by Josie Kerr
☆☆☆
“You have lost your damn mind.” Still in his EMT uniform, Ryan was looking at the specs and shaking his head. “Totally, completely lost it.” With his eyes still glued to the spec sheets, Ryan snapped his fingers. “Lemme take a look at that schedule.”
Jason groaned and turned the opened planner to where Ryan wouldn’t have to read it upside down, then he hid his face behind his hands.
“Oh, no, you don’t get to hide now that you’ve roped me into this madness,” Ryan mumbled, his attention now riveted on the calendar in front of him. Jason peeked through his fingers and couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Neither he nor Ryan had much of a poker face, but Jason could practically hear the internal monologue as Ryan cycled through various expressions. After a few minutes of silence, Ryan huffed out a breath and turned the planner back around, planting a thick finger squarely on a date five days from the present. “You’re on solo until then.”
Jason frowned, uncertain as to what Ryan meant. “Okay . . .”
“I’d originally planned on taking three weeks off to spend with Junior and to just mentally prepare for going back to school, but . . .” His voice trailed off as his eyes flicked back to the spec sheet. “You. Are. Fucked,” he said, his finger punctuating each word as if driving home facts of which Jason was already fully aware. “There’s no way you can get this done alone, so I’m gonna use two weeks of my staycation to help you knock out a lot of the big stuff that will be easier to handle with another person.”
Jason stood there like an idiot, his jaw opening and closing like a stranded fish, so much so that Ryan began to cackle.
“Say, ‘Thank you, Ryan.’ ”
“Thank you, Ryan,” Jason said, stupidly, then he shook his head and squinted at his brother. “I do appreciate your help, really, but you’re a jackass.”
Ryan shrugged a shoulder and grinned at Jason. “You’re welcome.”
Jason grunted and began to gather up the various planners and spec sheets he’d scattered around the tabletop. He’d scheduled this meeting early so Ryan could swing by before heading home to his bed and his husband and so Jason would have time to stop in at Foley’s between his previously scheduled appointments. He was so preoccupied with thoughts of Meghan, Foley’s, and the schedule that he didn’t realize Ryan hadn’t moved.
“What?” Jason asked, because Ryan was just sitting there, head cocked to the side with a really weird look on his face.
Ryan pursed his lips, a sure sign he was getting ready to ask something that most likely was none of his business.
“So what’s the status with you and Meghan?”
Yep, none of his damn business, especially since Jason really didn’t know what the hell the status was. Sure, they’d agreed to keep it professional, but really, who were they kidding? Hell, he’d lasted less than five minutes before wanting to go right back inside that pub and let her have her way with him.
“Jase?”
Jason grunted and shook his head. “We’ve agreed to keep it professional, because . . . all the reasons. Right?”
Ryan nodded enthusiastically. “Right. That’s the only way this shit is going to get done, along with the other stuff we’ve already got scheduled.”
“Right.” Jason sighed as he snapped the clasp on his satchel. “Now, I gotta run. Karen wants to discuss stain colors for the custom closet.”
“I thought she wanted all white?”
“I did, too, but it seems Mister Karen has other ideas. Said the white is emasculating.”
Ryan snorted. “The dude paid ten grand for a place for his wife to put her shoes and handbags.”
“Right?” Jason slid out of the booth seat. “I have a sneaking suspicion that this little meeting is going to turn into custom closet number two, manly-man edition.” He cracked his neck. “It’ll have to wait seven weeks, period. Even if I wasn’t going to help with Foley’s, there’s only so much of the Dothans I can take. That kitchen about killed me.”
“You weren’t the one who had to get the approval of the cabinet faces. Good God A’mighty.” Ryan laughed as he followed Jason out of the diner. “Some people shouldn’t be allowed to access Pinterest.”
“No shit.” Jason opened the door to his truck and tossed his satchel onto the passenger seat. He and Ryan made plans for the next few days, and then Jason headed to his first appointment.
