CLEAN to the BONE

by Heather R. Blair

  It was safer that way.

  “Hey, Stacia. Jake.”

  So what if the soft trill of Charlie’s voice saying his name made him happy? Like he’d told Stace, he liked her. He could like the woman who had saved his life and opened her home to him, for Christ’s sake. It was only natural.

  Stace was delusional.

  “Hey, Charlie. I’m getting ready to take off. Just doing my part to keep Jake from pacing a hole in the carpets while you’re at work.”

  Immediately, Charlie frowned, setting the pink-and-white box she carried on the counter to poke a finger in his chest, forcing him to look down into those big blue eyes, made even bigger by her glasses. “You better not be walking too much. Martin said you need to watch the exercise. I know you’re feeling better, but being on your feet too much will strain your stitches and—”

  He lifted his hands and took a seat at the table. “Okay, okay. This is me, sitting, Nurse Ratched.”

  Stacia got to her feet and Charlie’s gaze swung back to his sister.

  “Sure you don’t want to stay and have a piece? There’s plenty.”

  “Nah, I’ve a dinner engagement. But you two enjoy.” Stacia’s smirk as she left the kitchen made him want to stick out his tongue at her. Instead, he flipped his sister off behind Charlie’s back as she got a couple of plates out of the cupboard.

  “You want a piece, right?” she asked as the front door closed.

  “Better not. Gotta eat healthy, Martin’s orders, remember?” He held up his apple. Take that, you little tyrant.

  She frowned. “Oh yeah. Oh well, your loss.” She put one of the plates back with a shrug. “What kind of desserts do you have in Australia?”

  “Pie,” he said promptly, watching her untie the black ribbon and open the box. “Or pavlova.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him again. “What’s that?”

  “Basically, pie.”

  She laughed. “Well, cake is better.”

  “Never.”

  “This one is.”

  “What kind is it?”

  “Orgasm by chocolate,” she said, turning faintly pink.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like false advertising to me.”

  She laughed. “Don’t be so sure.”

  The confection she brought to the table was certainly pretty. The small cake was nestled in pink paper and dusted with powdered sugar and cocoa. It smelled heavenly, rich and dark and sweet. His own nose twitched.

  She cut herself a slice, smirking. “Sure you won’t try some?”

  He shook his head, taking a pointed bite of his apple. She shrugged again and took a small bite. Her eyes closed as she set the fork down. The faintest moan parted her lips. He shifted in his seat as he swallowed. Fucking Christ. If she sounded like that over cake, what kind of noises might she make over other things?

  Shit.

  Maybe Stacia was right. Or maybe he was just a bloke with an extremely healthy sexual appetite who was laid up in an apartment all alone with a sweet woman he liked, which inspired thoughts any man in a similar situation might have.

  Yeah. That was it.

  Shaking himself, he leaned over and tapped the tablecloth. “All right then, give us a bite.”

  Her eyes popping open, Charlie filled her fork again before extending it to him with a smug look. On impulse, he covered her hand in his own, wiping the expression right off her face. Her fingers were soft and warm. They trembled once as he brought the morsel of cake to his mouth, his thumb on her wrist.

  His eyes narrowed as he wrapped his lips around the treat, feeling her pulse start to flutter. Except for the occasional blush, Charlie rarely showed the slightest reaction to him. At first he’d been too out of it to mind, but now, after over a week in her presence, it was beginning to rankle. With perverse satisfaction, he watched her eyes dilate.

  “Damn,” he whispered. “That was good.”

  Her cheeks went pink. “Told you.”

  She tugged, and he let go of her hand reluctantly.

  Charlie finished their cake in silence, but the silence wasn’t quite as comfortable as usual. If he had to put a name to the feeling in the air, he’d call it . . . expectant.

  * * *

  They watched a movie, Charlie’s traditional Friday night ritual. He half expected her to pick some random chick flick, but he should have known better.

  “Shaun of the Dead okay by you?”

  “Fuck-a-doodle doo.”

