Until Joe

by Smith, CP

His answer was to take her mouth in a bruising kiss. The halter top she wore gave him easy access to the generous mounds of her breasts, so he took advantage and slipped his hand inside until he found her pebbled nipple. He rolled it firmly until she arched her back into his hand, moaning deep in her throat. The sound was almost his undoing. He wouldn’t take her in a dirty bathroom, but she’d laid down the gauntlet with her brazen behavior. He’d be hard until he could get her back to the beach house, so he figured turnabout was fair play.

  “You’re not the only one who feels twenty again,” Joe hissed against her mouth when her hand found his cock again. “It takes all the willpower I have not to throw you over my shoulder and find the nearest cave so I can slip deep inside you. If you want a room full of strangers to know exactly what you sound like when I make you come, then keep touching me.”

  She rubbed her heat against his thigh instead of letting go of him, building a fire deep in his blood no rational thought could bank, so he slid her top up until he could latch on to one of her rose-colored nipples and sucked deep. He’d had every intention of revving her up, then cooling her down before heading back to their table, but Bernice did something to him no woman had done before: broke down his ironclad will until it was in pieces. He had enough control left to keep from slamming deep inside her, but anyone outside the door was about to hear his woman scream his name.

  Flicking his tongue across her nipple while his hand breached the top of her panties, Joe growled with satisfaction when he found her heat wet with need. He drew his fingers through her silken flesh, pumping his fingers deep inside her, then found her clit with his thumb and rolled it while he captured her mouth. She tore from his lips in a gasp of shock and ground herself on his hand, whimpering low in her throat.

  “I need you inside me.” It was a plea. One he wasn’t sure he could resist.

  “Reach for it,” he ordered, increasing the friction, plunging a third finger inside her.

  He could feel her stiffening in preparation for her release when a knock sounded at the door. He ignored it and kept at her. Her head was writhing on the wall, her mouth open as she gulped air into her lungs. He watched her intently, trapped in the erotic byplay as he brought her to climax, and caught the exact moment the orgasm sent her spiraling. He slammed his mouth over hers and swallowed her ecstasy, a final grunt of approval rumbling in his throat.

  The knock sounded again, so Joe pulled his hand from her shorts. Before lowering her shirt, he leaned in and kissed a rosy peak, flicking it once for good measure. Bernice’s eyes were still clouded with lust when he brushed a kiss across her mouth.

  “We just made out in the ladies’ room,” she whispered in awe.

  “You grab a bull by the balls, he’s gonna react,” he answered.

  She nodded numbly, still dazed by what had taken place, then she heard the third knock on the door and remembered where they were. Color flushed her porcelain skin before she made it to the sink and the mirror hanging above. She looked like she’d been thoroughly fucked. Her sexy-as-hell hair had added volume to it, and her lips were swollen. No one paying attention outside that room would have any doubt what they’d been up to. The man at the bar who’d been so interested in their table came to mind, and Joe grinned with possessiveness and male satisfaction.

  A fourth knock had Bernice spinning around to look at Joe. He arched a brow and waited. A slow grin pulled across her mouth, and she fluffed her already generous hair for good measure, then walked to the door and threw it open. Then she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at an attractive older woman who bore a striking, if not uncanny, resemblance to Bernice and Eunice blocking her exit.

  “Well,” the woman drawled, looking Bernice over from top to bottom, “your father said you’d landed a wild one.” The woman, who could only be Bernice’s mother, looked over her daughter’s shoulder and met Joe square in the eyes. She took in his height. His beard. His black T-shirt and faded jeans, all the way down to his scuffed boots, then looked back at Bernice and grinned like the cat who ate the canary, and said, “Good for you, butterbean. Good for you.”

  Nine

  Boom!

  “I KNEW THAT Yankee looked familiar!” I bit out to my mother. “It was you in that blasted helicopter. Daddy had us followed all the way here, didn’t he?” The man at the bar had seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him. I knew he was a Yankee when he asked the waitress what was in a mint julep—no good Southerner would ever ask that question; it was mother’s milk to us—but I hadn’t put two and two together until I opened the door to the bathroom.

