Fat Girl (45 page)

The steak I order is excellent, but my date is better than anything on the menu. I touch her every chance I get—caressing her soft shoulders, sliding my fingers down her silky back, squeezing her thigh beneath the table, inches away from where I know she’s sweet and creamy.

By midnight, I’m itching to get out of my suit and between the sheets with Dee. Unfortunately, a text from Stiles makes that impossible. I grimace.

“What’s wrong?” Dee asks.

From across the table, her friends stare at us curiously.

I sigh, hating to alarm her. “Remember the two men you saw on Saturday outside the community center?”

“Yes.”

“I hired one tonight to keep watch for photographers. I wasn’t really expecting to draw media interest. But I have.”

“If my mother did this…” Lexie says. “She
knew
there was to be no press coverage!”

“I’m certain Miranda wouldn’t do such a thing,” Richard says, rushing to the woman’s defense.

I’m not so certain, but I say diplomatically, “It could have been anyone here with connections.” My gaze travels back to Dee. Her caramel-brown eyes are panicked. We both feel it—the sharp invasion of my celebrity into our private space.

As soon as we step outside those front doors, beams of light will rapidly flash in our faces. Questions will be fired at us. And tomorrow she’ll be front-page news. I know what to expect—I signed on for that. Dee didn’t. I promised to protect her from this, and I will for as long as possible. “I’m going to keep you out of it,” I say.

“How?”

“I’ll leave now. Alone.”

“Don’t worry,” Lexie says. “I’ll make sure no one speaks to the press, including my mother.” As a public relations specialist, she’s equipped to contain this situation.

“Thanks.”

“Dee can grab a cab with me,” Jordyn offers. “Don’t sweat it, Mick. We’ll take care of her.”

Dee’s in good hands, but the anxiety in her eyes is replaced by disappointment.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I lean in and whisper for her ears only.
“I wanted to spend the night with you and wake up in the morning with you.”

“Why can’t you?”

Not what I was expecting.
“You still want me to?”

“Of course. I believe you made certain promises.” Despite a case of nerves, Dee attempts a saucy smile.

I bracket the sides of her face and give her what I intend to be a brief kiss. But I stay a fraction too long. When her soft lips part beneath mine, want and need twist hard and tight below my gut. I caution myself to take just a little taste. But the second I slip my tongue into the moist, velvety cavern of her mouth, oblivious to anyone else in the room, there’s no holding back. With the urge to take and take and take, the kiss quickly turns hot and greedy.

“Holy shit! Someone hand me a cigarette!”

Jordyn’s salacious comment yanks me back to the present. I pull free and stare at Dee. Her eyes are dazed and her cheeks flushed.

“I got carried away.” I slide my hands down to her shoulders.

She nods and licks her damp, reddened lips. “Will you be all right?” she asks.

“A few smiles and waves for the cameras…piece of cake,” I say to relieve her worry.

Dee opens her purse and slips me her key. “Jordyn has a spare just in case I get there first. I’ll see you at home.”

Home.
Yeah. At last.

IT’S ALMOST ONE WHEN I leave the Lemon Lounge with Jordyn. The photographers have all cleared out. I feel a stab of guilt for letting Mick face it alone and irritation with myself for not having the courage to stand by him. Just hearing the media were outside—knowing that I could be thrust into the public eye—filled me with panic. But true to his word, Mick protected me from it.

The bald, heavily muscled man I recognize from the community center approaches before Jord and I reach the line of cabs. Without his shades, his dark, rugged face looks even more austere, and his eyes seem to be as black as midnight. Through the knit of his sweater, massive biceps strain the fabric. I’m not sure what all he does for Mick, but I imagine just his appearance would be threatening.

“Ms. Chase,” he says in an efficient tone, “Mr. Peters requested that I escort you and Ms. Sinclair home.”

“Ooh…our very own guardian angel,” Jordyn coos.

His gaze discreetly wanders over her tight body, visible beneath her open coat.

“What’s your name?” she asks, her form-fitting dress rising indecently high as we climb into the back of his tank-sized SUV.

He glances at her toned thighs. “Stiles.”

“Are you ex-police, Stiles?”

“Ex-military.”

“I’ll bet you know what to do with a loaded gun.”

