The Monkey Jungle (The Bennt, Montana Series)

by Taylor Ryan

  “I suppose it is a date, now.” Mary Kathryn shrugged carelessly. “You’ve blackmailed me with guilt for you spending all your cash. Being that it is a date...how is it going, as dates are rated?”

  Garth peered at her closely, his humor fleeing, his fingers flexing on her hip. He leaned down, breathing in the scent of her shampoo as he spoke against her ear, his voice low. “Did you know your eyes darken when you look at me?”

  He brushed his lips across her cheek when he lifted his head, the move so casual it could have been an accident. “And as far as how this not-a-date, date is going,” he said, staring into her eyes, and thinking they were beautiful, “it’s on the Richter Scale. A definite ten. The foundations are cracking, the roof has caved in. The dust is settling and I’m still standing—with you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Good.” She batted her lashes, flirting shamelessly. “Better than good—” she was flippant, belying the shiver that went through her, that they both felt. “Because the ATM is out of order.” She burst out laughing at the utterly appalled expression that came over his face as she took the full pitcher from the bar when the bartender slid it toward them.

  “I have twenty dollars left,” Garth told her, ruefully shaking his head as he guided her through the crowd toward their table. “If I say the wrong thing and start falling into another bingo trap, use your elbow to warn me” His hand caressed her waist. “We’ll get some tape for my ribs tomorrow...”

  “Are you my faithful subject?” she quipped lightly. “Worthy of my salty jabs? Have you sworn your undying fealty to the Margarita Club and to me, its queen? Do you promise to obey my every word, and perform tasks as I assign them, no matter how strange they are?” She tried coy but failed. It wasn’t in her with him against her back, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. As they neared their table, her senses were stretched when his fingers traveled to rest on her bottom. She quickly glanced at him and found his eyes on her, the green boring into her own. She tore herself away from the hypnotic intensity. “Well?” her prompt for a response was breathless.

  “I’m not falling for anything you say.” Garth took the pitcher from her. “I don’t have enough money left,” he told her, his lips quirking as he placed the pitcher on the table before pulling out her chair. Once again his hand tightened briefly on her hip before she sat down. “Remember your elbow,” he said close to her ear, aware to his bones she was thrumming with tension, touching her was creating havoc on his own senses. “As your house guest, it’s your duty to protect me.” He said louder, “I demand asylum.”

  A mistake. Mary Smith, Beth and Mary Louise instantly offered him asylum with varying degrees of bold and cheeky innuendo.

  Maria bemoaned the fact that Carlos would find out her secret if Garth were in her house, Geraldine was insisting he come home with her if he truly felt he needed sanctuary.

  “If there’s a safe house in town for a man like you,” Geraldine told Garth above the loud offers of asylum. “It’s my house. I might touch, but I promise, I won’t look.” She said over the laughter that rose. “They will! They’re margarita molesters! Mary Louise is rather sleazy, she would lock you in her closet and not let you out for three or four days. Beth would handcuff you to her bed and probably leave you there until somebody filed a missing person report with her boss. Mary Smith will get her feather duster and some watermelon out.” Geraldine grinned at the pale blond. “She likes to snack while she cleans house.”

  “What about Mary Kathryn?” Garth asked, laughing with them, intrigued to hear what they might say about his hostess.

  “Mary Kathryn?” Mary Louise appeared genuinely surprised. “You’ve been at her house for a few weeks or whatever. She’s just—well, she’s Mary Kathryn. She’s probably safer than Geraldine.” Mary Louise rolled her eyes as she snorted. “She won’t even look.”

  But look she had... Garth eyed Mary Kathryn’s profile as she protested without heat, “That’s not fair, Mary Louise. I live a little—sometimes. I cooked him my waffle,” she defended herself staunchly.

  Garth listened, his arm going around her back again. She sat close, even leaned slightly against him. From the quips and jabs coming at her, they saw her as non-threatening. They scoffed at the very idea Mary Kathryn would offer him proper sanctuary, although their idea of sanctuary sounded physically exhausting. Garth hid his amusement.

  Mary Beth, who had joined in the fray glanced at him every once in awhile as if to say: See her for the way she really is. Not this drivel.

