by Lori Foster
She was still embarrassed—and intrigued—over his very private admission, but managed to clear her mind enough to ask, “What are you talking about?”
His hand slipped down her body, stroking her, petting her. “Sophie used to help me study, and I told her all about you. Not your name, but everything else, like about your incredible breasts, your sexy braid, your beautiful brown eyes. She sympathized with me, in between badgering me enough so I’d learn that damned science that I hated so much.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Did you ever tell her which college you went to?”
Jessica thought about it, then reluctantly nodded. “And what years, and that there was this annoying, utterly distracting young stud who kept interrupting my concentration. But she was Sophie Sheridan then, not Winston, and after she married I just never put the names together.”
Mack barked a sharp laugh and bit her finger. “A stud, huh? Well, I think Sophie put two and two together, with some help from Allison, my other meddling, very adorable sister-in-law, and the result was this cooked-up catalogue of goofy men’s lingerie.”
Jessica licked her lips, then admitted, “I don’t think it’s goofy at all. I think you look downright scrumptious in this stuff.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded.
“Scrumptious enough to give me a chance? To give us a chance? Because I really do love you, you know. At first I thought it was just an obsession, that eventually I’d get over you. But I didn’t. And now, after being inside you, feeling you squeeze me tight, watching you come, I know it’s more. I know I don’t want to do that with anyone else but you, because it could never be as good.”
She bit her lips to keep them from trembling. Could it be true? Could he really love her? He kept touching her and looking at her body, and she could feel him, hard again against her thigh.
He sounded just a tad uncertain as he continued. “I don’t have the teaching position nailed down yet, but I’ll figure that out one way or another. In the meantime, I work with my brothers at the bar. Cole bought it long ago so he could support us all, give us jobs as we got older. I worked there to pay my way through college, as did Zane. Now that we’re getting other jobs, Cole and Chase have expanded and hired a few outside people. You’ll love the place. It’s incredibly popular, especially with the women, but it also has a nice family atmosphere.”
Talking was impossible. Even swallowing was too hard to manage. Jessica launched herself against him, squeezing him tight. “Mack, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so wrong about you.”
He rolled onto his back and held her close. “Ah, babe, don’t cry. Please.”
“You’re the most amazing man and I don’t deserve you.”
“Now there’s where you’re wrong. Tell me you won’t boot me out, honey. I’m in an agony of suspense here.”
She kissed his face, his ear, his throat. Mack moaned, so she continued, and then she moaned too because he tasted so good she wanted to kiss him all over.
“Is this a yes, Jessica?” His voice shook and his hand held her head as she kissed his belly. “Does this mean we can have an honest-to-goodness relationship? You’ll quit expecting me to be some kind of bum you can’t depend on?”
Her hand wrapped around his throbbing erection and she kissed his navel. “Yes,” she whispered. And in the next instant, Mack had her beneath him, kissing her, exciting her. Loving her.
Epilogue
Mack barely got in the door before Trista leaped up, waving her report card in front of his face. “I got three A’s,” she yelled, and Mack, so proud he thought he’d burst, lifted her up for a massive hug. When he set her back down, she stayed glued to his side and walked with him down the hallway as he perused her report card.
“Three A’s and three B’s.” He put an arm around her and smiled. “I sure hope you’re proud of yourself, especially since one of those A’s is in science.”
Her braces shone brightly when she grinned and confided, “I got the highest score on my science project. Higher than Brian’s!”
He couldn’t help but laugh. Then Jessica was there, her hair loose down her back, swishing around her hips, distracting him. Just the way she knew he liked it.
“Hey, babe.” He leaned forward for a kiss, which she freely gave. God, he loved being greeted this way. “You don’t have a shoot right now?”
“Nope. I took the rest of the afternoon off.”
His brows lifted. “Oh ho. Any special reason?”
“Yes, but first, how did your day go?”
He realized she was anxious, worried about him on his first day back, and his love doubled. He tossed a few papers on the coffee table in the waiting room and dropped into a chair. “It was great—except for the principal poking her nose in every hour to check up on me.”
Jessica perched on his lap, affronted on his behalf. “She didn’t!”
“She did. Seems that even though she gave in to the parents’ demands to have me back, she’s still not happy about it. But I also got a visit from the head of the school board, and he told me they’re behind me one hundred percent, so I’m not going to let the principal get me down. Especially now that I know the parents won’t hesitate to lobby in my defense.” He grinned shamefully, still amazed that the parents had taken on the school board to get him back.
Trista leaned forward and in a low tone meant to mimic his own, said, “Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“Come here,” he growled, and pulled her onto the arm of the chair, close to his side. In the past few weeks, he’d grown to love Trista like she was his own. And she treated him as naturally as if he’d been around forever.
Mack couldn’t imagine being any happier than he was now. Since he had been with Jessica, time had gone by like a dream. The parents of his students had organized and appealed to the school board, which had gotten him hired in the position he wanted, despite the principal’s continued opposition. Sophie’s catalogue, delivered in time for the Valentine’s Day sale, had proved a huge hit. The women swamped her boutique every day now, and the main topic was the model. But with Jessica’s insistence, all the photos had been cropped, so only Mack’s body was visible. She’d gotten very huffy over the idea of other women knowing it was him in the racy loungewear, once she’d staked a claim.
