by Tina Donahue
“Hunt,” Tim said.
He didn’t bother turning to his friend. “What?”
“Get. In. The. Fucking. Car.”
“In a sec.”
The rat-a-tat-tat of Tim’s fingers drumming against the vehicle’s roof filled the otherwise quiet night. “Sec’s over. Let’s go.”
Not until he was ready.
Tim muttered an oath, then sang the beginning lyrics of When a Man Loves a Woman, belting it out even more painfully than Michael Bolton ever had.
Before Alexa or any of the other residents heard Tim’s caterwauling, Hunt yanked his door open and got inside.
Tim started the car. David leaned up in the backseat. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’ve driven this route a billion times before,” Tim said, completing his U-turn. “I know my way around the District.”
“Not you. Hunt. Are you sure about her—Magique, Alexa, whatever—what you’re doing?”
Hunt watched the brick house getting smaller and smaller in his side-view mirror. “Very.”
“Okay…what are you doing?” David asked.
Tim took a right. The house was gone. Sighing, Hunt leaned against his door and thought about that question. At the very least, he’d have an evening with Alexa, one on one, with no other guy daring to touch her even if they weren’t alone. He smiled at how she’d looked when he’d made his case. Poor baby. She hadn’t a clue as to how wicked the night would be, the extent of what he had in mind.
If he were very lucky, he’d gain her trust, convincing her that he’d never be indifferent as her father had been or even remotely critical. She didn’t have to change a thing about herself as far as he was concerned. Except for not being Magique, unless it was in their bedroom. She was perfect.
The other side of him Hunt hadn’t even realized he’d been searching for all these years. A woman he required in addition to craving. He wanted to soothe her hurts, make her smile. Her laughter was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard. He might just die without it. Crazy, Hunt knew, but he didn’t care. Even though he’d known her for such a short time, no one had to tell him that they had a connection unlike any he’d experienced. He’d felt it each time she looked at and touched him.
For some, love came through friendship over many months or years. For him, he’d learned about her past through an investigator, the same as she’d learned about his. They’d both used shortcuts, but it didn’t make their bond any less intense.
Her expression when he handed her the hand-painted flute was a moment Hunt already treasured. He’d surprised and pleased her, giving her something she prized, letting her know she mattered to him.
All he wanted was to do that endlessly with her, with everything riding on their one evening together. The outcome was so critical, he’d actually told Ronnie about his plan—at least the romantic parts—that night he’d gone to her country house, needing her approval, suggestions, whatever she could provide.
She’d remained silent, not giving him a thumbs up or down.
“You don’t think it will work,” he’d asked. “What if it doesn’t?”
“How often do you fail?”
More than he was willing to admit. “Maybe you should put in a good word for me.”
“Do you really want that?”
Hell yeah, though he’d been too proud to confess such a thing.
“Don’t know?” David asked, cutting into his thoughts.
Hunt frowned. “Don’t know what?”
“What you’re doing with Magique.”
“Alexa,” he corrected. “That’s her name. Use it.”
“Sure. Didn’t mean anything bad by calling her—”
Hunt interrupted, “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay…and what’s that?”
Tim answered. “Wooing her, fool.” He made a left and rolled to a stop at the next red light. “Lucky for Hunt you and I didn’t get any further with her.”
“Lucky for you,” Hunt countered, “or you’d be bleeding all over your nice leather seats.”
Tim snorted, then sang the opening lyrics from Love Story, one of his grandmother’s favorite flicks.
David sagged back in his seat, laughing.
Hunt let them have their fun. He kept reaching for his cell phone, antsy to call Alexa. He had her cell number now, thanks to Ronnie. He also had the number of the house he’d just left. Was Alexa still there or had Wallace picked her up already? Maybe she’d called a cab. Would one have arrived so soon? Would she be going to her home in the District or somewhere else? A club to blow off steam, have a little fun. An old boyfriend’s place to indulge in some unexpected pleasure. The airport to flee.
Hunt’s skin went hot, then cold. Shit. He couldn’t have freaked her out to the point that she’d go to Dulles and catch a flight overseas. Would she do that?
He pulled out his phone, not certain whether to punch in her number or not.
“Dude,” Tim sighed.
Hunt glared at the man until he noticed Tim had pulled up to his apartment building and was waiting for him to get out.
“You want to come with us to this new place we heard about?” David asked. “Have a few drinks? Relax?”
The only place Hunt wanted to do that was in Alexa’s arms. “I’m fine.”
He bounded up the steps to his building, not slowing down even after he got into his unit. Pacing from room to room, Hunt turned his phone in his hand. When he couldn’t stand the wait any longer, he made his call.
It rang three times, then four, then five.
Crap. Wasn’t she going to—
“Hello?”
“Did I wake you?” Hunt asked Ronnie. She sounded sleepy or drugged, possibly both.
“No. Why are you calling? Is Alexa all right?”
“She’s fine as far as I know. Does she run?”
“What? Wait a minute.” Alert now, she asked, “What do you mean as far as you know? Aren’t you with her?”
