Alpha Me Not

by Jianne Carlo

  A firm grip, a quick shake, and then she dusted off his hold.

  “Dinner at Mama Maria’s? Or should I switch out the gas first?”

  “It can wait till we get back. Hang on while I get my purse and find my shoes.” She whirled around, stomped her way to a small table beneath which lay a pair of flip-flops and shuffled into them. She stretched an arm to the coatrack and grabbed a denim saddlebag from a hook, adjusted the purse’s strap, snatched keys from a china saucer, and announced, “’Kay, cowboy. Let’s rustle.”

  “Huh?” He knew what she was about, but playing possum would get them halfway to where he wanted. “Care to explain?”

  “Let’s have dinner and establish a truce. But it’ll have to be quick. I have to study for a test tomorrow.”

  “No problem.” He folded his arms and leaned on the door frame. “You might want to grab a jacket. When the sun sets—”

  “For cripes sake. I’m an adult, not a child. And you sound exactly like my brother.” She twisted back and snatched a denim jacket from a chair. “Terri said I was not to bug you about your occupation, but that I’d get a kick out of it. So what is it exactly that you do for a living?”

  Fuck, she deserved to be spanked. Hard. He imagined those high ass cheeks pinkened and hand-imprinted, and salivated. “I’m a mercenary.”

  “Huh? Really?” She rounded on him after pulling the door shut. Got right up in his face. “You really are, aren’t you? Hen’s feathers. A mercenary.”

  “Yeah. Well, that’s all you’ll get from me on that front. Have you eaten at Mama Maria’s?” He shortened his stride when they began walking down to the main road.

  “What do you mean that’s all you’ll say? That’s not fair. I mean, how often does a gal meet a real mercenary?”

  “Once in a lifetime. And that’s it. No more going there. Back to Mama’s—you really haven’t ordered anything from them? And you’ve been living here for two weeks?”

  “Three days. I signed the lease two weeks ago, but Terri had to put stuff into storage, and then there was a mix-up with the keys.”

  “Mix-up?” He resisted the urge to curl an arm around her narrow waist and cup her butt, feel the muscles flex into his palm.

  “Terri’s flight got rescheduled, and she left the keys with Mr. Arnold, who fell and broke his hip.” She gave a slight head shake, and her glossy hair twirled over his bicep.

  Maybe he could talk her into doing a little whip and tickle action with those silky strands later.

  “Long story. Not worth it, believe me. Suffice it to say, I moved in on Thursday. And no, to answer your first question, I’ve not had the pleasure of eating at Mama Maria’s.”

  He’d run into a roller-coaster conversation maze. “Mr. Arnold?”

  She waved a hand. “Told you. Not worth it. Terri says Mama Maria’s is a treasure. She said you could OD on the aromas and that the plating is incredibly inventive. And that no one does a better osso bucco. I love osso bucco.”

  Joe hadn’t gotten past the dreamy, semiorgasmic expression on her face when she said the word love, and that was applied to food. What in heck would her expression be when she said I love your cock? Blood rushed to his balls.

  She looked fantastic, and she smelled wonderful too—spicy, musky, and sweet, with a hint of tomatoes. His dick stiffened, and he clenched his jaw and willed the wayward organ flaccid. He prided himself on his discipline, on his ability to control his sexual urges, and he never sported an unwanted boner. Never.

  “Do you eat there often?”

  “Almost always when I’m in town. I’m not much of a cook. Mama’s is what a mom-and-pop restaurant’s supposed to be. Warm and friendly with mouthwatering, home-cooked food.”

  “Real home-cooked?” She turned to meet his gaze.

  “From scratch. The sauce, the pasta. Everything. Mama is one of those old-fashioned Italian matriarchs. Rules the family with a velvet fist.”

  Her forehead creased. “Don’t you mean iron?”

  “Nope. Velvet. You’ll see what I mean after the first five minutes. How’d you end up renting Terri’s place?”

  “It was a real stroke of luck. She was searching for a house sitter, and I needed a cheap place to live. It’s a bit of a pain being so far from the university, but the bus service is good, and I love the area.”

  Jesus. She took the bus? Not on his watch.

