“National Champion in my weight class. Three years running.” He did some fancy footwork, a fast-jabbing set of moves that showcased his skill, his power and his highlighted his lean, muscular physique. “It’s what paid my way through college.”
This is what I missed. Us together, talking, hanging out, discovering new little things about each other, like any other normal couple. But Martinez was a master at distracting me. And I’d started to fall for it again without getting the answers I deserved.
I planned to tackle him, using my new self-defense skills—third time was a charm—but before I made my move the sneaky fucker was all up in my face.
“So that’s a no to shadow boxing? Fine. Then we’ll grapple.”
I’d barely opened my mouth to protest, when I found myself spun around, flipped flat on my back on the mat and Tony hanging on all fours above me.
I laid there like a log.
“Come on, blondie. Fight back.”
“I’m tired of fighting with you, Martinez.”
His eyes searched my face. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He lowered his mouth to mine. His kiss wasn’t passionate. Wasn’t sweet. It was thorough. Very, very thorough in the way that heated my blood, fuzzed my brain and damn near liquefied my bones.
He pulled back from the kiss with great reluctance. His gaze bored into mine. “Julie.”
“Tony.”
We stared at each other, breathing hard, eyes guarded.
“Last chance,” I said softly. “Tell me the truth. Either way. I have to know.”
“You really gonna make me say it to you?”
I nodded, hating how fast my heart beat in those four seconds before his mouth moved.
“I am not cheating on you. I’d never cheat on you.”
I waited, watching his facial expression change from wariness to fierceness.
“I love you. I love you like a fuckin’ mad man. How can you not know that? How could you believe, even for a split second, that I’d ever look at another woman, touch another woman, when I have you in my life and in my bed?” He twined a section of my long hair around his finger and pulled hard enough to get my attention. “Jesus, blondie. What will it take to convince you that I’m not fucking around when we’ve got this between us? You’re it for me. You always will be.”
In that moment, I felt the truth of his words lodge deep within me, in a place where doubt couldn’t get a foothold. This life-hardened man, who never showed anyone weakness, reminded me that I was his safe haven. I gave him something he couldn’t get from anyone else. He did the same for me. I reached up and curled my hand around his face. “I miss you.”
“Same.” Tony kissed the crook of my elbow. “I gotta admit as shitty as these last two months have been, I seriously got off on you storming into my office today and showing that tough-girl side I haven’t seen in a while.”
“You did?”
Martinez flashed the devilish grin that usually made me start stripping. “Yeah. Would you really have fought for me?”
“In a heartbeat. First, I would’ve kicked her ass. Then yours.” I pulled him down for another kiss. A hotter kiss. The kind of deep soul kiss that brought forth his primitive growl. I trailed my lips up the strong line of his jaw, to his ear. “I love you. The thought of you leaving me for someone else…”
“Blondie,” he murmured in my hair, “that ain’t ever gonna happen.”
He eased back when I sat up.
“You say that… but I’m just supposed to ignore the signs of you pulling away? You prefer sleeping at Fat Bob’s or Bare Assets to sleeping with me. We moved in together to be together. And then I find out you’ve been turning your private office spaces into personal living spaces? Like you needed a place to get away from me.”
“That’s what you think?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“I think your nosiness, Miz PI”—he lightly touched the tip of my nose—“has ruined my big surprise for you.”
“Yeah, right. So explain the bimbo in your office. And why you had coffee with her today.”
He sighed at my skeptical look and grabbed the tequila, taking a swig. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”
I shrugged and snatched the bottle from him.
“I hired Gina, the interior design specialist that you so charmingly threatened tonight, to upgrade office interiors while we shored up external security issues. As we were talking, I mentioned hating the place that you and I moved into, and I hated being bound to those same security precautions outside of the clubs.”
“Still confused about why you couldn’t tell me any of this.”
Martinez rested on his haunches. “Guilt. You’ve given up a lot to be with me. And right before Thanksgiving, I realized I haven’t met you halfway on anything.”
“You sort of are the ‘my way or the highway’ guy, El Presidente.”
“True. It’s not fair to you. Not fair to tell you that your friends aren’t allowed at our place. Anyway, Gina’s been a go-getter since the Hombres, ah, handled her brother’s problem last fall. She made the spaces at both Bare Assets and Fat Bob’s less of an embarrassment for someone in my position. I thought maybe you’d be willing to crash there with me on nights I can’t get home.”
“I’d live in a milk crate with you,” I murmured. “It’s never been about atmosphere for us.”
“I know, but you deserve a nice place. Anyway, Gina found two houses, side by side, in town, not way the fuck out in the middle of cow county like this place. Houses I purchased that are being retro-fitted to my security specs.”
“Meaning bulletproof glass on the windows, steel doors, state-of-the-art security system,” I said jokingly… and yet not.
“And an underground tunnel that links them.” He flashed that wicked bad boy grin again. “A secret concrete room that could have some pretty interesting uses.”
“Maybe Kevin was right about the biker kink and me investing in fetish wear.”
His eyes lit up. “Would you really wear leather, latex and chains for me?”
“Hah! Nice try, pervert.”
