I Brake For Bad Boys (32 page)

“Can we go someplace more private?” he asked.

Her sensual mouth tightened to a thin line. “I have a client in the back room,” she said. “And if you want an emergency appointment, I'm very sorry, but I can't accommodate you. Welcome to the real world. I'm sure it must be a rude shock, but sometimes mundane reality just can't conform to Jonah Markham's whims.”

Shields up, shields up. The red alert went off in his head, but it was too late. The torpedo had already gone speeding straight in, dead on the mark, completely trashing his main reactor. He had no way of knowing what expression he had on his face as he backed away. All that was important was getting out that door.

He jerked back as if she'd slapped him, his face going pale and stiff, and a horrible realization yawned open inside her, as if she had just stepped over a cliff. She was hurtling down, down, with a sick, scared falling feeling in her stomach. She had made a terrible mistake.

She lunged for him in a panic. “Oh, God. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, Jonah. I just—”

He wrenched his arm from her, backing away faster. “Never mind. I'm out of here. Sorry I bothered you.”

She scrambled to intercept him at the door. “No. Please, tell me what's wrong. Why—”

“Never mind. I got my answer. Out of my way. I'm in a hurry.”

She watched him run down the stairs and stride away, as utterly wretched as if she'd just killed something beautiful, out of pure, blind stupidity. Her body exploded into movement, pure instinct taking over. It knew what it wanted, knew what was right. It could not be reasoned with, or cowed. She raced after him, legs pumping, and tackled him from behind. She clung to his slippery canvas coat like a monkey.

He cursed and tried to shake her off. “I don't have time for your weird mind trips today, Tess.”

“I said I was sorry. I was a heinous bitch for saying that. You didn't deserve it, and I'll make it up to you somehow. And you are not getting away from me until you tell me what you came here for.”

He tried halfheartedly to detach her clinging hands. “You're strangling me, Tess,” he said wearily.

She tightened her arms, pressing her wrist hard against his windpipe on purpose. “Tough titties.”

His shoulders shook with silent laughter. He grabbed her forearms and pulled them down so that he could breathe. “My Granddad's getting open-heart surgery today. I was just going to . . . oh, shit, I don't know. Maybe ask you to come by the hospital later, if you have time. To sit with me while I wait. But you're super busy, I can see that, so whatever. I didn't have any reason to think you would want to. Just thought I'd ask.”

“Oh, Jonah—”

“Let go of me, for Christ's sake. I feel bad enough as it is. And I want to get over there before they put him under.”

“But Jonah, I didn't mean to—”

“No big deal.” His voice cut across hers. “Get on back to your client. Let go, Tess. I really don't want to have to be rough with you.”

She swung herself around, still clutching his arm. His face was like graven stone, turned resolutely away from her.

“Can you wait a minute?” she pleaded. “Just long enough for me to grab my purse and tell my boss what happened?”

“You don't have to feel sorry for me,” he said. “I was an idiot to come here. I should have learned my lesson back at the lake.”

She clung to his arm with all her strength. “Believe me, Jonah, there is nothing on earth I would rather do than go and wait at the hospital with you. Wait for me.
Please.
”

The anguished doubt in his eyes tore at her. He had always seemed so strong, vital, and confident. It hurt like hell to see him in pain. What a thick-skulled idiot she'd been; so intent on protecting her own heart that it never occurred to her that she actually had the power to wound his.

And the more jealously she guarded her heart, the more barren and cramped and arid it would be. At this rate, it wouldn't be long until there was nothing left in there to protect.

She raised his hand to her lips, dropping a supplicating kiss onto his knuckles. “Please,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes. “I'll wait two minutes. Then I'm out of here.”

She didn't even remember what she said in that mad flurry of explanations and apologies. Thank God she'd been lying about the client in the back room, and a quick glance at the schedule assured her that there was enough staff to cover her clients for the rest of the day. She grabbed her purse and ran, heedless of the protests that Lacey and Jeanette shouted after her. To hell with that stupid job. She'd been bullied, taken advantage of, overworked, and underpaid for too long, and she was sick to death of that ghastly white dress. She would find another job if her bridges burned this afternoon.

Jonah was more important.

She had to scurry to keep up with him as he strode through the corridors of the hospital. She clutched his rigid forearm and let him tow her along beside him. He beckoned her through a pair of big automatic doors, and finally they entered a room where a very pale elderly man with bushy white eyebrows and a hawklike nose lay on a gurney. His gray eyes glinted with anger, like a trapped animal. He saw Jonah, and his brows snapped together in a thunderous frown.

Jonah pulled Tess until she stood next to him, in the old man's line of sight. “Hi, Granddad,” Jonah said, in a cautious voice. “This is my girlfriend, Tess. We just wanted to wish you luck.”

The old man's eyes shot back to Tess, scrutinizing her with fierce concentration. She smiled at him. “Good to meet you, Mr. Markham.”

His grizzled brows shot up, and his gaze dropped appreciatively down the length of her body. She could have sworn that he winked at her, but a nurse hustled into the room, clucking with disapproval.

“Authorized surgical personnel only, at this point,” she said sternly. “Out you go.”

“Sorry,” Jonah muttered to Tess as the nurse herded them out.

“For what?” she asked.

“For calling you my girlfriend. It just popped out.”

She slid her arm around his waist. “I liked it,” she whispered.

A flash of a smile crossed his pale face. “He likes you.”

“How can you tell? He didn't say a word.”

