by Jan Irving
“Except we aren’t,” Sian snapped. “We are not related. We can have a relationship.”
Dharma smirked again and Sian knew she’d needled her to make a point.
“Yeah, okay. I guess I got over that too,” Sian said.
“It wasn’t nice of Taz to throw in the woman from the threesome.” Dharma’s eyes narrowed and Sian figured the big fireman would get his head handed to him the next time he dared enter Coffee Dreams.
“Luke proposed one of his own.”
“What?” Now she’d managed to surprise her friend.
“Um, not like the ones he did before we hooked up. This was with another woman and it didn’t sound like she and I got real involved. Also, to clarify, he doesn’t touch her.”
“Mmmm.”
“You’ve done it with another woman,” Sian said.
“Yep. It can be nice.”
Sian sighed. “How is it I’m older than both you and Luke and I haven’t a tenth your experience?”
“That’s not the issue. What are you going to tell him about the marriage deal?”
“We didn’t get to talk about it. We didn’t spend the night together.”
“He’s holding out for marriage?”
“Apparently.” It was crazy, but when he’d closed his door gently and left her alone in the hallway after their date, she’d felt utterly lost. But marriage…yeesh!
“He’s pushing, I grant you,” Dharma said. “But look at it from his perspective. He loves you, he’s always loved you. You’ve lived together for years. You even told me if you had a kid you’d both welcome that. To all intents and purposes you two are living together so marriage isn’t a big step and…”
“What?”
“I’m thinking of marriage vows, about you ‘taking this man’. He probably needs that after being stuck in the role of your little kid brother all these years.”
Need. But Luke seemed so tough, so remote as he said goodnight. Didn’t he know all he had to do was tell her he hurt?
“I need a moment,” she said.
Dharma squeezed her shoulder before heading out to the store front, leaving Sian alone. “Sure.”
Sian sat at her desk, sipping her first coffee of the day—coffee roasted from beans she chose from fair-trade farmers, coffee she brewed and sold in what had always been her dream. She had always been so introverted that she knew without Luke pushing her, she wouldn’t have had the guts to go for this place, aptly named Coffee Dreams.
But she’d been there for him. When kids drank too much and ploughed themselves into a freeway wall and he and the men of Station 57 peeled fragile bodies out of a trashed car, she stayed up late with Luke, making her chilli for him to take in the next day.
Family. They were family, but Luke needed it spelled out in neon. He needed even the most nosy and interfering of their neighbours to know they were together.
Something shattered out front, yanking Sian from her thoughts.
“Dharma?”
For some reason her heart was pounding as she shoved open the swinging door.
Dharma was on the hardwood floor, on hands and knees, her head hanging.
“Oh, God.” She grabbed her phone off the counter when Taz walked in. “Help!”
Taz knelt, putting a hand against Dharma’s pulse point. “Erratic,” he muttered. “Luke’s riding with me today in the paramedic truck. Get him in here and call nine-one-one.”
Sian burst through the door of Coffee Dreams, spotted Luke. He straightened as soon as they made eye contact. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Sian!”
“Dharma. I think it’s her heart.” Sian dialled as Luke grabbed equipment and ran into the coffee shop.
As Sian watched, Luke and Taz worked over Dharma, Luke supporting her while Taz examined her. Dharma’s breath whistled in and out like a desperate tea kettle. “I’m scared,” she whispered.
Taz said, “You’re going to be okay. Look at me. I don’t bullshit.”
Dharma stared into Taz’s eyes. “No,” she managed. “You don’t do that.”
“Any caffeine today?” Luke asked. “Any foods your doctor doesn’t want you eating?”
“I…no. I never—” Dharma began.
“Oh God, the bit of brownie you had. It was made with espresso,” Sian said.
“Too fast!” Dharma gripped Luke’s hand. “My heart—”
The door crashed open as two ambulance workers arrived with a gurney. They exchanged terse medi-speak with Taz and Luke.
“We’re going to get you to Mercy Hospital,” Luke told Dharma, before they shifted her to the cart.
“I’m closing up. I’ll be right behind you,” Sian said.
“Are you all right to drive?” Luke demanded.
Sian swallowed. “Yes.”
In the ER waiting room, Sian looked up when Luke sat down beside her.
“Do you know anything?” she asked.
“The doc’s with her now. They’re slowing down her heart with a drip. She’ll be here a while,” Luke said.
“But she’s going to be all right?”
Luke nodded. “I think so.”
Sian slumped. “She was fine. She was absolutely fine and then…”
“Yeah. It happens that way sometimes.”
“Her medical condition?”
“Life.”
“I guess you see a lot of that.”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Instead, he looked at her. “I have to get back to work.”
She nodded. “I’m going to stay here. See if Dharma could use a ride home if…if it’s all right for her to go home. Luke, she’s my best friend and she nearly died. If you and Taz hadn’t been there…”
Luke squeezed her hand. “We were.”
She watched him stride away, looking comfortable in the hospital environment in his uniform.
“Luke already left?” Taz asked.
“Yes.”