“Would I be calling you if I was? When I left the house a few minutes ago, she was in perfect health, all right? Does she run?”
“Not that I know of. She goes to the gym, but she doesn’t—”
“I’m not talking about jogging.” He resumed pacing. “Does she run, leave, escape, whatever you want to call it when she’s scared?”
“Did you frighten her?” Ronnie snapped.
“You’re joking, right? Of course I did. She’s scared because she has feelings for me, remember?” He gave her a G-rated narrative of what had happened at the house.
“Oh.” Her breathing relaxed a bit. “She doesn’t run. At least I don’t think she will.”
“Where would she go if she did?”
“Want me to call her, see where she is?”
“Would you?”
“Hold on.”
Hunt went to his wet bar and downed two bourbons before Ronnie took him off hold. Suddenly, he didn’t want to hear anything she had to say, and yet he blurted, “What?”
“Relax. Alexa’s still at the house.”
Thank you, god. “Did she mention me?”
“Only to bitch at me for telling you about her favorite drink and that champagne flute she’d admired.”
“You admitted to it?”
“Let’s just say I gave her a story she’d believe so she wouldn’t know how I’m helping you. Why I’m doing that, I don’t know.”
Smiling, he sagged against the counter. “Have I thanked you?”
She spoke more softly. “More times than I can count.”
“Good. I wish you could have been there when I gave her the flute. She really liked it.”
“She said that?”
“I saw it in her eyes.”
Ronnie laughed. “You two should try talking sometime. Communicating like the rest of us instead of reading body language and all that other stuff you do.”
“You’re probably right. She is okay then.”
“She’s not leaving town. If s
he does, you’d just go after her and bring her back, wouldn’t you?”
“If it was only up to me, damn straight. But it’s not. She has to want this as much as I.”
Ronnie murmured, “What did you see in her eyes tonight?”
Submission and longing. Fear and caution. “A whole lot of stuff. Some good. Some bad.”
“Then it’s up to you to bring Alexa to your side.”
Naked, she sat cross-legged on the bed, in the dark, holding the drink Hunt had made.
Nearly an hour had passed since she’d watched him walk away from the house, past Tim’s car. When he’d turned and glanced up at the windows, Alexa had held her breath, fearing he saw her, pleased that he’d tried.
Tim’s off-key singing had ended the moment. And then Ronnie had called.
“You’re never going to guess what happened tonight,” Alexa said first. “Hunt was just here. Wanting to watch.”
“Really. Did you let him?”
“No.” She frowned at Ronnie’s feigned surprise. “You told him about me.”
“I did?”
“Don’t play dumb. He knew I like Black Velvets.”
Having Ronnie tell him that or anything was bad enough. However, having the woman on the line when Alexa would have preferred to hear Hunt’s voice was even worse. Not that he could call without her number, unless Ronnie had given him that too. “What else did you tell him about me?”
“I haven’t told Hunt anything,” Ronnie said. “His friends must have informed him about your preference in liquor.”
Alexa made a face. “You talked to them about that?”
“They kept insisting on knowing more about you. I said you like Guinness and champagne, hoping it would get them to back off. At the very least, I figured it would enhance your evening when they gave you the drink. By the way, how was your night besides being incredibly brief?”
She wasn’t ready to get into that. “You must have also mentioned that champagne flute I’d talked about because I’m holding it now.”
“Oh no. Damn. I’m so sorry about that.”
Alexa’s frown deepened. “Why?”
“I never intended for them to find it. It was a birthday surprise. I kept it at that house because the tenants are away and because I know you’re always snooping around my place.”
Alexa had fallen silent at Ronnie’s accusation. She did snoop, but only because she feared the woman’s pain was so great she’d horde her medications and overdose. The thought of losing her made Alexa ill.
“What are you doing up so late?” she murmured. “You should be resting. Why are you calling me?”
“Tim left a message with the service, saying you cancelled the appointment. I’m not hovering, but I did want to make certain you’re all right.”
Alexa took another sip of her drink, licking the rim, wanting it to be Hunt’s mouth. “I’m okay.”
“Would you like to talk about anything?”
No. Yes. Maybe. She sighed. “Wanting him, liking him frightens me.”
“Who?”
“You know who. Don’t pretend you don’t, please. I’m trying to have a conversation here.”
“Sorry,” Ronnie hushed. “Did you ever consider giving Hunt a chance? He won’t be perfect, no one is. But he might be who you need.”
“You’re who I need. All that I’ll ever need.”
Ronnie didn’t comment.
Alexa’s belly clenched. “Are you certain you’re all right? What did the doctor say the other day? You never told me.”
“I couldn’t. You were out with Wallace stalking Hunt.”
Alexa laughed. “I was not.”
“Yeah, you were. And I’m right on schedule with my treatments. Losing my hair again as they predicted, throwing up every couple of hours and wishing I were your age again and had the chance you do with a man who truly wants you.”
Alexa pressed the flute to her chest. “You don’t know that. He doesn’t really, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s just lust. A game.”
“You said he showed up tonight even though you’ve refused to book another evening with him. I bet he wasn’t there to watch or even to participate, was he?”