Zane found the whole situation beyond hilarious.
“So what’s your good news?” He toyed with a long lock of Jessica’s hair, knowing that she’d left it loose for him.
“I’m going to be shooting another catalogue—this one for kids’ clothing.”
She looked so pleased with herself he kissed her again, making Trista giggle.
She pulled away with a sigh. “I also heard from the church today. Our wedding date is set. June sixth.”
“It’s official?” He had to hide his excitement. His damn nosy sisters-in-law had been insistent that Jessica deserved a big wedding this time around. He didn’t mind that, because he would do anything to make her happy. But every time they’d come up with a date, they’d run into a glitch. He was beginning to think the Winston curse would fail him.
She looped her arms around his neck and said, “Everything is official for June sixth—the hall, the flowers, the dress, the guests, everything. Sophie will have the baby around the end of March, and Allison isn’t due until November. The only problem, and it’s only a tiny one, is Zane.”
“What the hell has Zane got to do with this?”
“Well, your brother keeps complaining about a Winston curse, and he says if he comes to the wedding, it’s liable to get him. But I know you want him there…”
Mack laughed and hugged her close. “Don’t worry about my damn brother. He’ll be there, probably with bells on. And I have no doubt he’s up to tackling any curse there is.”
Trista tilted her head at him and leaned close, fascinated by the talk of curses. “Did you tackle the curse, Mack?”
He touched the end of her nose and grinn
ed. “No, honey. I welcomed it with open arms.”
Stay tuned for a sneak peek at
Zane Winston’s story,
Wild
Available now from Jove Books!
“I want you.”
The suggestive, husky whisper stroked over Zane Winston with the effect of a soft, warm kiss to his spine. It devastated his senses.
He froze, then clenched hard in reaction, his muscles tightening, his pulse speeding up. He nearly fell off his stepladder.
The motherboards balanced precariously in his arms started to fall, but Zane managed to juggle them safely at the last second.
He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to acknowledge that soft whisper. He knew without looking who had spoken to him. Still, as was generally the case where she was concerned, he couldn’t not look.
His gaze sought her out, and he found her standing a mere two feet away, her eyes downcast, her waist-length, witchy black hair partially hiding her face like a thick ebony curtain.
People shuffled through the small computer store, taking advantage of the sale prices he’d advertised, grabbing at clearance items, storing up on disks. Yet no one bumped into her, no one touched her. Alone in the crowd, she stood there to the side of his ladder, and Zane could feel her intense awareness of him. It sparked his own awareness until his breathing deepened, his skin warmed.
Damn it, but it always happened that way around her—which was one reason why he tried to avoid her.
Since she didn’t say anything else, didn’t even bother to look at him, Zane went back to restocking the shelf. Perhaps he’d misunderstood. Perhaps he’d even imagined it all. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, or rather, he’d been sleeping too hard, dead to the world and caught up in erotic, lifelike dreams that left him drained throughout the day. He felt like a walking zombie—a horny walking zombie, because the dreams were based on scorching carnal activities.
They were based on her.
Zane’s computer business had done remarkably well the past year, and it required a lot of his attention. The location in the small strip mall was ideal. But her antiquated two-story building stood right next door, only a narrow alley away, and the scent of her sultry incense often drifted in through his open door. Worse than that, her tantalizing, pulse-thrumming music could be heard everywhere, and it made his heart beat too fast. With her distracting him, concentrating on software and modems wasn’t always easy no matter his level of resolve. And now with the damn dreams plaguing him, his iron control was fractured.
His brothers had taken to heckling him, tauntingly accusing him of too much carousing. Zane didn’t bother to correct them. No way would he tell any of his brothers the truth behind his recent distraction—that his carousing had only been in his dreams, and his distraction was a little gypsy who he didn’t even find appealing.
Especially since he was determined to deny any such distraction.
The last thing he needed was a personal face-to-face visit with her.
Though he wasn’t looking at her, Zane felt her inch closer; he was aware of her all along his length, in his every pore, even in the air he breathed. The ladder had him several feet above her, which placed her face—her mouth—parallel with his lap. Damn damn damn. He tensed, waiting, and more images drifted into his mind.
“I want you,” she repeated, a little louder but still low enough that no one seemed to notice.
He hadn’t imagined it!
Anger erupting, Zane glared down at her, this time catching and holding her mystical dark gaze. Her long, coal-black lashes fluttered, but she didn’t look away from him. Staring into her eyes, he felt her, her thoughts and emotions invading his mind. Her nervousness touched him bone deep, the way she forced herself to remain still. And that, too, affected him.
How the hell did she manage to toy with him so easily? It outraged him, left him edgy and hot and resentful. Despite what some of his female associations might think, he was always the pursuer, not the pursued. He subtly controlled every intimate relationship, took only what he needed, gave only as much as he wanted, and no more.
