He moved his hand from the back of the bench and gently tucked a stray hair behind my ear before leaning forward, his face inches from mine and to my amazement, I was okay with it
“After you told me what you did, I did my research. I know you edit for one of the top five houses in the U.S., Valentina. Name your price. You’re doing me a favor that’s gonna take time from your clients, and I won’t have you do it for free.”
Out of all the insane and crazed thoughts I’d ever had, this was about to be the worst. I couldn’t take money from him. I was simply doing a favor, because this manuscript didn’t come to me through the proper channels. Ethics. I couldn’t work on it. Yes, it would take time from my clients, but I read fast, I didn’t need the money and I just couldn’t say no to the man.
I took a long drink of my coffee, letting it burn down my throat for courage.
“Jaxx . . . I don’t mind reading your sister’s manuscript, but I can’t properly edit it. I can’t work on it. It’s just my opinion you’re getting. If she wanted to go through the proper submission procedures with my house, then yes, given the genre, it would either come to me or one of my junior editors.”
He sat back, putting a little distance between us.
Green. His eyes were that beautiful golden green today. I had a hard time staying focused just looking at him.
“Ah, shit. Right, I didn’t consider conflict of interest. I don’t want to cause a problem.”
I put a hand on his forearm. We both dropped our eyes to my hand at the same time, and I pulled away fast. I didn’t think. I’d just reacted. And I’d touched him. I cleared my throat. “No. You didn’t let me finish. I’ll read it. I just can’t take money for it.”
“You can’t do it for free, even if it is just your opinion.”
I nodded and glanced at my intertwined hands on the table.
Just ask him!
“How about . . . How about we trade services, so to-speak?”
He arched an eyebrow, and that deadly smirk that made my thighs quiver slashed across his mouth. “I’m all about trading services, sugar. What do you have in mind?”
“Not that! Is—is that what you thought I meant?” I recoiled with a hand at my throat. Did I actually have an inner slut I was unaware of that allowed innuendos like “trade services” out of my mouth? In seconds, my skin grew so hot my hand burned.
A rich, hearty laugh rumbled from his chest and out of his perfect mouth. “You, are a serious buzzkill. But yes, I know what you meant. What do you need? Name it.”
I took a deep breath, stalling to find the right words to say without sounding desperate or like an idiot. How could I put this?
His warm hand covered one of mine and squeezed. “Just say it.”
Screw it. “So, I have this Christmas party, which isn’t really a Christmas party, since it’s now January, but that’s what they’re calling it, and it’s in LA this year. Anyway, it’s next weekend. Saturday. I hate these things, and my best friend usually goes everywhere with me for work. When I have to travel or attend these functions, she’s my go-to, but my boss says it’d be better if it were a man. A date. But it doesn’t have to be a date. I just need your body—no! I mean, I just need a male. So if you don’t have your children next weekend and you’re not—”
His loud, boisterous laugh cut me off and my shoulders dropped.
Oh, well handled, Ace.
“Yes. I’ll go with you. My kids are with their mother next weekend. They got something going on with her, so we switched. Was that so hard?”
You have no fucking idea!
All the tension drained out of my shoulders and chest. “Thank you, but, it’s black tie.” I peeked at him to see the impact. Most men hated tuxes or suits.
“Is a suit cool?”
“Of course. Yes.” And I bet you look absolutely amazing in a suit.
With a nod, he drained the last of his coffee. “I think you’re letting me off easy. I’m in, but me in a suit is definitely not a fair trade in the favors department. Just sayin’.” He checked his phone. “I have my daughter’s softball game in an hour, so I have to take off, but thank you. Thank you for doing this for me.”
I jumped up and gathered both our cups. “Not at all. Thank you, although I’m sure you’ll be cursing me when you’re at a table with stuffy executives and horrifically rich food.”
I twisted around to throw the cups away. When I turned back to the table, he was right in front of me. Our chests were inches apart.
