Reckless Road

by Feehan, Christine

  A slow smile lit her eyes. “I especially love your dining room.”

  “Good, then. Let me show you the rest of the house. There are actually two kitchens inside the house. One outside. A smokehouse and a wine cellar. I like cooking, so it’s my kind of house.” He flashed a grin. “Considering I have a few fantasies of eating food off your body, I think it’s fair to say we might need more than one kitchen.”

  “You do?” Her eyes widened. “Have a few fantasies? Not just one?”

  He laughed as he beckoned her to follow him through to the kitchen. “You should know me better than that by now. I have all kinds of fantasies, my little innocent. We’re going to need a weekend—or maybe a week—to show you a couple of kitchen fantasies.”

  She nodded. “If Inez ever approves of someone to give me some actual time off, I’m all over a weekend with you.”

  He stopped abruptly. “Lana is your backup.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Honey. Really? I love Lana. She’s sweet, she really is, and I’m certain as a backup for a million other things, she’s your bestie, but retail, commercial, anything with putting that woman in an actual store and making her stand behind a counter and deal with customers all day, not on your life. She’d decide it was the perfect day to watch the whales go by when it wasn’t whale season, and you know it. She’d close the store.”

  He shrugged. “What’s the big deal? We could close it down for the weekend.” He kept her walking through to one of the kitchens where the center island, with its freestanding counter space, had given him all sorts of ideas when he was making meals long before he met Zyah. He knew what he would do if he was ever lucky enough to find a partner and share his house with her.

  “You can’t close a grocery store for a weekend. Customers depend on the store, especially over the weekend. Your club is very lucky you went into business with Inez and then you hired me. You’d go broke the first month without us.”

  He wrapped his arm around her. “That’s probably true. See this island? It’s just the right height to put you on when I get hungry while I’m working.” He turned her to indicate the corner, where there was a small little table with two chairs. “And that’s the perfect corner to put you in when you need to get on your hands and knees and wait for me to come over and see what I might want to do to punish you when you’ve been a very naughty girl like you so often are.”

  “I see.” She laughed and pointed to the little bench with a thick cushion on it. “And that?”

  “That’s obvious. When I’m working, you can give me the blow job of the century. I recognize there’s a lot of me, me, me in here, but chefs need a lot of encouragement while they work the long, thankless hours they work.”

  “I get that.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have plenty of ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate, and just about anything else I know you like stored in the fridge to keep your strength up.”

  “Nice. Very thoughtful.”

  “I’m a very thoughtful kind of man. Let’s go take a shower. It will warm you up, and I can show you the master bedroom.”

  He led her through the other rooms and quickly down the hall to his room. He’d done the most work there. The master bedroom was the only one of the bedrooms that was really enormous. With the same wood floor, the walls had been white, the windows long, almost floor to ceiling, to give a view of the trees and shrubbery from two sides. The ceilings were vaulted, and the room stretched to add a sitting area and then grew to accommodate a master bath.

  To Player, the room had seemed as if it were more suited to a woman than a man. He had changed the colors in the room from white to muted grays, beiges and blacks. He’d treated the master bath the same, adding in a Moroccan touch, with dark wood cabinets and black vessel sinks with wood countertops. The tub was a deep black bowl with all fixtures in gold. The shower was a masterpiece of gold and black, with heated stones and jets to rinse every part of a sore body after bending over for long hours of woodworking. Heated towels waited when he stepped out on heated tiles to dry off.

  “Player. I love this. I really do.”

  He heard it in her voice. She really did like what he’d done with the room. It didn’t matter that she was a woman, the colors still appealed to her. “I have privacy screens to keep the light out when I need to sleep in. I haven’t ever used them, but I’m hoping someday I will.” He flashed her a little smirk.

  “It won’t be tomorrow. I really have to work. But I’m okay with going to work without sleep. I already texted Mama Anat. She said Savage and Destroyer were staying with her. Maestro left when we did.”

  “Yeah, he followed us to Czar’s. We usually run in pairs, and since this thing happened”—he touched his head— “Maestro’s really been hovering.”

