"I’m so glad you’re on my side." Brushing a kiss along his jaw, Mari recognized how much faith she had in him. It was comforting and worrying at the same time. "Just talking with you makes me feel— stronger. More confident."
Gentle fingers stroked along her arm. "If I’m completely honest, what I really want is to stop Luz cold . . . to go over her head and get a court to side with us and make her go away permanently."
Increasingly, Jeff held power. If she'd learned anything from her previous relationship, it was that power could be abused. With Nick it had always been about him. His needs. His wants. His moods. Nothing and no one else was important to him. In a lifetime, she couldn't imagine Nick embracing Hector into his world.
Sighing, Jeff kissed the top of her head. "But I know talking strategy won’t set your heart at ease. And I want you to feel better. So— for tonight only, I’m settling for reassurance instead of action."
Contentment washing over her, Marisol shifted in his arms. In her soul, she knew Jeff would never abuse his power. Gorgeous green eyes were lit with a combination of amusement and impatience. "Since you like fixing everything, I can only imagine what this restraint is costing you."
"Well, I need to take charge of something," he admitted, his expression disgruntled. "I think maybe now is a good time for the kissing to start."
***
It was much later when Marisol woke in their bed. "Jefferson— wake up."
"Huh? What's . . . wrong?"
"It’s after midnight. You need to go home," she whispered, guilt poking her over his sleep-roughened voice. "Hector can't find you here in the morning.’
Groaning, Jeff sat up, his tousled bedhead looking dangerously sexy. She resisted the impulse to finger-comb it.
"Mari— I'm coming back in the morning anyway. Hector's game is at nine."
"But. . . I shouldn't let him see a man-"
"I'm not just some man, Marisol. Hector has seen me here for months." His expression shifted from sleepy to disgruntled. "If I promise I’ll be up by six-thirty and dressed before he wakes up?"
Marisol bit her lip to keep from laughing. Jeff’s negotiating voice was equal parts surly and persuasive. "What if we oversleep?"
"I never oversleep." Sensing her weakening resolve, Jeff turned to face her, his beautiful eyes more alert now. "I like staying here with you. I don’t sleep well in my bed anymore."
"Why not? I thought you needed space. You certainly hog the bed here," she teased.
"What can I say? This ripped physique requires extra room." His sleepy grin revealed a dimple. "Besides, I’m hardly ever at my place anymore."
Hiding her smile, she decided to make him work for it. "Didn’t you tell me you loved sleeping in your bed?"
"I've sort of— gotten used to this one," he admitted, his voice hesitant. "When I'm home, I wake up all the time."
"Why?"
"It's like I'm . . . looking for you." Yawning, his shoulders rippled with a shrug. "I like knowing you're there."
Though her heart soared over the admission, Mari wasn't through teasing him. "What about— my bathroom? You hate showering here. You always complain about my girly stuff."
Unwilling to concede defeat, Jeff stayed in the game. "If we busted out a wall, I could give you an awesome bathroom."
"With more shelves for my girly things?" She coughed to cover her laughter.
"With cabinets," he corrected, warming to his idea. "Maybe cherry. We could hide all that shit-" Recovering quickly, he grinned. "I mean . . . there'd be plenty of space for everyone's stuff." Sliding back under the covers, he pulled her down on top of him. "I could build you a big, roomy shower— we could do just about anything in there."
Her pulse stuttering, Marisol realized somewhere along the line, she'd lost control of their conversation. "While I'm rather enticed by-" She paused, throat suddenly dry as the heat of strong thighs nudged hers apart. "By . . . the idea of a new bathroom— we still have the original issue-"
"What issue is that?" Jeff's voice was distracted as he shifted amazing hips under hers. Rising up to accommodate him, Mari experienced the familiar, urgent pull of his body. Rational thought would disintegrate rapidly. "H-hector . . . waking up and . . . waking up-" His strong, capable hands were busy guiding her hips over him. ". . . finding you h-here-" Those amazing hands. The strength of them— anchoring her to his body. Arching into him, she bit back a groan. "Jefferson— hurry . . . prisa."
