Dirty Dealer: A Hero Club Novel

by Kacey Shea

  “That doesn’t impress me. Now this—” she crinkles her nose, bringing my dog up to lick her face. “This little guy is the most impressive thing about you.”

  “Has a thing for ancient men. Got it.” I make a check through the air on an imaginary list.

  She attempts a glare, but it’s spoiled by her smile. “He’s practically a puppy.”

  “Walter is almost ten. Or maybe twelve.”

  “You don’t remember how old your dog is?” She actually appears offended.

  I don’t know why I care so much about what she thinks, but I find myself explaining anyway. “The pet rescue guessed, but really, he could be even older. Someone found him in a dumpster near Santa Monica, and he wasn’t chipped so we have no clue.” I drop my gaze to focus on Walter, because this is a piece of my life I don’t share with anyone. I should probably shut up before she suspects I’ve got a soft spot, but something in Rachel’s faint smile propels me to say it anyway. “I don’t know when you were born, right, buddy?” I reach out to scratch behind his ear, just the way he loves. I lift my gaze to Rachel’s. “So I celebrate his adoption day instead. Five years next month.”

  Rachel stills. She doesn’t make a move to set Walter back on the floor, and like a coward I’m too nervous to hold her gaze. I drop mine as if stroking my dog’s fur takes all my concentration. I don’t know why I care so much about what this woman thinks of me. Why it even matters. I’m usually a Here I am, take it or leave it kinda guy, but with her . . . I want her to like me. I want her to see more than what I show everyone else. I want her to like what she sees. It’s unnerving.

  Finally, I man up and lift my stare to hers. Sparks. Fireworks. A fucking grand finale. Like a charge in a wire connected for the first time, my heart bursts with the energy.

  Does she feel it too?

  Should I kiss her? God, I want to. Taste her. Press my mouth to hers. It’s her lips, lush and plump and currently painted in a shade of ruby red, that encourage a barrage of illicit ideas to rush my mind. They’re full of fire, like her spirit. They’re soft too, like her curves. And fuck if I don’t crave them on me, all over my body, wrapped around my cock. I can’t look away.

  “Um, I—” She steps back and breaks the bond between us. She crouches and sets Walter down. He wanders away, looking as stunned as I feel. “Room.” She clears her throat and walks back over to retrieve the bags she ditched earlier. “Where’s my room?”

  “Right.” I clear my throat, and subsequently adjust myself to hide my semi. “This way.”

  The click of her heeled boots and the tap of Walter’s nails as they click across the marble flooring are my only indication she is in fact following me. I don’t dare look back. The thread of self-control I yield wavers in a way that makes me feel reckless and foolish all at once. Much like a hormonal teenager, and I can’t decide whether I hate or love the control she has over me.

  “The kitchen’s through there. Living room. Help yourself to whatever.”

  “Is there a grocery store nearby?”

  “There’s a list in the kitchen. Just add whatever you need.”

  “You don’t—” She sighs and shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.”

  I can’t help but stop and turn at her incredulous tone. “What?”

  “I can buy my own groceries, Jude.”

  “So can I.” I roll my eyes. “I can also hire someone to do it for me, so I do. It’s silly for you to go out when I already have someone doing it, but if you insist . . . I can’t stop you.”

  She bristles, but doesn’t say anything. Probably because she knows I’m right. I don’t flaunt my worth, but I don’t make excuses for it either. I don’t give a damn what most people think. But I feel the need for her to understand I’m not some pretentious dick. I’ve worked hard to earn this life. While she’s staying here, she’s my guest. I’ll treat her better than anyone who’s stayed here before. Because I can, and because I want to.

  “This is the hall bathroom.” I flip on the light as I pass.

  “And my room?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “Do you want the bedroom with the adjoining shower and Jacuzzi tub?”

  Her mouth hangs agape and nervous laughter bubbles out. “Um, yes?”

  “Then, the master suite is through that door.” I point at my bedroom.

