Not that I care.
“Got you the strongest ones.” I shrug. “At least the pharmacist said these are the best.”
Popping the pills, she swallows them, drawing my attention to her fragile neck and smiles. “These are great, thank you.” She slumps against the bright bedding—a sort of silky green fabric. The only thing in this place that looks remotely new. Even with bags under her eyes, she looks fantastic against the colour.
“Can I get you anything else?”
She shakes her head. “I just need to sleep for a bit. I’ve got to work tonight.”
The temptation to skim my fingers over her cheeks as she burrows against the pillow forces me to curl my hand. Instead, I make a show of readjusting the bedding around her.
“Thank you, Hunter.”
My name, a mere whisper on her lips, spirals deep inside and summons more desire than any other word has. God knows I’ve had some girlfriends who liked to talk dirty but they never had this kind of effect on me.
Before I can do anything foolish, I retreat out of the room and pull the door to, leaving just enough gap so I can check on her without disturbing her. I slump onto the creaky couch and shove my fingers into my hair. What do I do now? Am I really going to hang around and wait for her to wake up?
Yeah, I guess I am. I can’t afford to lose this chance. I chuckle. I sure didn’t expect to be nursing a sick woman when I took on this job. I fish my phone out of my pocket and catch up on a few emails while I wait. After half an hour, I give up waiting. She’s definitely asleep now. In her small apartment I can hear her steady breaths and the occasional mumble. It’s far too endearing.
I glance around and stand. Can’t miss this opportunity. The couch squeaks and I freeze. Nothing but the sound of people in the apartment above, traffic outside and Jess sleeping. Hands on my hips, I consider the room. I get the feeling I’m going to find fuck all but I’ve got to try. I doubt it will be as easy as finding a bank statement but I can always hope. Perhaps I can even leave before she wakes up and she’ll be none the wiser. I’ll get out of her life and forget her.
The tiny T.V. sits on a battered wooden unit and I kneel and pull open the drawers, careful to remain quiet. I shake my head in disbelief. A T.V. remote, two DVDs—some chick flicks with women in bonnets on or something—and a tatty set of playing cards. I take them out of the sleeve. They appear old but tell me nothing.
On her windowsill are several well-read paperbacks so I give up my search of the unit and pick through the books. A Jane Austen, a spy novel I don’t recognize and an old fashioned romance book with a painted cover of a woman with windswept hair. The Jane Austen catches my eye. It’s leather bound and looks better cared for than the others. Inside is a bookplate with an illustration of a fairy and her name scrawled under the ‘This Book Belongs To’ part. The childish handwriting makes my gut clench.
Think of the money.
I know she ran away from home at seventeen so that explains the lack of belongings. What makes a kid want to disappear? Her work history is sketchy which suggests she either didn’t work or did cash in hand jobs. From then to now, she might as well have not existed. I’ve never had a case like it.
I place back the books and move into the kitchen area. On the side are a bunch of pink flowers. I’m no expert but they look pricey. Jealousy boils through me, hot and deep-seated. It can’t be a boyfriend—I would have known about one—but she’s a gorgeous girl, so there’s nothing to say she wouldn’t have plenty of admirers. I search through the roses and find a card buried under the buds. I want you. I snort. Welcome to my world.
Sheets rustle and I shove the card and flowers back. When I’m sure she’s not getting up, I continue my search. I’ve never met anyone with no junk. I search her kitchen top to bottom but come up with nothing.
A stash of paperwork catches my eye on top of one of the mottled cream cabinets. Bingo. On tiptoes, I grab the small pile, throwing a glance over my shoulder. From where I am, I can see her sprawled. She’s kicked off the duvet and is lying face down. I turn away quickly before the temptation to stand and watch her kicks in. She’s wearing some kind of sleep shirt thing. If I’d have known there were bare legs under that green bedding, I might not have left her to sleep so easily. Out of tights or trousers, those legs are amazing.