  My mother scowled at my outburst, then looked over her shoulder toward the main room and nodded. “You know your father doesn’t leave anything to chance. He did tell me he had someone followin’ you, so I assume that’s the Yankee of whom you’re speakin’.”

  I ran my hands up my face and through my hair, grabbing hold of the ends in frustration. I knew my father wouldn’t let us be. I knew it. But I’d ignored my better judgment because Joe was worth fighting for.

  “I assume since you’re here that Daddy thinks you’ll talk some sense into me?”

  Her hands rose in a shrug of agreement. “Who knows what’s goin’ on in that man’s head. I would have stayed home if it weren’t for the fact I just had to meet the man who was givin’ your father heartburn. That and to give a little heartburn back.”

  Mother’s eyes darted back to Joe, and she smiled. I turned and looked at him and felt my knees grow weak at the grin he threw in my mother’s direction. How could one man be so dangerous-looking yet devastatingly handsome at the same time?

  Joe glanced at me and winked, his grin pulling into a full-fledged smile. “I’m Joe Rouger.” He put out his hand to my mother. She took it without hesitation, then flushed with a rosy hue when Joe leaned down and kissed her hand like some sort of nobleman of days gone by.

  “He’s a scoundrel, isn’t he?” my mother asked, her face brightening with quiet laughter.

  I nodded. “The best kind.”

  To prove my point, Joe’s arm wrapped around my middle and he pulled me flush against his body before dropping a kiss on my bare shoulder. In my parents’ social circles, a display of affection like that would have been frowned upon, but my mother’s smile lit up the dark hallway with approval.

  “Oh, you’ll do just fine,” she stated in a breathy quality. “My Bernice has been alone for far too long. And the cream on top is the fact my husband can’t scare you off any more than he could scare off Devin. It’s driving him to drink. I love it!”

  My parents’ marriage had been encouraged by both their families, back in a time when strong alliances were still crucial in the business world. It wasn’t a love match by any stretch of the imagination. When I was a child, she’d fought him when she felt like it, plotted against social pariahs when the cause was justifiable, and stayed out of his way the rest of the time. She’d given him the children and heirs he required, but that was as far as their affection went, I thought. When her job was done, she’d withdrawn from all of us. What little light had been in her eyes when we were younger seemed to have died. She spent her days attending tea parties and charity functions and ignoring my father, for the most part. She’d seemed resigned to the fact my father ruled their world with an iron fist and didn’t make waves because that’s how she’d been raised.

  “So, what’s the plan?” I questioned. “Did Daddy send you back here to shame me for followin’ my heart?”

  “Indeed. I was to reprimand you for actin’ like a common trollop in a public establishment. Who uses the word ‘trollop’ these days?” she laughed. “That man lives so far in the past, I’m surprised he doesn’t have conversations with Lucius Armstrong himself.”

  “Lucius?” Joe questioned.

  “My, I’m not sure how many greats, to be honest—six, I think—but he’s my great-granddaddy. He’s the one who started Armstrong Shippin’ after the Civil War. Daddy’s spent his whole life tryin’ to live
up to that legacy.”

  “The ghosts of your past will drown you if you don’t watch where you’re steppin’.” Mother sighed. “Preston is a decent man at the core, but his obsession with the past makes him a loose cannon sometimes.”

  I scoffed. A good man?

  “He is, butterbean. You don’t know him like I do. Yes, he’ll do or say anything if he thinks it justifies the means, but afterward, he’ll hole up in his study and drink away his shame. He did that when he tried to manipulate Calla all those years ago to control her. He knew darn well he was hurtin’ her when he blamed her for your brother’s death, but Armstrong Shippin’s survival was at stake, so he justified the lie. He needed control of her so it would live on. And like always, I did nothin’ to stop him, to my bitter regret. That’s why I helped Devin get inside the house to thwart your father’s plans with Bobby Jones. To make up for my own ghosts. To right a wrong I should have stopped. I’m ashamed I didn’t step in sooner, so that’s why I’m here now. When you’re nearing the end of a long journey, you tend to look back at it and wonder if you should have taken another path. I realized too late I should have fought your father harder than I did when Calla came to the mansion a few months back.”

