by Lori Foster
She dug out the cell phone from the big tote bag and called Ashley first. The second Ashley picked up, she blurted, “I’m here.”
“Inside?”
“About to be.” Damn, her voice squeaked. “He’s letting me in.”
“You weren’t sure he would?”
“No.” With the way their last encounter had gone, she wasn’t sure of anything.
“Okay. Enough quaking—and don’t deny it, because I hear it in your voice. But you’re too strong for that, May. We both know it. So chin up. Shoulders back. Remember, Jude Jamison is just a man like any other. Flash him some cleavage and he’ll be putty in your hands. And if you need the cavalry, I’m only a phone call away.”
May smiled. “I don’t know that you could get in. He has a tall stone and iron fence around his property.”
“Hey, I can climb a fence. No problem. But if it comes to that, God help him when I do get inside.”
The image of Ashley scaling a fence and wreaking havoc on someone of Jude’s height, weight, and capability left her chuckling. “Thanks, Ash.”
“Go get ‘em.”
The line went dead, and May put the phone away.
Despite tripping over her own feet, she reached the front door and raised a fist to knock. Before her knuckles met wood, the double doors opened and the man from the intercom greeted her with a distinct lack of formality.
Hair on end, he looked her over with a comical expression, shook his head, and said, “Come on in. Jude’s upstairs. He’ll meet ya in the library.”
“Thank you. I—”
He turned away, forcing May to swallow her apology and hurry after him.
He had a long stride and a booming voice. “I’ll bring you both some coffee, but I gotta get dressed first.”
Filled with apprehension, hope, and a lot of uncertainty, May looked around as they passed through the house. She made a quick note of polished marble floors, soaring ceilings, and masculine hues of brown, tan, and cream. Jude had simple tastes and apparently liked clean lines, but everything he owned screamed of high quality.
Especially the multiscreen monitors flanked by intercoms that graced every room. Though some were turned off, most of them showed various angles around the house and grounds. High tech didn’t even begin to describe it.
When the man stopped at the entrance to a stainless steel kitchen with granite countertops and floors, May almost ran into him.
He turned, jumped to find her right behind him, and frowned. “I told ya Jude was upstairs.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t go upstairs.”
Oops. “I was supposed to?”
He crossed bulky arms over his chest. “Be easier to see him that way, dontcha think?”
It took some concentration, but May fashioned a smile. “Yes, of course. The, ah, stairwell is back that way?” She pointed over her shoulder. The house was so immense, a body could get lost going from room to room.
Suspicion darkened his green eyes. He had the most imposing visage she’d ever seen, yet somehow he looked familiar to her.
“Want me to take your wrap and bag?”
“No.” Clutching the tote in front of her, May shook her head and said again, “No, thank you. I’ll… keep them with me.”
“Fine.” He started back the way they’d come, until they got to the sweeping, double-wide wooden stairway leading to the next floor just inside the foyer. “Go on up, then. To the immediate right is the library. Make yourself comfortable.”
May stared up and gulped. Knowing Jude waited at the other end made the stairs feel ominous in the extreme, like the flame that lures the moth, a path that, once chosen, would change her life forever.
And she wasn’t ready for that much change yet. “Umm…”
The older man’s face softened. “I’ve known Jude a long time. Been working for him for a few years now. No reason to be nervous.”
Belatedly, May held out her hand. Introductions would help put off the inevitable. “I’m May Price. Jude buys a lot of his artwork from my gallery.”
Her hand got swallowed in a giant mitt. “You can call me Denny. I’m Jude’s personal assistant, bodyguard, housekeeper, and general go-to guy.” With added curiosity, his gaze went over her again. Satisfied, he gave a brisk nod. “And he buys all his artwork from you.”
This time the smile came of its own accord. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you at this time of the morning—”
“No bother. The sun will be up shortly, anyway. Now, go on.”
“Thank you.” May waited until Denny went back to the kitchen and the all-important coffee preparation, then she forced herself, one agonizing step at a time, to climb the stairs. The closer she got to the upper landing, the faster her heart galloped and the tighter her stomach got.
Deciding to call on Jude was far different from actually doing it. She held tight to the handrail, her gaze darting everywhere as she viewed the upper floor. She could see yet another hallway that led to various rooms—probably bedrooms. She gulped.
She peeked into the darkened, empty library that looked as if it doubled for an office. Muted light came through the windows and a set of sliding doors that led to the balcony. Long shadows crept across the floor and over a variety of large furniture pieces.
“Jude?”
No one answered her pathetic whisper, and that amplified her unease. She reached inside the door frame and felt along the wall until her fingertips encountered a switch. She flipped it on, then stared in awe.
Floor-to-ceiling cherry shelves circled the room, topped with detailed crown molding and filled with books of every size and color, some paperbacks, some leather bound. Some very formal, some tattered and worn.
May stepped past an imposing cherry desk that faced two padded chairs and a love seat, situated around a matching coffee table. Her sneaker-clad feet sank into ultrarich burgundy carpeting. At one end of the shelves, she found a collection of classics alongside resource books on everything from sailing to decorating to accounting to natural home remedies. Coffee table books, biographies and dramas, action adventure, and finally, shelved eye level at the farthest end, mysteries, thrillers, and even romances took up a considerable amount of space.
