Naughty All Night (Lost Harbor, Alaska Book 5)

by Jennifer Bernard

  “That’s perfect, Frank. Just perfect. You’re using my migraines to talk about yourself and your parenting.”

  He blinked at her as a tough-looking man in a bellhop uniform, with actual epaulets and gold braids, appeared with a tray of glasses. “Lemonade? Hydration sometimes helped.”

  “No. Thank you,” she added to the servant, who left immediately. “Why do you make him wear that uniform?”

  “It was all they had left at the costume shop,” he said in a reasonable tone—as if that explanation made any sense.

  “Why is he wearing any uniform? You know what, never mind. It doesn’t matter. Why did you want to see me?”

  “Sweetcakes, as if I need a reason beyond saying thank you? Yet again?” He turned to Darius. He always had a knack for including everyone in a conversation. “I’d be in prison now if not for my brilliant daughter.”

  “Well, you’re welcome, Frank,” she told her father to draw his attention back to her. “I’m glad to see that you’re looking so well.”

  He beamed at her.

  “If that’s it, we should probably get—”

  “There is a tiny matter that has come up.” He held up two fingers indicating how extremely small it was. “A dispute that could use your talents.”

  “No,” she said flatly. “I’m not a lawyer anymore.”

  “Of course you are. You didn’t do all that hard work just to walk away. That’s not my Katiebird.”

  Her head throbbed with a flashback of migraine pain. “I’m no longer practicing, Frank. I’m a peony farmer. And a landlady. Not a lawyer. Even if I was, I told you at the beginning it was a one-time thing.”

  “Do you see how ice cold she is to her dear old dad?” So breezy and witty, her father. So uncaring about any needs but his own. “Can’t you talk to her, big fellow? Such iciness from one’s own flesh and blood. It’s practically inhuman. But then, she’s always been so hardhearted—and hardheaded. You must know that by now.”

  Kate felt heat slowly rise in her face. Just when she thought she was safe, her father twisted the knife right where he knew it would hurt. Hardhearted…did that word really describe her? Was that why she’d never let herself fall in love with anyone?

  “I’m not—” she began, but Darius stopped her with one motion of his hand.

  “I think he asked me a question.”

  Her father beamed at him as if they were already best friends. “That I did. Perhaps you’re a father yourself, and you understand the pain of—”

  “I’m not a father. Haven’t been that lucky. But if I were, I’d be pretty freaking proud if she was anything like Kate. Kate’s not icy, she’s not hardhearted. She didn’t have to come here, and if she takes my advice, she won’t do it again until you get your head out of your ass. But since she is a little hardheaded, she’ll do what she chooses. And I’m behind her a hundred percent.”

  Kate felt his hand under her elbow and realized he was nudging her toward the door. Her father’s jaw was agape; she’d never seen him stunned into silence before.

  That was the thing about Darius. He didn’t talk a lot, but when he did, people paid attention. Even Frank Robinson.

  “Bye Frank,” she told her father. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Her father dragged his fascinated gaze away from Darius long enough to blow her a kiss. “I like him,” he called after them. “You have my approval. Always thought you needed a man who could stand up to you. Don’t let this one slip away like the others.”

  One last jab for the road, apparently.

  Kate slammed the door behind her on the way out. Her face still felt hot and her fists kept clenching the way they used to do when she had tantrums as a kid. Familiar fury coursed through her system in a hot river of emotion. Frank always did this to her. He always turned her into a blubbery mess. No emancipation, no law degree, nothing had changed that. She should never have come here. She should know better by now.

  “I’ll call a Lyft,” Darius said.

  “No. I need to walk for a minute.”

  Right now, she didn’t care if a bad guy spotted her. She stalked down the curving drive toward the upscale street with its sycamore trees and bougainvillea hedges. Darius caught up to her with one long stride.

  “I’m sorry you had to see all that,” she told him stiffly. “I warned you not to come.”

  “Hey, it’s no skin off my nose. Are you okay?”