“Yeah, he's still pissed with me. I wouldn't take over for him at Markham Savings & Loan, so he still won't speak to me. Stubborn old bastard. But he likes you. Believe me, I can tell.”

Shortly afterward, the waiting room began to fill. Two middle-aged men, one paunchy, the other thin and balding, and two women of the same age filed into the room, all talking in loud voices and staring at Jonah and her with what could only be described as pure hostility.

It was disconcerting. She glanced at Jonah, but he either hadn't noticed them or was pretending not to. His eyes were closed. She leaned closer to him. “Who are those rude, horrible people?” she whispered.

Jonah opened his eyes and shot them a weary glance. “My cousins, John and Steve, and their wives, Marilyn and Sandra. They're jealous of me, because I was Granddad's first choice to head up his company. Even though I turned it down and went my own way. They hate my guts. Long, boring story. Try to ignore them. That's what I do.”

She slid a protective arm around his shoulder as one of the women came over, a well-dressed, strained-looking blond with a stringy neck. “Jonah, it's really very selfish of you to insist on being here when you know perfectly well that it upsets Frank to see you.”

The woman's voice had the studied forcefulness that comes from assertiveness training workshops. Tess should know, since Larry had insisted that she take one “to increase her confidence and personal effectiveness.” Tess tightened her arm around Jonah's shoulders and decided to put everything she had learned in that workshop to use.

“Why don't you just piss off?” she asked, in a calm, well-modulated voice. She gave the blond woman a dazzling smile.

The blond's mouth dangled open for a moment. It snapped shut. The nostrils of her pinched, narrow nose flared unpleasantly.

She glared down at Jonah. “Who is this person?”

Jonah looked at Tess. His weary, drawn face relaxed into a smile so radiant and beautiful that she almost burst into tears.

“Sandra, meet my girlfriend, Tess Langley,” he said. “And she's just made a truly excellent suggestion. Piss off.”

His arms wrapped around Tess, sealing them into a private space where the shrill, hostile voices squawking across the room were less important than the sound of faraway cars honking.

Time passed differently in their hushed, magical intimacy. She held his hand and contemplated the huge tenderness she felt for him, amazed that she had not allowed herself to acknowledge it until now. She wanted to protect, to heal, to comfort him. She couldn't fight against it, and she didn't want to. All she could do was hang on to his hand and try to breathe around the soft, melting feeling in her heart that kept getting bigger with each passing minute. She kept reminding herself that to cry would be self-indulgent and inappropriate. She had to keep it together, for Jonah's sake.

Hours went by. Cups of coffee, hushed conversation. Jonah's relatives looked glum and stressed, sniping at each other.

Jonah straightened up when the surgeon came out, relaxing visibly when he saw the smile on the man's face. Frank was doing well, the surgeon told them. The procedure had gone smoothly, his vital signs were stable, and they didn't expect any complications.

Jonah pressed his face against her shoulder, and her eyes overflowed. She couldn't hold it back any longer. The soft feeling in her chest made her feel strong. No more incredible shrinking Tess. She finally understood the puzzle that had confounded her for so long.

Her love for Jonah made her bigger, stronger. More of everything that was right and good and real.

She shifted, anxious not to let him think even for a fleeting second that she was pushing him away, and slid herself onto his lap. She fit his head under her chin, inhaling his warm scent. Delicious and satisfying.

He smelled like home.

He was out there, in orbit. Way beyond civilized, normal conversation. Emotions roared through him: relief at having the fear of losing Granddad lifted, and jagged, edgy exultation at having Tess in his grip again. She was looking at him with those glowing eyes that made him want to fling himself at her feet and clutch at her ankles.

He should be charming her, thanking her, he thought dimly. She'd been really sweet to him, sticking by him, defending him from Sandra and the rest. He should be making nice, thinking of something impressive to cook for her, being witty and urbane. Earning points.

It wasn't happening. All he could do was bundle her into his car, sweep her away to his lair, and use every trick that came to him to keep her there. Whatever it took to persuade her that she belonged with him.

He heard her ask where he was taking her, through the roaring in his ears. He snapped out “home,” in a voice brusque enough to discourage any further attempts at conversation. So much for his boyish charm. And his converted warehouse apartment in the Pearl District, furnished with the sleek, postmodern chill of a well-to-do bachelor pad, was not homey. At least the fridge was full. He wished he could take her back to the lake, but it was too far away. He needed her now. So bad that it scared him.

The car alarm and door lock chirped behind him as he pulled her up the battered warehouse staircase that he hadn't had a chance to renovate yet. It was spooky-looking, but if he pulled her into the apartment really fast, she wouldn't have time to be creeped out.

The door swung shut behind them with an ominous, resounding, Dracula's Castle type of thud. At this rate, he was going to end up scaring her to death. He cast around helplessly for something normal, soothing, welcoming to say to her. No words came to him.

He gave in to brute necessity, and wrapped his fingers around her slender wrist, pulling her through the apartment. He couldn't be bothered to turn on the lights, to take her coat, to lay down her purse, or offer her a drink. He headed straight for the bedroom.

He shoved her coat off, letting it fall to the floor, and seized her. Kissing her like he was dying of thirst, and she was an oasis in the desert, full of sweet, life-giving water. She didn't recoil from his intensity at all. She pressed herself against him and opened for him, freely offering him all the springlike freshness of her soft mouth, her fragrant breath. The tender, wet assay of her tongue against his made him shudder with need. He didn't want to spoil this by being clumsy or rough, groping and pawing like a gorilla, but his hands had a will of their own. He couldn't stop touching her, cupping her lush curves.