  He’d managed to compile a fairly comprehensive dossier on Susan Elizabeth White and knew the answers to all the questions he’d asked, but the baseline of knowledge, his and hers, had to be established over dinner.

  “What’s your major?”

  “Nutrition.”

  “Did you transfer from another college?”

  They reached the entrance to Mama Maria’s.

  “No. I didn’t.” The terse, clipped answer didn’t invite further inquiry.

  Joe held the door open while she stepped inside. The denim fit her rump like a loving glove, and the ridge of a turquoise thong played peekaboo with the band of her jeans. He loved the new low-rise pants style, the sexy strip of skin where the tank and pants didn’t quite meet, the tantalizing glimpse of the top of her belly button.

  “This is charming,” she murmured, scooted over to the wall opposite a wooden bar sunk into a U-shaped alcove, and studied a tapestry depicting a boar hunting party circa the Middle Ages. “It looks like the real thing.”

  “It probably is. All the decorations and the furniture are from Italy. Mama’s uncles settled in Florida after World War II, and they brought over the rest of the family in stages. Each family member brought their possessions and when Mama opened the restaurant in 1984, they all donated various pieces.”

  “The restaurant’s been open for twenty years? That’s impressive. These days even neighborhood places don’t last longer than three to five years.”

  Mama Maria’s didn’t open officially until five o’clock, but the regulars knew the doors were unlocked at noon when Mama came back from the local farmer’s market. It wasn’t unusual to find half a dozen patrons playing dominoes or hearts at the tables opposite the big picture window long before the kitchen began serving dinner.

  Mama’s youngest great-grandson, Azzo, pushed through a swing door and greeted Joe with a quirked brow, a quick glance at Susan, and twitching lips. “Buona sera. When did you get back, Joe?”

  “This morning.”

  “Why did Florida’s finest pay you a visit this afternoon?”

  Figured. He’d known the whole neighborhood would be abuzz with the news of the cops busting into his home not a few hours earlier. Joe shrugged. “Long story. Trust me. Not worth it.”

  Susie snorted, shot him a sidelong glance, and flashed him a saucy, crooked smile. “He’s right on the button on that one. So not worth it.”

  And damned if she didn’t fix her gaze on his crotch. Joe grinned as his cock rose to the occasion.

  A rosy hue dusted her throat, neck, and face, and she hastily focused on a spot above his shoulder.

  Jesus, he couldn’t wait to be inside her hot pussy. Focus. Think with his head, not his throbbing dick. He gave in to temptation, snuck his arm around her waist, and pulled her close.

  “Azzo, I’d like you to meet a new neighbor, Susan White. She’s house-sitting for Terri.” This close, her unique aroma cocooned him. She smelled intoxicating—like sunshine and citrus all rolled into a mind-blowing, cock-spewing orgasm waiting to happen.

  “Ah, the nutrition major. Didn’t Terri speak to you of us?” Azzo inserted himself between Joe and Susie and circled an arm around her shoulder. “The calorie measurer, yes? I must phone Mama right away. She’s so excited about this.”

  Joe glared at Azzo. The boy had recently become the model for several romance novel covers. His muscles boasted muscles.

  “Calorie measurer?” Joe shifted the chair so Susie could sit, and hip butted Azzo aside. “Have a seat, Susie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Azzo. Yes, I’m the calorie measurer.�
� She shook Azzo’s hand, set her purse on the table, and draped her jean jacket on the back of the chair before sitting. “Terri told Mama about my major. I’m to do an analysis of her dishes so she can list all the nutrients, calories, etcetera on the menu.”

  Joe took a seat opposite Susie. “Terri arranged this?”

  “Yes. Thanks, Azzo.” She accepted the leather-bound menu Azzo proffered, and bent her head. “It’s a godsend. Fits into my electives perfectly, and I could use the extra money. I’m getting paid to put what I’ve learned to work. What more can a gal ask for?”

  She peeked up then, those ruby lips curved, her dark eyes sparkling, and he just about melted down to the bone. Christ. He hadn’t been so turned on in forever. Her flushed cheeks, those blue-black locks swirling around her tanned arms, those trim hips, and he knew how pretty her pussy was. His dick hurt, he was so engorged.

