Now it just looks like a wrinkly penis with a face on my hip just above my vagina.
So many things I shouldn’t have done.
I channel Whoopi when I feel like I might start crying in front of him, and I giggle a little when I picture her stalking away in that horrible purple suit.
God love that woman. She’s a clown.
“Hey, are you gonna cry?”
“No. Real women don’t cry.”
He sighs, clearly relieved, and I go back to messing up a perfectly loaded tray while he keeps looking at me.
***
Jack
Jesus, she’s so beautiful I can hardly breathe just looking at her as she frets with the food and seems to vibrate with nerves. I’m not used to women not liking me and avoiding my eyes. She hasn’t looked into my eyes once since I ambushed her in the hallway of Destiny’s apartment and I hate it.
Something about her, for a split second, made me think about the woman I’d slept with months ago. For the briefest moment I was faint with the picture of her pregnant with my kid.
She’s so gorgeous and sexy. I want to see the color of her eyes and…
And what, Jack? What are you planning to do with a woman who’s knocked up and belongs to another man?
Nothing. The answer is that there’s not a thing I can do about wanting little Callie. But I can sure look, and fuck me is the view incredible. She’s about five-four and has a body made for a man like me with a muscle-packed, six-two frame that I keep in peak condition by working out four days a week in the private gym in the basement of my home.
She’s also got really clear, silky-looking skin and a mouth that makes me want to fantasize about what it can do. The thought reminds me of a particular dream I had just last night.
In the dream my mystery hotel girl was going down on me with a gusto that suggested inexperience but pleasure. I woke up coming, my hand rubbing so fast and hard that I almost passed out with the intensity of my release.
And then I felt empty because I know I’ll never see her or feel her again.
No, you can’t look at Callie and think about sex, you idiot. The woman is taken.
I check out her finger and note the absence of a ring. She’s also very nervous and not hiding it very well as she darts glances my way and pretends to be busy.
Something about the way she avoids looking at me only makes me want her to gape at me in speechless wonder the way she did this afternoon. Part of me wanted to laugh my ass off at the pure lust and awe I saw on her face, and another was all too satisfied that I can evoke that sort of reaction out of her.
When I‘d seen her belly I’d been pissed enough to run my mouth without thought. I felt like shit afterward. I realized almost immediately what I’d done, but by the time my brain started working again she’d been muttering death threats under her breath.
Adorable.
“Bro, honestly, you keep hosting these parties and disappearing for hours on end. Oh, hey, Callie. You okay, sweetheart? You’re a little pale.”
I watch with annoyance as Freddie walks over to Callie and starts fussing like a mother hen.
“I’m good, Freddie, I swear. Now how about you flirt with Luci a little, huh? She almost lost her shorts when she saw you the first time, and I swear she’ll drool if you so much as look her way.”
The door swings open a second later and I see a blonde with green eyes walk in with a laugh before she gets a load of Cage ad stops dead, her mouth flapping like a fish before she seems to shake herself and come back to her senses.
Looks like Cage is about to get himself hooked.
Chapter Seven
Lobsters Bite Back and Assholes Get Bitten.
Callie
This is the last event that we’re catering with the names from the original list and I’m at the end of my rope as I cross off Larry Higgins, number eight.
Larry isn’t bad. He’s actually quite a sweetheart, but with his soft dark brown eyes and below-six-foot stature he’s definitely a no-go. Only two names left, and from Indie’s definite headshake after a long drawn-out discussion with one Pembrook Williams, I set my sights on number ten with a determination that has be straightening my spine and walking towards one Arthur Gates.
Arthur is tall, with brown hair and eyes that in certain lights could pass for grey.
Another thing that’s probably not a complete tell, but I’m hoping is true, is that he’s single and remembers me from the previous party. I should know since he’s been eyeballing me all night.
He’s my last hope and I’m sorta praying for some closure as I make a beeline for him and swallow tightly. I’m no more than ten steps away from my target when an irritant steps into my path and gives me a broad smile that makes my stomach curdle even as I feel my sex stand up and scream hello.
Irreverent female.
“Hey, Callie. Watcha up to?”
I see Indie sweet talking a businessman I’d been grilling earlier while Luci eye-rapes Freddie from across the room and Dot and Percy float around making sure that everything’s as organized as it’s possible to be at this late point in the evening.
“Callie?”
That voice gains my wandering attention again and I flick my gaze up to his chin where I usually stop my eyes, lest I lose all sense over the man again.
“What? Look I’m busy, okay? I have to talk to someone.”
Arthur is moving on from where he’s been watching me and I’m going to start panicking soon if he makes it to the side of the woman who’s been eyeballing him before I get a chance to grill him.
“Who? Why?”
“Jack, dammit, I have something important to ask Arthur. Move aside and let me pass before I lose the chance. Tonight’s my last chance to find him and I’ll go nuts if I miss this opportunity,” I hiss, my palms sweating now as Arthur seems to be locked on to his target and coming in for a landing.
Dammit.
“Nuh-uh. I’m not letting you anywhere near that pig. Anything you have to say to him can either just wait or you can tell me and I’ll get the message across.”