  She frowned and glanced out the window. “Is he around? I’m totally naked.”

  “First, babe, he wouldn’t be looking. We grew up seeing naked bodies and others having sex. It doesn’t really faze us. That aside, no, he isn’t out there. He’s bunking down in the workroom. There’s a bed there. He texted me when we first got here to let him know if we leave. By now, he’s sound asleep. If it bothers you that he’s on the property, I’ll ask him to leave.”

  Zyah shook her head, wandering over to the bathroom. The doors were really black laser-carved screens. “These are cool. Did you make these?”

  He watched the way her fingers slid over the inside of the shapes in what could only be described as little caresses. She made his heart ache when she did things like that. No one gave him those little recognitions. She probably wasn’t even aware she was doing it, but to him, those gestures meant something. He came close to her, his hand on the small of her back, gently urging her forward so that she stepped inside.

  The moment she did, automatic lights came on. Muted. He never had liked bright. He might rethink bright, a single spotlight over the bed to shine down on Zyah when he had her spread out, her long hair everywhere and her body undulating with heat and need. Or maybe he needed a room of mirrors to reflect every single expression on her face, every ripple of her body . . .

  Zyah laughed and turned to him, her arms sliding up his chest, hands linking behind his neck, fingers teasing his hair. “You’re becoming obsessed with my body.”

  “Baby, I’m way past obsessed. Water on. Isn’t every man obsessed with your body?”

  “Most definitely not.” She turned at the sound of the water pouring down. Steam rose. The inside of the shower was all rock, smooth so it was easy to walk or sit on the stone bench, but it looked like one was walking into a large cavern. The rocks were various shades of brown, black, gray and white.

  Once they stepped into the structure, water swept over them from various directions. Player pulled Zyah back to him, protecting her from one of the jets so he could adjust it better to her height. “Is the water too hot?”

  She shook her head. “It’s perfect. I like hot water.”

  They were compatible in every way. She was adventurous. Playful. She lifted her hands to her hair as the water cascaded down. Laughing. Uncaring that her hair was going to be soaked even in the tight braid she’d woven.

  “Do you want me to take your braid out?” Truthfully, he wanted to take it out more than anything. He didn’t get many chances to play with her hair.

  “Not unless you have a blow-dryer in this house.”

  He grinned at her and reached for the end of that long, luxurious, very thick braid. “Have you taken a look at my hair? I have one, I just don’t use the thing. Lana got me one. Then Alena did because she thought I didn’t like the first one.”

  Zyah’s soft laughter made him happy. She drove away every demon just with that genuine sound. She let him wash and condition her hair and then her body. He took his time, using the gel to wash every inch of her. She took her turn, washing and conditioning his hair and then washing his body, paying attention to every nook and cranny. Zyah wasn’t shy about the human body, and he liked that.

&
nbsp; It did occur to him that she might not be the kind of woman who would ever enjoy the kind of parties Torpedo Ink had, where the men and women often had open sex. They tended to feel much freer when their brethren were around to protect them, when they had eyes watching to ensure no one could harm the ones they loved. They all felt a little vulnerable when they had sex without someone watching their back. Zyah most likely would have a difficult time understanding that. He was already going to be asking her to forgive too many sins and understand too many of his issues to add that one to the list right at this time. He’d put it on the back burner.

  “Where’d you go, honey?” Zyah asked as they stepped out of the shower.

  “Water off,” he ordered. At once the water went off. He handed her a warm towel to wrap her hair in and another one to dry her body off with. She smiled at him when she put her feet on the warm tiles. For just that smile alone, he was glad he’d spent the extra money to put in the heating.

  “I’m sorry I got you into this, Zyah, and very grateful to you that you’ve stuck it out with me. I know you didn’t have to. It’s important that you know how much I appreciate you sticking with me, trying to sort out the bomb business as well as going to Czar.”