  “I will be. I just need a minute.” After a few more steps, her frustration erupted. “Can you believe how stupid I am?” she cried. “I actually thought he’d start acting like a real father if I saved him from prison. I thought he’d appreciate me. I mean, he tried, I suppose. He said ‘thank you.’ But then he just had to insult me and manipulate me and…I know not to trust him. I know it. And yet I fall for it every time.”

  “And you know why?”

  “Why?” she asked automatically, even though she doubted that he could possibly know anything about it.

  “Because your father’s dead wrong. You’re not hardhearted. If you were, why would you have torpedoed your legal career for him?”

  She spun around to face him. “You know what’s a hardhearted thing to do? Evict a fire chief. I tried to do that before I even met you.”

  “And a little bit after you met me,” he pointed out.

  “Exactly. He’s right. That was cold.”

  “Yeah, well.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “You didn’t evict me, did you?”

  “But…that’s…” Maybe it was time to confess something. “Because I didn’t want to,” she admitted.

  He laughed. “Right, because you’re not the shark you pretend to be.” His silvery eyes gleamed down at her. “And because you wanted me around.”

  On the verge of telling him exactly that, she snapped her mouth shut. “Because you were so good with things like shoveling the path.”

  “And giving you hockey tickets.”

  “And fixing the handrail. You’re really a very useful tenant.”

  He dropped his voice into the register where the hot growls lived. “You have no idea how useful I can be.”

  Her lower belly clenched with a stab of excitement. Her frustration with her father evaporated as she threw herself into flirting with Darius. “Like with the migraine? That kind of useful?”

  “Sure, anything physical like that, it’s kind of my specialty.”

  “I thought fires were your specialty.”

  “Absolutely. All kinds of fires.” His deep voice reached right into her bloodstream and started a fire all on its own. It spread through her veins like warm honey.

  “I’ll call a Lyft.” Her voice, on the other hand, had gone all tight and breathy. She fumbled with her phone as she went through the steps. “But before Dmitri in the red Honda gets here, I want to say something.”

  He cocked his head, waiting, his eyes steady on hers. Steady as a rock, that was Darius. And damn, it was everything she wanted. Everything she needed.

  “No one has ever stood up for me like that,” she said softly. “Most people find my father amusing and don’t understand why I get upset with him. I love him, he’s my father, but I’ve never felt safe with him. I’ve always known I had to watch my own back around him. And I had to do it alone. I mean, it was good training for being a lawyer. But—”

  A red Honda pulled up next to them. Their driver had arrived, just in the nick of time to keep her from getting carried away.

  “Thank you,” she finished quickly. “It meant a lot.”

  He nodded simply. “You got it. Give me a second to check out the driver.”

  That was Darius, always saying so much with just a few words. Better yet, his words were on point and none of them were trying to deceive. Especially after that encounter with Frank, it was a little dose of bliss.

  Actually, a tall and broad-shouldered dose of bliss.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Darius lectured himself all the way back to the hotel about hopes, and
not getting them up for nothing. But it was useless. The fact was, he’d been lusting after Kate for so long that he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

  He wanted her so badly his scalp prickled.

  Meeting her father didn’t change things at all. The opposite, actually. That dose of father-daughter dysfunction had made him understand so much more about Kate. Her independent spirit, her fire, even her prickliness—it all made sense now that he’d seen her with “dear old Dad.”

  “Did you grow up mostly with your father?” he asked her as they sped toward the hotel in their third Lyft—taking the same precautions as before.

  “Mostly, yeah. He and my mom split up when I was eight. I went back and forth between them until I was thirteen or so. Then she got together with a music producer who lives in Japan. I could have gone to live with them, but I didn’t want to leave my friends and I’ve always been bad at learning other languages. Maybe I should just learn accents like my dad.”

  He slid his hand onto her thigh. “Just so you know, I have a thing for an Italian accent.”

  “Hmm…espresso!” She made an Italian-ish gesture with her fingers. “Pasta, linguini! Bellini! Minestrone!”