Give me one night, he’d whispered. You and me.
She’d retreated and he’d followed. He’d told her he’d leave if that’s what she wanted. He’d allowed himself to be vulnerable, putting everything on the line in front of his friends. What guy did that? Unless he already knew she wouldn’t be able to refuse him.
“Don’t throw away what you can have with Hunt,” Ronnie said. “At least give him a chance before you do.”
That was a foregone conclusion. As much as Alexa wanted to run, she couldn’t. She needed to see Hunt one last time, knowing it would be their final farewell. There was no other choice. A relationship between them would never work. She was too damaged, unable to trust. He deserved better, proving that earlier with how he’d behaved. A better woman would have simply lied and told him to leave and not come back. To find someone else.
Alexa wasn’t that person. She needed one last night with him to indulge in his scent, caress, body.
How screwed up was that? She sighed. “Do you want me to come over? Keep you company? I’d be happy to. You know that, right?”
“I’m fine, sweetie. The chemo’s working. The tumor hasn’t come back. I need to sleep. You should do the same.”
Reluctantly, Alexa had said goodbye.
She finished her drink now and lay on the bed, recalling Hunt’s promise that he’d show her the time of her life, one on one, no other man taking her, yet they wouldn’t be alone. So who would be there if it wasn’t David and Tim?
What could Hunt be planning?
Alexa cupped her breasts, squeezing them as he would, thumbing her nipples. She spread her legs and touched her unappeased pussy. By now, Tim and David should have used it well, allowing her to drift off, leaving behind tomorrow’s concerns…whether Ronnie’s recovery would lead to a full remission. How long it would take her to get over Hunt.
She ran her fingers up and down her cleft, her opening already slick with mounting desire, her clit uber sensitive. Rubbing herself, she made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a growl, her mind picturing Hunt’s hands and mouth on her, his big body hot, hard, imprisoning her against the mattress.
Her welcoming it.
I won’t hurt you, he’d said.
Not deliberately, that wasn’t in his nature. He’d protected his mom against men twice his size. He respected women.
He’d given her an out tonight, even as he continued to pursue her.
Say yes.
Gritting her teeth, Alexa lifted her chin to the ceiling and tried to stave off her climax. Even after she stopped rubbing her clit, the sensations persisted, the orgasm unstoppable.
She rolled over, drawing her arms and legs into a fetal position, trying to protect herself.
From what?
No. She didn’t want to think about it. She refused to do anything but relax.
Twice more, Alexa masturbated before sleep came. Even as it did, she kept wondering what her last evening with Hunt would bring.
Chapter Nine
The days leading up to their final encounter were endless and filled with too much anticipation.
Early on, Alexa had learned that was a bad thing. Looking forward to something was always far sweeter than the actual event. Take Christmas for example, especially when she’d been in school. Months before the holiday, she’d dreamed of snow blanketing the city outside her parents’ New York penthouse, a fragrant tree taking up most of the family room, its lights blinking merrily, her mother and father anxious to wake her so she could tear into her gifts. In her fantasies, she’d seen dozens of them, wrapped in sparkling red foil, decorated with velvet green ribbons, each containing something she’d coveted or the latest stuff all the other girls talked about and just had to have.
For the most part, her gifts arrived at the boarding s
chools she’d attended along with a note from her parents that they’d be unavailable during the holidays but would call her on Christmas Day. Year after year, she’d complained, finally threatening to run away from school if she couldn’t come home. To Alexa’s surprise, her father caved when she’d been twelve. His chauffeur met her at the airport. The housekeeper and her young daughter welcomed Alexa at the penthouse and snapped picture after picture of her opening a pile of gifts.
None of the ribbons was green velvet. Not one of the presents wrapped in red foil. The jewelry, clothes and electronics cost more than many families made in a year, but they weren’t what she’d asked for or truly wanted. Time with her mother and father, their attention and love. She gave the presents to the housekeeper’s little girl.
Alexa’s parents never came by, not even for a moment. They called shortly before midnight, the sounds of laughter and music in the background. Her father was drunk, her mother anxious to get back to whoever had put her into such a good mood. The next day, Alexa booked a flight, finding her own way back to a school she’d soon be expelled from. On the plane, she realized something else. It hadn’t snowed.
Yeah, anticipation was a bitch. It had never prepared her for the real thing that always fell short, leaving her yearning for more.
“Where are we going?” she asked Wallace.
He’d picked her up a few minutes earlier. Instead of heading toward one of Ronnie’s properties, he was taking a route unfamiliar to Alexa.
“To your date,” he said.
She rolled her eyes, not caring whether he saw her in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, I know that. But where exactly?”
“Mr. Prescott asked that I leave it as a surprise.”
Did he. Alexa had no doubt that he’d at least show up tonight, unlike her parents. Because of that, she had a surprise of her own.
She ran her hands down her black silk cape, womanly and mysterious, a garment she’d commissioned for a charity ball several years ago. Ankle length, the wrap also sported a hood, which gave it a dated look. Something a maiden might have worn on her journey to the rogue hero in a romance novel.