That snaps me to attention just as one of our waiters passes with a tray of buttered lobster claws.
“Hey, Callie, that lady with the purple hair is complaining about the chicken and she’s looking for you.”
“Not now, Hector,” I mutter, trying to dodge by him.
Jack grabs my hand, though, and pulls me back, right beside Hector and the claws that are starting to seriously affect my stomach. In a bad, bad way. Nothing smells right anymore, but the lobster…
“Jack, I need to go.”
I really need to go before I make this a spectacle. Swallowing isn’t helping and I’ve been breathing through my mouth to avoid smelling the lobster, but that just means I’m practically breathing in the flavor. Oh God.
Jack, however, doesn’t seem to be listening and instead starts towing me along behind him as Hector follows like the threat of deadly plague.
“Jack, stop. Hector, not now!”
Jack doesn’t listen, Hector doesn’t listen, and I’m having a meltdown when I see Arthur sidle up to his prey and all but start rubbing himself all over the woman.
We’re almost to the kitchen when I finally gather myself and try to yank my hand free, making Jack stop to turn and glare at me. Really, the man’s been like a burr in my butt for days now. It’s almost as if he seeks me out at every event we manage to be together at and he’s driving me nuts.
I will not perv over a man I don’t like. I will not perv over a man who seems to insult me at every turn.
I make the mistake of looking up to meet his eyes just as a panting Hector trots to a halt right beside me, the tray directly beside my face. Two things coalesce at once.
Those eyes. Jesus, not him. And the freaking lobster.
I feel my stomach clench and start bubbling like Mount Vesuvius, the fizzing, boiling mass of nauseous shock making its way up my throat, refusing to settle even as I start swallowing v
iolently.
Jack’s talking.
My throat gives up the pretence.
I turn my head just in time to avoid plastering a day’s worth of cracker bread and ginger flavoured tea all over him and erupt all over Hector and the tray.
This is actual projectile vomiting. It’s like a fountain of broken dreams and wishes as I feel myself go haywire and make my way through a series of gut-wrenching spasms.
By the time I’m spent and limp, the room is silent but for Hector’s whimpering screams and the sound of Indie’s groan.
“So sorry.”
“Dios mio.”
I’m mortified and on the verge of collapse when Jack just sweeps me up and starts stalking his way through the sea of pale faces. I think I hear someone heave a little when Hector finally finds the will to move and puke sloshes off the side of his tray to land with a wet splat that’s way too loud in the silence.
I’m still in a daze when I feel him lower me to the vanity in one of the bathrooms and I sit as still as death as he uses a warm cloth to clean me up and holds out a bottle of mouth wash for me to gargle and spit.
I feel as bad as I no doubt look, but I can’t seem to care as I stare up at him and for the first time take in the sensual curve of his lips and the almost silver of his eyes.
“Callie?”
“You.” It’s all I can say as I battle tears and fear.
I mean, sure, Jack Levin is hot and sexy and appealing on this whole other level.
But he’s also Jack freaking Levin! The man who insults me and watches me like a stalker and seems to have a hundred opinions about my life and health.
“Are you okay?”
“No. No I am not, you idiot. How can it be you? How? You’re an asshole. My dream guy is…he’s…he’s not the guy who would leave me alone in a hotel room at the Hyatt and then have me thrown out the morning after. He’s also not the guy who calls me fat and tells me why I should have a babysitter through my pregnancy to save my kid from me. Oh God. Luci was so totally right that I wouldn’t really like what I found if I ever found you.”
I’m laughing and crying by this point, and I watch him frown, scowl, and frown some more before he loses it all and goes pale.
“The Hyatt? You were at the…?”
“Yes! Wine? Hotel room? Sex with a stranger? Ringing any bells for you, Casanova?”
Those grey eyes go to my tummy immediately and I see him swallow visibly before he looks back up at me and curses.
“The tattoo?”
Those hands reach for the hem of my dress, his intention clear.
What can I say? I’ve always been a biter. Just ask Percy.
***
Jack
Sharp teeth sinking into my hand have me roaring and pulling back, my feet tangling and tripping me up as I avoid another bite from a now snarling Callie.
She’s like a wild animal as she attempts to chew a piece off me.
I’m on my ass and looking up at her in shock, my heart close to beating out of my chest as the magnitude of the situation hits me. Callie is my mystery woman. She’s the one I can’t seem to forget and the reason I love the scent of honeysuckle, though before I finally learned what that scent was I wasn’t even aware that I needed it.
Now that I can think somewhat clearly and the smell of puke and lobsters is fading, I realize I can smell that elusive scent on her. No freaking wonder I’ve been following her around like an ass all this time. My body recognized her smell.
Other things start filtering through eventually. Like the fact that the sweet little swell of her belly is the result of our one-night stand. My baby! Oh and she’s glaring at me with such disgust, I’d lose my balls if not for my deeply seated strength and manhood.
My baby.
“You,” I breathe, feeling my world shift and right itself in the best way.
“No you. Shit. I should have never started looking for you. What was I thinking? So what if I had to tell him that his dad was one of three possible candidates. I should have just made something up. Why, God? What did I ever do? Okay, that’s not exactly a good question since the shorter list would be what didn’t I do, but you get the picture. Why him?”
