Read T is for Temptation Online
Authors: Jianne Carlo
“I froze, Jake. When I should’ve been using my powers to make us safe, I froze. I was so scared.” The corners of her mouth turned down, and her lips trembled.
“Shssh,” he said and placed a finger on her mouth. “It was all psychological. He terrorized you, Tee, during your marriage. Threatened everyone you loved, and made you feel helpless. It won’t happen again. You’re too strong for that.”
“I wish I felt as confident as you do,” she whispered. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t turn coward if I had to face him again.”
“Tee, you jumped on the man. Hit him on the head with an ashtray. If he hadn’t shot you, he’d be hog-tied and shaking in his boots right now.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, and a silly grin captured her mouth.
“Okay. Let me go and arrange your departure, pronto. I’ll be back soon.” A slight graze of their lips, and he left.
While he handled the paperwork and hustled nurses and clerks, the attending physician pronounced Tee well enough to leave.
The wheelchair didn’t please her, and she pouted all the way out. Tee succumbed to a deep sleep as soon as the cab moved into traffic, and she slumbered all the way to the embassy flat. A combination of the aftereffects of the anesthesia and exhaustion, according to the quick debriefing Jake received from the doctor on duty. He carried her to bed; she roused lightly and gave him a wan, sleepy smile.
He brushed his fingers over her soft, pale cheek. “Rest, Tee. We’ll talk later.”
While she slept, Jake made a few phone calls and e-mailed Arthur, who replied he would meet with them at
on the following day. He fell asleep on the sofa and awoke to a dimmed living room, and the diamonds of streetlights switching on became visible through the picture window.
Worry set in. He’d left the others almost two days ago, and still they hadn’t returned. Resolving not to speculate, he switched on the television and flicked between the
Sifting through Arthur’s summary of
Constantine
’s background, he kept returning to the unexplained missing eight years. Where had
Constantine
been? Had he been in contact with his parents? What was his family background? Making a decision, he sent Arthur an e-mail with his questions and left him a voicemail to alert him to the message.
Padded footsteps from the bedroom reached his ears when he returned to the hallway. He opened their bedroom door and saw the rumpled sheets and heard water running.
Tee had awakened.
He knocked on the bathroom door. “Babe, can you manage? Do you need help?
“I’m fine.” Her muffled voice held a hint of annoyance.
He leaned one shoulder to the doorframe, crossed his arms, settled in to wait for her, and continued his dissection. Tony had faked his own death and planned the whole scheme with meticulous detail. Odds were the premeditated getaway held the same stamp. He set his mind to being in Tony’s place. What were the drawbacks? Why was his faked death necessary?
Obvious answers. His criminal partners would hunt him down and kill him before they’d let him get away with theft. Dead, he got away with everything: the money, a new identity, an incredible lifestyle, untold power, and wealth.
How to ensure it evolved that way?
The bathroom door opened, and he straightened. Tee looked so fragile, her complexion chalky, purple shadows under her eyes, lines of exhaustion pulling her features taut. She went to lift her arm, winced, and favored her left shoulder, covering the bandaged area with one hand.
“Hi, darling.”
“Hell, babe, don’t try to be brave,” he said, enfolding her gingerly in his arms. “How’re you feeling?”
“Bone-tired. I think I could go right back to sleep,” she mumbled into his chest.
“You can do just that, witchy woman mine. How about a bite to eat first?” He sniffed her hair inhaling her familiar rose scent, stroking her back lithely, a whisper of a touch.
“I actually am hungry.”
“No nausea?” Evening shadows closeted her expression.
“Uh-uh. Did you change me into sweats?” She glanced at her clothing.
“Yeah, I figured loose clothing while that wound heals. Do you want to go back to bed? I can rummage up something and bring it on a tray.” He fingered her curls with both hands.
“I want to be where you are. I have this craving to touch you, and I’m afraid one of us will disappear.” She absently flicked his nipple into a tight nub. “Jake, can we get married quickly?”
“Hell yeah, if that’s what you really want.” Knowing he shouldn’t question his luck, but not wanting to pressure her into anything, he added, “What about your mother?”
“I’ll handle her, and yes, it’s what I really, really want. How about two weeks from now?”
“Are you sure you want this?”
“Definitely. Deal?”
“Deal,” he murmured and tipped her chin with a finger.
Her eyes were passion-filled drowning lagoons, and he let himself sink to the bottom, comfort washing his soul.
“Name the date, but I have one condition,” he said and feathered his lips from one temple to the other. “I don’t want us to be separated, not for a second. Either I come to
Trinidad
or you come to Boca for those two weeks. Deal?”
“Done.” She beamed. “We’ll have to get married in
Trinidad
because of Dad’s position. Do you mind?”
“Hell, babe, I’ll marry you here if you want.”
“Are you going to be this agreeable about everything?”
“You bet.”
“Did you mean it about moving to
Trinidad
?”