“But you didn’t say no,” he pointed out with another panty-melting grin.
“Back to the issue… why the secrecy?”
“It’s something we haven’t tried since I took over as president of the Hombres and we didn’t want word getting out ahead of time that my security team will live in one house. We’ll live in the other. By ourselves.”
That was a huge concession for him. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” Martinez trapped my face in his hands. “The reason I haven’t been coming home? This place is too far to drive when I’m tired and I don’t get done with business until three o’clock in the morning. This move in together was supposed to fix that. It hasn’t.”
“When did you plan on telling me about the new house?”
His thumbs stroked the hollow of my cheeks.
Then I knew. “Shit. Please tell me you weren’t planning it as a Valentine’s Day surprise?”
“Give me a little credit. I know how much you hate Valentine’s Day. That’s why I bought the damn flowers two days before Valentine’s Day. The contractor told me the changes would be done by next week. Then you could start picking all the inside stuff.”
“You’re letting me pick? You’re not having Little Miss Interior Designer choose like she’s done with everything else?” Wow. That’d come out a little snarky.
“Big Mike called that one,” he muttered.
“What’s that mean?”
“Big Mike said you’d be pissed that I was keeping you in the dark about everything. From the interior changes in the offices, to buying a new place without your input, to hiring Gina. He also said he couldn’t wait to see you blow your top because it’s always so damn entertaining.” Martinez shook his head. “I get that I should’ve told you, okay? The only reason we met Gina in public today was because her car died right at Dun
n Brothers and I needed a damn cup of coffee.”
“Riding in your Escalade to rescue the damsel in distress?”
He looked annoyed for about five seconds and then he smiled. “Makes me a Neanderthal, but I love seeing that jealous spark, blondie.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Besides. I prefer damsels who don’t need rescuing. Like you.”
“Such sweet bullshit. But I’ll take it.”
“And?” he prompted.
“And I’m sorry I didn’t jump your shit before tonight.”
He gave me that exasperated noise that was half snort/half sigh.
That’s when I knew we’d be okay. I grabbed the bottle of tequila, but Tony snatched it first. Keeping his eyes on mine, he lifted the bottle and drank. When I held my hand out for my turn, he shook his head. “Let me.”
He pressed the opening to my lips and tipped the bottle. The amount of liquid he poured in was more than a quick sip and some spilled out the corner of my mouth. It started to drip down my neck and I reached up to swipe it away, but Tony stayed my hand. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and tilted my head back. His hot breath teased the wet section of my skin as he lowered his mouth and his tongue slowly followed the tequila trail up the side of my neck to my lips.
My entire body vibrated with want.
“That’s the way to drink tequila. Warmed by your body with your skin as my salt lick.” He nibbled my mouth, those dark hungry eyes burned into mine. “Clothes off.”
Didn’t have to tell me twice.
Didn’t have to tell him either.
Naked, we stood and faced each other.
Tony reached out and trailed one finger from my lips, down my throat, between my breasts, stopping at my navel.
I shivered from his touch. I started to step forward, step into him, and he shook his head.
This round wouldn’t be hard and fast. He took great care with every caress. Rough hands and a soft mouth eking out my sighs and moans. Then we were rolling around on the exercise mat and Martinez ended up on top.
I didn’t mind.
He tasted each millimeter of my flesh from my chin to my toes and wouldn’t change the languorous pace even if I begged. Which I did. Shamelessly. The man just chuckled against my quivering lower belly as his hot, wet kisses dropped lower and he settled between my thighs.
I sifted my hands through his silky hair as he slowly pushed me up that sharp rise and left me teetering on the brink until his relentless, clever mouth sent me tumbling into that vortex of pleasure.
Then Martinez exuded panther-like grace as he crawled back up my body.
The reverent touches vanished. Before I could catch my breath or wallow in the scent of his skin, he was on me, in me, and I lost coherent thought. Lost in the power of his passion. Lost in what we were together. Complete.
Afterward, as I lay face down on the mat, dizzy and sex-drunk, his gentle hands moved the hair from my damp face. He murmured, “So, am I forgiven?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“Good.” He nuzzled my ear and I felt his body readying for another bout. The man had maintained that boxer’s stamina over the years. He could go four rounds in one night.
Lucky me.
*****
LORI ARMSTRONG
The books in Lori Armstrong’s Julie Collins mystery series have been nominated for and won the Shamus Award, the WILLA Cather Literary Award, the Daphne du Maurier Award and the High Plains Book Award. The first book in the Mercy Gunderson series, No Mercy, won the 2010 Shamus Award for Best Hardcover Novel and was a finalist for the WILLA Cather Literary Award. Lori lives in Rapid City, South Dakota. Visit Lori at www.loriarmstrong.com.
Sylvia Day
BLOOD AND ROSES
Chapter One
“Jennifer promised me all sorts of sexual favors if I buy her one of those.” Chad Ward jerked his thumb toward the diner’s window, gesturing at a sleek convertible Jaguar that was pulling in across the street. “She got pretty inventive with her suggestions. Inspired me to look one up online.”
Jake Monroe’s gaze narrowed as he eyed the red sports car, awareness rippling down his spine.
