“No.” He held his arms out. “I won’t move this time. Take your best shot.”
“I could call the cops,” she muttered, steamed and breathing hard.
“Be my guest, but I’d rather stay, and we could take advantage of this.” He glanced downward, his upthrust penis hard against his stomach.
She didn’t answer, but her gaze was directed at a point below his waist.
“Look, I was out of line,” he said very, very softly. “It won’t happen again.”
“Damn right it won’t,” she said with a little pout.
He was pretty much home free at that point, but he knew better than to gloat. And bottom line, it was to his advantage as well to reach rapprochement. “Just an observation,” he said, with utmost diplomacy, “and I offer it as a suggestion only, but if you’d care to give that chair a try, I can guarantee you’ll like it.”
“Is this in your play book?”
“I don’t have a play book,” he said, ultrapolitely. “Call it a hunch.”
“Hmph.”
“Come on, babe,” he softly cajoled. “You and I both know we’re operating under some goddamned irresistible mind fuck. I promise not to give orders.”
She looked at his engorged cock, then at him, her gaze still partially shuttered. “So you’re telling me this is going to feel better than usual.”
“I have no idea about what’s usual for you, but let’s just say I’m pretty sure you’ll like it. And I’m sorry, okay?” Although he was mostly sorry, she’d become an obsession for him.
She smiled faintly. “You can be damned polite.”
“I usually am. That other stuff—consider it an aberration. Not to be repeated.”
“Sounds good,” she said briskly. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Bitch. She was deliberately goading him. But never one to let anger get in the way of mind-blowing sex, he said, polite as hell, “Sure thing, sweetheart.”
He was less polite a moment later as he rammed his cock into her cunt. Not that she seemed to mind, if her breathy cries were any indication. Nor did he get the feeling he’d be leaving anytime soon as she eagerly lifted her bottom in anticipation of his downstrokes, uttered high-pitched, feverish screams when he buried his cock in her, and came so many times he lost count.
Eventually, collapsed over the chair back, she whispered, “Stop.”
Good, he thought. There was only so much wear and tear one condom could take. Not that he intended to be entirely selfless.
His own climax was relatively quick; he’d been curtailing his orgasm for damn near a record length of time. But quick didn’t mean it didn’t pack a wallop.
The record this time was one of intensity.
Like a stage-two hurricane.
Or a boiler exploding.
Or the exquisite feel of a woman who was doing a real number fucking up his purposefully independent life.
Not that he was giving much thought to cerebral issues when there were hours yet till morning. And he had plans.
Thirteen
Roman had interviewed the staff at Leo’s apartment. The housekeeper knew something. But apparently, loyal to Janie, she was unwilling to divulge anything, even when he threatened her with calling the immigration authorities.
“Call them,” she’d spat, meeting his hard stare. “I’ve seen worse than you before. Where I come from you can get killed for a chicken.”
It was plain she wasn’t going to talk. It was even plainer she disliked Leo. “Why do you work here?” he’d asked.
“Stupid question. For the money. I’m supporting my whole family back home.”
He’d given up, figuring he could always return and threaten her again if he had to. Then he’d gone back to his office and set about tracking Janie’s charge cards and phone records. (It wasn’t just the NSA who could monitor your calls.) A short time later, he understood he could have saved himself the trouble of interviewing the staff. There it was, plain as day on her Verizon account.
A call at seven that morning to a number with a Minnesota area code.
Fourteen
Liv woke to the smell of bacon and maple syrup and the sound of conversation drifting up the stairs. Rolling over, she took note of her empty bed, put two and two together, and quickly ran through her options.
She could get up and join her guests downstairs.
That’s what she
should
do. And if it wasn’t—jeez— freaking seven o’clock in the morning, she might think about it. It looked as though she was going to owe Chris again today. After only three hours’ sleep, there was no way she was going to be able to get out of bed, let alone meet her work crew in anything that resembled a conscious state.
Her obligations summarily canceled, she shut her eyes and went back to sleep.
“I think it’s so sweet that you and Liv are
friends
,”
Janie said, smiling at Jake across the kitchen table. “I mean, really, how amazing is that, that my two
best
friends are enjoying each other’s company.” In deference to her son who was eating his apple-cinnamon French toast beside her, she conversed about the relationship in bland phrases.
“Yeah, how about that,” Jake said in a tone of voice that would have warned off most reasonable people.
Janie’s smile was guileless. As if she knew that he knew that she wasn’t going to let him off that easy. “So tell me again how you met.”
“Didn’t you like the last answer?” he murmured drily.
“Darling, I want details, not some casual remark about some wine purchase.”
“How about some other time.” He flicked a glance at Matt.
She made a theatrical moue. “Very well, I’ll give you a pass for now. But I want to know
everything
.”
“As if.”
“Remember, I can ask Liv,” Janie purred.
Jake opened his mouth to speak, abruptly shut it and, quickly rising to his feet, crossed the kitchen to the screen door that opened onto the back porch. A large man had suddenly appeared on the other side of the screen. Even in the shadows of the honeysuckle vines that shaded the porch, Jake could make out the bulge under the man’s right arm. “Looking for someone?” As if he didn’t know. This was Leo Rolf’s bloodhound.
“I’d like to talk to Mrs. Rolf.”
“I’m not sure she wants to talk to you.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“You’re good, Roman.” Janie had come up and was standing at Jake’s side. “I thought I’d done a better job of hiding.”
“You don’t have to give him the time of day,” Jake muttered. “He’s not the law.”
