“Hello, babe.”
“Thought maybe cat got your tongue.” That infernal brow rose.
“Nope, but something else did, at least until you went all caveman on me.”
“Worked for me. And you.”
Having no smart ass response to that truth, she contented herself with a smile and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Dean wasn’t in the room. She could hear him, paper rustling and cupboard doors opening and closing. He appeared in the doorway, carrying a plate and that cardboard tray. Pushing up to one elbow she spied donuts. Donuts! If she had any doubt before, it was gone. The man brought her donuts.
Setting the plate on the closest nightstand, Dean pierced each lid of the cups with a straw and offered her a choice. “Chocolate or strawberry.”
Milkshakes and donuts. Oh, my God. “Chocolate.”
The cold bottom of the plastic cup placed on her belly made her shriek, but he distracted her with a donut, and she fumbled to hold the shake steady while getting a grip on the sour cream glazed confection. Pure decadence, and she’d have to swim a mile of laps to wear it off, although the recent sex might count for something against those calories. Sandra’s voice sounded far back in her head and she pushed it away.
Dean stripped and climbed into bed beside her as she wiggled up to a semi-sitting position, almost too intent on her treat to take in his amazing body. Almost. They ate in relative silence, broken only by the sounds of the straws grating on the plastic lids, and soft slurping. The latter kind of reminded her of the noises she made sucking his dick, but she didn’t say it out loud.
“I was gonna stop and pick up the ingredients for a real breakfast, sweetheart. But you probably have them here.”
Languidly reaching over, she pressed a fingertip against a krueller crumb caught in his chest hair, lifting it away from his skin to tuck it inside her lips. He watched her with the eyes of a predator, like the wolf she saw in the zoo as a child. She shivered and he snagged the sheet pulling it up to cover them, careless of the crumbs. Men definitely made more laundry.
“I love donuts and shakes. I like food, period. Which means I have to counteract the intake with exercise.” She felt her mouth twist into a miserable moue.
“You work out?”
“More swim and walk. Sometimes I’ll go to the gym if there’s a specific body part requiring attention.”
Big hand pressing the sheet against her body, outlining her curves, he shrugged. “Nothing here requiring attention.”
Laughing, enjoying the way Dean’s eyes tracked the movement of her breasts under the sheet, Amy replied. “And I want to keep it that way. Stay healthy, anyhow. So the donuts and shakes gotta be a treat.”
“Okay. Don’t eat them regular, anyhow.”
Noting how his speech sometimes segued into down home patter, then into educated patterns, she speculated, then dismissed it. Part of his appeal and probably not important right that moment. Lots to learn.
She casually said, “I’ve got my own exercise machine by the look of things, anyhow.”
Dean froze, straw half way to his mouth, and his head inched around until he could look at her. She gave him her best smile and was rewarded with one of his. She put her empty shake container on the side table and turned off the light, settling on her side. He followed suit and wrapped an arm around her, spooning, sated cock pressing against her ass. The press of his lips against her hair didn’t go unnoticed and she managed to say it, striving to hold back the intense pull of sleep.
“I’ll move in whenever you want.”
There was no hesitation in his reply. “Next weekend. I’ll take care of your lease, store your stuff.”
“’Kay.”
Chapter Six
“But I like my bed!”
“My bed is bigger, Amy. You can choose a different headboard, new bedding. Not pink.”
“I like pink.”
“Then buy pink underwear, sweaters or something. I’m not having pink towels or sheets.”
“Any other directives?”
She was already over it. Dean could tell. There were some things he wasn’t going to bend on, and pink shit was one of them; otherwise she could redecorate to her heart’s content. She was on her period, too, so he counted himself lucky to avoid a major battle, because he’d heard women could be unpredictable when their hormones were out of whack. Lucky, too, that she wasn’t pregnant, because it was too soon, and would have pushed his hand. His job was too dangerous for a child to be brought into the mix, forcing him to shut things down before he’d accomplished everything that he had to do. Not that he hadn’t entertained some thoughts about having made a baby inside Amy, finding the idea attractive. If he was going to have kids, and at thirty four he should be thinking about it while he still had energy for them, then Amy would be his first choice to bear his babies. The only choice, if he was honest. He flinched at the idea of giving her that kind of power over him. It was probably good she’d be going on birth control immediately.