“You have to custom order one like that,” Chad went on, returning his attention to topping off Jake’s coffee. “I’d do it for Jenn, if I could; but the diner doesn’t bring in that much dough. Who in hell spends a hundred and fifty grand on a car?”
“Rich, paunchy bald guys who hope to get laid by women young enough to be their daughters.” Jake knew someone else who would. Knew her as well as any man could know his woman. Which was why he was certain she wouldn’t have come back to Whisper Creek after all these years without bringing trouble with her.
As the driver’s side door of the Jag swung open, his attention remained riveted. The ragtop was up, shielding the occupant, but he knew exactly who was going to step out by the flare of heat that raced over his skin. “And someone like her.”
One long, black trouser-clad leg extended to the asphalt, then the driver unfolded in a graceful rise. Her blouse was black, too, making a stark contrast to the wild red curls pulled back at her nape. She looked cool and restrained, but he knew the woman inside that exterior was anything but. His body tensed and hardened with primal recognition, his breathing deep and slightly quickened.
“Well, well,” Chad murmured, straightening. “Can’t miss that hair, can you? And she’s parked right in front of Tilly’s shop. I haven’t seen Ana in... Shit. How long’s it been now?”
“Almost ten years.” Nine years, five months, and a couple weeks. It just pissed Jake off that he was still counting down the damn days since Anastasia Miller had driven out of his life without looking back.
“Hmm.” Chad shook his head. “Wonder if she got what she was after when she left.”
Had she? Was it possible she’d found what she was looking for with some other guy in some other place in the world? “Good question.”
Ana pulled a satchel out from behind the driver’s seat, then shut the door of her expensive toy. She paused, her head turning as if she sensed Jake’s gaze on her. She wore big dark sunglasses, effectively shielding her eyes.
Her lips were just like he remembered. Full and pink, and capable of blowing his mind. He’d felt those lips all over his body, still felt them sometimes when he was lying in bed at night, stiff and aching from wanting her.
Rolling her shoulders back, she moved toward the entrance to Tilly’s Yarn Shop with a swift, determined stride. She disappeared through the door and not five minutes later, the ladies who gathered there for tea and gossip came hustling out with their knitting bags. The open sign on the door flipped over to read Please Call Again and the shade that covered the inset glass was yanked down.
Jake picked up his coffee, considering. “I’ll need the check, Chad.”
~*~
“Anastasia! My god, baby, I had no idea you’d be coming home.”
Ana stared hard at her mother, silently challenging that lie, but Tilly Miller acted as if she didn’t notice her daughter’s frustration and suspicion.
“Let me see you.” Tilly approached with her arms outstretched and pulled Ana close for a hug. “You look like you’re heading to a funeral.”
“I may yet,” Ana said grimly.
“Are you talking about your work?”
“I’m talking about your work, Mom. Your life’s dream. I’m just here to clean up after you.”
Tilly stepped back and smoothed a hand over hair that had once been the same vibrant red as her daughter’s, but was now a faded strawberry, sprinkled liberally with white strands. She looked the part of a small-town shopkeeper. Only another world-class thief and grifter would recognize her for what she really was.
“I made a new pot of tea just before you arrived. Why don’t you sit and we’ll talk? It’s been so long since you’ve been home.”
“We don’t have time to play this game.” Ana crossed her arms, her anger simmering. “Frankie’s life is in danger, Mom.
”
Like their parents, her brother Frank had the same need for the rush, the same fascination for the bright and shiny and illegal. Ana supposed it was in their blood. Inevitable, considering she was named after a famous identity con and Frank was named after an infamous con artist.
“Is it?”
What a question. Her mother was good at pretending to be clueless. “I know he and Eric would’ve wanted to go into the heist with blanks, but their associate was using live rounds,” Ana said tersely. “Whoever he is, he’s a wild card.”
“You were always so good at dramatizing things, dear.” Her mother sank into one of the mismatched chairs arranged in a circle near an unlit woodstove.
Ana had to consciously relax her jaw to speak. “You know you’ll never be able to fence those diamonds. You knew it when you set this up. The Crown is too distinctive.”
Tilly poured tea as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “The Crown of Roses.” She sighed. “So rare to find any diamond of that deep pink color, but an entire tiara’s worth? Has the piece been stolen?”
“Cut the crap, Mom. Do you think I’ve forgotten how you talked about the ’94 Carlton heist in France? This job in Manhattan was textbook Tilly Miller... until the guard got shot.”
Digging into her briefcase, Ana yanked out a tablet and tossed it on an empty chair beside her mom’s. “I bought that for you. Look at the newspaper apps on there and read the reports. Did you know that jewelry shop is a Cross Industries property? Gideon Cross has offered a quarter-million dollar reward for information leading to the arrest of the thieves. I’ve been told that amount will increase to half a million if the guard dies.”
Finally, Tilly paled. “Is he that bad off?”
“He had body armor on, but he took two hits: one to the shoulder and another to the thigh. That second hit nicked his femoral artery.”
“Dear god...” Her mother sucked in a shaky breath. “You know Frankie would never go along with anything like that. The guard... was it Terence Parker?”
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