The sun had just cleared all downtown’s skyscrapers, and Atlanta traffic was in full force, so Jason let his mind wander a bit as he snaked his way through the city. While Ryan’s help would provide some relief, he still worried about the amount of work needed to bring Foley’s up to snuff. Meghan’s description of the schedule—‘batshit crazy’—was more accurate than she realized. Jason’s biggest fear was that they’d lose their minds trying to hit this unrealistic timeline and the assholes at this development company would still maintain that the little pub wasn’t worthy of inclusion in the Cabbagetown Eats event.
Which would be total and complete horseshit.
Jason got more agitated the more he thought about the development company. He needed to find out more about this Knoxtree Development, and he knew just whom to call. After he coasted into the circular drive in front of the obnoxious McMansion the Dothans called home, he made a few calls to people in the know before bracing himself to deal with one desperate housewife.
Chapter 9
Meghan hadn’t slept so well in months, mostly because she’d been camping on the office couch. Last night, she’d slept in her own bed for the first time since her father’s death. It was weird not hearing him moving around their shared space, noisily putting on the kettle for tea and making breakfast, but she was getting used to his absence. Maybe.
She stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. God, she loved that ceiling. A relic from the seventies, a fine layer of silver and gold glitter coated the heavily textured surface, and at this time of the morning, the sun shining through the high windows of her bedroom made the whole room sparkle like some sort of magical place.
She blinked. What in the world had come over her? Who was this Pollyanna Suzie Sunshine Dipshit who’d invaded her innermost thoughts? Next she would be watching Christmas movies in August and joining Jason in his adulation of Celine Dion.
“You’re losing your mind, Sullivan,” she said out loud. “Now you’re talking to yourself. Great.”
As she lay in bed and looked at the shimmery ceiling, she mentally went over what she had to do today. Paying bills was a given—yuck. Then Jason was supposed to stop by before the pub opened but after his first appointment. He didn’t give her an exact time other than “before the lunch rush,” and that sometimes started as early as eleven, which was when she opened the front door to customers. With her luck, he’d be at the back door before she had her wits about her, so Meghan hauled herself out of bed.
Twenty minutes later, she was dressed, with a full face a makeup on, and taking inventory of the bulk goods, which didn’t take her long, as Nolan kept a running list of things he needed for his weekly showcase meals. Next came a quick check of the frozen goods, and she was ready to hit the markets when Ronnie, the backup bartender, arrived.
She was headed to the office to tackle the dreaded bills when she spied a half-full rack of pint glasses. While not obviously dirty, they were definitely spotted and dingy. Getting rid of hard-water stains was more fun than paying bills, so she decided to take care of the glassware. Meghan hauled the white vinegar and baking soda from the pantry and lined one of the sinks with a white towel, then began to fill the sink with hot water.
She hummed to herself as she watched the water level creep up, and her mind wandered back to Jason—mostly about when he was due to arrive at Foley’s, but also about their interaction from the day before. Six months ago, neither Jason nor Meghan would have thought twice about having a quickie, especially as a celebration of sorts, which she definitely counted his decision to help her was.
As it was, their tr
uncated make-out session was just enough to whet her appetite for the hard-bodied military man. Lordy, the man could kiss. Actually, he could do all sorts of things with his tongue. And when he combined that talented tongue with those hands? That was enough to make a woman swoon, or at least make her drop her panties.
Meghan knew it was going to be hard to keep it professional—at least on her part anyway. Hell, when he’d come into the pub after a workday, smelling of sawdust and man, with his hair mussed from his hat? She could barely get him back to the storeroom before she was undoing his fly and pulling up her skirt.
Yes, Jason brought out every wanton, slutty inclination she had, and yesterday had been no different. She was a little embarrassed about her blatant grinding against him—but only just a little. Really, she’d regretted passing up the chance for one last romp.
Oh well.
She was humming while she rinsed the glasses with the sink’s sprayer, her mind a million miles away, when she heard a man’s deep voice say her name and felt the heat of a large body against her back. It scared the shit out of her, so much so that she jerked the sprayer, completely soaking the front of her body and shooting water directly in her face.