  “Jude.” She rolls her eyes, and her shoulders relax. “I already told you I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “Not with me. I’ll take one of the guest suites. You can have my bedroom. It’s more comfortable and the bathroom is right out of a magazine.” Literally. The design was featured in a lifestyle publication last year. Also, there’s something thrilling about the thought of her laying in my sheets. On my bed. Even if I don’t get to be there to experience it.

  “You are not giving me your room. Seriously, Jude.” She exhales and her shoulders slump as if she’s weighed down. “This is all too generous.”

  “Come on, sweetheart. One night in my sheets and you’ll never want to leave.”

  Her eyes widen. I think I’ve stunned her into silence.

  With a chuckle, I reach for her bags and walk them straight to my room. Satisfaction fills my chest. I’ve won this round. I can’t wait for the next one. By the time her Iron Maiden is ready, she’ll never want to leave, and for some reason that doesn’t sound as scary as it should.

  23

  Rachel

  What am I doing here? Jude’s condo is right out of a movie set—and I’d know. If my luck holds out, they’re where I work. But oh, God, this place. I could get used to this bedroom. Seriously, it’s like a serene hideaway made up of rich woods, the softest fabrics, and a layout that must’ve been designed by a feng shui expert. It’s decadent. Nicer than any room I’ve ever set foot in, and I’ve had my fair share of adult sleepovers. But that was the old Rae, and those were bedrooms of men I pictured sharing a forever with. Which only begs the same question.

  What the hell am I doing here?

  Obviously, it’s to avoid my vile roommates. But agreeing to stay with Jude? That’s insanity. I don’t even know him. Not really. But you wanted to kiss him. I did. I couldn’t help it when he started talking about Walter. Something came over me, an urge so basic and animalist I almost gave over to the pull. I wanted his lips on mine. I swear by the look in his eyes he wanted it too.

  Which is stupid, dangerous, and not at all a good idea. The logical side of my brain agrees. But the other . . . it wonders how his hard body would feel pressed to mine. Part of me knows it’d be explosive—the best kind of good. My stomach twists and dips, my nerves bubbling with anticipation. No, I can’t go there. I am not going there. It’s been a long day and I’m not thinking straight. I’m in a vulnerable place. That must be it.

  Even now as I unpack in Jude’s home, I feel unhinged. Reckless. On edge.

  My hands shake with anger as I remember this morning’s altercation.

  The thought of facing Crystal again, or anyone in that apartment other than Jenni, boils my blood. But I’ll deal with that in a few days. Once Iron Maiden is back from the mechanic I’ll have to go back and face them. Apologize. Smooth things over. What other choice do I have?

  My shoulders tense and I glance down to see my hands balled in fists. I force them open, along with an exhale. I’m wound so tight, my entire body aches. I can’t even imagine sleeping, but I need to if I want to be my best self tomorrow on set.

  Down the hall, I hear movement and the running water of a shower. Jude. I can’t believe I accepted his offer to stay here and to take his room. I still don’t understand him. Every moment I think I do, he goes and does something that catches me off guard. His kindness. His friendship is something I am in desperate need of. And he’s that. A friend. A surprisingly witty, ever-charming, and strikingly handsome friend. One who is down the hall naked and standing under a spray of water. I shake my head and smile. I shouldn’t be thinking about my friend that way.
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br />   But Jude has the right idea. A hot shower would do wonders to relieve the day’s stress. I finish unpacking my clothes into the dresser he said I could use, and grab my toiletries along with a T-shirt and boy shorts before heading into the bathroom. I flip on the light and gasp. Holy wow! This bathroom is bigger than my room at the apartment. Seriously, there’s room for two beds in here. I shut the door, lock it, and lean against the sturdy wood, taking everything in. Marble. Glass. Stone. A bathtub built for at least two full-grown adults. Oh, my goodness, look at all those jets! I may never leave.

  It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed the luxury of a clean bathtub and I take full advantage, filling it with water so hot it almost burns, along with a generous pour of bath salts that fills the room with a heavenly scent. I strip and sink into the water, letting loose a groan. Settling my head against the edge, I exhale and allow all the tension of the day to dissipate from my tight muscles. The lavender-scented water makes me feel as if I’m at a spa. Not so far-fetched since Jude’s bathroom is nicer than any spa I’ve set foot in.

