by Vonnie Davis
“What?” The café owner’s dark eyes widened. He pressed the lid on the pitcher before crossing his arms. “Why?”
“Me.” She lifted a shoulder and yanked a paper napkin from the chrome holder. “Us.” She wrapped the napkin tightly around her index finger. “Our friendship took a turn and he got spooked.” The napkin remained coiled when she slid it off her finger.
“So, he finally admitted to his feelings where you’re concerned.” Ryder’s remark was a statement, not a question. He set the pitcher in the power unit of the blender and depressed a button.
A brash whirring assaulted her ears for a few seconds. Ryder made a skewer of orange, lemon and strawberry slices, shaking his head as he worked. Once the blender quieted, he poured the concoction into a large glass and plopped in the fruit garnish. After setting the drink in front of her, he wiped his hands on a white rag. “Never figured him to run like some scared virginal bitch. Got to be somethin’ else goin’ on, baby doll. Gots to be.”
“He won’t really give me a reason why.” She ripped the napkin in half. “Generalities. Vague bullshit.” The napkin was torn again and again. “He claims he’s not worthy of me.” Her nervous fingers flayed the pieces into finer ones, much like Quinn had shredded her heart. She blinked back tears and reached for her drink, the cold fruity mixture soothing the burn at the back of her throat. I will not cry. I won’t.
“Hold on a sec.” Ryder called to his waitress and made some hand signals she seemed to understand, then strode around the bar and sat on the stool next to Cassie. “Business is slow today. My main girl can handle the place while we talk. Looks to me like you need a shoulder.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re in a world of hurt, aren’t you, baby doll?”
Wolf had introduced her to this gentle giant soon after her brother left the SEALs. Ryder was an ex-SEAL, too, trained in surveillance, yet for all the menace his rough exterior implied, the man was gooey chocolate on the inside.
“He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. I don’t know what I’ll do after he leaves.”
“Bad thing is you two have been datin’ for years and were too damn dumb to realize it. Hell, you went everywhere together.”
“We’re best friends. Or were. Now that I all but forced myself on him, he won’t even look at me.” She wiped her tears and laughed at the same time. “Guess that was TMI, huh?”
Ryder snatched some napkins from the holder and blotted her face. “I see how he looks at you. Better yet, I see how he scowls at any man who looks your way. He’s damn possessive where you’re concerned. I can’t get over his leavin’.” He waved the waitress over. “Hand me a bottle of water, sweetness, and fix us a plate of cheese and nuts. My friend, here, and I have some heavy talkin’ to do. Can you handle the place for thirty minutes or so? I’ll let you off early.”
“Sure.” The blonde beamed a smile and passed him a cold bottle of Evian.
“Let’s move to someplace more private.” Ryder led her to the empty booth in the corner, sat and snapped off the lid before he guzzled a long drink. “Okay. Tell me what you feel comfortable sharin’. Maybe together we can figure out what’s promptin’ him to leave town. ʼCause this is the last mother-effing thing I expected.”
While they sipped their drinks and nibbled from the food tray the waitress set on their table, Cassie shared the major points that had happened since her birthday between her and the man she loved. Talking to someone who knew Quinn was a great relief. She could have never told Wolf or Jace she’d given her virginity to Quinn. Never. Her brothers, especially Wolf, would have torn Quinn apart, limb from muscled limb.
Ryder ran a wide palm over his bald head. “Somethin’ else is goin’ on here.” He curled his hand into a fist and tapped his stomach. “This whole leavin’ town business just ain’t sittin’ right. It unsettles my gut.” His head tilted to the side. “What was Quinn before he came here? He’s not ex-military, but he’s got a wariness about him. Tries too hard to be a funny guy. Not that his ass isn’t comical as hell at times.”
“How can you tell if someone was or wasn’t in the military?” She stuck the skewer into her mouth and pulled off the succulent fruit.
Ryder gave a wave of his open hand. “By the way they hold themselves. Their walk. The habits the military drills into you.” He popped a cube of cheese in his mouth and chewed. “No, he’s more the CIA type or FBI. Maybe he’s on some kinda long-term undercover assignment.”