  She looked up at him, and then unexpectedly touched his mouth with the pads of her fingers, an intimate gesture, tracing his lips. “We’re in this together, Player, all the way until the end. I’m not deserting you. And tonight is our night. Everyone else can go away for tonight. Agreed?”

  Damn straight he agreed. A slow smile spread across his face until it almost hurt. “Agreed. Come on, I’ll show you the living room. There are two. They sort of flow into each other. The large one, I suppose, was originally designed for entertaining, and the smaller one would be more intimate, for friends and family. Since I have rowdy friends and a lot of them, the larger of the two rooms, which would be more formal, is the one I use when they’re over. I prefer the smaller of the two rooms, which is strange because I like wide open spaces.”

  “I have to dry my hair, crazy man.”

  “We’ll dry it in the other room. Both have fireplaces. I’ll bring the blow-dryer as well and the brush and comb.”

  “Are we just going to walk around naked?”

  “Why not? If you put on clothes, I’m just going to keep taking them off of you, not that I mind, but you may as well be comfortable. There’s a hot tub and an indoor heated saltwater lap pool at the other end of the house. I think the man who built the house used them for his therapy. Do you like to swim?”

  “I do, but I don’t like to rinse out my hair all the time. The doctor said water therapy would be good eventually for Mama Anat’s leg.”

  Player nodded. “She mentioned that to me. I told her about the pool and said she could use it anytime she wanted to. I can give you a key.”

  “That’s generous of you, Player.”

  He laughed. “The others will tell you, I’m such a generous man.”

  He pulled her through the kitchen to the living room, the one he particularly liked. Snatching up the remote, he flipped on the fireplace so the light would play through the room, illuminating it enough that she could see what he’d done with it. As with the dining room, he’d kept it simple. He didn’t like clutter. The hardwood floor gleamed with the firelight spilling across it. He noticed Zyah pressing her bare feet instantly into the wood. She liked to do that the same way he did.

  The hearth was made of gray stone, and he had utilized that color throughout the room. The chairs faced the stone fireplace built into the wall. The stones were great blocks of various sizes and textures of dark and light shades of gray. The only rug was on the floor in front of the fireplace, a thick gray- and- black mat of hand- knotted silk and wool. The chairs were wide and comfortable, both in black, which matched the carpet and the darkest of the stones. Over the fireplace was a picture framed in gold, a burst of color: a very large painting of a forest in vivid detail, done by an artist he particularly admired.

  He sank down into his favorite chair, the one closest to the fireplace, where his acoustic guitar was near to his hand on a stand. He kept it there to play at night when he couldn’t sleep, and he composed. He watched his woman walk around the room with that flowing grace she had, like a dancer, his private dancer. He wished she wore her anklet of bells. He had loved the sound of them as she’d moved around the room their first night together. Just that memory stirred his cock.

  Zyah circled back to stand in front of him, the flames from the fireplace dancing over her body, licking at that secret place between her legs. “I can see why you love this room.”

  He caught her hips and urged her toward him, hungry for her taste. One hand skimmed down her hip, trailing to the inside of her thigh. “I’m suddenly so hungry, baby, you’ll have to feed me before I starve.”

  She threw her head back. “You’re supposed to be drying my hair.”

  “After. I need to build up my strength to be up for the task.”

  Her fingertips trailed over his cock, brushing fire over him. “You’re up for something,” she whispered, and stepped right into him, offering him everything.

  THIRTEEN

  Player walked very slowly, moving casually down the sidewalk in Sea Haven, glancing into the store windows as he passed them by. He targeted one store in particular. The sign was clever, wooden, in the shape of a hat, although what the name had to do with a tea and organic bath and lotion shop, he didn’t know. The Floating Hat sounded intriguing, but aside from cups in the windows looking like hats and the bells shaped like hats on the doors, the shop had nothing whatsoever to do with hats. What the hell did that even mean? Women. Always a mystery. Still, when he looked inside, the store felt inviting.