  He stared at the deputy for a moment, distracted when she jerked her head toward Mary Louise who was claiming Mary Kathryn was so boring even termites didn’t want guest privileges. His attention turned to Geraldine as she slapped Mary Louise down with a sly dig to stop drooling over Garth.

  “He’s going home with me,” Geraldine declared humorously. “Or, Mary Kathryn since he came with her. And as I am the maid of honor in this court, my word is final. Sanctuary isn’t a Popsicle, Mary Louise. So stop molesting that straw with your tongue trying to lure Garth. He’s not even watching so you’re wasting your time. Ladies, I say quit harassing our queen and her guest with your madness.”

  Garth quickly put his glass to his mouth and drank, wanting to laugh his head.

  “Garth, are we harassing you?” Mary Louise turned limpid light brown eyes to him.

  He was about to say something when Mary Kathryn’s elbow gently jabbed his ribs. He winced exaggeratedly, carefully setting his glass down.

  “See,” Mary Kathryn said. “Now he’s afraid to say anything at all. Look what you’ve all done,” she accused her friends. “You all saw him flinch. Men are uncomfortable getting into the middle of women squabbles. It confuses them. He’s staying at my house with his daughter and eating my waffles until he waddles. Leave him alone, Mary Louise.”

  “But he’s sleeping on your couch, Mary Kathryn.” Mary Louise argued heatedly. “It can’t be that comfortable.”

  “I’ve bed space,” Beth offered slyly.

  “That empty space in your bed is not an extra bedroom!” Mary Kathryn hooted.

  “But I really do have an extra room,” Mary Louise told Garth. “Come and stay with me for the next three weeks, I’ll save you from couch cricks. Mary Kathryn is—dull. Boring. Mary Kathryn, we love you, but seriously, uptight as you are, you don’t offer much in the way of excitement to a man.” She shifted in her chair, once again cleverly bringing attention to her cleavage. Geraldine rolled her eyes.

  “Mary Louise, I’m hurt.” Mary Kathryn said with great dignity, her lips twitching at Mary Louise’s tactics. “I’ll have you know, I’m turning over a new leaf. Why, tonight before we came out, I was reading the Joy of Sex brushing up on my reading skills.”

  Garth’s fingers tightened on her shoulder as he laughed with the rest of them. He was equally intrigued and amused at the twist. Not knowing what to think, he leaned over to ask her privately why she was brushing up with that particular book only to wince when she elbowed him again. Still entertained, he retreated quickly.

  “Good grief, Mary Kathryn, don’t hurt the poor man!” Mary Smith chided. “He doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry about your Turning Leaf.”

  “Enough of this nonsense,” Geraldine rapped on the table. “Mary Louise, put your boobs away. It’s time to bring our meeting to order for the third time. Mary Kathryn,” she said as the others grew quiet. “If Garth refuses to draw straws, you know the rules. It was the risk you took, bringing him.”

  A glass cup with small scraps of paper in it had appeared while they had been at the bar. Mary Kathryn pulled an envelope from her purse taking straws from it. She peered around the table, leveled the straw tops in her fist and held it toward Garth.

  He stared...considered his options, then promptly leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and looked at the dark ceiling. He didn’t budge, still pondering why Mary Kathryn had been brushing up on her reading skills with The Joy
of Sex, while all around him women were hooting triumphantly because of his refusal to play their silly, ever changing game.

  Mary Kathryn muttered about him being a coward loud enough for him to hear.

  “Rules are rules,” Beth ordered her to get on with it. Whatever it was.

  “What does it mean, me not drawing?” he inquired, wondering about the disgruntled mild insults Mary Kathryn was heaping on his head under her breath. He glanced around the table at the smug expressions as the women remained silent, an air of anticipation rising amongst them.

  “We don’t know exactly what yet—the answer is written on the papers in the cup.” Beth Harper appeared eminently satisfied as she indicated the glass cup with its slips of folded paper on top of their jukebox fund. ”Anybody who brings a guest takes the risk of them not playing. If their guest refuses to draw straws, their host takes the short straw by default. Mary Kathryn just lost the draw because you won’t play Confessions of a Margarita Molester.”

  Mary Kathryn dipped her fingers into the cup and pulled out a tiny slip of paper. She passed it to Geraldine who glanced at it.

