Loving Lies (17 page)

He rose from the bed, gathering his clothes together. As he dressed, he listened to Jessie moving around the kitchen.

“I'll be by tomorrow…”

“I won't be here.” She kept her head lowered as she opened the small chest freezer in the corner and pulled free a frozen Cornish hen. “School starts back in six weeks. I have to go up and start getting my room ready and I have shopping and stuff to do. I don't know what time I'll be home.”

She was cool. Her hot little body was sated and she thought she could replace the distance between them. He didn't think so. He had worked too damned hard to get this far, spent too many sleepless nights dreaming of it. She wasn't going to push him away now that he was only beginning to feel the warmth of her heart once again.

“Then decide on a time.” He pulled on his boots, watching her intently. “I want to see you before I have to go to the house tomorrow night. You're not hiding from me, Jessie, I don't care how much you want to.”

She slammed the freezer closed and dumped the hen in the sink as she turned to face him.

“You don't own me, Slade.” There was no anger in her voice, just pure steel. “I said I have things to do. Just as you have things to do. Don't try to storm your way over this because it won't work.”

He glowered back at her, glimpsing the pure stubborn in her upraised chin. There was a time when she would have given in to him, when she would have waited for him. Those days were long gone he knew, but it was sure as hell hard to get used to this side of her. Not that he hadn't seen it growing in her before he left. She was one of those women who could scare you with just the glint of pure retribution in her eyes. So far, he had managed to avoid that. If he ever saw it, he was afraid he might just end up showing her how much power she did have over him.

Fine, she had work to do. He could work around that.

“I'll see you tomorrow anyway.” He bent to kiss the frown on her forehead.

“I told you I won't be here,” she snapped. “Do you ever listen to anything you don't want to hear, Slade?”

“Not anymore.” He stalked toward the door, sliding it open as he glanced back at her. “And by the way, you're going to tell me you love me again soon, Jessie. I won't wait much longer.”

“Don't hold your breath.”

“I love you, baby.”

“Kiss my ass, stud.”

He left the apartment chuckling, realizing his heart was lighter than it had been in five years. She didn't have to say the words, he had the proof. And he wasn't going to take even a single chance that anything harmed it. Jessie was his.

Chapter Sixteen

 

She should have known he wouldn't let it go. Jessie was straightening the seats in the classroom assigned to her that year. Books were stacked on the floor, the shelves finally cleaned, though every other available surface was covered. The computer center was finally intact though, the six new computers installed and working perfectly as far as she could tell.

She was standing on one of the desks, stretching to the back of the final shelf as she tried to clear away the dust gathered in the corners when she felt hard hands grip her waist. She gasped, her hands clutching at the powerful wrists as she stared back at Slade.

A smile creased his lips, crinkled his eyes. One of the first she had seen since his return.

“Up you go, baby girl.” He lifted her closer to the shelf as she took advantage of the extra height and quickly swiped the dust gathered there.

“I'm finished now.” Her voice was husky, his touch having the effect it had always had.

“What are you doing here?” she questioned querulously as he set her back on the floor, his hand curving around her ass before patting it affectionately.

“I wanted to see you before heading to the house. Since you're going to be so busy, I thought I'd stop off here before putting in some extra hours getting things together. It should be ready soon.”

Ready for what?

“That's good.” She cleared her throat as she moved back from him even as she let her eyes eat him up. Damn, he looked good. Too good.

His blond hair was short, but finally starting to grow out of the shorter, GQ cut he had adopted for some reason. Freshly shaven, dressed in boots and jeans and a crisp blue shirt that brought out the gray in his eyes.

“Yeah, real good,” he growled. “It'll be nice to finally be home.” He crossed his arms over his chest, almost glaring back at her. “I want you to move in with me.”

She blinked at him in surprise.

“Really?” She met his stance, jutting her hip out, placing her hand casually upon it as she stared at him implacably. “Isn't that too bad. I have a home, Slade, and I like it fine.”