When he surged into her, they moaned in unison. "I have . . . an internal clock." Jeff's rusty voice scraped over her as she tried to focus on his words. But the sensation of his body moving within her was taking up all the room in her brain.
On a shiver of exquisite pleasure, she gasped. "Yes . . . like that." His eyes intent with concentration, Jeff smiled up at her, happy to accommodate her demand for more.
"Baby, trust me . . . I'll wake us up on time."
***
"Jeff— hey Jeff."
It was the second time that night someone was shaking him awake. Jeez— he just couldn't catch a break. Opening one eye, Jeff met Hector's steady brown gaze.
Hector. Standing at the side of the bed.
Hector. Code red.
"Hey, buddy." Shooting for the appearance of cool, calm and collected, Jeff shook off the sleep clouding his brain. Was he naked? Was Mari? Should he look? Would that be obvious? Holy cow.
"Jeff — if you was sleepin' over . . . why didn't you stay in my room? We coulda built a tent and played flashlights and everything."
"Next time, Hec," he croaked. "I promise." Next time he'd remember to lock the door. His brain rallying, Jeff took stock. Okay— he felt the sheet over them. He also felt Marisol's shoulders shaking with laughter behind him. Damn, she'd been right.
"I'm hungry. I need Mommy to make breakfast."
"Okay, little dude— here's what we're gonna do." Propping up on one elbow, Jeff ran a hand through his hair. "Go put on your sweatpants-" Excellent idea. That would give him a minute to jump up and find some clothes. He spied his shirt on the chair . . . but where the hell were his pants?
"Are you naked?" Hector's voice rose in curiosity. "Aren't you cold? I'd be cold."
Marisol was outright, no-holds-barred cracking up now— as she slithered further under the blankets. "I— uh . . . get really hot during the night." He ignored the jab to his ribs. Damn it, she wasn't helping any. "That's why I. . . You know what? I have a great idea, Hec. Let's make breakfast together. That way Mommy gets to sleep a little longer and she can come down when it's all ready."
"I get to help?" His eyes widened. "Just you and me? Awesome!" Running for the door, Hector shouted over his shoulder. "I'll be right back." About to tear the sheet off and leap from the bed, Jeff froze when Hector stopped at the door.
"Don't start anything without me."
His heart pounding as though he'd been caught holding up a bank, Jeff nodded. "Not a chance, bud." The moment Hector disappeared, he bolted up in search of his briefs.
"Hey, sailor— nice butt."
Tempted to flash her, he remembered the meter running. Eyes on the prize, Traynor. He could hear Hector trashing his room in search of the elusive sweatpants. Only when Jeff had secured the lower half of his body, did he turn to respond. "Okay— lay it on me. You were right. I can admit it."
Covers drawn up to her chest, Mari's sexy hair tumbled over her shoulders. "You do get really hot during the night."
Grinning, he met her gaze. "You could've helped me out there."
"You know, carino, I agree your ripped physique is capable of . . . so many amazing things." Her gaze ran over him suggestively— making Jeff wish he wasn't on pancake duty just yet. "But your internal clock is definitely on the fritz."
***
"Where's Hank?"
Annie's worried expression broke through the hazy daydream Mari was indulging in when she should've been working. This is what love did, she realized. It made you goofy and happy and light-hearted in the
middle of an average day at work. She was in love with Jefferson. Hands down, full on, smacked-in-the-head love.
Seated across from her, Sharon set aside the budget she'd been reviewing, bracelets jangling. "Don't worry, Sugar. He's just takin' a day or two off. That's what Stud Muffin told me this morning."
"Are you sure? Because— I thought maybe-" Her voice trailing off, Annie blushed pink.
"Maybe what?" Sharon was on the scent now— a hound to poor Annie's fox— or more appropriate— defenseless kitten. Sharon would be unstoppable. Mari nodded encouragingly. May as well give it up.
Checking the hallway, Annie took another step inside. "Well— he and I . . . I don't exactly know how to say this-" Her gaze on the far wall, she took a deep breath. "We— uh— were out at the farm . . . and Hank— well-"
Unable to resist a smile, Mari took pity on her. "You slept with him?"