  She laughed and pressed play, and they settled in as zombies slowly began to overrun the world and the locals’ favorite pub, The Winchester.

  The movie was just as fun as the other half dozen times he’d watched it, but watching Charlie was even better. When it was over, she glanced at him as she stretched, digging pink-painted toes into the carpet with a groan.

  “I’m going to go paint for a while. You want to go to bed?”

  “I always want to go to bed.” When he waggled his eyebrows, she rolled her eyes.

  “Sometimes you’re as juvenile as Shaun and his friends.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it. They saved the world, didn’t they?”

  “Technically, no. But if you want to stay up for a bit, feel free. I’ve got Netflix and Hulu.”

  “Got any good porn?”

  He expected another eye roll, but instead she gave him a coolly amused look as she got to her feet. “Not any I’ll be sharing with you.”

  He blinked at her. “You’re holding out on me! What’ve you got? Come on, Charlie, give a guy a break. I have needs, dammit.”

  She snorted but shook her head. “I see to enough of your needs already, don’t you think?”

  “You’re a cruel woman.”

  “You were bound to find out eventually.”

  He cursed.

  “Give it up.” She giggled. “There is no way in hell I’m letting you at my porn, Jake Harris.”

  “Afraid it will give me ideas?” He waggled his eyebrows again.

  Her phone rang. With a grimace, she pulled it out of her jeans pocket, frowning when she saw the caller ID. “For fuck’s—I gotta take this.” She got to her feet, swiping her thumb to answer the cell.

  “I bet you only have girl porn anyway, pathetic PG stuff,” he called out as she walked down the hallway. Charlie put a hand over the phone while giving him a glare that could strip paint. With a laugh, he settled back to wait for her. He glanced over at the remote she had left precariously balanced on her side of the couch. Then back up at the screen. Wincing, he reached over and managed to get his fingers around the end of the remote.

  Chapter Ten

  Fifteen minutes later, Charlie walked back into the living room, intending to make sure Jake was set before she settled down to paint. But the sight that greeted her eyes stopped her short.

  God, he was nice to look at. She didn’t indulge in gawking at her houseguest very often, but sometimes she couldn’t help it.

  Clad in only lounge pants and his open robe, the light from the TV danced over his dark hair, playing across that deep chest that had been wreaking havoc with her dreams ever since she’d gotten to fall asleep on it. He looked completely at ease, one muscular arm thrown behind his head, the one on his injured side resting on the space she’d recently vacated. One thing was for sure, her couch had never had anything as yummy as Jake Harris on it. His sexy eyes were heavy lidded as he stared up at the screen. Then she noticed what he was watching.

  Son of a bitch.

  With a screech, she leapt across the room and snatched at the remote. Jake’s fingers tightened like a steel trap. Even when she pried at them, she couldn’t loosen his grip. She smacked his shoulder in pure frustration.

  “Jake!”

  “Ah, ah, ah.” He grinned up at her. “You’re assaulting an injured man.”

  Flustered, she let go at once. Perching on the arm of the couch, she refused to look at the screen behind her, ignoring the breathy, unmistakable moans, her own voice taking on an injured tone. “
You figured out my password?”

  “The fact that you live alone and have a password protecting your porn says a lot about your trust issues.”

  “I don’t have trust issues—people have issues being trustworthy.” She gave him a pointed look.

  Jake raised an eyebrow, not bothering to suppress his grin. Even in the dim light, he could probably see that her face was bright red. “Who was on the phone?”

  “My boss.”

  “Well, shit. Sorry about the porn comment.” For once he had the grace to look chagrined. Then annoyed. “Why in Christ is your boss calling you this late on a Friday night?”

  “Why wouldn’t she?”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Seriously, Charlie? Don’t you ever go out?”

  “I guess I haven’t found my Winchester yet. And look at that, after eleven p.m. already. It’s time for your pill and bed.” Before he could stop her, she snatched the remote from his slackened grip, aiming it behind her head and shutting the video down without looking at it.