“You don't need it full-time anymore, Jessie,” he argued firmly, obviously determined to win. “I have a nice big bed and plenty of room. You can fix it up just the way you like it. However you want it.” She could hear the wheedling offer. And it was tempting, damned tempting.

“I like things just the way I have them at the apartment.” She shook her head in determination. She wasn't ready for this, to give him that much of herself. Not yet.

He frowned. A completely male look of frustration and manipulation glittering in his eyes.

“I don't like leaving you at night,” he growled. “I want you in my bed with me, Jessie.”

“And you're a big boy, Slade,” she crooned, her smile sweetly mocking. “I promise the bogeyman won't get you.”

“He might get you if you don't stop being so damned stubborn,” he grunted. “I'm not going to leave you again, Jessie. I swear—”

“And I'm not a toy you can throw down then come back and pick up whenever you get an urge to. Life doesn't work like that, Slade. I don't care how many assurances you give me, I'm not moving in with you.” She almost laughed at the narrow-eyed determination that filled his expression.

“I'll put the house in your name.” Sheer male arrogance filled his face then. “We'll do the paperwork this week—”

“Slade, it's not going to happen. I don't want your house, I'm not going to be your little playmate, and I'm not moving in with you. Forget it. We're not married, stud. I have a choice here.”

“Then marry me,” he snapped. “It's not like we're not headed that way anyway.”

Sheer shock ricocheted through her.

“My, aren't we romantic today?” She shook her head, the sarcasm dripping from her as she watched him. “You just don't get it, do you, Slade? I'm not a kid anymore. I'm not a piece of clay you can shape and mold and make decisions for. I don't even know if I like you…”

“You love me. Why do you keep trying to hide it?”

She pressed her lips together tightly. “Says who?”

“Says that tight little ass you turned up for me last night,” he growled, a spark of anger filling his eyes. “Deny it. Go ahead, Jessie, tell me Jazz had that part of you too? That you would ever trust someone you don't love so fully?”

“Maybe Jazz wasn't my only lover, Slade,” she suggested archly. “What makes you think I filled my days with a man I didn't love and that I knew would never love me? I could have had dozens of lovers.”

“You and Jazz and your goddamned fucking maybes,” he snarled. “You didn't do shit, baby girl. You waited on me.” His arms jerked from his chest, his thumb pointing back to his heart. “You know it and I know it, and by God, I don't see any sense in playing games now.”

“Like the games you played five years ago?” She wasn't going to get angry, she promised herself. Slade wasn't going to steamroll over her and it was that simple. He wanted back in her life, fine, he could play it her way or he could find another game to play. “Come on, Slade, tell me why you ran off and married Amy Jennings? Better yet, why come back now, five years later, and only after her death?”

“You're pissing me off, Jessie,” he bit out. “I told you, we'll discuss all this soon…”

“And I don't care if we ever discuss it,” she flung back at him, moving to gather a load of books to place on the shelves as though the discussion had nothing to do with her heart, her soul. “You left with another woman. You stayed gone. No phone call, no letters, no emails. Nothing but a nice little goodbye and a reminder of what a child I was,” she reminded him casually, keeping the remembered pain from her voice as she couldn't keep it from her heart.

Jessie shoved the books onto a lower shelf, breathing in deeply as she felt him behind her, watching her. Since she was sixteen, barely aware of what she was inviting when she set her heart on him. She had felt his gaze the first time he realized she was becoming a woman. The surprise, the heat. She had been aware of him from that moment forward, as though some mystic bond tied them together, refusing to let them free.

“There was more to it.” The words seemed forced from him. “Things you don't know—”

“Things I don't care to know.” She was lying. She was dying to know. It was a fever in her blood she couldn't rid herself of. But damn him, he had left her. She would never, ever give him that kind of power over her again.

She slammed another stack of books onto the shelf as he stayed silent behind her.

“Why do you do this?” She turned on him, frustrated, irritated, not just by him but by her response to him. “I didn't ask you to come back here. I didn't ask you to mess with my damned head again.”