She’d just taken a sip of her smoothie and choked. “CIA? Undercover? Not Quinn. That’s nuts.” Wasn’t it? The thought took hold and niggled at her gut. “What if he has a wife somewhere? What if I’m in love with a married man?” My god, what if I had a married man’s cock in my mouth…or inside me?
Ryder’s hand covered hers. “Calm down, baby doll. Don’t go borrowing trouble. He’s been here for three years. That’s a long time to be away from a wife and family. Did he ever take long vacations? Or wasn’t where he told you he’d be?”
She shook her head. “No. He’s constantly been open in that regard. We were often in and out of each other’s apartments and usually without advance notice.”
He scooped a handful of nuts in his big palm and gestured toward her with his hand. “Then I’d venture a guess he doesn’t have a wife or another woman stashed somewhere. I’m just curious as to what kind of work he did before he moved here.”
“I always figured he was a fireman wherever he’d lived before. He graduated from Harvard. I’ve seen the diploma hanging on his wall. I know his parents live in DC.” What else did she know about his past? Not much. He was an only child, which was why he claimed to enjoy the loud madness of her family. His mother taught music at American University, and he spoke of her with great fondness. Mentions of his father were sparse and cold, as if there were strong tensions between them. But, beyond those few things, she knew nothing.
“See?” Ryder’s eyes narrowed. “A Harvard grad workin’ as a fireman? Don’t compute.” Both hands rose in an openly defensive move. “Not that there’s a damn thing wrong with bein’ a fireman. God bless ʼem all, but Harvard doesn’t exactly offer Firefightin’ 101, if you catch my drift.” He leaned toward her. “So what happened between his college graduation and the day he rolled into Clearwater? We find that out and we find out what’s makin’ him hightail his ass outta here, ʼcause, baby doll, it ain’t you.”
His words made her cry in relief and tense up with concern at the same time. “You don’t think it’s me? Really?” She swiped at her tears.
“Hell, no. That man would kill for you. Would lay down his life for you.” He stared at her for a few seconds. “You got anything that belongs to him? At your apartment or in your car? Things you oughta return before he leaves?”
“Ah…I have a pair of his swim fins and an old Madonna CD. Why?”
Ryder laughed. “Let me make a quick call. Is he off duty tonight?”
“Yeah.” She placed her hand over his cell phone. “Who are you calling? What are you up to?” He fought a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth, and it didn’t exactly give her the warm and fuzzies. Maybe because pure evil glinted in his gaze.
“Was just thinkin’ you oughta have an escort when you return his stuff.” A chuckle bubbled forth. “An escort every bit as macho and good lookin’ as Quinn. Yup, more I think on it, the better I like the idea. Man, I’d love to be a fly on the wall to see this. I’m callin’ my godson, Micah. He was Green Berets. Runs his own gym now.” He expelled laughter and shook his head. “Hell, Quinn’s gonna be so damn pissed. Meanwhile, you think of the sexiest outfit you’ve got to wear.”
“Are you kidding? The last time I wore my red leather skirt, Quinn nearly went bonkers.”
“Then that’s the one to wear tonight, baby doll. ʼCause he’s gonna be all over you. Got some fuck-me heels?” His forehead wrinkled and quirked where there should have been an eyebrow. “Better still. Any thigh-high leather boots? The ones with stiletto heels? Man, they are inst
ant boner-birthers for a guy.” He cleared his throat and winked. “Got a pair?”
“My roommate has a pair, but her shoe size is bigger than mine.”
“Don’t matter. Stuff ʼem with tissues or newspapers or somethin’.”
She slipped her purple mobile from her purse and started composing a can-I-borrow-your-boots text. Meanwhile, nervousness churned in her stomach like the surf with a hurricane approaching. “I’m not so sure I like this idea. I’m not one for playing games.”
Ryder held his black cell to his ear with one beefy hand and waved the other as if to erase her objections. “Hell, all of life is a game, baby doll. I’m tellin’ you, that man of yours will be like a man possessed when he sees you with my godson. Quinn’ll drag you off, caveman style.” Ryder winked. “Trust me.” He turned his attention to his phone. “Micah? Got an hour you can spare your Uncle Ryder tonight?”
