Blackstone Ranger Scrooge: Blackstone Rangers Book 6

by Alicia Montgomery

  “You’re … thinking too loudly … for this early in the morning,” J.D. said, yawning between phrases.

  “It’s ten in the morning,” he pointed out.

  “On a Saturday.” With a long, languid hmmmm, she sat up slowly, stretching her limbs like a cat. Getting on her hands and knees, she leaned back, eyes hooded as they locked gazes. She was unabashed in her nakedness, hands crawling up her torso, over her breasts and nipples before raising them over her head for one long, glorious stretch.

  Her nipples were practically begging for his attention, so he pounced on her, eliciting a half shout, half yell that didn’t quite sound indignant. In fact, she was soon mewling in delight as he covered her body with his, his mouth teasing her left nipple.

  “Cam,” she purred, a sound that shot straight to his groin and made him instantly hard. “Mmmm, yes. Please.”

  Flipping her over to her stomach, he hauled that gorgeous ass up as he entered her in one smooth motion. “Wet already, are we?”

  “I was dreaming of you,” she moaned as he slid a hand between her thighs to play with her clit. “Of this.”

  He moved inside her, enjoying the grip of her pussy around him. Her moans and cries filled his ears, and he wanted this to last, but dammit, she felt too good. He rubbed her clit between his fingers just the way she liked it, and she shot to orgasm like a rocket. The tight squeeze of her narrow passage around him set him off, too, and he came hard, filling her with his seed.

  “Oh wow,” she moaned into the sheets. “What a way to wake up.”

  He smiled to himself. “Just what the doctor ordered, huh?”

  Her body shook with laughter. “C’mon. Let’s shower.”

  Of course, that was just an excuse to see her naked body wet and sudsy. He took her again, pressed up against the tile wall in his luxurious shower.

  “I’m hungry,” she declared as they toweled off.

  “You’re always hungry,” he pointed out.

  “And whose fault is that?”

  “Entirely mine,” he said. “I take full credit.”

  “You also never have food around here.”

  In the last week, they’d been splitting time between his flat and her house, and J.D. kept complaining about his empty larder. He had explained to her that he rarely spent time here and thus saw no need to stock any food items.

  “You were the one who insisted on spending the weekend here because you wanted to ‘get railed hard’ on the piano,” he pointed out. And so she did, last night after they finished decorating the tree.

  She chortled. “All right, let’s go get some food, then I really should head over to Blackstone Bodyworx and go to a late yoga class with Anna Victoria and the girls.” The chief’s mate ran a fitness studio in South Blackstone. “I already missed last week.”

  After getting dressed, they drove down to Main Street. Being Saturday and with the holiday season in full swing, the streets were bustling with crowds. For once, Cam didn’t mind the trappings of the holiday season, especially seeing J.D. all giddy with happiness, though that smug part of him wanted to believe he was the reason for that. The wait for Rosie’s was long, but it was well worth it, especially as today’s special included mincemeat pie. After lunch, they headed to South Blackstone.

  While J.D. attended her yoga class, he went to the cafe to do some work. In the last week, he’d been clocking in and out at a more regular schedule so he could spend his nights with J.D., which meant he hadn’t put in much overtime. There was a lot of things to be done, especially since he was going to leave in a few weeks. He had taken his laptop with him, but found himself staring at the screen at the same paragraph, unable to soak in any information. No, his mind was on one thing, or rather one person, and he kept glancing at his watch for when the hour was up because that meant she would be done with her yoga class and would come here to meet him.

  Of course, there were other things on his mind. It was like a parasite in his brain, this unknown information between them. Unknown to her anyway. But how long should he wait before telling her? Before he left to go back to England? After the holidays?

  His polar bear very much concurred with all of those ideas, so desperate for the bond to form soon. I suppose it’s not a bad idea. He could enjoy the next few weeks with her, unhampered by obligations. They could just be … them. Two people, together, with no cares in the world. Yes, that’s what he should do.