Releasing an embarrassed sigh, Annie nodded. "I mean— I'm thirty-eight years old, right? I'm divorced. . . I can do this. I . . . I'm supposed to get back out there."
"So, what's the problem, Sugar?" Sharon's voice was no-nonsense. "He's a fine lookin' man and you're an available, pretty woman."
"I was— sort of-" When the fragile blonde's eyes filled with tears, Mari quickly rose, shutting the door and gently pushing Annie into her chair. "I sorta . . . freaked out."
"Hank was good to you, right?" Sharon's gaze caught hers over Annie's head.
"Of course he was." She sniffed. "He was amazing and kind."
"Then what's the problem, sweetie?"
"Being with Phil— he . . . made me ashamed when we— you know." Wiping her eyes, Annie hesitated. "Early on, things were okay, but the last eight years . . . he made the whole experience so . . . awful. When I finally worked up the nerve to let Hank— see me . . . I guess he sort of— could tell I was afraid. And he was wonderful to me." Annie's eyes filled again. "But . . . afterward . . . I think he seemed— angry. And now— he's not here today."
Jeff's words replayed in her head. Biting her lip, Marisol caught Sharon's attention. Was Hank out there— looking for Phil? The older woman shook her head in warning.
"Sugar— Hank has been working six days a week for three months, now. Jeff told me he just needed a day or two off. Said somethin' about him having a few appointments he'd been putting off because of the construction schedule."
Releasing a gusty sigh, Annie blew her nose. Her eyes relieved, she nodded. "You're probably right. I just— this is so . . . new." She smiled. "I just panicked, that's all."
"Of course you did." Sharon nodded, her friendly, brown eyes steeped with understanding. "Everything is gonna be just fine. You'll see."
Rising from the chair, she gave Sharon a hug. "I'll— get back to work. Thank you both."
Waiting until they were certain Annie was out of earshot, Sharon frowned.
Marisol lowered her voice to a whisper. "Jeff said Hank was really angry about Phil showing up here."
"If that damn, stubborn fool has got it in his head to go after Phil— I'm gonna personally take a shovel to his thick skull."
Marisol agreed. Engaging with him would only serve to enrage Phil— making it even more dangerous for Annie— and everyone else at the shelter. Unless Hank could make Phil disappear permanently, he would guarantee only more violence. "We'd better warn everyone to be on the lookout."
"Lord have mercy— please spare me any more jealous men." Sighing, Sharon picked up the phone, her eyes weary. "If Hank challenges him— then Hurricane Phil is sure to make landfall shortly after."
***
The next afternoon, Marisol peppered Jeff for details as they walked the perimeter of the building, reviewing the exterior. The tilt up walls in place, the roofers had begun framing to close it in. She was excited by the progress, yet still concerned about day two of Hank Freeman's disappearance. "Is Hank really running errands— or has he gone after Phil?"
Taking her arm as they walked the rutted site, Jeff was firm. "Hank is taking care of some personal business— which is none of ours," he reminded. "The guy hasn't taken a weekend off in months. He needs a few days."
"But Annie said-" Marisol hesitated, uncertain whether to share what she'd relayed in confidence. "She thinks Hank is mad at her."
Hands on his hips, Jeff released an exasperated sigh. "What is this? High school?" Checking his watch, his vivid, green eyes lasered in on her. "Maybe I could pass him a note in gym class."
"Okay— I get it. We're overreacting." Marisol couldn't help smiling. In his hardhat and jeans, Jefferson looked both annoyed and edible— at the same time.
"I'm late for a meeting with the roofers." He raised his head to the guys three stories up. "Can we please talk about this tonight?"
When she nodded, Jeff leaned in, giving her a swift kiss. Smiling, she released his hand, then turned to head back around the building to the side entrance. Mari hadn't taken two steps before she felt a tug at her elbow. Turning, she discovered he'd followed her. "I thought you-"
Pulling her against him, he sealed her mouth with his, not coming up for air until she sagged against him. Setting her back on her feet, Jeff smiled at her dazed expression, ignoring the cheers raining down from the roof. "See you later, carina."