  “Now you’re just making me hungry.” He tightened his hand on her thigh, the firm curve of her flesh filling his hand. “So you stayed in California with your father?”

  “Until I could emancipate myself. Had to wait until I was seventeen. But every summer I’d go to Lost Harbor and help Emma with the peony harvest. In a lot of ways, she’s the one who raised me. Things like morals and ethics and integrity and little things like that, they all came from her. Both my parents are a little sketchy in that realm.”

  He scanned her profile and the clean lines of her face, like an artist’s quick and confident brushstrokes. “What’s your mother’s story?”

  “My mom is a pleasure-seeking wanderlust type. Always falls for the shiny object. I always had to vet her boyfriends but she never listened. Her husband is decent, though. I don’t worry about her anymore. She had some kind of fallout with Emma, so they’re on the outs. I’m sure Emma must have been a difficult parent. But she’s an awesome grandparent.” She gave a sudden yawn. “Wow, seeing your sociopathic imprisoned father really takes it out of you.” She stretched her neck from side to side. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

  His heart sank, and he gave himself another little mini-lecture. She’s had a nightmare couple of days. Take it easy, big guy. Just because this is our last night at the hotel. Just because we’ve been dancing around this thing the entire trip. Doesn’t mean a damn thing unless she wants it to.

  Their Lyft pulled up outside their hotel. Kate took care of the payment while Darius stepped out and wrestled back his low-grade arousal. He could be patient. He was patient. He’d just have to make that patience last a while longer.

  In the meantime, there was always the shower.

  As soon as he’d made sure that Kate was safely in her suite, door locked, he disappeared into his own suite. He stripped off his clothes on his way to the bathroom and headed straight for the shower.

  With the scalding water streaming over him, he touched himself briefly, but went no further. It wasn’t enough, not anymore. He wanted Kate in the flesh, not just Kate in his imagination. He’d hold out for that. Maybe when they got back to Lost Harbor, he’d launch a full-on “get Kate into bed” campaign. Romantic dates across the bay, flirty emails, flowers, whatever it took.

  Maybe not flowers, since she got enough of those at Petal to the Metal.

  He’d figure something out. Maybe something involving his bass and his cowboy hat—possibly his bare chest as well. He knew she liked all of those things.

  Chuckling, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. He was still drying his hair when he stepped into the bedroom and stopped in his tracks.

  Kate posed on his bed in the kind of seductive posture that belonged in a lingerie ad. She lay on her side, with her head resting on her hand, propped up by her elbow. One knee was bent, the other leg stretched out, emphasizing the long slope of her hip.

  She wasn’t wearing her cream suit anymore, or at least not all of it. The skirt was gone, as was her blazer. The charcoal blouse was half unbuttoned, revealing a silky black bra and a creamy curve of cleavage. He couldn’t see if she wore any underwear, since the blouse was covering just enough of her hips—such a tease. And her legs—my God, they went forever, a long, languorous line of firm smooth flesh.

  He realized that he was dripping water on the carpet as he gawked at the vision on his bed.

  Oh, and he was stark naked as well.

  Which she didn’t seem to mind, since she was doing the same thing he was. Staring like a sex-starved teenager.

  “Hi,” she said softly. He could hear the tentative question in her voice. Is this okay? Do you want this?

  “Hi back.”

  Her face relaxed as she got his message: Fuck yeah, I want this.

  “Mind if I check something?” He stepped next to the bed and put his left hand on her thigh, just above her bent knee. He spread his fingers across her warm skin, his thumb reaching almost to the edge of the blouse, and his little finger touching her kneecap. She shivered under his touch. “Just wanted to make sure you’re real, and not a fantasy I brought with me from the shower.”

  A spark of humor lit up her dark eyes. “That’s funny. I was thinking about you in the shower just yesterday.”

  “Is that right?” He smoothed his hand down her leg. Over the knee, circling lightly around her kneecap, then along the side of her calf. Her skin was pure satin. “What were you thinking?”

