JOSS: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security)

by Glenna Sinclair

  Funny how things change.

  I washed my face with cold water and ran a comb through my hair, tugging it back into the ponytail I wore most every day. Brushed my teeth. Ran through my normal routine as if nothing had happened last night.

  I was in the kitchen before him. I started the coffee and turned on the water for the oatmeal. He came into the room and seemed somewhat surprised to see me. I nodded politely, then curled up on the bench on the far side of the breakfast nook. I had more than fifty text messages, even a few calls, all from Kirkland. I was reading through them, feeling a little bad for leaving Kirkland hanging last night, when a message came from Ash.

  Emily identified the photographer. Ellis Grant. He works for the Bazarov Cartel.

  I bit back a groan. We’d come up against the Bazarov Cartel once. It was right after I started working for Ash. They were harassing a real estate developer who was trying to build a set of condos close to what they considered their territory in the valley. It was one of the first cases I worked with Emily Warren, and one that came the closest to actual physical danger to both my target and me. Definitely not the news I was hoping to hear.

  Should we be worried?

  Be vigilant.

  That didn’t tell me anything. I was always vigilant.

  I set the phone down and sighed. Carrington looked over at me.

  “Bad news?”

  I nodded. I carried my phone over to him and showed him the texts from Ash.

  “I could have told them that. It was the Bazarovs who wanted to use my shipping company as a drug transporter.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, remembering how ruthless those people were in harassing my client. The poor woman had been afraid to come out of her bedroom when we first took the case. And when they actually came at us as we drove down the street, machine guns poking out their car windows like some bad scene from a movie, I was more convinced in that moment that I was about to die than I had been when I faced down an insurgent in Afghanistan.

  Carrington was watching my face closely. “You’re really worried.”

  I started to nod, but McKelty came prancing into the room, her thick, red hair bouncing in all its unruliness as she did.

  “Morning, Joss,” she said with a big smile.

  “Don’t I get a good morning?” Carrington asked.

  McKelty pretended to ignore him for a moment, then she ran into his arms and gave him a huge hug. I remembered holding my son and thinking about moments like this, what it would be like to hold his hand when he walked into the first day of school, how it would feel when his kisses were more about affection than a response to a request. What it would be like to hug him when he wasn’t covered in sticky graham cracker crumbs and fresh fruit juice.

  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt to watch Carrington with McKelty. But there was something reassuring about it, too. At least someone out there found happiness with their child. At least there were still kids in the world who were healthy, happy, and safe.

  My job didn’t exactly offer much hope in that arena. There was so much bad in the world, and my narrow point of view was overwhelmed with it sometimes.

  “You get up early,” McKelty said, as her dad set her back down on the floor.

  I planted my feet on the floor the way I would a surfboard and held my arms up, doing the motions I might do when riding a big wave. Carrington watched, his eyes moving slowly over my high-waist slacks and my simple blue blouse, his eyes lingering on the places he’d touched last night. I felt the blush burn across my cheeks even as McKelty figured out what I was doing.

  “You’re surfing!” she cried, pointing at me. “You like to go surfing.”

  I nodded.

  “The best waves are just as the sun comes up,” Carrington said. “That’s why she’s up so early.”

  I nodded again, touching the end of my nose to let him know he got it exactly right.

  “Cool,” McKelty said. “Would you take me sometime? My dad says it’s too dangerous, but I think I’m old enough now.”

  I shrugged, then pointed to Carrington.

  McKelty groaned. “Why is it always up to him?”

  “Because I’m your dad, kiddo. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

  “I thought it was Joss’ job.”

  “Touché,” Carrington said, winking at me. “The kid’s pretty smart.”

  He motioned for McKelty to take a seat at the breakfast nook as he turned to spoon the oatmeal into bowls. I turned to help him and our fingers brushed on the side of one bowl. He was standing so close to me that my shoulder kept rubbing against his ribs. I should have moved away, but the feel of him there, the heat of his skin made my soul feel alive in a way it hadn’t in too long. It was so confusing…these needs that kept building inside of me but were mixed with the grief that had never really gone away.

  I loved my husband. Why was I even thinking of touching another man, let alone sharing his bed?

  I carried my bowl of oatmeal to the table while Carrington followed with his and McKelty’s. He asked McKelty about her homework, and she assured him she’d finished it all.

  “It’s only the start of the year, Daddy,” she said. “There isn’t that much work to do just yet.”

  “Yes, well, all homework is important, even when it’s just the start of the year.”

  “Did your dad yell at you about homework all the time, Joss?”

  I shook my head.

  “You’re lucky.”

  I shook my head again. Then I started to make a sort of slashing gesture, but thought better of it. Instead, I opened a note-taking app on my phone and wrote: My dad died when I was a kid.

  McKelty read that and this sad, grief-stricken look crossed her face. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  It was a long time ago, I wrote.

  She read the words slowly. Then she looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. “My mom died when I was a baby. I never really knew her.”

  My mom’s gone, too. Sometimes life is just too hard for people.

