One-Click Buy: July 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Julie Kenner

  “It’s three in the afternoon.”

  “Feels like breakfast time to me. Any place we can manage that?”

  “It’s New York. You can get anything any time you want it,” she said.

  “Sounds like my kind of place.”

  After some snuggling and kissing she was grateful for the reprieve as they made their way out of the building and down the street to a diner that she liked.

  “So how did it go?”

  “Let’s eat, and I’ll tell you what you want to know. We have to figure out who would be doing this, and why,” she said briskly, determined to stop moping and start acting.

  They sat, and as she kept herself busy for a few minutes with her flapjacks and butter, syrup and bacon, fixing her plate as he fixed his, she finally ran out of things to do and had to face the music.

  “Okay. It’s not a huge deal, but I do like to keep it private, especially in my work. I need to maintain a certain image…” Her voice drifted off, and she cut a bite of pancake on her plate, but then laid her fork down.

  Jarod reached a long arm across the table and gently touched her hand.

  “I know we haven’t known each other long, and this is hard for you, but you can tell me anything, I promise. This will never go further than me.”

  She looked out the window at the passersby. It was getting dark earlier by small degrees, but on a cloudy day, even more so.

  “Thanks. The long and the short of it is that my ex-boyfriend, Scott Myers, is the guy in California. We met when I was doing some brochure work for his company, and sort of hit it off. He was a classic California guy, looked like he spent all his time on the beach, you know?”

  Jarod nodded, but added, “Eat while you talk.”

  Reluctantly, she picked up her fork. She was hungry and took a bite. The soothing sweetness of the comfort food helped.

  “Anyway, we dated, had some fun, but a few months into it he started getting possessive, and kind of mean. It was small stuff at first, but then he actually showed up at one of my shoots and threatened a male model he thought was flirting with me. I had no idea, but he’d hired a private detective to follow me, to take pictures. I had no idea.”

  Jarod didn’t say a word, but she noticed how his grip tightened around his fork.

  “So, I told him that was it, to get lost. He claimed he was just worried about me spending all that time with male models and such, and apologized, so I thought, you know, we get along so well. I wanted to give him one more chance. It’s not like I’m Miss Perfect. And up to that point, he’d never done anything to hurt me.”

  “But then that changed?” Jarod prompted easily when she paused, lingering over another bite.

  “Yeah. It was okay for a while, seemed like it was back to how we were at first. I thought he’d just been stressed from work or whatever. But then he came home drunk as a skunk one night, and he wanted to, uh…” She stuttered, blushing and uncomfortable talking about having sex with Scott with the man she was having sex with at the moment, and Jarod seemed to get it, waving her on.

  “I hear ya, and I don’t need details, either.”

  Thank goodness.

  “So I put him off. I wasn’t about to deal with him in that condition. I told him to take a shower and go to bed, and when he was sober, we’d talk. The next thing I knew, I was seeing stars. It really came out of nowhere. He accused me of having sex with my models, and that’s why I didn’t want him. And let me assure you, though you have been an exception, you’re the only one—I do not sleep with my models.”

  “I’m glad you made an exception, then,” Jarod said, smiling, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “I won’t detail the whole episode, but I ended up with a broken arm, and a few other cuts and bruises. It might have been worse. However I managed to get hold of a meat hammer and caught him unawares in the face. It wasn’t much, but it stunned him at least. Luckily, before he came at me again, I passed out. I think maybe he thought he’d killed me because he took off. He got into a few other fights that night, he was finally arrested and tested positive for alcohol and cocaine. On combined charges, he was supposed to be away for a while, but he was recently let out on parole to home detainment for ‘good behavior,’” she said with a snarl. “Good behavior, my ass.”

  “So that’s where the scar on your arm actually came from.”

  “I guess I just got so used to keeping it to myself that it feels strange to talk about it. I also wanted to forget it, just let it be part of the past. No matter how I try, though, it keeps coming back up.”

  Jarod’s expression was serious. “Did you talk to a counselor at the hospital?”

  Lacey stared at her food and disentangled her fingers from his.

  “I spoke to one. I went back, but it just wasn’t…for me. I wanted to handle it on my own.”

  “I get where you’re coming from.”

  She hadn’t expected that response, and her surprise showed.

  “You do?”

  “Sure. I’ve been forced into my share of shrink appointments—it’s SOP after certain things, like the first time I had to shoot someone and they died in front of me. The first time I lost a friend, a fellow Ranger—that one was harder. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t. What I do know is you have to be open to it for it to do any good, and no one can force you into it. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

  Relief thrummed through her. “So you just dealt with it on your own?”

  “For a while. I was able to handle the fact that I’d had to use my gun. I grew up in a house with a Ranger, and I knew that carrying that weapon meant probably having to use it. But, when my friend Matt was killed, that was tough. I thought I could shake it, but I couldn’t.”

  “How did he die?”

  “We were having a beer after a bad day—you know, winding down? We’d just caught a guy who’d been causing some pretty serious trouble around town for a while.”