  “Dammit. That was getting good, too.” With a sigh, Jake tried to get up. “Ow.” He winced, sank back into the cushions and looked at her expectantly. “Help a guy out?”

  If she didn’t know better, she would swear Jake was looking for an excuse to touch her. And that was plain crazy. She knew better than to take his teasing to heart. Jake just suffered from being an incorrigible flirt. It meant nothing. Just look at her. Look at him.

  Even if that moment in the kitchen earlier had gotten to her. Just a little. The way he had looked at her while tasting her cake, as if he’d rather have been tasting her.

  Silly.

  But she couldn’t help her shiver as she eased him to his feet and helped him to the bedroom.

  “Cold?” he asked her, his arm tightening on her shoulders, enveloping her in his warm strength.

  She swallowed hard, her voice a little thick. “No. I’m good.”

  They walked down the hall in silence, Jake walking even slower than usual. As if he wanted to draw out their time together. But that was delusional, too. Wasn’t it?

  “Charlie?” he asked as she opened the door, making her jump a little.

  “Yeah?”

  “I like your taste in porn. You should check out Barbarella XXX. You’ve never seen such a great—”

  Laughter burst from her lips before she put a hand over his mouth. She’d touched Jake dozens of times, maybe hundreds, but this time, the feel of his lips against her skin made her snatch her hand away, her face flaming.

  Just like that, the light, teasing mood Jake had conjured vanished. The prickle of awareness she’d felt earlier returned. She swallowed a nervous laugh and stepped back, but it was too late.

  His eyes locked on hers. Something in them made her breath come short. When he stepped closer and dipped his head, her heart seemed to stop entirely.

  “Jake . . . don’t.” His breath was warm against her lips, making it hard to get the words out.

  “Why not?” he whispered. His low baritone sent shivers down her spine, shivers that melted into a warm rush of heated awareness right between her thighs. His hand opened on her back, a heavy weight, drawing her forward, pressing her up against him. Her breasts brushed his bare chest, tightening and tingling at the contact.

  For a moment, she forgot why not. She forgot everything.

  Jake’s mouth came closer. Her own lips parted.

  With a breathless gasp, she yanked back. “Because you’ll hurt me.”

  * * *

  Jake froze. Charlie’s face flushed a vivid pink. “Because you don’t mean it,” she amended hastily. “You’re just bored. Antsy. You don’t really want to do this.”

  “Is that what you think?” Something inside him got tight and hot and angry. He turned his back on her to walk the few steps to the bed. Never mind that her words echoed his exact thoughts from earlier in the kitchen. His side, forgotten all night, suddenly ached so badly he could barely breathe. What the fuck was he doing here?

  “I know you’re not thinking straight.”

  “Is that so?” He lowered himself to the bed, gritting his teeth. Charlie didn’t reply. She darted into the bathroom, emerging a minute later with his pill and a glass of water.

  She watched him take the medicine without comment, but there was still color in her cheeks, her pulse fluttering in that white throat and her lips trembling, lips he still wanted very much to kiss.

  He averted his eyes because with unerring skill, Charlie had tapped her talented little fingers on exactly why he needed to stop this—whatever the fuck this was—from going any further.

  He would hurt her.

  Or his life would. Same difference, really. He knew better than anyone how shite he was at protecting the people he cared about.

  As much as he hated to admit it, Stacia was right. For whatever reason, Charlie was getting to him. And that was too dangerous to be allowed, for everyone.

  “Jake—”

  “You’re right, Charlie. I’m not feeling myself. You should go, before any more mistakes are made.”

  Her face pale, she closed the door without protesting, the soft click loud in his ears.

  He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he reached for the cell phone Stacia had repaired for him. His conversation was short and to the point. When it was over, he lay awake for over an hour, the pain in his gut a dull ache, the heating pad once again forgotten on the nightstand.

  * * *

  Goodbyes weren’t her strong suit. Charlie hated them.

  While Stacia hugged her and bussed her cheek, Charlie shuffled her feet, barely registering a word the woman was saying.