  McKelty nodded. Carrington, however, looked sharply at me, a new interest in his eyes. I wasn’t sure what it was that he was reacting to, but I hoped he didn’t think I was overstepping my boundaries. He didn’t say anything. He just changed the subject.

  “Hurry with your breakfast so I’ll have time to do your hair before we have to go.”

  “Can I have a ponytail like Joss?”

  Carrington glanced at me. “I suppose, if that’s what you want.”

  She nodded. “I think it’s pretty.”

  I blushed again when Carrington’s eyes moved slowly over me.

  “It is,” he agreed.

  ***

  We arrived at the school a little early. Children were running around in the playground as parents walked their children up to the front door. McKelty spotted a friend waiting for her just inside the playground gate. She dropped a kiss on Carrington’s cheek before jumping out of the car without so much as a goodbye.

  “She forgot her lunch,” Carrington said, holding up a small bag with a popular Disney character on the front.

  I took it and pressed my hand to my heart. I’d make sure she got it.

  “Joss,” Carrington said, snagging my wrist before I could get out of the car, “about last night…”

  I shook my head. It was fine.

  He nodded, but then his hand brushed my cheek, his fingers lingering on my jaw. I touched the back of his hand, then slipped out of the car. Before my feet even touched the ground, Kirkland had his hands around my waist.

  “Why the hell didn’t you answer my texts?” he demanded.

  I glared at him, knocking his hands away as I tried to move around him. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

  “I was worried. I saw you—”

  “Why don’t you leave her alone?”

  Carrington had come around the car and was standing behind me. I turned, gestured for him to go back to the car, but he wasn’t looking at me. He w
as staring Kirkland down with that macho, I’m-stronger-than-you look that guys tend to get when they face off over a woman. When I turned again, Kirkland had his hands on his hips and the same expression on his face.

  I put my hand on his chest and shook my head as hard as I could, hard enough that I was seeing stars.

  “This is none of your business,” Kirkland said to Carrington.

  “I think you got that backward.”

  “You are just a client. In a week or two, when she’s saved your ass from whoever’s harassing you, she’ll be gone from your life, but she’ll always be a part of my life.”

  I slapped Kirkland’s chest, trying to get his attention. He grabbed my wrist, pinching it between his fingers so hard that pain flashed through my arm. I grunted, the only sound I’ve made in over four years, forcing him to look at me.

  I held up a hand in a “stop” gesture, making a face that I hoped was deadly serious.

  “You can’t do this, Joss,” he said. “You can’t ignore my texts and expect me to be okay with that.”

  I slapped his chest again, then held up my hand in a “stop” gesture. Again.

  He stared at me for a long minute, then his eyes flashed to Carrington. “You hurt her and I won’t be the only one you’ll have to deal with.”

  “I don’t think I’m the one hurting her right now,” Carrington said, his voice low and controlled.

  Kirkland just nodded. Then his eyes fell to me again.

  “Answer your fucking texts,” he growled near my ear. Then he let me go with a little shove, getting lost in the crowd before I could do more than catch myself against the car door.

  “What the hell was that?” Carrington demanded.

  I shrugged. I had no idea. I’d never seen that side of Kirkland.

  Chapter 10

  Carrington

  I found myself looking over my shoulder all day. I don’t know if it was the confrontation with Joss’ friend this morning, or the knowledge that the Bazarov Cartel was after me again that left me so uneasy, but it was almost a relief to get home at the end of the day. McKelty was a little hyper, having spent most of the day eating cupcakes because of a friend’s birthday party. Joss seemed a little tired at the end of the day, too, but it was so hard to tell with her. She never talked, she rarely looked me in the eye, and she hid in her room all evening. I knew the last part was my fault because of my speech on the first day about how I preferred to spend my evenings with McKelty, but I wished she would realize that it was just the newness of the situation and not a hard and fast rule.

  McKelty and I shared a quiet dinner in the kitchen, then I took her upstairs and made sure she had her bath before I got her settled for the night. My head was so full that lying in bed seemed like a bad idea. I went downstairs, poured myself a glass of brandy, and went to sit on the deck. It was a quiet night, and I thought a little quiet might be just what the doctor ordered.

  I hadn’t been out there for more than ten minutes when I caught sight of Joss crossing in front of the sitting room doors. She was wearing those damn shorts again—those shorts that I’d been unable to stop thinking about all night—and a long t-shirt that covered that perfectly round ass of hers. I could remember the feel of that ass in my hands, and it made them itch to feel it again.

  What the hell was wrong with me? Was I really looking to get my ass kicked or something?

  The confrontation this morning was jolting. I was not a man who went looking for trouble. I avoided it. My brother was the one who liked confrontation, who got himself kicked out of more than one boarding school because of the fights he was always getting into. Therefore, it was a no-brainer when he joined the military and I went into the family business. What was surprising was that he came home in a body bag a week before our father suffered a fatal heart attack.

  I took a long swallow of the brandy, trying not to remember the sound of my mother’s sobs. The only thing worse than that was the silence that followed.

