Like Honey (13 page)

G
ray did not want to leave her. For breakfast he baked fresh biscuits with honey. He grew up in Virginia, loved being in the kitchen, and knew how to make some good Southern biscuits.

“Almost as good as mine,” Jennifer remarked.

She looked sweet in the morning. Sexy, even without any makeup. He liked that. God knows he'd been with women whose looks shocked him the next day. He never understood it. And he didn't want to. What he had always wanted was a woman who could be real with him. Jennifer was. He just wished he could be real with her. He was tired of waiting for Kasey's permission. He might just tell Jennifer tonight. Surely, it would not change a thing. And surely it would help his investigation.

He reached across the table and wrapped his fingers around hers. “Can I see you tonight?”

She grinned. “Let me check my calendar. I know I have a meeting with the Organic Honey Farmers, but I need to check what time it is.”

“Call me?” he said.

“Sure,” she said, getting up from the table. “I need to get going.”

He rose with her and walked her to the door, then kissed her. A soft moan of approval came from her. As he watched her walk away, he remembered her naked ass and the way she felt beneath him, the way she looked. A familiar stirring nudged at him. He needed to be careful. He couldn't fall for a woman, not now, not with his job.

After showering and getting ready for the day, he hopped in his truck to do his daily survey of the hives. He loved this land—the way it rolled the mix of rocky earth and grassy knolls. It really was one of the most beautifully situated farms he'd ever been on. And that included his home in Virginia. The skies were crimson and orange, and the clouds were splayed in a rolling vertical pattern. As he drove up a hill and dipped down the other side, he felt his heart open. His grandmother was right—Scotland was the most beautiful place on the planet. And he'd just been with one of the best women he'd ever known. Life was good. For now.

As he stopped his truck at the first group of hives, he waved to Ian and his crew, who were already there harvesting some of the honey.

“How's it going?” Gray asked.

“Good,” he said. “We've got quite a crop here this morning. The bees on the far east side of the property are coming in slower. Don't know what's going on over there.”

The crew was stripping the honey out of the hives and smoke filled the area. Some crew members were already placing casks of the golden ooze on the back of one of the trucks.

“Do you mean the bees near the glen?” Gray asked.

He nodded.

“I'll check them out,” he said, but he thought things were moving slower over there because it was shadier. If he remembered that correctly. He hopped in his truck and drove over to check it out. It was just as he remembered.

At the end of the day, on the way home, he checked his phone. No messages from Jennifer. Odd. Maybe she'd just gotten very busy with that meeting. As he pulled into the long windy driveway, he saw a strange car parked in front of the main house. Was her meeting here? Well, he better check in with her and tell her about his inspection, in any case.

He parked and walked over to the office door, opened it, and entered.

Jennifer was sitting at her desk with a look of consternation on her face. She was drinking tea, and the cup was shaking just a bit.

What was going on?

She noticed that he was in the room and smiled. It was a stiff, fake smile. Something was wrong.

“Gray,” she said. “So glad you're back.”

He nodded. “The inspection went well. Some of the honey is coming—”

“Hello, Gray.” Another woman's voice came from the big chair across from Jen's desk. He knew that voice.
Fuck.

When she turned around, he was shocked. He had forgotten how stunning she was, like something out of a fashion magazine.

“Kasey,” he said.

She shot up out of her chair and threw herself into his arms. “Darling,” she said. “I wanted to surprise you. I can see that I did.” She pulled away from him.

Gray's eyes went to Jennifer's. She would not look at him.

What the hell was Kasey doing? She couldn't have warned him?

“I'm confused,” he said.

“Confused?” she said, smiling. “What's to be confused about? Just catching up with my boyfriend.”

“Boyf—” he started to say, but she shot him a menacing look. Okay. He had to shut up. This was his job. This was his real boss. This was his reality. If his boss was here, posing as his girlfriend, there wasn't much he could do but go along with it. But he was boiling with ache for Jennifer. Her confusion. Her embarrassment.

“Darling, I'm so exhausted. I suppose it's jet lag. Can you show me to our quarters?”

Once again, Gray looked at Jennifer, whose arms were now crossed and eyes were still looking elsewhere.

 

“What the fuck?” Gray said, after they were in his cottage.