When she pictured Jude lounging in one of those overstuffed, enormous chairs, a paperback romance in his hands, she couldn’t help but sigh. He was such a capable man. A guy kind of guy.
Long before she’d met him, she’d watched him in bouts at the SBC. She’d paid to watch them live on her satellite TV, and then rented every single competition to watch again. Thanks to her fascination with Jude, she now knew more about mixed martial art fighting techniques than she’d ever imagined existed.
With one punch, he could knock a man out. He didn’t swing; he drilled straight forward, hard and fast and on the button. Not just one shot. But two, and three, and four… however many it took to drive back and conquer his opponent.
Because he had phenomenal submission skills, he could hold his own on the ground, too. One challenger had said that fighting Jude on the ground was like wrestling with a shark in the water. Not only impossible to win, but you were liable to lose a limb while trying.
Jude matched up with the best of the boxers, and the best of the grapplers.
It spoke of his confidence that he displayed all his books, not just the ones most acceptable by society.
Walking to the wall of windows on the farthest end, she looked out at his property. In the distance, a fat red sun broke the horizon, spreading pink ribbons across the sky. The land was so incredibly beautiful, but isolated—deliberately so. He kept himself away from the public, yet still needed the monitors to ensure his safety and privacy. A sad way to live.
May would rather envision a beautiful painting on the wall, instead of the cold, blinking monitor that took up space. To think of him living here alone… Well, he did have Denny.
But it wasn’t the same.
“May.”
At the sound
of his voice, her heart shot into her throat; the time of reckoning had come. She pasted on a bright smile and clasped her hands together. Greetings, explanations, pleas, all hovered near her tongue. She turned—and fell mute at the sight of him.
Good Lord. He must have just come from the shower.
Wearing only loose, faded jeans that hung low on his hips, he braced his bare feet apart and slung a damp towel around his neck. A thick black watch circled his right wrist.
Her gaze slid all over him, from his prominent biceps, to his tightly muscled abdomen, to that silky line of black hair leading down into his jeans. Going up again, her attention moved over wide shoulders, and lastly, his naked chest.
Dark, damp hair, disrupted by a few scars, decorated the sleek muscles across his chest.
Jude helped her regain her wits when, with a snort, he walked into the room toward her.
“That’s a new look for you, isn’t it? I’m not sure I like it.”
A nearly hysterical laugh bubbled out of her tight throat. Like it? Of course he didn’t like it. Neither did she. Not only were the clothes not her style, they barely fit.
“I borrowed the outfit from Ashley.”
“Ashley? Didn’t I meet her once?”
“Yes, at the gallery. But Ashley’s not very interested in artwork. She just comes by to see me because we’re best friends and…”
Her thoughts shattered as Jude went past her toward a chair. May took in the sight of his broad back tapering to lean hips, and that supersexy butt hugged by worn denim.
Oh, wow. Once he sat down, she realized that he carried shoes, socks, and a green T-shirt in his hands.
As if her visit were nothing out of the ordinary, as if he dressed in front of her every day, he bent to pull on his socks without saying another word.
May shook her head—but couldn’t quit ogling his body. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“No bother. I was up. Working out.”
“Oh.” Why in the world had he been working out so early? She’d always imagined that movie stars caroused into the wee hours of the morning, then slept in till noon.
He glanced up. “You’re all right?”
She shook her head, but said, “Yes.” And like an addict, she stared some more, at the thickness of his wrists braced on his knees, the way his thighs strained the denim of his jeans, how the fly had faded from stress…
“May, look at me.”
Oh, she looked. And his body was even more gorgeous in person than on the big screen.
Slowly, he straightened. “My face, May.”
Mortified, she jerked her gaze up to his. Jude cocked a brow. Amusement, determination, and sizzling heat reflected in his clear blue eyes.
She gulped and eased back a step. “I’m sorry. I—”
At her retreat, the amusement fled. “Tell me why you’re dressed that way.”
Oh God. She was a horrible person! One look at Jude and she’d forgotten about the awful threat, about what she had to do and why she’d come to Jude in the first place.
“Right.” She pushed her hair away from her face. “I’m sorry. I’m a little nervous coming here like this, and it’s making me scattered.”
Silent as death, his intensity piercing, he watched her.
Get it together, May. “Yeah, soooo, I dressed like this because I didn’t want anyone to follow me when I left my apartment to come here. I even drove Ashley’s car.”
“You were that worried about the photographers taking your picture?”
“What?” Her legs felt too unsteady to try to explain everything while he sat there, mostly disinterested and somehow calculating. “What photographers?”
“The ones at your gallery. Last night.”
“Oh.” She flapped a hand. Pesky photographers were the least of her worries. “I forgot about them.”
He frowned. “Then why the costume?”
Somehow, she doubted Ashley would appreciate having her wardrobe referred to as a costume. “I really need to talk with you about… everything. Would that be okay?”
