by Lauren Dane
“All right, that works.”
He gave her directions and she hung up and he was still smiling when he walked into court twenty minutes later.
“What are you smiling about?” His mother sent him a raised brow.
“What isn’t there to smile over? It’s a nice day. I won in court not once, but twice today. My mother has shown up in the office unexpectedly. Spoke to Carrie earlier, she’s having a great time.”
Liesl Warner wasn’t stupid. She narrowed her gaze but didn’t say anything else about it.
“Did she mention if she’d received my package?”
“She said it arrived Friday and to thank you.” His mother scared people routinely, as regularly as she breathed. But she loved her granddaughter and sent her care packages several times a month. It probably made them both feel better.
“She sent me one too, with photographs as well. She’s got quite an eye.”
Art was important in his family. They’d been raised to appreciate it. His mother collected it, as did Jonah and Levi. It was no surprise really that Carrie wanted to be a curator or go into museum and collection management.
“Daisy has been a great deal of help.” That had been surprising as well. Levi’s hot young fiancée the artist had won their mother over quite handily. And she’d been supportive of Carrie as well. “I wasn’t sure about your brother for a while, but Daisy is entirely suitable. He’s far better behaved since they’ve been together. Have you noticed that? Now if they’d only actually choose a date to get married. My heavens, Jonah, what sort of engagement is it that lasts so long without a date?”
Ha. He wasn’t going to touch that one. Not for all the money in the world.
In fact, it was time for him to get out of there so he could stop at the grocery store on the way home. He promised dinner but realized he had an empty fridge.
“I’ve got to rush.” He gathered up his things. “Is there something you needed?”
He kissed her cheek on his way past as he turned out his light.
“Your father and I are going to the symphony tonight. Would you like to join us for dinner?”
“Not tonight. I’ve got some things to do. Have a good time though.”
She looked him over again but didn’t say anything else.
“I’m out of here.” Raven gathered her stuff up.
Brody Brown, her friend and the owner of Written On The Body, looked up from his place just across from hers. “Whatcha up to tonight?”
“Thanks to your recommendation, I’m meeting with Jonah Warner about a full back piece.”
“Nice. I saw something between you at the engagement party. Did I imagine more than ink talk?”
Brody knew her in ways less than a handful of people did. There was once a time when she could have let herself love him, and probably did, but she’d fucked it up. He liked to tell her she did it on purpose. But he’d been married for several years at that point. He and his beautiful wife had two kids and it fit him perfectly. He was still her friend. Always that.
“There’s some chemistry.”
Brody laughed then and she paused, cocking her head. “What?”
“Oh, just that from what I’ve seen and heard, he’s the kind of guy who likes what he likes, exactly how he likes it. Gonna be fun to watch you try to sidestep being owned by a guy like him.”
“Pfft. No one owns me, Brody Brown. And I happen to like what I like exactly how I like it. So maybe we’ll be perfect for each other.” She sniffed. “But for now, it’s just a nice piece of work to do to pay the bills.”
She waved over her shoulder as she left.
She stopped home before heading out to Jonah’s house. She never used to have a place in Seattle. Or anywhere for that matter. She liked to house-sit instead. Kept her from feeling trapped. She traded out time in L.A. and Seattle mostly, did a few stints in Hawaii as well.
But when Erin had gotten pregnant with Alexander she’d wanted to be there for her friend. She’d known how freaked out Erin was about having another baby after losing her daughter in such a tragic fashion. And then it had been a high-risk pregnancy. So Raven had bought a condo in Capitol Hill with a nice view of downtown and the Sound. Just a studio. It had a bed and her music and sketch pads and clothes and that was pretty much all she needed anyway.
She got to spend time with Alexander, who she adored like crazy. She’d never been one for kids until he’d come along. And then she’d found herself really enjoying Brody’s daughters as well. Rennie, the oldest, who only stopped talking long enough to take a breath, and Martine, who had burst into toddlerhood and cracked Raven up.
So she’d let herself put some roots down and it hadn’t felt bad at all. It had felt . . . all right.
She checked her mail, finding little of interest, and recycled the junk before heading upstairs to change and get her sketches.
Raven didn’t work from transfers. They felt constraining. But she did like to work from sketches. Row after row of neatly organized sketch pads lined her bookshelves and she found the one she needed to take over to Jonah’s that evening. She’d done several different styles so he could choose whichever he preferred from those.
She took her hair down from the ponytail she’d had it in all day and brushed it out. Brushing her hair had been a soothing ritual for her for as long as she could remember. Every night, every morning, whenever she was stressed or scared.
The clothes she had on were good enough for a long day bent over people doing ink. But. Well, she wanted to wear something pretty and sexy. Not too much of either. She liked Jonah. She hoped they’d end up naked and sweaty too. In the meantime, it wasn’t a crime to look good for a man of his caliber anyway.
She’d mapped out directions online to his place so she found it easily enough. A nice neighborhood near the arboretum. His driveway curved a little up to the front of the house. Brick exterior. Lots of windows. Big lawn. His front door had a pretty knocker dealie on it.