  Turning back to his work, he put all those thoughts away. The hour came and went, and he was so focused, he didn’t realize she still wasn’t here. A different emotion—worry—gripped him and turned his stomach sour. What if something had happened to her, like last week at the carnival?

  He shut the lid of his laptop and stood, but to his relief, J.D. burst through the door, arm in arm with Dutchy Forrester as they laughed conspiratorially, their free hands holding shopping bags. Cam had met the fox shifter before at HQ as her mate, John Krieger, was also a ranger.

  “Where were you?” he asked.

  “I sent you a text message. Didn’t you get it?” She tiptoed to kiss him on the cheek. “We decided to do some shopping.”

  “Oh? What did you get?”

  Dutchy giggled and winked at J.D. “I’m gonna go pick up a coffee and muffin, then I have to meet John for an early dinner at my aunt’s. See you next week, same time?”

  “Of course, Dutch.”

  “Bye, guys.” Dutchy waved as she sashayed toward the counter.

  “Well?” He glanced down at the paper bags in her hand. “Did you get Christmas presents?”

  “Kinda,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. Lifting one of the bags up, he saw the familiar logo of Silk, Lace, and Whispers. “Maybe you can get to open an early present tonight.”

  He groaned inwardly. J.D. in her usual white cotton underwear—or nothing at all—was more than enough for him, but seeing her in lingerie would probably give him a heart attack.

  She placed a hand on her cocked hip. “I’m just going to assume from your silence that you don’t object?”

  “You would assume correctly. Now let’s go before I embarrass myself in front of all these people.”

  “Spenser, you have such a way with words, you know?”

  Scooping up his things, he grabbed her hand and practically dragged her out of the coffee shop as she laughed all the way to the car.

  They spent the rest of the day in bed as she modeled some of her new purchases. Of course, she had saved a few, promising him he could unwrap it on Christmas morning. He never thought he’d ever think this in his entire life, but he wished it was December twenty-fifth already.

  Saturday afternoon turned to evening, and they ordered pizza for dinner and stayed up watching J.D.’s favorite Christmas movies on the big screen TV in the living room.

  “You’ve never seen White Christmas?” she asked as they scrolled through the Movieflix menu of holiday movies.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Really?”

  He rolled his eyes in an approximation of how she did it. “Asking me again won’t make me have magically seen it.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him, then pressed on the TV remote. “All right, Scrooge, sit back, relax, and enjoy the splendor of Irving Berlin, Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney, and Danny Kaye.”

  Cam had to admit, it was a good movie and the music was excellent, though too sentimental for his tastes. But all he cared about was the fact that J.D. seemed to enjoy every moment of it, though he could guess she’d seen it a hundred times before.

  “I was hoping we’d see snow by now,” she said as the credits rolled. “But it looks like the weather reports can’t be trusted.”

  “On average, a seven-day forecast can be reliable about eighty percent of the time,” he said. “Go to ten-day, and it’s about half.”

  “Or, it’s waiting to come down at the right time.”

  “Right time? Weather isn’t sentient.”

  “All right, can the nerdy talk, Dr. Spen
ser, before you turn me on.” He could feel her roll her eyes. “I’m just saying … maybe something magical will happen and it will start snowing, like in the movie.” When he didn’t say anything, she turned her head up at him. “What, you don’t believe me?”

  He harrumphed. “Woman, I’ve been around you long enough to know not to answer a loaded question like that.”

  A laugh burst from her mouth. “Oh, you. C’mere …”

  And so, there was no more talking or movies for the rest of the night. When he woke up the next day, Cam felt like he was on top of the world. His polar bear, too, was in a great mood, as if sensing that the bond was within their reach.

  “If we’re going to use up our energy like this,” she groaned as he rolled off her after their first round of the day. “You’re going to have to stock your fridge with more food.”

  He chuckled. “We still have pizza in the fridge. Let’s heat it up, and then we can go to the supermarket.”

  They quickly dressed—her in his pajama top and him in the matching bottoms—and headed out to the kitchen. As J.D. took the boxes out of the fridge, his doorbell rang.