Roman held his hands up. “I’m not taking sides. That’s not my business. Just give me a few minutes, Janie. I guarantee I’m harmless.”
Janie gave him an assessing look. “I’m assuming Leo sent you. With him behind this visit, I’m not so sure . . .”
“Leo might be paying for the charter plane, but
I’m
not for sale. You’re perfectly safe.”
"Leo’s a grade-A prick. Just so you know where I stand.” Janie spoke softly so Matt wouldn’t hear, although her son was thoroughly engrossed in the adventures of SpongeBob SquarePants on the kitchen TV.
“No argument there.” Roman smiled. “I doubt you’d find many who’d disagree. You have a lawyer, I presume. Call him; I’ll talk to him first. He can vet me.”
Janie’s mouth twitched in indecision, not that she thought Roman was actually dangerous. But her husband was. “Oh, very well,” she said. She turned to Jake. “Would you watch Matt for a few minutes? I won’t be long.”
“Not a problem.” Jake didn’t anticipate Janie’s abduction. If precedent held, Leo Rolf wanted his kid, not his wife.
Roman opened the screen door and stepped aside.
Janie gave him another assessing look as she walked through the doorway. “Have you been here all night?”
“More or less.”
He hoped the man hadn’t been taking pictures, Jake thought as he retraced his steps and sat down at the kitchen table. The bedroom curtains had been open. Not that he was seriously concerned. Janie was the man’s target, not Liv. He glanced at Matt, who hadn’t even noticed his mother was gone, entertained as he was by SpongeBob. Then Jake checked out the clock on the stove. Still too early to wake up Liv, although he was sorely tempted.
His psyche was running pedal to the metal on high-octane lust. And while that sensation was way outside any normal paradigm, it wasn’t as though he could turn it off. Somehow Liv had gotten under his skin. Not that her can’t-get -enough-of-sex wasn’t a major attraction. Duh. In fact, if he wasn’t in charge of a three-year-old hooked on cartoons, he’d go upstairs right now.
Then, out of the blue—as if he were being compensated for having lived a stellar life—a young woman with short dark hair, jeans, and a faded red T-shirt walked into the kitchen from the old parlor and said, “Hi, Chris tells me there’s a little boy here who likes kittens.”
Matt swung around, wide-eyed at the word
kittens
. Sponge Bob dropped from his radar, and like every little kid who’s been snapped out of his cartoon trance, he said, “Huh?”
“I think you might have a customer,” Jake said, smiling and coming to his feet.
“Great.” She put out her hand as she reached the table. “I’m Amy, Chris’s wife.”
“Jake Chambers. And this is Matt,” he added, grabbing a napkin and quickly wiping the syrup from the boy’s mouth.
“So how about it, Matt?” Amy knelt down beside his chair. “Would you like to go out and see the kittens?”
“I wuv kittens,” Matt said gravely.
Amy looked up at Jake. “Is it okay if I take him to the barn?”
“His mom’s on the back porch talking to someone, but I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll let her know Matt’s with you.”
“Let’s go, kiddo,” Amy said, lifting Matt down from his chair and coming to her feet. She took his hand. “We’ll be in the barn if you need us.” She smiled at Matt. “Right?”
“Wight.”
Amy and Matt left hand in hand, going out the way she’d come in. The front door slammed a moment later, and Jake found himself alone. Chris’s wife hadn’t asked who he was or why he was here. Either gossip traveled fast, or there were often strange men in Liv’s kitchen.
Did it matter?
Not unless he’d completely lost his mind.
Which he hadn’t.
So now what?
As if he didn’t know, when fate had handed him this really sweet deal.
Although Liv did need her sleep.
Damn.
How nice did he want to be?
He glanced out the kitchen window. The couple sitting side by side on the porch swing seemed to be getting along mighty swell if Janie’s body language and flirtatious smile meant anything. From the look of things, Janie didn’t need his protection.
He was pretty much off the hook all around.
Although if he were truly sensible, he’d drive back to the cities and work on getting his restaurant ready to roll. Or better yet, go home and sleep. He was running on adrenaline and not much else.
With his current obsession in bed upstairs, however, he was more inclined to endorse that old saw about time enough to sleep in the grave. It couldn’t hurt to go upstairs and just
see
if Liv might be awake, could it?
The question wasn’t seriously open to debate.
Not when he was this horny.
Walking to the back door, Jake opened it enough to explain to Janie that Matt had gone with Amy to look at the kittens. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
Janie smiled. “Thanks, Jake. And Roman’s being very understanding, so don’t worry about me.”
Perfect, because he really didn’t want to worry about her. “See you later, then.”
“Roman might stay for a few days,” Janie added.
“Don’t tell me. Tell Liv.”
“I thought you might tell her since you’re going upstairs. She won’t mind, I know.” Janie turned to smile at Roman. “We’ve been friends forever.”
“If it’s a problem, I can stay at a motel,” Roman politely offered.
“Don’t be silly. Liv has plenty of room in this old farmhouse. Doesn’t she, Jake?”
Since he’d only seen Liv’s bedroom, the kitchen, and not much else, Janie was asking the wrong person. “I’m going to stay out of this. Check with Liv when she wakes up.”
Janie turned a quick smile on Roman. “As you see, Jake’s mantra is
Never get involved
. Isn’t that so, darling?” she trilled.
Jake rolled his eyes, shut the door, and left Janie to her machinations. Roman looked as though he could handle whatever Janie dished out.
Picking up the serving plate of remaining French toast, he added a few pieces of bacon, warmed it all in the microwave, grabbed a fork and the syrup bottle, and headed upstairs. Whistling.