“Dean?” She was staring at him, all sensuous curves in dark tight jeans and form fitting purple tank that matched her eyes almost exactly, and that mass of hair spilling to catch the light. Beautiful.
Pushing back his uncertainty, he answered. “What?”
“I said, I’ll pick up some groceries this afternoon. Anything you’d prefer for dinner?”
Dinner. Babies. Someone living in his home—there when he got back from whatever his business demanded of him. The uncertain feeling vanished, replaced by an unfamiliar sense of contentment laced with anticipation. “Not real fond of salad, none of those jellied things with vegetables.”
“I have no idea what those are, babe. I cook basic, but maybe now I have someone to test things on I’ll experiment a little.”
Manufacturing a shudder at the idea of being a guinea pig, he watched her laugh and was ridiculously delighted to have coaxed the reaction. “I’ll drive you.”
“S’okay. I heard you tell Randy you’d meet him in about ten from now. Will you be home around seven?”
“That’ll work.” And how had he forgotten telling his lieutenant they would meet? As if he didn’t know the reason for his distraction. He didn’t like her driving that import, no matter the fact the Germans made a good product. It wasn’t that big a vehicle and she drove it like it was made to be driven, making him worry—and it was a convertible.
“I’ll do some shopping for here, too. No pink. Just some stuff to soften the edges, make it less so totally freaking male.”
Wrapping a hand around her wrist, pulling her close for a kiss, he spoke against her temple. “I am freaking male, sweetheart. But decorate at will. Leave me the bills.”
“No. I want to do this on my dime.”
Well, shit. He’d almost made it out the door on a high note. Making himself nod, he kissed her again and hustled. Randy would deposit the money directly back into her account. She didn’t need to spend her cash. He had plenty for both of them.
As he got behind the wheel, his cell buzzed. Amy. “I know that look, babe. I’m decorating on my dime. You want me to see this place as my home too, you let it be.”
Busted. “Steak, potatoes for dinner, sweetheart. See you at seven.” Last word.
****
The high end furniture boutique wasn’t a place she’d normally go to purchase items for her home but this was Dean’s home. Hers and Dean’s. She couldn’t put just anything into that designer pad.
“Things going okay?” Sandra idly fingered a drapery panel as Amy tried to decide between black slubbed silk or a fine charcoal wool for the living room windows. The area rug was a mix of gray and black with cream. Maybe the wool, but in cream, and she could paint that feature wall dove-gray. Closer to the vision in her head. Steel blue accents and the occasional hit of red.
“Amy?”
“Uh huh. Things are fine. Hardly any bumps, actually. For the most part we like the same things, and aside from him hating pink, Dean doesn’t care about w
hat I do with the place. How about a damask comforter in stripes? Taupe, cream and blue?”
“Different than your usual taste, honey.”
True. The pink in her bathroom was over the top, but Amy had never been allowed girly. She wished she could have brought her comforter, but his bed was a king. “I feel more grown up.”
“Well, choose or wait for another day. My feet hurt and I need coffee.” Her friend smiled, and nudged her.
“I’ll come back. I don’t want to rush. Besides, I’m having too much fun.”
“Suzy homemaker?”
Shrugging, she replied, “I like it so far. Dean doesn’t expect it. He’d take me out for every meal or we could order in, but I like it. I have time. It’s easy to work around my business, although I’m getting busier. And then there’s Lois. She cleans the place and I’ll tell you I really like that.”
“Your place was always spotless.”
“Didn’t mean I liked it. Cleaning. I don’t mind the day-to-day things like dishes and laundry, but having Lois take care of the major stuff makes me feel relieved.”