“What do you mean, Gray? I think it's pretty obvious. Plans have changed. Our bosses thought it best to send me here. I'm your new partner, for the time being. I'm not any happier about it than you are.”

She placed her suitcase on his small sofa and started to unzip.

“No warning?” he said.

“Why would you need to be warned? You are an agent of the HS. Ready to change plans at any moment, correct?”

She looked at him with one of her dark eyebrows cocked over her violet eyes.

“Well, yes, but—”

“What's really going on? You are sleeping with her, aren't you?”

She looked him square in the eyes.

Could he lie to his boss? His ex-girlfriend? Did he have the gonads?

He waited too long to reply.

“You just told me everything I need to know,” she said, and laughed. “I might have known you'd fuck up.”

“No,” he said. “I've not messed up. It's not like that, really.”

“What's it like, then?” she said. “Explain it to me. I've got hours. After all, I'm your new roommate.”

He rolled around his lips, then bit them. She was going to be sharing his quarters. In a sudden rush, memories of fucking Kasey tugged at his pornographic mind.

 

Jennifer paced until she couldn't anymore. What was the point? It wasn't helping.

What made her think that Gray was different? She knew going into this what he wanted.

But that was before.

Before all of the sex and the closeness.

Was she so immature that she thought that every time a man slept with you he fell in love with you?

She checked herself. No. It wasn't that. It was that she actually felt something—a bond—and she thought he felt it, too.

Then again, there was Kasey, strutting into her office with those long legs and nearly perfect body and bone structure. God, where did he find her? In
Vogue
? Talk about intimidating.

And then there is this: he never said a word about a girlfriend. As she thought it over, he didn't mention his past at all.
Maybe she should have checked him out further.

Her heart thumped in her chest. Damn, she was mad. Humiliated. Angry. Confused. But did she have any right to be?

She didn't care—she picked up a pillow off her bed and flung it across her floor. Then she fell into the bed in a fit of sobs.

She dreamed and awoke and cried. She turned over and punched at her pillow.

Then a body was next to hers.

“That's some security system you've got,” a voice said as arms wrapped around her, lifted her nightgown over her head in one swoop. She fought him. Pounded and kicked at him. Started to scream—his hand went over her mouth.

“Shssh, Jen, it's me.” She opened her eyes as she realized it was Gray.

Which did not make her any happier. His long-lost girlfriend was in his cottage and he sneaked out to find Jen.

She smacked him hard across the face.

“Get out!”

He pinned her arms down as he climbed on top of her. “You don't really want that.”

She felt him pressing into her—and oh, God, he was right. She wanted him there, inside of her, holding her.

She twisted against him.

“Get out, Gray,” she said. “Go back to Kasey. I don't want any part of this.”

“Jen, I don't love her. She's . . . not staying. I promise,” he said, breathing heavy.

A sudden hunger rose in her. He left gorgeous Kasey to come here and be with her. He recognized her hunger and his hand came to her hot, moist center. He growled. “Let me . . . I want you . . . please.”

She twisted her legs around him and gave a good push. He fell off the bed and stood quickly, his pants already down around his ankles, his cock high, hard, against his stomach. He looked so good she could hardly stand it. She pulled him back onto the bed.

“You're a prick just like the rest of them,” she said. “But you want to fuck? Let's do it.”

Where was this coming from? Her anger was taking over. Her lust was becoming uncontrollable for him and for her.

“That's all you want? Fine,” she said, straddling him, taking him into herself and pounding hard against him.

His eyes flew back in his head and he moaned. “Oh, you feel so good.”

Suddenly he lifted her and flattened her stomach down to the bed, lifted her ass and slid himself into her. Jennifer wanted to die from the sensation. She wanted to remember how he felt there, deep inside of her, as she was certain it would never happen again.

“You called me a prick,” he whispered with heat into her ear, and plunged down deeper. She pushed up against him, arched her back. “Acchhhh. You are such a bitch—hot, bitch.” His breath hitched and she felt his heat spread through her, just as an orgasm overtook her.

“Get off me,” she said.

“No,” he said. There was a grin in his voice. She felt it.

“Come on, Jennifer. Let's be adults about this.”

“Adults? Your girlfriend is here. You've probably just finished fucking her, then came down here to see me.” Was she really having a conversation about this, here, now, with him still inside of her?

He laughed. She felt his soft balls jiggle against her.

“Funny?” she said.