She screeched and turned the full force of the hot stream of water into her assailant’s face. Only it wasn’t an assailant.
“Fuck!” Jason put his hands up to protect himself from the heavy spray. “Meghan! Jeez—stop it!”
She dropped the sprayer as soon as it dawned on her who had come up behind her. The two of them gawked at each other, both of them soaking wet. Meghan was the first to begin laughing, initially just giggling at Jason’s shocked expression, and then succumbing to full-fledged chortling as Jason pulled her against his chest. She could feel his laughter rumble under her cheek, and suddenly, she didn’t feel much like laughing anymore.
“J-Jason, you asshole,” Meghan stammered against his chest.
She looked up at him, expecting him to be flashing that mischievous, sexy grin of his. Instead, she found him as serious as she’d ever seen him look.
“Jason,” she whispered. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, babe.” He wiped a droplet of water off her cheek with his thumb and smoothed her soggy hair back from her face. “I didn’t mean to.” He stepped away from her, his eyes blazing.
“You’re soaking wet, Meghan.” His voice was hushed, intense, and his gaze practically burned her. His eyes swept her from head to toe, pausing where her nipples jutted through her thin T-shirt, which was now transparent.
“That’s what happens when you spray yourself with water.” God, Meghan. You are an idiot.
“You should probably get out of these wet things.” His lip twitched, and his familiar grin appeared.
Meghan snorted. Maybe Jason was the idiot.
What wasn’t idiotic was the way he ran his hands over her body, first on her shoulders and down her arms, then to her waist. He plucked the T-shirt from her waistband, exposing the strip of skin at her waist.
“Do you need some help?” he whispered even as he worked her shirt over her head.
Meghan heard the plop of wet cotton on the floor, but she didn’t take her eyes off him. Her thoughts raced through her head. He’d pulled back yesterday, which was definitely reasonable, although disappointing. But now? Now, he looked like he wanted nothing more than to take her every way imaginable.
And Meghan had a very vivid imagination.
He stepped into her space and pulled her to him, his big hand splayed across her back.
“What about the thing we talked about yesterday?” Meghan was horrified the moment the words came out of her mouth. What the hell was she doing?
He froze, but he didn’t take his hands off of her. In fact, she could feel him fiddling with the clasp of her bra.
“I haven’t started working on your project, so I’m not technically your employee yet.”
“Oh. Well.” Meghan swallowed hard. “That’s a totally different situation, then, right?”
“Right.” The clasp sprang open, and Jason’s hands were all over her bare back and then at her shoulders, slipping the straps down her arms. Meghan panicked for a split second. She could think of only two times when Jason saw her completely topless, but by his appreciative look, he approved. Then, in a flash, he had her up in his arms and had carried her over to the empty dry-goods table which was a height where her breasts just happened to be at the perfect level for him to suck one peak into his hot mouth. She groaned as his tongue circled her nipple while he thumbed the other.
He was so good at this. So, so good.
Then he switched sides, bestowing all his attention on her other breast. Meghan buried her hands in his short hair and arched her back. Her core throbbed. She wanted his mouth, his fingers, his cock—preferably all three—but knew the likelihood of that happening was next to nil.
But then he tugged on her waistband.
“I have a love-hate relationship with these damn shorts,” Jason complained. “They are so fucking hot, the way you can see just a tiny bit of cheek hanging out of the bottom, but there are so many damn buttons.” He pulled on the waist, grinding the seam against her clit, and an orgasm rocketed through Meghan so hard her entire upper body jolted.
Jason growled, “Oh, fuck yeah,” before pushing his thumb against that seam and rubbing fast while sealing his mouth over her breast again, this time applying the slightest bit of pressure with his teeth. He held her tight against him as she shuddered and shivered until the final crest of her climax subsided and she thought she was going to wilt into a spineless, sated lump of goo right there on the table.
That was table number three he’d brought her to orgasm on. She wasn’t exactly sure what that said about her.
