“So something’s going on.” Luke wasn’t asking a question.
“Yeah. And seeing as yesterday was Griff’s first official day on the job, it’s beyond me what the hell could have happened that requires a sit-down so fast with the boss and the first-in-command.”
“Maybe she’s on to Griff?”
“Never,” Selena said adamantly. “John Griffin would die before he’d let a subject catch him out on an op. It’s something else going on. I’d lay my next paycheck on it, Luke.”
“Well.” Luke plated up Selena’s breakfast, set it on the table in front of her. “You let the guys worry about that, babe. You got your own shit to deal with. You need to get used to your body again, Selena, as it is now.”
She fell silent and toyed with her food then, and Luke gazed at her. She did this every single time he brought up the breast reconstruction, and it caused him disquiet every single time. He’d let it go, though, since Selena always talked to him when she was ready.
Oh, not in the beginning, of course. She’d been so defensive and damaged about her voluntary double mastectomy, so sure that no man could ever find her attractive after the removal of both breasts, that when Luke had shown interest in her, she’d shoved him away as hard as fast as she could.
Thankfully, Luke Rhodes was one stubborn bastard, and he hadn’t accepted Selena’s protests or her rejection. And once he’d learned of the reason for her fears, he’d been nothing but more interested in her, more impressed by her. After all, if anyone in Selena’s life understood what it was like to carry on with pieces of yourself missing, pieces that were lost and which would never come back, it was Luke.
Now, though. Now, she talked to him about everything. But since she’d just had her second breast reconstruction surgery a few weeks earlier, she’d shut down a bit. Not completely, but enough to make him worry.
“Selena?” he said now, making sure to keep his voice low and non-confrontational.
She glanced up, her eyes so dark against her golden skin. “Yeah?”
“You want to tell me what’s on your mind, beautiful?”
She sighed. “I know you’ve noticed.”
“Of course I have.” He cut into his omelet, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. “I notice every damn thing about you, babe, especially since I practically live here with you.”
“I know.”
“So…” He put down his fork and ran his hand through his messy dark hair, his one sure sign of agitation. “You gonna spill it? Or do you need some more time?”
Selena bit her full lip. “I – I want to talk to you.”
Luke felt a massive wave of relief wash over him, leaving him a bit weak at its intensity. Despite the fact that whatever she had to say was probably not awesome, he’d rather know what the problem was and deal with it, than wonder what was troubling the woman that he loved more than he’d ever thought it possible to love anyone. Selena was more important to him than his next breath, and if she needed him, he’d figure it out for her. He’d always figure it out, to set her mind at ease.
“OK,” he said. “I’m listening.”
“It’s – it’s my breasts.”
Luke glanced down at them in her loose t-shirt. In his opinion, they were fucking great, and no debate about that. He hadn’t actually touched them yet, since he’d been worried about hurting her, but they looked totally natural on Selena’s athletic, curvy body, and when he saw her naked, they looked real. If he hadn’t known about her double mastectomy, if he hadn’t seen the stitches and scars, he’d never have known a thing.
“What about them?” he asked, a bit alarmed. “Do you want to go to the doctor today? Are you in pain?”
“Oh,” she said. “No. Nothing like that. It’s just… they…” She stopped.
“They what?”
“They don’t…. they don’t feel right.”
He paused. “What do you mean?”
“When I touch them. They feel – hard.” She swallowed. “Like – plastic or a rubber ball or something.”
“Well… that’s normal with a saline implant, right?” he said. “The plastic surgeon did tell you that they weren’t going to be as soft and malleable as flesh.”
She nodded, didn’t look up at him.
“Hey,” Luke said softly. “Eyes up here, beautiful.”
Selena met his tender gaze, trying hard to not cry.
“Now.” Luke reached across the table and took her hand. “What’s the real worry here, babe?”
“That you won’t want to touch them,” she whispered. “That you’ll find them… disgusting.”
Of all the things that Luke thought she’d say, that wasn’t on the list. Not even close to making the Top 100.