He clears his throat and closes her door.

“Cool the flirting, Jord,” I say in a stage whisper. “Stiles works for Mick.”

“So you’re the only one who can get lucky tonight?”

The snip in her tone has me turning to face her while Stiles assumes his position up front. “What’s going on?” I ask, lowering my voice.

“Sorry. Just me having a pity party.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m ecstatic that you and Mick are together again. I seriously am. He’s awesome. The man deserves a medal for suffering through Ice Queen Miranda, Dr. Dull, and the line-up of simpering sorority sisters. And on top of that, he kisses you as though he were starving, and hires a bodyguard to keep you safe. Mick would move mountains for you.” She drops her head back against the seat. Her hazel eyes are clouded and bothered. “I’ve never had a guy move mountains for me.”

I’m momentarily stumped. I’ve never known Jordyn to wish for one guy to make her feel wanted and needed. “One day, when you least expect it, Jord, some man is going to sweep you right off your feet.”

She laughs without humor. “Chickie, I’ve been swept off my feet many, many times.”

“I don’t mean carted off to bed. I mean someone special will capture your heart and vice versa.”

“Never gonna happen,” she says with sad resignation. “Ignore my bout of weakness. Too much champagne. Too much watching you and Mick in action. I don’t do relationships.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t.”

“But I don’t get that,” I whisper through the dim interior, dappled by the city lights. “Your parents are happily married. And so is your brother. You’ve been around marital bliss your whole life! Why wouldn’t you want that?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the kind of woman men want to settle down with. I’m not sweet and demure like my mother and sister-in-law. Or sophisticated like Lexie. Or at all feminine like you are. You’ve heard that adage that men want a lady in the parlor and a tigress in the bedroom…I’ve got half of it right. The lady part, forget it. So why pursue something I’m gonna suck at?”

“Oh, Jord.” Understanding the feelings of inadequacy, I twist in my seat to give her a hug. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re a beautiful, successful woman with a generous heart. You make people laugh and yes, you’re tough and speak your mind. A strong, confident man will find that exciting and challenging.”

“Yeah, well,” she says glibly, “Mick’s already taken. So let me know when you come across another one of those.”

I ask Stiles to drop Jordyn off first. In her mood, she’d likely proposition him. I decide to stand between my friend and something she might regret.

I’m disappointed when I don’t see Mick’s car. Using the spare key, I unlock the door and find my house dark and empty. Worry creeps into my thoughts, but it’s erased by his text minutes later.

B there soon. Leave the necklace on.

My stomach feels as though it has psycho butterflies for contents. But the crazy flutters are the good kind. I remove the dress and slip on a short black nightie with peek-a-boo lace cups and a bias cut that drapes softly around my body. It doesn’t hide much, but gives me that added layer of confidence. Next, I undo my hair and shake the curls loose. As a final step, I dab a refresher of perfume on my pulse points, beating the subtle scents of vanilla, bergamot, and lavender to life. I close my eyes and imagine Mick’s lips brushing me here, touching me there. I’m still imagining his talented mouth while I light several candles.

I stand them inside tall brass candleholders on my dresser, so they can more safely burn out on their own. I turn off the overhead light. The candles cast a pale glow, and my bedroom fills with the sensual smell of jasmine. I close the drapes partway, allowing just a bit of the moon to slant through. After peeling off my panties, I climb beneath the cool cotton sheets.

Waiting.

Anticipating.

A BRONZE SHADOW MOVES OVER me. My heart sings as he lowers his solid weight onto my body and his lips cover mine, kissing me slowly, sexily, tasting of dark promises. My senses rejoice at the woodsy scent of his warm male skin, in the ripple of his back muscles beneath my palms. In his flagrant virility as he cradles my hips through the silk and makes room for his hot, hard arousal between my legs.

With repeated forays, his sleek tongue plunders my mouth, dipping, seeking. It’s wet, lusty, and wonderful. When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t go far. I can feel his breath misting my lips. I open my heavy lids and blink him into focus.

“
Mick.
”

“It had better be,” he murmurs.

“I thought I was dreaming. What happened?”

“I just kissed the hell out of you.” He smiles the smile of a man who knows he’s got a woman exactly where he wants her.