  “Oh, goodie!” Geraldine chuckled evilly. “We each get to ask her one question. It’s about time!” she tossed the paper on the table.

  “No conferencing!” Mary Kathryn slumped into her chair then heaved a sigh, which told Garth she would suffer for his cowardly betrayal, words she grumbled loud enough for him to hear. She hissed at the table at large, “and keep the questions quiet if they’re obnoxious.”

  “Mary Kathryn,” said Mary Louise slowly, intense curiosity on her face as she leaned in, staring at Garth. “Has Mr. Morley kissed you?”

  “I think he kissed my cheek.”

  They hooted. “She thinks. She’s not sure. And the worse part is,” somebody told Garth, “she’s telling the truth.” The teasing continued for a moment then died down. It was just as he had expected, Garth relaxed back and listened.

  “Mary Kathryn.” It was Mary Smith’s turn. “What did you think the first time you saw Mr. Morley.”

  “Happy birthday to me!” Mary Kathryn sang reluctantly, causing a riot. She protested over the noise, feeling Garth’s body shaking against hers. “But he already knows,” she claimed sourly. “So you’re not embarrassing me!”

  “Mary Kathryn,” the laughter died down. “Why were you aggravated with Mr. Morley when you thought he was a criminal?” Beth Harper’s eyes were narrowed, earning herself a scowl from her victim. “I was there, remember.” Beth laughed, “but I want them to know.”

  Garth was right there with the others. Mary Kathryn was being so honest it was hard not to join. But this question? He wanted the answer too—knowing she had been thoroughly irked but not exactly why piqued his curiosity.

  When Mary Kathryn finally responded it was a groaning, suffering whisper. “Because the idea of conjugal visits didn’t occur to me at the time.” She cringed visibly when they howled. The arm around her shoulder tightened. Garth laughed with the rest of them, he couldn’t help himself.

  “And—?!” Beth’s stern voice rose over the hysteria. “What else were you thinking?”

  Mary Kathryn slumped in her chair and said woefully, “It was Christmas in May—I was righteously peeved he was a pervert—not a gag gift...annoyed by the possibility he might go to jail and I wouldn’t see him in his underwear again—”

  “Be quiet everyone, it’s not funny!” Beth ordered above the din that rose even higher, only causing the others to laugh harder. “Mary Kathryn,” Beth said. “I should have arrested you for soliciting Santa.” The jokes at Mary Kathryn’s expense continued.

  “Mary Kathryn,” Geraldine spoke slowly, leaning forward. “Why did you make your pumpkin cream waffle for Mr. Morley?”

  “Because my mop is in the kitchen?” she responded instantly.

  Garth started, then burst out laughing, throwing his head back, wanting to kiss her. The witty evasion was true!

  “Mary Kathryn!” Beth’s warning was authoritative over his mirth as she tapped on the jukebox fund. “Answer the question or pay the piper!”

  Mary Kathryn slumped deeper into her chair, her shoulders slouching heavily as Garth laughed his head off, recalling her mop comment to him that morning.

  “You ruthless cows!” Mary Kathryn snarled. “Fine, Harper, you really want to know? Because it’s orgasmic!” She slumped as she confessed, “And I wanted to see to his face when he had one...”

  Chapter Ten

  BETH WIPED MOISTURE FROM her eyes. “Morley,” she managed some time later, “for Mary Kathryn taking a pot shot at you, Wilson and I bought the absentee Mary Shay’s question for you...we knew you wouldn’t draw straws. What sane man would.”

  Aghast, Mary Kathryn stiffened, straightening in her chair. Garth was instantly on board, also straightening in his chair.

  “Yeah,” Beth smugly told Mary Kathryn. “Wilson did it. Bought it cheap!—two dollars and a stale donuts.” Beth winked at Garth, snickering at Mary Kathryn’s horrified expression. “You know the rules, Queen Kathryn! Go ahead, Morley, fire away. She shot at you—shoot back. You get one question.”

  “You’re horrid, Harper.” An appalled Mary Kathryn turned warily to face Garth. “I’ll have Shay’s head for this. The hair of the dog for her perfidy!” She arched a black brow and sniveled dramatically, “Bring it on. It can’t get worse.”

  He thought about a question amid the rising anticipation as Mary Kathryn tried to pretend she wasn’t bothered, but he could see real concern in her eyes. What was she worried about, apparently nothing was sacred.