“What?” he demanded. “You’re worried about me? About what I’m gonna think about when I’m touching you?”
“Yes,” she said, and he heard nothing but defeat in that word. “I think that you’ll find touching me about as sexy as fondling a couple of goddamn tennis balls with nipples tattooed on to them.”
Before he could stop himself, Luke gave a snorting guffaw. Selena glared at him, but he saw the corners of her gorgeous mouth quirking up a bit, and he knew that her small attempt at a joke had been as much for her benefit as his.
“Tennis balls with nipples tattooed on can be hot,” he deadpanned. “I have a real thing for the fuzzy ones.”
She giggled a bit. “Well, I’m sorry, then. My chest isn’t fuzzy.”
“Nah, babe. That’s me.”
She stared at him as he sat there shirtless, stared at the smattering of dark hair across his strong pecs, then down his defined abs, and then trailing lower to what was the most delicious cock that Selena had ever come across in the whole of her life.
“Ain’t that the truth, handsome,” she said, already feeling better. Talking to Luke always had that effect on her, and she wondered now why she’d waited this long to share her fears and feelings.
“OK, so,” he said. “Back to your amazing chest. You really think that I’m not gonna want to touch you when you heal up a bit more?”
“Oh, I know you’ll want to touch me, Luke. That’s not the problem. I’m way more worried about what you’re going to feel when you do touch me.”
“Well.” He stretched a bit, his shoulder muscles rolling and flexing in that way that she found nothing but immensely distracting. “There are two things, as I see them, anyway.”
“Alright.”
“First, the fact that you let me close to you, that you let me hold you and kiss you and make love to you… fuck, babe,” he growled. “It’s nothing but a miracle for me, and touching you is like touching a fallen angel and a summer sunrise and a shooting star, all at the same damn time, and it’s always been like that for me. From the beginning, touching you was the best thing that I’ve ever known, and I feel that way whether I’m touching your baby finger or I’m stroking your sweet, hot pussy. It’s you, beautiful, it’s all you, and touching your breasts will feel exactly like that for me… because they’re part of you now. And touching you will never feel bad or wrong for me. Believe me when I tell you that, Selena.”
“I do,” she whispered, amazed yet again at his tender roughness. “I believe you.”
“Good.” He tilted his head at her, and she watched as that slow, hot smile that she adored crossed his hard face. “Because of the second thing.”
“Which is?” she asked.
“Which is that you’ve clearly forgotten what the plastic surgeon said about how to soften up the implants.”
“Uh…” she faltered. She’d been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information both pre- and post-surgery, and if truth be told, she had precisely no recollection of what Luke was talking about. “I guess I have. What did she say?”
“That regularly massaging the breasts will make them softer and more natural to the touch.”
“Oh. Right.”
“You remember that?” Luke asked.
“No, a
ctually. I don’t.”
“That’s OK, beautiful. I totally do.” Those blue eyes gleamed with lust now. “Because I’ve been looking forward to breaking out the hot oil and giving you an all-over body massage… been dying to do it, to tell you the truth.”
“Really?”she asked, feeling a bit breathless now.
“Hell, yeah, babe.” He stroked her palm with his thumb, and Selena jolted at even that small contact. “I want to get you all hot and slick and slippery everywhere… and then just slide on into that hot, slick, slippery little pussy of yours. Take you as deep and hard as you can handle, then make you beg for more.”
“Luke…” His name came out as a small moan, and she blushed. “Luke…”
“You want that too, huh?”
“Yes.”
“So.” He adopted a conversational tone now. “You’ll be alright with you massaging you everywhere, babe? Front and back? Upper body and lower body?”
“…Yes.”
“Good girl,” he rasped. “We’re both gonna love it, Selena. And it’ll help, OK? It’ll take a bit of time for you to feel any real softening of the implants, but hell, babe. I’m a patient man and I can give you massages every night, if that’s what you want me to do. I don’t mind, and maybe at the end of it, I can launch a new career as a masseuse.”