  It’s nice to let my worries go, if only for a short time. I almost fall asleep, body warm and stomach full from the dinner we grabbed after vacating my apartment. But when my fingertips turn to prunes and my bladder begs for its own release, I begrudgingly drain the tub and towel off. After changing into my pajamas and getting ready for bed, I head back into the bedroom.

  Strange. The door that leads into the hall is open a few inches. I swear I closed it earlier. A shiver runs up my spine but I shake it off and peek out into the hall. Everything is dark except for a beam of light that runs below a closed door. The guest bathroom, if I remember correctly. Jude’s still inside. A long time for a man, though with his perfect complexion, I wouldn’t doubt his nightly beauty routine rivals my own. I wonder if he sleeps in lounge pants or boxers? Maybe boxer briefs? He rocks the kind of confidence needed to sleep in the nude. I push the tantalizing thought away.

  I am not here to sleep with Jude. Fantasizing about him is a surefire way to sway my resolve.

  He’s a stranger. But that’s a lie. We’re far less unfamiliar now, and the more time I spend with him, the more my interest sparks.

  He’s a good friend. That’s better. And I appreciate him more than he probably knows. I need to change that. Maybe I can do something special for him this week. Special naked. No! My sex-starved libido cannot be trusted for decision making. I need sleep.

  Closing the door, I pad over to the bedside lamp and shut it off after checking my cell phone alarm and sending a quick text to my brother so he knows where I’m staying. I leave off that it’s Jude’s condo, but fully know when I wake up tomorrow it’ll be to texts demanding to know the name of my friend.

  I lie back onto the sheets. Sweet mother of five-hundred-thread-count linen. This bed is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever rested on. I curl onto my side and snuggle into the pillows, stifling a yawn. God, I’m so tired. Earlier, I worried I might not be able to fall asleep here. I shouldn’t have been. My thoughts slow along with my breathing, exhaustion pulling me toward blissful sleep. Darkness. Utter relaxation. Hello, Mr. Sandman.

  The bed dips near my feet.

  My heart stops.

  My eyelids fly open.

  A yelp bursts from my mouth.

  This is where I get murdered. I’m as foolish as Hansel and Gretel, and Jude is a blood-thirsty witch. This is not how I see my life ending. I’m too young. Too full of unfulfilled dreams. Too—shit! A chill raises the hairs on the back of my neck at the sound of a low growl. Fuck! What the hell is in this bed? Every episode of The Wandering Dead flashes in my mind’s eye and my breath catches with fear.

  I scramble upright and reach for the bedside lamp. The space quickly illuminates, showcasing two big, sad eyes surrounded by a scruffy face. Not Jude. Not a monster. Walter. He whines and edges closer.

  I press my hand to my chest and hold back the urge to laugh. My limbs relax under the comprehension that I was never in grave danger. “Aren’t you the master magician?” I scratch behind his ears and he nuzzles closer, shimmying up the bed with each tail wag. “Sneaking into my bed and scaring the crap right out of me.” Within minutes he’s made his way onto my lap. I’ve already forgiven him.

  “Walter. Wal-ter,” Jude whispers from outside the closed door.

  “He’s in here,” I call out.

  Walter rolls onto his back, his puppy eyes begging for a tummy rub. Of course I’m helpless to his adorableness and give in immediately.

  A knock on the door precedes its opening. “Can I—?” Jude’s question dies off as his gaze zeros in on Walter. “Dirty little bastard.”

  I cover Walter’s ears with my hands. “He’s just looking for a little love.”

  Jude’s lips quirk up as if he wants to smile. “He’s only playing cute so you’ll let him sleep there.” His brows rise.

  I look down at my lap and grin. “It’s working.”

  “Damn dog.” He shakes his head. “Man’s best friend, my ass.”

  Is he jealous of his dog? I bite back the urge to laugh. “I don’t mind if he stays, but if you need to take him . . .”

  “No.” Jude leans back onto the door frame, looking like a freaking snack.