  “Are you expecting anyone?”

  He frowned. “No. But let me go get it.” Who could be at his door this early? With an annoyed yank, he pulled the door open. “What in God’s name—babushka?”

  Natalia Dashokov had to crane her neck back to meet his gaze. “Aleksandr!” Her hands shot up, and he automatically bent down so she could kiss both his cheeks. “Surprise!”

  This was some damned surprise, that was for sure. “Uh, good morning, babushka,” he managed to say. What was his grandmother doing here? “Where did you—” His stomach dropped, and his bear let out an annoyed grunt when he realized there was a second person with his grandmother.

  “Surprise, Cam,” Arabella Stepford-Pryde greeted, a blonde brow raised as she eyed his half-naked state. “Oh dear. I hope we haven’t come at a bad time.”

  “What are you doing here?” he mustered in his coldest tone. He hadn’t seen Arabella in five years. Well, it would be exactly five years on December twenty-fifth.

  “Bah, Aleksandr,” Natalia placed herself between them. “Please. I have traveled long and far. Won’t you invite us in and make us some tea?”

  His bear roared; its anger directed at Arabella. It seethed at the thought of that vile woman in their den. “Why are you traveling with my grandmother?”

  “Tut-tut, Cameron,” Arabella cooed. “She invited me on the trip. Said that she hated these long flights and didn’t want to be all alone.”

  When he gave his grandmother a stern warning gaze, Natalia flashed him an innocent look. “What?” She shrugged. “You know it is true. Please, lyuba.”

  “What’s going on here?” came J.D.’s voice from behind. “Cam? Who’s at the door?”

  This was not happening. This was not happening. His perfect, idyllic dream was about to turn into a nightmare. I should have told her! “J.D.,” he began as he turned around.

  She was already behind him. “Is it those pesky mission—oh, hello,” she said to Natalia and Arabella. “Can we help you?”

  “Help us?” Arabella’s nostrils flared, and her voice pitched higher. “And just who are you, and what are you doing here?”

  J.D.’s expression turned stormy, and her arms crossed over her chest. “Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “Lady Arabella Stepford-Pryde. Cam’s fiancé,” she sneered.

  J.D. looked about ready to explode, but Cam put himself between the two women. “Ex-fiancée,” he corrected. “We broke up years ago. And aren’t you engaged to someone else now? To the football player?”

  “Cam, please,” Arabella laughed nervously. “Calling you my fiancé was a … mere slip of the tongue. I’m just so used to saying it whenever I’m around you.”

  “Cameron Spenser, you’ve got some explaining to do,” J.D. said, her teeth gnashing together.

  Bugger. “I suppose I do.” And possibly some groveling too.

  “Aleksandr, who is this?” Natalia asked, a white brow raised so high it nearly reached her hairline.

  Fuck me. If there is a god out there, strike me dead now. “Um, babushka, may I present, Ms. J.D. McNamara. J.D., this is my grandmother, Natalia Dashokov.”

  “Cam, where are your manners! I swear this country had turned you positively feral,” Arabella admonished. “That’s Her Royal Highness, Princess Natalia Dashokov.”

  J.D.’s jaw dropped. “P-princess?” She blinked several times. “She’s a … does that mean you’re a … prince?”

  He massaged his temple. “No, no, I’m not a prince.”

  “Of course he isn’t. Royal titles can’t pass through the female line,” Arabella stated as if that was a well-known fact, like the sky was blue or water was wet. “Cam is His Grace, the Duke of Westmoreland.”

  “Duke?” she cried. “Duke?”

  “I prefer to be called by my professional title, the one I earned.” And didn’t inherit from a despicable, drunken wastrel.

  “Lyuba,” his grandmother soothed. “It seems we have come at a bad time. Forgive me, for intruding on your … ah … morning. We will head back to our hotel and return later.”

  “Babushka, no.” He hated cliches, but he was stuck between a rock and hard place. And looking at his grandmother’s sweet, understanding expression and J.D.’s nearly explosive one, he couldn’t find a better metaphor. “Don’t go.”