“All right.” He didn’t so much as blink. “Take a seat.”
She took a step back instead, prompting a laugh from Jude.
“I take it you don’t want to sit?”
“I can’t… I’m too nervous.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Damn him, did he have to be so distant? She was used to his warmth and teasing and now, when she needed it the most, he almost seemed disdainful.
To get her thoughts focused, May briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Jude had finished dressing and leaned back in the chair. His hands laced over his abdomen, his legs stretched out in front of him. He watched her, waiting, openly impatient.
“Anytime you’re ready, May.”
Never in her life had she been this jittery, and she hated it. She’d learned early on to assert herself, to go after what she wanted, because no one else would do it for her. Right now, she wanted to protect Jude.
She couldn’t do that if she didn’t explain. “I know you left my gallery annoyed.”
He made no comment on that.
“And I know you must dislike Tim. I even understand why. There are times when I don’t like him, either, and he’s my brother.”
The attempt at humor didn’t faze him.
Giving up, May said, “The thing is, I… I need your help.”
Very slowly, Jude pushed out of his chair and stalked toward her. “Let me get this straight.” He didn’t raise his voice, but then he didn’t have to. “You refuse to date me, to even have dinner with me, but now you need my help?”
Pride would be a luxury, so May dredged up her courage instead. But it wasn’t easy. Thanks to Ashley’s flat-soled sneakers, he towered over her. “Yes.”
“Unbelievable.” Inky black hair, still damp, fell over his brow, drawing her attention to the heat in his blue eyes.
Like a fool, she felt his gaze deep inside herself.
When he propped his hands on his hips, the soft cotton polo shirt stretched over his hard chest, emphasizing the differences in their sizes.
She wanted to touch him.
More than anything, she wished he’d hug her close and joke with her, somehow put her at ease. But he stood silent and still, deliberately intimidating her.
She licked her lips. “I know this is going to sound totally outrageous, and believe me, I’m very, very sorry. But I didn’t know what else to do.”
Jude didn’t seem to be paying attention. He reached out and fingered the big button at the neck of the poncho. “What is this you’re wearing?”
“I… what?” Confused, May looked down. “It’s a poncho. If you remember Ashley, you know that she’s, well, smaller than me.”
“Less endowed.”
“Right. Same difference.” Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose and she pushed them up again. “I needed the poncho because her shirt isn’t exactly a perfect fit and—”
“Take it off.”
Breath froze in her lungs. Three little innocuous words, but somehow Jude made them sound like a sexual command. “I beg your pardon?”
“Take off the poncho. I want to see the shirt.”
She didn’t move, and with a sound of impatience, Jude reached out one-handed and popped the button open. The tote bag fell from her numb hands. “Jude.”
“What?” With practiced ease, he dragged the poncho up and whisked it off over her head.
At the last second, May shook off her stupor and grabbed it to hold in front of her. “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”
Jude walked a circle around her; she turned, mimicking his steps to keep him in her sights.
“I figured you’d be more comfortable without it.” He stopped, and then gestured to the doorway. “And Denny is here with the coffee.”
Startled, May looked up.
Denny, first guilty, then disgruntled, unglued his feet and huffed into the room. “I wasn�
�t snooping.” He plopped the tray on the desk and glared at Jude.
“Yes, you were.” Jude filled a cup with steaming coffee. He took several drinks before making a sound of appreciation. “Denny has a bad habit of looming around without announcing himself.”
“My looming has kept your ass safe more than once.” And then to May, “If not for me, Elton Pascal would have gotten to him at least a dozen—”
“That’s enough, Denny.”
Unperturbed, Denny gestured at the tray. “Ignore Jude’s bad habits. He’s spoiled. Most of the women he knows woulda had his pants off already. I’ve walked in on more than one uncomfortable moment—”
“Denny.”
May didn’t know if she should blush, take umbrage, or laugh.
“On top of everything else, now I gotta play host.” After another glare at Jude, Denny bestowed a bright smile on her that showed off one silver tooth toward the back. “Would you like me to pour you a cup of coffee? I tried not to make it too strong, you being a woman and all.”
“Thank you.” Struck by the tension in the air, May looked between them.
Rolling his eyes, Jude clasped Denny’s upper arm and started him toward the door. “We wouldn’t want to keep you, Denny. I can serve her.”
Denny protested. “But I don’t mind none.”
“I know you don’t. I’m willing to bet you’d love to hang out and visit. But I’d rather you didn’t.” Jude stopped at the door, and when Denny finally slunk out with some audible grumbling, he said, “Keep your ear off the wall.”
“Go to hell.” Denny’s stomping footsteps faded down the stairs.
Jude eased the door shut—and turned the lock. “Now, where were we?”
Close to hyperventilating, May shook her head. Being locked in a room with Jude guaranteed she wouldn’t be able to hold a thought.
“Wait, I remember now.” Jude’s insincere smile put her more on edge. “I was going to get you coffee, and you were going to quit hiding behind that deco disaster you call a poncho.” He strode back to the desk. “I assume you take yours with cream and sugar?”