He lifted one eyebrow when she didn’t respond right away. She blinked at him and tried her best to shake off the reaction rippling through her.
“It’s Coromandel,” she heard herself say.
He grinned as if he knew what she meant. There was no way he could since she didn’t know what she meant.
“It’s Chanel,” she added, just for the hell of it.
“Coromandel.” He made the word a sensual caress, his face too close to hers. “I’ll remember that. Now you remember 6:30.”
He stopped halfway down the steps, looked over his shoulder, then turned and headed back up. She fought the urge to take a step back.
“This is serious, Madlyn. This thing with us…” He gestured between the two of them.
“There’s no thing,” she scoffed, giving him her best courtroom glare.
“There’s definitely a thing, but tomorrow night, it’s a truce.”
He was so cocky she couldn’t help herself. “So, this truce? I should wear underwear?”
He almost stumbled on the bottom step. He kept his back to her for a moment. When he turned again, he was so serious, the dark scruff making him even more dangerous. His eyes swept her from head to toe. “I won’t if you won’t,” he clipped the words out, then walked away. “Tomorrow night. 6:30.”
Madlyn gripped the doorframe until his vehicle was out of sight. Once inside, she let her knees collapse, and she sat with her back against the kitchen door.
Smartass.
She couldn’t help the laughter bubbling out of her. She clamped her hands over her mouth before the emotional swell turned on her. It had been so long since she’d really laughed that she was afraid she’d start to cry. Something else she hadn’t done in a very long time. Still, one giggle hiccupped out of her, and she smiled again.
She didn’t want to like Jared Marshall, but she absolutely couldn’t help herself.
Chapter Four
At 6:30 the following night, Jared parked in the driveway of Madlyn’s little storybook cottage. The porch light was on, and there was something so warm and inviting about that light that he let himself pretend she’d turned it on for him.
It probably had a motion sensor.
Still, her house was a pleasant surprise. He’d teased her before about eating gingerbread and children, but he hadn’t expected her to live in a small Queen Anne Victorian, complete with gingerbread trim and white picket fence. It was painted sky blue and had a porch that almost wrapped around the entire house. It was so not her.
He caught his breath. It wasn’t for her, he realized. It was for Robbie. A home she planned to share with her son.
The son she gave away so she could get on with her life.
Nothing made sense.
He found her waiting on the front porch. She wasn’t wearing red except on her lips. He didn’t much care what she called the color. He just knew that red would look great on his dick.
She smiled as if she could read his mind. The blue dress wasn’t sexy. It was professional but still sent his heartbeat crazy. She turned then to lock the door, and Jared caught himself in time before he laughed out loud. The indigo blue heels had a red-hot pop of color on the soles. She’d done what he’d told her, but with a twist that made him burn hotter.
And drove home that he would never be in her league.
Not that he wanted to be. He didn’t give a shit about being in her league. But being inside her, yeah, that was going to happen.
When he stepped around the car to open her door, she surprised him by not making one of her cutting remarks. Her eyes flicked over his jeans and button-down then stopped at the cuffs on his forearms.
“What?”
“Nice watch.” Was she purring? Her index finger traced the leather band then up the swirl of ink that disappeared under his shirt cuff. Fire lit under his skin.
“My parents gave it to me when I passed the bar,” he managed to say as he resisted the urge to jerk his arm back. “But if I showed up in that Gucci suit, my parents would seriously drop dead, and Grant would never let me live it down. Then you’ll never get your partnership. Besides, you aren’t wearing red, except for those shoes.”
Her smile widened, parting her lips and making his heart stop as her hand curved around his forearm, her thumb tracing the underside and scorching him to the bone. “Oh, I assure you, I am wearing more red than the soles of these shoes.” She squeezed his arm, then lifted her fingers to run the tips lightly along his jaw before turning to slide into the passenger seat.
For a moment, he couldn’t move, then he made the mistake of looking down before shutting her door. The skirt of her wrap dress had fallen away momentarily to reveal the edge of lace at the top of her stockings. He slammed her door before he could pass out. His hands were still shaking when he got behind the wheel and started the car.
Lace-topped stockings.
He’d never been out with a woman wearing stockings—fishnets, maybe, or shredded leggings, but not stockings. He licked his suddenly dry lips. What the hell was wrong with him? They were just stockings.
Yeah, but the legs they covered. He couldn’t resist another glance at the sheer perfection of her legs as she crossed them. She’d done it on purpose. She was laughing at him even though her expression never wavered. His knuckles turned white against the steering wheel.
This wasn’t a date. This was business. He didn’t care what she wore.
But it was still going to be a long night.
It was going to be a long night. Madlyn shifted in the front seat before taking her cell phone out of her bag. She shouldn’t have agreed to let him pick her up. It felt too much like a date, and now she wouldn’t have her car if she decided she wanted to leave early. Stupid move. She knew better.
She hated to admit it, but she was nervous about seeing Milton Marshall again. She’d only spoken to him a few times at alumni events. Calling Milton Marshall intimidating was the definition of understatement, but unlike her grandfather, who was universally hated and feared throughout the Louisiana judicial system, Milton Marshall was genuinely respected and liked. And he had a way of seeing things you didn’t want him to see.