“You look like you could use some of that coffee you dole out.”
“I’m okay. You on the other hand look like you went one round too many.” She cocked an eyebrow at his swollen eye.
“Luke.” Taz’s eyes flashed a look that was oddly pride. “He has a helluva right cross.”
“You knew he’d do that. After what you did, setting us up.”
“If you weren’t going to stick, better he knew.”
“Looking out for him.”
Taz shrugged. “You do it for your friend Dharma. I heard you’re picking up her medical expenses.” His green eyes moved over her face with a moody light. “Are you going to break his heart?”
“That’s the last thing I want.”
“Long as I knew him, Luke’s had you in the blood. He’s always felt less, like he had to grow up, grow tall, to be a man you’d want.”
* * * *
Luke found Sian sitting on her bed hours later. He’d swung by the coffee house to check on her earlier, but had found it darkened and closed up, so she hadn’t made it back.
“You saw Dharma home?” he asked, rubbing the tense muscles of his neck.
“Yes. Her mom’s come down to stay with her for a few days.”
Luke nodded. “She had a scare.”
“A brownie. She didn’t even eat that much of it.”
“It could have been triggered by anything, but caffeine, alcohol…things to watch.”
“Your captain also came by to see how she was,” Sian said, making haystacks of her bedspread. “He didn’t stay long.”
“Fred likes the way she makes him coffee. It hit you hard.”
“It scared me. I love her, she’s part of my life and…”
“She’s okay now.”
Since Luke only stood at the doorway to her bedroom, she got off the bed and went to him. He pulled her into his arms.
“Thank you for being who you are.” She pulled away. “I need a moment to do some things.”
He pulled back awkwardly, standing in the hallway, hating that he still s
tood out here, looking into her bedroom from the outside. It had been stupid to push her about marriage, he admitted to himself. God, he was tired. Maybe he should just let it go, go on living with her. “Sure.”
“Meet you in fifteen in the kitchen?”
“Okay then.”
Luke found some soup in the fridge and put it in the microwave. He cut some sourdough and shoved it in the toaster.
“You’re looking very handy,” Sian drawled.
“You’re still the queen of your domain, but you need to eat something.”
“You’re right, I haven’t eaten.”
He looked over his shoulder at her, and that’s when it hit him.
She was wearing that black deal, the dress she’d been wearing the night his control had broken. Sweat broke out on his hairline as he took her in, brown hair up, long, fragile bird bones, delicate neck, anxious eyes.
Those eyes were smudged with something that made them look sad and mysterious. Her lips were glossy and reddened, as if from hard kisses.
She smelt spicy, as good as one of her pastries.
She was everything he’d ever wanted and everything he was sure he could never have.
Except she was smiling at him, reaching out and gripping his hand as he just stood there.
“Your hands are cold. Shit.” He frowned.
“Always taking care of me, Luke?” She tilted her head to look up at him and he was even more aware of her perfume, of the way she’d dressed up for him on an ordinary night, a week night. She looked…
His hands slid down silky material and cupped her ass, groaning as her flexible, long body caressed him where he tented his jeans.
“Make love to me.”
She’d never initiated it before between them. Never. He’d given up hoping she would.
He lifted her onto the island that had seen previous action, reached under her skirt and found…hot, wet flesh.
She wasn’t wearing panties.
She laughed. “You look surprised.”
“You came out here to seduce me?”
Now her heavy eyes held that sadness again. She cupped his cheek. “Luke, I’ve let my fears rule me.”
“Life’s too short,” he croaked. He shoved up the dress, exposing her pink depths. He put his mouth on her and she groaned, long legs locked around him. His cock ached to shove inside her.
She was luscious under his tongue, her body rising up for each lick, vibrating like wire.
“Luke!”
He opened her, peeling back all the protective layers until her sex was under his mouth, vulnerable. He took her, wanting her taste inside him.
Sian was letting him do her. She was his now, even if she still clung to the safe life they’d lived for so many years. It would have to be enough.
He fell into familiar fantasy, picturing them living in another time and place where she was his captive, where she was his, utterly his and every time he wanted her she was brought to him.
She’d wear this dress, and her hair would be down and messy…
He reached up and ruffled it, and the long silk fell around them, making their secret world. Her hair, her scent, all around him.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “Whatever you call yourself, stepsister, friend… You’re my woman.”
“Yes, Luke!”
But he didn’t believe her. It hurt too much, facing more hesitation, more rejection. He took it out on her, laving her thoroughly so that her nails spiked into his arms and she sobbed every time he licked her folds.
He kept her like that, aching for her relief, twisting like restless fire under his touch. He let out the ruthless Dom, subduing her when she begged, imagining that his beautiful captive was fighting for freedom, but he showed her the woman who wanted to be his.
And then he opened his jeans and mounted her, took her with one thrust.
She screamed, legs hooking around his hips. He felt her contractions as she came, saw the dazed satisfaction in her eyes, the dreaminess.