  Lounge pants. That’s what he sleeps in, or at least walks around wearing. My gaze drifts to the front of them, then up to the black T-shirt molded to his body. I’ve never seen Jude dressed casually, let alone ready for bed. He crosses his arms over his chest, and the muscles of his body constrict. Holy hell. His shirt lifts just enough I’m given a delicious view of his waistline and the trail of hair leading beneath the low-slung pants. Fuck, why is that so hot? It’s not as if he’s close to being naked; his clothes cover all the good stuff. But it doesn’t matter because my imagination runs wild. Pictures him crawling into bed. Ripping off his shirt, then mine. Is it warm in here?

  Jude chuckles, his gaze lifting from where Walter snuggles closer on my lap. “He’s obviously made his choice. Can I get you anything? Glass of water? Another blanket?” He lifts his brows, a smirk growing on his lips. “A human pillow?”

  Chemistry swirls in the space between us. Tempting. Promising. Delicious. “I’m good.” My voice cracks. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Jude smiles, and it’s the kind that I could bet money his own sexual fantasies are playing out in his mind. I’m almost disappointed when his gaze drops to study the floor. “What time do you need to be at the studio tomorrow?”

  We make plans for the morning. It’s a much shorter commute thanks to the proximity of his condo. He asks to keep the door cracked open, in case Walter needs to get up and relieve himself in the middle of the night. It’s all so domestic. Comfortable. Almost strikingly so considering we’re practically strangers.

  “All right then. I’ll let you get your rest.” Jude backs out of the doorway, and pulls the door most of the way shut with him. “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”

  My lips part, speechless and without a comeback, but he’s gone before I can get them to move. Beautiful? Why do I love the sound of that, especially when it comes from his lips? “Just friends,” I mutter to myself. Just friends. I reach over and flip off the light, needing to hide from the thought of Jude being anything more. But even as I relax into the darkness, and Walter curls into my side, I can’t escape the feeling that I’d like something more from Jude.

  24

  Jude

  My condo has always been my favorite place. Not only a source of pride, but a peaceful escape I look forward to each evening. It’s why I don’t bring most people here. Only my closest friends on occasion, and never hookups. Yet in one snap decision, I not only persuade Rachel to move in with me, but to take my bedroom.

  It should bother me, her being in my space. Touching my things. Stealing Walter for the night. Okay, that last one is on him.

  But it doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I like it more than I should. I want her to stay much longer than a few days. Bl
oody hell, what is my problem?

  It’s her. Rachel. She doesn’t want my help. That’s why I want to give it to her. Yeah, you do. I shake my head. Fuck. No, it’s not that. Okay, of course it is. I do want her in my bed. But that’s not the only thing I want from her. There’s an unexplainable, compulsive need to help her. One I haven’t felt since—nope. Not going there.

  “Hey.”

  Her appearance in my kitchen catches me off guard and I almost spill my coffee. “Hey,” I manage to say back. My gaze lifts to find her dressed for work. Another outfit, one that hugs her curves and sends a jolt of lust below my belt. Red lips. Bold jewelry. Bag in hand. I like her sense of style. It’s confident, trendy, and only piques my interest in learning more about her. “Coffee? Breakfast?”

  “No, thank you.” She glances around my kitchen, then over to where it opens to the living room. Her eyes widen. In the daylight, the view is even more spectacular. Is she pleased with my place? I hope so. I spent a good chunk of money creating this oasis from the city.

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those monsters who can operate without a caffeine fix?” I say with a grin, then take a long sip from my cup to reiterate the point.

  “God, no.” She laughs, a shallow, tight sound as if she’s a little uncomfortable. Understandable, since we’ve only just met. Still, it bothers me a little. I want her to be relaxed staying here.

  “Sure I can’t make you one for the road?” I lift my mug.

  “Tempting.” She glances at my lips and maybe I imagine it, but her cheeks darken with a blush. “But I’ll grab one at work. I don’t want to be late.”

  Right. I glance at the clock. We need to leave. That’s probably the source of her discomfort. “Ready?”

  Walter saunters into the kitchen. I walked him earlier, and he’s been napping near the window since. Of course he walks right past my legs, straight for Rachel, tail wagging for his new best friend. Traitor.