by Lori Foster
Amusement curved his mouth. “You’re all ego, aren’t you? News flash, Ronnie. It wasn’t up to you.”
Her thumb jabbed to her chest, an insubstantial chest that had just been thoroughly derided. Not that she wanted Marge’s massive boobs, but seriously, a bit more wouldn’t be bad. Hoping he’d believe it, she stated, “I’m the reason they backed off.”
“Scared to death of you, huh?” That too-sensual mouth smiled, making her own mouth go dry in reaction. “I don’t know if they fear you, but Marge obviously respects you, and that’s probably more important. Have you tangled with them often?”
Her eyes flared. Compliments? Acknowledgment? How could she continue to blast him when he continued to be so reasonable? And why did she want to blast him anyway?
Because he’s still here, still my problem, and it’s my fault for miscalculating.
A deep breath, released slowly, helped Ronnie regain a modicum of composure. “Marge entertains a lot of men, one of them a detective. He often brings her memorabilia from different crime scenes, and when those items suit, she in turn sells them to the brothers. She’d probably get more if she auctioned them off to the highest bidders, but she says she likes keeping it simple, and the cop doesn’t want his involvement advertised. So every couple of weeks she has something to sell. The brothers like buying things from her because the cop can verify authenticity.”
“That envelope she gave you?”
“Right. It includes a pic the cop took of the crime scene, showing the item there.” Ronnie dug it from her purse and pulled out the photo, showing it to him.
Without much interest, he glanced at it, then shook his head. “Pretty absurd, if you ask me.”
Shrugging, Ronnie returned it to the protective envelope. In today’s case, the item was a glass eye, cracked in two places. During a robbery, blood got in the eye and ran into the cracks, creating a truly macabre effect. “The intended victim of the robbery had a gun and happily blasted the thug—who expired on the kitchen floor.”
“Marge said the shooter lost his eye in the process?”
“That’s the story. The house has since been sold and the owner moved away.”
“But the cop kept the eye?”
She almost grinned at his revolted tone. “He figured it’d sell.”
“What will the brothers do with a cracked eye?”
“Display it.” She half turned toward him, wondering if that was the key to making him back off. “They’ll show you the basement when you meet them. They remodeled it to look like a creepy dungeon, all inky-dark, lit mostly with black lights, and weird stuff everywhere.”
Showing a lack of interest in the basement, he asked, “When can I meet them?”
“Not until tonight.” She lifted a hip to get her phone from her back pocket and checked the time. She had hours to spare, but what would be better? To engage him until them, pointing out all the reasons why he didn’t want the job? Or should she take the time to be alone, to regroup and recover?
He settled it for her, saying, “Let’s get something to eat. Breakfast has come and gone and it’s time for lunch. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Her first reaction was to deny him, just because.
Because she didn’t want to be agreeable. She didn’t want to encourage him. She didn’t want to be around him, torturing herself with what she shouldn’t, couldn’t have. She didn’t want to like and respect him either. Unfortunately, she already did.
But a restaurant with other people milling around would be safe, right? Distracting, even. An empty belly left her frazzled. She’d think more clearly after eating.
Weighing the pros and cons, she chewed her lip a moment, but a grumbling stomach helped decide her. “I could eat.”
“Great.”
After that short reply, the silence stretched out again, and this time it bothered her even more. Lack of sleep, hunger, disappointment all played against her.
To keep from staring at him, cataloging his every handsome feature, she searched for conversation and settled on, “Excitement always makes me hungry.” That seemed like a good statement to segue into her own ability handling trouble, as she’d done at the bar.
Jack ruined her plans by asking low, “Sexual excitement?”
Damn him, just hearing that word sex from his mouth made her nipples tighten. And of course, that made her think of his mouth on her nipples and she breathed harder, her whole body going taut.
I have it bad. Ronnie closed her eyes, counting to five before opening them again.
And there was that small smile on his mouth, the bastard. He knew what he’d done to her. “Jerk,” she muttered.
The smile widened. “It makes me hungry, too, just so you know.”
No, she didn’t want to know! Rushing away from that thought, she said, “I meant at the bar. The excitement of possible violence. It was close there for a minute or two. No one denies Marge. No one would dare—”
“I dared.”
“—and,” she continued insistently, “if I hadn’t been there, you might’ve learned how the woman shows displeasure.” Let him deny it like a sexist jerk. Let him downplay her influence. Then she’d—
“Ah, but you were there,” he said, his tone gruff. “My white knight. Or maybe you’re more like a bulldog? Facing off against bad odds, ensuring I made it out of there whole-hide. They do respect you, I could tell. That’s no small deal. So how should I thank you?”
Was he mocking her? Of course he was. A big guy like him probably thought himself invincible. Well, she had an answer for him. “Refuse the job.” Let me continue plodding forward in life in the only way I know how—alone.
“Can’t do that. Name something else.”
She stiffened. “That’s all I want.” It was all she dared to want.
“No,” he said gently as he took an unexpected turn on the road. “You want me.”
Her heart slammed still, then shot into a wild beat, emboldening her, making her reckless. Men were easily led by sex. Maybe she’d been handling this all wrong. Maybe she had a simpler resolution that would please them both.