Those words have me rearing to my feet in offended pride. Why the hell not me? I’m rich and successful and good looking enough that women would happily want me. Not that I’m vain, it’s just never been an issue till now.
And she’s definitely in deep fucking trouble for lying to me about her single status. Dammit, I could have been closer to her already if I’d thought she was single.
The fact that she’s pregnant wasn’t an issue up to this point when I realize that the mother of my unborn child is killing herself working and fighting off illness caused by her job. Jesus, it must be painful to cook when just the scent of food seems to set her off.
The thought has me softening and I have the irresistible urge to pull her into my arms and soothe whatever she’s feeling. What a sap.
“Oh Callie, come here, baby.”
I get a slap to the head for daring to “patronize” her, and I rear back with a curse and scowl.
“Stop it, woman.”
“You stop it. You’re always mean, but all of a sudden you’re Mr. Sensitive because I’m pregnant.”
“I’m always sensitive with you.”
She snorts in an unladylike way that has me fearing for her when my prissy mom gets hold of her and I clench my teeth.
“We definitely need to talk.”
Chapter Eight
Patrick, Only Ever Patrick
Callie
I’m a mess as Sam comes up behind Molly and starts fucking up her pottery, whatever the hell it is she was making. I don’t know if I cry more at the loss of her work and the mess they make or because they seem so in love as they start the messiest sex scene ever.
“He’s so hot and sweet and just perfect. Why can’t all men be like Patrick Swayze?” I sniffle, accepting the tissue that Dot hands to me.
We’ve been holed up in our apartment for the last week watching anything Swayze, and though this is our third go at Ghost I’m still entranced.
“They can’t be. Not all men are as sensitive and in tune with their emotions as he is. I mean, look at him in Dirty Dancing. He was sweet in that, too. He’s just…”
“Perfect,” I finish for her, bawling when that gross guy shoots him and we all watch him die.
Poor Molly.
When Oda Mae Brown comes on, we’re screaming with laughter, especially when she’s in that closet room thing and first hears Sam. Her freakout is epic, as is the way she goes nuts when he won’t stop singing.
“So,” Dot says when the final credits roll and I’m not sobbing anymore—damn heaven scene gets me every time. “You know who your baby daddy is.”
She sounds so hesitantly hopeful that I don’t have the heart to start screaming uncontrollably. Besides, it’s been a week since I saw the fool and I’m feeling a little better about the whole situation.
“So?”
“Sooo, you know who it is! This means you now have the hottie who tore your sex up like a pro. Come on, Callie, don’t tell me it isn’t driving you nuts that you’re this close to Jack without revisiting that night. This time sober,” she says seriously, giving me a motherly look that’s ruined by her giggle.
Yeah okay, she’s a little right. But only a little.
I do wonder what sober sex with that beast would be like, and after my discovery that my guy is the man I love to hate and hate to want all at the same time…
There’s a knock at the door and Bill, Ted, and Jill barge in.
“Oh gawd, you spinsters watching that drivel again?” Ted asks, making my lip curl and my eye twitch.
What gay man doesn’t love the Swayze?
“Don’t insult my soul mate, dude, you’re in mortal danger for even thinking negative thoughts about him.”
Ted titters.
“I totally agree. Now give me a good Channing T
atum marathon and I am so there, ladies,” Bill trills, his hands flapping all over the place as Murray and Deidre finally stumble in, loaded down with enough meat to feed a village.
“Hey, sweetheart, Daddy brought you girls some meat to boost your iron intake.”
My lips twitch and I watch Deidre roll her eyes as she dumps her burden on the counter and comes over to flop down beside me. Bill and Murray go into the kitchen and start talking sports with Ted.
“So, how you been?” Jill asks.
“Meh. I’m good and bad all at once, I guess.”
“Gruffy gave us the rundown when we went over for Thursday night dinner. You poor thing.”
“You know it occurs to me that India and the old goat are too close for my state of mind. They’re like two gossiping little old ladies. From hell.”
“Oh pooh, baby, they’re just, well, them. They do love you, and after they stopped laughing they really were concerned. I heard Luci and Percy banned you from working events till your pregnancy settled some.”
“Yup. Apparently having me paint the waiters was not good for business. The only reason we have bookings for the next month after the remaining clients called and cancelled is because Jack’s mom and assistant called and exclusively booked us for all upcoming events,” I moan, dropping my head into my hands.
I feel awful about that, because while I love our business, I can never forget that all of my friends have worked just as hard as I have to get it up and running and turning a decent profit.
They could lose it all because of me.
Also, people are gossiping about me and Jack and the fact that he carried me out to his car and took me home. I didn’t let up, of course. I was way too confused and shocked for that to end well, but he did ensure that I was okay and safe.
“They’re right. Why I recall that time when one of my guys Ben had the flu and showed up for work anyway, poor bastard. He sneezed all over Mrs. P’s steak, and it took two weeks for business to pick up again after she told damn near everyone,” Ted says.
THE NAUGHTY ONES: The Complete 5-Books Series Page 5