“Forget it, Rhodes,” she said. “That amazing hand of yours touches nobody but me with hot oil, and I mean nobody. You keep that firm ass of yours safe and sound at Dangerous Curves, serving up drinks and breakfast burritos, or I’ll wait until I get re-certified to carry, then I’ll shoot you in the ankle and make it look like an accident.”
“Got it, beautiful.” He gave her an affectionate little wink. “No hardship, Selena. Besides, I’m happy being a cook and bartender in a rough biker bar. My masseuse services will stay private, and for you, and you alone.”
Chapter Eight
Dallas stared at Mark and Griff across the conference room table, utterly stunned. Not much took Dallas Foreman by surprise, but he had to admit that hearing about Claire-slash-Caitlin and all the events of the previous night resulted in one doozy of a story. He sipped his black coffee, listening intently, taking mental notes and making decisions.
“And so,” Griff said, wrapping things up at long last. “I’m taking her for lunch today at Antonio’s.”
“Right,” Dallas said absently, but the other men weren’t fooled for one second by his sleepy tone. Dallas wasn’t half-paying-attention. The man was always paying total, full, complete attention, and his vague tone was the conversational equivalent of him switching mental gears. Sure enough, his next words were as crisp and no-bullshit as ever: “What’d you think of her, Hayden?”
Mark shrugged, settled his bulk back in the chair. “She was hurt, man, so she was a bit vulnerable and teary and cagey. But on the whole?” He paused. “I thought she was a nice person. Funny, kind, appreciative. Nothing like the spoiled little rich bitch that I’d expected to show up, bossing the help and demanding special treatment. And the thing is…” He hesitated, stopped again.
“And?” Dallas prompted him. “The thing is what?”
“Well… in my experience, how people act when they’re hurt and under duress is a sure sign of who they really are. You know what I mean? It’s like, duress is a shortcut to a glimpse inside a person’s real, true heart. Any sense of entitlement, or class snobbishness, or bitchiness is magnified. Same with kindness, patience and genuine concern and caring for others… for most people not trained in extreme situations, being out of their comfort zone brings it all to the fore. And all I saw in Claire last night was sweetness, and gratitude, and warmth.”
“Griff?” Dallas’ dark blue eyes swung to him. “You agree?”
Griff was silent, thinking hard. He had nothing but respect for Mark Hayden, both personally and professionally, and if Mark said that Claire had acted in a way that had taken him aback, Griff was prepared to take that on board.
And he had to admit that Mark had a damn good point. The truth was that Claire had taken Griff aback pretty much from the word go – from her happy chatting at the café, to the yet-unknown contents of the stolen backpack, to her closeness with Cole the MC member, to her shining gratitude for ‘Jack’ and ‘Mike’s’ help.
Looking back on it now, it was almost like she hadn’t expected any help from them – like she couldn’t believe that she was actually receiving aid, and Griff wondered where and how she’d learned that she was on her own. She wasn’t the spoiled, cunning criminal-in-hiding that he’d expected, and the time had come for him to just go on and acknowledge that.
The truth was that Claire Worthington’s story wasn’t the one that he thought he’d be reading. He’d expected a crime thriller, and instead he’d gotten – what? A sweet chick-lit thing? A contemplative female indie book?
Well. Her story was a mystery, for sure.
Beyond that, Griff wasn’t going to speculate, because at this point in the game, he had to toss out all of his preconceived notions of the woman. Going any farther with his assumptions and expectations was a mistake: if he did that, he’d miss things. Big things and small things, and sometimes it was the smallest thing that made all the difference.
“Yeah,” Griff said at last. “Yeah, I have to say that she’s not quite what I was expecting. She’s way more open and relaxed in her life than a woman on the run or hiding out should be. She’s making strong personal connections, too. She’s a regular at that café, she’s buddies with that Cole guy, and he’s one of Wolf Connor’s boys and they’re all about being suspicious and closed to outsiders. She’s not – not really isolating herself, you know? She’s… well.” Griff paused. “She’s setting down roots, man. She’s building a life here. For real, she is. It ain’t fake or a front or a way to pass the time. If she were waiting to fuck off to The Seychelles, she’d just rent some high-end place for cash and stay there, right? Order take-in, live online, limit all human contact. But she’s done the complete opposite of all of that, and I can’t help but wonder if we’ve got her all wrong. The only thing that make sense to me is – she’s looking to stay. I just can’t figure out why.”