The top letter is a college acceptance for a diploma from two years ago. The info is limited. Nothing new. It’s odd though, the idea of her investing in her education. Why bother when you’re preparing to escape the country? Unless she’s not as smart as I’ve given her credit for and she’s planning to stick around. Surely she’s got to know her uncle would come after her. Why else change your image and keep such a low profile? The next few are wage slips from the bar. She’s barely making anything. I’m guessing she lived off tips until she started her job at the bank.
I cast aside the pay slips and underneath is a tatty old envelope. A grin begs to break free. This looks important. A key to her past? A creak from behind me sends my pulse racing and I shove the papers back on top of the cabinet. By the time I’ve turned around to face the bedroom, Jess is standing in the doorway. I take in those endless legs and the pastel striped shirt that just touches the tops of her thighs. I’m staring and I can’t help myself. The shirt is held on by snaps. The lightest of tugs and the whole thing would be off. My jeans tighten and I drag my gaze up to her face.
She’s been sick and she’s part of a job. I shouldn’t be imagining running my tongue up and down those legs and sucking on her tight nipples, even though I can see them pressing against the cotton.
“You’re still here.” Surprise lights her sleep-tinged voice.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “Yeah, still here. Wanted to make sure you were okay. You didn’t sleep long.” I lean back on my heels and hope she can’t see my rock hard arousal.
“I’m okay. A little fuzzy but better. Guess the painkillers kicked in quick.”
“Good.”
Jess drags a hand through her tangled hair. “So…”
Crap I wish I’d thought further ahead. I still need to see that letter. I have to persuade her to let me stick around so I glance at my watch. “It’s nearly lunchtime. You want to get something to eat?”
I gulp as uncertainty flickers across her face. Why does it feel like more than a job is on the line here?
“I’m not sure I’m up to it,” Jess admits.
Of course she isn’t. Her skin is pale and she looks exhausted still. I’m a fucking idiot. “I’ll grab something then. You don’t have much in.” I thrust a thumb over my shoulder toward the fridge.
Colour blossoms on her cheeks. “Yeah, sorry. You must be hungry.”
Damn, now she’s apologizing? What is this woman about? “I’ll run around the corner and get something.”
“Oh no, you really don’t—”
“I do.” My tone broaches no argument and thankfully it works. She sags a little and nods. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Before I can wonder any further why the need to take care of this woman is so strong, I turn and head out. My footsteps echo on the concrete stairwell as I take them two floors down. It reeks of piss and the rust red paint is peeling from the walls. I suck in a deep breath of cool air when I reach the street, grateful to be free of the grim apartment block and Jess’s company. I need to get my head on straight. A breeze ruffles my hair and I pull my jacket tight around myself.
It takes me five minutes to get to the deli, Marco’s. I know it because I’ve seen Jess come here. I’ve even eaten here myself while shadowing her. It’s cheap but good. Run by an Italian family, the place looks dilapidated from the outside and the few warped plastic chairs and chipped tile floor don’t do it any favours but it’s clearly popular as there’s a line of people waiting. I join the queue and tap my feet in aggravation. I need to get back to Jess—for the letter not for her. I only glimpsed the writing on the front—an address of some kind, written in careful cursive. Maybe that could be
the one clue that unravels everything, solves the mystery that is Jess.
When it’s my turn to order, I’m cautious. I know she likes prosciutto from following her but it’s going to look odd if I order her favourite so I get chorizo and mozzarella—close enough that I think she’ll like it. I order myself a pulled pork sub and hurry back to her flat.
The door is still unlocked so I let myself in. Disappointment knifes through me when I find her in the kitchen, making coffee. Gone are the bare legs and messy hair. She’s wearing black jeans—her signature colour it seems—and a long sleeved purple top. It’s cut out at the shoulders, highlighting her smooth skin. What would it be like to press kisses to that skin? Does it taste as good as it looks?