  When Jake had told her he was leaving first thing this morning, she’d been shocked. Then hurt. Then mad.

  Now she was just empty.

  Jake stared at her over his sister’s shoulder, his eyes hooded. In just over a week, he’d become the closest thing she’d had to a friend in probably ten years. Most people might find that pathetic or sweet, but not her.

  She found it scary. Terrifying, really.

  Stupid girl.

  Resisting the urge to slap her hands over her ears, she turned to Jake, her voice stiff. “Safe travels and all that.”

  He looked from her hand to her face. With a muttered curse, he batted her outstretched arm out of the away and wrapped her in his arms.

  She froze. Despite the weight she knew he had lost and the weakness from his injury, Jake was sturdy and solid and warm. For a moment, she sagged in those hard, wonderful arms. It’d been years since she’d been held like this. Her eyes filled.

  “Thanks, Charlie. For everything,” he whispered in her ear, his voice rough.

  She swallowed, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around him right back and snuggle into that strength. Instead, she pushed away with a strangled laugh, watching his eyes narrow as she stepped back, blinking fast. “Anytime.”

  Jake opened his mouth, shut it and stalked through the door without another word, his fists clenched at his sides.

  With a sigh, Stacia watched him go before turning back to her. “Don’t forget, we’re going to have lunch next week. I need to talk you about something important.”

  Numb, she nodded, barely registering Stacia’s reminder or her soft goodbye, hearing only the sound of Jake’s footsteps fading into nothing.

  * * *

  His sister looked pensive as she slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Stop worrying about Darnell,” Jake bit out as he yanked the seatbelt into place and clicked it home. “He got away again, and I know it was my fault. But I swear, Stace—”

  “This isn’t about him. This is about her. Your little Charlie.”

  “She’s not my anything.” He chewed his lip and stared out the passenger side window, trying to erase her face from his mind. She looked like she’d been going to cry there, at the end. By now, he knew Charlie well enough to know she wasn’t a person inclined to tears. It had take
n everything he had to turn and walk away. But he had to do it.

  He had to.

  He could feel Stacia’s eyes on him as she started the engine, but his sister didn’t say anything more until they were at the end of the block. “You hurt her. Leaving like this.”

  “Well, better now than later, don’t you think?”

  “Jake—”

  He lifted a hand. “Leave it the fuck alone, Stace. It’s for the best.”

  She chewed her lip as he sank back into his seat, resisting the urge to look back. He wouldn’t be able to see Charlie anyway. Even if she were watching, and she wouldn’t be. She was stubborn like that. He closed his eyes, ignoring the weight in his chest. “Has she agreed to the show?

  “Not yet.” Stacia shook her head. “But she will.”

  “Of course she will.” Despite himself, he smiled. Charlie’s art deserved to be displayed. Deserved to be appreciated and admired. Just like the woman herself. The smile dropped from his face as he watched the city flicker past in shades of gray and brown and white.

  “You know, if I do this, her whole life is gonna change. You feel me, baby brother?”

  “Maybe a change will do her good.” His hand clenched and his back tightened. God, he was still so stiff. He’d miss Charlie’s heating pad. Then he cursed. He could buy a damn heating pad.

  “Yeah, maybe.” But a line of worry had worked its way between his twin’s dark brows.

  He shrugged off her concern for his little savior. It was time he let go of the enigma that was Charlotte Gracen and focused on other things. Things he’d been neglecting while he was laid up.

  Like finding and destroying the man who had killed their mother.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Doesn’t the snow ever fucking melt in this place? It’s like the Norse version of hell.” Stacia glared outside at the fat flakes beginning to swirl in the gray early evening light.

  “This is pretty typical March weather.” Charlie stared at Stacia over her glass of beer. Personally, she was opposed to restaurants that served beer in fancy glasses, but Stacia had insisted on somewhere fancy for the big “announcement.” What that announcement might be, Charlie wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think she was going to like it. And seeing Stacia again just reminded her Jake was gone, finishing his convalescence somewhere in the South of France, already an ocean away. She took another gulp of beer.