  “You were there that day?”

  “I was, and I had my eyes opened by my granddaughter. Calla, you see, said a few things that woke me up. Made me reevaluate the past fifty-some-odd years. I’d never felt truly loved in my life, not even by my parents. But instead of forging my own way in life, like you girls did, I sat around consumed by self-pity when I should have been taking care of what I loved with all my heart. For that, I’m truly sorry, Bernice. You and your sister . . . I love you both, my darlin’ girl, more than you know, and I won’t let your father’s obsession with the past ruin the rest of your life, if I have any say in the matter.”

  I was dumbstruck by her admission. I’d never known my father to regret anything he’d done, which made the fleeting remorse I’d seen cross his face the day before interesting. And she’d helped Devin gain entry to their beachside fortress.

  “You helped Devin inside?”

  In an attempt to save Calla from my father, Devin had said he’d stormed the castle, and my mother, it seemed—in a sudden reversal of allegiance—was the one who gave him the key to enter.

  She nodded. “I pulled out in the limo after havin’ been thoroughly chastised by Calla Lily, licking my wounds because she was right, when I saw Devin and that nice detective Sienna is with. He looked so menacing and determined to get to our girl, I knew in that instant he would always take care of her. So, I gave them the code to the gate.”

  In that one instance of betrayal against my father, it seemed she’d come out of a fog that had hovered over her head for far too long, and she was now standing up to him rather than drinking away her days in blind acceptance. I could have danced a jig right then and there, but I hugged her instead, wrapping my arms tightly in the fiercest hug I’d ever given. Calla was my world. Knowing my mother had put a stop to my father’s nefarious plans to marry her off to Bobby Jones meant everything to me. Any resentment I’d harbored toward her for the years of indifference she’d shown Eunice and me melted away instantly. In its place burned love. Love and hope that maybe what time we both had left in this life could be stronger than what had come before.

  “Thank you, Momma.”

  She was stiff at first, then leaned into me and hugged me back. “It was my pleasure, butterbean. And about damn time, don’t you think?”

  I giggled at her use of the word ‘damn.’ “Ladies don’t curse,” she always said.

  “Margaret!” the deep baritone of my father’s voice carried down the hallway.

  Mother and I both turned toward my father but didn’t break apart. He could bellow all he wanted. I was done playing by his rules, and so was she.

  He stormed down the hallway, his intent clear, but Joe stepped in front of Mother and me and crossed his arms. “I see you didn’t hear a word I said,” Joe growled.

  Daddy glanced at Joe but dismissed him outright and glared at my mother. “Do you see? One day alone with this man, and she’s become a common whore.”

  Joe moved before I could stop him. One minute my father was standing in the middle of the hallway, and the next he was pinned against the wall with Joe’s hand resting against his chest, anger spilling from his person, suffocating the small area.

  “Joe, don’t!” I begged.

  Daddy seemed shaken by Joe’s anger. Joe hadn’t hurt him, just moved into him so he’d had to back up, then held him there with the force of his will. “I won’t hurt an old man for being a dick, Sweetcheeks,” Joe assured me. “Get my wallet from my back pocket and pay our bill. It’s time to leave.”

  “Oh my,” my mother breathed out, clutching her blouse. “I do believe you’ve met your match, Preston.”

  I tried not to smile at the tone of her voice and the way her eyes seemed to gloss over. Joe seemed to affect women of all ages.

  “Come on, Momma.” I started down the hallway with my mother in tow, but Joe whistled to get my attention. I turned back just in time to catch the wallet he tossed my way.

  “I can pay,” I explained.

  “Not while I’m around, you aren’t.”

  My lips twitched when my mother repeated, “Oh, my.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?” I asked.

  Joe ignored my rebuttal and turned back to my father. But I caught a hint of a smile working around his eyes.

  _______________

  “How long do I have to look forward to you interfering with Bernice and me?” Joe bit out, stepping back from Preston Armstrong to give the man some breathing room.