“You’re right.” She tilted a little closer to him. “I do.”
That simple admission had a startling effect on him.
His hands tightened on the wheel, making his biceps jump. A deep inhalation flared his nostrils. He subtly shifted his thighs.
Liking the signs of sexual excitement, she leaned closer. “I’ve wanted you since you first walked into Freddie’s.”
“I’m more than willing.”
She counted on it. “I had planned to let Marge scare you off today.”
“I know.”
So he’d figured her out? So what. “I had a change of...” Not heart. Never her heart. God, do I even still possess a heart? “Conscience. See, I figured you’d refuse, then she’d have had her boys work you over for the insult, and we’d have both been tossed out, you bruised and battered, me short one collector’s item. You’d have surely quit, but then the brothers would’ve been displeased that I’d failed to collect, so I gave up the idea.”
As he rolled to a stop sign, his gaze cut to her face. “You gave up the idea because you didn’t want to see me hurt. Though I wouldn’t have been, I still appreciate the effort. Now about that wanting—”
“You realize they were armed, right?”
“So were you.”
She faltered for a reply just long enough for him to continue.
“But you wouldn’t have needed a gun. You should know, Ronnie, I do appreciate your concern, but I could have handled them both.”
“Bullshit!” Pointing at him, she said, “You might’ve done some quick talking, but it’s because of me that they—”
He caught her hand, drew it to his mouth, and kissed her palm. “I already thanked you, right?”
Yeah, that right there, the hot press of his mouth to her ridiculously sensitive palm, stole her arguments and left her breathless. And he still held her hand, his big thumb now rubbing softly over the racing pulse in her wrist.
Lord. She swallowed and whispered, “I want you, Jack.”
Voice husky and rough, he replied, “It can’t be as much as I want you.”
Actually, it had to be ten times worse, but she saw no point in debating it. “So let’s do this.” Saying it sent liquid heat burning through her limbs to pool in key places, places now pulsing with need. “Let’s go somewhere,” she urged, “get naked, make each other nuts—”
“Easily arranged.”
“—and tonight I’ll tell the brothers you didn’t want the job.” She held her breath. Hopeful. Needy.
He froze.
Oh no. Please, please, please don’t refuse me. Please just go along like a good boy. Or a mega-hot man. Whatever.
Dying a little, she almost pleaded, “Say yes, Jack.”
“We’ll discuss it over lunch.”
Until that moment she hadn’t noticed where he’d driven. He was off the main roads, heading back toward the Mustang Transport offices. She pulled back. “Wait—where are we going?”
“Lunch, remember?”
Suspicion burned bright. “Lunch where?”
He turned down another side street—away from the business. Almost reluctantly, he admitted, “My place.”
Hello, temptation. “Your place?” she croaked.
“Yeah.” Brusque, he explained, “It’ll give us some privacy.”
If she got alone with him, she’d cave. She knew it. He probably knew it, too, but how dare he assume? She tried to sound cool when she asked, “Did you forget I’m armed?”
He gave a short laugh. “No.”
The landscape changed from smallish houses close together to nothing but lush trees, a weed-lined gravel road, and nature.
When had dark clouds crept forward to hide the sun? Was that rain she scented in the air? And was the static she felt from an impending storm, or from Jack Crews with sensual intent?
Damn it, she’d always thought storms were sexy.
She definitely thought Jack was sexy.
And now, to be all alone with him like this... How would she resist?
“One thing you should understand, Ronnie. For me, no means no. You don’t have to worry that I’ll pressure you, or come on strong.”
Oh, great. Now he thought she was afraid? “I’m not worried.” No, it was her own inability to resist that concerned her, not an assault from him. She looked around. “Where the hell do you live? The woods?”
“Somewhat.” Through a clearing up ahead she saw a quaint, farm-style house come into view. “Is that it?”
“Yeah. I’m remodeling it and there’s still a lot of work to do.”
“You live in a secluded paradise.” Rain started, a light sprinkling that grew stronger in seconds until rain lashed the windows. The interior immediately fogged—probably from her accelerated breathing.
Jack smiled. “There are other houses.” The wipers added a rhythmic thrum to the sound of the rainfall. “The mature trees make it seem more remote than it is.” Rather than take the driveway to the front of the house, he pulled around back to a carport. “The garage is filled with tools, so Brodie helped me put up a shelter as a temporary place to park.”
Ronnie was too busy removing her seat belt and looking at the incredible surroundings to pay much attention to where he parked. Until he turned off the engine. Then the feel of his attention enveloped her.
Her gaze shot to his. Think of your future, she told herself. Think of how he’ll screw up the job if he sticks around.
He’d half turned to face her, one forearm draped over the wheel. After his gaze traced every feature of her face with almost tactile concentration, he murmured, “We’ll wait here just a minute to see if the storm blows over.”
Here, in this small space? With only a console, their warm breath, and hunger between them? Did the man think she was made of stone?
She swallowed heavily, already tempted beyond measure. A boom of thunder resonated in her chest, and she barely noticed, not with her gaze locked on his and the tension ramping up with every heartbeat.