“Well, you can start to find out today,” Dallas said. “Over pasta and a glass of red wine.”
“Yeah.” Griff stared out the window, already planning how he’d take control of the casual lunchtime conversation. “I gotta tell you, man, what I really want to find out is what the hell was in that backpack.”
“Right?” Mark said. “She said that it contained ‘her whole life’… and she meant way more than her wallet and house keys.”
“Mmmm-hmmmm,” Griff muttered. “What does Claire Worthington’s ‘whole life’ look like now? That’s what I want to know.”
**
“So.” Griff poured Claire a second glass of wine, gave her a dazzling smile. He wanted her relaxed and loose, but definitely not drunk or sloppy. Wine and charm made a lethal combination, and he was determined to max out its potential. “Am I allowed to ask you about the oh-so-mysterious backpack now? Or is it a state secret, Caitlin? If you tell me what was in it, you’ll have to kill me?”
She laughed, her blue eyes sparkling behind her glasses, then dropped her voice. “You got it, Jack. And now that you’ve blown my cover, you’d better be very careful crossing the street.”
He laughed too, took a mouthful of the best – and most expensive – gnocchi that he’d ever had. Thank Christ for expense reports. “OK, seriously, I’m dying of curiosity over here. You said something about materials… what kind of materials? You an artist?”
Now she sighed, all levity gone. “Well… kinda. Not in the traditional sense that people think of. I don’t paint or anything like that.”
“So what do you do?”
She took a tiny sip of wine. “I design and create engagement and wedding rings. Special order only, so every ring that I work on is unique for that bride and groom. I can do non-traditional stone cuts and settings, and special
engravings or etchings, and I work with some unusual metals, too.”
“You – really?” Griff was dumbfounded. Nothing in his research into Claire had shown more than a vague, passing interest in jewelry design… and frankly, he and Dallas had just chalked it up to one more bored-rich-lady pursuit, on the same level as her Spanish lessons and Tuesday-morning hot yoga. “But… that’s amazing. This is like – like a business?”
She twirled her tagliatelle around her fork gracefully, and he noticed how delicate her wrists were. “It’s not big or anything. I mean, I’m just starting. But I have a shop set up on Etsy, and I only sell there right now, though I do need to expand soon. I’ve had five really happy customers from Etsy, and they left glowing reviews, and showed off their rings all over their social media and linked back to my store, and well… word of mouth is the best kind of promotion, you know?”
“Where do you do this?” he asked. “I don’t know the first thing about this, but it seems to me that you need tools and equipment, right? A solderer, for sure.”
“I do, you’re right. I rent workshop space from a local jeweler when I need to, and he lets me work after regular work hours. Lots of late nights, but I like it.”
Griff nodded, still trying to catch up with all of this. “And that guy you met last night?”
She sighed again, much more heavily. “Yeah, well. He contacted me and said that he owns a line of jewelry shop in Colorado Springs, and he wanted to offer me a contract with him. He wanted me to create a few lines of engagement rings, and produce several of each ring for them to sell.”
“You want to move away from one-off designs?” Griff said.”Go more mass-production?”
“Oh, no.” Claire shook her dark head. “I want to focus on my exclusive business, but I wouldn’t mind a sort of steady income, you know? If I had a contract with a store, they’d buy a certain number of my rings up front, and then it’d be down to them to sell them to customers. They’d come back to me for more when supplies dwindled, and once again, I’d be paid for my work before they stocked and sold. It’s a safe option, and it’d give me some financial security while I was designing the special orders.”
Solid Gold (Unseen Enemy Book 8) Page 9