He shattered it, taking her roughly, making her desperate again so her nails scored his ass as she sat up and he fucked her face-to-face. He was naked this way, looking into her eyes. He knew she had to see how much the boy had wanted her, the man wanted her now.
“I love you,” he said, not able to hold back. “But if this is it, let’s go out like a comet.”
They worked together so sweat dampened his hair and rolled down his face, so her dinner went cold and the air warmed with the scent of his straining body, with her receiving him.
He roared as he flooded into her and he hoped he’d made her pregnant. If that’s what it took to make her marry him, well, he just didn’t care right now.
She trembled in his arms—he felt too big, too low class. He cradled her, wishing he could be gentle and smooth, someone she’d take seriously.
“Luke…” She was on her feet. Still wobbly, so he braced her.
His face hardened. He could stick it out another night alone. “Go to your room, Sian,” he said, wanting it over. “Just go.”
“Okay.” But she took his hand, holding tightly.
He followed, frowning at her. “Wait. You didn’t eat. You should eat.”
“I have to show you something first.”
She walked into her bedroom. Turned and looked at him; pulled him after her when he didn’t enter on his own.
And he was there at last, her room. His heart thudded.
Sian went to her bedside table, opened it and pulled something out. When she flipped it on her bed, he saw it was the calendar. He saw himself, Mr February, in all his glory.
“The truth is… I bought it before Dharma ever hung it in Coffee Dreams. I kept it here, my secret. I looked at you every night I came home after one of my dates.” She sat on the bed, lifting her hand to him. “Marry me. Make love to me in my bed, make a baby with me. We were made for each other.”
He covered her on that bed and let her peel off his clothing and her own. Skin to skin, in her room, the way he’d always needed to be with her.
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
His Landlady
Jan Irving
Excerpt
Chapter One
Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks within, awakens ~ Carl Jung
Diana Moore hesitated outside the kickboxing studio, her attention caught by a poster of the sleek body of a young male kickboxer, his leg straight up in a martial arts kick.
Although every muscle was warrior defined, it was the expression on his face that fixed her attention. He was gazing into the distance, a half smile touching his lips, a look of transcendent pleasure that didn’t make her think of the martial arts…
“Perv,” she muttered to herself. She had better things to do than stand here lusting over a beautiful man who was probably too airbrushed to be true. She adjusted her grip on her attaché case and almost walked into another young man, this one short and covered with black-and-red tattoos.
“You here for class?” he demanded. “Come back in an hour.” His street accent made the word ‘hour’ a match for ‘sour’.
Di gulped and stopped herself from taking a step back. The stranger had an aggressive energy that she could feel like a force field.
“No,” she said. “I’m strictly a yoga person.”
The man stared at her, unblinking, and Di felt as if she’d told a proud Doberman owner that she was the golden retriever type.
“We don’t do yoga here,” he said, crossing his arms.
“No, I know that…” She was flustered and it was stupid. But the studio so wasn’t her thing. “I’m the landlady of this strip mall. I’m here with some paperwork for the owner.”
“Huh.” He didn’t look impressed.
“Nath, behave!” a mellow voice interrupted.
There was a thread of laughter in it that stroked down Di’s spine.
“Hello, landlady. I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
A tanned hand was held out a
nd when she automatically took it, callouses brushed her palm. The grip was strong, confident, and didn’t crush her fingers; this was a man with no need to prove anything.
“Uh…”
He was also the man from the poster. Except he was stripped down to black shorts and his dark hair was sweaty against his forehead. He regarded her with almond-shaped, amber-brown eyes, hinting at a slight Asian heritage while his unshaven jaw and shaggy brown hair were sexy mongrel.
“I’m Diana Moore,” she said.
“My landlady is a Roman goddess, Diana the Huntress,” he said.
Although those dark eyes didn’t move down to her full breasts, Diana felt as if they had. Her nipples peaked through her thin, blue silk tunic.
“Sloan Kent—owner and operator of Soul Kickin’.”
“Soul Kickin’,” she repeated, seeing with relief that the other man, Nath, had disappeared into the studio. He’d been a bit intense for her to handle before she’d had her morning espresso. “So you decided on a name.”
A smile tilted his perfect lips. If he’d caught her attention in two dimensions, it was nothing to the real man. The real young man, she reminded herself. He looked to be in his early twenties, and she definitely was not at thirty-five.
“Yeah, I know I kept you waiting. But waiting can be good.” He raised his brows as an expression that was part teasing and part earnest lit his eyes. “You gotta live in the present moment. Grab every second.”
“Ah…right.” Now she wasn’t imagining he was looking at her. She ducked her head, knowing with her curves she didn’t look as good as he did in shorts. More earth goddess than sports queen. “I brought the paperwork over.”
Sloan nodded. “Come on in,” he invited, opening the glass door of his studio for her.
She walked into what had previously been just bare brick walls, scarred from an incarnation as a sports retailer. The floors were halfway through a polish job, stripped down to sawdust and bleached maple so the scent of wood was strong and tangy.
“Nath has been doing the floors,” Sloan said, as if he’d noticed her interest.
“They were a mess,” she admitted.