  Dinner was, surprise of all surprises, fun. Susie had an infectious, droll humor, and he hadn’t laughed so hard and so long in ages. She parodied every diner, but not in a hurtful way, more like a cartoonist drawing a caricature, painting a picture of each person’s life from a whimsical observation, a hand gesture, a lifted brow, a lopsided dimple.

  He drew out the dinner, insisting on a decaf cappuccino after their main course, and prodded Azzo into a selection of every dessert on the menu. When the tray with the sweets arrived, Susie drooled a sigh and debated aloud which chocolate decadence to sample.

  Before he could voice the suggestion, Azzo swept a courtier’s bow and declared, “For you, Susie mia, I will bring a sample of each.”

  “That’s so sweet of you, Azzo.”

  Joe flexed his hands when she touched Azzo’s bulging forearm for a mere breath.

  “I haven’t had the time to run much this week. How about we save the sample for another time, and I just have the banana split tonight?”

  Could she have ordered any dessert more designed to titillate? A banana, for chrissake?

  “But of course, Susie mia. Would you like the traditional banana split? Or Mama’s version with three flavors of chocolate?”

  Where the fuck had this “Susie mia” bit come from? Joe scowled at the Italian gigolo.

  “Three flavors of chocolate?” Susie licked her lips.

  Azzo kissed his fingers. “You will, how you say, climax on the chocolate.”

  No. That was not—how you say—what the young stud meant. He’d have to have a fist-meet-teeth talk with Azzo later.

  “We have ze chocolate almond, ze chocolate orange, and ze chocolate peanut ice cream. A little of each, no?” Azzo spoke perfect English when he wanted. His fake macho Italian accent grated Joe’s nerves raw.

  Susie clapped her hands. “Perfect.”

  Joe ordered another cappuccino.

  After Azzo delivered the banana split with all the accompanying pomp and circumstance of a coronation ceremony, Joe bared his teeth and said, “I noticed the cameras aren’t on. Is something wrong with the security system?”

  Azzo glanced at the two minicams set into the corners of the room. He cursed under his breath. “That Luciano, he lives in another world. Once again, he has turned off the switch.’ Scusi.”

  Relaxing when the young stud disappeared through the kitchen’s swinging doors, Joe braced an arm on the chair, turned to face Susie, and near choked on his spit.

  She’d speared the banana in half and proceeded to dip the tip in each of the three chocolate ice cream scoops. He dug his hands into the wooden chair handles. A sliver stabbed his thumb, and he hardly noticed, couldn’t drag his gaze from her pink, delicate tongue as she lovingly licked the fudgy cream and then sucked on the cleaned banana.

  “I’m somewhat of a chocoholic.”

  Somewhat.

  If he moved a muscle, if he so much as inhaled, if he didn’t stop staring at the dark smudge on her lower lip, he’d come in his pants, right there and then. He yanked his gaze to the ceiling. Counted to ten in Arabic, Mandarin, and Armenian.

  When his ragged breathing regained something close to a normal rhythm, he jerked his attention back to Susie and stifled a groan as he watched the last morsel of fruit vanish into her mouth.

  He’d give his left nut and then some if she’d agree to clean chocolate off his dick.

  “I love bananas. Hey, I heard they grow in Florida. Like, you know, the whole banana tree thing. Can you imagine waking up to a bunch of ripe bananas?”

  Jesus.

  Fucking A. He was going to detonate on the spot.

  Azzo reappeared. He rocked on his heels and beamed. “Mama has a bunch of banana trees out back.”

  Her eyes went spaceship wide and took on a faraway glaze. “No kidding? That was an off-the-tree banana? Wow.”

  Azzo did that I’m-a-horny-Italian-sex-god sweep of fingers and thumb to his mouth. “Shall I show you? You can even pick a few bananas to take home with you for breakfast tomorrow.”

  And Joe’d be there to watch her eat it.

  Come hell or Armageddon. Holy shit. Even the notion of her candy-pink tongue sliding down the length of his banana had him ready to ignite. And damn if she wouldn’t suck the crown as lovingly as she had that fricking lucky banana.

  “Please allow me to escort you.” Azzo offered a crooked elbow.

  Joe lurched to his feet. “I’ll take her out back.”