She turns, a half smile on her lips and I note all her make-up is in place too. She’s stunning but I don’t like her putting on a front with me. It bothers me for more reasons than it should. Of course, little does she know, make-up can’t hide the truth from me. I know she’s a crook.
I hold up the deli bag and thrust it toward her. “I wasn’t sure what you like,” I lie.
Jess takes the bag, pulls out the sandwiches and unwraps them before putting them on plates. “This is great, thank you. Is this mine?” She holds up the chorizo.
“Yeah. Good guess.” I nod toward the flowers. “You should get those in water.”
“Oh I forgot those. They came this morning while I was still sleeping.”
“Do I need to worry about a jealous boyfriend?” I ask casually, digging for more information.
“Oh no, not at all. I thought… well, no there’s no one. I’m not even sure who they’re from.”
I grab them and feign looking for a label. “Here.” I hand her the card.
The colour drains from her face and her hands tremble marginally. It means something to her. But what?
Jess smiles weakly and flings the card aside. “Weird.” She motions to the couch and grimaces. “I don’t have anywhere to eat but feel free to sit down. Sorry, I know it’s a dump. I don’t really have guests.”
Watching me as I sit, she waits until I begin eating and sits gingerly next to me. The couch sags so much that her weight brings our legs together and lightning streaks through me. I’m galvanized by her touch. Pink slashes of colour sit high in her cheeks and I know she felt it too.
“So, um, thanks for coming, Hunter. I know I was rude last night and—”
“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything.” I take a mouthful of sandwich and resist groaning. “God, this is good.”
Jess laughs. “Marco’s is the best. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you… you really didn’t need to—”
“It’s fine, honestly. I’m glad I could help. I was a dick last night. I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again but I understand why you were pissed.”
A relieved smile lights her face and makes me want to kiss those curving lips into submission. “Good.” She nods. “Thanks.”
“Thank me properly later.”
“What?”
I can tell there’s a few dirty thoughts running through her mind. There’s a slight flicker of a pulse at the base of her neck and she draws in a heavy breath.
“I mean you can thank me by going out with me.”
“Oh.”
Is that disappointment I see? ‘Cause God knows I’d happily have her thank me in many other ways. She could thank me on top, or on her knees or—shit.
“You don’t want to go out with me?”
“It’s not that, it’s just… it’s not a good idea, okay?”
“Princess, I rarely have good ideas but trust me, a date is an awesome idea.” I place the plate on the arm of the couch and grab her hand. She doesn’t protest when I loop my fingers through hers but nor does she sink into me like I want. “You, me, maybe somewhere secluded.” I lower my voice unintentionally. “That would be a very, very good idea.”
I watch her throat move and bring her hand up to mine so I can kiss her fingers. I’m acting purely on instinct now. I’m not even playing a game. I should be, but I’m not. One finger at a time, I lay my lips on them. Her barely audible gasps are music to my ears. My damned jeans are trying to kill me again but it’s worth it. I didn’t even know just kissing someone’s fingers could be a turn-on but I think it’s affecting her just as much as it is me.
Something changes. She catches sight of something behind me—the flowers perhaps—and her expression shutters. Tugging her hand from mine, she stares at her sandwich. “You don’t want to get involved with me. I really appreciate your help but I’m just not looking to date.”
Damn it. I lost my focus and now I’m losing my chance with her again. I’ve got to stop acting so rashly. Kissing someone’s hand? Fuck, that’s not me at all. Always in control. That’s how I like to be. I’ve seen how being out of control can fuck up your life. My dad did that. And took the rest of us down with him. No way in hell am I going down that road.
I flick on a grin. “Jessie, give me one chance. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll be the perfect gentleman I swear.”
Her expression is pained when she lifts her head. I can practically see the war going on inside her. Poor girl. I’m not the only one suffering an insane attraction. Problem is, she’s the only one with genuine intentions.
“One date,” I murmur as I give in to temptation and skim a finger across one bare shoulder. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
She laughs unexpectedly and gives me a wry smile. “Many things, I suspect.”