They strolled a few stores down and found a place to sit in the food court. Sandra dumped her bags and went to get a couple of coffees while Amy held their spot. She stretched out her legs and thought a little about her current living situation. It felt … fine. Great? That too. Like it was meant for her. She’d lived briefly with other men, but never felt settled or welcome, and the expectations irked her. The initial pleasure in doing things for them soon paled, probably because they took it for granted, and it was one sided. Dean wasn’t like that. He gave back.
“The stuff looks like it’s been on the element for hours,” Sandra grumbled, putting the cups down on the plastic table. “Everybody’s drinking those fancy coffees, and you can’t get real java anymore.”
The coffee was indeed terrible, and Amy managed only a few sips, longing for her chemical creamer. But the fridge held half and half at home. She opened another container from the dish on the table and dumped it in, stirring with the little plastic stick.
“You’re happy?” There was a wealth of emotion in the question, although Sandra was concentrating on her cup, tipping it from side to side, peering into the depths.
“I can’t imagine being anywhere else, Sandra.”
“You’re not wearing the necklace anymore.” There was no judgement in the comment, but considerable interest.
“C for change, Sandra. Biggest change in my life. And for the better. I know it’s still early days, but I don’t need the necklace to remind me.”
“I hear the hope, honey.”
“I hate it when he’s away for more than a few hours. I want to be with him and talk, learn more about him. I’m figuring him out, reading past the superficial stuff. And the sex isn’t bad.”
Their laughter, Sandra’s startled and likely unwilling, Amy’s smug and satisfied, caught the attention of those around them and a few people smiled back, caught up in the infectiousness of the sound. A handsome visage caught her eye and she stared, the laughter subsiding. She literally felt the smile drop from her face. Enrico. Just happening to be here? In the Mall? What the fuck?
Her friend flinched back as Amy shoved to her feet, coffee sloshing with the movement. She marched over to where he sat. Pushing away her need to snap at him, she manufactured another smile, a very different one, and had the satisfaction of seeing Enrico’s eyes become wary. “Don’t skulk, ’Rico. Join us. Must have been a long, boring afternoon.”
“Miss Amy. I couldn’t intrude.”
“Amy. I’m nobody’s miss. And you’ve already intruded. Don’t make it worse.”
Standing, his lean frame covered by a perfectly pressed shirt tucked into dark trousers, he could have stepped out of a GQ shoot. Not as tall as Dean, about her height, and not as muscled as Dean, Enrico still had that predatory male thing going on, sexy and sleek. Hotness rolled off him. Nodding gravely, he gestured for her to precede him and she strode back to Sandra. Her friend’s face was pale, eyes huge, her little teeth marking her bottom lip.
“You remember Sandra. Sandra? Enrico. Seems we have a guardian angel.”
Sandra narrowed her eyes. “Angel? I doubt it.”
Okay then. Amy was pissed that Dean ignored her refusal to have one of his men on her when she wasn’t home or with him. She liked Enrico, found him quiet but intensely aware and intelligent the few times they’d spoken. He’d lugged her boxes of shoes and clothes up the stairs into Dean’s condo without complaint, too, and didn’t comment on her un-American choice in cars, like Randy and Olsen. The other men in the complex were polite and kept their distance, but she’d only just arrived, so it was to be expected. Their women were more welcoming, and Amy looked forward to introducing Sandra to them. However, at this moment she wanted to figure out the enmity between her friend and Enrico. More on Sandra’s side, because Enrico wasn’t giving off any vibes he didn’t like her…
“Enrico’s gonna join us and then follow me home. Right?”
Nodding, but never taking his eyes from Sandra’s face, he answered. “I do my job, Miss Amy. Amy.”
Sandra found her coffee very interesting again and said nothing further.
“I can’t say I like being a job, Enrico, but that’s between your boss and me. Sit. Please.”