Suddenly she knew. No matter what happened with the job, regardless of how he might irk her, she’d never again experience sexual chemistry this strong, and she’d be a fool not to explore it.
She’d like to think she wasn’t a fool.
“Jack...” The word emerged a barely there whisper, a question, an admission. Yearning.
As if he understood, he shifted toward her, his eyes gone darker with intent. “One kiss, Ronnie. I need that.”
God, she needed it more. Anticipation sizzling, heart swelling, she met him halfway over the console.
His mouth grazed her cheek, so very softly, leaving a trail of heat along her jaw, her chin. “You have incredible skin.”
Skin? Who cared about her skin? “Kiss me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” As his lips finally met hers in a bold, firm press, his hand, so incredibly large, cupped the base of her skull and angled her for a perfect fit.
Ronnie was instantly lost.
She didn’t recall reaching for him, but suddenly her fingers were buried in his hair and she somehow hung over the center console.
They were no longer poised between the seats, two mouths meeting in neutral ground. She pressed him back in his seat as she took the kiss she wanted, the kiss she needed. Whether she opened her mouth to invite his tongue, or his tongue forged the way, she didn’t know and honestly didn’t care, not with the heady taste of him making her want more, more, more.
Without breaking the contact of their mouths, his seat slid back and he brought her fully onto his lap. Trapped between his body and the prod of the steering wheel, she could barely move, but what did it matter? She managed to get one leg on either side of him, straddling his lap, squeezing closer still.
The side of the console dug into her knee, but she easily dismissed the discomfort. Same with the driver’s door handle.
Jack slid one hand down to her backside; she didn’t mind that at all. Then his other hand trailed to her waist, over her ribs where he paused, his thumb brushing over her, before he continued up to cover her breast.
With a low groan, he stroked her.
Yeah, that she wasn’t comfortable with.
Drawing back, Ronnie stared at him, her breath coming fast. God, he looked hot. Very turned on. If she weren’t so lacking...
He held her stare, unmoving, unapologetic, not retreating.
His hand remained on her, no longer caressing but still there...where she didn’t have much to tempt a man.
A new kind of flush covered her skin. Much as she hated to admit it, it might be...uncertainty. “Jack...”
Her voice seemed to galvanize him and his fingers got back to lightly exploring, cupping, gently squeezing. His thumb drifted over her pebbled nipple, making her breath catch.
“No bra,” he murmured, his tone approving.
“Do I look like I need one?” The sarcasm wasn’t as sharp as usual; hell, with the way he touched her she barely had oxygen enough to speak.
“You look pretty damned perfect to me.”
Liar. She didn’t want him spinning tales just to make her feel desired. She didn’t need that. “I know I’m flat-chested. You don’t have to pretend—”
Shifting, he pressed an impressive erection against her backside. “Do I feel like I’m pretending?”
As if she’d miss that? Ronnie shook her head.
“Good.” He lightly tugged at her nipple, making her gasp and arch against him. “If you put stock into what Marge said, I might just turn you over my knee.”
Oh, now wai
t a minute. Was that a joke or some sort of sexual insinuation? “Don’t think—”
He tugged again, rolling her nipple at the same time, and the pleasure was so acute it wrought a low groan. “You surely realize Marge was jealous, right?”
Jealous? Of her? A woman Marge considered scrawny?
Head back, eyes closed, Ronnie whispered, “Are you deranged?” She pressed one of her own hands over his, stilling the provoking torment. “Not even.”
“I’m a man, Ronnie, and I know women.”
“Braggart.” She kissed him again, ready to get back to business. She hoped to tempt him away from a discussion on her lack of curves.
He indulged her, crushing her close, kissing her long and deep until they’d fogged all the windows. Just as she touched the buttons on the front of his shirt, he broke the kiss.
“What—”
“Shh.” By levering her back, he was able to touch both breasts. “I need you to understand, Ronnie.”
“I do.”
He shook his head, denying that. “Marge is big and bold, her figure overblown.”
“Yeah. She draws a lot of attention.”
“Which is what she’s after. But you don’t need giant tits to draw a man.” Smiling, his gaze dipped down to where his hands covered her. “Everything about you is noticeable and attractive, including the way you carry yourself, your attitude, and self-confidence. Believe me, when I first saw you, after I’d looked you over, I didn’t see a single lack.”
Unable to squelch the curiosity, she whispered, “What did you see?” Then she held her breath.
Dark lashes lifted and his mysterious gaze delved into hers. “A scorching hot lady with an obviously defensive attitude that sharpened her sex appeal.”
“Oh.” She’d been obviously defensive? Damn. “You want to know what I saw?”
The smile turned into a knowing grin. “An easy conquest and a way to kill some time?”
Well...yeah. But she’d also seen more. “Temptation.”
“Then let me get back to tempting.” He leaned forward.
A knock sounded on his window.
Jumping, Ronnie almost smacked her head on the ceiling. She stared through the rainwashed glass at a petite woman with long curly brown hair frazzled by the weather, fighting an umbrella that tried to blow away.