  “It wasn’t so much thinking as imagining.” A wicked smile went along with that comment. “I have a very good imagination, but it turns out that reality is even better.” With her free hand, she touched his naked thigh, close enough to his cock to make it stir. “I mean, Darius. Jesus.”

  He wasn’t entirely sure what she was referring to, but it didn’t much matter. As long as she had that look in her eyes, he’d take it. Desire spread through him in a slow fever.

  “I was imagining some interesting things in the shower as well.”

  “Care to share?”

  “Well, you were definitely in there with me. But you didn’t have all these clothes on.”

  “All these clothes?” she laughed at him. “I’m practically naked.”

  He came to the end of the bed and put one knee on the mattress. She rolled onto her back so she could watch him, and bent one arm behind her head, supporting it. That position tugged her blouse higher up her body, so he could see her panties. Hip huggers in a sexy fire-engine red.

  Of course she’d be wearing red. Just the bright cherry on the cake of this sensual scenario.

  “I’m naked. You’re still dressed. And you’re in my bed. This is a naked bed, just so you know. Anyone who comes in here is required to be naked.”

  “Oh really? Who enforces those rules?” Teasingly, she rested her bare foot on his thigh. He wrapped his hand around her ankle and tugged her closer. The blouse rode up even higher, revealing the firm mound of her belly. All that tender skin under there. And more clothes. Damn, that bra needed to go.

  “Security,” he said gruffly. “It’s a tough job, but I volunteered and I can handle it.”

  Her eyes widened as he took hold of one of her feet. Cradling it between his hands, he pressed his thumb into the instep, the spot where nerve endings gathered and carried messages to the rest of the body.

  At least that was how the reflexologist he’d dated had explained it.

  She gasped and arched her back as he massaged the sole of her foot. He watched her responses closely, enjoying the way her body moved with his strokes. Each time she twisted and moaned, her blouse revealed more of her bra and the lush curves under it.

  He feasted his eyes on her as he worked her other foot. When he was done, he set her leg back on the bed and watched it fall open to the side. Damn, what a sexy sigh
t that was.

  Braceleting her ankles with both hands, he spread her legs even farther apart and kept her still, just like that, so he could look at her.

  The flash of red panties over her plump mound made his cock jump. The sound of her panting breath made his throat close up, and the scent of her intimate flesh sent him over the edge.

  “Undo the rest of your blouse,” he told her in a rough voice. “I want to see you.”

  Her eyes flared as she caught the undercurrent of command in his voice. He could give her a lot more than that, if she wanted. But not yet. They were still figuring each other out.

  “Kind of bossy,” she grumbled as she slid a button through its hole.

  “I’m a fire chief. Comes with the territory.”

  “Good to know.” A sensual smile curved her lips. The blouse fell open even farther. Her bra had patches of lace through which he could see glimpses of flesh and a hint of dark nipples. “Right now I feel too good to complain about anything. That thing you did with my feet…Oh my God. Dreamy.” Her fingers paused mid-button, so close to her nipples he could cry. “What’s it called, what you were doing?”

  “Hmm?” He was so riveted by the slow reveal of her bra that he’d lost track of what she was talking about. “Sorry, what?”

  “What’s the matter, big guy?” With a teasing smile, she skimmed her fingers across her bra cups. “Nothing more to say? No more bossy orders?”

  He wrestled himself back under control. His cock was rock hard now, rearing between his thighs. “You want orders?” He took hold of his aching cock with one hand. “Show me your tits. Let me see those nipples.”

  Was his language too rough for her? She was a fancy lawyer, after all. She probably didn’t like words like “tits.” Only one way to find out.

  Her chest rose and fell and a flush came into her cheeks. Smoky desire hazed her eyes and she cupped her breasts. “You mean these tits?”

  Oh yeah. The game was on.

  “You’re teasing me now?” He put a dangerous edge into his voice. “That’s not very nice. Do you know how many times I’ve imagined your breasts?”