She only had to tap it a few times before he opened it and stole her breath. He’d been dressed up for the party, but this night he had on a worn T-shirt that hugged over a broad chest and Levi’s with bare patches on the thigh and at the hem. No shoes.
His dark hair was a little tousled and he had a look. Oh my, that look. Like he was going to take a big bite.
“Please, come in.” He stepped back and motioned her inside.
She hesitated in the entry. There was a woman’s stamp on that entry. Interesting that the man bore no indication of a woman’s stamp at all.
“Can I take your things?” Jonah indicated the sketchbook and her bag.
“Oh sure.” She handed them over.
Contrary to popular belief, she did have filters. A few anyway. She’d been working on it. Which is why she didn’t blurt out the question she was dying to have answered about who had decorated the entry.
She didn’t get involved with married men. She didn’t have a lot of rules about her sex life, but that was one of them. She did not break her personal rules.
“Come through. Would you like a beer or a glass of wine? I hope chicken is all right. I should have asked if you were a vegetarian.”
She followed him, checking out that ass and the broad expanse of his back. He’d look mighty fine with ink.
“Do you have other tats?”
“I do. Three others.”
“Beer, please.” She sat at the large island in the kitchen, watching him pull the beer from the fridge and crack it open. He had nice hands. Big. He moved with ease in his space. Though she’d seen him at the party and he moved with ease there too.
Confident.
He handed it over once he poured it into a glass and then clinked it with his.
“Chicken is fine. Who did your other work?”
“Two of them I got in Boston. The other in San Diego. How many do you have?”
“Six. Brody did them all. He’d kill me if I got them from anyone else.” She snorted. “We’re territorial, yo
u know. Tattoo artists.”
“Don’t report me then. We’ve got about half an hour until the food is ready. Want to go out back? I picked up some appetizer-type stuff. You can show me the sketches while we have our beer.”
He took her elbow and steered her out, not really waiting for her answer. But it wasn’t rude, it was more . . . in charge.
Out back was a gorgeous deck overlooking the water and the lake beyond. He indicated for her to sit on a couch so she did. “This is pretty swank.”
He nodded. “I can’t complain. We used to live on the Eastside, but Carrie, my daughter, wanted to go to a high school over this way. She liked being able to help me decorate this place. Our old house . . . well, it wasn’t hard to move.”
That answered her question about who’d put the female stamp on the entry. “The mother?”
He was quiet a while. She figured that if he didn’t want to talk about it he wouldn’t.
“Yes. It was a house I bought for my ex-wife as a wedding present.”
“What’s that story?”
She drank her beer and sat back, looking out over the yard and the view.
Jonah wasn’t used to people asking him really personal questions like this. Sure, his nosy mother and his brothers, who really had no manners when it came to family stuff. But not strangers.
It was oddly freeing.
“She left.” He shrugged. “It was okay for about eight years. We had some good times. But she wasn’t happy after that.”
“What about your daughter?”
“My ex wasn’t happy as a mother either.”
A look flashed over Raven’s face. Rage. And then it was gone. “She walked away from her kid or did you take your daughter from her?”
He started. “Do I seem that type to you?”
“People are seldom what they appear to be.”
“That’s pretty jaded.”
“That’s pretty reality. I don’t know you that well. You clearly have a lot of money and you’re not used to hearing no. Would you be the first rich powerful dude in history to railroad the wife to snatch the kid just because he could?”
Put that way . . .
He blew out a breath. “I’m not an asshole. No. I didn’t snatch my daughter. But I would have if I needed to. My ex is far happier with my money than our kid. She walked away. Carrie was twelve so she made the choice to stay out here. Her mother lives on the East Coast.”
“She sounds swell. Your ex I mean.”
He paused and then laughed. “She’s missing out on the best thing in the world.” Jonah shrugged. “I can’t pretend I understand it. It used to make me mad.”
“Why not relieved? I mean, I know people who’ve gone through hellish custody battles. It sucks she’s a twat and doesn’t give two shits about her kid. But it sounds to me like your kid is better off without her mom in her life. Just because someone gives birth to you doesn’t mean they’re your fucking mother. Being a mom, or a dad for that matter, is more than biology.”
“There’s a story.”
“Everyone has a story.” She pulled a big pad out. “Here are some of the designs I worked up for you.”
“I’d rather hear your story.”
She sent him a raised brow and he liked it. A lot.
“Fine. But as you noted, I don’t like being told no.”
Her smile sent a shiver through him. “You’ll get used to it.”
He took her hand, turning it to press a kiss at her wrist. She smelled good. Warm. He liked the pleased surprise on her face and the indrawn breath.
“Or maybe you could get used to telling me yes.”
“You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “I’m told it’s a flaw. I’ll try to be worth it.” This woman was a challenge, yes. But one he had every intention of undertaking. He wanted in.
“Hm.”
He grinned as he sat back, taking the sketchbook and opening it.
“Wow. These are incredible.”