She glanced at the man next to her, scowling out the windshield as he maneuvered through evening traffic, groaning as they waited for a streetcar to pass on St. Charles. He was like his father in many ways, she’d just never thought about it until now. Jared saw too much and gave nothing away. Everyone who knew Jared Marshall couldn’t help but like him, including her, despite her best efforts. But there was something lurking behind that dangerously attractive face, lean muscled body and smartass attitude. Something deadly and damned if she wasn’t drawn to it like some clueless bee to honey.
Also stupid. She knew better.
He glanced at her without warning, catching her staring with another all-knowing grin. She should have made him shave. She might have gotten out of this unscarred if he’d shaved. Or she could have done it for him. She imagined spreading white cream on his face before dragging a straight edge along that jaw. She crossed her legs again to stop the unexpected meltdown at her core.
She was worse than screwed.
“You look worried.”
He definitely saw too much. “I’m not.” The denial sounded flat, even to her.
“He’s hard to say no to.”
She glanced back at him. “What makes you think I’m going to say no? I told you what I wanted.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got to watch it with my old man. You think you’re getting what you want, but you’re really getting what he wants. Otherwise, you get what you get.”
“You forget who raised me.” She checked her cell phone again. Suzanne still hadn’t answered any of her calls or her text messages.
“Oh, I never forget a thing,” he assured her, making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. “Your mom doesn’t think much of your grandfather, so how did he end up raising you?”
“I’m not discussing personal family history
with you,” she dismissed the question she’d never been able to answer herself. She loved her mother. Her mother had done the best she could for her children after her husband died.
“You’re about to meet my family. It’s only fair. She hates the man. Why would she let him anywhere near you? And why are you repeating the pattern?”
Her palm clenched around her cell phone, pain sliding through her like acid. Anger was the only way to deal with it, so she lashed out. “Are you a psychologist too now? Will there be a charge for all this therapy?”
He grinned, keeping his eyes on the road. “Oh, the therapy hasn’t started yet, trust me.”
Her jaw dropped at the blatant sexual undertone in his smartass answer. “In your dreams, Marshall.”
Nothing fit. Nothing about Madlyn Robicheaux made sense.
Especially not his reaction to her. She made him say things he’d never say and feel things he shouldn’t. His hands ached to rip the steering wheel out of the car. He’d throw it through the windshield. He imagined the shower of safety glass and knew it still wouldn’t be enough to assuage the gnawing hunger scraping just under his skin. It made no sense. The angrier she made him, the more he wanted her.
How was he supposed to sit through dinner with Madlyn and his parents?
What a nightmare.
They spent the rest of the drive in silence, but the tension only coiled tighter between them. When they reached his parents’ place, he stopped just outside the gate and pulled over where the security cameras couldn’t see.
He unclipped his seat belt as she turned to demand to know why he’d stopped. Planning to warn her not to upset his parents, his mouth crashed into hers instead. Mint, cinnamon, and roses overwhelmed him. Madlyn tasted sweet and bitter at the same time. The pastry chef in him savored it, while the man in him drowned.
Startled at first, she didn’t move, but she didn’t resist him either. He pushed past those gorgeous red lips, through perfect white teeth, and slid into sweet hot wet that rolled through him like a narcotic. He invaded hard and fast before she could protest. She melted, her hands going to his shoulders, not to push him away but to hold on.
This was what he wanted.
This was what he could never get enough of.
He kept one hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone as his palm cupped her head. He dropped his other hand to unclip her seat belt, and as soon as the leather strap gave way, he turned her, his hand moving to her thigh as he leaned over her, pushing her against the creaking leather seat.
He groaned into her mouth when his finger slid under the dress and found bare skin at the top of those lace stockings. His thumb pressed into the silky skin of her inner thigh, and it was her turn to groan as her body arched.
He lifted his mouth, resisting the urge to shake his head to clear it. Black eyes flickered opened, staring straight at him in the darkness. Even darker than the night.
“You have thirty seconds to decide if you want it hard or sweet. That was hard.” He licked at her bottom lip. “This is sweet.”
He kissed her again, licking her, teasing her until she gave in to the playful tenderness as he lost himself in her. When he lifted his head, he was drunk on her, and the dazed look on her face told him she was, too.
“Sweet it is.” He moved to kiss her again, and she jerked back, twisting to get away. He tightened his hold on her. “Don’t.”
The anger in his tone surprised him and shocked her into stillness. She stared up at him, weighing her options. He needed her to understand that she didn’t have any when it came to his family. “You can shred me with those claws all day long. I’m even starting to like it. But that’s my family in there. They are good people. I’m not happy about bringing a harpy to dinner, but it’s not my call. One flip remark, one insinuation, and I will break you into so many pieces there will be no way to put you back together.”
Something rippled across her expression, and for a second he thought she might kiss him. Then a familiar smile curved that dangerous mouth, and when she spoke, the venom almost burned him alive. “Don’t worry, I like to be alone when I play with my toys.”