  She tried, my mother. But she’d never been a strong woman. Father always took care of things, always made sure she was never bothered with the realities of this world. She lived in a bubble where the worst thing that could happen was a stain on a favorite tie or the wrong color dress for a spring garden party. Father saw no point in telling her about the three-year stretch in which the company ran in the red, or the mortgage crisis that took out half the family investments. She never knew about the stresses he carried alone on his shoulders, the stresses I only knew about because I made it my business from the moment I was old enough to understand the ins and outs of Matthews Shipping.

  Just like Andrea. She never handled reality well. At least my mother simply moved away. She didn’t allow things to grow and engulf her. She didn’t allow life to become overwhelming.

  I should have seen it coming, should have…

  I sighed and took another long swallow of my brandy. There was no point in regrets. It’s only possible to change what’s coming, not what’s past.

  My glass was empty. I got up and went back into the sitting room for a refill. She was standing in the archway when I turned to return to my seat.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be alone together,” I said.

  She nodded a little too quickly.

  It drove me nuts that she wouldn’t speak. I so desperately wanted to hear the sound of her voice, to hear her thoughts as they rushed through her mind. I wanted her to tell me what she felt. I wanted her to tell me whatever happened to be on her mind—even if it was vulgar, even if it was that she would be glad when this job was over, that she wanted nothing more than to leave me behind.

  What that man said this morning kept ringing over and over in my mind.

  You are just a client. In a week or two, when she’s saved your ass from whoever’s harassing you, she’ll be gone from your life, but she’ll always be a part of my life.

  He was right. I had no fucking clue who he was, but he was right.

  I turned to leave the room, but then I spun on her again.

  “Who the hell gave you the right to walk into my life and turn it upside down? I had everything down to a science. McKelty, the business. Nothing else mattered. And then you come into my life and three days later I’m drinking alone in the dark.”

  She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. Yet, there was something in her eyes that ate through the anger and the frustration. She was just as confused as I was. It was there…so plain that it was like reading the first sentence in a long, well-written book.

  I took one more swallow from my glass, turning my body away from her. I was giving her a chance to walk away. Telling her with the same body language she expected me to read that I didn’t want anything from her that she wasn’t willing to give. But she didn’t leave. When I set my glass down, she was still there, still watching me with her hands raised.

  It was more than my weak self-control could take.

  I went to her, took her face between both my hands, my fingers biting into the silky flesh over her cheekbones. I pushed her backward and pressed her up against the wall, one hand sliding up into her hair, those silky tresses still wet from a shower I wished I’d been able to witness. My other hand moved slowly down her throat, my finger catching the top of her t-shirt and tugging it down just a little, offering me a peek of the top edge of a black sports bra.

  She was watching me, fear and grief and need all circulating in her eyes at once.

  “I don’t want you to love me,” I said roughly against her ear. “But I need you. I need this. I need to remember what it was like to be a man.”

  She hesitated, her fingers caught in the space between the buttons on the front of my shirt. And then her hand moved slowly up, her fingertips coming to rest on my bottom lip. I opened my mouth just slightly, and she slipped one finger inside, her eyes closing as I closed my lips around it and offered just the slightest suction. When she opened her eyes again, the need had increased tenfold, filling her eyes until t
hat was almost all I could see.

  “It doesn’t have to be more than this, more than the physical,” I whispered, as I pressed my lips against her earlobe, as I drew a section of her sweet flesh into my mouth. She sighed, her body relaxing, molding against mine. As my lips brushed against her throat—she smelled like vanilla and jasmine, like all the sweet things a woman should smell of!—she tugged at my shirt, pulling it free of my slacks, her hands sliding underneath to touch my bare chest. That touch broke the dam that had been holding back my need.

  I kissed her. But it was more than a kiss. It was an invasion, a taking of everything that I’d imagined but hadn’t had the nerve to claim as my own until this moment. I touched her in places I’d longed to touch, running my tongue along the roof of her mouth, around her perfect teeth to touch sensitive spots that made her sigh, that made her respond with gentle, hesitant touches of her own. And my hands—I wanted to touch everything all at once! I wanted to feel her full breasts against my palm, wanted to feel each and every one of her ribs, wanted to slide my hand over her hip, to hold that perfect ass in my hands again. And that’s where my hands went, to her ass, to lift her so that her body could offer just the tinniest bit of relief to my straining cock. I wanted her so desperately that I don’t think a gunman charging into the room with guns blazing at that moment could have stopped what was about to happen.

  I slid a hand between our bodies, slipped it down the front of her shorts, into her panties, and touched the moistness of her cunt. My finger slipped inside easily, causing her to pull back, her head rolling back against the wall until her closed eyes were facing the ceiling. A sigh that expressed the most intense pleasure slipped from between her perfect lips. I pushed a second finger inside of her, loving the show that unraveled on her face, loving the sighs and the soft purring sound that slipped through. She moved her hips, encouraging me, placing me in just the right position. She wanted this almost as desperately as I did, I think.