And they were. Such a range of styles and designs.
She scooted closer. “This one.” She pointed to a design with multiple wolves. “Could go from your lower back up to your shoulder. I’d need to see where your other tattoos are to figure out how to integrate if they’re close to your back.” She turned the page. “This one would fit nicely square in the center.”
Stunning. Concentric circles of design that built to create the image of a wolf head.
“It’s more Celtic. The first is more Nordic.”
There were others, but his attention kept returning to those first two. “Which do you like best?”
“You’re a big man. Imposing. Intense.” One shoulder lifted. “I like to see the skin where the tat would go. What your musculature is like. A bold tattoo needs to sit just right.”
“Are you trying to get me naked?”
She smirked. “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait.”
He pulled the T-shirt off and she hummed. That hum was a caress.
She stood. “I need you up so I can get a better look.”
He obeyed, staying very close. She didn’t move away. Instead she looked up into his face. “Goddamn.”
As compliments went, it was a pretty good one.
She circled him, near enough to brush the heat of her body against his skin. Her palms smoothed over his shoulders, across his back, down his spine. She traced the tattoo on his right shoulder.
“Decent work. I can touch it up here.” Her fingertips brushed a spot of sensitive skin.
“Does it need that?”
“Only if you want it to look nice.”
He turned his head and she was so very close. A quick movement and his hand cupped the back of her neck as he took that mouth of hers in a kiss. Hard and fast.
Her taste rushed through his system like wildfire as she opened to him. Her tongue slid along his as he claimed, took, demanded.
She kissed like she meant it. Matching him move for move. He’d kissed women before. But this woman knew what she was about. Took her time, tasting him. A nip of his bottom lip sent a shiver through him. He hauled her close, the sweetness of her curves against him. He was hard. So fucking hard.
All from a kiss.
When he got this woman naked they were going to set shit on fire.
He eased back, taking her bottom lip between his teeth a moment. “That was as good as I imagined.”
Her smile was the furthest thing from coy possible.
“Dinner should be finished soon.”
“Where are the other two tattoos?” She didn’t step back and he didn’t let go, but he had to move to show her.
Reluctantly he pulled away and unbuttoned his fly enough to show her the star below his belly button.
“My.” She licked her lips.
“Is that a good my?”
Her gaze locked with his. “You know it is.”
He guessed he did. He worked hard on his body. It gave him somewhere to channel all his sexual energy after the divorce. When he’d discovered he liked things his ex never would have allowed. And then he got concerned it wasn’t normal or healthy.
But he was far too old to worry about it any longer. All this time he’d dated on and off. Fucked when he could, around Carrie’s schedule because she was his priority. He’d had tastes here and there, never wanting to go too far. Never fully trusting any of those women to give him what he needed, or to let go of all that dark desire he harbored. He had felt that it wasn’t worth it to really go full out with someone unless he was going to be with her full time. What he wanted, what he liked, wasn’t a game.
And it had been fine.
But with this woman it was different. She was not fragile or shy. She was not coy. She wore her sexuality openly. She was the kind of woman a man could be an equal with.
He liked that a great deal.
“Is the other tattoo on your cock?”
He barked a laugh. “Fuck no. I like my cock too much to let anyone
jab it with a needle.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Good. Cock tattoos are not hot. You, on the other hand are very, very hot.”
“The other tattoo is on my thigh. A small one. I’m thinking of getting it covered.”
“Your ex-wife’s initials? Wedding anniversary?”
“Am I that transparent?”
“No. But you don’t seem the type to get tweety bird on a weekend bender or whatever. So if you wanted to remove it or cover it, I figure it’s something you don’t want to be reminded of anymore.”
“I nearly said it was Yosemite Sam. But then I didn’t think I could keep a straight face. It’s our wedding date. She got one too, though I imagine she’s covered it. At first I left it there to remind me of my mistake. Now it’s just numbers inked into my skin.”
He put his shirt back on and she made a little disappointed sound that brought a smile again.
“What’s the star for?”
“I liked it.”
“I like stars.” She pulled her shirt up and he saw the smattering of stars across her belly and up her side.
“I like yours better.”
“Good to know.”
The kitchen timer began to ding and with a sigh he turned. “Dinner’s ready.”
3
“You’re a pretty good cook.” Truth be told, she’d sort of expected him to have a cook who also cleaned and took care of him.
“Carrie and I learned a lot together. She’s better than I am. Mainly because my mother insisted Carrie be taught to run a household.” He snorted.
“You disagree?”
“My mother’s perspective is that it’s a woman’s duty. Mine is, she should know because she’s a person who will be an adult on her own.”
He was a surprise. Not that she wasn’t around men who would raise their daughters to be independent women, but he clearly came from an established, moneyed family. She knew through Erin that the family matriarch was all about position in the community and all that jazz. But her sons, the two eldest anyway, were pretty open.
She nodded. “She’s going to college so she’ll need to know how to cook.”
“Only so much Cup o’ Noodles she can eat.”