He let go of her so fast, she fell back against the car door. She straightened, her fingers trembling when they touched her mouth. He turned on her, the seriously aggressive look on his face causing an inappropriate flare of heat inside her.
He’d meant every word. He wouldn’t hesitate to strike back if anyone tried to hurt his family. Something sweet curled around her, and immediately she knew she was in too deep.
The earth eased away from her feet. He stared back at her, his eyes fierce with a promise that she could trust him. But she didn’t want to trust him. If she gave in to that promise, she might start to need him. She couldn’t take this detour, but it was coming at her so fast that it was already too late.
That determined look tripped her up. She’d had that once. Someone who was willing to walk through fire for her. But it had been so long, she’d forgotten how it felt to matter to someone, to know your place in the world, and that they had your back no matter what.
She’d forgotten how it felt to be with Robert. Sometimes it was more than she could bear. She tried to call up Robert’s image, but she couldn’t. She could picture familiar photographs she had of him, but her memories were blurred by time. But nothing about the pain was blurred. It was as sharp as ever as it quietly shredded her to ribbons inside.
“Are we clear?”
Grateful that the brutal tone had snapped her out of the death spiral her thoughts were taking, she still couldn’t speak past the rock clogging her throat. She opened her mouth to tell him that he had nothing to be concerned about. That she would never do anything like he was suggesting. Instead, she launched herself across the car without warning, caught his face between his hands and kissed him while she prayed there would be no tomorrow. Just this single second in time.
She smiled when he shuddered and surrendered to the kiss. His tongue sliding across hers tasted so good. Heat seared through her, thawing places she’d forgotten were frozen. When she eased back, she brushed her thumb across the red lipstick that smudged his mouth.
“Crystal clear.” She resisted the urge to smear the lipstick on his shirt. “This thing…it’s just us.”
His grin was quick, and it was next to impossible not to smile back. “So you admit there’s a thing.”
“Maybe,” she hedged, still fighting a smile. How could he be sexy and adorable at the same time? He started to speak, but she cut him off. “A very small thing.”
His eyes narrowed on her, and his grin turned to pure evil. “I’ll show you small.”
She lost the battle with the smile, but it didn’t stop there. An unexpected laugh escaped her, almost choking her on the way out. It was impossible to tell which of them was more surprised. And for a second, she didn’t know quite what to do. Laughing two days in a row. It was too strange to consider.
“We’ll see who’s laughing later.”
That made her laugh harder. She wiped the lipstick off her fingers while he pulled the car back onto the road. She flipped open her lighted mirror compact to repair the damage. As she reapplied the red lipstick, she almost laughed out loud again. She wanted to take that red lipstick and draw a giant X on the front of his shirt. No, not on his shirt. On him.
She wanted to mark her territory.
She paused, her hand trembling. Then she snapped the compact shut.
She had no idea who she even was anymore.
Chapter Five
Dinner with the Marshalls was unlike any meal Madlyn had ever had. For one, she was overdressed, which she would get Jared back for as soon as he least expected it. And two, there were so many of them. And they were all in the kitchen, just sitting down at the huge farmhouse table.
They looked up when she and Jared walked in.
Someone said. “Oh, great. The cheesecake is here; we were getting worried.”
“Very funny,” Jared sh
ot back, but handed over the two boxes to his mother when she came around the table.
The older lady smiled at Madlyn. “I’m Hazel Jean, but everyone calls me Hazy.”
“Oh,” Madlyn said, guessing she had to be Jared’s mother, but only because Grant had her eyes. Jared looked nothing like his mother.
“Jared, introduce your guest,” Hazy admonished as she put the cheesecakes in the refrigerator. “I hope you brought a chocolate-covered one.”
“Please, like I would forget.” Jared turned back to Madlyn and introduced her to everyone. “You know Grant. That’s Julie and Layton, his kids. Lacey, my older sister, and her husband, Bud—yes that’s his name—and their kids Chase, Luke, and Janette. That punk right there is Janette’s boyfriend, Wilson…”
“Fiancé,” Janette corrected him.
“Whatever,” Jared scoffed. “That’s Crystal, she’s Luke’s better half, and they’re expecting the very first Marshall great-grandchild.”
There was a big round of whoops and claps around the table while Crystal beamed under the praise. A small dart of pain slid unexpectedly under Madlyn’s skin.
“And you know my dad,” Jared continued. “Milton Marshall.”
“Everyone calls me Mr. Marshall,” his dad said, holding out his hand, and Madlyn recognized that cocky grin in a heartbeat. “But we’ve met already. It’s just been a while.”
Madlyn shook the older man’s hand, her head still spinning with the introductions. Jared pushed two of the cousins aside and squeezed in between them, dragging her with him.
“Just elbow them over. They’ll move.”
“Did you get everyone’s name?” Grant teased from across the table.
“Why? Is there a test later?” Madlyn asked, but she relaxed and began to understand why Jared had gone all alpha on her in the car. His family were nice. They were fun. Those weren’t words Madlyn associated with family.
The Fall of the Red Queen (Self Made Men...Southern Style Book 3) Page 5