***
It was her new pumps that tripped her up. Returning the next day from a successful meeting with a willing and influential donor, Marisol was humming as she juggled her briefcase and the temperamental side door. Construction had shifted the main entrance again. "Where is Pete," she wondered, realizing as she said it that they'd all grown terribly spoiled. Big Pete was always there— opening doors, carrying heavy boxes and just— taking care of them.
Finally jockeying the heavy door open, Marisol tripped, the heel of her pump catching on the rubber mat they'd laid to catch all the construction dirt at the door. Before she could right herself, she was jerked by a pair of hands. Crashing into an unyielding chest, she instantly smelled alcohol.
Hurricane Phil had made landfall. Shoving back against him, Mari cried out when he twisted her arm behind her back. "Shut up, bitch. Or you'll get it, too. You've been protecting that whore-"
Heart pounding in her ears, Marisol stopped fighting him. Hours of security training kicking in, she went limp in his arms. As expected, Phil floundered with the added weight as he was forced to hold her up.
"Stand up."
As he jerked her upright, pain radiated through her arm. Not losing focus, Marisol utilized the momentary distraction. With her free arm, she eased her hand into her pocket, activating the panic button they'd all begun carrying two days earlier. All she had to do now was keep him there— in the vestibule outside the dining area. Unsure of the time, Mari didn't want Phil gaining entrance to the dining room, where Annie was possibly setting up a service.
The gleam of his knife flashed in her peripheral vision. Fighting the terror welling in her throat, she dragged in deep breaths. The panic buttons carried GPS. About now, she envisioned the team in action. Her panic button had grabbed a shelter phone line— sending a signal to the police substation— notifying them of a hostile intruder. The switchboard had also sounded an emergency code for shelter staff. Already, someone would have seized Annie— hustling her to a safe room, where she was now locked in with a guard protecting her. That thought reassured, in spite of the desperate man trying to break her arm. At least the kids were still in school. Tommy and Jason wouldn't witness yet another violent incident with their unstable father. And Hector- Despite her resolve, a shudder of fear tore through her. Hector was safe— at school.
"That's right, you better be scared of me."
"Phil— if you let me go, the police might not press charges," she lied easily. "If they storm in here and you're still holding me— you'll have no choice."
"I want my wife. Where is she?"
He was sweating profusely— alcohol seeping from his pores. Trying not to gag at the smell, Marisol's job was to stall and distract. Phil hadn't noticed t
he sudden stillness— the ceasing of activity as groups of employees and volunteers made their way to her location. They would come from all directions— not to attempt disarming him— but to witness. The more people around, the less likely Marisol would be injured. Angry ex-husbands were bullies at heart. They enjoyed terrorizing their victim- But it was only the person he was emotionally invested in that would give Phil the sense of power he needed to feel like a man. There was little satisfaction in hurting strangers. And a large group of witnesses would only add to his embarrassment.
Sensing movement to her left, Marisol shifted subtly to the right. If she could distract him long enough-
A split second later, Mari crashed to the floor when Big Pete body-slammed Phil into the wall. It was over. Rising unsteadily to her feet, she was surrounded by shelter staff. With Phil still in a chokehold against the wall, Pete glanced at her over the crowd, his eyes worried.
Again, Marisol was reminded how fortunate they were that Pete had taken such an interest in the shelter. A thrashing drunk still struggling under his grip, Pete's first concern was that she'd been injured. Though her nerves were still arcing like a live wire, Mari forced a smile, giving him a thumbs up.
Her arm aching, she allowed herself to be led into the cramped kitchen for an icepack. Nothing was broken, but she'd probably have a sizable bruise from the episode.
"Mari— you're sure you're okay?" Poor Sharon's eyes were wide as saucers. "I know we've practiced that a hundred times— but damn, girl. When it comes down to it, it's still awful scary."
"I'm . . . good." Her nerves stretched taut, Marisol smiled reassuringly. She'd be alright in a little while. But she needed quiet. In her office with a cup of tea— she could decompress before it was time to pick Hector up at the bus stop. "We aren't out of the woods yet. If Phil makes bail— he'll be back," she reminded.
Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3) Page 18