Jason had buried his face in the crook of her neck and peppered that spot with tiny bites and kisses.
“Darlin’, I wish I didn’t have a meeting this afternoon so we could do this properly for once,” he murmured.
“Properly?”
“Mm-hmm. Totally naked . . . in a bed . . . and then in the shower . . . and maybe on the couch.” Then he looked her straight in the eye, nudged up her chin with his forefinger, and kissed her. Sure, they’d kissed before, but this was . . . spectacular. Like, she couldn’t breathe and was totally disorientated when he pulled away.
“Damn.” Meghan blew out a breath.
“Yeah.”
“Meghan! There are some dudes here to see—whoa, Nelly! I can see your tits!” Ronnie gawped at her, his eyes wide and riveted to her breasts.
Jason stepped in front of her, blocking Ronnie’s view. “Do you know how much she friggin’ hates that word, Ronnie?” he asked while Meghan scrambled to quickly don her bra and damp, wrinkled T-shirt.
She poked her head around Jason. “I do. I hate that word.”
“Huh? What word? You mean ‘tits’?”
“Ronnie!” both Jason and Meghan exclaimed at the same time.
“Whoa! My bad. Forgive me if I’ve never discussed my boss’s preference of what to call the female secondary sex characteristic,” Ronnie scoffed. “Anyway, there are some dudes waiting in the main dining room. They said it was something about the Cabbagetown Eats thing?”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Meghan knew she wasn’t in any shape to be seen in public, much less meet with committee members.
“Dammit, Jason. Why do you have to be so . . . so—” Meghan let out a guttural growl.
“Irresistible?” And then he had the audacity to wink at her. Wink. At. Her. And then he kissed her!
“Babe, go upstairs, get your face back on and some clothes that don’t make me wanna strip them off with my teeth, and I’ll distract these assholes while you get ready.”
“What are you going to do?”
Jason shrugged. “I’ll introduce myself as your contractor, and we’ll talk shop for a bit. Easy peasy.”
Meghan grunted. The idea sounded completely practical and reasonable, and therefore she
was utterly suspicious.
“Go,” Jason ordered, giving her a push.
“God, you’re bossy.”
“Yeah, you like it.” He gave her a grin. “I’ll see you out there. You’ll kick ass.”
Meghan got ready to protest but thought better of it, so she just huffed at him and stomped out of the kitchen to go do what the irritating man said. Why was he so damn irresistible? It made her furious that she wanted to lick him from the top of his regulation military haircut to his extremely well-packed tool belt.
Dammit.
Chapter 10
Man, there was nothing like having a potentially life-altering meeting with a raging hard-on.
Which was exactly where Jason found himself about five minutes after Meghan went upstairs to put herself together after he’d made her fall apart. Which was fantastic, of course, because anytime he could get Meghan off was awesome. On the other hand, he had a sneaking suspicion he was breaking some sort of rule of business etiquette.
But Jason turned on what Ryan called his “pharmaceutical-grade schmooze” and went for broke.
“Gentlemen. Ms. Sullivan will be down in a moment. She’s just wrapping up some prior business.” Jason ignored Ronnie’s choked laugh and shook the hand of each member of this so-called standards committee. Within ninety seconds of their initial introduction, Jason was quite certain he wanted to kick every one of their asses, maybe twice just for good measure. They made some small talk about specs, but Jason made sure they waited for Meghan before they discussed anything important. After all, this event could make or break Foley’s Public House, and in turn, Meghan.
“Hello, gentlemen. I’m sorry I ran a bit late.”
Jason turned and almost swallowed his tongue. If possible, Meghan looked even sexier than she had earlier in her short shorts and thin tee. She’d emerged in a pair of toreador pants, platform sandals, and a cherry-red pin-up-style crop top. Holy shit.
The head idiot, that jackass named Knox, leered at her as he shook her hand, and Jason was pretty sure he tried to look down Meghan’s blouse. Jason balled up his fist, cracking his knuckles ominously, which caused Meghan to shoot him a death glare. Jason cooled it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. At all.