Zane realized he was breathing too hard, reacting to her on an innate level, and deliberately he jammed the boxes of motherboards onto the shelf before climbing down the ladder.
Facing her, his arms folded over his chest, he did his best to intimidate her while at the same time hiding his discomfort. He needed her to leave. He needed to stop thinking about her.
He was nearly certain his needs didn’t matter to her in the least.
“What do you want?” He sounded rude to his own ears, obnoxious and curt. But this was a battle for the upper hand, and he intended to do his best to win.
Her full lips, painted a shiny dark red, were treated to a soft, sensual lick of uncertainty. Filled with tenacity, her gaze wavered, then returned to his. Her chin lifted. “As I said, I want…you.”
God, she’d said it again! This time straight out, to his face! Zane braced himself against the lure of her brazenness and her bold request. She looked like walking sex, like a male fantasy—his fantasy—come to life. He would not let her suck him in with obvious ploys.
“For what?” There, he thought, deal with that, Miss Gypsy. And she was a gypsy, no doubt about it. He almost believed the signs painted in the front window of her shop, claiming she could read palms and predict the future. The signs, backlit by the eerie glow of a red lamp and dozens of flickering candles, also said she could cast spells and enlighten your life.
It was the spell-casting part that made Zane most uncertain. After all, he was familiar with curses firsthand. And he didn’t like them worth a damn. At least, not when applied to himself. For his brothers it had worked out just fine. Better than fine—for his brothers.
Agitated, she shifted her feet and the tinkling of tiny bells rose above the din of the crowd. Zane found himself staring at her small feet beneath the long gauze skirt of bold colors and geometric designs. The skirt was thin and would be transparent if she stood in the right light.
Luckily for his peace of mind, they were more in the shadows than not. But that didn’t stop him from imagining what he couldn’t see. And it pissed him off that he visualized her, that he could guess at just how she’d look.
Twin ankle bracelets of miniature silver bells, worn above the skinny straps of her sandals, had caused the music when she moved. More silver circled her painted toes in dainty rings with intricate designs.
Zane looked at her hands, each finger adorned with a silver, pewter, or gold ring. A multitude of bracelets with inlaid colored stones hung on her slender wrists and jingled when she clasped her hands together.
Around her neck and disappearing into the neckline of her loose midnight blue peasant blouse, were several strands of small beads, some jet black, some bright amber, some ruby red.
He noticed the necklaces, then immediately noticed, too, that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts lay soft and full beneath her blouse.
An invisible fist squeezed Zane’s lungs, stealing the oxygen from his body, making him lightheaded. For God’s sake, they were only breasts, and not all that impressive. But he could see the faint outline of her nipples beneath the dark, thin material and it set him on fire.
He wanted to curse, but that would give too much away, so he refrained.
When he took a deep breath, trying to relieve some of his tension, that musky, earthy scent of incense filled his head. He stared at her hard, intent on keeping his gaze on her face. “I’m waiting.”
She glanced at the surrounding crowd. Her large eyes were heavily lined, looking mysterious and sensual. No one paid any attention to them, and she said low, “I want you for sex.”
Her gaze melted into his, touching his soul, dredging up those hot, taunting dreams that had plagued him nightly. In his sleep, he’d already taken her every way known to man. Now she offered to let the dream become reality.
Breathing was too damn difficult, and he nearly panted.
“I w
ant you,” she boldly continued, fanning the flames, “to share your body with me, and let me give you mine.”
Slowly, hypnotically, she lowered her lashes and added with a small shrug, “That’s all.”
That’s all? That’s all! Urgency throbbed through his veins, as if he’d spent hours on leisurely, detailed foreplay, and Zane wanted to smack her.
Even more than that, he wanted to drag her into the backroom and lift her long flirty skirt and take the body she so willingly offered. He wanted to inhale her scent, wanted to taste her in all her hottest, sweetest places. And he wanted to bury himself deep inside her.
Damn it all, he had a hard-on to end all hard-ons, and here he stood in the middle of his shop with hoards of people ready to spend money and purchase his wares.
Nostrils flared, and with as much disdain as he could muster given his acute state of arousal, Zane growled, “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Her gaze clashed with his, startled, upset. Her lips drew in, got caught by her teeth, and color scalded her cheeks. She took two slow breaths, then asked in a wavering voice, “You’re certain you’re not interested?”
He was so damn interested it wouldn’t have taken much more than a few touches to make him insane. Zane locked his knees, clenched his fists and hardened his resolve. “Positive.”
Her long silky hair hung past her lap as she bowed her head. For a suspended moment, Zane feared she might actually cry—or cast a hideous spell on him. He wasn’t entirely sure which would be worse. Not that he normally believed in such things as spells and incantations. But there was the Winston curse. He believed in it, had seen its effects on his brothers as one by one they’d been caught and married off. Happily, in fact.
One curse per family was more than enough. Little Gypsy could just take her mesmerizing voice and her intrusive sexuality and leave him the hell alone. He liked his life just as it was, just as he’d made it.