  The space looked smallish from the outside, with bay windows on either side of the door facing the street. One window held the intriguing hat-shaped cups, an assortment of teas and stacked caddies of delicious-looking scones. The other window held lotions and bath products. Glancing into the windows, it was easy to see that the store was quite spacious, which was good, given that he had a difficult time with confined places. He could see at a glance that behind the counter there was at least one more room and another exit.

  There were tables and chairs in one area. Most were for two people; some were for four. There was one larger table that could handle at least six. The tables were a distance apart from the other half of the store, creating a feeling of openness. He thought if Zyah and her grandmother really wanted to go there, he might make the sacrifice and take them.

  Player walked on past to the end of the block, turned and made his way slowly back, trying to look as if he were just looking at the various stores. Coming up beside him, Preacher began whistling a tune off-key, making him wince. “Love Potion Number Nine” seemed to be a favorite lately with him whenever he was around Player and the subject of coming to Hannah’s shop came up.

  “What is that infernal racket you’re making? You sound like a dying cow.”

  Preacher grinned at him. “Just wanted to get you in the mood.”

  Player flipped him off, glaring at him as he paced back up the sidewalk, carefully avoiding looking into the store he was weighing whether or not to go into. “Don’t look, you moron, she’ll notice,” he hissed. “She’s standing right by the window.”

  “It’s your third time walking past her shop, Player. I think she’s noticed,” Preacher said, shoving a hand through his wealth of out-of-control curls, the bane of his life. “Our Torpedo Ink cuts kind of stand out, don’t you think? And then there’s Destroyer, sitting over there looking mournful with the bikes, and Lana and Alena across the street, grinning like apes, pretending they’re shopping at the clothing store when really, they’re making fun of you.”

  Player stopped walking and turned his head alertly to look for his Torpedo Ink sisters. “Why would they be making fun of me?”

  “Because this was the dumbest idea on the planet, that’s why. You need a love potion, I can mak
e you one,” Preacher assured. “You don’t need to come here.”

  “I’m not looking for a love potion. Who the hell said I was looking for a love potion?” He gave Preacher his fiercest scowl. “Get the hell away from me. Go over and wait by the bikes with Destroyer. At least he’s got the good sense to stay over there when he thinks we’re doing stupid things.”

  Preacher grinned at him. “Not a chance. You’re going into that shop, and I’m not letting you go in alone. Hannah Drake Harrington is one powerful witch. Someone has to save your worthless ass.”

  “She’s not a witch. She’s the wife of the local sheriff, and if you call her a witch, he’s going to put a bullet right through your fuckin’ heart. Seriously, Preacher, go away. This matters to me, and I don’t want you to embarrass me.”

  Four little boys ran down the sidewalk across the street, nearly running right into Alena and Lana. “Hannah! Miss Hannah!” they called out in unison. They were all laughing. They looked to be around eight.

  Player stopped to see what the woman would do. She couldn’t fail to hear the raised voices. They sounded excited. Hopeful. Daring. All four boys stared at the shop with bright eyes. Preacher, Destroyer, Alena and Lana all paused as well, eyes on the door of the shop, as if they too waited for something huge to happen. Player had no idea what to expect, only that those four little boys were so excited, and whatever they wanted, they were so hopeful, he didn’t want Hannah Drake Harrington to let them down.

  The door opened slowly, the bells announcing her presence, setting those hats tinkling in warning. The boys went ramrod straight, mouths opening in suspense. Player found himself tense. There was a sudden silence as if everything on the street paused.

  A breeze blew leaves down the street ever so gently. Suddenly, without any warning at all, the wind gusted, right over the four little boys, taking the baseball caps from their heads and throwing them capriciously into the air. The hats whirled just above the boys’ heads, then traveled down the sidewalk, just out of reach, as the boys ran after them with outstretched hands, laughing. Player watched the boys run for a moment, realizing the wind wasn’t really blowing that hard, yet the hats dipped and wheeled, like bats in the air, but at no time went near the street. The wind died down completely and the hats floated into the boys’ hands. They caught them, put them on their heads, turned back toward the shop and waved. Player glanced back to the door, but it was closed, and Hannah Drake Harrington was back inside.