  Armstrong’s eyes turned from alarmed to calculated in the blink of an eye. “I’ll have you arrested for layin’ a hand on me,” he bluffed.

  Joe crossed his arms and smiled bitterly at the old man. “No, you won’t. For one, you wouldn’t want the world to know your daughter has taken up with the likes of me. And two, your only witnesses won’t lift a finger to help you, since it would be a lie.”

  Calculated eyes turned shrewd so quickly, Joe knew that Preston had plenty of practice switching gears when negotiating. “Ten million.”

  Joe scoffed. “You’re worth a hundred times that,” he growled, “but I’ll make it easy on you, so you don’t waste your time and mine. There isn’t enough money you could throw at me to make me walk away. For one, I don’t need it. I have an MBA, and I put it to good use. That so-called hole in the wall you like to thumb your nose at made me enough money to retire ten years ago. I didn’t because I like working, keeping my mind sharp, and I’m a simple man with simple tastes, to boot. So, I don’t need your money, not by a long shot. But even if I did, it wouldn’t matter, because I’d be the richest man around if Bernice took my name.”

  “Sentimental horseshit,” Armstrong hissed. “My family didn’t get where it is today by letting our hearts rule our minds. Be smarter than that and take what I’m offering you. You’d have a fortune most could only dream of to leave to your heirs.”

  Joe shrugged at the intended insult. Men throughout history had put their pocketbooks before their hearts. They died with power but no one who missed them. Life was about experiences and the people you surrounded yourself with while you were on the journey. Love was God’s greatest gift to mankind. The man who turned his back on it was poorer than a man who was surrounded by it. And Joe intended to be the richest man alive when he slipped from this world.

  “There’s more to life than money,” Joe replied. “You’ve got in the palm of your hand yet you abuse it. Money is no substitute for real love and affection.”

  Instead of considering Joe’s advice, the old man ran his hands through his hair. It was clear to Joe he hadn’t heard a word he’d said. He was too busy running offensive maneuvers to even give a moment of introspection to Joe’s comment. But something Margaret had said about Preston being shamed by his behavior
had stuck with him. Was it possible that all his maneuvering to maintain control of his world was actually hiding a more profound emotion?

  “Your sons,” Armstrong bit out, his eyes sharpening on Joe. Joe froze and narrowed his eyes, his hands curling into fists reactively. Armstrong saw it and smiled cruelly, knowing he had Joe’s attention in a way he hadn’t before. “You may not care what I can do to you, but I’d wager my entire fortune you would do anything for your sons, am I right?”

  Joe took a step closer to Armstrong, then drew a deep breath into his lungs to keep from harming the old man. “You’d call yourself a man of honor, I’d bet. That everything you’ve done in this life was for the legacy you are sworn to protect.” Armstrong grew two inches taller, puffing out his chest like it was armor that would ward off an attack, and nodded, his head held high. Proud. Joe let his words hang in the air for a moment longer, then leaned down the few inches it took to get right in his face. “Then you need to know I’m the type of man who would kill to protect mine. You’ve thrown out words like ‘protect’ and ‘legacy’ as if you’re the only one who has a right to protect what’s his. I will stand in front of anyone or anything that comes at my boys, just like you, I suspect, are doing for Bernice. Even if it’s been one asshole move after another, I think you care more than you admit. Hell, maybe you don’t even realize what you’re doing, but a man doesn’t hop a plane, have his daughter followed to keep track of her, then jump on a helicopter so he can confront his enemy because of some loyalty to a ghost. Or at least not all of it, I’d wager. Bernice is not in any danger from me, Mr. Armstrong. You need to let it go for Bernice’s sake. Accept the fact that I’m not going anywhere for a very long time.” Preston’s face turned scarlet, and his jaw grew taut, so Joe finished his advice before the old man blew. “If I’m wrong about you, if this song and dance you’ve been playing really is about ridding your family of scum like me rather than protecting your daughter from a mistake, then you need to know that if you do come at my sons, I won’t hold back.”