“Hey, I’m sorry I have to rush off—”
Shaking my head furiously, I took a step back and found I couldn’t. The damn trash can blocked any retreat. Jeez, having him this close did stupid things to my heart rate and unthinkable, delicious things to every other part of my body. “Don’t be. It’s your daughter.”
He was so far into my personal space that breathing became an issue. And I didn’t hate it.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
I looked down at my feet and casually wiped my palms on my jeans. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
His finger came into my field of vision and touched just under my chin. Softly, he lifted until my eyes met his. “Are you okay being this close to me?”
His eyes drilled into mine, and for the life of me, I couldn’t look away, so I went with my gut response. “Yes.” It must have come out a whisper, because he dropped his head closer to mine.
The sexy smirk was back, and I had the distinct feeling I may have to go home and change my panties, which was something I hadn’t felt in . . . Who the hell knew how long?
“I don’t know why I make you nervous, Valentina, but if you trust me enough to escort you to this work function, trust me enough to not hurt you. I was going to say, I’m sorry I have to rush off, because I like talking to you and I’d like to know more about you.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek as he let go of my chin.
A strange emptiness settled deep in the pit of my stomach at the loss of his touch, completely irrational and illogical. He was unexpectedly gentle for such a gigantic man. “Me too,” I blurted before I said something ridiculous and awkward, or before he noticed that my nipples were about to poke through the damn material of my way-too-thin shirt.
We left the coffee shop, and he walked me to my car before going to his. I got in, and right before he closed my door, he held it and leaned down to me. “Yeah, and for the record, I’m more than okay with you ‘just needing my body.’”
I opened my mouth, but he shut the door before I could get a word out. All I could do was stare as he walked across the parking lot, his huge back quivering from laughing so hard.
What the hell did you just get yourself into?
14
Jaxxon
Dress shirts and ties—fucking Medieval torture bullshit.
I tugged at my collar as I knocked on Valentina’s door. A huge one-story spread on top of a hill overlooking the ocean. I guess senior editors did a lot better than okay. The lines were gorgeous, the landscaping perfect—not cluttered or overly ornate like some of her neighbors’. Minimalist, but simple and elegant—just like her.
Two strong, guttural barks rang out from the other side of the front door. These boys sounded big—the bigger, the better in my opinion. Small dogs freaked me out. Those tiny rat-looking dogs. The ones that got under my feet—little fuckers wanted me dead.
All week at the gym, she’d been full of questions about architecture. It seemed my stealthy coffee date had made her a little more comfortable with me and curious about what I did. She’d grilled me, wanting to know how I saw things. I hadn’t counted on her genuine curiosity. She’d listen, eyes all big and serious, nod furiously, and fire off more questions.
My problem with this whole deal? Now I wanted to know everything about her, which went against my “not investing in one woman” creed.
“Chris! Bleib!” Valentina’s strong command came from behind the door.
Stay? In German?
The fuc
k?
The door opened and adrenaline exploded through every inch of me like a shotgun blast. Motherfuck, did she clean up well. Goddamn beautiful—old school, Hollywood beautiful.
“Hi. I’m sorry,” she gushed. “They get a little protective, especially Chris. Did you find the house okay?”
When she opened the door wider so I could come in, I stepped to the side so she could shut the door and I could get a better look at her. “Damn, babe . . . That’s a fuckin’ dress. Let me look at you.” I put my hands out to her.
She waved me off with a small shake of her head. “You’re going to have to look at me most of the night, I’m afraid.” An anxious chuckle escaped her perfect lips.
Yeah, I planned on doing a whole lot of looking tonight.
Removing my cock from the equation, I looked down at her hellhounds. One snarled, and even flashed his pearly whites at me. I’d say this for ‘em, though . . . They were specimens. Both dogs weighed in at about seventy pounds, at least, and were nothin’ but muscle.
Snapping her head to the dogs, she pointed to the floor. “Platz! Down, Chris. You too, Kyle.” Turning to me, she raised a trembling hand. “Jaxxon, meet Chris and Kyle. Do you mind giving me your hand?”