I chuckle. She’s probably right.
Chapter Five
Jess
My head is still fuzzy by the time I catch the bus to work. I’m not sure if that’s the after-effects of the migraine or a symptom of having been in Hunter’s company for most of the afternoon. I rest my head against the window and watch the lights go by. Cyclists weave dangerously close to the bus and horns beep, rattling my fragile head.
I don’t know how he does it. Every time I think I’ve got my defences in place, he smashes through them. Somehow I managed not to commit to a date with him but now my phone burns a hole in my pocket because I’m aware his number is there. The migraine brought me low and broke my restraint but I can’t let that happen again.
I get off the bus and force my way through the people on the pavement. Slipping around the back of Murphy’s, I pause before knocking to be let in. I smooth my palms down my jeans and straighten my jacket. Hunter has ruffled me. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed the company of... well, anyone really. I had friends once but when my asshole ex, Pete, found out about my past and told everyone, that was it. No one wanted anything to do with me. Heat flares in my cheeks. I shake my head and knock on the door.
After a few moments, the lock clicks and Eddie thrusts his head out. With salt and pepper hair, he’s easily old enough to be my dad but he keeps himself in shape and is attractive for his age. Thankfully his attentions have only ever seemed fatherly. He likes young girls—my age usually—but maybe I’m too reserved for him.
“Jess.” He grins. “Come in.”
He ushers me in and I slip off my jacket and hang it in the staffroom. I glance around. “Where is everyone?”
“Jo called in sick and Seb isn’t in until seven.”
“What about Katy?”
Eddie shrugs. “The rota got messed up I think. She’s not in until later too.”
I scowl. We’re at our busiest on a Saturday and it’s the first I’ve heard of the rota being messed up. Murphy’s runs pretty smoothly. Eddie is normally on the ball.
“Just the two of us for a bit,” Eddie says with a chuckle.
I let my frown deepen. I really don’t feel up to dealing with a lot of customers on my own. “We’ll never manage.”
“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll come out from behind the bar when needs be.”
I shake my head and follow him out to the bar. “Yeah right.” A flash of pink on the bar catches my eye and I freeze. “How did those get t
here?” My voice is tight.
“Oh, the flowers?”
“Yes, Eddie, the flowers.”
“They were delivered earlier.” Eddie steps around behind the bar and begins nonchalantly wiping down the surface.
“For you?” I ask hopefully, even though they’re exactly the same roses that were sent to my place this morning.
“I don’t think anyone has ever given me flowers. Why don’t you have a look at the note?”
Heart thudding, I approach the roses, my footsteps heavy. Hunter had made me forget those other flowers. Maybe it was a mistake, but something plays in the back of my mind, telling me they were very deliberately sent to me with the cryptic message. Someone wants me. But why?
Am I paranoid?
I peer at Eddie who’s watching closely and smile weakly. Can he see my nervousness? The sweet fragrance turns my stomach as I reach for the note stuffed in between the blooms. It’s a pink envelope this time with my name on it. Has someone figured it out? I shake my head. No, no way. I left that world far behind when I quit my job, moved to London and changed my appearance.
Gulping, I peel it open and draw out the folded letter. The paper is thick and expensive. Proper writing paper. Someone’s put thought into it. Written in careful handwriting, the words make me shake.
Whores like you should stick to what they know best.
“Everything okay?”
I jerk my head up and nod hastily before stuffing the letter in my pocket. “Yeah, yeah. Just a… just some guy I turned down.” I force a laugh. “Guess he didn’t know how to take no for an answer.”
Eddie shakes his head. “They’re expensive flowers. Looks like someone is trying to charm you.”
“Yeah looks like it.” I snatch the bouquet. “I’ll just stick these in water.” I lie and head toward the kitchens. “Hey, Eddie, who delivered these?”
“I don’t know, Jess. I wasn’t really paying attention. I just took them and left them here.”
Too Much to Lose Page 4