As he pulled out a chair and dropped into it, Sandra picked up her purse. “Restroom.”
Enrico tracked her movements, and then gave Amy a look before glancing around the area, clearly vigilant. “I regret making you uncomfortable.”
Caught speculating on the obvious something between him and Sandra, Amy regrouped. “Not uncomfortable, Enrico. It’ll be uncomfortable now, because I’ll be thinking about all the stuff Sandra and I did today, and the fact you were there, too. Sure you weren’t bored?”
A Gallic shrug. “Dean wants you safe. He has never had a woman before, full time, and of late there have been … there are always instances for concern.”
“What do you mean by instances?”
“That is for Dean to share.”
“And if I ask him?”
“Then he will tell you what he wishes for you to know.”
Male chauvinist pigs, the lot of them—Amy bit the words back, fueled more by a niggle of fear. She hated not having information if it meant looking out for herself. Although, she had Dean assuming that task…
Where the hell was Sandra? Enrico must be wondering, too, because his attention again diverted to the area where the restrooms were advertised with not only the words but cute little signs of stick people, one dressed in an outline of a skirt. The noise in the food court felt dampening, oppressive, and Amy looked around her with increasing paranoia.
“I’ll go get Sandra.”
“No.”
Holy shit. Another arrogant male. She wondered what the meetings were like, the ones Dean presided over so regularly. Almost without exception, his crew moved and acted like they knew their stuff, confident and aware. Testosterone must pervade the very walls. He’d chosen men like himself and managed to lead them. Pride and lust warred for supremacy in her belly, nudging aside her initial annoyance with her man for protecting her. But it didn’t totally conquer her fear.
“Is something going on?” She lowered her voice and asked again.
“I am to watch over you.” Avoiding her question, the bugger. “Your friend will be back. She doesn’t like me, and she doesn’t approve of your connection with Dean. It makes her conflicted.”
Arrogant, intelligent, and perceptive. She was surrounded. The appearance of Sandra, normally smooth stride jerky, distracted her.
Sandra spoke upon gaining the table. “I need to go. I’m working five days straight starting tomorrow, Amy. I need to get a few things done at home.”
Amy decided not to out her. If Sandra wanted to flee, go home and hunker down, she’d respect that, although it would have been interesting to see how Enrico managed the spa appointments set for the day after tomorrow
. That she’d now have to cancel. She and her friend would have had a chat by then, so it still might be on, but right now, Amy was willing to hunker down, too. Enrico’s scant sharing had reminded her of her choice—to be with a man who was in the business of acquiring enemies. They picked up their purchases and filed through the tables, the handsome man a silent shadow behind them.
****
The meat was perfect. Charred on the outside, bloody within. Dean cut a chunk and speared a piece of potato on the end of the tines before putting in it in his mouth. Amy hadn’t said anything about Enrico, who had given him the heads up as soon as he saw Amy home safely. Waiting for her reaction was impacting a great meal. Chewing and swallowing, marking the subtle spices she used on the food, he broached the subject.
“You made Enrico today.”
A cool violet stare, accompanied by a slightly raised brow was all he got. She forked salad into her mouth, full lips closing around the greens, tongue licking a tiny dot of dressing from the bottom one. He considered setting the meal aside and eating her instead but wanted to address the elephant in the room.
“Nothing to say about it?”
Pushing her nearly empty plate away, Amy blotted her lips with a napkin. A real napkin, thick, cream linen to match the pattern on the heavy new place settings. It was like eating in a high class restaurant but better, and damned if he didn’t appreciate it. He hadn’t missed the surplus of shopping bags set against the far wall either. She tilted her head and looked at him again.
“I had plenty to say. I told you I didn’t want somebody shadowing me because it reminded me not only of Vegas, but of what you do. And it scares me to think I might need that kind of protection. No, Dean, don’t make that imperious gesture—it doesn’t reassure me. You obviously are concerned. Let me finish.
Forever (Eternity #1) Page 11