His hands never left her ass. They caressed her cheeks.

“I wouldn't sleep with Kasey. You've got it all wrong. Tomorrow, she's leaving. Well, she's going to stay in town until I can figure some things out.”

“What kind of things? Does she know . . . ?”

“No, but she suspects,” he said.

He was still inside of her and not quite soft. She contracted her muscles. He drew in a breath.

She felt naughty having another woman's man in her bed. She knew she shouldn't find such pleasure in it. But there it was. This was so unlike her. Jennifer the good girl, always wanting to do right by everybody. But where had it gotten her?

“Can we talk about her tomorrow?” he managed to say.

Jennifer squeezed again and began to rock gently beneath him.

“I have a better idea. Let's not talk about her at all.”

“I
f you weren't my boss, I'd throw you out on your ass,” Gray said to Kasey the next morning.

“Irrelevant,” she said. “If I weren't your boss, I would not be here.”

She was correct, of course, but he hoped that he made his point. He sat back and drank his coffee.

“So, have you found anything else out since the last time we talked?” she asked, flinging her hair back off her shoulder, a gesture he knew, one he'd seen her make perhaps a thousand times. That hair. He remembered how she liked to have it pulled in moments of passion.

“Jen has heard about the China connection,” he said. “When she was in France at a conference, she met a guy who told her the D'Amicos sold honey under the table to the Chinese.”

“And?”

“She's not been able to find any evidence of it and has decided to move on. Her plan is to make this place solvent and then sell. She's taken on a few partners,” he said.

“It's pretty clear she knows nothing about the contraband,” she said, almost to herself.

“Yeah, that's what I told you. She's clean. And I think it would be helpful to bring her in on the investigation. She's smart.”

“It's not about that, at this point. Okay, she's clean. But who has been skulking around and watching her? The second half of the situation is that Ren was killed and his parents were killed. Is she next?”

Gray's stomach twisted. He hadn't told Kasey about the bomb. It was a sophisticated bomb, designed to kill, but one of the wires had pulled loose before the explosion and didn't give it the momentum it needed.

“I have been keeping an eye on things,” he said.

“Yes, but you are also busy being the master beekeeper,” Kasey said, and smirked. “You may have overlooked something.”

“It's possible. But I've also been learning a lot about the locals, the man who used to work at my post here, and the clan politics.”

“Clan?” she said. “What century are you in?”

“Scotland is in its own century,” he said, then explained about his conversation with his grandmother and how he had wanted to follow up with some research on the D'Amicos, the Dugans, and the Gradys. “I've just not had the time.”

“Let me take care of it. You know I love historical research.”

“The library is in town,” he said. “And so is the bed-and-breakfast. I booked you a room there.”

“What? Gray, listen,” she said.

“Okay, you're here, we're partners again. That doesn't mean we have to be roommates. Sorry.”

“But I'm supposed to be your girlfriend. I'm staying.”

“I'm uncomfortable with this and I want you out,” he said.

“What? Don't trust yourself? Well, if you want to sleep with me . . .” she said, and orneriness played over her face.

“No,” he said, though there may be a measure of truth in that statement. He might not trust himself with her. She was the only woman, perhaps, he had ever loved. “That's not it,” he said, needing to reassure himself. “It's just, well, for one thing, we are in rural Scotland and in a lot of ways it's like the 1950s. People still use Mr. and Mrs. And things are still a bit formal. When it comes to men and women staying together without being married, word will get around, and Jennifer doesn't need that.”

“Well,” she said, bemused. “I see you've given this some thought.”

“I had plenty of time to think when I was trying to sleep laying on that goddamned uncomfortable sofa,” he said.

“Okay,” she said. “I'll move in at the B and B. But stay in close touch, as if we are really dating. Dinners almost nightly and so on. If that doesn't happen, I'll move back in.”

He grimaced, then nodded. It was a compromise he could live with.

“So the plan is I move and do some in-town research and you keep your eye on things around here. We touch base nightly. Are we clear?” she said.

He hated that about her. She spoke to him as if he were a child, not an agent with Homeland Security. As if she didn't know his skill set and intelligence, or as if she were just unimpressed. Fuck her. He couldn't wait to get her out of his space.

The space that he found himself loving more and more each day. The house. The land. The bees. He willed away those images, knowing he could not get attached.