  Jarod picked up a piece of bacon then put it down again. Her heart hurt at his carefully controlled expression, the way he didn’t let much show, when there was so much going on inside.

  “Turns out his younger brother was his partner in crime, not that the kid had much choice. He was barely out of his teens. We didn’t even know about him. As we left the bar, the kid walked up to us and shot Matt. There was no talk, no warning, nothing. Just a gunshot, point-blank in the chest. Matt was dead before he hit the ground.”

  “Oh, my God,” Lacey breathed, horrified. “And then?”

  “The kid was dead a second later.”

  Lacey stared, unable to get her mind around what he was saying. How was it possible he dealt with ordeals like that on a regular basis?

  “I—I don’t know what to say, Jarod. It’s unthinkable.” She stood, crossed to him and slid into the booth on his side and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “How do you deal with that? How can anyone deal with that?”

  “That’s kind of the point,” he said calmly, taking her hands and kissing them. “I couldn’t. I had gone through the motions with the shrink before, and made out okay. I thought I could handle this, too, and I crashed, big-time. Got in a tight spot a few weeks later and almost shot an innocent person, and that’s when I knew something was fried in my brain from what had happened with Matt. So I went for counseling. It took a while, but I made peace with it.”

  “How?”

  “Talking it through, reliving it, saying what I had to say—realizing there wasn’t anything I could have done to stop it.”

  Lacey felt tears prick her eyelids. She couldn’t say anything. She felt like a coward, whining about her onetime altercation with Scott when others went through so much worse. She said as much, and Jarod dislodged her hold, pulled away.

  “Lacey, that’s not why I told you that story, because it’s not something I share often, either, and it wasn’t meant to make what happened to you smaller.”

  “But it seems so—”

  “No.
What I’m trying to say is that if you can’t quite get away from this, it’s because you haven’t let it go. You won’t be able to let it go until you figure out a way to work through it.”

  She went back to her seat. “You do think I should see a counselor.”

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t know what’s right for you. You need to figure it out. You were attacked, but you also fought back. You hit him and you kept yourself from likely being killed. That’s huge. You’re a fighter. Don’t let him win now by letting it eat you up inside. By being afraid all the time.”

  Lacey listened, took in what he was saying, though she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if counseling was the answer. But what he said about letting it go made sense. Still…how?

  “You’ve helped,” she said in a whisper, her gaze meeting his. “I knew, somehow, when I saw you with that little girl—maybe before that—that you were the complete opposite of him. That I could…be with you.”

  “I’m glad about that,” he said, smiling, and this time the smile did fill his eyes.

  She took a deep breath. “I suppose it felt good to finally tell someone, too—you—and to hear your story. Everyone has their stories, I guess.”

  “Yes. But that doesn’t make yours any less important.”

  “Maybe.” She picked up a bite of pancake and though it was now just lukewarm, it tasted much better than before, when she hadn’t been able to taste anything. She caught the spark of heat in Jarod’s gaze as he followed her progress, watching her slip the morsel between her lips. She warmed inside, but with more than desire.

  He still wanted her. He didn’t see her as weak, or less sexy, or as a victim. Nothing she told him had turned him off. In fact, she was pretty sure from the light in his eyes that he was very much the opposite of turned off. She looked at the syrup on the table, and said, “You know, I wonder if they do takeout?”

  He groaned and shook his head, smiling.

  Later. Definitely later. She planned to lick him clean.

  “I know it’s not Scott,” she said, switching gears and returning to their original problem. “I called Legal Aid today and spoke to their assistant, Gena, who said he’s still in California under house arrest.”

  “That makes it harder to figure out who it could be, but we’ll find him.”

  “I asked Jackie to get me the list of people who were in line for this project. Maybe I’ll recognize a name, or we might find someone who wanted to sabotage the project, or something.”

  “That’s smart.”

  She smiled, the praise igniting a warm glow inside. “Thanks for listening, Jarod, and thanks for not seeing me as a victim.”

  “Are you kidding me? With your spirit? No way. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met, and one of the most gorgeous.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “Oh, honey, I have yet to show you just how bad I can be,” he said smoothly, a wicked promise in his eyes.

  She hoped he planned to, and bought the extra bottle of syrup, just in case.

  9

  THE NEXT DAY, atop the Empire State Building, the second shoot wasn’t going as well as the Central Park work. The problems of the past few days were taking their toll. Jarod wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure how. Lacey had done okay with Ryan, who went before him so that he could still make his shift at the firehouse on time, but now she seemed to be having a hard time. Jarod wondered if it was him, or the cumulative stress.

  He tried distracting himself by watching the amazing vista of the city laid out below him, but his mind would only travel back to Lacey.

  She’d already broken one lens. Her clumsy fingers were probably caused by lack of sleep and nerves, and she was cursing as she couldn’t get the shots she wanted just the way she wanted them. Which meant he was bent and folded into yet more ridiculous poses and fluffed and primped even more. It grated on his own bad mood, but he put up with it because it was Lacey, and she didn’t need him complaining.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” she shouted in frustration, and put the camera down, he figured, so that she didn’t end up throwing it.