I put mine in hers, and she interlaced our fingers. “If you don’t mind me getting a better look at that dress afterwards, hell no.” I looked down at the two gorgeous, fully grown German Shepherds. “What’s up, boys? You’d make your namesake proud. Named ‘em after the Legend? Chris Kyle?”
“Hopp! Up!” she commanded, and they both rose at the same time. “I did. Navy vets in the family and my own little homage. He protected us. They protect me. And besides, I admire his wife. One of the strongest women I’ve ever read about. So yes, Chris and Kyle.”
Still holding my hand, she crouched down to the boys, forcing me to lean down and giving me a solid view of the top part of that dress. It was backless and pooled low at the base of her spine. The sides were held together by a delicate silver chain stretched across her mid-back.
Smokin’ hot doesn’t even come close.
“Chris, behave!”
Her warning snapped me out of guy space where I had her pressed up against the wall in her entryway and that dress hiked up around her waist.
She rose, but kept our interlocked hands down by the dogs.
Wet noses snuffled over my hand and wrist before the dogs sat on either side of her. These had to be the two most well-trained animals I’d ever seen out here. “You give commands in German?”
With a smirk, she pivoted to face me. “Do you speak German?”
“No. My parents do. Never taught us, but I picked up a few things. You?”
Shaking her head, she straightened up and glanced at me. “I don’t. At some point, I became fascinated with the language . . . ” The little crease in her forehead appeared and left as quickly as it came. She recovered fast, pointing down at the dogs. “I’ve had them since they were puppies. I trained Chris at a Schutzhund protection academy. The training originated in Germany and all commands are in German, which is common in service dog training for vets, I believe.”
“Yeah, you’re right. My uncle runs a Search and Rescue academy. I’m familiar with the training.” Schutzhund protection school? That was no PetStop train-your-dog-on-the-weekend shit. It was the leading protection school for dogs. Schutzhund trained dogs who made it through the program were the best around. Protection on a superior level, they’d kill your ass if you fucked with their handler. I’d never met anyone outside of my uncle who had Schutzhund trained dogs.
Guess it makes sense. She does live alone.
“Kyle had a, ah, a different kind of training . . . but he responds to basic commands in German, because he grew up with me drilling them into Chris.” Squeezing my hand briefly, she let it go. “Sorry about your hand. You can wash up in the kitchen, if you want, but they like you.” She tilted her head slightly, looking down at her dogs with a furrowed brow. “They don’t usually warm to people that fast, especially Chris.”
“I’m a likeable guy, sugar. My turn. Hands.”
I offered her my palms, and she hesitantly put her soft slender ones in mine. I slowly stretched her arms out to her sides.
Peeking up, she shook her head at me, but she didn’t pull away.
I whistled long, which reddened her cheeks.
The way her black, full-length dress clung to her should’ve been illegal. With a high neck, it hugged her body all the way down to where about a half-foot of material dragged on the ground behind her. A slit almost to mid-thigh ran up the left side. A few graphic ideas about what I’d like to do with that slit came to mind—like ripping it wide the fuck open.
Full-length sleeves with long, diamond-shaped cut-outs exposed her forearms and toned upper arms. A flesh-colored bandage caught my eye through the opening on her left forearm. I brought her hands back down. “Babe, you wear the shit out of that gown. You’re stunning.”
“You make that suit look pretty damn good yourself, but are you as uncomfortable as I am in these clothes?” She wrinkled her nose and her eyes pinched at the corners.
I wanted us both to have no clothes. I squeezed her hands. “Like you wouldn’t believe. Monkey suits aren’t my deal. Did you hurt yourself?” I ran a thumb over her bandage.
Gently untangling her hands, she covered the wound. “No . . . I have a rather large tattoo that takes up most of my inner forearm. It’s best to cover it up with the top executives coming. They’re kind of stuffy. I know the material covers it, but just in case it droops, I wrap it.”
Tattoo, huh? That explained the long-sleeved workout shirts she always wore. “Aren’t you just full of surprises?”
Her green eyes immediately dropped to the floor.