  “Actually it’s getting late, and I really need to get back to my studying. I’ll check out the banana patch next time if that’s okay with the both of you.” Susie twined her fingers together and did a back-bowed stretch that had Joe’s cock twitching. Her nipples were pointed and shoving against the tank top.

  “You don’t have to walk me back, Joe. I’m good on my own.” She threw him a out-and-out suck-it-up smirk and embellished the saucy pose with a little sex-kitten shoulder roll.

  “You are so not so good on your own. Azzo, tell Mama I’ll call her later. And buzz off. Susan Elizabeth White, I am walking you home and then some.” He pushed his hand under her elbow and helped her to stand.

  “Joe. I think I need to tell you something.”

  He skirted the hostess station, his hand in the small of Susie’s back, edging her forward, anxious to get her out of the restaurant, needing to get them locked tight and hard.

  “What?” He had her out the door and onto the sidewalk.

  “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need to study any more for the test. What I need to do is relax. Really, really relax. Rumor has it that an orgasm relaxes you to the max.”

  Chapter Two

  It took every ounce of willpower she had not to glance at Joe’s crotch. Susie wanted to howl. She had this big bad mercenary dangling by her pinky, and just the mention of orgasm had his jaw dropping to the cobbled sidewalk framing Champion Avenue.

  “Witch.” He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a cock teaser. You’ve done everything but rub your pussy in my face.”

  She blinked. Had she gone too far?

  His hold on her firmed. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not objecting to the dance, just putting you on notice that the outcome may not be what you’re gunning for. I’m not a settling-down, white-picket-fence type of man. My job’s dangerous, and when I go on a mission, I go knowing I may never come back. I love what I do, and no woman’s going to change that.”

  Susie stared at him. He wasn’t handsome by any conventional standards. The craggy features, the myriad faded scars above his right temple, and the crooked nose didn’t soften the harsh lines of his features but added a piratical, brooding aura that ambushed the senses, hers anyway.

  He wasn’t the kind of man to do anything by halves, not Joe Huroq, and he was giving her fair warning, big-time. Whatever was going to happen between them would be temporary…and exciting. Gawd, all her woman parts were on overdrive. Her nipples burned, her clit throbbed, and she’d soaked her thong.

  Good for him. And good for her.

  He would be perfect for her first
lover, but she didn’t like the idea of them living so close. What if things didn’t work out and she had to put up with an angry mercenary living next door? Or worse, if he dumped her and she had to live with him trooping females through his front door? It’d be best to nip this in the bud.

  “You’ve met your match then, cowboy. I’m not a white-picket-fence kind of woman. And definitely not the settling-down type. No husband, no kids, no ties. No emotional entanglements. But as the saying goes, I don’t eat where I muck. You’re my neighbor. Let’s set the rules right here and now. No kissy-kissy. You can lump me right in there with Terri.”

  She folded her arms and jutted her chin and plain hated that she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. One of the few pluses of being five-eleven was she could look down on most men; it gave her a power edge she relished.

  “There isn’t a gay bone in your body. My cock knows that as well as you do. I’ve lived next door to Terri for three years, and not once has the sight of her naked given me a boner. Even when I thought you were her, I was as hard as a steel girder. No way are we going to be platonic friends, Susan Elizabeth White.”

  Maybe, just maybe this could work out. Gawd, was he temptation personified. The notion of running her fingers over his forged-of-steel muscles had her salivating.

  “I don’t want your friendship. That involves emotions. Now, there is an arrangement I might go for. The kind that involves a certain type of buddy.”

  The grin that swept his mouth showcased the type of dimples clean-cut Ralph Lauren male models claimed, and gave him a boyish air she would never have associated with his menacing, mercenary, razor toughness.

  He cupped her elbow and urged her around the corner and onto Birch Close.

  “You’re preaching to the converted, sweetness. I’d say we have ourselves the makings of a—”

  His nostrils flared.

  His gaze went distant.

  He lifted his head.

  Susie’s stomach clenched.

  Predatory couldn’t begin to describe the hunter stance he assumed in a heartbeat—legs spread wide, hands jammed on lean hips, eyes narrowed. He sniffed and whipped his head to the left.