Two hours later, Micah eased his black Escalade into Quinn’s apartment complex, slowing to coast over the traffic bumps. The firecracker nerves that had moved into Cassie’s stomach hadn’t ceased their quivering and sparking since the second she left Ryder’s Café. She glanced at the handsome man next to her, his thick wrist draped nonchalantly over the steering wheel. His head was shaved bald like Ryder’s and sported a tribal tattoo over half of his scalp. More ink decorated his arms. The tense set of his jaw said he was ready for battle if the situation called for it.
Oh, this was so not good.
More pyrotechnics exploded in her stomach, sending acid up her throat and tingles down her limbs to her tissue-stuffed, booted feet.
Damn the fireworks!
They’d sizzled and made her tremble as she’d shaved in the shower. Had she known what lay ahead of her tonight, she’d have undergone a Brazilian bikini wax at the shop. But how was she to know Ryder would talk her into pushing Quinn a little closer to the ledge? If things worked out the way Ryder claimed, and Quinn took her to bed, she wanted to give him a little surprise. One of her clients claimed her honey loved a bald hootchie. Would Quinn? By damn she’d soon find out. With his foolhardy plans to leave, this might be her last chance to convince him to stay. She had to give tonight her best effort—it would be balls to the wall seduction.
Once she’d blotted her skin dry from her shower, she slathered on her signature peaches and cream body lotion as the emotional fireworks continued to pop and detonate. The only soothing thing she had to apply over her freshly shaven labia was fuchsia-infused aloe gel.
Pinwheels of excitement lit up her system as she’d slithered into her red leather skirt and buttoned her black blouse, shoving the tails beneath the waistband with trembling hands. She was going to deliberately make Quinn jealous and then seduce him with her sexiest black lingerie and her bald “hootchie”. Oh God, this better work.
Her doorbell rang just as she’d zipped up what Ryder called “boner-birther boots”.
Micah’s expression when she’d opened the door had been priceless—pure flattery, yet predatory. “Damn. Uncle Ryder’s talked about Baby Doll for years, but I had no clue what a baby doll you’d be.”
“And I had no clue you’d be Irish and full of blarney.” She winked and he laughed. “Hold on, let me grab Quinn’s things I’m returning.” She bent over to retrieve the yellow flippers and CD from the sofa. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Micah adjust himself. Gee, maybe I should invest in a pair of these boner-birther boots.
“Which building is his, bébé?”
His question as he drove through Quinn’s apartment complex jarred her out of her reverie. Cassie unbuttoned the top three buttons on her blouse for the second time. “The second unit on the right. See the U-Haul trailer backed into the parking space?” Making Quinn jealous on purpose was such a high school tactic; she was beyond that. Besides, what if it didn’t work? Did she want his last memory of her to be one of her making a complete fool of herself? Her fingers rose to re-button her top.
“Leave them open,” Micah growled, his eyes obliterated by the dark shades he wore. “I’d demand my woman show me some skin.”
She fiddled with the button at the front clasp of her bra. “Yeah, but I’m not your woman. Quinn won’t know what your preferences are.”
He shoved the car into Park and turned off the engine. “He will as soon as he sees me. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll have him so damn jealous he’ll charge at me like an Angus bull.” He unsnapped the seat belt, and the leather squeaked when he angled toward her. “I’ll be doing little things to make him jealous. Nothing overt, bébé. Just enough to send him over the edge.”
“I doubt it’ll make any difference.” Her insecurities were fighting with her sensual bravado.
His hand curled around her thigh. “You really are naïve, aren’t you? Don’t you know how hot you are? How you still radiate innocence even if he’s already tapped that?” He dipped his head in the direction of her crotch.
Is “lost my virginity yesterday” engraved on my forehead, or what?
“He’ll be able to tell if I’ve touched you. If we’ve kissed.” He leaned toward her, one hand slipped under her hair to cup the back of her neck and his other drifted from her thigh to open two more of her buttons.
“Hey!” She knocked his hand away. What a macho creep. “If you don’t keep your hands off my buttons and my leg, the only thing he’ll be able to tell about you is that you talk funny. High-pitched. Like a soprano.”
Quinn’s head peeked out from the back of the moving trailer, his ball cap pulled low over his eyes. Even so, by the set of his square jaw and the scorching glare he aimed their way, he’d zeroed in on Micah’s hand inching up her leg.