  “Why were you brushing up on your—er, reading skills?” he was startled when she sagged in relief at the question. What had she been afraid he would ask? He filed it away for later as she looked him straight in the eye and lied boldly, “I was only looking at the pictures.”

  But she ruined it by blushing. Which only reminded him of what her sister had said about her lying.

  “Pictures—right...” A dubious masculine brow went high. “Answer the question,” he ordered before Beth Harper could call her on the fib. “I owe you one, Beth—I’ve got this one under control...”

  “It was the revised edition.” Mary Kathryn’s bemused indignation was genuine. “It’s been so long since I had any, uh, joy, I was checking to see if anything new had been discovered.”

  She shrugged helplessly and wrung her hands as everyone howled. She looked around the table for sympathy, finding none, said energetically, “Why would they revise it otherwise?! It makes no sense!” Her statement was so indignant it caused a riot.

  Even though they all knew she was lying, the profuse mirth at her observation went on for a few minutes. Garth didn’t join in, waiting until it died down then tapped on the table. “Mary Kathryn,” his sharp military bark caused her to jump guiltily. “Tell the whole truth.”

  “Oh, good heavens!” she grumbled and slumped in defeat when she was vigorously booed. She finally mumbled just loud enough for the others to hear: “I was bored waiting for Garth to finish showering. So I was coloring the illustrations. But I got distracted when I saw it was the revised edition...I thought I would brush up on compromising positions I might manage to get him in,” she demonstrated toward Garth, then scowled at him. “But there wasn’t anything new in it, even after I worked some of it with my crayon.”

  Garth groaned inwardly... she’d might as well have broadsided him. She was bringing him to his knees. In so may ways.

  He leaned sideways, inhaling the scent of her perfume. It was heady, like her. “All you had to do was ask me—I would have shown you a few—without compromising you...still will... and I’ll buy you a dozen coloring books...” he whispered huskily in her ear, chuckling at her now petulant expression as her friends ruthlessly hazed her.

  Mary Kathryn turned her head slowly, meeting his eyes. The noise around them faded, the sheer brilliance of her gaze stilled him, the intensity behind his captivating her. Garth’s eyes fell to her
mouth as his arm slid from the chair to her shoulder, his hand warm, his fingers tightening, pulling her closer.

  “My turn!” The loud thump on the table broke the moment. Garth sat back, his fingers resting on her shoulder as Mary Kathryn blinked slowly, then with one last lingering look at his face, turned her attention to her friends. He was picking up his margarita glass when Maria’s question caused him to pause, the fingers resting on Mary Kathryn’s shoulder tightened, betraying his utterly masculine response to a woman he was interested in as Maria asked, “Mary Kathryn, are you wearing underwear?”

  Maria watched Garth and poked Mary Smith as his shoulders straightened, his head whipped toward Mary Kathryn, his intrigued gaze riveted on her profile.

  Mary Kathryn froze, her eyes huge. Her reaction sent a titter of interest through her tormentors.

  “Bingo!” Beth’s low whisper was astonished. “OMG, Maria! Well done! Look at her face. She’s a nasty panty cull!”

  “Panty cull?!” Geraldine and Mary Louise screamed with merriment as Mary Smith and Maria chortled with glee and high-fived Beth Harper.

  Mary Kathryn turned to Garth, who was now completely ensnared in her web. He couldn’t believe his ears, his eyes were dancing with amusement. She glowered at him and snapped with a feral snarl, “Why didn’t you just pick a straw—?!”

  Her lips curled with genuine feminine exasperation for a man who couldn’t figure things out on his own. “What kind of military man are you?!” she threw up her hands. “All those years of training—thinking on your feet—It was just a little tiny straw—you retired confused chicken! Don’t you know when you hear a call to arms? We are at war! Who were you trained by, Old MacDonald or Uncle Sam?! These mutinous cows are killing me! Your Exalted Salty was in danger!” She snorted disgustedly as she shook her head. “You don’t know anything about women like these, do you? You knave! This is a margarita coup and I’m losing the lime wars! I’m so disappointed I could cry—and I gave you life!” She sounded genuinely offended. “Stop looking at me like that you ungrateful peasant!”