“Didn't you?” he snarled back at her. “You tortured me every night I managed to sleep; filling my dreams, tormenting me with the remembered feel of your heat and your hunger.” He stalked toward her, pressing her into the shelf before jerking her into his arms. “You're fighting a fine fight, baby, trying to convince yourself and me that you don't love, that you don't give a fuck.” His lips drew back from his teeth in a feral smile. “I know better. I know, because I feel it every time I touch you, every time I take you. So don't bother to fucking lie to me.”

“Like you lied to me?” she finally threw in his face. “What, Slade, do you have the corner on the liar's market?”

He released her slowly, his expression brooding, angry.

“Like I lied to you,” he finally whispered. “And paid for it every single second of the past five years, Jessie. We both paid for it. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of the punishment. Get your pretty ass ready and you might as well settle yourself to it. Because you are mine.” His finger pointed imperiously toward her chest. “And you will stay mine.”

She opened her lips to blast him, to tell him exactly where he could shove his demands, his beliefs, his damned arrogance. A sharp knock on the closed door had them springing apart instead.

“Damn you,” she muttered, striding quickly to the door and pushing it open slowly.

Clarissa Jennings stood on the other side of the door, her pinched expression reminding Jessie of the fact that the other woman was just as vindictive as her first cousin had been. As part of the faculty, Jessie had no choice but to put up with the principal from hell. Her first year teaching last year had been so hard due to this woman's ineptitude that Jessie had requested a transfer at the end of the year. It hadn't come through yet.

“I need to talk to Slade. I saw him come in earlier and assume he's here.” Disapproval and distaste marked her angular features.

“Oh, Slade.” Jessie turned, smiling at him sweetly. “You're being paged.”

What she saw on Slade's face was frightening. The look he gave Clarissa was filled with fury, with warning. Just enough to cause the other woman to step back as Jessie stared between them in confusion.

“I was just leaving,” he growled, stopping before Jessie as he stared at her in reminder. “I'll see you later.”

“Only if I don't see you coming first,” she muttered.

He grunted, reaching out to snag her hair as he pulled her head back for a quick, hard kiss, ignoring Clarissa's sniff of disdain.

“Later, baby.” He smiled tightly before turning from her, his fingers gripping Clarissa's arm and steering her quickly up the hall.

Okay. Now she wanted the answers. And she was going to get them soon.

 

 

 

Slade slammed the door to his jeep, stalking up the front steps to the Jennings home with an edge of fury. Clarissa was a bitch, nearly as fucking vindictive as her cousin had been. He banged on the front door, hearing Cody's cries of glee as he glimpsed him through the door window.

The door opened quickly and the little boy threw himself into his father's arms.

Sturdy, but so damned reed-thin Slade worried that the boy was starving despite the amount of food he ate. Hair as dark as a walnut and eyes a stunning turquoise. Cody had taught Slade the meaning of true innocence. The child had kept him going through some of the bleakest days of his life.

“Grammy said you wasn't going to come back,” Cody cried as he buried his face against Slade's chest. “That I couldn't live in the big house with you like you said we were. Why is she lying to me, Daddy?” He gazed up at Slade fiercely. “I like the big house.”

Anger tore through him. Just as his mother had, his grandmother was now trying to use the hold this child had on him to control him. Amy had gotten away with it simply because she could. He'd be damned if he'd let her parents.

“Not to worry, little buddy.” He patted his son's back, glaring at Glenda and Hank Jennings as they moved into the hall. “We're moving in real soon. You and me both.” And, he prayed, Jessie.

Sitting Cody down, he pointed him to the sandbox in the front yard. “You go play, let Daddy talk to Grammy and Gran'pa. Okay?”

He brushed the hair from Cody's forehead, marveling at the innocence in the boy's turquoise eyes.

Cody glared at his grandparents before turning back and hitching his jeans up on his little hips. “I'll play, but you tell ‘em, Daddy. I get to live with you in the big house and that's that.”