Oh hell.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Who the hell was Cassie with and what the fuck was his hand doing on her damn thigh?
Quinn stepped away from the U-Haul, assessing his options while his blood pressure ratcheted into the stroke zone. Even though he didn’t want to spend time with her, he sure as hell didn’t want to see her with another guy. He pressed the heel of his palm to his heart and rubbed, trying to ease the pain. Christ, this hurts.
The driver’s door opened and six-foot-four of muscled mass hopped out and sauntered around the hood of his highly waxed Escalade to lift Cassie out of his SUV. Where in God’s name had she met this bald, inked son of a bitch? Quinn’s hands curled into fists. Was this bastard the one who’d taught her how to give such incredible, enthusiastic head?
A jealous rage, cavernous and foul, bubbled in his soul as if it were a gigantic cauldron holding all his negative emotions. This stranger was not the kind of man he’d choose for his angel. He’d pick some knock-kneed, hollow-chested paper-pusher. A nice man, for she deserved to be treated with gentleness and respect, but not someone she could care for more than she did Quinn. No, he was a selfish bastard; he wanted to be the one she yearned for, dreamed of, thought about—for she’d damn sure be the one invading his thoughts forever.
The stranger bent to kiss Cassie’s neck before he backed away. Quinn’s heart stopped. Her blouse was unbuttoned to her navel and she was wearing that damned red leather skirt again. And, God help him, she wore black leather, over-the-knee, stiletto boots. Blood rushed from his brain to his cock. Possessiveness took hold. She was his, dammit. He’d been her first. A part of her would always belong to him. Always.
“Hi Quinn. Sorry to drop by unannounced, but I wanted to return these things of yours.” She extended his flippers and an old CD he didn’t give a good rat’s ass about.
He snatched the items from her hands and tossed them in the back of the trailer. His hands on his hips, his narrow-eyed gaze raked her from head to toe. This woman—his angel with the heart-shaped face—who he’d made love to yesterday, was all dressed up for a date with another man. A man who would inhale her sweet essence, taste her lips, trail his fingers over her soft skin, hear her needy moans and sink into her wet tightness. His gaze shifted to the man poised in a military “at ease” stance behind her. Damn
the motherfucker all to hell. Quinn’s scrutiny settled on her again.
A blush kissed her cheeks. They knew each other so well they could almost read each other’s thoughts. She retreated a couple of steps.
The stranger’s large hands enveloped her waist, pulling her to his chest. “Easy, bébé, I don’t want you to fall.” His hand shifted to splay over the juncture of her thighs. A slow smile of ownership spread like muddy water over a beautiful garden as his middle finger circled an area that, up until today, only Quinn had touched.
Cassie squirmed in embarrassment. “Don’t.”
“You should know I don’t take orders from any woman I date.” His hold on her tightened.
She elbowed him and spun away.
Quinn lunged and shoved the slimeball against his vehicle. Two quick jabs to his firm stomach, a punch to his jaw and a couple of karate chops to his neck, and the bastard crumbled down the side of his Caddy.
“You’ve hurt him!” Cassie scurried to kneel over the man shaking his head, no doubt wondering which direction the truck had gone that had run him down.
“I’ll be okay, bébé.” His hand rose to cup her cheek.
Quinn grabbed her wrist and hauled her to him. “I’ll kill him if he ever touches you again.” He leaned close until he was nearly nose to nose with Cassie. “I will fucking kill him,” he enunciated through clenched jaws.
“How? You’ll be gone.” Her green eyes, smoking hot with all the make-up she’d applied, bore into him. Possessiveness, the likes of which he’d never thought possible, burned in his gut. That heart-shaped face of hers was so beautiful, it nearly stole the breath from his lungs. And, dammit, she was his.
“Until I cross Courtney Campbell Causeway, you belong to me and I’ll be damned if I’ll share you with the likes of that lowlife bastard, or anyone else.” His fingers coiled around her bicep, and he marched her toward the door to his building. “I mean, what the hell, Cassie? After what passed between us yesterday?” He jerked open the door and ushered her inside. “The next freaking day, you want to move on to someone else?”