“You bet, but I think I’ve come up with an improvement on the plan.”
“Pardon me?”
“Do you know I get hard when you say that,” he said and kissed her, a thorough tasting, lips and tongues and rubbing and stroking.
She broke away and cupped her hand over his mouth.
He tongued her palm.
“I get hard when you blush too, witchy woman,” he mumbled against her soft skin.
“Stop that. I can’t think when you do that. What did you mean by improvement?”
“Do you remember I inherited that land in
Tobago
?”
“Yes, but I thought you said you’d move your headquarters to
Trinidad
?”
“Bed first and then I’ll tell you my idea.” He scooped her up. Walked over to the bed, and settled her under the down comforter. Plumping the pillows on his side of the bed, he flung them against the headboard and plonked onto the mattress on his side.
Hand propping his head, he said, “George Brown mentioned he’d always wanted to run a pub and a B&B in the Caribbean, and the notion isn’t a bad one. Hell, he’d be a great B&B manager. We could build a small, exclusive resort and give George part ownership. What do you think?”
“I think I’m marrying the perfect man. You’re doing this to make George’s dream come true, aren’t you? Don’t give me that gruff look. You’re a secret softie, Jake Matthews, and I, for one, am very grateful.”
“Don’t you dare cry on me, Tallulah Inglefield.” He thumbed away a lone tear sliding down her cheek.
She clamped her quivering lips together, but her eyes brimmed. “Go on, tell me more.”
“Okay. Fine, it seems appropriate to give back. If it weren’t for those blasted Grahams— Don’t,” he said. “No crying, remember?”
She nodded, but remained mute and teary.
“Callum Ferguson’s land is almost twenty-one acres. I did some research on the ’net and discovered that’s more than enough for a small horse farm and a B&B. I also checked out the land. It’s divided by a road, half on the beach and the other half nestled against a small range of hills. We could build the B&B on the beach and a home on the hill with your stables and riding rings. What do you think?”
He waited for her reaction and couldn’t have been more pleased. Tee’s eyebrows flew to the heavens, and her skin glowed peachy pink, making her eyes appear more brown than amber, large saucers of joy.
“Are you saying we’ll live in
Tobago
?”
“I think we’d need a home in
Trinidad
too. I’d need to be in
Port of Spain
during the week for the business.”
“We could buy a house in
Trinidad
and live in it while building the B&B. Construction always takes a little longer in
Tobago
because all of the materials have to be shipped from
Trinidad
. It’s a wonderful idea, just perfect. I love you, Jake Mathews,” Tee said, her voice exultant, and she attempted to fling her hands behind his neck, but stopped mid-action. “Damn, that burns. I guess I’ll remember not to do that soon enough.”
“So, you approve then?”
“Deal, Jake Matthews. When can we tell George?”
“He may not jump at the idea. It’s a big change.”
“I had lunch with his mother. I guarantee he’ll jump at the chance. She has lung problems and needs to move to a warm climate. Did I tell you that I love you?”
“Okay, you’re about to cry again, aren’t you? That’s it. Let’s get some food in you, and then we’ll talk about something else.”
“Jake,” she said, her tone questioning. “Do you think we can get married on that beach? Maybe at sunset? It’d be so romantic.”
He didn’t speak, too choked up to manage words, but swallowed a couple of times and managed to grit out, “Sounds perfect.”
Her honey eyes took on a faraway glaze “We could set up chairs near the water and have a steel band playing in the background.”
“Shall we head to the kitchen?”
“Pardon me?”
“Food, remember? You need energy.”
“I think even Tricia will agree to the location. And it’s the dry season, so we don’t have to worry about rain.”
An idiot-in-love grin possessed his mouth, and Jake listened to her ideas and fixed them ham and cheese sandwiches. She didn’t seem aware of anything mundane like chewing, but wedding plans bubbled up and spilled over. By the time they finished eating, she had the whole event mapped out, and a sweet ache constricted his chest.
Damn, how’d he get so lucky? Almost ready to pinch his forearm, and half-convinced the last few weeks had been the cruelest tease, a snatched hint of paradise; he flinched when the cuckoo clock against the wall clucked nine.
The frenetic energy keeping Tee awake dissipated in front of his eyes, and she sank down in the chair and blinked a couple of times.
“Time for bed,” he ordered and scooped her up, ignoring her feeble, muffled protests.
She fell asleep before he finished tucking her under the blankets, and he watched her for a while, entranced and apprehensive. First thing in the morning, he had to tell her about his visions. Almost convinced their problems had been solved, he drifted off.
Tee tickled him awake.
Her soft fingers slid down his rib cage. He pretended to sleep, but couldn’t prevent a groan when her mouth followed the trail. His morning erection thickened under her ministrations.
“I’m supposed to begin here,” she whispered, and her hot breath cocooned one testicle. She licked, tracing her tongue over every inch. “Did you know eighty percent of taste, according to the
PBJ
book, is smell?”