I caught her chin between my thumb and index finger, lifting her head. “Hey, that wasn’t a slam. Don’t be ashamed of permanently marking your body with something you believe in. I’ve got two, no big deal.”
“J.V.R.,” she said. “The initials at the top of your left pec.”
“That’s one. I’ve got a back piece too.”
“I’ve seen it. Some of it.” A gleam lit her eyes and her shoulders relaxed as if she were relieved. “Well—the parts your tank doesn’t cover. Can I ask what it is?”
People rarely saw my back, and when they did, nobody knew the piece. “It’s a tattoo of a painting. Michael Tramples Satan.”
Her eyes popped wide and her lips parted. “As in the Archangel Michael Defeating Satan? Guido Reni’s painting?”
Of fucking course, she knows it. “Yep. So you’re not alone in the tat department, babe. What time is the car getting here?”
She stood on tip-toes to glance over my shoulder.
I turned to see where she was looking and got a quick survey of a kitchen I’d kill to cook in. Goddamn.
“About five minutes. Quick tour?” she asked.
“Thought you’d never ask. Sink?” I held up my hands.
“Oh, of course, sorry, in the kitchen.” She pointed around me and led me into the kitchen.
We washed up quick and I took the towel she offered after drying her own hands.
“This is one hell of a house. I figured you made a good living, but this is impressive.”
“Thank you. It wasn’t part of the divorce settlement, per se, but, the money for it came from the settlement.”
“So he never lived here?”
She shook her head, with a hand at the base of her throat. “God, no. I bought it almost two years ago, way after the divorce was final. The boys needed something bigger than where we were living and I wanted to be able to see the ocean. It seems for the ten years we were married, my ex received a hundred thousand dollar bonus check each year from his father, which they hid in an account I had no idea existed. His parents own condo complexes all over the US and internationally. He worked for his father on the side and he didn’t make me sign a pre-nup.”
This dick just got worse. “He hid
it from you?”
“He did.” She scoffed and glanced at the floor before looking back at me. “When I think back, his behavior before I found out makes sense. He was insistent I accept a rather large alimony settlement and half of his retirement plan. I figured it was guilt on his part. I kept denying it. I just wanted what was fair and him out of my life. Then my lawyers found the money, and I knew why he’d been so pushy. It was something else he lied to me about.”
She shrugged and dropped her eyes before meeting mine once again. “I’m not proud of it, but when I found out I became a little spiteful? Hateful, maybe? I stopped fighting my lawyers. They went after everything. The money from that alone gave me a significant down payment, which allowed for a mortgage I can afford.” She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her hand. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous.”
I took her hand leisurely and interlocked our fingers. “Figured that about you. Don’t be sorry. I asked, and you’re not real forthcoming on the personal info front. If that’s rambling, I’ll take it.” I raised her hand to my mouth and kissed the top.
A pretty blush highlighted both her cheeks. A little hesitant, she squeezed my hand and pulled away, but not before I caught the tremor.
“Okay, come on,” she said. “I’ll show you the rest real quick.”
The dogs flanked her as I followed her through the kitchen, which opened up into an expansive living room with vaulted ceilings. A cream-colored, L-shaped sectional big enough for ten people framed a long, smoky glass coffee table. What looked to be about a fifty-two-inch flat screen was mounted over a fireplace on the opposite wall. Windows lined the entire south end of the room and framed a large sliding glass door leading to a spacious back yard.
“Living room.” She waved a hand around.
“You’ve got a gorgeous view from here.” I looked out over her fence to the moon reflecting off the blue-black Pacific.
“I do.” She quickly covered her mouth as she giggled, then flashed a sexy-as-fuck smirk my way. “Only you could see over my fence from here.” She came to stand beside me. “The view of the ocean from most places in the house was the selling point. I like open and bright. This way.” She waved a hand at me. “Wait until you see the view from the office, but be warned . . . I’m renovating, so it’s chaos.” Even with the warning, the glow in her eyes gave away the office as her favorite room.
Phoenix (Flames & Ashes Book 1) Page 11