  He pushed past the stylist and crossed the platform, took her by the arm and led her into the lobby through the doors where they could be alone for a few minutes. He saw her cast a concerned glance back at the crew, who watched them curiously as they disappeared from view, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone else thought at the moment.

  “Hey, come here,” he said, pulling her in and rubbing his hands over the stress-hardened muscles of her back until he felt her relax and soften against him. “Not such a good day, huh?”

  “Work usually distracts me from anything bothering me, but today, I just can’t seem to clinch it. Everything is swirling in my head and I can’t focus,” she said, banging her forehead softly against his chest. “I felt like I rushed Ryan through, and I can’t get these shots right, either, and I have to get a progress report in by four,” she said in exasperation.

  The scent of her shampoo wafted up, and he found himself thinking about more erotic things than comforting her. He’d love to get back in the shower with her, work soap through those short, silky locks and move his hands down the length of her body, touching every inch of water-slick skin. He’d make sure she was relaxed.

  “Let’s see if I can’t settle down some of the things spinning around in there,” he said seductively, leaning down to capture her mouth in a soft kiss. She stiffened in surprise at first, probably worried about someone seeing them, but only for a second before a wildfire erupted between them. All of the emotions they both had bottled up channeled through the kiss until his hands were inside her shirt, thumbs caressing her nipples into tight peaks. In return she was slowly rocking her pelvis into his erection.

  Another minute of this and he was going to haul her up and have her on the spot; instead, he lowered his hands and exerted some self-control. Truth be told, he’d needed to touch her pretty badly, and the short tryst had helped his own mood considerably. Just being near her seemed to help, soothing his worries and frustrations. He couldn’t remember any other woman having that effect on him before. He wasn’t sure he was the same guy who’d landed in the city just a few days ago, when his job had been the center of his universe.

  “Still thinking too much?” he asked against the delicate shell of her ear, planting a kiss there and enjoying her gasp of a response. Encouraged, he slipped his fingers under the top of her pants and caressed the soft, secret spots just below the small of her back.

  “Only about getting you out of your pants,” she said baldly, her breath quickening at his touch, and he laughed.

  “Hold on to that thought. Any chance we can hang back here for a bit when they leave?”

  She looked at him in surprise, and he loved how her eyes sparked with pleasure and adventure as she realized what he was asking. Whatever had happened to her in the past with the bastard who had broken her arm, she hadn’t lost who she was. Jarod was just glad that he got to be the man who helped her learn that, as well.

  “I think we might be able to arrange that. Not for long, their security is pretty strict, but I bet I could wrangle enough time for…a quickie.”

  “Sounds fun. Something to look forward to. Let’s get back out there and finish this, then, huh?”

  She smiled at him, nodding, and his heart did an untrustworthy flip that he purposely ignored.

  Feeling considerably better, they both went back out to the deck, noticing the crew’s determination not to make eye contact. Jarod took his position against the rails again, and watched as she lost the stiffness that had held her before. Her moves were more fluid now as she captured him through the camera.

  When she aimed the camera at him, it was like a touch. The memory of her taste came back to him, her scent. He thought about her face when he was inside of her, how her irises darkened. Sometimes her lashes fell down as she came, her mouth forming a soundless O, and other times she looked straight through
him, letting him see and hear every nuance of the pleasure he gave her. Thinking about Lacey’s expressions during orgasm, he could barely hold back his body’s response.

  He followed her instructions, happy to do whatever pleased her. After a while he started to focus on the way her skin took on a fine sheen of perspiration from the physicality of her work with the camera. She squatted down and leaned in, the scoop of her low-cut tee revealing tender flesh. His fingers flexed, wanting to rediscover the velvety texture of her nipples. How much longer did they have to do this? How many pictures could she possibly need?

  When he heard the slight hum of the zoom, he concentrated, hoping she could read everything he wanted to do to her in his eyes. And that he didn’t think he could wait much longer. Thankfully the pants he was wearing were baggy, because he had a boner that would challenge the tower rising above them. He smiled in satisfaction when he saw her pink lips part below the camera’s edge. She was as turned on as he was.

  They were both on edge by the time she called it quits—two wardrobe changes and about a million pictures later. No one would be able to tell except for him. She went through all the professional motions, wrapping it up, excusing the crew, telling security they were staying to do some extra shots.

  Jarod didn’t waste time when he saw the security team accompany the crew to the elevator, leaving them alone until a guard came back to escort them out.

  “We have about ten minutes, give or take, by the time he gets back up here,” she said, taking Jarod by the hand and pulling him over to one side of the observation deck overlooking the Chrysler Building.

  “No problem. I want you so much I’ve been ready to come for the past twenty minutes.”

  He had her low-rise capris unbuttoned and unzipped before she could answer, his fingers dipping under the delicate material of her thong and in between soft folds of flesh. She was already wet, hot and ready for him. He’d never been so thankful in his life.