah squawking with outrage, but ignored it and powered down the iPhone. He pulled it out of its protective case, strode to the patio doors, and fast-balled it into the pool before returning to the living room. He handed the case back and Libby stared down at it, shock widening her eyes behind her glasses.
“Jude, you son of a—”
He held up a finger to silence her. “No phones. I thought I made that clear.”
“Bullshit. You said no such thing.”
“I told you our first night here. No phones. No computer. No contact with anyone in D.C. as long as we’re here. Those were my only fucking rules and you went and broke them the first time I turned my back.”
“You want to talk about breaking rules?” she retorted. “I seem to remember someone trying to make an escape the other day.”
Fuck. Should’ve known that would come back to bite him in the ass. “Key difference, I didn’t leave. As much as I wanted to, as much as I needed to get out, get some air, I stopped myself. As you should’ve when you picked up that phone to call your office.”
“Dammit, I have to work.”
Frustration, worry, and anger brewed into an explosive combination in his chest and he grabbed her by the shoulders, hauling her out of her chair. He couldn’t figure out which he wanted to do more: kiss her sassy mouth shut or shake some goddamn sense into her hard head. “You’re on vacation!”
With a jerk of her shoulders, she dislodged his hands and dropped back into her seat like she had every intention of returning to the legal brief on screen. “I don’t take vacations.”
Jude yanked the computer’s plug out of the wall. “Explains why you’re such an uptight hardass.”
She scoffed and whirled in the chair to face him again. “I’m the hardass? Excuse me, but I didn’t just toss your four-hundred dollar phone into a pool for breaking the so-called rules.”
“Those so-called rules are in place to keep you in one piece.”
“For godsakes, I was talking to Noah.”
“Who could be your stalker.”
“What about K-Bar?”
“I’m not ruling anybody out. Didn’t Noah start working for you around the same time you got the first doll?”
Her mouth opened. Closed after a heartbeat without uttering a sound. For a moment, genuine fear shone on her face and his anger drained away.
“I’m sorry about the phone,” he said as gently as he could manage and ran a hand down the silken length of her ponytail. “But I couldn’t risk someone—like Noah—tracking you with it.”
“No.” She squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head. When her lids lifted, she was all fire and outrage again. “You’re wrong. Noah’s as harmless as a bunny.”
Jude snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, sure. I’ve never met a lawyer who doesn’t have teeth.”
“That’s just it. Noah’s a smart kid, but you need more than brains to get anywhere in big city law and he’s not cut out for it. He’s probably going to end up as a small town lawyer handling wills and civil cases. He doesn’t have the fortitude for criminal trials.”
Christ, she had a counter-response for every point he made. He supposed that was a sign she was good at her job, but it also made it frustrating as hell to carry on a conversation with her. “Libs, think about it. Paper dolls? Is that really something a hardcore gangbanger like K-Bar is going to mess around with? No. It’s more like something a kid with no backbone would do.”
Libby brightened. “Exactly! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. K-Bar’s not involved and the notes and dolls are just some nutso’s ridiculous idea of a joke.” She made a move like she was going to stand. “So now that you finally get it, why don’t we just end this nightmare of a vacation and go home? We’ll never have to see each other again.”
He kept her in the chair with a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, nice try, babe. Even if it’s not K-Bar, there’s still a very real threat that we need to take seriously.”
Her lower lip trembled into something damn close to a pout, though he bet she’d kick him in the balls if he pointed it out. Still, he couldn’t resist the urge to drag his thumb over the inviting jut of her lip.
“Someone tried to run you over, remember?”
She turned away and, damn it all to hell, even though it was just one more rejection in a very long line of many, it stung. Way more than it should have.
“I’m still convinced it was you they were aiming for,” she said, all prim and haughty like a princess addressing a servant so far beneath her, he barely rated her notice.
All right. If she wouldn’t accept tender words or gestures from him, he could go back to being the hardass. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her. “We’re staying until your father or my brothers give me the all clear to take you back.”
With a groan, she banged her forehead on the desk. Once. Twice. Damn woman was going to give herself a concussion.
Jude winced. Squatting beside her, he caught her chin in his hand to stop her from doing it again. “C’mon, it’s not that bad. If your father had it his way, we’d be shacked up in some cabin on a dead-end mountain road, trying not to freeze to death. At least here you can enjoy some sun, the pool—”
“And your shining presence?” she said, heavy on the sarcasm.
“I can tell ya my presence is a lot more shiny here than it woulda been in that snowy mountain cabin.”
“Small consolation.” She sighed and lifted her head. “Do we have any wine? I have a headache.”
“You bang your head on a desk and expected not to have a—” Jude wisely sealed his lips when her eyes narrowed in warning. He hitched a thumb toward the kitchen. “I stuck a bottle in the fridge to chill for you.”
“Look at that.” She patted his cheek in the same indulgent way his mother had when he was five and had drawn himself a report card to go with his brothers’ already pinned to the fridge. “You can be tamed after all.”
Jude stayed where he was for a moment after she got up and walked toward the kitchen.
Tamed? Him?
Nah, he decided and stood. He hadn’t been tame a day in his life and didn’t plan to be. Someone out of the five Wilde boys had to live up to the name, after all.
Chapter Thirteen
“Another glass already?”
Libby glared up at him as he walked into the kitchen from the living room, where he’d been watching TV. Then, just to be pissy, she dumped more of the wine into her glass. He held up his hands in surrender. “Just asking.”
Wilde Nights in Paradise Page 9