  “That’s right,” J.D. said through gritted teeth. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll be the one leaving.” And with that, she turned on her heel and marched back into the apartment.

  “Bloody hell.” A throbbing headache began to form between his eyebrows.

  “Lyuba, who was that lady?”

  Arabella snorted. “If you could call her that.”

  He sent his former fiancé a warning glare, then turned to his grandmother. “That was … my surprise to you,” he said, switching to Russian for privacy.

  “Surprise? I don’t understand.”

  “J.D. is my mate,” he stated. “My fated mate.”

  Natalia’s white brows furrowed. “Your … oh!” Her frail, wrinkled fingers gripped his forearms. “That is wonderful news! Oh! Does that mean … does she know that you must return to Europe?”

  “Yes, babushka. And she is … willing to make things work between us.” Well, she was anyway.

  “Oh, my dear … you do not know how happy this—” She stopped short, then her gaze flickered to Arabella. “Oh, forgive me! The trouble this must be causing. I only thought that perhaps since Arabella recently broke up with her fiancé that you and her.…”

  It all made sense now. His grandmother had adored Arabella, mostly because his former fiancé hid her true, viperous nature from her. Natalia must have thought that Cam’s distaste for the holiday when they broke up meant he still carried a torch for her, and bringing her along was a misguided plot to get them back together.

  “Pardon me,” Arabella interrupted, obviously sensing they were talking about her. “But, Cam, now that your guest is leaving, perhaps you could invite us in?”

  When hell froze over. His polar bear agreed with a chuff, crossing its front paws over its chest. He would have to take the direct approach. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’d ask my grandmother to stay, but you on the other hand—”

  “But, Cam—”

  “I said no,” he roared, letting his bear come to the surface close enough for his eyes to take on a glow and his front incisors to briefly pop out.

  Her mouth quickly shut, and her body went rigid. Good. That was one way to shut her up and keep her away, to let out that part of him she had abhorred so much. He would never forget or forgive her for the words he’d overheard.

  You know what they say about athletes, she had tittered to her friend. They’re animals in bed. And since I’ll soon have an animal for a husband, why not have my cake and eat it too?

  Arabella should hav
e done more research on animals, because she had no idea he could hear her six feet away, even in a crowded ballroom at a Christmas party.

  “Arabella,” Natalia began, using her most regal tone. “You’ve been such a dear to me during our travels. But, would you be ever so kind as to give my grandson and me a few minutes of privacy? Please?” Anyone who knew the princess knew that was not a request.

  Arabella looked like she was about to explode, but, her good breeding won out. She took in a sharp breath and curtsied. “Of course, Your Highness. I shall wait in the limo.” Keeping her eyes cast low, she scurried to the elevator.

  When they were finally alone, Natalia put a hand on his arm. “Lyuba, I have made trouble for you.” His grandmother’s penitent tone made his heart clench. “You must let me make things right.”

  “It’s fine, babushka. I’ll fix it.”

  “Are you sure? You know I can always make things better.”

  “You do, babushka, you always do.” Putting an arm around her, he led her inside. “But this is something I must do myself.”

  “I understand, and I have complete faith that you and your mate will reconcile and all will be well.” She waggled her eyebrows at him. “And perhaps the great-grand babies—”

  “Babushka,” he groaned. “Please. One step at a time.” He guided her to the couch. “What are you doing here, by the way? Don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad to see you after all these months. But you didn’t have to come all the way here. I will keep my word and fly out in January. I was just hoping to settle things with J.D. and have her come to London to meet you.”

  “Ah, yes!” Her face lit up and her hands clapped together. “I was so desperate to see you, and then an invitation arrived, and I knew it was meant to be that I come here.”

  “Invitation? What invitation?”

  “Your dear cousin is coming to Blackstone for the holidays. There will be a grand ball and everything to welcome him and his family.”

  He let out a blue streak in Russian that would have made his grandfather and ancestors proud.